Summary: When your vampire boyfriend Max Phillips agrees to turn you, you enjoy one last day as a mortal.
WARNINGS: Rated T, reader is gender neutral, established relationship, some kissing and fluff (as fluffy as Max can get), mentions of vampirism and ways a vampire can be hurt/injured, mentions of blood drinking, one mention of "intimacy" but is not detailed, no gore, mentions of eating food, reader wears a hoodie but is otherwise not described, use of hypnotism, mentions of being bitten, no use of y/n.
Author's Note: This work is for the jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge 🧡 I chose Max Phillips and apple picking 🍎
I'd kept this idea on the very, very back burner because honestly I love the mythology about vampires, and I wanted a soft!Max story, just to shake things up, and this fic challenge helped kickstart that idea into motion. There was absolutely zero information on our guy Max, so I just kind of messed with the lore and added some good ol' vampire myths just for fun 😊 Also, "Total Eclipse of the Heart" was meant to be a vampire love song, hence the title I used 🖤 (Side note: if you don't already squeeze lemon on your apple slices I highly suggest it. It keeps them from turning brown and gives them a little sour bite if you don't like them too sweet)
Thank you to @jolapeno and @goodwithcheese for hosting this lovely challenge!
divider by @strangergraphics👑
Honestly, you made your choice two seconds after Max told you he was a vampire. There were no two ways about it: if he was one, you wanted to be one too.
"Honey.. you need to think about this seriously. It's not some knee-jerk decision. We're talking about the rest of your life.. or afterlife.. unlife?.. that's at stake here."
"You'll outlive me one day," you reminded him. "I don't want that to happen." You snuggled against him, feeling how warm he was, though now that he'd revealed his secret, you started to feel the cold that seeped through his skin, was ever-present in the physiology that still made him a human male, but also something else.. some preternatural creature that was just under the surface. Hiding.. or suppressed.
"I try not to think about that. I haven't been undead that long," he admitted. "Can't we be happy with what we have now?"
It stung, but you tried not to take it too personally. Max was the type to say whatever thought flitted across his brain, be it snarky or sweet, though around others it typically tended towards the former.
From then on, once he knew you would keep his secret, once he put that trust in you that he didn't place in anyone else, you had so many (too many) questions to ask, and Max was as open as he could be regarding your curiosity. Yes, he could walk around in the daytime, but it was a necessity to slather himself in the highest grade SPF that he could only purchase online from a small business in Romania and cost ten times as much as you made in an hour at your job. And it explained why he always had a scent of coconuts beneath the layer of Tom Ford cologne he practically bathed in.
There were some things that could kill him, primarily a stake through the heart. Garlic and holy water made his eyes water and skin burn, temporarily subduing his powers, and you understood why he dissuaded you from eating Italian food when you started dating.
Speaking of the powers (and that was a huge point of curiosity for you), he had strength, speed, hypnosis (although he preferred the term 'powers of persuasion' -- ever the salesman, that one.) Drinking blood powered him, made him strong, and he managed to drink a little to get him through the day, only succumbing to his deeper cravings after hours.
It was this part he didn't want to talk about. He didn't like you thinking of him prowling after his prey, planning his attack, taking what he needed from unsuspecting victims. He'd drunk from you during moments of intimacy, the small, sweet sting of his fangs was something you'd come to like, but you knew it had to be different for those he hunted. You could paint your own picture of such a scenario-- you'd seen enough movies and read enough Anne Rice and Charlaine Harris to put the pieces together of how he had to survive in the shadows.
If anything, it only further endeared him to you.
But when you'd try to press the issue all he did was sidestep it.. at first. When you were persistent he was firm, telling you in no uncertain terms, "No."
"Do you not think I have what it takes?" you'd asked.
"Babe, I don't doubt your ability--"
"Do you just want to keep all your vampiric secrets to yourself?"
He'd sputtered out a laugh despite trying to keep a serious facade. "You're being ridiculous now."
"Then.." you'd used your puppy dog eyes on him, "you don't love me?"
He'd taken your face in his hands, his gaze insistent. "Don't say that. Ever. Okay?" He'd kissed your forehead, taking in the scent of you, just at your hairline.
You'd been patient, dropping hints until one day you'd stopped, a part of you giving up.
But Max didn't like seeing you unhappy.
"All right, all right," he'd relented one night, during a viewing of American Psycho while hanging out at your place. "If you really want me to turn you, I'll do it."
"Max, you will? Really?" you'd beamed with excitement.
"Yes, sweetheart. If you really want it, I'll do it for you."
You'd pounced on him, kissing him as he pulled you down on the sofa with him, the sounds of Patrick Bateman chasing his victim with a chainsaw playing in the background.
You decide on a date: mid-October, your favorite time of year when the leaves crackle underfoot, and there's the sweet odor of chimney smoke in the air. Max tells you you should spend the last day of your human life doing whatever you want to do, and though it's something small, though it probably ranks low on most people's list of priorities before they begin a new life as a vampire, you tell him you want to go apple picking.
A part of you is relieved that Max doesn't poke fun at you, which he usually does when you tell him you want to watch Dead Poets Society instead of The Wolf of Wall Street, or when you'd rather go on the Ferris wheel than the Zipper with him at the carnival.
You typically play it safe, and he respects your playing it safe with your last day as a mortal, because he loves you.
The apple orchard is an hour and a half away, and Max holds your hand over the center console during the entire drive, letting you choose the radio station, and you spot the small twitch of his eye when you turn up the volume on a Taylor Swift song. He keeps his thoughts to himself but his opinion is written plain on his face. Ever the peacemaker, you switch the radio to an oldies station, listening to Bonnie Tyler belting out "Total Eclipse of the Heart" and even though Max refuses to sing along with you, a smile curves the corners of his pretty mouth as he indulges in your joy.
Upon arrival you jump out before the car is even in park, and are greeted with the scent of the sweet and crisp fragrance of the orchard. The skies above are pale blue, tinged with gold from the late afternoon sun's delicate rays. Grey threatens in the corners of the firmament, and you recall checking your phone's weather app and seeing there would be rain that night. You've come on the right day.
Max grabs your hand as you join the others in line, some families with young kids, some couples, and when he's not expecting it you plant a soft kiss on his cheek. Not typically one for PDA, he one-ups you by taking you in his arms and practically bending you backward in a passionate display of romance, lips claiming yours. "My baby doesn't deserve to wait in line," he whispers, and with a devilish grin he pulls you to the front of the line where the cashier is taking payment.
"We don't need to pay," Max tells her, and from the look in the woman's eyes you can tell he's mesmerizing her with his powers.
"You don't need to pay," she repeats in a monotone, handing over a wicker basket for you to collect the apples.
Max smiles at her charmingly, pulling you along as you enter the apple orchard.
There's a chill in the air as you walk into the wide expanse of land, the green of the apple trees and the ruby fruit of their production providing the perfect backdrop for your date. You cross your arms over your hoodie just as Max puts his arm around you.
"I'll never get cold, just like you," you wonder aloud, thinking ahead to your immortal life.
"Right. One of the perks," he grins. He's wearing a dark grey nylon bomber jacket, hair perfectly coiffed, and even though other people are checking him out as you walk by, he only has eyes for you. "You'll never grow old, either. You'll still be hot. Like me," he grins.
"Which ones look good?" he asks, directing your view to the apples red and ripe, swelling with sweetness, their tangy aroma dancing in the air.
You look up and select a few, holding each one in the palm of your hand before twisting the stem off and placing it in the basket looped around your arm. Max watches you, in awe of your thought process, and the careful way in which you make your selections. When the basket gets too heavy he carries it for you.
"Are you going to eat all of these tonight?" he hides a smile.
"Don't underestimate me," you tell him. "I might just do that."
He envisions what your blood will taste like later, at the time of your turning: bitter with hints of spice and sweet, the flavor inhabiting every blood vessel, flooding into his mouth as he begins the process of forever changing you.
Soon the basket is brimming over with sweet, tart apples. Some of them fall out of the basket on the walk back to the car, leaving a scarlet dotted trail behind you.
At home, you gorge yourself on the crisp flesh of your fresh-picked apples in all your favorite forms: sliced plain with a drizzle of lemon juice, some dipped in caramel, others covered in crunchy red candy. Your lips are sticky and sweet when Max kisses you, savoring the warmth of your skin that, come tomorrow, will be colder, room temperature at best, but still soft, still delicious.
"Are you ready?" he asks, his eyes glinting, irises blown full black, like a shark detecting blood in the water around him. You're settled on the sofa, hands linked, fingers intertwined as your heart races. Max senses it and his tongue flicks out across his pink lips.
"Yes," you answer, and for a brief, sweet moment your life flashes before your eyes, a memoriam to all the things you held dear, the good and the awful, the trail of tiny moments, the heartbreaks you thought you'd never heal from, that ultimately led you to Max and the love you uncovered within him as you broke through his egotistical outer shell.
You kept his promise. He knows his trust is well-placed.
As you offer your neck, the last thing you see before you close your eyes is the Castlevania poster Max gave you for Christmas last year, hanging on the wall above the sofa.
Only the death matters now..
You hear the click of his fangs protracting. Soon you'll be just like him. You have no regrets.
"Thank you, Max," you whisper before you feel the hot sting of his bite on your tender throat. "Thank you for the best day of my life."
Ooohh, Nonnie! 😏 I love this prompt choice for Maxie, it fits so nicely for him, however I must admit that when typing this up, I was still in my fluffy feels 🤣. We got ourselves some soft Max Phillips over here. Thank you for sending this into my blog and I hope you enjoy the read, my darling. ❤️
Overstimulated
Pairing: Max Phillips x You (F!Reader)
Warnings: 18+ Content. Minors DNI. Established Relationship. Teasing, flirting, complimenting. Smut. Gentle/Passionate smut. Oral (M receiving). Over stimulation. Fade to black sex in the bathtub. Lots of fluff.
Prompts: "I'm bored. Wanna play?"
-
Staying at home this peaceful Sunday, you chose the activity that most people would do and just relaxed to the full extent by doing all the little things you love.
First up was sleeping in late this morning, and you loved every minute of it. Secondly, you ordered breakfast rather than cooking it yourself, and you savoured every bite. You were just feeling lazy and enjoyed the delicacy of someone else cooking for you instead, and thirdly, you’ve just finished running an extra hot bubble bath and plan to read a book for the next fifteen or twenty minutes while the water cools down enough for you to climb in.
It’s the little things that bring you comfort and joy.
Your vampire boyfriend however, Max Phillips, has just come home from work earlier than you expected him to. Not a lot of people at his firm work on Sundays, but a few take up any chance they can get working double time, and today as it seems, Max came home early because it’s too quiet in the office. Well, that’s your immediate assumption because the man is a workaholic.
“Hey baby,” You greet him as he enters the lounge, “Everything ok?” You ask, though you suspect everything is ok and you’ve already assumed the reason why he’s home early, you still ask just in case something is wrong. Besides, it opens the door to a conversation about how his day has been and you’re interested to know, even if there isn’t much to tell.
“No, actually. Everything isn’t ok,” He replies, and your mood shifts instantly with worry. Setting your book down and sitting up straight on the sofa, you look at him with furrowed brows and pat the empty seat beside you, beckoning him to come explain what’s wrong.
After shaking off his jacket and draping over the back of the sofa, he loosens his tie while walking towards you, the expression on his face speaking of mischief and devilry. “Just spent six hours at work doing nothing, toots. It was torture,” He explains, pouting exaggeratedly, “Then I come home to find you on the sofa, looking so fine and beautiful.”
You blush. Hearing the little sexy growl in his voice and feeling flattered by his compliments, the mood shifts once again, worry was quickly replaced with relief and arousal, especially when he takes position on the table in front of you and leans in, his proximity dangerously tempting your sexual desire to just jump on top of him and make love, though you hold back on the urge just to be a tease.
“Max,” You tut and shake your head at him, “You scared me for a second there. Don’t do that again, I thought something bad happened.” You berate with a whine in your tone, but it just flies over his head anyway because the vampire abilities he possesses can sense the lies in your words. You’re not actually mad at him, not in the slightest, in fact, you found his actions amusing.
“But it’s the truth, toots.” Max argues his case and point, dragging the tip of his finger up and down your inner leg with a smirk on his lips. “I can’t help but feel the way I feel when you look so fucking hot.” He pays you another compliment, this time with a genuine warm smile as you blush again. His hands, cold and soft to the touch, slip around the back of your legs with a gentle squeeze as he maintains your eye contact. “Do you have anything to do? Or do I have you all to myself?” He asks, keeping in mind that you were just about to read a book and how you like to spend your Sunday’s relaxing.
“Just my bath, which is cooling down,” You reply honestly, your eyes darting to the book with a shrug. “I could read later tonight instead. Why, what do you have in mind?” You watch as Max subtly bites his lip, his dark wanton eyes roaming the expanse of your face with suggestion. “I’m bored,” He whispers seductively, his hands groping your thighs now, “Wanna play?”
“Gee, I thought you’d never ask,” You respond eagerly, mirroring his actions as you, too, bite your lip with an anticipated nod. “I’d love to play, Maxie,” closing the gap ever so slowly, you dare an attempt to pull your head back, but the man was far too quick. He chuckles softly while his hand darted up and cradled the back of your neck, holding you still to lean in and plant a kiss on your lips.
“Stop playing with me, toots.” Max growls into your mouth and smiles against your lips before slipping his tongue inside. You slide your hands up his chest and pull his tie off completely, caressing his shoulders that draws out a groan so delectable to your ears. He breaks the kiss, sighing breathily, “Love it when you do that.”
You close the gap this time and kiss him fervently, passionately, expressing your love wordlessly. Max picks up on your desires, not only from your actions but from the smell of your pheromones too. It’s so potent that it makes him feel weak in the knees. Usually, he likes to take the lead and show you a good time, but right now, he follows your movements as you guide him to sit on the sofa and lean back.
“Open your shirt for me,” You ask while kneeling to the floor, situating yourself between his legs. “Too many buttons and I’m too impatient,” You reach out for his belt and open it up, pulling the leather through the loops on his pants before tossing it over your shoulder.
“Fuck,” He makes a surprised sound, breathing deep and hard with a palpable ache to feel your lips around his cock. “Don’t have to tell me twice, baby.” He groans, popping the top three buttons of his shirt open before pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side. The man would tear it open, but you bought him this shirt and he doesn’t want to ruin it.
You giggle from his actions regardless, finding something so sweet and wholesome about him being gentle. It wouldn’t matter to you if he did tear it off, but you liked that he didn’t. Hips lifting off the sofa to help you pull down his trousers after you open them up, your brows raise with delight when seeing, and hearing, his dick spring back and slap against his lower stomach. “Oh,” You whisper while watching dribbles of pre-cum leaking out of the tip and onto his skin. “Someones excited.”
“Can you really blame me?” Max chuckles bashfully and looks at you with accusatory eyes. “My gorgeous girlfriend is sitting between my legs, of course I’m excited.” The muscles in his legs tense as you reach out to hold them, running your hands up and down his thighs firmly, and smiling proudly at the way his dick twitches from your actions. You love seeing him so clearly affected by your touch.
“Well,” You say, looking up at him, “Don’t let me keep you waiting, sexy.” Leaning slowly while holding his gaze, he watches you attentively as you drag your tongue up his cock and his mouth falls open with a gasp spilling from his lips. You swirl your tongue around the head before taking him inside your mouth with a gentle suck, the action making him jerk away with sensitivity and throw his head back in bliss.
“Nghh! Don’t stop, don’t stop.” Max chokes out, and you love the struggle he faces when trying to talk coherently between pleasurable moans. You take more of him inside your mouth until it becomes uncomfortable in your jaw, then you begin bobbing your head up and down, sucking him off with skill as you fondle his balls. You feel the weight of them in your hands, so full and desperate to release its contents into the warmth of your mouth.
The man balled his hands into fists at his sides and his jaw clenches with his brows tightly knitted together. “Fuck!” He grunts, then gasps with hurried breaths. “Fuck. Gonna cum already,” He warns with a tinge of shame to his voice, as if he were ashamed for not lasting longer than he usually does. You don’t mind either way. It’s rewarding in itself to see the man unfolding before your very eyes so quickly.
Upon feeling his balls tighten in the palm of your hands and watching him throw his head back with all the dirty noises you love to hear that were so satisfying to your ears, you braced for the load he was about to spill. You sample a taste of salt on your tongue and hum around him, the vibrations of your voice working as added stimulation that just ultimately pushes him over the edge.
“Ohhhh,” Max moans, deeply and gutturally, he moans through his release and spills ropes upon ropes of his seed directly down your throat as you gulp it all back. Even after he had given all that he could, you continued to suck his cock until he became overstimulated, groaning brokenly as he jerked away. “Too much, toots.” He whispers, needing a moment to come down from his high before re-joining reality. The man's head was in the clouds, overcome with ecstasy and euphoria.
There’s only been a handful of occasions where you’ve been able to render Max so weak and exhausted with satisfaction, and that was after he had gone several rounds with you first. Seeing him exhausted and completely spent right now brings you a huge sense of pride and achievement. He needed a little longer than a moment to come back down to earth, and while he did that, you peppered him with loving kisses, praises in your whispers and reassurance in your stroking touch.
Moving up his body slowly and gazing into his eyes, you kiss his lips gently and mumble how much you love him, to which he mumbles how much he loves you too in return. And as soon as his stamina and energy returned, your clothes were discarded quicker than you’ve ever removed them with your own hands and before you knew it, he whisked you into the bathroom and lowered himself into the tub with you held in his arms.
And together, you shared a hot bubble bath, making love to each other passionately.
Summary: Max thought he was prepared to finally tell you the truth about what he is. He was dreading it, but he knew it had to be done. He expected the worst. He didn’t expect this.
Warnings/Tags: language, no use of Y/N, soft and not-at-all-cocky Max Phillips
Word count: 1.6k
A/N: Nothing says October to me like writing about a vampire while watching college football to procrastinate doing my actual homework. Enjoy the product of my musings about how tf vampires even work. P.S. This should be gender-neutral and non-descriptive but let me know if there’s anything non-inclusive in here and I’ll make the necessary edits :)
“You’re a what?”
This is precisely why Max didn’t want to tell you. He is a selfish son of a bitch and you are too good for him and he was just trying to hang onto you for as long as he could.
He knew it would come to an end; he couldn’t hide it from you forever, and you’re too good to stay once you know what he is. But he was enjoying the delusion. He was enjoying the illusion that you would actually want anything to do with him. You were the best thing that had ever happened in his miserable life slash not-life. Was it so bad to want to hang onto that?
“Baby, please, I know you might be shocked—”
“Oh shocked is not a big enough word for what I’m feeling, Max Phillips.” And you sound so angry, a tinge of hurt coloring your tone, and Max doesn’t think he can handle this. He’d rather you stake him right now.
“Okay, yes, you’re angry, and you have every right to be—”
“Well I am so glad I have your permission.”
Now he’s panicking. He’s been stressed out since he decided to start this conversation but now he’s really panicking because now he’s being condescending and he wasn’t trying to, seriously, and this is all going even worse than he thought.
Slick, suave Max Phillips is at a total loss.
“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. Please believe me. I know I should have told you sooner, but I knew this would happen and I’m a shitty, selfish, monster of a being and I wanted to have you for as long as I could.”
Here it comes, he thinks. Here’s the breakup you expected but never wanted and it’s going to hurt more than you could have possibly imagined. Have fun living with this for a literal eternity.
“Yeah, Max, you should have told me sooner, and I’m not happy that you didn’t.” And now your tone is more disappointed than before and fuck, he’s changed his mind, he’ll take the anger back. Anything but the disappointment.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, okay?!” It’s a desperate exclamation and the Max Phillips of a few months ago would be embarrassed at the lack of control in his words. “I knew this would happen when I told you, I knew you would leave me, and I wanted to put it off for as long as possible!”
There. It’s out. Vulnerability that Max has always struggled with showing itself when it’s too late. Maybe he should have told you how much you mean to him sooner. Maybe it would help him now. He’ll never know, though. Within the next five minutes, you’ll probably be out the door and he’ll be left thinking about what he should have, could have, would have done.
“Leave you? Who the hell said anything about leaving you?”
If snapping necks worked on vampires, he would have just unintentionally ended his own existence with how quickly he turned to look at you. He is utterly baffled, and after multiple attempts the only thing he can get out is a meek, “Isn’t that what’s about to happen?”
“Um, no? Why would I leave you when I have so many questions?” you ask, brow furrowed with genuine confusion etched across your face.
Okay… so you’re not leaving yet? Is that what’s happening? You’ll ask him a series of cliché questions, decide you don’t like his answers or his existence in general, and then you’ll leave?
It gets him a few more minutes with you, right? Better than nothing, he supposes.
“Questions?”
“Yes, Max, questions.”
“I thought you were mad at me.”
“Oh, I’m livid.”
His answering wince must be more obvious than he meant for it to be. Your brows lift just a tad, your shoulders drop, and your voice has lost part of its edge when you speak again. “I’m not mad at you for being a vampire, babe.”
Okay, he seriously has no idea what the hell is going on. Your words are equally as confusing as the use of the pet name.
“Then why are you mad?” He knows it’s a stupid question, yes, but he can’t help but ask it.
You sigh, a small sound, and it’s not even that frustrated. Maybe just… exasperated? Almost fondly so? Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. “I’m mad that you didn’t tell me sooner. There’s so much we could have already talked about!”
And he doesn’t even want to ask, honestly. He knows that you’ll want to know all the gruesome details: how he was turned, does he kill people, all the things that he’ll answer even though he knows it only heightens the chances of you leaving, even if you said you weren’t. “Like what?” he asks, and it’s already so defeated.
“Um, where do I even start?”
And he sighs as you think a little bit, but before he can open his mouth to start telling his story or whatever, you speak again.
“I mean, first of all, just off the top of my head, do you digest blood?”
What.
The.
Fuck.
“I’m sorry?” is the only thing that he can get out.
“Well, it obviously has some nutritional value to you, but how does that work with organ function and all? You’re like, technically dead, right? Except you still have some organ functioning, so… which ones?”
“Which… ones?”
“Yeah, which organs work? I mean the consensus of vampire lore is that your heart doesn’t beat but your brain obviously works. If you need blood as sustenance, is your digestive system functioning, too? Do you have to breathe? What determines which organs you need to stay – well, maybe not alive, but existing? I guess?”
“I am so confused right now.”
“Uh, yeah, me too, Max! Why do you think I’m asking you?!”
His brain is so stuck that he can’t figure out any other response except, “So, you’re not leaving me?”
You do some sort of half-sigh, half-scoff and throw your hands up before letting out an emphatic, “No, Max, I already told you I’m not leaving you.”
“But you’re mad at me?”
“Yes, I’m mad! I could have already been picking your brain about all this stuff and you’ve prevented me from experiencing that joy until now!”
The two of you have just been a few feet apart in his living room this whole time, but now he needs to sit down. He crosses to his couch and collapses on it before burying his face in his palms. He doesn’t need the deep breath that he takes, but the motion makes him feel better. More stable.
The warmth of your body close to his just precedes your careful hand on his shoulder. Your voice is soft and concerned when you say his name.
He knows he should pick his head up and look at you, but he doesn’t feel ready to just yet. He needs just another moment to reorient himself in this conversation before he can face it.
You speak again before he can muster up the courage to say something. “I’m not really mad. I wish you had told me sooner, but I’m not mad at you. I’m just nosy and want to know everything all the time. And I have a lot of questions that the internet isn’t really able to answer.”
He chuckles softly, just a couple of quick exhales through his nose, and he finally feels able to look up and meet your eyes. When he does, he notices the soft smile gracing the corners of your lips and the way your brows aren’t furrowed anymore.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“I know.”
“You’re just so good. Too good for me. And I figured that once you knew what I really was, you’d never want to be with me. I didn’t want to let you go yet.”
“Oh, my love. I’m sorry if I did something to make you think that. You’re everything to me. It might take a minute for me to fully comprehend that you’re a vampire, but I know you, and I have no intention of leaving you.”
God, you’re perfect. It’s the only explanation. You are the most perfect person ever created and he is wretched, but somehow the universe has decided to give him the best thing it has to offer.
He lets his hand float up to your face, lets the backs of his fingers brush over your chin and up until he’s smoothing his fingers over your cheek. His thumb rubs gently over the space just below your eye, and he revels in the warmth he feels below the skin.
What’s two bombshells in one day, he decides.
“I love you.”
Your smile loosens in favor of your lips opening on an exhale, and your eyebrows raise. Your eyes are round and open and gleaming, and if he weren’t already immortal, the way his reflection in them is outlined in fondness would be enough to make him so.
He doesn’t have time to think about whether he should add some sort of qualifier, some sort of statement that you don’t have to feel the same, because he feels the breath of your response against his wrist when you say, “I love you, too.”
A few gentle kisses later, you pull away and your face changes, a slight smirk and a hint of mirth in your eyes as you say, “Okay, so can you answer my questions now? Digesting blood, yes or no?”
His answering laugh echoes through the room, and his non-beating heart swears to always answer whatever you ask.
Max Phillips is one of the most irritating, smarmy people you've ever met and the office where you've become his resident Personal Assistant is a craphole at best. But when Max gets into trouble of the supernatural variety, you seem to be the only person he wants around...
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Additional Red Letter Day ficlet for Writer Wednesday 2/3/22 here
Notes: Trying to make this lighter than the last Max prompt I wrote.
I’ve never done a writing challenge before, being so new to writing in general, so I thought this would be fun! Thanks to @marvelousmermaid for sharing the list with me and @toomanystoriessolittletime for creating the list!
I used a random name picker with character names I put in, otherwise I know I would write every single one for Frankie.
My personal challenge for this is to write for people other than Frankie AND to keep it short!
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
Steph’s Christmas Writing Challenge December 2021 Masterlist
You wake to the smell of cookies baking. Having been exhausted when you got home from work, you had kicked off your shoes and collapsed on your bed, taking a nap for a couple hours.
You get up and walk into the kitchen and see a man standing there, oven mitts on and cooking ingredients and dishes scattered across the counters. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms.
"I thought vampires don't eat?"
Max turns around to face you, grinning from ear to ear like a kid. Flour is streaked across parts of his face and some frosting is on his nose.
"Hey babe! You're up! We don't have to eat but you do. I baked!"
You studied his chiseled face. "You...baked?"
"Yup! Christmas cookies!" He gestures to cooling racks with a few rows of cookies, shaped like Christmas trees and candy canes, complete with frosting and sprinkles.
Max grabs a cookie off the rack, walking up to you. "They're cool. Ready to taste?"
You smile and nod, opening your mouth. Max gently places the cookie in your mouth and you take a bite. His face lit with anticipation, you chew and promptly spit it out into your hand. Max's face falls.
"You don't like them?"
You sputter. "Max, what did you put in these?"
He gestures to the counter. "Flour, sugar-"
You look where he's pointing and start laughing. Max turns to you, a confused look on his face.
"What's so funny?"
"You used salt instead of sugar, Maxie."
He turns to look at the counter. You hear a quiet "Oh." He turns back around to face you, looking sad. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make you some cookies because you told me how you used to bake them with your grandma every year until she died." He sighs. "I just wanted to do something special."
Your eyes started to tear up as you quickly walk up to him. You put your hands on his cheeks. "Maxie, look at me." He looks at you with those puppy eyes.
"That was the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."
His face perks up slightly. "I messed them up. I couldn't taste them so I didn't know." He sticks out his bottom lip, pouting.
You lean up and bite his lip, causing him to groan. You kiss him and he kisses you back fiercely. You pull back after a few seconds and lick the frosting on his nose, causing him to whine.
"Let me thank you for the cookies."
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Summary: Max can hear just about anything going on in his apartment complex if he wants. He just wishes he didn't have to hear his neighbor crying for the past few hours.
Pairing: Max Phillips x Reader
(largely platonic, but could be read into with future romance)
Word Count: 2.3k
Rating/Warnings: Sadness caused by (ambigious) breakup. Allusion to suicide (in Max worries about your mental state.) Gloss over the thought of drinking blood. Pretty tame for Max, really... Max has a heart, maybe?
A/N: This one is a little different, as it's told from Max's POV. I just felt it worked better for this story. It also means a lot of the context of the break-up aren't divulged (or really, from his POV, the reason Reader is so sad at all.)
Max had been undead for almost as long as he’d ever been alive now, but there were still pros and cons to his lifestyle (deadstyle?) that took some getting used to. Barely needing any sleep, he often found himself trying new hobbies. Some he would boast about, like his skill at video games. His enhanced reflexes and speed had him absolutely demolishing teenagers at any online game he picked up. Some of his attempts at keeping busy he’d rather keep to himself, like knitting. He got decent at it, but it didn’t really play into the image he tried to project of himself.
More nights than he’d like to admit, he would lay in the dark, feigning sleep if only for something to do. Audiobooks and podcasts were good for those nights. He could close his eyes and just listen. Of course his enhanced hearing sometimes made it hard to focus on the bluetooth speaker on his bedside table. His neighbours weren’t noisy, and the one who lived right next to him was actually pretty quiet by human standards. With his abilities though, he could hear them moving around their apartments: watching TV, talking on the phone, having sex- anything they did, if he focussed, he could hear. Even on nights like this, the rain pinging off the fire escape and concrete walls, he could hear it all.
He was already struggling to focus on the audiobook about successful management tips. It was all drivel he already knew- or had better ways to deal with. Fear and the option to turn workers into vampires worked wonders for business. Despite it’s useless information, it would be a lot easier to listen to if his neighbour hadn’t been crying for the past two hours.
It had started quietly enough. Sniffles and the occasional hiccup of breath. At first he almost thought they were having sex, but he hadn’t seen anyone coming or going from their apartment lately. They could have been masturbating but just as he was musing that premise, he heard their first real sob. It wasn’t the kind that could be explained by a world of pleasure racing through their body that they just couldn’t contain. It was the exact opposite. The kind of choked off sob you try to keep inside, trying to maintain what failing control you have on your emotions. Since then, Max had heard them alternate between loud sobbing, quiet sniffling, and soft whimpers for hours.
Some people might have felt bad for eavesdropping on such a vulnerable moment, but Max Phillips wasn’t most people. It also wasn’t his fault he could hear the breakdown. After hours of hearing it, he’d reached a breaking point. Putting on his slippers, he trod down the hall.
He heard the abrupt attempts of stifling the crying as he knocked, waiting impatiently for his neighbour to answer. When they didn’t come to the door fast enough, he knocked again. It’s not like they were sleeping…
The door opened a crack, the chain lock still attached - like that would stop him if he wanted in.
“Could you maybe quiet down?” He huffed, the words falling out of his mouth even before he took you in.
Your eyes were red rimmed and watery. Your nose was pink, irritated from the tissues you’d been using as you cried. Your hair was messy and even with the blanket draped over your shoulders, the only way he could think to describe you was… small. Maybe even fragile.
“Sorry.” You apologized softly, voice hoarse. “I… I didn’t mean to…”
Max blinked at you.
Small and broken. A far cry from the person he’d passed in the halls or seen at the mailbox.
He wasn’t expecting his annoyance to shift. It was still there, but now he was annoyed with who or whatever had put you in this state. His fingers twitched at his side, wanting to wrap around something and twist until it snapped.
Your jaw trembled and he could hear the way you held your breath, trying to trap the emotions from escaping. “I’ll be quieter.” You promised, voice wavering. “S-sorry, Max.”
Max didn’t even realize you knew his name. He hadn’t bothered to learn yours.
You closed the door softly, leaving Max standing alone in the hallway with his thoughts.
He scoffed, shaking his head as he tried to snap out of whatever trance he’d fallen into - which was a joke in itself. He was the vampire. He was the one who entranced people, not the other way around.
“Better be quieter,” he mumbled under his breath to himself as he returned to his apartment.
He flopped backwards onto his bed, his annoyance growing as he realized he’d left the audiobook playing when he left. Now he’d have to rewind back to the spot he’d left it at. Probably further considering how much he’d missed while trying to ignore the insufferable crying.
He picked up his phone, tracking back over the last chapter to find a spot to pick up from. Finding something he vaguely remembered, he tossed his phone back down beside him, resting his hands behind his head as he listened to the narrator drone on.
It only took a few minutes for the image of you to return to his mind’s eye. The tremble of your jaw as you spoke, lips chapped and cracked from dehydration. The bags under your watery eyes. How hoarse and unsure you’d sounded...
Max punched the mattress beside him, cursing as he sat up. He grumbled and bitched quietly as he grabbed his phone, stopping the track mid-sentence as he pushed himself out of bed. He shoved his feet harshly into his slippers, not caring this time that the backs bent under his heel.
His own door closed loudly behind him as he stomped down the hall, knocking once more at your door.
He listened, trying to hear if he’d interrupted you crying once more, but there was nothing.
No crying. No moving. No breathing. Just the rain.
He knocked again, calling through the door. “Hey, it’s Max. Again. Can I talk to you?”
Once again, there was no movement.
“I’m sorry I was mad earlier…” He offered, wondering if you were avoiding him after he’d been an asshole. Even that didn’t stir anything within the apartment.
The stillness was eerie. He could hear the dog across the hall snoring. The crackle of the baby monitor one floor up. Why couldn’t he hear you? You’d been upset, what if you...
He tried the door, not surprised to find it locked.
“Shit.” He cursed, running a hand through his hair. He had to get inside and make sure you hadn’t done something stupid. He debated knocking down the door, but decided to take a different route at the last second.
Returning to his apartment, he kept his slippers on as he opened the window. He reasoned to himself that he didn’t actually care if you’d killed yourself, but if you wanted to die you could at least let him have your blood. It’d been a while since he had warm, fresh blood. Yeah, that was why he cared.
The rain matted down his hair quickly as he climbed out onto the fire escape. He just had to look through your window to see if you were there. If you were alive.
The window was open. Your curtains fluttered back and forth in the wind, getting wet from the rain. Max cursed as he looked down to the alleyway below. It was dark, but with his vampiric eyesight, he could see no one was laying on the ground.
If you didn’t go down, you must have gone up.
Max climbed up the stairs with only minor difficulty. The rain made the metal slippery, and he could only imagine someone without his abilities trying to make it up safely. The staircases and landings ended at the windows of the top floor, but an old ladder extended the fire escape the rest of the way to the roof. He continued the climb, making sure to grip the rusting steel tightly in his hands. As his head came up over the ledge, he could make out the figure of someone laying on the roof. He felt panic in his chest, along with something that felt like the morning after drinking too much, creeping up his throat. Regret? Couldn’t be.
He pulled himself up onto the roof, rushing towards you as soon as his feet hit the slick concrete. It wasn’t until he was standing over you, staring down at your face - eyes closed tight, crease between your eyebrows and a small frown on your lips - that he realized he could hear your heartbeat. The panic rushed out of him as quickly as it had built, if not quicker. He stood over you awkwardly, dripping wet from the rain, wondering what to do next.
“Am I still too loud?” You asked, breaking the silence.
Max didn’t answer right away. He hadn’t realized you knew you weren’t alone anymore.
“Uh… no. I was actually looking for you. To apologize.” He explained, feeling an awful lot how he used to before he was turned. He felt unsure what to say, or at least how to say it, not his current, suave self.
You opened your eyes, staring up at his silhouetted form against the lights of the city trapped against the heavy clouds. He watched you blink against the rain as you tried to look at him.
“Really?” You sounded doubtful and he didn’t blame you.
“Yeah.” He nodded, wishing he was in a suit and not his lounge clothes. He always felt more powerful in a suit, more sure of himself. “Why are you laying in the rain?”
He watched your shoulders move up and down in a shrug, a small sniffle escaping you as you closed your eyes again. That was when he realized you were still crying, he just couldn’t tell with the rain.
“Are… are you okay?” He tried, getting the same shrugged response.
Max looked around the roof, almost as if he was waiting for someone to jump in and take charge of this situation. Naturally, on the roof of his apartment building in the middle of a rain storm at approximately 3am, there was no one else up there.
It was quiet as he wondered what to do. Should he just leave you? Was he intruding? Should he stay and offer some advice - kind of hard when he wasn’t even sure what had you so upset. He’d already made a fool of himself running up here to check on you, so he thought what the hell as he laid next to you.
The rain hitting his face was uncomfortable, making him flinch as it tried to get into his eyes. He wondered why the hell you were willingly subjecting yourself to this.
“You don’t have to…” You trailed off, turning your head to look at him.
“Too late now.” He grumbled. He could just get up, leave, and hope you never spoke of this ever again, but something in the way you were looking over at him made him think that just maybe he’d made the right choice when he laid down.
“It’s cold out.” You pointed out, almost like you were trying to give him all the reasons to be anywhere but here.
“I don’t feel it.” He told you honestly. The rain in his face was a pain, but the temperature was lost to him.
“Oh yeah.”
The minutes passed in silence, reminding Max of those long nights when he first turned. When he sat there alone with his thoughts for hours on end, waiting for something to happen - sleep, death, whatever. There was no podcast to listen to, no wool or controller in his hands. There was the fucking annoying rain hitting his face and the sound of your heart, your blood, and your breathing next to him. He lost track of time, focusing on the steady beat of your heart and trying to ignore the drops of rain hitting his closed eyelids.
“Hey,” your voice startled his eyes open, and he turned to see you were sitting up, staring at him. The sky was brighter, the heavy clouds still looming but the sun was creeping closer to cresting the horizon. “Thanks.”
“For what?” He grunted, sitting up to match you.
“For… your company, I guess?” You offered.
“Wasn’t much company.” He denied.
“Still.” You shrugged at him yet again, although this time it didn’t carry the weight from before.
A beat passed between you two in silence before you stood, making your way towards the ladder.
Max scrambled up after you, following you down. He noticed how your fingers shook in the chilled rain, making him nervous that you would slip off the ladder and fall. He was tense until your feet touched the landing, ready to jump down and try to catch you if necessary. Once he had followed, he insisted on going first back down to your apartments.
He held a hand out for you, helping you to climb back into your apartment. You took it with a small, exhausted smile. He wondered if you had anywhere to be today or if you would be able to get some sleep.
“Hey,” he leaned in slightly, stopping you from closing the window. “I don’t get much sleep these days… so if you need… company…” He didn’t actually complete the offer, letting it hang in the air between you as he pushed his dripping hair out of his face.
“Thanks.” You nodded.
He leaned back out of the way, leaving you to close the window. He didn’t watch you, but he made sure to listen for the slam of the pane and the tick of the window lock as he climbed back into his own apartment.
