Summary: It's your first night home with your new baby girl and it comes with some pain, but Jack won't let you deal with it alone
Warnings: Established relationship, implied breastfeeding, newborn typical warfare, reader is lucky Jack has so much patience, Jack is such a cute dad it's almost gross
WC: 1.3k
a/n: You guys continue to amaze me and make me smile! Thank you!
Can be read as a standalone but is meant to be an addition to the pregnant!reader series: Just Tired , Cravings , and Braxton Hicks
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~~~~~
You walked in the door slowly, Jack close behind carrying the car seat.
“Jack, will you change her please? That spit up got all over both of us in the car. I need a new shirt.” You asked.
“Yeah, I got it. Go take a hot shower and put some comfy clothes on. I got her for a bit.” Jack set the seat down and crouched to start unbuckling your tiny baby.
“Are- are you sure? I can just change and-”
“Y/N, you gave birth two days ago and have been sitting in a hospital bed ever since. Go take a shower. I've got her.” He smiled softly at you as he gently lifted her out of the seat.
“Yeah but you're the one who passed out while I was giving birth.” You smirked.
“I did not pass out. I just lost my balance for a second.”
“Sure babe, keep telling yourself that.” You stepped toward them both, kissing Jack and then your baby girl. “You have the best daddy in the world, Nova.”
Nova started crying the second you began to walk away. Your instincts told you to turn back.
Jack held her against his chest as he swayed side to side. “Go on Y/N.”
You huffed, heading toward the bathroom despite your strong sense of obligation to stay with your daughter.
You couldn't believe how much better you felt after showering. Slipping on one of Jack's t-shirts and a pair of short shorts, you made your way back out to the living room. You stopped against the wall once you heard Jack talking.
“Who gave you the right to be dis cute?” A kiss. “And tiny.” Another kiss. “And perfect?” Another kiss. “Do you fink it was mama? I fink it was.”
Nova started crying again and you peeked around the corner.
Jack cradled her head in both his hands moving her up so her eyes met his. “Hey, what's that about? Hm? Are you crying because you can't handle the pressure of being perfect?” He placed several rapid kisses on her forehead. “I guess you're gonna have to live wif it kiddo. Ohhh my Nova.” He laid her head on his shoulder with a few more kisses and rubbed her back slowly.
You smiled at his tenderness with her and his adorable baby talk. You let out a satisfied breath as she quieted against him.
He flashed you a smile when you entered the room. “You look refreshed.”
“I'm still exhausted but I do feel a lot better. What's on the counter over there?” You pointed to a casserole dish with a lid.
“Oh, Dana dropped off some shepherds pie.” He reported.
“Oh FUCK yeah. I fucking love shepherds pie.” You were practically drooling.
He chuckled. “Yeah, she said you went back for thirds when she made it a couple months ago at that potluck so she figured it would be a good one.”
You reddened. “I didn't think anyone noticed that.”
“Dana notices everything. It's highly unlikely that anyone else did.” He met you where you were in the kitchen. “Take her for five minutes while I shower?”
“Come here baby girl.” You took her carefully and smoothed out her full head of red curls. Jack’s red curls.
You looked down at her, examining her features. His hair, your eyes, his nose. She was perfect.
He put his hand on the back of your head and pulled you into him, landing a hard kiss. He held it for several seconds before pulling away. “I'll be quick.”
…
By the time Jack came back out, you had already finished a full plate of shepherds pie. He shook his head. “I was gone for like five minutes.”
“It was more like ten. Judge me after you push seven plus pounds out of your body.” You quipped.
“Fair enough. Seven pounds twelve ounces.” He specified.
“I know how much she weighed. But it was more syllables.” You licked the fork, savoring every taste.
“You can't say two extra syllables?”
“Leave me alone, Abbot.” You groaned and he laughed.
Jack huffed at Nova’s crying in your arms. “She's probably hungry again. Been a couple hours. I'll clean up your plate. Go ahead.”
“Thanks. Come on girl.” You stood up with a small grunt, holding your lower back. “Childbirth is a bitch.”
“Yeah, so I've heard. I'll be in in a minute to help get her to sleep so we can sleep. It's getting late.” He commented.
“Yeah Nova, it's getting SO late because your daddy wouldn't stop flapping his mouth with his coworkers so we could leave. Oooh, flapjack!” You grinned.
He set the plate he was holding on the counter abruptly. “Would you stop coming up with derogatory nicknames and go feed our child?”
“I can multitask.” You shrugged, heading down the hall toward your bedroom.
…
Nova started screaming at two am on the dot. You groaned, forcing your eyes open. She was hungry yet again.
You saw the light on in the bathroom and the bed empty next to you. You picked her up and shushed her, beginning to feed her again.
The pain shot through your stomach, eliciting a gasp from you. Despite every urge you had to pull her away from you, she was more important.
Jack walked out of the bathroom just in time to see a single tear run down your face. He sat down beside you and wiped it away, then cradled your cheek. “Hey, what's wrong baby?”
“The cramps. They're so, so bad.” You squeezed your eyes shut. “And I'm so tired.”
He kissed your temple. “Remember, the cramps are normal right now.”
“I FUCKING KNOW THEY’RE NORMAL JACK!” You snapped, then sighed. “Sorry.”
“It's okay sweetheart. You're in pain and under a lot of stress. Give her to me.” He reached for her.
“But I'm not done-”
“You can finish in a second. Let me help you. Please.” He offered a small smile while taking her from you. “Lay down. I'll be back.”
You lowered yourself back onto your pillow, talking yourself through deep breaths.
He entered a few minutes later holding several items, which you struggled to make out through your watery eyes.
He set a glass of water and a couple pills on your nightstand, then plugged something in. “Okay, take the Tylenol, we’ll put this heating pad on, and you're going to sit criss-cross apple sauce.”
You let out a breathy laugh. “Did you really just say apple sauce? You're such a dork.”
“What? That's what it's called.” He lifted an eyebrow.
“Adults usually say cross legged.”
He scoffed. “That's lame. We could be mentioning apples.”
“Dork.”
“Dork shmork. Take the pills.” Jack got you settled with everything and handed Nova back. He watched you closely as you started to feed her again. “Better?”
“Still hurts but yeah, better. Thank you. I love you.”
“I love you more. Both of you. I'll get her back to sleep when you're done. You need to sleep too.” He smiled.
“You're amazing.” Your eyes watered again, but not from pain.
“And you two are my world.” He pressed a long kiss to your forehead. “You’re rocking your first night home with a baby Y/N. I can only imagine the incredible mother you'll be.”
“What did I do to deserve you?” You croaked out.
“If I remember right, you twisted your ankle and fell into my arms on the street.” He teased. “You quite literally fell into my life and it's the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Every last bit of pain and tension seemed to float out of your body at his words, at the unmistakable love in his eyes. With Jack and your bright little Nova, you knew you'd never experience true pain again.
Ohhh childhood best friend Val you’re so near and dear to me https://x.com/NiiightAnGeeel/status/2056123519868530913/photo/1
✶ childhood friends au.
He's been at Winterfell for twenty minutes when you walk in.
Twenty minutes of standing in the front hall with your father and some visiting lord from White Harbour, making the polite conversation he's been trained to make since he could speak, his suitcase still by the door because someone was supposed to take it up but hasn't yet.
His body does the small automatic recalibrations it always does in the cold. Shoulders drawing in slightly, spine straightening, the particular alertness that comes from being a creature built for warmth dropped into winter.
He's smiling. The composed version. The one that works on lords and distant relations and people who don't know him. Your father is saying something about timber exports. The lord from White Harbour is nodding and Valarr is standing there in the grey sweater he always wears for travel, the cashmere one that makes his eyes look darker, performing the graceful ballet of being Valarr Targaryen.
And then you walk in from the back hall, boots still on, jacket half-unzipped, and you stop in the doorway and look at the little tableau—your father, the lord, Valarr in his travel clothes with his suitcase still by the door—and you say, without preamble, in that dry Northern deadpan you've had since you were twelve:
"Twenty minutes and no one's offered him tea yet? We're barbarians, truly."
The smile that breaks across Valarr's face is not the composed smile.
It's real. The one that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners, the one that pulls his mouth wider than the careful version ever goes. The smile that makes him look—for just a second—exactly like he did at eleven, in your garden. That first time he sat down next to you.
It arrives on his face like sun breaking through cloud, and he's turning toward you before he's decided to turn, his whole body reorienting. The relief that moves through him is so immense and so private that Valarr doesn't have words for it.
He missed you. He missed you so badly he could throw up. Twenty minutes in this castle, making small talk with your father and a stranger and the entire time his nervous system has been doing the where is she scan, the low-grade hum of not here yet, not here yet, not—
And now you're here.
"Val," you say, grinning at him, and the grin is the Northern version, the one that's just the corners of your mouth pulling and your eyes going heated.
You're crossing the hall toward him and he's moving toward you and your father says something approving to the lord about his daughter and Valarr doesn't hear it because you've reached him.
You don't slow down, just walk directly into him and put your arms around him and hold.
Valarr's arms come up around you and lock, and the hug is the kind of hug that would look, to anyone watching, like two people who've not seen each other in six months. Which is true, except that it's also the kind of hug that says I've been waiting to do this since the moment I left last time and you're the first real breath I've taken since I got off the plane and I'm holding you like this because if I let go too soon I will embarrass myself.
He doesn't let go.
He should. It's been five seconds, then ten, and your father is still talking to the lord and at some point this is going to become notable. But Valarr can't bring himself to care.
Valarr has his arms around you and his face is in your hair and he's breathing in the smell of you. Cold air, something clean with a hint of the woods behind the property, the particular scent of your shampoo that he could identify in a room of a thousand people.
His entire chest unclenches for the first time in six months.
You're burrowing your face into his sweater. Not the way people hug hello in front of parents. You're pressing your face into the grey cashmere at his shoulder, making a throaty sound that might be a sigh or might be a hum.
Your arms are tight around his ribs, and Valarr can feel the shape of you against him in the way he's catalogued since he was eleven. The exact height of you, the way your head fits beside his jaw, the way your shoulder blades feel under his palms.
"Hello, love," he says quietly.
He says it into your hair, and his voice does something it's not supposed to do, which is crack, just slightly, just at the end of the word, and you squeeze him tighter in response and neither of you moves.
Your father clears his throat, amused.
"I'll have someone take your bag up, Valarr. You know where your room is."
"Thank you, sir," Valarr calls out, not lifting his head, not letting go.
Your father laughs—the real laugh, the one he saves for family—and says something to the lord about those two and the two men leave the hall and go into the study and the door closes behind them.
You pull back. Not far. Just far enough to look at him. "You're here," you say, and sound pleased about it.
He smiles a little wider, warm all over. "I'm here."
"Good," you say. And then, softer, with your hands still on his sides and his hands still on your back, "Missed you, Val."
His throat closes. He swallows once. The silver band on his thumb is cool where his hand presses against your spine.
"Missed you too, love," he says quietly. (So much, so much, so very much.)
You grin at him, the real grin now, the one that makes his chest tear itself bloody.
"Come on," you urge, stepping back, taking his hand. You lace your fingers through his in the careless automatic way you've done since you were children. "I'll make you tea. The staff are useless."
And Valarr lets himself be pulled down the hall toward the kitchens, and his hand is in yours, and the wanting in him is so vast and so familiar that it's just the ambient state of being in your presence. Valarr thinks, as he's thought every time he's come to Winterfell for years, this is home. Not the house. Her.
But he doesn't say it.
He just follows you into the kitchen and watches you put the kettle on and sits at the table in the chair that's been his chair since he was eleven. When you hand him the mug and sit down across from him in your chair, he wraps both hands around the ceramic and looks at you over the steam and thinks:
I would wait forever. I would wait until I died. As long as I get to keep coming back to this.
They were dating for 6 months when Alien conspiracy theorist nut Eddie first asked his poor, sweet, boring ass normie of a boyfriend, Steve, if he was willing to travel around the States after alien sighting stories.
They investigate hundreds of leads and come up with nothing, but Steve is loving it, journalling about the interesting people they meet (other conspiracy theorists, diner and motel staff, carnival folk when they detour, everyone really), trying new foods, looking at dumb tourist traps, he is happy so Eddie is happy about that at least.
Then 18 months in, they follow a lead Steve finds out in Indiana and have a Full UFO Landing Encounter.
Eddie is losing his mind, he can't believe it, he was so sure aliens were real but to be faced with proof? To encounter them himself? To see a spacecraft lower itself into the secluded, cut off valley in the middle of buttfuck nowhere? Insanity.
"Stevie, let me do the talking, I've been preparing for this my whole life!" Steve is so quiet and still, he must be freaking the fuck out, frozen as they watch their visitors land.
Eddie steps forward as the craft hisses open and maybe it should be weird that it feels a little bit Star Wars-y but it's Aliens, he wasn't hoping for little green or grey guys, he was never that specific in his theories. He IS surprised when a short ass humanoid jogs down the ramp,
"Holy shit," finally a word from Steve. The alien, a short, curly haired 'human' who looks about five years younger than them and is dressed like he robbed Weird Al bypasses Eddie without a thought as Steve cries out "he's here!"
"You got the job!"
"I got the job!"
Eddie turns and watches in confusion as his dork of a boyfriend launches into a bizarre and weirdly difficult to look too directly at secret handshake with a goddamn alien, complete with a trumpet gesture accompanied by an instrumental sound Eddie has never heard another person make before, and a fucking light saber noised imaginary sword fight that Steve doesn't win.
"what... the actual fuck?" He watches the two of them laugh dorkily at each other, stunned when two grinning faces are pointed at him, "how many aliens do you know?!" Its an accusation with no bases, Steve might only know one, but Eddie feels safe betting that's not the case, "wait, what fucking job? You're unemployed!" Steve has been coasting on a trust fund, or that's what Eddie had assumed... He'd never actually asked...
"Not important right now, Ed this is..." he looks at the kid for a moment, something passes between them, "Dustin? Really?" He mutters, cocking his head, "this is my brother, Dustin!" He gestures at the alien, or is he a human if he's related to Steve, hang the fuck on,
"Steve, are you an alien?!"
Steve stares at him for a few seconds, "Me? No way!" He laughs,
"You just called an Alien your brother" Eddie yelps, he meant to sound firmer but he's freaking out, okay?
"wh–Dustin? He's not an alien."
"What's an alien?" He hears Dustin ask quietly,
"Little green guys."
"Ohhh, like from Sector UD-55-A?"
"Exactly!"
"Wait, no no no, aliens, extraterrestrials, beings from outerspace," Eddie gestures at the sky, "all of those are aliens, not just little green–or grey–ones!"
"Ohhh, that's way less specific, all those people said little green guys, I need to fix my report now..." Steve sounds genuinely put out by that, his hands are on his hips and he's pulling that pissy little face Eddie finds so cute.
"Report?" Eddie asks, frowning,
"That doesn't matter, Dustin's here!" Steve all but cheers by way of distraction, "Dustin this is Eddie, my ~human~ mate, or as per the local parlance, my boyfriend." Steve says proudly, Dustin laughs at that,
"Hi!" Dustin stares at Eddie for a moment before Steve grabs his wrist and shoves his hand out in an invite for a handshake, Eddie accepts it numbly, "Can't believe you actually did it," Dustin casts over his shoulder at Steve before returning his laser focus to Eddie,
"He's been going on for years about how much he loves your kind, how he wanted to meet and make one his mate, what a freak, right?"
Dustin says it with such an amused fondness that Eddie can't take the offense he kind of wants to, but then he's still trying to process that his boyfriend of two years is a fucking alien.
I have a writing tag pinned but if this gets more (and it might) it'll be under '#Steddie Alien AU' because I am Incredibly Original with my tagging system.
Adam: -when you take her out for the fifth time and she still expects you to pay the check, but you're like, "Hey I thought you wanted equality"
Reader: Punch her, if women can punch men, men can punch women.
Reader and Adam: *High-fiving* Equality!
Charlie: *Groans in frustration because they've been going back and forth for a while* No! Our shared problem of overpopulation in Hell.
Adam: Ohh! Well, that's not a problem! We got that covered. Lute, how many demons did you kill this year?
Lute: Gotta a good 275 this year, Sir
Adam: 275? Whoa, Badass!
Reader: *Leaning closer to Charlie, whispering* How many sinners are there in Hell?
Charlie: A lot...
Adam: Awesome job, danger tits! Pound it. *Fist-bumps Lute*
Charlie: Uh, no, not awesome Those are my people you know that, right?
Adam: Ohhh, yeah... That must suck for you. Hahahaha.
Reader: *Narrowing her eyes*
Charlie: But these are souls. Human souls, just the same as the ones you have up in heaven.
Lute: They are not the same. They had their chance and they earned damnation.
Charlie: You're wrong.
Reader: They're still human! It's not always an easy choice! *Standing with Charlie*
Charlie: Sinners made mistakes, sure, but everyone makes mistakes.
Lute: Angel's don't make mistakes.
Reader: Sweetheart, a third of the angels fell with Lucifer *Raise an eyebrow questioning her logic*
Lute: Fools and weaklings who were manipulated by that disgrace!!
Adam: Yeah, I've never made a mistake in my fuckin' life.
Reader: *Deadpans* Apple
Adam: *Hisses* We don't talk about that!!
Lute: The only reason you're still here is because Daddy gave you and your Hellborn-kind a pardon from an exorcist blade.
Reader: *Muttering to herself confused* Dad? Hellborn?
Lute: How does that feel? To know how little you matter.
*Charlie shrinks into herself and Reader snaps out of her thoughts to wrap an arm around her shoulders*
Reader: Hun?
Adam: Oops, almost out of time. Guess we should get into it-
Charlie: Oh! Fuck!- *Rushes over to Adam* I've got a lot to get through and not a lot of time. And I feel like you weren't really hearing me before, so here it goes.
*Charlie starts her song while Reader hands her each drawing before Adam cuts her off with his song*
Adam: -'Cause Hell is forever whether you like it or not
Reader: *Pulling Charlie behind her, muttering* Clearly not forever if you have to kill them... *Pushing Charlie to stay behind her as they back to the door, Reader getting slowly more angry with Adam*
Charlie: *When the other golden Exorcists show up* Where did all of you people come from?
Reader: Stay back! *Pulling out her knife and pointing it at the Exorcists to protect Charlie*
Adam: -Long as I've got your attention, I guess I should probably mention. That we've made the determination. To move up the next extermination. *Pulling out the scroll and horror fills Charlie and Reader*
Charlie: What?!
Reader: You can't!
Adam: Can't wait a whole year to slaughter those little cunts. I know it's just been a week, but we'll be back in six months! *Grabs Reader's wrist and shoves her back, knocking Charlie out of the room too*
Charlie: *Quickly getting up with Reader to rush back to the door* Um, wait, didn't you-
Reader: *Glaring coldly at Adam as the door closes* No wonder you were thrown out of Eden
Adam: *Flinches in hurt but the door slams shut*
Charlie: *Banging on the door* Awh, shit!
Reader: *Clenching her knife before putting it away and helping Charlie up* We wouldn't be following the right path if there wasn't trials at every turn, hun. That's the way of the Christian faith, if it was easy we'd never truly earn our spot in Heaven
Charlie: *Grumbling as she leans against Reader* What am I going to tell the others? Vaggie?
Reader: That Adam's a bitch *Glares at the closed door as they leave the Heaven Embassy*
Synopsis: You're getting tagged everywhere, in any post regarding a "Franco Colapinto". You don't know who this man is, but you know damn well that he's too young to be vying for your attention.
He doesn't care, though. And, apparently, neither does the internet.
Pairing: Franco Colapinto x older!black!fem reader
Form: SMAU
☀️Sunny asks: for you to brace yourself, honey. I have no idea what this is😬 reader is a 90s baby!
Liked by franclub, kikagomes, alexademie and others
ynupdates Franco Colapinto for GQ! The Argentinian F1 driver has certainly left me speechless👀 what about you?
tagged: francolapinto
user789 I'm more concerned with the fact that this is a YN fanpage posting about some kid who drives for a living? Or is this a new interest of yours, ynupdates?
user96 you must be new around here😭
user789 I am actually😅I recently watched 'Bones and all'
user789 the whole movie was so hauntingly beautiful and I got goosebumps every time YN was on screen😫
user96 Agreed!
user104 basically user789 franco once revealed in an interview that his celebrity crush is YN and he's been shooting his shot ever since
user115 and everyone else just rolled with it like he didn't skip the freakin line🙄
user789 I'm not sure I completely understand
user96 you'll see💀
user127 the boy toy's out on the loose again🗣hauntinglyn
user442 idk man😬he's pretty enough to give a chance hauntinglyn
user555 and the age gap isn't even that bad
user771 hauntinglyn HE'S LEGAL
user588 and a serial flirt
user203 hmm🤔you guys might be onto smth
user222 or ON something
user203 that's for hauntinglyn to decide😭
francolapinto quizás tenga que empezar a pagarte por ser mi compañero ynupdates😏
ynupdates huh?
user697 he said he might have to start paying you for being his wingman
ynupdates I accept payment in paddock passes🤷🏾♀️
user789 ohhh, I see now💀
user193 YN is still so far out of his league🧍🏼♂️
(group chat with alexa demie, ayo edebiri, and taylor russell)
...
Liked by hauntinglyn, ayoedebiri, francolapinto and others
elleusa Hollywood's resident final girl, YN YLN, reveals all the nitty-gritty details about her time on the set of #BlinkTwice and how she'll "never look at Channing Tatum the same way ever again" in this month's cover story. Hear from Zoë Kravits' leading lady hauntinglyn on the pros and cons of being everyone's favourite horror/thriller movie crush in the link in bio!
user333 movie so good I had to watch it twice (I've watched it in cinema five times)
user789 blink twice? more like never blink at all actually unless you wanna d*e🧍🏾♀️
user777 I wouldn't look at channing the same either😭😭
user533 looking at her stunning face after such a traumatic fcking movie was definitely what I needed, thanks elleusa👏🏽
elleusa you're welcome!
francolapinto diablo😦
user410 did this break him??
user507 sht it broke me too😭😭she's HOT
user987 anyone else seeing a flurry of comments from a *checks notes* francolapinto? I think my ig is crashing...
user766 your ig is fine, he does this under every post regarding YN💀
francolapinto santa madre maria🧎🏻♂️
user288 bro is going through every stage at once😭😭
user999 omg hauntinglyn put the guy out of his misery😭
francolapinto todo lo que necesito es una oportunidad🙏🏻
user111 alpinef1team come get your boy
alpinef1team honestly we've tried🤷♀️
user321 hauntinglyn come get your boy
francolapinto ninguna mujer debería ser tan hermosa🗣
user673 hauntinglyn reject him so he can move on, oh god😭😭
user888 I doubt he'd move on😬
user128 it would be the start of his villain arc
user477 maybe he'd finally win a race💁🏼♂️
user200 no one's winning anything in an alpine🙄
kikagomes god damn😭😭
user200 omg girl, look away😭I'm so sorry!
francolapinto llevaría estas fotos conmigo a la guerra y las miraría cuando necesitara motivación para seguir luchando🫠
user544 she has him waxing poetic, oh wow😭😭
user113 wait, what did he say??
user544 "I would take these pictures with me to war, and look at them when I need motivation to keep fighting🫠" if I'm not mistaken
user113 😧...hauntinglyn
...
...
Liked by francolapinto, alexademie, user789 and others
hauntinglyn can you guys please stop tagging me now🙏🏿
francolapinto te necesito.
lando no decorum at all?
isackhadjar I thought he might be calmer now that he actually has her attention
kimi.antonelli 😐
isackhadjar ur right🧍🏻♂️I was being too optimistic
olliebearman bro is shameless💀
alexademie I feel like thanks are in order😌
hauntinglyn you're right, thank you ayoedebiri!
alexademie 🤨excuse me??
ayoedebiri you're welcome😁
lewishamilton um actually..
alexademie "um actually☝️🤓" gtfo
francolapinto pisame🙏🏻
user789 omg??😭😭😭
user561 ur so right, franco👏🏼
kikagomes ugh pink is your colour!
hauntinglyn says the prettiest girl in the world
francolapinto vuelve a mí por favor🧎🏻♂️
hauntinglyn stop being dramatic in my comments😭
francolapinto 🫡
user340 I waited for three and a half years!
user600 yt man did it in one week☹️
user522 who do I talk to about this???
francolapinto muchas gracias ynupdates
ynupdates still waiting on those paddock passes🧍♀️
Sorry this is hours late, guys! I've been out and about all day running errands and the like. Right, let's dive right in, shall we? :D
+ I want to apologise if the formatting is ever out of whack for phone users. I upload on my Chromebook or PC, and then I look on my phone and sometimes it's a little messy here and there. I don't know how to correct this so I do apologise!
Summary - In the tranquil village of Little Norton, your life can be described as comfortable, quiet and idyllic. One night, though, it takes a dark turn when you finally come face to face with the eerie presence you’ve sensed watching you from afar for months, encountering a mysterious vampire on your way home. His arrival in your life sets off a chain of events that lead to you becoming inextricably tied to him and his family, learning of the complex dynamics within it, as well as the greater purpose you represent to them.
A proposition and a promise are offered, yet to agree will see life as you know it changed forever. Are you ready for such a commitment, or will you leave them beneath the dark shadow that has followed the four undead men for centuries?
Previous chapters - Prologue One Two Three Four Five
Words - 6,800
Warnings - Vampire fic, mentions of blood and gore, plus lots of smut. 18+ content, minors DNI!
Tag list - In the comments, please DM/comment to be added/removed.
His blood. That has to be it, what you were unable to pinpoint before while finding yourself under the storm of need, of a truly wild craving to feel his skin pressed to yours. Whatever it is within you that affected him with such magnitude, it is repeated here, mirrored back, your hands everywhere at once over one another’s naked skin as your tongues roll together with nothing short of fever.
His touch blazes over you, chased with the same pointed intensity he likely once charged into battle with, coupled with a reverence that feels more worship than feral mauling. Make no mistake, though. His touch is far from a soft exploration.
It’s red heat, burning rapidly, reducing you to smouldering remains beneath his hands. His fingers sink into the rises and falls of your curves, his need pulsing in the way he grasps at you, mouth pressing entire constellations over your neck and chest, as if mapping the galaxy of his desire for you star by star.
Your nails rake over his neck, touring the swirls there of ancient tattoos, dragons, sigils and runes, dragging down to meet those decorating his chest. A chest that moves.
“You’re breathing,” you pant against his lips, arching as his hands rain over your sides.
“Yeah.” His mouth goes to your neck, sucking a little bruise into your skin. “It isn’t conscious. It’s just my body remembering.”
There’s something strangely beautiful about that, you think, while the rest of your mind muddles in the heat of being beneath him, the clarity of your senses gone, succumbing to it entirely. Any voice pleading at you for caution has been banished, locked away in a box and flung into a dark recess at the back of your thoughts, the trail of his fingers up your inner thigh causing you to judder with anticipation.
He shifts, and you feel him hard at your hip, lying beside you as his fingers finally reach your sex. He strokes you, and it’s softer than you’d anticipated, the deep rumble of lust that echoes in his throat hanging in the air like ether. That noise, neither human nor animal makes you clench on nothing, your breath hitching to feel him deepen his touch, fingertips sinking into your petals.
“Mm, fuck,” he groans, and it’s all silken rasp. “You’re soaking fucking wet already.”
The rush of heat singes your nerves, the raw ache throbbing hard as he skims over your clit, smiling when you break from his mouth and whine, your mouth falling open at he begins to circle it. His touch? Oh... ohhh.
With only the tips of his fingers gliding over your little bundle, your hips bucking up from the bed, he makes you feel as if there’s a thousand galaxies bursting to light before collapsing in on themselves beneath his touch.
Your walls throb so hard, it’s painful, pouring silky and hot over his fingers as you begin crying out unabashedly. God... he’s incredible.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, “that’s what over a thousand years of experience feels like.”
His head dips, sucking your nipple until it furls against his cool tongue, that sensation of coldness where all you feel is heat because of him an intoxicating juxtapose, the strokes over your swollen bud perfect, so perfect you feel mindless. His fingers tour you, silky dew bathing them, that beautiful groan echoing his throat once more as they slip inside.
“Hahhh!” you cry, back arching, inner muscles gripping where his fingers have hooked, raking right against the sensitive cluster upon your front wall, thumb moving to continue dragging sparks over your clit.
You’re aflame with it, body yearning for more, feeling drunk on him already. “I need... fuck... I... ahhh!”
He shifts, settling himself between your thighs, your trembling hands grasping his shoulders as he pushes, the thick spear of his cock opening you around him. “Is that what you needed, hmm?”
Oh, god. It’s exactly what you needed, your mind syrupy with the want for him finally sated, thoughts rushing rapidly. You’re having sex with a Viking king... a vampire... and he feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced. A cold cock is not as off putting as you were prepared for it to be.
He leans to you, eyes a stormy fog of lust, drawing back, letting your feel every inch of him before he daggers into you again with a grunt, fangs popping out suddenly, making you tense. “No, don’t be scared,” he soothes, a little gentleness cutting through as he recedes them once more. “Involuntary response to being turned on out of my fucking mind.”
“Oh,” you gasp, kissing him, sinking back into the moment for all of ten seconds, your eyes suddenly widening as you push against his chest.
He rolls his eyes playfully. “What now, woman?”
“We erm, shouldn’t we be using...”
He reads your worry clearly. “No. You’ve got more chance of being knocked up by a broom handle than you have me,” he explains, and you laugh against his lips. “I’m dead, so I can’t get you pregnant, nor give you infections either.” Reassuring, at least. “Now, stop panicking and let me fuck you.”
The roll of his narrow hips sends him into you, and your eyes flutter, gasping, nails dragging over the ancient etchings marking his skin. He teases your burning little hole by pulling back until only the fat cockhead remains sheathed in your warmth, nibbling your jaw, forcing back in and sending your brain to static and honey drips.
Each slow, hard punch of his cock ignites sparks to roar into flame inside you, plunging so deep and tightly within your soaking core, it feels like taking a storm within. The little lightning strikes flicker up your spine, nails dragging his arms, moaning into his mouth as your thighs tighten against his waist.
The way he moves inside you, it’s perfect. There’s no other word to explain it, the rhythm of his fuck beyond anything you’ve known before, the lewd sound of it echoing through the room as you wail, feel him bite your neck, baritone rumbles vibrating through his chest and melding with your nerves as his mouth returns to yours.
He moves rapidly, sitting back on his heels, pitching your legs over his shoulders as he arrows into you, eyes bled completely red, and if it isn’t the scariest, sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. The pace gains momentum, one hand clutched at your leg as he turns his head to kiss your ankle, the other moving to rub circles upon your pulsing clit, watching you intently as he begins to add speed.
Except this speed is unknown to you, not human, and ohhh, how you ache around each unnaturally, brutally delivered punch of his cock. Heat suffuses, and you feel yourself fluttering on him, the desire to come welling up until it breaks and you howl, your rigid body bending off the bed as you push back against every inhumanly rapid trawl of his cock.
“Mm, that’s it,” he groans silkily, “come hard for me, fuck, don’t stop.”
And you don’t. It keeps on washing through you, endless peaks cresting one after the other, his body slapping against yours furiously as he keeps fucking ecstasy into you. It only abates when he pulls from your sopping core, turns you onto your front and plunges back in, hand grasping the back of your neck and holding you down.
He’s driven by blind instinct, by his need to fill you with cum, his free hand slipping down your sweat slicked spine and grasping upon your bum, groaning ferally, the kick of his cock right against your summit igniting flames as he growls low. His hand slips to your hair, hauling you up to your knees, mouth pressing kisses of wanton need against your throat.
“Let me feed on you,” he pants, “let me drink your blood as I fill you full of cum.”
At this point, you’re so mindless, so high on the exchange, of the thrill of letting a vampire fuck you, you’d let him do anything. You nod in acceptance, his thrusts becoming completely uncontained, a hand slipping to the crest of your sex and stroking over your clit as you feel his energy shift almost tectonically.
“That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” he pants, his groans dark and deadly, all rasp and grit. “Let me feel you come around me again, beautiful.”
You feel like you might burst from the pressure of his cock, his tug within your hair holding you still, forcing you to take evert rapid upward welt of his cock. His groans are all dark sin as he chases the tingles in the pit of his groin, the snap of his fangs the precursor to a blinding, white-hot pain at your neck as he bites into your life source, body trembling against your back, lurching violently as he spills deeply within you.
The noise he makes when he comes, too. It has every hair on your arms rising to stand on end. Beautiful, monstrous, sexy and frightening all at once.
You fall apart around him, your entire body shaking violently, feeling a trickle of your blood scorch a path down your neck, rolling over your breast as he drinks from you. You're released from the vice-like bite, and he seals the wound with a bite to his own tongue, licking your throat, hand moving from your hair and splaying over your stomach. You’re still rolling in the thick of it, panting, wondering what magic it is he’s pouring into you.
Every time you feel yourself slump, the hand splayed at your middle firms, and he presses molten kisses to your neck, humming a deep moan, cock sinking slowly back and forth.
“Need a little recovery?” he asks.
“I need a bottle of rum!”
He laughs, and the sound is vibrantly lovely. “I can’t help you with that right now, but I can slow down for a while.”
He’s still like iron within you, and you wonder if that’s a vampire thing, your thoughts too jumbled up to ask whether they can come and keep on going. You suspect it likely is, though, held tight as he reads the rhythms of your body, cock still snugly sliding deep into your burning heat.
Slipping from you, he turns you onto your back, your muscles reduced to jelly, pulling him down into the clutch of those shaking limbs. Your hands tour his chest, nails trailing over the blonde hairs, noticing something different.
“Your skin is warm,” you murmur, a little sigh fluttering from your mouth.
“Mm,” he hums, kissing between your breasts. “When we’re exposed to a heat source, we do warm up.” His mouth falls to yours, and he tugs at your lower lip with a soft bite. “Insert terrible joke here about you being extremely hot.”
You giggle, but it’s half groan. “II, you’re better than that.”
“Yeah,” he utters, cock pushing back inside you. “I am.”
It’s slow and rolling this time, and he gazes at you, hands combing through your hair, forehead rested to yours, until those huge blue eyes close and his lips capture yours once more. The bliss of it fizzes over your bones, winding tight again before you know it, has you mewling softly against his beautiful mouth, only breaking from the kiss to cry out as you feel your walls flutter on him strongly.
It edges on awe, light beaming beneath your skin as he clasps your jaw, forces you to watch him through your release, the intensity of it knocking you sideways. It verges on pain, flashing sharp at the crest of your sex from every rolling press of his pubic bone into the bundle of pulsing nerves, wailing through it until you’re hoarse.
Little spots gather at the edges of your vision, shaking again beneath him, feeling both bliss and rawness between your legs. You wince, and he frowns.
“Are you sore?” he asks concernedly, easing the depth of his cock back.
“Little bit.”
“If you’re open to the idea, I can help,” he suggests. “Drink a little of my blood and you’ll feel good as new. Quite high as well, as it tends to have that effect on the living. Especially from a vampire of my age.” Your puzzled look is met by further explanation. “Drinking our blood, you take a little of our essence on. You feel things more deeply, experience pleasure more intensely, as well as the expedited healing. All your senses sharpen by about a hundred, to put it shortly. You might see flashes of my life, too, view my memories as if you were me.”
While the idea of thinking blood isn’t all too tempting to you, the effects do sound like an appealing offer. “Alright.”
He drops fang, biting onto his wrist and offering it to your mouth. You feel the cool liquid hit your lips, wrapping them around the wound and sucking it gingerly, the coppery tang sharp on your tongue. The more blood you pull back, bizarrely, the further you feel yourself keening for it, a greedy craving.
Your skin tingles, vision sharpening, the dull ache in your core lessening, the pleasure of feeling him hard yet remaining still inside of you blooming out with nothing short of sonic beauty. It’s euphoria dancing through you, and you marvel at it, how the blood of a dead creature can make you feel so alight with life.
“Ah, ah,” he chides, smiling, “that’s enough.”
Your entire body hums with it, feeling as if you’re radiating the energy of the universe itself, cosmic brilliance rushing through your blood. “Oh, fucking hell. Wow.”
He laughs at your soft exclamation, licking his healed wrist clean, kissing the crimson from your lips. “I thought you might enjoy that.”
“Mmm,” you hum dreamily, stroking his face, lost in the stormy blue of his eyes, feeling your heart quickening as you lean to kiss him. You meld with him, a need to do so thrumming so strongly that it's impossible to rationalise or fight against.
There, in the bed of the vampire who was one so cold, you experience warmth as if tinged by the edges of heaven. Its radiance beams golden over your bones, something beautiful entangling in your heart. “This feels like... I can’t even explain it.”
He nuzzles you, an action that has you soaring. “You don’t need to, beautiful. Not everything needs to be described by words. Just let yourself feel it.”
The ancient power of him vibrates through your blood, and it lets you not only see, but feel him, feel him there in you, little flashes of his life, everything from vanquish to conquest echoing in your veins. Another kiss is pressed to your lips, II slowly kissing his way down your body, cock slipping from you, that warmth replaced by the firm, dragging contact of his tongue.
Your eyes roll back in your head, thighs falling further apart, the cool of his breath against where you thrum hot utterly scintillating. The slow roll of his tongue tasting you firms when it reaches your clit, flicking back and forth over the tiny, but oh-so-potent bundle of nerves, your lungs hitching on a breath as you gasp.
Every sweeping lick feels like its laddering you to orgasm, but it doesn’t build the same, the intensity merely existing without peaking, settling over you like stardust. His hands stroke you with approbation, gliding beneath your back as your arch like the bend in a river, II the pulsing water that trickles around every winding gulley.
He watches you, tongue moving to slide inside, that blue stare like ice on fire as he moans against your soft, sweet pink. “Mmm, fuck. You’re getting my tongue so wet with all this lovely, sweet cunt honey.”
His lips wrap your clit in a soft suckle, firming, tongue nudging at the bud, beginning to flicker. Heat cracks over you like a bolt, his suck like a vacuum, pulling the pleasure from you as his tongue quickens, and quickens...
Your eyes just crossed, legs writhing against his head, a scream torn from your lungs as it pulses sunshine and starlight over your nerves and you come for him in a blaze of neon. You’re adrift from yourself, a lone craft upon a vast, deep ocean, the feel of his cock opening you up around the thick girth of his shaft bringing you back to yourself.
You spend the rest of the afternoon in utter sexual rapture, your tired, sore body assisted by another little drink of his blood. You snooze against his chest for a time, and he holds you, fingers stroking your skin before letting you go with reluctance so you can have a much-needed soak in the bath.
It’s while you’re there, wisps of steam rising from the hot water cradling your sexually annihilated body that suddenly, a loud roar shatters through your tranquillity, making you jump. You sit up, the water whooshing around you, on high alert for the source of the sound. Blinking a few times, you open your eyes and suddenly, you’re no longer in the bathroom at Norton House.
The battlefield before you heaves with the bodies of men locked in barbaric conflict, the smell of blood and iron rich in the air. A bellowing war cry leaves your mouth as you surge forward, armed with a hatchet in either hand.
II’s hands.
No. King Magnus’s hands.
A man advances, your arm swinging back to deliver a blow to his throat, his blood spraying out around the fatal kiss of the blade, a second rushing forth from the other side. This time, the strike to his chest is so deep, you have to use your foot to heave the blade back out again, striking him repeatedly as you snarl a language you don’t understand.
“Til Valhal!”
The enemy keep pushing, and one by one, you cut them down, their screams feeding your rage, your hands thick with the drench of their blood. Three more advance, your swings cutting down two, the third taken out by a fantastically accurate strike from the hatchet you throw, the weapon spinning in rapid trajectory, landing dead centre in the middle of your would-be assailant's skull.
Men continue to charge against you, cut down with sickening brutality, until there is nobody left to advance. Their bodies litter the ground, some moaning, some twitching, your weapons striking them until they stir no further.
Triumphant cheers of blood-soaked men fill the air, none louder than your own, and in a blink the vision breaks, your sight returned to the bathroom.
“Bloody hell,” you whisper, your entire body flecked with goosepimples at seeing that particular memory of his. “He was an absolute savage!”
And you’ve just had what was probably the best sex of your life with that savage.
While you bathe past sundown, said savage remains awake, a little to his detriment although it’s easier at his age, going into the kitchen and finding III’s weed box, deciding to help himself. He doesn’t feel the need for cloudiness often, but with the way your blood is fizzing through his veins, along with the fact he lost count of the number of times he came, he feels it’s needed to bring himself back down.
He seats himself at the top of the garden steps, lighting up, the immediate cloudiness from the dried blood hitting his head and tightening everything for a brief second before his exhale brings him the fuzzy calming he was seeking.
“I feel that this perhaps wasn’t the best plan you could have run with.”
A thud arrives at his side, his creator taking a seat. Of course, he knows what he’s been doing all afternoon, being able to smell you on his skin. The atmosphere thickens, the younger of the vampires closing his eyes momentarily. When he desired for his buzz to come back down a smidgen, this wasn’t how he’d envisioned it would. He feels it already, flickering to flame in his own blood, the blood that made him what he is pulsing with displeasure at his actions.
“Couldn’t be helped,” he breathes, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke into the night air, tinged blue and winding up to the tattered branches of the dead tree that extends above where he sits.
Ves snorts. “III is the one with an insufferable habit of thinking with his cock, but never you. Surely, the pull of her blood wasn’t so intoxicating that you couldn’t fight against it?”
His words are clipped, cool, measured. His ire has a pulse, and his best course of action is to remain calm in the face of it. “No, but when she had mine in her system, it was impossible to ignore that connective spark.” He pauses, arching an eyebrow. “Besides, you’ve seen her. Can’t tell me you’d refuse a woman that beautiful.”
A growl sounds the air, the ancient power at his side fixing him a glare. “You fucking fool! I would have expected this from one of the others, but not you!”
“Vessel, it just happened,” he reasons calmly, “I didn’t intend for it to, but she cut her hand open, and so I healed her. That’s what caused it. Her blood within me, and mine within her. I’d say you know how it is with omega blood, but we both understand why you don’t.” He sighs, taking another drag on the spliff. “I couldn’t have fought against it even if I’d wanted to.”
“She has to be level-headed enough to make a decision at the right time,” he fumes quietly, hands flexing as he laces his fingers. “How can she do that when she’s compromised in her emotions because of your blood, hmm? She’s probably so blood drunk on you, the poor woman doesn’t know up from down.”
The more a person drinks of a vampire, the longer it lasts, after all.
“It’ll wear off, eventually.” He then turns to his creator, eyes narrowing a fraction. “Are you pissed off because I allegedly jeopardised our chances of her agreement, or because I fucked her before you got the chance?” Another growl. “Yeah, thought so. Just don’t hold it against her. She did nothing wrong. Quite enjoyed herself, actually.”
“It isn’t fair on Grace,” he grits, pulling back his temper into his depths once more. “She doesn’t realise what’s happening to her, but you well understand it, that you’ve begun the bonding process already.”
II sniffs, shrugging. “And if she’s close with at least one of us in that way, you might find we stand more of a chance of her saying yes, mightn’t you?” He has him there, and much to his chagrin, Ves knows it. “Which leads me back to you simply being more bothered that I beat you to it.”
A long, tense silence stretches between them, the honesty of II’s statement hanging in the air like thick, sickly smoke. His creator sits with the weight of those words pressing down on him, unable to ignore the uncomfortable truth that’s been laid bare. It’s not just the admission itself, but the way II holds it up like a mirror, forcing his creator to confront feelings and realities he might have preferred to leave unexamined.
That unflinching truth is what sends a prickling sensation through his chest, tightening the atmosphere even further as neither of them speaks, each lost in the implications of what’s just been confessed.
“III will be irate,” Ves finally speaks.
“Likely,” II chirps, chuckling, “especially when I tell him, in graphic detail, just how beautiful she tastes.”
“You live to antagonise him, don’t you?”
“Always will.”
A hand presses to his shoulder. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”
He’s left in silence then, contemplating whether his afternoon of endless sex with you is going to come back and bite him. Despite his creator eventually evening back out in temperament, he knows he’s pissed him off. For the exact reason he deduced. It wasn’t intentional, but he probably should have expected it.
Left alone with his thoughts, he sits in a heavy, reflective silence, the echoes of the afternoon’s passions still lingering in his mind. The question nibbles at him, whether the consequences of his relentless sexual indulgence will soon rear their head, repercussions waiting in the wings for a moment of greater reckoning.
Although his creator’s anger eventually subsided, returning to a more even temperament, the underlying irritation remained palpable. He knows, with certainty, that he has managed to anger him, the cause as clear as daylight. It hadn’t been a calculated move; he had never intended for things to unfold as they had. Yet, in hindsight, he realises perhaps he should have tried harder to fight the urge to act upon his desires.
The sound of skateboard wheels fills his ears, and his grin begins to grow, casting his concerns over what he did with you to the side and instead, preparing to rub someone’s nose right in them instead.
III shuffles to sit beside him, about to speak. He pauses, sniffing, and the unmistakable scent of you lingering upon his skin seals it.
“Oh, you absolute fucking bastard!” His arms flail, eyes practically out on stalks. “So not only do you steal my weed, you spend all fucking afternoon throbbing away with the woman I want to be throbbing away with, eh?”
“It Isn't like you stood much of a chance,” he drawls smoothly, smirking. “Why would she choose the jester when she can go right to the king?”
His jaw tightens, and it’s the second time that evening II finds himself growled at. “You always have to trot that one out, don’t you? Your former regal status,” he snorts. “At least I can get laid without having to resort to such tactics.”
II can’t help himself. “Tell me, how’s that working for you with her?”
He’s met with further growling, III reaching to snatch the spliff from his grasp. “She’s probably only fucking you out of pity, you poisonous little dwarf.”
“I’ll ask her for you, if you like?” he grins. It’s always too easy with him, getting the rise he so seeks. “The next time I’m bouncing her on my cock.”
His words are met with nonsensical, furious muttering, II tipping his head back, his loud laughter reaching your ears as you open the bathroom window to let out a little of the steam before you head downstairs and out into the garden.
“Ask me what?” you question, II still laughing as he leans back, patting his thighs. You take a seat upon them, feeling his arms wrap around you as he kisses the side of your neck. Despite the events of the afternoon, you did have to wonder if this newly encroached affection would last. For now, it seems it will.
“Whether I’m a pity fuck or not,” he reveals, revelling in III’s darkening expression as he makes a show of running his hand up and down your thigh.
You shake your head. “Definitely not.”
“Then you have extremely poor taste in vampires, Grace. S’all I can say,” III fumes, looking at you for a long moment, contemplative. “I mean, you could always sample another, though, test the theory. Give me a try and then see who you want to go back to, because I guarantee, it won’t be him.”
You laugh, shaking your head at III’s usual shameless bravado, the tight hold of II’s arms grounding, keeping your uncomfortableness over his brash flirting at bay. The playful bickering between them provides amusement at the very least, until III wheels himself away once more.
It also serves to calm your rushing nerves about seeing Ves again in the wake of what’s happened, not altogether prepared to admit even to yourself why you feel a certain level of anguish about coming face to face with him.
The arms around you tighten. “Why are you nervous? I can feel it, in your blood.”
You’re unsure whether you’re comforted or unsettled by that. “III always makes me feel a little on edge,” you explain, hoping you can use that truth. “After the kidnap and all.”
He kisses your shoulder, and you realise you could get used to such affection, although your guard tells you to prepare that it might be fleeting. After all, he only began behaving this way after drinking your blood, intensified tenfold when you too drank of his, too.
“Let’s go back inside, hmm? I think you need your mind taking off him for a while.”
Once returned to the house, you find III has gone out, II confirming he doesn’t feel his energy anywhere. You both take a seat on the sofa, the vampire pulling your legs over his lap, stroking them with fondness.
There’s that affection again, and the question as to why burns upon the tip of your tongue like sulphur, plaguing your mouth, until you you’re forced to spit it out.
“Be honest with me.” Pausing, you take a breath, II viewing you with mild inquisition. “Is it because you drank my blood, why you’re behaving this way with me?”
He looks as if he was expecting that, sooner or later. “It is, yes. Trust me, I’m not usually this affectionate with humans. Not even Prisha.”
Oh, fuck. Did he cheat on someone? The thought that you lured him away from a girlfriend who has no idea of his betrayal doesn’t sit well with you. “I take it that’s your girlfriend, correct?”
Closing his eyes momentarily, he shakes his head. “Casual lover. I don’t really have the temperament for commitment. Whenever I’ve been here for work over the last four years, she’s been the one I’ve sought for sexual satisfaction.”
Work? For some reason, you didn’t think vampires held jobs, but you suppose they have to have financial means somehow. “What do you work as?”
“Historical expert in the field of the Viking age, which likely comes as no surprise,” he reveals with a small smile. “I assist historians with adjusting a lot of misinformation about my people, serving as a link between my time living and the findings they are still discovering on archaeological digs. In return, they allow me my anonymity. I am not a particularly social creature, so I do not seek for my presence to be publicised.” He pauses a second. “It’s enough that those people all fawn over me in the flesh. If that happened on a wider scale, I’d be even grumpier than I already am.”
You enjoy this, having him reveal little interesting facts about himself without reservation. It makes your time there easier, so much so you’ve begun to forget you’re a captive guest opposed to an invited one.
“Back to the blood thing, not that what you’ve just told me isn’t fascinating,” you begin, “but will it wear off? Will you go back to being moody with me?”
As usual, his reply is honest. “I’ll probably become cooler in demeanour again, but not moody. Not now I know you, and what I know, I like.”
That last statement surprises you. “Really? You barely know me, though.”
He snorts, laughing. “Says the woman who let me bury my tongue right here for an hour earlier,” he states, raising an eyebrow as his hand pushes between your legs.
You giggle, blushing, feeling a little ridiculous. Except it’s true! He might’ve sexually annihilated you for most of the afternoon, but knowing you? Hm.
He fixes you with a knowing look, his tone deliberate and assured. “I know you better than you think I do. It’s because of your blood,” he explains, voice low. “Not only can I pick up on your emotions with much greater clarity, but I’m able to sense your temperament, too. Sometimes I even catch glimpses of your memories.”
He pauses, his hand resting gently on your leg, almost as if to reassure you. “Like I said at the time, you might experience a small part of that from me as well, but it’s never as intense for humans.” It certainly felt it for you, as you sat in the bathtub, transported into one of his memories from battle.
His hand begins to stroke upon your thigh as he continues. “For us, it’s far more vivid, the connection running deeper. You don’t feel things as sharply as we do. The blood effects last longer in us than it does you, too.”
It’s a very strange experience, feeling the emotions of someone else right beside your own, you have to say. Smiling wider, his hand continues to idly glide back and forth. “You remind me of someone who was very dear to me.”
“Who?” you inquire, reaching to run your nails up and down his arm, an action he seems to enjoy.
“My wife.”
While you’re not naive enough to assume he wasn’t married in his human life, it’s surprising to you that he makes mention of her. You don’t remember learning much about his family at school either, wracking the banks of your memories. There were sons, although the information escapes you as to how many, or their names, but no mention of a wife.
“Tell me about her,” you request, “because I confess not to know anything. Women being left out of history compared to their male counterparts and all that.”
He snorts, jaw tightening a fraction. “I’m making sure that ceases to happen, because our women were just as great and important as us. Ingrid was no different.” His eyes narrow, misting a little, and you suddenly have a vision of a woman with beautiful, deep golden hair, tattoos extending over her throat and neck and eyes a gorgeous shade of moss green flash through your mind.
“Oh!” you gasp, hand clutching his arm. “I just saw her, in your memories.”
“Beautiful, wasn’t she?” he speaks softly, looking wistful. “I still miss her. She was a tremendous woman, a fierce warrior in her own right, a shieldmaiden who fought at my side in many a battle. She bore me four sons, too, and a daughter. It is a pity she never met the child, though, for she died while delivering her.”
A little gasp leaves your lips, your eyes rounding. “Shit, I’m so sorry, II. That must’ve been awful.”
His mouth twitches, a certain coolness falling over him. He can’t hide what flares within you, though, and you feel the barb of pain that her loss created. He carries it still, over a thousand years on. “It was, but a long, long time ago. Such a premature death was a waste of a wholly remarkable woman, to have died at twenty-six, a true injustice that she did not go on for many more years.
“She was the most tenacious, remarkable woman I ever met. She once took on a group of three marauders on her own. Each of them she laid waste to, slaying them with only a sword and her own skill. While six months’ pregnant with our first son. I came home from a summer raid to find their heads mounted on poles outside of our home, her warning to whoever might attempt such again. She was only seventeen at the time, so you can imagine the force she further became with age.”
To hear him speak so proudly and fondly of her; to open up that part of himself, you find it fascinating. Yet, you’re a little bewildered. “She sounds incredible, so forgive me for sitting here wondering why the hell I remind you of her.”
He frowns a touch. “You don’t see it?”
“No! I could never be that strong!”
He reaches for your hand, fingers entwining with yours. “And yet you are. We are holding you here, and you haven’t broken and cowered to us. You stand up to us, despite the fact of what we are. You carry yourself with poise, emotional rationality and steadiness. I feel it in you, that you aren’t buckling under the weight of this. I suspect to a degree, you’re playing your own game, too.”
You weren’t aware of such, if you’re honest. “The only game I’m playing is to come through this as unscathed as possible and return to the life I know and love.”
“Mm,” he murmurs. “Or you might find one you love more.” Grasping your other hand, he pulls you up, seating you astride him. “Speaking of playing, how would you like to go back upstairs and play with me all over again?”
His lips press cool kisses against your throat, hands sliding in tease down your back, grasping your bum and pulling you closer against him. Mmm. There’s only one answer to that, feeling his hard cock pressing so tightly against your apex.
An hour on from then, and it’s gliding in and out of the soaking mess of your cunt, edging you to orgasm, pausing to take his mouth there and suck upon you instead. Your cry rings through the air like a bell, your ears picking up on a similar noise of female bliss coming through the wall. From Ves’s room.
Closing your eyes, you ignore the little cold wash that whirls through your tummy, nails running over his scalp as your hips purl against his mouth.
“I think someone is envious of me, and doing his best to distract himself,” II speaks, kissing his way back to your mouth, cock sinking between your walls again. “Or try and convince me he doesn’t care, when I know he does.”
That information makes your heart miss a beat, pouring your focus instead squarely to the vampire inside of you, pulling him into scorching kisses, losing yourself to the heat of his cool fire. He finally lets you rest around half an hour from dawn, but you’re so sweaty and blood stained you decide to duck out for a shower.
It seems someone else had the same idea.
You’re glad you had the sense to put on a t shirt, using one of II’s from his laundry pile that covers your bum before padding out and down to the bathroom. The house is bathed in silence, shadows creeping across the walls as outside, the sound of rain pattering offers a tranquil song of nature.
Reaching for the bathroom door handle, you almost jump from your skin when it suddenly opens, revealing Ves standing there, water still running over his skin, a dark towel wrapped around his waist. He lifts his chin a little, his jaw twitching, stare fixing you so hard that you feel as if his gaze is pushing you backwards, banishing you from his presence.
Your feet shuffle against the cool floorboards, heart thumping as the tension between you thickens, silent but unmistakable.
“You’re angry with me, aren’t you?” you finally speak, your question taking an ample clutch of courage you had to dig from your depths.
His eyes linger, their intensity making your skin prickle beneath the borrowed cotton, his mouth the keeper of a silence that stretches out far too long for comfort. You press your lips together, swallowing hard, clutching the hem of the oversized shirt, feeling small and exposed in a way that has nothing to do with your state of dress and everything to do with the charged, unspoken connection crowding the space between you.
After what feels like an eternity of awkwardness, he steps aside, allowing you passage, but a brush of his fingers suddenly closes on your arm, halting your entrance. You look to his hand, your eyes touring up to his face, heart jackrabbiting in your chest.
Squaring his stance, he releases his grip, hands coming up to gingerly frame your face, his thumb sweeping over the bow of your lips. You feel like an ancient tower crumbling beneath his touch, your breath hitching, chest tightening, the moment sparking intensity with a myriad of words and feelings unsaid, the tall vampire bridging the gap as he leans to you.
His lips press your cheek, and your stomach tingles with ice, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up when you hear him growl faintly in the back of his throat, the sound of his fangs popping setting your nerves upon the highest, most perilous of edges. He leans away, eyes bled vermillion, and in a blink, you’re standing alone in the doorway.
You can’t even begin to process and unpack that moment, the tension in the air hanging heavy as you shower quickly, your hands trembling in the clutch upon the lathered washcloth.
While your meeting with Ves in the doorway leaves you with more uncomfortable questions than answers, though, his current mood is telling after emerging, witnessing your box of clothes left outside II’s bedroom door.
Did you enjoy what you just read? If so, please help your author out by commenting/reblogging. If you want to be added to the taglist, please do let me know, too!
Ty for the tags @serialsforbellara and @redaresss (can you tell I have free time for once and am catching up on tags? :D)
1. What's your blog title from?
From me not knowing how this tumblr thing is done when I made this blog (and I'm too lazy to change it).
2. Latest movie? What did you think?
That's a good question. I have no idea when I last saw a movie (and I will not be counting all the times I have been forced to sorta watch Despicable Me and Grinch cause the kids were watching them). Ohhh, now I remember. We went to the movies with the husband for the first time in like eight years recently and saw The Mandalorian and Grogu, which wasn't half bad. I had zero expectations and I actually had fun.
3. What are you looking forward to right now?
To having two more days of quiet since the kids are at camp, which means getting to write in peace.
4. If you could do anything at all today, what would it be?
See above. I never get enough time for writing, so that's definitely what I'm gonna do (once I make at least a little dent in my tumblr tags).
5. Drink of choice?
Ginger lemonade when it's hot, earl grey tea when it's cold, water otherwise. Or Kofola if we're at a restaurant... there's just too many variables in this question, so I'll stop there.
6. Hair routine?
Wash, comb, possibly slap on some product to make sure it doesn't stick up too much (I so need to buzz it again, it's getting too long).
7. Favourite way to travel? Is there another you want to try?
On foot when possible, otherwise probably car, but only when I'm driving. Wish someone would invent teleportation already.
8. Favourite month and why?
Early October, cause the sunlight is just perfect then.
9. Favourite time of day and why?
Late night, cause quiet and time for writing, and dawn, cause pretty.
10. Do you play or follow any sports?
Nope.
11. What kind of music has been stuck in your head lately?
That's a difficult question, cause my brain is either all over the place with it or it latches onto one song for days. I tried stopping the music I'm listening to right now to see what would happen and the answer is apparently Hurricane by Lord Huron, cause it started up immediately when it got quiet.
12. Dishes or laundry?
Ugh to both, but laundry if I really have to pick.
13. Something you learned recently?
Which side of the boat is called starboard and which is port (it was for that Siren Rook fic I'm writing), cause I don't know shit about boats. Starboard is the right hand side when you're facing the front of the ship, because - you know what, I'm just gonna slap the wiki excerpt here, cause it's really interesting.
14. What would you talk about if you could give a TED talk on anything?
I wouldn't cause I hate talking in front of people.
15. Piece of advice you find yourself giving a lot?
"It gets better with time."
16. Piece of advice you would give yourself five years ago?
"Trust yourself."
17. Do you believe in luck and superstition? Do you carry any lucky items or follow any
In luck, yeah (to a certain degree). I've got a neuron plushie and a pressed four leaf clover that were there for all of my college exams.
18. Are you musical (play any instruments, sing)? Would you ever perform for an audience?
Would like to be, but I have the musical talent of a brick, which means the answer to the second question is a resounding nope. I like singing in the car though and the kids like joining in, so that's fun.
19. Write, type or speak?
I assume write means like by hand? In which case no, don't like. My hand hurts after a while and my handwriting is shit. Typing yes, cause I can do it fast. Speaking not much, cause I'm not a fan of my voice and I tend to have trouble expressing myself quickly.
20. What do you wish someone would ask you?
Wishing for someone to ask me something somehow feels very "a mortifying ordeal of being known" to me, cause I overthink. Ask me something if you want, or nothing at all, but I have no idea how to answer this question.
Part Four: I Really Want to Stay At My House (YOU ARE HERE)
A little interlude.
Part Five: Power Down
Part Six: You Will Leave Some Paint
Part Seven: Backwards to go Forwards
Part Eight: Master of Bathrooms
Part Nine: Within a Room, Somewhere
Part Ten: Rooms With No View
Part Eleven: Big Bang Room Part A and also Part B!
Part Twelve: We Can Make It On the Outside
Part Thirteen: Mauve Haze Symphony (YOU ARE HERE)
Part Fourteen (A) - In the Kitchen
Part Fourteen (B) - Copper Green
---
Almost done, one more room after this one to go.
Oh man, I thought I'd posted this LAST WEEK and was shocked to see that it was still in my drafts. Oops.
Well, I'm going to take a breather from... everything... and finish this and post it. I hope it's a nice little break for you, too.
A little catchup on the past stuff, and then moving into one of the last two rooms!
OK so I DID forget one really important garage thing -- a new tankless, natural gas powered hot water heater!
In 2009 one day i came home from work to find water pouring out of my garage. Ohhh shit. The hot water heater had rusted through and water went everywhere. I called my dad in a panic and he walked me through shutting the water off on the street level.
I was really lucky that absolutely nothing got ruined, I think maybe a rug I had in there got wet but basically nothing else. Laundry Mountain wasn't quite a thing yet. Some people have their HWH in like, the middle of their house or the attic and having it break like mine did is much worse news.
Anyway, got a new one put in and per my dad's suggestion wrote the date it was installed on it.
HWHs usually have a 10 year lifespan. Mine was installed in 2009 sooooo... uhhh... yeah. It still worked fine, though!
But I decided to stop gambling with time, and had Arturo install a new one.
We f'd up and didn't notice that the first one I bought was Propane and not natural gas powered. Arturo stood over my shoulder when I bought it online, and then it sat in my garage for almost two months while we had so much other stuff going on. By the time we tried installing it, it was past the return date. We discussed it and Arturo volunteered to eat the cost. I ended up sneaking in about half the cost back in on our project/price spreadsheet anyway. :p
Anyway, new HWH works great, and will cost less to run every year, and I don't need to worry about it for at least another decade! Also, I've always been lucky that my HWH survived the freezes easily, so I'm just crossing my fingers that the tankless does, as well.
---
OK, on to today's real update!
The hall bath.
When I talked about the Master Bath way back in Chapter 8, I mentioned that for all intents and purposes this was my only full bath for most of the time I had my house.
The thing was, the tub/shower was not in great shape when I bought the house (like literally everything else) and had only gotten worse through the years.
The tub came stained and discolored and no cleaning trick I ever tried could fix it. A couple of times my dad used this enamel stuff on it to make it look better, but that lasted about a year at a time and then would flake off. Eventually we just stopped doing that.
The shower tiles were also coming off. Several times we just did patching, replacing some with close-but-not-quite color matches.
Eventually... well, you'll see the state of it here in a second.
Also, I tried early on to take a bath in my bathtub, and then realized that there was no overflow, but there WAS a leak around the area where an overflow would have gone but was covered up... and then if there was overflow it just spilled behind the wall. It was a small, shallow tub anyway and baths weren't comfortable, especially for someone who wasn't a size six.
The "Just moved in, this is what I have to work with" picture.
Ugh.
Also, please note that there's actually NO SHOWERHEAD IN THIS TUB. There's just... no shower. So I guess people were taking baths in it? My buddy Helen installed a new faucet and showerhead for me.
See... that's what I started with.
After I took down the wallpaper, cleaned as best I could and slapped up a new coat of paint... I could live with it. Surely I'd make it better!
Oh, also when I tore that wallpaper out, TERMITES were living there, just under the wallpaper above the tub. eating through the drywall.
Thank God for the home warranty that first year, they came out and treated them. Had it treated again a couple of years later.
---
The room got new flooring in the great Flooring & Kitchen Update of 2009.
And then this bathroom ALSO got the toilet and sink areas updated finally after nine years in 2012, as discussed back in parts 7 and 8.
That Shower Curtain is hiding a Secret --- the secret is that the bathtub is still the same, but getting worse!
Much improved. Not so gross. You know, as long as you don't look behind the shower curtain!
Also, no I did NOT put anything into that medicine cabinet frame either... until... well you'll see.
Hilariously, look, I have no pictures of the ceiling of this room but I very much painted all the way up to NEAR the ceiling on all the walls that got painted beige and then never finished. I think I posted this somewhere before but I'll say it again. I just kind of forgot to finish painting this room for twelve years. As long as you didn't look up at the ceiling it was FINE, lol. When I had painted before it was messy too. So there were paint splotches on the ceiling. It was not good and I have ZERO excuses.
My boss at the time had a quote that I always remember and think about in relation to this --- "There's the first 90% of a project, and then the second 90% of the project." Meaning that sometimes just crossing the finish line when you're within a few steps of it is like the hardest part. That's what this ceiling was. I think at one point a couple of years on I went and grabbed the paint can to finish, but the paint was solid by that point, so I was like "Oh I need to just go get more paint.
AND THEN I DIDN'T.
---
I'm going to post here something I swore I'd never show people, the reason I almost never had people stay overnight in my house, my greatest shame.
This is how bad it got at the end.
No amount of cleaning could make it better. Some tiles were held on with duct tape, others just falling off at random. It was so bad, so gross. The reason my showers were all 5 minutes or less whenever possible.
So yeah, the bathroom was pretty nice, as long as you didn't look behind the shower curtain. Or up.
The reason I almost didn't want to show Arturo how bad it was, because it was just... so bad, but I trusted him and.... GOD it was worth it.
---
Once the master bath was mostly done, just some of the details like putting in the trim and painting the smaller things, so that we had a working bathroom at all times, Arturo started in on the hall bath.
This was truly one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. I was so happy when I saw this that I wanted to cry with joy. Gone was the ancient, gross tile. And seeing the gross drywall underneath gone as well.
Also, hey, no black mold like I was slightly worried would be a problem!
But also there was this...
Uhhh yeah so that would be wood that was chewed through by termites.
Arturo said there weren't any there now -- this is just all the damage they'd done for who knows how many years before I moved in and maybe a little after until I had the second termite treatment.
All of that wood got torn out. A few days later...
GOODBYE FOREVER AND NO THANK YOU gross old small stained tub. And hello to brand new uneaten wood!
Arturo said that the plumbing under here had also rotted out and fallen apart at some point and the water was also mostly draining straight into the ground.
So both of my bathrooms were seriously fucked in ways I couldn't have known about.
Obviously, that was all replaced and fixed. Any bad bits of plumbing or wood or whatever were made whole and new.
---
So while this was going on, I also now had to start making decisions about this bathroom.
Originally, I had said that since both bathrooms had very good tile floors still, and the sink countertop was beige and the sink cabinet/mirror/medicine cabinet set were all brown, that I would just keep both bathrooms beige themed. After all, it looked great in the Master.
I did want different accent tile to differentiate the two. And so Arturo brought me a couple of samples and after the obvious choice of the one I made in the Master, I decided on this for the hall bath.
Another decent beige accent tile, and I would do a taupe on the wall to match the taupe-ish lighter glass tile in the accent. It would have looked nice, with little effort to change things. We were going to use the same main tile in the shower, as well.
And then I started thinking about accents like towels, shower curtain and rugs and looking online for accents that would look good with all this and... couldn't find things I would like. At all.
I began doubting my taupe idea and was worried that the bathroom would be, well, boring. I wasn't in love with any of this stuff, the accent or the taupe colors and couldn't bring it all together in my brain to something I really wanted.
So one Sunday, I spent my afternoon tile shopping.
I went to Floor & Decor, which had hundreds of options, several of which I liked and took pictures of as "maybe", but nothing super leapt out at me.
The Tile Shop, which is ridiculously expensive. I did find an option in there that I loved, but it was almost $30 a tile. The accept tile in the master bath was $15 and I thought that was almost too expensive.
I went to Lowe's, which is where the master bath tile came from, and saw nothing else that spoke to me.
I went to The Home Depot, and fell in love with an accent tile. I actually went there first and saw The One, but made myself go to all the other places to make sure I didn't love anything else more. The One was only $10 a tile, too!
One huge problem though.
It was not beige.
It is called Binary Code and it is mauve, silver... and black.
The entire day when I was out looking at other options, stubbornly telling myself I couldn't use that one because it would require too many changes my brain also just kept chewing on BUT I LOVE IT, I WANT IT!! like a petulant child.
I finally went back to home depot late in the afternoon and stood there and looked at Binary Code, standing there mentally listing out all of the things I'd need to have Arturo change in order to get what I wanted.
We'd need a new main tile, something in black and white.
I went and looked at the main tile options and hey, a nice black and white one I liked for like $1.50 per tile. More expensive than the .89 per main tile for the master bath, but I'd tell Arturo he could charge me for the difference.
Okay but also the floor would need to be redone in that tile, so there's a little extra cost and labor.
All of the wood wouldn't really match now. But instead of replacing... how about just painting? Just a black paint on all the wood... that would work!
I could do it! This was going to be fine!
...and then I realized that the sink countertop was still beige. Shit. I don't know if we could paint that.
I decided, in the end, it was all going to be worth it. I bought all 14 remaining pieces of Binary Code at that Home Depot right then and there, and snapped a picture of the new main tile for Arturo.
I braced myself when he came to the house next and showed him the new tile, told him the new plan.
He was totally cool with it.
We needed a few more pieces of Binary Code, and I asked him about the extra cost and he said since I bought most of the accent tile myself it would balance things out, even with doing the floors.
He then suggested looking at just buying a new sink countertop, and we looked online together after measuring the current one, and I ordered a plain white countertop in the same size.
We added the cost of the black paint and painting labor for the bathroom and I realized that I was headed to having a second bathroom that was exactly what I wanted. I was so happy.
I settled on a very light mauve for the walls, and bought towels, a shower curtain and bathmats in mauve, as well.
---
A week or so prior to this, Arturo and I discussed the new bathtub. It had been his plan added into the remodel cost to replace the tub with more or less the same kind of tub, just newer. Builder's grade. Which was fair!
But not what I wanted.
I told him not to buy a tub yet (and this was before we started in on the hall bath renovations.)
I went tub shopping online. For days.
I learned about materials, and sizes, and purposes of tubs.
I knew, after the horrorshow of my old tub, I wanted something nice. Not top of the line, but something I could actually take a bath in. A tub that wasn't just basic, but something I could show off a little and actually use.
After seeing options and prices, I decided that this was a splurge item. I set myself a budget of somewhere between 500 and 1000 for a tub, more than I imagined ever spending on one before, but I wanted acrylic for the durability and stain resistance. I wanted something I could soak in.
Arturo and I discussed at length the size of the tub once I told him what I wanted and showed him some options. The bathroom is already small, how much more could I encroach into the room without it becoming a problem? It obviously had to be the standard 60" long, but how wide and tall could I go?
After many hours of comparing tubs at Lowes/HD/Amazon... I finally picked my tub.
WOODBRIDGE 60" Acrylic Rectangular Alcove Soaking Bathtub in White with Right Drain
The main thing that sold me on this one was that it had extra insulation, so bathwater stayed warm longer. It was also gorgeous, and had a curved back for comfortable soaking.
It was also 4" wider than my old tub. Comfortable for more body shapes and sizes. 14" of soaking depth. Brushed nickle finish with a popup drain.
---
It took a week to arrive because it had to be shipped by freight. Then the FedEx guy decided to just walk to my door, and NOT ring the doorbell. I was sitting at my desk which is right next to the front door when I heard someone outside, I got up to grab a shirt to throw over my tank top, and he was gone when I got back 20 seconds later. I looked on my doorbell cam and he walked up, stood there for 10 seconds without reaching to knock or ring, stuck the paper on my door and jogged back to his truck.
I called and complained to FedEx and the next day put up MULTIPLE signs on my garage and door saying I am HOME and KNOCK. Then left the window over there open to make sure I heard him.
I greeted him as he walked to my driveway and made sure it got delivered inside my house per the shipping agreement.
...and then it was an extra table in the middle of my big room for like two weeks lol. I'd posted a pic a couple of updates back of Fry sitting on the box.
The new sink countertop came in around then, too, and spent like a month in the box just being a table.
It's OK, we needed the counter space.
---
Finally, the day arrived.
Had to snap a picture of the only time I'd ever see under the tub. Looks good!
The same day, the new main tile started going in.
And the plumbing got mounted! Look at that beautiful NOT ROTTED/CHEWED UP wood!
NGL, I now wish we'd put the controls / faucet a little lower, but it's OK where it is. A balance between high and low for showering or bathing.
It took longer than I was hoping for for this bathroom to get done, but near the end of September Arturo had a big project that he'd warned me about that kept getting delayed finally start up, so I saw him less as the weeks went by, but I understood.
Technically, we're still not done, here at the end of October, but he was actually here just yesterday the 30th and did a couple of things, and is coming back hopefully next week.
ANYWAY... in the meantime I bought a bathtub tray, and a bath pillow, and a box of bath bombs.
The tile went up on both the wall and the floor, the wood cabinets and mirror got painted, and a shelf put in over the bathtub.
--
It was finally painting the walls day!
I'd picked out the color I was sure I wanted, vaguely mauve and Arturo had picked up the color.
I was working when he and Janarie started painting and he called me in very shortly.
"I don't think this is the color you want. It's the right color but...."
I looked and quickly agreed. It wasn't just vaguely mauve, it was light pink. It wasn't what I'd envisioned now that it was on the wall. Shit.
Arturo said he'd have time to run and get a new color and get the painting done if I picked it very quickly.
I picked up my BFF Sherwin-Williams Paint Swatch Book and at that point I felt like I knew everything he had to offer. Other mauves on that page just weren't right, they'd also be too pink and I wanted a slightly grey-er mauve. I almost thought about looking at Behr or Glidden colors when instead I went to the Sherwin-Williams website and just color searched for Mauve... and bam. There it was.
Studio Mauve. It was in the back of the book, under a color collection called The Jazz Age, and it was perfect. Arturo went and got a can, came back and we were both happy when he started painting again.
One of the very last little dramas of the build.
---
Okay, so it all came together so well, and Arturo told me later that he doubted my vision when I told him, but he had to agree when it was all put together that he thought it worked great. Not what he would have done in his own house, but even he agreed with how well it all works together.
It's really me.
Here we go.
First, with the shower curtain.
And... voila! Pulled back.
I know, the shower curtain seems like it should be lower, but it really can't be. You'll see why in a sec.
I love that that curtain is the thing that ties all the mauve together. The Mauve that's on the walls is in that curtain. The mauve in the handtowels is in that curtain, and the mauve on the bathrugs is in that curtain.
I also bought turkish bathsheets in mauve for the room, and they... don't actually go with the rest of the mauve! The shade is off. But that's OK, they're hung up on a hook on the back of the door, out of sight. I maybe should have returned them and bought them in black but... eh. I'm fine with it.
I absolutely love the new tile, it looks so good and flows well from the floor to the wall.
The brushed nickel faucet was honestly in worse shape than I thought it was when Arturo put it back in. But then Arturo was like "I have another of those Delta faucets I don't need" so he gave that to me as well and I just paid for the install.
So there's a mix of chrome and brushed nickel in the bathroom now but I"m OK with it.
The wood stuff looks great painted black. And hey, also new art in the medicine cabinet windows that I think goes really well in the room!
Plus of course the same things like trim, door handles, doorstops etc. that's in every room.
A closer look at the tub!
It's got the same rainfall main shower head as the master, and the same controls.
That "shelf" at the bottom there is actually the water spout for the bathtub. It's so sleek, I love it a lot.
And of course the hand-held showerhead, same as in the master, replaced the one it came with.
The tub plug is a popup, and it's got an overflow that works!
Also a nice rounded slant for back resting. I have a bath pillow for my head and it's SO comfortable!
I've only taken baths twice, but I bought a box of bath bombs, light a candle, listen to a podcast or a chapter of an audiobook... it's SO nice and peaceful. Will still probably only do it every couple of weeks but It's SO relaxing and feels luxurious.
Oh I guess I didn't actually get a picture of this but if I did pull the shower curtain liner into the tub, it reaches almost to the floor of the tub. The tub is very tall and a couple of inches off the ground thanks to all that padding and insulation. It's a bit of a hazardous step, which is why there are hand-hold safety bars on both walls just outside of the tub. (You can see in the pic with the curtain closed above.)
Okay so! That's the hall bath!
There's one room left... obviously, the Kitchen and I really can't wait to show you (and finish up this long series of posts lol).
But that'll probably happen about two weeks from now because I'm about to be really busy again!
Thanks for coming along on this long journey of a very small room. :)
