#but i was so blinded and overwhelmed by my pain that i tried so hard not to project on others that it was exactly the thing i’ve done

[lvstharmony]

​beyond grateful for the people that are surrounding me in my life, just as i am grateful for the people i’ve parted ways with, for without them, i would not be the person i am today.

[klausysworld]

I don’t know why but I really want something with Klaus breaking reads heart.

Maybe…. Reader and Cami have been kidnapped and Klaus has to choose who to save. He chooses Cami but before reader can be killed Elijah saves her.

Left for dead

Living with the originals was hard enough. Between the betrayals and the wars just within the family was overwhelming let alone outsiders going out of their way to destroy each of them.

Being with Klaus was already difficult, between his mood swings and temper tantrum’s he wasn't an easy person to love and yet I did.

Even when I realised he was in love with someone else, even whilst knowing he was kissing someone else, I didn't leave him. I loved him with everything in me whether it was killing me or not.

I had offered my life for his, I took life for his and I ruined my own life for his. With Klaus came his family and I did everything I could to welcome them as my own. Even after I found out that his sister knew that he was seeing someone else.

Hope was treated the way I would treat my own daughter and I loved more than anyone else to walk the planet. Maybe that was why I stayed, for Hope. Or maybe that’s what I tell myself because how could I have been pathetic enough to stay for a an who only saw me as a warm body.

For some reason I had it in my head that perhaps he loved both me and Camille. Maybe he thought I wouldn't accept it and so he kept it a secret but surely after everything he should know that I would never try to change him or invalidate his feelings. It was stupid to be okay with him seeing Cami behind my back, I was blinded by something I had created in my mind.

I would smile when Cami was near and I tried to talk to Klaus but he labelled me paranoid and brushed it off. So I thought maybe he regretted it and he didn't want me to know because he wanted to stop. Maybe he did still love me.

This was the ultimate test really.

Both myself and Camille were beaten until black, blue and bloody. A loop of our cries and screams echoed through my mind and bounced against the walls of whatever dungeon we were seemingly chained within. I had no way of knowing how long we had been there but my body and soul felt such a sense of relief when Klaus's voice rang through the building. That feeling only lasted a few seconds before our captures taunting replayed in my head:

"Klaus will choose between you both, he will decide who lives or dies. He may think that he can have it all, have you both but I won't let him well. Whichever one he chooses, the guilt from the other will eat away at him, he won't be able to stay with the other. You will all end up broken and alone." he had whispered cruelly.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she watched Klaus approach them both, his hands coated in red as he forced the bars that separated us apart and went to step through only to let out a gasp and drop to his knees. The with who had tortured us for however long appeared from thin air in front of Klaus and I automatically pulled my legs to my chest to hide in the corner.

"Only one of them leaves" he stated, a grin on his face. "I don't care which but you will choose one or they both die and the next to go missing will be your daughter"

At his words Klaus let out a vicious snarl and attempted to lurch forward at the man but a sharp pain forced its way to his head and caused a loud yell of pain to burst from within him.

I could feel my eyes burning with another flow of tears just watching his pain, knowing what he felt. I could see Cami staring straight at me. Over our time in here together she had often brought up Klaus's ultimatum, I told her that I knew that they loved each other. I told her that he would choose her. She was certain that I was wrong and that Klaus didn't love her but just used her as a release. But I knew what Klaus looked like when he was in love. Even so part of me hoped she was right, it was a dark thought, a horrible hope that I wish I didn't have but I really wanted it to be true.

I looked back to Camille, a tight lipped smile that was probably more of a grimace formed on my lips as I mouthed the words 'it'll be okay' to her and her head shook as tears slipped down her cheeks.

Cami was sweet, she was lovely and I loathed it. She wanted to die instead of me, she said I deserved to live more than she did. That I was Hope's second mother I was apart of the Mikaelsons. She apologised for ever being with Klaus and it just made me feel worse. I thought that maybe they were lies, maybe she secretly hoped that Klaus would choose her and I would be left to die.

I couldn't tell and it didn't really matter anymore. Not when I realised that Klaus was right in front of me. I felt a small spark of hope as his arms wrapped around me and he pulled my close to his chest. A soft sniffle left him and his lips pressed to the side and top of my head

"I'm so sorry" his voice whispered with a crack and I went to tell him it was okay before I felt him pulling away and I realised what he was apologising for "forgive me" he uttered as he made his way to Cami.

My eyes stayed blurry with tears but they didn't fall as a complete feeling of numbness spread throughout me completely. I could hear my captures sickening laugh spin around me and I could hear Camille asking Klaus what he was doing.

"Klaus- go back to her" she whispered but he shook his head

"I love you" he admitted and a bitter laugh left my lips. I covered my mouth with my hands and pressed my forehead against my knees. I shouldn’t have been surprised and I shouldn’t have been so upset. I knew he loved her, I knew he would choose but for some reason it hurt so much more when he actually confirmed it.

I could hear Camille apologising to me as Klaus lifted her up, carrying her to a safety I thought I would never again know.

As soon as they left hands were on me, grabbing and dragging me by my hair to force me to crawl wherever he wanted me. Uncontrollable pain shot through me continuously and I had no time to comprehend the sobs that shook my body. I felt my back arch painfully, almost breaking but not quite, my head was forced back so my neck was bared and a sharp knife went to the edge of my neck.

"it's unfortunate really..." the voice uttered before the blade began to sink into my throat. My eyes closed and I welcomed the quick death but the pressure stopped and a thud sounded from before me.

Fingers pressed to the place the knife had began to cut, a familiar scent engulfed me and an arm circled my waist.

"You're alright darling" the voice whispered, pulling me into an embrace making me grab onto the back of his suit silently. "He's gone now Y/n. You're safe." he murmured softly, rubbing my back before i felt him pull back a little bit. My eyes slowly cracked open to see his face, his deep dark eyes boring into mine with a knowing look of pity. Silently I watched as an array of reds and purples scattered under his chocolate brown eyes and his pearly fangs dipped into the tough skin of his wrist. The fresh wound was lifted to my lips and I accepted the metallic taste with a sigh. I drank for much longer than I needed, I expected he would pull be off but his hand only pet the back of my head gently

"Good girl" he whispered "just heal". His touch made my heart hurt and I didn't bother trying to stop the tears from falling anymore. My hands clutched onto his jacket desperately and I gulped his blood down as though it was water.

Soft touches were given to the skin of my face before his silk handkerchief cleaned at the dirt and dried blood that had dripped down my neck. Reluctantly I pulled away from his wrist and licked my lips clean. He wiped his own wrist and tucked the material away into his pocket. Elijah proceeded to pull the jacket off of his body and instead wrapped it around my shoulders. The inside was warm and smelt of home.

My eyes felt heavy with exhaustion and I gave him a tired smile making him frown.

"I'll bring you home now okay?" he whispered but I shook my head

"I can't go back" I muttered "I won't stay with him anymore. I should have left ages ago" I admitted and his eyes grew glossier.

"Where should I take you?" He asked gently and I shrugged

"Airport? Train station? I don't care just don't tell anyone you saved me? Please?" I begged softly and he nodded.

"I'll give you whatever you need" he promised "anything"

[guccifrog]

WRONG NUMBER P15

matt sturniolo x f!reader

hope u guys are happy now🙄

pov//

Pitch black. That was the only way to describe what I could see. I had no idea where I was, or what the hell was wrong with me. My body felt…off like it wasn't mine. My senses were heightened, my hearing, my sight, my touch. Everything was just…sharper. I felt like I was floating in the void, unable to move or speak or even think.

I tried focusing on what was happening around me, but there was nothing. A strong scent of blood suddenly hit me like a bullet. My blood.Just where the hell was I?

My brain was a foggy mess, struggling to process what was happening around me. I couldn't think or remember anything.

"I thought you may like it"

Huh? What was that?

"you're so hard to buy for, you know that?"

I tried to speak, but nothing came out. An invisible force seemed to tighten its grip on my vocal cords. It was as if my ability to speak was suddenly snatched away.

Panic started to rise in me. Where was I? Who was talking to me?

"I care about you, you know that?"

Without warning a sharp pain erupted behind my eyes, I tried moving my hand to touch my throbbing head, but I just couldn't.

"This is eating me alive Matt. I miss you"

What? Matt? That was my name. Matt.

I tried to remember, anything at all. Images started to flash in my mind, fragmented and incomplete. A face I knew, a room I'd never been in. My name was Matt.

"once you wake up, I'm not going anywhere"

Wake up from what? Who was she? I struggled to recall. My body ached, and my head felt like it was splitting in two.

The voice sounded familiar…so familiar, but I couldn't think of anything. At this point, the pain was getting worse like someone was trying to drill a hole through my skull.

I tried to focus on the voice, to remember who it belonged to, but it was no use. All I could do was lie there, in this pitch-black void, feeling helpless and confused.

"I'll do anything I can to help you get through this, okay? We'll figure it out together."

The voice was soft and reassuring, but I still couldn't remember who it belonged to. I felt a hand on my arm, warm and steady. I wasn't alone. There was someone here with me. But who were they? What was happening to me?

The pain was everywhere, making it impossible to think straight. My vision began to blur, and I struggled to keep my eyes open. I tried to focus on the hand on my arm, but the darkness was overwhelming.

The voice now stopped talking, and the hand on my arm slowly withdrew. I was left alone again, drifting in the blackness. My head was still in pain, and my body ached with every breath I took. I tried to concentrate on something, anything, but the darkness was all-consuming.

My eyes closed shut for a moment, my senses leaving my numb body, I couldn't tell if I was lying down, upright, or spinning.

I forced my eyes open again, wincing against the harsh light. It was no longer dark, instead, there was a bright light blinding me and It took a moment for my vision to adjust.

I was lying on a bed, a plain, white bed. I tried to sit up, but the room spun violently, and I was forced to lie back down.

My head still hurt, and my body ached with every movement. But I was able to take in more of my surroundings.

I look to my right, a small window, The curtains are drawn, casting a faint, grayish light over the room. The walls are painted a dull beige color, and there's a door to the left.

I turn my head slightly, and I see a Girl, sitting in a chair beside the bed. She looked pale and tired, her hair a mess around her shoulders, and she was asleep.

I knew her. That's for sure. I try to remember her name, but it's hazy. I do remember her voice, though. It's the same voice that's been talking to me.

I want to ask her questions, but my voice is still gone and I can't move.

I let my eyes wander around the room, taking in more details. Machines were beeping softly in the background, and there were IV lines connected to both my hands. I tried to raise my left hand, but it was numb and heavy.

I turned to look at the girl again, taking in her features. There was something about her that made me feel safe, despite the unfamiliar surroundings. Her face was soft and innocent, her lips slightly parted as she slept. I wondered how long she'd been here, sitting by my bedside.

My eyes landed on the bedside table, where there were a few items scattered around. A glass of water, some tissues, and a catus? I frowned, wondering what it was doing there.

The girl stirred in her chair, and I turned my head to watch her. She slowly opened her eyes, and they focused on me for a moment before she shoot up, looking alarmed. "Matt? Are you awake?" she asked, her voice trembling.

I tried to nod, but my neck was too stiff. "Yeah…" My voice came out as a croak, but it was a relief to finally speak again.

The girl stared at me, her eyes wide and glossy with tears. "Oh, thank God," she whispered as she chokedbacka sob.

"Don't scare me like that ever again you fucker" she reached over and took my hand, squeezing it gently.

I closed my eyes, relaxing to the feel of her soft hand in mine. "Sorry," I managed to croak. "It's all a bit hazy."

She laughed softly, the sound both melodic and comforting, and it was like music to my ears.

taglist ☆

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[thebeast-dennis-etcetera]

There For You

Gibbs x Reader One Shot

Prompt: Reader is held captive for days before being rescued. Gibbs is left to help her through it. Mostly an angsty/fluff.

Warnings: Insinuations of kidnapping, torture, starvation.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed throughout the dirty dark house, making your hair stand on end. You knew who was coming and needed to be ready if you wanted to escape. Your muscles were weak from the handcuffs chaining your legs to the old radiator and the ever lasting wooziness from the severe dehydration was almost enough to make you start hallucinating.

You weren’t sure how long you had been here, the curtains were always drawn and you never heard any outside noise but if you had to guess, you would’ve said at least 3 days.

If Gibbs and the team hadn’t found you by now, you sure they wouldn’t. So gripping the old wrench you found under the radiator tight in your hand, you laid limp on the floor as your captor descended the stairs.

“Guess what I have in store for you today?”

You heard him set something heavy down on a far table and walk over close. “Hey, wake up.”

A hard kick to your shoulder almost made you yelp out in pain but you kept your composure and stayed quiet and still. It wasn’t until he dropped a knee down and came down close that you sprung into action, swinging your arm out with as much power as you could muster and hit him in the head with the wrench. You were actually surprised when he immediately slumped to the floor unconscious.

Not wanting to waste any time, you searched his body and almost burst with joy when you found the handcuff keys in his pocket. Unlocking yourself, you tried standing but the exhaustion caught up to you causing you to collapse. You felt like every second you weren’t getting out of here was a second closer to him waking up and your ultimate demise.

With what you assumed was my body’s last attempt at an adrenaline rush, you staggered to stand and begin making your way out of the basement.

Your eyes were blinded by the amount of light that burst through once you opened the front door but didn’t hesitate and just started running. The house you were in seemed to be in some part of the countryside but you could make out a road in the distance so that was your destination.

It felt like hours before you finally reached the road, looking back every few seconds to see if you were being chased down but never saw anyone. It wasn’t until you practically caused an accident by running into the road that someone stopped in their car and came over to help.

“I need your phone please. I’m a federal agent.”

Thankfully, the passerby obliged and handed you their cellphone. Once you punched in the numbers and heard that familiar gruff voice on the other end, you collapsed onto the asphalt.

“Jethro. It’s me..I need help..”

His voice was far away and you realized you were fading in and out of consciousness. So before you could completely pass out, you handed the phone back to the driver.

“Tell him where we are.. And that I’m still in danger..”

Whatever the driver was saying to you went unheard as you relaxed into the ground, finally letting the overwhelming sense of sleep take over.

>>>>

Your eyes shot open, panic immediately shooting through your body. Looking around, you recognized your surroundings to be a hospital but no other clues as to what happened. Ripping the oxygen tube from your face, you very carefully removed the IV from your arm and attempted to get out of the bed. Unfortunately like last time, your body didn’t cooperate and you ended up falling into the curtains, bringing them down with you.

Once you felt arms grab you, you screamed and tried thrashing out of their grasp.

“Y/F/N! It’s me! You’re safe!”

The sound of Gibb’s voice gave you huge relief and stopped fighting. He easily pulled you to your feet as you clutched onto his suit jacket, now crying uncontrollably.

“Shhh. It’s alright, you’re safe now. I’ve got you,” he whispered while holding you tight.

“I can’t stay here Gibbs. I don’t feel safe here. Please-

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you out of here but you need to let them finish helping you first.”

“Don’t leave. Please don’t go,” you pleaded as he helped you back into the bed.

“I won’t. I’ll be right here.”

He wiped your tear streaked face and pushed the hair out of your eyes before calling for the doctor.

>>>>

Following up the steps to Gibb’s house, you pulled the jacket he let you borrow tighter to your body. Ever since leaving the hospital, it didn’t matter how many layers you had on, you couldn’t seem to stay warm. Gibbs opened the front door and let you walk in first, carrying your go bag and pharmacy meds.

“Take a seat on the couch, I’ll get a fire started,” he instructed while closing and actually locking the door. After your theatrics at the hospital, you couldn’t help but feel a little awkward towards Gibbs. You always felt like you two had a stronger connection than just boss and agent in the past but it never got talked about let alone acted on. And now you’re sitting on his couch, in his house, about to spend the night.

You silently watched as he crouched to put the fire together and turn the tv on to some old black and white tv show.

“You should eat something with these meds. I’ll make you something small.”

Once he was satisfied with the fire, he went into the kitchen and threw a small frozen tv dinner into the microwave. You weren’t really in the mood to eat anything but didn’t want to offend his hospitality.

He sorted out all of your pills you needed to take, some antibiotics, some supplements, and handed them to you with a large glass of water. You obediently drank them all down as he came over with the food and a beer for himself.

He set it down on the coffee table and took a seat next to you. Not close enough to be touching but close enough that you could smell his aftershave.

“Thank you.”

Those were the first words you spoke to him since the hospital.

“Welcome.”

You were both quiet as you slowly picked at your meal and he sipped his beer while watching the tv. After a few more bites, you were done and sat back into the couch, another shiver taking over.

Without a word, he grabbed a blanket from the nearby chair and wrapped it around your shoulders, making sure you were snug. The room was finally getting warmer and your eyes were getting droopier. At some point, your head had fallen against his shoulder but he didn’t make a move to push you off or reposition himself. You finally felt safe after days of fighting for your life and you had Gibbs to thank for that.

[monstrouslyobsessed]

vile affection

concept: in which your guardian angel wishes nothing but misfortune for you—just to keep you. —momster

—a/n: well no one asked for a concept and I wanna post smth so here it is!! enjoyyyyy~

side note, i tried to be vague on what religion this story is referencing to so you yourself can implement your preferred beliefs, but unfortunately, catholicism still carried some weights in this one. sorry!! i tried my best dlfkfsdl

—tw / tags: gn reader, implied loved one(s) death(s), implied killing, heavy religious themes, grief, horror, body horror, teratophilia, exophilia, general yandere themes, sfw.

—featured character(s): the guardian angel / the angel, the (unfortunate) priest

A piercing wail erupted from the depths of your throat as you crumbled to the floor, shrieking into your phone, “No, no, nonono! No!”

Not another one…!

Sobs wracked your body so hard the sounds emerged as tiny high-pitched squeaks. Tears blurred your vision to near blindness, distorting the colors into blobs of grey. Your breaths came so harshly they scorched your lungs.

Curling into a ball, you lost control and hyperventilated. With wild abandon, you pounded your fist on the cold tiled floor and released inhuman cries of agony. Something throbbed where your knuckles had split open, staining the hard ceramic surface with your blood, yet you felt nothing. Numbness drenched the overwhelming misery and panic, and your world creased its spinning.

They were gone—every single one of them.

Distantly, a voice, laced with sympathy, pleaded with you not to hang up the phone. Without hesitation, your battered hand moved on its own accord to end the call. You sat there, head between your knees, as you let the device to slip away to clatter and crack against the floor.

Now, there was nothing left, nothing but the hollowing emptiness that gaped deep within your pounding chest, where the love of your life had once filled and kept it warm. Memories of their smiles faded as tears stung your swollen eyes. Wheezing sobs continued to fill the room, oblivious to a strange distortion perching on your bowed back to comfort you.

The funeral was a somber affair, a closed-casket viewing attended by strangers. You remained quiet throughout the priest’s recitation of the psalms, disregarding the whispered condolences offered your way. It took every ounce of your strength not to jump into that casket and howl your grief.

“Poor thing…” one attendant murmured to another, “this makes it the fifth loss in this year alone, doesn’t it?”

The other attendant responded sympathetically, stealing a brief glance in your direction. Anger flared within you, only to fade just as quickly when you felt something brush against your bare neck; feather-soft, cold and intangible. You tensed.

This was not the first time you had experienced these strange sensations—these invisible touches. At times, it would gently trace down your skin, soothing like a caress on the back of your hand, or enveloping you like an embrace around your waist. But, it always felt as though it was petting you with a sharp, scalpel-like claw, sharp and unyielding. These sensations left behind only cold goosebumps and an increasing sense that something was extremely wrong.

Once, you thought it might be the ghost of your loved one—but even you knew such possibilities were ludicrous. It could be your mind breaking apart under the weight of so many consecutive tragedies; less than a year felt like a lifetime of pain. And, by certain, their touches had never felt so…disgusting and inhuman.

There were moments where the hairs on the back of your neck bristled and you heard the faint disembodied crooning, words too indistinct for you to understand. Yet, it vaguely resembled a demonic chorus, singing some eerie song. The lingering echoes, you thought, was just an auditory hallucinations brought on by intense grief.

The phenomena worsened each loss you suffered though. These unseen presences grew more persistent and suffocating, clinging to you like a shroud of darkness. Your instincts would scream at you to flee—but how could you escape from something you don’t even know was there?

Rubbing unconsciously where the invisible entity touched you, you remained in your seat, fixated on the casket. As you waited for the priest to conclude his prayer for the departed soul’s safe passage to the afterlife, you lifelessly watched mourners rising from their seats to form a line to pay their respects.

Your mind was numbed by both exhaustion and sorrow to even count them all.

After the attendants withdrew for the impending burial, the priest motioned for you to join him. A gentle—yet strangely tight smile formed on his lips, as he spoke, “Would you mind returning here after the burial? I’d like a word with you.”

You furrowed your brows at the priest's unusual request but nodded, your agreement barely audible. Whatever he had to say couldn’t possibly be more harrowing than the lonely hell you were enduring. Quietly, you promised to return.

After the burial, once the guests departed for the wake, you found yourself alone in the cemetery. An ache gnawed at your heart as you forced yourself to walk back to the ever-looming church. As soon as you stepped inside the holy building, something strange caught the corner of your eyes.

Startled, you pivoted to see what it was.

But, there was nothing there, just the endless rows of gravestones scattered across the green grass. Your muscles taut with unease, you shook your head and drew a deep, heavy breath. Your sanity was fraying to a snapping point, you thought to yourself.

The weighty doors thudded shut behind you, the sound reverberating thunderously throughout the silent sanctuary, nearly jumping you out of your skin. Following the abrupt noise, you heard a voice beckoning you to follow, as the priest shuffled his feet down the aisle.

You couldn’t help but to notice the nervousness in his steps.

Closing the distance between you, he ushered you past the archway and toward the altar of the church’s fallen deity. Lightheaded and worried at the haste and anxiety he displayed, you allowed him to lead you to a room in the rear of the sanctuary. Rashly, he locked the door behind you and stood there stiffly, pressing his ear against the wooden surface.

“Father…?” You glanced at him, fear swelling up at his odd behavior.

His shoulders tensed upon your hesitant voice and he turned to face you, his eyes filled with unmasked horror. Swiftly, the priest made a sign of the cross and whispered a prayer. With a shuddering sigh, he returned his attention to you.

Before you could open your mouth to demand an explanation, he cut in with urgency.

“Tell me, my child, what do you know of the guardian angel?”

Perplexed, you blinked until his urgent words seeped into your mind. Swallowing thickly, you replied in a hoarse voice, stifling the swelling grief in your breast, “They are meant to protect and to guide you in the times of strife and tribulations.”

He fell silent for a moment, then parted his trembling lips, “Then tell me, my child, why has yours only destroyed? Why did it regard you with such a perverse gaze?”

“I…what?” You gaped, a cracked laughter escaping your lips in an unhinged melody.

Had this man lost his mind?

What could he possibly mean? How could this man assume that the loss of your family was the work of divine beings? How ridiculous—

But upon the stern and fearful look in his eyes, disbelief constricted in the pit of your stomach. An overwhelming urge to flee coursed through your nerves, propelling your legs toward the bolted door. You were disrupted by a sudden yank on the collar of your shirt.

An inexplicable dread settled beneath your skin, as the priest forcefully dragged you backward with unexpected strength. Before you could voice your frustration and demand an explanation, the door buckled.

The wood splintered and the shrieks of a demon reverberated.

A scream pierced the air, laden with terror—but you couldn’t discern whose voice it belonged to. Was it your own? Or was it the priest’s? You remained uncertain, as you transfixed by the sight of something great and dreadful emerging from the sundered door.

An angel.

Except, to you, it was not.

Trenched in crimson, the mangled remains of rotten bodies hung from its many jagged wings. Countless eyes turned toward you, each radiating with worship and desire. A seam split on its featureless face, forming a broken maw that drooled with hunger. Its tongue, as dark as oil, swept away the spattered blood on its pure white skin.

Numerous arms reached out for you, each finger tipped with claws, glistening with something pungent. Its resonant voice echoed your name, tainted with the same twisted desire mirrored in their manic eyes. It repeated those three words, like a disturbing hymn.

I love you.

Blood roared in your ears and fear seeped through your body, paralyzing you. You couldn’t move, your vision obscured by a sudden cascade of tears. Disgust churned within you, sickening you to your very core.

You couldn’t even discern the abrupt swing of one of its arms, releasing the lifeless body from its monstrous sword, as the abomination closed in. A flurry of limbs encircled your shivering form, some caressing while others coiled around your spine.

Its’ many eyes blinked at you and its rotting wings fluttered, its grinning face lovingly nuzzled yours. Against your ear, it moaned its proclamation.

I love you.

The slithering tongue smeared across your lips in a parody of kisses. Your skin crawled at the way it touched you, its embrace suffocating, yet sickeningly gentle. Its affection for you was vile. Unwanted.

Your hands beat its armor weakly, attempting to fend it off, and its crooning changed into something sharp and incensed. Snarling, frustrated that it was unable to indulge itself into its unholy pleasure with you, it grabbed your hands and held them tightly.

Sobbing, you knew you would never be able to escape. Desperate to appease it, your voice rasped out from your dry throat,

“I…love…you…too.”

Its painful clenches softened upon your trembling words.

Love swelled within those golden irises.

—end

[flowerandblood]

Robbed and gifted (6/6) (End)

[ arranged marriage • modern!Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: sex content, angst, smut, fluff ]

[description: (Anon Request) She and Aemond are faced with a situation, where they must form a fictitious marriage. They are complete strangers to each other, who cannot find themselves in a new reality. When his wife stands up for him at a family dinner, something changes between them. Smut, angst and a lot of sexual tension.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous chapters: Masterlist

_____

She woke up the next morning with a huge headache. She opened her eyes lazily, but the light from the windows blinded her. She muttered helplessly in displeasure, turning her back to the window, twisting in her husband's arm, snuggling into his chest which rose steadily. She felt him roll over, his hand on her back again, returning to his interrupted deep sleep.

She tried to remember last night and realized to her horror that she must have drunk a little too much. As long as she was in the restaurant, sitting and laughing with friends, she felt great, but as soon as she stepped outside she was struck by how soft her legs were. When she got home, she tried her best to behave normally. She didn't want him to be ashamed of her.

Then his words made her so emotional that she just got into his pants and started riding him. She pursed her lips, feeling her cheeks turn scarlet at the memory of what she'd said to him. That, sitting on top of him, after an overwhelming, wonderful orgasm with her head on his shoulder, she'd stammered that she loved him.

She wondered hard if he remembered that and believed her or if he had just assumed that she was drunk. She was afraid that he would think that he didn't feel the same way about her and would withdraw.

She thought, she'd pretend that she'd never said anything like that to save herself the humiliation. She pursed her lips at the thought, pressing her cheek against his warm, bare chest, which heaved steadily.

After an hour, the alarm rang and they both had to get up. She tried not to show how much she was in pain, but she saw his amused look as he drank his coffee, leaning against the counter.

"A little hangover?" He asked low, taking a sip of his espresso, a smirk on his face.

She looked at him, frowning and sighed heavily, covering her face with her hands.

"I would say a big hangover." She muttered, unhappy and distraught that she had her shift at the coffee shop today.

She heard Aemond walk over to one of the cupboards and open it. He took out a small basket of pills, poured water into a glass, and handed it to her, placing it on the table.

"Drink. It should be better in half an hour." He grunted, avoiding her, gathering his documents from the table which he needed at work.

She pursed her lips as she looked at the couch where they had fucked so hard yesterday. He scratched his cheek and looked at her as if he suddenly remembered something.

"Mmm… my mother called me about Christmas." He spoke softly and uncertainly, and she felt that he was about to say something that she wouldn't like.

“She thought it would be nice to invite your parents. She invited them before my father could react. I thought you should know." He said quickly, looking away, all tense.

She gasped at his words, her eyes wide in shock, her mouth parted in horror and despair. She covered her face with her hands, leaning over the table as if about to burst into sobs.

"It's a nightmare." She just said, sighing loudly, shaking her head. "It will be a disaster."

She said, lowering her hands, looking at him helplessly. He looked at her, but didn't know what to say. He wasn't comfortable with this either. He hated meeting new people. Even more like them, but he wouldn't dare say it out loud, lest it offend her. He sighed heavily.

"It'll be alright. Don't worry about it." He said softly, walking over to her calmly, his face completely expressionless as always.

He lifted her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look at him, her gaze warm and frightened at the same time, full of hot feeling. He leaned over her and brushed her lips, feeling both of them shiver at the gentle caress. He broke away from her with a soft, wet click.

"Have a nice day." He said calmly and left the apartment, leaving her alone.

She groaned helplessly, getting up and laying on the couch, not believing that this was really happening.

She couldn't imagine meeting his parents with her parents. They were people from other planets, and her father knew no limits when it came to alcohol. She was afraid that her parents would start arguing in front of everyone and that Aemond would be ashamed of them.

Since they decided to give their marriage a chance, things were going really well for them, their everyday life was harmonious and enjoyable.

She knew that there was still a lot of work ahead of them and they didn't know much about each other yet, but they had both given a lot in the two months since they met and she didn't want it all to go to waste.

She thought with horror that her words, spoken while drunk, could not have been a figment of her intoxicated imagination. She really felt something for him.

Something intense and wonderful.

Christmas was slowly approaching. Aemond's mother decided that everyone should come to their house for Christmas Eve and spend family time together until the end of Christmas a few days later.

Both she and Aemond dreaded spending so much time together under the same roof with these people, knowing that it would not be without arguments. However, they recognized that there was no choice.

Together, they chose gifts for his family and her parents. She didn't tell him that she wanted to present something to him as well. She had no idea what would make him happy.

He could buy everything himself, so she wasn't sure if any items would impress him. She knew he loved books, but most of them were dusty on the shelves because he had no time to read them.

Funny gadgets and gifts were also out, because he was completely uninterested in it. She recalled that he once confessed to her that he loved collecting antiques.

In fact, there were a lot of them in their house. Sometimes he would tell her about which one of them. She decided to follow this lead and look for something for him in the antique shop.

She wasn't even sure what she was looking for. She decided that if something caught her eye, she would just buy it, unless it was too much over her budget.

After going to a few stores and finding nothing she lost some of her enthusiasm, but it came back with full force, when she felt that she had finally found what she was looking for.

A beautiful, gold, old pocket watch, richly decorated on the back with floral, carved motifs. One day when they were watching some costume drama on TV, having lunch in between, he told her, looking at one of the characters that when he was a child, he dreamed of having a pocket watch like him, wearing a frock coat and a top hat.

She decided that the frock coat and top hat might not look good nowadays, nor would he have anything to do with it, but he could still carry the watch with him, keeping it as an elegant heirloom.

She bargained with the seller for a slightly better price when he admitted to her that the watch was not working and had to be repaired. She was not discouraged and bought it, then took it to the watchmaker. She was supposed to pick it up in a few days, but the man said that he'd make it before Christmas.

She barely bit her tongue not to give a surprise, so eager to share her gift with him. She bought a nice black box for it, which made its gold frame even more beautiful. She hid the gift in a drawer, extremely proud of her idea.

On the day of Christmas Eve their moods were average, but they were comforted by the fact that they would spend this time together.

For Aemond Christmas time was a chore that he couldn't avoid every year. Now at least he felt that among these people, he would have his ally, someone who would understand and hug him at night when he was angry and discouraged.

Despite her confession while she was drunk of her feelings for him she never repeated it afterwards. He thought resignedly that perhaps she regretted her exposure to him and wanted to back out of him. He didn't know what to do with that thought, so he pushed it aside.

They arrived at his family home a few hours before the dinner date. It was crowded inside, the whole house was festively decorated, the smells of baked and cooked food came from the kitchen.

She introduced him to her parents, who smiled timidly, squeezing his hand. They tried to talk to him, but his stony facial expression completely scared them away. She didn't care anymore, knowing it was a neutral expression on his face, but to outsiders he looked like he wanted to kill them.

Just before dinner, his father invited them into his office, saying that he wanted to talk to them. They both walked in, looking at each other uneasily. He motioned for them to sit in the two armchairs in front of him, and they did, looking at him expectantly. Viserys clapped his hands and nodded.

“You guys did great. The transaction went faster than we expected. I thought I'd give you a message as a Christmas present. You only have three more months before you can get divorced." He said softly, smiling, as if he really thought that he was going to give them a huge surprise by pleasing them both.

They both stiffened at his words. Aemond covered his face with his hand, resting his elbow on the armrest, his mouth pressed together. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, feeling her heart pounding wildly, her hands clenched in her lap in front of her.

She didn't want it.

She didn't want to divorce him.

Aemond finally looked at his father, his gaze calm and impassive.

“No.” He spoke dryly, clearly and confidently. There was silence in the room.

His father frowned and opened his mouth in disbelief. He shook his head, apparently not understanding what was going on.

"What are you talking about?" He asked as if he thought his son was joking or had lost his mind. Aemond looked at him blankly, his expression cold and distant.

"You will not decide when my marriage ends." He said emphatically, impatiently. She swallowed hard at his words, feeling the warmth spreading through her heart.

Viserys shook his head, sighing heavily, and looked at her.

"Will you leave me alone with my son for a while?" He asked softly, trying to smile. She looked at Aemond in horror, saw his mouth tighten, anger in his eye.

"She has the right to listen to this conversation." He spoke through clenched teeth, but his father cut the subject short.

"I want to talk to you in private." He said emphatically.

She gulped loudly at his words, she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She stood up.

She and her husband gave each other a quick, desperate look, then she headed for the door and closed it behind her. Viserys looked at his son, his gaze alert and impatient.

"You will divorce her. I have bigger plans for you." He said, looking at his son intensely. Aemond rolled his eye, furious, barely sitting still, his fingers tapping impatiently against his armrest.

"You are insolent." He hissed, looking away, pale with anger and helplessness. "Fucking old fool."

His father did not like this remark.

"Excuse me?"

Aemond looked at him, enraged, his gaze threatening and impatient.

"I said, I'm not fucking divorcing her. What the hell don't you understand?" He hissed in such a way that his father pursed his lips at the insult. Such words he would expect from Aegon, but not from him.

"Are you punishing me for telling everyone about your results? You know I want you to be my successor. Leave this childishness behind." He spoke a little softer as if he had just found the reason for his behavior.

Aemond chuckled low, dark, squeezing his eye shut. He shook his head, rubbing his temple. He was literally on the verge of throwing himself at his father and slapping his face.

"You don't understand anything. But how would you know what I feel? You never loved my mother." He said, rising suddenly from his armchair, heading towards the exit.

"Aemond!" Viserys shouted after him, clearly frustrated and angry with what he had just heard.

"Fuck off." He only said, leaving, slamming the door.

He sighed heavily and looked around. He saw that his wife was standing in the corridor, shaking all over, her face red with tears.

He realized that she had heard everything.

She pursed her lips, looking at him with her big, tender eyes. He felt his anger instantly melt into thin air.

"I will not divorce you." He said calmly.

She smiled at him so warmly, so sweetly that he came over to her, grabbing her hair and kissed her hungrily, their lips sliding against each other with a wet click. He pulled away from her after a moment and pressed his forehead against hers, looking at her thoughtfully.

She always took his opinion into account. She always listened to what he had to say. She respected and valued him. She made him happy, giving him a sense of stability and security, something he had lacked since childhood.

He realized that he had always sensed that his parents did not love each other. He thought deep down that maybe love was just a poet's invention, an ideal that no one would ever achieve. That's why, being with Alys he never really thought about how he felt about her, and he didn't care that his heart didn't melt at the sight of her.

But now, standing in front of her, stroking her cheek with his thumb, all he could think about was protecting her, enfolding her in his arms and holding her close.

Keep her as his own treasure.

He understood now why men in books and poems were so devoted when it came to feeling for a woman. Nothing mattered to him anymore.

"Let's go downstairs." He said gently.

Everyone sat down to the Christmas table. Viserys joined the others as well, pale, his lips pursed, his gaze thoughtful. He and Aemond exchanged menacing, warning glances across the table, but neither of them said anything.

Dumplings, borscht, salads, fish and all other dishes characteristic of this holiday were served on the table. Everyone started to eat, the atmosphere at the table was quite pleasant.

Suddenly, to everyone's surprise, Viserys stood up, his head bowed. He looked around at the gathered people and cleared his throat softly, silence fell around the table. She and Aemond stared at him, tense. Finally his father spoke up.

“My dearest ones, there is something that I am ashamed to admit and of which I am not proud. I decided that Christmas Eve was a time of new beginnings and forgiveness, and it was the right time to shed that burden.” He said calmly, looking at his plate, everyone staring at him in complete surprise. Nobody answered.

"I made my son do something very bad, against any good morals." He said suddenly, and Aemond shifted in his seat, horrified.

"Dad-" He said imploringly and warningly at the same time. He felt his wife squeeze his hand under the table in horror, sucking in a sharp breath. Viserys didn't care at all.

“I convinced him to enter into a fictitious marriage for the sake of the company, thanks to which we were able to make many important transfers. I got two young, innocent people involved in our bank's dirty tricks." He said, sighing heavily.

Suddenly, everyone's eyes turned to them. Aemond looked at his wife in horror. She stared at her plate in front of her, pale, with pursed lips, her body trembling all over. He thought that this wasn't really happening. Viserys continued.

"However, I also wanted to inform you that in a few months their marriage will be -"

"Shut the fuck up." Aemond blurted out, looking at him enraged. Viserys blinked at him in disbelief. Several people at the table shifted uneasily in their seats, feeling the tension.

"Son -"

"Close. Your fucking. Mouth. You can make up whatever lies you want. That it's a sham marriage, that even you yourself had a hand in it. Tell me that maybe she's really your illegitimate daughter and we're living in incest. What you're saying is ridiculous. I get it that you can't stand her, not having as much money as our family, but that's beneath your dignity. I will not divorce her." He hissed in one breath, so confident that his wife looked at him, her mouth parted.

The table fell silent as Viserys smiled incredulously, shaking his head.

"- what are you talking about, son - I -"

"Sit down, dad. Don't humiliate yourself in front of my in-laws anymore. I am ashamed of you." He said, looking away, his hand closing around her fingers that were squeezing him so tight.

He thought with satisfaction that he had won. That he had outsmarted his father who had always seemed invincible to him. He couldn't help but glance at his wife with satisfaction.

She stared at him in disbelief, her eyes hot, her lips slightly parted. He thought that he was going to fuck her all night. He will let his father and others listen to how "fictitious" their marriage was.

The rest of the dinner passed in a rather awkward atmosphere. Aemond held her hand under the table. Then it was time for the gifts they gave to the family. After that, Aemond decided that he couldn't stand it any longer. He took her hand and led her upstairs to his old room where he had grown up.

He thought with satisfaction that she felt the same as he did, because as soon as he closed the door, he saw out of the corner of his eye that she had pulled her panties down from under her dress.

She was staring at him with her lips slightly parted, swollen with lust. A smirk appeared on his face as he felt ecstasy, satisfaction and pride pulse through his veins, adrenaline pumping his chest. He began to undo his belt, looking at her darkly.

"Lie down on the bed." He commanded, and she obediently took a few steps back, laying on her back, breathing quickly.

He licked his lips involuntarily when he saw that she opened her thighs in front of him, her juices were dripping from her wet, pink entrance onto the sheets.

"Please…" She mumbled softly, looking at him. He walked over to her, sliding down his unbuttoned pants and boxers, taking his swollen, throbbing cock in his hand. He squeezed it several times in his hand as he looked at her. He was completely hard.

"Please what?" He hummed as he looked at her, tilting his head slightly as if in curiosity. Her face was all red with tears and desire, her whole body trembled.

He knew that she was shaken by what had happened. That what he did impressed her and she wanted to feel him, to give herself to him. The very thought made him shudder. She pursed her lips and swallowed hard, looking pleadingly at him.

"Please, make me feel good" She whispered, fidgeting impatiently as she stared thirstily at his swollen cock.

His lips twisted into a smirk at her words. He stepped closer to her, standing over her, spreading her thighs with his hands. His cock slid over her wet, hot entrance, teasing her clit, rubbing against her juices.

"Do you want me to fuck you? For my family downstairs to hear a little how you moan sweetly with my cock deep inside you?" He purred, stroking her thigh with one hand, guiding the tip of his cock to her entrance with the other.

They both moaned loudly as he slid into her a little, only teasing her as he pushed back out. She sobbed beneath him, writhing with desire, her hard nipples showing through the fabric of her dress.

"Yes, please, just fuck me already" She mumbled helplessly and moaned loudly as he slid all the way inside her suddenly, stretching her fleshy walls to the limit, sending a huge shudder through her body.

She tilted her head back, her hands tightening around his, holding her hips as he began to thrust his cock into her at a fast, intense pace. They gasped and moaned in exchange, their naked skin, sticky with their juices, hit each other with a wet slap with each of his thrusts.

"Yes, yes, yes" She moaned sweetly beneath him, eyes squeezed shut in delight, her lips parted in ecstasy. He looked at her, enchanted, at his wife, the source of his wonderful pleasures, devoted only to him.

He breathed quickly, watching with satisfaction as his cock pushed against her tight walls, stretching her deliciously painfully, her juices making it easy for him to enter her. He sped up even more, panting low, her moans getting louder as he rubbed her where she liked.

“My wife likes it, when her husband takes care of her, right? When I fuck her thirsty pussy so well.” He hissed, fucking her brutally and quickly, the bed beneath her creaking with his chaotic, sudden movements.

He felt that he was close to fulfillment. He wanted and needed it like never before. To cum in her and forget about everything, to find solace and fulfillment again in her arms. She sobbed sweetly at his words, turning her head away, pressing her cheek against the quilt, pressing her lips together helplessly.

"Yes, you make me feel so, so good, I love it" She sobbed and heard him smile at her words, delighted with her condition, her total surrender to his desires.

"You greedy little thing. Making a mess form your husband cock every fucking time, right?” He hummed in delight as he tightened his grip on her, digging his fingers into the skin of her hips.

"Mhm" That was all she managed to choke out, her hips responding willingly to his every thrust, her mouth parting wide, feeling the fulfillment coming.

"Oh, God, Aemond!" She moaned sweetly, arching her back, panting heavily, tickling hot waves of pleasure flowing through her body, depriving her of hearing and sight for a moment. She heard him begin to breathe heavily, his movements sloppy and chaotic, out of control.

"That's it, squeeze my cock a little bit. Fuck!” He growled as he reached his orgasm, his hot, sticky seed speeling inside her.

He gasped in pleasure for a while longer, sliding in and out of her, his cock a complete mess. He pulsed in her for a moment longer, his eye closed, his mouth slightly parted.

“Such a good girl. Knows how to make her husband cock happy so fucking well.” He purred, praising her, stroking the skin of her thighs in a calm, circular motion.

She swallowed hard, looking at him, blushing. He was sure that if anyone passed by their room he could hear them perfectly well. He smiled at the thought and slid out of her gently, his sperm flowing out of her in a thin, white stream. He wiped it away with his finger and slid it back inside her, causing her to squeal a little in surprise.

“Let not a drop be wasted. Everything has to be inside you." He hummed, looking at her darkly, and she pursed her lips at his words, all red.

He zipped up his pants and lay down next to her on the bed, sighing softly. She moved closer to him. They both turned sideways to face each other, breathing uneasily. He brushed the tip of his nose across hers and brought a sweet, warm smile out of her.

"I have something for you." She said softly.

He blinked, surprised. She sat up and hissed as she felt his cum flowing out of her under gravity. Aemond handed her a handkerchief from a cardboard box that had been on the small nightstand beside his bed.

She stood up, walking over to her suitcase and opening it. She took out a small, black box from under her sweater which was hidden inside. He watched her in surprise as she sat down next to him and handed the box into his hands.

"This is my Christmas present to you." She said softly, excitedly, her eyes shining with joy, despite the pain and humiliation that she had experienced today with him.

Aemond swallowed hard, his heart pounding, curious beyond measure. He also had a gift for her and secretly hoped to get something from her.

He opened the box and froze, staring at what he saw in front of him. He took out his pocket watch, holding it by the tiny gold chain, examining it from every angle.

His throat tightened at the thought that she had remembered the little anecdote that he had once told her and she had made his childhood dream come true. He pressed his lips together, feeling a kind of warm emotion, not knowing what to say.

"Thank you. It's…really, I've always dreamed of one. It is beautiful.” He said honestly, looking at her as gently as he could, smiling slightly.

She turned in her seat, happy, the smile never leaving her face. He cleared his throat, lifting himself up on his arm, meeting her surprised gaze.

"I have something for you too." He said as he got out of bed, walking towards a drawer from which he pulled out a small blue box.

She jumped, intrigued and excited, barely containing her curiosity. She pursed her lips as he walked over to her and handed her a small package. She opened the box and froze.

She saw in front of her a small gold ring with a tiny sapphire crowned with a gold, ornamental border around it. He looked very old, not like the ones she could see in jewelry stores. She gave him a questioning look, and he looked down.

"This is my grandmother's ring. I asked my mother if she would let me give it to you and she agreed. I have deprived you of a worthy engagement and everything that should happen before people get married. If you only want I would like you to wear this ring together with your wedding ring." He said calmly, playing with the piece of quilt under his fingers.

Her heart tightened at his words. The two of them only started wearing their wedding rings when they decided that they wanted to give their marriage a chance. They knew that everything they did was in reverse order.

When someone asked her how she met her husband, she had to come up with some crazy stuff. It pained her in a way that she didn't have memories of him like the others.

Like when someone slowly gets to know each other and falls in love.

Their relationship was like a big bang as if they acted on each other like magnets and could not move away.

She looked at him, smiling tenderly. She put the ring on the ring finger and looked at her hand from a distance, delighted. Aemond noticed it too and smiled slightly, running his hand over her hip.

"It suits you." He purred, leaning down, kissing the bare skin of her thigh. She stroked his hair, looking at him softly.

She pursed her lips as she thought of telling him that she love him. That she had truly fallen in love with him over the past few months. That she was happier than ever and it had nothing to do with his money.

She couldn't get the words out, embarrassed. She looked down at her lap. He continued to stroke her, looking at her thoughtfully.

"What happened?" He asked suddenly, alarmed by her sudden lack of reaction. She pursed her lips, playing with the fabric of her dress between her fingers.

"Do you remember what I told you when I got back from a party with my college friends?" She asked quietly, looking at him uncertainly from under her long, dark lashes. A smirk appeared on his face at her words.

"You mean, when you told me that you love me?" He asked, amused. She blushed, swallowing hard, looking down again, embarrassed.

He sighed softly, laying his head on her thigh, closing his eye. He grunted in contentment as she began to stroke him, running her fingers through his hair. He loved it when she did that, it always made him so relaxed when he came home from work, infuriated.

"If you hadn't fallen asleep then you would have heard me answer you." He said after a moment. She shuddered, her heart pounding hard. She swallowed, looking pleadingly at him.

"And what did you tell me then?" She asked quietly, her voice quivering with uncertainty. For a moment he said nothing, lying with his eye closed, enjoying her closeness.

"I have confessed that I'm in love to you."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn’t tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla @echos-muses @slainey @letmeloveyouuuu

Others: @thedamewithabook @godrakin @snh96 @statixcane @toodlesxcuddles @yentroucnagol @iloveallmyboys @echos-muses @jennifer0305 @shessthunderstoms @bbyaemond

[gretavangroupie]

Vigilance (Chapter 5)

Word count: 11.7k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ as always, drinking, language, fluff, angst, smut, violence.

This story is a very special collaboration with my best pal @gretavanmoon. We have been scheming on this one for a while... If you haven't read her stuff, definitely go check it out. If you have, even better! We are taking this one all the way back to the early days, but we will be going into the present, so hold on tight it will be a bumpy ride. Without further ado...

MAY 2018

Pushing through the crowd was a blur, but you never felt more clear of mind. You see Sam approaching them, the crowd stepping to the sides as the two of you barreled through. By this point, a small crowd of people had gathered around them as well, including your dad and the bartender, but they were no match for you and Sam’s speed. 

You watch as Sam jumped between the three of them, acting as a protective barrier. You took the opportunity. You felt white hot rage and an overwhelming need to protect rise up in your chest and your fists clench in a way you’d never felt before. You squeezed your right hand over the slide and prepared your body for pain. You wanted this to fucking hurt. 

Andy had his back to you, so you grabbed his shoulder to spin him around and face you. Time stood still and flew by you at the same time as you reared back and brought your fist to his face as hard as you could. The blow took him by surprise as his face contorted and twisted, and he hunched down to one side. When he came back up swinging, you were able to dodge his fist, which in his drunken state caused him to stumble. You grabbed him again, and continued to lay into his face before he got his head together to defend himself. You felt a hard left hook fall into the side of your jaw, but you felt no pain. 

“You motherfucker!” You screamed as you felt the taste of blood filling your mouth. Your left hand had a grip on his shirt and your fury returned. Your vision went blurry, and you heard people yelling and shuffling around you. The fight had inched its way to the narrow exit hallway, and funneled out most of the people around you. 

“Are you really gonna put your hands on them in public?! Fuck you!” You heard Sam scream as he pulled her and Elle behind him, leaving only you and Andy in the hallway. The two of you were wailing on one another, sharing blows to the face and ribs. You hear her yelling at the two of you to stop, you could tell her voice cracking  like it does when she starts to cry. You knew Sam was holding the two of them back, as awful as it probably was to watch, everyone knew it needed to happen. 

You went blind with adrenaline. You felt like you were outside of your own body, and you were acting on auto-pilot. You found yourself on the floor, fighting to pin Andy down. Sharp stings of pain poked at your hands whenever they touched the floor, and you remember the glasses and bottles flying off the table. Then you remembered she’d hit her head. 

Andy was extremely strong, and in his alcohol-fueled rage, his strength was probably amplified. Thankfully you’d managed to get a good angle on his left eyebrow, which had begun to leak blood into his eye and blind him slightly. 

All of the sudden you found yourself flying toward the wall behind you, hitting your back with a thud that momentarily knocked the breath out of you. Your vision started to fade a little but you tried your best to get back on your feet. You stood again and used all of your body weight to shove him against the opposite wall. He stumbled sideways and tripped over his own feet, falling to the floor. You jumped on him again, the two of you beginning to tire out and tousle on the floor.

 “…put your fucking hands on her again you son of a bitch…I swear to God…” you pushed out through heaves of exhaustion. He looked you in the eyes as you hovered above him, and you saw something in them that you’ve never seen in another human before. Pure, dark, evil rage. His eyes were black and soulless. Then he did something you didn’t expect-  he smiled at you. 

He fucking wanted this to happen. 

He came here looking for this.

How did he know where we were? How did he find her?

You paused and looked at him with confusion. Suddenly you heard a strange sound, and felt wetness splatter across your face. He had spit on you. 

This action ignited something in you that brought the rage tumbling back into your gut. You felt like you wanted to hurt him. Bad. You continued to lay blows to his stupid snickering face.

The next thing you knew you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your torso tightly, ripping you down the hallway. Danny. You struggled against him and tried your best to wriggle free. “Let me fucking go Danny!” you yelled. You quickly found yourself being thrown out the back door of the bar, and then being held against the wall. You used what body strength you had left to push whoever was holding you to calm your flailing limbs. Your eyes were glossed over, your ears had gone deaf, and you had a pounding in the back of your head. You were having a hard time forming sentences, but words were falling out of your mouth without any real thought behind them. 

You felt a strong hand press to your chest and a face come close to yours. 

“Hey hey hey...calm down…it’s me…I’m right here...look at me asshole, hey!” Familiar hands grabbed your face forcing you to stare into the eyes of your twin, instantly bringing you back down to earth. Damn Josh and his ever-present calming effect.

“Chill the fuck out Jake! Hey! It’s over!” You felt yourself take the first breath you’d taken in a while. It hurt to fill your lungs. Your eyes hurt so bad it was hard to blink. You brought your hands to them to wipe away the blood, and you were met with bright blue flashes of lights. 

“FUCK!” you yelled as you bent down into a squat and held your hands behind your head. You paused there for a minute collecting your thoughts. The pain of your fresh injuries was beginning to set in to your bones.

“Where is she? Where did they go?” you asked no one in particular. You sprang back up to stand. “Where’s Sam?”

“The girls are fine, mom has them safe and going back to the house.” Josh answered. 

“Son of a BITCH!” You turned around and smacked your hands hard against the cool brick wall. Sam was suddenly by your side pacing around. 

“Where’s Andy?” You asked him. 

“Bartender and few guys have him around the front of the building.” He sucked his teeth. “I swear to God I’m going to fucking kill him the next time I see him.” Sam said quietly. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes with shaking hands, lit one, and took a long drag before exhaling. You quickly picked it from between his fingers and repeated his action.

“Shit, man.” Sam said as you handed the cigarette back. You both inspected your hands, cut, bloody, bruised and already swelling over the knuckles. Tiny sparkles of glass litter your palms, blood pouring from the cuts. You flexed your fingers, and pain radiated way up into your forearms. Unfortunately, you knew that exact pain all too well. 

Sam’s eyes look down at your mangled hands, before looking back up to you. A look of concern painted across his face.

“It’s fine. I’ll be alright,” you said trying to reassure not only him, but also yourself.. 

Even in your adrenaline rush, you realized you’d never seen Sam like this. You’ve also never felt a madness like this in your life. Your knees buckled and you fell to the ground and leaned against the wall. A flashlight was in your face within seconds. 

“Care to tell me what the hell happened here kid?” the uniformed cop spat.

——

After talking to the police and telling your side of the story, which in all honesty was blurry after the last memory of Andy thrashing around, you were left behind in the parking lot with Josh, Sam, and Danny. The four of you paced around wordlessly for a minute or two, trying to shake off the lingering adrenaline.

Finally Josh flung the heavy metal back door open. “Let’s go the fuck home.”

The bar had emptied, understandably enough. You climbed the steps to the stage and began quickly and haphazardly packing up your gear. Taking special care not to dig the glass shards in further. Your guitar still laid on its face with the neck between two of Danny’s drum stands, strap barely hanging off the hi-hat. You cringed at how you treated your most prized possession in that moment. 

“Hey,” you heard Sam quietly from behind you. You turned and found his face sullen. He tilted his head to motion for you to join him behind a curtain. Once you were tucked away, Sam grabbed your hand and turned it face up. He gently plopped a cold metal object into it. You looked down to find your slide, covered in blood and tiny specks of dirt. You glanced up to Sam and found yourself lost for words. 

“Thought you might want to hide that somewhere safe before anyone found it,” he said quietly. His voice was shaky and his eyes had glossed over. You felt yourself wanting nothing more than the embrace of your baby brother. You wrapped your arms around his bony shoulders, and patted his back. His arms slowly mirrored yours. 

“I’m sorry brother...” was all you could manage through the lump in your throat. And you meant it. You suddenly felt a wave of emotions coming over you. Sorrow, regret, empathy...but most of all guilt. This had turned into such a mess. And it was your fault it had gotten this bad. You should have gone with your gut the very first time you noticed Andy acting the way he did. But you didn’t. And you never really told Sam about your suspicions. You should have tried harder to protect her. Now look what's happened. He hurt her. He hurt Elle. 

Sam’s embrace tightened as he let out a quick huff. 

“Don’t be sorry. If anything I should be thanking you.” You pulled away and grabbed his shoulders to look at him head on. You felt your eyebrows come together in a frown. 

“Dude, why would you thank me? I basically stole your girl. And I lied to you about it. For years. I should’ve been up front with you from the get go. And now look where we are. Fuckin disaster.” Sam stood looking at you wordlessly. 

You stepped back and ran your shaking  fingers through your hair, running over the night’s events in your head. You turned around to go back to packing.

“You know, I think she loves you Jake.” Sam mumbled behind you in an almost whisper. That was enough to stop you in your tracks. You turned back to him. He took a deep breath. “I think she always has– Loved you…I know she loved me too, but not like she does you. Not in the same way. I should’ve seen it from a mile away, but I was being too selfish with her and our friendship.” He rubbed his face. “I didn’t want to…risk losing her as a friend if I ever…told her.” He cleared his throat. “You should’ve seen the look on her face while you two were fighting. Like she couldn’t bear to be there another second but didn’t want to leave you. I saw it in her eyes.” 

You couldn’t give him a response. For the second time tonight, it felt like the blood had been drained from your body. You felt lightheaded at the realization of everything that had happened. The residual rage, the flashbacks of Andy so forcefully putting his hands on them, being grateful the cops were essentially looking the other way. So much worse could have happened.

And Sam. Your youngest sibling. The one that for some reason, you’ve always felt like you had to protect the most. And here you were, breaking his heart too. The guilt was enough to shatter you into a million pieces. 

“Thanks for kicking his ass.” Sam laughed and finally broke you from your mental crisis. He lightly punched your shoulder, which caused you to flinch. Here comes the soreness. 

“Yeah that was pretty badass wasn’t it?” you joked. The two of you returned to the stage to finish loading up. It felt stupid to laugh. All you wanted to do was go to her, and so, you would.

You knew Sam’s suspicion was right. You knew she loved you, and you loved her too. One day you’d tell her how much you love her. How in love you were with her. You’d tell her. Soon.  That thought alone was enough to suppress every bad emotion you’d had tonight. 

HER POV

The quiet ride to the Kiszka’s felt like it took years, even though it was only a ten minute drive. You found yourself in the backseat of Karen’s SUV, cuddled up with Elle while the air blew on your tear-soaked faces. You had your arms wrapped around one another, each trying your best to console the other. You felt so sorry, so responsible for everything that had happened tonight. Fucking Andy. What an asshole. 

You found yourself thinking that anything bad that would ever happen to him, he deserved. You laid your pounding head against the window and watched the passing streetlights while Elle rested her head on your shoulder. Neither of you spoke, but only tried to quiet the sobs that were still attacking your chests. 

You’d been warned about dating a man like Andy. You’d seen the late night TV shows about men who would turn on their partners in the blink of an eye. You’d been told the stories of women who had ignored the signs and ended up much worse off than you were right now. 

‘Man’, Such a powerful word for such a sorry person. He wasn’t a man. He was anything but. He was a chameleon. An actor. And he was good at it. He preyed on you until you fell for him. He displayed all the right actions that a good boyfriend should. He was sweet and caring when he wanted to be. He bought you things, he took you out, showed you off, listened to you, was gentle…but then…suddenly he wasn’t. It was like a switch flipped, and all the good things about him did a 180 and he turned into a monster. The drinking. The flirting with other girls. The secret texts. His unwarranted grabs and pulls on your arms that left bruises…The off-putting things he would say around his friends..the times you felt guilt tripped into sleeping with him…

Fuck him. 

Fuck everything he was and is. 

Tonight, he put his hands on you for the last time.  And you hoped to god he was suffering for it. 

Jake. 

Your sweet Jake. He’d gone to bat for you in the most horribly heroic way he knew how. It turned your stomach thinking back on the image of he and Andy throwing punch after punch to each other’s bodies. You’d never been one for physical violence to prove a point, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thankful someone finally put Andy in his place, even if it had to happen like this. 

The car shifting into park jostled you away from your thoughts. The cab lights came on as Karen came around to open your door. 

“Come on girls, let’s get you inside. I’ll make you some hot chocolate.” she mumbled a few other sweet motherly expressions while she ushered the two of you into the house. 

It felt like hours passed as you and Elle sat on the couch, both sullen and blank. Your grip on the once hot mug, firm and unrelenting. Your eyes scanned the wall in front of you, met with photos of the guys who defended you tonight. Guys who should have never had to do that. You are snapped back to the present as the front door opens. Slowly they begin to file into the silent house. First Sam, then Josh, finally Jake. 

Sam immediately goes to Elle, ushering her upstairs and sending you a sorrowful look. You placed your mug on the coffee table as you heard Jake shut the door. Casting your eyes to the floor you watch his boots step into view in front of you. 

He squats down to meet you at eye level, “Come on. Let’s go home.” he whispers, his hand stained with dried blood resting gently on your knee.

Your eyes meet his, and you are horrified by the state of the man in front of you. His face is bloody and swollen, a blood vessel in his eye burst and the skin around it is already turning a deep purple. You swallow back the sob in your throat as your shaky hand reaches for his cheek.

“Jake I’m so sorry.” you can hardly manage through your tears.

His hand reaches up to grab yours, and you feel the sharp pieces of glass deeply embedded in his hands as he grips your hand tightly in his. 

“No. Don’t apologize. This was not your fault.” he demands.

You blink back the tears to refocus your vision on him as he stands up, pulling you with him.

Interlacing his injured fingers with yours you make your way back to the front door, stepping outside with a shaky breath.

The ride back to his house was quiet, his hand never leaving your thigh. Glancing down at it you caught brief glimpses of the swollen knuckles as the light from streetlights would flash into the cabin. Each glance just as painful as watching it happen in real time. 

As you stepped out of the car you made your way to his front door as he grabbed his guitar case from the backseat. You hear a muffled groan leave his chest as he wrapped his hand around the handle.

He is hurting.

As he approaches the front door you see his brow furrowed clearly choking back the pain he is riddled with. He sets the guitar case down with a sigh of relief as he unlocks the front door and pushes it open. Before he can reach for it, you grab his guitar case and bring it inside with you, unable to bear the thought of him being in pain for a second longer.

You sit on the couch, eyes meeting his, silently asking him to join you. He moves slowly across the room before taking a seat next to you. He lets his head flop back onto the back of the couch letting out an exhausted sigh. “I just wanted you to see me play, for real.” he breathes out. His eyes are shut and his breathing is shallow. He is completely spent.

You feel the crack shoot through your heart, so violently it nearly takes your breath away. “Baby I saw you. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. I think that's part of the reason I didn’t even see him come in.” you gush, placing your hand on his forearm. You run your fingers down his arm to his hands, cut and bruised and still glittering with glass. 

“Let me clean you up. Please.” you beg.

He lifts his head from the couch and forces his eyes open, nodding his head slowly. You pull him up and lead him to the bathroom where you place him on the closed toilet seat. You open the bathroom drawers furiously grabbing the items you need and placing them on the countertop. The bathroom lighting was dim, desperately in need of a new lightbulb, but you would have to make do. 

You wet the washcloth in the sink before you begin wiping away the dried blood covering his face and hands. He winces in pain as you drag the cloth over his palms as gently as you can.

The guilt is absolutely eating you alive at this point. How could you let this happen? How could you let him do this to himself? For you?

You swallow back the guilt, trying to remain calm as you reach for the tweezers on the counter. You sit on the edge of the bathtub as you hold his hands in yours. Your eyes flick up to meet his, “This isn’t going to feel good…but I will go as fast as I can.” 

His hands are shaking, worse than you have ever seen, the fatigue in his muscles manifesting. “Baby, try to stay still, just breathe.” you say taking his hand and flipping it over. You realize just how bad it is as you look at the multitude of cuts.

“Oh Jake…” you whisper, a tear slipping down your cheek. You swallow harshly as you bring the small metal tweezers to the first glimmer of glass. You grasp it as gently as you can as his face contorts in pain and a hiss leaves his mouth. 

“I know. I know, I’m so sorry Jake. this is all my fault…I...I–” you stammer through tears.

“It’s okay… just…keep going.” he practically begs through his own shaky breath.

Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven shards of glass lie on the countertop, stained red with blood. 

“That’s it. That’s all of it.” you say, eyes flicking up to his. 

He reaches his hand to cup your cheek, “Thank you.” 

You nod into his hand before standing and reaching over to turn the shower handle. The water begins to heat the bathroom as you look at each other. 

You reach for his shirt to pull it over his head, only to be met with the sight of the dark purple bruise forming on his ribs. You gently pass your fingers over the mark as he bashfully looks to the floor. 

You slowly start to unbuckle his belt, pulling it from the loops and hearing the metal clang onto the tile floor. Your eyes flash up to his asking permission as your fingers toy with the button of his jeans. He nods as you push the button through the hole, hooking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down with the jeans. Your eyes never leaving each other, he kicks his jeans to the floor.

You feel his hands ghost underneath the fabric of your shirt running over the bare skin of your stomach before tugging your own shirt over your head.

He continues to remove your clothes until you are both bare before each other in the dim bathroom lighting. Your fingers hook into his as you step into the spray of the shower. He follows behind you and even in the bad lighting you can see the faint pink water washing down the drain as you let the water hit his skin. Being careful to avoid his tender hands you wash the blood, dirt and alcohol off of his skin. Knowing he is too sore to do it himself, you lather the shampoo into his knotted hair, hoping to comfort him. You scratch your nails over his scalp, earning you a hum of approval from his chest. 

His hands circle your waist as you continue to run your fingers through his hair, rinsing the suds away. When you felt like he was sufficiently cleaned up, you tried to step away to give him a moment of space, but as his hands pulled you into him you knew that was the opposite of what he wanted. He pulled you into his arms before resting his head on your shoulder with a breath of relief before placing a gentle kiss on the wet skin of your bare chest. He just needed to be comforted.

You kiss the top of his head, “Let's go to bed.”

That night as you lie there in his bed, in his t-shirt, his swollen and bruised body wrapped around you, you feel safe. Protected. Loved. You wonder how you would ever love another as much as you loved him. If you would ever. You were going to tell him. Soon. 

JAKE POV

You heard her breathing even out, you could feel her body soften under your arms. You were glad she was here, with you like this. You knew you wouldn’t sleep well tonight, the adrenaline still coursing through you, accompanied by the excruciating pain radiating through your body. 

You’ll give it to Andy, he can fight. He landed a few good blows to your face and ribs and you were feeling it with every breath you took. But you didn’t care about that, not in the slightest, no. What was concerning you was the state of your hands. As far as you knew nothing was broken, fractured for sure, but not broken. Letting her pick the glass out of your hands tonight was one of the most painful processes you’ve undergone in a long time. Begging silently for it to be over, you watched as she removed the shards from your palms as you figured out what you were going to do to bring the swelling down in your hand. Reassuring her throughout that you were okay, when you didn’t fully believe it yourself. 

As the shower water ran pink the sting of the soap on your cuts sliced through you, but how could you focus on that when she was standing in front of you, washing you, caring for you in a way no one else ever had. Taking her time to be as gentle as possible, not a care in the world for herself. You know her head had to hurt. You saw how hard she hit that wall tonight. You wont ever forgive yourself for not stepping in sooner. 

Snapping you from your thoughts, you feel her roll towards you, cuddling into your side as a sigh escapes her lips. You force your eyes open to look at her. The scratchy feeling as your eyelid opened felt like sandpaper. You hoped the blood would dissipate from your eye before your meeting this week, though you had bigger issues to worry about, like how you were going to pitch them the new songs with mangled hands. 

A sigh leaves your chest and you let your eyes close again. You pull her into you and promise yourself that you’ll never let another man lay a finger on her. 

–

A light knock on your door causes your eyes to flutter open. You recognize the knock, it’s Josh. There is light coming in through the blinds so you must have finally fallen asleep after all. You groan as the soreness has finally set in, making it near impossible to sit up. As gently as you can you pull yourself up, trying not to disturb her, fast asleep next to you. You force yourself out of the bed, knowing that Josh wouldn’t wake you for no reason.

You quietly open the door and see him in the hallway leaning against the wall looking at his phone.

“You look like shit.” he quips.

“I feel worse.” you reply.

“Is she…” he asks motioning to the door.

“She’s asleep.”  you reply, walking out to the couch. Josh follows you and sits at the opposite end. “What’s up?”

A few seconds pass before he tosses his cell phone over to you, landing on your leg. You pick it up and look at the screen he has pulled up. You see Andy’s mugshot and scoff.

“Good, fucking bastard.” you say tossing it back to Josh.

“Wait, what were the charges?” you ask.

“Aggravated Battery.” he answers.

“But… I didn’t press charges, neither did she. Elle?” you ask.

“No, get this. This dumbass apparently tried to fight someone else when they took him out front. Right in front of the cops. I guess that's why when you told them what happened they believed you.” he says. 

“No shit. This guy is a piece of work.” you chide.

“How did he know where she was?” Josh asks.

“I have no idea, she said she has no clue either.” you reply.

Josh gets a suspicious look on his face, “Does he….track her? Like her phone?” he asks.

Realization washes over you, “I’m not sure…I will find out as soon as she wakes up.”

You force yourself up off of the couch and wince at the pain. Josh stares at you with pity, “You need to go rest… you need to be healed up in like…a week.”

“I know. I'm pretty sure I fractured something in my hand. Its fucking killing me. But I will figure it out. Don’t worry.” you say, trying to convince him.

He nods in your direction knowing he shouldn’t push, and you walk back to the bedroom to find her still asleep in your bed, a sight you would never grow tired of seeing.

As you slide back into the bed next to her you pull her close to you. You breathe in the scent of her and feel the comforting and familiar feeling rush over your body. She stirs beneath your arms, turning to face you as her eyes gently flutter open.

“Did you leave?” she breathes out.

You nuzzle your face into her neck, “I was talking to Josh in the living room.”

“Is everything okay?” she asks, voice a little scratchy still.

You take a deep breath before you answer, “Andy was arrested last night at the bar.” you say nervously.

Her eyes widened, “Oh.”

You turn further onto your side, trying not to put pressure on your hands before you ask, “Baby, did Andy ever… show up places?”

“What? What do you mean?” she asks.

“Did he ever show up at places you were, unannounced? Like… you didn’t tell him you were there but somehow he just knew?” you ask. Her brow furrows and you can see her replaying moments in her mind. 

“Actually… yes…how do you…” she questions.

You soften your face, “Did he track your location?” you ask.

“What do you mean, like track my phone?” she asks nervously.

“Yeah, I think that is how he is finding you.” you reply.

She furiously turns over and grabs her phone off of the nightstand, handing it to you. You take it in your stiff hands and look at her as it prompts for the password.

“Oh, it's 2-0-1-3.” she says.

“2013, huh?” you question, as you type in the code, unlocking the device.

Your eyes flick to hers and you notice the red in her cheeks. “What happened in 2013, love?” you ask.

She pauses for a moment, “You did.” She smiles bashfully.

You feel your heart swell in your chest at her admission, and you turn to place a soft kiss on her cheek feeling the warmth pooling there. 

Turning your attention back to her phone you find the Find My Friends app and open it. You aren’t shocked when you see his contact information come up on the list of people her location is shared with, in fact you are relieved that you can turn it off immediately. You flip the switch to control his access and delete his name from the list. You show her as her eyes fill with tears.

“Oh my god. I feel so stupid!” she cries. “Why didn’t I know that! Why didn’t I check! It really is all my fault, oh my god!” 

“Oh baby, no! It’s not! I swear it isn’t. You couldn’t have known. Shit I didn’t know until Josh asked me.” you say.

You rub your thumbs over her cheeks drying the tears that managed to slip past her eyes. You pull her into your chest to lay on you as you rest your hands on her back. “I swear this isn’t your fault sugar. I promise nothing like this will ever happen again. I will make sure. I’ve got you.” you say adamantly. You feel her start to calm down as she lies on your chest and you want so badly to tell her how you feel, but you know it's the wrong moment. You want it to be perfect. You’ll make sure it is. 

HER POV

A few long days had passed since the incident in the bar and the guys had more or less moved on, but you hadn’t. You couldn’t shake the uncontrollable guilt coursing through your body. After a day spent at the doctor Jake had discovered that he had fractured part of his hand but it would heal quickly with rest and limited movement. He made sure to take care of it, hoping the doctor was right about that, and that there wouldn’t be any lingering effects. 

On Wednesday afternoon your phone buzzed with a text, springing you from your thoughts.

Jake: Do you want to come over tonight? We are doing a movie night.

You: What movie? 

Jake: I don’t know yet, Sam’s choice tonight. 7:00.

You: See you then.

–

As you put your car in park you notice a few cars you recognize and find yourself excited to see everyone after a few days apart. Just as you go to knock on the door it opens and Sam greets you with a hug. You notice the firmness of his muscles as you hug him back and wonder when that happened.

You step inside Jake and Josh’s rental and see everyone sitting in various places with beer and drinks littering the small coffee table. Elle squeals when she sees you and insists you sit next to her and Sam. You take the open seat next to them as Jake stares you down from the chair next to the couch. You shoot him a playful smirk and he nods his head before getting up to get you a drink. What he returns with, you’re not quite sure but the burn blooming in your chest suggests whiskey.

Sam stands up and walks over to the TV and makes a display of announcing his choice for the movie. “Alright! Now that everyone is here, I will tell you the wonderful cinematic masterpiece I have chosen for this evening…” he says, reaching behind him and pulling out the DVD case that reads “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”.

A collective groan rings out from the guys as they realize that they should have known it's what he would pick. You had lost count of how many times you had seen the movie at this point and you laugh because you should have known too. 

He puts the DVD in the player and returns back to the couch next to you and Elle. “Ahh, just a classic. I love this movie.” he says excitedly.

Josh throws back the rest of his drink and turns to Sam, “It’s a film, Sam.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” he laughs, just as the opening credits begin to roll.

Somewhere around half way through you got up to use the bathroom feeling fuzzy inside from the drinks you’d been given. You wander down the hall to the bathroom, and your mind flashes to the last time you’d been in here and how bleak everything seemed in that moment. You relieve yourself and wash your hands as you stare at yourself in the mirror, freshening up your hair and taking a deep breath before stepping back out into the hallway only to be greeted by a familiar face. 

“Hey beautiful,” Jake says quietly.

“Mmm, hi…” you reply, walking up to him as he leans against the wall. He places his hands on your hips and spins you to change places, pinning you against the wall. 

“How are you feeling? Your cheeks are pink.” he smirks.

“I don't know what you’re serving but it seems to be working. I should probably stop if I’m gonna drive home.” you giggle.

He stands back, eyes locked on yours as he purses his lips, “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” you ask, head feeling spacey.

“Don’t go tonight. Stay with me.” he asks, his eyes sparkling in the dim lighting. 

“You want me to?” you ask.

He leans down and places a soft wet kiss on your throat, “I do.” 

You toss your head back as his lips make contact, a sigh leaving your chest. “I might need more convincing.” you whisper playfully.

His hand makes its way under the hem of your shirt and his calloused thumb rubs a circle on the skin of your hip bone. “Come on, let's go finish this movie.” he says, grabbing your hand and pulling you back to the living room.

He sits next to you on the couch, resting his hand on your thigh as his fingers trace patterns into the skin. You sip the rest of the drink he gave you and you try to focus on the movie instead of the way his fingers feel as they roam your legs. Your heart has slowly begun to pick up its pace as his fingers inch closer and closer to the hem of your shorts. 

You turn your head to whisper into his ear, “Jake…”

He turns to face you, his eyes heavy and dark, “Quiet angel.” he whispers back.

You swallow heavily and return your focus back to the movie but all you can hear is the rapid beating of your heart in your ears. Jake is unrelenting in his teasing and you find yourself counting down the minutes until the movie is over. 

As the credits start to roll everyone begins to stretch and yawn as they stand up. Jake removes his hand from your thigh just as Josh turns the lights back on, causing everyone to squint. Sam and Elle detach themselves from each other and stand to start cleaning up. After a few minutes of everyone saying their goodbyes, the house is left with just you Jake, and Josh. 

Jake shoots Josh a look from the kitchen and Josh understands, “Okay, I am… going to bed, see you two in the morning.” he says, turning off the light and walking down the hallway. You hear his bedroom door shut and you see Jake walking towards you from the kitchen. 

As he approaches he laces his hand with yours, the scabs from his cuts still healing, just a grim reminder of the past week. You bring his hand up to your lips pressing a kiss to his bruised knuckles. 

“You tired? You want to go to bed?” he asks.

You nod in response and he leads you down the hallway to his bedroom. Once inside he shuts the door and locks it before taking his shirt off and throwing it in the corner. A silver necklace lays against his bare chest, and the light from the lamp shines off of it, drawing your attention to it. Your eyes travel down to his belt buckle and you bite the inside of your cheek as you take in his perfectly tanned stomach. 

He steps over to you and you place your hands on his stomach sliding them around to his back, feeling every inch of skin under your fingertips, committing the feeling to memory.

“Jake?” you whisper against his chest.

“Mhmm?” he groans, pulling you tightly against him.

You turn your head to look at him, his eyes meeting yours, “Take–” you are cut off by his lips connecting with yours. Soft and plush and wanting. Your hands travel up his back and back around to his front before tangling into the waves of his hair. His tongue pushes into your mouth and begins to swirl with yours as your heart pounds out of your chest. 

You break your mouth away from his, “Jake…” you pant. He presses his lips back to yours, effectively silencing you once again, as his hand comes to rest at the back of your neck and he presses kisses to your lips over and over. 

You place your hand gently on his wrist as you step back again, “Jacob…” you say. He stops and looks back at you, his thumb resting on your cheek. He nods. 

“Take me to bed.” you demand.

You see a spark flash behind his eyes at your words and a smile playing on the corners of his lips. His hands slide down your body stopping at the hem of your shirt before slowly lifting it over your body. Your fingers work quickly to unbutton your shorts before kicking them off your legs. Your hands move to his belt buckle unclasping the metal and pulling the leather from the loops of his jeans. He unbuttons his jeans and lets them fall to the floor at his feet. 

His eyes flash up to his and you see a hint of concern behind them, “Are you sure?” 

“Very.” you answer, a whisper against his lips.

His lips press to yours, but it's a different kind of kiss, it's deep and passionate, not rushed or frantic. The kind with intention behind it. His fingers unclasp your bra, the straps falling to hang loosely at your shoulders before he slides it off, leaving you bare in front of him. He walks you backwards to his bed until your knees hit the edge, sending you tumbling backwards. 

“Get in the middle, love.” he instructs, nodding his head towards the middle of the bed. You push up off the bed and position yourself in the middle of the bed. You watch as he crawls over top of you, bearing his weight on his hands. 

“Jake, your hand…” you say furrowing your brow.

“No. It’s fine. I… I can’t even feel it right now.” he says, flustered. 

“Are you sure?” you ask nervously.

“Very.” he replies with a smirk, mimicking your response from earlier.

You wrap your arm around his neck and pull him down to meet you, kissing his perfect lips to yours. 

After a few minutes he deteaches his lips from yours, trailing kisses down your jaw, your throat, and stopping as he reaches your nipple, sucking it into his mouth, before releasing it with a kiss. 

You arch your back at the sensation of his lips traveling down your stomach, reaching the top of your panties. He sits back on his knees before hooking his fingers into the fabric and sliding them down your legs. He tosses them off the bed before pressing a kiss right to the top of your mound.

He returns to hover over top of you, looking into your eyes, “You’re so beautiful.” he whispers against your mouth. 

“Jake… please…” you beg as you push his boxers down his hips.

He kicks them the rest of the way off, revealing his hardened length. You reach between you and grasp it in your hand feeling the veins beneath your fingers as you work it up and down, a hiss leaving his mouth.

His eyes flick up to yours, “Baby, I… I don’t want to fuck you.” he breathes out, causing you to recoil. “Wait, no, that came out wrong. I do, trust me, I do I… just… I want to go slow, and be gentle… I want to love you. I want to make love to you.” 

“So love me then…” you say, pulling him down to meet you. He presses a kiss to your neck as he palms his length, dragging it slowly against your wet core. You have waited so long for this moment, never really knowing if it would ever happen.

He locks eyes with you as he presses the tip to your opening, his mouth falling open into a soft ‘O’ shape at the contact. As he pushes inside of you, he goes slow allowing your body to accommodate his generous size, his eyes squeezing shut as he reaches the hilt. A breath releases from his chest as you tighten around him. “Oh my god…” he pants.

Your fingertips dig into the skin of his sides as you attempt to bring him closer, knowing that even fully seated inside of you, he would never be close enough. The feeling of him inside of you is something like you’d never experienced. The delicious fullness inside of you, hitting every spot just perfectly, is something you hadn’t experienced with Andy, and something you never knew was missing. 

His chest heaves heavily over you as he struggles to keep himself together as you clench around him. “Jake…” you breathe out, eyes fixed on him. 

He begins to slowly pull out of you just to the tip as he pushes back in, a groan leaving both of your mouths. You nod your head to him as he does it, indicating that you’re ready and need more of him. With the acknowledgement he begins to roll his hips into your core reaching the spot inside you so desperately needed him to reach. His hair hangs in his face as he looks down to watch the spot where the two of you have finally come together. 

“Fuck…” he breathes out, panting as he continues to slowly grind into you. 

You wrap your legs around his waist to draw him in closer, using one hand to push the hair out of his face and behind his shoulder. Sweat begins to accumulate on his neck as he works himself in and out of you, dragging both of you closer to your release. 

“Faster Jake…” you beg.

His eyes flick up to yours and he begins to snap his hips quicker into yours, hitting your g spot with each thrust. You toss your head back as you feel the tingle in your stomach beginning to grow.

He brushes the hair out of your face before pressing a kiss to your lips, “You are so gorgeous. I have wanted this for so long.” he says, snapping his hips into you.

“I wanted it too Jake. I’ve only ever wanted you…” you reply.

“Fuck you feel so good. Worth every second I waited for you.” he grunts. 

“Jake I’m…” you try to say you’re close but he cuts you off before you can get the words out.

“I know, baby. I can feel you. Let go for me. I want to feel you all around me. Dreamed of it.” he begs.

He leans over and presses his lips to your tattoo, “Mine, forever.” he breathes, delivering the final thrust that would send you orbiting to the same level as the stars you marked your body with. The stars you are fairly sure he hung himself.

As your release overcame your body, his name fell from your lips. In a moment of euphoric pleasure it was his face that stayed ever present in your mind. You had never felt this type of release before. Andy surely never made you feel this way. You found yourself wondering if Jake was the only one who could. The only one supposed to. As you came back to him, his eyes were filled with adoration. You were everything he had ever dreamed of and you knew exactly how he felt. 

“Jake, I…I love you.” you breathed out. 

He dropped his head between his outstretched arms before looking back up to you with a smile on his lips. 

“Y/N, I love you too.” he whispered.

His hips began to move again, delivering long languid strokes inside of you feeling like pure silk against you. “I love you so much… so fucking much. I have always loved you.” he pants.

He glides his hand down your leg, hooking it under your knee and pressing it up into your chest, granting him deeper access. You’re positive you saw his eyes roll back into his head as a groan left his chest. 

“You are…” he said, shaking his head, “...everything.”

As he began to pick up his pace you felt yourself inching nearer to another orgasm, something you weren't used to. You could tell he was getting close to his own release when his breathing began to get shaky and his thrusts slightly more forceful. 

“God I love you Y/N, I will always love you.” he says, delivering the thrust that tipped him over the edge, letting himself flow into you as you clenched around him, your own orgasm rocking through you for the second time. A grunt left his chest with each spurt into you, his beautiful face contorted in pure bliss as sweat ran down his chest. You had never seen him look so good. 

You pulled him down to rest on top of you as you felt him soften inside of you, neither of you wanting to part from each other. 

You placed a gentle kiss on his head as you ran your fingers through his sweaty hair. “Jake, I’ve never… I’ve never finished like that before.” you confess.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Andy never… made me orgasm that way. Like, from… inside. You’re… the only one. It felt so different. So good.” you admit.

“I don’t know what to say…I’m glad that I can make you feel as good as you make me feel. I will do it as long as you let me.” he says, pressing a kiss to your chest. It's quiet for a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I thought about this a lot.” he says, cheek pressed tightly to your chest.

“About what?” you ask.

“When we were gone, touring…at night I would fall asleep wondering what it would feel like after I finally got to… show you how I felt about you.” he said. You could feel his breath on your chest with each word he spoke.

“And how do you feel?” you ask.

“Better than I could have ever imagined, but I think I know why.”

“Mhmm?” you hum.

He turns his head to look at you, “Because… you love me back.” his big brown eyes blinking slowly at the confession.

“Jake…I have always loved you.” you reply. 

“Why did it take us so long to figure it out?” he laughs, trying to lighten the mood.

“I think we always knew.” you smile back at him. 

He turns his head back to press a kiss to your chest, before getting up and looking through his dresser. He smiles to himself and throws a t-shirt at you with a smirk. He bends over and grabs your underwear, tossing those up to you next. You know you need to use the bathroom, so you pull the shirt over your head and put your panties back on before excusing yourself. 

As you stare at yourself in the bathroom mirror you can't help notice the permanent smile on your face. You feel happy, safe but most of all loved. By the only man you have ever loved, and by some alignment of the stars he loves you back. 

JAKE POV

JUNE 2018

“You ready?” Josh asks as he holds the door open to the building. 

“No, but I will put on a good show.” you say, shaking your head. Today will make or break you. Today you will pitch the idea for the new album. But in order to do that you have to play the executives a few of the songs you have been working on. Normally that would be fine, but the searing pain radiating up your arm from the fracture in your hand has proven to make something so simple, excruciating.

Luckily the bruises had faded and the cuts in your hands had healed. From the outside you looked great, no indications of the altercation remained. Only the swelling in your hand and the pain that coursed through your body with even the most simple of finger movements. 

You swallowed harshly as you stepped into the meeting room, guitar case clutched tightly in the fist of your good hand. As you sat down at the table you spent the next hour discussing the concept you had all thought of, deeply outlining the idea and vision for this album and any that could possibly come after it. How they would all tie together to tell a story and how you planned to do it. 

The response was overwhelmingly positive and the smile plastered to Josh’s face almost made you forget about how any minute you would have to play them a few songs. Pushing the thought to the back of your mind you sat and listened to Josh, Sam and Daniel explain everything and you felt proud that you guys had made it this far. Somehow you were able to make your dream their dream too. 

Lost in your thoughts you hear Daniel clear his throat and it snaps you back to the present. Your manager nodded his head to you signaling that it was time to play and you nodded back as you retrieved your guitar from the case on the floor.

Standing up you situate yourself on the stool they placed for you, and position your hands to begin playing. Luckily you and Josh went over everything last night to get the initial feeling of moving your fingers like this again, out of the way.

As you began to play you nodded to Josh that he could follow your cues and began strumming out the intro. Sam watched as the blood drained from your face with each chord. Each note proved to be more painful than the last. As you finished the song you released the breath you were holding in, in an attempt to keep from wincing, hand shaking in pain.

“Awesome guys, got any more?” one of the men at the head of the table called out.

Josh looked over to you, and you swallowed and nodded with a smile. “Flower?” you mouthed to him.

He nodded and turned back to them, explaining the song a bit to give you time to recover. When he turned back to you to start you began to play. The pain that ripped through your hand radiated all the way up to your shoulder, strong enough to make you sick to your stomach. You knew you needed to focus. You blew out a breath and thought back to when you wrote the riff for this song. You thought of her. You thought of the night you played it for her in your bedroom, just a few days after you wrote it. You hadn’t even shown the guys yet. It felt like something special, just between the two of you. You knew it had to be for her.

The song ended and the executives were beyond thrilled. The meeting went perfectly despite your situation and you were thankful that they didn’t notice. But as you made your way out of the lobby and out into the street you let it go, shoving your guitar case into Sam’s hands and finding yourself crumbling into the bench a few steps away. 

You held your wrist in your good hand and looked down at it, thankful that it helped you through that meeting but praying that it would heal. You knew that if it didn’t, this dream was over. “Fuck!” you screamed a tear escaping from your eye. You released your hand to swipe away the traitorous tear.

Josh approached you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Hey. You were good. Great even. I don’t think anyone even noticed. We will take it easy for a few weeks, work on lyrics…give it some time. It won't be like this forever. It’s only temporary.” 

His words always calmed you. He had that effect on people, but especially you. You knew he was right. You had just found yourself in a moment of self pity, kicking yourself for the predicament you were in, but knowing you would do it again if you had to. Anything for her. 

“I know. I just… wish it didn't hurt so fucking bad. That’s all. I’m fine.” you say standing up. “Let’s get out of here.” You take your guitar case back from Sam who gives you a soft smile and you head back to the car knowing full well that you aren't telling the full truth about your hand. 

JULY 2018

Much of the summer had been spent with her, days turning into nights, bleeding into the next day until almost every day was spent together in some way. That’s just how it was, and that's how you wanted it. Days felt more full with her in it. You knew she was safe if she was with you. Eventually you both stopped worrying if Andy would show his face. She was healing from that bad relationship with all the love and support you and the guys could offer. You made sure to show her what real love looked like, just as often as you could. 

Really there was no comparison to her. No one who ever came before her even measured up. She was it for you. You knew you would never want for another and you knew she felt the same. You two were practically joined at the hip since the night you told her you loved her, so when the time came to leave her for a few weeks you both dreaded it. 

Josh wanted to make a tradition out of the album writing process. He wanted to rent a cabin somewhere in the woods, bring all of your equipment and write the album. He said that time in nature would help you to detach and bring the album to life, and you were inclined to agree. However the thought of being without her left you feeling out of sorts. She helped you pack your bags, and after a few tears between the two of you, you left her with a kiss and an I love you.

—-

AUGUST 2018

The weeks at the cabin proved to be long and hard, with spotty cell reception and bad weather to boot. You promised to call her every night and damned if you didn’t try. But as the weeks went on the summer storm weather got worse, and the reception dropped off almost completely leaving you to see the dreaded ‘No Service’ icon flash across your screen nightly. 

There were a few nights you wanted to just drive home. Just to see her for a minute. But you knew you couldn’t. You were in the thick of writing, and there is no way Josh would let you leave. Countless unsent texts sat in your drafts, you silently begging them to go through but they never did. 

The album was written and you were proud of it. You couldn’t wait to record it and put it out. It was your best work so far. Your hand however was still slowly recovering. The pain would come at night after use throughout the day. Medicated only with whiskey and tequila. You drank until you could fall asleep, finally numb to the pain. You hoped that one day you would wake up and pain would be gone but each day it came back again. 

On the drive home your heart was racing with anticipation. It had been weeks since you'd seen her, let alone had a full conversation with her. Your heart ached knowing how she must have felt waiting to hear from you. You knew she would understand when you told her the situation. Or at least you hoped she would. You picked at your fingernails the entire drive home, once you got past that conversation you knew you were going to have to tell her about the press tour. You were going overseas to promote the album release and play a couple of shows, followed by a longer stint across the states. You knew she would be at school, that wasn’t the issue. It was the schedule. The months of sparse calls and messages. Long days and even longer nights. You didn’t know how it would work. You were nervous, scared even. You couldn’t lose her again. You refused.

HER POV

It had been weeks since you talked. You knew that it was a possibility when Josh started talking about the cabin he had found. Using words like “secluded” and “isolated” and he was right. That’s exactly how you felt. Choppy phone calls came early in the time Jake was away, which turned into sparse text conversations that usually dropped off after one or two messages. You tried not to take it to heart, I mean, you had gone months without speaking but that was…before. Things were different now.

It was just a regular Tuesday. You had started to slowly pack your things back up to go back to school for the year. Dreading the thought of being away from Jake but you knew you could make it work. He would be close by and you could come see him whenever you wanted. He could even come visit you. As you packed a sweater into the box you heard your phone buzz on your desk. Your heart nearly dropped as you stood quickly to see if it was him.

Jake: My love…are you busy tonight?

You: Are you back?!

Jake: Come over?

Throwing a few things into your bag you grab your keys before sprinting out of your bedroom, calling out to your mom that you'd see her later.

You jump in your car and turn it on, throwing it in reverse as you pull out of the driveway. Your heart is pounding as you make the short drive. When you pull into his driveway you see his car sitting there and your heart swells. He is finally home.

You get out and make your way to the front door knocking twice and almost shaking with anticipation. 

You hear the lock spin and you hold your breath as the door swings open. 

The smile that crosses his face has been sorely missed, “My girl.” he says, opening his arms to you.

You leap through the door into his arms and you are immediately intoxicated by the smell of him, fresh from the shower. Your lips find his and prove just how much you missed him. He pulls you in and shuts the door behind you, releasing his grip on your waist as he smiles at you.

“Hi beautiful, god I missed you.” he says.

“I missed you too, I’m so glad you are home!” you reply.

You see Josh standing in the kitchen busy with some task. “Hey Josh!” you call out to him.

“Hey stranger!” he replies with a cheeky smile. “Can't wait for you to hear this album.”

Jake grabs your hand and pulls you down the hallway, “Come on, I wanna tell you all about it.”

You clasp your hand around his and let him escort you to his bedroom. Once inside you sit yourself on his bed as he begins to unpack his bags. He tells you all about his time in the woods, the album, the shenanigans they got into but most importantly he tells you how much he missed you, how he thought of you every day, and how he tried to call every single night. Your heart flutters when you hear that you were on his mind just as much as he was on yours. 

He continues to talk and you listen intently, just happy to be back in his presence when you notice him favoring his hand. You watch closely for a few more minutes to be sure before you say anything. Surely it should be healed by now? You notice that he isn't using it normally and isn’t moving the fingers on that hand as he usually would. 

“Jake?” you ask.

He turns to face you with a smile, “Yeah?”

Your eyes flick down to his hand, “Why are you holding your hand like that? Is it still messed up?” you ask.

“I’m not. It’s fine.” he answers dismissively.

Your brow furrows and you press further, “No, I’ve been watching you unpack and you definitely aren’t using it like normal.”

“Y/N, it’s fine.” he says a little more firmly.

“You’re lying Jake. Come here and squeeze my hand if it feels fine.” you challenge, knowing full well it wasn’t.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head before walking over to you. He grabs your hand and you watch as he swallows and begins to squeeze your hand. You quickly rip it away when you see the pain written across his face.

“Jake! Stop! Why would you do that? I know your hand is still messed up, you were just supposed to tell the truth, not actually do it!” you yell.

He shakes his head as he tries to return back to his bag but you pull him back. “Hey… talk to me. What’s going on…”

He sits down next to you and sighs, “I don’t know. I thought it would be better by now. It still fucking hurts. I can’t play like I used to. It just locks up. I’m nervous and I don’t want to talk about it because then maybe it isn’t true.” he says. At that moment you can feel your heart breaking.

“Oh god Jake. This would have never happened if…” you stay throwing your head into your hands. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not. Quit saying that!” he says sternly.

“It’s my fault you’re hurting Jake! Plain and simple! You aren’t able to play to your full potential because of me! Because of my choices! Choices that you felt the need to deal with!” you say, raising your voice.

“Fucking stop Y/N!” he says standing up from the bed. He turns to face you, anger painted across his face. 

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think we need to!” you yell. “You have fucked up your hand for me! Because of me! It’s hurting you so badly that you can hardly play and it’s only fractured. Imagine if you fully broke it Jake? Then what? You couldn’t play at all! If I hadn’t come to that show this would have never happened. I will never forgive myself for this.” 

“You didn’t make me jump off that stage! I jumped off on my own accord to protect you! To defend you from that piece of shit!” he yells. “Yeah my hand got fucked up. Will it ever be the same, I don't know. But I do know that I love you and I would do it a thousand times over if I had to.” he yells.

“Don’t you see what's happened Jake!? Your life has only gotten harder since I came back into it! You’re fighting, hurting yourself, risking your career, all because of me! For me!” you yell at him. 

“God, maybe…none of this is right.” you whisper.

“What?” he questions.

“I said maybe none of this is right! Maybe this isn’t how it’s supposed to be! Look at us Jake. We exist in two different worlds! I’m in school for another three years! You’re out touring trying to make it, shit you already have! It’s only a matter of time… I just… I don't know, it just doesn't seem like we fit. Even after all this time. As badly as we want it, maybe it’s just not right.”

“Don’t fit?! Y/N, what do you mean? You are the only thing that makes any sense to me! I don’t want any of this if I don’t have you to share it with!” he pleads.

“You can’t give up your dream for me, Jake!” you say with a trembling voice, the emotions starting to spill over.

“Fuck the dream! You are the dream! You always have been! I don’t want it without you, Y/N!” he says, tears filling his eyes.

“Jake this is exactly what I mean! You can’t give it up! You have to see this through! You signed a contract!” you say, tears running down your cheeks.

He runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to collect his thoughts, “I know. I…I just… I can’t do this without you.” he begs. “Just… Come with me. Come with us.” 

“Go with you where?!” you question.

“I was going to tell you tonight, but… we are leaving in a few weeks to go overseas to play some shows and we will be gone for a few months.” he says with a defeated sigh.

“Oh.” is all you can manage.

“This is not how I wanted to tell you. I wanted us to make a plan. I wanted you to come with us.” he says.

“Jake, you know I can’t. You know I can’t go with you. I have school… I can’t just abandon everything!” you say.

He rubs his hand over his face, “I know. I know. I just don’t know what else to do.” 

“Jake, our worlds aren’t the same anymore.” you say, tears brimming at your eyes. 

“You’ve been my world for as long as I can remember.” he whispers. 

“Jake…” you plead. “I can’t be the girl who held you back from following your dream and seeing it through. I won't be. I have to let you go. I have to let you do this.” you manage through tears.

“Is that what you really want?! You want to just give up on this? After everything!? Have I not proven time and time again that I would do anything for you?!” he yells.

“You have! That’s the problem! You’re willing to risk everything for me! Something that you have worked for your whole life! I can’t let you do that! I won’t let you hurt yourself again for me!” you yell.

“Don’t do this to me Y/N…” he begs.

“Jake, I'm doing this for you.” you reply.

Suddenly his demeanor changes, you can see his thought process playing out. His eyes that greeted you with love and adoration only minutes ago are now filled with pain and resentment. 

“Fine. If you don’t want this…to fight for this… You can go.” his tone, venomous as he opens the bedroom door to let you out.

Your breath catches in your throat, and just like that the world you had built around Jake came tumbling down. 

.

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Chapter 6

Taglist: @gretavansara@jordierama@starshine-wagner@gretavanfvckface@gretavanmoon@gvfjess @misshunnybeebee@fretaganvleet@gvfpal@joshkiszkas@ascendingtostardust @raviolilegs@sammysprincess@gvfpal@objectsinspvce @lallisonl @gvfpal@raviolilegs @jaketlover @ascendingtostardust @indigostreakmorgan

[popcorndispenser]

So this idea has been rotting my brain for ages and ages, and I told Discord about it, so now I'll brain spew it here. Angsty WarFlower ahead.

Content warning for attempted suicide.

Imagine a version of events where Freya can't get past her guilt. It's shortly before Ragnarök game-start, and she's not managed to touch Kratos beyond superficiality. He and his son have responded to her persistent attacks by holing up behind the protection stave, and she can't get close. A while passes before she sees them again, months, and with no one and nothing to turn to she feels like she's slowly losing her mind. Without Kratos there in front of her to focus on, her perception of events and time become muddied and jumbled, and because she's isolated herself from her prior life she doesn't have familiar comfort. It's just cold, and dark, and empty, and her failures are playing on repeat in her mind, spreading into nightmares until she can hardly even tell what's real.

And it becomes utterly unbearable. She feels like she hates Kratos, like she has to kill him, like he's the source of all her current pain, but just beneath the surface she's fully aware of her own hand in it, of her own influence, and the what-ifs of her choices drive her mad. After not seeing hide nor hair of him or his son for months, with nothing but blinding snow and pain, the goal of killing him starts to feel as hopeless and surreal as the desire to kill Odin.

It all overwhelms her, and after yet another week of vivid nightmares of her son cursing and screaming her name, she treads to the Valkyrie circle, takes a moment to breathe in the frigid air, and runs herself through with Thrungva.

It's a relatively ineffective and slow method, but she wasn't in her right mind enough to think of so beforehand, having more been motivated by despair and desperation than a well planned desire for death. It hurts, and she can't move, can't muster the strength to get up or withdraw the blade, but her inhuman fortitude and healing keeps her suspended, and for longer than a day she's left in agony waiting to finally bleed out and die.

That is, until Atreus finds her, having sought her early after noticing the wildlife and creatures reacting strangely and trying to urge him along, to help the woman that used to care for them. He finds her lying in a growing pool of her own blood, with a heartbeat that's nearly inperceptible, breathing shallowly and cold as a corpse, and he panics hard because what he wanted more than anything was to make amends with the woman he had been starting to view as sort of another maternal figure, maximised by the guilt of causing her so much pain when she was only kind to him. It's not helping that he saw his own mother die before him not too many years prior.

So the young god freaks out, and tries to treat her, fails, and has to rush to get Kratos. Kratos is obviously rattled, and then actually hesitant. He still cares for Freya, is peturbed by the idea of her dying at her own hand, but he doesn't want to deprive her free will in this way after having just denied her it. What breaks his composure and forces his hand is Atreus' pleading, and then the sight of her.

They take her to the cabin, Kratos confident she won't be able to prove a threat for some time due to the extent of her injury, and he treats her wound while excusing Atreus to distract himself elsewhere to spare him the grisly sight of her injury, which the boy takes to pursue the prophecy tablets, of course. Freya is out for quite some time, until she isn't, and she's less than happy to be saved - particularly about just who had saved her. Kratos is indifferent, only restraining her attempts to move to prevent her from agitating her injury, and stays by her side to watch her condition even when she threatens and spits cruelties at him, trying to get a rise out of him. Nor does he show fear sleeping next to her.

It's upsetting her and muddling her mind more, because the man that snapped her son's neck and inadvertently drove her to suicide is now tenderly replacing her bandages every morning and ensuring she takes medicine and food, and then sheepishly asking for her own advice on medicine for herself. She's feverish, and woozy, and vulnerable, but he only ever treats her with utmost care, and he gently wakes her whenever she has a nightmare. One day, she lashes at him and manages to draw blood, and he still only checks her over to make sure she hasn't re opened her wound.

And this is how their reconciliation starts.

[shinynewboots]

Staring at the Sun / Adam x Lute Chapter 2

Summary: After the battle, Lute attempts to flee with Adam. They find themselves unable to return to Heaven and must adjust to life in Hell.

AN: Happy St. Patrick's Day! Hazbin and Helluva have not left my head in days lol I am consumed by this series

Warnings: Violence, gore, 18+ eventually, Adam-typical misogyny eventually

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Lute awoke suddenly, overwhelmed by the feeling of sweat drenching her body. She did not feel the heavy weight of her armor upon her person. The room was dark, rays of soft red light passing through the window blinds. 

Every part of her body screamed in pain. She had never felt pain like this before in her immortal life. Was she dead? Dying? Was this what death felt like for humans? 

She looked around the room, eyes adjusting slowly. There were very few times she had been in the dark in her life; there was no darkness in heaven. Even when sleeping there would always be a muted heavenly glow from the windows. 

Her left forearm ached and a searing pain shot down from her shoulder. She went to grab her left arm with her right hand but found nothing but the bed sheets where her left arm would have been. 

Her arm.

She had lost her fucking arm. 

How could she have forgotten that?

Tears welled in her eyes and she felt her breathing increase its pace. The walls felt as though they were closing in. Her mouth began to go dry (She didn’t know it could do that). 

“Fuck,” She whimpered, holding the tears that threatened to spill. Her right arm slowly moved up the bed, tracing the sheet patterns where her left arm would have lay. She felt…bandages?

The sudden contact on her left stump left her recoiling in pain. “Fuck.” 

She had never felt so human. Was this how humans constantly felt during their pitiful existence?

Her eyes scanned the room and— what was that? A shadow looming over the foot of the bed? Not possible, definitely seeing things due to the pain. Lute huffed and sat up in the bed, wincing. She sat up on unsteady feet and unfurled her wings. They stretched out, cracking as though they had never been used.

Fuck!

She had to escape. She had to find— 

Adam! 

Where was Adam?

Was he—

He couldn't be dead. He couldn't die. Fuck.

Lute began walking, her legs shaky. Her armor had been removed leaving only the gray and black exorcist dress.

She reached for the door and attempted to turn the knob. It wouldn't budge.

“Fuck!” She screamed, uncaring how loud she was or if she alerted her captors. She kicked at the door and rammed her right shoulder as hard as she could to get the door to budge.

“Adam!” She screamed, tears finally allowing themselves to leak from her eyes. She clawed at the door with her right hand until her nails bled and the drops of blood traveled down her arm. 

“Fucking face me you dickless bastards,” She screamed, pushing into the door. Her eyes widened when she felt something grab around her body, pinning her arm and wings down to her sides. All of the heat felt as though it was being sucked from her body as her captor pulled her tighter. She looked down to see that her captor wasn’t a person at all but rather shadowy tendrils. 

She tried to resist its grip, but the shadow pulled her even tighter. “Let go of me!”

“Only if you play nice,” A voice said on the other side of the door. The voice was odd, as though it was being played through a radio. She thrashed against the shadows. “Of course, you could always keep resisting, my shadows have been quite invigorated since our recent showdown.”

“Fuck you,” Lute spit out. The voice outside the door chuckled.

“Suit yourself,” The voice replied growing darker and more demonic. The shadows flooded her senses and entered her ears, her mouth, and her nose like a thick, cold smog. She felt so cold, so hopeless in a way she could never have imagined. Images flooded her mind.

Adam dead. Her exorcist sisters slain. The fall. 

She could feel herself re-living the fall all over again but instead of blacking out as she had previously, she watched herself descend. Her wings were no longer working. She tried to scream but nothing came out. Or was she screaming? She could no longer tell anymore. 

“Alastor, I think maybe this is the wrong tactic,” Another voice said on the other side of the door, slightly panicked. “Maybe you could let me and Vaggie handle this.” 

Lute heard a sigh and almost immediately the shadow began to release her. She was back in the room she had awoken in and was able to see clearly without the distorted views of the shadows. She took in a deep breath and sputtered and coughed, feeling as though she was breathing for the first time.

Lute fell to the ground. She felt as though all of her energy had been drained by the shadow creature. She felt herself shiver and could do nothing about it, 

“Lute, it's Charlie. Could we come in?”

Lute didn’t answer but instead crawled to the other side of the room to get as far away from the door as possible. 

Another knock on the door. “We’re coming in whether you want us to or not.”

That was Vaggie. Lute could recognize that voice anywhere. Fucking little traitor. Lute wasn’t given long to contemplate as the door was pushed open and in rushed Princess of Hell and her stupid little girlfriend. 

The Princess waved at her, a tentative smile on her face. “Um, Hi. I’m Charlie, um just in case you didn’t remember my name.”

Lute eyed her warily. 

“And I know you remember, Vaggie.” The fallen angel in question had her lip curled and she stared down at Lute. She held an angelic spear in her hands and pointed it Lute’s way. 

“Here to finish the job, Vaggie? Since you were too weak to finish me off before?” Lute sneered. 

Vaggie opened her mouth but before she could Charlie jumped between the two angels. “No no no, no one is finishing anything.”

No one said anything.

“Right, Vaggie?” Charlie asked once more, sending her girlfriend a pleading look. Vaggie sighed and lowered her weapon. Charlie smiled at her brightly before turning to Lute. 

“Now Lute, I know you’re still recovering and all and probably still feel really crummy and are wondering about Adam—”

The name was barely out of the Hell Princess’ mouth before Lute jumped up and grabbed one of her shoulders. She had never realized how much Charlie towered over her and the other exorcists. Vaggie once again raised her spear, murder blazing in her eyes. 

“Let go of her!”

“Where is Adam?!”

The two angels screamed at the same time. A line of sweat had started to form on Charlie’s brow. She let out an uncomfortably awkward laugh and slowly reached up to remove Lute’s hand from her shoulder. 

“Adam is alive, Lute.” 

Lute could only stare up at the Princess, her eyes wide in disbelief.

“He’s alive?” She whispered to no one in particular. Charlie turned her head to Vaggie and made a motion with her hands. Vaggie begrudgingly lowered the spear once again. 

“He is, Lute,” Charlie said softly. She motioned to touch Lute’s good shoulder, but Lute flinched away from Charlie’s kindness. Charlie dropped her hand. “My dad caught you both when we noticed you start to fall.”

Lute met Charlie’s eyes. “Why would he do that?”

Charlie gave her a confused smile. “It’s the right thing to do.”

Lute narrowed her eyes but said nothing, lost in thought. What could Lucifer and his hellspawn have to gain from saving them? 

“We couldn’t do much about your arm except bandage it. I actually have an Uncle who knows a thing or two about prosthetics if that would be something you’re—”

“And Adam?” Lute interrupted as her injuries were of little concern. Her leader, her oldest friend was alive. He was alive. 

“His injuries were a little more extensive. He still hasn’t woken up yet; my dad thinks it might take a few more days. But we’ve gotten him bandaged up and have been checking up on him pretty often.” Lute nodded, her mind running a mile a minute. 

“I can take you to see him if you’d like,” Charlie offered. 

“Charlie,” Vaggie said, reaching out for her girlfriend’s arm. “Are you sure about this?”

Charlie smiled at her girlfriend and nodded. “Trust me.”

“Yes, I need to see him.”

Charlie, Vaggie, and Lute walked to the room where Adam was being kept. It was only a few doors down from Lute’s room. She made a mental note of the door and hallway, looking for potential escape options or weapons if needed. A cold chill crept up behind Lute and she knew it had to be the shadow creature once more. She stilled and heard a low laugh emit behind her. 

Charlie seemed to notice her hesitation as she looked behind Lute and waved her hands at the shadow creature. “Shoo!” 

The chill dissipated almost immediately and Lute could feel the warmth rush back into her body. Charlie frowned. “I’m so sorry about that, I don’t know what’s gotten into Alastor’s shadows. I’ll have to talk to him. Anyways, this is Adam’s room.” 

Vaggie opened the door and stood aside, letting Lute walk in. Adam lay on the bed, his breathing somewhat labored. He was pale and his eyes had darker circles under them than she had ever seen. His face had multiple cuts and bruises in multiple stages of healing. His hair was tousled, though it looked as if it had been cleaned of dirt and blood. 

Lute inched closer, taking in his injured form. He was covered by a blanket but she could still see bandages peeking out from under the covers. She pulled them back slowly to reveal his bandaged chest. The bandages were clean so someone in the hotel must have been changing them regularly. On his right shoulder, there was a handprint-shaped bruise. 

Charlie cleared her throat, noticing where Lute’s gaze was held. “That’s where my dad caught him.”

Lute nodded. She pulled the covers back up and sat on the edge of the bed. She reached out her right hand (her only hand), and ran her fingers softly through his hair. She had never touched his hair before but now she didn’t know what else to do or what other kind of comfort she could give. Her eyes never left his chest as she counted his breaths.

At the door, Charlie and Vaggie whispered. 

“It's not like she's going to leave while he's still unconscious,” Charlie argued. Vaggie gave her an exasperated look. 

“I don’t trust her.” Vaggie replied, crossing her arms. 

“Then trust me, please Vaggie. This hotel is about redemption and second chances.” Charlie pleaded, her eyes growing wide with desperation. 

Lute glanced over at the pair. Noticing they had been speaking too loud, they lowered their voices even further (though Princess Morningstar inherited her lack of subtlety honestly). She returned her gaze to her fallen commander. 

“Dinner is about to be served if you want to join,” Charlie offered. Lute shook her head without looking at the pair. 

“I’d like to stay here.” 

“Absolutely no—”

“Of course!” Charlie replied, cutting off Vaggie. “I can bring you a plate up!”

 Lute heard Vaggie grumble (forever an ornery bitch), but the pair left her alone with Adam. They did leave the door open though, as if closing the door would make a difference.

Lute looked down at him, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m so sorry Adam, I should have done better.”

When Charlie returned with a bowl of Alastor’s famous Gumbo (second only to his famous Jambalaya), she was met with the sight of Lute sitting at the foot of Adam’s bed, Her eyes were closed and her head lay against the footboard of the bed. Her right arm braced a lamp (of all things) at the door and her wings were furled around her. Maybe as a weapon to protect Adam. 

Poor Lute, always on guard for Adam even when injured herself.

Charlie gave a sad smile and left the Gumbo near Lute to have when she eventually woke. Despite Vaggie’s warning, she even decided to close the door to allow the pair some privacy. 

[dvzaiosamu]

just a rushed oneshot about osamu dazai, once again. This one is about how he was never happy; nothing could fill more his heart, for he will live forever in the solitude. But he has you, he does, but for him, it doesn't feel enough. Dazai x fem.reader. This has two parts.

tw: suicide, self-harm mentions, depression, not mentally stable, sensitive topics, blood mentions, ect...

song recommendation: the lobotomy by maebi and old doll, mad father.

parts: 1/2

note: In fact, I already had the oneshot for this post done... but, when I wanted to schedule its publication, an error occurred and everything I did was deleted, leaving only what you are going to read below. I literally cried :( I hate my fucking luck. I'm tired now so I won't be able to upload the second part, I'll upload it one day when I feel motivated.

A night with a single moon, a strangely bright starry night. There have never been as many stars as there are today, or at least not as visible as the ones he glimpsed. His heart gave small muffled beats, an audible sigh as he stared at his already fired gun. On the ground lay the body of a weakness that did nothing, was only pierced by a bullet in that dark street full of dangers where he, Osami Dazai called himself the boss of the dangers of those streets, a mere attempt to disconnect from his intrusive thoughts.

He knew better than anyone what was going through his mind; Thought after thought, tiredness once it was over and tired of life, a strangulating stone blocking his throat, a pain and suffering that this world housed him. How was he going to die? He tried and failed, he didn't succeed. In a weak attempt he rubs his forehead, trying to get rid of the headache... Thoughts or headache? Headache or thoughts? Not even he knew it. He was overwhelmed by the burden of living.

In the darkness he continued to find himself, a pool of blood was created in front, obscured by the poor lighting. He couldn't care less about the life of a citizen. He tried to hide it, drown out his thoughts by killing. He thought that if he killed he would be happier, that at least it would be a distraction to get rid of everything. It wasn't like that.

Darkness took over this night, giving it an eerie appearance. Osamu used to love nights like this, when he most enjoyed scaring and then shooting his victims without any remorse, without mercy. He was a cruel murderer.

On the other side you were, considerably far from the young man. You were at your house, a house shared by you and Dazai. It was spacious and quite cozy: it had simple windows that were covered at night by lowering the blinds, for the sole reason that people could clearly see what was going on inside. It was itself a two-story, two-bathroom, three-bedroom house with its own amenities, space, and beds. One of the rooms was yours, the other was Osamu's, and the third was guests'. On that same floor (upstairs) was one of the bathrooms, with all kinds of luxuries, but minimalist in its own way. On the ground floor was the living room with its respective large and long sofa accompanied by a rug, television, shelves for books on one side, some furniture to store things and that's it. Then you had the kitchen and dining room where you were currently, preparing today's dinner, eagerly waiting for your partner to show him another wonderful dish that you decided to prepare.

You finished cooking and preparing a copious table, and you waited, waited and watched the clock tick, with its sound memorized in your brain that repeated like a broken record: tick tock, tick tock...

He always came around the time you finished cooking and getting everything ready for a cozy night in for Dazai after hard work in the mafia. You were worried that something had happened to him, that maybe Mori had detained him a little longer until he finished his missions or that he had simply forgotten that you made him dinner every time he wasn't home, it frustrated you at an end that he had forgotten, but then it quickly melted into worry, you didn't know what to believe and you were confused.

"Why does he takes so long to arrive? It's been over half an hour now and I have no calls, texts or messages from him." The question stood out and resonated in your head: why? Why did it take so long? You sighed and let time move forward. "Guess I'm just going to call him."

Moving your hand to your pants pocket, you grab your phone, tap its screen, and deftly enter your phone's password. Biting your lip repeatedly, you nervously reach his profile and press the call button.

The phone vibrates as you wait for Dazai to answer on the other line, a characteristic sound as you wait impatiently: vzzzzzt. You wait a few minutes and the wait ends with a message: ‘Osamu has not responded.’ Your condition worsens and you press the ‘call again’ button. This time you will finally be able to witness how the young mafioso accepts the call. "Hello Dazai, are you okay? How are you?"

A short two-second pause, overwhelmingly giving off a bad vibe. "I'm fine, what do you need?"

"I just wanted to know where you are. I made dinner and you were nowhere to be found, and look, that's the time you always show up. Something happened?"

"You see... Maybe I dallied on the way home, but you don't have to be so desperate, I'm already on my way, it won't be far away," He explains to you on the other end of the phone, with a carefree voice, still maintaining his soft but icy tone. In the background you can hear his footsteps stepping on the asphalt.

"Well, I guess I'll wait until you get there... Take care, I love you," You hang up the call with a sigh.

Back to Dazai, the youthful mafioso, crude and indifferent. He was walking through some very dimly lit streets. The crickets sing while there is a silence so unusual that it seems pleasant to the ear. There was no wind or noisy people talking on those same streets, there was just him. He was alone.

On the way home, he repeatedly thinks about jumping off an icy water bridge he was passing over. He didn't know what else to do, he wanted to die but without pain, he wanted to die but without losing close ones and friends, he wanted to die but find a reason to live. There were only knots in his mind, he was tired. He thought about committing suicide once and for all with his gun, drinking poison on purpose... So many ways to die and so few possibilities of achieving it.

*sigh*

[sageofthestarz]

Some Phantom based hurt/comfort for my soul I finally finished

CW for some sorta graphic descriptions of being hunted and caught

It's cold. It's Dark. There's a horrible feeling of dread, and then it's on him. He realizes where he is. He's in the pit. He's on land he doesn't know. He knows that prickling feeling on the back of his neck. He's being watched. Judged. Hunted.

He takes off, running off as fast as his legs could take him. He doesn't know where he is, he doesn't know where he's going, he just needs to get out. Get away. Hide.

He can hear them, feral ghouls looking for a meal. Looking for a toy. Who knows. Phantoms been both, barley escaping with his life the last time, being summoned up to the surface as he was being practically ripped apart alive.

He realized in that moment that's what this is.

The moments before he was caught.

His legs feel like jelly, unable to move as he tries so hard to will them too. He's frozen, stuck in the wet sinking ground below him like hot tar ready to trap.

He sees the figures closing in on him. He thinks this is it. His lucks run out.

There's tears in his eyes. Sobs trying to tear their way through his chest.

He tries to scream. For his mates, his pack, for anyone to save him.

They promised to keep him safe.

We're they lying?

We're they just a figment of his imagination?

How did he get back to the pit?

He lets out a loud wet sob as he's grabbed by a much larger ghoul in its pure infernal form.

"Seems my dinner is served" the large ghoul all but grins

"Sent back here from the overworld so soon?" The large ghoul licks his lips. Leaning in letting a claw run over Phantoms unscarred cheek cutting into it with a practiced ease watching with lust filled eyes as the blood dripped and pooled below.

Phantom cries out, trying to clutch his cheek, only to feel the ghouls claws start to slowly rip down more of the little soft skin he has left.

He's been sent back. Back down into the pits unprepared, and this was his death.

He feels the claws scrap over his flesh, starting to tear him apart.

He feels as the warm blood slips from his flayed body, and as his eyes slip shut blinded by pain suddenly he feels pressure around his middle. An odd rumbling under his ear.

His eyes shoot open as he bolts upright smacking his head on the ceiling above him. He's on the buss. There's a very sleepy ghouls arm wrapped around him who's making a concerned noise.

"Bug..?" The voice calls, as a sleepy multi ghoul sits up, rubbing up and down the panicked ghouls back.

"Nightmare?" He asks, but doesn't get a response. A muffled sob as Phantom shoots a hand over his mouth to cover it, and then he's latching onto the larger. Clutching onto him with what would've been a bruising grip if he were any larger.

"You're okay, I got you. You're safe, Promise you're safe baby" he has him pulled tightly to his chest, holding him securely a hand going into the smallest hair.

"They- they tried to kill me.. had me flayed open.." he tries to hold back his sobs. The panic and relief overwhelming him

"I got you baby, no one's getting near you here. Not gonna let them. Look at me bug" he waits, letting him take a moment to look up at him. He brings his hands up to wipe away his tears, feeling the shaking body of the other start to settle. "You're safe. I got you. You're not going back there ever again. Not over mine, and the whole packs dead body. Okay?"

Phantom nodded, small hiccups coming from him as he started to settle laying his head in the crook of Swiss' neck with a wet sniff

"Even.. even Dews?" He asks with a small smile, drawing a chuckle from Swiss

"Yes babybat, even Dews" he says giving him a squeeze

"Will you two shut up, I'm trying to sleep" a grumbly very obviously half asleep fire ghoul half heartedly yells from the other side of the isle

Phantom gets a small smirk on his lips as he wipes the last of his tears, looking up to Swiss. Swiss only mirors the smirk before he's scooping up Phantom and tumbling out of his own bunk and I to Dews who immediately gives a startled sqawk.

That's where they stay, squishing Dew between them where he claims how much he hates this, and how if he could move his arms they'd be charred in seconds, but they both know it's a lie.

That's where they stay until they're kicked out by a very annoyed water ghoul who secretly wanted in on the cuddle pile. "Common, sound check in 15 get up, get up!" He shooed them all up much to everyone's dismay.

Phantom took a step back as he watched as Rain had to drag Dew out of the bunk. There was a lot of swearing, and grumbling, and mock fighting, but it was okay.

Because this was his pack, and ya'know. He could get used to this kind of fighting.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Hello! It is me again, Bali! With another idea! I read in another blog something about reader been a fugitive! So what would it be your opinion iF—

Reader became a wanderer in Sumeru? Let's make it some angst an put that they are already dating the boys! (Cyno and Tighnari) Reader knows that Cyno has to probably hunt them down (the reason about them being hunt them down it could probably be because they know some dark secret about the Akademy that even Cyno nor Tighnari have any idea?) Or—

SPOILERS FOR THE STORY QUEST OF SUMERU!

————

Maybe they know a way to get out Nahida from the sanctuary? That they came in contact with them or maybe even gain a vision while something happen when they wanted to help their archon! (It could be a fight that almost made them lost their life?) And maybe Nahida even possessing their body so they can get out of Sumeru safe?

———

How do you imagine their reaction? From both guys? I feel like reader wouldn't want to tell anything to them because that would make them involved? Or maybe they would just try to run away before they can even question her about it? THE POSSIBILITY ARE A LOT!

Oh fugitive reader! Alright there's a lot of things going on here so I need to collect my thoughts properly - cuz my hc for the poly cynonari reader is that they're actually from Mondstadt, but it would be a sucky answer if I just say they ran off to Mond hmm

And and it also depends on WHEN this happened, because it would change if this was before Cyno exiled himself or during the time the desert gang is planning to free Nahida hmm

Let's go first with Before Exile Timeline/Present Timeline:

When Cyno was given the task to retrieve you, he doesn't know if the sages were truly blind to know your relationship, or this was a cruel torture they intentionally gave him. He's in the dark for the most part, no matter how much he tries to probe he was not given a solid answer as to why you're wanted, only that it was too confidential and that they need you for interrogation.

The walk to Ghandarva Ville was slow and painful, what with his heart beating strongly against his chest, his stomach twisting and turning from the dread of the predicament he was in. He was so close to overthinking, and no matter how hard he forced himself to be neutral about this as the General Mahamatra, Cyno was still gunning on the fact that there was a misunderstanding.

Tighnari only needed one look at Cyno to see that something is terribly wrong when he entered his hut without so much as a greeting. His lover looked utterly broken and on the brink of breaking down, the stress emanating from him also touching him, the fur on his tail and ears standing in attention as if his fight or flight response was triggered.

When Cyno broke the news, that he was here to arrest you, the both of them got into an argument. Tighnari was desperately fighting for your case, that the Akademiya was wrong, that you were just an adventurer without a single bad bone in your body. "Think about this more, Cyno, don't you trust our (Y/N)?" He was almost pleading, trying to break the General Mahamatra's one track mind when it comes to his work.

"Tighnari, when did you last see them?" And there was a pregnant pause in between as the situation became heavier. You had been gone for two weeks now, which wouldn't be unusual if not for the fact that you didn't inform them beforehand. But if something was wrong, why wouldn't you tell them? Or at least Tighnari, who had been transparent about his detachment from the Akademiya.

Now they're both battling with their own internal conflicts. Cyno overwhelmed by his fair judgment as his heart tries to reason with him, and Tighnari with his solid faith being countered by his rational mind. At some point, they work behind each other's backs to look for you so that things can be clearer.

You best hope your Forest Watcher boyfriend finds you first, because Cyno will be harder to persuade with his heart already filled with thoughts of your betrayal.

After Cyno's Exile and Tighnari's Findings about the God Project:

In this one, Cyno and Tighnari work together to try and find you, if you're not already trying to find a way to look for them to relay the information.

They don't know the exact details but they were aware that the Eremites were tasked to haunt you down, by the orders of the Sages or Dottore. After hearing the latter enemy after knowing what damage the Harbinger had done to Collei, the both of them are quick to 'dispose' the mercenaries every chance they get. If you don't want to be found, the least they could do is make sure no one does.

They're plagued of stress daily from overthinking about your situation. Did you get caught? What if you're not safe where you're hiding? Are you still in Sumeru? Are you with people that are helping or secretly sold you out already? These thoughts keep them up at night, and so they use those times to scour the forest and desert respectively for any signs of your presence.

If they do find you or you find them eventually, they'll openly break down into tears as they pull you into a tight hug, a series of why's and where's brokenly repeating in between sobs. Why didn't you tell them you were in danger? Where did you go? Why would you hide this from them?

They were prepared for the worst and seeing you alive (and hopefully well) made them crumble in nothing but relief. You're not the best fighter in comparison nor the best stamina despite your occupation. If they see wounds, scrapes, signs of sickness, fatigue, and even slight weight loss, they'll tend to you with shaky hands and misty eyes. (Even worse if the fight for their life had also happened)

You don't know how scared they were, but they'll make sure you're safe with them now. Even if you insist to leave after exchanging information, they would force you to be with them. Sages, Akademiya, Eremites, Harbingers be damned - the forest can burn so long as they can keep you safe from harm's way.

New banner! Specifically for poly cynonari in the context of Chase The Mirage ™

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Chiaroscuro - Part 7 (Benedict Bridgerton x Reader)

Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader Vampire AU Rated/warnings: 18+ - explicit sexual content, language, discussion of terminal illness, blood, vampirification Word count: 4.6k Art by @bridgertontess

Part 6 Part 8 Masterpost

Filled with liquid courage - an entire bottle of it - you staggered back to Ben’s door in your pajamas. You knew what you were there to do. Your heart and mind were aligned on what you wanted. You just needed to numb yourself from thinking about it too hard. You knocked loudly until he appeared in the doorway, the picture of sin in a black tee and perfectly tailored trousers. He guided you, stumbling, into the lounge.

“Come in.” There was a wrinkle of concern between his brows. “Is everything alright?”

You spun around to face him. “Why is this so easy?” You knew the wine was slurring your words and lending them an edge of accusation. “Why does it feel like I’ve always known you?”

He paused for a moment, assessing you, then spoke gently. “Because you have. You studied my words and you saw me in my paintings. You’ve always known who I am, just not that I was so close by.” A hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he smoothed your hair. “I know you too. Why do you think I chose to live in this building? For years I’ve been keeping an eye on the beautiful woman who keeps an eye on my work.”

“Years?” You balked. None of this had been a coincidence.Then you smirked at him. “Should I be upset with you for stalking me?”

He scoffed. “It’s not like I’ve been watching you sleep. I’ve just been nearby hoping that one day you might approach me. But you never did. And then when I felt how sad you were, I knew something was wrong. I worried I may never get the chance.”

“So the wine was a nudge?”

“It was a hand extended, if you wanted to take it.”

“And I did.” You let out a shaking exhale, overwhelmed again by his thoughtfulness.

Standing only inches apart, he trailed his fingers down the length of your arm and entwined them with yours. “And now it’s yours. Anything I can offer you, it’s yours.”

You gazed back into the soft depths of his eyes. It felt as if his magnetism was pulling your true feelings to your lips.

“I want…I don’t want to be lonely anymore. I don’t want to feel hopeless. Like my future is just a void of pain.” Your breath hitched as hot tears began to pool in your eyes. “I told you I was going blind but I didn’t tell you why. It’s a brain tumor. It’s wrapped around my optic nerve. They can’t remove it. It’s death or blindness. Possibly both.”

Ben’s jaw locked, giving him an uncharacteristically serious expression. He listened intently, bringing his free hand to rub your shoulder.

“They don’t know if it’s terminal or how long that would take. My mother died of a brain tumor then my father died of grief. I know what it looks like to deteriorate from this. It’s…it’s a hell I’m not sure I can face.” Shuddering, you hung your head and took off your glasses to wipe your tears. You hadn’t confided this honestly in anyone since your diagnosis and it was an undeniable relief. When you had learned that the cause of your waning vision was the same hidden succubus that had taken your parents, you felt a wry and terrible sense of fate. You were just another generation doomed to be felled by the same beast. That was, until a beast of a different kind appeared and gave you some glimmer of hope.

Ben took your glasses and began inspecting them curiously.

“You can see how bad it already is,” you sighed.

He peered through the thick lenses before folding his lip into that trademark pout. “I can’t actually. My eyes adjust. I can see perfectly fine, even through these.” He shrugged. “Apex predator.” 

As he rested them back onto your nose, your eyes locked in a moment of silent understanding. You weren’t sure if he could read your thoughts but you tried to telegraph them anyway. 

“Do you want my help?” His voice was low, full of gravity.

“Yes,” you whispered.

He raised both hands to cup your face, pupils burning. “You understand what you’re asking for? You know the sacrifices you’ll be making? No more sunlight. No more wine. Fading out of people’s lives as they grow older and you don’t.”

One of your tears rolled over his knuckles. “I’d lose the sunlight anyway. I had the best wine of my life tonight. And I’d rather say goodbye at a time of my choosing than because my luck had run out.” You clasped your hands over his, imploring him to believe you. “I want it. I want it now. Whatever the sacrifices, they’re better than anything waiting for me if I stay in this life.”

You felt as if he were staring into your very soul. You were breathing so heavily, it heightened your awareness that he was not; an eerie imbalance but one that no longer caused you alarm. Now you imagined yourself the same way, as cool and still as stone, living for eternity in the shadows. With death and blindness no longer able to chase you and Benedict at your side, the tradeoffs seemed insignificant. You could still enjoy art and music and nights out in the city. You could still see your loved ones for years to come. You weren’t asking to die, just to be transformed. If the world in darkness still held enough beauty for Benedict to thrive upon for so long, you were certain it could sustain you too. 

“Alright,” he finally replied, leaning in for a tender kiss. You melted under his generosity as he pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. “I would be lying if I said I hadn’t been thinking of this for a long time.” He began to trail kisses across your jaw and down your neck, murmuring into your skin. “There’s something in you…magnetizing…want to make you mine.”

You clung to his shoulders, your hunger for him tempering your anxiety. “Have you ever turned someone before?”

He pulled back. “No. But I know how it’s done. Let me take you to bed. That would be the best way.”

“Is sex part of the process?” You asked, baffled.

He chuckled. “No. But I want to make it as pleasurable as I can for you. I think it would help.”

Nerves knotted your stomach. “So, it’s painful?”

He nodded, frowning. “For a short while. Then you fade and you wake up in a new life. Perfected.” His eyes raked over your body as he deftly slid his hands into your cardigan and eased it down your arms. He returned to kissing your neck, more passionate now, lathing your clavicle with his tongue. “And I want to fuck you,” he rasped. “I need it. While you are still the way you were born.” 

Goosebumps broke out across your skin both at his words and the chill of his touch. You gripped into his hair, holding on as your legs threatened to give out. “Sex is different on the other side?”

“It is. It’s more. Nearly overstimulating.” He kissed his way across your chest. “So exquisite in its own way. But it loses its delicacy, that edge of danger. You won’t feel as searing to me as you do right now. You won’t sound the same.” Large hands splaying across your back, he pulled your body tight against his as he rumbled in your ear. “I want to hear you gasping when I enter you. Want to feel the heat of your cunt as you break around me.”

A small moan escaped your lips. His velvet voice ran straight through your core in a streak of arousal. “Take me to the bedroom. Now.” 

With a devilish grin Benedict led you through his spacious flat and into the master suite. It was furnished as everything else was in heavy, dark regency style. Blackout curtains hung tight across a pair of french doors that opened onto a balcony. The massive wooden bed was ornately carved and draped decadently, but you couldn’t help snickering at the cliche gothic details.

“Black sheets? Really?”

Benedict shrugged. “It’s more of a practicality than a vibe. It’s not pleasant to wake up with your bed looking like a murder scene.”

Before you had time to wonder how exactly the sheets got bloodied, he pushed you against the nearest wall and pinned both wrists above your head. Groaning into your mouth, he plundered it with his tongue, pressing the length of his marble body against yours. The sensations were overwhelming, knocking you breathless. This had been your fantasy for so long, even before you had learned his secret, and now it was laced with even greater anticipation, making your heart pound against your ribs.

You shivered as Ben kissed his way down your body, over your heaving chest and through the silk of your nightgown. His hands moved so skillfully you didn’t realize he had slipped off your underwear until you felt the cool air against your wetness, quickly replaced by the oddly cool probe of his tongue. You gasped, fingers raking deep into his hair as he lifted your thigh over his shoulder and buried his face between your legs, snarling. The room started to swim around you. His lips moved so assuredly, his tongue swirling and surging to create sensations even your favorite toys had never achieved. He was playing you like an instrument, knowing precisely where and how you wanted to be touched without any need for conversation. You moaned helplessly, tossing your head back against the wall. You would never last long under such ministrations. Then a spike of anxiety brought you back to your senses.

“Is this…” You panted, clinging to his dark locks for dear life. “When will it start to hurt?”

The sight of his searing eyes looking up between your thighs could have ended you right there.

“Darling, relax,” he purred. “I’m not turning you yet. I’ll talk you through everything once I do. But if you think I’m going to end your mortal life without feeling you come in my mouth first, you are sorely mistaken.” Another wave of arousal flooded through you and all you could do was gape. “Now, shut up and let me pleasure you.” 

With a growl he returned to feasting on you. You didn't have a choice but to shut up. You couldn't breathe, all you could do was relent to the feeling of your mind and body hurtling toward a peak, dancing along a tightrope of the most exquisite tension. Though Ben's mouth lacked the heat of a mortal man, he more than made up for it with exacting friction. It briefly occurred to you that he had over two hundred years of experience delivering pleasure, and that he had no need to breathe. He was clearly lethal in more ways than one. He proved as much when two slender fingers slid inside to locate your most sensitive spot as assuredly as if he had crafted your body himself.

In moments you felt yourself spasming, moans escalating into shouts as everything in your core tightened. On his knees, Benedict groaned into your flesh with hungry, encouraging noises. His tongue triggered wave after wave of release, coaxing more out of your muscles than you ever knew was possible. You scrabbled against him, legs trembling as he eased your foot back to the floor and looked up, chin glistening.  

"Can I feed on you? Truly?"

His voice was dusky, irresistible. Your mind was so flooded with bliss you were ready to give him anything.

"Yes, I trust you." 

Something flashed in his eyes then his head dipped lower. With his fingers still curling inside you, he opened his mouth against your inner thigh, inches from your throbbing sex. You didn't feel any pain, just a sudden bloom of heat under his lips and an odd tugging sensation as he let out a muffled, animal sound. While he fingered and siphoned you simultaneously, you breathed deep and ragged, riding out the final waves of orgasm against his hand, feeling a pulse beating through your sensitive nerves and down to where his mouth clamped onto you. It felt like a natural extension of your release, letting him taste even more of you.

It was only when he sat back and you saw his crimson-stained teeth that you remembered he was dangerous. That he was more than just a man who was skilled in the bedroom. That this was more than just sex. That in this moment you were not just a woman, you were prey. You felt something running down your leg and turned to see dark rivulets streaming from the puncture wounds. You were still gauzy, it all seemed surreal.

"So much blood..." you marveled under your breath.

Before you could process any further, Benedict rose and guided you to lay gently across his bed. Standing by your feet he pulled off his shirt, lifted your injured leg and balanced it against his shoulder. You watched as he unbuckled his belt then wrapped it around your thigh above the bite. He moved with such purpose, it was obviously not his first time crafting a makeshift tourniquet. 

“This won’t matter for much longer,” he murmured, cinching it tight until the muscle throbbed. “But I don’t want you losing too much blood while we…enjoy ourselves.”

The crooked smirk was paralytic, ensnaring you without any need for glamouring. Lowering your leg he bent over you, lithe, predatory, his pale eyes turned black with want. Long fingers hooked under your nightgown and slid it upward. Lifting it over your hips he planted a slow, deep kiss on your navel, then another on your belly, then your sternum, tasting his way over your torso as your breath returned, heaving. You had full view of his spectacular shoulders rippling in the low light until he whisked the garment over your head and stared down at you hungrily, now completely naked beneath him.

He moved next to your breasts, a low rumble emanating from his chest as his mouth scoured yours. Your skin hummed under his touch, the fire building quickly again in your belly. The cool swipe of his tongue instantly stiffened your nipples and you cried out, arching your back at the delicious, prickling sensation. You vaguely registered that he was removing his trousers while he marked you, sucking hard enough at your skin to leave a stippled trail of broken vessels. 

A hand snaked between your legs and ran over your folds.

“Christ, you are soaking…” he groaned into your chest.

Then you felt him line up at your entrance, something blunt and sizable ready to press into you.

“Ben, wait!” You gripped his shoulders, a barrage of questions managing to surface just before you let yourself drown in sensation. He froze, looking up at you with concern. “I just… this is probably a stupid question.” You didn’t know how worried you should be about living out the storyline of some young adult fantasy novel. “I’m protected but, you can’t… is there anything supernatural I should be worried about?”

His eyes softened and he chuckled. “It’s not a stupid question. Blood is the only thing that’s potent in me anymore. I can’t get you pregnant.”

It was a relief to hear but made you wonder what to expect. “But can you…I mean, do you come?”

His lopsided grin pierced more deeply than his teeth. “Oh yes, I can still come.” He lowered down to purr in your ear. “Hard. And frequently.”

You shuddered, the velvet timbre of his voice sliding over your skin. “Good.”

Benedict pulled back again, his features serious. “Are you sure you want this?”

You knew what he was asking. Giving you one last chance to remain in your life as you knew it; a human life, but a doomed one. You thought about what you would leave behind, not only daylight and food but the chance to see yourself older than you were now, the chance for children and a family of your own. It didn’t give you pause. You had already relinquished those hopes with your diagnosis. Even if you survived without your sight, you had made a silent vow to never risk passing on a similar fate the way it seemed your mother had unwittingly passed it to you. There was precious little waiting for you if you remained mortal, and a whole world of possibility if you allowed Benedict to escort you into immortality.

You raised a hand to his cheek, your voice steady and sure. “Yes. Please. I want this. I want you.”

A light ignited his eyes as he turned and kissed your palm. Then as if sealing your pact, in one fluid motion he speared himself into you. Your mouth fell open, stunned by the odd and glorious sensation of his cold flesh plowing into the molten heat of your core. Ice meeting fire without diminishment of either.

Benedict threw his head back and cursed, hissing as his hips settled against yours. “You’re like silk set on fire…” he groaned. “How I’ve wanted this. You.” Those gleaming, voracious eyes locked on yours again. “You’re mine. Now you’re mine.”

Then you were lost to the storm of motion, flesh on flesh, grinding, clawing, invading. It was clear he was holding back a degree of his strength, caging some of his beastly inclinations as he drove into you relentlessly, but it was still overwhelming. His speed and depth, the poetic filth he growled into your ears and skin, the way his body enveloped yours, the way his cock struck at a precise angle with every thrust to drive you right to the edge. This wasn’t sex, this was ecstasy. This was bespoke stimulation of every inch of your body, preternaturally understood and executed by an impossibly perfect lover. You wondered if sex between humans and vampires should even be attempted. You feared your heart would give out before he even had the chance to turn you. Your glasses were lost in the fracas but you hardly needed them, sunk as you were in feeling alone. Locking your limbs around his pistoning torso all you could do was hold on, panting and mewling as he ravaged you.

At some point in the haze as you teetered on explosive release, his voice reached you.

“Are you ready?” he grunted, thrusts never relenting.

“God, yes,” you croaked, willing to do anything to perpetuate this bliss. To give yourself over to him, cunt, body and soul. “Please…please…”

“I have to drink from you. And you have to give yourself to me willingly.”

This was it, the point of no return. It wasn’t even a question anymore. As he pummeled you into the mattress you turned your head, exposing your neck. “I’m ready.”

“You have to say it,” he ground out, slowing his movements. “You have to pledge yourself to me. So I ask you,” he lowered, whispering soft in your ear. “Can I keep you?”

Your eyes rolled back, your toes curled. “Keep me. Kill me. Make me yours. Just please don’t stop,” you panted, desperate for him to elevate you to orgasm and everything that lay beyond.

His lips fell to your carotid artery and after a fleeting twinge of pain, you knew he was consuming you. Though it didn’t hurt. It was simply another connection between your joined bodies, something natural, predestined. Contented sounds muffled against your skin, he wrapped both arms tight around you and resumed the rhythm of his hips, pumping deep into one end of your body while he drank deep from the other.

You felt yourself growing cold, the chill spreading from where he invaded you, rising upward through your torso. He was siphoning everything out of you, sucking hard in time with each punishing thrust, groaning around his deadly bite. Somehow as you were emptied, all that was left behind was sensation, a heady, visceral magnification of every muscle and point of contact. 

As your blood flowed into him it clearly lent him more energy, his rhythm growing faster, his noises becoming hungrier, bordering on growls. You clung to the cool sinews of his back as he curled into you, realizing that you were being well and truly devoured, and that you had never been more aroused. You would give him everything.

Suddenly his hands grasped your knees and pushed them down and wide, pinning you like a captured butterfly, angling your pelvis upward so that his own pounded against your swollen clit with every plunge into your body. You were wound taut, dancing at the very edge of the precipice. Benedict pulled back, leering down at you, his mouth blackened by your blood.

“This is the end,” he warned.

Your pussy was throbbing in time with what you could still feel of your heart, aching to let go.

“Give yourself to me,” he commanded. “The last of all you have. Be mine forever.”

You weren’t sure if you could speak anymore and so turned your head, offering him the parallel twin of the artery he had just feasted upon. You could feel the warm trickle from your injured neck staining the sheets beneath you. With a noise that caused you a singular stab of fear, Benedict descended back to your throat and sank his canines, the pain sharp and distinct this time, but somehow blended beautifully with the staggering pleasure coursing through you. The sting heightened every sensation, hurtling you to the apex of feeling. As he ate and fucked you simultaneously you screamed his name, breaking at last as your walls clenched around him.

He roared, the essence of your life running down his chin. Something cold and fizzing filled you as you both pulsed together, fused so tightly you could do nothing but relent to each other’s contracting muscles. You fought to breathe, so overstimulated you were clinging to your last thread of consciousness. Your mind was gauzy, hovering somewhere else entirely. The cause of both your dramatic blood loss and the most explosive orgasm of your life, he had jettisoned you out of your body, your last sensations being that of overwhelming pleasure, of grateful release. You knew you would never return the same. You floated now in a liminal space, sounds muffled, time slowed, and all you could comprehend was the silken purr of his voice.

“You’ll feel odd now, darling. I’ve nearly drained you. Your old life, your weaknesses, they are already gone. It’s time to be reborn.” He traced a finger down the curve of your cheek and kissed your forehead, so gentle it was almost chaste. A darkness was beginning to cloud your already blurry vision. From your distant vantage point you watched silently as he brought his wrist to his mouth and bit down. Then one hand cradled your head while the other descended until the wound was pressed against your lips.

Then you tasted it. Mother’s milk. Ambrosia. Honey and raspberries and champagne. The most decadent flavor you had ever experienced. It smeared across your lips and dripped electricity down your tongue, reinvigorating every centimeter of flesh it touched. It was life, new and vigorous life flowing into you. You suckled like an infant, making wet, indulgent noises, still too hazy to move your limbs.

“Good girl, that’s it.” Benedict cooed above you, the tips of his fingers running small circles in your hair. “Drink up. Take me in.”

This was an elixir. Something healing and restorative. Something you had been deprived of your entire life and never knew you needed, and now that you had a taste, you were ravenous for it. Its warmth began to slowly spread through you, coating your throat and working its way down your chest and arms. You were being set alight from within and all you knew was that you needed more. With newfound strength you wrapped your hands around his forearm and pulled him in tighter, staring up at him determinedly as you began to suck with vigor, lathing your tongue across his perfect skin and questing for every drop.

“Fuck yes, that’s my sweet girl,” he groaned. Slowly, he began to roll his hips and you realized that he had never left your body. He was still inside you, pushing his seed deeper and deeper, teasing you to the hilt. You were filled with him everywhere, taking him greedily as you clenched around his cock and dragged hard on his wrist, causing him to hiss. You had given him everything of yourself, now you wanted all of him in return.

Your body rolled in a slow, deliberate wave as he continued to fuck into you while you grew drunk on the nectar of his blood. Now you understood the ecstasy he had experienced only minutes before. It enveloped every sense to engage in both of these carnal pleasures simultaneously, satiating both lust and gluttony in the most sinful of ways. As more and more of him flowed into you, you began to perceive that things were changing. His skin was growing warmer against yours, the two of you falling into equilibrium. And you realized, miraculously, that the details in your vision were becoming clearer. Everything was sharpening into focus and Benedict’s eyes, locked intently on your own, were emerging from the blur.

You could see. 

It had worked. 

Breathless, you pulled away from his wrist ready to weep with joy. Then the electric warmth which had been slowly traveling downward through your torso reached your stomach and touched off a detonation. Pain. Explosive, jagged pain radiated out from your core, whiting out your newly perfected vision and causing you to scream. You felt Benedict withdraw from you and move to your side, gathering you in his arms. His voice nearly drowned out by the tinny roar of agony in your mind.

“Now it will burn. I know it hurts. Your body is petrifying, solidifying into something perfect.” 

It was burning, as if your every vein held gasoline and someone had set a match to it. But it wasn’t the melting heat of fire, it was the unique burn of a deep freeze, the stinging ache of exposed skin gripping frigid metal. This empty, ravaging pain seeped through every inch of you, leaving you writhing and scrabbling against Benedict. You knew you were making inhuman noises, but were submerged so deep you couldn’t hear or control yourself.

Benedict’s arms gripped tighter as he curled around you, absorbing your tremors. Somehow, his words broke through. “This is the worst part, the refiner’s fire. But you’ll make it to the other side. I’ve got you. I’m right here.”

The pain had found a focal point, searing right behind your eyes, hulling the imperfections out of your living flesh. It was unbearable. You felt yourself falling, caught in a limbo of transition. You burned while you froze, you trembled as you grew stiff, you had sight but were blinded, you breathed but you didn’t.

As you succumbed to the gathering darkness you could hear Benedict murmuring something against your temple, fading words that guided you on.

“Think not thou canst sigh a sigh And thy maker is not by; Think not thou canst weep a tear And thy maker is not near.

Oh he gives to us his joy That our grief he may destroy; Till our grief is fled and gone He doth sit by us and moan.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky @colettebronte @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @mysticwitchcraftco @suspendingtime @faye-tale

[fainthedcherry]

ALSO; Here's ANOTHER piece I forgot to post, but was really excited to post. Yeeeah it doesn't get better with my inconsistency and forgetfulness, I know, it's only getting worse haha.

THIS IS A COMMISSION THIS TIME, for my friend Hollowed-Hartlocke on DA and TH!!

Owloette and this outdated, redesigned version of Hoodude belongs to Hollowed-Hartlocke design wise,

Chiri belongs to me (she's in the BG by request of Hart)

Vanilly Hoodude Voodoo belongs to Mattel, and so does Heath Burns (to the right of the drawing.) ((The outfit is not official, I made a random outfit design to fit thematically))

Thank you SO SO much for believing in me, being so patient for me for so many years now!! I am so happy, that you were the first person, to actually pay me in IRL money, what an honour, that my friend is so nice to me man. 🥺💖

Yes, a commission! In this modern day, can you believe it? I've yet to finish 2 more comms, I hope to finish them this year, honest to god. It's so hard to get a grip on some responsibilities, as I gotta figure stuff out appointment-wise with my driver's exams, psychologist-stuff abt my diagnosis still, and ofc, deal with the fact, that I gotta babysit my coworkers (not exaggerating, I keep being bugged on my weekends about my coworkers over some random annoying stuff they didn't wanna do under the normal work-week), and continue to study for tests and finish a presentation until next week.

^As you can tell, it's a bit stressful lately, which is why I had difficulty drawing at home, getting out of bed, to add with cramps post-work, hip- and knee pain in my bones, migraines. it all stacks up, and it doesn't help, that I lately had a spike in my ADHD seemingly acting up again. Been unable to concentrate, been getting overwhelmed, been having some EXTREME time-blindness. It's a bit hard with life lately. :")

It probably makes sense, why I was absent for a good bit. I ache a lot physically, and mentally lately and just. A. LIFE. I DO NOT LIKE IT. BUT MUST SURVIVE IT.

I again, tried something different with the lighting here, being a more direct-light source! I tried to make the lights look harsher, and I think this isn't too bad! Again, in hindsight of 2024, months later, shoulda proooobs made the shading sharper in appearance, still looks too soft, for direct-light hitting this floppy fellow. And also, added a drop-shadow for Heath near the lighting. Dear god, I wish I wouldn't make so many mistakes aaaa.

But oh well, that's what passage of time is, growing up, sucking up mistakes, trying to rid of your perfectionism.

[tieflingsfingers]

Tarnished Feathers for Eilistraee

What and who: Angst and Fluff. Wyll and Karlach being pals. Astarion not liking emotions. Half-Drow Bard OC trying to cope. Summary: Thomasin, Astarion, Karlach, and Wyll fail to save a tiefling boy from harpies. After her companions help patch her up, she wanders off for a moment of isolation. The fight brings back memories of her past with the small syndicate she traveled with and Astarion realizes he isn't sure if he knows how to console her. Warning/Content: Reimagining of Mirkon/Harpy side quest with my half-drow bard, Thomasin. Part of series. More in the realm of character study, so a lot about two elves that are bad at feelings. OC lore on past traumas, child loss, and unsavory partners. Word Count: 5,058 Ao3 Link

Sometimes Thomasin would think about rain that fell over the sunny weather of her hometown. The occasions where rain drizzled over farmland and how it provided short-lived novelty wonder to its people. Or how much she hated the paranoia of locals shouting about superstitions. The half-elf was always drawn to its juxtaposition. In the midst of sounds flattening around her into silence and steady ringing, Thomasin tried to enjoy the oddity of the rain.

Her knees and wrists were submerged in shallow muddy water. She remembered where she was, for the most part. A short departure from the druid’s grove, where the shore met land and ancient silt engulfed her fingers. 

Her blind eye squinted against the sunshine’s intense reflection against the water, sharp and cold. A sensitivity she was used to. The eye still picked up shadow and light sources, but intensity still could prove painful. It wasn’t long until she realized, perhaps both eyes were particularly sensitive. She cataloged every sense, dipping her head to look at the greenery swaying beneath her. Whether its figure was warped by rippling waves or if her vision was struggling to keep up. 

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly paid attention to how crystal clear the shore was. How every crumbled rock and resident creature lived their lives. A drop of blood hit the water’s surface and dispersed into organic swirls. 

Thomasin was fighting the urge to fall asleep where she hunched, tempting in every way, but something was telling her not to. Had the sky rained blood down from the high powers above? Some holy event she hadn’t read about?

She noticed another drop. Enough to stream down her face, catching on her eyelashes and spattering into the water. It ran down her cheeks and along the bump of her nose. Anxiety began to build up with each heavy breath, tightening her chest with its familiar vindictive grasp. Too much adrenaline pumped through the half-elf’s body to come to a conclusion, but one thing was for certain. She had been dropped from unknown heights. 

It wasn’t until her hearing unmuffled that Karlach’s yelling became clearer and clearer. Astarion, Wyll, and Karlach had been shooting arrows with fervor and panicked spellcasting out of reach. Feathers, tattered, washed up beside Thomasin and the scent of its nearby corpse wafted in the air. A harpy. One the half-elf had stricken and, in its last retaliation, had stricken her back. 

Overwhelm flooded her body as she comprehended more and more. Sounds, sights, smells of salty water and exposed wounds. Distant melodies with undertones of abhorrent screeching far off acting as a backdrop to Karlach’s voice. Thomasin attempted to push herself up, but to no avail. Only to limp towards the commotion and land her cheek in the water, liquid trying to funnel its way into her lungs and claim another to the sea. 

Its embrace was as off putting as it was serene. Time felt pliable. Sounds bobbed and sputtered, but she heard Wyll off in the distance. He was yelling too. Hard to decipher, but the timber sounded of urgent demands. That she could recognize.

“I got her! C’mon, mate! No need to hang around for more!” Karlach bellowed out as she hoisted Thomasin onto her shoulder. 

The tiefling’s body, temporarily cooled and wet to the touch, felt warm on her skin and filled the air with wisps of steam. Every splash, every light raindrop, it all sizzled against her engine. They floated off like long ethereal ghosts rising from a mechanical chest cavity. Thomasin noticed how quickly mud dried onto her own shaky palms and salt encrusted onto her bruised skin. The same salt that was still coughing up from her chest.

“You alive in there?” Karlach asked, whilst trudging uphill. 

“I think so,” Thomasin managed to respond.  

“Great! Well, wakey wakey! Dozing off right now won’t do you any good.”

She was right, she could’ve been concussed. The jostling of Karlach’s heroics might’ve been the only thing keeping her awake. Using every ounce of energy left, Thomasin put the puzzle pieces together. Wyll and Astarion were close behind, scrambling away and bearing their own bumps and bruises. Admirable persistence in their last attempts to slay the last remaining harpies.

She remembered now. 

She was enthralled by their song.

Before the attack, they had ventured off a thin windy trail that spat them out at the shoreline. Where they planned to sunbathe and stake temporary claim. A spot usually forbidden by anyone other than druids in the times of Kagha's high tension. Hugged by an incline of rocks and grassy patches, boulders absorbing the air’s moisture and warmth. 

Looking back into the skies and its now dwindling rain, Thomasin froze. Bloodied talons and tarnished feathers flew further and further away, dipping down and regaining their flight path on course. In their clutches was a modest vest hanging by a couple claws and a mop of curly hair, blunt horns poking out. A youth tiefling wandering into forbidden waters to experience beauty and now he was a faint image in the sky.

Thomasin wanted to vomit. 

The last thing she saw was Wyll’s concerned face, blemished by blood, looking back at her before she passed out.

-

When Thomasin awoke not too long after, the other three had started to settle at a clearing far from the shore. Bags sprawled about and fire yet to be stoked, they had relocated camp. The half-elf groaned. Muscles ached and bones felt as if they could somehow throb just the same. But her eye could still see. Her hearing had returned in full. At least those were small blessings.

She sat up slowly, figuring out where she was, how she was, and how she had gotten there.

“You’re up! Thank the gods above, you stumbled pretty hard out there,” Karlach announced, dropping piles of wet brush she was actively turning into dry kindling. The tiefling clapped her hands together to rid of lingering dirt and knelt beside the half-elf. She reached over to examine Thomasin’s forehead, immediately recoiling her fiery touch . “Whoops, no, nope. Got a little excited there. Don’t need to cause another injury.” 

Wyll chuckled from the distance of their half-constructed tents, shaking his head and looking for humor in the stone-faced vampire beside him. Nothing more than a wordless scowl back. At least it gave him an excuse to poke at Astarion’s grumpy behavior later. And so, he ran over to Karlach as a safer option of aid.

Wyll checked for potential wounds that had surely split along Thomasin’s skull, according to what poured from her scalp. Her hair parted with his light touch and he followed an intense cut that stopped at her hairline.

“Good news, doesn't look too deep. Head wounds tend to be dramatic when they bleed, even when they’re not too terrible. Seems everything about you has a fondness for the theatrical, hm?” Karlach snickered, wishing she could nudge him for the corny comment, and continued to listen with her full attention. “Shouldn’t take more than a few nights of rest and a quick cleric incantation to get that healed, from my experience. Hm… Although, you took a mighty fall. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’ve had worse.” 

The lost memory of being dropped did frighten Thomasin, worrying it’d spring back into consciousness unprovoked one day. But, that was to be dealt with later. Now, her body was sore. Along her legs, scrapes from dislodged rock embedded deep and varying knicks clawed into her thigh. “I think… I may just cast a few of my own healing spells and sleep it off the rest of the day,” she said, easing herself back onto her backpack as a makeshift pillow.

“Good idea, get that noggin back in working order,” Karlach reassured her before getting back to work on the campsite with Wyll and Astarion.

-

As the afternoon progressed into evening and eventual night, camp was alive once more with three companions all sitting around the fire. Wyll had even done the honors of setting up Thomasin’s tent up in the event she wanted to migrate over. Although, they all knew about the heavy weight of their fight earlier.

No one tried to call Thomasin to dinner. Even when they saw her awaken, they gave her space. The day was nothing they couldn’t repress, but there was unspoken acknowledgment some fights hurt more than others. 

The half-elf was quiet, reserved. Not a single word left her, simply scouting out the area and recognizing where water pathways cut through the forest. A stream was nearby. With little else other than her canteen slung around her shoulder and the damp socks still encased in her boots, she disappeared to find fresh water. 

-

Not soon after, Karlach and Wyll had fallen asleep beside one another, horns both nestled in the patches of grass near their fire. A hearty meal of broth, potatoes, and bread stuck to their ribs and knocked them out. 

Astarion grew tired of staring into the flames’ flicker and grabbed a larger portion of bread. It was neatly wrapped into a handkerchief and stuffed into a worn leather satchel on his hip, before his curiosity led him to search for her. Thomasin was of no use if she was out in the wilds, starving and concussed. They had a two man sewing circle that needed strict attendance. Which, in turn, meant the elf must endure retrieving her for his hobby’s sake.

Halfway through the brush, he considered turning back. The woods were not his natural sanctuary. Cracking branches beneath his feet only served to scuff boots and alert everyone in his vicinity. It almost made him miss the city streets, as off limits as his prey may have been. City drunks weren’t as prepared as the animals of the wild. They were easier.

 As he got closer to the stream, he heard misguided feet followed by a splash of water. Sounds he couldn’t quite distinguish. Whether they were cries or laughter. Or both. 

Astarion stopped to take in a bizarre sight. The creek babbled and flowed, water not higher than right above the ankles. Thomasin simply sat there hunched in the middle like a log. The gentle flow brushed against her, parting at her back and rushing away. Her hair, stiffened and damp, created awkward wave patterns, as if she had fallen in multiple times. Her dress clung to her. Above the waist, patches of fabric dried into thick creases whilst her skirt wrapped around her legs as if it feared it, too, would get whisked away.

She turned her head to the sounds of him approaching, face framed by wavy locks slick against her cheeks, and offered nothing more than an embarrassed smile.

“I just get clumsy sometimes, don’t mind it” she said, almost too gentle to be heard from where he stood.

Astarion rubbed at his jaw, flummoxed by how to approach this sudden emotional state. He figured that Thomasin had settled down, but been reduced to some sort of post-trauma delirium. Grief was a minefield. One he was strict to abstain from. Either way, the offering of bread was not going to survive underwater and he was not here to feed ducks.

“That is a rather… creative way to decompress.” He glanced over his shoulder, gesturing behind him with his thumb. “Would the others be of better service here?”

Thomasin shook her head, plopping her weight back onto her palms. Her movements were heavy, yet swayed wherever the wind blew. This was enough of a nonverbal answer to most of his questions. Not a surprise as the clinking tin of her empty canteen drummed against rocks, once partially filled with amber liquid stashed away for rainy days. Moonshine that smelled of barreled firewine and lethal fruits now sloshed around and were left to writhe in her empty gut.

“Alright, alright. You’ve spent enough time trying to drown today. Let’s get you out of there,” he said. 

Astarion had difficulty hiding his feelings about her situation. He reverted to a near skulk as he found himself at the water’s edge, grimacing at the mud trying to reclaim his boots. He immediately lifted a foot, sighed, and began to pluck each boot off with mild resentment coloring his expression. How anyone could own anything without nature trying to consume it first was beyond him. He tossed them aside onto dry land.

Astarion tugged at his pants’ hem to protect the leather from being weathered. He forced himself to take a few more steps, muttering curse words under his breath. The current was cool to the touch on his skin, nearly identical to his body temperature.

He gestured with two fingers for her compliance. “Come now, grab my hands.”

Thomasin reached forward, extending herself like a child, energy focusing in on her fingertips as if they would get longer. With a grunt and bit of momentum, he reached her enough to yank her up and out onto the grass, posture pulling back at her sopping wet demeanor. Back hunched and core tightened inward. A white-furred cat avoiding what dripped from her linens.

“Is it not foolish to be alone out here this late?” he asked, shaking droplets from his hands as she let go. His eyes panned up and down, surveying whether she could hold herself up.

“Can I sit back down?” she said, taking off her own drenched boots with little consideration for gravity’s pull.

“Yes, sit. Tell me why I found you in a creekbed.”

Thomasin plopped down onto the grass, fussing with the sensation of her dress and how it suctioned to her skin. She twisted and squirmed, beginning to peel it off in a power struggle. A heap of heavy fabric that fought back just as much she did. Astarion sighed, indulging in the ability to pity someone else for once, and leaned forward to help.

“I haven’t spoken to Eilistraee in a while. The evensong- it’s that dance thing. I know the Dark Maiden probably doesn’t care if I fall, but I kept trying.” Eventually, she was freed from the clutches of her clothing, the half-elf now sitting there frigid, arms shielding her near nude body. “I just want forgiveness.”

Astarion tossed the heap of wet clothing aside and blinked for he recognized twinkling tears welling up along her lashes.

“Does being musically inclined not lend you the ability to be more… rhythmically inclined?”

The oddity of a chuckle even surprised her as it flitted from her lips. “I didn’t mean forgiveness for my dancing. I can only hope she hasn’t given me poor scores all these years,” she responded, sniffling after. Humoring herself was familiar and reassuring. Where her mind usually wandered in times of discontent, even if it meant combatting the lump in her throat.

This lump was indifferent and unflinching, however. Jester acts couldn’t dance around with bells fastened to their boots. Their jingling efforts merely bounced off in disregard. The affectation of her voice flattened as her stare did. She was staring behind him at this point, in a manner that concerned him, trying to muster the mental energy to explain herself.

“The-It’s-The little boy. It felt like I–” Thomasin stuttered. Her eyes never shifted back. No acknowledgment of his presence. The half-elf was far too busy ensuring she would take another breath. That her voice didn’t shake. That she could at least impart some sense of coherence. “I failed that child. I can’t keep doing this.”

Astarion stood there slack jawed for a moment in mild confusion. Then, he knelt down before her, noticing how she kept her blank gaze forward. “Huh. Thomasin…You do know the harpy wasn’t your fault. Harpies are just another unfortunate creature out there. Like most of us, honestly.”

He watched as her body shook and succumbed to her sadness with light sobbing. Exposure to the elements couldn’t be helping , he thought. Something indescribable stirred within the elf but it was swallowed back down, pressing forward despite his instincts. He glanced around for a threat he wouldn’t be able to quite put his finger on before unbuttoning his shirt. After the patchwork she provided on it, the gesture felt appropriate.

“Here, put this on,” he beckoned.

The button-down would drape over her shoulders like a cape, finding itself immediately pulled taut against her. Thomasin sat there bundled up and shivering like a frightened rabbit. 

Astarion couldn’t admit to himself that he felt unequipped to navigate this vulnerability. It was different. Jarring and complex in a way where simple flirtatious thrills weren’t the answer. He let periods of silence buffer between the two, figuring out if he even wanted to quell her pain. Whether he even knew how to console someone like this.

“My weakness always must rear its ugly head,” she said, voice becoming constricted by her emotions. “It takes one mistake and there goes another.” 

Astarion considered the start of their altercation with the harpies. How Thomasin grit her teeth without hesitation and played haphazard notes on her violin. Magic teemed from every note against their venomous melodies until she could grab the tiefling boy. A matter he hadn’t pondered further upon until now. Unpacking her feelings made him feel stunted though and he caught himself relying on old coping mechanisms and dismissive truths about the woes of life. The colder response ricocheted around his head. Although, in his eyes, these were simple logical reflexes.

“Ah, this all makes sense now,” his tone venturing toward amused, as if to establish a sense of superiority. He gestured around them with a single point of his finger. The darkness. Her soaking dress. Her exhausted body. His pair of boots with old velvet accents that needed to go back to camp with him. He settled in the grass in front of her, a single knee tucked in.  

“That really rattled you. When did you h–”, he began, only to be promptly cut off.

Thomasin’s gaze was quick to return to his as she felt him trying to dig deeper. Was it panic that made her so nauseous? It felt like a sickness. Like his uneducated guess could tip her over without fail. 

“A man I knew- ah, long, long ago. We had a- child- I had a child. This all brought up–” She shrugged. “Feelings.”

Astarion’s brow rose. “Oh. Well. Is that the ominous span of time where you were 'traveling’’?”

“A bit. It’s not ominous as much as- they don’t matter anymore. I hopped around a lot with this group. Just bad people that came into my life when I was far too young. Odd to think back about how they paid a nineteen year old for fake signatures. The–”

“Forging? You did… document forging? Scandalous, in all honesty.”

“Yeah, I suppose. Everyone involved used to refer to me as a “secretary”. I was in my little skirt, doing my little job.” She shook her head, thinking about how silly it all was. “Years went by, I met more people, made more mistakes, and somehow found myself on a cargo ship with this giant misguided excuse of a man.”

Something suddenly popped into Astarion’s memory and he leaned in to brush her long dark fringe from her face. The faded ink that was usually hidden atop her brow. He studied the symbols. Thomasin took advantage of the small interaction and rested her cheek against his wrist, careful to ensure the aversion of her eyes was frequent.

“Is that where you got the tattoo on your face?”

She nodded, whispering a “yes” into the darkness. 

“Makes a hell of a lot more sense. From a clashing aesthetics point of view, at least.”

She laughed a bit, looking back up at him through her bleary eyes. “A lot of us have it. Thought it made me look tougher, but I don’t think I was ever near intimidating to the others. I didn’t have to worry about that with the captain though. He was plenty scary for the both of us.”

“Wait, and who is he ?” he asked immediately, relieved the conversation felt more like tantalizing gossip than depressive venting.

Thomasin paused and worked up the courage to continue. She felt the slightest disappointment watching his hand return to his lap.

“One of the first drow I ever met… I must’ve been twenty-four? Twenty-five? The group I worked for expanded, branched out, and I just… chose to follow,” she said with regret hanging at the end of her sentence. Recollecting her past among low-tier bandits and thieves weren’t her proudest moments. “Living in all these small underground hideouts, rouging my cheeks in a den full of usually sketchy men. It wasn’t a huge operation when I started, but a lot of people passed through, making deals or getting drunk, or whatever the fuck they did.” 

A chuckle. She was surprised by how clear certain memories were. How fragments of the past felt like storybook panels filed away on some dusty shelf. “One morning, this cargo ship docked and suddenly I’m wooed by this big strong man. We worked so rurally, it felt rare seeing a drow out in the wilds.”

Astarion cracked a smirk, visualizing his own ideal man. Tall, dark, handsome. Accompanied by his magical panther companion.  “Ugh, Drizzt Do'urden. You wouldn’t be the first to get swept up by a drow heartthrob.”

Thomasin laughed, weakened but still clinging to what joy lay dormant. She caught fallen tears strung down her face, wiping them away with the scraped surface of her hands. “I-Yeah. Exactly. I can’t even blame myself for being so smitten. A man of few words, muscular, driven, but only ever really affectionate in private.” She paused. “Looking back, he really just loved the way I made him feel. I thought I’d make love songs about us, like the love letters my parents wrote. But- I never considered he might like having authority over a drow woman. I assumed I would be… I don’t know.  I was just stupid and naive.”

Astarion found himself taken aback by the information she was offering on a platter. All too dangerous. As if she didn’t consider that he could use it all against her. His next words were chosen carefully. They felt softened and feeble coming from his lips, but he tried them.

“No. Just young.”

“You’re right. Just young.” Her fingernails dug into his shirt, feeling the early signs of complete dread brewing. “It’s not all horrible memories, just tainted… Small crew, lots of late night parties in lots of cities. Friendships I miss. This was my life, y’know?” Her voice shook. 

Thomasin could feel compulsions arising. Her clouded and hazel eyes shot back down to the grass. Eye contact was too stimulating. What she needed was solace, a dire action to remedy dire times. Words fell involuntarily from her throat.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?” he hummed, almost bewildered by the fact he was being propositioned. He wasn’t ready to participate. This struggle wasn’t one who could be bypassed by verbal pats and probing questions. Something gnawed at him. Perhaps it was empathy, in its rawest state, digging itself out of its own grave. 

No. Nonsense. 

She felt the question come out of her, closing her eyes with a sigh, as if regretting the act already. Now she had to deal with the consequences and determine how much shame would be permitted as a result.

“If I give you my wrist, would you drink a little?”

“Excuse me?” Astarion scoffed, her intentions throwing him through loops. Certainly not what he expected to hear.

“Just so I don’t feel like this anymore.” She tried to feint pleasantries, lips turning into a smile, even if her words wobbled by impending grief. The volume of her voice wavered, almost overshadowed by the quiet exhalation of air and parting of her lips. “I always feel so calm after.”

Astarion stifled the urge to interrogate Thomasin. He felt himself judge her. The way she simply existed. He raised his hand, twisting at the wrist and careful to approach her. With his palm facing upward, he waited for hers. But, before he could speak, she had begun to slink forward.

Pushing him back slightly with only her weight, she settled herself, braced between both of his knees. Her head rested upon his shoulder. Her freckled hand, decorated in the morning’s pale bruising, was presented in his face.

Astarion tried his best to hide the reflexive flinch the moment he felt her pressed against his chest. His hands were almost too afraid to rest anywhere. It was as if her body had become forbidden. The promise of being offered to feed overrode a few sparking circuits in his brain, at least, and he wrapped his hand around her wrist. 

With a gentle controlled poke of his fang, Astation broke the skin. His tongue pressed against the holes and he began to suck. His ears remained perked up to the sound of her breathing, counting along in his head as he had prompted her to when she feared the pain. It’d been a few seconds. Long enough. The intangible hand of his subconscious gripped his hair and made him pull back in discipline. 

Relief washed over her in an instant. Whilst she no longer could walk herself to camp, everything numbed and reminded the half-elf that the stars were a perfect place to sleep under. That Eilistraee could see she didn’t mean to make mistakes. 

Thomasin felt her punctured wrist be set upon her thigh, both of them staring at the small injury in silence. Each had to contend with whatever was now giving them absent minds.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Pleasure.” 

Tasting the warm lush notes of her blood simmered his own anxieties a bit. There was power in indulgence, but he couldn’t shake his uncertainty. She felt fragile in a way he hadn’t expected to witness. His hands still couldn’t rest upon her, opting to hide away in the grass. Astarion fidgeted in place. He had already shed his shirt, but he now realized it was his skin that made him uncomfortable. 

It was touching another and he was unsure how he’d gotten there. He pushed the thoughts down. There was bread. He remembered his bread wrapped up in a favored handkerchief. Lifting a single hand to unwrap the fabric’s delicate folds and creases, he broke off a crumbly piece of the loaf, and presented it to her.

“Don’t pass out on me. You need to eat something.”

Thomasin felt cradled, taking the brown crusty bread from his hand and biting with her back teeth. A loaf tucked away in their backpacks from a generous tiefling mother in thanks. One whose daughter had almost been sacrificed to Kagha’s unjust ruling. It was older, heavy, and its flaky exterior took an extra effort to chew, but it felt like one of the best meals she’d eaten in months.

She remembered she had been speaking, swallowing another bite and finding her spot in the story.

“The cargo ship… It must’ve been… three or so years on that thing? Dark Maiden, I wasn’t even thirty yet. That last year was a blur spent in almost constant isolation.” 

The half-elf settled into a distant stare again as she crawled toward the key moments she often omitted. Something that left her lips so little these days, they felt like a concept more than reality. Although she wasn’t sure if that thought comforted her either. 

“Essentially forced to coop up in our tiny bedroom quarters because I was visibly pregnant and therefore a ‘distraction’. And so, I stayed inside. A lot. Even when we docked. He’d tell me that I should wait before I grow attached to our child. The off chance I’d have a little girl. Even if she wasn’t born from the Underdark, I’d ‘summon forth more of Lolth’s corruption.’”

Despite her fuzzy mental state, Thomasin still felt nausea. It was mellow, but always made sure she was aware of its existence. Always leaving her with a sense of uneasy fatigue. She felt herself getting tired, fighting to keep the order of events chronological. 

She didn’t want to stop though. 

She needed the catharsis.

“But he was right. I brought a little girl onto our plane. More perfect than anything that had ever existed… One morning, he-uhm.” Her words became hollow and flat, barring access to any inkling of emotion wrestling inside of her. “He got me tea in bed and held her for the first time. The nicest gesture he’d done in ages. But, then I slept for days. Life went on. The boat had scheduled a stop, and he just- took her somewhere. I-I still- I don’t know where. We were in the middle of the ocean by the time I awoke.”

Astarion felt bizarre. He thought that maybe he was figuring out how to use the catharsis of another for his own selfish reasons. Or it was the kinship of unjust treatment and the wish for revenge. Finally, that was an emotion he could connect with. Vengeance. 

He let her finish.

“The moment we docked, I went into town and got belligerent drunk. Apparently getting into bar fights until a crew member tried to subdue me and take me back. I always figured somewhere in the middle of that, someone must've knocked me hard enough to blind my eye.”

“I hope you gutted that man the moment you set eyes on him. Flayed him senseless and tied him to the bow of his ship like a figurehead,” Astarion imagined aloud. 

The vision, as gruesome as it was, knocked her back into her body. It made her laugh lightly. There were countless nights where she toiled over ways to get back at him, but she assumed those hypotheticals were long retired. Something felt right when their flame rekindled. 

“If only. I snuck out of his bed in the middle of the night, and hitched rides with his gold until I landed in Baldur’s Gate.”

Astarion nodded. He found the connection he had been feeling. What his consolation was aiming towards. Closure.

“We should kill him,” he said.

Thomasin nodded with no hesitation, even if it felt like an impossible feat over a decade later.

“One day.”

He handed her another piece of bread.

[nerdzzone]

Eyes Open Wide

Summary: After spending their lives as ‘just friends’, Chris and Madeline decide they want to be more.

Part of the Back To You series

Note: I think this is probably one of my favourite chapters so please let me know what you think about it!

-----

March 2011

To say that Chris was confused would be an understatement.

He tried to focus on the rhythm of his footsteps and the sound of his feet hitting the sidewalk beneath them, but nothing could pull his attention away from the thoughts bouncing around his mind. He knew he didn’t have long - the show ended almost fifteen minutes ago and he’d promised to meet her in the lobby not long after - but the theatre had felt suffocating and he needed some fresh air if he had any hope of making sense of his thoughts.

He was in love with Madeline.

The realization had hit him as he watched her float across the stage earlier that evening. It was her first performance as one of the American Ballet Theatre’s principal dancers and he’d been bursting with pride from the moment he walked into the theatre before the show. When she came out on stage and he felt his heart swell at the sight of her, he’d thought maybe it was just that - adoration and admiration that she’d achieved what she’d been working so hard for - but when the feeling seemed to grow and the endearment he felt seemed almost overwhelming, he couldn’t shake the idea that it was more than he first thought.

At the start of that year he’d decided to take his personal life more seriously. He didn’t want any more messy flings or casual relationships, he wanted to find someone that he could share his life with and start a family with. That decision had made most of his romantic endeavours pretty unsatisyfing so - if he was being honest - his first thought was that he was just a little too sexually frustrated. Madeline was beautiful and the years of intensive dance training had left her with a very toned and tight body and even though there’d never been anything but friendship between them he was still a man and would’ve had to be blind to not notice how attractive she was. He assumed that the way she stretched and pliéd across the stage in her skin tight leotard was just too much for him in his pent up state, but by the time they reached the intermission and he had a quiet moment to catch his breath, he realized that what he was feeling was deeper than just an attraction.

He was in love.

It made perfect sense and as the idea began to take root in his mind it seemed so obvious, but he couldn’t figure out why something that had been so clearly in front of him for most of his life could be so blindsiding.

They’d always had a connection. They seemed to understand each other in a way that no one else did and he found that time with her always kept him centered. He favoured her opinion above almost anyone else’s and he knew that he’d always been a little too protective of her as the thought of anyone causing her any kind of pain got under his skin in a way that few other things could. He’d always told himself that it was just brotherly affection, but now that the thought of it being more had slipped by whatever defense mechanism his brain had created to protect the status quo of their relationship, it was undeniable.

There was nothing brotherly about the way he wanted her or the visions that were playing through his mind like a torturous slideshow. Visions of her curled up on the couch pressed against his side. Or of his arm resting around her waist, letting everyone know that she was his. Or of her stretched out in his bed, tangled up in his sheets. His imagination was running wild and he was grateful for a distraction when he reached the florist that he’d spotted on his way to the theatre earlier that day.

The feel of the door’s cool glass window under his hand as he pushed it open helped snap him out of his thoughts as he focused on the current task he faced. Putting his feelings aside, she’d nailed her performance. He knew that she could be her own harshest critic and he knew that she’d put a lot of pressure on herself as it had been her first performance in such a leading role, but even though he’d had the distraction of wrestling with his feelings, Chris knew without a doubt that she’d performed flawlessly. Flowers seemed a little overdone and far less than she deserved, but Chris made sure to pick out the best bunch of roses he could find before a quick glance at his watch had him practically running back to the theatre.

Hey! Where are you? I hope you didn’t leave without saying goodbye!

The text came in from Madeline just as he was opening the door to the lobby, but he heard her calling out for him before he had the time to answer. He turned towards her voice and felt his heartbeat stutter as he caught sight of her standing with her parents, her tights and leotard changed for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt despite the stage make-up that still graced her features.

“I guess you guys beat me to the flowers,” Chris observed as he walked over to their group, gesturing at the bouquet already in her arms. “But you were so good, I had to get you something.”

Any progress he’d made with gathering his thoughts was shattered as soon as she’d flashed him a smile as the pure joy on her face almost knocked the breath right out of him. He stood stunned as she handed the flowers that she was already holding over to her mother and threw herself into his arms. The feel of her wrapping herself around his waist and the familiar smell of her favourite hairspray pulled him back into the moment as she spoke.

“Thank you,” she murmured against his chest, lingering in his embrace for a moment longer than he would have expected, but not nearly as long as he would have liked before she stepped away and took the gift from his hand. “Did you like the show?”

“I loved it! You were amazing!”

“You really thought so? I was so nervous, I was worried the audience would be able to see how bad my legs were shaking.”

“Nah, you looked like a total pro.”

He could see her practically melt with relief at his assurance, but as she threw a barrage of other questions at him about what he thought of various moments of the show, Chris came to another realization. 

It wasn’t the time to share his feelings.

When he’d first accepted how he felt, he’d had a desperate urgency to tell her. He needed to know if she felt the same and the thought of how much time they’d wasted if she did filled him with panic. He didn’t want to waste another minute, but as he stood in front of her and soaked up her bubbling excitement, he knew it wasn’t the right time for the conversation he wanted to have. 

That night was about her and her accomplishments and he didn’t want to steal even a spec of her well-earned spotlight. 

There was also the chance that his confession wouldn’t be very well received and he didn’t want anything to put a damper on the triumph she was feeling or the gleeful smile on her face. So, he shelved his racing thoughts for the time being and answered all her questions - doing his best to convey just how incredible her performance had been - until a happy sigh fell from her lips.

“I’m really proud of myself…”

The words were soft - almost like she was afraid to admit it - and Chris rushed to agree.

“You should be,” he insisted as her parents echoed his sentiment. “You deserve this and we’re all really proud of you.”

“Thank you, Chris.”

Her eyes grew glassy as she spoke and as she looked up at him from under her dark, painted lashes the words ‘I love you’ were on the tip of his tongue as the feeling welled up inside him the same way that it had when he was watching her on stage. He had to practically bite his lip to stop the confession from slipping out and he was grateful when her dad’s voice pulled Madeline’s gaze away.

“What are your plans tonight, Chris?” Greg chimed in. “We’re going to get some food if you’d like to join us?”

It was a tempting offer, but while Chris was eager to spend as much time with Madeline as possible, he worried that he wouldn't be able to keep his newfound feelings under wraps if he lingered too much longer.

“I wish I could, but I’ve gotta leave early in the morning so I should probably have an early night.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but even though he did have a flight to catch he knew that sleep wouldn't be coming easily with all the thoughts bouncing around in his head. However, he turned his attention back to Madeline as he thought about when he would next be able to see her. “We start filming The Avengers in about a month. If I’m back in town in a few weeks, could we hang out before then?”

The question caught Madeline off guard as she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

“Of course,” she assured him, her tone making the words sound more like she’d intended to say ‘duh’ than the polite words she’d chosen. “I’ll probably have rehearsals or training, but I’ll be here.”

“Great,” Chris smiled, pulling her into another hug. “Congratulations, Maddie. I’ll see you soon.”

He felt Madeline’s arm that wasn’t holding her flowers slide back around his waist and squeeze him tight. It took more strength than he was proud to admit, but he eventually managed to pull himself away from her and say goodnight to their little group before dragging himself towards the door, feeling like he was leaving his heart right there in Madeline’s hands.

-

April 2011

Something was wrong with Chris.

Madeline didn’t know what it was, but there was something strange about how he was behaving.

Even with their busy schedules, they usually checked in every couple days. It wasn’t always a full conversation, but they would regularly exchange texts even if it was just mundane things or silly comments about their day. However, since Chris had left New York Madeline had barely heard from him. He always answered her messages eventually, but sometimes it took him several days and he hardly ever initiated a conversation.

She knew it was weak evidence which was why she hadn’t brought her concerns to anyone else, but she had a feeling in the pit of her stomach that something was bothering him - something that he didn’t want to talk about - and his behaviour when he arrived at her apartment once he returned to New York did nothing to ease her worries.

“Hi,” she smiled, opening the door. “You’re early.”

“Yeah,” he nodded as he dropped his bag by the door and strode into the living room. “I was gonna check in to my hotel, but I wanted to come here first.”

The nervous energy radiating off of him had Madeline on high alert and the way he began pacing around her living room only added to her tension.

“Is everything okay?” 

Her question caught Chris’ attention, but didn’t stop his movement and she snuck past him to sit on the edge of her couch.

“Yeah, I think so,” he nodded when he finally paused and shoved his hands in his pockets as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible. “Well, I hope so. I mean, everything’s fine right now, but I hope it stays that way.”

His anxiety was obvious and had Madeline’s stomach in knots as she hoped that she would be able to offer him some kind of comfort once he finally got whatever was clearly bothering him off his chest.

“You’re making me a little nervous, Chris,” she informed him gently, not wanting her concern to add to his stress levels. “Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

His only acknowledgement of her question was a firm nod before he returned to his task of wearing a hole in her floor with his pacing. Knowing that it was often better to give him the space to gather his thoughts than to hound him for answers, Madeline simply watched patiently for a few moments until he paused again and lifted his eyes to meet hers for the first time since he’d arrived.

“Are you seeing anyone right now?”

His blunt and seemingly out of nowhere question left Madeline even more baffled than before as she struggled to make sense of all his odd behaviour.

“Like, romantically?”

“Yeah, like a boyfriend or whatever.”

“No,” Madeline shook her head. “I’ve been spending almost all my time training since the fall when I heard that the principal dancer spot was up for grabs and then when I got it, I wanted to make sure I really proved myself. I haven’t really had time for dating.”

It was more of an in depth explanation than she thought Chris might have expected, but she was too busy trying to puzzle out what could possibly be going on with him to worry about being concise.

“Okay, great. Well, that’s good.”

His shoulders dropped in relief, but his words seemed to be said more to himself than to Madeline and she was growing desperate for some answers.

“Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

Her question had Chris stopping in his tracks as he scoffed out a laugh.

“A lot, it has everything to with this conversation we’re about to have,” Chris informed her, taking in a deep breath before finally blurting out what was really on his mind. “Because I’m in love with you.”

His words hung in the air between them as Madeline sat in stunned silence. 

She’d wanted to hear those words for so long. She’d spent so many years wishing for it to happen and spent countless hours daydreaming about it, but now it was happening she was so shocked that all she could do was stare at him with her jaw hanging open. There was a flicker of excitement somewhere deep in her stomach, but she’d managed to get herself so convinced that it was an impossible reality that the doubts immediately crept in and her blood ran cold.

“Is this a prank?”

The anxious look of anticipation on Chris’ face shifted into one of shock.

“What?”

“Did Scott put you up to this?” Madeline questioned. “Because it’s not funny, Chris.”

As the potential humiliation hung above her, Madeline felt tears well up in her eyes. Chris must have noticed them too as he suddenly moved from where he’d seemed to be frozen in place and rushed to sit beside her.

“No, I promise that’s not what’s going on,” he assured her. “I haven’t told anyone about this, I didn’t wanna tell anyone until I know if you’re gonna turn me down or not.”

Suddenly unable to meet his eye, Madeline looked down at her lap as she nodded her head, needing a moment to process what he’d just told her.

It felt unbelievable. She couldn’t help but wonder if she was dreaming. Or if maybe she’d slipped on her way to the door to let him in and she was currently hallucinating due to a head injury. Because both of those theories seemed more realistic than the thought of him actually confessing his love for her.

However, as he slid his hand over to rest it on top of hers, the warmth of his touch had her unable to deny it was real. She hesitated - still uneasy and worried that she’d misunderstood - but as she thought back to the look of tortured apprehension on his face as he announced his love, she knew there was merit to what he was saying. 

As she took a moment to steady herself, she flipped her hand to press her palm against his and relished the strange yet comforting feeling of their interlaced fingers before lifting her gaze to meet his.

“I’d never turn you down,” she admitted, the shake in her voice giving away her nerves. “Because I feel the same way.”

His eyes widened and she imagined that the expression of shock on his face probably mirrored her initial reaction as it looked as if he hadn’t expected her to reciprocate her feelings.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Madeline nodded, the corners of her lips lifting into a smile as the reality of the situation began to sink in. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time. A really, really long time.”

The sound that fell from Chris’ lips after hearing those words could only be described as a giggle and he hung his head for a moment before collapsing back against the cushions behind him. The anxiety he’d felt when he entered her apartment had clearly shifted into relief and his hand slipped out of Madeline’s grasp as he lifted it to rub his face before flashing her a grin.

“Oh, man,” he chuckled. “I really thought you were gonna laugh me right out of here.”

Madeline shook her head, almost offended by that assumption.

“No way. Even if I didn’t feel the same way, I would never have laughed at you or let it come between us.”

“Yeah?” Chris smirked. “So why did you never mention how you felt?”

The question earned a laugh and a shrug of Madeline’s shoulders as she knew the point he was trying to make.

“Because I was worried you would laugh at me and it would ruin our friendship,” she admitted. “But you never gave me even a hint of a sign!”

“Neither did you,” Chris pointed out. “But I really only had this epiphany a few weeks ago on your opening night. If you’ve felt like this for a while, I dunno how you’ve handled it because I felt like I was gonna explode tryin’ to keep it in.”

“Yeah, I noticed from the way you just barged into my apartment like you were about to tell me you murdered somebody or something,” Madeline teased, but as Chris chuckled and the sound caused a familiar fluttering in her heart, it also had the knots tightening back up in her stomach. “So, where do we go from here?”

“Well,” Chris shrugged. “I’d really like to take you on a date.”

The ear to ear grin that his suggestion put on her face had Madeline’s cheeks starting to ache in the best possible way and she wondered if she should pinch herself to make sure that she wasn’t dreaming.

“I’d really like that too.”

“Tonight? Do you have any rehearsals?”

“No, I don’t. I’m free tonight.”

“Perfect,” Chris nodded, as he quickly pulled himself off of the couch until he was standing in front of her. “I’ve gotta go check in and all that, but I’ll pick you up around six?”

Madeline nodded as Chris held out a hand to help her to her feet before pulling her in his arms. The energy between them was still a little uncertain as both of them tried to get their minds around the revelation that they’d had, but they took a moment to enjoy the calm they felt as they stood wrapped up in each other’s embrace. However, much sooner than Madeline would have liked, Chris dragged himself away and with the same chaotic, hurricane inspired energy that he’d entered her apartment with, he shouted a goodbye and disappeared as fast as he’d arrived.

-

Madeline spent the rest of the afternoon in a daze.

She’d felt almost giddy when Chris had left, but the more time that passed the more her doubts began to take over again. She couldn’t shake the thought that somehow she might have misunderstood him. That she would open the door to greet him later just to find out that she’d gotten it wrong and he hadn’t meant what he’d said. That still made more sense to her than the fact that after the years of pining away for him, she was finally getting what she’d always wanted.

It didn’t help that she was going through the turmoil alone. 

She’d debated calling Scott for some kind of explanation or guidance, but if Chris was telling the truth about keeping his feelings to himself then she didn’t want to be the one to break the news. She also debated calling her mother, but she knew that there were no secrets between her and Chris’ mom and she didn’t want the news to spread before they’d had more time to figure out what was going on. So, she persevered with nothing but her own thoughts and tried not to let her anxiety ruin the moment that she’d been waiting for since she was old enough to realize the depth of her feelings for Chris.

By the time he buzzed her apartment and she was headed downstairs to meet him, she was shaking with nerves. However, the comforting familiarity of the smile on his face as she walked out of her apartment building’s lobby helped put her at ease.

“Hi,” he greeted her, pushing away from the wall he’d been leaning on as soon as he saw her. “Wow, you look amazing.”

His words filled her with relief as she’d spent more time than she wanted to admit agonizing over her outfit. She’d been tempted to message him to find out more about their plans, but her fear that he’d come to his senses and cancel completely stopped her from picking up the phone. She’d eventually settled on a short white dress paired with sneakers to keep it casual and a light coat to keep her warm in the evening spring air.

“Thanks,” she matched his smile. “I wasn’t sure where we’d be going so I was worried that I’d be overdressed.”

“No, definitely not. You look great.”

There was an air of awkwardness between them that Madeline wasn’t used to with Chris, but the edge of nervousness in his voice had her relieved that she wasn’t the only one thrown off by their new dynamic. Desperately trying to remember how she used to act around him, she slid her hands into the pockets of her jacket as she fidgeted under his gaze.

“So, where are we going?”

Her question seemed to snap Chris into action as his eyes left her outfit and lifted to meet hers.

“How does Italian sound?” He asked. “I made us a reservation, but if you’re in the mood for something else then I can think of something else.”

“Italian sounds perfect,” Madeline assured him. “Can we walk or should we get a cab?”

“We can walk,” Chris shrugged. “Shouldn’t take long, if you don’t mind.”

It was strange how - despite knowing each other their entire lives - their earlier conversation had suddenly left them with the social skills of two people meeting for the first time. 

Madeline was used to Chris showing up at her apartment and demanding that she accompany him to whatever restaurant he’d been missing while he was out of town. He always made her walk regardless of how many hours she’d spent dancing that day or how sore her muscles were and she usually complained the entire time - whether it was three blocks or ten - and made fun of him for being too cheap for a cab despite his new life as a Hollywood superstar. 

Now, they seemed to be walking on eggshells around each other. Madeline was determined to break the ice, but she cringed at the first question that came out of her mouth as they made their way down the sidewalk.

“It’s really warm today, isn’t it?”

They were far beyond talking about the weather, but Madeline couldn’t think of anything else to say that wasn’t a long rambled list of questions about how or why he’d suddenly decided he was in love with her.

“Is it?” Chris smiled. “After being in L.A. for the last few weeks, it feels like it’s freezing here.”

“I forgot that you’re a California boy now,” Madeline teased. “But compared to a couple of weeks ago, it’s really warm here now.”

“That’s the nice thing about coming back to the East coast,” Chris mused. “I prefer somewhere with actual seasons.”

“Me too. I couldn’t live in L.A. with its endless summer.” Madeline’s observation didn’t draw much of a response from Chris and her stomach started churning as a silence fell between them. They made it another block before Madeline couldn’t take the awkwardness any longer and blurted out another question. “Chris, this is weird, isn’t it?”

Biting her lip, she looked up at him and braced for him to breathe a sigh of relief, agree with her and take back everything he’d said, but his response was far different than she anticipated. His eyes widening in surprise, he quickly shook his head.

“No, no, it’s not!” His insistence felt forced and untrue and a sigh fell from his lips. “Okay, it’s a little weird, I’m sorry. I just really didn’t expect today to go the way that it did, I didn’t think this far ahead.”

Madeline knew that Chris wasn’t always as confident and self-assured as the persona that he tried to present to the world, but his shyness in that moment tugged at her heart. They were in it together now - both of them had said things that couldn’t easily be taken back - and they had to muddle through the mess they’d created as a team. Their walking had slowed when she’d put forth the question, but feeling a sudden rush of courage, she slipped her hand into his.

“I wasn’t expecting any of this to happen today so I’m definitely a little shocked by it all,” she admitted as they settled back into their pace. “But I think we just need to relax. We’re just hanging out, right?”

The fact that their hands were now clasped as Madeline leaned against his arm made it clear that it was a little more than that, but she felt Chris’ shoulders drop as his tension eased and he squeezed her hand as he nodded his head.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed. “Sorry, I’m just tryin’ to quiet all the noise in my brain.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Madeline assured him. “Trust me, I get it. I spent most of the afternoon trying to convince myself that I hadn’t hallucinated our entire conversation.”

She heard a soft chuckle slip from Chris’ lips and the sound had her unable to hold back a smile.

“I don’t blame you for that one, it was a little more chaotic than I’d planned on it being.”

“Oh, really? Did you have some big romantic plan?”

“Nah, I didn’t really have any plan at all,” he admitted. “Every time I tried to think about what I would say I got so nervous that I didn't think I’d be able to do it at all, but I thought even if I was just winging it I would have been able to come up with something better than what I did.”

“To be honest, I don’t think it would have mattered how you told me. I would have been shocked either way,” Madeline admitted, hoping that a reminder of her own confession would put him at ease. “I really have felt the same way about you for almost as long as I can remember, but I never thought you’d think of me that way.”

Chris led her around a corner and onto another street as he glanced down at her, his eyes skimming over her face as if he was searching for any sign of a lie.

“I can’t wrap my head around that,” Chris mused. “It never crossed my mind that you might already feel the same, I thought I’d have to convince you to give me a chance.”

“I guess I got a little too good at hiding how I feel, but I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“Well, that’s much more respectable than my strategy,” Chris commended her. “Bursting into your apartment on the edge of a panic attack and practically screaming it at you could have definitely made things uncomfortable.”

“I dunno, I’m pretty used to your dramatics by now,” Madeline teased. “And one of us had to take the plunge so I’m glad that you told me despite the slightly insane delivery.”

There was a smile on her face as she spoke, but as Chris chuckled and led her around another corner with the assurance that they were almost there, her smile faltered slightly.

“Chris, I only know one Italian restaurant on this street and it’s way out of my price range.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Chris shrugged. “I asked you out, it’s on me.”

“It does matter though,” she insisted. “Captain America isn’t out yet, it might be a total flop and I don’t want you to be in debt because you took me out to dinner.”

She tried to keep her tone light and teasing, but she couldn’t deny the twinge of guilt in her stomach. Her promotion had come with a decent pay rise, but being a ballerina hadn’t always been a particularly lucrative career and living in New York had always been expensive. Restaurants like the one they were walking towards were not somewhere she would usually even consider dining and she didn’t want Chris to waste his money just to impress her.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” His words were laced with sarcasm as he bumped his hip against hers. “But even if Captain America flops, I can afford one dinner here - especially if it means making a good impression on you.”

He shot her a wink that had her cheeks heating up and silenced her protests as he opened the door to the restaurant. She watched as he discreetly gave his name and followed him as he was led to a table near the back, choosing to sit with his back to the door to hide his identity if anyone happened to notice them. From her seat, Madeline had a good view of the place and - food aside - she could see why it was as expensive as it was. With the exquisite decor and impeccably dressed waiters, she knew it wasn’t the type of place that they usually went to and while it was unnecessary, she was touched that Chris was putting in so much effort to make it special.

Chris ordered a bottle of red wine for them to share and Madeline glanced over the menu, trying her best to ignore the prices. She didn’t want any further protests about the cost to be taken as doubt of his financial security and when the waiter returned with their wine and to take their orders, she picked a pasta dish in the middle of the price range to avoid the argument that she knew would ensue if she went for the cheaper option of a salad.

When they were finally alone once again, Chris raised his glass.

“Cheers,” he smiled, waiting for Madeline to copy his action with a smile of her own. “To new beginnings.”

Clinking their glasses together as they toasted before taking a sip, Madeline let the rich, full-bodied wine float on her tongue for a moment before letting his words segue her into the question that had been on her mind all afternoon.

“Speaking of new beginnings, we’ve established that I’ve been pining away for you for a long time,” she started. “But you said you had an epiphany just a few weeks ago so I guess I’m just wondering what sparked that?”

“I don’t really know,” Chris admitted. “It just hit me when I was watching you dance. I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time, but I was too stupid to see it.”

“You’re not stupid, it’s a complicated situation.”

“Yeah, but you’ve always been super important to me,” Chris continued. “I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting to figure it all out and things were different between us even when we were kids. I was always making sure that Ma invited you to everything we did because I just felt this need to be around you and it hasn’t ever gone away. I think about you all the time and you’re always at the top of my list of people I want to see. I can’t believe it took me so long to figure out why.”

He looked a little sheepish as he finished talking, but his words had Madeline feeling so full of love that she thought her heart might burst.

“I’ve always known we had something special,” Madeline agreed, reaching out to rest her hand on his where it rested on the table. “I think that’s why I was too scared to tell you how I felt in case it ruined our friendship. I was so worried that you’d be creeped out and I’d lose you forever and being your friend seemed better than nothing.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” he assured her. “Even if this doesn’t work out, I think we can be mature enough to stay friends.”

“I hope so,” Madeline smiled. “Because you’re, like, my safety blanket. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Chris nodded, but as he flipped his hand to intertwine their fingers again as they had earlier that day, Madeline noticed a worried look had crossed his face.

“I have to leave soon though,” he reminded her. “I’d love to stay longer, but I’m leaving at the end of the week to start filming.”

“I know, but that’s okay,” Madeline shrugged. “I’ll miss you like I always do, but maybe I can come and visit you? May and June are a little busy for me, but I could probably come for a weekend and after our June performances wrap up then I’ll be free for at least six weeks.”

She’d already thought about it as she was getting ready for their date, but a blush rose on her cheeks as she realized how eager sounded. Chris, however, didn’t seem to notice as her words softened the anxious tension in his jaw.

“Great, that sounds perfect. I’ll check my filming schedule and we can make some plans, I might be able to sneak back here for a few days too.”

It was comforting to know that Chris was as desperate to stay connected as she was, but the way his brow stayed furrowed as if he was deep in thought told Madeline there was more he wanted to say. She rubbed her thumb against his skin and waited to see if he would come clean, but after a few more moments of silence she tentatively prompted him to open up.

“You look worried.”

He seemed a little caught off guard by her observation, but after another moment of thought he let out a sigh.

“I guess I am,” he admitted. “You know how anxious I was about taking on the role of Captain America and a lot of that was because of some of the less positive ways such a big role could change my life. If we give this a shot then you’ll be dragged into it all too.”

Madeline felt a pang of relief that his concern wasn’t due to any second thoughts and shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t care about that. I’ve already kinda been dragged into it with the fans you have now. They’re always curious about who I am or fishing for information because they assume we have some kind of history together. I can handle it.”

“But it could get a lot worse so I get it if you want to take some time to think it over.”

“I don’t,” Madeline insisted, her voice firm and leaving no room for him to argue. “I don’t need any time to think this over, I’ve been thinking it over for years. If you want this then so do I.”

“I do want it,” Chris assured her, squeezing her hand. “But if it gets too much at any point, you’ve gotta tell me.”

Madeline nodded and promised she would, but she was relieved to see their food arriving at the table and used the interruption to transition the conversation to things that made Chris look less stressed.

They talked about how excited he was to get back to work, she gushed about how thrilled she was to complete her first set of performances as a principal dancer, they chatted about their families and what everyone was up to and by the time they were done eating the awkward tension that had hung around them at the start of the date had vanished completely. Time flew by as they were wrapped up in each other as it always did when they were together and it wasn’t until they were walking with their arms linked back to Madeline’s apartment when they broached the subject of what would happen next.

“Thank you for dinner,” Madeline murmured, leaning against him for warmth in the cool evening air. “I appreciate you taking me somewhere so nice, but I hope you know me well enough to know that I don’t need fancy restaurants to impress me.”

“I know,” Chris nodded. “I just wanted to do something kinda special to mark the moment.”

“That’s really sweet,” Madeline smiled, feeling a twinge of nervousness as she forced the next words out of her mouth. “I found a really cute place the other day that’s a little more our style so maybe I can plan our next date?”

“Sure, how about tomorrow?"

His question had the breath she’d been holding - braced for the rejection that she couldn’t shake away her fear of - puffing from her lips with a laugh.

“Tomorrow?” She giggled. “Aren’t you supposed to play it cool and wait at least three days to text me again?”

“I think we’re a little past that,” Chris chuckled. “And we’ve gotta make up for lost time so I’m free tomorrow if you are.”

His eagerness was encouraging and considering he had to leave at the end of the week, Madeline was happy to make the most of the time they had.

“I have training tomorrow night,” she informed him. “But I’m free in the afternoon if you’re okay with a lunch date.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed with no hesitation. “I have no plans for most of the time I’m here so I’ll take as much time with you as you’re willing to give me.”

The sincerity in his voice had Madeline melting with relief as she felt the same way. Their new situation still felt so precarious - as if it could all be taken away any minute as fast as it had happened - and she felt the urge to stay close to him even more than she usually did.

“Perfect,” Madeline smiled as they reached her apartment building and their goodbye loomed over them. “The place is close to the dance studio, but I’ll text you the address in the morning.”

She slipped her arm away from his to reach into her purse for her keys and couldn’t help but wonder how the night would end. She was hoping desperately for a goodnight kiss, but as she lingered by the door waiting for him to make a move, she quickly began to lose hope.

“Well, thanks again,” she smiled, feeling the earlier awkwardness creeping back in. “I had a really nice time.”

Chris flashed her a smile of his own and she felt her heartbeat pick up speed as he moved closer towards her. She was sure that it was the moment she’d been waiting for, but disappointment washed over her like an icy cold wave as he murmured a soft ‘me too’ and pulled her into his arms for a hug.

-

By the time Madeline got to the dance studio the following evening, she was feeling disheartened.

She’d had another wonderful date with Chris and everything seemed to be going well, but he’d left her at the door of the studio with nothing but a hug once again. Other than the new addition of handholding, the shift in their relationship really wasn’t that noticeable and Madeline couldn't help but wonder why - if he was in love with her - he wouldn’t be as desperate for more as she was.

Her heart felt heavy in her chest as she went through the motions of changing from her date clothes into something more appropriate for the hours of dance ahead of her and she was relieved that she’d be able to bury herself into something that always helped clear her mind. Nothing helped her escape her problems like going through the familiar motions of ballet until her muscles were burning with exhaustion.

However, the deep sigh that fell from her lips as she pushed open the door to the studio she’d be training in that night hindered her attempts to run away from her troubles as it drew the attention of her friend.

“Hey,” Heidi called over from where she was stretching across the room. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Madeline nodded, walking over to join her in front of the mirror. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

It was a simple question, but it left Madeline feeling very conflicted. She felt like she was in desperate need of advice and keeping Chris’ confession to herself for the last twenty-fours had been a struggle, but she also didn’t want to share the news if it was all about to crumble out from underneath her. She debated her options for a brief moment before the clear concern on Heidi’s face won her over and she began to spill her tale of woe.

“I’m okay,” she assured her. “But I went on a date today, and last night.”

Heidi bit back a smile as Madeline’s vague explanation had her raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, that totally explains why you look like someone just ruined your life.” Her tone was sarcastic, but Madeline wasn’t entirely sure she was wrong. “Who was your date with?”

“My friend Chris.”

There was a moment of silence as Heidi gave Madeline a very suspicious look before posing another question.

“Your friend Chris? The one that most people know as the actor Chris Evans?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“Oh my god, Maddie! Good for you, he’s seriously hot!” The enthusiasm in her response had a reluctant smile sliding onto Madeline’s face despite the turmoil she was feeling. “But I still don’t understand why that news has you looking so sad…”

“It’s gonna sound so stupid when I say it out loud,” Madeline warned her. “You’ll think I'm an idiot.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Madeline bit her lip as she leaned into the stretch she was doing, hoping to hide the rising blush in her cheeks.

“Because he hasn’t kissed me yet.” She blurted out her explanation, but quickly followed it up with a rundown of how their dates had come to be to give Heidi a little more context before she got to the root of what was bothering her. “It just feels like nothing has really changed. Our dates were nice, but nothing we didn’t do as friends other than a little extra hand holding. It seems weird.”

Taking a moment to take it all in, Heidi nodded understandingly until she lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

“Maybe he just wants to take it slow? You know, maybe he doesn’t want to make any big moves and really cross that line until he’s really sure that he’s figured out his feelings.”

“I think that’s what I’m worried about,” Madeline admitted. “He sounded so sure of himself when he told me how he was feeling, but he did say he only realized a few weeks ago so now I feel like he’s changed his mind after spending time with me.”

“I bet that’s not the problem,” Heidi insisted. “It’s not like he’s never spent time with you before, he already knows you pretty well.”

“Exactly, what else would he need to figure out?”

“I don’t know, but it’s a big step to cross that line and really become more than just friends. He could be following your lead and waiting for you to make a move.”

As the idea had Madeline’s stomach twisting in knots, her brow furrowed with displeasure.

“Why would he do that?”

“Well, he already put himself out there by sharing his feelings in the first place, right? Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the next move to show that you’re really on the same page.”

“But I’ve already told him that we’re on the same page and that I’ve been in love with him for years.”

“Yeah, but showing is different to telling,” Heidi pointed out. “When are you seeing him again?”

“Tomorrow,” Madeline sighed. “And probably on Friday too, but he leaves Friday night to start working on his next movie.”

“Okay, so when you see him tomorrow why don’t you kiss him and see what happens?”

Again, just the thought of being so bold had Madeline almost overwhelmed by anxiety.

“Because, what if I try and he just pushes me away.”

“I have a pretty good feeling that he won’t, but if he does then at least you have your answer,” Heidi shrugged. “Then he’ll leave to go back to work and by the time you see him again the dust will have settled and you can pretend it all never happened.”

Madeline swallowed hard as she blinked back the tears that were suddenly swimming in her eyes. It felt like an all too real possibility and she wasn’t sure it was something she could handle.

“That would break my heart,” she admitted. “I love him so much.”

“I know, sweetheart, and if it happens I’ll be here for you,” Heidi assured her, pulling her into a hug. “But that’s, like, the worst case scenario. I’m almost a thousand percent sure that he’ll be all over you once you give him the green light.”

Her confidence in that statement pulled a giggled from Madeline as she felt some of her tension ease. It did seem a little unlikely that Chris would have changed his mind so quickly after he seemed so sincere when he told her how he felt. Their dates had gone well - there were no major hiccups or issues that should have made him backtrack - and the fact that Heidi didn’t seem to think she should give up and run away had her feeling slightly less hopeless than she had when she’d arrived in the studio.

Once her feeling of dread had been dampened and the other dancers arrived, Madeline let herself get lost in their training. She pushed herself until there was no room in her mind to think about anything other than the task at hand and the time away from her thoughts left her with much more clarity. Heidi was right. She needed to have a little faith in Chris’ feelings, but making a move and being rejected was better than letting him leave town with everything still feeling so uncertain.

Heading back out the door of the dance studio, she felt far more centered than she had when she’d arrived and she had a fierce determination to end her date with Chris the next day with more than just a hug.

-

Staring at the woman across the table from him, Chris felt like a complete idiot.

He couldn’t believe how blind he’d been for so many years or how it was possible that he hadn’t realized what had been right in front of him for his entire life. Every smile, every giggle, every happy sigh that fell from her lips had his heart fluttering in his chest and it left him stunned that he hadn’t let himself fully appreciate all the warmth and joy she brought to his life. She’d been with him through the tough times when he struggled in auditions and felt like his career was going nowhere, she’d been there for his parents’ divorce when his whole idea of his perfect family was shattered, she’d always been a source of calm when his anxiety reared its ugly head. She was the person he went to when he needed to feel safe. She understood him better than almost anyone outside of his family. He really couldn’t believe that it had taken him so long to understand the depth of his feelings for her.

He was also still scratching his head about how he got lucky enough for her to feel the same way. He thought there were two options when he got to her apartment earlier that week - she would either completely reject him and want nothing to do with his newly discovered feelings or be neutral and willing to be convinced - but he didn’t even entertain the idea that his admission would be met by Madeline’s own confession of love. She was funny, kind, intelligent, feisty and absolutely gorgeous. She was passionate about her goals and dedicated enough to be achieving some of her biggest dreams before she was even thirty. He had no idea what he’d done to be worthy of her love, but he was grateful to have it and willing to do anything to show her that she wasn’t making a mistake by giving him a shot.

Because he was completely head over heels for her.

Everything about her seemed to stoke the new fire that was burning inside him and her flirtatious mood was driving him wild. Maybe it was the cocktails she was sipping on or just the comfort they’d slipped into after their first couple of dates, but she couldn’t seem to keep her hands to herself. They’d always had a very physical relationship - all their time spent together as kids had shattered some of the spatial boundaries that many adult friendships had - but there was something different about it after what they’d both shared and the way she kept rubbing her foot against his leg under the table was proving to be very distracting. 

However, her tactile mood did put him at ease. He’d been dying to kiss her since the moment he’d stormed into her apartment, but he was worried about pushing her too far too fast. He knew it was quite a bomb that he’d dropped by announcing his feelings so out of the blue and he didn’t want to overwhelm her. The lingering fear of rejection was also a contributing factor because it had taken more courage than he thought he had to confess how he felt and if Madeline had just been swept up in the moment, but turned him down when he really tried to make a move then he wasn’t sure he could handle the pain that would cause him.

He knew he needed to seal the deal before he left - especially since he didn’t know exactly when he would see her again - and the affection she was showing him was giving him the confidence he needed to finally cross that line.

It wasn’t until they were walking back towards Madeline’s apartment that Chris felt the nerves begin to creep back in. He’d been so close to breaking through that last line between friendship and more when he’d dropped her off at the dance studio the day before, but he’d chickened out at the last minute. He was determined not to make the same mistake again, but he could feel the anxious thoughts creeping into his mind.

“So,” Madeline interrupted his thoughts as they turned onto her block, arms linked once again. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

“Late afternoon, I think.” Chris sighed as the thought of leaving her now had him feeling quite morose. “But we could get breakfast if you’re not dancing?”

“No, I’ll be dancing in the afternoon so that’s perfect.” 

The way she squeezed his arm a little tighter as she spoke had him looking down at her to see her gazing right back up at him. 

“What?” He asked, a soft smile sliding onto his face.

“I don’t want you to go…” Her words were soft and her eyes widened as they slipped out of her mouth as if she hadn’t meant to say them out loud. “I mean, I’m so happy for you and excited that you get to work on such a big project, but I wish you’d be closer.”

“Me too,” Chris agreed. “But we’ll make it work.”

“But they film lots of movies in New York, I don’t understand why they can’t just film it all here instead.”

The pout that slid onto her face earned a chuckle from Chris as they stopped outside her building.

“I dunno either, but I don’t think I have quite enough sway yet to get them to change it for me.”

“Can’t have the Avengers without Captain America,” Madeline pointed out. “I think it’s worth a shot.”

She slipped away from him to dig through her purse for her keys and Chris immediately missed the warmth of her body against his. As their goodbye drew closer, he knew what he needed to do, but the doubts in his head were holding him back. He felt frozen where he stood with his hands in his pockets until he noticed her watching him - keys in her hand - with an expectant look on her face.

Moving closer, he slipped his arms around her as he had at the end of their previous dates and he felt her tense slightly before she lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck to pull him close. She felt so good, she smelt good, everything about her just made him want her more and he leaned back enough to glance down at her. It seemed the expectant look on her face had shifted into disappointment and that had Chris unsure of his next move. The hug was lingering, dragging on longer than seemed reasonable and he knew he had to act quickly, but in his panic his insecurities took hold and he felt his earlier bravery slipping away.

He dipped his head, aiming to press a kiss against her cheek, but a shift of her head had him catching the corner of her lips instead. Even that was enough to have his heart racing, but as he tried to pull away, he felt Madeline’s hand on the back of his neck holding him in place.

“Please…”

It was hardly more than a whimper, but Chris knew what she was asking for and the simple word filled him with courage. He needed no further prompting to lean back in and press his lips against hers and her immediate response pushed any doubt from his mind. 

Feeling a spark seemed like such a cliche, but it was really the only way Chris could think to describe the moment. The rush of love and desire he felt had his grip tightening on her waist as her hand slid up to his hair as if both of them were desperate to be as close to each other as physically possible. He felt consumed by her like he would crumble if she ever pulled herself out of his arms and when she broke the kiss to catch a much needed breath the sight of her slightly swollen lips had him unable to resist diving back in for more.

Neither of them were sure how much time had passed as they stood on the doorstep of her building completely lost in each other. The need to stay connected had them both too wound up to even think of walking away, but as Chris struggled to find the willpower to force out a ‘goodnight’, Madeline had another suggestion.

“Do you wanna stay here?” She asked as she fought to catch her breath. “If we’re meeting up in the morning anyway you may as well save yourself a cab ride.”

Her reasoning had a smirk sliding onto Chris’ face, but he was too relieved by the offer to make fun of her ulterior motives.

“I like the way you think. I’d love to stay.”

Madeline flashed him a grin before stealing another quick kiss and slipping out of his arms. She found her keys on the ground where they’d slipped from her hands in their frenzy and hurried to unlock the door, leading him through the hallways until they reached her apartment where they spent the rest of the night exploring all the things they’d missed out on in the years they’d wasted pretending to be just friends.

-

Next

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