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fic-tional-fiend · 8 months

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Stress Reliever

MY FIRST POST HI LMAO I'm not super familiar with Tumblr yet so pls be patient with me :,)

WARNINGS: swearing, smut Word Count: 1,962 The nagging tension Carl felt throughout his body was quite common now, but feeling the same cramps and aches in every one of his muscles every damn night was getting old. And after making an especially long, and rather anxiety inducing run earlier that day, it somehow became that much worse. Nearly getting bit, no matter how many close calls there've been, never got any less terrifying. He forced his legs to carry him up the stairs after hastily finishing dinner with Michonne and his dad, the old floorboards moaning under his weight at each step.

Carl's legs threatened to give way beneath him, and the irritation only grew hotter in the back of his mind as he tripped over the last step. He stumbled his way down the hall, and into his room before shutting the door behind him and kicking off his boots. He carefully unraveled the bandage that covered his missing eye, rolled it up and set it on the bedside table. Then grabbing his hat, he tossed it onto his dresser, and let himself flop onto the bed with a light bounce.

Carl took a slow, deep breath in, rolled over onto his back and let the tightness in his muscles fade as he let out a long sigh. He sat up to tug his flannel off of his tired shoulders, letting it fall to the floor with a muffled thud. Lifting a hand up, he dragged it down his face. He still felt sticky from sweating off the relentless heat of the summer day, his shirt uncomfortably sticking to his back, and only then did a shower come to mind. He thought about it for a moment and looked over to the door, light leaking in from the space underneath it. He debated whether he had enough energy to drag himself down the hall to the bathroom, but begrudgingly turned his head to face the wall instead and tried not to think about how filthy he likely was.

He reached down to the belt around his waist, undoing the buckle and sliding it through the loops of his jeans. It clattered to the ground with his pants and t-shirt following shortly after. He stared at the textured wall just a few inches from his face, studying the small bumps and hollows that were randomly scattered under the plain beige color that painted his room. The weight in his eyelids seemed to become heavier with each passing moment, and he let them shut as he pulled his sheets up over his waist. Letting out a long breath, he rolled himself onto his stomach and slid his arms under the flattened pillow beneath his head, burying the side of his face into the fabric.

The silence lingering in the air was somewhat soothing, only broken by his own quiet breaths. But his mind was still racing as it replayed everything that happened that day. Out of everything, the anger at himself for bringing back so little was what kept him stirring. His dad, Rick, had finally trusted him enough to go on a run on his own for the first time, and he basically blew it. He had only managed to scrape together a few rags, and a dirty stuffed giraffe that he thought Judith might take a liking to.

He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, convinced that if he just kept his eyes shut then sleep would eventually come to him. But the frustration was only serving to wake up his exhausted brain more. In defeat, he came to terms with the fact that no matter how tired his body felt, his mind wasn't going to stop working anytime soon. He groaned and sat himself up to reach for the small lamp on the table and turned it on with a click. He squinted and he felt his eye begin to water as it adjusted to the sudden light. He then got up to walk to his dresser and kneeled down to open the bottom drawer, rummaging through the dozens of comics he had haphazardly tossed in there after reading them. He sat there looking through each of them in turn, trying to decide which one he could tolerate reading for what had to be the millionth time. He kept moving them one by one, none of them catching his eye for more than a few seconds. Ultimately he gave up and just sat back down, giving himself a mental note to start looking for more comics if he had extra time on his next run.

He shut off the light and laid back down, settling one arm under his head and lightly toying with the hem of his boxers with the other. He couldn't stop fidgeting, bouncing one foot constantly, his eyes scanning the ceiling back and forth, his brain going over every little detail of the run, he could practically feel his whole body vibrating. His skin felt like it ached against anything that touched it. Somehow the harder he tried to relax, the more his own body resisted. Carl forced himself to sit still, and focused his thoughts on controlling his breathing. He vaguely remembered something his mom had taught him years ago, something about controlling his breaths, and how bringing more oxygen to the brain promotes clearer thinking. "Breathe in for three, out for five," or something along those lines.

He kept at it for as long as his patience would allow, counting each second in his head, retaining control of each slow breath he took, but his mind wouldn't cease it's wandering. This time however, it had come up with what might be a solution, or at least a way to get himself to relax or pass the time. It had been a long while since he had felt the need to do so, let alone tried to. He usually fell directly to sleep when he was in his room, and if he didn't, he was usually either too angry, too anxious or too depressed to even think about it. 'Well I don't really have any better ideas,' he thought with a half-assed eyeroll.

The idea of self pleasuring wasn't foreign to him. Carl had experimented with touching himself on a few occasions, and had awkwardly sat through that portion of "the talk" after his dad had walked in on him trying to relieve some stress one morning. He knew this was a typical thing people did in their spare time, especially young men around his age. And he knew that he could feel himself getting pent up and irritable if we went too long without that relief, but it always felt like more of a chore and less of something to do for fun.

Carl hesitated for a moment before he reached down between his legs and palmed himself through his boxers, gently massaging himself. Slowly he slid his hand under the elastic band and gently gripped his soft shaft. He gave himself a light squeeze then continued with a few experimental pumps of his fist, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to form a decent rhythm. He let himself relax as his imagination began to roam. His mind wandered around to anything he could think of that might get him hard, the women he had seen in the magazines he's read, the dirty things he used to overhear Ron talk about, but his thoughts kept trailing back to Enid, the only girl his age around. He liked Enid just fine, he didn't have any negative feelings for her, but she didn't seem quite that interested in any of the people in Alexandria, much less the kids her age. That suited Carl just fine, he wasn't a huge talker anyway, he was more of a "people watcher" as his dad called it. He liked to observe those around him; watch what they did and how they acted, how they moved and how they carried themselves. Like the way Enid's hips swayed when she walked by, that in particular always caught his eye.

He adjusted his grip slightly and kept slowly pumping until he felt himself twitch rhythmically in his hand as his erection began to grow. He sighed at the feeling and he suddenly wondered why he didn't do this more often. His expression softened and he felt himself begin to relax as he let himself give in to the pleasant sensations. A few quiet moans escaped him as he propped up his leg, but then paused for a moment to slide his boxers down his hips just far enough for his now fully hard cock to pop out.

He sat up on his elbow and spat into his right hand before getting back to his rhythm. Every few strokes he would use his thumb to play with the tip and smear the small amount of precum around the head. Carl began to pant as he picked up his pace, closing his eye and letting his head fall back. His wavy brown locks pooled around his shoulders and he could only partially bite back a moan when he continuously tightened his grip, his hips bucking up into his hand. Every pump felt like it sent electricity from the tip of his dick, all the way up his spine and into his foggy brain. He hissed through clenched teeth when he wasn't cursing under his breath, only focusing on the feeling that was overtaking his entire body. For just a short time, there were no more sore muscles or aching joints from long days, only this, only the pleasure shooting its way through every nerve and settling in his stomach.

The coil in his groin was making itself known, and the intensity was quickly becoming overwhelming. Nothing else was in this boy's brain as he jerked himself off, the only thing he could think was "just a little more, just a little more". All of it was too much but somehow not enough at the same time, he couldn't get enough of it. The desperation for his release was becoming unbearable, and he was struggling to keep himself quiet. The moans he tried so hard to keep inside were making their way out, in short, quiet bursts. Carl took deep breaths to try to calm himself and hopefully make himself last longer, but the result was only dizzying himself further into a spiral of hormones. But suddenly he just couldn't bring himself to care anymore. His arm slid out from under him and he bit down onto his knuckle when the coil in his belly finally snapped.

White hot pleasure shot through him and he tensed as a groan ripped its way out from his throat. He was sure he tasted blood for a moment as he bit down harder in attempts to keep quiet. Spurt after spurt of his cum splattered onto his bare chest and stomach as he rode out his high, his eye squeezed shut and his mind went completely blank. Then all of his muscles relaxed and he gave himself one last firm squeeze in attempts to milk everything he could out of the feeling. A few more drops of cum dripped down his softening shaft, and the utter euphoria left him feeling more than satisfied after ignoring his needs for so long. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this relaxed, and sleep suddenly felt like a possibility again. He lazily pulled up his boxers and he let his eye stay shut, ready and waiting for the long restorative rest he desired. He raised a hand to rub at his chest and stopped when he felt something sticky. He looked down to see ropes of his drying cum plastering to his skin. “Shit..”

#carl grimes #the walking dead #carl grimes smut #smut #twd smut #fanfic #fanfiction

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withoutyouimsaskia · 2 years

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Remember Me, Special Dreams

Part III.

GIF: Originally posted by @ravenclairee

Summary: Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Title from the lyrics of Placebo’s Special Needs)

Warnings: language, angst, mentions of night terrors.

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Hello Tumblr peeps. I’ve had another parasomnia episode since I posted last. This time I thought there was a crack in the ceiling above my bed and there were gelatinous things falling through. Such fun! Hope you enjoy this chapter, please let me know what you think, and also if you want to hear more about my night time hallucinations. Have a great day, Saskia

Sandman Masterlist

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You resurface with a nervous energy humming in your bones. You are lying on your side, facing the curtain shrouded window. Thick crusts of sleepy dust have accumulated along your lower lash lines and in the corners of your eyes. You rub them away carefully with an index finger.

A siren wails outside. Your stomach rumbles loudly. Rhythmic ticks emanate from the wristwatch that sits on your bedside table.

There is no doubt that you are awake now.

You exhale shakily, successfully dispelling a single ounce of tension. You immediately feel less anxious, and your following inhales and exhales provide further relief.

That was some dream.

You begin to piece the sections together. Night terror into hallucination, into dream... into whatever the heck that was at the end.

It was a complex beast, but so was your life right now. You were now up to 8 days in a row of these parasomnia episodes. It was getting silly now, you knew this, and you were tired beyond measure, yet you were completely unable to get sustained rest without some kind of subconscious interruption.

And with your emotions in constant overdrive and showing no signs of letting up, you were certain that they were going to continue for a little bit longer.

A frustrated huff of air escapes your lips; you know your swirling mind will stop you from getting back to sleep for a while now.

Your thoughts drift back to your mind-conjured images of the beautiful Dream Man with the ethereal voice. He was a whole other breed of night terror.

You wonder if perhaps you are losing your grip on reality and if a visit to the GP was in order. It was a task for tomorrow though, as there was no way you could make contact in the middle of the night.

You roll onto your back and realise that your lamp is on. You guess you must have fallen asleep again before getting a chance to switch it off after the hallucination part of your night.

You turn another 90 degrees, further towards the warm glow that pervades the space around you. By this point, the energy saving bulb has heated up enough, not only to successfully cast light across your whole mattress but also illuminate the face of the 'Dream Man' who is sitting on the chair across the room.

"Oh fuck!" You exclaim, recoiling away from him.

Your heart rate picks up like a sprinter off the starting blocks.

The man holds his hands up, palms facing you in a show of peace.

His voice rumbles with the same rainstorm-like quality as it did before.

"I will not hurt you. You have my word."

You're not listening to him in the slightest though. Your chest is pounding painfully and you are worried you may vomit. A stream of consciousness falls from your lips instead.

"You're real. You're fucking real. Fuck! And I'm wearing next to nothing. Fuck!"

You're looking down at your bare legs peeking out from the tousled covers and hastily rearrange them to regain some dignity.

You look back to him and fix him with an accusatory stare.

"You have some serious explaining to do."

"I agree. Where would you like to begin?"

Your eyes drift off to the left as you try and choose.

You know that you should probably start with something like ‘why are you here?’ or ‘how did you get in?’ but all you keep coming back to is the question you utter with trepidation:

“Who are you?”

"In the folklore and legends of your world, I am known as The Sandman, The Oneiromancer. Across the other realms, I go by many names. I am Dream of the Endless, Lord Morpheus, The Shaper of Form, Keeper of the Dreaming, King of Dreams, Ruler of Nightmares and Curator of the collective unconsciousness of the universe."

"Okay, Daenerys Targaryen." You stifle a giggle in response to your joke.

He doesn't react.

"Huh, not into Game of Thrones then? You should look it up. Although I would advise sticking to the books. The series got a bit lost towards the end."

He shifts ever so slightly in the seat, the moss green velvet fabric standing out against his dark clothes. You snap back to the present.

You fidget with the seam of the duvet cover as your cheeks flush with blood. His gaze makes you feel insecure.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to start babbling like that. I haven't been sleeping well."

“I know. That is precisely why I am here.”

His hands steeple in front of him. He leans forward, blue eyes trained on you intently.

“It has come to my attention that you have become the recipient of a plague of vicious and unrelenting nightmares. I have also seen a drastic change in your sleeping habits, with a concerning decline in the amount of time that you are spending in the Dreaming.”

This was no surprise to you in the slightest.

You had been deferring your bed time to a later and later point in the hope that you could tire yourself out enough to bypass the nightmares and night terrors. But they would always be there within an hour of your head hitting the pillow and would prevent you from getting no more than two hours of sleep at a time.

The Dream Man rises slowly and fluidly from the chair. His expression is tinged with something you cannot interpret.

“I've been observing you for a number of nights now to try and ascertain the cause of your plight. The very idea that this is happening to you as a result of a defect or weakness in the fabric of my realm truly disturbs me. As of yet, I have been unable to pinpoint the exact reason, however I will do everything in my power to ensure my success.”

He’s close to you now, his glacial scent drifts over you like mist rolling off a waterfall.

“To be unable to sleep is to suffer. I only have to look at you to see that you are suffering and I cannot allow it to continue.”

You know all too well what he is seeing. Your bruised and swollen under-eyes have been the focus of many of the people you have come into recent contact with.

“I don’t know what to say,” you finally speak in a whisper.

“You do not need to say anything, for now you must sleep.”

He turns off your lamp and takes a single step backwards.

“Wait,” you call to him. “I don’t think I can sleep knowing what I now know.”

“You need not worry. I have already selected a dream for you. All you have to do is let it take you.”

“But-.”

“Lie down. Close your eyes.”

You visibly hesitate.

“Do as I say, Y/N.”

You reluctantly recline on your side but do not fulfill his second request.

You gaze at him with glassy, tired eyes.

"I'm afraid."

"They will not come for you, I promise. I will watch over you until morning."

You can't help but believe him.

You re-arrange your pillows and curl into a foetal position.

The Dream Man takes this as a sign that you are ready to sleep, and begins to walk away.

He is wrong.

In your tired delirium, you begin to converse chaotically to his retreating figure.

"You know, I still don’t know what to call you. You said so many names but didn’t tell me which one I was allowed to use."

He turns his head to look back at you.

His reply is a soft intonation that causes shivers to run through your entire body.

“You may call me Morpheus."

-----------------------

"These are the days. These are the strangest of all. These are the nights. These are the darkest to fall."

Taglist: @pinkcyclewitch @layla2-49 @shoidy-cat @silverhart93 @boofy1998

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lenjaminmacbuttons · 3 years

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i discovered recently that sleep paralysis can happen more frequently to people who sleep on their backs, discovered just now that this means Me Every Time I Sleep On My Back (i usually sleep on my side)

so in case any of you ever find me sleeping on my back please either wake me up or, failing that, just kinda gently roll me over like im a benevolent beetle or smth

#talkyllama #im fine just a lil anxious mostly annoyed and my arms are sore #last time this happened my gf said best thing to do is relax and calm down but apparently i forgot #cus i always tryna snap out of sleep paralysis via brute force #which works because i am very strong. but then my arms are sore #also i think i bit my thumb but im not sure if i really did or not cus it still kinda feels like i bit it but theres also no visible mark #anyways im v grateful that ive yet to experience a Sleep Paralysis Demon per se #but i still deeply deeply hate sleep paralysis #usually its not really accompanied by a dream of any kind but this time i was like. laying in a place neal had said was kinda haunted #(i guess by michael distortion tma i dont really remember but i do remember being anxious about hands and yelling 'MICHAEL GO AWAY'#michael! michael go on git! git outta here!#)#and neal was also shooting a bb gun at the wall directly behind me and i did not wanna get hit so i was yelling at him too #maybe he was tryna shoot michael????#i probably feel like he was just tryna show off Hehe I Got A Bb Gun #anyways that was happening i couldnt move i got mad i yelled i bit my thumb i woke up. laid there all ticked. realized i was on my back #rolled onto my side turned bedside lamp on make tumblr post #never gonna forgive michael distortion for what he did to that lady in Fatigue #frickin hate the spiral. thats the one of my Actual Real Life fears that i can reliably categorize tma style and it makes me so mad #1. dinosaurs 2. freezing to death esp. trapped in a walk-in freezer 3. not being able to distinguish dreams n reality #getting stuck in a dream i guess #or realizing something i was so sure was real is actually a dream #either way. spiral. hate it. unhappy with it. gonna be fine though. just gotta vent jsdjfgh #tbh im really only making this post cus i was amused by the idea of someone seeing me on my back and bein like 'oop! gotta flip that over!#like a turtle. like a ladybug #cant flip mself without significant mental and emotional labor #wont you be a kind soul............

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theycallmebecca · 4 years

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So I’m in need of some tooth rotting fluff right now. Chris and reader having those late night talks about anything and everything, the conversations that make you fall in love 😍 Being all lovey and touchy feely. Just pure cuteness. FYI, love ya ❤️

Well you know what I like to write... haha all that tooth rotting fluff is right up my alley! Shout out to @nomadicpixel for her help with the brainstorming on this one.

Title: Twenty Questions

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: a couple f-bombs

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

Because of how tumblr can be silly about links, I will reblog this post with links to the masterlist and the prompt list.

Chris and Dodger were already in bed when you came out of the bathroom; Chris with his nose in a book and Dodger stretched out at the foot of the bed. After turning off the overhead lights, you climbed into bed with them, but didn't bother to turn on the lamp on your bedside table since you weren't in the mood to read. Rolling onto your side in Chris's direction, you slid your foot over to his side of the bed, seeking the warmth his body always provided you.

He let out a yelp as your cold toes brushed his warm leg. You smiled innocently as he glared at you over the edge of his book.

"How is it that your feet are always cold when you get in bed no matter the season?" he asked.

"Magic?" you offered as you snuggled up against him. "Maybe it's because you're always so warm?"

Chuckling, Chris reached over and put his book on his bedside table before he turned and wrapped his arms around you. "That must be it," he replied as he caressed your back. "Too tired to read tonight?"

"Too tired of reading," you said, looking up at him. "I feel like it's all I've been doing for the last, I don't even know anymore. April feels longer than March at this point."

Chris nodded his head in agreement. "It's kind of too early to go to sleep," he said. "Did you want to talk or -"

"Ask each other random questions?" you suggested. "See who can come up with the most random one?"

"Is there a prize?" he asked once again proving that his competitive drive knew no boundaries.

"Depends on how good the question is," you told him.

Silence fell between the two of you as you both tried to think of a question to ask.

"What's your favorite thing to do on a rainy day?" you asked him and then cringed. "Ugh. Nevermind, that's basically what we've been living through for the last six weeks, isn't it? One long rainy day."

Chris chuckled, but answered it anyway, "Either reading a good book or curling up with you and watching a movie."

"See, that's exactly what we have been doing," you stated. "I have a better question, what single appliance could you not live without?"

Your head hit the pillow as he shifted his body, dropping you to the mattress while he rolled onto his side to stare down at you.

"Think you're funny, do you?" he asked in a tone that was full of mock annoyance. "Asking me what appliance I couldn't live without while knowing full well that I can't cook much." He leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose. "That's like me asking you what your favorite burner on the stove is."

"Front right," you answered automatically and laughed at the deadpan look you got in response. "What? It's the biggest and it's right there."

Chris shook his head in disbelief.

"What was your favorite food during childhood and why?" you asked him.

"Pizza, of course," Chris replied with a laugh. "Or my nona's lasagna."

He sobered in memory, you noticed, and you placed your hand on his chest above his heart.

"Does your mom have the recipe? Maybe we can try and cook it together some night," you suggested.

"And maybe something from your grandma, too?" he asked. "What was her best dish?"

"Most of what my grandma cooked came out of a box or a can," you admitted and smiled at your own memories. "Our lasagna growing up was spaghetti sauce and layers of lasagna noodles."

Chris let out a strangled groan and clutched his chest as if the idea was killing him.

Laughing at his antics, you swatted his chest and said, "Oh stop it. We didn't all grow up with Italian grannies who spent hours over the stove. But regardless, I don't really remember the foods as much as I remember the time we spent as a family. Whether it was a small group around the kitchen table, holiday dinners in the formal dining room or the kids table in the kitchen. That was the part that was special to me."

A few tears rolled down your face at the memories and Chris reached down to brush them away.

"The memories are the best part," he agreed with a soft smile.

You nodded and then, inspired, asked, "If you could talk on the phone with anyone who ever existed, alive or dead, who would it be and what would you ask them?"

"That's two questions, cheater," Chis pointed out. Under the guise of thinking, he shifted the two for you back to your original positions, so he was on his back and you were resting your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapped loosely over you. "I'm torn between a president or a distant relative. And there are too many of either to choose just one. Fuck. That's a hard question." He shook his head. "I don't think I can answer those questions, babe. It's just too… " He moved his hands to mime an explosion going off in his brain.

"It was a pretty loaded question," you admitted, patting his stomach in empathy. "But don't forget, it's your turn to ask me a question."

He pursed his lips to think and finally asked, "What's the best advice your mom gave you?"

"Best advice from my mom," you repeated as you tried to think. Your mom had given you plenty of advice growing up, but none of them really jumped out at you in the moment. "I don't even know, probably something poetic like, haste makes waste. She said that all the time when I was growing up from people driving fast or one of us kids trying to finish our homework quickly to be able to go outside and play with our friends."

"I can totally hear your mom saying that," Chris stated. "In fact, I swear I have heard her say that."

"She loves that saying," you said with a small sigh. You normally didn't mind living far from your family, but the current quarantined status of the world only made that distance feel farther apart. You and Chris did video chats with your family weekly and you talked to your mom all the time, but it was still hard.

As if sensing that you needed a change of pace, Chris asked you another question, "What is the most interesting thing you could do with 400 pounds of cheese?"

"I think we have a contender for the winner of the most random question," you said with a laugh. "But fuck, that's a lot of cheese. I don't even know where to begin. Nachos? Cheesy potatoes? Mac n cheese? Fondue style entree for every meal?”

“My stomach is cringing at the thought,” Chris stated.

“It was your question,” you reminded him. “Staying in the dairy category, what’s the grossest ice cream flavor you can think of? Actual food only. No chemicals or anything.”

“Hmm,” Chris thought aloud. “It would have to start with a fish, I think. Something stinky or with a really bold flavor. Anchovy, maybe? Then a citrusy mint? Plus a tart berry? Topped off with those big, long oval shaped nuts that always get left behind in nut mixes. For texture.”

“For texture,” you echoed with disgust on your face. “And they’re called Brazil nuts.”

“Ah, well you learn something new every day,” Chris replied and then laughed. “That’s another piece of sage advice I’ve heard your mom say.”

You giggled and said, “I just thought of another, she used to tell us when we were doing our homework that if we couldn’t impress someone with knowledge, we should dazzle them with bullshit.”

Chris snorted with laughter. “That’s amazing!” He cried. “Your mom is a gem.” His eyes found yours as his hilarity subsided. “Like mother, like daughter.”

“You’re such a flatterer,” you said before tilting your head to kiss him on the cheek. “But it’s your turn to ask me another question.”

“If you could have an everlasting candle that could smell like anything, what would it be?” He asked after a few minutes of thinking.

“Christmas,” you answered without much thought and then explained, “because Christmas smells like so many different things all rolled into one. There would be pine, cinnamon, vanilla and a bunch of other scents that might not work together in theory, but combined, think of all the memories those scents would bring back. And if it was made like a marbleized candle where the different fragrances hit at different times, it would be magical. Like Christmas.”

“Is that even possible?” He asked, his interest seemingly piqued.

“Probably not, because eventually all the fragrances would mix together, but you have to admit it would smell amazing, at least initially,” you replied, looking up at him.

“It would,” he agreed. “Maybe we’ll have to dig out your winter candles tomorrow and experiment burning them at the same time in their own jars.”

“And watch Christmas movies?” you asked as the weight of the day started to catch up with you. You tried to fight back a yawn, but it came anyway. “If the Hallmark channel is playing their Christmas movies, we can, too, right?”

“We’ll see where the day leads us,” he replied. “But you’re supposed to be asking me a question.”

“Oh right,” you said and then yawned again. You blinked your tired eyes and tried to think.

“Maybe this should be the last question,” he suggested, smoothing his hand down your arm.

You nodded your head. It was amazing how tired you got from doing so little. “What place brings you joy?” you asked, nestling yourself closer to him.

“Being anywhere you are,” he answered almost immediately. “You bring joy into my life.”

When you didn’t answer, he looked down and smiled when he saw that your eyes were closed.

“Goodnight, Love,” he whispered before reaching over and turning off his bedside lamp. He settled back against the pillows with you asleep in his arms.

#theycallmebecca #theycallmebeccawrites #becca writes drabbles #stay home read drabbles #chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fan fiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #reader insert #mrs-captain-evans

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oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall · 6 years

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A quick little thing based on this post. It’s my first shippy thing and even though I don’t really romantically ship any of them (myself I mean, because I like reading all the ships)...I thought of romantic Analogical for this.

No warnings, just pure fluff.

The mindscape was silent. Roman and Patton had gone to bed hours ago, and although Logan and Virgil were still awake, they were both quietly occupied in Logan’s room. Logan was busy creating a schedule for Thomas’ upcoming week; he had two full length videos to work on, plus a new Sanders Short. On top of that, Thomas’ niece was having a birthday party later in the week, which Logan also had to take into account. He was exhausted, but he refused to slow down until his work was finished.

Meanwhile, Virgil was curled up on his side on the bed only a few feet away, on a Tumblr reblogging spree.

“Lo?” Virgil said, not looking up from his phone. The logical side didn’t answer. Virgil lowered his phone and looked up at his boyfriend. He spoke a little louder, “Lo!”

“Yes?”

“Are you coming to bed soon?”

Logan sighed and turned to the anxious side. “Virgil, you know very well that I cannot retire for the night until I am finished mapping out Thomas’ schedule for the week. He still needs to improve on his procrastination, and we have previously determined that if I write out a schedule for him, he will be more likely to complete his filming and editing on time.”

“Okay, well, how much more do you have to do?”

“I need approximately thirty more minutes.” Logan wrote another word down on his sheet of paper before turning back to Virgil. “If you are fatigued and cannot stay awake any longer, you may go to sleep and I will join you shortly.”

“Alright.” Virgil plugged his phone into its charger and turned off the bedside table lamp. He turned onto his side with his back to Logan’s desk lamp, and closed his eyes.

Half an hour later, Logan turned his light off and climbed into bed beside Virgil. Unbeknownst to Logan, Virgil was not actually asleep. He had an experiment to run. The week earlier, the Virgil had been laying on the living room couch with his head in Logan’s lap as the logical side read out loud from one of his Agatha Christie novels. Virgil had been feeling mildly anxious at the time, and had been significantly soothed by the calm tones of his boyfriend’s reading. He was able to relax so much that he’d actually fallen asleep in Logan’s lap. A few days later, Patton pulled Virgil aside and excitedly whispered that he had seen the couple on the couch, and that Logan had been playing with Virgil’s hair and planting small kisses on his face as he slept. This had given Virgil a thrill; Logan was self-admittedly not very good at showing affection to him, so the thought of him feeling more comfortable while Virgil was asleep warmed his heart.

Now, Virgil felt the bed shift behind him as Logan adjusted his weight on the mattress. He kept his eyes shut, feigning sleep, hoping that Patton’s words would prove to be true. Sure enough, he felt Logan lean over him. A moment later, soft lips pressed against his cheek. Virgil’s heart rate sped up, and for once, it was not because of his anxiety. Logan pressed a kiss into Virgil’s hair and his shoulder. Virgil pretended to shift in his sleep, huffing out a soft breath as he kept his eyes closed and rolled onto his back. He cracked open his eyes the tiiiiiniest amount, enough so he could just barely see, while still making it look like he was asleep. Logan was letting his gaze wander all over Virgil’s prone form, the softest blush tinting his cheeks, and the most adoring look in his eyes. Logan had never looked that way at Virgil while he was awake. Virgil felt slight disappointment at the thought, wishing that his boyfriend was comfortable enough to show his affections normally, but on the other hand, he was delighted that Logan was obviously infatuated by him.

Logan reached up and brushed Virgil’s bangs out of his eyes and gently kissed his forehead. He laid his head down on Virgil’s chest and snuggled up close. Virgil was eternally thankful that his heart had slowed down to a normal pace by that time. He tried to fight back a smile, but failed.

After a few minutes of cuddles, Virgil was almost positive Logan had fallen asleep, but didn’t dare check. Just as he was about to try to fall asleep himself, Logan stirred. He lifted his head and gently traced Virgil’s lips with his thumb before pressing a chaste kiss to them. “Sleep well, dear,” he whispered, before turning away from his boyfriend and settling into the bed.

#my first shippy story #kinda cute huh?#I don't think I have a favorite ship #Analogical #Virgil Sanders #Logan Sanders #Sanders Sides #Sanders Sides fic

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favficarchives · 7 years

Text

Put on some socks

Pairing: Eggsy Unwin x American!Reader Summary: You’re a member of the Cupler Ring and you’re working with Galahad on a mutual assignment. Overbooked hotels lead to everyone’s favorite scenario: bed sharing. Genre: Smut, apparently. Fluff, too. Still not sure how the smut happened, though… Warnings: It’s smut, what do you expect? Things get a little rough (hair pulling, light spanking, etc.), but nothing major. Word count: 3,910

[Masterlist]

A/N: Tumblr flipped and screwed the original post up, so let’s try this again...

“Put on some socks, dammit,” your partner, Eggsy, grunted as he ran a hotel towel over his wet hair. “I don’t wanna deal with your ice feet tonight.”

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head and looking back down at the tablet resting in your lap. You and Eggsy – or Galahad, as the Kingsmen called him – teamed on this assignment a few weeks back when your paths crossed and you realized you were working the same case. While your team – the “petticoated patriots,” as the larger organization playfully called you – was weary of working with “the red coats,” you happily accepted the help. A fresh set of eyes wouldn’t hurt, and neither would establishing connections and a working relationship with your buddies across the pond.

Additionally, Eggsy was a cute, funny guy. In your line of work, the only guys you ever met were fellow Cuplers (and you weren’t really a fan of dating within the workplace) or bad guys that you had to take down. Hanging out with a cute guy who wasn’t a coworker or criminal was a nice change of pace.

“You’re the one who got all cuddly last night,” you reminded him, your memory flashing back to your new partner holding you close to his shirtless chest throughout the night. “You’re like a fucking furnace, by the way. I actually thought I was going to get heat stroke at one point.”

Eggsy responded by pitching his damp towel at your head, which you promptly tossed to the floor.

“Seriously, my guy,” you continued with a teasing smile. “I woke up like five times last night and you were wrapped around me like a baby koala.”

Eggsy smiled and hopped onto the bed, blue eyes trained on you.

“People love baby koalas,” he told you with a smirk.

You laughed. “Oh, do they?”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, crawling closer to where you sat at the head of the bed. “’sides, love, you’re the one that picked the room. All a ploy to get me into bed, yeah?”

You scoffed, your face heating up at the insinuation. That may not have been your original intention, but it wasn’t as much of burden as you pretended.

“Definitely,” you said. “It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that I booked the room last minute and a single was all they had left.”

“Coulda had the penthouse,” he pointed out, rolling over and leaning against the headboard.

“I see ‘discretion’ isn’t in the Kingsmen handbook,” you said with an eyeroll.

Eggsy shifted in the bed, folding his hands behind his head and glancing down at your lap.

“It is,” he argued, smirk still firmly in place. “It’s just not as important as style.”

“Figures,” you laughed.

He groaned in response, reaching across you and turning off the bedside lamp before inching under the covers.

“Whatever ya say, Yank. Put your socks on and turn in.”

-0-

“Hey Eggsy?” you whispered into the darkness, figuring he was still awake due to the lack of limps tangled around you.

“Yeah, love?” his groggy voice answered.

“Why’s your name ‘Eggsy’?”

A warm thrill rushed through your body at the sound of his deep, tired chuckle.

“I mean, did your parents just really like eggs or something?”

“My parents named me Gary,” he said. “My friends named me Eggsy.”

You paused, considering his words with more thought than they were really worth.

“Okay,” you said after a few moments, “but my ‘why’ is still valid.”

You heard him sigh with defeat and shift onto his side.

“I hate eggs,” he admitted, “and my friends are wankers.”

You giggled at his response as you snuggled deeper into the mattress.

“Sounds about right,” you whispered, closing your eyes again and waiting for sleep to overtake you both.

-0-

You woke up a couple of hours later. The hotel room was still dark – illuminated only by the street lights shining through the curtain - and Eggsy was dead to the world next to you. Or rather, right up against you.

You felt his warm breath on your neck, perfectly in time with the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back. One of his arms held you close, and both of his legs were intertwined with your own. And another… um… firm appendage… was pressed into your thigh.

Oh yeah, he was gone.

And you were sweating.

Sighing, you tried scooting away from him, only to have his grip on you tighten. This was when you gave up each time last night. Tonight, though, you weren’t going down without a fight.

You kept at it, trying to untangled your legs and gain some distance without waking the poor guy up. You continue to squirm, gently fighting against his vice-like grip, when a soft moan and a thrust of Eggsy’s hips stopped you cold in your tracks.

Well.

Well, there’s that.

You stayed still for a few moments, waiting for the tension to die down before trying to return to your original position. Your efforts at discretion were fruitless, though. The moment you moved again, Eggsy began lightly squirming against you, still sound asleep but seemingly desperate for some kind of friction.

You tried to ignore the shiver down your spine or the warmth between your thighs. You knew it was wrong. He was unconscious and unaware of what he was doing. You shouldn’t be deriving pleasure from it. In fact, you wanted to stop it, but you didn’t want to wake him up and embarrass him. Maybe you could rouse him just enough to make him stop without actually waking him up…

He shifted again and his cock, all but unrestrained in the loose pajama bottoms he wore, rested right below the curve of your ass.

Fuck, it was worth a shot.

“Eggsy,” you whispered, your voice cracking halfway through his name. Your thighs clenched as his hard-on twitched against your ass.

Eggsy moaned into your neck and pulled you closer, his hard nipples (almost as hard your own) pressing into your back and his strong arm flexing against your stomach.

“Egg-sy,” you tried again, the delicate command in your voice giving way to mindless pleasure. It had been so long since you had been with someone, and Eggsy was so wonderful, and he seemed to want you, too. Would it really be so bad if you two-

Yes, the still-clear headed sided of you said. Yes, it would be. You’re on assignment. Now stop it.

“Y/N,” Eggsy moaned into your neck.

Oh fuck.

You gasped in response, and Eggsy’s movements against you became more calculated and precise. He buried his face into your neck and ground his pelvis into your ass with damn-near perfect rhythm. He was awake. And he wasn’t at all embarrassed.

“Y/N, love,” he started, his voice gruff and exhilarating as his hand slowly moved under your shirt and to the middle of your stomach, “tell me to stop.”

You should. You absolutely should. Eggsy was a gentleman through and through. No matter how much he apparently wanted you, he’d stop in an instant if you told him. He’d stop, apologize, and you could both carry on with the assignment like nothing happened. You absolutely should tell him to stop.

“Don’t stop,” you whined, wiggling your ass against his crotch.

Well. That didn’t go according to plan.

Thrill coursed through your veins when you heard Eggsy growl. His hand began an immediate path south, tucking below the hemline of your bottoms. You inhaled sharply as his fingertips danced along your inner thighs, deliciously close to where you needed him most and too far away altogether.

“Eggsy,” you begged, your voice breaking again as his thrusting hips and light fingers continued to tease you. Your panties were soaked, and you were sure he could tell when he brushed the tips of his fingers over your clothed core. “Eggsy, please.”

You felt him smile against your neck, and tears began pricking your eyes. Eggsy tucked his free arm under you, wrapping it around your waist and drawing little patterns on your stomach with his free hand. Before long, he was brushing over your tight, hard nipples with his feather-like touch while his soft, wet lips kissed trails along you neck and jaw, stopping every so often to nibble you ear lob and whisper sweet nothings to you.

The sensation overload was driving you insane. You were so turned on you could die, and all you could do was lie there as Eggsy kept his teasing, leisurely pace.

“Eggsy,” you began again, gasping sharply as his teeth clamped down on your neck, eyes all but rolling in the back of your head as another shock of arousal shot through your body and settled between your thighs. Your moan tore through the room as Eggsy fingers slid under your panties and brushed against your soft folds, your cunt’s walls squeezing against themselves, craving any kind of pressure available.

“Eggsy,” you moaned deeply. “I -oh god, Eggsy- I-I’m cl-ose.”

“Already, love?” Eggsy teased, the smile evident in his voice. “But we’re just getting started.”

You all-but-screamed as he slid a finger into you, working your tight walls and pushing you to your brink as the heel of his hand pressed against your clit and his clothed cock kept teasing your backside.

You bit your lip to keep back your painfully desperate cries as Eggsy kept working you, tears of frustrated pleasure streaming down your face.

Fuck, it had been so long. And fuck, it felt so good. So, so good.

“Eggsy,” you moaned, “f-uck me… so… goo- agh!”

Eggsy slid another finger into your wet heat, your walls pulsating around them, desperate for purchase. Semi-coherent moans turned into frantic pleas for release, Eggsy’s skilled fingers bringing you right to the edge. Your vision starting giving out as he curled his fingers, so close to just the right spot you swore you weren’t going to live to see the sunrise.

“Come on, love,” he whispered into your ear, thumb brushing over your clit. “You gonna cum for me, love? Cum all over my hand?”

F-uck, you wanted to.

“Almost there, love?” he teased, fingers just missing where you needed them.

So. Close.

“Almost…” he said again, voice sweet like honey as he moved his fingers just a little more, “there?”

You screamed in ecstasy as his fingers hit just the right spot, your body convulsing tightly as your orgasm washed over you. Eggsy held you close to him, hips rocking yours as he helped you ride out wave after wave, his name a prayer on your lips as you began to come down. You kept rocking in time with him, walls still pulsing around his fingers. Your thighs were coated in your own slick, as was part of Eggsy’s pajama bottoms. You wanted to feel bad, but at this point you couldn’t find it in yourself to regret anything that might get the man out of his pants.

“Good girl,” he whispered softly as your thighs finally fell open, allowing him to reclaim the hand that you so eagerly came against. “Feel a bit better now, yeah?”

You shivered at his praise and his caring tone, nodding gently as you focused on the feeling of him beside you, grounding you in reality. You felt him rise into a seated position and glanced behind you, biting back a moan was you watched him lick the remnants of you off of his fingers. His eyes caught your own, and you watched the corner of his mouth pull back into a smirk as his leisurely drew his fingers from his mouth with a soft ‘pop’.

You trembled in delight.

Eggsy rose to his knees and turned to face you, grabbing your hips and moving you to the center of the bed, stripping you naked once he had you where he wanted you.

“Stay right here, love,” he commanded gently, kissing your temple before rolling off the bed. You kept your eyes trained on him, watching closely as he turned on the table lamp and shucked off his bottoms, finally freeing his… big… hard… throbbing cock.

This time, you couldn’t swallow your moan.

The sound drew Eggsy’s attention back to you, and he was filled with pride at the blatant, burning need on your face as you looked as his cock. He was so enraptured by your expression – just fucked and still craving more – that he almost missed your thighs clenching and your hips gyrating into the mattress.

Fuck, you were gonna kill him.

But what a way to go.

He grabbed his wallet off of the bedside table and dug through it, pulling out the one condom he had on him. In any other scenario, he’d probably have an extra in a pocket somewhere, but he wasn’t exactly anticipating needing any on this assignment. All that meant was that he was gonna have to make this one count.

He looked back at you and smiled. He wasn’t thrilled when he found out an American spy organization was working the same case as him, and he was downright pissed when Merlin said he was gonna team up with the bird he’d met in the field, but damn if it didn’t turn out so much better than expected.

He owed Merlin big for this.

Eggsy crawled back on the bed, knees on either side of your hips, and braced himself on one hand as he hovered over you.

“Take this, love,” he said, placing the packaged condom in your hand, “and keep a close eye on it. ‘S all we got tonight.”

You nodded, your eyes still a little glassy from your earlier orgasm. Eggsy smiled down at you and pecked you on the lips, pausing in mild surprise at the whine that left you lips as he moved away.

“What’s wrong, love?” he teased with a smile as he took in your pouting expression. “Want more kisses?”

You glared up at him in an attempt to hide your embarrassment. You didn’t know if he was a “kissing” guy, so you didn’t want him to know that you were a “kissing” girl. Some things were private.

Eggsy leaned down closer to you, propping himself on his forearms and hovering just a few inches from your face.

“I can do kissing,” he told you before bringing his soft, sweet lips back to yours.

Who really needs privacy, anyway?

You happily leaned into the kiss, snaking your arms around his neck and holding him close to you. The kiss deepened as he shifted on top of you, lowering his legs and bringing his body flush with yours. His cock throbbed against your belly, precum leaking out of the tip. You groaned into his mouth and wrapped your legs around him, gently thrusting your hips into his.

Eggsy moaned in response and met your thrusting, grinding your hips into the mattress. The two of you continued on like that for only God knows how long – tenderly kissing and simultaneously fighting for dominance, Eggsy precum leaking onto your stomach as you own juices ran down the curve of your ass and began to pool on the sheets beneath you. The feeling was driving you crazy, and knowing that his cock was right there wasn’t helping. Still, you didn’t want this to end so soon. And it would end soon. Eggsy was just as desperate as you were, and you already had one orgasm under your belt tonight. The poor guy must be going out of his mind.

You tore your lips away from his.

“Eggsy,” you whispered, “fuck me. Please. Fuck me.”

“You sure, love?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please Eggsy. I want your cock.”

Eggsy growled in response and snatched the condom from you hand. You felt his cock twitching in anticipation as he tore open the packaging and you couldn’t blame the poor thing. You had just cum a few minutes ago and your cunt was already soaking and more than ready to go again.

You let Eggsy take full control and he rose back to his knees and grabbed your hips, pulling them to meet his and bringing your leg flat against his torso while hooking the other one around his waist. Eggsy positioned his cock at you entrance and slowly pushed in, eyes rolling back in his head as he entered you warm, pulsing cunt. His body tensed as he fought off his own aching release, just as you fought off yours. It felt so damn good, the feeling of him sliding into you, filling you up and stretching you out. But if you came now, it’d be over, and neither of you wanted that.

You were both still for a moment, focusing on your breathing and on very distinctly not cumming, when Eggsy suddenly growled, bit his lip, and starting pounding into you. You tried your best to meet his thrusts, even with your odd position, but soon he was going too fast for you to do anything but hang on and enjoy the ride.

The room was filled with sounds of sex. Skin slapping against skin, groans, grunts, and moans, the headboard beating against the wall and Eggsy’s movements became quicker and more powerful. But you couldn’t hear any of it. The only thing you could focus on was how good Eggsy felt inside of you, how amazingly he stretched you out, how electric you felt, and how close you were to cumming. It was right there, so close, but something wasn’t right. Something needed to change for you to get there – and dammit, you wanted to get there – but you were being fucked too senseless to figure it out.

Luckily, Eggsy was on the same page as you. He briefly pulled completely out of you before readjusting his hold on your hips and looking down at you.

“Turn over,” he said, breathless.

You followed his demand and flipped over, bracing yourself on your hands and knees. Eggsy repositioned himself behind you and gripped your thighs, spreading your legs a little further apart. You felt the swollen head of his cock tease you entrance as he realigned himself before slammed back into you.

You cried out in pleasure as he immediately began his merciless pace once more. Your cries became louder as he brought down an open palm on the bare cheek of your ass, rushes of further arousal accompanying the sting of the pain. You set a hand on the headboard to try to stabilize yourself as he continued to pound into you. His name became your mantra as you begged him for more, to go harder, to go faster.

Eggsy reached down and grabbed a handful of your hair, yanking back and sending you flying over the edge into your second orgasm of the night. Your own cries were so loud you barely heard Eggsy’s pleasured moan as he stilled behind you, emptying himself into the condom as your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

Reality slowly began to take hold again as you came down from your high, body still twitching with aftershocks. You bit down on your lip and fell to your forearms as you felt Eggsy still rutting into you, his cock just as hard as before and his grip tighter on your hips. You smiled devilishly at his desperation and ground back against him, humming in delight at the strangled cry that left his mouth. You took control as Eggsy lost his, clenching your walls around him as you went, and milking three more mini-orgasms from his over-sensitive cock.

“Oh g-od!” Eggsy called in a ragged voice as the final orgasm took him over, his thighs shaking and face red with exertion. You smiled proudly to yourself, carefully sliding him out of you and rolling on you back. You giggled to yourself as you looked up at Eggsy, fucked out of his mind with a dopey smile on his face.

Good to know you still had it in you.

“Holy fuck, Y/N,” he mumbled, eyes finally meeting your own. “That was fucking mental.”

You giggled again.

“I’m inclined to agree,” you said plainly.

“Oh, are you?” Eggsy retorted, shooting you a cheeky grin as he rolled the condom off of his softening member, tying it off and throwing it in the trash can before collapsing face-first next to you on the bed.

“I can’t feel my legs,” he muttered in the mattress.

You laughed. “Well, I can feel too much of my ass.”

Eggsy turned his head to the side and peaked up at you, grin still firmly in place.

“You seemed to enjoy it from where I was kneeling, love.”

You laughed again, using the momentary distraction to hoist yourself up off the bed so you could start painfully waddling to the bathroom and handle your pre-requisite post-coital business.

Once you were done washing up, you returned to the bed to find Eggsy passed out in a blissful sleep, still buck naked, without a care in the world. You smiled to yourself as you walk back to the bathroom, dampening a washrag and bringing it back out to the bed with you. Eggsy began stirring as you cleaned him up.

“Whatchya doin’ down there, love?” He asked a tired grin.

“Cleaning you up,” you answered simply. You had to clean up after sex if you wanted to avoid bacterial infections and next morning unpleasantness. Eggsy couldn’t do it himself, so you did it for him. Plain and simple.

“Yeah?” he asked, propping himself on his elbows to get a better look at you. “Can’t say anyone’s ever done that before.”

His admission startled you.

“Well,” you said as you walked back to the bathroom and tossed the rag in the sink, “you’ve had some pretty shitty partners.”

“And one great one,” he told, dazzling you with his brilliant smile. “We should partner up again some time, you and me.”

You nodded as you crawled back onto the bed and turned off the bedside lamp. “Yeah, I’m sure the Cuplers and Kingsmen could have a great relationship.”

Eggsy laughed at your diversion, turning onto his side to face you in the darkness of the room.

“And what about Eggsy and Y/N, huh?” He asked lightly, eyes trained on you in the low light, carefully watching for your reaction.

You smiled, rolling your eyes and thanking yourself for turning out the light so he couldn’t see the full extent of your embarrassment. You were more than eager to some kind of relationship with the cute, funny, fucks-you-stupid British spy, but you didn’t need him to know that. Eggsy was already one cocky son of a bitch, and after all the frenzied pleas he’d pulled from you tonight, you were sure is ego was at maximum capacity. You didn’t need to add to it any more than you already have.

“I think Eggsy and Y/N might be able to work something out,” you responded coyly. Though, judging by his chuckle, Eggsy saw right through that.

Damn.

“Glad to hear it,” he said quietly, wrapping his arm around your waist and snuggling up next to you.

“Oh, and Eggsy?”

“Hmm?”

“Put on some socks,” you told him. “I don’t wanna deal with your ice feet tonight.”

You shrieked in delight as Eggsy swatted your bottom, chuckling lowly into the crook of your neck before kissing you goodnight.

Oh yeah, you two could definitely work something out.

A/N: Let’s hope this one posts right. This site is a hellhole

#eggsy x reader #eggsy unwin x reader #kingsman fic #smut #this is like the third time this has happened

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blustersquall · 7 years

Text

Only Make Believe // Chapter 14: Explanations pt. 2

As before, because of tumblr’s interface, the link to this chapter on AO3 is in the source link of this post. <3

TRIGGER WARNING, PLEASE READ: I want you guys to be safe and comfortable reading this fic, so please, please be aware this chapter contains mentions of the follow: mental, emotional, and physical abuse, sexual coercion, non-consensual sexual acts (brief mentions of), gas lighting and stalking. Please take care of yourselves while reading this chapter. If any of the things mentioned are triggering or upsetting, or you find yourself getting overwhelmed, please, please take care of yourself first. Your mental well being is far more important.

December 22nd, early morning

When Cullen woke with the softness of a mattress beneath him, his first thought was he was home in Denerim, in his own apartment and in his own bed. Without opening his eyes, he stretched his arm out over in the direction of his bedside table looking for his phone to check the time. When he continued to press down on soft covers, he groaned and opened his eyes, peering blearily into the low-lit room.

In an instant, he remembered where he was. He jerked up quickly, dislodging a weight from on top of his left arm. Nevena stirred beside him giving a soft moan of protest at being disturbed. Cullen held his breath, waiting for her to settle and go back to sleep. She did not stir again and he gave a small sigh of relief, willing the slight sense of panic he felt to disappear. Last thing he needed was an awkward conversation pertaining to where his hand was – draped over her hip, completely innocent.

Despite the alertness he now felt, he paused a moment and watched her sleep. He noticed the slow rise and fall of her arm over her chest and listened to the steadiness of her breathing. A smile came to his lips, unbidden.

The last time he had slept with anyone was several years ago and he had forgotten how good this part was and how much he enjoyed it. Waking up with someone and the quiet calm that came with it. The contentment and warmth gained from realising you were trusted so much by someone, that they were willing to let you be with them at their most vulnerable. A section of hair lay over half of Nevena's face as she moved and rolled from her back onto her side. Cullen considered pushing it away, but the gesture would be too intimate and familiar. He thought better of it and instead reached into his back pocket where he could feel his phone buzzing intermittently.

Cullen winced when he tapped a button for the phone to come to life. He was sure sleeping on it was probably not the best way to treat such a delicate piece of equipment and wouldn't be surprised if it was broken. It flashed to life. Screen intact, battery a little low, but otherwise in the same condition as before.

On checking the time - nine minutes past midnight - he also saw in the last few hours he received no less than six missed calls and a handful of voicemails and messages, all of which were from the number he now recognised as Roselyn’s. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep, just to wait until Nevena was resting and then he planned to call Roselyn back. That clearly backfired and now he wasn't sure if it would be considered too late to call her and let her know everything was fine.

As he considered it - the etiquette of late night calls to near strangers was not exactly something he was knowledgeable about - his stomach growled loudly. Cullen grimaced, realising how hungry he actually was. The last meal he had was around mid-morning the previous day. Skipping meals wasn't that unusual for him, but his body often complained when he did. He also wasn't sure when Nevena had last eaten. If she woke soon he could only assume she might be a little hungry.

Quelling his hunger his primary objective, Cullen gingerly climbed off the bed, pausing to smooth out the duvet where he had slept. He tip-toed around the bed to the door, holding his breath and wincing each time he put a foot down on the ground in case it woke Nevena. He wasn't sure if she was a light or heavy sleeper, and didn't want to find out as he was sneaking out of the bedroom. Anything to avoid uncomfortable or awkward conversations.

Once the door was securely closed behind him Cullen released his breath. He went to the kitchen, putting his phone to one side, and examined the food in the fridge. He could whip up something simple with what they had, and would make extra in case Nevena woke up. After preparing some eggs and finding the utensils he would need, Cullen returned his attention to his phone and the messages while waiting for the oven to heat up.

He checked the messages. Unknown number: Any news? It's Roselyn. [18:31]

Seriously? Is she okay? I haven't had another message. I'm worried. Roselyn (again). [19:02]

Text me back, let me know she's okay. Still Roselyn. [19:40]

HELLO?! [20:00]

Don't make me drive up there. [20:13]

You could at least pick up the phone. [21:21]

I'm going to bed. Just text me when you get these messages. If I haven't heard from you or Nev by tomorrow, I'm driving to Haven and bringing her home myself. I'm not joking. [23:25]

Cullen deleted all but one message as he read them and erased the missed calls from his notification bar also making a mental note to delete the voicemails the next day. He leaned on the kitchen counter as he began to type out a reply.

Hey, sorry for not replying or picking up the phone. Nevena is safe, we're back at the cabin. She's okay. A little shaky, I think. Couldn't get much out of her. She wanted to lay down when we got back and we fell asleep. She's fine though. I'll ask her to call you tomorrow. - Cullen

He sent the message and turned his attention back to cooking. Thirty seconds later, his phone began to buzz insistently on the counter. He grabbed it and put it to his ear, "Hi, Roselyn."

"What do you mean you fell asleep too? With her?"

"No," Cullen sighed. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger over his eyes. "No, nothing like that. She was drained when we got back and wanted to sleep, so I let her. I was tired, so I slept too. Separately." He hoped he sounded convincing. "Didn't you say you were going to bed half an hour ago?"

"I'm in bed," Roselyn replied. "And my husband is - Alistair, stop it - is trying to take my phone away - Alistair, I swear! No, stop it - Give me my -"

"This is Roselyn's husband," a sleepy male voice croaked through the receiver. "She's going to bed now. Tell Nevena to call her when she's up to it. That'd be great, thanks."

Before Cullen could reply, the call cut off and he stared at his phone, bemused. He wondered for a moment if he interrupted something, but quickly rid that thought from his mind, deciding he didn't want to know. After putting his phone onto charge he returned to the kitchen to continue cooking. With the oven now heated, he slid a tray of bacon rashers inside and set the timer for ten minutes. Bacon and scrambled eggs - breakfast food was good no matter what time it was. And it was bound to be breakfast time somewhere in the world.

He cooked in relative silence, broken only by his own occasional hum and cleaned up as he went. While waiting for the timer he tidied the living area, dimming the main light and turning on a couple of lamps to make things less harsh. He wondered if Ineria was sleeping soundly after putting Nevena in such a state. If she told anyone about how her day with Nevena unravelled. Did anyone even ask her why she left with Nevena and came back alone? Would any of Nevena's family even care?

Cullen was discovering a new appreciation for his own family after being around one like Nevena's. His siblings bothered him sometimes, and as children they had bickered a lot, but they were good people. He loved them intensely, and they loved him. He owed them more than he could possibly repay and knew that if any of them ever needed him, he would drop whatever he was doing in an instant. And the same could be said of them. One value their parents instilled in them all was how important family was, and it was a value Cullen tried to uphold. Being around Nevena and her family, he was realising that perhaps not everyone believed that or felt the same way.

He was putting serious consideration into offering to take Nevena back to Denerim again following this most recent upset, when he heard the bedroom door open. He stopped what he was doing, eyes snapping up to Nevena walking out into the main living area. She wore her grey hoodie over her pyjama top and had pulled her hair back into an unruly ponytail. Glasses on, she looked sleepy, as though she was still in the process of waking up. Her face and eyes had lost the redness of earlier, and she fiddled with the hem of her sleeve as she approached.

"Hey," Cullen greeted her, keeping his voice low. He put the spoon he was using to stir to one side and wiped his hands on a dish towel before coming around to where Nevena was standing. "How're you feeling?" Instinctively his hand went to the back of his neck. Stupid question to ask.

"M'okay." Nevena smiled wearily. "You're cooking?"

"Are you hungry?" She didn't want to go into any detail, Cullen wouldn't ask. "There's enough for the both of us."

"Sure. I could eat, I guess." She stuffed her hands into the pouch on her hoodie. "Do you need any help?"

"No, nearly done." Cullen returned to the kitchen. "Take a seat."

Cullen dished up two plates and they sat in uneasy silence. Nevena picked at her food, eating little and spending more time staring at it than anything else. Cullen didn't take it personally - he could only imagine what was rolling around in her head. That she managed a few mouthfuls was better than nothing. There were questions piling up in his head that he wanted to ask. Questions that he wasn't sure were good ones, or even the right ones to ask. But then, what were the right questions to ask in this situation? Were there any questions he could ask that wouldn't seem insensitive or as though he was prying into her life?

He kept his mouth shut on personal matters, choosing to stick to more mundane topics of conversation. There were brief moments of awkward small talk, interspersed with longer periods of silence and the clink of metal on ceramic. When Nevena pushed her plate away, Cullen took it and went to the sink with both. If he tidied and made a show of being tired, maybe they would both go to bed and things would be less uncomfortable in the morning. That was the hope at least.

Nevena went from the dining room table to sit on the sofa. As she sank down on the cushions, Cullen saw her pull her knees up into her chest. Whatever passed between Nevena and Ineria earlier seemed to have had a profound effect. This was a new side to Nevena, a new subdued and quiet side that Cullen wasn't sure he liked. It was weird and made him feel uneasy.

"Were you on the phone earlier?" Nevena asked as Cullen washed up.

"Yeah." Cullen put the clean plates to one side. "You friend Roselyn called me after I texted to let her know you were okay. She wants you to call her in the morning."

"Okay."

"If you're feeling up to it," added Cullen. He dried his hands on a clean dish towel. "She was threatening to drive up here."

"Sounds like Roselyn," sighed Nevena. While he couldn't see her face, Cullen felt like there was more she wanted to say. His mind was blank of words and platitudes he could give that might make her feel better anyway, so he waited, busying his hands with putting cutlery and crockery away. "Hey, uhm..."

Cullen turned his attention to her. "Hm?"

"Come here for a minute." Nevena indicated to the couch. Wiping his hands on his jeans, Cullen went and perched at one end. Nevena watched him sit. Eyes down cast she stared at her hands, winding her fingers around each other. "Do... Do you want to know why I kind of disappeared from my family for three years?"

"I thought it had something to do with your ex," Cullen said, slowly. He relaxed his position, leaning his elbow on the back of the sofa and his head against his fist. "That's the impression I got."

"It does. In part." Nevena lifted her gaze to him. "There's more to it. I feel like you deserve to know. Given... everything. That maybe it will..." She trailed and pushed her face into her hands. "Or not. It could be stupid."

Reaching over, Cullen gently wrapped his fingers around hers and guided her hands down from her face. "Tell me. Only if you want to."

"I want to." She stared at him, face drawn and tired, but a quiet determination set in her expression. Her brows furrowed, she exhaled deeply and nodded once. "Just... try not to see me as a terrible person afterwards, okay?"

"Okay." Releasing her, Cullen leaned back against the sofa and waited.

Nevena leaned her head back.

Before coming out of the bedroom all her thoughts were organized and intact. Now she was sitting with Cullen, hard truths on the tip of her tongue and waiting to be divulged, and she didn't know where to begin. There was so much to say and she worried what Cullen might think when he knew the facts. She didn't want him to hate her, or to see her as a terrible person in the way she viewed herself, and maybe he wouldn't. Maybe he would be like Roselyn and his opinion wouldn't change. Who knew? She wouldn't until she said something.

"So..." Nevena began. Her voice was quiet and she kept her eyes mostly on her hands in her lap. "My dad is a pack rat. He keeps everything. Receipts that are decades old, shopping lists, everything. As you can imagine that means he has a lot of filing cabinets and stuff." She pushed her fingers back through her hair pulling it from the messy ponytail it was in. "Around October three years ago, he and my mum were getting ready to move. The house they lived in, the house I grew up in, was too big for them as they aged. My mum had a hip operation, and they were moving somewhere smaller with no stairs. It was autumn break, so I went to help my dad go through all the papers he had."

Cullen shifted. "Your sisters?"

"Busy," shrugged Nevena. "Kids. Their own lives. And I didn't mind going to help. Despite appearances, my dad and I get on. We... were close. Anyway, most of my dad's files were in the attic. He and I were up there going through things. I found one cabinet were each draw was labelled with our names. One for Ineria, one for Clotilde, one for Arienne and one... for me." She began to rub the skin on the back of one hand, dull scratches creating faint reddish reels. "My sister's drawers contained old school reports, school photos, leaflets from open days, birthday cards they made for our parents when they were young. Sentimental stuff. Dad had to go downstairs to empty the shredder bin; I wanted to see what my parents kept from my childhood."

Pausing, she took a deep breath. Her chest was tight and it hurt to breathe so hard, but the sensation of air filling her lungs and being expelled gave her a moment to focus and centre herself. A moment she needed.

"My drawer had some stuff, reports, a few other things... nothing on the scale of my sisters’. But... one thing stuck out the most. At the far back of the draw was one file. It didn't have anything written on it, but opening it I came across adoption papers. A lot of them." She pursed her lips, still staring at her hands to avoid looking at Cullen. "I was adopted when I was a baby. There were no details about who my parents were or… anything, really so I think it was a closed adoption from what I've researched online. All I found out was that I was adopted when I was eight months and my birthday is May 21st." Nevena chuckled a little and began to twist a segment of hair dangling by her face. "Suddenly a lot of things made sense to me, like the fact there were no photographs of me before I was one-year-old, and that my mum and sisters were so... cold towards me growing up. I wasn't considered part of their family, not really, and no one ever told me."

Cullen moved a little closer to her, quickly pushing a hand through his hair as he listened intently.

Nevena curled her legs underneath her. "I was… confused and angry. I never told my parents or my sisters that I found out. I probably should have, but I didn't know how. So, at the time, running away so I could get my head straight seemed the better option than confronting it. I made my excuses to my dad and went home. At the time, I was dating Rick and over the four years of our relationship he had... whittled down what confidence and self-esteem I had until it was practically non-existent. His controlling nature put blockades between me and all the friends I had before him, including Roselyn. He was the only person I felt like I could trust because he orchestrated it that way.

"Stupid, really. I told him what I'd discovered and his response basically boiled down to: 'I don't care. It doesn't matter to me, it shouldn't matter to you. Let it go.' Every time I brought it up he would get angry with me for dwelling on the past, so I stopped. I bottled it up. Christmas came, we spent two days with everyone at my parents’ house before they moved. I'd spent three months keeping everything in check and tightly controlled. Every minute I spent with my family that year, I was fighting not to scream or burst into tears." She smiled wryly across at Cullen. "Perfect time for a proposal, right?"

"Rick... proposed to you then?" asked Cullen.

"He'd asked before; made hints and suggestions. I always said I wasn't ready or that I didn't want to ever get married. The truth is, I didn't want to marry him." She shrugged her shoulders. "I'd tried to end things with him so many times before, but always ended up backed into a corner feeling guilty for hurting his feelings. He used the same backing-me-into-a-corner tactic that Christmas. He knew by proposing to me in front of my whole family I wouldn't say no. I wouldn't do it because I wouldn't want to deal with their criticism. It was the perfect opportunity." Nevena's hands returned to her lap, the rubbing and light scratching resumed. Cullen reached across and took both her hands without a word. "Rick asked me... I said yes because everyone was watching, staring... I regretted it a moment later and I think... I think that was my breaking point. We didn't live together, mercifully. When we got back to Denerim he tried to come in to my flat. I said no. I gave him the ring back, said I couldn't marry him. That I didn't want to be with him, and I closed the door in his face."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," Nevena nodded slowly. She realised she was staring at a pattern on a cushion on the couch, blinked hard and sighed. "I hoped that would be it." She met Cullen's gaze, her lips curling into a small smile. "Stupid and fucking naïve of me."

Cullen shifted, moving a little closer on the couch so he was no longer leaning against one arm of it. He still kept a gentle hold of Nevena's hands and she noticed how nice his hands were. Distinctly bigger than her own, his skin had a rough texture, warm, but there was no real grip in his hold. She could pull her hands away and he would allow her to.

"So, what happened with Rick?"

"Let me give you some context about Rick," Nevena said. She pushed her glasses on top of her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "He'd always been possessive and controlling, since the day we met. Our first date he ordered for me, food, drinks, everything. When we were together, he would get so jealous of everything I did. If I went out with friends, he would text and call obsessively, demanding to know where I was, and who I was with, and when I would be home. We weren't even living together. He would turn up at places I was spending time with friends and interject himself into my social circle. Sometimes he would act… weird, like, just do little things that only I noticed, and when I would confront him, he would say I was imagining it. That I was overreacting to him being friendly and wanting to get to know my friends." She leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. "On the rare occasions he admitted wrong-doing his go to apology was along the lines of: 'I just don't like you doing anything without me. I care about you too much. Thinking about you with other people makes me crazy. Just don't do it, and we'll be fine.'"

"Are you serious?" Cullen's voice held an element of disbelief. "That was an apology?" he scoffed.

"Oh yeah," Nevena nodded, "and as time drew on, his 'apologies' became non-existent. He berated me until I was a shell of the person I was when I met him. Eventually he came up with a strategy to win every time we argued - which was a couple of times a week at least. Only used it when he was in the wrong though. If I was in the wrong it was something he would exalt in, crowing about it like it was some victory to lord over me."

"And this strategy was...?"

"Say and do nothing," Nevena smirked. "He was asthmatic and he used it to get his way. Arguments would usually start because he was in the wrong and refused to admit it. I'm not saying I was perfect, but I at least admit when I wrong - he would remind me of it all the time, of course, but that's beside the point. When he was wrong, and I would try to get him to admit it, he would do this... this thing. At first he would just sit, put his fingertips together, like this," she demonstrated, "and stare into the middle distance. He wouldn't move, would hardly blink. At first it would creep me out so much that I would crumble immediately and take the blame myself. Sometimes I would let it go on for a long time, the silence just growing and growing. It's why I sometimes talk endlessly to fill silence. It can make me uncomfortable.

"When I started trying to stick up for myself and not put up with his crap he would begin breathing really short and fast breaths. He would try to bring on an asthma attack, and succeeded several times. After a year or so, the silence wouldn't last and the short breathing would begin almost instantly until he was on the verge of an asthma attack. It got so bad, and I was always so scared he would bring on a bad episode I would apologize over and over, but he wouldn't stop until I was literally on my knees, crying and begging him to stop, and saying I was the one in the wrong, and that he was right. He was always right."

"Can I ask," Cullen huffed, his cheeks pushing out on the breath he exhaled. "I don't really know how to phrase this... You don’t have to answer, if you don’t want to. Tell me if I’m…” he cleared his throat, “did he... ever...?"

"Get violent?" Nevena finished.

"In a manner of speaking."

Her lips curled at the corners into a grim smile. "Sometimes. At first he would just... threaten it. A fist would fly past my face and hit a wall when he got angry. Or he would lash out as if to smack me and stop himself at the last minute, resorting to patting my cheek, when I'm sure he meant to slap me." She bit her lower lip. Maybe this was too much information. Maybe she should stop. For Cullen's sake, as well as her own. Talking about Rick always filled her with dread, and now was no exception. She wished the lights were brighter, the amount of shadows were making her uneasy - she could just imagine him stepping out from the gloom. "He... uhm..." She scrunched her eyes closed and breathed deep. "He preferred leaving bruises that weren't obvious. That weren't immediately visible." Opening her eyes, she levelled Cullen with a look. "If... If you catch my meaning."

Cullen opened and closed his mouth. Nevena could see him trying to find a way to word whatever question was in his mind. "So... bruising? Under your clothing?"

"That. And he liked rough sex," Nevena said, hoping her grimace was not obvious. "Really rough. He would leave bite marks, bruises, he drew blood a few times. He didn't respect boundaries, what I was comfortable with. Safe words didn't exist to him. And the words 'no' or 'stop' had no meaning... It was very... him centric. As long as he got off, he was happy. Honestly, by the time things got that bad I... I'd lost almost all my will to fight him on anything. I'd lie there and take it." She breathed out uneasily feeling her chest constrict. Pain tingled behind her nose and she fought to hold back tears that were threatening to well up in her eyes. "I think it made things better for him. If I... when I cried. Or bled. Or..." Feeling bile rising up her throat, Nevena swallowed thickly and the rest of her words died in her mouth.

"Oh." Cullen's face was grave. His voice still. "I see. I'm... I'm sorry. So sorry that happened to you." He gingerly reached towards Nevena and she allowed him to take her hands. "If that was an inappropriate question to ask, I--"

"No," Nevena shook her head and sniffled. "It’s fine. It's best to ask questions, if you want to." She swallowed again and closed her eyes to centre her thoughts. A tear slipped down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away.

"Nevena," Cullen said gently, "if you don't want to talk about this, please don't force yourself."

"No, no. I'm fine." She replied, trying to smile. "It's just... sometimes I feel like just thinking about him will summon him to wherever I am."

Cullen moved closer, "Nev..."

"Skipping forward to when I broke up with him," she continued hurriedly, "it went about as well as you can probably imagine. At the time, I was living in a building with maintenance and a super. Rick started kicking the door after I closed it. He was shouting, screaming, making a scene and threatening me through the door. I called down to the super, as did a few other residents apparently. Rick was escorted from the building and barred."

"That's good, right?"

"Hah, you'd think." Nevena gave a strained laugh. "Roselyn never liked Rick, and he didn't like Roselyn. While he and I were together, it created a huge chasm between Rose and me... We didn't talk for about a year, but Roselyn was the first person I called when I broke up with him. I didn't have anyone else I felt like I could tell. I would have understood if she'd put the phone down on me, but she didn't. She came over, sat with me, and we talked. I told her pretty much everything I'm telling you, now.

"She kind of took charge because I was flip-flopping between whether I'd made the right choice or not. I was terrified that Rick would bring on an asthma attack and hurt himself, and it would be my fault. Roselyn kept reminding me that Rick was a grown man. If he chose to do that, the consequences were on him..." Nevena sighed. "She removed Rick from all my social media, blocked him on Facebook, twitter. In the space of him being escorted from my building, he'd called and texted dozens of times. Roselyn blocked him on my phone. She went with me the next day to get my number changed. She was... amazing."

"Sounds like she really cares about you."

"She does," Nevena nodded. "She and Alistair, the both of them, were great through the whole ordeal. I crashed on their couch for a month one time, and they didn't complain at all. I'm really lucky to know them both."

"I take it changing your number wasn't the end of it?"

"Not even slightly." Nevena ran her hands back through her hair. "Eventually, I told my sisters and my parents. Rick had already told them and given them a tearful rendition of the break up and how I was being unreasonable. Naturally, they took his side over mine. I was given lectures from all sides, about how I was being selfish, how I would never find someone as good as Rick was. I tried to explain, and none of them would listen. My dad wouldn't speak to me, said I'd done irreparable damage to him and his fucking company." Tears burned her eyes and made the space behind her nose uncomfortable. Nevena rubbed her sleeve over her face gritting her jaw. She shuddered and told herself it was just the cold. "He didn't care at all about what damage Rick did to me over four years. None of them did."

"Hey, it's okay." Cullen moved closer still, until his knees were touching her leg. He took her hands again, and then moved his grip further up her arms until he was holding her gently by the shoulders. "Nevena, you don't have to continue, if you don't want to."

"No." She sniffed and took a few moments to regain her composure. "I do. I want to. I'm fine." She rubbed her eyes. "I'm fine. I can do this. Please let me. I want you to know. To… to understand."

"If you're sure." He sat back.

"I'm sure." A brief smile. "I am. So," Nevena huffed, dropping her shoulders. "After getting no support from my family, I decided to stick with the people I knew were on my side. I didn't count on my family trying to help Rick get back into my life, though. Ineria gave Rick my new number after the first time I changed it. It happened again, with Clotilde, and with Arienne. Every time I changed my number, they gave it to him. They all thought they were helping. They thought they were helping when they invited him to a family get together where I was going to be. They loved Rick. Far more than they loved me, it seems... I stopped giving them my number after the fifth time I changed it. I didn't reply to emails from them. I didn't want them to be in my life if they were going to try and coerce me into a relationship I didn't want. If they wanted to have Rick over me, they could have him.

"The thing is, they never knew, or never wanted to know, how bad it got. How close I came to..." Nevena shook her head and tucked her hands into her sleeves. "In the months following breaking up with him, a new side of Rick came out. A side I had only ever seen glimpses of. He started stalking me. He would be across the street when I left in the morning to go to work. He would be outside the school as the kids were going home. I would get letters from him containing photographs of me while I was out doing mundane tasks. He would write things like... he liked how a certain shirt looked when I was wearing it. The letters started off just plain pathetic and creepy, but they became violent. He would write about how he wanted to take me away, somewhere no one would find me, and--"

"Wait." Cullen spoke up, placing a hand on Nevena's. She looked up at him. His expression was hard, brows furrowed with a crease across his forehead. There was anger in his face, disgust too. His free hand was balled tightly into a fist, the knuckles white. "The police. You went to the police, right?"

"I did..."

"And?"

"They couldn't do anything."

A bark of laughter left Cullen's mouth. "You're joking, right? He was threatening to abduct you, he was stalking you... and they couldn't do anything?"

Nevena shook her head slowly. "No. I mean, I had an officer to liaise with, Captain Aveline Vallen. She was the one I gave all the letters to, all the proof. But because he only threatened to act and hadn't actually done anything, it was all circumstantial, stuff that could be used as back up proof if he ever did go through with the things he threatened. It wasn't considered serious enough for a restraining order or anything. She said you can't arrest someone for planning something, only if they do it. Otherwise the police would arrest every person who threatened to kill someone in the heat of an argument or a drunken rage."

"That's ridiculous," Cullen scoffed.

"It's how things are..." Nevena shrugged. "Aveline was great though. She wanted to do more than she could, you just knew she did. But she was bound by the higher powers."

"And this... this behaviour carried on for eighteen months?"

"About that, yeah." Nevena swept her hair over one shoulder. "My life became all about working. I felt safer at work. It's a private school so we have security, and the head mistress, Madam Vivienne noticed I wasn't myself early on. When I told her what was happening, she increased security and had them on the lookout for Rick all the time - she was worried about me, but also the students. If he turned up, he was escorted off the grounds. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing and it felt good to have that security at work." Pausing, Nevena moved, uncurling her legs and stretching them out towards the coffee table. She winced through pins and needles shooting through her limbs.

"Honestly, going to and from work was the worst, next to being home. Sometimes he would be on the same train or bus as me and just... sit there, staring. Not doing anything, just following me. I would get off the train and run all the way home. I changed the locks on my front door, had a security alarm installed as well extra locks on the windows, just in case. I lived in fear for... a long time. There were times I wouldn't leave the house for days, I would keep the curtains drawn. I was diagnosed with anxiety. My whole life was spiralling out of my control because of one person. And aside from Roselyn and Alistair, I didn't have anyone else's support. My family picked Rick over me and as far as I was concerned, I was done with them."

"I'm sorry." Cullen took both her hands in his and brought them to his mouth. Nevena's skin tingled where he kissed it and she fought back the prickling behind her eyes. "For everything he put you through." The gesture and words were sincere and unexpected; Nevena's chest tightened a little when he lifted his eyes to hers. For a split second it was like she couldn't breathe. "I can't imagine what it was like for you."

"It wasn't the best time, no," she replied managing to catch her breath that hitched. "But, there's a happy ending. Kind of. If you're not bored."

"Never." He continued to hold her hands, thumbs making regular brushes over her knuckles. Nevena watched the repetitive motion. "Tell me."

Nevena cleared her throat. "Realising that he wasn't going to leave me alone, Roselyn hatched a plan to entrap him. She'd probably been watching too many true crime shows, but we all knew we needed to catch Rick actually doing something. I gave her access to all my social media. She unblocked him and over a week messaged him as me. As me, she told him how much I missed him, how much I regretted breaking up with him, and that I was just overwhelmed with the proposal." Nevena laughed softly to herself. "I don't know if she expected it to work, but Rick bought it and within a week arranged to meet 'me'."

"But it was Roselyn?"

"Mhm-hm. She arranged the meet up on a school day after work. She and Alistair sat at a table with a clear view to where Rick was sitting. I wasn't coming. At all. I didn't even know she arranged this until later."

"Right."

"As Roselyn kept texting him on a spare phone she had, Alistair recorded the whole thing. As me, Roselyn told Rick I was running late and to order me something. I don't drink alcohol much, Roselyn knows that. So does Rick. She asked for a soda, he ordered some sort of soda vodka mix... And Alistair caught him on camera lacing the drink meant for me with something."

"Like... a drug?"

"Yeah. It was tested by the police after Rick was arrested. It was a tranquilizer, like rohypnol, that would have made it seem like I was very, very drunk if ingested. Effectively making me vaguely aware of things but not in control of myself, I guess?"

"So, he was arrested?" Cullen asked.

"Roselyn called Aveline as soon as she and Alistair realised what Rick had done. Aveline arrived, Rick was arrested - without putting up a struggle, it was like he knew he'd been caught. He was taken to a holding cell temporarily and charged with possession of a controlled substance. When all the other evidence in relation to the stalking came to light, that was also added to the charges along with harassment... He was supposed to get a long jail sentence."

"He didn't?"

Nevena shook her head with a bitter smile. "Not even a month. He was out on bail within twenty-four hours. Having a rich, influential family helps an awful lot. He was given a fine, community service, and a court order to attend a psychiatric evaluation. I think his family took him to Tevinter, or Antiva." She shrugged and pulled her hands from Cullen's to rub her arms. "I got my restraining order. Too little, too late. But I got it. And... then I moved to my loft. My old place just felt tainted. Since then, I've been trying to rebuild my life and my confidence."

"Oh."

"Yeah..." Nevena got to her feet, needing to stretch and put some space between herself and Cullen. She needed to put some space between herself and her account too. Talking about everything made her uneasy and recounting it all caused so much of the fear she felt then come flooding back. "Sorry, that was a lot to dump on you. I know it's kind of crazy."

"No, no, it's not that." Cullen stood up too. He ran his hands over his face and scratched his stubble. "I'm just... astounded, I guess? And angry. And confused, I think."

"Why?"

"Why did you think telling me this would make me think you're a terrible person?" Cullen crossed his arms over his chest. "If anything, I'm impressed by you. By how resilient you are. I'm about as much of a fan of your family as I was before, but you... You're just... remarkable. To experience that and still be the way you are."

A weak laugh fell out of Nevena's mouth. She grabbed the edge of the counter to support herself, feeling as though her knees were about to buckle. He was looking at her as though she were something or someone special. Like she was precious and rare. She was torn between asking him not to look at her like that, and never wanting him to stop looking at her in such a way. "I just... I thought, given how I handled it, with Rick, my family... I suppose I convinced myself I was a pretty shitty person for not really explaining to them. Or him."

"Sounds like you did try to explain things to them from where I'm standing," Cullen said, "and fuck explaining anything to Rick. That your family valued him over you is... maddening to me. Did you show them the letters? The photographs?"

"Yep," Nevena snorted. "They accused me of having someone take the photos for me, writing the letters myself. Ineria was convinced I was doing it for attention. And I guess... I could kind of understand their view."

Cullen scoffed, "You're joking."

"No." Slowly, Nevena began to sweep her fingers through her hair, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "In front of them, Rick was always a gentleman. He was a chameleon. He was charming and funny, very charismatic in public, and it was only to me he showed his true colours... Of course, his dad and mine were friends since childhood," She chuckled. "I didn't stand a chance against that."

"Of course," Cullen huffed.

Silence fell between them for several minutes. Nevena busied her hands by putting away the crockery and utensils Cullen used earlier. She could see him reflected in the kitchen window, his expression puzzled and thoughtful. Clearly Nevena had given him a lot to think about, and he would need time to mull it all over. She felt odd, having disclosed something so personal to him. Tired, vulnerable, but oddly lighter. She entrusted him with something sensitive and private, just as he had; the ground they were on now was even.

"Can I just clarify something?" he asked.

"Sure." Nevena went and leaned against the arm of the sofa. "What is it?" She stretched her legs out before her.

"Was it your intention to separate yourself from your family when you found out you were adopted?"

"No," Nevena said, without a moment of hesitation. "I wanted space, some time to think. I told Rick because I wanted to talk to someone about it. To get my head straight. My plan was to approach my dad about it when the stress of moving was done in the New Year. But then everything with Rick happened, and when my family picked him over me, I think I realised how little value I held to them."

Cullen came and leaned on the arm of the couch beside her, "So, in that case, why did you agree to come here? For Christmas? Why did you agree to put yourself through this?"

She bowed her head, biting her lips while considering his query. It was a good question, one she asked herself several times over the last few days. "Because... they're my family," she admitted in a small voice. "They're the only family I've known. And they're not perfect. My sisters are judgemental, my mum is a piece of work, my dad is a dinosaur, but they're all I've known my whole life. I love them, for better or worse, even if some of them don't love me. I wanted to reconnect with them." She smiled as she turned her head and looked at him, realising he was watching her. "I know it sounds stupid and probably doesn't make much sense."

"Not stupid," Cullen sighed, "I understand. I think." He reached across and tentatively took her hand in his, sliding his fingers between hers. Nevena's face warmed. She stared at their hands connected in her lap fighting for each inhalation to settle the butterflies in her chest. "Your family have no idea what a remarkable person you are, clearly."

"I'm not remarkable," she said, breathing out shakily. "I'm no different to anyone."

Cullen's free hand brushed the underside of her chin, a feather of a touch but she felt as it as though he'd grabbed her. She allowed him to guide her head to turn until she was looking up at him, hoping her swallowing down on her heart thudding at the back of her throat wasn't as obvious as it felt. He was looking at her again, with a softness and warmth in his expression that made Nevena's stomach coil and her toes curl. She remembered the kiss in the kitchen. A tingle came to her lips and she struggled not to let her eyes flick down and trace the shape of his mouth.

"Yes, you are."

Maker, he was handsome. He was handsome and genuine, and kind. Maybe if they'd met three years, two years, even a year before, things would be different for the both of them. Maybe if she'd known Cullen before Rick, none of it would have happened.

He didn't speak, not with words at least. His expression spoke for him, the affection she saw in his honey-brown eyes making her feel like she could simply fall into him. Maker's breath, she wanted to. His fingers under her chin drew back and forth softly along her jaw line and up, tracing over the shell of her ear to tuck her hair behind it.

She was leaning into him, willing him to kiss her, willing herself to simply give in. She wanted that same heady kiss again. She craved the fire and need she felt behind every touch and it was so tantalizingly close. His hand curved around to cradle the back of her skull. She wanted it, him, more than air, but a louder part of her mind was screaming. It would make things messy and confusing. It would only hurt more when the contract came to an end, if she allowed things to go any further. She didn't want to make things any more complicated. She didn't want him to feel like he should do this because of what she told him.

"Cullen," Nevena murmured, gathering every ounce of strength and will power.

His eyes slipped closed, his lips dangerously close to hers. "Nevena..."

She dropped her head so his lips pressed against her forehead. Even that was enough to make her heart stutter. "We shouldn't." Immediately his eyes flickered open. His cheeks were red and he pulled back, looking a little dazed. Nevena extracted her hand from his own. "I'm sorry." She slid off the arm of the couch and smiled weakly. "I just... I don't want this to be... weird."

He nodded a little, still wearing a look of mild confusion. "Yeah... yeah. I... I'm sorry, too."

"It's fine." Nevena ran her hand through her hair. "It's been a long night."

"Definitely." Cullen stood.

"I, uhm..." She reached for his arm, thought better of it and dropped her hand to her side. "Thank you. For listening. I mean... I appreciate you being so patient."

"Of course." Cullen slid his hands into his pockets. "Thank you for trusting me."

She felt awkward standing there, smiling half heartedly while desperately regretting not kissing him. A brief nod and she tucked her hands into the sleeves of her hoodie. "I'm going back to bed," she announced. "Guess I'll see you in the morning."

"Not too early?" he laughed, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

"Sure." Nevena closed the bedroom door behind her and quickly climbed back into bed. For a few minutes she stared at the door, hoping Cullen might just throw caution to the wind. Hoping he might come in, pin her down, and kiss her until she couldn't breathe. She would let him. She would enjoy it too, and keep him entwined in her arms until they were sweat slicked, and panting, and clinging to each other, unsure where one started and the other ended.

She bit her lip against the heavy, pleasant twisting of her stomach and quickly fled to the ensuite bathroom to splash water on her face. It had been a long time since she felt anything close to the way he made her feel. She wasn't sure if it was lust, or longing, or desire, a basic need for more intimate companionship, or more than that, but it was confusing and had the ability to overwhelm her better senses.

It was a dangerous feeling, and scary in its own way. Nevena wasn't certain if she wanted to embrace it or not.

So, that's Nevena's explanation. It's been a long time coming, and I hope it explains a few things pertaining to her behavior. It'll be interesting to see where this leaves her and Cullen's relationship, won't it?

I know this chapter is a quite tough to get through, this was very much a personal one for me, as a lot of what Nevena mentions here is stuff I experienced with my own ex (hey, write what you know, yeah?) Thank you for being with me on this journey so far, there is still plenty to come. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter despite its harsher content, please let me know what you think, if you can in comments, reblogs and tag flails - I really am eager to hear your thoughts and all comments/tag flails/reblogs are greatly appreciated (keep your local fic writer fed!). I'll see you in the next one. <3

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