#tw past abusive relationship

[guns-flowers]

Is the Valentin we see the genuine Valentin? What is he really like? Is he just as charismatic? Is he satisfied with his life?

I'd say definitely not. Valentin's temperament is actually a lot quieter, and I don't think he truly likes people. So it's kind of karmic justice he ends up stuck in his own personal Hell surrounded by them...until one realizes he only likes people based on how they can serve him and, unfortunately, everyone is kissing his feet in his circles pretty much.

As for the other question, no I wouldn't say Valentin is unhappy, but in truth he has nothing to be overly happy or unhappy about. He's basically been handed everything by his dad. His career, his house, his style, his wife. Yeah the wife thing didn't go well, but he still ended being the "winner" in that scenario. So there's no real sense of failure here but there's no accomplishment either.

In a lot of ways he represents what Mordecai could have become if he'd fully given in to Atlas' whims. Just kind of empty and throwing himself into a positive feedback loop to fill the void.

#♣guns & flowers #valentin❤️‍🔥 #tw past abusive relationship

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 8

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 16.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Thigh grinding/frottage, dirty talk, content is sexy. Gaslighting, panic attack, meltdown, trauma responses, family secrets. Summary: While the night after your date is unexpectedly wonderful, an unexpected visitor ruins a lot more than just your morning. And from there things seem to be getting more complicated before they can get better. Notes: As usual, I apologize for any errors that I might have missed. There is a LOT happening in this chapter. Right from the top there is a lot to digest, and there are some big BIG things happening as the plot ramps up! This chapter, I present to you: the Green Salon 💚

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7

Your fingers grip his shoulder the moment his lips meet yours, with sparks igniting under your fingertips and behind your eyes as soon as they fall shut. It feels like the ultimate irony, as one seemingly small kiss from a vampire breathes life into you in a way you can't describe but has you pressing closer in his arms and silently begging for more.

Max kept it light on purpose, knowing that you might push him away after the first press of his lips, but he can’t help the warmth that spreads through his body. The flash of rioting sensations as the loud, hard pound of his heart seems to echo in his chest. A heartbeat. That seeming myth where his dormant muscle springs to life and makes him gasp into your mouth.

The sharp, unexpected reaction from him has you feeling backward and breaking the kiss, searching his face for what went wrong. “Are you—I mean, did you not—?” You ask, brow furrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”

Max’s eyes are wide, glazed over and nearly black with surprise and desire mixed together. “It’s true.” He rushes out, almost breathless even though he has no need to draw breath. “The myth, I felt it. Queenie, my heart thumped.” It’s hard to explain how that could feel to a vampire, but it was blissful. Like being reconnected to an old memory.

“I—it beat?” Your eyes flick down to his chest immediately as though you could see it but what you truly want is to feel it.

“It did.” He practically giggles the confirmation, feeling like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin. Do all soulmate kisses feel this way? “I thought it was bullshit, but it’s true.”

“Do you want to see if it will happen again?” As overjoyed as he is at the sensation, you will admit…maybe that heartbeat that he felt was the one that your heart skipped.

“If it happens again, I can see kissing you every chance I get.” He admits with a small grin.

“Then I hope it happens again.” Because you dearly want to kiss him again, feeling a wave of bliss and relaxation flood your body at the reality of your soulmate being the one to share these moments with you now.

“Let’s find out, shall we?” Max asks as he leans in again. Anticipating that thump and at the last second, he grabs your hand and puts it over his heart.

This time you’re the one who gasps, practically jumping out of the bed when you feel the startlingly solid pump of that long-disused muscle in Max’s chest.

He laughs when your lips break apart from his, eyes nearly sparkling with joy. “I never—” he laughs again. “I never thought I would ever feel that again.”

“That’s incredible.” Both of you are staring at each other with wide eyes, shocked to the point of nearly giggling. “That’s absolutely incredible!”

“I don’t know— I can’t believe it was true.” He reaches out and cups your cheek. “You’re amazing.” He gushes. “You literally make my heart pound.”

“That’s not me,” you remind him sheepishly, feeling the praise is far too much for little, lowly you. “That’s just the soulmate connection.”

“It is you.” He insists. “You are my soulmate, so it’s you doing this.”

“It’s both of us.” The last thing you want is for him to get upset for any reason, so you’ll give an inch rather than anyone having to go a mile. Besides, you would do anything to keep that smile on his face. “And it seems like…It happens every time?”

“I think it does.” Max admits, caressing your cheek. “It wouldn’t be a bad thing at all. Could get addicted to kissing you without that perk.”

“Yeah?” It would upset him to hear but you would have understood if that was the only reason he enjoyed kissing you. To hear that it’s not is almost a miracle.

“Yeah.” He brushes his nose against yours and barely brushes his lips against yours. The thud isn’t huge, but he feels his heart jolt slightly. “But I want to make sure you’re addicted too.”

“That really isn’t something you have to worry about.” The second he was pressed against you, you knew that you never wanted to be anywhere else again.

“Why is that?” He asks, deciding to kiss along your jaw to see if it has the same effect.

Whether or not it’s making his heart beat, yours is skittering out of time as his mouth makes its way across your skin. “Because—” You shiver when he presses a kiss over your pulse and swallow a ragged breath. “I already am.”

“Yeah?” He grins against your skin and growls slightly. “So glad to hear that, Queenie.”

“Gods—why is that so sexy?” Overwhelmed by the feeling of him half covering you and drowning in the sensations of desire and pleasure, the question just slips out with no filter at all. Your mind is far too concentrated on mapping the contours of his arms, back, and shoulders to even think about what you’re saying.

“Primal reaction.” He grunts, enjoying the way you are melting against him. “If I scrape my fangs over your pulse, you’ll shiver and your little pussy will clench in reactive fear that your body perceives as pleasure. Tickles that cavewoman instinct to be with the strongest.”

“I guess I’m a cavewoman, then.” You know he would never put you in danger. You’ve talked about it very seriously. He would never drink from you or anything like that without another long discussion and explicit, enthusiastic consent. But…he does have a point. The animalistic side of you knows that he is much stronger and much more capable than any human man.

“Rawr.” He teases playfully, grinning at you.

His playful side is so carefully hidden from the rest of the world that you can’t help the way it makes the smile spread wide on your face when he shows it to just you. As if you were as much a safe haven for him as he is becoming for you. “You’re…” One of your hands drifts along his shoulder, fingers stretching to glide over his jaw, and you giggle softly in the dim light of your room. “You’re amazing. I hope you know that.”

“Long as you think so.” He doesn’t think so, despite his outward personality. “All that matters.” His lips touch every bit of skin you show him. Careful not to go beneath your clothes but he maps every inch.

It feels worshipful, and Max never pushes. He never takes advantage of your clothes shifting or lets his hands wander anywhere salacious. He is the picture of a gentleman as the two of you lay side-by-side tasting and touching every visible inch of each other.

He’s never spent much time making out. Most of the time it progresses on to other things, but he wants to take his time. You trust him and he doesn’t want to betray that.

If you were even the least bit tired before, you certainly aren’t now. Right now you’re aching. Doing everything you can not to writhe beside him as your body clearly wants to take things further but your mind just isn’t ready for the utter vulnerability that is sex. You have been just as careful to keep your hands in respectable place as he has, but your breathing has gone shallow and your heart beat has sped up, setting your entire body on fire.

“It’s okay.” Max croons. “I know what you need. Just let me make you feel good.” He doesn’t do anything more than shift a knee between your legs, pressing it down into the mattress and lets it anchor you to him more. You can grind down on him if you want, or ignore it. It’s up to you as he slowly kisses at your pulse again and again.

The unholy whimper that that draws from you is so much louder than you had anticipated, and you would be embarrassed if you weren’t so distracted by how perfect the pressure now is. His broad, muscled body looms over you like living protective armor and your hands shift when he moves so that one of them slips under his shirt by accident. A breathless apology comes right before your thighs clench down on his leg, and you instinctually shiver again at how good it feels.

“You can touch me, sweetheart.” He promises, growling again at how hot your hand is on his skin. “You can do whatever you want to me, with me. You tell me what you want.” Max has never been this selfless, but there’s something about you that makes him want to protect you - even from himself - while simultaneously giving you everything that you need.

“Want to make you feel good.” Without the pressure of demand for your attention, there is nothing more that you want than to give it freely to someone who cares about you. Who is sweet to you. Who values who you are, not what you can provide to him.

“Feel amazing, so….mission accomplished.” He chuckles against your throat and bites at it playfully, making sure that his fangs aren’t exposed. “Never felt this good before.”

“Can I…?” The question drifts off even though your fingers fumble with the hem of his shirt eagerly.

“You want my shirt off, sweetheart?” He pulls back to look into your eyes. Wanting to see them. “Or do you just want to touch me under it?”

“Can I take it off?” Surprised at your own boldness, you swallow again and try to catch a deep breath. But that’s very hard to do with his knee pressed determinedly against your throbbing pussy.

“Of course you can.” His grin is positively wicked and he eagerly allows you to pull the worn, soft fabric up and over his head. Hovering over you as it drags down his arms, and he hooks it out of your hand and tosses it aside onto the floor to be forgotten.

For a few long seconds it feels like all you can do is stare. He is sculpted like a statue and you can’t imagine how soulmates are assigned but in this moment you’re absolutely certain that there must be some kind of rule about physical attractiveness. Otherwise you can’t possibly fathom how you got a soulmate who is so fucking hot. “Fuck…” Even just one word, breathed out in disbelief, perfectly encapsulates how you feel right now.

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” He teases you with a wink. “If I give it up too soon, you might not respect me.”

“S’not what I meant,” you grumble, tentatively running one hand down the length of his chest and torso, noting every muscle along the way and the softness that guards them beneath his skin. “Just…can’t believe you’re actually real.”

“I know.” He feels bad for teasing you, shuddering at the way your hand caresses him. “I’m real, Queenie. All yours too.”

“That’s the most unbelievable part.” But the reassurance flips some sort of switch inside you, and you surge up to kiss him again with such ferocity that it drives your core down against his leg and you moan as his tongue licks into your mouth with the open, panting kiss.

When you take charge of the kiss, his heart gallops in his chest. Seemingly knocking against his ribs as he gives it back, his tongue starting to map your mouth while your hands trace the lines of his back.

The overwhelming combination of sensations is going to make you short circuit before long, you can feel it. The angle his thigh is at between yours is pressing the seam of your yoga pants against your clit and probably making it completely obvious how wet you are for him, but you can’t bring yourself to even feel the least bit bad about it. This is exactly what you didn’t know you wanted tonight and you’re never going to forget a second of it.

“It’s so good, sweetheart.” He groans, kissing down your jaw again. “So damn sweet for me. So sweet. Rub that little pussy against my thigh, baby.”

“Gods.” Another moan escapes you, muted as you gulp down air in heavy gasps. “Should‘be known you’d have a filthy mouth.”

“Of course I have a filthy mouth.” He hums. “As long as you like it.”

“It’s—” With a mind of their own, your hips roll downward and make you gasp in pleasure. “It’s brand new to me,” you admit, fingers digging into his side to hold him close. “But I like it.”

“I say anything you don’t like, you just tell me, sweetheart.” He tells you.

“I promise.” For now your entire mind is focused on the blinding pleasure building between your legs and wondering if you should try to reciprocate during or after.

“Thought about how you would taste like.” He confess as his tongue pulls back from your pulse. “But you’re so much sweeter. Making me wonder how you taste everywhere.”

“You—” Feeling like a deer caught in particularly strong headlights when you reel back to look up at him in surprise. “You…like…doing that?”

He smirks, looking up and you with a salacious wink. “Sweetheart, pussy is raw.” He reminds you playfully. “Anytime, I’ll bury my tongue inside you. Especially during that time. Love it.”

“I never even thought of that.” And now you feel like an utter idiot for not having it occur to you right away.

“Why would you think like that?” He asks, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours again and pressing his thigh against your clit harder.

“Can’t think at all right now,” you admit, letting the next moan he rips out of you roll through your body like a tidal wave.

“Good.” He chuckles, the sound filthy. “You’re in good hands. I’ll take care of you.”

As much as you may have doubted plenty of other things in your life, you haven���t had any reason to doubt that, and you tip your head to one side to let him explore as far down your neck as he can. “I’ll return the favor,” you promise him readily, knowing that he’s been fully hard in those sweatpants for ages now.

“Don’t worry about that.” The last thing he wants is for you to feel pressured to reciprocate anything. This is about wanting to touch you, make you feel good. It’s not a tit for tat situation. He nibbles on your collarbone and rolls his leg forward again.

“But—” The rest of your thought get washed away on a gasp and your hands squeeze his sides again as you shiver. If he keeps that up, it really won’t take long at all before you fall apart.

“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart.” He urges you, smirking when he can feel your entire body start to tense up. “Cum for me.”

Taking his encouragement as permission, your hips roll as if they have a mind of their own, and moments later you fingernails are digging into his shoulder blades while you desperately try to stifle what would otherwise be a very loud moan. You know your yoga pants are soaked the second you start to cum, and that he’ll be able to feel the sticky heat through his sweatpants as well, but you just can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he can make you feel this good without even using his hands.

Max is throbbing with need. Very aware that his cock has soaked the front of his sweats, but he ignores that. Too focused on the feeling of your entire body stiffening under him and the sound of your pulse pounding like your heart is going to beat out of your chest as you give him the sweetest cry.

“So I can start your heart, and you can stop mine,” you huff, working to get your breath back when the starbursts stop exploded behind your eyes and you can open them again to find him smiling down at you.

“Looks like.” He teases drolly, thoroughly amused by the breathless, blissful expression on your face. Dropping down to one elbow to press his lips to yours in the softest of kisses.

“And you’re sure you don’t want me to…?” You can feel him throb heavily against your hip, but you’re going to respect him like he respects you. No means no, if that is what he decides.

“I’m good, I promise.” He nudges his nose against yours too. “This was for you, sweetheart.” It’s not that he doesn’t want you to touch him, but he doesn’t want you to feel like you have to. “We’ll get there, I know we will.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Stealing a kiss from Max’s lips is just about the sweetest feeling in the world, and your hands graze softly over his back as you nuzzle into his side.

After he had rolled to his side, he had opened his arms for you to curl into him. Loving how easily you do. His arm folds around you and he hums with absolute pleasure as your chest presses to his bare one and he can feel your heartbeat on his body.

“I can’t believe you’re real.” You murmur again, this time at a whisper as you place a kiss over his heart.

“I can’t believe you are here.” He confesses softly, holding you securely against his body. The hour is late and he can feel the exhaustion starting to settle in your bones after the adrenaline starts to wear off. “Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe while you sleep.”

******

Dreams are frequent and fast that night, though nothing unsettles or worries you. Not even an anxiety dream about Max not being there in the morning, as if even your unsteady subconscious could fathom the thought. There is no knock from Renee like usual, no tray brought up so you can laze through a formal breakfast with your undead housemates. What wakes you instead is the sun, and right afterward the soft brush of Max’s knuckles on your shoulder.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Even though he had not fallen asleep, his voice is still a little raspy from disuse. Watching you slowly start to rise from your slumber is a privilege and he wonders if you realize how gorgeous you are sleep tousled.

“Morning.” A small stretch doesn’t take you from his arms, which is good because that’s exactly where you want to stay. Instead you peak up at him from between your lashes and grin. He obviously hasn’t slept, but that doesn’t keep him from looking every bit as handsome as ever. Instead of saying that, though, you reach up to scratch at the base of his scalp and murmur, “Cutie,” as though it were the highest compliment on earth.

“Yeah?” He nearly purrs as he feels your fingers scratch against his scalp. “I try my best.”

“Did you watch me sleep for long?” There is no way he could have gotten out of bed and gotten back in this same position, so you can only assume that he watched you sleep or read one of the books on your side table.

“All night.” He admits with a grin, cracking one eye open at you. “Although we don’t sleep, we do rest. I feel like I’m the most well rested vampire on the planet.”

“I’m very glad to hear it.” Stretching again, you smother a yawn and make sure to keep your morning breath away from his keen sense of smell. “How long until you have to leave for work?”

“Decided to take the day off.” He admits with a less than guilty shrug. “I have PTO they’ve been wanting me to take.”

That makes you sit up, eyes widening in surprise. “You took a day off?” A perpetual workaholic, you’ve never see Max go a single day without putting in at least a few hours’ work. Even when it was just reading up on clients in the library at home.

“Should I not have?” He asks with a small frown. He had thought you would enjoy the gesture, but maybe you had plans.

“No, I’m just surprised.” Instinctively, you lean in to smooth the crease out of his forehead with a kiss. “I was going to have brunch with Allison today, but that was the only thing I had planned.”

“Go to brunch.” He insists immediately. “Don’t let me interrupt your plans. I don’t want to do that. I just—” Honestly he doesn’t know why he chose to take today off, but he felt like he should. Like something was compelling him to stay close.

“She was just going to come to the house,” you tell him quickly, not wanting him to feel like he made a bad decision by staying home. “For that matter, she’s probably still in Eddie’s room. We didn’t have any grand plans. Just Mrs. Taylor’s amazing cooking.”

“In your little tea house?” He smirks slightly, knowing how much you love that little room. Even though it might be a little chilly today, it would still be lovely. “I can start the fire if you want.” He offers. “Warm it up.”

“Setting a fire for me is very primal provider of you.” A small giggle escapes. You feel so relaxed this morning that you could practically fly. “Trying to scratch that cavewoman instinct again?”

“Trying to make sure my soulmate is nice and warm.” He hums, winking at you. “I like curling into your warmth, sweetheart.”

“Ah, so it’s a purely selfish gesture?” Teasing him this morning is so easy, and you laugh before leaning in again to kiss his cheek. “I’m sure you’ll be able to hear everything we say even from inside the house, but I will be giggling about last night the whole time.”

“You know…” he leans in and kisses your nose playfully. “I only want to hear good things. But I was thinking about your tea house.”

“What about it?” He knows how much you love spending time out there. And how you have adopted it as your own sort of outdoor sitting room. As soon as Eddie had helped you furnish it to your own taste, it became one of your favourite places.

“What if we have that stove taken out, and a fireplace put in?” He ask seriously, wondering what you think about that. “That way you could have a cozy fire, do witchy things if you wanted. Give it that…vibe.”

“Do you think that could even be done?” Not really knowing much about construction or how home improvements get done, it hadn’t occurred to you to remodel at any point. But the idea of a fireplace in your little hideaway sounds positively witchy and fantastic.

“Absolutely.” He has already run it by Mr. Taylor to be certain, and had been reassured that the modification could actually be done rather easily. “The wall with the stove could be a stone hearth. As big or as small as you could wish.” There’s already a fireplace in your bedroom and he nods towards it. “Something like that, or something from a medieval cottage with a bubbling cauldron.”

“I think medieval cottage with a cauldron is on the same spectrum as goth Disney Princess, isn’t it?” He is so utterly sweet, and so tentative, you burrow into his side again instead of getting up like you were starting to. “You really are wonderful, you know. Even if you don’t believe me yet.”

He doesn’t believe you, because he’s not wonderful. He’s selfish and a prick. “You wouldn’t think so if you had met me before.” He admits quietly. The Max he had been when he was trying to get revenge on Evan would have repulsed you, and he doesn’t even know if he would have cared back then. Eddie’s influence, being here, has changed him more than he had originally believed.

“Then maybe it’s okay that we didn’t meet until now.” The lives that you’ve led in the last ten years have made you into drastically different people than you were in college. You know that. He knows that, too. “Maybe the people we were then would have fallen in love just fine. But the people we are now…” Realizing what you just said, and how easily you said it, your mouth clamps shut out of fear and you sink back down under the mattress without another word or even sound coming out of your mouth. You definitely should not have phrased it like that…

“But the people we are now might have needed a little push?” He asks, completing the statement to what his own thoughts were. “I think you’re right, Queenie.”

“Right.” You were going to say that the people you are now seem to be doing just fine on your own, but he seems to think that it wasn’t as easy as all that, and you’re glad that you hit your big, stupid mouth in time. Don’t rush. No pressure. You remind yourself of the mantra in your head with an internal sigh. “I…um…I should shower.”

“Wait….” He can sense he said something wrong, or maybe you aren’t on the same page. “You don’t think so?” He asks quietly. “I think this has been a little push for us. Pushing us together in this house. He planned it. He had to have.”

“I still don’t really know who he is.” Everyone talks about Max’s sire like he’s some sort of mysterious Old God or something and you don’t know what to make of it. “I’m just glad you don’t hate me. Whatever else is going on, I’m glad we’re getting along and that…that last night was as wonderful as it was.”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you.” He frowns at the mere thought and his hold on you reflexively tightens on your body. “Never.”

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, either.” Despite whatever he might think.

“Good.” He will accept that. “Now, do you still want to shower?”

“I do. I mean…I should.” After all, you did fall asleep without cleaning yourself up last night. You’re sure you still smell like sex.

“Orrrrrr.” Max pokes his lower lip out and pouts slightly. “We could pretend it’s still dark outside.”

“Did you have something in mind?” His arms are tight around you and there isn’t necessarily any reason to get up yet. After all, the clock on the mantle only reads nine in the morning.

“Just….enjoying holding you. But you might be hungry.” He realizes. “Are you hungry?”

He looks so sweetly earnest this morning and your stomach isn’t rumbling yet, so you offer him a smile. “I could be persuaded to exist on kisses if you don’t mind letting me up to brush my teeth.”

“Do you want me to brush my teeth too?” He asks with a smirk as you cover your mouth as if the smell would offend him.

“Only if you want to.” As much as you duck out of sight, his smile makes you smile, too. “I know your sense of smell is stronger than mine. It doesn’t bother me at all but I thought it would bother you.”

“What, naaaaaahhhhhh.” He tuts, shaking his head. “That doesn’t bother me either. You don’t have to move a muscle if you don’t want to.”

“So…can I kiss you good morning, then?”

“Anytime you want.” Max promises, crossing an ‘X’ over his heart.

“Even at four in the afternoon?” Somehow you can’t resist teasing him today, even as you’re leaning in to softly press your lips to his.

“If that’s what time you want a good morning kiss.” He chuckles. “But then that means you are worn out from the night before.”

“Very worn out.” And after just what you got up to on your first night, you won’t be surprised at all when that time comes. The polite knock on your bedroom door interrupts what was about to be another giggling kiss, and you pause in confusion before realizing it must just be Renee coming to wake you up. “Come in.”

Mrs. Taylor is the one that opens the door, poking her head in with an annoyed frown on her face. “Ms. Dolly, I hate to interrupt, but there is a person at the door who is insisting to speak with you.”

“A person?” A part of you feels like you ought to spring away from Max’s side the second the door is opened, but you resist. This is both of your home, you’re consenting adults, and you’re soulmates for crying out loud. Besides which, the only clothing that came off last night was Max’s shirt, so you’re still perfectly decent. “Alright, um…I’ll only need a minute to get dressed.”

Max doesn’t like the unhappy look on the housekeeper’s face. “I’ll get dressed too.” He insists before he finally lets go of you. He had been too focused on you to hear any commotion but he was fairly certain she would send away any unexpected visitors, so if this person is insisting, it’s not good.

About to say that he doesn't need to trouble himself, you see the resolved expression on Max's face and nod. "We'll be down in a minute, Mrs. Taylor." You tell the housekeeper instead, figuring that whatever it is, it will be quick. It's probably someone about the masquerade, or asking donations for something. With a big, busy house like this, anybody would be right to assume that you have a bit of money to donate to a good cause. "I will show them to the Green Salon." Mrs. Taylor nods and shuts the door behind her, not liking the situation one bit.

The Green Salon. Max arches a brow, aware that the Green Salon was the most imposing of the day rooms. Meant to intimidate. Whoever this is, isn’t a friend.

"I feel like I should dress up and I don't really know why?" Something about Mrs. Taylor's tone makes you feel like this is a big deal. Or at least not casual.

“Sometimes what you wear is a defense mechanism.” Max understand that completely. That’s what his suits are. “Wear the outfit that makes you feel the most powerful, Queenie.” He urges you. “Live up to that nickname.”

"Go put on your favourite suit, then." If he wants you to play that part, you'll need him by your side for support. "I'll find something that you can be proud to have me stand next to you in."

“I’d be proud to stand beside you in what you’re in right now.” He promises. “Queen Beth wore a bathrobe, and did it royally.” He jokes, winking at you. “I’ll be back in a flash.”

It takes you just a few minutes to throw on a respectable sweater and pair of gray slacks and redo your makeup, and you're putting in your earrings on the way out to the hallway where Max is already standing. Of course he was ready before you, but you're grateful that he decided to wait for you to go down. "You said powerful," you remind him, when he eyes the pair of high heels you've put on. It was a favourite pair of your mother's from way back, and even though your feet are sore from last night, you had heeded his advice thoroughly.

“You look like the lady of the house.” He promises with a smirk as he holds out his arm for you to take. Wanting to escort you down. He had heard someone shuffling, snooping around and opening drawers in the desk there. Not that there is any paperwork to find, but it’s interesting. “Shall we?”

"Let's find out who this visitor is." You can't think of a single person who would come looking for you that Mrs. Taylor wouldn't have announced by name, so you're a bit in the dark about the whole thing as you and Max descend the stairs. Even the lawyer would have gotten a formal announcement. Knowing Mrs. Taylor, she would have come in with his business card on a silver tray.

“It should be interesting.” Max comments as he guides you down the stairs and towards the Green Salon with the confidence of a man who had no worries in the world, although he grips your hand on his arm tightly in reassurance.

“Whoever it is,” you shake your head and squeeze his hand back tightly at the bottom of the stairs as he leads you through the ballroom to the sitting room decorated entirely in green and white. “It can’t possibly be that—” The thought dies on your tongue, though, the moment you turn your head and see who is standing beside the desk just a few feet away. “…Derek?”

Max’s entire body stiffens at the tone of your voice. Assuming that this is your ex. The one that had so badly mistreated you. If he were an animal, his hackles would be raised and his fur standing up. Instantly becoming more predatory when the man’s gaze turns towards you.

“Wh—what are you doing here?” Instinctually keeping close to Max’s side, your shoulders round in that familiar and automatic way of making yourself small that your posture has perfected over the years.

Derek frowns slightly at the well-dressed man that you are clinging to before he pokes his lip out slightly and rushes forward. “Baby, I’ve been so worried.” He huffs. “You just disappeared, didn’t call, I didn’t know where you were.”

“You kicked me out.” Shrinking in on yourself a little more deeply makes your face scrunch in confusion along with it. “You broke up with me and you kicked me out.” Right? Isn’t that what happened? Suddenly your memory is foggy and your palms are sweating with nerves.

“What?” He gives you a look of utter confusion and shakes his head. “No, no baby, I went to the bar with friends, you had been upset about something but when I got home, you were gone.” He tries to keep his voice saccharine sweet.

"I was upset because you called me useless and cursed me out—" Doubting your own memory, you look up at Max desperately and then back at Derek. This house was your sanctuary until two minutes ago, now you feel like you'll never be safe again. "How did you find me?"

His eyes narrow for a moment and he almost calls you stupid but the pretty boy next to you makes him mind his manners. “The tracking app.” He explains. “You didn’t turn it off and I finally remembered the login.” It’s more like he had finally given a shit when the house was a wreck and he didn’t have money for beer, but acting like he had been trying to find you sounds better.

"It took you a month to remember my birthday?" Sure, it's a bad idea to use the same password for everything. You get that. But as stupid as you feel for not disconnecting your phone from every single way he could trace you, you feel less stupid about having just one password for everything.

“I thought you had changed it.” Some of the sweetness falls flat and Max can tell that he’s getting annoyed. Good. “But I’m here now, but—” he looks around the opulent room. “What are you doing here?”

"I live here now." While that should be abundantly obvious, you understand his confusion. It's not as though you ever had an abundance of spare funds before. There were times that you could barely make ends meet. "This is my house."

“Your house?” His brow arches up drastically and he looks around the house again with a more appraising eye.

"Yes. It's my house." The place you shared in Tennessee had been under his name but mostly paid for with your money, but this was different. Everything about this place is legally yours and the people you share it with are kind and caring toward you. "You...managed to track me down but not figure out anything else about where I'd gone?"

“Baby.” Derek doesn’t understand why you aren’t overjoyed to see him. You are always a pathetic little mouse, but you are devoted to him. “I just needed to get to you.” He doesn’t mention that his truck is full of his things, the landlord kicking him out when he blew all his money on booze. “I wasn’t trying to waste time looking up this town.”

"That—that's not—" Shuffling from one foot to another, the pounding of your heart must be deafening to the vampires in the house but to you it's just impeding your ability to swallow as you work to try to remember exactly what happened the night you left. Was the fight really not as bad as you made it out to be? "You broke up with me," you repeat determinedly, like you're trying to convince yourself that your memory isn't lying to you. "You don't get to call me that anymore."

“What are you talking about?” Again he shakes his head, looking wounded at your accusation. “I would never break up with the woman I love.” He tells you, wondering why this suited asshole hasn’t let you go yet. “I was looking at engagement rings.”

A wave of nausea washes over you along with the itching sting of an impending panic attack, and your head begins to shake of its own accord before you look up at Max, imploring him not to believe any of this. " N—no." Barely stammered out, the word is completely foreign and definitely not one you were ever allowed to say to Derek. "You're not—we aren't—" As the panic sets in the fear takes hold, squeezing your heart and making you blurt out your best defense as bluntly as possible. "You're not my soulmate."

For a split second, something dark and ugly crosses the other man’s features and as much as Max would love to see what comes out of his mouth, he doesn’t want you to panic for another second. “Hey pal.” Using his most condescending, office manager voice, Max extends his hand out to Derek. “Max Phillips.” He introduces himself. “You are?”

"Derek Scott." There is nearly a growl in the smaller man's voice, and while he means to shake the pompous suit's hand hard enough to make him flinch, the guy you're clinging to seems to be a brick wall. "What exactly are you doing in my girlfriend's house, pal?" Whoever this guy is, Derek needs him out of the way pronto. He wasn't expecting a roadblock when he found you and he doesn't like having his plans interrupted.

“Girlfriend?” Max scoffs slightly, not letting go of the man’s hand and squeezing just shy of making him wince. “Not the way I see it. Why are you here? Me? I’ve lived here for four years.”

"I'm here for my girl." The false confidence in Derek's voice almost waivers with the tight squeeze of his hand, but he manages to hold his shit together long enough to wrench his hand free and realize just how much bigger than him this fuckin' guy really is. "Or did you not hear the part about engagement rings?" Not that he ever would, but he needs this guy to buy the lie. And you, too, for that matter.

“Oh I heard it.” Max chuckles and looks over at you. “I just don’t believe it. Don’t think she does either.” He comments pithily. “Not that it matters anymore. You kicked her out, she just disappeared, who cares? She’s here now and that’s all that matters.”

"I would never have kicked her out." He lies, layering on the look of devotion as he looks over at you. He did. And frankly, he'd done it more than once. It's just that before this, you always came back. Usually in tears, promising to be better. It suited him just fine to always have someone at his beck and call. Especially since you could pay the bills. "But I still don't know why you are here." The guy said he lives here, but how the fuck does that work if this is your house?

“And you don’t need to know.” Max singsongs, grinning broadly. “It’s like having that Top Secret clearance in the government. If you were meant to know, you would.” Right now, he doesn’t want to divulge your soulmate status until he can talk to you, alone. Find out what this asshole wants. “Queenie—” he comments mildly, looking over at you with a wink. “My offer is still on the table.”

It takes you a second, the confusion that's settled over your mind making it hazy, but when you remember that Max has straight out offered to kill Derek for you, your eyebrows shoot up and you shake your head adamantly. "No. N-no. That's...um...that's not...that's not necessary." You insist, feeling like a terrified animal that's been cornered by a predator. "Would you just...let Eddie and Allison know that someone else is here? Please?" Eddie has probably already heard the commotion, but you know Allison would be mortified to wander downstairs in his bathrobe and run into a stranger.

“Are you sure, doll?” His eyes search yours seriously. He doesn’t want you to be alone with this prick, but he’s also not going to control you. When you give him a hesitant nod, he blows out a sigh for show. “Be right back.” He promises, letting go of your arm and cutting his eyes at Derek before he walks out of sight.

"You haven't talked about getting married in years," you murmur, arms crossed over your chest protectively the moment Max is out of sight. It was something that had been talked about on and off — in an abstract sort of way — at the beginning of your relationship with Derek but not since.

“I know, I’ve been….waiting until I could provide for you.” He lies, stepping closer and feeling more confident now that smarmy suit has left the room. “But I realized I don’t want to wait.”

"But..." He steps closer and you step back, trying to keep distance without being overtly rude or making him mad. Derek getting mad is never a good thing. "You...you were sleeping with that bartender." These are things you swore you knew to be true, but fear has muddled your memory. "What's her— Nikki. You were sleeping with Nikki!"

“No I wasn’t.” Derek shakes his head and sighs. “You always claimed I was cheating but I wasn’t. You let your jealousy cloud everything. I wasn’t cheating, I would never cheat.”

"She was in our house." It was about two weeks before he blew up and threw you out, but you know it happened. "She was in our house and you had lipstick on your mouth and—" Feeling the panic crash over you in another wave, you step back again and remind yourself to breath. "I'm not going back," you tell him with a surprising amount of vehemence. "I live here now."

“It’s a nice house.” Derek nods and looks around again. “Nice and big. Expensive.”

"It belonged to family." Saying it out loud is like a resolution, as if acknowledging it is a promise that you aren't going to leave.

“Funny you didn’t have family before.” The mask slips slightly, his frown deeper than before and he steps towards you again.

"It wasn't someone I knew." One step forward gets one step back, and you almost trip moving backward from the carpeted floor of the green room out to the waxed wooden floor of the ballroom. "She left me the house when she died."

He hums, not believing you, but it doesn’t really matter. Soon enough he will know exactly what was left to you and be able to turn it into cash. “Generous.”

"Yeah." A meek nod follows the whisper of the word and you plant your feet again so you won't slip. "Yeah, it—well—it's good. I needed a new start."

“You don’t need a new start.” Derek huffs. “You’re with me.”

"N-no." The shake in your voice is unmistakable. Maybe no one else in the world would know that tone as specifically as you do, but that's the tone that says you're going to be very sorry, very soon. "I-I'm with Max now."

“That guy?” Derek scoffs and shakes his head. “He’s not with you. There’s no way.”

"Why?" That stings so much more than you would have expected. Maybe because it hits home on the very fears that you've been ruminating over since you found out that Max is your soulmate. "Because he's too good for me? Trust me, I know that."

“Because you’re with me.” Derek reminds you. “He’s not your type, I am. I’m the only one who will ever love you like you need.”

"But—you—" Your chest heaves with the effort of holding in the panic that you have had a month's respite from, and the room seems to spin around you in a way that promises to be very bad news in a just a second's time. "You don't—" Breathe. You have to remember to breathe. You manage to snatch your hand away when he reaches for it. "I don't love you anymore."

Max had informed Eddie within two heartbeats of leaving this room, although he had to begrudgingly allow for the human time to walk upstairs and down. He’s been by the door, listening, and is proud of the way you are holding your own. “Listen-—”the douche bag ex starts to talk, but your soulmate decides this is the perfect time to interrupt. “And that concludes todays visitation.” He announces playfully, but has every intention of tearing this asshole apart if he argues. “We thank you for stopping by, but as you can see, Queenie is an extremely busy woman. Planning masquerades and all.” He sails through the door as if he owns the place, with all the grace and confidence this little slime-ball could never possess. Reaching your side and taking your hand again so Derek couldn’t reach for it. His eyes are flat and hard as they shift towards your abusive ex. “Good bye.”

“Don’t you think she oughta be the one to decide that, pal?” Derek’s temper is boiling just below the surface and he has never taken well to rejection. Not ever in his life. Which is why your sudden ability to grow a spine is so fucking disturbing. “This isn’t your house. It belongs to my girl.” He still doesn’t understand why the suited prick even lives here, but he’ll do some digging and find out. Drawing a shaky breath, Max’s hand in yours is grounding and bolstering all at once. “You should go.” You manage after another second, practically shaking apart on the spot from the anxiety of saying no to Derek in any way.

“You heard her, buddy.” The shallow grin that had been on Max’s face drops and for a split second he considers changing his features, really scaring the dogshit out of this dickhead. He doesn’t, out of respect for you. He squeezes your hand to reassure you that nothing will happen to you. “Have a nice day, life, whatever.”

“Baby.” He takes one advanced step, realizing that as long as your guard dog is here, you’re harder to break. What he needs to do is get you alone. “Let me take you out tonight, at least?” He’ll have to figure a couple of things out before then, but he’s been in worse spots before. “I don’t think so.” Shaking your head slightly while you cling to Max’s hand, your eyes hit the floor rather than Derek’s face. None of this is how you wanted to start your day, and you feel like you might crumble if you don’t have your soulmate’s sturdy frame to hold on to.

“It’s time for you to leave.” Max practically snarls it, pissed that this jerk off isn’t getting the hint. You say that he shouldn’t destroy this prick, but Max is about to do it for himself.

“I’ll be back.” Derek announces with vehemence, and you can see his anger tinging the surface as his eyes narrow down on you like they’ve done so many times before.

Max subtly steps in front of you, letting go of your hand. “Let me show you the door.” It’s not a suggestion. “So you don’t get lost.”

The front door is maybe fifteen feet away at most but you still watch Max walk Derek straight to it and push it open to let the smaller man out. They seem to stare challengingly at each other for just a minute before Derek looks past him and finds you staring, at which point he blows you a kiss — something he hasn’t done in years — and steps out into the morning sun. As soon as the door shuts behind him, your legs give out, leaving you in a crumpled pile of gasping sobs on the ballroom floor.

“Fuck.” In a flash, Max is next to you. Not pulling you up, but down on the floor with you and pulling you into his arms. “It’s okay, it’s alright sweetheart.” He murmurs softly. “Let it out,” he rubs your back and pats it gently like he would comfort an infant as they sobbed. He doesn’t want to make you stop, just wants you to know he’s there for you.

“I—I—forgot—” Stuttered out in stifled hiccups, you cling to Max tightly without fear of hurting him and try very hard not to get makeup or tears on his suit. “How could I be so stupid?”

“You are not stupid.” He grunts, making sure you know he doesn’t believe that shit. He holds you tight and wishes he knew how to make it better.

“I’d have to be, to forget about Find My Phone,” you gasp, the tears flowing thick and insistent as you try to hiccup breaths in between. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“What are you sorry about?” Max tries not to frown as he takes your face in his hands. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Nothing.” He doesn’t want to compel you to calm down, but he will if you continue to blame yourself and nearly make yourself sick.

“He’s dangerous.” Is all you can think to say, the insistent and nagging feeling of fear brewing in your gut.

For a second, Max is speechless. Shocked quiet by your words until he starts to chuckle. “Sweetheart, I’m more dangerous than he could ever imagine being.” He promises, tilting your head up and making you meet his eyes. “Do you want me to show you? I don’t look this pretty all the time. There’s- there’s another side to me.”

“I’ve seen your teeth,” you remind him quietly, not quite understanding and trying to get your breathing back to normal from nearly hyperventilating a moment ago.

“It’s not just teeth, sweetheart.” Max is glad he didn’t start calling you ‘baby’ since that was what Derek called you. “You can call it my monster face. You want to see it? See the real me?”

“I have seen the real you.” No matter what else there may be to him, you refuse to believe that the man he has been with you is t the real him — the person he wants to be at his core. “But show me the other side, too.” Puffing out a breath, you barely manage to shift against him. “It’s only fair. Since you’ve seen me falling apart.”

Max chuckles and shakes his head. “You don’t need to be worried about Derek.” He grumbles. “Not when your soulmate - who will never hurt you -“ he add, “looks like this.”

Any other time you might have been startled. You might have reeled back of stared or even been frightened of that way Max’s face transforms. Instead, you almost smile. The twitch at the corners of your mouth, at least are unmistakable. It isn’t fear you feel, but safety. “My guard dog,” you decide after Moment, reaching up to touch his transformed brow.

He growls in surprise at your touch, eyes fluttering closed as he leans into your touch like a guard dog would. He would fight the monsters for you, protect you, and then beg for love and attention from you. His fangs are on display when he smiles, looking like one of the vampires from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It was amazing how they got them right. Rumor was one of the exec producers was a vamp himself. “Woof.” He teases.

The tease startles a small laugh out of you, which is steadily followed by a few last tears as your fingers trace the peaks and valleys of his cheek. “You’re not a monster,” you murmur, the recurring thought from his head bleeding into yours, but you refuse to yield to it. “He is.”

“He might be a monster, but me? I’m the thing nightmares are made of.” Max’s voice is deeper in this form, less human than before. “And I will use ever power I have to make sure he doesn’t hurt you.”

“I know you will.” Despite hiccups in the beginning — which there definitely were, you won’t deny that — that is something you believe right down to your core. Max will never intentionally hurt you. Not now. Not knowing who you are to him. Deflating once more, as though the last of the panic is being pushed out of you like a bellows, you lean in and press your forehead to his. “I don’t know what comes over me,” you admit, quiet enough for only him to hear. “It’s like a can’t think when he’s around. I can’t trust my own memory, or my mind at all.”

“Because the motherfucker is gaslighting you.” Max snorts, shifting back to his ‘normal’ form. “His heart speeds up half a beat when he lies. And it skips the every fifth beat while you’re melting down.”

“You should be a living lie detector.” Thinking about it for half a second after it comes out of your mouth, you huff. “An undead lie detector, technically. I guess.”

He chuckles. “I guess I should be. I’ll add it to my resume.”

“What a way to start the day.” It’s a miserable ruination of a perfectly good morning, and you sigh in Max’s arms.

“It just means the rest of our day will be on the upswing.” He murmurs, turning to press a kiss to your hair.

“We…” Looking around, you huff and look up, but your eyes only get as far as his chin. You’re too ashamed that he’s seen the power Derek apparently still holds over you to look him in the eyes like this. “We should get off the floor…”

“Only if you’re ready.” Max isn’t going to judge you for the way you reacted, he knows that the hold people have over someone is strong at times.

“You can’t be comfortable.” The automatic way you think of everyone else first is drilled into you so much that you don’t even realize you’re doing it most of the time. “And I promised Allison brunch. It wouldn’t be fair to have Mrs. Taylor do all that work and then not eat anything.”

“You can take a moment.” Max tuts softly, not wanting you to think that he’s admonishing you. He’s not. “I’m not going to die of a cramp. Brunch hours are still in full swing, and Mrs. Taylor thrives on making food for humans.”

“This is my moment. Right here.” Right here with him. This is the only way you could ever remotely be okay. “Normally encounters with that man leave me catatonic or privately inconsolable. The fact that I can even speak coherently right now is because of you.”

“Then I’m happy that I was here.” If he had been at work and this had happened, he would have been pissed.

"Pretty glad you decided to stay home," you admit, echoing his thoughts without knowing it.

“I am too, Queenie.” He hums softly and then gives a small chuckle. “Although you should never worry. Mrs. Taylor would have torn his head off if he had touched you. Everyone here really. We are protective of our human.”

"Then I feel very, very safe." Ironic, considering how many humans would fear for their lives in a house full of vampires, but you sit up in the middle of the ballroom floor and exhale slowly. "I just...I wonder how long he'll stay around. Or try to stay around, I guess."

He hums, knowing that the man had already sniffed out money. He wasn’t going away anytime soon. “I’m sure that he will move on soon, but for now, Eddie or I can run around town with you and Allison.”

"I can always take Mr. Taylor with me, too. If I need to." The older man looked far younger than his years, obviously, and having the strength of a vampire nearby could only be helpful in that department. "I'd hate to ask any of you to do it, though. To basically be my bodyguards until he's gone."

“You aren’t asking.” Max points out with a small smirk, dropping his hand to your and rubbing the back of it gently. “I know it might seem confining, like I’m punishing you, but I just want you to be safe.”

"Trust me, I know what being punished feels like." Shaking your head won't banish those particular memories, so you shift to your knees and start to stand. Slowly, of course. Since you've been crying and all. "This is the farthest thing from it."

Max frowns fiercely and opens his mouth to demand to know what you mean by that, but he doesn’t speak. He won’t push you to talk about things that you might not be coping with well. He helps you up and bites his lip as he brushes off your outfit, taking extra time on your ass.

"I can feel that, ya know." Teasing is good. It lightens the mood and it helps to break the tension of the last half hour.

“I would hope so.” He snickers, patting it once before dropping his hand.

“I should go up and apologize to Eddie and Allison.” You know that Eddie heard every word, and that Max was probably listening sharply every second he was out of the room. The only thing you want at this point is to alleviate any awkwardness that Derek’s unwelcome visit may have caused.

“You didn’t invite him here, sweetheart.” He doesn’t like your need to apologize for things beyond your control. “But I’ll go with you.”

“We’re right here.” Allison and Eddie stand at the bottom of the staircase, having waited until the sounds of argument and crying had stopped to come down from his room. “Honey.” With both arms outstretched, Allison hurries across the great hall to wrap you up in a hug. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Max steps back, motioning Eddie off to the side while Allison comforts you. Pleased that Eddie’s witchy girlfriend was such a good friend to you. He knows the other vampire heard him but he wants to put Eddie’s unique skills to use. “I want you to find out where this motherfucker is staying.” Eddie’s damn handy with a computer. “And why he decided to come to Newport. She won’t let me kill him…yet.”

“On it.” Eddie promises him, glancing past Max to make sure you’re okay with Allison. “He isn’t gonna like her being threatened when he finds out.” There is no doubt in the older vampire’s mind that their sire will find out everything that’s happened. It’s only a matter of when.

“No he won’t, but I am more concerned with her right now.” Max confesses quietly. “She almost instantly went back to the shy mouse she was when she arrived. I don’t like it, I don’t like him being here, threatening her peace.”

“We’ll get him out of town as fast as he came.” Eddie promises, his head bowed and expression uncharacteristically serious. He doesn’t take it lightly when his family is threatened — and you’re family. More than just being related to Cookie, you’re Max’s soulmate. You are a part of his clan and that is that.

“Thanks.” He might give Eddie a bunch of shit, a lot of the time, but that’s just playing around with him. He cares about the other vampire tremendously and he knows that Eddie has a tender spot for you. “I’m going to try to work from home as much as possible.”

“We can get you a positive Covid test,” Eddie offers instantly, knowing that though Mr. Taylor looks like a fairly run of the mill, ordinary man, his resources run deep. He can get any kind of blood or DNA they need - even infected. Some vampires like it. They think it tastes spicy. “Two weeks off, per company rules. If I remember your griping correctly.”

Max smirks, lifting a brow at Eddie. “Been thinking about using that at school, haven’t you?”

“It’s just the dumbass math credits.” Eddie huffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m forty fucking years old and I’ve never used calculus once.”

“And you never will.” Max admits with a roll of his eyes. “My favorite thing was when the math teachers told me I would never just carry a calculator in my pocket. Jokes on them.”

The smirk and half-snort it earns him from Eddie in agreement makes both men laugh, and Eddie nods after a moment. “We’re gonna take care of her,” he promises. “Whatever it takes.”

“I know, I just-“ he shrugs helplessly. “I feel vulnerable now.”

“That’s fair.” There’s nothing that Eddie can particularly say to change that. Not in this moment anyway, but he nods. “We should get him here,” he concedes. “We can keep her safe, but that would guarantee the rat bastard never sees the light of day again.”

"Have you figured out how to call him?" Max asks in amusement. He had never quite learned what peaked his interests or even how he had come to be restored after being destroyed by Evan and his little girlfriend.

“Mrs. Taylor knows.” Of that, Eddie is certain. “I’m not above calling in the big guns, and I know she can do it.”

"He might tell us to take this problem on ourselves and solve it." He doubts that, but oftentimes his sire could be difficult just because he could be.

“Not on something as important as your soulmate.” There is nothing their sire takes more seriously than protecting a soulmate.

"If this guy becomes a problem, I will ask Mrs. Taylor to call him." Because of his promise, he doesn't tell Eddie that he is already here. He just pretends that he has no clue where their shared sire is.

“Good.” For now Eddie just nods, knowing that Max has to be the one to take the reins on this. “For now, I’m gonna sort out that Covid test to buy you some time off and you should go be with her. Just…I can’t imagine the kind of hell she’s in.”

"She's more concerned with being a problem than having a problem because of this douche bag." Max shakes his head. "I just wish she knew that she doesn't have to pretend with us."

“She hasn’t been away from him that long.” If there’s one thing Eddie knows, it’s how twisted relationships can get. He may not have been in a situation quite as bad as yours, but he does understand it. “She’s not pretending, this is just how she reacts to things now. It’s conditioning. And over time she’ll be able to unlearn it as she feels safer and more supported with us. But that takes a lot of time.”

“It’s a good think we’ve got plenty of it.” Max frowns as he imagines the hell you must have lived with and guilt settles over his shoulders. “This is all my fault.”

“How?” Eddie frowns, glancing passed Max to see Allison leading you into the dining room with a soothing hand on your back. When he refocuses on Max he shoves his hands in his pockets. “How is that piece of shit possibly your fault?”

“Because when I got kicked out of college, that night I forgot I had a blind date set up.” Max waits for a second to see if it clicks with Eddie but the other vampire just frowns again in confusion. “I was supposed to go on a date with Dolly. And instead of meeting her soulmate, she met fuckface.”

“Oh fuck.” Teasing ceases immediately when he realizes that it’s not just blame Max has put on his own shoulders, it’s guilt. “You couldn’t have known, man. Not in a million years.”

“No? I should have.” Max had been kind of a douche, but he had respected people. Hadn’t wasted their time. He had failed you. “I should have remembered, and now she’s dealing with all this.” He waves his hand towards the door.

“So maybe instead of wallowing in it and feeling bad about something you can’t change, this is the time to take care of her.” He can’t fault Max for feeling bad, or for connecting those dots in his mind that have already become a chain, but he doesn’t want it to overwhelm the other vampire. “And that’s not suggesting that you aren’t taking care of her right now. I’m just saying keep doing it. Protect her. Support her. And for fuck’s sake, let’s get rid of this asshole.”

“I’ve offered to kill him.” Max reveals. “I wouldn’t even eat him, he’s too rotten.” It says a lot about you that you still wouldn’t let him kill the asshole, but Max had to give up his humanity in that aspect when he became a creature that preyed on humans.

"I can't imagine that that went over very well with Dolly." although Eddie would be lying if he claimed that he didn't want to do the same.

“She thanked me, but said no.” He huffs, a little amused at your politeness at it. “I don’t like feeling helpless, Ed.”

"No one does." Eddie assures him. And after a moment adds: "Do you want to go have brunch with her? It might help you feel better just to keep an eye on her."

“I took today off, I had planned on it, but now it’s assured.” He nods. “She said Allison was joining her? Are you planning on being there too?”

“I was planning on asking if they wanted more company or if they wanted to girl talk,” Eddie admits with a soft grin. His night with Allison had been fantastic and he had planned on telling Max all about it today — but other things took precedence.

“Then I say we both join them and make it seem like it was our plan all along.” Max hums, feeling slightly better now that he knows that the vampires he is closest with agree with his view. This Derek needs to disappear.

******

You don’t hesitate when Allison comes into the ballroom with her arms open, accepting her embrace and doing your best to maintain any sort of composure. “Hell of a morning,” you huff into her shoulder, trying to make it seem much less drastic than it feels.

“And not a single bit of it is your fault.” Eddie had told her about the meeting, relaying the conversation as it happened, so she doesn’t even pretend she doesn’t know what’s going on.

“It feels like it is.” It feels like everything wrong in the world is your fault, and it’s all weighing down on your shoulders.

“You never would have allowed him to come here.” She shakes her head. “So no, don’t let him ruin your special day.” She hugs you again fiercely and pulls back to look into your eyes. “You have your soulmate, your health, a beautiful house, friends, a coven.” She snorts. “Want me to call them over? We’ll put hexes on him.”

“Do hexes even take when the person is evil to begin with?” You snort softly and shake your head. “It’s not worth it. I just…I was working really hard to put him in my past. And now he’s…very much present again.”

“He’s only present if you allow him to be.” She hums as she turns to wrap her arm around you and guide you out of the ballroom and towards the dining room. “He’s virtually a stranger to you now. You don’t owe him a hello.”

“It’s not quite as easy as that,” you tell her honestly, but don’t resist being led into the next room. Misery may love company but it’s stolen away your appetite, though that doesn’t mean Mrs. Taylor’s magical cooking won’t bring it back.

“Explain it to me, love.” She rubs your back to soothe you. She can’t claim to know that part of your life, despite the things that you have confided in her and the others, but she’s never lived it.

“It’s like…having a light switch in my back. It’s one that he put there and I don’t know to turn it off or take it out.” There is probably a far more eloquent way to describe the sensation, but it fully escapes you this morning. “The switch is just never off. And somehow, when he’s around? It finds another level. I have no fight or flight anymore. It’s just survival mode. I am constantly just clawing desperately at survival but that switch? The fact that it’s on takes up all of my energy. I can’t think, I definitely can’t fight back, I just…melt down.”

Her jaw tightens and if he were in front of her, Allison would punch that asshole dead in his mouth. It sounds like Derek has trained your reactions to fit his dark aura, feeding off of your panic. “You have had it rough.” She murmurs sympathetically, her heart breaking at the grief in your tone. “But, that is the past and now we will make sure that he regrets trying to come back into your life.”

“I just…want him to leave.” Everything was going so well, and you were starting to adjust. Things were looking up for the first time since…well, since your parents died. “I don’t even care what else happens to him. I just want him to go.”

“He can be barred from the estate.” She reminds you quietly. “You hold the power this time.”

“That would just make me terrified to leave the property.” While she might technically be correct, you know yourself. And you know that other problems would arise. "I’d develop agoraphobia in under a week.”

“Max or Eddie should be with you.” Allison immediately ventures. “Or even Mrs. Taylor or Renee. But I think that Derek would be more wary of another man.”

"He wouldn't even blink at me being out with you or one of the girls or Renee. Mrs. Taylor might give him pause, but only because he's kind of afraid of his mother. It would wear off quickly." It does occur to you, though, that Max really is a bit like your guard dog at the moment. And while some others might find it unsettling you find it to be the most comforting fact in the world. "I'll just work my schedule around Max's work schedule. We don't have a coven meeting this week anyway, and it's not as if Mrs. Taylor takes me grocery shopping with her."

“Don’t restrict yourself to the estate.” She urges quietly. “Go out, be seen with your soulmate.”

"There aren't too many places I even go." Over the last few weeks it's been expanding, but that number will surely shrink again in no time. "And Derek wouldn't even know what a dance studio looks like, let alone how to find one."

“Doesn’t matter if he will find you or not.” She shakes her head, guiding you to the table and pulling out a chair for you. There are four place settings, so she assumes that Eddie and Max will be joining you and she’s glad of it. “The point is you not isolating yourself.”

"I'm staying home today," you tell her firmly, not willing to bend on that point. "Anything beyond that...I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Does that count as compromise?"

“Perfect.” She can’t blame you, not at all, and she smiles softly. “I think today is a lovely day to stay in.”

"Tell me all about your night?" Places are set but there is no trace of Mrs. Taylor just yet, and you reach over the table to squeeze Allison's hand. "Please? It will distract me."

“I don’t know how to even describe it.” Allison can’t help but giggle at the mere mention of the night before, blushing furiously. “Magical? Incredible? We talked all night.”

"Just talked?" There is almost a smile on your lips, a half-hearted attempt at the expression tucking itself into the corner of your mouth like a smirk as you raise an eyebrow at her.

“Maybe not just talked.” She admits with a small sigh, looking positively dreamy.

"And you weren't even sure he liked you back." The absolute, pure happiness on your friend's face is the best balm you could ask for right now, reminding you that there are so many good things in the world to combat the bad.

“How was I supposed to know?” She cries out, even if she’s grinning, practically beaming.

“All that matters is you’re happy now.” They have both been such sweet friends to you that seeing them happy together is a marvel. It really feels like these two dear friends had been put in each other’s paths on purpose, it just took them a little while to inch slowly closer to each other on that path.

“And you?” She asks softly, arching a brow. “How did last night go?” She hopes that Max standing beside you is a good indication of the night, but she wants to hear it from you.

“It was…” Your cheeks warm again instantly, happy memories casting a glow over your features that even the events of the last half hour can’t mar. “Pretty perfect, honestly. Everything about it.”

“You were so nervous about dinner, how did you like the tavern?” Allison asks, grinning at the dreamy expression that’s taken over your face. It apparently went really well, and she wonders if you slept in Max’s arms like she did in Eddie’s last night.

“It was really fancy, but it was so romantic.” The entire meal had been like a dance, and as much as you had felt overwhelmingly out of place in the beginning, by the end you didn’t even notice anyone else was there. “And that dance studio invited us back. We were…We were talking about maybe doing a competition together in the future.”

“Really?” Her eyes light up, knowing how much you’ve loved dancing in the past. The fact that you are talking about doing it means that you probably will, since Max is more of a action kind of man than a talker.

“The whole thing was perfect.” You shrug slightly, the light in your eyes dimming a little when you do. “And then we got this, this morning.”

“Max isn’t upset at you, he’s not mad.” Allison reminds you. “He’s probably feeling pretty damn protective right now.”

“I can’t imagine why any of you even still want to spend time with me, knowing what I’m really like.” That mouse — that broken, beaten down, terrified version of yourself colours everything so deeply when it comes out that you can’t manage to see that the rest of who you are is still very much there. And it always has been. It’s just that you’ve been frightened into shutting her up into a small closet in the corner of your mind. It’s only since you got to Newport that you’ve even remembered how to open the door again.

“I see a strong woman.” Allison frowns at your description of yourself. “One who has survived things that I could never fully understand. I admire you, Dolly. You could be embittered, harsh and cold. But you are still amazing warm and compassionate, friendly and loving. Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with you? Me or anyone else?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see myself the way you seem to,” you admit softly. The way she defends you so fiercely, even to your yourself, is heartening. You just feel so tired from finding out that this fight — with him, for yourself and for your freedom — isn’t over yet.

“I think you will.” She tilts her head playfully. “When you realize that you have an immortal soulmate who would destroy to protect you, you’ll see how strong you are.”

“Maybe.” There’s no use arguing about it, of course, and anything is possible. Even if it isn’t likely. “Maybe one day I’ll find the edge of this shell and crack my way out of it. Until then, I’m just very glad to have people in my life who don’t mind a little bit of nuttiness.”

“Haven’t you noticed?” Allison laughs, wide eyed. “We’re all nuts here. It’s part of our charm.”

Her honest, full-throated laughter helps you relax just a touch more and you smile. “Maybe that’s why I’m so comfortable here after all.”

“Perhaps.” She teases, reaching out and buffing your shoulder slightly. “Otherwise, you would have run for the hills. A strange inheritance, vampires? It’s almost unbelievable.”

“It’s the three-volume gothic novel I always wanted,” you admit, a small and slightly guilty grin cracking your expression. “I just never thought I’d be in the story.”

“It’s much better than reading it, isn’t it?” She laughs. “I never thought I would have the supporting actress roll to a wonderful main character, and I love it.”

“You are second to no one, honey. Never. You are vibrant and loving and you are definitely leading lady material.” Nothing about Allison’s personality says anything but shining star, and you’ll tell her that every day.

“No, I like the supporting role.” She insists with a giggle. “It’s not bad at all. Plus, I’ve discovered a new best friend because of all this.

"And you finally got your man." Your smile quirks slightly, and you grin in amusement. "Well...vampire."

"Man enough." Allison snorts, grinning back at you and biting her lip. "Although we didn't do that. Yet."

"Neither did we." It would have been too much for the very first night together, and it would have made this morning all the more devastating to be interrupted the way that you were.

"Do you wish you had?" She asks curiously. "Since you had that unpleasant visitor?"

"Honestly I think it would have made this morning even worse," you admit, though you aren't sure if you'll follow your logic. "It would have been an even ruder interruption and I would have felt all the more exposed."

"I can appreciate that." She hums, biting her lip and reaching out to touch your hand. "I know that having a drink to calm your nerves isn't your style, is there something that does help?" She asks, wanting to help you move past your anxiety from your ex's visit.

"Tea." It seems like a funny thing to say out loud, or at least a thing that makes you sound like an old British lady, but it's true. "Max was talking about helping with some renovations on the teahouse. Taking out the stove and replacing it with a fireplace to make it a little more witchy and a little less mid-60s."

"Ohhhhhh." Her eyes widen and heart practically appear in their depths, falling in love with the idea. "That would be amazing, wouldn't it? What do you think? That's the most important question, of course."

"I think if he ever can't find me, the first place he needs to look is my little medieval witch teahouse paradise." The thought is just as dreamy to you as it seems to be to Allison and you're glad that it is one more thing that you will be able to share with your friend. "And I think we should take the chance to build a small altar in the teahouse, too. The bookshelf is just the right height to put it on top."

"I think that would be a good idea." She nods. "You should be able to take anything out of the tower you would want to make it more your own."

"If you had asked me when I got here, I would have said that I would never get used to living in a place like this, but it's become home so quickly."

"Cookie always said that this house was meant to be a home." Allison muses.

"And she was right about that." Eddie says from the doorway, flashing both you and Allison a warm smile before rounding the table to kiss Allison's cheek and sit down in the chair to her right.

“Awwww, how sweet.” Max is right behind him, doing the exactly same thing for you, even though he’s busting Eddie’s balls. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asks softly after bussing your cheek gently.

“I’m starting to feel a little better.” It’s a miracle that you are, since recovery was never exactly something you experienced when you were dealing with Derek on your own.

“We’ll have you feeling amazing by the end of brunch. Completely forgetting about this little interruption in our day.” Max reaches for your hand as soon as he sits down and kisses the back of it.

“I was just telling Alli about the tea house plans,” you tell him, already feeling that much safer with him beside you and reassuring you.

“You’ve decided you want to do it?” Max looks thrilled that you like the idea. “I can guarantee you will love it. And Mr. Taylor knows a crew that can have it done in days.”

“It doesn’t have to be rushed.” After all, besides you and Allison, everyone else has all the time is the world. “But I think it would be really nice. I can add a second altar on top of the bookshelf and have it be a little more casual than the altar space in the tower.

“It would be nice to have before the snows come.” Eddie agrees, nodding eagerly. “It can be even cozier and I bet a little bat would love to bask in front of the fire.”

Allison giggles at the image and you smile a little wider than you had been a moment ago. “I can see it now. A little bat window in the door instead of a cat door.” You muse, just imagining how silly that is as Mrs. Taylor comes in with a pot of tea and a carafe of warm blood.

Max rolls his eyes, still not aware that Allison knows he’s the bat in question, but he grins at you. “I think Cutie would like to hang out there with you.”

The soft, giggling laugh that Allison lets free is barely stifled, and you squeeze Max’s hand gently. “Apparently,” you murmur after thanking Mrs. Taylor for pouring your tea. “Cookie had told the coven a little while ago. About your…other form.”

Max’s eyes widen and he looks startled. For once looking like prey instead of a predator. “Oh.” He grunts. “So- you all knew it was me? That night?” He asks the other witch.

“We didn’t think it would be nice to tell your secret before you were ready to tell her yourself,” Allison confesses. “It just seemed very sweet to us. That you felt so attached and protective over Dolly so early on.”

“I couldn’t explain it at the time.” Max admits, knowing he’s told you the same thing. “I just needed to know she was safe.”

"I promise you." Her eyes move for Max over to you and back again. "Whenever she's with the coven, we'll keep her safe." She never could hae understood the real threat before, but now that she does? She is ready and willing to be on the front lines with you.

You welfare is the most important thing, so Max nods seriously. “Is there- I don’t know - some kind of protection spell you can do?”

“I’ve never been very good with spell work,” you murmur, always having felt like a bad witch for it. Your best strengths in witchcraft were when you were young, and you would routinely craft lucky charms for friends or loved ones. “Candace and Tracy and I are,” Allison offers. “We can teach you. Help you work on your spells if you want to. And if you don’t, we’ll just make sure the estate has a damn good protective barrier.” “There are supplies in the tower, should require specialized items.” Mrs. Taylor offers when she re-enters the room. Quiche, salad, fresh scones with jam and clotted cream, and a tray of arrayed meats that includes blood sausages all fill out the brunch table well.

“Mrs. Taylor would know.” Max muses. “Has the entire estate catalogued. Knows down to the number of spare toothbrushes in the cabinets for guests.”

“Seven.” Mrs. Taylor reports without flinching. She makes sure that everything is set out well and nods. Having learned that you like meal times but aren’t as formal as the last mistress of the house, she’s switched to serving meals family style. It seems to be going well. “There is dessert if you have room for it,” she tells you with a smile. “If not, it will be lovely with afternoon tea. But if you’ll excuse me, I will collect some things from the tower that Ms. Brown favored for protection spells.” And like that, she is gone again in the blink of an eye.

“Leave it to her.” Max wraps his arm around the back of your chair. “Most of the supplies will be in your tea house by the time you finish your first scone.”

“I don’t doubt it.” And you don’t think you ever would doubt Mrs. Taylor. Not when it comes to her ability to get things done.

“Everything looks so good.” Allison moans, looking over the table with astonishment. It was supposed to be a simple brunch, but the housekeeper had outdone herself.

“Dig in.” You encourage, nudging the silver carafe on the table toward Max first. A conversation with Mrs. Taylor the other day about blood consumption had lead to this particular idea and you wanted to know how he felt about it.

“This is new.” Max hums, looking over at you with a raised brow. “What made you decide to try this?”

“We’re trying out a slightly less formal way of doing things.” The meal all set out in the table and the slightly more formal China — at least, it isn’t the priceless one-of-a-kind French Limoges China set that Cookie had favoured — and now warm blood in coffee cups instead of wine glasses. It’s all a little more normal. Or at least as normal as this household might ever get. “Is it okay with you?” You look over at Eddie, who is helping Allison fill her plate. “I just thought everyone would be more comfortable without feeling like things had to be hidden.”

“Are you okay with it?” That’s what’s most important to him. While he’s consumed blood around you, you had never been aware of it. Teacups aren’t exactly inconspicuous.

“I want to be.” The best you can do is be honest with him, and this is your honest answer. “I want to do my best to understand, and to normalize blood in this house. Because you all deserve to exist as yourselves just as much as any of us do.”

“Vampire rights.” Max grins, finding it charming that you would be so concerned about it. “You are so damn sweet.”

“You’re my soulmate,” you remind him, though to your surprise it’s the first time that a different set of words has ardently risen to the top of your mind in their place. “I want you to be happy and comfortable.” Obviously, they all know now how little comfort and happiness there has really been in your life.

“And that’s my wish for you.” He counters. “So we’ll try this, but if it makes you queasy or uncomfortable, we won’t do it again.”

“Deal.” Of course you can’t blame him for being gentle with you. Not after this morning.

He grins, sending you a small wink before pulling his arm from around you. “Good, Dolly, let’s fix your plate.” He murmurs. “We worked up an appetite last night.”

“Dancing,” you clarify, knowing that Eddie has to have heard every second of what went on between you and Max last night and not knowing how much Max will have told him about yet. There’s still a smile in the corner of your mouth, though, and heat in your cheeks. You are know it was more than just dancing.

“Not that much dancing.” Max snorts. “Don’t get embarrassed sweetheart, we’re among friends.” He teases you. “Eddie wasn’t listening to your breathy moans because he was listening to Allison’s.”

Even though your ears burn immediately, Allison is the one who blushes furiously, and you both end up laughing. “That’s…that’s a fair point,” she admits. “I guess we’re all destined to a lot more breakfasts for four from now on.”

“And that will make Mrs. Taylor’s panties cream.” Max snorts, grinning devilishly.

“Nobody needs that image,” Eddie protests, practically cringing as he takes the carafe of blood from in front of Max to pour his own cup. He’s laughing though, underneath it, and Allison snorts and shakes her head.

“Mr. Taylor is very happy about that.” Despite being the less visible of the two, the vampire soulmate of the housekeeper was still desperate in love with his mate, despite the passage of time.

“They’re a very sweet pair.” Although both vampires do their utmost to be professional around you, you had seen them being affectionate more than once as you passed by the pair and they had always struck you as very much in love and like the unofficial parents of the rest of the staff.

“The stories they can tell.” Max tuts, rolling his eyes. “Never had so many ‘historical’ movies ruined in all my life.” It’s a joke, one meant to lighten the mood and turn it playful.

“I can’t wait to hear them all.” It sounds like the most heavenly pastime in the world to you, to sit and listen to all of those stories, and you can’t help the dreamy tone in your voice. “That sounds amazing.”

Eddie smirks at Max, having figured that you would enjoy that. “You know, one day, Mrs. Taylor should show you how to wear all the different styles of clothes. Have a little try on session.” He suggests.

“You love dress up, you know you do.” Allison smiles at the idea. She’s seen you with some of those dresses already and how you light up with historical fashion. “That…does sound like fun.” You have to admit that, as all four of you start your meal.

******

The rest of the day seemingly passed easy enough. You had slowly shed the unease that Derek’s visit had left under the guise of Max’s less than subtle flirting and teasing. Never anything that could be considered mean, all of it meant to make you feel good. When you had finally fallen asleep in his arms, Max sighs, tightening his hold on you as if to protect you in sleep.

It’s probably owing to having a protector that can and will sit up all night that you actually manage to fall asleep. The fear that lays deep in your bones hasn’t entirely dissipated over the course of the day and you’re reasonably assured to have nightmares about Derek breaking into your house or sneaking into your room to hurt you. Or, you would have. If you didn’t have a small army of very protective vampires to watch over you.

The door knob twists slowly, causing Max to snap his head towards the door. He hadn’t heard anyone approach so it must be him. Watching still as the door starts to swing open like a ghost, the darkness of the hallway concealing him before he steps into view. His eyes are fixed on the bed. Not on Max, but on you. Soft and yearning in a way that he had never seen on his sire’s face beyond when he was with Cookie. There’s a love there that Max can’t begin to understand and yet he realizes that you are so much more than just a random relative of the late witch.

He holds up one hand to indicate he will not be speaking and does not want Max to speak. Instead he focuses all of his attention solely on you, and steps closer to your side of the bed as he begins to filter through your thoughts and past the barrier of your dreams. From the haze of sleep, it is suddenly a crisp spring morning with birds singing outside the kitchen window of your childhood home. The smell of coffee and pancakes and something reminiscent of minerals and earth tickle your nose as you sit at the breakfast table with your father. And…two older people. You recognize them but can’t remember their names, though the part of your mind not engaged in Sleep insists this is Yayo and his wife. But you never made up a wife for Yayo. Did you? But you must have — or else how did she get into your dream…

It’s amazing that you are awake, but you’re not. Your eyes are open, but there is still the glaze of sleep in your eyes. It’s something that he knows vampires can do, but he’s never actually witnessed it before.

“But why can’t we go?” You ask, young and afraid of missing out on any opportunity for an adventure. Being denied a chance at going on a trip seems cruel to your little mind.

He smiles indulgently, careful to not reach for you since your mother was so wary of him being here. “Muñequita wishes to go, mija.” He urges, and his wife, beautiful and graceful, nods. “She will be at such a disadvantage in her destiny if you continue to shield her from her powers.” She hums. “By her age, you were already in control of your spells and you’ve barely taught her the basics!”

"She has her whole life ahead of her, Papa." You mother, hair perpetually tied back under a kerchief and long blouses always flowing over her jeans, doesn't take her eyes off the pancakes on the griddle in front of her even when your father gets up from the table to take things out of the oven. Bacon. The smell fills the kitchen and makes you grin happily, barely registering what the adults are talking about. "She doesn't need to be spending her summers surrounded by wizened old witches who want to poke and prod her or vampires who think they can experiment on her. She'll come into her powers just fine on her own if she really is what you think she is."

He hisses under his breath, a quick scowl to show his displeasure. “There has already been enough running from destiny in this family.” He reminds her, arching a brow and settling a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “We had once thought you would be the one to take this role.”

"I know you did." When she puts the last pancakes on the platter and sets it down in the middle of the table, your mother ruffles your hair affectionately and pours you a glass of orange juice before starting to serve breakfast to the assembled family. "But I chose a human life instead. And I will not apologize for being happy."

“I have a human life.” Your grandmother reminds her, the tone slightly sharp due to the insult she has just subtly given both her and her father. “And it has been a glorious one, as you might recall.”

"But I am not human." The quiet reminder from your mother isn't angry, but it is the point. "And I know that you aren't happy that I've chosen to live as one, but it is what I have chosen."

“But you are better than a human.” Yayo insists. “The best of both species and yet you squander your life.” He views this as a rejection of the life he has given her, could give you and it irks.

"I'm happy, Papa. I have a job that I love, my wonderful husband, and my baby. Would you be happier if I had never given you a granddaughter? If I had stayed in your house to be constantly miserable for as many more centuries as I'll live?" Life in that house had been so happy early on, that she hates that it is now a sticking point. Happiness is all she's ever wanted and she cannot see why her parents would not let her decide what that would mean.

“You could have been happy with Emanuel!” His voice dips down with sorrow and underlying fury. “That house was built for you and your mother. The first stone set the day I learned a miracle had occurred.”

The look exchanged between your father and mother at the mention of a name you don't know makes you uneasy, an acute pain twitching in the back of your mind even if you don't understand quite what it is. "I'll see your house one day, Yayo." You promise your grandfather brightly, as though that would smooth the entire argument over without further question. "But I'm not big enough for it yet."

“Of course you will, muñequita.” Instantly, his attention is back on you, his smile soft and reassuring, like it always is. “One day it will be yours.”

"One day." The devout love you have for your parents is different than the affection you have for your grandfather. Even at eight years old, he is your best friend and biggest fan. Phone calls, letters, gifts, and even flowers arriving to your front door born by big men with embroidered shirts always make it into your little hands with glee. "But not yet. Not until I'm bigger. But then I;ll be big enough to read all your books."

“No.” Your mild mannered, polite and always agreeable father snaps, slapping the pan he had been holding down on the counter. “No, you will not be reading anything that he has.”

"Daddy?" The moment startles everyone in the room, you most of all, and your mother stands up from the table immediately to move to her husband's side. Her eyes are still on her parents, though, and she takes a deep breath. "I think it's time for you both to go," she decides, her hand gently massaging her husband's arm to calm him. "It's been a nice weekend, but I think we should cut it short before there's any more arguing."

“Mija-“ Your grandfather reaches out to his daughter, nearly blanching at the idea of leaving but she shakes her head. Making him freeze when she growls. “Darling, your father is-“ your grandmother stands, nearly wringing her hands as she tries to diffuse the tension. “I’m tired of the excuses, the what ifs and the what should have beens.” Your father rants. “You cannot accept that your daughter wants the life that she lives, that she chose after living for over one hundred years, then you are no longer welcomed in it.” He turns to his wife and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, baby, I’ve kept quiet, I’ve tried to support you, but all they do is insist you have the life they choose. You told me that if they started up again, you were done. Well, here we are.”

******

The feeling of drowning reaches into your dream, pulling you out of it which such a violent rip that you find yourself gasping and sitting straight up in bed, clawing at the blankets that were tucked up around your neck and shoulders. Max is right beside you still, you feel him sit up next to you the split second you realize you're awake. But there is another figure in the room. Soft, dark curls. A round face with mysterious eyes. That proud smile tucked up in the corner of his mouth as he watches you just as carefully as he always has. It takes a second, but you know you're not dreaming anymore. And you've just had either the most vivid dream of your life, or somehow the explanation for how real that felt will be much, much stranger. "Y—Yayo?" Is he really standing in front of you? Flesh and blood and as real as the morning sun pushing back against the curtains drawn over your bedroom windows.

Pride swells in his chest, just like it did every time he had heard his ‘nickname’ fall from your lips. “Good morning, muñequita.” He hums quietly, eyes alight with happiness. “It is so good to see you again, granddaughter.”

______

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My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Max Phillips #Max Phillips x you #Max Phillips x reader #Max Phillips x female reader #Max Phillips x f!reader #Eddie BtVS #Bloodsucking Bastards #soulmate au #mysterious inheritance #tw abusive relationship #past abusive relationship #gaslighting #The Thief #Casillero del Diablo

[hargrove-mayfields]

Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer

for Day 7 of MungroveWeek @mungroveweek

rating: teen

prompts: Big Spoon/Little Spoon, Touched after being touch-starved, Bruised skin, First kiss, Dungeons and Dragons.

content warnings: Referenced child abuse and abandonment, past relationship abuse, and mental health struggles.

————

Billy is the kind of guy that sees sex as the endgame in a relationship.

All the flirting and the posturing and the touchy-ness, it’s all just the build up until whoever is on the other end can get him in their bed, and then it’s over.

Not that he’s scared of commitment, that’s all that he could really want is some damn stability for once in his life, but he’s scared of what comes next. After they get that first time under the covers with him, they only want more and more from there. They just want to keep taking and taking and taking from him, until they’re demanding those three little words he hasn’t been able to utter in forever, and he can’t bear it.

Love just isn’t something Billy Hargrove is good at. That’s what he’s decided anyhow. It scares him and makes him think too much. But when he holds hands with a girl and feels that swell of pride in his chest, he wonders how much more intense that feeling would be like if there was a ring on her finger. When he kisses a boy and feels warmth all over, he wants that vulnerability to be a feeling he wakes up to every morning. So, maybe he’s just too messy to settle.

But the future isn’t something he has the luxury of looking forward to when he’s always stuck in the past.

So when Eddie Munson comes along in the harshest winter of his life, Billy gets attached real quick.

They don’t even have to touch for the butterflies to start twisting him up on the inside. Just that snarky laugh is enough to have him blushing like some goofy cartoon character. Eddie’s sort of like that, all animated and full of life.

Mostly in that Billy can’t believe he’s real.

That somehow he’s fallen in love all over again with some dork who brings him pretty leaves he found in the woods and who steals Billy’s pencils and returns them with ink all over them and who knows prose and lyrical shit from his musical endeavors but can’t pronounce Hargrove without a tiny bit of his uncle’s southern drawl slipping into his accent.

Everything about him is endearing, except maybe how he leaves crumbs in Billy’s car and doesn’t brush his hair more than once every three months, but that’s just part of his charm, as Eddie easily convinces him.

Especially since the first time he’s in Eddie’s bed, it isn’t for sex.

Before he could even get his hopes or his fears reared up, he’d been beaten back down, literally, and the only place he had to go was Eddie’s.

Eddie, who didn’t care that Neil Hargrove called him a fag and a bad influence as he hit his child just for knowing him. Eddie, who wrapped his lanky arms around Billy’s bruised up body and told him a story about a raccoon he saw from the window they’re both looking out of. Though Billy’s vision is blurred with tears, he’s just happy to be settled back to chest with his crush, held and cared for for the first time in hell, probably his eighteen years.

There’s no sex appeal to showing up snotty and bloody on Eddie’s stoop, just like there’s no ulterior motive to helping him.

It’s more like…

“Oh hey, the shaking stopped! That’s a sign, that’s a sign.” Eddie trying to break the silence is what it’s like. But Billy isn’t ready. His thoughts are racing too fast for his own good.

Nervousness clamps his stomach like a vice and makes him feel sick. So it’s back to Eddie to keep it from becoming too real, “Want me to give you some space?”

Somehow, that seems worse. Right now, Billy’s comfortable, safe. Take Eddie away, and he loses that glimpse at security. He hopes he doesn’t sound as distraught as he feels when he gives his brief answer to the air, “No.”

Audible panic or not, Eddie stays, well, Eddie. All nonchalant, like he’s done this a thousand and one times before. Billy hopes, despite himself, that that isn’t the case. Selfish maybe, but he’d really like this sort of care all to himself.

“Cool. I might fall asleep back here though. I can’t wiggle.”

Oh. Maybe he’d gotten his hopes up.

Billy acts to apologize, not only saying, “Sorry,” but also peeling away from Eddie's big spoon, about to slip out of the bed when those skinny arms flex and are able to use whatever they can muster to get Billy to stay. Call it desperation, judging from the speed and the airiness in Eddie’s voice once he pleads with him.

“No, it’s good. Wiggling is bad. It keeps me up all night and then I pass out in the middle of English class. Again. And when I conk off in English class I fail, and then I’ll stay up all night for the rest of my life thinking about being a loser. A never ending cycle.”

At least Billy isn’t the only one that feels like he isn’t enough. Not that it would’ve taken that to convince him, but he decides to breathe out his tension, and let Eddie bring their position back to the center of the mattress. The way he talks, so honestly and smoothly, it’s no wonder Billy’s chest feels like it could explode from how his heart pounds against his ribs.

To distract from the obvious, he decides to leave the moping and join in on the higher energy, to tease Eddie, pull his puffy pigtails a bit, “Now you’re gonna put me to sleep.”

“That’s a first. I'm usually annoying everyone clear into like, outer space levels of awake.” Eddie retorts, but there’s way too much emotion in it to just be a reciprocal joke.

Billy tries, in an overly casual way, to help, since Eddie is doing so much for him right now. The least he can do is let him vent back, and maybe offer a little comfort, “Nah. More like white noise to me.”

It lands. He can almost hear Eddies smile turn back on like the flick of a light switch, though he can’t see his face with the way Eddie is cuddling him like a child with his favorite teddy bear.

“That’s the nicest way anyone’s ever told me they’re ignoring me. And I mean that.” The actual words there are just light hearted and jokey, but his tone sells something a lot sweeter. Something that restarts Billy’s heart all over again, especially when the context catches up in Eddie’s next soft response, “You’re different, Billy.”

His instinct is to reject that comment, obviously said with warm intent, “Yeah. What other queer would show up and ask for fucking cuddles from a dude?”

But Eddie doesn’t flinch for even a second. Actually, he stuns Billy yet again with an even sappier comeback, “I dunno, I would probably. Especially from you. ‘Cause I like you so much.”

“You don’t gotta lie to me.” Billy’s voice quivers slightly. He can’t tell if he’s shaking in Eddie’s arms, but he feels like he should be.

Eddie Munson said he fucking likes him. While he’s in his bed. Honestly Billy should be used to that, but maybe it’s the outcome he knows is coming that makes him feel so anxious. He can’t stand to have to let go already.

That or it’s the never ending ease with which Eddie talks to him, like he’s this suave prince charming even though he’s seen the guy eat off of the cafeteria floor. That gentleness sends ripples of warmth down his spine from where Eddie’s breath puffs by his ear, “Who’s lying? Are you lying?”

Somehow that inspires Billy to be honest. As if that will change the outcome he has yet to avoid. He hopes, and he says, “Kind of. To myself.”

“So what’s the truth?” Eddie asks, even though, deep down, Billy was hoping he wouldn’t.

Because then he has to admit.. “That I like you back.”

A beat. Then Eddie squeezes him a tiny bit tighter, and says, like it’s the most casual thing, “Cool.”

Billy’s reaction of disbelief is visceral, a snorted, breathless laugh accompanied by a brief questioning, “That’s it? Just.. cool?”

Eddie’s arms move in what feels like a shrugging motion. Billy should have known he just said that and hadn’t meant it, should have the routine memorized enough by now to realize that he wouldn’t like him in that way.

Besides, Eddie has ICD. He doesn’t have control over his impulses the way most people do. It was stupid to assign meaning to the words that tumbled out of his friend's mouth just because he was being selfish. Or he was just hopeful that this time, the other person would care about him too.

Behind him, Eddie makes a sound like he’s thinking long and hard about it, before announcing, one hundred percent genuine, “Actually, no. I also meant to say- Yay!”

That’s all Billy can take. He just doesn’t get it. He wants to believe that Eddie isn’t just fucking with him, but his heart has been used too many times before. Seeking answers, and comfort, and a real love connection, Billy wiggles out of Eddie’s cuddles just to turn around and face him with questions in his eyes.

The happy little grin on Eddie’s face drops off when he sees that look in Billy’s.

Suddenly he’s so serious, and that almost hurts worse than any kind of rejection or loss, “Oh. Did I mess something up?”

Billy shakes his head to tell him that, no, Eddie hasn’t done a damn thing wrong. It’s his own stupid self that did this. But he does consider, for a moment, that the confession was authentic. He runs with it, can’t let go of that hope.

Still, he doesn’t understand why Eddie didn’t seem to want to take things a few bases ahead like everyone before him had, if he wasn’t lying about having feelings for Billy. “

You.. don’t want anything else?”

“Honestly, I’m just happy you didn’t climb out the window when I said I liked you.” As he speaks, Eddie smiles again, like he can’t keep the happiness away. He's always so lighthearted and genuine about everything.

Billy envies him. And loves him with so much of his heart, he can’t bring himself to speak for a moment.

Since he stays silent, letting his feelings play out through his expressions instead, Eddie offers a suggestion, emphasizing it with a gently placed hand to Billy’s cheek, “Let’s just take this at your pace. No expectations.”

“Kiss me?” Billy wills himself to ask, sacrificing his comfort in the silence to prepare for disappointment.

But Eddie provides something much more fulfilling, “Sounds easy enough.”

And he stays true to his word too.

Adjusting to once again close the tiny bit of space Billy had made between them when he turned to face this way, Eddie kisses him. It’s just a calm thing, the press of warm, slightly chapped lips together. The hand on Billy’s face cupping his jaw now instead, to make the gesture as strong and sturdy as the feelings behind it.

It doesn’t last long enough before Eddie dips away, so Billy decides to initiate another one. He misses the mark slightly in his overeagerness to reconnect, but Eddie either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, not even when that corner of his mouth ticks up into a smile beneath his kiss.

Billy decides then and there that he’s going to take more chances, if this was going to be the reward.

~~~~~

“Are you positive you want to stay?”

Billy has all but moved into the trailer at this point, spending long nights and weekends on Eddie's couch or in his bed, wherever he falls asleep. Right now, it was the couch, with the hand crocheted blanket from Eddie’s late aunt Roxie around his shoulders, and his hair all tousled about from sleeping on it. He passed out hard last night, coming here straight after another argument with Neil that hadn’t ended well.

Eddie eventually had to wake him up, only to inform him that a group of his friends would be over this weekend to play some campaign they’d agreed on weeks ago and Eddie had forgotten until the Henderson kid called him that morning to say that Maddie would be filling for Gareth, since he couldn’t make it and apparently decided to tell Henderson first.

All of that was over Billy’s head, half of the names Eddie is rambling off to him barely recognizable when all is said and done, maybe more from his memory getting fucky again than anything else. There’s lots of reasons for why his head gets foggy, but his doctor wasn’t sure if they could blame it on being knocked around too many times or a little something called constant chronic pain.

Either way he was being dragged to Hawkins before any such diagnosis was official.

And here he is now, comfortable as fuck on Eddie’s old worn-in couch, wearing his flannel because it’s he only thing his boyfriend owns that isn’t several sizes too small for his shoulders, and using his family heirloom blankets.

He’s here to stay.

“I’m not goin’ home, so.. why not?”

Eddie still looks skeptical, and voices as much in a doubtful tone, “Okay, but, this is your final warning. It can get really intense. Like, really really.”

Somehow Billy gets the feeling this wouldn’t be the first time someone told Eddie his interests were too much. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the way he’s looking out for him, but Billy doesn’t want to be the one to crush his boyfriend's spirit.

So he makes a light joke of it, “It’s a board game, Eds. And I’m sorry, but you thought Jaws 3-D was a masterpiece. I’m not sure your definition of intense and mine are the same”

Special interest mode, activated.

“It is! It perfectly parallels how humans think poetic justice is only valid if they personally can identify with the hero! That’s all it takes to be defined as a hero or a villain!! That kicks ass!” Eddie rants passionately for the hundredth time, though the pointed laugh before he starts speaking is Billy’s sign that it’s all in fun.

So he keeps it going, “Eddie. As your boyfriend I feel obligated to tell you this, but whatever commentary a movie about a revenge driven, computer generator shark has to offer, it probably wasn’t intentional.”

“It’s not meant to be realistic. Metaphors, baby!” Eddie defends, the actual depth of this conversation many times gone over already. This is just a summary of it for a little joke, though they could be here for hours if they wanted to.

Which means it’s Billy’s turn to infodump, all those years spent researching the ocean in the library and local California museums not gone to waste yet.

“But sharks don’t even raise their young! Real world or not! Revenge doesn’t matter to the creatures that don’t even stay a day after their shark babies are born to abandon them. I mean, they could at least wait ten years like my ma-”

Stop. Oops.

That wasn’t exactly what he was supposed to say. Or even what he meant to.

He’s always defended his mommas decisions to leave him behind. Something about Neil constantly reminding him how difficult he was as a kid probably did some numbers on his ability to process the whole thing. But sometimes, his heart reveals some sadder truths in this process of healing it.

Eddie's love wraps around his bones like an extra layer of support, seeping out all the bad. Sometimes he’s got to expel those thoughts whether or not he realizes it until they come pouring out of his mouth.

And then he feels sad.

Because he’s thinking about his momma.

Eddie moves quickly into caring mode, holding his arms out to invite Billy for a cuddle. The whole boundaries thing is still a pretty big deal, even though it’s been weeks, proving Eddie meant it when he said they didn’t have to rush this. Hell, Billy thinks Eddie might never stop asking for his consent for even just cheek kisses, in the silent language the two of them are slowly developing.

There’s trust there that Billy isn’t used to. Throwing himself blindly into love and hoping to be caught hadn’t worked, and neither had acting cold. Then Eddie had shown him other options, and there was no going back.

Billy leans into his hug, pushing just a little so Eddie lays back against the armrest with his arms still around Billy, pulling them together into the perfectly nested out, cozy spot where Billy slept last night.

Even though they slept only feet away from each other, he had missed Eddie. He missed waking up from a nightmare and kissing him, the warmth and the pressure of his limbs scattered all over the bed and over Billy, and even the sound of his not so gentle snoring. He’s become the routine, the only constant in Billy’s life that he’s desperate never to let go of.

Still, Eddie is the one to change the conversation, so the effort, and the intention of their love, must be equal, “Agree to disagree?”

“Sure.” Billy gives him that, too comfortable to argue about stupid things or bring up more trauma. He hadn’t meant to and now he feels a little drained. Nothing a little early morning spoon session can’t fix.

That’s why he has the confidence to push the boundary again, just enough comfort flowing through their connected energies now that he isn’t afraid of making Eddie upset, “Still coming to dnd tonight though.”

~~~~~

“What bet did you lose?”

There’s six people, all wearing matching shirts, all accessorized in various articles of plaid and leather and whatever else they think makes them look like Eddie. Serious respect to the one who actually asked the question, he’s guessing Maddie from the previous conversation, who wears her shirt like a cutoff and actually has her own taste.

That proves Eddie right though. Billy had walked out of the bedroom for all of two seconds before he’s being glared at and asked stupid questions.

He just hadn’t realized the implications of Eddie’s friends being the overwhelming part, rather than the game. The confusing, twisting, hell of a game he’s too afraid to even attempt.

“Excuse me?”

Even being used to fighting and drama, Billy just isn’t really sure how to respond to that. He knows what Eddie’s friend means, but at the same time, he doesn’t. As far as he knew, everyone in town had heard about Billy Hargrove’s fall from grace after a few nights ago when Neil went on a bender looking for his runaway son and telling anyone who asked exactly what he thought of his kid. And for punching said kid in the face again, which is why Billy had come here to begin with.

But maybe the lowest of the Hawkins High hierarchy doesn’t fill up on the products of the rumor mill as quickly as he’s used to from his spot near the top.

One of the other nameless ones chimes in next, even more sarcastic and cold than the girl, “What ungodly punishment are you subjecting yourself to by being here?”

Billy just doesn’t understand what he did. His most notorious moments in school were still mostly aimed at whichever groupies tried to get too close to him. The best he can come up with is that these nerds were all jealous of him living with Eddie now, but, no offense to the love of his life, that doesn’t seem very likely.

Thankfully, Eddie takes the heat and changes the subject before Billy is forced to figure out what kind of response is needed from that level of passive-aggressiveness.

He steps right in the center of the room and claps his hands a few times, both to get everyone’s attention and to put accentuation on his demands, “Hey. Shoes off in my house, dorkuses. Or need I remind you of the last time?”

That sounds like there’s a story there just waiting to be told, and considering Billy would rather hear that than keep being questioned, he takes the obvious bait, “What happened last time?”

“Why, dear Jeffrey over there tracked in some dog shit surprise. Had to cut a square out of the carpet because it-“ Eddie starts to explain, but before he gets too graphic with it, Billy interrupts.

“I got it, Eds. Don’t need all the details.”

The obvious disgust on his face is probably what makes Eddie giggle like a self-satisfied little kid, before he says, “Suit yourself. Just be lucky you met me after. Took months to get the stink out.”

Dustin, the only one of the freshmen trio that still shows up to these things often enough to be considered an official member, is of course the one to interrupt the flow between Billy and Eddie, just because the smug little bastard would be, “Funny. I thought you still smelled like dog shit.”

Billy’s got to give it to the kid, if that wasn’t a snide comment about his boyfriend, he’d absolutely be laughing right now. And okay, maybe he can’t suppress just the tiniest chuckle, which of course gets noticed in an instant by Eddie.

Which is enough to make him spring into action against the insult, literal physical action because he puts Dustin in a headlock and ruffles the shit out of the kids hair after knocking his hat off.

Seeing that the tension has been successfully defused, Billy decides he’s no longer needed. That and, even though he’s grateful Eddie cooled the situation off, he’s not really looking to have to defend himself constantly.

Over the ruckus of the play-fighting teenagers and the crowd of their friends chanting for who they’re placing soda-pop bets on, Billy announces, “I’ll order a pizza and fuck off again.”

Instantly Eddie freezes, his hair half-way in his eyes and his shirt wrinkled like Billy hadn’t carefully hung it on the line this morning from all the commotion, “You know you don’t have to do that.”

Billy isn’t sure if he’s talking about the pizza or the leaving, but he’s down for both. He’ll make an appearance again when it’s time to eat. Slow integration with all this noise and personality will probably be the best for him anyways.

He challenges Eddie’s question so he doesn’t have to worry, “Who else is going to?”

Eddie doesn’t do phone calls. It’s one thing to be loud and energetic in person, but put a speaker up to him and it’s like he has no clue what to say. Maybe it’s his wired different brain, but something about not being able to stare people in the face makes it a hell of a lot harder to get his point across.

So yeah, Billy’s got him beat there. Whatever Eddie’s problem is though, times it by twenty for the amount of anxiety sitting around this place at this very moment. This is the best decision and Billy would’ve stood by it even if Eddie said anything else. But he doesn’t.

So Billy puts his hand in the shape of a phone and shakes it, wanting to go kiss Eddie before he leaves the room but restraining the urge in front of all these people that probably wouldn’t get it, “Just call for me when Aggy gets here with the pizzas.”

~~~~

Later when everything’s said and done, they’re back to where they started.

Eddie is flat on his back, lanky limbs spread out like a starfish, while Billy curls up into his side, more like a koala. There’s a quilt over their tangle of bodies, but the slightly awkward yet somehow very comfortable position means they’re barely covered by it, though that’s fine anyways because Billy runs hot.

In his own little self-sustained furnace at his boyfriend's side, Billy’s also about to fall asleep, even just listening to Eddie’s extroverted self socialize all day having made him tired. His eyes snap open when Eddie asks him a question.

“Was today okay?”

The startle the abrupt cut in the silence gave him also earns him an apology kiss on the forehead from Eddie.

He’s okay though, because it reminds him that he wanted to put his head on Eddie’s chest, readjusting to get closer and comfier. His response is a sleepy after thought, a soft little hum of agreement, “Mhm.”

Eddie takes the opportunity to put his fingers in Billy’s hair and gently play with it, as he talks up at the ceiling, “I'm glad. Because I didn’t want to have to cut all of those dudes out of my life.”

“Like you’d choose me over all of them.” Billy murmurs, though he’s actually flattered that Eddie has even chosen him at all, no matter the order of importance.

And it only gets better when Eddie says..“I would. A thousand times over, I would. I love you, man.”

Because he says it so easily, like it isn’t a big deal.

Like it’s just a normal thing. Which it is. Billy can’t lie and say he doesn’t feel the same, but they haven’t said it out loud yet. He didn’t think they ever would, a fact he’d been okay with since the first time he realized he liked dudes and girls.

“Love.. me..?”

Eddie flushes red in an instant, all the way down under the collar of his shirt to where Billy’s head is resting, and he quickly tries to correct it like the questioning means he did something wrong, “Sorry. I promised to pace myself. I’ll take it back and lock it back up in my heart until you’re ready.”

Now Billy is just glad he already loves Eddie back, because that sickly sweet proclamation would have done him in otherwise. To ease the worry in his lover's pounding heart, he makes sure to let him know.

“No. S’okay. I love you too.”

So maybe Billy isn’t as bad at being in love as he thought.

He was once someone who thought all he mattered for was sex, a few moments of distraction for somebody who would forget him anyways. Over time, he’s been proven wrong

Billy Hargrove can be loved. It just took the right person- his match in love, the other half to his soul he found in Eddie- to show him that.

#mungroveweek2023 #mungrove #eddie x billy #tw neil hargrove #tw child abuse mention #tw past relationship trauma #tw relationship abuse #autistic eddie munson #autistic billy hargrove #eddie munson has icd #billy hargrove has ocd and bpd #bisexual billy hargrove #my moodboards #my writing #ej writer

[lunar-years]

thoughts on jamie’s relationship with alcohol growing up and then in adulthood? do you think tartt sr. forced him to drink?

I mean James was forcing him to go have sex, so yeah, i think forcing (" "intensely pressuring" ") Jamie to drink was absolutely a thing :( honestly if James Sr. didn't come into jamie's life until he was around ~12/13ish, I can absolutely imagine him deciding that taking his son out to the pubs would be a great way to "bond." pre-teen/young teen jamie being taunted and goaded into getting drunk for the first time by his dad and his dad mates is a sad scene that definitely lives somewhere in my brain. Jamie wouldn't really know how much is too much and then his dad would keep encouraging him to "keep up" with them by ordering him more rounds. Idk. it all makes me very sad.

In terms of how that affected Jamie's relationship with alcohol, I think when he was a teen he would've dealt with it like he deals with a lot of his abuse - writing it off as "not a big deal" and compartmentalizing the experience in his head. So when all his mates started drinking together, etc., I can definitely imagine Jamie bragging a bit like "Oh this is nothing," downing drinks to show off, that sort of thing. He cools that sort of behavior off quick though because he dislikes being that level of drunk.

As an adult, I think he leans pretty heavily on the "my body is a temple" elite footballer mentality as his reason for not drinking much. It partly is that and partly because again, he dislikes being truly drunk. But i imagine him as mostly a social drinker who enjoys occasionally getting tipsy but mostly keeps himself to a two drink maximum. that's why Roy regulating his drinking and occasionally granting him permission to have a single beer is so fun for him, lol.

#so i guess what im saying is i think he has a pretty healthy relationship to alcohol in adulthood #kind of like he has a pretty healthy relationship to sex #but it's also definitely been a James Sr. Thing in past #jamie tartt #ted lasso #asks #james tartt sr #tw abuse #csa mention

[aubreymillerx]

Where: Max's house

Who: @maxdiaz

Aubrey just hung up a very disturbing phone call. The only person she didn't want to be in her life just told her he had been clean and sober for over a year now and he wanted to be in Aurora's life again. The only good thing to come out of Aubrey's marriage was Aurora and still Aubrey was making up for Aurora's childhood till this day. The redhead felt super stressed and decided to go to Max's to try and calm down. As she arrived she walked inside, "Max?" She yelled out.

#M #{para} #tw past abuse #tw toxic relationship

[sulasnsleep]

“when she yells, i shrink back into the shell of a child i once was.”

— sulasnsleep

#tw past trauma #tw child abuse #tw depressing stuff #tw abuse #tw angry #tw past abuse #tw self destruction #tw depressing thoughts #tw anger #past trauma #past life #past times #tw trauma #tw childhood trauma #mother daughter relationship #mother daughter quotes #mother #daughter #kinda depressing #depressing quotes #depressing poem #depresjon #depressing shit #sorry for being depressing #depressiv #despression #depressing life #this is depressing #depression #childhood

[dailydragon08]

Dating Luke Skywalker After a Toxic Relationship Headcanons

See my full masterlist here and read on AO3 here!

Trigger warning for mentions of past relationship abuse/a toxic relationship.

Luke has always been incredibly sweet with you, even before he knew about your past relationship. But when you mentioned something your ex did in passing, thinking it wouldn’t sound like a big deal, he’s horrified that anyone would even contemplate doing that to you and becomes even sweeter (if that’s even possible).

He never yells or makes assumptions and always approaches any disagreement or misunderstanding with an incredible amount of patience and gentleness. He always listens attentively to your side of things while calmly and confidently explaining his own.

That being said, he’s very open-minded and if something you say sways his opinion, he doesn’t hesitate to let you know. He makes sure to tell you he appreciates the new view you’ve given him and if he was the one in the wrong, he apologizes quickly and sincerely.

His apologies not only consist of words, but also actions. He makes sure to remedy his future actions and does his best to make it up to you by showering you in affection—whether that’s a trip somewhere, little gifts, or just some extra physical touch. He makes it clear he never expects anything in return and is just trying to show his love and appreciation for you.

Inevitably, you will get triggered sometimes and Luke’s aware of this. He’s always there to provide a comforting hug, hand hold, or kiss (or all three) and remind you that you’re safe.

If he’s the one that accidentally triggers you, he feels terrible and apologizes profusely. Afterwards, he’ll give you whatever you need with no question or hesitation: space, extra love, reassuring words, etc., and will take great care to make sure he never does it again.

Although this usually doesn’t happen because he’s extremely attentive. He mentally notes every wince, flinch, and gasp to the point that he sometimes even knows what will trigger you before you do. He’ll do everything in his power to help you avoid those situations.

He always keeps a stash of hot chocolate on hand just in case you need a little pick-me-up. You’d always assumed anyone could make hot chocolate and it would all taste the same, but there’s something about the way he makes it (he refuses to tell you his secret) that just tastes so much better. You’re never allowed to do it for yourself either, unless you sneak it, because he loves taking care of you.

He’s always there to listen when you need to vent. The fact that you even had such a horrible experience in the first place breaks his heart, but he’s committed to helping you make new good memories and letting you know there’s always hope for a better future.

Along that same vein, he’s just so excited to do life with you and show you all the great things the galaxy has to offer. He takes you on trips as frequently as he can and shows you all his favorite places with the biggest smile on his face.

If there are experiences you want to have, he’s ready to do them with you at a moment’s notice. Your ex never wanted to do any of your bucket list items, so Luke makes sure to rectify that. As soon as he finds out how robbed you were in your last relationship, he sits the two of you down to make a list of all the things you want to do and is genuinely excited to try them with you. From simple things like kissing in the rain to more risky adventures, he’s always on board with whatever makes you happy.

If your ex had a habit of not celebrating birthdays, anniversaries, or holidays with you, Luke makes sure to go all out since, in his words, it’s nothing less than what you deserve. He showers you in affection and gifts and will gladly help you decorate.

He constantly reminds you how much he loves and appreciates you with not only his words, but actions. He’s always bringing you back little gifts from his solo missions and leaves little notes around telling you you’re beautiful, things he loves about you, and to have a good day.

He isn’t the best cook, but he tries for you and there have been numerous times you’ve come home after a hard day to find one of your favorites, completely homemade (the fact that he had to call Leia on the commlink for instructions multiple times is irrelevant).

Always makes sure you know how happy you make him and he’s always very smiley around you. He’s a very committed person and doesn’t wait to let you know he wants to be with you forever—whether marriage is your thing or not.

His inner Anakin definitely comes out whenever your ex is in close proximity. Most of the time, he’ll make sure your ex never goes near you. But if you have to be in the same room, Luke is glued to your side and always makes sure to stand between you and your ex. If your ex tries to make any sort of snide comment or God forbid touch you, he sends a withering glare their way and grabs their wrist before they can make contact, turning his body so they can see the lightsaber at his hip and pushing you behind him.

Physically, Luke is so gentle with you that it almost makes you tear up. His touches are feather-light and his kisses are passionate, but still gentle. In the bedroom, he reminds you that you’re entitled to your boundaries and can stop activities at any time for any reason.

Constantly tells you he loves you, how happy you make him, and that he’s so glad the Force brought you two together.

#luke skywalker #luke skywalker headcanon #luke skywalker fluff #luke skywalker comfort #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #luke skywalker fanfiction #luke skywalker imagine #star wars imagine #tw: past abuse #tw: toxic relationships #tw: past abusive relationship #tw: past toxic relationship #luke skywalker x reader

[rainestormes]

people aren't saying hunter doesn't need a love interest because we don't think abuse victims deserve/should be in romantic relationships, omfg. we're saying it because his story is heavily focused on his trauma and recovery, and now, especially since the show got shortened, there's only 6 episodes to wrap his story up and developing a romance would take attention and time away from his character arc.

#I think huntlow may be hinted at more heavily at the end of the show #in a “may happen in the future 👀” kind of way #but this show has two couples and one of them has had a lot of time dedicated to their develpment #and the other has already had that development in the past and there's already a lot of history #so rushing either a relationship or either of their arcs would be degrading to their characters #god people have no reading comprehension #toh hunter #the owl house #toh spoilers #tw abuse mention #ask to tag

[piplupod]

second hater post of the day: I am glad that not everybody has experienced abuse at the hands of their parents, but sometimes these people say honestly really unbelievably stupid (insensitive or just plain baffling) things because they are so disconnected from the experiences of abuse survivors/victims

#I cannot give an example because this applies to several things we've seen in the past couple weeks #but my god. god i fucking wish i was you. i wish i had a brain that could come up with the shitty thing u just said so confidently #I dunno lmao this is very much just the hater in me but sometimes it feels like rubbing it in our faces or bragging the way they say things #not any one specific person. just. generally. a type of person with a certain set of experiences so far outside our own #I know I'm being unreasonable btw LMAO I simply wish I could avoid seeing people talk about how great their parents are #and how supportive they are and how much their parents love them and actively care for them even into their adult years #and what a good relationship they have w their parents #it makes me fucking pissed off and I KNOW that's unreasonable lol I know I'm being a fucking asshole abt this #Juno doesn't feel the same way btw lol they somehow feel happy to see other ppl have good relationships w their parents #I cannot bring myself to be happy for those people though lmfao I'm not wired that way #good for you but god I fucking wish I didn't have to see other people live the life we desperately wish for and will never have #fucking wish we didn't have to live with the reality of having parents who fucked our whole life and brain up from the time of our infancy #chase on the mic #abuse tw

[levmada]

i wonder what levi would do in a toxic relationship

#tw toxic behavior #tw toxic relationship #tw toxicity #this is a tough one i think depending on au #in canon love for levi would be almost once in a lifetime and he’d spot shitty behavior from a mile away #especially physical toxicity #he’s slamming the door on his way out and never talking to the person again #canon levi is tough and so guarded #even tho he isn’t sure about all the aspects of a romantic relationship; a relationship is so alien and strange alone he’s easily put off #modern au is harder cos it depends on his past exactly but if it was close ish to canon #in any au a cheater is dead to him #even if he’s blamed for it or gaslighted into an attempt for him to believe it was his fault levi is still gone but he’s carrying that agony #/insecurity with him to every future relationship and the grave #it’d be hard for him to recognize emotional abuse for what it is bc he doesnt understand his own most times and if he’s dating someone #he really really really really cares about them #and his present insecurity would make it easier for him to believe things are his fault #then if it escalates he’s so confused and idk brainwashed that outside intervention would be necessary. despite the fact his friends probabb #probably pointed out toxicity about his partner before and he fiiierrceeely defended them #bc he’s levi #but what abt s*x abuse. especially canon levi who has a shitty knowledge of sex and what it is he’d be so vulnerable to that i think. and #assume that’s the way it should be and take it #just in general levi is willing to accept pain if his partner doesn’t have to go thru it and the same would apply to his partners pleasure #god that’s so fucking sad #tw physical harm #tw sex assault #tw sex abuse #why am i thinking about this💀💀 #levi.thoughts #levi ackerman

[reallifemarvbruh]

random thoughts

dead dove do not eat

i love marvbruh and you should love them too

theyre so perfect for each other, absolutely made for each other.

the love they have is so unique and unlike any other.

i love making zebruh a pathetic, whiny loser with loads of sexual trauma and assault to deal with, him coping in unhealthy ways and making it worse for himself to handle.

i really love zebruh and i want him to be happy just as much as i want him to he miserable.

ive written, role played, and read about marvus nonconing zebruh and it makes sense to me. i see the vision and i go with it, but at the same time i also seem them being happy together.

i want marvus to finally realize theyre meant to be whether thats on his own time or by force, i want him to make my sweet stalker boy happy.

zebruh pathetically clinging to marvus as soon as theyre together, never wanting to be away from him and marvus just goes with it.

zebruh is an absolutely terrible person but eventually marvus would see past that, realizing theyre more similar then not, and giving him all the love he deserves.

pampering him and giving him the best goddamn sex he’ll ever have in his virgin life.

but at the same time it isnt all that great, just as much as they love each other theres problems too.

zebruh, being who he is, would ruin most of it for himself. being such a stupid little brat that he messes up any progress they’ve made together.

i dont think they would abuse each other verbally or physically, maybe some occasional insults or too tight of a grip but nothing major.

however if you want to be a little inaccurate then i feel as though marvus would use him to his advantage.

hes a little creepy fucking stalker after all, he deserves it, right?

he deserves to be degraded as a “joke”, deserves to be thrown around and treated like a rag doll, deserves to get fucked without his explicit consent, even to get groped and sexually harassed,,,

maybe even being occasionally told that yes, all he will ever be is a shitty stalker and he will never be anything more. he’ll never be his own person, never live a fulfilling life, never have true love. hell, even being made fun of for being a bad stalker. if you pride yourself on knowing everything and being so stalkery then why are you bad at it? a good stalker would never let their love interest treat them like this. a good stalker would have never gotten caught, wouldnt have gotten fucked or made fun of.

zebruh would go along with all of it. nodding his head and blindly agreeing, following the purplebloods orders like a clueless puppy, degrading and hurting himself in the process.

hed end the night with a fragile state of mind and stinging wrists and thighs, but it still wouldnt matter to him. this is love, isnt it? this is the love he knows.

zebruh is still an awful person.

if it was the other way around itd be no different.

hed go as far as to kidnap his idol if it came down to it, keeping him to himself while fucking and hurting him whenever he wanted. he would have so much power, hed make the other need him….make him want him.

make marvus so dependent on him so that hes all he needs. no one else will be in his life except for him.

itll be paradise having such a piece of heaven to himself, hed have him restrained while rambling about how much he loves him and that this is for the best, no one knows him better then he does. he knows what he needs. he knows how to take care of him.

marvus is a mentally strong troll however it wouldnt take long for someone like zebruh to break him down. make him so utterly fragile that he cant do anything against him despite being so much bigger and stronger.

its okay though, zebruh would care for him. zebruh would take care of every need he has and he wouldnt keep him in one place either, no, of course not, he would still let him do his shows and be social. he has to make him think he has a choice and free will.

every night will always end the same.

theyll always be together in the same place, all lovey dovey and cuddly. some nights its a little darker though, but thats to be expected isnt it? i think it is.

maybe even forcing him to watch him hurt himself, watching the thin lines of blue stretch across his grey skin, drops of bright blue blood dripping down his arms and thighs. not even just there, some on his chest and ribs too, even by his nook and bulge.

marvus wouldnt do anything but sit and watch, uncomfortably giving zebruh praise and compliments for hurting himself because he begs for it…begging for validation for anything.

sometimes he’d even specifically cut right under his chest, having a moderately big sized chest is something he hates. wanting to practically cut off his tits but being too scared to do it.

he wouldnt just hurt himself either, he would hurt marvus too. hed call him beautiful and gorgeous while the purple stains his skin, only encouraging him to do more.

his favorite thing though is when he gets to fuck him or ride him, its so exhilarating and makes him feel like he has so much control in a life where he has had none.

the sex is amazing, pure bliss feeling how the other feels. being so close, skin to skin, is all the pathetic troll craves.

he does prefer to ride him or be fucked though, loving the stretch and struggle of having to fit a massive highblood bulge in such a space thats just not quite built for it all while his own unusually, pitiful small bulge squirms against his own skin and leaks blue slick everywhere.

sigh.

they really are perfect no matter what light you put them under.

toxic, healthy, doesnt matter.

they truly are meant for each other.

#tw noncon #tw abuse #tw self harn #tw past trauma #tw projecting #dead dove content #dead dove do not eat #hiveswap friendsim #hiveswap #marvbruh #marvus xoloto #zebruh coddak #zebruh x marvus #tw unhealthy relationship #tw stalking #tw kidnapping #toxic yaoi

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Kauri and Vince in pain or angst is just ✨👌🏾! Listen we all hate Owen but i gotta admit the man has taste…

CW: References to past domestic violence, discussion of child abuse and domestic violence, and then everything goes to shit at the end

The Same Bed: Part One: Jake | Part Two: Krista | Part Three: Chris | Part Four: Vincent | Part Five: Antoni | Interlude

-

At least, Jake thinks, he isn't running yet.

He stands in the doorway to their bedroom, looking in on Kauri. He looks so small, curled up like that on his side in the center of the enormous oversized king bed that is the one single luxury Jake allows himself. His hair falls over his forehead and along his neck, and through the black curls Jake can see heavy dark eyelashes, just barely resting on his cheek. He's gone more angular with time, lost the last of the softness that had rounded him when they first met.

Still, he seems the same in so many ways. Frightened and curled around the little Roomba that had been with him since he was trapped, has followed him through freedom, and who even now sits with a soft buzzing warmth, her visual sensors two red dots watching Jake, an unblinking guardian.

"He's going to take a shower," Jake says, voice low. Kauri doesn't respond, but his arms tightens minutely around Keira, and he presses his forehead against the curved metal along her side. "He says he mostly just got roughed up. His nose isn't even broken, we thought it was but... just a lot of blood. He'll heal up all right. Just some bumps and bruises and a whole lot of very gross dirt."

Kauri still doesn't move, or even open his eyes.

Jake inhales, slowly, and then steps inside properly, closing the door behind him. The room dips into comfortable darkness, lit only by the streetlight outside. The night has fallen by now, and some of the sweltering daytime heat is finally letting up.

The ceiling fan ticks in a lazy spin overhead, and Jake could reach up and touch it without even stretching onto his toes, but he just sits at the edge of the bed. Keira watches him. Kauri curls up a little tighter around her.

"Kauri. Look at me." There's a pause, and then he does. Those wide blue eyes slowly open, glimmering with tears and shadowed in misery. "This isn't your fault."

"It is," Kauri answers. His voice is hoarse, but he's been crying ever since they got the call from Krista, off and on. Jake isn't surprised. It actually reminds him of Jameson, whose voice is eternally hoarse from screaming and not tears, but the effect is sort of the same. "It is my fault. If I wasn't here-"

"He'd have found you ages ago, and we couldn't keep you safe," Jake soothes, leaning over to push back the curls with his thumb, rubbing it lightly over Kauri's forehead just above his thick eyebrows. He shivers, but it's a pleasant sensation, and the beautiful man manages a slight, faint, frightened smile.

"You'd all be better off," Kauri says.

Falsehood detected, Keira answers, sounding almost prim and proper - if metallic robot voices can have emotions like that - and Jake grins.

"See? Keira's smarter than all of us combined and she knows you're better off here than back there."

"You taught her to say that when I say anything bad about myself," Kauri says petulantly. But his arms tighten around the little robot that was by his side before anyone else even had the chance.

"Guilty as charged," Jake admits. He can barely contain the weight and the depth of his love, in the moment. Down the hall the shower runs, Antoni scrubbing away the remnants of what Owen did. In another room, Chris is safe in bed, Rafael and Laken with him, distracting him with video games so he won't think about what was written on the walls. Krista is in a hotel room while they move her to a new apartment - Jake had paid the lease-breaking fee and all the costs of the new place and hiring a moving truck himself, out of a stash of money Vincent Shield gave him more or less against his will more than a year ago. Krista's safe, under an assumed name and driven to a place no one will expect her to be.

Everyone is exactly as safe as Jake is capable of making them.

And he feels like shit that he can't do better than this.

"What'm I gonna do?" Kauri asks, and the wedding ring glitters in the darkness on his left ring finger as he rests the hand on top of Keira. She whirrs her little broken wheel in response, a sound not entirely unlike a cat purring. "Jake, what-... what do I do, we can't go to the cops, we can't... Jesus. You were right."

Jake pauses. "Right about what, Kaur?"

"Going public," Kauri whispers. "Telling everyone what WRU is doing. You were so right, it told Owen where to find me, didn't it? I didn't think he'd still be looking after so long, but-... but-"

"He is, yeah. And no, this isn't what I thought would happen, and although it literally hurts me to admit to this, no, I wasn't right in being too scared to let you speak up. You did the right thing." Jake takes his hand, and Kauri's fingers are long and cool in his own. "You really did. None of this changes that. Whatever bullshit Owen does is because he's a shitty asshole who wanted to hurt you. It's not because of anything you've ever done."

"He's hurting everyone around me," Kauri says, meeting Jake's eyes finally. "He-... he hurt you by sending your dad-"

"I kicked that fucker off my front porch in less than an hour." Jake keeps his voice light, although the humor doesn't quite land. "And then my mom drove to his hotel and screamed at him to leave us alone from there. He's gone, and you know what?"

Kauri waits a beat, and then asks, "What?"

"I found out important shit from that, anyway. One, that he's actually a more pathetic person than he used to be, he didn't even want to find me, he just wanted the money Owen gave him for doing it. He had to take a picture of my house, apparently, for proof. Two, when Mom was yelling at him he admitted he doesn't know where Jeremy is, so my little brother is safe from him, too."

"Go Suzanne," Kauri says, brightening just a little. "She really decided to leave and went, huh?"

"She really did. Apparently Dad's history of using custodial visits to beat the shit out of me came up in court." Jake ignores the ancient twist of jealousy, that someone else's mom could go when his felt compelled to stay for so, so long. It wasn't her fault, not really - Jake by now knows everything about the psychology of abuse, he's made rescuing people from a kind of endless legal abuse the focus of his entire life.

But the jealousy is still there, deep down. And he doesn't hate himself for feeling it, not anymore. He just accepts that it's the child in him wishing things could have been different, and that's an okay thing to wish.

"Go Suzanne," Kauri repeats, but his eyes close again. He squeezes Jake's hand. "I wish I could have been like her."

"Kauri." Jake laughs - he can't help it, it's such a bizarre train of thought. "Kauri, I love you, but you are, you are like her."

His eyes open again, and he blinks up at Jake, confused. Jake loves the way his brow furrows, the little wrinkle between his eyebrows, when he makes this face. "What? How?"

"You were scared. You were hurting. He turned on you - and you decided to leave, you took what you loved-" His eyes flicker down to Keira, whose visual sensors might brighten briefly in what he likes to think is her attempt to approximate a smile, "-and you went."

"Yeah, but-"

"You threw yourself out of a moving car on a highway," Jake insists, and pulls Kauri's hand to his lips to kiss along his knuckles one by one. "You cut shit out from under your skin so he couldn't track you with it. You nearly fucking died for freedom. Go Suzanne, yeah, I'm so glad Jeremy won't have to know Dad like I did, but... go you, too, Kauri. If you hadn't run you'd be dead. And you ran, and here you are."

"Here I am," Kauri echoes, the first glimpse of a real smile fading as he thinks. "And here Owen is, tracking me down, ruining my life. Ruining all our lives. Chris has barely spoken since it happened-"

"He ate a little bit today," Jake says, thinking. "Laken's trying to get him to drink a protein shake before he learns about Antoni."

"Krista doesn't feel safe anymore-"

"The movers are packing all her shit up for us tomorrow, and she'll be moved into the new place by Monday. It's ten minutes away instead of an hour, so she'll be closer to help if she needs it again."

"Antoni is hurt-"

"Antoni's been hurt before," Jake says, but his voice gentles. He knows this guilt, marking Kauri's face as deeply as any scar ever could. "He'll be all right. He's here, and we'll take care of him."

"I guess. Jake, I-... I'm scared of him. I make jokes, I know, about Owen's... his bullshit, and everything he did to me, but-... but." Kauri huffs dry, humorless, angry laughter, closing his eyes and curling tightly around Keira again. "I'm so scared," He whispers, lips trembling against Keira's side.

Kauri is good, Keira croons, soothing as best she can. Kauri Grant, owner. Kauri is good. Reassurance Jake Stanton provide.

"I do, and I will, as many times as you need to hear it. We'll get through this, Kauri."

"Maybe," Kauri whispers. "Maybe we will. What did Nat say?"

"I don't know, I haven't talked to her." Jake shrugs. Kauri raises his head, confused, and Jake sighs. "She texted before that she and Jameson were doing movie night, and you know how she is about he phone. She turns it off during movies. I've left a voicemail and I'll try again when I figure the movie's probably over."

Kauri is quiet, for a second. Outside, a mourning dove softly calls hoo-hoo, hoo. Then he pushes himself up. "Call Jameson's phone," He says quickly. "Please."

"Jameson didn't give me his number, he was... he's not exactly happy with me-"

"Do it, Jake. Please. Get Allyn, they know... they know, please." Kauri swallows. His seem briefly silver, reflecting the hint of light from outside. "For me, Jake. Please."

"... yeah. Okay." Jake gets to his feet and heads down the hall, finding Allyn in their bedroom listening to an audiobook, eyes closed. He makes sure to let the door hit the wall, so they jolt into awareness and open their eyes before he's right in front of them. They look up - already ready for bed in a matching pajama set they found at Secondhand Threads two weeks ago.

"Jake?" They tip their head to one side, heavy, wavy red hair falling against the freckles on their cheek.

"Can you call Jameson for me, please? Nat's phone is off."

Allyn nods. "Movie night," They say sagely, and twist to their side to pick their phone up off the nightstand. They're proud of it, of the trust Jake shows them in giving them a phone of their own and a way to contact Jameson that doesn't mean going through someone else. Jake hears them in there talking for an hour some nights, Allyn's voice low and soft the way Jake's own voice gets when he talks to Kauri and Antoni.

The shower at the end of the hall shuts off.

Allyn finds the call history, and Jameson is the only person they've ever called so they don't need to read in order to hit the send button and hold it up to their ear. They frown.

The second tick by, one by one by one by one.

"Hold on," They say quietly. "Let me try again."

Something cold starts to settle in Jake's chest. He hovers in the doorway, watching as they call again. The time stretches. It slows. It stops.

Allyn frowns down at the phone. They try one more time. This time, they flinch and look up. "The phone's not even ringing now, it went to his voicemail."

Jake could pretend to be confused... but he isn't.

Just cold with a burst of fury that closes sharp fingers around his heart. He turns around and finds Antoni in the bathroom doorway, drying his hair in a loose, long-sleeved shirt and pants. "Jasha?" Antoni asks, but hesitates when he sees... whatever it is he sees in Jake's face. "Jasha-"

Jake moves past him without a word and goes back to the bedroom. "I'm going to check on Nat," He says sharply to Kauri, sitting on the side of the bed to yank on tennis shoes. "Jameson's phone rang twice with no answer and went to voicemail. It's probably nothing, but-"

"It's not nothing," Kauri cuts him off. He sits up, too, clambering out from the center of the bed and standing. "I'll go with you-"

"No." Jake looks up at him, and he feels guilty at how Kauri looks scared of him, too, the look on his face... but not so guilty that he'll give in and risk what might happen if he goes. "Listen. I'm going to go handle it. You stay here and keep track of everyone. Keep them safe. Keira, you've got location on my phone?"

Jake Stanton phone ID verified, Keira responds. She might sound urgent. How do you know, with a robot voice, coolly feminine and metallic? Location tracking on.

"Good. If my phone heads anywhere but Nat's house, Kauri, then you come for me, too. But otherwise I'll call you."

Kauri doesn't want to say yes, Jake can tell, but he can't say no, either. It should bother Jake that he can tell Kauri can't say no, right now, that he's too deep in his terror and fear to remember how long it took him to speak up for himself.

It doesn't. He needs that fear right now. He needs Kauri to stay here.

He leaves the room and heads down the hall at a fast clip, ignoring Antoni's eyes on his back. Jake slams the door shut and locks it in one smooth motion before he's jogging for the car he borrowed since his own is sitting at a mechanic's to get every damn tire replaced now, since Owen slashed them.

"Shit," He mutters to himself, and pulls out of the driveway so fast he nearly hits the neighbor's mailbox, before tires squeal on pavement and he's gone. The drive takes forever, no matter how fast he goes. He tries calling her three more times. It doesn't work.

Nat's truck is in her driveway, lights show through the blinds, but when he leaps up the stairs and opens her unlocked front door...

She's gone.

So is Jameson.

The only thing he can see is a spray of blood along the wall above Jameson's phone, dropped directly beneath it into a puddle of more blood, drips and drops of it along the floor, leading from the phone towards the door. Now that Jake is looking, he can see more drops on the porch, down the steps. He smeared them when he went running up to come inside.

There's a goddamn handprint on the inside of the front door.

That has to be on purpose.

That's a fucking message.

Trash Cat is a meow before she's a creature, loudly yowling as she runs up to Jake. He scoops her up and for the first time she allows him to hold him, clinging with claws to his arm and shoulder. Jake takes a breath, knowing immediately he won't find Nat or Jameson here. If Trash Cat is coming to him, there's no one else.

Tied to her collar with thread is a little rolled-up piece of paper, a bloodied fingerprint pressed into the blank side. He unrolls it, stares at what's written in ballpoint pen. He checks the whole house to be sure - to ensure no one is here, no one is hiding, he even checks the secret closet hiding space he once put Chris in so long ago - and then he heads back outside and gets into the borrowed car.

With Trash Cat sitting ladylike in the passenger seat, he picks up his phone.

"Jake, did you find them-"

"He's got them," Jake says, voice flat. Kauri lets out a soft cry at the other end, and then Jake has to close his eyes as one of the two loves of his life wails, an animal sound he would rather die than ever have to hear again.

"No," Kauri whimpers. A sob breaks on the other end. Antoni's voice is low, muffled, not quite understandable in the background. Jake hears Kauri tell him, and Antoni's vicious swearing in Russian. Kauri returns to the phone, his voice shaking with tears. "Jake, no, please, please tell me he doesn't-"

"He does," Jake says. He takes a deep breath. "But listen. Trash Cat's still here."

Trash Cat meows when she hears her name, left ear flicking towards him and then away. Her tail lashes, unhappily.

"He didn't-... oh god, he didn't hurt her, did she? She's just an animal, she didn't-... she isn't-"

"He didn't hurt her," Jake soothes. "I'm bringing her back with me. But I found a note on her."

"A..." Kauri sniffs. "A note?"

"A note."

"From... oh, fuck, jesus, god..." Kauri takes a breath so deep Jake can hear it through the phone line. "From Owen? Does he s-say what he's going to d-d-do to them or-"

"It's not from Owen." Jake backs down the driveway, turning out to head for the four-way stop at the end of the street.

"What? Then-"

"The note is from Nat," Jake says. His eyes are on the merge to the highway up ahead and the promise of laying his foot as hard as he can on the gas pedal to head home. "It's Jameson's blood on the wall, not hers. And Owen's too apparently. I need to talk to Keira."

"What? Why? Wait, blood on the wall?"

"Listen. Owen's got Vince, apparently, and now he's got Jameson and Nat, but... but listen."

There's a pause. "I'm listening-... oh god, Jake."

"Listen to me." His left hand is tingling, and Jake ignores the evidence of the lasting nerve damage that he is still pretending never happened. "Nat has a plan."

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

#whump #whump oc #caretaker and whumpee #angst #erase to control #the same bed arc #abduction references #ptsd tw #past abusive relationship #references to domestic violence #abusive relationship tw #owen grant is a nice guy #owen grant is a creepy motherfucker is what he is #kidnapping tw #blood tw #keira the sentient robot #recaptured whumpee #sort of #jameson bb #trash cat #caretaker #fear of whumper #creepy whumper #stalking tw #trauma tw #recovering whumpee

[girlwithfish]

im feeling weird. sometimes i was convinced my ex was trying to kill me bc i felt so unsafe w him and its not true likely that he was actually trying to kill me but sometimes i felt it and id scream and freak out around him if an argument escalated and id run away from him and not all the times id do these things was he like actually harming me that much but after i started seeing him as an unsafe person i was convinced he was going to hurt me or id just feel terrified of being held down or grabbed or the possibility of phys aggression happening. And its confusing when bpd is in the equation as well im already fucked up and paranoid and volatile when in mental health crisis or episode and when hed handle it by being forceful or mean or with more aggression it just did not end up well. i hated how he thought how he handled things was good for me at all when i was extremely mentally ill at the time

#abuse tw #being in a situation like this is so lonely. i dont even know what to think abt it or say sometimes #i got past the all of the trauma coming out and flooding my memory after i finally left the relationship bc i #somehow repressed horrific memories for the past yr and a half and it all came back to me once i was out bc i was so good at locking those #memories away and gaslighting myself and thinking its normal or ok bc i have bpd and this is just how it is #and im not as angry anymore but it affects me a lot and idk what to do with it all. how do u move past smth like that #like i feel like i need to be over it now but im not. idk #and its like that happened what the fuck do i do with that

[snonkerdoodledreams]

why can't she see that

i am struggling within

because of her

why cannot she see

her actions' consequences

exist and are real

why can't she see me

being damaged day by day

from her screaming and

why doesn't she know

what she is doing to me

is wrong and hurtful

her emotional immaturity

is just a gratuity

her codependence and brutality

is nothing more than a legality

i have the names of these problems now

but that ain't making nothing right

all i wanted when i was a girl

was to be tucked in normally and told goodnight

sometimes i still wonder

why shit has to be this way

and then i tell myself

"it's just for this day"

tomorrow she'll be normal

tomorrow she'll apologize

tomorrow she'll go about usual

tomorrow she won't agonize

saying the things you said to me

is not right, it leaves a bite

and it still isn't okay to say these things

and then go about as if everything's right

because when you do it over and over

to everyone you've ever known

it leaves a lasting scar and damage

words are engraved in stone

#thinking before speaking is important everyone don't forget that #and apologizing doesn't make everything right immediately #it takes time to rebuild a relationship after saying really hurtful things to the other party #you can't just say “i didn't mean it” and then go on like usual and then the next time you get angry the cycle repeats #life doesn't work that way #i wish she were able to see the problems she had and tried to fix them #i wish she'd be able to listen and not cut people out when they attempt to tell her she has a problem #i wish she were able to get past her stigma regarding mental help so that she can get the help she needs to heal #it would be nice to have a mother #because her immaturity prevents her from acting like one #emotional abuse #dysfunctional family #toxic #mental health #tw #poetry #sad poetry #haiku

[pretty-face-breaker]

Hold On

( @whumpmasinjuly day 6) 

CW. drinking, discussion of past torture, discussion of long term captivity, whumpee dissociating, self-blame, guilt, reference to past noncon, brief voice-raising, crying, just a whole lot of guilt and sadness

—

“And sometimes,” Hayko slurs, “he’d make me watch. Well, not force. I didn’t have a gun to my head.”

“Hm.”

“But if he brought someone in to interrogate, he made sure to lock the door of the main room so I wouldn’t leave.” 

Vladimir makes another noise of acknowledgement, neither pitying nor noncommittal. It has a ring of sympathy that leaves them both comfortable with how far this has gone. He drops back his head and takes a swig from the bottle, watching the ceiling shift. 

It’s so quiet in the back of his head. 

“He knew I would be too scared to ask him to unlock it.” A drunken laugh rolls right from Hayko’s core and echoes in the abject emptiness of the motel room. “And, I mean, the fuck was I supposed to do? Interrupt? Hey, I know you’re caving some poor snitch’s skull in but could you unlock the door?” 

They’ve been running for two weeks now.

Silent, Vladimir lets his eyes close - another recognition. He does it in a way that lets Hayko know that he’s listening, soaking it in and how, in another light, he knows about all of it because he knows more than his friend thinks. 

“Those first few months with him were…”

“Hell. I know,” Vlad fills in. Another swig, another skip in the ceiling. 

The popcorn texturing moves with each languid blink and he thinks about how quickly the bumps move back to their original positions, the quicker he blinks. It builds blocks of anxiety in him, watching the bumps bounce back again and again, never making substantial forward progress. 

The only reason they bounce is because he's shitfaced. 

“You don’t… think I ever-...” Hayko begins with uncertainty. “I never loved him. Klyanus zhiznyu. I think, after he began treating me like a person, I settled into this complacency because… because it was easier. At least I wasn’t getting beaten or cut or… It was easier.” 

The more he goes on, the more Hayko’s voice seems to retreat inside himself.

Realising this, Vlad perks up and wastes no time in moving towards him on the ground, patting his shoulder gently. “Hey, Hayk.”

He doesn’t jerk - only stares forward. “I’m-... I’m awake.” 

Vladimir sighs in veiled relief and sits back. “Podozhdi.” 

The sun had gone down an hour ago and, since then, the two had played a round of Backgammon and four rounds of speed-chess. Hayko’s face had practically lit up when he saw the familiarly embellished wood and Vladimir had chuckled to himself at the endearing sparkle in his long-dulled eyes, relieved to see that something could still be reached.

Cultural lines. Each line had brought them together, and together they had stayed. 

“Podozhdi, luchik.”

Hold on.

Hayko’s face flickers brighter but he scoffs and takes another drink, pushing the exhausted chess board away from the both of them. “Remember how we played the day before we?...”

“Quite clearly, yes.” 

The man thinks for a moment, letting the alcohol simmer in him, as if waiting for it to give him courage. “I’m sorry.”

“...For,” Vladimir cocks an eyebrow, concerned. “For what?” But he can tell the soon-to-be brittle voice. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more useful.” 

The men sit in silence, Vladimir stunned. For a second, he tries to search for the sarcasm in his voice, looking for a sliver of good old boy cynicism but finds none. “Hayk, you..cannot be serious.”

“I can be. We were-... I was there for two years, Vovchik.” 

Vlad predicted that he would have broken by now but Hayko’s voice stays acknowledging and steady, like an admonishing teacher. 

Something in him, keeping down the storm, breaks.

He can’t keep it to himself.

“I was there for ten fucking years,” Vladimir snaps up, eyes blazing as Hayko averts his gaze. “You would think I could have done something by then but no, I didn’t even try and you know why? You know that this began as a job for me? I was not forced into it, like you. I was not kidnapped. I was not beaten. I was not raped-” 

Hayko’s eyes snap to him, startled. “He never did that, Vov-”

“You wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t need to, to survive, luchik,” Vlad snaps back, and his voice has never summoned more power. The rage is nondirectional and doesn’t scare Hayko away but he can tell he needs to take a breath. 

And soon. 

“I was an engineer. An engineer!” 

Hayko replies in a miserable whisper. “I was with h-him, constantly.” 

But the man refuses to back down and sets the bottle down, unyielding. “It wasn’t just a job for you. It was life or death.”

“I could’ve..”

“You think I have been threatened like you?”

“Yes!”

“No, because the worst they did was vague implications and making me watch your vivisection!” 

The word comes out hoarse and with the same force as a punch. Hayko trembles a little and Vlad instantly feels a tremble in his chest. He lets the silence cloak the room again, backing off and cornering himself against the bed again. 

A guilty retreat.

“I... I am sorry.”

“Don’t,” Hayko mutters, voice gone flat.

Vladimir resents knowing the anger is not directed towards him. 

“Luchik, we were in different situations and, if anything, I should have acted sooner. You are a child.” 

There’s another beat of silence before Hayko chuckles quietly, still not tired of the old joke. “Maybe to you. I’m twenty-seven.”

“It is the same thing.” 

“Vladimir, I’m a goddamn professional,” Hayko sneers as if he’s combatting a patronising parent. The fleeting vindication he feels brings him a sliver of comfort. Patronized but protected. 

“Da, and I had my first job at seventeen.” 

They’re so close and so far away, the darkness outside trapping them and freeing them into the oblivious future. Two shattered men, sitting on a motel floor with bottles of vodka and board games, separated only by guilt.

Vladimir clears his throat after another drink from each of them. “If… I do not know the specifics of what happened to you and I want you to know that you can tell me-”

A scoff. “No thanks, I’d rather not humiliate myself more than I already have.”

Vlad sighs and bites back. “You are stubborn like a fucking donkey, Hayk. I do not care what he did to you or what you had to do. You can tell me. And… if you’re comfortable, you can come closer, maybe.” 

Hayko’s gaze pricks up with an anxious curiosity. The room seems emptier, smaller than before and he can’t help but feel he has to move closer, so long as the walls don’t touch him. 

It takes a moment for him to gather the courage to move but when he does, Hayko crawls over drunkenly and slinks next to the man. Vladimir does nothing but watch him, patient in acknowledging each movement. 

“Hold on.” 

Hayko sobs and it hardly makes a sound. Nodding, he chokes back what would be the onset of a breakdown. But when Vladimir’s heavy arm rests over his shoulders and he’s pulled in hardly an inch, he stops trying. 

A part of him feels that he no longer has to convince himself of his strength.

“Hold on, luchik,” Vladimir whispers. And they sit there, two men on the floor of a motel. 

Tomorrow, they’ll keep holding on and move to another. 

@doveotions @heathenville @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome–hunter @whumpsorbet @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp @redwingedwhump @nicolepascaline @ifbtnna @oh-so-skeletal @whumperfully​​ ​

—

#whump #whump writing #whump drabble #whumpmasinjuly #wij22day6 #wij22 #alcohol tw #escaped whumpee #captivity #self-hatred #crying #past torture #guilt #dissociation #abusive relationship tw #just two easterners coping with their cards #nick and hayko #trauma recovery

[sulasnsleep]

“you shove my father’s hate down my throat, force me to throw it up and call it love.”

— sulasnsleep

#daddy issues #mommy issues #mother daughter relationship #mother daughter quotes #mother #daughter #depressing quotes #tw child abuse #tw throwing up #tw abuse #self written quotes #tw self destruction #self writings #self written #self poetry #tw past trauma #tw past abuse #tw depressing thoughts #tw depressing stuff #tw angry #sorry for being depressing #depresjon #this is depressing #depressao #kinda depressing #depressing poem #depressiv #childhood #child abuse #depressing shit