chapter 3: a desperate revelation
Find the masterlist here!
CW: Astarion talks about his abuse.
W/C: 2,795
A/N: My dog had heart surgery last week... please send all the good vibes for her recovery!
After the arduous fight with the Hag, Astarion wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bedroll. Shadowheart had mended the worst of their wounds with a healing prayer, and your quiet songs of rest had bolstered their energy for the trek back to camp. Once out of the bog, the fading rays of the sun’s light were visible once more.
He paused a moment to marvel at the way they painted the sky in various hues of pinks and oranges, a sight he had long since given up hope of ever seeing again. He tried to convince himself that any day spent in the sun was a day worth having, no matter how fleeting a retreat it might be.
A plaintive sigh escaped him at the prospect of returning to the shadows after being blessed by the warmth of the light.
“Copper for your thoughts?” you intoned from behind him, startling him out of his quiet reverie.
“For nearly two centuries, I’ve known nothing but darkness and pain. To stand in the sun, after so much tragedy and despair, is nothing short of a miracle,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke any louder, it would shatter the beautiful illusion he’d come to know and he’d instead find himself a psychotic wreck, locked in a mausoleum somewhere at Cazador’s behest again.
He tracked your approach in his peripheral vision, mentally preparing himself to broach the topic of his past, of his Master’s cruelty. You stopped at his side and gazed out into the encroaching darkness with him, listening along as the song of birds gave way to the chirp of crickets. The stars began their winking, and the ambiance of rural night crept over them in a subdued melody.
“Without darkness, there would be no light,” you said quietly.
He peered over at you, watching as the moon started its trek across the indigo sky just above your head. You glanced at him, and your eyes met his for a moment. He did not expect the sorrow that he found in their depths. He opened his mouth, but no sound left his lips, the icy fingers of fear choking him. He closed his eyes and steadied himself, preparing to spill his darkest secrets upon reopening them.
“Come, friend,” your hushed voice met his ears. “We are not far from camp. We may speak there.”
With that, the moment was broken. Astarion opened his eyes to see your retreating form, and silently thanked whatever gods still were for the extra time to gather his strength.
______________________________________________________________
Astarion sat alone in his tent, lost in his thoughts. He could hear the chatter and laughter of his companions just beyond its thin walls, but he didn’t even have the heart to observe from afar tonight. He waited in trepidation for you to come find him, drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the closed cover of the book in his lap. Even reading had proven to be an unhelpful distraction.
“Astarion?”
He recognized the lilt of your soft voice and cleared his throat.
“In here, darling,” he called, unwilling to move, lest his legs were to carry him far from this conversation, far from camp in cowardice.
You parted the flaps of his tent with a small smile, a question in your eyes. He waved at the space in front of him, a silent go ahead to enter and sit. You nodded imperceptibly and sat down, crossing your legs and setting your lyre in your lap.
Astarion raised a brow at the instrument.
“Do you ever go anywhere without that?” he asked, curiosity coloring his voice.
“Never,” you grinned. “It’s the source of my connection to the Weave.”
He scoffed, “A lyre?”
“Well, not the lyre specifically,” you blushed, “but the music it creates. Any instrument will do, but this is my instrument of choice.”
“I see,” he said, though he really didn’t.
“Would you like me to give you an example?” you asked kindly.
“Please, be my guest.”
He watched as your delicate fingers plucked a soft melody on the instrument, caressing the tune from them with practiced ease and fondness. The mellifluous sound of your voice began its harmony, and a sense of peace like he had never known washed over him. He was enchanted by your performance, finding it a strangely intimate experience with no one else to accompany the two of you.
All too soon, the final chord resonated in the cavern of his chest with a quiet hum.
Astarion opened his eyes - not remembering having closed them - and gazed at you. The warm feeling from earlier had returned at the start of the song, and had slowly spread its way through his limbs with each progression until he felt light and fuzzy, an unusual and somewhat dizzying sensation. A slight flush had spread across your cheeks and into the bodice of your nightclothes as he regarded you with a soft expression.
“That was lovely,” he murmured, loath to break the tranquil quiet of the moment.
“A Song of Calm for my tense, toothsome friend,” you smiled, voice lowered to match his own.
“Ah! Well that explains the sudden silence in my mind.”
He cracked a wry smile and delighted in your answering giggle. Stillness enveloped the tent once more, and your expression morphed into one of concerned sincerity.
Here we go.
“Are you ready to talk?”
“I don’t want to say a damned thing,” he bit out, rage and fear laced in his voice. You recoiled at his tone, and it took conscious effort for him to soften it. “But that won’t do anyone any good.”
You remained silent, waiting patiently for him to continue. He heaved a great, mournful sigh, and began.
“Cazador Szarr is a vampire lord in Baldur’s Gate. The patriarch of his coven and a monster obsessed with power. Not political power or military power - I mean power over people,” he said with carefully construed apathy, “The power to control them completely. He turned me nearly two hundred years ago. I became his spawn and he became my tormentor.”
His eyes had fallen to the space separating him from you, avoiding the questions he knew he was sure to find in yours.
“How were you turned?” you asked in a whisper. “Did he attack you?”
Astarion sighed again.
“Not him, no. A gang of thugs, the Gur,” he sneered, “attacked me, angry about a ruling that I’d handed down as a magistrate.”
“I see. Is that why you were on edge with the hunter today?”
“Indeed. They’d beaten me to death’s door when Cazador appeared. He chased them off and offered to save me. To give me eternal life. Given that my choices were ‘eternal life’ or ‘bleed to death on the street’, I took him up on the offer.”
He repressed a violent shudder at the memory and ploughed ahead, “It was only afterward that I realized just how long ‘eternity’ could be.”
“I take it he was rather lacking as a master,” you intoned gravely.
“He had me go out into Baldur’s Gate and fetch him the most beautiful souls I could find by whatever means necessary. It was a fun little ritual of his - I’d bring them back and he’d ask me if I wanted to dine with him. And if I said yes, he’d serve me a dead, putrid rat.”
He could still taste it even now, the fetid blood of overripe rodent corpses. He wanted to gag and retch at the thought.
“Of course, if I said no, he’d have me flayed. Hard to say which was worse,” he shrugged matter-of-factly.
“Astarion, that’s terrible. I’m so bloody sorry,” you sniffled.
He looked up at the sound to see the glistening tracks of tears running down your face in the glow of the oil lamp, more yet unshed making your eyes glassy. He didn’t know what he expected your reaction to be, but it certainly wasn’t this.
“Thank you, but this isn’t about the sympathy,” he continued uncomfortably, “it’s about knowing what we might be up against. The Gur hunter won’t be the only one looking for me, what with his favorite plaything being misplaced.”
“Plaything?” you nearly choked.
“Yes, he always did say that my screams sounded sweetest,” he intoned bitterly.
He did not raise his eyes at the sound of your sharp gasp, fearful of what your face would betray.
“Vampire spawn are less than slaves - we’re puppets. All he need do is speak and our bodies obey. The things I’ve done, seen… felt. Well, there are some things better left unsaid,” he finished, voice hollow.
He looked up again to find tears streaming freely down your cheeks, eyes puffy and nose running with your sorrow, the whimpers and sniffles of your sobs echoing in the silence. He was unsure of how to console you, so he simply looked away, giving you time to gather yourself.
“Fuck, m’sorry,” you garbled, and he looked back to see you dashing tears from your eyes. “How insensitive of me. You don’t need my tears to make this wretched retelling any worse.”
“It’s quite alright, dear. It isn’t called a sob story for nothing, after all,” he chuckled, trying for levity to lift the stifling gloom of the atmosphere. His attempt wrested a watery giggle from you, so he considered it a success.
Once your sniffling had died down, a comfortable silence settled over the tent. He had gone back to staring at the empty space of his bedroll between you and him, and a new plan slowly began to unfurl in his mind. You seemed to like him well enough, but was well enough going to keep him safe in the dire straits ahead?
He was broken from his musing by the gentle strings of your lyre, a different melody this time but with a similar effect. The dulcet tones of your harmony flooded him with that strange, tingly warmth again, and he made up his mind in that moment. You were an unalienable ally with your charisma and quiet authority, and he needed to do whatever necessary to stay in your good graces.
Resolute in his decision, he listened intently to your music, laying back on his hands and closing his eyes to bask in the beauty of it. Your songs transitioned smoothly from one into the next, and he soon found himself drifting into his nightly meditation with unprecedented ease. He didn’t even register when the music had stopped, only noticing when your hushed voice temporarily disrupted the blissfully quiet calm of his mind.
“Goodnight, Astarion.”
______________________________________________________________
He rose early the next morning and was pleased to find you already awake. You were breaking your fast with some sludgy gruel the wizard was stirring while Wyll regaled you with animated tales of his heroics. He rolled his eyes at the warlock’s prideful display, but noticed you listening intently, gasping and asking questions at all the perfect intervals. The warlock regarded you with a smile far too fond for his liking, and he found himself calling out to you before he was even sure of what he was going to say.
“Darling, a moment, if you please?”
You gave Wyll a sheepish grin and excused yourself, setting the bowl of lumpy porridge on your stool and sauntering over to him. Astarion snickered to himself at the way the warlock’s face twisted.
“Good morning, Astarion,” you said brightly, smile more radiant than the morning sun.
“Good morning, my sweet. How did you sleep?” he asked, laying the charm on thick.
“Alright, I s’pose. You?”
“Vampires don’t sleep, dear, though I’ll say that last night was the closest I’ve come to it in two centuries,” he replied, trying for his most disarming smile.
“I’m glad to hear it,” you responded softly. “If you’d like to dine with me tonight, I’d be happy to lend my neck.”
Astarion could swear he felt his undead heart give a flutter of a beat before going dormant again.
“Why, there’s nothing I’d love more darling! But, are you sure you’re feeling up to it so soon after the first time?” he asked, his portrayal of concern surprisingly effortless.
He watched as you pulled a pendant out of your decolletage, holding it up so that it glinted in the light. He could feel the faint thrum of the Weave surrounding it.
“I went hunting through my things last night when I remembered I had this. It’s an amulet of restoration. Shadowheart confirmed for me that it will counteract the effects of blood loss,” you beamed.
“My, my. Eager little thing, aren’t you?”
Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say, as you noticeably retreated into yourself.
“I only wanted to help,” you mumbled, eyes downcast.
In a desperate attempt to salvage the conversation, Astarion shifted the subject back to the amulet.
“And wherever did you find such a pretty bauble?”
Your answering grimace and accompanying flush was an unexpected reaction.
Oh, this must be good.
“I nicked it from the druid grove,” you said sheepishly.
“Aren’t you full of surprises, my dear,” he responded with a hearty laugh.
“Shut it, Rogue,” you grumbled at him good-naturedly.
“Never! And in answer to your earlier question, I would be more than delighted to dine with you.” He bowed dramatically, earning him a few bright peals of laughter.
“Your tent, or mine?” he purred. He made a show of watching the way your flush deepened and crept its way down into the plunging neckline of your nightclothes.
“Erm, I’d assume you’d be most comfortable in your tent,” you responded, wringing your hands with eyes downcast once more.
Well, that won’t do.
He reached forward slowly so as not to spook you and tucked a finger under your chin, gently raising your face so he could catch your eyes.
“I can make myself comfortable anywhere for you, dear,” he breathed, watching closely as your lips parted in a silent gasp and pupils dilated infinitesimally wider.
Just as he was about to celebrate this small victory, your eyes cinched shut and a pained expression flitted across your face. He dropped his hand instantly, taken aback by the dramatic shift in your reaction.
“S’not you,” you gritted out, confusing him further. You opened your eyes and took a steadying breath.
“Just a bad memory,” you clarified, standing tall in a display of faux confidence.
It was a tactic he knew all too well, and he could see right through it to the rigid way you held yourself. He felt his face fall with a doleful kind of understanding.
She, too, has endured much torment.
“Ah yes, those I am quite familiar with. We all have skeletons in the closet. An unfortunate side effect of living…” he paused, “and unliving, I suppose.”
You chuckled, easing up again.
“I’m taking Lae’zel, Wyll and Gale with me today to look for the missing druid. We’ll let you know what we find,” you changed the subject, meeting his gaze.
He felt a pang of disappointment with the chill of fear quick on its heels and fought to keep his face neutral, but was ultimately unsuccessful. You caught a glimpse of something, however fleeting, in his eyes that turned your countenance steely.
“He won’t have you, Astarion. You don’t need to go back to him,” you said, suddenly vehement in your determination. It only increased his panic.
“You don’t know Cazador,” he relented in a whisper, “He could have spies anywhere. I could be gone long before you make it back. If he finds me, I will have no choice but to return.”
“He won’t find you. You’re safe with me,” you murmured back, reaching out to take his hands. It was an odd sensation, being held, made odder still by your initiation of the contact.
“Then take me with you,” he begged, just shy of desperate.
He could feel your thumbs sweeping over the backs of his hands, no doubt a placating gesture to ease the burn of your next words.
“Not today. You need to rest after yesterday’s events.”
“How rich, coming from you,” he snapped, withdrawing his hands from your grasp abruptly.
He caught the hurt that flashed across your delicate features before you managed to school your expression, straightening your spine and squaring your shoulders.
He sighed in defeat, “I suppose I will see you tonight, then.”
“Tonight,” you nodded and turned to leave.
You took a few steps away from him and paused, turning halfway back toward him.
“And I mean it, Astarion. You are safe with me. I will watch your back, so long as you watch mine.”
With nothing but your parting words for reassurance, Astarion returned to his tent, succumbing to the biting cold of dread’s barbed claws.
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Built for Love Part 7 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)
A/N: no warnings… just lots of cuteness, fluff and a side of smut :)
“So Charlotte, this is your first major film and you got to work alongside veterans in the industry like Michael,” the interviewer, Janelle, gestured toward Michael, who sat next to Charlotte, “And Sylvester Stallone. What was that like for you?”
Charlotte immediately threw a glance and sweet smile toward Michael. “Oh it was so much fun. Really like showing up to a master class in acting every single day. I loved every minute of it. You know they were both so welcoming and warm and really made the set fun but also were more than happy to show me the ropes and give me a boost when I needed it. And this one,” she rubbed Michael’s knee, her smile growing from a professional small one to the bright wide smile he adored, the one that brightened every single day he was with her, causing his lips to curl into one as well. Her hand remained perched right above his knee, resting lazily as she continued speaking. “He really has a way about him that makes you feel so at ease and comfortable on set and in his presence in general. And he just went above and beyond to be an amazing and supportive scene partner. So it was great, I learned a lot from them.”
“And Michael, how was it working with Charlotte?”
Michael’s hand went to rest on hers, squeezing it lightly as he showered well deserved praise on the love of his life. “I would echo what she said. But I think we all learned a lot more from her than she did from us. I mean I know she’s gonna have a long and successful career and anyone who gets to work with her will be extremely lucky. Because her process is just crazy and makes mine look like child’s play.”
Charlotte rolled her eyes with a smile. If she could’ve, she would’ve blushed. Though a Michael could see her skin flush red with embarrassment at his showering of kind words. “He’s exaggerating.”
“Nahhh I’m not. I think bringing her experience from the theater, which I don’t have, really was, you know, interesting to see. Not only is she just a fun person to have on set, but she really is a student of this craft and you can see it in how she moves around the set. And not just of the script or source material, but of the other actors as well. You know I’d be doing a scene and she’d be on the side just watching, studying us. And she really gets to know you, your quirks, your tells, and she’s able to respond to them in the moment. If I wanted to go somewhere left field, I just did and she would be right there with me, no hesitation or anything. And I really only see that in people like Sly who’ve been doing this for decades and decades. For someone our age, it’s just talent and art I’ve never seen before. She’s just one of a kind.”
He eyed her and the way she intently studied the black fabric of her dress, the way both of her cheeks flushed red with humility and embarrassment, how she chewed on her bottom lip to keep from grimacing at the praise, praise she did not hear enough and was not used to in his opinion.
“And she’s crazy humble so I know she hates everything I just said,” he chuckled, elbowing her gently.
Sure enough, one hand covered her face with embarrassment, Michael squeezing the other before turning his attention back to the interviewer.
Though they had agreed not to tell people they were dating yet, the pair found the casting of “platonic co-stars” to be their most difficult roles yet. The subtle touches that passed between them were as thoughtless as breathing, second nature that they could not turn off and did not often realize what was happening until skin was against skin. Charlotte was hyper aware of every touch, every stroke of his fingertips that left a trail of heat painting the path he trekked. It was not always a sexual heat, sometimes it was more of a comforting warmth like a sip of hot cocoa in the winter, a warmth that lingers and makes you want ease into it. She craved that type of touch above all because she saw the intention behind them, nonverbal reminders that he was near, that his touch would always be gentle and safe, and that her guards could crumble. And many times, his touch set her body ablaze, leaving an inferno of desire and need etched into every inch of her skin. And those were the touches that she fought to resist, fought to remember the role she was meant to play. After all, platonic co-stars do not study each other as if they are waiting for the first private moment to rip each other’s clothes off.
“I love how you both talk about each other and your work ethic. I think that is really great to see. So we are gonna play a quick game. To see how in tune you are with your characters. ” The interviewer reached into her bag and pulled out two paddles with their characters’ names on either side. “I’m gonna read the statement and you tell me who is more likely to do that thing or who would be better at whatever it is, Bianca or Adonis.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“Ok so who would plan the better date? Bianca or Adonis?”
Both of them raised the side that said Adonis. They glanced down at each other’s answer before nodding.
“Yea I think Donnie is a bit more of a romantic than Bianca,” Charlotte supplied.
“Yea but I think Bianca would show Donnie a better night out. He doesn’t get out much and being a singer, she probably knows all the local spots.”
“Who are you most likely to call in an emergency?”
Charlotte raised the paddle with her own character’s name, immediately busting out into laughter as she saw Michael raise Donnie’s.
“Absolutely not! Just like I wouldn’t call you in an emergency,” she laughed, gesturing at Michael.
“What?? I’m great in an emergency!” He immediately defended himself though his tone was playful because he knew she was right.
“Maybe if the emergency happened like right in front of you. Like you know, if someone gets hurt or something like that, you have a great… super comforting and calming presence. But he literally doesn’t really answer his phone. So if someone were injured, they’d call him 8 times, go to the hospital, be totally healed, and two months later, he’d be like ‘aye what happened that time you called me?’” Her voice dropped down a bit to an unexpected but excellent impression of him that caused his body to double over in laughter, leaning into hers as they both laughed for several minutes before they calmed down enough to continue the interview, Charlotte wiping literal tears from her eyes.
“Y-yea I’m really bad at calling people back. I got like five people who I’ll call back immediately and that’s about it. But I think Donnie would be good in an emergency. He’s got these hands,” Michael threw up a couple playful jabs, Charlotte playfully dodging them. “He’d be good at whatever you threw at him.”
“I still say Bianca,” she shrugged with a smile. “That’s my girl, I gotta stand by her. So let’s say they’re equal.”
“Who’d win in a fight?”
Both of them immediately picked Adonis.
“Did you learn any boxing moves while you were on set, Charlotte?” Janelle asked, pausing the game briefly.
“A couple actually. I was against learning for most of our time on set,” she admitted, not that the fighting and learning how to defend herself did not intrigue her. She just always talked herself out of it when Michael offered. “But this one,” she pointed at Michael,” is quite persuasive and a great teacher so he finally got me in the ring randomly one afternoon while we were waiting around during our last couple weeks.”
“So if we put you both in the ring, who would win?”
“Me,” she answered immediately as if the answer was obvious.
“Only because I’d let her. But she would gloat about it like she earned it fair and square,” he teased.
“Very true! He let me win a lot but I just took it to mean he recognized my superior skill as a boxer and knew he didn’t stand a chance? So it must be true.”
“Of course,” Janelle joked with them, their banter providing great content for her interview. “Ok back to the game, who has the better Spotify playlist?”
Once again, their opinions were split, each choosing their own characters though she could tell Michael hesitated.
“Oh come onnnn,” her fingers gripped his forearm, shaking him lightly. “Bianca, easy. Music’s her whole life and you know she knows about all the good artists before they’re popular.”
“Touche. Alrightly,” he flipped his paddle to her character’s name, Charlotte offering him a sweet ‘thank you’ for recognizing her character’s superior talent.
“Who is the better cook?”
Both of them stared down at their paddles before glancing at each other and laughing.
“Ok so funny enough, we had this conversation on set a-”
“We don’t think it’s either of them. Bianca gives strong quick meals and take out energy,” Michael interjected.
“And we think Adonis is a boring meal prep or take out type of guy. Chicken breasts, rice, rinse repeat. Maybe they’ll learn how to cook together?” She offered with a shrug.
Michael let out a soft noise in the affirmative.
“Ok and lastly, who would confess their feelings to the other first?”
They both held up Adonis.
“I think that’s a really hard one though and could go either way. I think they both are terrible at letting people in,” Charlotte laughed. “But when it comes to love, Bianca might be a bit more guarded than Donnie whereas Donnie is more guarded about everything else like his past, his career, and all that. So I think when pushed for an answer, Donnie’s gonna cave a lot faster than Bianca.”
“Agreed. I think feelings and vulnerability aren’t easy for either of them though, which you know brings some fun conflict to the movie and in their budding relationship.”
“Amazing, well I want to thank you both. This was a lot of fun and I appreciate you taking the time to chat with me.”
“Thank you!”
“Appreciate you.”
The interview left, both of them immediately sagging back in their seats for a brief moment as the room turned over for the next interviewer.
Charlotte rolled her neck, massaging her shoulder, an action that was immediately noticed by Michael who moved her hand out of the way to give her a firmer touch.
“You’re doing great, Els,” he offered quietly.
“You weren’t lying,” she whispered.
“About?”
“How tedious this is. J-just the same questions after the same questions after the most random games. And we have like 8 more of these. It’s not so bad with you but the ones by myself? Fucking torture.” She was thankful there was no camera watching as her eyes lulled closed and she savored the firm massaging Michael provided. She had to stifle a moan that almost escaped her lips, the noise pettering out into a strangled sigh, as his ministrations hit a tense spot on her shoulder.
He dipped his head to her ear farthest away from the folks around the room, his breath tickled her ear and sent electricity through her.
“Easy, Els…” two short words in a deep breathy whisper that signaled he knew what that sound originally was, a whisper that made desire pool between her thighs.
“I hate you,” she whispered back with a shake of her head.
And as quickly as their hidden moment started, she felt his hands drop to his sides, her shoulders suddenly feeling cold and deprived without his touch. A new camera crew and interviewer started to stroll in, forcing her to roll her shoulder, fix her face, and ignore the ache that he caused and only he could remedy.
This is gonna be a long day, she uttered silently as she plastered a fake smile on her face for the next interviewer.
***
“Hey, I’m Michael B. Jordan.”
“And I’m Charlotte Bennett and we are playing, ‘How Well Do You Know Your Co-star?’”
“You ready?”
“Born ready,” she joked. “I feel like this game was kinda made for us?” The pair completely ignored the cameras as they started pulling questions out of a bowl, each taking turns answering questions about each other’s careers and lives.
Truth be told, this game would be the easiest of their press tour game-style interviews. Buzzfeed did not know this, of course, but since the pair was dating, they knew almost everything there was to know about each other.
“Ok, I’ll pull first.” Her manicured nail reached into the bowl, searching deep for a question. “Oh this is actually a hard one. Where did I get my middle name?” She waved the little piece of paper before glancing away from Michael and to the camera. “I feel like this question is super pointed,” she laughed. “Like someone at Buzzfeed clearly wants that story themselves.”
Michael let out a laugh. “Come on Els,” he shook her knee as he emphasized her nickname. “You gotta give me a harder one than that.”
“That is hard! We talked about it being a weird name because-”
“It’s German but no one in your family is German,” he interjected.
“Yes but I don’t think we ever discussed how they picked it.”
“We didn’t but I still know the answer.” At her shocked expression, Michael could only smirk. Of course he knew the origins of his favorite nickname for her. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t? “Your mom was a European history professor and read it in a book about the history of art in Germany and fell in love with it. But your pops hated it because…”
“He knew his daughter was a black woman.”
“Which is fair. So they made it your middle name, combined with your first name, which was your great grandmother’s name on your dad’s side.”
“Wow, that’s insane. I’ve literally never told you that story! Because I hate the name so much,” she eyed him suspiciously, desperate to know how he managed that. “How’d you find that out?”
“I’d never reveal my sources,” he winked at her.
However, the wink gave him away. She immediately rolled her eyes, “My brother?”
“For sure.”
“I don’t know if I really like how close y’all have gotten??” And it was true, since officially meeting Jackson, the two couples hung out quite a lot and Charlotte was shocked to find out that Michael and Jackson hung out on their own time. “Ok, if you got that one, then you’re gonna get every other one in this bowl. Your turn.”
“How’d I get into acting?”
“A talent agent saw you and your mom at an appointment and encouraged her to sign you up for modeling. And then you got into acting and became a superstar.”
“Correct.”
“What’s my biggest pet peeve?”
“Tardiness,” he answered immediately. “Which means she hates Hollywood and me because I’m literally never on time.”
“Also correct. This man is literally allergic to being on time. The only place he’s on time to is set and he rolls in like right at call time. Everything else?” She waved her hand dismissively. “You can forget about it.”
“She always got jokes. Alright. Oh this is hard. What was my first TV role?”
“Oh… darn… I know this! Don’t tell me.” Her hand went to rest on his forearm, her fingers drawing lazy patterns as she racked her brain for her store of Michael B Jordan knowledge. “Ummm… ok. I have to do it based on the Wire. Sweet sweet Wallace, RIP by the way, was the first major TV role. But little known fact, you had a small role in one episode of the Sopranos like 2 or 3 years before the Wire. And then I think you did one more guest role on a show, maybe Cosby, before you landed the Wire.”
“Ooooo baby girl!” They high fived, their hands staying together for a few moments while he spoke. “That’s really good! Everyone assumes it was the Wire, which she just watched like two years ago by the way, y’all.”
Charlotte gasped and threw one of her pieces of paper at him, which completely missed him much to his amusement before covering her face in embarrassment.
“They are gonna drag me on Twitter all week. Can we edit that out??” She asked production behind the camera to which they laughed and shook their heads.
“Ok in her defense, she is actually not a big tv watcher at all unlike me. But I don’t think I ever found out why?”
“Ummm, I dunno. Just was always busy in the evenings, missed a lot of primetime tv so I just never really got into it. Since streaming’s picked up, I’ve found my way to all the cultural phenomenon shows I missed, like the Wire. I’d seen episodes randomly because my brothers watched it but I just binged like the entire show two years ago.”
“Oh another one, I just put her on to Game of Thrones like last week,” he added with a teasing tone, not giving her a break. He never did.
“You’re making it worseeeee,” she moaned. “Gotta stop telling the people the shows I just discovered. He loves embarrassing me and making fun of me, y’all. I’m pretty far on GoT though for us to have just started it. Just started season 3, which Michael is on pins and needles for me to get to some episode about a wedding?” Michael threw a knowing glance at the camera before turning back to her. “But yea not a big tv watcher. Alright, next one,” she desperately wanted to move the subject away from her lack of TV knowledge. “What is my favorite food?”
“My bolognese.”
She made the buzzing sound just to annoy him. “Wrong answer!”
At his faux offended look, she stuck her tongue out at him like a child. “That’s what you get for trying to get my black card revoked by the entire internet.”
“She does really love my Bolognese,” she mouthed ‘I do’ at the camera as he spoke. “But I think her actual favorite food is pizza, particularly meat lovers pizza.”
“Yes. Anytime, anywhere. I’ll always choose pizza.”
“What is my favorite sport to watch and which team?”
“Easy! Basketball, the Lakers, you have courtside seats and have a Kobe jersey hanging in your house. Speaking of, you still owe me a game.”
“Name the time and place, baby girl.”
“What’s my dream role?”
“Elphaba from Wicked.”
She could not help but offer him a soft small smile, their banter dying as she remembered the first night they went out in Philly and she told him that, the first time she had to contend with the fact that her feelings for him stretched far beyond co-stars. He had been so interested in her, her career and her dreams. She had just been talking, never expecting him to hold onto that information after so long.
“I told you that like the first time we went out to dinner on set. How do you remember that?”
He merely shrugged and threw her a sly smirk that sent shivers down her spine. “I remember everything you tell me.”
His words were colored with love and adoration, she could hear it and feel it. For a moment, she could tell they both forgot the cameras were rolling and that there was a small audience as her heart swelled.
He cleared his throat, breaking the trance as he remembered they were not alone, before grabbing another piece of paper. “Umm… ok, soft ball, when’s my birthday?”
She made a face and noise that signaled this question was beneath her expert level of Michael knowledge.
“February 9, he’s an Aquarius. This is a good mix of easy and hard questions.” She reached into the bowl. “What’s my favorite song?”
“Ummm Sweet Love by Anita Baker. You listen to it at least once a day.”
“Very good, Mr. Jordan.”
“Sing a couple bars.”
Charlotte immediately shook her head. “No, no, no, no. You aren’t gonna get me caught up on this one. No one, and I mean no one, can do it like THE Ms. Anita Baker. I wouldn’t dare try.”
“She’s being hella modest. Come on… you sang it at karaoke that time in Philly and got a standing ovation. It was flawless. Sing just the chorus and I’ll make you the bolognese when we get back to LA.”
Charlotte knew she could not retort that he was going to do that regardless, which was true. A well placed kiss or two was going to get her that bolognese either way. So she groaned, knowing she could not say no as the folks behind the camera also encouraged her to sing.
“He knows I’m a sucker for that meal. Ugh. Loves for me to be his personal jukebox.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, knowing if she looked at him while she sang this particular song, she would give it all away.
With all my heart, I love you, baby
Stay with me and you will see
My arms will hold you, baby
Never leave, 'cause I believe I'm in love
Michael’s face immediately lit up as her flawless and smooth voice filled his ears. He loved to hear her sing, her voice was mesmerizing, a siren that controlled the waters of his soul and put his entire being at ease every time he heard her voice. She sang to him sometimes while they laid in bed, this song and others, and he never grew tired of it and believed he never would.
Sweet love
Hear me callin' out your name
I feel no shame
I'm in love, sweet love
Don't you ever go away
It'll always be this way
She offered him a smirk as the last note left her mouth, both of them remembering the last time she sang that to him, their bodies a tangled mess as they cuddled in his bed.
Her heart soared at the applause she could hear from behind the cameras from the Buzzfeed staff and their team. She did a mini bow before the pair continued to answer two more questions before they heard “cut.”
Michael helped Charlotte get down from her seat, her skirt a bit too short for the high chairs they had put out for both of them. She could tell his hands fought the urge to find their way up that short skirt. Anytime a camera was not trained on him, she could feel his eyes on her, drinking in her toned thighs and ass.
Through all the events and interviews of the day, she desired nothing more than to feel those calloused hands against her smooth exposed skin. But she knew she had to wait, as always. The facade slipped occasionally for both of them throughout the long days. However, they knew when they were finally allowed to be them, and when they did, they could not keep their hands off each other.
***
“Fuck. J-Just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop,” Charlotte begged as she pressed her fingertips into the floor, Michael fucking her from behind as he kept her hinged at the waist. She was barely maintaining her balance on her feet, his hands digging into her hips were the only thing that kept her from toppling over. However, they both chased their release with desperation, desperation to be one again, to feel each other in the most intimate ways.
She loved the feeling, the snap of his hips against her ass, the way he spanked her, causing her ass to ripple lightly. If someone had asked her years ago, she would have scoffed at the idea that she would enjoy that during sex but she did… with him. Because his touch was still him, still safe, gentle and cautious. He was rough, at times, during sex, and used a firm hand but his touch managed to still maintain the rounded edges of tenderness to them, the caution of someone who knew the limit and would never cross it for sport or even come close to it. So she trusted his touch, trusted his actions, which always ensured his dominance in the bedroom bent toward her pleasure first and foremost.
“Keep your eyes on the mirror for me, baby,” he ordered, his words loving but his tone left no room for arguments. She lifted her head to the floor to the long mirror in the hotel room to watch him fuck her.
She had never really seen herself in the throes of passion, shocked at how wild and uninhibited she looked. It was a difficult task to keep her eyes where he wanted them though, each stroke made her eyes want to roll back into her head or fall closed, the pleasure otherworldly and intense.
“You look so fuckin’ beautiful taking my dick, baby. You gonna cum for me?”
Charlotte was a blubbering mess, her words shallow and broken into pieces by her moans and pants of pleasure. Meanwhile, he always appeared unruffled, complete sentences flowing without issue.
“Y-Yes,” she could feel it, the precious peak of her orgasm. When she finally revealed to Michael one night that he made her orgasm for the first time, he seemed to take it as his personal mission to ensure she never went without again. And she hadn’t. Every time he nestled himself between her thighs, every time he touched her, she reached her mountain top. Every single time.
“Watch yourself cum, baby.” As the instructions left his mouth, he increased his speed, slamming his hips into her with the force and strength of a superhero.
Michael loved to watch Charlotte come undone, savored the faces she made and the way she screamed his name as pleasure coursed through her. This mirror allowed him to enjoy his favorite position with the perfect view of her.
As soon as her eyes connected with his, her body shook with the force and strength of her orgasm. Michael continued his relentless pace as she came, reaching his own peak as he felt her tighten around him.
He gently helped her over to the bed, Charlotte collapsing there. He placed soft kisses on her back for a moment before going to grab a towel to clean them both up.
She took a moment before pushing herself up onto her forearms, her eyes brimming with lust as they followed his naked body through his hotel room.
“Don’t get any ideas,” he warned, his tone not conveying any real seriousness. “We gotta go to bed. Our flight back is early as hell tomorrow.”
“Ugh fine. I know,” she pouted. They were on the first flight back to LA tomorrow for another long day of press before the premiere. “If we go another round, I’ll definitely just fall asleep in here.” Her face planted into the bed for a moment, Michael chuckling at her dramatic but adorable antics.
“Would sleeping next to me be so bad?” He asked as he laid next to her on the bed, more sensual and soft kisses pressing against her back.
She moaned, painfully pulling herself away from him and his touch. “Now who has all the bad ideas?” She asked as she rolled away from him to grab her clothes. “Sleeping next to you is my preferred spot. I sleep far better with you,” she added under her breath though Michael caught it and clocked it for later. “But we don’t want a guest or housekeeping or anyone seeing me traipse outta here like a one-night stand. Platonic co-stars, remember?”
Michael sighed and nodded. He had agreed to this course before they left for Philly to start press but he did not realize how difficult it would be or feel in practice. It was a mutual decision, neither of the actors in them ready to burst the sweet bubble that was their ultra private relationship just yet. However, the regular guy in him who was madly in love with his girlfriend wanted to shout it from the rooftops. He wanted to post photos of them on Instagram and talk freely about his girlfriend. As ridiculous and corny as his friends would call him for feeling that way. In every interview, he wanted to praise her performance, work ethic, talent, not just as her co-worker, but as the man lucky to be with her. But he also understood that going public meant subjecting Charlotte and himself to scrutiny they did not want or need.
“I know, I know. Just you leaving after I nut makes me feel like we’re a booty call. I miss sleeping next to you. I miss touching on you all the time.”
She smiled and stood between his knees as he sat up.
“You still touch on me quite a lot, according to Twitter,” she laughed as they recalled an intervention style meeting their teams had with them the day before about the fascinating and hilarious Twitter discourse on whether their great chemistry in interviews was truly platonic.
So they had tried to keep their hands to themselves throughout that day. However, all that did was rack up the sexual tension between them to such heights, even his utterly platonic touches created flames across her skin. They barely made it through dinner two hours prior before they stumbled up to Michael’s room and fucked for hours. His entryway was a blur of discarded clothes that marked a trail to his bed.
“And it ain’t enough.”
She rolled her eyes and kissed his forehead before resuming her search for her panties. She let out a disgruntled huff of annoyance.
“Seriously, though… maybe we should think about just announcing it ourselves and getting it over- UGH.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Can’t find my damn underwear.” At his snickers, she let out a pitiful moan. “Not funny, Bakari. Help me,” she pleaded with a dramatic whine that had him searching his bedroom. He had no idea where he threw them off, having likely tossed them somewhere when they left her body. “But yea, the team might have a point that we should just announce it. If we don’t, it’ll leak eventually. I feel like saying it how we want to matters. People seem to think they got us figured out anyway. And we aren’t doing a very good job of hiding certain feelings.”
He nodded, unable to argue with her on that point as he handed her the rest of her outfit. She now had her bra, dress, jacket, spanx and still no underwear to be found.
“What do you think?”
He sighed. “I think I like living in our bubble, the quiet of it. But I also don’t like hiding who I love. I mean we can’ hide it forever and why should we? I mean think about how much more fun this tour would be if we weren’t worried about saying the wrong thing or keeping up some dumb ass facade. I want to enjoy this time with you as you, my girl. Not just my coworker.”
She nodded, finally giving up her search with a defeated shrug. “You sure? You’re gonna break hearts all across the globe.”
He shrugged, his arms stretching out as he yawned, so deep Charlotte felt the exhaustion settle in her own bones. It made her move a bit faster to get out of his hair so he can rest.
“They’ll find a new sexier guy and their hearts will mend.”
She slid on her shoes before walking up to him. Even in her heels she had to stretch a bit to reach his lips. She pressed her lips to his, biting his lower lip before backing away and walking toward the door.
“There’s no one sexier, baby,” she offered with a wink.
He smiled and grabbed her purse for her, a lacy piece of fabric falling off of the side as he moved it.
“Ah. Think I found them. But I don’t think they’re wearable?”
“What do you me-?” Her words stopped as he held them up, the beautiful black, delicate lace torn apart by the brute strength of a boxer.
“Seriously dude??” Her annoyance was clear even as lust curled in her belly. She could not tell if she was upset he kept accidentally destroying her most delicate lace items or if she was so turned on by his soft but commanding strength that she wanted to strip down for round 5. “You and those damn muscles.” She held out her hand for the destroyed piece of clothing and tossed it into the trash. “Please skip arm day before you destroy any more of my clothes.”
“If I skip arm day, how else could I do this?” He hoisted her up in the air with ease like she weighed nothing, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he backed her into the wall.
His firm grip on her bare ass beneath her dress made her moan as he buried his head into her neck and sucked on every inch of soft skin he could find.
“T-touche,” she moaned. “A-and not fair.” However, he had her right where he wanted her, one rogue finger already able to feel the wetness pooling between her thighs. She moaned as that finger caressed her clit. She knew she was not making it to her hotel room anytime soon.
“We can sleep on the plane,” he muttered as he felt himself growing hard again. Charlotte could do nothing but cling to his shoulders and cry out in utter bliss as he entered her in one swift motion, filling her to the brim, fucking her against the wall. This time, she could see their reflection in the window and he did not need to command her to watch as she took in his perfect back muscles as he thrust in and out of her.
By the time they finished, Charlotte was resigned to falling asleep in Michael’s arms, wanting to get good rest in the arms of the man she loved more than caring whether a housekeeper or rogue person with a camera caught her leaving. She just planned to sneak off a bit early to her room so they did not leave together. She was thankful she had the foresight to pack that morning so she would have minimal things to deal with tomorrow. As she settled on his chest, she heard his voice break the silence around them.
“Be my date to the premiere.”
Charlotte knew it was a question, even if he did not phrase it as one, and a return to their earlier conversation. She propped herself up to look him in the eyes.
“You sure? Once we go down that road…”
“Without a doubt. I don’t want to hide what we have. We ain’t gotta tell people everything but we also don’t gotta hide.”
She smiled and kissed him before settling back on his chest.
“Yes.”
Though they could not see each other, both of them fell asleep with soft smiles on their faces.
***
Michael’s hand grasped Charlotte’s, an effort to stop her fidgeting as their limo took them to the premiere.
“It’ll be fun, babe. Just some photos, a couple interviews and then we get to finally see the film.” He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, the uneasy waters in Charlotte’s body relaxing to a soft rapids. “Relax.”
She nodded. “I know, I know.”
He eyed her for a moment. “You know we can just walk as co-stars. We don’t have to announce it or do anything tonight if you aren’t ready for it. I know it’s an adjustment.”
She shook her head immediately, sliding closer to him. “That’s not it at all. I want to be beside you tonight as your girlfriend. I just…” she shook her head before sliding back into her seat, her insecurities flaring. However, she stomped them back. She did not even want to give voice to them, they seemed so foolish. “Never mind.”
“You know I hate when you do that,” he chuckled, his hand rubbing her thigh. “Tell me. No embarrassment and no judgment.”
She leaned her head back, careful to not disturb her team’s hard work.
“I’m just worried about what people will say… with me on your arm,” she muttered, her voice small. Michael picked up on the tone as if there was something wrong with her.
“What’s wrong with you on my arm?”
She let out a merciless chuckle as if the answer was obvious. “You’re practically every woman’s wet dream, Michael. A-and I’m just…”
“Just what?”
“Just… me. Nothing particularly special,” she muttered, the insecurities she still could not shake flowing from her. She knew he saw her differently, and loved him for it. But the rest of the world? No one knew how they would see her and that terrified her.
“I think there are plenty of people who’d disagree with that. But trust me when I say that I don’t care what a single person out there thinks… All I care about is what you think, what you believe. And I want you to believe you deserve all of this. Not just me,” his finger tilted her chin to meet his eye. “But praise, attention, and this moment. This premiere is as much yours as it is mine. And one of the reasons we decided to go together was to celebrate us and how far we’ve come, personally and professionally since we met. So for tonight, don’t think about what anyone else thinks o-or any of the other shit. Think about what you know and what I know. And that’s that you are beautiful and talented and any guy would be lucky to have you on their arm.” He snickered. “But they can’t because I got you.”
His last statement made a small chuckle escape her lips. “You always know what to say… it’s as infuriating as it is charming, you know?”
“Yea I know. Listen, I'm with you every step of the way, aight? Anytime you feel unsteady, just squeeze my hand and I’ll catch you.”
“You always do.”
And that’s exactly what she did. Her insecurities ebbed and flowed but there was one constant through it all: Michael. His hand only left hers one as they posed on the carpet. She felt that unsteadiness creep up on her once and she tested it, giving his hand a light squeeze as they posed.
He did not miss a beat, immediately snagging her attention from the reporters. However, to her surprise, he did not say anything, he just leaned in and kissed her. A kiss that melted away all those insecurities, all her fear, and steadied her immediately. It was short and chaste but it was all she needed, her heart soothing again.
The yells from the reporters increased and it caused a stir but Charlotte blocked it out. His words echoed through her head. This was their moment to spend how they wanted and she did not want to waste it being afraid that she was not enough. Michael thought she was and if that was enough for her, it would be for the rest of the world.
By the time they returned to Michael’s house, Charlotte was on cloud 9. He worshiped her body as he always did, the perfect ending to a perfect night with him. It was all she thought about as she meandered in his kitchen at 3 am.
Charlotte’s leg jingled as she made herself a cup of tea, nothing but the light above his counter guiding her as she moved around his kitchen like she had been there for years. She did not want to be disrespectful, after all, it was not her space. But Michael seemed happy to give her free range so she took it when needed.
And tonight, her free range activity was breaking into his mom’s tea collection. He was upstairs, dead to the world asleep, but the beast of sleep was too elusive for Charlotte to capture. She always struggled with sleep, only routinely getting 5 hours on a good night, less when things were busy or she had a lot on her mind. It did not bother her much anymore, her body accustomed to functioning on the little sleep she was able to get. But since she spent so many nights at Michael’s, she found it harder and harder to hide her persistent sleep issues. She slept better here in his arms, which is why she chose to be there more than her own. But some nights, she found it nearly impossible to get any rest. And since she wasn’t at her own home, she had none of her gadgets and hobbies to distract her. All she had was a pen and notebook, which she would use to write songs quietly in the kitchen while she drank her tea to pass the time.
Usually, her energy was pained, sleep evading her for negative reasons. But tonight, it just felt different. She was happy, genuinely happy. A song formed in her head and tried as she might to sleep without writing it, she could not. She had missed this feeling, the creative restless energy that kept you awake, not nightmares and trauma. She knew it was him, there was no other explanation. His love had awakened in her a new energy and lyrics flowed from her mind to the page as she sipped her tea in the dim light, no interest in returning to bed until this was done.
She was only pulled out of her writing as her phone started to light up.
“Now who could be texting me this late?” She muttered to herself, glancing to find her sister in law and brother texting in their group chat. Unsurprising, since they were likely dealing with their twin toddlers.
She opened it, her eyes growing wide at the screenshot from Michael’s instagram.
Jackson: Why didn’t you tell us y’all were premiering your relationship tonight too??? Had to find out on social like a commoner
LoLo: he really thinks he’s part of your relationship
LoLo: congrats girl! Glad to see the premiere was a success in many ways
Charlotte giggled before she closed her messaging app and went to Instagram. She had her notifications turned off for it, never being a big social user herself anyway. However, that often meant she missed posts she was tagged in.
She immediately went to her activity page and found a notification from Michael.
The picture was of the pair kissing and holding hands on the red carpet earlier that night with the caption:
Celebrating tonight with my leading lady on screen and off. Here’s to many more Creed premiere date nights in our future.
She opened the comments to find a million versions of heart eye emojis, hearts, and excited “I knew it” comments from his followers.
Her heart swelled as she examined their photo, reveled in how carefree and happy they both looked.
“God I love him,” she whispered as she added a comment of her own.
Another perfect date night with you with a few heart emojis and a kissing face.
“I love you too.”
Her tea cup clattered against the granite counter, the scalding liquid splashing out onto her hand and the counter as Michael’s voice interrupted her quiet musings. She turned to find him perched against the entryway to the kitchen. She supposed she should not have been shocked to find him in his own kitchen but she was surprised she did not hear him coming down the stairs.
“Busted?” She drew her lip in between her teeth, a drop of guilt coloring her words.
Michael chuckled and closed the distance between them. “You were busted a while ago, babe. My mom noticed the tea disappearing faster than usual and mentioned that there might be a night time tea thief lurking around. Figured I’d catch you one of these days.”
Charlotte smiled. “Sorry, I was gonna replace it.”
He shook his head. “I don’t care about the tea. I already got her some more. I do care about why you’re up this early? We just went to bed at 1.”
He sat down on the bar stool next to her. She held up her notebook, which she allowed to fall closed.
“Had a song and couldn’t sleep till I wrote it down. Got distracted by someone’s very sweet instagram post.”
“I was wondering when you were gonna see it. You weren’t lyin’ when you said you don’t use social like that.” He paused. “So you enjoyed tonight?”
She nodded, “It was perfect. You’re perfect. And the movie was fantastic.”
“I thought so too. So when do I get to hear this song that kept you away from my bed?” He dropped his lips to her shoulder, his breath causing goosebumps to form.
Her hand tightened around the book protectively. It was not ready for his ears, not yet anyway. “Soon. I promise, it’ll be worth the wait.” She grabbed her tea cup and took his hand. “I got most of it down, it's enough for tonight. Let’s go back to bed.”
He nodded, leading her back to his bedroom so they could rest.
Tags: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98
***
A/N: The next chapter will have a bit of a time jump and we head to NYC where the drama is realllllllll lol just fair warning. Drop a comment and let me know what you thought! Hoped you enjoyed it :)
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