#Women's Summer Pyjamas | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sivyera · 1 year

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TWILIGHT characters as love tropes

ft. carlise, esme, emmet, rosalie, edward, jasper, alice, jacob, seth, leah, paul, charlie, bella

a/n: with songs to each character

༻♛༺

⤷ Carlisle Cullen - rich love

Carlisle is a very rich man which means he will spoil you a lot. Not only with expensive gifts but also with a lot of attention and affection.

Every time when he gets home from work, he welcomes you with a kiss and warm hug.

When he has a day off, he will cook with you (even tho he cannot eat it, it's just about the time he can spend with you) or you will lay on his lap with his hand stroking your hair and book in his other hand, reading to you.

Every Friday he will take you to a fancy restaurant and than for a slow walk around the nearest park.

On your birthday or on International Women's Day (or any other 'special' day) he will spoil you even more than on normal days. Expensive jewelry, perfumes, clothes, shoes,...

He will bring you flowers at least once every two weeks. And every July he will take you on vacation and you can choose where.

Lolita - Lana Del Rey

⤷ Esme Cullen - falling in love fast

Esme is such a kind soul so it's no surprise that you two fell in love with each other fast.

She will take you on a date every Saturday. Mostly coffee dates are her favourite. The two of you can talk for hours while drinking delicious coffee.

She will also enjoy baking with you (even tho she cannot eat/taste them)

She has many polaroids with you on them or with the both of you on them and has them hang in her closet or the small table beside her bed.

She loves when you paint her nails and massage her legs and she will always return the favor.

She loves sunny days but because she's a vampire and her skin sparkle on the sun, she cannot go out where people can see her, BUT she can go somewhere private like meadow or forest where you two can be alone and on the sun!

Sofia - Clairo

⤷ Emmett Cullen - he fell first and harder

Emmett was absolutely over the moon when you two started dating, because he knew from the start that you two are just meant to be.

He loves, loves, LOVES when you sit on his lap. He doesn't care if you are stroking his hair or doing make-up on him, he just want you in his lap, so he can embrace you with his big arms and muscular body.

He'll dance goofily around the bedroom with you to some catchy hip-hop songs he has found.

He loves cuddling with you especially when he can be the big spoon, because he likes how tiny you're compared to him.

Matching pyjamas and make polaroids in those pyjamas, which happens to be one of his favourite memory and polaroids.

He doesn't really like reading books but he always wants you to read to him, because he loves your voice.

She's Kinda Hot - 5 Seconds of Summer

⤷ Rosalie Cullen/Hale - you fell first but she fell harder

Rosalie has trust issues and trauma because of her past so she wouldn't fall in love easily nor fast, but trust me when she does fall in love; she loves hard.

She loves having spa day with you which includes face masks, painting nails, shared warm bath and much more.

She will take you to the mail shopping almost every day and will buy you everything you look at.

She doesn't like much PDA but she will hold your hand in public but if she gets jealous, she will show the person she's jealous off who you belong to.

She doesn't show it to others just you, but she loves cuddles. She loves when you lay next to her, face to face so she can see your beautiful face.

She's also very protective over you, so if any guy or a girl makes you feel uncomfortable (or unsafe), tell her and she will make sure they won't approach you ever again.

Prey - The Neighbourhood

⤷ Edward Cullen - first and only love

Edward waited so many years for you, but it was worth it because he finally got you.

He loves when you kiss his forehead even tho he has to lean down because of your height difference, it makes him feel safe. Still his favourite place to kiss you is on your lips.

Edward will write poets for you and about you on small piece of paper and then put them somewhere in your room where you will notice them like your closet or on your book, laptop, notebook, pillow,...and he will bring you your favorite flowers right after the previous ones he gave you have withered.

He will also write songs about you (or for you) and then play them to you on the piano. Which he absolutely loves because you sit right next to him and look at him with those beautiful eyes of yours full of love. Edward cannot read your mind but he can sure read your eyes, the small spark and the love in them when you look at him, he just loves it!

Loves cuddling with you, his favourite position is when you lay on his chest or when he's the big spoon, face to face or hugging you from behind.

He loves having deep talks with you and he'll tell you about his childhood or about the time he was born in.

Follow You - Imagine Dragons

⤷ Jasper Cullen/Hale - unconditional love

Jasper can be sometimes insecure just as much as Edward, they even have similar reasons... Jasper is afraid of him hurting you, he's afraid that he won't be able to control himself around you, but your words of affirmation and gently touch will calm him down.

Jasper doesn't talk much, he rather listens and he loves listens to you. It doesn't matter what you are talking about, he just loves your voice.

He will take you for a horse ride because he loved it back when he was a human and because he was a cowboy, but you two will have to share the horse because he wants your arms around him.

At first he was a bit scared of cuddling with you (again because of his control) but soon as your hand went to his hair, he melted. Both of you realized how touch starved he's so now cuddling is an everyday thing.

Jasper is a gentleman like Edward or Carlisle so he will also bring you flowers every even week.

He'll read to you to make you fall asleep, because his smooth voice is like a lullaby to you. But if Jasper feels that you are anxious, he will calm you down with his gift and than talk to you what made you anxious, eventually he will cuddle you.

R U Mine? - Artic Monkeys

⤷ Alice Cullen - any universe

Alice (because of her gift) always knew you were the one, her one and only true love. So when she first saw you, she couldn't help but babbling to her adoptive siblings all day how amazing you are and how she's already in love with you.

She'll go to the mail with you and make small fashion show with you in the cabins with all the cute outfits she found for you and you for her.

She's mostly the small spoon (sometimes she is the big spoon but depends on the situation) while cuddling because she loves when you hold her in your arms and stroke her back.

Outside, in front of other people, she will always hold your whole arm, not just palm.

If you have trouble falling asleep, she will gladly sing to you while stroking your hair.

She'll buy matching clothes, jewerly or nail polish, because she loves when you two match your outfits or other accesories.

i wanna be your girlfriend - girl in red

⤷ Jacob Black - whatever it takes

Jacob is willing to do anything and everything for you, his imprint. He will kill for you, he will die for you, he will do just everything.

Jacob can be sometimes insecure because he isn't that rich like the Cullens and he thinks you deserve someone who will treat you like a queen, so once again he's willing to prove you that he's worthy of your love.

He'll make you a small wolf and your favourite flower out of wood and attached it into a bracelet, which he will eventually give you to your birthday.

He's also a big cuddle bug, because he's so warm will make you comfortable enough to fall asleep. He's most of the time the big spoon because he feels like he's protecting you but he doesn't mind to be the little spoon. Cuddling also leaves his scent on you so every vampire or shape-shifter (wolf) can smell who you belong to.

He'll take you on motorcycle rides. Also he will drop you at your school on his motorcycle and then he will pick you up. Also he'll let you ride on his back while he's in his wolf form.

Jacob doesn't like fancy restaurants, he prefers his or your bed with some snacks and movies, cuddling of course!

Galway Girl - Ed Sheeran

⤷ Seth Clearwater - love at first sight

Seth hoped that he will met his imprint someday and he heard from the others how amazing the feeling is to imprint on someone, but no one really prepared him to him because when he first saw you, your beauty hit him like a brick. And he finally understood the feeling because all he could see was you...

Seth will make sure you are always in a good mood with him, either he could tell you some stupid joke or cheesy pick-up line.

He maybe look like a cute baby but don't let his cute face fool you because he won't hesitate to kill for you, so it makes him really protective over you.

In his wolf form he's like a big puppy but only to you and he loves giving you piggy back rides in his wolf form.

Cuddling really depends on his mood; if he's in good mood he will be the little spoon with his head placed on your lap; if he's in a bad mood (mostly when he's jealous) he'll be the big spoon to show others that he can protect you.

He loves baking with you but he's clueless so he will just stand there and watch you or mix some ingredients, often sneaks up a kiss on the cheek while baking.

Dandelions - Ruth B.

⤷ Leah Clearwater - enemies to lovers

At first Leah hated the fact that she actually had a imprint, so she would try to stay away from you as much as possible and when she couldn't; she would have some nasty comments towards you, but it hurt her as hell when she saw how sad she made you or worst insecure.

She tried hard to stay away from you but she failed, miserably. She needed you, she needed to be with you, so she will explain everything to you same as she would apologize for her acting.

Very protective of you, anyone could just try and test her patience.

At first she wouldn't want you to be near her while she was in her wolf form because she was much bigger and stronger so she was afraid that she could hurt you, but she became a sucker for scratches behind her ear.

Seth will often tease his big sister because she's really soft when it comes to you, which makes Leah give Seth few playful slaps.

When it comes to cuddling, Leah is the big spoon because she has the urge to protect you and being the big spoon makes her feel like she's protecting you in you sleep.

Running With The Wolves - AURORA

⤷ Paul Lahote - rough love

With the term 'rough love' i mean that Paul is passionate lover and is willing to do anything for his imprint, you.

Paul isn't very patient when it comes to people but you are an exception. Still he's aggressive when someone push his buttons but you are always here to drag him away and calm him down.

Just a single touch and Paul's full attention is on you. Which brings me to the fact that he turns into a puppy when you touch him, your touch is just to comforting.

He's the big spoon because he feels like he protects you and it makes his scent stay on you.

He can get jealous very easily, he trusts you but he doesn't trusts the others and he doesn't want any boys or girls too close to his imprint.

Loves everything you cook or bake and will always eat everything.

Overprotective, if any vampire even dare to touch you, he'll kill him.

Little Freak - Harry Styles

⤷ Charlie Swan - old love

Charlie is old school but still a huge gentleman.

He will bring you flowers every time you had a bad day and some chocolates when you had a good day to make it even better.

He loves watching old movies or crime/detective movies with you, with his arm around your shoulder.

When he has day off, you two will go on a picnic date which always ends up with you laying on his chest while he's telling you some stories from work.

Every time you bring him a lunch into his police office, he will welcome you with a warm, thankful smile and thank you with a kiss on your cheek.

He will protect you even more than before, when he finds out that there are vampires and werewolfs (shape-shifters).

Burning Love - Elvis Presley

⤷ Bella Swan - teenage love

Bella will be awkward and nervous when she first spoke to you, because you were just too beautiful to be real. But to her surprise she made you fall in love with her which made her so, so happy.

First attempts of trying to cuddle with her or just show her simple romantic affection were awkward because she was just to nervous, eventually she will warm up and feel more comfortable.

She find our that you touch calms her anxiety and nervousness so whenever she's nervous or anxious she will just hold your hand and squeeze it gently.

Charlie was very happy that his daughter found someone like you, which made Bella even more happy when she saw how you, the love of her life and her father get along.

Often having sleepovers at her house when Charlie has night shifts, which always leads to matching face masks and cuddles.

Kisses on the cheek are her favourite, because she can easily turn and give you small peck on your cheek and visa versa.

Electric Love - BØRNS

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daydreamtofiction · 1 month

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Thou Shalt Not Covet // 20: Resurrection

Contents | Part 19 | First Person Version [AO3]

Summary: (Priest!Ben x Female Reader) THE FINAL CHAPTER IS UPON US. I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all I love you all. I'm going to sleep now.

Word Count: 7.1K

Warnings: Strong language, irreverence, dark humour, adult & sexual themes. Readers must be 18+

You stirred gently from sleep, eyes closed as you drifted between the realms of reality and slumber. Echoes of the countryside seeped in through the open window like a soundscape, tranquil and idyllic; birdsong, wildlife, nature, rain-

Rain?

Your eyes shot open, the remnants of your sleepy haze immediately falling away as you scrambled out of bed and hurried to the window. You pulled back the thick curtains, looking out over the vast landscape of the stately home, the plush, well kept grass and winding gravel paths, the fields in the distance that stretched along the skyline, as though nothing existed beyond it.

The blue summer sky was blanketed in clouds, showering the earth in a rain so fine you could only see it in the ripple on the surface of a nearby pond. You gave a dejected sigh, walking around the bed to grab your phone off the nightstand.

"Shit," you hissed as you noticed the time, the alarm you must have sent to snooze in your sleep.

You rushed out of your room in your t-shirt and pyjama shorts, making your way across the large landing towards the sound of voices and laughter, the smell of food and perfume. You tapped your knuckles on a door decorated with flowers and pushed it open, stepping into the room with an awkward grimace, an apology ready on your tongue.

The spacious suite was buzzing with excitement, women with their hair in rollers, champagne flutes in their hands. They were all wearing matching silk robes; pale blue, 'bridesmaid' embroidered in white thread across the breast. You spotted Camilla from across the room, the only one in white, sitting with her back to you as a stylist blowdried her hair.

It felt like a bad teen movie; the moment the awkward new girl stepped into the high school cafeteria, looking over at the popular girls' table as she stood alone with her tray. They'd all known each other forever; the maid-of-honour her twin sister, the other four old friends. They were probably wondering why she'd asked you to be a bridesmaid at all, why you got to be part of the day they'd been waiting for since they were kids.

"Oh, here she is!" One of the women shouted, jumping up from a couch in the middle of the room and rushing over to you.

Camilla turned her head, smiling when she laid eyes on you and giving an excited wave. "You okay!?" she shouted over the sound of the hairdryer.

You nodded, mouthing 'sorry' at her from across the room and pointing at your phone. 'Alarm didn't...'

She waved her hand at you, as if telling you not to worry.

The woman approaching you was called Lottie, her freckled face gleaming with a grin as she handed you a robe. You took it and shrugged it on, looking down at the same 'bridesmaid' label embroidered into the pale blue silk.

"Come and get some breakfast," she said, pointing to the coffee table between two couches, an elaborate spread laid across it.

You picked at the food, putting a few pieces of fruit and croissant on a small plate and sitting down with the other women.

"I'm so sorry I slept in," you said.

"Oh don't worry about it," said Camilla's sister Alice. "You haven't missed anything. And Georgia's still asleep so you're not actually the latest."

You laughed, biting into your croissant and relaxing back slightly into the couch. "I can't believe it's raining," you said, gesturing to the window on the other side of the room. "Especially with how warm June's been this year. I hope it stops before the ceremony."

"Femi was just saying rain on your wedding day is supposed to be good luck," said Lottie.

The woman beside you nodded, her thick, dark hair sitting in a cluster of rollers on top of her head. "It is. They say it's supposed to wash away all the bad memories."

"Hm." You nodded. "Well I hope it pours down then."

They all laughed, and you allowed a smile, almost feeling bad for expecting coldness from them. They'd never been anything but kind; every dress fitting and group chat conversation filled with positivity and excitement, even the hen night had been surprisingly fun. Yet still, there was something inside you that made you doubt yourself, like you didn't belong amongst them.

Music played and the morning flowed as freely as the champagne. People rotated between the makeup artist and hair stylist, picking at the food and taking breaks in-between to dance and pose for pictures. You sat in the makeup chair as the woman swirled a brush over your eyelid, pinning your brow up with her thumb after you failed to stop blinking.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, glancing up to see Camilla at your side.

"I know you don't like champagne so I got them to bring you a mojito," she said, handing you a tall glass, a sprig of mint floating over the ice.

"Oh, wow, thank you. You didn't have to-" The makeup artist turned your face back towards her.

Camilla laughed, patting you on the arm before walking away.

You took a sip as the artist turned to dip her brush in another eyeshadow, quickly putting it down when she returned to you. You peered at yourself in the mirror through one eye, liking what you saw; glowing skin and romantically blushed cheeks, fluffy brows and the beginnings of a soft, dreamy eye. You found yourself thinking about your own wedding, the kind of makeup you'd have, the dress you'd wear, the colours you might choose. You could picture the guests, the bridesmaids, the church. But the groom didn't seem to have a face. No matter how hard you tried to imagine him waiting for you at the altar, you just couldn't make him out.

You were the last one to sit in the hair stylist's chair, nursing your cocktail as she ran a bristly round brush through your hair, spraying you with mists and pinning it up in sections while you watched the other women slip into their dresses.

At every fitting, Camilla had been very specific about what she wanted your dresses to look like. They were beautiful; layers upon layers of delicate tulle that flowed to the ground like water, sleeves that draped off the shoulders and dozens of intricate flower appliqués. If it weren't for the soft blue colour, they could have been mistaken for wedding gowns.

You watched as each woman was zipped and buttoned into her dress, the material gliding across the ground as they walked and twirled. And when your hair was finished, you put on your own, holding it tight to your chest as Femi fastened the back. You turned to looked at yourself in the mirror; the makeup, the hair and the most magnificent dress you had no idea how to walk in without tripping over it. You felt beautiful. You looked beautiful. You all did.

You stood in the room waiting to go, clutching your bouquet in front of you, your thumb fiddling with the twine keeping it all together. Clusters of periwinkles, cornflowers, lavender and lilacs were peppered with baby's-breath and eucalyptus. You brought it to your nose, the sleepy perfume calming you down as you shifted your weight from side to side in your heels.

The door opened and Camilla stepped into the room, eliciting a collective gasp from the bridal party, even you. Her jet black hair was slicked into a low bun, a veil cascading from it like a waterfall to the ground. Her dress was a pearly white; high neck and long sleeves, the beading catching in the sunlight that shone through the window. The train was long enough to rival royalty, her mother and father carrying it into the room behind her.

The photographer was snapping pictures, moving around to catch each of the bridesmaids reactions. You glanced around to see them all carefully dabbing away tears, wondering if you were supposed to be crying too. You lifted a finger to your eye as he took your photo, not wanting to seem like the odd one out when they looked back over the album.

"Right," said Camilla. "Let's go get married."

It was two bridesmaids to a car; the dresses so big that you had to be packed and folded into the back seats like the stuffing of a pillow. You'd been put with Esther; the most laid back of the group, her soothing voice and charming laugh making the entire ordeal a little less mortifying. When the driver finally closed her door, she blew a loose strand of hair out of her face, turning to you and smirking.

"Logistically, they should've just stuck us all in the back of a van," she said.

You giggled. "Yeah, or one of those things they transport horses in."

"Can you imagine," she laughed.

The engine rumbled to life and you began to move, following in a long line of classic cars decorated with flowers. You returned to fiddling with the twine on your bouquet, breathing slow to loosen the knots forming in your stomach. You tried to focus on the view from your window as you travelled out of the countryside and into the small town, people stopping to look as you all drove past, the pretty views and brightening sky. You hadn't been back there in two months, and it was hard to look at the cobbled roads, thatched roofs and kitschy village shops without thinking of him, without knowing you were just a car ride away from facing him again.

"Are you okay?" asked Esther.

"Hm?" You turned to look at her. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm good."

"Are you sure? You seem more nervous than Cam, and she's the bride."

You breathed out a weak laugh. "No, I'm fine, really. Just... churches, y'know. They make me uneasy."

"Ah." She nodded, smoothing down a piece of her dress that had puffed up between you. "Well don't worry about that. If I can walk into a church then you definitely can."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a trans woman, about to walk into a Catholic Church and stand in front of a priest who probably thinks I don't deserve to exist."

"This one won't think that," you said. "He won't."

"How do you know? Have you met him?"

"I have. And he's one of the good ones, I promise."

She eyed you for a moment before smiling. "Well then you've got nothing to worry about either, have you."

She reached over and squeezed your hand, holding it supportively for the rest of the journey. You felt bad, like you'd lied to her, taken her legitimate fear and used it to hide your own sordid truth. You'd tried to move on again, to get back to where you were before the day you found him in this town. But something was missing now, as though you'd left a piece of yourself behind, or maybe he'd taken it, and now nothing fit together right.

The cars rolled to a stop outside the church. You could see the other bridesmaids gathering at the gates, their dresses fluttering together in a cloud of powder blue. The driver opened Esther's door first, taking her hand to help her out. And for a handful of seconds you were alone in the backseat, with nothing but the sound of your own breath, your nails raking over a fray in the twine you'd been fiddling with until it broke.

"Oh, fuck sake," you whispered as the arrangement fell apart in your lap, stems and flowers and greenery sitting in the trough of your dress.

You gathered it all back together frantically as your door opened, clutching it in your fist as you climbed out into the warm June breeze. Esther smiled at you, gesturing for you to come with her to join the others, then she looked down at the flowers in your hand, the piece of string in the other.

"My god, you really are bricking it aren't you," she laughed, helping you tie it all back together.

When you got to the other bridesmaids, your eyes darted across all of their bouquets, then down to yours. It looked like shit; too much green on one side, a clump of baby's-breath on the other, a broken stem of lavender hanging limply over your knuckles. You snapped it off and threw it to the ground behind you before anyone noticed.

The bridal car pulled up and you watched as Camilla and her father climbed out, their smiles warmer than the summer air. You couldn't help but smile too, wondering if your own father would smile like that. He would. Though, he'd probably complain about having to wear a suit first.

You stared up at the church as you made your way towards it, blowing out slow, shaking breaths through pursed lips.

"It's not about you, Ellis," you muttered to yourself. "This isn't about you."

You felt an arm link yours, turning to see Esther at your side. She was looking straight ahead, pressing her lips together nervously, and you couldn't help but wonder if the arm she'd given was for your benefit or her's.

The familiar musky aroma hit you as you walked into the church. You pushed your nose into your lopsided flowers, breathing in their scent instead, wishing you could tuck yourself away inside the petals like Thumbelina until it was all over.

The organiser shifted you around, peeling you from Esther's side to arrange you in a line. You breathed a sigh of relief to find yourself somewhere in the middle, kicking the bottom of your dress out to stop it getting caught under your feet. Short steps, that's what the dressmaker had said. Little shuffles, a small kick if you feel it catching on your shoes. You were going to fall over. You just knew it.

Music began to play in the chapel and the hum of chit chat fell silent. You took a deep breath, glancing over your shoulder to give Esther a reassuring smile, before turning back and staring down at the ground, waiting for your turn to walk.

Lottie went first. Then Georgia, then Femi, then it was you. You turned the corner and stepped through the open chapel doors, taking the fastest small steps you possibly could, wishing you'd convinced Rav to choose the church with the tiny aisle instead. Heads were turned, women in large hats and extravagant fascinators, men with corsages on their lapels and children with wide eyes, all watching you with smiles as you made your way towards the altar. You kept your eyes on Femi in front, watching the way her dress moved so gracefully across the floor, hoping yours somehow looked the same.

You finally raised your head when you reached the front, your eyes meeting Father Benedict's almost immediately. He was smiling softly, a crisp white stole draped around his neck. You notice his throat bob with a swallow, a glisten along the waterlines of his eyes. You could have cried. But then you looked at Rav, and you couldn't help but break into a smile. He was beaming, chest puffed, shifting on his feet with excited energy as he waited for his bride. He winked at you and you scrunched your nose happily before stepping aside to stand with the other bridesmaids. Esther followed behind you, then Alice.

Father Benedict raised his hands and the music changed. There was a collective shuffle as everyone in the pews rose to their feet, turning to see Camilla enter the chapel, a bouquet in one hand, her father's fingers firmly clutched in the other. They walked together to the sweet sound of strings, her dress and veil trailing elegantly behind her. She kept her eyes on Rav the entire time, smiling, blushing, and you felt a selfish sense of pride wash over you. You'd introduced them. You'd known how perfect they would be for each other before they'd ever even met. And now here they were, just a year later, declaring their love in front of you all.

"Hello everyone," said Father Benedict. "We are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Raviraj and Camilla. Let us call upon God to be with us today as we celebrate this union. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Peace be with you." "And also with you," you said quietly, your voice lost amongst the collective.

"Let us pray."

You sat down as he began the prayer. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to savour his voice, just for a moment.

You wondered if he realised he was looking at you. Those striking blue eyes glancing over every few moments as he gave his first few readings, almost as though he was checking you were still there, making sure you hadn't been a figment of his imagination. You listened to him speak carefully; this was what he'd chosen, to share the word of his God, and he was good at it.

"Raviraj and Camilla, you have come together today so that the Lord may seal and strengthen your love in the presence of your family and friends," he said. "And in doing so, you will be strengthened to keep mutual and lasting faith with each other as you carry out the duties of marriage. And so, in the presence of the church and of your family and friends, I ask you to state your intentions."

Rav and Camilla exchanged a glance and a nervous laugh. You smiled.

"Raviraj and Camilla, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?"

"I have," they both said.

"Raviraj, are you resolved to take Camilla to be your wife: to love her, comfort her, honour and protect her, and forsaking all others, to be faithful to her for as long as you both shall live?"

"I am," said Rav, pressing his lips together to hold back an excited grin.

"Camilla, are you resolved to take Raviraj to be your husband: to love him, comfort him, honour and protect him, and forsaking all others, to be faithful to him for as long as you both shall live?"

"I am," said Camilla.

"And are you, Raviraj Mishra free lawfully to marry Camilla Anne Bowen?"

"I am."

"Are you, Camilla Anne Bowen free lawfully to marry Raviraj Mishra?"

"I am." "Well that's lucky," said Father Benedict, getting a light chuckle from everyone, including the bride and groom.

He was always so good at easing tension; knowing exactly when people needed a moment to laugh, a second to take a breath.

"Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of Holy Matrimony, join your right hands and declare your consent before God and his church," he said, gesturing for them to hold hands.

You watched on with pure joy as the couple said their vows, your cheeks aching from smiling, any nerves or apprehension you had melting away as you listened to them giggle and trip over their words. But every now and again, you would find your gaze slipping to Father Benedict; the smile lines, the crinkled brow, the curve of his lips as he laughed.

"You were right, he is really nice, isn't he," Esther whispered as she leaned over to you.

You nodded. "He is. I'm really glad he's the one doing this."

"Do we have rings?" he asked.

Rav's best man took a step forward, taking the rings from the breast pocket of his suit and handing them to Father Benedict.

"Lovely, okay," he said, clearing his throat. "May the Lord bless these rings, which you will give to each other as a sign of love and fidelity. Amen."

He handed Rav a ring. "Repeat after me: Camilla, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit."

"Camilla," said Rav. "Receive this ring as a sign of..."

You slapped your face with your palm. Camilla rolled her eyes with a laugh.

"Come on, I gave you the easy version of this as well," Father Benedict joked, drawing another laugh from the guests. "As a sign of my love and fidelity."

"Camilla, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit."

He patted Rav on the shoulder like a proud father, and you couldn't help but smile.

"Give me the hard version," said Camilla, making him chuckle deeply in his throat.

"Has to be the same, I'm afraid." He gave her the ring. "Raviraj, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit."

"Raviraj, receive this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit," she said before slipping it onto his finger, smiling like she'd perfectly recited a Shakespeare soliloquy.

Father Benedict ran a hand through his hair. "Now this is where we would usually declare them husband and wife," he said, addressing the chapel. "However, Raviraj and Camilla have asked if they can read their own declarations which they have prepared. So I will now take a step back and allow Raviraj to begin."

You sat up straighter, your ears pricking with curiosity as Rav reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it with nervous fingers and clearing his throat.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Camilla. Before I met you, I'd stopped believing in love. And because of that, I'd grown comfortable on my own; complacent, maybe even a little bit jaded. But from the second I laid eyes on you, I was forced to confront everything I thought I knew. You made me realise that love isn't something you can just avoid. It's something you feel whether you want to or not, and it should be embraced and cherished and nurtured."

The paper was shaking in his hands, and it almost made you tear up. You placed a hand over your chest as you listened, glancing over at Father Benedict who hadn't taken his eyes off Rav since he began speaking.

"You found me at a time when I didn't even realise I was lost. When I thought the only way to be strong was to be alone. You showed me that real strength lies in being vulnerable and honest and imperfect, in being brave enough to risk letting someone behind the barricade. Maybe you'll lose everything. Or maybe..." He gestured to Camilla. "You'll gain more than you had to begin with."

Father Benedict looked at you, you knew because you could feel his gaze on your face like the sun's rays. But you kept yours on Rav.

"So today, I vow to you, Camilla, that I will always keep my heart open for you. I vow to choose you, every single day. You are my person, my partner, and the best risk I ever took."

The sound of sniffling echoed through the chapel, and you watched as Camilla wiped a tear from her cheek. She cleared her throat, turning to Alice who took out a piece of paper and handed it to her quickly.

"Rav," she said as she unfolded the paper, her voice still wobbly. "When a little over a year ago, a friend told me I should meet her neighbour, I was skeptical."

You smiled, like you'd been given a shout out on the radio, mentioned in an Oscars speech. Father Benedict held back a smirk as he watched your reaction, rubbing his mouth with his fingers to hide it.

"I was focused and career driven and believed that a relationship would only slow me down. So I said no to meeting you. But then, like an act of God." She gestured to the church around her with a shy laugh. "We ended up in the same bar one night, where that friend introduced us after all. And I am... so glad. Loving you was never a question; I adored you from the start. The fear was that I'd found my soulmate at the wrong time in my life."

Your focus flitted to Father Benedict as you thought of the last thing he'd said to you. Right person, wrong everything else. He swallowed, his eyes glazed over as Camilla spoke.

"But there came a point where I had to ask myself: If I were to look back on my life, what would I regret more? Missing out on a few promotions? Or missing out on a lifetime of loving you? There was no contest. Choosing you isn't just a decision. It's the best decision I've ever made. I don't want to wonder what could have been." She flipped her paper over to read the other side. "And what I've discovered is that I actually haven't had to give up anything. Because you have supported me and encouraged me and cheered me on in whatever I've chosen to do. So my promise to you, Rav, is to always do the same. I promise to love and encourage and cheer you on in whatever you do, and I promise to choose you every day, because the only thing worse than not being with you is the regret of never having tried."

You brought your hands together to clap, stopping when you realised no one else was applauding. Instead there were tears, sharp sniffs and coughs. Father Benedict stepped back up to them, clearing his throat and curling his mouth into a sincere smile.

"That was beautiful," he said. "Now, let us humbly invoke God's blessing upon this bride and groom, that in his kindness he may favour with his help those on whom he has bestowed the bond of marriage."

"Closer if you can, Darlin'," said the photographer from behind his camera.

You shuffled closer to the groomsman you'd been placed beside, so close your hip was now pressing against him. Surely this was close enough. You held your bouquet in front of you and smiled as the camera snapped in quick succession.

The sun was gleaming now in a clear blue sky, the air growing humid as you all stood outside the church for photos. The confetti you'd thrown was fluttering across the grass in the light breeze, the cars waiting near the road to take you to the reception.

"That's lovely," said the photographer. "If you on the end there could just turn your body inwards a bit please."

Lottie turned as the camera snapped again.

You were standing in a meticulously organised row; six groomsmen and six bridesmaids, slotted together and posed in your blue dresses and their matching blue ties and pocket squares. Your groomsman was Rav's cousin Niall, who kept making you laugh by muttering things under his breath.

"You, love, you're going to have to get closer than that," said the photographer.

"Me?" You pointed to yourself.

"If you can please, darlin'."

"Jesus, any closer and we'll have to use protection," said Niall quietly.

You laughed through your nose, trying to hold it in as the camera shutter went off again.

Across the grass, Rav and Camilla were standing together, stealing kisses and holding hands beneath the shade of a large tree. You felt warm watching them, unsure if you'd ever been this unequivocally happy for someone else before. Your eyes moved over the groups of guests to the church, your heart stopping for a moment when you saw Father Benedict standing at the top of the steps near the entrance.

He was out of his white alb and stole now, standing with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, a black shirt rolled up at the sleeves and white clerical collar around his neck. He met your gaze for a moment and you gave him a soft smile. He smiled back, but it seemed sad, even from so far away.

"Can we do a funny one?" asked Georgia.

The rest of you groaned in unison, but it was too late, the photographer already coming over to reposition the group. He turned you all sideways, your back to Niall's chest, his back to Esther's and so on until it looked like a twelve person queue.

"This is a bit human centipede-y, don't you think?" Niall called out to him.

"Do you think he's going to have us conga all the way back to the manor?" Esther joked.

Niall laughed. "Ellis is leading so we'd all be fucked."

You elbowed him.

"Alright, after three you're all going to kick out your leg and lean back on the person behind you!" the photographer shouted.

"Oh cheers, Georgia, this is just wonderful," said one of the groomsmen.

"I just wanted to pull some funny faces," she shouted back. "I didn't think he'd have us doing fucking Cirque du Soleil!"

You looked over at Father Benedict again, shaking your head at him. His shoulders shook with a gentle laugh, his hand covering a smile.

The photographer moved on to Camilla and Rav's parents soon after. You stayed on the grass, trying to rearrange your bouquet as your heels sank into the soft earth beneath you. You looked over at the other bridesmaids, watching as they all found their partners amongst the chaos; Alice and her husband talking to Femi and her fiancé, Lottie sitting on the church steps FaceTiming her boyfriend in Australia as Georgia introduced her girlfriend to Esther and her boyfriend. You bit the inside of your cheek, returning your attention to the flowers in your hand.

"Ellie!"

You looked up to see Blossom running towards you.

"Hi," you said, bending down to hug her before pulling back to look at her dress, the mint green material covered in a subtle frog print. "You look so cute."

She smiled as Lorna caught up behind her, placing a hand lovingly on top of her daughter's head.

"So you compromised on her wearing the frog onesie to the wedding, then," you said.

She nodded. "Praise the lord."

You laughed.

She slid her sunglasses onto her head, her almost-knee-length hair falling in loose waves down her back. She was wearing a long, sunflower print dress with exaggerated bell sleeves, a pair of wooden clogs with hand-painted soles. You didn't realise you were staring at her until she narrowed her eyes at you.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Oh, sorry. Sometimes I just wish I was you."

"Don't be silly." She laughed and patted your arm. "I'm just going to see Rav. Are you coming Blossom?"

The little girl didn't move. You looked at Lorna and smiled. "I'll stay with her."

She thanked you as she walked away, and you returned to plucking stray leaves from your bouquet. You looked down to see Blossom running her fingers over your dress, quietly admiring the appliqués.

"Do you like it?" you asked.

She nodded.

"I'll save it for you. You can have it when you're older."

She smiled shyly.

You crouched down, resting on your haunches to look at the dress with her, turning at the waist so she could see the back.

Father Benedict was still standing at the top of the church steps, leaning against the open door as he stared off into space. But he seemed to sense that you were looking at him, glancing down to catch your gaze.

You wanted to talk to him. Not about what happened, not about the two of you or your feelings or religion or anything. You just wanted to talk. About the weather, about how his day was going, about what he was going to have for dinner. There had to be a part of you that was still capable of that.

Blossom pointed to one of the appliqués near the hem of your dress. "This one is my favourite," she said.

She didn't talk a lot, so whenever she did it took you by surprise. You returned your attention to her immediately.

"Really? I like that one too. And this one here."

You looked back up to find him smiling; a soft, sincere smile that made your heart ache.

"Ellis, our car's ready to go!" Esther shouted across the grass.

You stood up, taking Blossom's hand to lead her back to Lorna, allowing one last glance back at the church steps.

A strange sense of calm washed over you as you looked at him, like there was comfort in your last memory of him being in the place he'd chosen to stay.

You weren't sure how you'd ended up in the middle of the dance floor, huddled amongst a huge group of women as they squashed together in excitement. You'd intended to stay on the outskirts, but someone had pulled you, another accidentally pushing you further inward, until eventually you were at the heart of the cluster, watching as Camilla turned her back, counting down from three.

Her bouquet came flying towards you, but instead of catching it, you ducked, letting it soar over your head and into the hands of a woman behind you. She jumped and cheered, the rest of the women laughing and clapping as her boyfriend jokingly made a run for the door.

"God, Ellis, tell me you're scared of commitment without telling me you're scared of commitment," said Camilla, laughing as she walked over to you.

"Well my natural reaction to things flying at my head is to duck," you said with a shrug.

A waiter walked past with a tray of champagne. She plucked one off it and took a large gulp.

"The world's not running out of champagne, Cam," you said.

"Sorry," she mumbled, wiping the corner of her mouth with her hand. "This whole wedding's just been so stressful. All that drama with the planner, and then the fucking church burning down."

"Maybe it was her. Set fire to it out of spite because you sacked her."

She laughed. "Wouldn't put it past her. We're just so lucky we got the church we did. He was nice wasn't he. The priest. Made it really... not boring."

"Yeah, he was... It was good."

She cocked her head, brow furrowing slightly. "What?"

"What?"

"You just seem really sad."

"I'm not sad. I'm not." You looked around the busy hall. "Lonely, yes. Sad, no."

"Oh, Ellis, don't say that, you're breaking my heart."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm only joking. Go and enjoy your wedding for Christ's sake."

She eventually disappeared into the sea of guests as you made your way over to the bar. You ordered a drink and plonked yourself back down at your table, resting your cheek on your fist as you sipped it slowly.

The large hall was dark, flashing with colourful disco lights and strobes as the DJ played music from a deck in the corner. You watched people enjoying themselves; the funny dance-walk they'd do as they made their way to the floor, the buttons of men's shirts coming further undone as they got drunker and sweatier, the kids being told off for sliding on their knees in their good clothes.

Your table was empty since Lorna had taken Blossom home, the bridesmaids up dancing and catching up with people they knew on the other side of the room. You didn't mind, always finding parties more of an obligation than they were fun; you hated having to shout down people's ears just to have a conversation, being pressured to get up and dance, losing your seat if you left it for too long. You much preferred to sit on the edge of the room, nursing a drink and people watching. You were Ellis Attenborough, observing humans in their natural habitat.

The music lowered and the multicoloured lights melted to a warm white. You looked around in confusion as the noise of the hall seemed to hush suddenly.

"Ladies and gentleman, please join me in welcoming the new Mr and Mrs Mishra to the floor for their first dance as husband and wife," said the DJ over the speakers.

The room erupted into cheers and applause. You clapped along as Rav took Camilla's hand and led her to the centre of the empty dance floor. She'd changed dresses, swapping her ornate, bountiful gown for a sleek, elegant slip. You watched as the photographer scurried around them, trying to get a good shot as they wrapped their arms around each other and began to sway to the music.

You hated yourself for thinking of him as you watched them dance. You hated that you felt jealous, persecuted, forced to spend the rest of your life as a spectator to other people's love stories from the corner of the room. You'd never been certain of what you wanted, and there was something so cruel in knowing now; knowing that you did want the marriage, the children, the brushing teeth side by side in the mirror each morning and washing dishes while the other dried them in the evenings. You wanted the fights, the sex, the anniversaries, the dates. You wanted to be a girlfriend, then a fiancé, then a wife. And if there really was a God, he was a fucking arsehole for taking all of those wants and putting them into a man you could never have. For setting up the dominoes so perfectly and then moving the last one just an inch too far to fall.

The song was still going, and you watched as other couples began to join them on the dance floor, moving in their own little bubbles, smiling, kissing, embracing. You got up and weaved through the crowd towards the exit, stepping out of the hall into the vast, empty foyer of the stately home.

You grabbed the hem of your dress, lumping the abundance of material in your arms as you made your way through the front doors and out into the cool night air. Your ears were ringing, the noise of the party a distant hum as you walked down the steps and over the gravel towards the gardens. There were a few people dotted over the grounds, a couple walking hand-in-hand through the flower gardens, a man in a three piece suit smoking a cigarette as he sat on the grass, a woman waiting for a cab near the long driveway.

You trudged over the grass with your dress balled up in your arms, drinking in deep breaths as you prepared yourself to go back inside. You turned around, taking in the full view of the manor, the stars above so bright and unpolluted by city light.

You held your middle finger up at the sky. "Fuck you," you said. "You won. Well done."

The man with the cigarette gave you an awkward look.

"I'm talking to God," you said. "He's a prick."

"Ah." He nodded.

You let out an exasperated sigh and walked back towards the house, almost tripping when your heel got caught in the grass. The noise from the reception grew louder as you made it back onto the gravel, and you wondered if you should just go straight upstairs to your room, lie down and begin nursing the inevitable headache. You reached into your bra for your key card, pulling it out and immediately dropping it, listening as it clattered down each step you'd just climbed.

"Of course," you muttered, turning around to walk back down when a figure emerged from the dark.

His footsteps crunched slowly as his tall frame came into view. You stopped, back straightening, blinking rapidly as your brain tried to catch up with your eyes.

"Hi," said Father Benedict, his voice so quiet the breeze almost carried it away.

"Hi..." you replied, brows coming together in confusion.

He picked up the key card and held it out to you.

"Thanks," you said, walking down the last few steps and taking it from him. "I... I didn't think priests usually got invited to the reception..."

"I wasn't invited," he said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. "I erm, it was actually quite stalkerish if I'm honest, I'm- I'm not proud of it. I asked around the town and found out where they were having it."

"Oh." You looked over your shoulder to the open doors. "Well I'm sure they won't mind that you're here. They seemed to really like y-"

"I came to find you."

"To find me?"

"To tell you that this morning was my last service."

"You're moving churches again?"

"I'm leaving the clergy."

You fell silent, looking around in bewilderment. "Wh- I don't und- Why?"

"You know why."

You stared at him for a moment, then your eyes grew wide. "No," you breathed. "No. You can't- You can't."

"Well I have."

"Wh- Wh... When did you...?"

"Today."

You lost your grip on the skirt of your dress, the material falling from your arms to the floor. "Why would you do that?"

He didn't answer, looking down at you like you already knew.

"Ben..."

"I can live without this." He pointed to his collar, before shaking his head, his voice cracking. "I don't think I can live without you."

Your lips parted, a breath escaping like your lungs had caved in. Your eyes were beginning to water because you'd forgotten how to blink, your heart thumping in time with the music inside.

"Ellis," he whispered.

"Are you playing a trick on me?"

He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head as he moved closer and brought his hands up to cup your face. He tilted your head back slightly and leaned down, placing a slow, tender kiss on your lips. When he stopped, he let his forehead rest against yours, looking into your eyes as you struggled to form a coherent sentence.

"But what... What if- If it didn't work out? Then-"

"Then I'd be thankful I got to love you. Openly, completely. Even if it was just for a little while."

"You're not thinking clearly. You're giving up everything-"

"I'm gaining everything."

You shook your head in disbelief.

Another quiet laugh rumbled in his throat. "Ellis," he said. "What do you want?"

You paused, staring up at him. "I want to brush my teeth with you."

"What?"

You shook your head, throwing your arms around the back of his neck and pulling him into another kiss. His hands slid down from your face to wrap around your waist, hugging you tight as your lips moved in perfect tandem. You felt him smile, and you smiled too, weaving your fingers into the back of his hair.

Rav and Camilla wandered through the doors, taking a few steps before stopping suddenly.

"Is that... Ellis... kissing our priest...?" asked Rav.

Camilla grabbed his arm and they slowly retreated back inside.

Ben broke away, bringing his hands back to your face as he stared down at you. "Right person," he said. "Full stop."

*Tags: @evelynrosestuff @thealleydog @lexlexigogh @allie131313 @simpingbestie @ironstrange1991 @witchoftheages @hiddendiary @swds @jyessaminereads @withalittlehoney @hunterofshadows04 @slytherindoctorsat221b @diabaroxa @phoebe221 @hai-kbai @downtownshabby @dara-of-qui-zi @unfilteredmoonchild @classicrebound @bigratbitchsworld @aphroditesdilemma @bloodyxsaint @ployavengersog1 @spectaclebitch @paola-carter @gordorio @shjl15 @thedaredevilsgirl @howardtonypotts @ceccille @wllsfer @thelostsmiles @vi0letdaze @stanfanfiction @king-kongbebe-blog @sof38 @doctorscarletwitch @rmoonstoner @intrappolatatrairicordi @ehuether @dragonqueen89 @estheticwh0re @Lfp10836 @kanyewestest @star-girl-05 @theothersideofthescreen @battledress @chaosdorito @vlqueen @erratica47 @happybunnyclumsyduck @bloggerbatch @bimrwolf @chaand-sitara @dude-where-s-my-tardis @run-clever-boy @j3mj3rrica

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justabigassnerd · 1 year

Text

I've Got You

Pairing - Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell x daughter!reader

Word count - 2,751

Warnings - self-harm, bullying, cancer mentions, angst, Goose mentions, mentions of death

Summary - at a low point in your life, your dad is there to help you through it

A/N - hey y'all sorry it's been a while since the last fic I've just been busy. this was an anon request and I hope I did it justice. I did do some research and I tried my best to approach this subject in a way that would be acceptable and I'm so sorry if it's not bc it was not my intention at all. as per y'all, please send requests, feedback and enjoy

Growing up, you were an outgoing and confident person. You’d be the first person to extend a hand to make new friends at school and try to make sure people were happy. Parents of your fellow pupils, when you were in preschool, had gushed to your dad about how confident and comfortable you were as a young girl when they noticed you give your dad a quick hug and disappear into the classroom while every other child clung to their parents, begging to stay with them.

However, in your final year of high school, people began to change.

Over time, girls in your grade at high school began to turn on you, listening to the whispered words of the queen bee and her gaggle of followers and you became isolated. You tried everything and anything to get someone, anyone to talk to you but everyone turned away from you. You refused to let anyone see that they were getting to you. You were a Mitchell. Mitchells are tough and you knew your dad wouldn’t want you getting upset over something so trivial. You tried to remain tough, but your defences came crumbling down when you reached the security of your bedroom. Your only friend was Bradley, but he was a year older than you, at college, and incredibly pissed off at your dad so it was near impossible to communicate with him. You were sure he hated you too for your dad pulling his papers and you couldn’t blame him. He had every right to be mad.

As the noises and voices in your head grew louder, you started searching for ways to quiet them down, even for just a moment. You tried and failed multiple different ways to keep yourself calm and level. You couldn’t talk to your dad, he was in the middle of dealing with your Uncle Ice’s cancer scare, both men waiting with bated breath for the test results to come back. So, with all his focus on Iceman, you faded into the background, the noise in your head almost unbearable at this point.

One evening, after your shower you caught a glimpse of your razor sitting snuggly inside your shower caddy, gleaming against the bright light of the bathroom as you stared at it. You tried distracting yourself, splashing your face with cold water before changing into your pyjamas but the object continued to call out to you making you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to banish the thoughts from your head until they became too much.

Over the coming days, the bathroom and your razor became your escape, the only way for you to temporarily forget what you had been through during the day. Maverick had noticed that you’d been pulling away slightly and had asked if everything was okay, but you were quick to tell him that you were just busy with school work and didn’t really have time to hang out with people while you prepped for your exams. That weekend, Iceman had invited you and your dad around for a barbecue in his garden since it was almost summer, and the San Diego weather was exceptionally gorgeous.

“Have you noticed that y/n wears a lot of hoodies lately?” The hoarse voice of Iceman cuts through to Maverick who had been staring intently at his beer bottle. Maverick winced at his wingman’s voice, sore from the constant coughing fits that attacked the pilot. Maverick glanced across the garden to where you were sat with Iceman’s wife Sarah and a friend of hers, remaining silent as the two women chatted. He then briefly glanced up at the sky, unsurprised to see no clouds in the sky which made him realise how out of place you looked sat next to Sarah and her friend in an oversized hoodie while the two women were in sundresses.

“I also feel like I haven’t seen her much recently either.” Maverick thinks aloud, glancing over at Iceman who sips on a glass of water.

“You should talk to her, Mav. Maybe she needs her dad and just doesn’t know it yet.” Iceman says as he and Maverick watch you carefully, both men realising your smile seemed forced and didn’t meet your eyes in the same way it used to. You used to love spending time at the Kazansky household, usually sticking with Iceman and chatting with him while simultaneously teasing your dad. Iceman figured you chose to sit with Sarah because he’d figure out something wasn’t right too quickly. He was good at reading people, and it was something he had relied on a lot in his lifetime. In taking a step back and just observing, Maverick was able to pinpoint behaviours he’d never seen from you before and could feel the worry tightening his chest with each passing second.

“Mav. Breathe. It’ll be okay. Just, make her feel safe and loved like I know you do.” Iceman urges gently, resting a friendly hand on Maverick’s shoulder and squeezing it softly, fighting the hoarseness of his voice to comfort his wingman. Maverick nods lightly, putting his beer bottle down before crossing over to where you were sitting.

“Come on squirt, let’s head home. We’ve bothered these fine people enough.” Maverick says, throwing a teasing wink in Sarah’s direction who laughs and rolls her eyes.

“You mean you’ve bothered Tom too much. y/n has been an angel like usual.” Sarah says as you get up bidding the two women goodbye with a soft voice and a small smile before crossing the garden to Iceman and hugging him quickly.

“Bye Uncle Ice.” You whisper, pulling away almost as quick as you initiated the hug, barely giving him time to reciprocate.

“Goodbye, y/n/n.” Iceman says, a small smile on his face yet it couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes at how fast you pulled away from the embrace. Maverick muttered a goodbye to Iceman, giving him a hug and clap on the back before exiting the Kazansky household. You climb onto the back of your dad’s motorbike and wrap your arms around his waist loosely.

“Hey, tight grip kid I can’t risk you falling off.” Maverick says, taking your wrist softly to pull your arm further around him but stopping instantly when he felt you flinch and lets go.

“I got it.” You mumble, tightening your grip around his waist as he flips the kickstand up and begins the journey home. When he pulls into the drive, he turns the engine off and kicks the kickstand back down as you climb off the back of the motorbike. You wait at the front door for Maverick to unlock the door since he was the only one out of the two of you to bring the house keys with you. The second the door is opened, you make a beeline towards the stairs, but Maverick is quick to call you back, making you stop in your tracks and turn to face him as he closes and locks the door behind him.

“Can we speak in the living room, please?” Maverick asks gently, waiting patiently for you to nod lightly and head into the living room with Maverick following behind. Both of you sit on the sofa, a small space separating the two of you.

“Is everything okay, dad?” You ask quietly, worried you were about to receive some bad news.

“That’s actually what I wanted to ask you. I haven’t seen you much recently, and I’ve noticed you wear hoodies a lot more than you used to, especially in this weather when everyone else is in t-shirts.” Maverick asks, making you immediately avert eye contact, focusing on your hands as you instantly start fiddling with your hoodie toggles.

“I mean, you’re the kind of guy to wear a jacket in the middle of summer. I don’t think you’re in much of a position to judge, are you?” You ask weakly, a feeble attempt at a chuckle escaping your lips.

“Yeah, I was asking for that one. But I am worried about you, sweetheart. You’ve locked yourself away and I just want to help. You can tell me anything, you know that don’t you?” Maverick says softly, his eyes filled with worry as he watches you carefully. You pressed your lips shut, not wanting to tell your dad what was going on with you when he already had enough on his plate with Iceman’s possible cancer, Carole passing away recently and Bradley cutting off all contact.

“I’m fine dad, just stressed about school.” You say, plastering a smile on your face to convince your dad that you’re okay.

“Sweetheart. This is a safe space; you can tell me whatever is upsetting you. I know it’s not school because you would’ve gone to Ice about it. He’s always helped you with school work.” Maverick says, his voice never raising or showing any more than his genuine concern.

“I know Uncle Ice is dealing with a lot right now. Waiting for his test results must be terrifying and I didn’t want to bother him.” You say, grabbing at the first excuse that came into your head.

“We both know Ice prefers to be busy and doing stuff when he’s awaiting big news, regardless of whether it’s good or bad news. He would’ve loved to help you with your work. Please tell me what’s wrong, y/n.” Maverick urges softly, his worry reaching an all-time high as you briefly glance at him.

“You’ll hate me.” You whisper, your voice cracking as some tears make their way out of their ducts.

“y/n, I promise you, there is nothing you could say to me right now that would make me hate you.” Maverick says, watching you carefully as you think over his words, taking a deep breath before you speak.

“Recently, a lot of girls at school started picking on me. At first, it was manageable, just whispers in the hallways but they started spreading rumours and I lost all my friends. I felt so alone, no one likes me at school anymore. I know it shouldn’t bother me, but it does. I just hate it so much.” You say, a tear rolling down your cheek as you speak. Maverick reaches out for your hand, pausing when your hand twitches away from his.

“Is there more?” Maverick questions quietly, warning signs flashing in his head at your behaviour, remembering how you reacted on the motorbike as well.

“I started… hurting myself. The noises were just so loud in my head that it was the only way to make it quiet even if it was just for a moment. I just wanted the noise to stop.” You say, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks as your dad wastes no time pulling you into a hug, a hand running up and down your back as he presses repeated kisses to the top of your head.

“Oh y/n/n. I’ve got you.” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut to stop the tears that threatened to fall at your confession.

“I’m sorry, dad. Please don’t hate me.” You say through your tears, clinging to your dad as he shakes his head against the top of your head.

“You have nothing to apologise for, sweetheart. I couldn’t hate you for this. I’m the one who didn’t notice you were struggling.” Maverick says gently, yet firmly as he squeezes you just that little bit tighter.

“You were busy with so much. I didn’t want to bother you. I just wanted the noise to stop.” You whimper, burying your face in your dad’s chest as Maverick let the tears fall, gently cradling your head to his chest.

“Please don’t ever feel like you’re bothering me. Not about something like that. I love you so, so, so much and I hate that you went through this alone because I wasn’t paying attention to you. I should’ve done better.” Maverick says, his voice breaking as he spoke, giving away to you that he was crying which made you cry harder. You made your dad, the strongest person you know, your hero, cry.

“It wasn’t your fault dad. You’ve been dealing with so much.” You say, reaching up to wipe at your eyes with your hoodie sleeve.

“But I could’ve lost you.” Maverick whispers, every worst-case scenario now flashing through his head.

“I didn’t want to die. I just wanted something to stop everything going on in my head. I swear.” You say urgently, not wanting your dad to think the worst, although you were sure it was too late as you looked up at his face. He remains silent for a moment before speaking.

“I know how that feels.” He says, keeping you in his embrace as you pull away slightly to look up at him.

“You do?” You question softly, unable to imagine your dad in such a state.

“You were only little when Goose died. But when he did, I practically shut down. I stopped training for a while, and I could not stop thinking about how I could’ve, how I should’ve been better for him. I thought about hurting myself then. Just to shut the voices up.” Maverick says, lifting a hand to swipe your tears away.

“How were you strong enough to not hurt yourself?” You ask, you were sure you tried everything you could’ve done to not get to that stage, yet you still did.

“Viper sent me to therapy after the accident. I didn’t think it would work at first but once they got me to open up, it helped a lot more than I could’ve ever thought. Maybe, if you want, we’ll look into finding a therapist for you, to help you through this. You’re not alone, y/n. Not while you have me, Ice, Slider, and the others.” Maverick says, running a hand through your hair. You lift your hand to swipe away at any excess tears Maverick missed and your hoodie sleeve slipped down an inch, exposing part of a scar and Maverick was quick to look away. You hadn’t chosen to show your scars and so he wasn’t going to impose anything on you unless you made the decision. After wiping your tears, you gingerly lift a hand and wipe at Maverick’s face, making a soft smile appear on his face.

“Thank you for being here for me dad.” You say quietly, making Maverick nod.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. It’s my job. I just want you to know that I’ll always be here for you. You don’t have to be afraid to tell me anything, no matter what’s going on with me. You can always come to me for help.” Maverick says, his gaze never leaving you as he speaks, making you nod in understanding.

“I know dad.” You whisper before a small yawn slips past your lips, it was then that Maverick had noticed that the sun was almost gone, and night had fallen.

“Let’s get to bed, it’s been a long evening. We’ll talk more in the morning.” Maverick says, getting to his feet and waiting for you before the two of you head upstairs. You enter your room while Maverick enters his, both of you getting ready for bed before Maverick knocks on your bedroom door, asking for permission to enter. He finds you already curled up under your covers and as he bends down to bid you goodnight, you speak up.

“Stay. Please.” You whisper, watching as your dad nods and you quickly move over to make room for your dad. Once he’s settled next to you, you curl into his side, allowing him to wrap an arm around you and allowing your eyes to slip closed.

“I love you dad.” You whisper in the darkness.

“I love you too, y/n.” Maverick replies, beginning the action of running his hand up and down your back which lulls you to sleep almost instantly, the final thought running through your head being how grateful you were for your dad, and how much you loved him.

Maverick watched you sleep for a moment, listening to your soft breaths as he continued to run his hand up and down your back. He couldn’t stop thinking about how much you went through without him knowing. But as his eyes slipped closed for the night, he swore that he was going to do better by you, and he was going to make sure you never felt alone again. Because no one deserves to go through that.

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englishstrawbie · 3 months

Text

Prompt fic requested by @nonnienonnon00 :

4 - but early Marina Season 3 - Maya just can't stop thinking about Carina

Here it is, with a little twist because I wrote what inspired me. I hope you enjoy it!

>>>>>>>>>>

When she was thirteen years old, Carina had a crush on a boy called Nico. They would walk home after school in the same direction. He was a year older than Carina, a little scrawny but he had a kind face. She never tried to talk to him, too shy back then. Besides, he was always with a friend and she would usually have Andrew in tow, chatting away about his day.

And then, just before the summer break, Andrea was on a play date with a school friend and Carina was walking home alone for once. She stopped at the store near her house to buy a cola and, when she stepped out into the afternoon sun, Nico was waiting for her. It turned out he had noticed her too – told her he liked her brown eyes and pretty smile. He walked with her the rest of the way home, telling her about the spaniel his family had just adopted from a local rescue centre and their plans to spend the school holidays in Naples with his aunts and uncles and cousins.

He asked for her phone number and, a couple of days later, she was sat on the bottom stair in her house, the phone cradled by her ear, twirling the wire around her finger as they talked for over an hour, until Mama rushed her out the door for dinner at her grandparents.

It was a summer of phone calls, a summer spent on that bottom stair sharing stories about their vacation. A summer of goofy smiles and heart flutters every time she heard his voice.

It fizzled out pretty quickly when they started the new school year, but the memories of those phone calls, of the goofy smiles and heart flutters, stayed with Carina as she grew up. She was always searching for it, in the men she would talk to at the bar and the women she would take home to her bed. She built connections, she had relationships, but she never found what she was looking for.

Until Maya.

Carina will never know why Maya caught her eye that day in the hospital when she was delivering the patient’s nose to Doctor Helm. Was it fate? Was it the gravitational pull she feels every time she is in Maya’s presence?

All she knows is that it is ten o’clock on a Friday evening and, here she is, curled up in bed in her pyjamas instead of out at a bar, her cell phone to her ear and her hair twirled around her fingertips.

“You didn’t!”

She hears Maya hum.

“The poor woman was convinced she had a wild animal behind her walls. She looked awful, said she hadn’t slept because of the noise.”

“And it was her vibrator?”

“Yep, it was wedged between her bed and the wall. Every time she moved, it would hit the power button, so it was turning on and off again all night.”

Carina’s heart flutters when Maya laughs.

“I wish I could have taken a photo of Dean’s face when he found it.”

“Me too!” Carina says, laughing along with her and feeling the tension of the day drifting away.

“We left her with a red face, a hole in her wall and a very expensive repair job.”

“Dio mio, your day was a lot more interesting than mine,” Carina says.

“Oh yeah? Tell me about it.”

“You don’t have work to do?”

It might be late in the evening but Carina knows that Maya’s role as captain is intense, with paperwork to be done in between every call.

“Yes,” Maya says. “But I’d rather listen to you.”

Carina’s cheeks turn a little pink, and she is glad Maya can’t see her. It has only been a couple of days since their first official date and second kiss, and it is all that Carina has been able to think about. About the bright blue of Maya’s eyes and the way they crinkle when she smiles; about the way her voice lowers when she is flirting and the softness of her lips and the firmness of her hands.

“Well, I delivered four babies today,” Carina says.

“Four babies? In one day?”

Carina chuckles. “This morning, I delivered twins. That was a very happy one, my client has been through four rounds of IVF to have her babies. I had one this afternoon, the little piccolino was a few weeks early but is doing well. And about…” She checks the time on her phone. “…two hours ago, I came out of surgery after an emergency c-section.”

“You must be exhausted,” Maya says. “I can’t believe you answered the phone, talking to me must be the last thing you want to do tonight.”

“Actually, talking to you is exactly what I want to be doing right now,” Carina says sweetly. “Non riesco a smettere di pensarti.”

“Huh?”

Carina smiles to herself. “I said… I can’t stop thinking about you.”

The line goes quiet and Carina wonders if she has said too much, too soon. She bites her bottom lip nervously.

“You, uh, you’ve been on my mind too,” Maya says eventually.

A goofy grin spreads across Carina’s face. “Hmm, I definitely want to hear all about that.”

She doesn’t need to see Maya to know that she is blushing right now, the strangled sound coming from the back of her throat giving her away.

“But, as much as I’m enjoying this phone call, I would like to see you in person again. What are you doing this weekend?”

“My shift finishes tomorrow morning at eight,” Maya says, her voice light and happy. “I usually crash out for a couple of hours, and then I’m free until Monday.”

“Now you have plans,” Carina says resolutely. “How about dinner? I want to take you to my favourite restaurant in Seattle.”

“Where’s that?”

“It’ll be a surprise,” Carina says, trying to be a little mysterious. “Be ready at seven.”

“It’s a date,” Maya says.

A second date. A third kiss – and hopefully more. Carina’s heart flutters again.

“Now, bambina, tell me all about those thoughts you’ve been having about me…”

#station 19 #maya bishop #carina deluca #station 19 fanfiction #my fanfiction #fluff prompt list #nonnienonnon00

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bangaveragewhitewine · 1 year

Text

Clean Slate

Steve Harrington X Reader

It’s summer in Chicago, 1994. Being single in the city isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You feel less strong single independent woman, and more like the lonely teenager who floated between friend groups. A blind date with a familiar face might just be the clean slate you didn’t know you needed.

Clean Slate playlist

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings/Content: Both you and Steve are in your late-twenties. Some mentions of anxiety and feeling lonely. Other than that, flirting. Steve being dreamy. No use of Y/N and the reader is referenced as a being woman.

Author’s Note: Being in your late twenties sucks, huh? I’m just getting back into writing again, inspired by the amazing authors who have made me fall in love with Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson again and again. I had such fun writing this and fucking around on Canva 💖

Please do not do any AI fuckery with my work or repost on other sites.

(divider by me, that’s why it sucks)

edit: Read Pinch Me a follow up to Clean Slate

This was a bad idea. With every step you took from the subway, your desire to be back on your sofa eating pasta in your pyjamas grew more and more. A blind date? You definitely hadn’t been in your right mind when you agreed to this. Thinking back on it, when had being wine-drunk with your best friend ever cultivated a good decision?

After a steady stream of bad first dates, disappointing situationships and one walking red-flag you had called your boyfriend for eight months, Annie had finally taken pity on you and took charge of setting you up with someone. Over almost room-temperature white wine and an empty pizza box, she had made you pinky-promise to trust her as Mermaids played in the background. She couldn’t stand any longer to see you cry over preppy yuppies and wannabe grungers who only wanted to meet you to hook-up or string you along (alongside several other women who also deserved better). She had seen how deep it cut when you were stood up, left waiting by the phone by some mediocre poser who had already moved on. Slurring her words, Annie had held your tear-stained face and told you that you were wasting the best years of your life on idiots who stamped on your big heart and dimmed your light. Bolstered by her words, and more wine, you ended up dancing and scream-singing in your little studio apartment to a mixtape of songs from your college days and fell asleep on your second-hand sofa with your pinky fingers linked.

A few days later, after the hangover had subsided and you had done your best to forget your tearful confession of just how lonely you felt in the city, Annie called you up to ask if you were free on Friday night. Thinking another girl’s night was on the cards, you said yes.

“Great. I have someone I want you to meet, he works with my brother. Does Hardy’s at 8 work for you?”

The pinky-promise with your best friend since college could categorically not be taken back and so you found yourself reluctantly agreeing. As long as he wasn’t a murderer, or as emotionally unavailable as your last three suitors, how bad could it be?

“Well when you fall in love and have beautiful babies, just remember who set you up, m’kay?” Annie had said when you called her up, considering cancelling. “You’re going!”

After going away to college from your small town upbringing, a move to Chicago was supposed to be the ultimate dream, but inside you still felt like the awkward teenager from Hawkins, Indiana. The outsider at every party, every hang-out at the mall or the arcade. The add-on to every friend group who said ‘you can come with us if you want to’ instead of an actual invitation. When you called your mom on the phone, she insisted that you had it all, that you were a real modern woman. She had been married and was already a mother at your age, and she was proud that you had the opportunity to be the bright independent woman you always wanted to be. It just didn’t seem so shiny now that it was your reality.

With the bar in your sights, you took a deep breath and swiped the tiny beads of sweat that gathered over the bridge of your nose. Summer in the city was heavy with humidity; you could feel the lining of your long slip dress clinging to your thighs, riding up under the delicate black floral. The claw-clip holding up your hair was truly doing the lord's work, keeping your freshly washed blow-dry blind date-ready.

You knew very little about your date - his name was Steve, he was a teacher with great hair. He was going to be wearing a blue shirt and would be on the lookout for the girl with the pink rose embroidered on her bag. Your entire outfit had been put together around the one piece you loved that could be picked out in the Friday night crowd of the bar. Classic first date; Annie was committed to helping you live the rom-com fantasy you deserved.

Des’ree’s words of wisdom, and your best friend’s blunt insistence that you were a hot bitch, echoed in your head as you took a moment to compose yourself and let your hair down over your clammy neck. Inside the bar was barely any cooler as you made your way through the stragglers from after-work drinks mingling with those who were just starting their night out. The desire to go home had never been stronger as you propped yourself by the jukebox and waited, trying not to cringe as you thought about what you looked like to the couples and groups of friends drinking and laughing around you. It felt far too similar to the house parties of your youth. What if he didn’t turn up? Or worse, what if he did and turned on his heel after realising you were his date? What could be best described as an overwhelming feeling of dread crept over you as you fidgeted with the strap of your bag, trying not to look too eager for the mystery that was Steve.

Hearing your name brought you back to reality and out of your doom-spiral. As if. Steve Harrington was making his way over, the crowd parting with ease for him. Surely you had hit your head and this was some sort of dream…

“Hey…” A smile crept onto his face as his eyes darted between you and the beacon that was the rose embroidered on your bag. A city of millions and your blind date was the boy who had defended your honour at the age of five years old after Daniel P. pushed you in the playground; Steve had called him a ‘butthead’ and told Mrs Holland on the other boy.

You hoped that the dim light of the bar hid your pink cheeks as Steve stopped in front of you, looking even more dreamy than he had at junior prom. The blue shirt made him glow golden, fitting just right over the breadth of his shoulders. His hair was coiffed perfectly, defying humidity and gravity and giving him a few more inches of height.

“Steve..” You couldn’t help a shaky laugh as the realisation washed over you both. It was easier to tune out the rest of the bar as he pulled you in for a quick but tight hug. You could have sighed at the feeling of his arms around you; you might have done just that, melted into a puddle of a girl had he not peeled away to get a good look at you. An irritating little pocket of anxiety in your chest could hardly believe he remembered you.

“Nice bag. I think you’re the girl I’ve been looking for.”

You felt like you could swoon. Or moan. Steve Harrington was effortlessly charming, more so than when he reigned in Hawkins High. Losing his crown had humbled him, that and working retail in your dead-end hometown. He looked genuinely pleased to see you, someone familiar in a city of strangers. You feel your teeth sink into the dusty-rose of your lip as you smile.

“Thanks.” You will your voice not to shake as your heart pounds hard. “Annie told me you had great hair. I should’ve known it was going to be you.”

His laugh is soft, but you can still hear it over the music and voices in the bar. With one huge gentle hand on your elbow, he steers you to the bar to order drinks, standing close enough to see the sprinkling of moles and freckles on his neck and cheek and the hair peeking from the unbuttoned top of his shirt. Steve Harrington was a man now, all grown up.

“She did, huh? I think I’ve met her once, I work with her brother,” Steve edges closer so that you could hear him. “How long’ve you been in Chicago?”

“She didn’t even know you were ‘The Hair’.” You smiled and felt the weight of his gaze; you couldn’t ignore the sparkling feeling in your tummy. “Um I left Hawkins in ‘86, went to college in Indy. Moved here in ‘93.” Steve leans in to hear you, nodding as you count up the years in your head. “You’re a teacher? So are you more Scott Clark or Coach Kelly?”

Steve laughs again and shakes his head as he pays for your drinks. “Neither. Maybe a little Clarke, without the sweater vests. I teach third grade so they would definitely roast me if I did.” He runs a hand through his hair, smirking, “But I do coach basketball after school too, you got me.” He spots a seat and steers you to a little high-top table, pulls out the stool for you before sitting opposite, visibly relaxed. There’s something about how you have bypassed the awkward introductions part of the date that makes you feel a little more at ease. But this is Steve Harrington. Any minute now he’ll make a polite excuse to leave after remembering how bookish and weird you were in school.

Except he doesn’t.

“I still can’t believe it’s you. You look great,” he says, not trying to flirt too hard. Steve is looking at you like he’s happy you’re here. Happy you’re his date.

“I can’t believe you remember me. I was.. so boring,” you laugh at your own expense before sipping your drink, looking at the ice clicking against the glass.

“Quiet maybe. Not boring though,” he ducked his head, making you look into his golden brown eyes. “Hey. Clean slate? That’s why we left Hawkins. If you can forget how much of an ass I was in high school, I can forget…” Steve pauses and hums as he thinks back.

Forgettable. Unremarkable. That’s how you felt, blending into the background everywhere you went. You hadn’t been a cheerleader, or even a band-geek. Yeah you went to parties, but usually left early. You didn’t monologue on the lunchroom tables or get detention, and in the one play you auditioned for, they asked you to paint the sets - you couldn’t fade any further into the background if you tried.

And Steve had never been an ass to you; his kingly confidence had burned fast and bright in the school halls until his fall from grace. He had always been polite, kind even; he asked to borrow a pen a few times, scolded Carol Perkins when she pushed past you and made you drop your lunch one time. He did just enough on a group project on Macbeth to keep him on your good side…

“Huh.” Steve frowns, looking a little fond as you snap yourself back to reality. “I can’t remember anything embarrassing about you. All good.”

Your cheeks flamed and you couldn’t stop the nervous giggle that bubbled up from your chest. “Smooth, Harrington. Wow, remind me how you’re single?” He was definitely just being nice. You could remind him about the time you drank way too much peach schnapps and lemonade at Tammy Thompson’s 18th birthday and had to be picked up by your mom, or when you said ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’ in ninth grade - both of which still haunted you when you tried to fall asleep. But Steve just grins back at you.

“I mean it! You had that pink scrunchie permanently attached to your body, and a little snort laugh. Totally cute, not embarrassing at all.” He stays smiling as he sips his beer, seeing how you’re stunned that he remembers. Not smug, totally hot and he’s not even trying. You’re aghast.

“You remember my fucking scrunchie…?” “If you tell me you still have it…” “Steve, it’s literally on my bedside table.”

Steve’s laughter makes you join in, snorting involuntarily as your shoulders shake, which just makes him laugh more. It's been a long time since a date made you laugh like this, let alone feel like you’re floating.

When you both settle, Steve reaches over and takes your hand. You remember how you had wondered how holding his hand might feel when you saw him walk Nancy Wheeler to class way back when. It felt better than you ever dreamed it might.

“Hey. Lemme tell you something, when I saw you over there I wanted to come right up and say hi. And then I saw your bag…it made my week.”

Butterflies soar in your belly and you feel your cheeks heat up again. “Steve..”

“But just know, I thought you were cute in school. I just.. had my own shit going on and I was pretty shitty for a few years. So if you can give a reformed asshole a chance, I’d love to hear about how you’ve been, and actually get to know you.”

Steve squeezes your hand as CeCe Peniston sings Finally to the bar. The song totally sinks in now as you squeeze Steve’s hand in return, making him beam a smile your way.

“Okay, Clean slate. But Steve? I totally had a crush on you. Even when you were doing keg stands and goofing around in math.” You make him smile even brighter, even as he shakes his head.

“So cute. Damn, you’re definitely trouble.”

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” You raise a brow and sip your drink again, feeling less anxious now. The drink helped, but knowing that you could make an impression on Hawkins High royalty was certainly bolstering.

“One question. Very important.” You straighten up before leaning toward him, almost conspiratorially. You don’t miss how his eyes dip to your lips before meeting your gaze.

“Go for it.” “Are you sure about the sweater vests? I think you could really make them work.”

Now it’s your turn to grin into your glass as Steve throws his head back. “Oh I’m so in trouble with you.”

He lifts his glass, meeting you in the middle to clink it against yours with a signature Steve Harrington wink. Maybe something good could come from a wine-soaked pinky promise.

bonus Steve inspo for the girlies who made it to the end - ily💖

#steve harrington x reader #Steve Harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington x fem!reader #Steve Harrington x y/n #steve harrington is a total dreamboat #my fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington x f!reader #bangaveragefics

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do-it-for-the-fandom · 2 months

Text

Monday August 27th, 2012.

If there was one thing Beckett definitely, one hundred percent did not believe in, it was 'happily ever after'. She had spent the past three months rolling her eyes and shaking her head every time Castle had mentioned the childish, fairy-tale notion.

"I'm not saying it's going to be non-stop happiness from here on out, Beckett!" he had defended.

Still, she had somehow convinced herself that maybe it could be.

So far, it had been. They had their struggles, of course, but lies to their friends and fake-dates with TV personalities aside, the past few months had been really, really nice. Long nights in each others arms, lazy breakfasts in bed, weekends in the Hamptons; sometimes she had to pinch herself just to remember it wasn't all some blissful dream.

Her favourite part, however, was how welcoming his family had been.

Castle had told Alexis about their relationship two weeks ago when she left for College. Martha (who had apparently known about them the whole time) had insisted it was probably for the best. With Alexis out of the loft, the woman had correctly assumed that Beckett would be spending more time there and told Castle that it would be easier to have the conversation with his daughter now rather than when she inevitably came home unannounced and found the pair, uh, compromised. Beckett shuddered at the thought and, although initially concerned, she was grateful that his family knew. In the weeks since, they'd been nothing but enthusiastic about the relationship.

It was nice to have somewhere they could just be. Somewhere they didn't have to hide. She liked the fact that she could come home to the loft and, regardless of who was home, she could just be Kate. She liked the fact that she could sit at his kitchen counter - socked feet, soft pyjamas, his robe draped over her shoulders: the epitome of comfort - sipping coffee and picking at the tray of breakfast pastries Alexis had brought over on her way from her dorm, listening to the two redheads - who were so quickly climbing her list of favourite people in the world - reminisce on their Summer in Europe. Their month-long travels through Greece, Italy and Croatia may have only ended at the beginning of last month, but the women talked as though it were a lifetime ago.

In Castle's absence - he had stepped away to answer a phone call - they regaled Beckett with colourful tales of flirting their way through Southern Europe. She couldn't help but smile as she listened. They seemed to have that effect on her.

Martha cleared her throat and Alexis - very quickly - changed the topic of conversation back to her first week of classes. Beckett didn't need see him to know Castle must have finally left his office.

She turned on her stool and watched as he made his way closer to the kitchen, his phone still in his hand and a thoughtful crease in his brow. It didn't take long for the air around them to grow thick and anxious.

"Everything okay, Dad?" Alexis asked.

Castle stepped into place by Beckett's side and placed his hands on her hips before pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. She could feel the nervousness that radiated from him, the tremble in his hands even as he tangled his fingers in the robe she wore.

"I'm fine, Pumpkin."

"Who was on the phone?" Beckett asked before she could think better of it. He had stepped away to take the call, obviously it was private, and usually she wouldn't be one to pry but everything about Castle's demeanour had every inch of her body wired with anxiety.

He looked at her, eyes glassy and distant, and shook his head. "It's fine."

Beckett's stomach somersaulted and the half of the blueberry muffin she'd been picking at threatened to make an untimely reappearance.

"What's fine?" her mind demanded to know.

But she could see the struggle, the war raging on behind his eyes. He was a man conflicted, a man distraught.

She pulled his hands from her hips and laced her fingers through his.

"Okay," she said softly.

She knew, without a doubt, that something was wrong but she had to trust him, had to trust that when he was ready he would come to her.

"I'm going to get ready for work," she told him as she scooted off the stool. "See you there?"

They were still taking separate cabs, for the sake of their secret.

"Actually, I think-" He cleared his throat. "I think I might give today a miss."

Beckett faltered as the words sliced through her like a knife. Had she done something?

Her eyes darted to his family, standing off to the side, silently watching the scene unfold before them. They looked just as concerned as she felt.

"Promise not to have too much fun without me?" he joked, half-heartedly.

Trying to ease her anxieties. It didn't work.

"Promise," she said, forcing a smile before she headed toward the bedroom to get ready for the day.

When she was ready to leave, he was nowhere to be found.

She left without saying goodbye.

#kate beckett #richard castle #my fic #my drabbles #when forever falls apart

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hyunsvngs · 1 year

Note

Having a girls night with fem!lixie and she confesses that she doesn't really enjoy sex because her bf can't satisfy her so you take it into your own hands to show her how good it could feel

been thinking about this for days and i'm finally answering it baby. bc imagine both of u in cute lil matching shortie pyjamas and ur painting her nails... tw lixie is secretly evil

you're halfway through painting her nails a pretty pink. they're not too long, only just about reaching the end of her dainty little fingers. the colour is sheer, but you're planning on layering it until you look up and see a confused little pout on her face. "what is it, lixie?" you question, tilting your head to the side. "do you not like the colour? i thought this is the one you chose, right?"

"no, the colour's perfect," she sighs. you put the tiny paintbrush back in the pot, screwing the top on and putting it to her bedside table. her whole room is bathed in a soft pink glow, courtesy of a cute salt lamp and her overall vibe. when you turn back to her. she's staring down at her nails, her short blonde mullet wavy against the long column of her neck. "do you ever think you might be gay?"

you almost choke on air. "lixie, baby, i am into women. you knew that, right?"

lixie blinks, and then she's holding back a laugh. "you're right. i knew that," she shakes her head, rubbing her temples with one small hand. "i just mean... i've been dating that guy i told you about for a while now. i just don't feel a spark with any guy i date. they can never... y'know."

you raise your eyebrows. "they can never make you cum?"

she bites her lip, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "no! none of them can. so, i was gonna ask you if like... you'd help me try, since we're best friends, and then i'll know if i can cum, or even if i'm gay, and it won't even be awkward because we love eachother so much and-"

"yes," you cut her off. maybe you're being selfish, because you've wanted to get your hands on her for so long, but who cares. it's what best friends are for, right? lixie gasps at your intrusion, before she's shrugging and trying to act nonchalant. she does this a lot, screwing her cute little face up and her eyes soft but nervous. her pyjamas are soft when you let your hands go to her thighs, the pastel pink satin matching your own lilac ones. "lixie, honey, it's just me. we don't have to do anything if you're not comfortable."

she throws herself on top of you, finally dry nails on her hands going into your hair. she pauses, up close to your face, and you see her eyes flitting to your lips. her freckles are darker than normal, given that summer has just passed, and she looks so fucking beautiful you can't help but sigh. as soon as the noise passes your lips, lixie is kissing you, her tongue desperate as she darts it into your mouth.

"baby, calm down," you giggle, pushing her back onto the bed. her soft blonde waves fan out over her pillow, and she huffs, thrashing her legs. "it's just me-"

"i know it's just you, but i- you're hot, you know that," you shake your head fondly, trying to hold back a laugh. you don't even stop her when she unbuttons her pyjama shirt, yanking it off of her narrow shoulders and exposing cute, perky tits in a white lace bralette. she's just as impatient taking her shorts off, dragging them down lithe legs and exposing her matching panties. you can see how wet her pussy is through the lace, and you scoff. already?

you can't help it anymore. you giggle, shutting your eyes in disbelief. "lixie, was this all a ploy to get me into bed? you're awfully wet already."

when you open your eyes, there's a pink blush beneath her freckles. "okay, yeah, i knew you'd help me cum. he's really bad in bed, and you're sexy and clearly make me very wet. is that... i'm evil, aren't i?"

"you're a little bit evil," you muse, running your thumb over her clothed folds. "i kinda knew all along, though. slut." it's affectionate, but still makes her keen. her toned tummy jumps as you tease her, lithe legs falling further apart.

"mm, touch me more," she begs, her teeth digging into her plush bottom lip. she looks like the cat who finally got the cream. she's evil, she'd planned this, but you're so, so into it. "make me cum, yeah?"

you lean down, kissing her lips again before murmuring against them. "i'll make you cum over and over, evil girl."

#juno’s asks ♡#asks: felix #fem!skz

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luminouslywriting · 3 months

Note

Hello love!

How are you doing? How do you feel after the infection has passed? Are you in any pain?

If possible, I would like to make a request. Could you please write Ruth’s reaction when she sees a very cute sleepy looking Robby, wearing his pyjamas and a dressing gown, with his messy curly hair, waiting for her after she comes home from work late at night?

Thank you! Love you 🥰

A/N: Nonny, I'm sorry this has been on the backburner for so long, but I genuinely hope you enjoy this a ton! And you're so sweet to check in on my health! I'm doing much better, just dealing with some anemia problems!

Please note that this takes place some time after the events of Masters of the Air and fairly early on in their marriage:

Ruth Sharpe-Rosenthal had been done with her work at the appointed time the office closed. However, it just so happened that today was an exception, seeing as how she did pro-bono work for the less fortunate. Specifically with women and children. It was a sort of law that she saw a growing need for, and had she been over in Europe still, she would have certainly continued this work and propagated it there.

Robby had gone home a few hours previous and Ruth had missed dinner. She knew he'd understand, given the stress of the job and the amount of times that he had done the exact same thing as she was doing now. Robby was always so good though, he'd stay up waiting for her and she'd usually find him nearly asleep in his chair, dressing gown already on and a cup of tea in hand. He was practically a grandfather already—but Ruth had known that when she had agreed to marry him.

It was quick work, parking the car in the parking garage below their building. It made it much easier now that they had two cars. He couldn't very well deny that their work kept them busy and separated often enough that it necessitated the change. Her mother thought it was impractical, needing two cars. Something far too extravagant for a woman who should be staying in the home anyway. But Ruth was working for the District Attorney's Office now and if she had her way, she'd be getting a promotion by the summer.

The car was still warm as she removed the keys. The hum of the engine died down in a purr and Ruth let out a soft sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose. It was well past one in the morning and though it was now the weekend, she had no desire to do anything but sink into her bed for the next 48 hours.

Cases like today? They were hard. A battered woman and her small son fleeing from a husband who drank too much. It was emotional work and always difficult to try and detach her personal feelings from the explicit law and what she could or could not do.

Her limbs felt like lead as she exited the car, finding the crisp winter air a breath of relief from the mugginess within the car. She half wished that she had a cigarette that she could light before going up to the apartment. But Robby had convinced her to give them up shortly after the Nuremberg Trials and she had agreed that it probably wasn't the best habit that she could have picked up.

She hadn't been keen on it, but he had promised to cut back on the hair gel if she gave up the cigarettes. So here she was, fingers slightly trembling as she just stared up at the snow falling from the clouded, barely lit sky.

Slowly and with the click of her heels, Ruth made her way over to the stairwell. Once she was within the building, she entered the elevator and took it up to the seventh floor. The hallway was dimly lit, red carpet neatly vacuumed from earlier in the day. Not a single sound or peep from any of the other apartments. She didn't expect anyone to be up this late—or early.

Ruth hummed quietly as she placed her key in the lock. A yawn tore at her lips and she did her best to suppress it, eyes feeling heavy. As the door to the apartment swung open, Ruth couldn't help the soft chuckle that spilled from her throat.

Sitting there in his pajamas and robe, book in hand, and totally asleep and snoring—her husband. He looked simply exhausted, bags under his eyes. The dinner sat untouched on the kitchen counter, two plates still full and waiting to be eaten.

"Oh you daft man," Ruth mumbled quietly. He really didn't need to sit up and wait for her. Especially not to eat. He needed to take better care of himself.

Silently, she hung up her coat and then slipped off her heels, finding immediate relief in her aching achilles. Ruth padded over to Robby, eyes meticulously looking him over. The way that his chest rose and fell and the way his lips slightly puckered while he breathed. The way his eyelashes fluttered and hid those beautiful eyes of his. God, she could watch him like this forever.

Unable to help herself, Ruth slipped a hand into his curls, running her fingers gently against his scalp. He let out a soft whine and then blinked a few times at the sight of her.

"You're here."

An amused smile appeared on her face. "Well hello to you too, dear," Ruth murmured. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of his head, lips lingering on him for just a moment. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I can't go to bed without my wife."

"That sounds like something Freud would love."

"Ruth," Robby mumbled in a slight wine. He turned in his chair, hands slipping around her waist.

She gave a slight shriek of surprise that turned into a half-laugh as he pulled her onto his lap. Almost immediately, all tension in Ruth's body seemed to leave her. She wrapped her arms around him, letting the steady beat of his heart and body heat permeate every portion of her own body.

"What time is it?" Robby murmured into her neck.

"It's late," Ruth said, nuzzling against him. "You didn't have to wait for me."

"Ruth, I'll always wait for you. When are you gonna get that through your pretty head?" Robby said, lightly tapping against her temple with his fingers.

A slow grin spread across her features. "You may need to teach me a few lessons, in that case, dear."

"What did you have in mind?"

A wolfish grin crossed Ruth's features. "Several things that involve you and me and our bed."

#mota fanfic #mota #masters of the air fanfic #mastersoftheair #masters of the air #masters of the air x reader #rosie rosenthal #robert rosenthal x oc #rosie rosenthal x oc #rosie x ruth #ruth sharpe

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slaasherslut · 1 year

Text

Completely His

Ava Walker OC x Bo Sinclair

Summary: “Why are you mad?” “I’m not mad, I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” from this post

Warnings: Female OC x Bo Sinclair, female anatomy, forcible confinement, forced kissing, blood, possible allusions to stockholm syndrome, mentions of sex

1.7k words

Ava shoved her hands in her jacket pockets as she approached the gas station. The muffled sounds of the metal music mix she left in Bo’s stereo from the night before was blasting through the hollow looking station, indicating that Bo was inside and probably in the basement. The slight chill of the wind on her bare legs felt lovely compared to the string of hot summer nights that had plagued Louisiana for a few days now. It was a relief to not be sweating through every article of clothing again. Her cotton pyjama shorts did nothing to block the cold breeze but she didn't mind, the gas station would be warm anyways.

A muffled cry for help was barely heard as Ava walked between the two rows of gas pumps right outside the building. A few steps forward past the second row of pumps gave way to confirm her suspicions. Her dark green eyes went even darker as she approached the small metal grate in the cement at her feet, her gaze downcast. Ava watched as a young woman roughly her age was restrained in her darling Bo’s “work space” just below her. Wisps of dark hair encircled her as she fought her restraints. The tears that ran down her cheeks reflected the light of the fluorescent bulbs above her. The familiar coverall clad man stepped into view. He grabbed her cheeks and squeezed, causing her lips to form into a forced pucker. Small whines left her mouth as Bo licked his lips. Ava couldn't see it but she knew that the look of animalistic hunger flooded his eyes. It was a look from him she knew well. He squeezed harder once again before pressing his mouth against her pursed lips. Ava felt a harsh drop in her gut as she watched. It was normal, and she was aware of his debaucherous escapades down in the basement. The wall next to the door was like a time capsule of photos of all the girls who have seen the inside of his shackles. One standing out of herself that she marked with a dark lipstick coated kiss.

She just couldn't help but feel queasy knowing what he was doing to other women down there. The jealousy and spark of anger in her chest made her feel heavy.

The girl in the chair squeezed her eyes shut as attempted to turn her head to avoid Bo’s kiss. She cracked open her eyes and looked up through the grate above her, no doubt feeling Ava’s glare. She made eye contact with Ava through the thin metal slits and her eyes blew wide open. She began to thrash harder and try to scream louder through Bo’s mouth. Her cries for help would fall on deaf ears as Ava nonchalantly finished her trek into the gas station.

As Ava threw the door open, the bell above her head dinged. She couldn't hear it though over the loud music that blasted even louder now that she was inside. The music grew and faded as she walked through the station and down into the sublevel. The screaming and growling of the music was now being replaced with the screaming of the young woman and the growling of Bo. Her heavy boots trudged through the short hallway, she could spy the door on the left at the end of the hall that led to Bo’s secret hideaway. It was no secret to her though. It was left open a crack and she could see skinny jean clad legs thrashing in the chair. A gravelly loud yell echoed throughout the basement as the music started to drift farther as she went deeper underground.

“FUCKING BITCH!” Bo yelled from his hidden place somewhere in the room behind the old door. Ava couldn't see him but she knew he was back there. She swung the door open the rest of the way with a loud creak and stepped inside. Bo was rummaging through a drawer in his work bench just next to the chair. She watched as he angrily took out a roll of duct tape that was nearly gone and tore off a piece of the tape with his pearly white teeth. He winced as he pulled the tape back from his mouth. His bottom lip was covered in blood and the sticky side of the tape also had a small smear of his blood. He harshly slapped the sticky, blood slicked tape over her mouth. A guttural “shut the fuck up” slipped through gritted teeth as he rubbed the tape into the flesh of her sore lips.

“She's tasting his blood.” Ava thought as she walked deeper into the room. Her silent words were full of envy. “I'm the only one who deserves to spill his blood and have it gush down my throat.”

Bo was now in a sour mood. He cursed loudly as he brought his rough fingertips up to lightly touch his lip. He winced slightly with a growl as he pulled his finger back to find his own fresh blood on the pad of his finger. Bo looked up at Ava, flashing her a quick glance at his blood covered finger.

“She fuckin bit me,” Bo seethed. He turned his attention from Ava to the other woman. “The stupid BITCH!” He shouted with a harsh frustrated kick to the bottom of the chair. His burst of anger made her scream louder behind the tape, Bo didn't seem to care.

The blood on his finger started to slowly drip and Bo popped the finger in his mouth, sucking the digit clean. The strong taste of iron, sweat and oil swirled through his mouth as his tongue lapped at his bloody finger before popping it out of his gore coated mouth. Blood from his busted lip dripped down his chin and left tiny crimson droplets on his white undershirt that barely peeked out of his coveralls. It stood out even more against the fabric as it soaked in. Ava knew she would have a bitch of a time scrubbing those stains out later. He brought his arm up to wipe the blood from the bottom half of his face. His long wet tongue, dampened with the other girl's saliva, ran across his opened lip where the bleeding was now starting to slow. His dark eyes flickered up and towards his doll across the room, his girl. The chair with the trashing girl still in between them.

“The fuck is that for?” Bo sneered. Ava could practically feel her eyes rolling into the back of her skull.

“What?” She asked with the same amount of malice he gave her. She stood facing him with a hip cocked, her arms crossed under her breasts in annoyance. Bo’s eyes subtly travelled downward to her pushed up breasts in an old faded band tee of his that she had cut up and made her own. It belonged to him as a younger man and no longer fit. She always claimed them instead of the trash bin. His eyes quickly flicked away.

“That stupid fuckin look yah got on yer face.” Bo lazily pointed toward the annoyed expression across her pale face. ”The fuck are yah so mad for?”

Ava glared at him. “I'm not mad,” she turned away. She stared at the occupied chair and restraints, the same glare still across her face. ”I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” Bo stared at her for a moment, listening to Ava grumbling about how "she wasn't even that cute". A wicked grin slowly worked its way up his cheeks.

“I think someones jealous.” His voice was husky as he raised an eyebrow at her. His boots were heavy against the cement floor as he slowly stepped towards her.

Ava scoffed. She was indeed jealous, she always was. She wanted his lips and body to belong to her and her alone but that just wasn't the case. She wanted to be greedy with him. To be the only one to kiss his teeth and suck his bones dry of marrow. She wants him to be fully hers like she was completely and utterly his.

“I'm not jealous!” She dropped her arms to her sides. Bo stood before her and stared down at her lying form. He knew she was lying but his blood rushed knowing just how infatuated she was with him.

Bo smirk never faltered as he reached around to grab a fistful of her bleach blonde hair tightly in his fist, yanking her towards him and smashing his chapped lips against hers. Ava felt the air being knocked out of her lungs at the force of his kiss. She felt a sick pride swell in her chest knowing that the other woman was watching her man kiss her with such puissant vigor. Bo immediately pushed his tongue past her lips in a wet tease. Ava’s fingers roughly gripped his mechanic coveralls as their heated kiss continued. Bo’s hand still being in her hair, he tugged her back. Ava finally took in a deep breath once her mouth was exposed to the dusty basement air once again. Her wet lips parted in a heavy intake.

Bo swiped his thumb along Ava’s top lip, circling around to the bottom, collecting the saliva and the smear of his blood that had transferred from his lips to hers during their forceful kiss. He began pushing his thumb past her plump lips and Ava eagerly opened for him, wrapping her lips around his thumb and moaning as her tongue lapped at the digit. Bo tugged at his bottom lip next to the open wound with his teeth as he watched her take him so well. Ava giggled around his thumb before Bo slipped it out from between her lips. He delicately pressed his wet thumb to the underside of her chin and made her look up at him.

“You shouldn't be jealous. She aint got nothin' on you dollface.” The two lovingly smiled at each other. “You know she ain't stayin’, Vince has got plans for her anyway.” The two looked over as the woman's thrashing became louder. Bo laughed while Ava rolled her eyes. First she kissed her man and now she's ruining their soft moment? Ava wasn't pleased.

“Wanna show her that you're mine, doll?” Bo asked, his devilish smirk darkening his eyes as he turned back towards her. Ava looked back at him and nodded excitedly. Bo chuckled at her excitement as he began unbuckling his belt.

“C’mon then, show ‘er that you can bend over and take my cock like a good bitch.”

☾ notes: You guys have no idea how absolutely feral these two together make me. I've been thinking about them constantly and don't be surprised if there's more in the future. I wanna be sandwiched between them like some subby meat between two slices of hot bread. Like a sexy panini.

☾ tag list: @rottent33th, @damien-mlm, @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better, @the-pinstriped-hood, @allthingsblood, @25bohemianmoons, @devil-doll13, @goldrose-star

message me if you want to be added to my tag list!

#bo sinclair #house of wax 2005 #ava walker oc #slasher #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher fucker #slasher community #bo sinclair x oc #bo sinclair fic #house of wax fanfiction #house of wax

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alyslaskeywriter · 1 year

Text

A Woman’s Problem

Author’s Note: This story was originally published under my fanfiction account as part of a story writing challenge. It is unchanged from its original form. Cut below due to mentions of blood.

Early one morning during the springtime of her thirteenth year, Saffron Summers was awoken from a fitful sleep by an acute and intense pain in her lower abdomen, and the distantly familiar sensation of having wet the bed. Confused, Saffron peeled back the covers.

Underneath, everything was red.

Through the pain and the nausea, Saffron managed somehow to strip her bedding. She took it with her to the bathroom and dumped it, along with her pyjamas, into a bathtub full of cold water as she cleaned herself and changed into new clothes.

She opened the bathroom door to find herself face-to-face with her father, who took one look at blood-tinted bath water and frowned, the soft glow surrounding his body turning a shade of yellow.

“Let me call your mother,” he said, with a single stroke of Saffron’s blonde hair. “This is more her sort of problem. No, not a problem, but… She will know what to do. Leave the laundry to me.”

Saffron smiled widely and nodded, before going to feed the rabbits; a task that took her much longer than it usually would. She had just finished when she heard the unmistakable sound of her mother yodelling through the letterbox.

Anthea Oregano, previously Anthea Summers, floated through the open front door, completely ignoring her ex-husband as she walked towards her daughter with open arms.

“Saffy, my petal,” she said, enveloping Saffron into a tight embrace. “What a special, special day for you.”

It didn’t feel all that special to Saffron. Her mother released her from the hug and raised her hands to either side of her face, holding her at arm’s length.

“You know what this means, don’t you, my love?” she said, sincerely, the rosy glow around her deepening in colour. “You are a woman, now.”

“Thanks for coming over, Anthea,” said Saffron’s father, standing in the corner of the room. “I just didn’t know what I was supposed to do or get her, other than paracetamol.”

“Paracetamol? Why paracetamol?”

“Because it’s supposed to hurt, isn’t it?”

“Femininity is pain, Steven,” Anthea told him. “Analgesics have been created by the pharmaceutical industry to numb the sensation that connects us with our inner goddess.”

“Have they?”

“Yes, Steve. Everyone knows that. Now, Saffron, darling, I have a lovely ginger tea here with fennel and Angelica root. Drink that, and you’ll feel divine in no time at all.”

Saffron and her father followed Anthea through to the kitchen, where she poured out a cup of straw coloured liquid and handed it to Saffron.

“Thank you,” said Saffron, taking the cup and drinking the tea, which tasted earthy, which was good.

“You’re welcome, my flower. Now, I have some herbs and crystals that will help realign your chakras so that they can centre around your womb. That will help to awaken your feminine mystique.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve interjected from behind the two women — yes, Saffron was a woman now — his aura darkening from the yellow of before to a golden orange. “But maybe we should concentrate on making sure she has… well…”

“Well?”

“You know…”

“No, Steve.” Saffron’s mother tilted her head. “I don’t know.”

“Something along the lines of…” Steven sighed, loudly. “Ladies’… hygiene… objects.”

“Sanitary towels?” Anthea said, with a shudder. “Don’t be ridiculous. She doesn’t need them.”

“But—”

“Those things pollute our oceans, which are intrinsically connected to the moon, which in turn has a spiritual calling to the womb. She will be better off without them. Come, Saffron. Let’s go outside and meditate.”

Saffron offered her father a reassuring smile as she followed her mother outside. The orange glow surrounding him was growing darker by the second, though his face showed no trace of changing emotions.

“You know, my love, we should maybe take you out to the woods. You can bathe in a stream and that will cleanse your aura,” Anthea mused, wrapping one arm around her daughter’s shoulders as she led her to the garden. “Wash away the remnants of your childhood cocoon so that you may truly emerge like a beautiful butterfly, ready to fly into the world on the wings of your womanhood. What do you think, dear?”

“That sounds lovely, Mummy,” Saffron said. A tight wave of pain spread across her abdomen, causing her upper body to cramp and her knees to shake. “Maybe later, though. I don’t really feel well enough to walk just yet.”

“I’m sure you will after we finish the crystal therapy, my sunshine.”

“Oh. Yes. I expect I will.”

Behind them, Saffron’s father cleared his throat. “Yes, Steven?” Anthea said, with a sigh.

“I just wanted to say that I am going out,” Steve announced. “I’ll be back in three-quarters of an hour or so.”

“Yes, yes. Go.”

“Are you sure you don’t need—”

“Of course we don’t need you here, Steve.”

“I was asking Saffron, not you.”

Saffron looked at her father. He didn’t raise his voice, or look angry at all, but his aura had turned a bright, hot red, redder than her bedsheets had been when she woke up.

“No, Daddy,” she shook her head. Her poor dad looked like he needed to get some fresh air and calm down more than she needed him to stay with her. Besides, her mother was with her, and she seemed to know a lot more about this than he did. “We’ll be fine. I promise.”

Steven Summers gave his daughter and ex-wife a curt nod of the head, before leaving the room. Saffron heard the click of the front door and the rumble of his car engine as she and her mother went out into the garden.

After an hour of meditation, crystal therapy, and herbal oil inhalation, Saffron felt a lot calmer, but not yet divine. She was still in pain, but her mother reassured her that this was good, her body was simply attuning itself to the mystical pulls and callings of her inner goddess. That was reassuring. Saffron did want to be attuned to her inner goddess, after all.

“How do you feel now, my treasure?” Anthea asked Saffron, as they returned inside. “Would you like to go and cleanse yourself in a free-running stream, now?”

Saffron honestly couldn’t say that she did. Really, she just wanted to wrap herself in a blanket and watch The Wizard of Oz. But, she didn’t think that her mother — her actual mother, not Mother Earth —would deem that an appropriate activity for a new woman.

“Could we do that tomorrow, maybe?” Saffron asked. “I think my chakras need some time to adjust to their new alignment first.”

Anthea paused, as if she were considering this.

“You know, you are absolutely right. Very silly of me to forget. You know, I think your woman’s instinct must be kicking in already. Aren’t you clever?”

Back inside, Saffron’s father was sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands, a reusable shopping bag at his feet. His aura had dimmed slightly. It was still red, but a softer sort of red, like the sunset the night before a glorious morning.

“Well, I shall see you just before dawn tomorrow,” Anthea told Saffron. “That way, the sun can rise on this new phase in your life.”

“That sounds just wonderful, Mummy.”

Saffron and her mother kissed goodbye, and Anthea left the house with a jangle of bracelets and a waft of patchouli. Steve looked out of the window to make sure she was out of eyesight and earshot before he turned to his daughter.

“So, I went to the shop,” he told her.

“Oh. That’s nice.”

“The girl at the counter was very helpful. I explained your, er, situation, and she picked out some pad things for you.”

“But what about the ocean?”

“I asked about the ocean, and the girl said that there were other things you could try, but these would be best for today. They’re made from recycled materials. I checked.”

Saffron considered for a moment. Surely, if they were recycled, then that couldn’t upset the eternal equilibrium of the moon and tides too much. So, she nodded.

“There’s also paracetamol.”

“But Mummy said-”

“I know what your mum said.” Steve sighed, and his aura flashed once more. “But, at the end of the day, she isn’t always right. I’m not going to make you take them, but I am not going to sit here and watch you pull that face every five minutes without offering you anything to make it stop hurting.”

Saffron tilted her head. Her belly did hurt quite a lot. So did her back. And her hips. And her head. Would it really be that bad if she took some painkillers, just this once?

“The girl also said to give you this.” Steve held up a tub of chocolate-flavoured soya ice cream. “And this.”

He stood up, and hugged Saffron, placing a kiss on the top of her yellow-haired head. Saffron returned the hug, feeling better than she had all day.

“I thought that I could get two spoons,” Steve told her, murmuring the words into the top of her crown, “and a blanket, and we could sit in here and watch The Wizard of Oz together. How does that sound?”

Saffron giggled and looked up at her dad.

“That sounds divine,” she told him.

#al writes #anthology #original story #writblr #writers on tumblr

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