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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 4 months

Text

Crawl Home To Her

Ship: Astarion x fem!Tav/reader

Summary: As awful the feeling of blood on the skin is, sometimes it can be helpful, you have to admit. At least, when it comes to Astarion, blood is always helpful. You'll have to take his word for it—and that's oh so easy bathing with him.

Word Count: 5,461 words

Warnings: sexual content (18+) blood, gore, nudity, sexual & non-sexual touching, bathing each other, soft Astarion, established relationship, brief mention of past sexual encounter, dealing with past trauma, teasing from Karlach, mention of dismemberment, fluff & smut mix

18+ Warnings: brief fingering (f receiving), tiny bit of a hair kink, sensual touching, semi-public sex/nudity

Note: Part 2 of Burns Like Rum is coming soon! But here's a little something to tithe you over until the sequel (Sweet Like Rum) is ready!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

Shafts of pale sunlight fell on your face as you walked through the forest, your arms swinging at your sides, small critters running amok in the bushes around you. Birdsong filled your ears, pleasantly light and summery, reminding you distantly of a childhood memory you couldn't quite reach. The weather was warm enough that you were thinking you might have to change into something lighter. The few weapons you had on you were already starting to make you break out into a sweat.

For a day that had started with murder, the weather was surprisingly nice.

You hummed as you walked—the song pulled from your childhood, the words long forgotten but pieces of the melody clunking around in your head. You strung them together the best you could, tapping out a rhythm against your leg.

You were on your way to the waterfall you'd spotted several days ago while hunting. It was small and nothing too violent. The pool it fell into wasn't deep enough to drown you, nor was the flow of water all that fast. You trusted it—and the rock ledge behind it—would suit your purposes quite nicely.

Coming upon the pool was like stepping into one of the fairytales you had heard in your youth, sitting upon your father's knee in a tavern, listening to a traveller tell a story you weren't sure was entirely true.

It was guarded by willow trees with branches that swayed in a breeze you hadn't felt until you came upon them. Pushing the curtain of branches away revealed an almost perfectly circular clearing, the ground covered in vibrant green moss that squished delightfully beneath your feet and sprung back up when you stepped off of it. Patches of flowers sprouted all around, pink and yellow and purple blooms that grew up to the sun. The pool was as blue as the sky above, clear and shallow, surrounded by a few feet of soft white sand. The water shimmered in the sunlight, rippling over the pebbles that covered its floor. From the pool, the water flowed into a thin river that could hardly be called a river and out into the woods.

You sat by the pool's edge and pulled off your boots. They were just as bloody as the rest of you, the sticky and quickly drying substance staining the black leather. You splashed water over them and scrubbed with a cloth you had designated for this purpose that had once been grey.

Only after your boots were clean did you stand back up and step into the soft sand. You wiggled your toes, smiling at the feeling. You breathed in the crisp, sweet air. It smelled faintly of flowers and citrus, a scent that was familiar, though you couldn't place it.

You stripped slowly, hissing and wincing as you tugged at the places where blood had stuck the fabric to your skin. It acted like glue when dry, staining your skin and leaving a mottled pattern across your flesh. The fabric of your shirt had grown stiff with semi-dried blood.

One by one, you pulled off belts and straps holding weapons, the gloves you protected your hands with, your shirt, your trousers—until you were standing naked at the pool's edge. You gave yourself a cursory inspection, searching for any wounds you had acquired in the fighting this morning that you hadn't noticed; it wouldn't be the first time you'd walked away from a fight and realized you were injured only hours later. But, this time, there was nothing.

Usually it was Astarion who noticed you were injured, catching your smell in the air when it shouldn't have been. But you were drenched in so much blood already that you imagined it would have been very hard to pick out your distinct scent.

You waded into the pool, taking your clothes with you, and sat at it's deepest point. Standing, it reached your knees; sitting, it almost came to your shoulders. You scrubbed the blood from your clothes, using the soap you had brought with you.

You watched the blood and soap swirl together in the water and flow toward the river, a thin stream of red and bubbles slipping away from the crimson cloud surrounding you. You almost felt bad to ruin the clarity of the water, but the others—back at camp—were taking far too long to wash the blood from themselves with your limited store of water. This was better, in the long run.

Astarion would have a field day with this if this wasn't goblin blood, you thought to yourself, staring at the blood drifting just below the surface. He would drink it, from time to time, but never happily.

You scrubbed at your clothes until your fingers were stiff and sore and the blood was no longer coming out of the fabric. You inspected them and deemed them clean enough to put back on the moss, spread out so they would dry faster.

To clean yourself, you headed toward the waterfall. You climbed up onto the stone ledge behind it, reveling in the surprisingly gentle spray of water that reached you and the stillness of the water that it fell into, high enough to reach your knees.

You stepped under the water. It cascaded over you, dousing you in its coolness that reminded you of the first time Astarion had ever touched you—

—gentle hands, cascading down your sides—fingers lifting your chin so you would meet his gaze—a kiss to your forehead—a hand on the small of your back—his lips on your own, warmer than you had anticipated—his fingers in your hair, keeping your head off the ground—his hand slipping between your legs—his little giggle when you shuddered beneath him—the pleasured sigh from his lips as he slid inside of you—

Stepping out from underneath the water, you shook your head, banishing the memory. You had spoken recently about all of this. He'd told you, "I don't think I want you to think of me in terms of sex." He'd said, "I don't want to be just a body for you, darling." And though he'd teased you that you were more than welcome to "sustain yourself" (his words) with your memories of him while he took time away from intimacy, some part of you still felt like you violating his wishes any time it was his body that you thought of, rather than of, well, just him.

You wiped the water from your eyes and knew your tears had mixed in with it; Astarion had been very vulnerable with you, so you knew his reasons for it all. You had two responses: either unbearable sorrow that he had been forced to endure it all (which the current cause of the crushing weight in your chest), or blinding rage that birthed the desire to see Cazador's head on a spear.

You carded your hands through your wet hair, trying to work out the tangles. Your fingers came away covered in watery blood.

"Mind if I join you?"

You jumped, eyes flying open, and looked up. Leaning against the stone wall was the vampire himself, a gentle smile on his face. Gods, how you loved that smile. In this light, you couldn't tell his eyes were red and his fangs were hidden. If you didn't pay attention to how pale he was, you could imagine he was just an elf again—the life he deserved.

Astarion still wore his clothes, which were slowly darkening as they soaked up the spray of water and splattered with as much blood as his handsome face, but his boots were placed neatly next to yours on the moss. He'd cleaned them already; how had you not heard him before?

While he waited for your answer, aware of your admiring gaze on him, he pulled his shirt off over his head, mussing the curls you loved so much. He stripped quickly, nearly falling over when his trouser leg caught on his foot, and left his clothes in a pile on the rock ledge. Perhaps you were imagining things, but his skin looked paler than it had this morning, when you'd been rudely awoken by a horde of goblins invading your camp.

You held your arms open to him. "I'd like that very much."

He stepped into your arms, wrapped his own around your waist, and buried his head in your neck, breathing in deeply. "My love," he whispered, his lips against your skin. He kissed your neck softly and pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, to look into your eyes. "Are you alright?"

You nodded. "I'm okay."

"No injuries this time?" Astarion's eyes slid down your naked body, examining, his gaze concerned when it had once been sensual. You felt yourself relax in his arms, at ease with his concern. It felt real, honest in a way you hadn't had a chance to be yet. It was natural, somehow, to be checking each other for injuries in the time you finally caught together, away from the others.

"Not this time," you said, leaning into him. More watery blood dripped from your hair and across his chest, leaving streaks that made it look like he'd just returned from a rather messy feeding.

He kissed the top of your wet head. "Good." He leaned away to smile at you. "I was worried you'd run off to take care of your injuries by yourself, if only to keep me from smelling the blood."

You shook your head. "If only we'd been attacked by something you could drink from, satisfy your hunger for a few days." He smiled weakly and you knew the thought had been on his mind, too. "What about you? Are you okay?"

He spread his arms and did a little twirl for you. You giggled at his antics, glancing over his skin, pleased he was comfortable enough to even be naked with you. "Yes, darling. Not a scratch on me."

The two of you looked at each other, your hair already damp and clinging to your head, and his curls slowly being matted down by the thick mist of the waterfall. His ears poked out, more noticeable than normal.

Astarion bent and picked up your bar of soap. "May I help you wash off all this grime?"

"Please," you said, your voice soft but as loving as you could make it, your eyes fixed firmly on his.

He lathered his hands with soap and scrubbed gently at your skin. His nails, kept trimmed and neat, were hardly more than a light sensation as he worked at the dried blood until it crumbled away from your skin and ran down your body in red rivulets. His touch was soft, caring where it had once been lustful and groping. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the sensation of his fingers digging into your tired muscles, and held him. You adjusted your hold on him as he moved across your body—an arm draped across his shoulders, a hand on his bicep, your fingers against his chest, your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at Astarion, blinking quickly to keep the water out of your eyes. His gaze remained fixated on your hips as he gently washed off the blood, but he smiled, aware of your stare.

"See something you like?" he asked, tone playful.

"Someone I love," you corrected. He looked up at you, a tender smile growing on his lips. "Someone I love dearly." You leaned close, cupped one side of his face, and kissed the other. "I love you, Astarion."

He kissed your cheek, too. "And I love you." His lips found yours. He kissed you with a sweetness that simultaneously broke your heart and mended it. You wrapped your arms around his waist. He hummed happily into your mouth and cradled the back of your neck.

The pair of you fell into a tight embrace. You felt the adrenaline drain from you and leave you limp in his arms, your hot skin going cold under the water. Despite how suddenly you must have slumped against him, Astarion held you with ease. He gave the crown of your head a quick kiss, then made an unpleasant sound of surprise from the back of his throat.

"Darling, do you mind if I wash your hair? There's an awful lot of goblin blood in it."

You forced yourself to stand up straight on your own, still holding his sides for support. "Oh, yes—that would be from Karlach throwing one she'd just chopped into over my head." Even as you said the words, you felt the blood splattering into your hair again and shuddered.

Astarion grimaced. "Let me help you with it, then." He lathered his hands and put them in your hair. As he fell into a rhythm, you closed your eyes and let him doing the work, your thoughts drifting...

At first, you weren't sure why you had even woken in the first place. The light coming in through a crack in the tent's opening was still the watery and grey color of pre-dawn, much earlier than you usually woke. You frowned and pushed back into Astarion, his arm squeezing you tighter, sleep once again tugging at your eyelids.

And then you heard a shout, vicious and loud. It was close to camp, maybe even in camp. The shout came again and you realized it was Lae'zel's war cry.

All at once, the sounds of a battle filled your ears. You jerked awake in an instant, clambering onto your knees and shaking Astarion awake next to you. Of course the one day Astarion decided to indulge in the very human activity of sleep was the day you and your friends were attacked.

"What's going on?" he mumbled as his eyes flickered open, his words slurred together.

"Come on, grab your knives," you said, pulling your lightest set of armor on over your clothes. You were suddenly very relieved Astarion had decided skin to skin contact was a bit too much for him last night. "I think we're under attack."

He woke just as quickly as you had. He swore, dragged a quick hand through his hair, and grabbed his knives. He waited until you had your own weapon in hand before he opened the curtain flap of his tent.

The camp was a sight to behold. Already it was trashed and overflowing with goblins. Some were already on the ground, their blood oozing everywhere in the dirt and grass. Gashes from Lae'zel's sword seeped blood and gristle, if she hadn't horribly disfigured the corpses and turned them into little more than lumps of flesh. Many of them bore scorch marks that ranged from minor burns to melting flesh. It smelled horrendous and nearly acidic; you bit back the bile in your throat.

A dismembered arm fell at your foot. You kicked it away on instinct, looking up to see Karlach ripping a second goblin limb from limb.

"Now that's just vile," Astarion said, still looking at the arm, a fang poking out over his curled lip.

"Complain about it later," you said, grabbing his chin and giving him a quick and customary 'good morning' kiss. "We've got to help the others."

"If you insist."

Astarion ran to Karlach's side; you headed for Shadowheart and Gale. Wyll was approaching, too, cutting a path through the goblins.

"Morning, you two!" you said cheerily. "How'd this happen?"

"We're not sure," Shadowheart said, kicking a goblin in the face as it ran at her with a scream. "Lae'zel said they came from the north, just over those hills."

"Odd. I wonder if we camped too close to them for their liking, and now they're trying to do something about it. Are goblins territorial creatures?"

Gale grunted, casting another fireball. "Enough chatting. Let's just kill these things and figure out where they came from and why later. Got it?"

"Fair enough," you decided. "Whoever kills the most chooses dinner for a week."

"I'll take you up on that," Wyll said from behind you. "I'm dreaming of a good meal for once."

Astarion's hands sliding out of your hair abruptly brought you back to reality, to his body pressed against yours and the waterfall at your back, shielding the two of you from the world.

"Where'd you go?" he asked, voice soft. You could feel his fingers toying with the ends of your hair, curling it on his fingers.

"Back to the fight," you admitted. "I just keep wondering how they snuck up on us."

"No matter now," he said. "We'll let Lae'zel criticize us all for not anticipating every possible disaster when we get back, but not yet. Not here."

He went back to massaging your scalp, despite the blood being long gone, and your sighed happily. He smiled and kissed your forehead, adding pressure. A content whimper slipped from your lips and you blushed instantly as his eyes lit up; he'd heard far more obscene from you, yet still the slightest sounds you made embarrassed you and delighted him.

"My, my, the noises you make for me, lover," he teased, giggling. He wrapped his hand in your hair and tugged, hard enough to draw a loud moan out of your chest.

Astarion covered your mouth with his hand, his eyes playfully wide. "Shhh, unless you want the others to come looking. We're not that far away from camp."

Heat rushed through your body. "Oh, gods, Astarion, I'm— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to— And I certainly didn't expect it to be that...that loud—! I..."

He swallowed your frantic apologies with a kiss. Against your lips, he whispered, "If you can keep quiet, though...I can grant you all the pleasure you want. You need only ask, darling."

Your heart skipped several beats in your chest. You put your hand up to his face. "Oh, I don't... Star, I don't need you to, I wouldn't want you to...feel obligated." He pulled his forehead away from yours to see your face. "We agreed not to do anything until you're ready. And that wasn't that long ago, so... I don't want you to be uncomfortable—"

Astarion cupped your chin with his hand, dragging his thumb across your lower lip. The words died in your throat. He met your gaze, his crimson eyes open and honest, and said, "Your pleasure is a gift. Even if I don't want to be touched yet, that's not stopping me from touching you. Only you can stop me from touching you."

"Star..."

He pulled you into a tight hug. You wrapped your arms around him, suddenly too aware of the raised scar you felt against your arms. "I trust you. Wholeheartedly. I trust you to...to respect my boundaries. To check in with me. To see when I'm uncomfortable. You've already done it, again and again, and proved that you're worthy of that trust. And do I look uncomfortable now?"

You studied him. His pupils were blown. His eyes told a story of contentment. The tenseness you had once noticed laying deep and dormant in his muscles was gone. He looked at you with a fondness you realized now was a profound trust and he stood utterly relaxed in your arms.

So you answered him honestly. "No."

"Exactly, darling. I'm not uncomfortable. I want to do this for you, if that's what you also want. I feel...safe with you. I've never felt like this around anyone before," he admitted, a bit of sadness creeping onto his face, "and I don't want to ruin it. I don't know... I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm going to try to do right by you. So if you want me..." He placed his hand low on your abdomen. Your stomach did flips. He put his lips against the shell of your ear. "Tell me, darling, because I certainly want you. All I ask is that you not touch me, not just yet."

You whimpered. "Please, Star. I promise not to touch you, I promise. But please touch me."

"That's my girl," he whispered. "Spread your legs for me, no need to be so nervous."

You readjusted your stance, widening the space between your previously clenched thighs. His hand filled the gap, cupping you gently. You sighed, leaning your head against his chest again, looking down to watch his ministrations.

Astarion pressed his palm to your clit. You watched his wrist move as he slid his fingers along your slit, teasing you and never quite touching you where you needed him. You whimpered as his fingertip lightly ghosted your entrance, just barely dipping inside before he moved his hand back up, his fingers toying with your clit.

"That's it," he whispered in your ear. "Make those quiet, pretty sounds for me. Show me how you feel."

You rocked your hips against his hand. "Astarion, please..."

He kissed your temple. "Feeling good?"

Your broken moan was your answer. He chuckled, sliding his hand up your side, taking your breast in the palm of his hand. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, making you gasp and buck your hips against him. He closed his lips around it and sucked gently.

"More," you whispered. "Please. I need...I need you."

"Alright, darling, alright," he said against your skin. He rubbed your entrance for another moment, then slid his finger inside you. You clenched down on him as you sighed your pleasure. He curled his finger inside you, rubbing away at your walls, and you gasped loudly.

Astarion grinned. "Make those noises. Moan for me. I want you to show me how good this feels, show me you want me." You gripped tightly onto him, one hand on the back of his neck and the other on his hip. Your breaths grew heavy and your whimpers louder. "Yes, that's it! Be loud for me, my sweet, the loudest you've ever—"

A branch cracked in the forest. A voice called out your name, then Astarion's. You jumped a mile and Astarion's finger slipped out of you. You stared at each other with wide eyes.

"D...did you hear that?" you asked. "Or am I hearing things?"

As if an answer, the voice—Gale's—shouted again, "I know you're over here, I can see your boots!"

"Shit," Astarion sighed. He craned his head to peer around the curtain of water. "What the hells do you want?"

"Is she with you?" Gale asked. "Shadowheart sent me to find you both, the rest of us have all finished washing up! There's water left for you."

"That's what we're trying to do, Gale!" you called, reaching an arm through the waterfall and waving at him. "Use the water for something else, we'll make do here."

He harrumphed. "If I had known this was just a few minutes away from camp, I would have come to wash up here ages ago."

You and Astarion exchanged a look. So much for a secret getaway spot.

"Be back soon, or Karlach will start worrying," Gale said, in the tone of a chiding parent. "And no funny business!"

"Oh, shut up!" Astarion shouted, the tips of his ears turning a deep pink. He ducked behind the water again and holding you close. You barely held back your giggles while the two of you listened for Gale to walk away. One slipped out and Astarion hurriedly covered your mouth with his hand. You licked his palm and he pulled it away quickly. "You weirdo!"

You wrapped your arms around him and leaned into his chest. "Yes, but I'm your weirdo. You love me anyway."

Astarion pushed a strand of your wet hair behind your ear. "I love you anyway," he admitted, with a fondness that turned you into mush in his arms. He held you close for several moments, then asked, "Do you want me to continue?"

You thought about it, then shook your head. "Not just now. I suspect Karlach will be on her way to investigate the waterfall I didn't have the decency tell anyone about very soon."

"Very well," he said. "I'll finish you off later in my tent, then. As long as you can keep quiet for me, darling." He gave you that charming smile that made your stomach do flips.

"I thought you liked me loud," you teased.

Astarion rolled his eyes, playful and flirtation in such a comfortable way that it warmed your heart more than any of his touches ever could, delightful as they were. "Only when I have you all to myself, lover." He nipped at your neck, his fangs scratching but not breaking your skin. "Your moans are mine."

You stood together like that for several more moments, his hands on your hips and your arms looped around his neck, your foreheads pressed together. You exchanged dainty kisses, basking in each other in the few minutes left you had alone.

At last, you planted one firm, lingering kiss to his lips. "Let me clean you off," you said. "Though you're going to have to crouch for me to get your hair." Most of the blood and grime had been washed away by the waterfall's spray, but his silver hair was still speckled with it all, and you could taste it on his lips—sour and gritty. No wonder he only drank from goblins as a last resort.

Astarion bent his head down, pressing his forehead into your shoulder and holding you by the waist. You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp and smiling (but saying nothing) every time your touch managed to pull a soft whimper or moan from him without him realizing it.

You washed his body anyway, wiping away the remaining grime and massaging his muscles. You enjoyed the way he relaxed in your arms, quietly asking for more or less pressure.

"My back," he said, voice quiet and almost timid. "Can you...?"

"Are you sure?" you asked, frowning.

He nodded and turned in your arms, exposing his back to you. You started slowly, massaging his upper back and shoulders before working your way down, giving him plenty of time to tell you to stop if he needed to. But he leaned into your touch and responded with more of those gentle and timid—but happy—sounds.

You kissed the nape of his neck when you were finished, rested your head against his back, and wrapped your arms around his waist. His hands found yours and laced your fingers together.

"Thank you, my love," he said. "I've never... No one has ever done that for me before."

You hugged him tighter. "Any time you need me—I'm here. I will always be here." You stepped away and guided him out of the water with a hand. "Come on, we should head back."

The pair of you helped each other dress, though neither of you were wearing anything that required the help. You suspected Astarion just wanted to keep you close; when he got into his cuddly moods, it lasted for hours at a time. You would sleep wrapped up in your vampire's arms, safe and comfortable, tonight.

You were both pulling on your boots when Karlach found you.

"There you are!" she said. "Why didn't you tell us where you'd run off to?"

You shrugged. "I wanted the peace and quiet," you said honestly. "Besides, you all take forever to clean off."

Astarion snickered. "She's right about that."

Karlach sat on the moss, staring at the waterfall. "Well, you're right about one thing, soldier—this place is peaceful."

You hummed your agreement. "Yes. I'm glad we camped near it, or I never would have found it."

"How did you find this place?" she asked.

"Hunting," you said.

"Really? I assumed it must have been when you and Astarion sneak out so the rest of us can't hear you having sex." You choked on air and she laughed. "What? He found it easily!"

Astarion spluttered. "Because I could smell her!"

You sighed. "Karlach, we stopped sneaking off ages ago. We don't need to, we sleep in the same tent now. Rest assured, if anything is happening, it's happening silently and the rest of you are none the wiser to it."

"That doesn't make me rest assured."

You laughed. Astarion smiled at you, the kind of smile that made his eyes seem a little less dark and made you really remember that he was an elf.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm going back to camp," he said. "I'm sure there's much to discuss about these...impertinent creatures who keep attacking us." He kissed your cheek and whispered into your ear, "I'll see you tonight, darling. What we do is up to you."

Before he could leave, you reached over and held his cheek, kissing him firmly on the lips. He smiled into it.

"Lovebirds," Karlach groaned, rolling her eyes, "will you please get a room?"

"The next time we stop at an inn—yes," Astarion said, winked at you, then disappeared into the woods.

You gulped. "I pity whoever is in the room next to us."

Karlach snorted. "I pity you and your poor cervix!"

"Karlach!" You splashed her with water and she roared with laughter.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Only slightly."

You huffed, scooped up your weapons, and started back to camp. Karlach followed.

"I mean, in all honesty, you two were so loud that first time we all heard you at camp, even though you snuck away. Kept us all awake, but you sounded like you were having a good time. So clearly he's doing something right, but can you take all of that every time? You were walking with a limp the next morning—"

"Okay, let's change the subject," you said loudly, heat racing through your body. Remembrance pulsed through you again, ghostly touches and reminders of just how easily Astarion made you scream.

She giggled. Gods, she was spending too much time with you and Astarion; he was rubbing off on her. "Oh, yes, because what would poor Gale say if he heard?"

You rolled your eyes. "It's not Gale I'm worried about, it's Astarion. If he hears you, he's going to become insufferable."

"Isn't he already?"

You whacked her with the flat end of your sheathed dagger. She laughed, putting her hands up in surrender.

The others were cleaning up camp when you arrived, scrubbing blood from tents and carpets and hauling away corpses and severed limbs.

Gale waved when he saw you, then jerked his thumb toward Astarion. "Didn't he just wash?"

You looked over at your vampire, only to find him feeding on a goblin. He looked up at you and grinned sheepishly, a trickle of blood sliding out of his mouth and down his neck.

"I just washed him, actually," you said dryly. "Astarion, you aren't that messy of an eater. What on earth are you doing?"

"Oh, so now you deign to eat the goblins," Karlach scoffed.

He shrugged. "What? I'm hungry!"

You spluttered. "You could have just asked me!"

Astarion wiped his mouth with a feral grin. "Well, I'll keep that in mind later, darling." He winked at you and then blew you a quick kiss. He shoved the carcass into the woods and went into his tent, closing the flap behind him.

Gale sighed heavily before looking back at you. "That one. Are you sure you want to choose that one?"

"Yes, Gale, I want that one."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

~❊~

Night fell. One by one, the others retired to their tents. Only Karlach and Gale remained awake when you left the fire and slipped into Astarion's tent.

He was laying on his side, reading and drinking blood, the picture of leisure. He closed his book immediately when you laid beside him and pulled you flush against his body.

"There you are," he said, snuggling into your shoulder. "I was beginning to wonder if you were coming."

You reached up and dragged your fingers through his perfect curls. "You don't have to wonder about that ever, Star. As long as I live, I'll be coming home to you. Even if I have to crawl."

"Gods, I love you," he said, wrapping himself around you. You kissed the top of his head.

"I love you, too," you whispered. He sighed happily and cuddled into you, sliding one of his legs between your own and settling there. A few minutes later, you felt the pressure of his knee against your clothed crotch. "What are you doing, mister?"

He grinned at you, showing both fangs. "Finishing what I started," he said cheekily. He began undoing the lacing at the front of your pants. "Now, just lay still for me, dear. And please do your best to keep quiet—I'd hate to have to cover that pretty mouth with my hand. Again."

☞ ❊ ☜

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Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Acunin

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clubkira · 4 months

Text

MARY ANN.

── HAJIME IWAIZUMI. ┊ HAIKYUU!!

“Ginger or Mary Ann?” A common question referring to the old American sitcom from the 1960’s “Gilligan’s Island” that essentially asked what type of girl you were into.

content. childhood friend!iwaizumi / f!reader. fluff. cali!iwa. longterm pining. vv short. LDR (kind of?).

haikyuu!! masterlist.

❥ love letter from vie. i shit this out last night and i can’t bring myself to make it into a full oneshot rn so i just refined it a little . . .

Culture shock is a funny thing.

Iwaizumi has no idea what his California classmates mean one day when they walk up to him after his lecture — new to the country and knowing only the bare basics of english when they ask him;

“Ginger or Mary Ann?”

Not knowing the implications of their question he shrugs unsurely, “Ginger” he says, thinking of the warm spice he uses when cooking meals, reminding him of his home back in Japan.

They click their tongues, patting him on the back and jeer about how he has good taste and invite him out to a bar that weekend. And Iwaizumi — still as unsure as before, accepts.

It’s now been a few years overseas. Iwaizumi is on his way to finishing his degree in Sports Science, eager to finally be rid of university and all the gripes that comes with it.

California took some time to get used to, it’s a lot more different than Japan in every way possible, only amplified by the reverse culture-shock that occurs whenever he visits Japan again for school breaks.

When he is reminded of you.

Standing at the airport, waving him over with a sign in his native tongue his feet move just a little faster than before, tired eyes lighting up as his carry on bag’s wheels drag on the floor and skid to halt when he reaches you.

Big, strong and tanned arms envelope you in a hug, Iwaizumi smells of hot sand and sea water always when he comes to visit, you’ve only learned to grow more fond of the scent each time you greet him.

You always make sure to visit the same areas you and Iwaizumi used to hang around at when you were little — as if Iwaizumi will never come back to Japan again. “For old times sake,” you say, even if Iwaizumi has told you he’s already planning to come back when summer hits because California summers are harsh.

Watching you wade around in that old creek searching for salamanders like you always do when he flies over brings Iwaizumi back to a simpler time in his life, and he is again reminded of that one question from several years prior by his friends.

“Ginger or Mary Ann?”

It took some getting used to, but Iwaizumi soon learned from his American friends, the ones he made by accepting their bar invite, what that peculiar question meant. Originating from an old sitcom, containing the names of two characters in the show — each displaying a different character archetype.

He’s even watched a couple of reruns of the show with them, where it was then they had told him it was the equivalent of asking what kind of girls he was into, and that his initial response, “Ginger,” did not mean of the spice but instead that he was into a more sophisticated type of woman.

Glamourous even, they’d say.

But after every school break, when Iwaizumi is forced to endure another 12 hour long flight back to California and back into the little pocket of sun and heatwaves, his friends ask him again with knowing smirks, “Ginger or Mary Ann?”

It’s a running joke at this point with their friendgroup, since Iwaizumi had no idea of it’s meaning the first time they always bring it up in conversation, cackling at how red he turns with embarrassment before the next topic is brought up.

But their little tease ignites something in Iwaizumi.

He thinks back to you, all the way in Japan, who is probably still going to that same old family run convenience store the two of you have been raiding of their snack stock since you were seven.

Thinking about how you probably still take that old shortcut behind the forest he found when he was eight to make it to the bus on time for work.

How you’ve always lived two doors down from him before he flew to California, always coming home from his house late into the night because you two were trying to catch fireflies during late spring in your teenage years, hoping to jar a few as a night light while camping out in his backyard.

Iwaizumi asks the same question thats been brought up several times before, once as genuine curiousity and others as just a tease.

Ginger, or Mary Ann?

And despite telling his American friends “Ginger” the first time they met, every subsequent question, jeer and laugh has been met with the same new response without fail.

“Mary Ann.”

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

#im not american btw so #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu!!#haikyuu drabbles #hq iwaizumi #iwaizumi x you #haikyuu #haikyuu fic #( 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝑜𝒻 : 𐚁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒞𝓁𝓊𝒷 )

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kykyonthemoon · 2 months

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Where The Ocean Whispers

Happy Rafayel's Day!

𓇼— The Lemurians use special seashells to transmit messages from their heart to one another. Would you like to try?

𓇼— Soft fluff, birthday fluff, confession

𓇼— Masterlist

𓇼— Request a fic

The waves brought layers of white foam to the shore, erasing the intertwined footprints, sand arches and tiny seashells covering two pairs of bare feet almost touching each other. Then, as if to wash away every worry, the cold water faded, leaving behind nothing except a sense of calm and coolness, with a sense of longing for the next wave. The crimson sun glistened well below the horizon, akin to a priceless ruby gradually sinking to the ocean floor.

"Look over there. The sea is swallowing your sun!”

A long finger of his gestured forward. Your gaze followed as you smiled. He was still reminded of the narrative you told about your childhood when you thought that every night, the sun would sink into the sea and rest.

“Now the whole ocean will be warmed, in red and orange, right?” You replied. That was what he said after hearing your story. He seemed so happy and content that you could still remember it and recite every word.

“Maybe we can't paint the sea the color of the sun,” your voice continued, “But we can do this…”

All of a sudden, you hurled water high with your foot. The cool water reached him, splashing a bit on his white shirt. He rolled his eyes at you.

“So you do enjoy being playful like this?”

He bent down, gathered the entire ocean in his hands then flung it in your direction. Like a very gentle wave, seawater fell on your hair and light garment.

After the celebration was over, he and you raced outside to catch the sunset over the sea, leaving your coats and shoes behind. Both of you were drenched.

"That's not fair!" You gave a loud shout. “Did you do that on purpose?”

With a big chuckle, he answered, "That's what we refer to as the blessing of the sea." You have to accept it all.”

“You are the birthday boy. Here, take it all!”

You kept splashing him with saltwater. He persisted nonetheless. Before long, your entire bodies was soaked.

“That's enough, Rafayel. I give up!”

You surrendered by raising both hands. You felt a bit chilled by the breeze. Rafayel hauled you right up to the shore. You had no idea when he had a big towel ready there. He wrapped it around you.

“Hurry. Dry yourself.”

You obediently did as told. Then you gave him another glance. Water dripped from his dark purple curls, framing his small, flawless face. You couldn't take your eyes off the damp shirt that adhered to his body, exposing lines that made you flush. Rafayel took one look at you and immediately covered himself with both hands.

“I'm aware that my beauty can stun others. But if you keep staring at me like that, it would not be proper anymore."

You hid your embarrassed face behind the cotton towel. With a smile, Rafayel enquired:

"So? Do you want to go back inside?”

You gave him a firm shake of your head. “I want to stay here a little longer.”

Not that Rafayel objected. He accompanied you on your beach stroll. You remained quiet. You did not want to go back partly because you could not bear to see the day ended.

It was Rafayel's birthday. You had carefully prepared for an intimate party, with only a few people from his studio and family members attending. You personally made the cake for him and prepared everything yourself. But your heart was still restless as you kept carrying the feeling that this was not enough. You had yet to give him what he truly needed.

You continued to ponder. Rafayel needed what? He was wealthy and famous. He was exceptionally gifted, and he may have lived an extended lifespan. Giving something to someone who has had everything is impossible. If you could give him your heart, you would do so. In a symbolic sense.

Between you and Rafayel was a feeling without a name.

You started off as merely his reluctant bodyguard, someone to take care of his errands. You were not sure when exactly, but the image of him planted roots in your mind like the way he frequently appeared in front of you, provoking you. He was adorable and obnoxious all at once. Although he posed a threat, being around him gave you a sense of security. But you never, ever dared to speak it aloud. Perhaps you were afraid. You feared that the relationship would fizzle out like sea foam the moment you began seeking to give it a name. You made an effort to suppress that emotion, but it kept returning, much like waves finding their way back to the shore.

"What's off?" Rafayel enquired. He came to a stop. His expression was undoubtedly showing concern.

"I'm alright." You dismissed him with a shake of your head. Your heart raced whenever you were close to him. The feeling of being on cloud nine, at the same time realizing that a bottomless black hole was waiting at your feet made you about to lose your mind. You hated this feeling, yet also addicted to it. Like the way you were addicted to his very existence. Perfect like a dream.

His cool hand was placed on your forehead. He frowned and said:

“It seems your temperature is a bit high.”

You retreated a step, rejecting his touch. It was as if there was poison from his body that would seep into your heart, and you would drive yourself to a slow death if you could not touch him again.

“I'm fine.” With a resolute reply, you took a seat on the sand, a little wet from the waves. “I'm just a little tired… Let me sit here for a bit…”

Rafayel looked at you with a puzzled expression. He was curious to know what else you were planning to do. But you hid your face in the white towel. He sighed.

"I'll go fetch you some exquisite seashells then. Maybe it will make you feel better.”

You gave a little nod, glancing at Rafayel's back as it absorbed the last bit of sunlight on a peaceful day. This scene was a bit familiar, like the first time you had by chance met him on the street.

Rafayel knelt to get something that the waves had just carried. He held it tenderly in his palm, studied it for a moment, and then came over to you.

“Look what I've just found.” A fairly large shell weaved together in shades of orange-red and ivory-white was what he held out in front of you. You had never seen a shell with such a special hue like this before.

"So beautiful!" You exclaimed as Rafayel plopped down next to you on the sand. Your heart raced again as he sat so near.

“You know, the Lemurians often use shells like this to transmit messages to each other.”

He twisted it in his hand to examine it more closely before placing it in your palm.

“Do you want to give it a shot?”

You raised the shell quite a bit. Its hue was nearly identical to that of the horizon's sunset. You said:

“Show me how to do it.”

“Just tell the seashell what you want to say the most right now.”

“Is that all?”

“Yup. That's all. But what you say to it must come from the heart. It will find the person whom you want to send this to, no matter where they are.”

You looked at Rafayel. He appeared so honest, but this story was too much of a fairy tale and not very realistic. You did not know if he was just making this up to tease you. Then again, you once thought the Lemurians never existed. But here he was, sitting next to you.

You put the seashell to your lips, gave him another glance, and then murmured something to it.

Once you were done, you gave it to Rafayel.

“It's yours.”

His lips curled into a dazzling smile, as though he knew you would give it back to him.

“Hmmm.” Rafayel took the shell and leaned it close to his ear. He gestured as if he was concentrating hard to listen. Then he said with disappointment evident on his face: “I don't hear any message.”

"What? How is that possible?" You were impatient.

“Do you want to try again?”

He returned the shell to your hand. This time, you took a deep breath and looked at him while whispering your thoughts.

“Still nothing.” After listening to it for a second time, Rafayel said. “Are you sure you sent the message with all your heart?”

You replied sullenly: "Of course... Maybe since I'm not a Lemurian, I can't make it work."

Rafayel held your hand and put the shell in it. “Try it once more?”

"I doubt that anything will be different this time around." You gazed at the shell in your hand with boredom. “I was just going to… give you one more gift to make your birthday special…”

“My day is already quite special.” Rafayel's bright smile made the distant sunset dim, and suddenly you caught his warmth. “Thank you so much, for organizing a party for me. To be honest, though, I don't like partying as much as going to the sea with you like this."

Listening to his words, you found yourself smiling. You took off the towel that was wrapped around you, letting it fall freely onto the sand. You held the brilliant seashell in your hands, this time determined to let him hear your heart out.

Rafayel nodded and smiled at you as encouragement. You closed your eyes tightly, and lips slightly parted. You had a feeling that it could read my thoughts whether you said them out loud or not.

I really like, really like, really like Rafayel.

I like the way you concentrate when holding a paintbrush, as if the whole world is spread out before your eyes.

I like your terrified look when surrounded by cats.

I like it when you overdo things or act like a drama queen just to get my attention.

I like the bright colors you paint in my sky when it's gray.

I like the way you tease and then comfort me.

I like how your gentle touches are enough to keep me up at night.

I like everything about you.

Maybe, I love you, Rafayel. So much.

The shell was brought towards Rafayel, but halted midway. You wavered. Once he knew your feelings, would he still be by your side? Or would he throw this shell into the ocean along with your heart, letting it dissolve into bubbly white foam?

Rafayel looked at you and smiled. Even though he had laughed many times, you'd never seen him as happy as he was at that moment. There was an increased shine in his eyes, as if pearls were rising to the surface and ready to burst out the corners of his eyes. Happiness. You had never captured such a genuine moment of pure happiness like this.

He took the shell from your hand, but there was no need to listen to it anymore. He leaned closer to you and whispered:

“The words from your heart have been received by the person you wanted to send them to… You have no idea how long he waited just to hear those words… I love you too. So much."

When you felt soft lips touching yours, little did you know; that Lemurian man had heard what you said the first time he put his ear to the shell. He merely wanted to hear it one more time, and another. He wanted to hear you confess being able to confess to you; this day, the day after, and the day after that...

Until the ocean runs dry.

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meshlasolus · 7 months

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Come What May

Episode 4/?

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!Reader (little one)

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, allusions to smut but no actual smut. canon typical violence, robbery?? idek y'all

A/n: I can't believe I edited this in one sitting but here u go now be fed and I'll probably post another one in two months lol

NINE YEARS LATER…

The sand was relentless, as it always was. Such was the life on Tatooine.

The days, though boring and long, brought a sense of peace and security to you. It was comfortable, and you didn’t have to worry about being chased.

Life with Obi was still blissful, though he’d become a different sort of person than he used to be. He was still yours, and one thing that would never change in his life was his unending love and devotion to you. Over all the bad things, you were still there, and if that was so, his life could never be all bad.

He became grumpy easily, but you often teased him, joking about how old he was truly getting. He’d hate when you pointed it out, because he already felt so much older than he had when the war was going on. Many would argue that it aged him, but truth be told, he was perhaps living the youngest days of his life back then.

You, of course, had continued to mature into the beautiful woman he’d always seen before. You looked different, sure… but all the ways you’d changed, he would think were for the better. He loved how normal you seemed. It was always so much more peaceful, living here. It was mundane and often quiet, but it was peaceful, and far less demanding of your former lifestyle. He had always hoped you could live a simple and sweet life, maybe not on this maker-forsaken planet, but having days that were just the same.

The daily routine was easy, and by now implanted in both of your minds. It was second nature, and hard to mess up even if you tried. The mornings were always slow, as the work hours were different from what you’d once known. After dragging each other from the warm confines of bed, there was a shared silence that would fall over you both as you continued to ready yourselves for each job you had. You had the fat end of the stick, getting to work in the city. You were legally dead across the galaxy, and the empire had no warrant for you in any scanner known to the systems. Especially not in the outer rim.

Obi-Wan had taken up the name Ben, the name he remembers from childhood. He doesn’t know if it was his original name, or if it was the name of his father, but it belonged to him somehow, and he felt it was easy to go by.

An hour was spent riding to anchor-head everyday, in order to clock in for your shift, and for him to catch a speeder to whatever work station they needed him at for the day. Lately he’d been harvesting flying Tibidon sand whales for their meat. He never failed to bring back a sliver of what he cut for your Eopie. It was something he did out of habit by now, but it somehow reminded you of a small thing he used to do for you many years ago.

Back in the age of the Jedi, before the clone wars ever began, Obi-Wan Kenobi had two padawans. One was the chosen one, and though he was often found to be a trouble maker, he was still the favorite among the two. The other was a small girl, not yet grown to her full capabilities. She always had a strong appetite, though, and the meals given to her were never enough to satisfy her growing form. Obi-Wan was quick to notice little things like this, and always saved his portion of Ksharra bread for her to eat after everyone was finished. The smile it brought to her was not soon forgotten…

What a sweet memory, and you almost always thought about it when you were watching him interact with the Eopie. He was gentle to all creatures, even after he became a bit hardened and settled into his new role of life.

After the ride home, there were meals that were shared in a comfortable quiet, and then a discussion of the day. It was definitely a more quaint way to live, but you preferred it to the horrid idea of running for years on end. You always told him how thankful you were to be with him, to have him amidst everything. It was he who you remembered the earliest in your life, being there for you, watching out for everything you faced, and helping you through it. He was still doing that, in a way. Though it were not by the force, he gave advice of work topics, different moody customers that would come in during the day, and even just ideas to help the work day seem faster.

It was only after he left for bed, with you watching the stars rise, that you were able to meditate. To revel in the force and to trust in its ways without anyone stopping you. Not to say that Obi-Wan would stop you, but he perhaps would try and convince you it still was not safe. It was you, however, that kept up your daily strength by meditation, and use of the force without his knowledge.

Though he would never know, your strong uses of the force were the thing that helped him sleep through the night, as he often woke up with nightmares, stirring your slumber as well and making you alert to the bad things his mind conjured. It was mostly Anakin, because how could it not be? He was his Master and his best friend, a true brother and ally. He had to have felt some sort of responsibility for what happened to him, all leading up to his death.

You too felt semblances of guilt, but you dealt with it in other ways. For him, these nightmares were often occurrences, and it was due to you that he got any sleep at all.

He would sometimes sit straight up at a moment’s notice, scaring you awake and realizing what had happened. He would breath fast and loud and not be able to slow it down, not even when you wrapped your arms around him from behind, whispering soothing words like he once did for you in your time of nightly terrors. At first, he was lucky to get back to sleep at all… but the more it happened, he found you being near him helped to calm him back to sleep. He’d cut himself off from the force, he had no use of it anymore. He didn’t know it was because of your old developed ability to take away the bad dreams. You always slept soundly beside him, even before you were together. Whenever he was laid next to you, there was not a dream that could plague your mind for the worse.

There was one night when he woke up, calling his old Master’s name. He sometimes dreamt of the way he died. He felt as though it was also his fault, that he could have prevented the Sith Lord Maul from destroying his only father figure.

It was all you could do, to sit with him, and try and calm his mind… but that night was harder. He had begun counting his failures as if they were stars, making them the only thing in the forefront of his mind, and rejecting anything that wasn’t his detrimental thoughts.

You sat with him until sunrise that day, but once the twin suns were over the dunes of everlasting sand, the day went on as normal. The small moments of grief and self loathing were forgotten.

It happened this way, only sometimes.

Something that brought you both peace on the bad days was going out to the hills and crests outside of the moisture farms specifically that being owned by Owen and Beru Lars. It would never be uttered aloud, for these thoughts brought on more episodes of sadness, but watching a small boy grow up in the sandy plains was always bittersweet. Though Luke wasn't a starpilot, or a jedi knight, or a cunning strategist... he reminded you so much of Anakin. You knew Anakin at this age, and all the years after. Even little gestures Luke sometimes made to his aunt and uncle, would send a pang of guilt through your chest. Anakin should be the one watching his son grow up. You all should be retired somewhere nice, like Naboo, with Padme watching over the twins as Anakin and Obi-Wan once again conversed like the brothers they used to be. Bittersweet, watching Luke learn to tend the farm like his uncle, instead of watching him play with his sister whom he knows nothing about.

Obi-Wan would never admit it either, but it was both healing and detrimental to observe Luke from a distance. He was closer to the boy's father than Owen ever was, and much more deserved the title of uncle... but it was not to be. Obi-Wan was a hunted man, and allowing Luke to be close to him could be dangerous.

Obi-Wan would bow his head sometimes after watching the boy, trying to make sense of how everything in his life could have lead to to this, and what could have possibly gone wrong that the galaxy was this bad. He could not even have a relationship with the son of his dearest friend.

Recently, he had delved into something of an addiction for him, something that was a grounding tool to help him realize he wasn’t going insane in these days of mundane work and internal chaos on this maker-forsaken planet. Others might see it as normal, but he had never been so insatiable before now. He craved one thing, constantly… you.

Whether it be through physical intimacy, or even small touches of your skin, he couldn’t get enough, and it was causing him to form strong habits that would not soon falter. You were of course all too happy to indulge him, as for a long time after you first came to these mountains, there was a block between you. The emotional force bond being broken disrupted many things, and that was one of them. You hoped sincerely that this was not just a rut he found himself in, and that it would only last so long. You’d missed the late nights, shared kisses and times of devotion to one another. He was such a gentle and skilled lover, anyone would have killed to know this side of him, but it was you he chose, again and again.

Though one half of the dyad was not felt in the force, he was still the love of your life, and you’d come to know him in a different way these past years. He was not necessarily a new person, but knowing him without the force, and without your constant ability of silent communication, he did become unfamiliar at times.

Still, he was Obi.

Always, he was Obi… even when everyone else used the name Ben, you would never give up the way you’d called upon him since you were but three years old. In public, he was just Ben Kenobi, who worked out in the dunes of Tatooine for a days wage… but in your eyes he was still the great protector of the republic, the General of the 212th legion, and a Master of the Jedi council. Obi-Wan Kenobi.

You were late again.

Not to work.

You didn’t tell Obi of your suspicions, feeling as though there could be a mixed reaction from whatever came of your condition, if you were indeed under the diagnosis you felt you were.

It had been ten years, and you were sure you’d retained internal damage that might prevent this outcome, but of course, the galaxy has seen far more impossible things come to fruition. Anakin’s mother conceived him without a man at all, so with the rate that your husband and yourself were going, it was almost bound to happen.

You left work earlier than usual, and gave an easy excuse to your employer as to why, and he of course was more than happy to oblige. You were a loyal and decent worker, so he never had any reason not to. There was a small clinic in Anchorhead, not as far advanced or technical as the one you were able to go to in Mos Eisley, but good enough that you would find out what you need to know, or what you were certain you already knew.

Being still deeply connected with the force, you were able to tell something was there, just like the first time, although now there was a slight difference that made you question it at first. Obi still had no idea, and how could he? You hadn’t let on to it at all and there wasn’t an ounce of strangeness to your behavior. Throw in the fact that he can no longer sense those kind of things, and you have a completely oblivious husband.

The medical droid who tended to you was outdated, but even with old mechanisms and past due needed upgrades, it deducted your symptoms to a diagnosis rather quickly.

You were eleven weeks pregnant, no doubt about it after some quick testing.

Though you were nervous of what this could mean for you, it was far more of a joy. You never thought this would be possible again, given the circumstances of the last time leaving you with injuries that should have made you completely unable to reproduce.

You were so excited as you went back into work, reeling from the information, and trying to think of ways to tell the father of this child that he was in-fact getting another chance at his dream. It wasn’t how you both had planned. You’d wanted to settle down amongst your friends, on a beautiful planet like Naboo. You had hoped for the freedom of the galaxy to give you the opportunities of a peaceful existence. Instead, you were stuck here, on Tatooine. The ugliest planet in the outer rim and much worse than you remember it from your first visit all those years ago. It was all for a reason, of course. Obi-Wan was a wanted man, in nearly every system there was a bounty on his head, with more than enough hunters out searching for him to bring his body dead or alive to the empire. You, of course, being legally dead and all, could go anywhere you wanted… but without him you saw little point in traveling away.

This child would mend the broken dreams you both had for the future, you were sure of it.

You went back about your work with a gleeful smile adorning your face, being extra friendly to patrons and even giving them a little extra for their buck. You couldn’t help the joy, it was too strong to keep bottled up for later. You were sure, though, it would still remain long into the day, and all the others after.

You’d been cleaning out a glass behind the counter when it happened. A group of robbers from out in Mos Eisley came rushing in, holding everyone at blaster point and shouting for them to get down. You grabbed a knife from the nearby drawer, trying to strategize through the force how to deescalate the situation without hurting anyone. Your skills were just the slightest bit rusty, even though you practiced whenever you got the chance. A knife wasn’t exactly your weapon of choice.

The leader of the group stepped forward to the owner of the bar, and told him to empty the credit holds into his sack, but the owner hesitated, turning your way as if asking what he should do. You started taking quick steps towards him, pushing him out of the line of the blaster before it could go off. You waited for them to start shooting, but instead heard the ignition of a lightsaber. Or at least, it sounded a hell of a lot like one.

You jumped to your feet, watching over the counter as the scene played out. There was a man, around your age, wielding a lightsaber to defeat the robbers. They all went down pretty quickly, except one whom the man didn’t see behind him. You called for him to watch out, but he didn’t have enough time to react, so you raised your hand, focusing all your force energy on throwing the last enemy to the wall before he hit the ground.

He turned to you, eyes wide and saber still ignited.

“Did you just-?” He narrowed his eyes in your direction, and something seemed to click in his head.

Nobody else had seen you do that, but him seeing it was enough.

The bar rang with cheers and clapping in applause for the Jedi, who had saved the people in the establishment from being harmed by the robbery. They all commended him, and you had half a mind to forget it ever happened, just go back to work, but the man was keen on speaking with you. Even after the owner, and your boss, had spent a rather long time thanking him and offering him solace in the place, he wouldn’t be done until he’d had a word.

You were mixing up celebratory drinks for a few patrons when he finally was able to corner you, standing over the bar and keeping his voice down.

“I know who you are,” he said softly, as if trying not to spook you away. Most Jedi were like rare animals nowadays. Almost extinct, and completely vulnerable to sudden attack.

You set the glasses onto a tray and made eye contact with him for a single second, sending a glare his way before you went out to the tables and served the drinks around. He stayed and waited at the bar, and when you came back he sighed out.

“I know this must be hard, but I haven’t seen another Jedi in so long,” he rambled, all under the guise of a whisper, of course. You wouldn’t lie, as much as you feared the empire for everything it has taken from you, it was almost a breath of fresh air to see there were others, who hadn’t been stomped out by their evil yet.

“I was never a Jedi,” you said, but ultimately, you knew, no matter what you said, he knew who you were. As strange as it sounds, being the padawan of a famous Jedi came with some sort of notoriety. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

“I know that it’s you, because you’re supposed to be dead,” he had seen your name on the list of the deceased Jedi, along with his own name on the list of hunted ones.

“I am dead.”

He isn’t sure what he was expecting you to say, maybe that you’d been like him, hiding for the last ten years and hoping that there would come a time when Jedi could arise again. But that wasn’t realistic. As long as the empire held rule over the galaxy, there could never be peace and freedom. Not for your kind, anyway.

“And I’m not coming back,” you added ominously, cleaning out the glasses that had just been set on the counter for you to deal with.

He stayed silent a few moments, but didn’t leave. Even if you didn’t speak to him, you understood why he lingered. The only Jedi you have in your life anymore is Obi-Wan, but he’s cut himself off from the force. There is no familiarity of what was. This man is probably on his own, and has been all this time. He craves the sense of normalcy your presence is probably bringing right now. Perhaps you crave it too, and maybe it’s the reason you don’t shoo him away.

“He’s here too, isn’t he?” He asked after a while.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you weren’t doing yourself any favors in gaslighting this poor man, but you’d built yourself a wall of protection, and it wasn’t going to come down so easily.

“You were inseparable,” he recalls, and he knows you understand him, and that you’re just being standoff-ish. “I always wished to have that relationship with my Master.”

“Believe me, the relationship was far different from what everyone assumed it to be,” You let out sarcastically, finally being able to let your guard down a bit, but only enough that you could interact with him in a way that wasn’t stingy. You’d keep all current details hidden. He wanted to rehash the past? Fine, you could give him that.

“What it ended up as isn’t any of my business, but from what I could tell, the laws of attachment didn’t exactly apply.”

You huffed out a breath, followed by a drawn out ‘Nope.’

You thoughts shifted a bit, to just how poorly you followed the rules. You’re carrying the man’s child for force’s sake. You were never much one for the laws of attachment.

The man before you had a dumbfounded face on, and you mentally slapped yourself. You hadn’t been guarding your thoughts. You haven’t had to in so long and before you realized you needed you, it all just slipped into the open air.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered, bowing his head as if he’d been the one to provoke you. In actuality, you’d pretty much offered it all up freely for him to take, and you didn’t even know what to do about it.

“Don’t be, it’s my fault… it’s just-“

“Been a long time?” He guessed, and you nodded in agreement. “I understand.”

And now a complete stranger knew some very personal things. Perhaps he wasn’t stranger, though. He knew you, and Obi-Wan, and remembered the order from its glory days. You both had a sense of shared trauma that somehow bonded you without ever speaking a word to each other before.

“How did you recognize me?” You asked him after another bout of silence. You were drying off the dishes, and figured that as long as he was here, you would make the most of it. This clearly wasn’t an everyday occurrence. “I’m almost certain I’ve never met you up close before.”

He smiled, nodding to your hair, swept back into a style you’d become fond of lately. “Never met you, but I’d seen you around. You were rather well known among the order.”

“Guess those are the perks of being his padawan, huh?” You’d echoed your thoughts from earlier, and he chuckled.

“He was the person that everyone wanted to be. Not just a great Jedi, but a good man.”

Of course. You knew that better than anyone. He cared so deeply about everything he set his hand to. He was kind and gentle, though sometimes sarcastic and witty, but that too made him more likable in your eyes.

“He’s not changed in that aspect,” you let him know, and he took it as motive to tease you.

“I knew he’d be here,” he returned, and you looked up and laughed a bit. He’d caught you there. “He’d never left your side.”

You didn’t respond, just let that statement sink in. You guessed that many more Jedi in the order had perceived your relationship for what it really was, but never said anything. Maybe they were rooting for you, or maybe you gave them hope. It was all up for interpretation, but the one thing you could never deny was the realness in it. He’s never left your side, and he never will. Of that, you can be absolutely sure and certain.

When it was time to close up the bar that night, you’d left before the owner, making sure he was alright after the fiasco of the day. You passed your new and unlikely friend the Jedi on the way out as well, giving a simple nod that spoke more than just words. You knew he needed to talk with you, and as much as you will neglect to admit it, you needed to talk to him, too.

You found yourself at the stables before sundown, meeting with Obi by your shared Eopie, ready to go home.

You figured that the bundle of joy news could wait until things were a bit more settled. You didn’t know how the scene of today would go in the long run, or if imperials had been alerted, but you wanted to know about all of that before trying to make future plans for the child you were carrying.

He saw you enter the sectional, and smiled to you with that adoring look in his eye, the one that never faded.

“You won’t believe what happened today.”

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 10 months

Text

In the Dead of Night

Pairing: Edward Cullen x Swan!Reader

Warnings:none really, renee being a bad mom, reader having to basically parent both renee and bella, charlie being typical charlie, edward maybe ooc?

Words:5712

Nessa=Renesmee but like hell I’m keeping that name xD

You felt a bit shell shocked when your father drove his police cruiser through the small town of Forks. Both you and Bella have your faces pressed against your respective windows. Charlie catches a glimpse of his daughters via rear view mirror and smiles a little to himself.

Gone was the sand of Arizona as was the blazing sun that had you feeling uncomfortable in your own skin. Little love would be lost from leaving Arizona. That was something you and Bella could agree on.

The blues and grays that was a perpetual filter over Forks better suited you. Spending your last high school year wouldn’t be too bad. Then you could decide to live anywhere you want. No more responsibility for Bella and suffering from a flighty and unpredictable mom. While you love them both dearly, it wasn’t easy growing up having to act like a parent to both of them. Bella excelled academically, but you constantly worried for her safety. She was like a magnet for danger. There was always a scrap to bandage or something else that required you to comfort her through.

Renee was no better. It was worse being a mother to your actual mom. You were the one to always call her when it was getting too late. Always you taking care of Bella because Renee took a surprise trip and just left you a note and some money.

Just because you were a year older than your sister, Renee deemed you ready enough to be a substitute mom.

At least she never let the two of you go starving or without anything. That much you would give her.

There was hardly any emotional warmth in the house though.

Much like everything else about Forks, nothing seemed to have changed in Charlie’s home. The two small beds had new sheets on them but everything else was as you and Bella had left it.

“Sorry the two of you have to share a room.” Charlie awkwardly apologizes. He addresses you “I know how older kids like to have their own space.”

That was laughable. You’d never had your own space, but it was sweet of him. “Don’t worry about it.” You offer him an unsteady grin as you and your sister still felt partially awkward around your dad. It’s been years since you’ve even spoken to him for this long. He never fought to see you and seemed perfectly satisfied to lose contact with both of you.

Every inch of the room was frozen in time as your eyes rove in observation.

You remind yourself that it was just one. More year. One more year and just one bathroom shared between the three of you.

Breaking the silence was a sharp honk coming from right outside your bedroom window. Both you and Bella scramble to peer out of it.

A beat up, rusty red pickup truck turns its engine off. You’re still unable to see its occupants.

“That would be Billy Black.” Your dad explained with a small smile.

the last name did ring a bell in your vague memory from. Childhood. You look at Bella who just shrugs and follows Charlie into the hallway.

Outside a young teenager is helping an older man into a waiting wheelchair.

Charlie clears his throat. “You girls remember billy Black.”

Billy’s smile is warm and makes your posture relax a bit. “Glad you’re finally here.”

Both he and Charlie become distracted by their own conversation leaving the teen boy to introduce himself. “I’m Jacob. I think both of you made mud pies with me and my sisters when we were younger.”

Mud pies did sound familiar but that resurfacing memory fades when Charlie tells you that the truck is a gift for you and Bella. A homecoming gift.

Parking your truck in the student lot, you drum your fingers along the steering wheel. Bella in the passenger seat inhales deeply.

“We’ll get through this.” you remind her.

She looks at you with large, nervous eyes. When she was frightened, Bella always reminded you of Bambi. “Yeah. It’s just. . . the first day of school is always the worst. And we know absolutely no one here.”

“I know you.” You pipe in and it makes Bella smile if only a little bit. “That’s gotta be worth something. C’mon. Best we get acquainted with the school before the bell rings.”

Centering your courage, you tell yourself this was just another day at a high school that was like many others throughout the country.

After paying a visit to the school’s office to get your schedules, you and Bella hold them up to compare classes. Due to age you didn’t have any of the same classes together.

Too busy studying your piece of paper, you don’t notice the hurried footsteps rushing behind you.

“New girls!”

You jump, letting out a high pitch curse word. Bella holds her hand to her chest like she just experienced a heart attack.

Thoroughly annoying both Swan sister was a kid closer to Bella’s age. His smile was friendly enough but you didn’t appreciate how he had snuck up on you. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you guys!”

His name was Eric and turned out to be very insistent that he show you two around.

Reluctantly you go along with it, figuring no harm came from knowing at least one person.

Even though he was a tad annoying, Eric did prove to be a helpful guide.

You and Bella started your first few classes without a hitch.

At lunch, Bella introduced you to two more kids she had met in her gym class as well as a bubbly girl who blinded you by the pictures she took of you and your sister.

You’d met a few of your same year classmates and found them agreeable. They must have liked you too because they did invite you to eat with them. You didn’t want to leave Bella by herself the first day though. Integration was not something Bella was keen on.

In grade school you’d often be called in from your own class to help Bella calm down. It was safer just to make sure she was happily acclimated before you went off to do your own thing.

You mind wanders as you pick at your food. Peers around talk of typical high school experiences and asked you about your school in Arizona.

Jessica is chatting animatedly with Bella until the double doors of the cafeteria that led outside open.

Five of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen saunter inside like they own the damn place.

Painfully divine, their skin as smooth as porcelain and blemish free. Eyes painted in differing shades of golden honey.

The first four were paired off, leaving the boy with bronze colored hair trailing behind them.

Even Bella couldn’t tear her eyes from them as Jessica tells both of you about the Cullens. Adopted by the local doctor and how infamously unobtainable Edward was.

Gorgeous they were, but there’s a coldness to them.

As if reading your thoughts, Edward’s eyes happen to single you out and stare. He reminded you of a predatory hawk with those intense irises that were so unusual. You’d never seen anyone with an eye color like that before. Like a polished piece of precious metal.

Eerily he grins at you before returning his attention to his adoptive siblings.

First one to get out, you wait for Bella in the truck as the last shriek of the bell rings through the air above the school.

You spot her, a deep frown already on her face. When she gets in you ask what’s wrong. Of course she’s always reluctant to say right away what’s bothering her. Possibly taking after Charlie too much in that respect.

“That Edward guy is in my biology class.” She mumbles while buckling herself in. By her tone it didn’t sound like a good thing. “I had to sit next to him and. . . he was just really weird.”

“How so?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “He was making facing like I smelled.”

Leaning in, you give her a big sniff making Bella’s cheeks self consciously pinken. “You smell fine to me.”

That wasn’t enough to satisfy her though.

“Don’t worry about him.” You halfheartedly offer. “There’s clearly something wrong with him.”

Not until the next day would you have your own strange encounter with Edward Cullen.

Barely having just closed our locker, you jump when you see him standing there. At your bemused expression, Edward awkwardly smiles and leans against the lockers. “You’re (y/n) Swan.”

“And you’re Edward Cullen.” You raise a challenging brow. All last night Bella had been so concerned about how she smelled thanks to this guy.

The lightness of his smile dims and you notice how he appears to mentally back step as to not say anything stupid.

“Feels like I’m failing at that already.” He says under his breath.

“What?”

“Sorry.” He closes his pretty eyes that had pinned you in place. “I. . .”

Bella bounds over to you in a hurry, almost bumping into other students in the process. “Here (y/n)! I think I accidentally. . .” she notices Edward standing next to you “took your notebook. . .”

You see Bella shrink into herself as she hands you your notebook. Yup, it was your’s. Tattered and covered with sharpie doodles on the front. “Thanks Bells.”

Before things could get awkward, Edward immediately blurts “I”m sorry about yesterday. I was not quite feeling well that day before class.”

By Bella’s eyebrows creasing, you read that as Bella not quite buying his excuse. However she didn’t press and simply nods in acknowledgement. “I-It’s okay.”

Even you don’t necessarily buy it but at least he apologized. Now that the air was clear of that mess, you bid Edward a goodbye and tell Bella you’d see her at lunch.

Throughout the day though, you caught Edward staring at you. It always felt like he could read your mind because the moment you thought this creepy, he would avert his focus and look to somewhere else.

Following days, while you didn’t catch him staring at you, you would fel his nearness. You couldn’t say his attention was unwelcome. After all, he was incredibly good looking to an unbelievable degree.

Bella thought him weird, but she’d had a chip on her shoulder toward him since the first day.

Once in a while, she’d point out that the smallest of the Cullens, Alice, had been staring at you. Catching her doing this only once, Alice merely smiled at you unabashedly like you were a friend from long ago.

Stranger to come was when they actually start talking to you (besides the blondie Rosalie). A few words here and there. According to Jessica they never talk to anyone else outside of their family bubble.

A month passes and your new Forks routine finally feels normal and established.

Bella tend to spend all of her free time in La Push with Jacob and his friends. You encourage this for it granted you precious time to yourself. For a few hours, the house was entirely your’s. You enjoy lounging in the living room, your books and papers scattered everywhere as you lazily “study” while simultaneously watching tv.

A tickle along your neck alerted you to an unseen presence though. Apprehension pulls your face away from the screen and off to the side where the window was. While you weren’t completely sure, you thought you saw a flash of movement.

Incidences like that continued until March.

Edward’s action became bolder toward you. Conversations lasting more than a few seconds. From bits and pieces you started to pick up on odd little quirks. Sometimes you were so sure that he could read your mind.

You found his awkwardness around you admittedly adorable. From the way Jessica had described him, you thought he was stuck up due to his good looks. Also you hadn’t forgotten how distant all the Cullens were to their peers. But he’d be a little tongue tied around you. Scrambling to come up with appropriate words. Amusing to watch him stumble over himself.

Until he asked you out. On an actual date.

It could have been a prank. This wouldn’t be the first time someone asked you out for it to only be a joke. Of course this would cause you to be apprehensive.

“Now why would Edward Cullen want to go out on a date with the new girl?” You fold your arms in front of your chest.

Instead of being intimidated by your defensive stance, Edward smiles. “You make it sound like me liking you is impossible.”

“Ah, you like me.” Damn, your heart did flutter at that and there was a stupid smile that was trying to force your lips upward.

“I know I don’t know much about you. But I would like to.” Edward adds when he sensed your wavering skepticism.

“Since when are you dating Edward Cullen?!” Bella slammed the door of the truck.

You have to mentally count now. “Well, it’s probably been a week now.” After your first date, during the time where Charlie and Bella were out of the house, you knew that there would be more dates to come. Never had you got along so well with anyone. There had been no awkward moments and the mere lulls in conversation had been neutral. One odd thing about it was that Edward had eaten so little of his food.

Her eyes are comically large with disbelief. “You can’t be serious. H-How-“

“Well I’ve finally had time to myself.” You shrug. “Figure that time would be better spent doing something that makes me happy.” Edward hadn’t been as odd as you initially expected him to be. Sure he spoke like an old timey gentleman. His speech pattern was eloquent, a lost talent among boys these days that utterly delighted you.

“(Y/n). . . I don’t trust him. . . Or the rest of his family for that fact.” She uncomfortably looks ahead, her arms wrapped around herself.

“Why’s that?”

She bites her bottom lip, a nasty habit she’d developed when she was in kindergarten. “There’s just something not right about them. Jake was telling me something about them. How they don’t go there due to a pact their ancestors made with his. They were called the Cold Ones.”

You wanted to laugh at her serious tone. That girl was reading too many supernatural romance books. “You realize how silly that sounds.”

“I’m being serious.”

Trying to focus on your driving, you only half listen to her. “So am I Bella.”

Edward asked you to the spring dance the very next day.

Come April, you and Edward would be together for nearly a month. Impressive in your eyes considering that this was your first real relationship. In that time, Edward invited you over to his house many times. You got to know the rest of the family. You didn’t want to pick favorites but Emmett and Alice definitely held a special place in your heart.

They took care of you when you were lonely or had been fighting with Bella and Charlie.

Dating Edward had suddenly become a fuse in your relationship with the both of them. Neither liked you dating a member of the Cullens. You didn’t understand. For Charlie it may have been a protective father thing, but you still didn’t know why Bella held on to her dislike of them so fervently. You wouldn’t take the story Jacob gave her as an excuse.

Esme especially became the caring mother you never had. She was patient and was good at listening to your problems, even giving you words of wisdom. You felt whole when you were with them.

This was something Charlie and Bella couldn’t comprehend.

“Bella?”

While that voice had never spoken to her before, Bella knew the owner.

She turned around to face the petite Alice who was like a real life pixie.

Her guard is put up immediately. The Cullens only ever spoke to her sister (y/n). This. . . This was new. They hadn’t even bothered looking her way. Not even when Edward would come up to her when Bella was there and just swoop in.

Alice smiles prettily. “I was wondering if we can talk? Just for a few minutes, I promise.”

“What did you want to talk about?”

The smaller girl doesn’t reply but looks around uncertainly. “I was hoping I can speak with you somewhere less crowded.”

Pursing her lips, the last thing she wanted to do was be alone with her. Still, it was better than for them to get odd looks.

Bella relented and followed Bella to an empty corridor where the janitor’s closet was tucked away.

Alice began immediately “This is going to sound crazy. I know it will. But I need you to understand something about your sister and Edward. I know their relationship must seem so out of the blue. And I know you don’t particularly like us. (Y/n) and Edward, they’re meant to be together.”

And (y/n) had told her that Jacob’s story had sounded silly. This was downright insane for Alice to be saying.

She had sparse time to wrap her head around it before Alice spoke again. “It’s a deeper connection than between a human male and female. They’re coming together was predestined.”

Now Bella couldn’t hold it in as she let out her laugh. She couldn’t help the giggles that rolled out of her.

A frown upon her lips, Alice stood there until Bella quieted down.

Wiping the small tears that had pricked at her eyes, Bella said “Yeah that does sound crazy. You sound crazy.”

“Bella-“

“Look,” Bella checks the time on her phone to make sure the bell wouldn’t ring anytime soon “you, Edward and your entire weird family need to leave us alone.”

The ride home that day was absolute shit.

You and Bella were screaming at one another as you tried not to let your rage translate to your driving. How dare she have the gull to tell you that you needed to stop seeing Edward. Stop running to his family. What Alice had said was weird, that was true, but Alice had always been a little weirder than the rest of her family. That’s what you liked most about Alice. She wouldn’t apologize for being different.

When you reach the house, you slam on your breaks and tell Bella to get out.

“This is my truck too!!” Bella yells at you, refusing to move.

“Isabella Marie Swan” you hiss and Bella freezes having heard that tone before. It was the one you used to scold her when she was being a naughty child “You are my sister and I love you, but you need to get the fuck out of this truck.”

Her eyes are filling with trembling tears as she looks at you with shock smacking her cheeks pink with indignation and hurt.

You glare at her using all of your built up resentment that you’d accumulated through the years. Having to put Bella before yourself. Really it wasn’t her fault. The fault lay on Renee, but the way Bella was acting right now made you furious.

Slowly, she puts her hand on the door handle and pushes it open. She slips out but makes sure to slam the door extra hard.

Not bothering to look back, you shift into reverse and peel out of there.

There was only one place you wanted to be right now. People who would understand you.

Vampire.

Now that was to be the shock of the day.

You stare at the broken blade of the butcher knife that Edward had used to demonstrate the strength of his skin. He even read your mind to the ‘t’.

“So. . . Mates?” You hesitantly bring up the catalyst to Edward telling you that he and the rest of his family were vampires. That was what Bella had said Alice called them.

Bashfully he grins. “Ah. . . Yeah. Vampires mate for life. And. . . Well, Alice can see the future. She saw a future with us together.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Worry shines in his eyes. Would this be too much for you? The expression seemed to say.

Your head is buzzing and warm from all of this. So much had happened in just two hours that you were having a slow time at processing everything. This was a lot.

“Sorry to spring this all on you.” Edward sighs. “I’ve been thinking on how I would tell you. As you can see it’s not something I can tell just anyone. I was scared that you wouldn’t want me anymore. That you would feel our relationship forced.”

“It’s definitely a lot, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you.” You smile up at him and the break of relief on his face sends your own smile onto your lips.

He holds you to him and you return the embrace tenfold. The Cullens had been the best things to happen in your life. To know that you always belonged with them was enough to reinforce that thought.

“Is it too soon to say I love you?” He whispers against your temple.

“Not for us.”

May passed as did the spring dance where you and Edward had come to a certain agreement.

This agreement was discussed with the rest of the Cullens. Everyone was on board (of course again except for Rosalie).

Tension at the Swan household had been near suffocating. You had to be patient though.

The day of senior graduation wouldn’t be remembered for the event itself. It would always be remembered as the last day anyone saw you.

***

Three years.

That’s how long her sister had been missing.

Three years since the Cullens had been gone as well, their house lay vacant and empty. As if they had never lived there.

Charlie had exhausted all resources in trying to find (y/n).

Bella didn’t have it in her to leave the state for college. Not with Charlie still a mess. He cursed the Cullen name daily. People looked at them with pity.

She attended college via computer to be close to Charlie and keep an eye on him. In the meantime she’d picked up a job at the store Mike’s father owned. Decent money, enough to put her through school along with her scholarships.

Honestly, Bella wished she knew if her sister left on purpose or by force. Maybe that would lessen the hurt she left in her wake.

It was looking bleak though and nearly everyone stopped searching for her.

Huffing out a sigh, Bella runs her fingers through her hair in weariness and sets down her pencil. She couldn’t focus anymore. Not when the anniversary of (y/n)’s disappearance was one month away. It was like every day leading up to (y/n)’s senior graduation was being replayed in Bella’s dreams. The constant fighting and ensuing silence that followed were daily occurrences in those weeks. Bella had called (y/n) delusional. (Y/n) had called Bella an ungrateful brat.

So many words she wanted to take back but the damage was done.

The doorbell rings, calling Bella to attention and she sluggishly leaves her room to glide down the stairs. She opens the door and her heart nearly stops.

“(Y-y/n)?”

The person at her door looked so much like (y/n) except. . . Well, (y/n) wasn’t ugly, but she’d never been this beautiful. Her skin was stunning and seemed to glow. The best features of her face seemed to be enhanced in some way. Makeup maybe but Bella couldn’t say for sure.

What was absolutely different from (y/n) were the gold colored eyes. Cullen eyes.

Speaking of, Edward stood to the side of her looking the same as he did three years ago. His eyes matched (y/n)’s.

On (y/n)’s other side. . .

Bella had never seen this girl before. Eerily though she looked like both (y/n) and Edward mixed together but she was far too old to be their kid. No way. But. . . She had the color of what (y/n)’s eyes used to be. The warmest brown. Her fair skinned face is framed by Edward’s bronze ringlets.

“Hey. . .” (Y/n) tries to smile. “Please don’t freak out but can we come in?”

Dumbly, Bella stares and she vaguely remembers nodding her head before letting the three inside.

(Y/n)’s gold eyes move quickly around the house. “Wow. . . Still nothing has changed.” She murmured to herself.

It was like Bella was watching a ghost float down the hall to the living room. Edward and the unnamed girl following after her. The girl shot worrying looks over to Bella before following Edward.

Stiffly, Bella followed the procession into the living room and watched them sit down.

“You’re alive.”

(Y/n) grimaced and chooses her words carefully. “Yes. . . I. . . I’m so sorry Bella.

Bella looked at Edward. “You ran away with him.”

She nodded and Edward put a protective hand atop of (y/n)’s. Only then did Bella spot the gold band wrapped around (y/n)’s left ring finger.

Swallowing thickly, Bella looked at her older sister. “You eloped.” She corrected herself.

“Yes.” (Y/n) replied within a heartbeat. “I don’t regret the decision but I regret hurting you and Charlie. I should have left a note but I was so angry with the both of you. It was childish and I’m sorry if you and Charlie suffered.”

Both Edward and the young girl watch Bella carefully; gauging her reaction.

“And. . .” (Y/n) glanced at Edward who subtly nods “and I wanted to explain why I left and for you to meet our daughter, Nessa.”

Oh were you nervous.

You didn’t even think a vampire could feel this nervous.

If only you could read your sister better. Not even Edward could delve into her mind though.

This was bad. You knew coming had been a bad idea and that you may make things worse by telling her. But you couldn’t let go of the guilt with just up and leaving Bella. For the longest time you had watched over her. It felt weird to just abandon her. At the same time though, eloping with Edward had been something you really needed.

You’d married Edward immediately when you were deemed a safe distance away.

The life you had chosen was not what you had first anticipated.

From that first night of being physical with Edward, you became pregnant. He had planned to change you the very next day but now he couldn’t.

Everyone freaked out most certainly, but while the pregnancy was not the easiest, it definitely moved along quickly.

Early on you found how blood actually fed you and the fetus better than any human food. Great practice for what you would have to do once you were transformed. Edward had doubts of if you would survive. Alice’s sight was what gave you your calm. No matter what she still saw you in Edward’s future. As she did your daughter.

You couldn’t meet your daughter right away after her birth.

Once she’d been removed from you, Edward immediately changed you. This was all part of the plan. Everyone knew going into it that it would be unlikely for you to survive naturally. The only thing that would save you would be vampire venom.

Before your state got any weaker, Edward sunk his teeth into you.

You were born again into a sturdier body.

Your hybrid daughter, much like in the womb, grew fast but you noticed a decline in growth once her second birthday came around. Now she looked much like your frozen age of eighteen.

You knew she’d have an incredulous look when you introduced Nessa. It easily led into you explaining what had happened. You even used the same demonstration Edward had three years prior when telling you that he was a vampire. You’d buy Charlie a new knife to replace the broken one that bent against the force of your diamond strong skin.

All the while, Bella was absolutely silent. She couldn’t take her eyes off of you or Nessa. Then after you’re done speaking, her focus turns to your husband and Bella’s brown eyes narrow.

Wanting to erase that expression of deep bitterness that she shot Edward, you apologize once again for leaving. How many times had you apologized?

“You abandoned us for them. We thought. . . We were thinking the worst (y/n). All this time. . .” Bella’s eyes burned with a mixture of hurt and betrayal. Her bottom lip which she usually chewed when she was nervous trembled. While her and Charlie had been worried sick, (y/n) had become this monstrously beautiful creature. You could feel her emotions boiling over and you allow her to scald you. “And you waited three years to come back.”

“I had to get through the newborn phase.” Hastily you explain. “There was no way I could have seen you earlier. I needed. . . Needed to learn control over this new body of mine.”

You’re grateful that Edward keeps quiet but you could feel him stir beside you, not liking how you’re basically groveling with explanations with the hope that Bella would forgive you. He had warned you about this. About it being too much for Bella.

“Control.” Bella laughed at that making you inwardly flinch at the disdain dripping from her. “This is what you call control? Abandoning your family, leaving us in agony-”

“For the longest time I had to give up MY own happiness.” Instantly you snap, feeling heat rush through you although you knew that you couldn’t really get hot or cold. “I gave up my childhood to take care of not just you but freaking Renee too!! I wanted to be selfish for once in my life. And yes, it has made me beyond happy making a life with the Cullens and MY daughter.”

Never had you voiced your resentment of never having anything to yourself. Bella couldn’t have possibly known.

Now Bella’s narrowed eyes turn to Nessa who is staring wide eyed at her aunt. “And what about her? What kind of abomination is she? A mix of human and vampire? How could you bring such a monstrosity into this world?”

Abruptly, Edward stands. Unable to let her slander go on any further even as you grab at the sleeve of his shirt to pull him back down. Nessa’s face fell, her innocent eyes cloud with hurt making even you want to snap at your cruel sister. “She’s our daughter, Bella. She’s not a monster. She’s a beautiful, innocent child who deserves love and acceptance.”

From how fast he had stood, Bella had pressed herself into the couch; partially out of fear of what an enraged vampire would do.

Glancing at Nessa, you notice that Bella did seem to soften even if a little bit when she caught the hurt on Nessa’s face.

Taking a deep breath, Bella pulls her back away from the couch cushion. Even if she hated you for leaving, she had no reason to hate your daughter. Something in her throat bobs with emotion. “I’m sorry Nessa. . . But I can’t condone any of this.” She goes back to you. “You ran off to live some happy little life while leaving Charlie and I to mourn. I’m sorry it was so terrible taking care of me that you felt you had to run away.”

“Bella-”

“I need all of you to get out before Charlie comes home. He. . . He can’t see you like this.”

You don’t want to leave, not until Bella understood why you left but it was a losing battle as she could only focus on her hurt.

Nessa grabs your hand and through her supernatural talent of conveying her thoughts and feelings, she sends you comforting waves of how you were still loved by her and the Cullens. That this didn’t have to be the end of it, but that it would be best to give your sister space.

Your Nessa had always been so smart beyond her years thanks to her accelerated brain. You squeeze her hand in your grip and nod.

Leaving made you feel like you had lost but it was the best thing to do right now and not push Bella.

Edward kept his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he led you and Nessa back to his car.

“That could have gone so much worse.” You say once all of you return to the old Cullen house. Nessa had gone off to help Esme with cleaning up the place. They’d always loved their Forks home and were loathe to leave in the beginning. You promised Esme that all of you would return one day.

Edward kisses your temple and hums. “Didn’t expect her to say those things about Nessa.” He was still upset at that. Nessa was a miracle and the family’s pride and joy. After giving birth to her, Rosalie even started to warm up toward you.

You wished you had seen Charlie but Bella may have been right about it best that he didn’t see you so changed. Alice had given you contact lenses that matched your human color eyes but they irritated your eyes and would only last for an hour or two.

“I did hurt them by leaving.” You mumble. “I know that. Is it bad that I don’t regret my actions though?” The fact that you hadn’t even left a note had bothered you the past three years. Instead you let Edward spirit you away in the dead of night where no prying eyes could see where you disappeared into.

“You did what you had to do to get freedom.” Edward coaxes you to the tarp covered couch and onto his lap so your head lay on his chest. He cradles you in his arms and holds you close to him. “We have Nessa now because of the decisions you made.”

Yes, you had your Nessa and a family that actually supported you instead of forcing so much responsibility on you.

You were unarguably happier than before.

----

Tag:

@thedragonqueensblog

#edward cullen #edward cullen fanfic #edward cullen fanfiction #edward cullen x reader #twilight saga #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom #twilight #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #twilight movies #twilight renaissance #breaking dawn

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loganlermanstanaccount · 9 months

Text

sand beyond the sea (I know you're waiting there for me)

(AO3 Mirror) (Main Masterlist) (Event Masterlist) (Event Info)

Tape 1 // Side A Track 08: Seaforth - King Krule Finnick Odair x childhood lost love

warnings: mild angst, fluff, happy ending.

a/n: first drabble for my 6k followers event! i had fun writing this one :)

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Our love dissolves this universe (Our love dissolves the universe)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finnick can't sleep.

He won't, actually; out of principle. There was a time in his life where he was terrified of the dark, a fear that seeped well into adulthood. He'd ask for the light of gas lamps, keep his window open to let moonlight spill in, or crawl into his mother's bed for comfort. It wasn't the dark, per se, but the nightmares: creatures creeping in the dark, shadows with a bony hand around his neck. And when those nightmares turned into pseudo-memories: of heads hacked off and the sharp prongs of a trident in his chest – well, those ones still keep him up at night.

This time, though, it's nothing like that. It's all the more surprising when he drifts off into sleep, and instead of nightmares; he dreams. Hazy, wispy ones of sand and salt in the air: of laughter, of love, of you.

So he doesn't sleep, for a while. Instead, he lies awake in a crisp white room, a thousand miles away from wherever you really are. District 4, probably; still living by a half-hearted cliff's edge, a stone's throw from his parent's house. That's what he sees, sometimes: feels the sand underfoot as you run ragged around rock pools and fall asleep in the sun. Dreams, governed by feeling; touch, taste, smell; of your hands tying loose braids into his hair, and fried fish by the water's edge. He doesn' t need to see you, dreaming or otherwise, to know how much he loves you.

And so, it doesn't matter how hard he fights it - Finnick always wakes up in the morning with the feeling of your hand on his cheek, warmth rising to the surface of his chest. You'd swirl a stick into sand and explain what you'd learnt at school, that day, a class above him.

Cold air sinks, Finn; warm air rises.

And he'd give you a gap-toothed smile, grinning like an idiot even then.

So you'd float to heaven, he'd say, head spinning as you laugh. And Snow would kick rocks in hell.

Oh my God… what does that even mean, Finnick?

He'd clarify. Just think you're warm. Somethin' about you.

Your smile is something etched onto his heart like the carvings you'd make into driftwood, all the way back then. Scratchy hearts, and the both of your initials in bark.

You're full of hot air, Finn.

It makes him smile, curled up against the sheets like you're pressed against him. Sometimes, he thinks you were made for one another; spines slotting together like puzzle pieces, two halves of one whole.

It's stupid, probably, to think of a childhood love like that. To hold onto something he let die, after the Games. His knuckles are white from holding on too long, he thinks. Too tight.

So he can't sleep, barely does; counting down the days, seconds, hours, until he's back home. Dreams of a beach where you're still there, where your footsteps dance around one another; and aren't washed away by the sea.

"Finn?" You still live in that old house, grown into your features, and he's grown into gangly limbs.

He's worn his best trousers, tried to smooth that rogue curl at the crown of his head. He'd brought flowers that remind him of you, sweet and crisp and fresh. You're pretty. So, so pretty; it makes his chest heave and creak. And your hands are cradling his face, his hands are on your waist: they fit, just right.

Watery laughter, but it sounds exactly how he remembers. Everything else falls away. He sleeps with his head on your chest, that night. It's warm.

Somethin' about you, he thinks.

Finnick taglist: @amonett, @neithriddle

#finnick x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #thg #the hunger games #thg x reader #the hunger games fic #finnick odair fanfic #angst #fluff #angst with a happy ending #Spotify

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fourmoony · 10 months

Text

𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨

𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

⭒⭒⭒

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐨.

𝟏.𝟒𝐤 - masterlist

because apparently, the only thing i know how to write is angst. enjoy this shortie with barely any context.

⭒⭒⭒

“It’s over, isn’t it?”

The sun is setting into the horizon, sea gulls flying low to the water. The tide has come in, leaving only a small stretch of dry sand that you both occupy. Further down the beach the fire roars on soundly, the strum of a guitar sounds out, broken choruses and laughter, the inability to remember all the words. Without the weight of conversation – of reality – the scene is quite beautiful. Now, though, it all feels too painful. Like something you should be enjoying, but it’s just out of reach.

The air smells like smoke and seaweed and sun cream, days spent on the beach enjoying what the Dover sun has to offer. It smells like the dying barbeque and warm cider, cigarettes and weed. It smells like summer.

His hair falls around his chin, now. It hadn’t last summer. Last summer, he’d hated the idea of it growing past the tops of his ears – a reminder of his childhood, of things expected of an heir, to be properly presentable and demand respect. He hasn’t mentioned why he’s let it grow. You haven’t asked. He’s looking out at the water, the push and pull of the waves, steady, never changing, always consistent. It’s been different for a while, now. He’s been different. Things, the world, school, friends, everything’s changing. It’s a natural part of growing up.

But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.

“I think so, yeah.”

The words taste bitter, like bile. It’s the end. The end of whirlwind love, chaste kisses, heavy hands, soft eyes, and whispered words. It’s the end of midnight dances and lazy Sundays tucked away in dorm rooms. The end of blinding adoration, hopeless devotion, high highs, and low lows. Of loud fights, harsh words, spit fire tempers and broken ornaments. The end of salty tears, things that can’t be taken back, broken promises, silent treatments, make-up kisses, and repeating the cycle.

He flinches as though even though he’d known the answer, he’d expected something different. It hurts all the same. It hurts so much it’s like setting your own heart on fire. It’s like swallowing glass or bleeding out. Like you’re drowning and the surface is millimetres away.

“How long?” He asks. His eyes never leave the water, the sea foam waves, the safety of not meeting your eye in fear that it’ll break him.

Things have been different for a while, really. But how can one pinpoint the realisation of falling out of love with someone they’d been sure they would spend their life with, at one point? When do toe curling kisses turn to chaste pecks of greeting? When do meaningful conversations become stunted and filled with secrets, pieces of information that just don’t feel that important to share, anymore? When does dancing in the common room turn to dancing around one another at the breakfast table? When do arguments turn to silence, preferring to fume alone than at one another? When does your greatest love turn to dust before your very eyes?

The sand is still warm to touch from the day’s sun. It’s grounding. It reminds you of where you are, what the purpose of this trip is. To enjoy, to savour, to let the last weeks of youth take their course before the future arrives. Everyone is growing. Growing into their own person, with goals and careers to chase, lives to live and people to love. You’re not the wide-eyed group of kids you once were, struggling to find a place in the world, clinging to each other for comfort.

No, this is the beginning of adulthood. The beginning of letting go. The end of clinging on.

“A while,” a sharp inhale. “March, maybe. Around the time we had the fight about N.E.W.T. Electives for seventh year.”

Recognition floods his features, stormy eyes reminiscent of the night he’d said many things he couldn’t take back. Defence had better prospects, you shouldn’t be wasting time with classes like Care of Magical Creatures or History of Magic. He feels rotten about it, like the argument and his words have taken a part of his soul he’ll never get back. Maybe they have, in that really, when he thinks about it, that’s the fight that ended it all. He's no idea where his words came from. Your interests, your kind heart, the way you went about your education were some of the things that made him fall so heavily in love with you in the first place. Your futures look different, though. He wants the glory of sitting high in the Ministry’s Auror office, you’d like to own some kind of book shop, live a quiet life, away from prejudice and the chaos of Wizarding Britain.

And he can’t argue with that. But you’re both smart enough to know that such different desires in life won’t work.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too, I s’pose.”

You close your eyes, allow yourself to imagine a future in which you’re not in his arms, being loved by and in love with him, fighting, making up, making out, crying, laughing, dancing, singing, living. Every step of the way for the last six years, you’ve done it together, been in love for two, and it’s ending. It’s a bittersweet feeling.

Another song starts by the campfire, and you’re there again.

Still beside him, closer than strangers, farther than lovers. Still loving, not in love. Not giving up but letting go. It’s run its course, the relationship. It hurts, it’s burning and suffocating, and you feel like you might be dying a little bit. But then your eyes meet for the first time since you’d found him, taking a moment away from everyone, and you realise he’s not the boy you fell in love with.

He’s not the broken boy who came from an abusive home, the boy who would get onto the train every summer skinnier than he’d left it months before, and with several new scars to show. He’s not the same boy who was quiet in his first year, reserved in his second, rebellious in his third.

He’s everything you fell in love with, rebellious, loud, funny, loving, caring, broken, pieced back together, resentful, angry. But he’s different now, in so many ways. He’s happy. He’s himself. He’s living no crosses bared, no secrets held, no regrets and you refuse to stand in his way, be a reason he second guesses himself, be the reason he doesn’t follow his dreams. He’s a boy who grew up in a miserable home, with a hard and horribly cruel life, and you want him to break the cycle of toxicity. You both know you were good for each other at the time, but not for the long run.

“I’ll always love you; you know?” He asks, tears in his eyes.

There’s stubble on his chin, and his face isn’t so gaunt and sharp as it used to be. He’s a man, now, older, and wiser, ready to start the next chapter of his life.

“I know. Me too.”

A seagull dives headfirst into the water, there’s a cheer from around the campfire, the water reaches your toes now, the sun is long gone. But the memories remain, the blinding love, the conversations, soft touches, chaste kisses, record player dances, and Sirius Black.

The walk back to your friends lifts a weight off of your shoulders, and it's obvious that the conversation has done the same for Sirius. He looks lighter, happier, and less like he's drowning in regrets. Everyone looks up at once. James stops strumming the guitar, Peter and Remus' off key rendition of an acoustic Ziggy Stardust falls short. The group takes a collective inhale. They know. They've known probably longer than you and Sirius.

The sand feels too hot, the fire burns your skin, the smoky air is too thick to breathe. What now? Will they think they have to pick sides?

But Sirius looks at you, grey eyes and the shining bright light of fire. He smiles, the boyish smile you haven't seen in so fucking long. You smile back when he leans forward, presses a kiss to your forehead and then claps his hands.

"Right, Prongs, start from the beginning," He takes a seat beside Marlene in the sand, leaves the last available camping chair for you, "Moony and Wormy are absolutely abysmal, need to show them how it's done."

And if your heart soars a little at the man's ability to help you blend into a crowd, just like it used to, well, that's no one's business but yours.

⭒⭒⭒

requests open.

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https-furina · 10 months

Note

hello hello!!

congrats on 100 followers, many more to come hehe

i wanted to req 15. “look at the moon.” with kazuha !!

(see in my mind this prompt reminds me of "the moon is lovely isnt it" thing and im a hopeless romantic for kazuha)

✎ the moon.

ft. kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader

prompt: "look at the moon."

w.c. 619 words

content: fluff, confessions, flustered reader, childhood friends to lovers

notes: hehe thank u aly !! here's some more sickeningly sweet kazu content !!

the night sky has long held importance to the two of you. together you have been under many stars, many moons glowing on your skins and reflecting in your eyes. kazuha would rather stare upon the moon through the mirrors of your eyes, wide and fascinated as if you have never seen the moon before. it's a kind of solace he will never attain anywhere else, with no one else other than you. even as kids, you was his muse - calm like the ocean he desperately craved for and filled with a love never-ending for him. to him, he considers you'd never find this love romantic.

the moon tonight is no different to every other moon the pair of you have gawked at in awe. it's full and bright, reflecting in the sea before you. your feet are buried in the sand, fingers tracing shapes and letters in the sand as you ponder how many constellations you can spot above you. kazuha has spotted most of them before you even remember their names but he doesn't say anything, after all he is the one who took the time of day to teach you the constellations in the first place. he taught you the importance of every star in the sky, insinuating the importance of every soul in teyvat at the same time. you admired his wisdom and his knowledge of the stars but he humbly shrugged you off, putting it down to needing the stars to navigate the sea.

although the moon may be no different other than its phase, kazuha wants to make this night different. he's been pondering it for weeks, months now - his attachment to you. you've been inseparable and joined at the hip for as long as the two of you can remember, your mother says it's been this way ever since you were babbling your words. you had a specific children's poetry book as a kid seeing as your father is a poet and kazuha had taken instant interest in it one day.

kazuha has three days before he's back onboard the alcor, his second home. he grimaces at the thought; you will always be his first home.

"look at the moon." you sigh dreamily, eyes half lidded as you gaze up at where the stormy clouds have drifted by, revealing the moon once more as it comes out of hiding. kazuha smiles, glancing from the moon to you. he'd much rather look at you.

"the moon is beautiful, isn't it?" the words fall from his lips in the softest of tones as if he wasn't sure if he wanted you to hear it. yet your eyes widen, darting around and looking anywhere but kazuha or the moon - odd, they're your favourite things in teyvat. there's an unreasonable amount of heat in your cheeks, your mouth becoming dry as you splutter and stumble on words and wonder how to respond. did he think this through? you question but there'll be no response. maybe in a few months.

"yeah, it is." you reply quietly, almost drowned out by the waves but kazuha catches it on the wind, his smile widening as he leans back on his hands, staring up at the moon. in a spark of new found confidence, he finds his hand wandering to find yours, cold meeting warm as you lace your fingers with his bandaged ones.

your smile is forever familiar and warm to him, your presence a safe place that he refuses to leave for as long as he can take a breath of air. kazuha would do anything for you, be it crossing oceans or climbing mountains and he's going to be sure you know that, "you're more beautiful though."

#— 🧁 sugar ‘n’ spice #https-heizou #genshin x you #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #kaedehara kazuha x reader #genshin kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #genshin fluff #genshin x reader

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shibaraki · 1 year

Text

HARBOUR ROSE ┊ COVE HOLDEN

synopsis: love casts it’s own net, and there’s only one man who can cut you free of this one.

tags: GN reader, childhood friends to lovers, ORCA employee cove, mer reader, ocean pollution (boooo) reader caught in a net, reunions, sooooo much fluff, developing relationship, happy hopeful ending

wc: 2.2K

↳ for the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse server ↰

The rain gives itself unto the sea. Each fragment becomes one with the tide that laps weakly at your body. With your tail curled, fins entangled in an old ghost net, you give into fatigue and rest upon the wet primrose sand. This net is unlike ones you’ve dealt with before. It is garish blue and tough, cutting uncomfortably into your fluke. Rope could be easily severed but this new material is stubborn, and painful.

A gust of wind dances through the marram grass. You breathe deeply, listening to the percussion of the waves, eyes trained on the secluded beach and drawn to any small movement. Something about this place calls to you in a way you cannot explain. That thought makes known a memory in the back of your mind which evades your grasp each time you seek it.

Frustrated, you poke a claw-tipped finger through the net and trace a line in the sand. You try to ignore the dull throb around your hips. Being tangled and contorted as you are has you restless, the urge to spread your fins and swim buzzing under your skin. Fighting the snare more would do no good. Struggle and you’d hurt yourself more.

Had the day been warm you might’ve found yourself in a little more trouble. At least the rain would keep the humans from the beach.

Or so you thought.

Fear seizes your body. In the distance, a bipedal figure walks along the shore. You press yourself low to the sand. The sound of your heart beats loud in your ears, now tucked flat to your head. Unperturbed by the thin rainfall the human keeps his gaze on the waves wearing only a pair of shorts and a thin white shirt, smiling softly as they crawl to kiss his ankles. He is tall and sun steeped, hair like seafoam laid flat to his forehead and cheeks. Markings decorate his arm like refracted light on the ocean floor.

Can you take me with you?

The memory is fleeting. A young child’s forlorn voice. Dusk had spread her fingers across an empty beach. A pink sky. Pink, like the hard shell wrapped around his arm.

Would you take me? the voice repeats. There are no other kids here. I don’t want to stay…

Your gills flutter, venting the air as you exhale shakily. The human is closer now. His gentle face twists with displeasure when a food wrapper rolls in on the next wave, littering the sand. You watch him huff, mouth downturned as he snatches it up. It kindles a little hope in you—

And it reminds you of a lonely human boy you met years ago when you were but a guppy yourself. His name… you liked it a lot. What was it…?

Your pod had migrated because the old nursery grounds were destroyed by fishing boats. Metal machinery and nets that stretched for miles dragged along the seabed. Sunset Bird proved to be a perfect place to wait out the mating season. You spent most of your time on the surface, playing in tide pools and sunning yourself in the grasses, kept company by little Cove Holden.

The human’s movements freeze abruptly a few feet away. In that instant your eyes meet; his own widen, expression flowering in surprise, hands fisted tightly at his sides and shaking.

You stare at one another. Time seems to have slowed to a stop. Over the pitter patter of rain you think you hear your name. Again, confident this time, as the human breaks out into a sprint. Sand kicks into the air. You flinch, inhaling sharply as the distance is immediately crossed and he is falling to his knees at your side.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” he’s mumbling frantically under his breath, hands outstretched to hover over the lines of plastic knotted around your lower half. “It’s you. It’s really you. You’re hurt—” he jolts and begins patting at his short pockets, pulling out something small. A sharp blade folds out from within the case. You shrink, a reflexive whine building in your throat.

The human holds his breath. He swallows. You see his throat bob, ribs expand and deflate, calming the tremors in his limbs. “I’m sorry,” voice lowered into gentle reassurance, he tries to show you a tremulous smile. “I—I’m going to use this knife to cut the net away. Is that okay?”

You consider the sincere warmth in his gaze and nod as it washes over you. His smile widens. Telegraphing his movements piece by piece he cuts into the net, careful not to snag the frayed scales around your fins.

“I’m so sorry. We comb the shoreline as much as we can for litter but…”

A blush steadily spreads across his cheeks as your focus drifts back to him. Blue eyes flicker back and forth, around your face and back, pointedly avoiding your bare chest. Your nerves settle at that familiarity. The Cove you remember had been small, nervous and lost, but when he smiled he brought the sun with him. This Cove is so big, so at home in his body, and just as beautiful.

Tucking his fingers under the final line Cove slips the blade beneath and cuts you free. You feel the pressure alleviate. He gasps an awed sound as your fins fan out, almost sentient in how they stretch toward the cloud covered sky.

Turning on your hips, you sit upright and bend to rub the thin membranes between your finger and thumb. A wave rushes up and douses you in fresh sea water, soothing the ache. “You can’t help what the tide brings in,” you reassured, chewing the inside of your cheek. You glance toward him as he discards the net with a frown, “Thank you… Cove”.

Cove tenses, emotions flowing into him like a babbling brook. “Wow,” the word came out in a whisper. Then, even quieter, “You remember me.”

“Of course I do,” your voice is fragile as your throat adjusts to spoken words. It’s been a long time since you needed to use it. You smile gingerly, aware of the heat emanating from his body; longing brushes you like a thick fog. “You were my first friend, after all”.

Cove grins, misty eyes squinting. “You were mine too,” he tugs a necklace from beneath his shirt collar. Hung in the middle of his chest is a shark tooth. Serrated crown narrow and pointed, root uneven where it cusps, hale as the day you found it.

“You kept it!”

Suddenly coloured with embarrassment his hands return to his lap and he gives a nervous laugh. “I did. I could never forget you. When you didn’t come back the year after, I…” his features tighten as he restlessly fiddles the hem of his shirt. The fabric stretches thin. “I really thought I made it all up”.

Guilt crept in. You let it bleed through and soften your apology. “I’m really sorry, Cove. I wanted to come back, but—do you remember that big oil spill? A little further South?” Cove tilts his head, grimacing in recognition. You nod, “I couldn’t come this way for a while”.

You notice then that the rain has stopped; clumps of dry sand stuck to your hips and petrichor hung in the briney air. Cove is impervious to it all. “I understand,” he mumbled, giving you a meaningful look before his eyes darted back to the tides.

Tension seeped from his shoulders and you felt yourself relax in turn, instinctively leaning toward his warmth. He sucks in a breath. Any worries are put to rest by the soft intent in his eyes that belied his excitement. Emboldened, you reach up to tuck a wayward curl around the shell of his ear.

Cove quakes, jaw trembling where you linger. He makes a sound and only later do you realize it was your name. “You look so different now,” you murmur, trying to be delicate, lest you fracture the pleasant atmosphere and scare him away. “I almost didn’t recognise you”.

Your human glows ripe like an algae bloom. He leans into the cradle and touches your elbows, offering silent encouragement. “Oh. In—in a good way?” he asked, self conscious.

A grin splits your lips. Your other hand rises, cupping his face in your palms, amazed at the heat under his skin. “In a good way,” you echo an affirmative. Your gaze falls to his forearms. One a shock of blue, the pattern of the sea. The other is bare aside from a thin white scar. “And your strange pink wrapping is gone, now”.

“Ah, that’s right,” eyes softening in the late afternoon light, Cove’s lips thin into a small smile. You mourn for a moment when he releases you to trace the scar. “Yeah. I haven’t needed that for a long time. It’s all healed up”.

Overturning his arm he shows you the scar in full, winding from his inner wrist to the crook of his elbow. The tendons flex as his fingers move. You mirror his actions and follow the path with your fingertip. Bumps rise on his skin. You’d forgotten how reactive his body could be. “That’s good,” you reply, a little breathless. Brightening, then, when you remember, “This means you can swim now!”

“Yeah! I can surf, too. If you want we could paddle out further so it’s safer—for you?”

Cove taught you about surfing that first summer. Humans take boards into the ocean that can remain buoyed on the surface to ride the waves. Sometimes for sport, but mostly for fun. Visions of Cove finally alongside you in the water flood your thoughts. In your enthusiasm you push into his space and he tips back into the sand, bracing on his elbows. “Now?” you ask, practically draped over his lap.

A strangled noise gets caught in his throat. “Close,” he whispers, blinking rapidly. The red blush on his cheeks crawls down his neck to his chest, splotchy and honest. Sudden realisation appears to snap him out of his reverie. “I can’t today,” he hesitates, expression falling. Your mouth is inexplicably dry as his full lips jut into a pout. “I need to get back soon. If I don’t they’ll send someone to get me and I don’t want anyone else to see you”.

You stifle a wince when your fins flutter and fan out on display. Your body is just as honest as his. Deflecting quickly you tease, “Ah. Want me all to yourself again?”

Rather than fluster Cove’s features harden. “Yes,” he bursts, nodding firmly. You stare at him in wonder, and watch in silence as his mind races to catch up with his mouth. He clears his throat, shrinking back apologetically. Over the gentle sifting sand as a wave recedes he murmurs, “Sorry. I mean, I do want you to myself. But—”

“Cove,” his rambling stops at the fond intonation of his name. You dip forward until your nose bumps his cheek. You leave a kiss there, on the warm swell. “It’s fine. I feel the same”.

You’re close enough to feel his shaky exhale. Voice an octave higher, he squeaks, “You do?”

“I do,” you nod, reclining to give him some space and smile when he breathes a little easier. “I’ve waited to see you this long, I can wait a little longer”.

“You’re still so…” there’s that quivering smile again, blue eyes gleaming, face hemmed by unruly seafoam. Steeling himself, Cove rises to his feet and brushes the sand from his knees. “Then I promise I’ll be here tomorrow”.

“Good,” the tide crawls further, crashing against your hips. Foam fizzles along your tail. It calls you back to the currents. Cove watches you pivot onto your belly, turning to follow the next wave out. “I promise, too. I’ll be somewhere around here. Just call out to me, alright?”

“Okay,” he grasps the shark tooth necklace, rolling it between his thumb and finger, dithering on the shoreline with the net that had snared you tucked under his arm. Louder as the distance grows, he plucks up the courage to yell, “I missed you”.

You think of that second summer, when your elders told you the pod could not go back to Sunset Beach. How you had darted away to hide in the kelp forest, curled into yourself where you buried into the sand, stubbornly refusing to move. That grief had dulled significantly over the years yet a single encounter with Cove unearthed all those feelings without ceremony. Lying there, dormant and waiting.

Bobbing above the surface you cup your hands around your mouth, you shout unabashedly, “I missed you too!”

#our life x reader #cove holden x reader #cove x reader #cove x mc #our life beginnings & always #olba

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dulcewrites · 6 months

Text

New Traditions

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x afab!reader

Summary: As the first holiday season in your new home approaches, Rhett and you start new traditions and make promises (wc: 3k)

Warnings/Fic notes: mentions of unhappy childhoods (reader and Rhett probably needed more hugs as kids). Allusions to a rich!reader. Me using decorating as smokescreen for a character study lol. Daddy issues galore. The Christmas music is very self indulgent on my part too. Allusions/mentions to 18+ content

A/N: *Mariah Carey whistle note* ITS TIMEEEEEE. Lmao hiii, I hope you all are doing well. It has been a minute since I have written for a fandom outside of hotd so please bear with me on that front. I eventually want to take request soon (for Rhett, some tgm characters, and Calvin Evans) so my inbox is always open if y’all are interested - just shoot me something. If you read anything you like please reblog, like, and or comment. Also let me know when y’all put your decorations up (if you celebrate anything). I’m a staunch first weekend of December girlie myself ❤️

Masterlist

As pathetic as it sounds out loud, Rhett had grown accustomed to having the rug pulled out from under him. He had a looming and painful history with differentiating the cards life dealt him and what he deserves; over time, they began to blur together. At a certain point, he just resigned himself to life just being sort of... eh. Reminding himself that though things could be better, they could also be much, much worse.

It would all combinate in this hazy, syrupy snapshot of moments that ran together. At least, that is what he thought till he met you.

He thinks you would not understand it if he told you - that you are one of those people that is easy to love, while people like him took work to want. Hard work. Something that would be likened to the type of manual labor a Wyoming, farm grown boy like him is used to doing day in and day out. If he dared to express it, you would give him a good-natured laugh and shake your head like you always did when he said something self-deprecating.

"What kind of women do you take me for, Abbott," followed by a playful eye roll. "The type that settles?"

Rhett supposes that was the conundrum with you. Because the statement is not wrong; nothing about you gave off the impression you would settle for anything. That could come from a life of having almost everything at your fingertips. But the questions still tickle his tongue and doubts still makes his brain hazy.

It has only compounded since the two of you moved in together.

It was you who posed the suggestion, a shy smile on your lips. Despite the skepticism and disappointment from your parents, it did not feel right for you to sell your grandmother's ranch, the one your father grew up on, after she passed. You insisted on keeping it yourself, clearly having a soft spot for the house you would visit whenever you had the chance to.

Our home, you called it.

Your baking kits in the kitchen, his horses in the stable, and various clothes in the closets. He should feel reassured by this all… and yet… he waits for the other shoe to drop. For the rug to once again be pulled out from under him. Everything is so warm and new, and he worries about the day it slips through his fingers like sand.

Words in general, and expressing this specifically, does not come easy for him. Though loving you comes as easy as breathing for him. Rhett puts all that stuffing emotions and feelings away to good use as he tries to focus on the present. The only thing that manages to keep his mind clear is keeping his hands busy. So, he tries to make up for it in any way he can. The pale wall color your grandma insisted on keeping but reminded you of a sterile hospital? Painted to something more vibrant. The light fixtures in the kitchen that you said were ‘far too phallic to enjoy a meal under’? Well, those new ones are the best money could buy.

He just finished the building that rocking chair you got for the porch when you stick your head out of the house to call him in for dinner, eyes alight with something he could not put his finger on.

Dinner was silent, too silent for you, who always could spark up a conversation with anyone. A tiny sense of dread sets in, and he can’t help but think it maybe something he did… or did not do.

“The chicken is good,” he tries to start any kind of conversation or joy behind the eyes, but all he gets is an empty smile.

The unnerving quietness carries on for a few of minutes, but you suddenly drop your fork on the plate with a clank.

“Did y'all go all out for Christmas?”

Along with the noise the fork made, the question startled Rhett. He blinks blankly utterly confused by how it went from silence to that.

“What?”

“Oh, sorry,” your lips downturn into an embarrassed frown. “I should not have assumed y’all even celebrate it. I guess I just assumed with your mom and all.”

“No, we do celebrate,” he shakes head.

“So, did you go all out? When did you guys put the decorations out?”

Rhett shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Much like everything else that comes to his family, it is never linear or easy. He doesn’t know how to explain how one year they just stopped decorating; gifts and midnight mass were seen as hassles not the usual. Everything that the holidays stood for: family, love, gratefulness, togetherness was the antithesis of them. The joy and warmth of the holidays was sucked from the house and never came back till Amy was old enough to know what Christmas was - till Rebecca and his ma teamed up one day to make a fuss about the house being cold and sterile. What they meant is that Royal was cold… and sterile.

Rhett can still remember the look of disbelief in Rebecca’s eyes when Perry didn’t back her up on the matter. It was a look Rhett had seen from when he was a teen till the last day, he saw Becca. He still gets a rotten taste in his mouth thinking about he never got to tell her how much she meant to him. But that would also mean admitting that often his biggest advocate was a woman basically forced into the family versus the people he shared actual blood with.

Slight embarrassment burns his mouth like a hot iron down his thoat.

With a tight throat, Rhett shrugs. “It changed every year,” he lies. Then shakes his head. “It wasn’t a big deal really.”

Almost as abruptly as you stopped eating, you get up from the kitchen table. He just about calls out to see if you are ok, but you come back in the dining area carrying a picture.

“When I was cleaning out the garage, I found this.”

Rhett leans over, and he can’t help the slow grin that settles on his face. At first, he didn’t recognize the faces in the picture but then he saw a familiar crooked, mischievous smile, but this time on a younger girl. A little you. Decked out in a red, poofy dress and tiny white fur shawl. Shiny black saddle shoes that gleam even in the old photo.

“My baby as a baby,” he whispers.

Rhett continues to scan the photo. Behind you was two older people, and he can only assume they are your parents. They are exactly how he thought they would be and nothing like he thought at the same time. Your mom casually glamourous in green, your dad in a suit far too done up just for family dinner with a heavy hand on your shoulder. You wear her eyes but his nose. Right behind the three of you, a heavily decorated banister and in the foreground a Christmas tree so large that Rhett thinks it has to be a safety hazard.

You do not seem as happy or in awe of the relic as him, in fact you look sick at the sight.

“That was taken before they sat me down to tell me they were getting a divorce.”

Rhett’s heart sinks a little at the as the way your mouth juts out in bitterness.

“Looking back on it, I should have known. Dad was never home, mom was detached, probably depressed. Ya know, I remember them specifically saying that nothing would change, and naive little me not only believe that but wanted it. Not realizing something was just… off. But I guess most nine-year-old’s can’t tell the difference.”

He supposed it was easier for him to paint a rosier picture of your parents, for his sake and yours. Maybe winters in Texas were better than ones he experienced, maybe life was better. He has seen pictures of house, the compound, you grew up on. But now hearing what you are saying made pity take over the normal envy.

Rhett reaches out to grab your hand, and squeezes. “M’ sorry.”

You wave your free hand nonchalantly thought the casualness does not meet your eyes fully.

“No use crying over spilt milk,” you sigh. “I just saw the picture and tried to rack my brain for the last time we were all together for the holidays. After that one, it was one year with mama, the next with dad. And I don't think we ever decorated the house together. That was my caregiver, Jodie's job. Made me curious other people’s traditions I guess."

Rhett fiddles with the rings on your fingers while chewing on the fleshy part on the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe we can make our own,” he mutters softly. “Startin’ this year.”

You look up through your lashes, eyes fluttering away from the picture that sat on the table.

“Really?”

He nods. If that is what you want, he’d do it for you. Like he would do anything for you. Your gaze goes out the window across from the table. The leaves on the trees already began to change and fall to the ground. Going from green to various shades of red, purple, and brown. The season already has changed; heat melting away as the temperature dropped and cool breeze set in.

Your spirit noticeably lightens. “Do you think we can get a real tree? Mamma always said it was too much of hassle to get a real one.”

Rhett holds up his hand and extends his pinky. “As long as there is mistletoe in the house.”

Under new light fixtures, and with the sun grazing the ground as it sets, the two of you made your first promise.

Investments are important.

Your father told you so all your life. To the giant painting he bought for the Tennessee house (the one you later realized was a Degas), the stocks he bought for you for your fifteenth birthday, or his insistence you go to his alma mater. All investments that he expected payoff for. Your father will always be the smartest businessman you know, and he still managed to be so clueless with everything else.

People are not investments. Not really, at least. Not in the way your father looked at it. You can put money and effort into something, but it is never a guarantee it will work out that way. And you can’t just leave when things do not go your way. Your poor father never seemed to understand that, and you think it broke your grandma’s heart in the process.

And maybe you are no better than him. As a child, you admittedly reaped the benefits your parents offered you, almost to a fault. They would often laugh at your ability to move on to the next thing without so much as a blink of an eye. Onto the next toy, the next piece of clothing, the next makeup item. How can you criticize behavior you gave into yourself?

“You’re a reformed brat,” Jennie, your old debutant buddy turned psychologist said over the phone. “Give yourself some grace. At least you want better yourself now.”

So, you gave yourself just that. You didn’t sell your grandma’s place for the equity or whatever bullshit your dad mentioned. You didn’t Amelia County leave though your mom offered to set you up with her in New York. And God… you’re letting your fall - fall so deeply in love with Rhett, despite the voice in your head that tells you not to.

You replay your, in your opinion, embarrassing meeting. Bursting into tears in the middle of a grocery store was not the romantic story you want to tell others. But he came up to you to say that though he only spoke to her a handful of times when she would stay in her vacation home in Wabang, he knew your grandmother was a good woman and would be missed.

A blubbery mess of grief right next to the meat aisle spiraled into decorating your grandmother's house together - your house.

With Frank Sinatra’s version of ‘Let it Snow’ playing in the background, a rush of giddiness takes over. Jodie always said you had an eye for pretty things.

"A little excited, no," Rhett eyes copious amounts of bags you brought into the house. “It’s not even December yet.”

You survey the bags and boxes laid out. So, you went slightly overboard. Like driving out of town to the nearest big city to do some more shopping. Some habits die hard.

"This is just the starter stuff," you pull reams of garland out of the bag. “Just wait till they start selling the trees. Oh! And I got ingredients to teach you how to make sugar cookies from scratch.”

Rhett is silent for a moment, and you wonder if it is too much too fast. Your mother always said that enthusiasm, especially around men, should be tempered and demure. No one likes a girl that acts like a dog with a bone, sweetheart.

“Do.. do you think we can invite Amy over for the cookies thing,” his cobalt eyes soften at the mention of his niece. “I think she would like that.”

“Of course.”

You knew how important it was to Rhett for things to stay good with Amy. Her reception of the move was the only one he seemed to care about. You could not help but think the rest of Rhett’s family was skeptical about his decision. Cecilia was always kind towards you, and she was mostly receptive to the idea, but you assume it must hurt to see her baby venture out. Something about her reminded you of your own mother. Two women clearly used to the short end of the stick, and had to find ways to deal with it. While your mother found salvation in travel and extravagant parties, Cecilia found hers in faith.

Perry was well… Perry, about the whole thing. Just based on how he handled the news, and small tidbits you picked up from Rhett, it seemed like Perry was upset about Rhett making a choice just for himself. A luxury that the eldest son had a premium on for some time.

But you think it was the patriarch of the family who took it the hardest. It may be the reality of having two less hands around 24/7 like Rhett says, but you tend to think it is something deeper with Royal. Anger, sadness, pride - all of them??? You don’t know.

But what you do know is that family tension is something both you and Rhett know far too well.

After unpacking the bags and boxes you got, the smoky coos of Frank Sinatra transition into the pop Christmas playlist you put together. You don’t remember when the bottle of red wine came out, whether it was between Britney singing about what she wants for Christmas that year or Mariah singing about a holy night. It might have been after you insisted the two of you try your hand at diy decorations. But Rhett rolled his eyes when you talked about getting glasses, taking swings straight from the bottle instead.

“I don’t know how you drink this shit,” he wrinkled his nose, but he takes another hit.

“Just like you enjoy your watery beer,” you retake the bottle from him to have some more yourself.

“Last time I checked,” he expertly ties red and green ribbon into pretty bows and knots. “You were there with me, drinkin’ said watery beer.”

You bite your lip as you watch his brows furrow, and he pokes his tongue out sweetly as he ties meticulously.

“You’re quite good at that.”

“‘M good with ropes too.”

It could be the red wine, which always made your insides warm and fuzzy. Or if could just be the Rhett of it all. Him indulging this perhaps silly childhood wound of yours in full earnest.

“Hmmm,” you shuffle closer to him. The two of you might a makeshift area on the living room floor of pillows and blankets. An almost sickly-sweet peppermint candle ablaze on the table, and the fireplace crackling nearby.

“Royal used to make me secure the lines and pull logs. Kinda got good at it.”

By this time, you’re stuck at his side, suddenly a little fixated on hair on his neck that trickles up to his jaw and cheeks. You like him like this; hair falling from behind where it is tucked behind his ears. Scruffy and soft.

“Maybe you can show me how good you are.”

Rhett’s attention still doesn’t stray from the ribbons he cuts and ties, a task he is clearly taking seriously, but he nods in agreement. You roll your eyes slightly at how oblivious he can be.

“On me, Rhett,” you spell it out for him. “You can use the ropes on me.”

He stops and turns with a look of wanton, wetting his lips for a moment.

“Yeah,” he asks, the inflection at the end of the question breathy and soft.

You nuzzle your nose into area right under his ear with a hum, kissing the skin there and taking in the smell of his cologne. A woodsy scent with sprites of magnolia and cedar. It was one that consumed the bedroom and your mind. You spent much of your formative years pretending to hate the idea of being desired or wanted - chasteness an idea drilled into your head since you were a little girl and told by the ladies of your church that the only thing worse than being ungodly is being ‘fast’. Then you spent college overcorrecting to the point of farce. Letting the guys you knew had little regard for how you felt at the end of it make decisions for you. Emotionally, mentally, and sexually.

Your first time with Rhett was a hodgepodge of giggle and sighs only to be heard by vast emptiness of the home you do sit in now. His boots and jeans askew on the floor. You eccentric grandma’s knick knacks watching you two. Most notably, the cat clock that reflected in the moonlight, the one Rhett insisted you keep when he moved in. After him eating you out until you cried, and a night that ended in you making a trip to the local pharmacy for a Plan B, you honestly expected a series of awkward moments that would single-handedly ruin the small town bliss you experienced for the first time. And yet, in the morning, his lips turned up in a shy smile and he asked if you had bacon in the fridge.

You didn’t realize how badly you were under water and needed to breathe until you came to Wabang. Your lips work their way up his jaw til you reach the corner of his mouth.

“Let’s make it another tradition.”

#rhett abbott x female reader #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #outer range imagine #outer range #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott smut #outer range fic #black!reader #lewis pullman

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nobedofroses · 5 months

Text

December 10th

pairing: Joel Miller x reader

warnings: fluff, v soft

words: 1.1k

a/n: this one was prompted by the lovely @terryboot (little reminder that holiday/winter blurb requests are open this month 👀) wherein you and Joel are domestic

more Joel, Full List

🌨️🌨️🌨️

In Jackson, there were very few chances for injury. Occasionally during patrols if people came across infected there could be injuries from the quick pursuit, from falling or pulling a muscle. No bites or scratches in a long time, luckily. And sometimes other jobs would cause minor injuries too: a burn while cooking, a bruise from an animal, etc. But mostly it was the kids getting little scrapes and bruises from playing, which was a comforting and happy thought, reminding all of you that had grown up before of what a childhood was supposed to be.

Which was what made Joel so grumpy when he sprained his ankle and was laid up for at least two weeks, as per the medic’s orders.

“It’s like I’m a fucking child,” he had complained when he was first told, making the medic laugh, a woman named Jackie that you had met before for help with a rash which had come from the goat milk’s soap. Apparently you were allergic.

“Plenty of adults get sma— mild injuries as well,” Jackie replied, catching herself on the word, correctly guessing that Joel would not like the word, “small.”

“Yeah? Do they get ‘em walking across the fucking sidewalk?” he muttered.

“Maybe we’ll have to ask about putting out sand earlier this year,” you suggested. “Last year, things didn’t get this icy until around Christmas.”

Joel had no reply to that, laying his head back on the pillows you had set up for him. You rolled your eyes fondly and shared a glance with Jackie.

“I’ll leave you two to it, just remember the RICE method and you’ll be fine. I’ll be back in a week,” Jackie said and then you showed her out of the house.

When you got back to the room, Joel was still laying back but his eyes were open and he was watching you. You went over to him and brushed his hair away from his eyes gently, “Do you want me to stay here while you’re healing?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Joel said, and you were a little surprised it wasn’t an outright no. In the time that the two of you had been doing… whatever it was the two of you were doing, he had never come this close to admitting that he needed someone else’s help.

You decided to push your luck a little, try to get him to admit that he did in fact want you to stay, “Well, you could just rely on Ellie’s help for everything, I guess.”

Joel processed what that would mean, how much shit Ellie would give him for every little thing, and he shook his head once, saying in a quiet, slightly pleading, voice, “Stay.”

Your chest grew warm at just the one word and you nodded, bending down to kiss his temple and tuck the blanket around him better. “Why don’t you take a nap? I’ll go get something for dinner. I’ll have it ready by the time Ellie’s home and you’re awake.”

___

About two hours later, Ellie came banging into the kitchen through the back door and you intercepted her.

“Joel’s asleep on the couch, hun, can you stay in here until dinner’s ready?” you asked, finishing up the ham, cheese, and lettuce sandwiches you were making. If you were cooking at home instead of eating at the cantina, you made simple fare so as to not waste electricity or fuel.

“No he’s not, what are you hiding?” Ellie asked with a laugh, heading towards the living room.

You caught her gently around the arm and shushed her, “He is, you can look if you want, but be quiet please.”

Ellie tiptoed exaggeratedly, but you could see the curiosity on her face. She returned ten seconds later with a straight face, “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, honey, nothing’s wrong,” you hurried to say, remembering that because of their history, the sight of Joel vulnerable must’ve been terrifying for her. “He sprained his ankle, so he just has to stay off of it and get rest.”

“Sprained his ankle, huh?” Ellie asked, the grin on her face very close to evil.

“C’mon, you can’t torture him. Well, not too much,” you amended when you saw the incredulous look on her face. “Besides, he sprained it when he was bringing me coffee this morning, so he was being sweet.”

“Yeah, to you. I didn’t get any coffee,” Ellie pointed out, making it clear that him being sweet to you did not preclude him from any teasing on her end. “Anyway, I don’t know why you even go back to your place at night, you should just stay over. Not like I don’t know what you’re up to.”

The tips of your ears grew hot as you turned from Ellie so she wouldn’t see your embarrassed face as you said, “If we’re too loud—”

“No, I don’t hear you, thank fuck, I’m just not five years old. I know that you’re dating or whatever and I know what people do when they date or whatever.”

You smiled at that, put at ease that if nothing else, you and Joel weren’t too loud when you had sex. “You know, if you ever want to talk about you dating or whatever, you can always talk to me. And then I can talk to him.”

Ellie gave you a small smile and then grabbed a completed sandwich and an apple, mumbling, “Yeah, cool.”

Happy with where this conversation ended up, you started to head into the living room to wake Joel when you remembered you hadn’t told her, “And actually, I’ll be staying here while Joel recuperates, so I hope you meant it when you said I should just stay here.”

You heard Ellie’s little chuckle and quiet, “I did,” as you passed into the other room. Joel was awake on the couch, but looked freshly so, still blinking heavily, but he hummed when he saw you.

“I take it the terror is back and— it’s time for dinner,” Joel mumbled, yawning halfway through.

Smiling, you touched his cheek, rubbing your thumb over it gently and saying, “Yeah, but you can keep sleeping if you want to. Ellie and I can entertain ourselves.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I doubt she can do so quietly enough for me to keep sleeping,” Joel said and you tilted your head in agreement. He grabbed your hand and pulled you to sit next to his hip on the edge of the couch, “You tell her you’re stayin’ for a while?”

You nodded and tried to keep from smiling too wide, being too excited about her acceptance of you, “Yeah, she um, she seems kinda happy about it.”

Joel’s mouth quirked up as he said, “Course she is. Anybody’d be happy to have you, sweetheart.”

It was implied, not explicit, Joel’s sentiment, his own happiness at you staying at his place, playing some kind of house together with Ellie. But that’s all you needed, and this time you couldn’t help your grin.

🌨️🌨️🌨️

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #blurb #fluff #nobedofroses #snowy fics 23

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lnfours · 1 year

Text

summer loving ⎸ t.h (teaser)

summary: your mom and tom’s mom grew up together, swearing that their kids would be life long friends. and it was true, the holland boys were a special part of your life. but on the annual trip to their beach house this summer, everything feels different. and that’s because it is.

au: based on the book and tv show ‘the summer i turned pretty’ by jenny han. childhood friends to lovers

wc: a nice intro with 1k words

warnings: none yet, maybe some jealousy, hiding feelings for one another, some fluff and a bit of angst if you squint

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader

masterlist ⎸ chapter one ⎸ listen

the summer breeze was warm, salty air as the sun met the water of the ocean. you sat down on the sand, hands brushing over the towel you had laid down so you didn’t get sand all over your clothes. you had been reading, enjoying the peace and quiet as the sun went down. occasionally, people would pass you and smile as they walked the beach with their loved ones or their dogs, but not many people bothered you.

you were too lost in daydreaming and watching the sky change from blue to a mix of pink, purple and red to realize someone sat down beside you. when you saw a flop of brown curls out of your peripheral, you realized it was just tom.

you and your brother and the holland brothers had been best friends ever since both of your moms had you. you were all like one big family at this point, tom and his brothers being almost inseparable between your brother which would sometimes leave you to hang out with the mom. you we’re complaining, the boys would do their own things sometimes and you and the moms would go get your nails done together or go shopping.

but, the thing with tom was that he’s always had a soft spot for you. whenever the older boys picked on you or was a little out of line, he would always hang back to make sure you were okay or to wipe your tears away and to remind you that you’re ‘way better than those losers’.

which would make sense as to why you felt yourself growing attached to tom after the years went by, but this summer it felt different. a lot different. and you couldn’t tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

“hey,” he smiled, looking over at you, “knew i’d find you here. you’re always on the beach on your first day.”

you sent him a small smile back, “yeah, i enjoy the peace and quiet.”

his face dropped and he moved to stand again, “sorry, i can go if you-”

“no, no, it’s okay,” you reassured him as he lowered himself back to the ground, “it’s okay. was getting kind of lonely out here, i must admit.”

he nodded, looking down at the book on the towel, “reading anything interesting?”

you shrugged, “depends, would you find a romance between a hockey player and a girl he goes to college with interesting?”

he scrunched his nose, “you were always the one who was into sappy shit like that, no wonder you always hung out with the moms.”

you rolled your eyes as you both let out a laugh, “yeah, i guess so.”

you didn’t notice the way his eyes softened as he looked over at you and studied your side profile. tom was different this summer, and you thought it had to do something between him and his girlfriend breaking up, but he didn’t really seem all that upset whenever he was mentioned. you wanted to pick his brain, be his support if he was going through something.

but just like the other holland boys, he was stubborn as hell. you knew getting him to open up would be a battle. you figured he knew if he ever needed to talk to you, he could. it was unspoken, but the two of you were the closest of the rest of the kids, so it just made sense.

“you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” you smirked over at him, catching him staring. he snorted back a laugh, fishing his phone out of his hoodie as he raised the camera to you.

you let out a laugh, covering your face, “i didn’t actually mean it!”

“oh, come on! i’m sure you’d love a candid to post on your instagram, make you look all sorts of mysterious.”

you shook your head, smiling at the camera as he snapped the picture, “perfect.”

“let me see,”

he snatched his phone back as he raised it over his head, “nope! for my eyes only.”

“tom! come on!” you laughed as you fought with him for the phone. he rose to his feet suddenly before wiggling it over your head.

“you gotta catch me if you wanna see it.”

you were suddenly up and moving, ready for the challenge. you chased him down the beach as the both of you laughed, the two of you tumbling into the sand in a fight over the phone once more. it was playful, teasing almost as he laughed at you. you hadn’t noticed you were on top of him until your eyes met. you felt your heartbeat quicken as he quickly looked at your lips before locking his eyes back with yours.

suddenly it was like the air grew thick, like you couldn’t breathe. you felt him place a hand on your cheek, the phone now long forgotten about as you let him guide you down to his face. his lips brushed yours, his nose pressing against yours and you could feel his minty breath fan your face. you had been dreaming about this happening for years, your heart pounding against your chest as you thought about what it’d finally feel like to kiss tom holland.

that was until a voice pulled the two of you apart, you scrambling off of him in efforts to hide the fact that you were about to kiss him.

and there stood sam with crossed arms, an unamused look on his face, “dinner’s ready. the moms want you two back.”

“yeah, yeah, we’re coming.” tom said, his own head spinning as he looked over at you. you sent him a tight lipped smile as he offered you his hand to help you up out of the sand.

“thanks,” you mumbled, grabbing your things from the spot you had been sitting at.

“yeah, no problem,” he said, “c’mon, the dinner rolls are the best when they’re fresh out of the oven.”

you nodded, following him back up the path and to the house wondering how you got into this situation with the oldest holland boy.

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blossomwritesthings · 9 months

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𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞. | 𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

⬷ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬┊ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab) // chan x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol/collegegrad!felix. waitress!reader. college au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. friends to enemies to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining. cheating. abusive boyfriend/ex. drama galore. the sexual tension is REAL in this one.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. felix is reader's estranged childhood bestie. chan is low-key an asshole in this ngl. heavy topics are mentioned such as: abusive/toxic relationships, cheating, and pathological lying. drinking/partying. the summer vibes are real in this one. there will be humor/fluff throughout to balance everything. and ofc smut too because who am i if not a whore for filthy felix smut. 😉

word count: 4.1k

summary: ever since you were born, all you've ever known is living a simple life in the small australian coastal town of bridgeport bay. you're content with working at your parent's beachside restaurant angel waves for the rest of your life, and you're happy with your place in the world - you have good friends and an even better boyfriend. that is, until everything comes to a standstill when a familiar face from the past visits town for the summer. and in the wake of his return, lee felix upturns everything you thought you were content with here in your comforting little beach town.

a/n: I literally got the inspo to write this chapter from a TikTok I once saw like, 2 months ago. and I was like, huh- that'd actually make a good fic idea!! 💀 anyways, stream skz's lola performance tmrw!!! 🫣 also, thanks to @cb97breathing for literally being my biggest cheerleader with this fic lmao, you ROCK bby and ilysm!!! 😭🥹💙 ALSO YES I JUST CHANGED MY ENTIRE TUMBLR THEME YESTERDAY SO IF YOU DON'T RECOGNIZE MY NEW LOOK IM SO SORRY- 🤡

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Every day leading up to the party at Jeongin’s, you met Felix outside early in the morning. At first, it just started as you waking up before the sun rose to catch a glimpse of him wading into the ocean waters.

But then, things steadily turned into you sitting outside on your parent’s porch, just like you had on his second day back at Bridgeport Bay. And each time he acknowledged your presence there in the wicker chair, he’d come over after his swim, trickling with cerulean teardrops from the sea and smelling of warm salt and sand.

The two of you got to talking, as the mornings passed. And the later in the week it grew, the more you realized how much Felix hadn’t changed. He was still the taekwondo prodigy from elementary school, who had risen to fame amongst his university classmates in South Korea. He was still the goofy kid from your childhood, the middle schooler who had grown up to play weird pranks on his friends in university. He was still the kid from high school who hated tomatoes, and always asked for them on the side when his university’s canteen had ‘burger night.’

He was everything you had known him for, but so much more too.

He was a grown adult, who had foraged a life of his own in a country thousands of miles away from Bridgeport Bay. He was a fully-fledged man - who had a degree in Performing Dance Arts and hoped to become a dance instructor after his summer break.

Not to mention, he looked very different from how you used to know him.

Every day that passed, with him standing there in front of you, drenched in seawater, you were reminded of this fact.

From the chiseled abs and sculpted arms and sharp, pointed jaw.

When the sight of that side of him became too much, you usually called it quits - claiming that you had to get ready for the day. In reality, you just had to make a hasty escape.

So that you could sink to the floor in your bedroom after you had said your goodbyes.

So that you could listen to the raging clang of your heartbeat against your ribcage in the quietness of your room.

So that your mind could play that version of him over and over again in the forefront of your mind.

And then before you knew it, it was the day of the party and you and Yeji were driving over to Jeongin’s house in her car. Chris lived close to Jeongin’s place, so he was going to meet you guys there.

“This party is gonna be so fucking good,” she was saying, just as she pulled up to his place. Already, there were loads of cars lining either side of the residential street. And just as you had remembered it, his quaint house was tucked right next to the beautiful mountainside of Bridgeport Bay that you had always glimpsed from your bedroom window growing up. “Like, I’ve been wanting to go to one for a while now… thanks so much for inviting me, babe.”

As you stepped out of her cherry-red Corolla, you flashed her an easy smile. “Yeah, no problem, I thought it’d be fun to have you tag along…” Plus, you had a feeling that you wouldn’t know many of the people at the party besides your immediate friends. And Chris, of course.

The two of you began to make your way over to Jeongin’s front door. You noticed the large number of people who were lingering outside, with adults who looked around your age holding bottles of beer, and couples making out while sitting on the front lawn. So basically, the usual that happened at such parties. The bass of the music vibrated through your heels and into your spine as you finally stepped through the threshold of the house.

Everything was dark, save for the few lanterns and candles that were lit throughout the place. Party-goers were everywhere, only getting rowdier as the minutes ticked by and the alcohol flowed through bloodlines. There was a makeshift dance floor in the center of the living room, which was almost unrecognizable from how many wriggling bodies were crammed into the small carpeted space. Men and women alike rubbed up on each other, and you quickly averted your eyes as soon as you saw a few begin to move like fucking pole dancers.

“I need a drink,” you said, massaging the back of your neck in awkwardness as you and Yeji flooded through the cramped hallway. It had been so long since you had been inside Jeongin’s house, but walking between the dark sage-colored walls brought you back to your teenage years when you used to come over on occasion to hang out with Felix and Jeongin and the rest of their friend group.

The kitchen wasn’t bustling with as many people as the rest of the ranch-style house, meaning that you could catch your breath for a few seconds. As you stood there, off to the sidelines, you watched as Yeji fetched you a beer - she was going to be the designated driver for the night, so no alcohol for her. The few guys that stood near the countertop that was overflowing with bags of chips and candy gave her silent looks of interest.

Your best friend had always been rather gorgeous, even at the tender age of nine, when you had initially met her. Her long, raven-black hair was silky and seemed to shine under the lights of the kitchen, and she had a perpetual smile plastered onto her face. For the party, she was dressed in a show-stopping black mini-dress that brought out the milky tone of her skin and clashed perfectly with her dark eyes and red-tinted lips.

On the other hand, there you were - in a simple pair of light-washed shorts and a pastel blue tank that had a small daisy print on it. Your outfit was nothing fancy, and nothing compared to the glamorous aesthetic of your best friend. But it was comfortable and you liked being comfortable.

Just then, you felt warm fingers thread through your own, pulling you back. You peered up to see a smirking Chris. “Hi, there, beautiful… mind if I get your name?” He asked in a low voice that was hard to hear over the blaring EDM music that was pulsing throughout the entire house.

Already feeling the smile brighten your entire being, you leaned up into him and gave his lips a sweet kiss. “Hi, babe- did you just get here?” Yeji stepped in front of you then, pushing a red solo cup of beer into your free hand that wasn’t currently threading through your boyfriend’s dark tresses.

“Nah, I’ve been here for a while- it's been nice catching up with some old friends.” Chris reached forward, grabbing the cup out of your hands and taking a big swig of the liquor. As he pulled the rim of the cup away from his mouth, he frowned slowly. “Ugh- this tastes like shit. I need to give Jeongin some pointers next time he buys the alcohol.”

“Hey Y/N, do you mind if I leave you here? I’m pretty sure I just saw one of my old friends from high school and I-”

Chris was already waving a nonchalant hand in the air, pulling you a little closer to his side as he said, “Don’t worry about it, Yeji, she’s in good hands.” You drew your gaze away from your boyfriend’s chiseled jaw and offered your friend a delicate nod.

“Seriously, don’t worry about me and go out there and have some fun… you deserve it.” Yeji squealed at your approval, wrapping one of her arms around you and giving your side a tight squeeze before she was flitting out of the kitchen altogether.

Just then your boyfriend was tugging on your hand, pulling you through the threshold of the kitchen and out into the throng of people again. “C’mon, I want you to see some of the guys from high school.” By ‘guys,’ he meant his best friends from the soccer team that he had played on throughout high school. He still kept in touch with them regularly, but you didn’t hang out with them that much, so it had been quite some time since you had seen their faces.

“But I hate big crowds,” you whined at him as he tugged you through the bodies that were smashed together in the dining room. Felix had said that it would be a small party with just some close friends, but obviously, he had only said that to get you to come. You’d need a lot more than just one beer if you were going to get through the night unscathed and still standing. Chris pulled you out to the back patio area, passing the pool that was full of shouting drunks. “And I don’t really-”

Your voice caught in your throat as your boyfriend finally stopped in front of the fire pit that was tucked away into the corner of the backyard. You had sat around the raging fire and had roasted marshmallows one time before, back when you were a junior in high school and it was winter out.

There, sitting around the fire, were a handful of Chris’ former teammates from high school. And also, some of Felix’s groupies.

And then, there was…

Felix, too.

He was sitting in a lawn chair that was pulled up close to the fire. He was tipping his head back as he took a long draw from his glass that looked full of coke. He had never been a big alcohol drinker. Similar to you, he was dressed down - in tight black jeans and a baggy graphic tee. A single thin silver chain hung around his neck, drawing attention to his exposed clavicle.

It took him a moment to notice you, but as soon as he did, he was rising from his seat and darting over to your side. “Y/N- hi, happy you could make it!” He exclaimed cheerfully, as he gave you a quick side hug.

Almost instantly, Chris was pulling away from your form and finding a seat near his friends, seemingly forgetting about your presence right then and there and instead focusing on his old friends.

You gave Chris a glare from the way that he was practically abandoning you around a bunch of near-strangers. But you managed to flash Felix a faint smile, “Yeah, thanks for inviting me. Although, I didn’t think there’d be this many people here…” Your voice trailed off, as your eyes followed the line of people that were spaced around the pool’s edge, jumping into the blue-tinted water or chatting with alcohol in hand.

Felix ran a nervous hand through his blonde locks, grimacing quietly, “Jeongin said it was just gonna be a quiet thing. But, obviously, he invited more than just a few people.” Rolling his eyes at that, he motioned with a tilt of his head to the two empty chairs that were nearby. “Wanna roast a couple of marshmallows with me?”

“I’d love to.” You said with a grin, as you took a seat beside the fire. Immediately, the warmth enveloped you, calming your racing heart and forcing you to relax in your chair.

Your anxiety was just from the large party.

You had never been a big fan of immense crowds.

Yeah, it was definitely from that.

Felix kept his gaze on you as he slid two fluffy white marshmallows onto separate roasting sticks. “I thought you were bringing Yeji tonight.” He gave you one of the sticks, and you soon leaned forward and slowly began to roast your marshmallow.

“She’s here- just off catching up with some of her old friends from high school,” you began, as you watched the flames lick around the whiteness, biting into the gooey skin and toasting it a beautiful brown colour. “You know how it can be sometimes… time slips past you when you meet friends from the past.”

Your eyes flitted over to his form then, and he caught your stare. The air seemed to halt around you, the tension snapping between you as his face darkened somewhat. The starry-night sky did little to brighten the atmosphere, the waning crescent moon shining high above your head and casting a light glow across his freckled cheeks.

Like the fucking elephant in the room, you both knew that your words were meant for more than just Yeji and her friends.

“Mhm- it can be a lot to deal with when you see old friends again.” He mused in a low voice, one that you knew was only meant for you to hear. His gaze slid away from you then, as he focused all his energy on smushing his browned marshmallow between two pieces of cinnamon graham crackers and a slab of milk chocolate. “Here,” he moved towards you, offering up the s’more with delicate fingers.

You snorted incredulously, pushing his hand away from your face, “That’s yours, Felix.”

“Well, I want you to have it.”

And before you could offer up any more protests, he was shifting against your side, shoving the sweet thing into your open hand. Fingers brushed across fingers, and you were jolted backward from the contact. From the softness of it all. From the feeling of his palm swiping against your knuckles.

“Besides, I’ve already had like, five tonight. I don’t need any more marshmallows for a while.”

Quietly, you took a tiny bite out of the warm dessert. The sugar burst across your tongue, and you were brought back to your childhood, during the days when you and Felix used to roast marshmallows on your parent’s porch deep into the summer months.

The melty center of the marshmallow reminded you of him.

The saccharine taste of it all remained you of him.

And suddenly, you no longer felt hungry for another s’more.

Eyes scanning over the fire pit, you caught sight of Chris. He was sprawled out in his chair, chuckling over something stupid that his friend was telling him with animated gestures. You could tell that the liquor was going straight to his head, making him dizzy and irrational. You always hated when he drank. He turned into a different person whenever he did.

Just as you were about to tell Felix that you didn’t want another s’more, a voice rang out from across your side. “Ayo- you made it Y/N… good to see you!” You peered up from your seat to see a beaming Jeongin. He reached out to you, rustling your hair playfully as he drew closer to the bonfire.

“It’s a bigger turnout than I thought it would be, that’s for sure.” You said, but you couldn’t help the smile that erupted across your face at the sight of your old acquaintance. It was good to meet up with the people from your childhood. It felt like you were taking a trip down memory lane, one which was endearing and peaceful, and full of happiness.

At least, most of the feelings you felt right then were joyful ones.

“I bring offerings,” Jeongin announced to the entire ground that sat around the fire pit, holding up the plethora of green beer bottles that he had clasped in either hand. “We’re about to play a lit game of truth or dare!”

Seungmin, one of Felix’s friends from high school, grumbled out from across the roaring flames. “Can you please stop using the word lit? It’s really fucking annoying and super outdated.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes dramatically, sticking out his tongue in defiance. “Get used to it bro- it’s my new favorite word.”

“You guys are so fucking ridiculous…” You heard Felix say under his breath from beside you. Nonetheless, you saw the fondness that crossed his face at the sight of his friends bickering together. Just like old times, it would seem.

“The rules are, if you can’t tell the truth or do the dare, you have to take a shot,” Jeongin explained, as he picked a few empty solo cups off of the ground and began to fill them up with beer. “We’ll go clockwise, so… Jason, you start.”

The first player up was one of Chris’ friends, and he chose one of the girls that you didn’t know to pick truth or dare. She chose a dare and was forced to jump into the nearby pool fully clothed. Everyone around the campfire clapped in delight at how daring she was, and the game steadily continued from them.

Halfway through the first round, Yeji appeared from the backyard porch. “What’d I miss?” She asked, as he leaned over your shoulder and peered into the fire.

You shrugged, giving her arm a fond squeeze, “Nothing much, we’re just playing a few rounds of truth or dare. You wanna join in?” You watched as she found a lone chair somewhere off into the distance, dragging it towards the fire and plopping into it right beside you. And just like that, Yeji joined in on the fun.

The first three rounds passed in a blur of shots being thrown back and confessions being thrown around. You had avoided playing wholeheartedly, instead opting to take a few drinks in the wake of avoiding pressing truths or a crazy dare.

As the night passed on, the crowd of people around the pool seemed to grow, the music from inside the house getting louder and spilling out into the backyard. A few more people joined in on the game as time slipped by, and soon, you had a large group participating in the fun. The entire time, Felix hadn’t taken a sip of alcohol, instead opting to nurse his cherry coke. You guessed he must’ve been the assigned designated driver for the night for some of his friends.

Yeji lost her rights to drive by her third shot, and since everyone else was pretty shit-faced, that left only Felix as the completely sober one. The idea of having him drive you home sent a pang of hurt to course through your veins. You didn’t want to be a nuisance or bother him in the least bit.

“I choose… Chris!” Changbin, one of Felix’s older friends, shouted over the loudness of the party. It was his turn to pick his victim and you could tell his ideas were going to be bad - if his wide smirk was anything to go off of. “Truth or dare?”

Chris’ eyes were so glazed over, the red flames from the fire reflected off of his irises in an eery kind of way. His cheeks were dusted with a crimson flush from the liquor, a deep, toothy scowl permanently etched onto his lips. At that moment, you didn’t even want the others to know that he was your boyfriend. His drunkenness was too embarrassing. Albeit, a lot of the others were nearly blacked-out too, but something about Chris slurring his words and yelling loudly did something funny to your heart. Made it trip over itself and forced a lump to form in your throat.

“I- choose… dare.” He mumbled elatedly, throwing his hands up into the air in defeat. But he seemed rather pleased to still be playing, to be given a dare that was cutthroat. He had always loved drinking games.

Changbin rubbed his hands together, grinning mischievously, “Alright… I dare you to… kiss the hottest girl here.”

You felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t expected the dare to turn out in that kind of sense. The others around the campfire let out dark chuckles, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as Chris shakily rose from his seat.

“Not even a fucking debate-” He started in a scratchy voice. As he neared you, you could feel your eyes widen painfully.

No, no, no, please don’t-

But then just as you thought he was going to dip into your form, he was turning to your side, eyeing Yeji like she was a piece of meat. She was pretty shit-faced, but still had enough sense in her to blush profusely.

And just as Chris was about to lean into her for a drunken kiss, you found yourself shooting up from your spot, palms landing on his rigid chest as you pushed him back so hard he bumbled around the lawn like a complete drunk.

“What the fuck, Chris?!” You screamed, the tears already beginning to prick at the corners of your vision. Your boyfriend gave you a deep frown, the light in his eyes dimming to annoyance. You could feel the eyes of everyone on you guys, and the sounds of the party seemed to dim in the background, as you stared at your boyfriend with the hurt already beginning to bloom in your chest. “Why would you-”

“I wasn’t actually going to kiss her, stupid!” He retorted back, chuckling at how stupid you had been.

And maybe you were being stupid.

Maybe you were overreacting.

After all, it was just some dumb drinking game.

It wasn’t that serious-

“Don’t call her stupid.”

Felix’s voice seemed to ring out across the entire yard, dancing around your ears and making your cheeks heat up in a peachy-pink colour. You turned to him, noticing the way he was scowling Chris’ way. He was up from his chair, fists clenched at his sides. It was hard to see through the tears that were steadily flowing down your cheeks, but you could faintly make out the taut line of his lips that were pressed into a displeased line.

“Felix, I-”

But then you had no time to react, as one of his hands was clamping down around your forearm, yanking you backward and to his form. “Let’s get out of here.” He said in a low voice, as his hand trailed down your bare arm and his fingers threaded through your own.

Just as you were getting dragged away from the scene, Yeji stumbled out of her chair, calling out to you in a desperate plea, “Y/N, wait!”

Felix offered her no time to explain, as he pushed you through the crowd of people and into the house. He lead your wobbly legs the entire way, holding onto your hand firmly as it was hard to see through the mistiness of your vision. Finally, when you arrived at his car, he opened the passenger door and helped you into the seat.

When he had buckled himself into the driver’s seat and the ignition was roaring to life, Felix finally turned to face you. Reaching over the center consul of his car, he gave your hand a tight squeeze.

“Forget about him, yeah? He’s not worth your energy right now.” He said in a faint voice, one that graced over your ears and was a nice respite from the booming sounds of the party.

You roughly scrubbed at your eyes, trying to will the tears to stop. You were feeling so many emotions all at once… embarrassment, betrayal, but also… relief, to be taken out of such a situation so quickly.

“Where do you wanna go?” Felix asked upon your silence, and just then you managed to peel your eyes open, taking a glance at the clock on the dashboard and reading that it was well after midnight. “Home?”

You leaned your head against the black leather seat. It felt cold under your skin. Comforting, almost, to have something chilled touch your feverish cheeks. “No, I don’t want to sit alone in my room, not yet…” His face became clearer in your mind then, and you saw the way his mouth ticked up in a faint smile from your vulnerable admission that you didn’t want him to leave your side so soon.

“Then I know just the place.” Felix mused in that silky, deep voice of his. And soon, he was pulling away from the curb of Jeongin’s home, merging onto the street and taking you to his mysterious location that would seemingly make everything better. The entire time he drove, his palm stayed pressed against yours, fingers threaded through yours. “You just focus on my hand, yeah? Don’t think about anything else…”

Just like that, his soothing voice was lulling you into a mindless kind of stupor. With the bright town lights flashing around you as he drove steadily down the highway, you were brought into a listless state of limbo.

And he was right.

Focusing on him, and his touch was helping tremendously.

Helped take your mind off of everything, and all of your warring feelings.

And instead, all you could focus on was the way that his palm felt so soft pressed against yours.

The way his fingers fit so perfectly between yours.

Almost like, you had been destined to hold onto each other’s hands.

To be continued...

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