Maeve
It does make it easier to wrap her head around. Even if it seems strange. She’s never had this before. He knows that. Maeve doesn’t know if this is his first. She might not be. That’s fine if she isn’t. It doesn’t really matter one way or another because they’re picking each other now.
Maeve doesn’t even fight the urge to lean into his touch. Her head tilts, pressing into the gentle brush of his thumb over her cheek. Somehow she manages not to break. A sob doesn’t push past her lips. Tears don’t slip down her cheeks. That one touch holds her together, his words shoring her up as he offers her reassurances. Maeve almost argues. She’s close to pushing back, wanting to shake her head and tell him that she’s not any of those things. Who is she to tell him he’s wrong though? Instead she takes his words, tucking them around her heart, letting them fill her chest with warmth and chase out the cold that seems to have settled in her bones since the beginning of Flowerbirth. ”You’re just trying to make me feel better.” Maeve murmurs, but there isn’t any heat in her words. No real push back against what he’s saying, but she has to say something back, unable to let the words just settle between them.
Of all the things to happen, a hug wasn’t on her list. It wasn’t expected. Maybe that’s why her breath stutters out of her in a shaky exhale, releasing a tension that was holding her muscles taut and she melts into him. Her own arms wrap around his waist, grounding herself to him as if he might keep her from getting washed out to sea. He could keep her from drowning in these emotions that threaten to pull her under, grasping at her ankles and yanking her beneath their waves. He keeps her head above water as his fingers brush into her hair, cradling her gently against his chest. He’s here, he’s real, he wants her. Fuck if she doesn’t want him too. She’d be stupid not to. Damn what everyone else thinks. Whether he’s good for her. Whether he deserves her. It doesn’t fucking matter. All that matters is what is happening between them right now.
”I’m scared too.” Maeve admits, the words mumbled against his chest, eyes closed to keep her tears at bay. Everything is open and raw, but she doesn’t hate it. She just hates that she doesn’t know how to tend to these wounds. Maybe she doesn’t have to. Maybe he can patch her up. Piece her back together until she’s whole again.
Her breath catches in her throat, lodging tightly at the back of it, refusing to budge as he keeps talking. Maeve doesn’t doubt his words. That he will make it up to her. That he’d spend the rest of their lives fixing the damage he did if she let him. ”I did feel normal… No one-” Her voice breaks, cracking with fractures of emotions, uncaring of the people who are likely watching her fall apart. ”No one had ever taken care of me like that. Ever.” Maeve whispers against his chest, unable to make herself draw back and look up at him. Not if she’s going to keep it together.
A watery laugh bubbles up in her chest and she sniffles, nodding her head as she stays wrapped in his arms. ”Such a bad idea, but I want to try anyway. I want to figure things out with you. I- I want you to come back to Torchline with me and help me rebuild and teach me to swim and just… everything.” She wants sex for breakfast and all the little moments in between. She doesn’t care if it’s easy. It already isn’t, but she wants it anyway.
Maeve doesn’t even fight the urge to lean into his touch. Her head tilts, pressing into the gentle brush of his thumb over her cheek. Somehow she manages not to break. A sob doesn’t push past her lips. Tears don’t slip down her cheeks. That one touch holds her together, his words shoring her up as he offers her reassurances. Maeve almost argues. She’s close to pushing back, wanting to shake her head and tell him that she’s not any of those things. Who is she to tell him he’s wrong though? Instead she takes his words, tucking them around her heart, letting them fill her chest with warmth and chase out the cold that seems to have settled in her bones since the beginning of Flowerbirth. ”You’re just trying to make me feel better.” Maeve murmurs, but there isn’t any heat in her words. No real push back against what he’s saying, but she has to say something back, unable to let the words just settle between them.
Of all the things to happen, a hug wasn’t on her list. It wasn’t expected. Maybe that’s why her breath stutters out of her in a shaky exhale, releasing a tension that was holding her muscles taut and she melts into him. Her own arms wrap around his waist, grounding herself to him as if he might keep her from getting washed out to sea. He could keep her from drowning in these emotions that threaten to pull her under, grasping at her ankles and yanking her beneath their waves. He keeps her head above water as his fingers brush into her hair, cradling her gently against his chest. He’s here, he’s real, he wants her. Fuck if she doesn’t want him too. She’d be stupid not to. Damn what everyone else thinks. Whether he’s good for her. Whether he deserves her. It doesn’t fucking matter. All that matters is what is happening between them right now.
”I’m scared too.” Maeve admits, the words mumbled against his chest, eyes closed to keep her tears at bay. Everything is open and raw, but she doesn’t hate it. She just hates that she doesn’t know how to tend to these wounds. Maybe she doesn’t have to. Maybe he can patch her up. Piece her back together until she’s whole again.
Her breath catches in her throat, lodging tightly at the back of it, refusing to budge as he keeps talking. Maeve doesn’t doubt his words. That he will make it up to her. That he’d spend the rest of their lives fixing the damage he did if she let him. ”I did feel normal… No one-” Her voice breaks, cracking with fractures of emotions, uncaring of the people who are likely watching her fall apart. ”No one had ever taken care of me like that. Ever.” Maeve whispers against his chest, unable to make herself draw back and look up at him. Not if she’s going to keep it together.
A watery laugh bubbles up in her chest and she sniffles, nodding her head as she stays wrapped in his arms. ”Such a bad idea, but I want to try anyway. I want to figure things out with you. I- I want you to come back to Torchline with me and help me rebuild and teach me to swim and just… everything.” She wants sex for breakfast and all the little moments in between. She doesn’t care if it’s easy. It already isn’t, but she wants it anyway.
These violent delights
Have violent ends
Have violent ends
