#beach wedding wear for men

[weddingtropics001]

Beach Wedding Wear for Men: Dressing for the Seaside Celebration

As the waves crash against the shore and the warm sun casts a gentle glow over the sand, you find yourself eagerly anticipating the most significant day of your life – your beachside wedding. Amidst the serene backdrop and laid-back ambiance, it's crucial to select an attire that not only reflects the coastal setting but also exudes a sense of refined elegance. Whether you're the groom, a groomsman, or a guest, choosing the right beach wedding wear for men can make all the difference in capturing the essence of this special occasion.

Embracing the Coastal Aesthetic

When it comes to dressing for a beach wedding, the key is to strike a balance between formality and casual comfort. The goal is to create a look that seamlessly blends with the relaxed, seaside atmosphere while still maintaining a polished and stylish appearance.

One of the most versatile and appropriate options for a beach wedding is a lightweight suit or shirt-and-trouser combination. Opt for fabrics that are breathable and moisture-wicking, such as linen, cotton, or a linen-cotton blend. These natural fibers will keep you cool and comfortable, even in the warmest of weather.

Linen: The Quintessential Beach Fabric

Linen is a particularly excellent choice for a beach wedding, as it embodies the laid-back, coastal aesthetic. This natural fiber is renowned for its exceptional breathability, which makes it an ideal option for warm-weather events. Additionally, linen's subtle texture and slight sheen add a touch of casual sophistication to your attire, perfectly complementing the relaxed ambiance of a seaside celebration.

When selecting a linen suit or ensemble, consider embracing lighter, more muted color palettes that evoke the tranquility of the ocean and the warmth of the sun. Soft shades of beige, ivory, or light gray can create a soothing and harmonious contrast against the natural backdrop of the beach. Alternatively, you can experiment with bolder, more vibrant hues, such as crisp white or a subtle blue, to add a touch of summery flair to your look.

Tailoring for a Polished Appearance

Regardless of the fabric or color you choose, the key to pulling off a successful beach wedding look is ensuring a tailored, well-fitted silhouette. Avoid oversized or baggy styles, as they can appear sloppy and detract from the overall polished appearance you're aiming to achieve.

Opt for a slim or straight-leg fit, which will accentuate your frame and create a sleek, modern impression. If possible, consider investing in a custom-made suit or shirt-and-trouser combination, as this will guarantee a perfect fit and allow you to customize the details to your liking. However, if custom-made is not an option, focus on finding a well-fitting, off-the-rack ensemble and have it professionally tailored to your specifications.

Accessorizing with Coastal Flair

To complete your beach wedding attire, thoughtfully selected accessories can elevate your look and further enhance the coastal-chic aesthetic. Consider pairing your suit or ensemble with a crisp, white button-down shirt, which will provide a clean and refreshing contrast to the chosen fabric.

For footwear, opt for lightweight, breathable options that complement the beach setting, such as leather loafers, boat shoes, or even stylish sandals. Avoid heavy, closed-toe dress shoes, as they may feel out of place in the seaside environment.

To add a touch of personal style, consider incorporating nautical-inspired accessories, such as a linen or cotton pocket square in a subtle, complementary hue. A lightweight, unstructured linen or cotton sport coat can also be a versatile addition, offering an extra layer of warmth or protection against any ocean breezes.

Embracing the Casual Elegance

One of the unique charms of dressing for a beach wedding is the ability to strike a balance between formality and casual comfort. Instead of adhering to rigid dress codes, embrace the relaxed atmosphere of the seaside celebration and allow your attire to reflect the laid-back ambiance.

This doesn't mean sacrificing style, however. By carefully selecting well-tailored, breathable fabrics and pairing them with thoughtful accessories, you can create a look that is both polished and appropriate for the beachside setting. The goal is to exude a sense of effortless sophistication that complements the serene surroundings of your wedding day.

Caring for Your Beach Wedding Attire

Regardless of the materials you choose, it's important to consider the special care required for your beach wedding attire. Before the event, be sure to have your ensemble professionally pressed or lightly steamed to remove any creases or wrinkles.

During the celebration, consider carrying a small, portable steamer with you to quickly touch up your attire as needed. Avoid excessive sitting or fidgeting, as this can cause additional wrinkling. Additionally, be mindful of any exposure to sand or saltwater, which can potentially damage delicate fabrics.

Embracing the Coastal Charm

One of the unique charms of dressing for a beach wedding is the ability to embrace the natural characteristics of the fabrics and allow your attire to evolve organically throughout the day. Instead of striving for a perfectly pristine look, let the subtle creases and folds that may develop add to the casual elegance of your ensemble, perfectly complementing the relaxed atmosphere of your seaside celebration.

Conclusion

Dressing for a beach wedding is an opportunity to showcase your personal style while embracing the coastal charm of the setting. By selecting breathable, lightweight fabrics like linen, cotton, or linen-cotton blends, and pairing them with thoughtful accessories, you can create a look that is both polished and appropriate for the seaside celebration.

Whether you're the groom, a groomsman, or a guest, the key is to strike a balance between formality and casual comfort, allowing your attire to reflect the relaxed ambiance of the beachside event. With the right approach, you'll exude a sense of effortless sophistication that will have you feeling confident and at ease as you celebrate this special day.

[peppermintquartz]

Buck takes a photo of the open closet and sends it to Hen. 'See what i mean??' he texts.

Hen replies with a gif of a cartoon bunny shaking its head. 'that is the wardrobe of sadness'

'preciselu. Pls pls pls help me drag my bf out on a shopping trip'

'whens our next overlapping off day'

'wed + thu'

'lure him out for coffee and I'll bump into you. don't let him have any other plans'

--

"Hen! What a surprise to see you here!" Buck exclaims brightly when he spies Hen in her bright pink hoodie and ripped jeans.

"Buckaroo!" Hen hugs him and, out of sight of Tommy, whispers ferociously, "Tone it down, that was terrible acting."

Tommy sips from his coffee and bumps a fist with her. "Good to see you. Where are you going?"

"Thought I should update my wardrobe, maybe buy some new clothes for Denny too. Hey, you two free? Could use some opinions from a couple of guys."

"We're hardly teenage boys," Tommy points out reasonably, but he is overruled by both Hen and Buck.

Once they get Tommy into the mall, Buck is reassured that his boyfriend is going to come out with some colors for his closet. There are only so many neutrals he can endure on his very hot boyfriend.

--

At the end of the day, when a very bemused Tommy is sorting out the purchases he apparently had to make just because Hen Wilson said to, Buck makes him do a fashion show, snapping photos of each new shirt, tee, sweater, and even that fancy sleeveless top that Buck wants to get wet ASAP. His favorite is a purple shirt, slightly sheer and almost iridescent under the light, which makes Tommy's eyes sparkle.

"I don't think this is really my style," Tommy says, looking down at himself and then back in the mirror. "It's so... fussy."

"You look hot in it," Buck says. "I can't wait for you to wear this to a club and see the guys and gals go nonverbal with lust."

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him. "Baby, I'm forty years old. Guys and gals don't lust over middle-aged men in sheer purple tops."

"Bet you ten dollars you end up getting propositioned by someone other than me if you wear that out tonight." Buck sidles closer and puts his hands on Tommy's chest. "In fact, ten dollars per person who comes up to you to get your number. And I can't wait to see them green with envy when I get to take you home."

Amused, Tommy presses a gentle kiss to Buck's lips. "And if I don't get a single proposition?"

"I remember you were telling me about the daydream of a rollercoaster blowjob..."

"Ah, no, I don't want my junk bitten off mid-ride."

"How about sex on the beach then? I know a spot that's very secluded. No one else goes there," Buck asks, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

He knows when Tommy's hooked, the second his nostrils flare and his eyes darken.

Tommy licks his lips and smirks. "Pack towels, condoms and a mat," he tells Buck. "You're so gonna lose."

--

Buck wins $70. He splits the winnings with Hen.

(To console Tommy for losing the bet, Buck still gave Tommy a ride on the beach, purple shirt unbuttoned and his curls loosened by the wind and the crashing waves hiding their moans.)

(Buck does not tell Hen about this.)

[ghostofwriting]

Arranged

Arranged

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: allusions to sex, cheating,

Note: just something I had rattling around in my brain for the longest time.

Word Count: 2,215

No one warned her. She likes to pride herself on not being a complete idiot so how did she not see this coming? The hints were all there. 

Her father is one of the richest men on Kildare Island so naturally, ever since her birth, she has been told that she would marry a just as wealthy if not wealthier man. There was no room for her to experience real love. It was a waste of time as she wouldn’t get to choose who she dated or even married. 

Everything was arranged for her. Her dad would find an eligible suitor and she would marry him. 

She was fine with this. Of course she was, it was all she had ever known. 

She would be marrying Rafe Cameron. 

Her father had called her down to his study and broken the news to her right then and there. She had heard his name, seen him around at all the high-class events their families attended but she had never exchanged one word with him. 

Once the initial shock of finding out she’s getting married in less than a year wears off, she runs to her room where her best friend is reading a book on her bed. 

“It’s Rafe.” Her best friend jumps up and squeals. 

“No way!” She grabs her phone and looks him up immediately. Not knowing what she’s looking for, she’s sure that he won’t post his wedding announcement to someone he hasn’t even had a conversation with. 

“There’s this girl all over his feed.” She takes the phone from her friend and scrolls, pausing to look at one picture in particular where he’s giving the girl a piggyback.

“That’s his best friend, they’ve known each other since they were three, and their moms are best friends.”

She scrolls some more and blushes, seeing pictures of him shirtless at the beach. He’s attractive. He’s probably one of the most desirable men on the island. He’s never seen around with anyone though, and doesn’t take any of the ladies up on their offers. 

She would be okay with this. Not only because she has no choice but because it’s Rafe Cameron.

They meet on a Sunday afternoon, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, and it couldn’t be more perfect. Except that the girl from his Instagram is here. Before his father steps in, they’re whispering to each other in the furthest corner away from her and her father. Her hand is on his bicep and he holds her like he’s afraid she’ll float away. 

“Thank you for coming,” Ward says walking into the room, extending a hand for her father and then her. 

“It is our pleasure.” Her father says. 

“Rafe, don’t be rude, come greet our guests.” Rafe hesitates but the girl nods, stepping away from him.  

Ward gives the girl a look and a half smile.

 “you may go.” Rafe looks at his father and then at the girl shaking his head. 

“Dad-” Ward puts up a hand to stop him. 

“Let y/n go and say hi to Sofia, she’ll be your future wife after all.”

The girl, y/n, Ward had called her, leaves the room and she can see how tense Rafe becomes. 

Sofia should have known. 

===

They start dating, or the courting process. He takes her to fancy restaurants, clubs, events, and theaters, but they are never alone. It's like he’s trying to avoid talking to her for too long. He’s always busy at work or having to travel. She hadn’t had a moment alone with him since their first meeting when both their fathers gave them some time to talk and even then Rafe kept checking his phone.

She thinks she could love him. He’s very kind, he thinks of her when he goes to get himself a drink, he brings her back presents from his travels, and introduces her as his girl to all his friends. 

All of them except for one. 

When she met Topper she was introduced as his girl, it was a casual party, with no real formalities. Topper had given him a strange look that she only noticed because she was directly looking at him. If she hadn’t she would have missed it because it was gone in a second.  

“Nice to meet you Sofia, welcome to his life. I’m excited to see where it goes.” She finds his words weird but she lets it go, smiling at him. 

“Likewise.”

When she met Sarah she was with John B and JJ. Rafe introduced her as his girlfriend, Sarah had a tight-lipped smile and JJ had tried to elbow John B discreetly but John B’s reaction had given him away. 

“Nice to meet all of you.” Sofia said.

“You too!” Sarah chimed in. 

“You should come around the house some time and meet the rest of the gang.” John B extends the invite to her, Rafe clears his throat and Sarah stiffens. She’s about to nod in approval when JJ’s voice breaks through the awkward silence John B’s words had created. 

“That’s not a good idea.” Her eyes snap to JJ. He’s not looking at her, his face is stoic and he’s looking at Rafe. She looks up at Rafe and he’s looking at JJ, head nodding. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you could meet them somewhere else.” The atmosphere is charged with something she doesn’t recognize. 

“Hey, will you give me a moment?” Rafe asks her, shuffling her over to the drinks table. 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll find Melanie and text you where I am.” He gives her a small smile and nods. 

“Is she here?” She hears him ask one of the three pogues as she walks away. Sarah is the one who responds. She hears her say something about the second floor and when she turns around to see Rafe’s reaction, he’s already walking in the direction of the stairs. 

He never comes to find her. 

He doesn’t introduce her to the girl until a month after they start dating. 

She gets introduced to her as Sofia. Not his girl, not his girlfriend. Just Sofia. Hey, this is Sofia. 

The girl introduces herself and she is so sickeningly sweet that Sofia feels they could be best friends too. 

She takes her hand and walks her around Tannyhill, showing her all the things that there are to do. She shows her where they keep the best snacks, where the movie room is, and where not to go and leads her up to Rafe’s room. She’s been in Rafe’s room before, he’s her boyfriend. The way that y/n walks in, it’s like she lives there. She’s so comfortable, going through all his stuff, showing her where he keeps anything she may need. She opens up a drawer and tells her that those things are hers but she should feel free to use them. 

She doesn’t think anything of it. They’re best friends, they have known each other since they were kids. Of course, she has things she keeps at his house. In his room. 

Rafe’s mother is home for once. She walks by his room and spots them. 

“Oh, my sweet angel!” She waltzes over to y/n and grabs her face in between her hands. “How I have missed you. You haven’t been around much, why is that?” She looks to Rafe and then back to the face, she’s holding. She gives Sofia a side glance. 

“I see, well. You are welcome anytime. And I have spoken to Ward about the situa-” She gets cut off by y/n and Rafe.

“It’s okay.” y/n says. 

“You did?” Rafe says with more urgency, walking up to his mom. 

“I have sweet boy. And I will keep trying.” Rafe mumbles a small thank you, she sees his hand hovering over y/n, like he wants to touch her but he pulls back, clearing his throat and looking at her like he just remembered she was there too. 

She doesn’t know what situation they are talking about and before she can gather the courage to ask, his mother is gone and y/n is saying something about getting food with Sarah and Louisa. 

“Your whole family loves her very much don’t they?” she asks Rafe, sitting at the edge of his bed. 

He longingly looks to where his best friend once was, sighing, “yeah.”

===

She’s at Tannyhill again for dinner this time. There are a few more people than usual. A few people she’s never met, one being Barry, and a few other of Rafe’s friends. 

She’s been mingling with all the guests, making her rounds as the new heiress of her father’s company and she’s exhausted. She walks into the study for a few minutes alone. She doesn’t fully close the door in case someone needs her, she can hear them call. 

She’s looking at all of Ward’s trinkets when she hears voices outside the study, whispers. 

“What do you think of her?” Topper, she thinks.

“She’s no Missus Country Club that’s for sure.” She doesn’t recognize the voice. 

“No one is ever going to be her. He's crazy for letting this go on. If I had what they had and someone was threatening it I would grab her and leave the country.” Topper adds. 

They aren’t mentioning names so she’s confused. So curious to know who they are talking about. 

“She’s a nice girl. I just hate that so many people are being hurt because of this.” Sarah. 

“Rafe is going to lose his mind when he finds out.” She thinks this must be Kelce. Recognizes him from phone calls with Rafe.

“I don’t blame her, if I were in her shoes, I couldn’t stand by and watch as the love of my life got married to someone else.” Who’s getting married? 

“Has anyone talked to her?” There’s silence. 

“My mom is trying to fight this so hard with my dad but he just won’t let up.”

“Your dad is such an asshole.” the voice she doesn’t recognize again. 

“Tell me about it. It’s the way he’s pretending everything is okay too? Like he doesn’t see him falling apart or having panic attacks.” Is Rafe having panic attacks? He’s been fine with her. He must be overworked. Her dad had told her it was a really busy season. 

“Bet it doesn’t help that she’s ignoring him.” She wants to scream ‘who!’ Who are they talking about? 

“Hey, we should go.” A new voice pops in, John B. 

“We’ll see you at the party later?” Topper asks, and she assumes the question is directed at Sarah and John B. 

“I wouldn’t want to miss the big blowout.” It must be Barry if he’s leaving with John B and Sarah. 

She waits a few minutes before leaving the study. She sees Rafe talking to his mother and Louisa who glares at her when they make eye contact. She smiles at her but Louisa stomps off. Rafe looks from his mother to his sister before following after her.

“This place is loaded. I can’t believe you’re marrying into this.” Melanie comes up beside her. 

“Do you think something weird is going on?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s a lot of whispering, things being said without being said.”

“I think you’re just nervous and trying to find a way out of it.”

“There’s no way out of it even if I wanted one.” Melanie’s smile fades. 

“You really like him huh?” she nods 

“He’s everything I have dreamed of. This union will set both of us up forever. It is just what we need.”

“And he’s good in bed?” her friend jokes making her blush

“We haven’t.” Melanie frowns

“What do you mean you haven’t? The Rafe Cameron hasn’t fucked you yet?”

“Melanie!” She gasps

“Oh I’m sorry, you’ve been dating for more than a month. Is he waiting for the wedding night?”

“We’ve barely even kissed.”

“That’s concerning. A 20 year old isn’t trying to get his dick wet?”

“How are we friends?” She says, putting her face in her hands. 

“I’m the one that keeps you sane.”

===

Rafe takes her to Topper’s party after dinner. 

Everyone is there. His friends, her friends, and some tourons. 

The first thing she notices is y/n, who hasn’t been around for a while hanging off some guy’s neck. Her chest pressed up against his as he kissed her neck.

She spots Melanie and drags Rafe who has gone eerily quiet next to her. 

“Finally, I was starting to think you weren’t coming.” She grabs the drink that Melanie offers her and looks up at her boyfriend. He’s looking in the direction where they had come from, his ears red. He probably wanted to say hi to his friends and she didn’t let him. 

“Oh sorry, baby, go and say hi to everyone. I’ll be right here.”

He doesn’t say a word, just marches off. 

When he’s been gone for over thirty minutes, she goes and looks for him. 

“Have you seen Rafe?” She asks some random. The person points to the upstairs area and she makes her way. 

She comes up to Topper’s room and pauses. She has a weird feeling. Before she can open the door it flies open and she comes face to face with a tear streaked y/n. 

y/n tries to fix herself up and puts a fake smile on her face. She sees Rafe get up and make his way into the bathroom.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’ve gotta go.” She says moving past her and down the hall. 

“Rafe?” She calls for him, following where she had seen him go. The water that was running turned off. 

“Are you okay?” she parrots her earlier words. 

“Yeah.” He looks like he’s been crying too.  

“What’s wrong?” He moves around her and into Topper’s room. 

“Nothing.”

“Rafe, I can see you’ve been crying, wh-”

“Sofia. Drop it okay?” He grabs his jacket off Topper’s bed and goes to leave.

“Do you want to stay? I’m going home.” She follows him in a hurry, her legs barely keeping up with his long strides. 

“I’ll come with you.” She says finally catching him and looping her arm with his. 

“Fuck this.” Rafe says under his breath. y/n’s sitting on the guy’s lap. As if she hadn’t just been crying. 

She wants to press him more on what happened but he’s angry now and she doesn’t want to make it worse.”

When they get back to Tannyhill, Rafe is a little more handsy. More than he has ever been. He walks her to his room and pushes her down on his bed. 

“Do you want to?” He asks her. She nods eagerly. She does. She likes him so much. 

===

Everything’s normal for a few days. She’s dealing with her father’s company, going to school, she’s busy. Rafe hasn’t come around in a little bit so she decides to drop by Tannyhill unannounced. 

One of the maids lets her in and tells her that no one is home. She decides she’ll wait in Rafe’s room. His door is shut when she gets up there. His door is never closed when he isn’t home. She knocks but doesn’t hear anything so she walks in. When she does, she hears the shower running. There’s a lot of movement, she can hear something fall.

She tries the bathroom door but it’s locked. 

“Rafe?” The movement stops and everything goes silent. 

“Hey! I’ll be right out.” He sounds out of breath. 

“Can I join you?” She asks, they were only together that one time and she’s hoping for a repeat sometime soon. 

“I have to be somewhere in 10 I can’t. Just wait for me downstairs.” He’s been very busy too. He’s probably freshening up from golfing.

“Okay, see you in a bit.” 

She’s waiting for exactly 15 minutes before he comes downstairs. 

“There you are.” He’s flushed, probably from the rush of having to leave. 

She gets up and hugs him. The front door slams and he flinches. 

“What was that?”

“Probably one of the maids. Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“Didn’t you have a meeting?”

“I’m already late, so I’ll them something came up and we can grab some food?” She likes that she does these things for her. 

“Let’s go.”

===

“It’s not easy for me either Rafe! It hurts.”

She’s on Rafe’s balcony, and she can’t see them but she hears them, they’re downstairs, underneath her. 

“I know. I know it does but if you could just wait.”

“For what? A miracle? No. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore. It hurts too much.”

“You said you would never leave me, we knew this would happen and you promised.”

“It’s so much harder living through it than I thought it could ever be.” Her voice is shaky. 

“I’m sorry. Please just tell me what to do.”

“There’s nothing to do. This is it.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I have to go. 

“y/n.” He calls after her a few more times and then goes silent. 

The door opens a little while later, Ward announcing his arrival and another screaming match ensues when Rafe corners him. She can’t hear what it’s about but Rafe sounds desperate. 

Ward says something about contracts and his hands being tied and wishing he had said something sooner. Rafe yells back about his mom trying to get him out of it and Ward not listening. She hears Ward apologize and tells him that something is over. To let go and that he has bigger responsibilities now. 

Rafe storms out of the house and doesn’t come back that night or the next. 

==

She hears from Melanie that y/n’s gone. That must have been what Rafe and her were fighting about. Her friendship is very important to him and he didn’t want her to leave. 

She tells Melanie about the blowout and about Rafe being MIA. 

“Maybe the whispers do mean something.” She says. 

“What do you mean?” She asks her friend. 

“Rafe and y/n.” She looks at Melanie, confused.

“Sof, come on.”

“No. Rafe would never. They’re just friends. She’s gone now anyway so what does it matter?”

“You were always trained for this weren’t you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Nevermind.” 

==

Rafe comes back after two days away but it’s not the same. His mother and Sarah are worried about him. He won’t leave his bed let alone his room. They have tried getting him to see doctors, but nothing seems to be working. Sofia even tries talking to him but gets nothing out of him. He just tells her to go away and leave him alone. 

A week goes by and she sees him out and about again. To anyone else, he looks normal. To her, he looks crazy. His pupils are blown, and his hair is messy and unkempt. Nothing like the Rafe she met. He was always so put together, and right now he looks like he could burst into tears at any moment.

They go back to his house and she lets him seek comfort in the only way he’ll accept it from her. When she wakes up he’s gone. 

===

Sarah calls her asking if she knows where he is. She tells her that no and that’s when Sarah tells her that they haven’t seen him in a week. They are scared and worried for him because he’s been doing drugs. Cocaine. 

She had never known Rafe to do any of that. He was always very proper, never stepping out of line. Sarah asked her to keep her posted. 

Her mother called her later that day, telling her to get to the hospital immediately. Rafe had been in an accident. 

She’s the last one to get there. His family, his friends, they are all there. Except for one. 

She walks in and a hysterical Sarah is being held back by John B. 

“This is your fault! You are so selfish all you care about is money! Look at where he is now Dad! If he dies it is on you!”

Dies? Rafe’s mother looks at her and walks over. 

“He’s unconscious, they had to pump his stomach. He overdosed.” Sofia can tell she’s trying to be strong but the tears in her eyes keep coming. 

“Why? How?” her words go unheard as the doctor walks into the waiting room. 

“You can go see him now. Immediate family only.” Sarah is the first one to go, followed by her mother and father. Louisa hangs back, looking at her. 

“You did this.” She spits at her, running after her family. 

She’s so confused, so stressed out and she just wants to know how her boyfriend got himself in this situation. 

Everyone falls quiet. 

“You aren’t the cause of this. You’re just another pawn.” Kiara speaks up, not looking up from where her hands are, tangled with JJ’s.

===

Later when everyone vacated the waiting room after hearing word that Rafe would be okay, she walked towards his room. Coming to a stop when she hears Ward’s voice. 

“I’m so sorry son. This is all my fault. I am so sorry.” Ward is speaking through tears. 

“I’m going to fix this, I’ll put an end to everything and you’ll be okay. You’ll be happy again. I promise.” An end to what? Why was Rafe sad?

“Did you call her?” Rafe’s voice comes out weak. 

“I did. She’s on her way home.” who? y/n? Why does Rafe want her?

“Thank you, dad.” 

“I’ll be better.”

===

She doesn’t get to visit him at the hospital. He didn’t want to see anyone. She hears from her mother that he’s finally out of the hospital and she jumps out of her bed, quickly changing. 

When she walks into Tannyhill, there are flowers, gift baskets, and balloons all with ‘get well soon’ messages littered across the tables and desks. 

“He’s just in his room miss.”

“Thank you.”

She hears laughter coming from his room, a girl. She knows that laugh even though the last time she heard that voice it was screaming at her boyfriend. 

She opens the door shyly and both their heads turn to her. y/n is sitting on the bed next to him, his head is on her shoulder as she scrolls through her phone. 

“Hi.” Rafe looks at Sofia and then the girl next to him, having a silent conversation in between them.

“I’ll be in Sarah’s room.” She hops out of his bed and through the doors, not without a small but sad smile directed at her. 

“We need to talk.” He says sitting up.

“Okay.”

“My dad is going to put an end to this arrangement. We don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“I wasn’t pretending.”

“Look, Sofia. I’m sorry that you were put through this. I wish I could have convinced him earlier before you got dragged into this.”

“Convinced him of what?”

“To let me marry y/n.” He’s so blunt about it,  like it’s obvious like she’s stupid for not knowing. 

“What?”

“y/n’s my girlfriend, Sof.” Her mouth drops in shock. 

“But you and I, we-” She’s at a loss for words.

“Yeah we took a break, she couldn’t do it.”

“Couldn’t do what? Cheat?”

“I didn’t cheat on her.”

“Not on her. On me.” She snaps back at him.

“None of that was real. This was an arrangement.”

“It was real to me, Rafe! You took me on dates and you slept with me! You told me we were getting married.”

“y/n had broken up with me, I wasn’t in a good headspace.”

“Fuck you. No.”

“No what?”

“No. This arrangement is not over. You are going to marry me because it’s what my family deserves and I don’t care if we have to pretend for the rest of our lives.” She can feel the lump in her throat getting bigger. Her eyes starting to water.

“My father is putting an end to the contract. It’s over. You can go.” She shakes her head. 

“How could you do this?”

“Sofia, you are not the only one who was brought up with the idea of never having true love, of having to settle. I knew my dad was going to do this to me. I was fully prepared to have to play nice and pretend. But I found the real thing and then I couldn’t do it. I won’t do it.”

“I loved you.”

“No, you didn’t. You love the idea of what your family made this out to be. You don’t know what real love is. I hope you find it.” He’s so calm. Everything in her life is falling apart and he doesn’t care. 

===

She sees them for the first time at the Country Club. She has never seen him as happy as he looks right now. With y/n hanging off his arm, his hands find her, not a moment goes by where he isn’t touching her. 

How could she not have seen it? She was so stupid. All his friends laugh around her, talk to her, and engage with the girl like they never did with her. She should have been able to tell. 

They all knew. They knew she was his everything and that Sofia was just some obstruction getting in the way of forever. 

The hints were all there. 

[archangeldyke-all]

Hi Angelllllll !!! Remember when you answered that one ask about divorced reader and Sev? I kinda wanna see Sev busting her ass to get her family back together 🫡

EEEEEK okay this is adorbs

men and minors dni

"ma..." little fucker begins one evening as you read her a bedtime story. you close the book of fairy tales and turn on your side to face your girl.

"yeah, baby?"

"mommy says she wants to marry you." your daughter whispers. "she told me."

you chuckle and shake your head. "oh, did she?" you ask.

your daughter's eyes grow wide as she nods and spills her mom's secrets to you. "she says i can be the flower girl. she'll buy me a pretty dress." she says. "an' she says we'll go on family vacation after! to the beach!"

you snort and roll your eyes.

it's been a year since you and sevika have started going to couples counseling and it's been going really well. it hasn't been easy, but it's been so worth it.

sevika's been trying her best to communicate how she's feeling. she struggles with it; and you try your best not to laugh each time you watch your wi-- your girlfriend's face scrunch up in emotional constipation before she admits something romantic or sad or stupid.

you've been trying not to pull back out of anxiety. it's hard. you come home from an amazing day with little fucker and her mommy, and suddenly, you're consumed with fear that this go around end just like it ended last time.

but... you've been getting better at trusting sevika. and she's been getting better at being honest. and... you've been looking to move to a new house, all three of you, at the end of the year when your leases end. and she's been teasing you about marriage the entire fucking year.

"you're mommy's full of s-h-i-t." you say. your daughter giggles mischievously at your spelled curse word.

"whaddya mean?"

"i mean she's gonna have to wait a while if she wants me to marry her again."

"but why?" your daughter pouts. you giggle-- your baby's just discovered the concept of romance, and lately, she's been enchanted with it. (you suspect her mommy might have something to do with it.) "weddings are so romantic!" she coos. "and we can wear matching dresses!" she squeals.

"you don't even like it when me and your mommy smooch in front of you!" you laugh. your daughter huffs.

"it's gross when you guys get slobbery!" she sticks her tongue out. "but... a kiss like this--" she darts forward and pecks your cheek, "you can do that at your wedding!"

you cackle, and kiss your daughter right back. "you go to sleep, little miss. stop worrying about me and your mommy. y'know when we move into the new house you're gonna be sick of the two of us." you say as you tickle her tummy. your daughter squeals and starts smacking you with one of her stuffies. "you're gonna get twice as many tickles." you threaten.

little fucker squeals, then starts kicking. you laugh as you pull away, smiling down at your giggling baby. "but i'll also get twice as many kisses!" she says.

your heart melts, and you lean back down to hug your baby. "yeah, you will." you kiss her head, your heart surging with excitement.

as much as you wanna give sevika a hard time-- as funny as she is when she's grovelling-- you're happier than you've ever been right now.

little fucker has been adoring having both of her moms paying attention to her at the same time on all the family adventures and outings you've been going on.

last night, sevika took you and your girl to the local carnival. she and little fucker had a blast going on all the rides-- sevika was determined to win her daughter teddy bear (the same one she's cuddling now) at the ring toss stand, and then she was determined to turn you on at the strength tester, where she hit the meter so hard she nearly broke the bell at the top.

you've never been happier in your life.

to you, nothing feels more perfect than walking hand in hand with your wi-- girlfriend-- as your daughter trails ahead of you, gasping at bugs and rocks she finds.

and, if your daughter was a little older and could keep a secret, you'd tell her the truth. you'd tell her that the real reason you've laughed off all of sevika's (and little fucker's) attempts to talk about marriage to you is that sevika got to propose last time. it's only fair that if the two of you get married again; you get to be the one to propose this time.

you want to wait until you're all moved in together and settled... but you've had a ring picked out for sev since your third couples' therapy appointment.

for now though, you just tuck your baby in, gently close her door, then turn to your bedroom, sending a message to your wi-- girlfriend.

little fucker says u wanna marry me

cat's outta the bag...

she says u invited her on our honeymoon :/

you'd be heartbroken if we left her for a week.

you giggle and flop on your bed, ignoring the urge to kick your feet in the air behind you as you text her back.

how are we ever gonna fuck again if the kid's always there?

same way we fucked last night ;)

good point... speaking of...

i'm parked in the driveway.

what!?

i figured this text was coming.

well get your ass inside!!!

🏃🏾‍♀🏃🏾‍♀🏃🏾‍♀

you bury your face in your hands to muffle your giddy laugh, and outside; sevika's car door slams, and her heavy boots come running up the driveway.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re

@raphaellearp @iamastar @sevikitty @claude999

[bits-and-babs]

𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 — 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋

summary: With the Great Hall empty, you take an opportunity to gaze upon the Iron Throne without its ruler. You can't help but wonder what kind of monarch Oberyn would make. The King is dead, long live The King.

pairing: Oberyn Martell x f!reader

word count: 3k

content: 18+ MDNI. SPOILERS FOR GOT, (In order) Reference to death and vague mentions of gore, celebration of said death (Nasty character go bye bye), fingering, PIV sex. This is a @beskarbabs remaster — original post date 2021.

➛ oberyn masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

Summer sunshine bathes the throne room in a golden glow yet does nothing to dispel the cold, unnerving energy that reverberates inside the stone walls. Red refractions from the stained glass sun at the window at the head of the room leak across the floor. You can’t help but consider the stone flags are often streaked with that colour. That those who have paced the stone flags, their footsteps ringing out in the Great Hall, have given the order to paint the Seven Kingdoms that same crimson shade. 

Standing before the steps, you consider the Iron Throne seated upon them, its bleak colours contrasting the warm hues in which the sunlight drowns the room. The Throne surprisingly does not live up to your expectations. You had heard so many stories, forged of a thousand surrendered swords at the conquest of Aegon The Conqueror. Now it stands before you; you can hazard a guess that there are less than two hundred. 

Its symbolism is not lost on you. It had seated some of the evilest men, who had brought terror and despair across the Seven Kingdoms and its people. When you had arrived at King’s Landing and entered the Red Keep before the wedding, you had expected to see arguably the worst of them all, King Joffrey, stare back at you.

Now it was empty.

The crimson that daubs the floor in splotches reminds you of the events just hours before. Reminds you of the lifeblood that leaked from the young king’s nose and slipped down his pale, blotched cheeks, dripping into the golden collar of his robes at his neck. Reminds you of the bloodshot colour of the whites of his blue eyes and the way they seemed to almost threaten to bulge out of his sockets. A gruesome death for a gruesome king. 

You hoped that his mother’s screams, ex-queen regent Cercei Lannister, mirrored those of the countless he had killed in these halls so brutally. Hoped it would bring those dead some peace. That it please the Old Gods and the New so that the kingdom could find peace and crown a more considerate, less destructive sovereign. 

The Great Hall was quiet. With no king to keep the Iron Throne warm, there was no requirement for anyone to be here. With this knowledge, you slowly make your way up the steps, the sound of your soles scuffing the stone floor ringing out in the vacant room. This close, you could regard the details. The ridges of the sword handles catch your eye, and the hilts of the weapons all ensigned with symbols that represented their owners long gone. While it didn’t meet your expectations, it was undoubtedly a throne for a king. 

You cast your eyes over the armrests, reaching out to touch them. They seemed so uncomforta-

“It’s underwhelming, is it not?” 

You snatch your hand back from the Throne with a gasp, like it had scalded you, eyes wide as your head whips around to look at the source of the sound. 

Oberyn smirks, standing in the centre of the large floor before you. His warm energy radiates despite the distance between you, and the golden robes he wears provide some much-needed colour to your bleak, almost desolate surroundings. You had asked him to wear those patterns for the ceremony, confessing they reminded you of the sun-kissed beaches of home. Oberyn agreed, delighted to represent Dorne this way. 

“You startled me, my prince!” You exclaim, pressing your palm to your chest in an effort to steady yourself. Your Viper had always been stealthy. 

“Apologies, My Sun, but you were so lost in thought that I fear I would have startled you regardless,” he muses, slowly crossing the floor. He looks so at ease in these four walls, sauntering as though he owns them. In honesty, this is how Oberyn always acts, but he is expected to uphold respect in the Red Keep and appear humble. He certainly didn’t seem to care much for that expectation now. 

Despite this, he regards you with a whisper of concern. 

“Are you well? What you saw back there… It wasn’t pleasant,” he treads carefully, uncertain how you had handled the events of the wedding, given he had sent you away from the gruesome scene. But, much to your surprise, the only thing that you happened to find grim were Cercei’s pitiful cries of “take him!” You swore they still rang in your ears like the screams of squealing pigs. 

“Just fine, my prince,” you promise him, dropping your hand to your side. You were fine, honestly. While you weren’t often exposed to atrocities in Dorne, you had certainly seen your fair share of them. Choking to death paled in comparison. 

Finally, he steps upwards, making his way slowly up the levels to stand before you. You’re taller than him on the top step, so he cranes his neck to look into your eyes. There is a glimmer in the blackness of his pupils - vindication. 

“And so the boy dies,” he says, voice quiet as he reaches for your waist. He slowly brushes his palm up the curve of your waist. 

“He was a Baratheon, Oberyn,” you remind him, watching how his eyes trace the neckline of your dress. A knowing smirk flickers across Oberyn’s usually measured expression. He knows something you don’t. 

“So they say,” he appears to pick his words carefully, despite your isolation. The walls of the Red Keep have ears, and unsavoury words often come back to haunt the utterer. “I fear his pedigree has come into question.”

A frown pulls at your eyebrows, searching Oberyn’s guileful countenance for an answer to your unspoken query of ‘why?’

“You saw how that wretched boy acted. Are you to tell me he isn’t a Lannister?” He questions you, holding your gaze. His usually warm brown eyes have that very same intense look he aimed at Cercei and Tywin at the dinner. Abhorrence. How were you to deny what he saw, what you saw? Joffrey was a monster, the kind of cruelty he dealt only shared with one family- lion’s jaws would easily maul a stag. Regardless of whose blood had pumped his heart, he deserved every moment he suffered. 

“Well,” you sigh softly, agreeing with your lover, “I suppose if the shoe were to fit….” 

“It does,” he speaks, dismissing any question of the legitimacy of his opinion, “This is a triumph.” You nod firmly, the two of you acquiescing unanimously to this fact. It was of no consequence who Joffrey truly was. The most imperative truth was that his death had devastated the Lannister family, precisely what Oberyn had set out to do. While he couldn’t claim responsibility, it certainly didn’t diminish his appreciation in seeing the panic amongst the blonde-headed savages - the infighting. 

Oberyn’s hand creeps from your waist and down the small of your back, taking hold of your ass and gently squeezing it. His eyes are hooded as you look down at him, iris’ hidden as he gazes down the neckline of your dress. 

“This could be your chance to become king,” you muse, smiling playfully as his eyes snap up to your face, disgust evident if only briefly. 

“Live here in King’s Landing? As sovereign? I would rather be abstinent,” he muses with his own knowing smirk, “not even your bewitching looks could implore me to rule the Seven Kingdoms.” 

You huff, acting disappointed as you cross your arms across your chest in apparent dismay. Oberyn simply arches an eyebrow, the edges of his lips lifting up in intrigue at your little display of audaciousness.

“What is it, My Sun?” He asks you, clearly amused. You purse your lips slightly, playing coy as you reach for the collar of his golden robes and brush your fingertips over the silk, moving them down slowly until you hook them into the leather belt that sits loosely on his waist. You tug harshly, catching him off-guard and forcing him to move up onto the top step beside you. 

“Oberyn, play the game with me. We’re celebrating, remember?” You whisper, looking deep into his eyes. They always reminded you of the bark of the blood orange trees that grew in the orchards in Dorne, the wood a deep brown colour that lightened with flecks of gold in the light. His tan reminds you of the sunshine, his sigil, the very name he affectionately calls you. Everything about him reminds you of home. 

He regards you for a moment, knowing exactly what you want. You want him to imagine what it would be like if he was king- just for a moment. 

“Anything for you,” he murmurs, allowing you this happiness. You grin, launching into questions as you smooth your hands down his chest again, ignoring how his voice dips an octave.  

“What would you wear, My King?” You ask, smiling wide as he places his large hands on your hips. His palms practically eclipse you, which always makes you feel safe, even in King’s Landing. 

“I would wear golden silk,” he muses, turning you ever so slowly until he stands between you and the Iron Throne, his back to it. You watch him for a moment, the deviant look in his eyes, “I would wear velvet, and I would ensure you were to dress just as remarkably.” 

You allow yourself to imagine that for the two of you, always matching to ensure everyone knew you both belonged to each other. 

“And what would you eat?” You ask him, finding yourself lost for words just seconds later when Oberyn takes the initiative to sit himself upon the Iron Throne. He sits back, legs spread wide, looking up at you. Your blood runs cold, and you glance around quickly for a King’s Guard. There’s still no one around. 

“What would I eat?” He repeats your question, smirking as he retakes hold of your hips, “I would order that all the best foods of Dorne be delivered periodically, blood orange, pomegranates.” His palms work their way behind you as he talks, resting on your ass and pulling you forward. 

“Oberyn-” 

“We’d gorge upon the finest venison, the boar from the woods and wash it down with our wine,” he continues, pulling you forward until you were forced to straddle his lap, bracing yourself with your hand against the ‘head’ of the Throne, “We would want for nothing, the finest food always available to me upon my request….” 

Oberyn’s hands pull your hips down gently, rolling your hips against his. He’s stiff in his tight brown pants, his body disclosing his need for you. 

“And I would eat you,” he ponders cheekily, a smirk crossing his lips as he sees your surprise at his readiness to take you here, in the Grand Hall, upon the Iron Throne. You have barely a moment to snap out of your shocked stupor before he’s working at shucking your skirts upwards, fingertips grazing the inside of your thighs. 

Heat sparks up your spine at the realisation- he actually wants to do this. He wants to fuck you now, here. You spring into action almost immediately, working hastily on the belt that encompasses his waist. 

“As for activities, we would have magnificent feasts, drinking the night away. We’d fuck-” he punctuates with a spank to the bare skin of your inner thigh, causing you to gasp, “into the early mornings, with as many whores as you desire….” He trails off with a smirk as you slip the belt open and pull open his eggshell-coloured long coat, adorned with golden patterning to expose his bare chest under his low-cut tunic. 

As you work on the ties of his pants, fingers trembling with anticipation, he slips a finger into your exposed core, causing your back to arch into his touch. Your jaw slackens, the sensation electrified when accompanied by the possibility that anyone could just walk in. The two of you could be put to death for this, as it certainly constituted a charge of treason. 

“So wet for me, My Sun. Does the prospect of fucking me here excite you?” He teases unrelentingly, gazing at the needy expression on your face. You can feel him search for that spot inside you, the one he knows will have you positively dripping with anticipation. 

“I-I’m the one asking questions,” you say, wanting to sound assured and confident, but you find yourself rushing the words so as to not get cut off by a moan. It made you sound ingenuine. Your lover just smirks knowingly, slowly working in a second finger. You’re already so aroused that it doesn’t take much effort. 

“You are?” He murmurs, watching the way you keen for his touch, feeling your hips rock forward in search of contact with that sweet spot inside of you. If Oberyn put his mind to it, he could make you cum in seconds, but he liked to draw it out. Wants to torture you with pleasure. “Ask away.”

You let out a soft moan as his knuckle brushed your clit, fingers buried deep inside your cunt. Drunk on the building pleasure between your thighs, you allow yourself to consider for a moment what kind of king Oberyn would be. With a broken train of thought, as he focused on building your arousal, you find a half-answer of ‘compassionate and just’. 

“How would you wish for your crown to look?” You finally find the strength to ask of him. You work him out of his pants slowly, easing his cock out and brushing the swollen head with your thumb. Even through your lustful haze, you could imagine all kinds of styles he would wear, but always gold. 

Oberyn, though still moving his fingers, seemed to pause to contemplate this. His eyes searched your face, almost as though looking for inspiration. The silence of the Great Hall is cut only by your laboured breathing, the soft sounds of the fabric of your clothes rustling, and the wet sound of Oberyn pleasuring you.

The quiet is almost too much, and you find yourself growing anxious. Only as you turn your head over your shoulder to check for people does the Prince of Dorne take your chin in his free hand, forcing you to look back at him. He always did ask for your undivided attention.

“I ask they do not place a crown on my head,” he finally drawls in that pretty accent you had come to adore, removing his fingers from you and taking hold of the curve of your ass to lift your hips upwards and align you with him, “Just you on my cock.”

Before the words can settle into your bones, he’s sinking himself into you, using his hold on you to bring you down slowly. You both exhale shakily, the sound teetering on a moan and a whine as he stretches you out around him. He grits his teeth together, the muscles holding his jaw pulled tight as your warmth and tightness overwhelm him. 

You begin to circle your hips, grinding them against him as he leans back into the Throne, gliding his hands from your knees and up your thighs, smirking at the obscenely wet sounds that come from where he fills you. 

“Lift your skirts,” he murmurs, gazing up at you with hooded eyes. They are practically black, the pupils having swallowed the brown of his iris’ with need, “I want to watch myself fuck you, My Sun.” You whine softly, not in complaint but in contentment, as you bunch your skirts around your waist higher, exposing the sight to your lover. 

Oberyn doesn’t allow you to put in all the work, grinding his hips upwards to meet yours each time you sink onto his cock. Your head lolls back, enjoying the trail of tingling skin he leaves as his hands brush over the skin of your waist under your dress. You always claimed that Oberyn had sunshine in his fingertips, his touch leaving a trail of warmth as it brushed your skin. You can feel it now, the gentle heat that swirls under your skin as he drags his hand over your abdomen. 

And Oberyn just gazes up at you, dragging his eyes over every inch of you. He loves how your eyes roll back into your skull as he rolls his hips and hits something deep inside you that makes your toes curl. He feels the way the muscles in your thighs twitch at the sensation, and that’s how he knows he’s found it. 

“Right there?” He murmurs, voice so low and smoky that it creeps down your spine and settles deep inside your cunt. You can’t manage words, your voice stolen by the throbbing in your clit, so you just nod in agreement. 

Typically, he would begin to thrust harder, chase his high. But half of the reason this feels so good is the anticipation of being caught. He wants to drag it out as long as possible, so he uses the grip on your hips to slowly rock them back and forth on his cock, ensuring that each time he pushes into that spot inside you. 

You’re clamping down on him, wailing quietly as he teases you. Oberyn was brutal, never settling for anything other than blinding pleasure. But this is almost acute, so strong that you could cry- you do, tears welling in your eyes as he circles your hips slowly, his tongue brushing his lower lip as he watches his dick slide in and out of you. 

The sopping sounds of Oberyn’s cock continually slipping in and out of you ricochets off the ancient stone walls of the Red Keep. Your whines of bliss appear to spur him on, lighting something ablaze in him that had sparked with King Joffrey’s last breath. He’s almost delirious when he speaks but utterly sincere.

“I want you to conceive a child - here on the Iron Throne. I want you full of my seed, knowing he was born for the Throne itself.”

join the taglist here:

@xwing-baby , @mybugboy , @pansa-1-san , @pedrosprincess , @cosm1c-babe , @stardu5stbunny, @lil-stark , @heart-atttack @crybaby-blue-blog, @wingedgothapricot, @ssimelttilgniht @2pacacabra @pauldanosgf @leithatnight @hairyballs-101 @kirsteng42 @dindjarinsmut @s0ftgabby @milly-louise @aynsleywalker @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @uncassettodiricordi

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Nothing Comes Close to the Golden Coast

Description: You're on the beach because it's what your little sister wanted for her bachelorette party. One day, you can manage, right? You're not expecting to stumble right into the woman who could can change your outlook on beaches that day. But with Natasha Trace, maybe you're starting to see nothing comes close to the golden coast.

Warnings: Female! Reader, Flirting, Beaches, Mild Cursing, Natasha is too flirty for words and possibly a little dangerous

A/N: Hiya lovelies! This is a fic I wrote for @bellaireland1981 's 1K Pool Party celebration. Congratulations on 1K followers Bella! It's my first time writing a long form Phoenix x Reader fic and I hope I did Nix justice. All my love to @horseshoegirl for beta-ing this fic for me and making sure I wasn't 1) using too many commas (yes I have a problem) and 2) that this fic was flirty and fun and summery enough!

Word Count: 3617

Cross-posted to AO3 here!

Cross-posted to Wattpad here!

You like going to the beach as much as any other girl. But unlike other girls, you tend to prefer quiet, calm, clear beaches to lie on. The kind of beach where you can hear the tide coming in and the seagulls wheeling in the clear summer sky. The kind of beach where the sand is clear, and you never have to fight to find a spot to lay down your towel and where you can read without a beach ball smashing into your face. Of course, finding the clear beaches you love is far from easy. It seems like the minute the calendar hits Memorial Day, everyone in the Greater San Diego area books it to the beach for the summer. You’ve even seen people taking meetings out on the beach. But to put it bluntly, you're not one of those people.

So why are you out on this congested, loud beach today? There's only one reason: your baby sister's Bachelorette party. It was an obligation you couldn’t get out of. You love your sister, but you’re less than happy to be spending time with her and her friends. When it’s just the two of you, it feels like you’re the closest pair of siblings on the planet. But when she’s with her friends, it feels like there is a colossal, ever-widening, yawning gulf between you. Everyone calls her the pretty one while you're the practical one. In the eyes of your entire extended family, it is one of the many reasons why she's getting married at 22 when you're still single at 28. To keep the peace, you’ve been pasting a smile on your face and literally grinning and bearing it for everything she’s asked of you. Because you love her and in only a week’s time you can get a bit of a break from her (or really, from her best friend).

To make matters worse, you’re the only girl in the group wearing a one-piece suit, something flattering yet mostly covered, without showing off your cleavage or too much of your ass.

“God, do you have to wear that old lady suit?” She'd scoffed when you walked out of your house that morning, a sunhat on your head and a sarong tied around your waist to complement the deep maroon one-piece you’d pulled out to wear. “Please tell me you have a bikini you can go wear instead. If you'd told me, I would have brought you one of mine!”

As if you'd have ever worn a bikini of hers. Your younger sister is thin, model thin, with a narrow waist and perfectly perky A-cups, which look fantastic in the hot pink bikini she's wearing today. She's got the physique that makes men look a little stupid. Already, there is a pack of unfairly pretty men who have gone a little cross-eyed when your sister and her friends walked by. In contrast, you're shorter and curvier, your hair dark where hers is blonde, and the ultimate introvert to her bubbly extrovert.

You aren't even her maid of honor at her wedding - that particular honor belongs to her best friend - yes, the aforementioned obnoxious Sally herself. It's not as if anyone has even noticed you're not having the time of your life in the water. After all, why would they? Who wants the babysitter hanging around you when you're trying to have fun? It's the role you've been playing since your sister was born, and you're sure you'll play it again once your sister has kids. For now, all you can do is stay secluded under your umbrella and try to read a little despite the noise. At least it is a little emptier on the beach now as the sun sinks slowly across the sky.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

The voice is male, filled with all the surety of a man who knows what he wants and has never failed to get it. Your eyes are rolling before your head rises from your book. Your sister and Sally are under the umbrella next to you, and unsurprisingly, that comment was targeted at the two of them. You're pretty sure they are two of the group who were tossing around not one but two footballs on the beach.

“Two pretty things like you look like you could use a drink.”

It's the blonde, tall with green eyes, and a shit-eating grin, who makes the offer. And to your disbelief, it looks like your sister is going to take these guys up on their offer.

“We'd love to!”

Is she thinking at all? Before you can stop yourself, you're speaking.

“Can I talk to you, Vicky?”

“The fuck do you need to talk to her for?”

Sally's growling at you, her arms crossed under her chest in a way that accentuates the cleavage already threatening to break free of her string bikini. Your cheeks flush as the two men glance between you and her, discerning gazes flip-flopping between you and her at heated words.

“You're her sister, not the fucking morality police. We're having drinks with them. Either you can join us, or you can glare disapprovingly. But don't you dare tell us what we can and cannot do.”

“You're such a fucking stick in the mud. I don’t get why the hell you came with us. Why are you always coming out with us, anyway? I mean, I’d have had a life by the time I was your age, but well, I guess you're even too boring for that.”

You're left gaping at Sally and your sister as they walk away. The words don't hurt, not really. You've been hearing a version of them for years, ever since Sally and Vicky decided they didn't like having you shadow them. Of course, they don't believe you when you say you'd rather do anything other than join them while they get up to all the bullshit they do. Once upon a time, Vicky used to defend you. Obviously, those days are long gone.

It doesn't mean you won't still watch out for your sister, though. Call it some sort of sickening nostalgia for the days when you and her were close once, chasing each other around playing unicorns in your backyard. Call it affection for the little girl who used to follow along behind you, repeating everything you said with a lisp. Call it love for your sister who you would once do anything for - would still do anything for.

Of course, you immediately realize the situation is far different than you thought it would be. Because there aren't just two incredibly hot men, but ten. Before you can blink, they're all over Vicky, Sally and their other friends. Somebody has sparked up a bonfire, and you gravitate to the hot flames despite yourself. You're a little chilled after being out in the hot sun all day. As the sun sets over the sea, one of them nestles a Bluetooth speaker into the sand and turns the music up. 

California Gurls, we're unforgettable,

Daisy Dukes, bikinis on top

Whoever made this playlist needs better taste in music. Or at least they need to pick something which you haven't heard on the radio every day of the summer in 2010. As it is, it will be stuck in your head for days.

“This song sucks, huh?”

You jump at the voice near your ear, stumbling and nearly face-planting in the sand. You have the kind of face which shows your emotions plainly, you've always been told so. Now someone has noticed, and you hope this person won’t throw you under the bus like all of Vicky’s friends. You pretend it’s just the song as you turn around with a smile pasted across your face.

“It's the worst!”

You're sure you have other things to say, but they disappear from your head like smoke when you see the woman who is talking to you. She's gorgeous, whiskey eyes flickering gold with the bonfire's flames. She's absolutely beautiful, and it feels a little like you're in an alternate universe. There's a cool breeze coming off the water, and in addition to the salt from the sea, you can smell hibiscus in the air. It has to be from her perfume, you note vacantly.

There's humor in her eyes as she stands beside you, surveying the others around the bonfire just like you are. You can see your sister in the distance, dancing with the blonde who asked if she wanted a drink. She looks like she’s well on her way to becoming completely drunk, but you don’t care. Vicky’s an adult. She made her own decisions, and she can stand by them. All of your attention is on the brunette in front of you. She holds out a bottle to you, condensation dripping over her fingers.

“I thought you could use a drink.”

“Thanks.”

The drink in question is a bottle of soda, ice cold.

“I, uhh…” She looks a little sheepish, some of her confidence draining away as you look inquiringly at her. “I wasn’t sure how else to get you to talk to me.”

“W-why wouldn’t I talk to you?” 

She grins ruefully, “Because you've been glaring at Bagman and your friends since you walked over here?”

“And, you don't look like you're having much fun.”

“Fun…” You sigh, "is a word for it. And we're not friends.”

“Younger sister?”

You laugh, “Is it that obvious?”

“You're a good sister, coming out with her and her friends like this.” 

Her innocent words touch your heart a little bit.

“I've got two just like her. They're so sure they're grown up, but they could still need somebody to watch out for them.”

You turn excitedly, “Yes! Yes. That’s it! She's getting married next week, but there's still so much she doesn’t know yet! And she and her best friend hate that I'm here. Call it her need to be seen and treated like an adult. I'm in her bridal party and she doesn’t even want to celebrate with me. Guess everybody would pick Bagman over there over me.”

“I don't hate that you're here, you know?”

You startle a little at the frank openness of this beautiful stranger's voice.

“Why not? You don't know a single thing about me.”

“I know you’re a big sister. I know you hate Katy Perry’s California Gurls, not because the song itself is horrible, but because you’ve probably heard it a million times.”

She tugs at your hand, and you follow her as she leads you away from the bonfire, the song still blaring away. You shouldn’t follow her, you know you shouldn’t. But despite yourself,you’re curious. There’s something about her you need to know more of. Away from the bonfire, the air is cool, and crisp. The beach feels swept clean the further you walk.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you planned this.” 

You crack open the soda and take a sip, pretending not to feel dark eyes on the side of your face.

“I didn’t plan it.” She chuckles a little, playing with your fingers. “All I wanted was to keep talking. I think I owe you a few more things I know about you, anyways.”

Your heart warms as she shrugs out of the hoodie and lays it over the sand. She sprawls down with a grace you couldn't emulate if you tried, all long, lean muscles exuding strength and power. You feel awkward in contrast, self-conscious as you try to sit on as much of the hoodie as you can without sprawling in her lap in a way that would have you mortified and her uncomfortable. But you can still feel her, warm and solid, as she retakes your hand. It’s comforting, the light touch, the calluses at her fingertips making goosebumps rise over your arms. Her perfume smells different this close, the light scent of summer hibiscus melting into roses and morning dew. It’s addicting.

“Y-you mentioned there were a couple more things you knew about me?” 

The words leave you in a whisper, tripping over each other as they drop off your tongue.

Her laugh is husky and warm, and for one moment, all you want is for her to make that wondrous sound again. But you quell that particular impulse. After all, no matter how weak you are for this woman, you barely know her. You won't be making a fool of yourself tonight.

“I think you're smart, smarter than anyone gives you credit for being. You're strong and single-minded.” She leans in conspiratorially, a smirk on her lips. “Some people would call you stubborn, but I think they're just afraid you'll leave them behind in your quest for world domination.”

“How do you know I'm gunning for world domination?” You're smiling from ear-to-ear as you ask the question.

“All the prettiest girls are. Especially the girls who bring a book to the beach for family when they'd probably rather be curled up on a window seat with a cup of tea handy.”

Your cheeks have to be crimson by now. Of all the days for an unfairly pretty woman to come up to you and flirt, she has to pick today. She’s so confident, so pretty and vivacious and all the things you never could be. In comparison, you just feel dull, like a piece of fabric bleached by the sun, until there are only the faintest hints of color left. It’s also been a really long time since anyone’s even looked twice at you.

“I-I do like reading at a window seat while it rains.” Your smile is halfway genuine now, you think. You can’t keep volunteering bits of information about yourself without getting some info from her in turn.

“What do you like doing in your spare time?”

Maybe you picked the wrong question to ask because her easy smile drops faster than you can blink. The small wrinkles at the corners of her eyes flatten out, and the dimples are so deep you’ve been wanting to kiss them since you saw them disappear as her smile does. The silence between you isn’t comfortable anymore. It’s awkward, a discordantly awkward tone spoiling the harmony of the moments before.

“I don’t have much spare time. Or hobbies.”

“I’m sorry.”

You’re babbling before the apology has left your lips, mind speeding at a hundred miles per hour at the thought you’ve somehow managed to insult the one person who’s wanted to talk to you all night. You’re standing and turning to head back to the bonfire before she hops up next to you.

“Whoa, whoa.” Her hands are hot as they make contact with your upper arms. “I’m not angry at you. I dunno if you heard what those meatheads were saying when they were posturing to your sister and her friends earlier, but I’m a Naval Aviator.”

“It doesn’t leave a lot of time for hobbies.”

“So, what do you do with your free time?” 

She’s so close you can feel the heat of her skin.

“Most of my free time is spent at the gym. It takes hard work to look this good.” 

You giggle a little as she tugs your hands until they’re flat against her toned stomach. The muscles twitch under your fingers a little, and you feel light-headed. Is she really flirting with you? You? 

“Not everyone can read books and look as good as you do.”

“What else do you do?” Your voice is weak, barely audible over the rushing waves, but she hears you anyway.

“Sleep. Try to read. Though it’s harder to concentrate when you’re surrounded by hundreds of lonely, horny men than when you’re sitting in a window seat.”

She smirks a little, leaning closer then. 

“And I definitely spend a lot of time daydreaming about a pretty bookworm in my bed to keep me warm at night.”

“O-oh.”

Your face has to be crimson by now. It feels so hot. The dark ocean seems way too alluring, if only for a cold reality check. There’s no way this gorgeous, smart, sexy woman is hitting on you. There’s no way. Maybe if you keep saying it over and over, it will be a reality instead of what your delusional mind is coming up with.

“Sadly, there hasn’t been a pretty bookworm in my bed in a while.” 

The smile on her face falls, the motes of color swirling in her hypnotic eyes, fracturing into crystals at the words. 

“None of them can take the long days away, no dates, little contact. Maybe one day I’ll find the right bookworm for me. Unless…”

Her arm has found its way around your shoulders, the warm lines of her body searing into you.

“Well, this is a silly question, but would you maybe like to grab a coffee sometime? Get to know each other better?”

You want to say yes. More than anything you want to. But you can’t bring yourself to accept her invitation, not when you have more questions than answers.

“W-why me?”

Her lips are warm even through the material of your half-damp swimsuit as she presses a kiss to your shoulder.

“You’re different from the other girls I talk to.” 

You’re unsure how to respond, half afraid she will go on and on about how boring and dull you are. All of the others you’ve dated certainly have. They expect one of the standard sexy-librarian types when they meet you and find out you like to read. They’re always disappointed when the truth they come to see couldn’t be any further from what they imagine. 

“You’re so beautiful,” she sighs. “I swear I nearly got hit on the head with one of the footballs when I saw you walk out onto the beach and sit under your umbrella.”

“You missed it, I'm sure, but those goofballs in my squadron were laughing at me for hours.” 

There's a slight pink tinge to her cheeks as she leans back. You miss her the minute you lose her warmth.

“I um…” She runs a hand, long-fingered and pretty (why the hell are even her hands so pretty), through her hair. “I'm pretty sure that's why those two walked up to your sister and her friend.”

“They wanted me to come to the bonfire tonight?”

You're pretty sure your mouth is wide open at this point. 

“Yeah. Though I should say, I wanted an excuse to talk to the prettiest woman I've ever seen. And maybe flirt with her a little. And maybe get her to agree to go out with me.”

“How is this clever plan of yours working for you?” 

Your voice is a whisper again as you peer over your shoulder at her. 

“You don’t know my name. You don't even know if you're my type.” 

It takes every bit of courage to banter lightly with her.

“I think it's going pretty well. After all, I've got you sitting here with me instead of out there with those idiots. And I'd very much like your name.”

You smile despite yourself as you tell her your name, getting hers in turn: Natasha Trace, callsign Phoenix. Her callsign fits her fierce and confident personality.

“So what do you say about getting coffee with me sometime?”

Just before you're about to respond, you hear your name called from the bonfire. It's one of Vicky's friends calling for you and pointing at your sister. She's drunk, and you can tell she's minutes away from courting an indecent exposure charge. She's sitting on Bagman's lap and doing her best to eat his face right off. He seems like a more than willing participant. Your concerns have more to do with how her bikini is moving, how she’s only moments away from an indecent exposure charge.

“Fuck.” 

You turn to Natasha and smile. “I'm really sorry, but I have to…”

You make a vague gesture in your sister's direction.

“I understand. She needs you right now.”

You nod and begin to walk away, pulling your coverup out of your bag. But your feet don't let you move very far. What kind of person would you be if you let the best thing that's ever happened to you slip through your fingers so easily? You can't let her slip away. So you rummage in your bag for one of the notebooks you always carry with you and scrawl your phone number down on it, ripping the page away.

She looks surprised to see you again when you catapult yourself into her arms and kiss her soft lips. She tastes like the beer she was drinking earlier, and as her arms wrap around your waist, you sink into the kiss a little bit more. You feel like you never want to leave. Yet you know the longer you stay here kissing Natasha, the more time your sister has to make situations worse. Her friends may be cheering her on, but her fiancé won't be quite so magnanimous.

When you pull away, her cheeks are the same pink as earlier. Her lips are kiss-swollen, and her eyes are bright. You're sure yours are the same.

“Let's get that coffee, Natasha.”

You press the paper into her hands and hurry back up to the beach to take care of your sister. In the hilarity of pulling her away from Bagman and wrestling her into your coverup, you can feel eyes on you. They track you until you drive away.

There's a text on your phone when you get home.

Let's get that coffee tomorrow morning. Do you know Madison's Cafe? I'd very much like to kiss you again.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN AO3, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun

@roosterforme @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @chaoticassidy

@kmc1989

[luveline]

i love the idea of Eddie in the zombie au!!!! i think you've mentioned the reader being rougher/tougher in this one and maybe they meet already in the campus or sometime on the road but r has been on their own for a while and Eddie is like the first person they can rely on in some time??

thank you for your request!! i apologise I wrote this as fem!reader before I realised you said ‘they’ later on, so if that isn’t okay with you please let me know/ send another request! <3

Eddie's trying not to stare at you, but he finds you attractive in the awe-striking way. You're ignoring his staring, crouched down by the crate beside him, counting cans under your breath. 

"Seventy two," you say. "How many did you say we needed to eat every day, Eds?"

You really shouldn't call him Eds. You're giving him a you-shaped complex, what with your nice smile (though he doesn't get to see it all the time) and your quite frankly distracting muscles. You're tougher than Eddie by far. He can't believe he had to end up in the middle of the apocalypse to find his dream girl, but here you are. 

"Eddie," you say, nudging him. "What was the math?" 

"Well, calorific intake wise, uh… it's twenty five hundred for men and twenty for women, but that didn't feel fair. It depends on what's in the cans–" 

"You said all this already," you say, "could I get the short answer?" 

"Like, three if we want to stay healthy-ish. Three each, so six a day." 

"Awesome. Twelve days, then." 

"But I think we should eat two. You know, insurance until we can go back for that second crate." 

You sit down on your ass heavily. "Okay, awesome. When are we going back? Tonight?" 

"You have a sprained wrist." 

You roll it in his face. "This old thing? She's fine." 

"It's not fine. Your wrist was the size of a coconut three days ago."

"Eddie, you treat me like a baby," you say. 

You stretch out onto his sheets and his twin mattress on the floor, which is great, he can't wait for the agony of being able to smell you tonight on his pillow, he really can't. You've taken your shoes off for once, three pairs of socks to your calves over your jeans like a weirdo and two t-shirts worn as though that's a regular thing to do. You haven't once needed Eddie's help since he found you, nor has he really needed yours, but you've looked out for him without complaint, sharing your food, letting him follow you from place to place. 

He thinks, despite your tougher persona, that you quite like the company. You like him, which is brilliant, because Eddie's lowkey planning your wedding in his head. Something classy, barefoot on the beach maybe, he won't wear a suit (when would he ever) and you probably wouldn't want to wear a white dress, but he's sure there's something you'd like. 

"You have your head in the clouds again," you say. 

"No," he denies. 

He lays back on your mattress and tries to move aside your dirty t-shirt without chasing a fuss. You're not shy about privacy, as in, you don't want any. Obviously you don't force him to bear all nor do you force him to see anything he doesn't want to see, but it's been a shock sometimes to turn around and find you've taken off your shirt to lounge in your bra. The summer heat is disgusting, layer thick and suffocating as insulation no matter how many windows you risk opening in the house above. 

"Don't be mean, tell me what you're thinking about," you say. 

Where to start? Your tight biceps, your theoretical wedding, or your shirtlessness? 

"I was thinking we shouldn't bother going back tonight for the second crate. We need to sleep. I need to feel like a normal person." 

"You're far from normal." 

"Says you." 

"If I were a boy," you say, "you wouldn't think anything about it. I'd be super normal." 

"It's not about being a girl," he says, grabbing one of your pillows to throw at you. You grab it quickly and throw it straight back. 

"What is it about, jerk?" you ask. 

"I don't care if you're a girl, I care that you're, like, the bravest person I've ever met." 

"Now I feel bad for chucking a pillow at you." 

"You're really cool. So, can we please go to bed early?" 

"Oh, right. Yeah, swap with me. Sorry if I made your bed smell bad. Tomorrow we need to find some more soap." 

"You don't smell bad," he says. "You know I usually tell you." 

It's not fun or pleasant to run out of deodorant these days. You must keep a small pharmacy in your bag, but soap is on rations. 

"You do tell me. Eddie…" You sit up. "I really don't smell bad?" 

"Not today." 

"I can give you a hug, then?" you ask. 

"Sorry?" 

"Eddie. I've met lots of people since the end of the world," —you sit up on knees, your hands outstretched gently, fingers apart— "like, so many people, but you're the only person I ever stayed with, because you're good, and you're nice. I trust you to take care of me, and I really want to give you a hug." 

"I don't think you need taking care of," he mumbles. 

You shuffle toward him where he hikes on elbows. Without shame, you wrap your arms around him and hug him close. "But if I needed you to, you would… Right?" 

"Right," he says. He starts carefully but his body must realise someone's close, someone who wants to be held, and suddenly he's hugging you tightly, his back straining in the position. He holds you far longer than he should, worried you'll pull away and see his blushing face. "Of course I would. You're the last person I'd imagine needing looking after, but yeah, I'd do it. I'd love to do it."

"Well," you say quietly, adjusting your cheek against his, "what are we going to do about my wrist?" 

"It's hurting, isn't it? I fucking knew it." 

You lean back onto your haunches, laughing. "Like a bitch. Not when you were squeezing it." 

"You need pressure. I'll wrap a bandage around it. You'll be fine in a day or two." 

You stand up in search of the first aid kit no doubt. Eddie smiles like a loon while your back is turned, flustered by your warm hug and soft touches. It was better than he's pictured. He wonders when you'll hug him again. 

"Eddie? I'm really sorry, but you smell bad." 

"Yikes," he says. Kill me now, he thinks. "Thanks for your honesty." 

You laugh. "Welcome." 

[fanfictiongirlie]

Twilight: Some Soulmate - Chapter Ten

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x Reader

Description: Y/N a member of the Cullen family is imprinted on by one of the wolves, she is shocked, he is shocked. She is struggling with drinking animal blood over human, and he is disgusted by a vampire for a soulmate… But maybe it could work..?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1,083

I was more nervous than I had ever been in my entire life. And I had lived through wars, and angry mobs who wanted to kill me. 

Today was the day I would be meeting the other wolves, Paul's family basically. I hadn't left Paul's since Edward and Bella's wedding night, well, I left to go pack some clothes, though at night Paul insisted I wore one of his shirts, I wore a pair of my shorts with it, and according to Paul, I looked beyond sexy. 

Paul was still sleeping when I decided to leave the bed, it took a second, because his arms were around me tight. I dressed in his bathroom quickly, wearing my 'hunting' outfit as I called it. It was a pair of black leggings and a black polo shirt. I left the bathroom to come back into the bedroom, and Paul was awake, yawning and stretching. 

"Are you ready for today?" He asked me, I nodded and leant over to kiss his cheek. 

"I'll be back soon" I smiled, sitting down to slip my shoes on. 

"Where are you going?" He asked, with a frown. 

"I need to feed" I smiled, he nodded, frowning. He hated that I had to feed on blood to live, I could feel it inside of him. I wish I could change for him. 

I reach over and kiss him again, and then I leave through the window. I ran off into the woods, I'd had to go back into my land to feed, I wandered around, until I ran into Rosalie and Emmett feeding. They had found a deer and were feeding on it. 

"Hey" I smiled

"Want some?" Emmett grinned, his entire mouth covered in blood. I laughed and crouched down with them, baring my fangs I dropped down and started drinking from the animals neck. 

Once I was done, I stood up, and looked down, I was covered in blood, feeding was a messy job. 

"Are you going back to Pauls?" Rosalie asked, I shook my head.

"Not covered in blood, he would probably run a mile" I say, they smile at me, I could feel that they felt bad for me.. Despite Paul loving me, I was still the thing he hated most in the world. 

We ran back to the house, I showered quickly and joined Esme and Carlisle in the kitchen before I left for Paul's again. I also dressed in a long pair of jeans, and a top that was long sleeved top, I wasn't sure how the other wolves would react to me sparkling. 

"I've missed you" Esme whispered as she hugged me. 

"I've missed you too" I say "I've got to go again, I'm spending the day with Paul and the wolves today" 

"Excited?" Carlisle asked, chuckling. 

I shook my head "Nervous" 

I hugged them both, and left the house and sped back to Paul's, he greeted me by hugging me tightly. I think maybe I was gone for longer than what he thought. 

"Ready love?" He asked. 

"Nope" I answered, he laughed and took my hand, and we started walking towards the beach together. Luckily it wasn't sunny today, it felt like it was going to rain. 

"What if they don't like me?" I asked "Actually they probably won't like me"

"Stop worrying love" He smiled, holding my hand tighter. 

We soon reached the beach, and the huge group of men, and a few women were gathered, looking towards us.

Paul let go of my hand and ran towards the boys, they all jumped into a hug.  I stood behind, I felt like an intruder here.. 

"Y/N come over" Emily smiled towards me, I nervously walked forward, until I standing right next to the group. They were all staring at me. 

"Hi" I mumbled, I noticed Paul looking at me with his lovely soft eyes. 

"Guys, this is Y/N, my girlfriend" He said, putting his arm around my waist. Even through my top I could feel the heat from his arm, it made me feel safe. There was a mumble of hello's. And a super happy hello from Seth, he also stepped forward and hugged me tightly, surprising me. 

"Let's play some ball!" Paul smiled, running off with the group of males, leaving me with the girls, Leah glared at me. 

"Let's sit" Emily smiled, I followed her as she walked towards a blanket laid out on the sand. 

We watched the boys play football for a little while, until Sam came over and sat with Emily hugging her. Leah left to go sit with Jacob, Embry, and Seth. 

Paul ran over and tackled me, kissing my jaw as he pinned me down, I was giggling, as I pushed back and pinned him. We stopped and sat leaning against one another. 

"Who's that little girl with..?" I didn't know the man's name.

"That's Quil, and my niece Claire" Emily explained. 

"She's Quil's imprint" Paul added. I looked at him confused, she was a little girl?

"Remember, when a wolf imprints, it isn't always romantic" Sam explained. I nodded, not quite understanding. 

"Why do wolves imprint?" I ask. 

"We're not really sure why, but our elders think we imprint with the best person to carry on our line with us" Sam explained, confusing me further. 

"Suppose I ruin that theory" I say, frowning. I took Paul's hand in mine, feeling the warmth take me, as I fiddle with his fingers. 

"Whatcha mean?" Paul asked, holding my hands tighter, I could feel his confusion towards me, he hadn't thought about it yet.. I had. If Paul wanted to be with me for the rest of his life, it would be missing many things. 

"Well I can't carry your line on Paul" I say, not looking at his face. I had always wanted children was I was little, but I'm a vampire, that wasn't a possibility. And I wouldn't feel ok adopting, because there were two routes, one I watch them die, and two I turn them into a vampire. I couldn't do that.. 

"I guess I never thought about that" He said, his hand was still linked with mine, I think it was holding onto me tighter. 

"Well you're both still early days, you shouldn't worry about that now" Emily smiled to the both of us.. I felt a dark pit inside of me. I felt like I couldn't give Paul a good life.. and he deserved a good life.. I suddenly felt lost. 

Previous Part - Next Part

[follows-the-bees]

I did an analysis of the meaning of Ed touching Stede's chest, hand over heart, here.

But now I wanna talk about the meaning of face touches - and Ed's outfits - across both seasons.

Bathtub Comfort

The first time Stede touches Ed's face is when Ed is seeking comfort. After he opens up about him being the Kraken, killing his dad and his plan to kill him, Stede offers a comforting shoulder squeeze and Ed deepens it by lying his head against Stede's hand. It is an intimate moment of vulnerability for both, especially Ed and he doesn't hesitate to accept it.

While Ed is wearing his Blackbeard outfit here, he is also covered in Stede's robe, like just the thought of Stede's presence can be a shield to the outside world and Ed's internal emotional struggle. And to have Stede come in and physically touch him, his face, Ed is completely comfortable in this combination of both of them, their vulnerability.

This Is Happening

In the next episode, Stede points out food in Ed's beard and when Ed can't find it, Stede asks permission to take it out. He doesn't fully reach for it until Ed gives permission (the amount of consent between these two, especially in the second season is so special to me) and leans forward (the classic Ed leans toward Stede movement that continues throughout the show.)

Ed is also not wearing his full Blackbeard outfit here, he has stripped down to just a simple purple T-shirt and pants. And we know that purple comes out as Ed's feelings for Stede deepen. So in this moment, Ed is more Ed than Blackbeard.

This is a soft, tender moment that shows the growing feelings between them. Stede's voice is as soft as his reach and touch while Ed looks at Stede so fondly, openly vulnerable.

Beach Kiss Eins

The first time Ed touches Stede's face, is during their first kiss. As soon as Stede responds, Ed moves his hand to his neck and down to his chest. And the pattern of vulnerability, closeness, and gentleness continues.

Neither of them are wearing their normal clothes here. They are wearing uniform, tan ill-fitting sacks (foreshadowing). Their first kiss is not only bare with emotional intimacy but of their identities. They aren't Blackbeard and the Gentleman Pirate during this moment, they are Ed and Stede, two men in love for probably the first time, sitting on a beach, the combination of land and sea.

Let's move to Season Two.

Cake Toppers

Oh, the cake toppers. Those damn cake toppers. They are the embodiment of the two of them to Ed, who caresses the wedding cake topper resembling Stede so much that he rubs some of the paint off. And just like every touch between the two of them so far, Ed lightly grazes the figure in a tentative but gentle way that shows he still has deep feelings for this man no matter how many raids, rhino horn, or self abusive behavior he tries to use to drown out his pain and the Kraken persona that he has put on like a sea monster lost in the deep dark depths of the sea.

Gif credit

Stede's Dream

In Stede's dream about their reunion, the two comically Monty Python (can we call them Monty Pyrates from now on?) run down the beach and full body collide against each other rolling to get on their sides, where Ed is the one to reach forward and touch Stede's face. This is Stede remembering how Ed did the same thing during their first kiss and he is recreating this moment in a fairytale fashion.

Their clothing is once again notable. Stede is wearing a more traditional pirate costume, earring, and has grown a beard. While we saw sword training last season between the two of them, Stede does not truly start wearing one until later in the second season. This is him trying to become who he thinks Ed would want, not the bumbling semi-pirate, but the confident, killing pirate with facial hair and more down-to-earth look. Ed is not only portrayed in his traditional garb but he has his old beard is back, he is the version that Stede first fell in love with. (Stede loves Ed as Ed though, no matter what he wears.)

Moonlight Serenade

Their first kiss under the moonlight is tentative and is a mirror of the moon scene in season one.

This is the first time that Stede touches Ed's face during kissing of his own volition. Even when he was trying to bring Ed back to life in episode three, he held his hand and pounded on his chest, over his heart, trying to shock it into fully beating to life.

He's been dreaming of Ed as touching his face again like the first kiss, but instead Stede is the one who moves his hand to Ed's face, and deepens the kiss. Because Stede is ready for this, and he wants to show Ed that he is here, he is committed to them. It is Ed who pulls away and asks to take it slow, because he is the one who has to heal in this scenario. This is his season, his season to heal, grow, and learn to reconcile all three sides of his being.

When Ed pulls back, Stede immediately responds, taking his hands off Ed to respect his wishes. And he only touches him again after gaining consent to hold his hand. Once again, we are treated to their gentleness, hesitancy, but the underlying love they have for each other is present in every cradle, fingers through hair, consent.

Instead of like the first season where they walk away in different directions, looking back at each other while trying to puzzle out what happened, they walk away together, toward the captain's cabin, still talking about their day and playfully playing off each other.

Once again they are not wearing their normal clothes, particularly, Ed is not wearing his Blackbeard outfit. He is wearing a light-colored onesie made from a potato sack as well as a cat bell. A bell he purposefully makes ring in an adorable shoulder shake to let Stede know that he is coming in for a kiss - unlike their first one, where he almost surprises Stede with it. We don't see it, but I bet Ed thought that maybe if he didn't surprise him, if he hadn't kissed him but kept talking, Stede wouldn't have left him. He probably blamed himself for that, so he made sure this time that Stede knew what was happening beforehand.

Calypso's Birthday

They are both physically injured from Ned Low's torture as well as in mental distress here. Stede is having flashbacks of his childhood and blood on his face because this is the first time he has purposely gotten blood on his hands. Ed is upset at seeing Stede take this step, thinking that he has corrupted him. But once again, they both consent to this, Stede does not even move forward or kiss Ed until Ed nods his head and then physically pulls Stede against him. This kiss is a combination of the first two. Ed's hand wraps around and on Stede's neck like the beach one, while Stede's hand snakes its way into Ed's hair when he deepens the kiss. This is the first and only time we see their bodies align and touch at more than just the contact of hands and lips.

Later on we see both of them in a different state of undress. Ed's hair is completely down, and he's once again in a t-shirt, stripped down emotionally and looking at Stede like he's the center of the world as the colors of their love - red and purple - surround them, until Ed looks directly at Stede and the burst of yellow - his lighthouse - shines bright. Stede is already shirtless at this part, his vulnerability bared skin-surface level.

Beach Kiss Zwei

And of course, we reach the finale, where In general the number of touches has escalated; they have chosen each other, chosen to give this a try. Ed emerges out of the ocean and all three themes (the Kraken, Blackbeard, and Ed) play all in a row, because he took what Pop-Pop said to heart and embraced all three of his identities to save and protect his loved ones.

One hand is on Stede's face almost the entire time they are reunited on the beach, and after the first kiss and apology, Ed moves both hands to Stede's face, using that leverage to pull him in for a kiss, holding onto him for dear life. He doesn't let go until Stede responds to his "I love you" reassuring Ed that he knows that, and Ed can drop his worry about Stede not knowing/hearing those words before that moment. Ed smiles and moves his hands down, and if they weren't in the middle of a battle, he would have wrapped his arms around him, pulled him in to align with his body, and kissed him again.

I particularly love this one because we can see the desperation, especially for Ed during this moment. He clearly doesn't want to stop touching Stede, only doing so out of necessity at the end. Stede is quiet, that calmness that Ed needs, just enjoying being in Ed's presence "breathing the same air."

This is the first time that they are wearing their full identities while kissing. Covered in blood, having just dropped weapons used to kill soldiers to get to each other, only to touch and kiss each other with softness and love but also desperation.

This is also the first time they openly embrace each other. All season, things have been slightly off while they take it slow, try to figure out their status together and separate. They stand apart, but still facing/bodies turned toward each other, only a few inches away. And they never touch in the presence of others, instead only kissing in the candlelight of the captain's cabin and under the moonlight. But now they are under the bright sun in front of The Pirate Queen and countless red shirts, two who were making fun of the letter Stede wrote Ed before Ed dispatched them. And Ed even reaches over later to put his hand on Stede's shoulder in front of Zheng, offering him comfort and saying yes babe, I see you, don't worry.

They kiss on the beach!! combining the sea and the land - the lighthouse, kraken, merman, flightless birds now grounded- they are the MERMEN.

Gif credits

Overall, the touches exchanged between Ed and Stede are all laced in emotion, vulnerable. And as their relationship progresses, these touches also evolve enough that by the end, kissing or touching each other's face no longer needs a pause and explicit consent because they are comfortable enough to know each other and their boundaries.

But there is something particular about the face touching between them. It shows a higher level of intimacy and romance that is at the heart of our mythical beings who have finally found each other and met in the middle, combining land and sea.

I didn't include the touches previous to the bathtub, like Ed hugging Stede after the lighthouse fuckery, or during the party, first moon scene, because I wanted to focus on the face touching primarily since it offers more depth to their relationship. I did this from memory, so I apologize if I missed any.

[moonspirit]

can we get some aruani wedding headcanons please 🙏👀

Hello!

But AruAni wedding headcanons 🥺

I like to think that Aruani's "real" wedding, i.e. the one that's not there just for a political display will be a very quiet one with just their closest friends: the Ambassadors + Levi & Co.

Well.... As quiet as it can be, anyway. Jean, Reiner, Connie and Gabi are ready to bring the house down.

It will be a open-air seaside wedding! Either a remote beach or a cliff overlooking the sea, complete with the wind whipping at their clothes and the sea stretching vast and wide, endless to the horizon. Big, beautiful clouds float in the sky, changing colours as the day draws on.

Whether sandy beach or rock-studded grassy cliffside, it means Annie's wedding dress will be short-with the hem somewhere around the calves or below knee-for ease of movement. She's quite happy with that, really. The easier it is to manspread, the better.

But the rest of the dress is a fucking pain in the ass. Stupid strapless bra, stupid underwires, stupid everything. If she could, she'd have gotten married in a hoodie and shorts.

She can't seem to get rid of Hitch and Pieck's fussing over her hair and clothes and pooh-poohs their hard work (secretly she's grateful because she couldn't have done shit on her own).

Meanwhile Armin is a panicky, teary, sobbing MESS.

He's also driving Jean nuts with his fidgeting - everything on his person has to be perfect for Annie! Perfect tie! Perfect suit! Perfect flower-in-pocket thingy! It gets so bad to the point that Mikasa has to tie him up with rope and make him sit still in a corner.

Hitch has also been drinking right from sunrise and shows no signs of stopping. After bothering Annie, she's taken to sitting at a table and admiring everyone that passes by, man or woman. Reiner is very scared of her.

Onyankopon is officiating and he's got the perfect vows ready and whatnot.

Levi doesn't want wine, he wants TEA, and he's satisfied when he's got it. He also watches everyone around him in their suits and dresses, and feels a tad sad that his kids are all so grown up now.

Not very sad when Gabi's cheekily threatening to wheel him into the sea or tip him off the cliff tho. RIP Papa Levi, your parenthood will never cease.

Close to the time of the wedding, Armin's nervous and jumpy in his room, head in his hands and telling himself to calm down. Nobody understands why he's so anxious. (The real reason is because he's minutes away from being called "Annie's Husband" and the poor boy's so happy he's having heart palpitations).

I think there has to be a secret medical team on standby.

Annie, on the other hand, is very quiet in her room, sitting before the mirror. On either side of her are Pieck and Hitch, also quiet after their endless teasing. Annie's dazed. This is really happening? A day has come when she's actually getting married? She didn't even think she'd live this long, but here's a big bouquet in her hand and the dress she's wearing is finely tailored. Pretty. Beautiful.

After a long silence staring at each other through the mirror, the three of them start crying.

But nevermind any of that. The only one doing the real heavy work here is Mikasa, alternating between Armin's room and Annie's, telling them both firmly "You can do this." like it's a mission.

At the flowery arch altar(?) thingy, Armin's ready to receive Annie and so anxious he's sweating bullets.

But when Annie makes her appearance, being walked by Connie (ye, he's the best), there are TWO men who burst into tears. None other than the bridegroom and also Reiner, because he's pathetic and emotional.

It's a bit annoying really.

Also Armin's maybe struggling to breathe. Somebody please check his pulse.

But can anyone really blame him tho? She's BEAUTIFUL!!!!! Outshining the glittering sea.

Not only him tho. The blush on Annie's face is powered by the fucking sun.

And can anyone blame her?! He's DASHING!! It should be criminal for a man to look that good.

(*whispers* she's gonna jump him later in the night before he's even unbuttoned his suit)

When Annie meets Armin at the altar, Mikasa's the one that's the most proud. She's got tears in her eyes. It's a beautiful wedding, and these two are so dreadfully, horribly, terribly in love. There's a small pang of sadness in her but overall, she's incredibly happy for her little brother.

When prompted for the "I do's", Annie's a bit breathless when she says it while Armin's honestly doing his best not to say it before Onyankopon's even asked him.

The kiss is suspiciously too innocent.

Pieck loudly snickers from the back that they shouldn't be anywhere near the newlyweds that night.

The post-wedding shenanigans are insane!!!!!

DANCING AND DRINKING EVERYWHERE!! Best man and Best Woman speeches, plenty of embarrassing flashback stories, plenty of laughter, plenty of everyone getting very pissed off at each other.

If it's by the beach, the boys carry Armin off and throw him into the sea.

The same with Annie tho Mikasa tells her to wear some granny panties in advance. Hitch isn't having any of it. The fuck do you mean granny panties?! Why?! Well, to protect against sand in the coochie ofc. Hitch still won't have it because ugly.

FUCK THE WEDDING SUITS AND DRESSES AND EVERYTHING! ITS TIME TO SPLASH AROUND IN THE WATER!!!!

Everyone is soggy and wet and very hot

The Ackermans too are no match for the waves. SOGGY AND WET AND HAPPY, I TELL YOU!!!!

... Ah, there is a wedding cake.

But Connie mixes up birthday and wedding etiquette and ends up slapping it on Aruani's faces.

Falco accidentally drinks alcohol again and passes out. Why is he always accidentally getting wine in his mouth? Smh.

To be as annoying as possible, everyone keeps Armin and Annie away from each other as best as they can. Not a moment together! CRIMINAL!

When they assemble to take a photo together, the photographer spends at least 20 minutes under the camera cloth ordering adjustments in their positions. It's frustrating. Reiner's boobs are blocking everything else, ugh. Fucking hell, Reiner.

(But when the photo finally comes out, days later, it's so beautiful. All of them, grinning bright and some caught mid-laugh, hair and clothes windblown, flowers in their hands, holding each other close, sunlit and golden and so very happy.)

Well into the night and finally alone at last, Annie finds, that instead of being relieved, she's even MORE annoyed.

Because Armin's being insufferable.

He's all "wife this" and "wife that" and "my beautiful pretty adorable wife" and she's so embarrassed she could just. die.

But no. No die. Only wedding night activities 🌚🌝.

[chiefdirector]

Ghosts | Charles Xavier | X-Men

No.25: “why didn’t you save me?”

There was many things wrong with the scene in front of Charles but three stood out to him the most.

First being that he and Erik were in the same vicinity and were not actively trying to bring each other to ruin. It had been a long time since they had been together amicably, if the circumstance had been different, Charles may have even enjoyed this change in dynamic.

Second was that he could feel his legs. He could feel the ground under his feet and his hand brush his thigh. He could walk through the sandy beach away from Erik and towards the figure in the distance. He could stretch, and run, and be free from the confines of his wheelchair. This he did allow himself to enjoy. It had been so long since he had felt such freedom so he allowed himself the pleasure to walk towards the figure despite the fact that they faced away from him.

It was this figure that broke the illusion for him. In his mind he could justify him and Erik getting along, despite their history together, Charles could see a day in the very, very distant future that they would see eye to eye, at least on some matters, again. And the motion in his legs was explained by that experimental serum that Hank had been working on. The possibility of his legs being restored fully was such a far fetched idea after all.

But seeing her again was unexplainable.

Charles had held his wife in his arms when she died. Even through the excruciating pain of losing his legs, he held her. The same shrapnel that paralyzed him had lodged himself into her heart.

It took Charles months to come to the realisation that Erik did not mean to harm her, but by then he was long gone. Eventually, everyone began to move on with their lives. Hank was the only one left by Charles' side; Charles had spent many nights wondering why Hank stayed, he was a shell of a man without her by his side.

By the time he approached, Charles was so captivated by her presence that he didn't notice the sound of the seagulls had stopped or the smell of the salty ocean had had faded into nothing. It was only him and her left in their own little slice of paradise.

"Hello my love," He tentatively said, willing himself to move closer but finding that his legs would once again refuse to respond to his command.

"Charles." She acknowledged, her back still to him. From this distance Charles could see the intricacies of the lace of her white dress. When she was alive she never tended to wear anything so delicate, not even on her wedding day.

"You're not supposed to be here." He whispered, still stuck motionless before him. "You... you died."

"You let me die." She turned around, and for the first time since Charles buried her did he look at her once beautiful face. But now it was covered in blood cuts he could only assume were made by loose flying shrapnel. The front of her dress was only ripped and stained. She still looked like an angel, only now she looked like she had fallen from Heaven. "Why didn't you save me?"

Charles went to speak, but couldn't find the words. Or the breath. He almost began to choke but the oxygen eventually rushed back into his lungs. This peace of mercy was accompanied by God or whatever higher power in play taking away his ability to stand. Charles felt himself crumpled to the ground, once again paralysed. He thought back to the oddness of Erik's presence and whipped his head behind him to find the man but only saw black.

When his head turned back to his wife, he was greeted by the same oblivion. He tried to move forward but he couldn't move. He crumpled to the ground again and closed his eyes, hoping that he darkness would consume him like it did to his wife. But it didn't.

When he opened them again, he was greeted by the same wooden walls he knew all too well. The clock on his bedside table stuck three a.m precisely. Charles just shifted to his side, knowing that sleep would not come for him again, at least not any time soon.

Masterlist | Whumptober Masterlist

@ailesswhumptober

[runnning-outof-time]

[imagines pt.2]

MAIN MASTERLIST

Imagines Masterlist — Part 1

Last Updated: 10/14

** ALL stories are written with a Fem!Reader! **

Want to be tagged? Let me know!

All works are my own - I do not give consent to the reposting of them in any form.

——— (listed oldest -> newest) ———

— I’m Not Gonna Leave You: (Y/N)'s still having trouble with getting past her husband's injuries. Tommy assures his wife that he's not planning on leaving any time soon.

— Is That How You Remember It?: (Y/N) finds some discrepancies in the story of how they first met that Tommy tells their children…so she decides to give her own rendition of the story.

— A Call For Help…: Tommy tries to find a way to better an old flame’s current situation while also hoping to make her aware of the fact that things have changed since they last saw each other. (written through letters)

— At the Last Possible Minute: Shocked by Tommy's decision to go fight in France, (Y/N) holds all of her emotions in until the last possible minute.

— Beach Day: (Y/N) manages to pull Tommy out of the office so that they can go on a trip. Once at their destination, they waste no time and have a much needed beach day. Or: Tommy forgets everything the second he sees (Y/N) wearing his shirt. (Modern AU)

— Back To Her: It’s been years since Tommy and (Y/N) have last seen each other…will it be a bad thing now that he’s finally found his way back to her?

— Worth Breaking Plans For: Tommy Shelby never thought he'd willingly go to see a ballet…that was until he found out that (Y/N) was performing in one. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) never thought she was someone worth breaking plans for…that was until Tommy came into her life.

— Sentimental: It's (Y/N) Shelby's wedding day, and her father has to make sure she has one last thing before he walks her down the aisle. She's never seen him be so sentimental about something before. (daughter!reader)

— Thinkin’ ‘Bout Forever: (Y/N) asks Tommy a question that’s been burning in her brain for the longest time. She gets a rather surprising response.

— The Brother That Always Wins: (Y/N) is oblivious to the fact that three of the most powerful men in Birmingham are interested in her. When it's all said and done though, the brother that always wins, wins.

— Birthdays Are Better In Bed: (Y/N) starts her birthday off in the best way possible: in bed with her family.

— There’s Something About These Grounds…: Mrs Shelby takes a walk and stumbles upon a dark secret that is hidden on the grounds of Arrow House. She's given a warning about the future of her family, a warning that makes her new husband wonder if she should even leave the house at all.

— The Devil’s Voice: Tommy meets a woman at a crossroads who agrees to help him execute his business.

— Change His Ways: In which Tommy falls for a woman out of his reach and does whatever it takes to get closer to her.

— A (Debatably) Lovely Dinner: (Y/N) has her family over for a dinner that she worked so hard to prepare. Her father and uncles tell her that it tastes lovely...but are they actually thinking that? (daughter!reader)

— You Asked, I Answered: After finally working up the courage to do so, (Y/N) confesses something she's been hiding from her best friend. Tommy answers in the most Tommy way possible. (friend!reader)

— A Special Woman: (Y/N)’s big day is made extra special by one of the most important people in her life.

— Up Until You: In which Tommy Shelby realizes that he might just have someone he wants to live for.

— Talk of the Town: (Y/N)'s had enough of the whispering that always seems to happen when she's out and around Small Heath.

— Some Calm in the Midst of War: (Y/N) meets a soldier in a club. Not wanting to let go of this taste of calm amidst all of the chaos, they extend their moment of revelry into something a bit longer. (wartime)

— The Special Touch: A small, small detail brings back memories of a person in Tommy Shelby’s life that was able to do something not many can.

———

divider by @/firefly-graphics

[wishcamper]

Cassian Appreciation Week Day Six: Birthday

here's a late night submish for birthday day for @cassianappreciationweek inspired by a summer i spent in the Outer Banks and some hardcore 2017 nostalgia

You can read it here or on ao3!

Hands Down

In which Nesta avoids her life in New York, and accidentally helps Cassian avoid his birthday.

CW: brief mention of rape, addiction, and verbal abuse

The words are hushed, let's not get busted Just lay entwined here, undiscovered Safe in here from all the stupid questions "Hey, did you get some?" Man, that is so dumb Stay quiet, stay near, stay close, they can't hear So we can get some My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me So won't you kill me, so I die happy? My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury Or wear as jewelry, whichever you prefer. “Hands Down”, Dashboard Confessional

The warm blanket of the sun lay over her skin, cares drifting off with every gentle gust of the wind, gulls crying overhead instead of traffic, the smell of salt and sunscreen instead of smog.

The beach was beautiful, paradise, but mostly Nesta was just so fucking glad to be away from her life.

A Hot Girl Summer was exactly what she needed, according to her friends, at least to get the hell out of New York for the summer. There was no better way to reclaim herself than to join Emerie in her oceanside hometown, they said, to help her aging parents run the hotel they’d owned for decades on the Outer Banks. And on their days off to lounge on the sun-drenched beach drinking White Claws and talking shit and ranking the steamiest passages from their respective novels.

And, of course, checking out The Lifeguard.

They called him The Lifeguard because they didn’t know his name, but Emerie and Gwyn were too perceptive not to notice Nesta had been ogling him every chance she got. Forbidden catnip man , Gwyn sometimes called him, as he was everything Nesta denied she was attracted to even though she totally was: long hair, rough around the edges, covered in tattoos. Just admit you have a thing for men who look like they’ll ruin your life, Emerie said.

Nesta’s typical type skewed more straight-laced, finance guys and trust fund yuppies, or else the semi-starved academics who could quote Salinger but couldn’t find the clitoris. There was a comfort in knowing they’d turn out to be shitty, but it was all so fucking shallow, the idea of a couple instead of two people really into each other. In the end she got fed up, or they cheated, or some stupid argument made it clear that things were going nowhere.

It was never surprising, but the breakups always left her with a pit of self-doubt deep inside, that perhaps she was really the common denominator in all these relationships, that the treatment she got was earned.

And then there was Tomas. Her ex-fiance was different from the others, which she’d first thought was a good thing - understated, from a working-class family. Nothing electric about their dynamic, but steady, normal. He didn’t embarrass her at work events, didn’t flirt with her sisters. He would cat-sit occasionally for a friend, which she saw as a green flag. They dated for a few years without incident, and so when he proposed in front of Bethesda Fountain in Central Park, Nesta thought to herself, This is fine. 

I can make this work. I can figure out how to be happy.

Over the next year the venue was booked, dress bought, her conservative mother finally gave up on a religious ceremony. Then three months before the wedding Nesta got a DM from a girl claiming she’d slept with Tomas after meeting him at the Biergarten at The Standard. 

Nesta remembered that night vividly. Tomas had told her he wasn’t feeling well, and she’d assumed he didn’t answer her texts because he was sleeping, going so far as to send an Instacart delivery to his apartment with food and medicine.

The girl had receipts, and Nesta’s self-respect had no choice. When she’d gone to his apartment to break things off he verbally attacked her, spewing a laundry list of her worst fears. That if she’d put out more regularly, been more affectionate, a better fiance, he wouldn’t have needed to cheat on her. That what she saw as her autonomy was actually his inconvenience, and she was selfish for wanting it in the first place. Nesta remembered his face twisting with fury as if his skin was splitting open, revealing the monster who’d lived inside all along as she wondered if this was all her fault.

So she preferred to admire The Lifeguard from afar, afraid of what might emerge if she were to do something he didn’t like. Perhaps more afraid that something about her brought that side out in the men she dated, whatever flaw lay within.

They were giggling about Gwyn’s book now, a little tipsy from a few hours on the beach, the hum of a four wheeler passing by. Nesta felt the muscle between her neck and shoulder relax for the first time in months. She turned back to a juicy part in her own novel when a shadow blocked the sun, and she looked up to find The Lifeguard standing over her with a smirk on his stupid, handsome face.

“Oh it’s you! Nesta’s Life-” Gwyn said brightly, and Nesta suppressed the urge to kick her, though thankfully her friend caught herself. “-long dream is to, is for me to learn how to.. Surf? We saw you out with your friend the other day.””

Nesta would’ve covered her face in her hands if his eyes didn’t slide to her then, stealing all the breath from her fucking lungs. God, it had to be a crime to be that good-looking. Curly black hair thrown up in a bun, tattoos over his tanned chest and shoulders that would’ve looked douchey on anyone else, anyone who didn’t have the muscles for them to dip and swirl across. He had an annoyingly nice smile that made her want to be mean to him, though something about those mischievous hazel eyes made Nesta think he’d probably like it.

“That is very specific. I’d love to once you get rid of those,” he said, pointing to the cans buried in the sand beside them. “You know you can’t drink on the beach. I’m gonna have to ask you to pour those out.”

The Lifeguard smiled then, and she saw he had a dimple that made her want to chug her drink in front of him defiantly. His accent was like honey whisky. A giant red buoy was slung across his back, but he was so huge Nesta could only see the top poke over a tattooed shoulder, which annoyed her for some reason. Her voice came out harsher than she meant it to when she sat up on her elbow.

“Are you kidding? We’re not bothering anyone.”

“I know, but I really need to go bust those douchebags and they’ll give me shit if I leave y’all alone,” he said, crouching down right next to Nesta’s towel so he could whisper conspiratorially, indicating over his shoulder at a group of twenty or so frat guys who’d been at it for a while. “I’m telling you to pour it out. If it happens to fall into a cup on the way, like say the cups we have at the guard stand over there, then so be it.”

His breath smelled like cinnamon and Nesta felt her friends vibrating behind her from holding in their giggles, praying her face looked red from the sun and not her mortification.

“Fine. Thanks.”

“Thanks. And if you do ever want me to teach your.. friend how to surf, you know where to find me.” The Lifeguard had the audacity to wink at her then before standing and walking up the beach without so much as a backwards glance, Gwyn and Emerie dissolving into excited conversation the moment he was out of earshot.

“Nesta! Why didn’t you ask for his number?” Gwyn whacked Nesta on the arm, exasperated.

“Because he was reprimanding us, hardly sexy.”

“Mm, speak for yourself,” Emerie said, they all turned to watch him walk toward the rowdy group of guys, his red shorts hiding nothing.

Suddenly, The Lifeguard stilled, his body rigid and attention drawn to the shoreline. Nesta turned her head to where he was looking and saw nothing, but before she knew it a flash of red streaked by and he was racing toward the water, rescue buoy in hand, diving into the waves and paddling with strong arms toward where Nesta could now just make out a young boy’s head slipping under the water.

Activity exploded around them - the screeching of a whistle, another guard racing back to speak into a radio at the station, red light flashing atop it. People were standing and pointing, chatter sweeping down the beach and The Lifeguard had almost reached the boy who still wasn’t resurfacing, water spraying around him before he dove, the buoy a startling marker of where both were underwater now in the churning sea. Nesta felt dizzy and realized she was holding her breath, the seconds stretching into years in her mind until two heads broke the surface and all the air rushed out of her, mesmerized by the way he gently guided the child to the float and smiled .

Then he turned so his back was to the beach and began to kick toward the shore. She could see the boy nodding as if The Lifeguard were speaking to him, giving him instructions, before he tipped his head back and let himself be pulled. When they reached the surf another guard ran down to meet him, and Nesta realized an ambulance had arrived, two EMTs jumping out in preparation.

The next half hour was a whirlwind of flashing lights and higher-ups coming to file reports, gawkers and bottleneckers crowding the parking lot. Nesta saw The Lifeguard chewing out who she guessed was the kid’s father, a man so drunk he leaned against the guard station to stay upright, sunburnt with unfocused eyes.

At last the ambulance cleared the parking lot, no lights or sirens as the boy was awake and talking. Emerie said it was probably protocol to get evaluated for something called ‘dry drowning’.

“Yeah, it can kill you even hours after you get out of the water. Not worth the risk.”

The Lifeguard had come up behind them somehow and was watching the ambulance turn onto the main road. Gwyn beamed in that way she did where her face became the sun, grasping him on the forearm.

“That was really impressive. I’m so glad you were able to get to him.”

“All in the job,” he said vaguely, waving a bored hand. Nesta couldn’t help but notice it was shaking. “Let’s talk about nicer things. Are y’all working here for the summer or just visiting?”

“I grew up down in Kill Devil Hills,” Emerie said, shading her eyes to look up at him. “My parents run The Windhaven. Gwyn and Nesta are escaping New York for the summer with me.”

“You might know my friend Rhys’ family, the Nights.”

Emerie snorted. “You mean the Nights who own half of Corolla? Yeah, I know them.”

“I’m Cassian,” he said directly to Nesta then, a look in his eyes she didn’t recognize, and that feeling of wanting to be mean to him rose once more. “We’re having a party tonight if you want to come by.”

There was a shuffle in which Gwyn and Emerie somehow couldn’t find their phones, forcing Nesta to hand over hers for The Lifeguard - Cassian - to put his number in. He typed for an absurdly long time as he and Emerie continued to chat about people they both knew before handing the phone back to Nesta, turning to leave with a little salute.

“So we’re going right?” Gwyn said, bouncing up on her toes with a vigor usually reserved for karaoke night at The Brass Monkey.

“Oh absolutely,” said Emerie. “I have to see how disgustingly huge their house is.”

Nesta ignored their matching grins and looked at her phone to where this supposed mansion was, how much of a pain it would be to go. Cassian had sent a text to himself, an address for somewhere in the Four Seasons complex, and saved his number as ‘Nesta’s Lifeguard’. 

It was followed by an emoji of waves and, absurdly, a bat.

—

Cassian couldn’t believe he was sitting across from the hottest woman he’d ever seen and it was his birthday and she was at his house and oh god there were so many ways this could go wrong.

Mor went all-out for his birthday as usual, flickering lights in the magnolias, Jell-O shots and jungle juice, her signature ‘Get Everyone Laid’ playlist pouding from the outdoor speakers of the giant Night estate. It still boggled his mind sometimes how wealthy she and her cousin were, despite living in proximity to it for nearly two decades.

Cassian wasn’t in the mood for celebrating though, his body still humming with adrenaline after the close call on his shift. He’d swallowed the more colorful insults he’d wanted to hurl at the kid’s father, recognizing it was his own shit coming up, the past becoming present as his therapist would say. His image of his own deadbeat dad was rotten at the best of times, though it always festered more strongly on his birthday.

There wasn’t any use in running from the facts: his father had raped his mother, she’d given birth to him while addicted to heroin, and then he’d been in the system long enough to leave a few scars before getting a long-term placement with the Nights. They’d tried over the years to make his birthday a happy time, but it never took. And so another sad kid hated his birthday, then turned into an adult who pretended it didn’t happen. Case fucking closed.

But Mor wanted a party, and so a party they were having. And Cassian couldn’t be too annoyed with her given it was the perfect opportunity to ask The Librarian to speak to him for more than five chilly seconds.

Nesta, a name as unique and lovely as she was. Not the name he’d imagined for her when he snuck glances from the chair, though he’d never pegged her as a Brittany or a Chelsea or any else so common. In his head he started calling her the Librarian, because every day he saw her she had a new book, and every day she’d leave having finished it. God, she was so, so far out of his league.

He’d nearly choked on his beer when she and her friends walked through the back gate, drawn by the sounds of the party in full swing. Azriel clapped a knowing hand on his shoulder and pushed him forward, encouraging, as if Cassian weren’t already spearing toward her to intercept her group before Mor or Rhys tried to hijack them. They both loved to compete over women, and though Mor had the better average Rhys was the winner for repeat customers. Cassian himself had the highest count the first few weeks of summer, but he’d dropped off the ranking altogether the first time The Librarian laid down in front of him on her powder blue towel.

Cassian showed them around to buy time, the cavernous house large enough to get lost in. Her redheaded friend was fascinated by the elevator, but he saw the way her sunset sound-colored eyes lingered on the secluded porch swing, wondered if she was picturing herself curled up there with a book.

From there the evening went surprisingly well, all told, his friends giving him a wide enough berth which they likely considered a birthday gift. Once Nesta shot a few glares at them when they tried to hover nearby, eavesdropping, and Rhys winked at him over her shoulder, crossing himself for prayer and mouthing Good luck .

But Nesta seemed to like talking to him for some reason, didn’t try to drift away or lose him like women did when they weren’t interested. He even managed to be funny despite usually losing all his wits when he really liked someone, which was a blessing as it allowed him to hear her tinkling laugh above the music. A lock of her hair brushed his shoulder when she tipped her head back and he was so fucking gone, so nervous about doing something to mess this up.

As the party wound down they ended up on a couple of sun loungers pushed together by the pool. Cassian was mystified that Nesta was still here, still talking to him about New York, tide patterns, his childhood cat Devlon. There was nothing she didn’t have an opinion about, and when her smooth leg brushed his, the coconut scent of her lotion begged him to run his tongue all the way up to where her freckle-dusted skin disappeared beneath her shorts.

Cassian excused himself before he lost his head, and once back in the kitchen for a refill Rhys and Mor cornered him, demanding to know why he wasn’t halfway inside The Librarian already.

“Y’all are creepy, you know that?”

Mor’s tongue was bright blue from the Jell-O shots when she stuck it out at him, Rhys’ waving a bored hand in front of his face. “You never wait this long. You must be head over heels.”

“He is,” Azriel mumbled as he shuffled in, noise-canceling headphones slung around his neck. “He turned down that girl we met at Avalon pier yesterday.”

Cassian said nothing, only stuffed his head farther into the fridge to reach the two non-shit beers he’d stashed in the back. He could smell Mor’s cherry chapstick when she leaned down beside him, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny when he turned. 

“Oh my god, you like her!”

“We’re just talking, nothing is happening.”

They didn’t believe him, obviously, but were kind enough to only smirk after him as he went back outside to where he’d left Nesta lounging on a deck chair. 

“Follow me,” he said furtively, adding when she looked confused, “My friends are being assholes, I don’t want to subject you to that.” They had a few minutes lead time before the vultures descended, and he didn’t want his nosy housemates fucking this up.

“Assholes about what?” She twirled a lock of gold-brown hair around her finger, silver nail polish flashing in the low lights surrounding the pool. “Oh, because you want to fuck me.”

She said it like it was a test he’d already failed, and Cassian was so caught off guard by the whole thing his response came out stammering, over-cautious.

“No, no, not at all.”

Her brow furrowed, confusion flickering across her face. “You don’t?”

Just then Mor’s laugh sparkled above them as she heaved the sliding door open and stepped onto the upper deck, followed by Rhys’ voice asking, “Where the hell did Cass go?”

“He better be getting his dick sucked so he’ll stop being so grumpy.”

“A hundred bucks says the closest she gets to his balls is a swift kick.”

Cassian was grateful for the darkness that hid his blush as they crept on silent steps to the end of the dock, past where the lights could pick out their silhouettes against the midnight bay. Back at the house they could see the others playing beer pong now on the deck, Nesta’s red-headed friend - Gwen? - bouncing up and down in victory after making a shot. He buried his surprise that Az had yet to go to bed despite his 7:00am shift start, and couldn’t help but wonder if a certain pair of long, slender legs had anything to do with it.

Smirking to himself, Cassian produced the beers from his hoodie and Nesta cracked one open.

“Done policing my drinking now, are you?”

“Just doing my job, Nes. You’re lucky I didn’t bust you for reading porn in public. There are children around, you know.”

She gave a defiant sniff and sipped her beer primly, the night wind whipping her hair about her heart-shaped face. “If women enjoying their sexuality intimidates you, just say so.”

He grinned, a thrill running through him at how self-possessed she was. Most women he dated were either under- or over-impressed by him, neither one earned, but he felt like Nesta was challenging him to rise to her level, to show up unapologetically as she was.

“You’re the only one who intimidates me, sweetheart, but I get the feeling you like it that way.”

She started shivering once the wind kicked up, and he offered her the hoodie too after a while, the gray fabric swallowing her, long sleeves pooling around her wrists. She looked so fucking cute he had to concentrate hard on what she was saying, though he couldn’t avoid the dopey grin that surely split his face in half watching her wave her arms about as she described their encounter with the rowdy group after he’d finished work. Apparently the guys had tried to pick up Nesta and her friends, albeit unsuccessfully.

“They thought it was going really well. It made me a bit sad for them, actually. Are your friends upset?”

The sharp turn in topic threw him, but Nesta just stared at him in that same increasing way, demanding truth in everything. Cassian swallowed, deciding to chance just that, to tell her what only three other people at that party knew.

“They’re fine, just pissed because I’m not letting them give me alcohol poisoning for my birthday.”

“Today is your birthday?” 

“Yeah.”

“This is your birthday party, the party we’re currently at.” Nesta looked flabbergasted, one hand at her forehead, the other gripping his arm.

“Uh huh.”

She released his arm and quirked her head to the side then, eyes narrowing. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I don’t really feel like celebrating. My birth wasn’t exactly a happy occasion.”

Her expression fell into one of understanding, and Cassian felt the rest of the truth stick in his throat, too dense and painful to dredge up now. Nesta scooted a bit closer and allowed her thigh to rest against his, her skin warm in the night air.

“Is that little boy okay?” she asked quietly, and for a terrifying moment he thought she was asking about his fucking inner child before remembering the rescue earlier.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Well, he has a negligent fucking father, but physically he’s fine.”

Cassian was surprised when she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He dared to pick up her hand and hold it, and when she didn’t immediately pull away he stroked the back with a thumb, tracing the bones.

“Look, my friends - they can be pushy,” he sighed. “I just want to be clear that I don’t have any expectations of you. I’m having a really good time just doing this.”

“Thanks. I’d gathered as much, but it’s nice to hear out loud. I’ve sort of sworn off men for the moment, anyway.”

Her hair was rippling behind her in ribbons and she looked so beautiful amongst the elements like this, but there was a sadness, a grief about her he’d never noticed before. As her words registered Cassian flipped her hand over and traced the lines of her palm. There was that piercing authenticity again, and it made him feel bold even as he fully expected her to shove him off the dock into the sound.

“Look, I don’t want to be presumptuous but you did come to my party. And I can’t even say it was for the free booze, because that’s the only drink you’ve had all night. Your friends have let you be all night. So if you’ve sworn off men, then why are you here?”

She didn’t answer, looking away, but he felt the pulse of chemistry between them, sharp and aching. Whatever National Geographic pheromones her body was giving off sent him into caveman brain, but even more so he wanted to pull her closer, to press his lips to the soft skin of her neck.

“Why are you here, Nes?” he repeated, squeezing at her hand until she looked back at him.

“Because I wanted to see if I could do it. Talk to a guy and have it be normal, feel nice.” Her voice was shaking, palm turning slick with sweat. “And it has. Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a while after that, listening to the waves lapping against the dock, the quiet rippling of the sound until she launched back into the story of the bros from the beach and they were off once more.

As the moon sank lower he took his phone out and shined it close to the water, pointing out the spade-shaped flounder on the bottom, their creepy, crowded eyes making Nesta shudder and draw her feet up from where they’d been dangling over the edge. Too bright to go gigging , he told her, and a blue crab scuttled by under the light, tiny claws raised with bravado.

“They say nature has an aspiration to be crab-like. Apparently evolution has made and remade crabs around five to six times,” she replied, and his heart was about to explode for wanting to kiss her. 

She was so sharp, so interesting it staggered him. Cassian knew he was right to have named her The Librarian, some freaky premonition, because she knew fucking everything about everything. He ran her through an exhaustive list of topics, her gestures getting more and more animated, smile flashing with the thrill of winning his game. Finally he discovered she knew nothing about constellations, and instead of gloating he pointed out Scorpius and Sagittarius, lining their arms up with her wrist in his grasp, drawing her pointed finger between dots in the sky.

The porch lights back at the house shut off before either thought to look at the time, and Cassian watched Nesta scroll through a few texts, finger twirling once more in her wind-tousled hair.

“Do you need a ride?” he asked, but she shook her head.

“My friends are already home, I was going to get a car.”

“Not many Ubers after 2:00. Let me take you home.”

They walked over to the ocean side and rode down the deserted beach on a pilfered four-wheeler from the guard stand. Moonlight casting everything in a silvery glow, gentle waves lapping at the shore. He told her over his shoulder about a time they’d tricked Rhys into eating a bowl of sea oats when they were younger, drawing forth once more that world-changing laugh.

As the houses grew closer together along the shore he felt her rest her head on his shoulder, and her breath tickled his neck as she yawned quietly. Everything felt very fast and very slow at the same time, some sort of delicious chaos that made him dizzy enough he had to grip the handlebars tighter to avoid tipping over. When they arrived at her house Cassian was punch-drunk and heated, so he was delighted when she accepted his offer to walk her to the door. 

He hopped the fence to unlatch the gate from the inside, didn’t miss the way her eyes roved over his arms when he secured the lock at the top once she’d passed through. They stood there for a moment under the porch lights, moths fluttering, staring as if waiting for the other to say goodnight first so as to not be responsible for ending this.

“I’m trying to think of something rude to say to make you go away, but I’m drawing a blank. I like you,” Nesta said. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but I do. Like you.”

Then Cassian felt he might like his birthday after all as she leaned upward and kissed him like she meant it.

A few magical moments later she pushed off from his chest and smiled, disappearing into the house, the cool rush of AC carrying the scent of coconut out into the night. He was smiling so hard his jaw might break as he vaulted back over the fence, hopped onto the four-wheeler and drove home as fast as he dared, wind screaming in his ears, though nothing could sweep away the feel of her lips on his, the soft curve of her waist under his hand. The way he felt like he already knew her, had known her forever, and this was just the beginning of something that would change his entire fucking life.

About a mile from the house, Cassian paused to look out over the ocean, the briny tang filling his nose and lungs. Seagrass whispered along the dunes, and he saw the eyes of a ghost crab light up when he pulled out his phone, scuttling toward a thatch of seaweed where it disappeared.

Az: hey i can’t cover your afternoon on saturday, i’m taking the redhead surfing Mor: SO BABY PULL ME CLOSER IN THE BACKSEAT OF YOUR ROVER honestly get a new gimmick, the four-wheeler thing is getting not cute but if it ain’t broke yknow Rhys: Happy Birthday, I hope the prickly one is giving you a nice present. Rhys: I might have already stalked her instagram Rhys: And I also might have sent her sister a dm Rhys: Have fun Cassie 😄

He was about to put the phone back in his pocket when another notification popped up, one that made him feel like his body, his soul, his whole world was made from moonlight.

Cassian’s Librarian 📖🦀: call me later Cassian’s Librarian 📖🦀: i mean it Cassian’s Librarian 📖🦀: i know where you live

[cyborg-franky]

That's totally okay, I knew it was a long shot! I know there are only 3 slots left so if this new one doesn't go through I will happily await the next event but! Pretty please, if he's available, could I ask for Shanks instead? Perhaps in this case I'd wear a dress, pretty but kinda sundress style? Shanks is unpredictable in that regard he could be fancy or just dress like he always does, I'm fine with whatever you might decide there. :) For the colors, his particular shade of red, and then a light tealy-blue. It's probably a big wedding, the red force boys love a party, food and drink aplenty, and probably in early-mid summer. I think that covers all the bases on the form! Thank you again for this event and for being so patient! ; u ; I'm looking forward to seeing everyone's events either way!

Okay, I won't lie. This has been one of my faves so far. The red and the blue are such a tasty combo and I love the party vibe. I hope you like <3

Everyone pitches in to decorate the red force. You had no idea where these full-grown manly men learned such skills as flower arranging and cake decorating, but you were as thankful as you were astounded.

The actual wedding was on the beach. Shanks wanted something a little fancy for the pair of you [or rather Benn stepped in and nudged Shanks in the right direction]. It was in the evening and the beach was lit up with candles and lights.

The ceremony was short but sweet, filled with an overwhelming sense of joy and love. Shanks swept you off your feet, planting a kiss that caused the entire crew to erupt in hoots and hollers.

The dining room on the Red Force had never looked so nice. Flowers, candles, and other little bits and pieces pulled the look together. You just stared around the room and then at Shanks, who was grinning, taking in your face with such delight of his own as the other members of the crew gave you a thumbs up.

Everyone came together for you and Shanks’s special day, creating a powerful sense of unity and acceptance. You felt surrounded by love and support, making you feel truly part of the celebration.

Trying not to cry as Shanks gently pulls you towards the head of the table.

The food is amazing, the drink is good and it flows through the night.

Once the meal and toasts are done, you all head to the deck where there is music and dancing and, oh yes, way more drinks.

The party goes on late into the night, into the early morning and beyond.

You’ll need to sleep a week after how hard you all party.

[coneyislandbabey]

masterlist -> coneyislandbabey

EVERYTHING UNDER THE CUT ! I'll do my best to keep this up to date lol

EDDIE ROUNDTREE !

going to california. : you move to Los Angeles, and are surprised to run into an old childhood friend. [3.3k] well, my boyfriend's in a band.: nobody thinks the thing between you and Eddie can be as pure and real as you say it is. [1.3k] butterflies and zebras (and moonbeams and fairy tales).: You and Eddie have a daughter. The first weeks of her life growing up in the house with you both and the band. [3.1k] Beast of Burden series: the push and pull between you and Eddie Roundtree was never-ending. No matter how hard you tried to push him away, you always came back together. -> (i'll never be) your beast of burden.: part one. Pittsburgh, 1967. [2.6k] -> my back is broad, but it's a-hurtin'.: part two. Pittsburgh, 1969. [2.1k] -> you keep on tellin' me i ain't your kinda man. : part three. Baltimore, 1970. [2.8k] -> i don't need no beast of burden. : part four. On the road, 1971. [3.8k] -> (put me out, put me out) put me out of misery.: part five. Los Angeles, 1973. [1.7k] -> all your sickness, i can suck it up.: part six. Los Angeles, 1974. [1.5k]

GRAHAM DUNNE !

testing his patience. : Graham finds his voice defending you after Billy takes his anger out on you during a recording session. [2.2k] the boys are back in town.: The Six are back in Pittsburgh during the Numbers tour, and Graham runs into his high school crush. [6.8k] i only have eyes for you.: You bit Graham at preschool when you were three years old. The rest, they say, is history. [3.5k]

WARREN ROJAS !

crossed wires.: a night of complicated feelings and jealousy lead to a revelation between you and Warren. [1.5k] she's got a strange magic.: Warren is usually cool and confident, but there's something about you that makes him completely nervous. He's desperate to ask you out, and he's desperate to get it right. [1.3k] i'd have you anytime.: You don't expect something to bloom between you and the drummer of your brothers' band, and when it does, the two of you try (and fail) to keep it a secret. [5.1k] she's a rainbow.: Warren's got it bad for Camila's childhood best friend. [2k] still raining, still dreaming.: It's a rare day off, and you and Warren spend it being lazy together in bed. [1.3k] so hot you're hurting my feelings.: your seemingly innocuous wardrobe choice makes Warren lose his mind. [1.7k] time to play b-sides.: you and warren pick up the pieces after the band falls apart. [1.1k] Mariposaverse fics: (these are not listed or written in any particular chronological order and can be read in any way after the first one) i'm with you.: You and Warren are friends with benefits. And then you find out you're pregnant. [3k] my mariposa. : a little domestic snapshot of you and Warren as new parents. [1.3k] butterfly wings.: It's your and Warren's daughter, Mariposa's first halloween. [1.1k] light of the love that i found.: Yours and Warren's wedding. [2.3k] the pick-me-up.: Life has been wearing you and Warren down lately, but Mariposa saying her first word really brings up your spirits. [1.1k] don't cry my sweet, don't break my heart.: Warren being a good dad and having a little crisis about his little girl growing up. [1.5k] Camp Wawayanda Lake: summer camp au. prank war and men super short shorts. What else do you need? -> prologue; bug spray and bonfires and booze.: You arrive at camp and reunite with old friends. There’s a drunken bonfire, and Warren is suddenly, distractingly beautiful. [2k] -> one; a study in lake water and forest princesses.:  It’s the first day of camp and Billy does something stupid that sets Daisy on a summer-long path toward revenge. [3.6k]

KAREN SIRKO !

high by the beach. : The feelings that grow between you and Karen Sirko seem to be the easiest thing in the world. [2k] with a girl like you.: You first cross paths with Karen Sirko when your band is recording your first album. After the fact, you can't get her out of your head; turns out, Karen's been feeling the same way. [1.5k]

[ya-zz]

Okay, so if you feel comfortable! Can you write am AU (Genji never was murdered) where Hanzo marries fem!reader in an arranged married due to their families status? And when they're finally alone, reader just goes straight to the point and asks when he'd like to produce their heir.

Maybe reader seems a little unapproachable because she's covered in diamonds and jewelry due to their wedding and she has a more carefree personality!

Just fluff and a little funny story!

It's almost 2am as I upload this, let's not talk about my dwindling sleep schedule coming back. ANYWAY, I enjoyed writing this and I hopefully you enjoy reading!

Hanzo x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1514

You knew it was happening, you knew for years what was going to happen, and everything inside of you despised it. Your parents drove it into you each day, ‘nurturing’ you into the perfect wife. 

“You have to be proper!”

“You have to wear make-up like this.” 

“Ladies don’t do that!” 

“Stop slouching! Straight back and head high!”

Each and every day. 

It tired you out, it wasn’t what you had in mind for your life and marrying one of the Shimada brothers was certainly not on the list. 

You knew of their history, what they had done, who they were, and the thoughts alone would always send a chill down your spine. Your destiny was set in stone, there was no way out of it no matter how much you protested. If that’s how it was to be, then you were going to have some fun regardless of what’s in store. 

Disobeying your father was one task you had done countless times. Sneaking out at night to party, or even to watch the starts on the beach front. Anything to take your mind off of the days coming. The one day you had dreaded for months. It was approaching, and quickly. 

You hadn’t even met your future husband, only word of mouth got you the information you wanted. A few pictures here and there but you hadn’t actually been face-to-face with him, only a name, Hanzo Shimada. No matter the begging and pleading to see him before the wedding, you were always met with a resounding “no.”. It irked you, and part of you wanted to leave to go find the man you were going to marry. 

“You will see him a few days before the big day.” Your mother said.

All you could do was groan and leave the room, heading upstairs and flopping down onto your bed, releasing a scream into your pillow. 

Being kept in the dark like this was annoying but there was nothing that you could do about it, except hope that your husband wasn’t a total asshole. 

—

As time passed, your routines got more severe, more demanding. Practising walking, dress fitting, how to be a proper wife. 

It was borderline torture, or at least it felt like it. You were too tired to even think straight, but eventually the day arrived where you were to meet your future husband. 

It’s like your mind woke up, finally awake from the tiredness of the routines. Your parents were almost shocked at you when you rushed into the car. Finally! The moment of truth! Your heart was racing as the car started, pulling out of the driveway and going deeper into Hanamura. 

You were like a kid at Christmas, giddy to the point of throwing up. 

“Will you calm down?” Your mother spoke out from the front seat of the car, head turning slightly. 

“Sorry!” You weren’t, and you were pretty sure your mother knew too as a small smile crept onto her face before she turned back around. 

There was the slight anxiety coursing through your body as the car approached the Shimada castle, hands shaking in your lap. The season was perfect, cherry blossoms falling in the slight breeze, clouds littered the sky but weren’t threatening rain, and with the Shimada castle behind the trees, it was practically picture perfect.

As the car slowed down, a group of men approached, dressed in all black suits. Intimidating was the first word that popped into your head, and despite their small smiles, it didn’t change that first opinion. 

“Behave, [y/n].” Your fathers voice was stern as he turned to look at you, eyes glaring deep into your own. You nodded quickly as the car door opened and a hand offered to help you out. 

Hesitantly, you took the hand, getting out of the car and facing the man in front of you. 

“[y/n]. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He spoke out, a small smile on his face as he looked you up and down. “I have heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise.” Was all you could muster. You had seen the photos of him but by god was he a lot more handsome in person. “It is nice to meet you also, Hanzo.”

“Come, allow me to show you around.” With his hand still in yours, he pulled you along gently and you followed beside him. 

His hair was done up, slicked and black, golden silk ribbon draping over his back, bouncing slightly as he walked, talking to you as if he had known you for years. His stride was confident, strong arms by his side except for the one holding onto you. The short kimono shirt of his hung loose on his shoulders, yet his muscles were still prominent behind the fabric. Every part of him was screaming at you to touch him, yet you refrained. It was your first meeting. In the next three days were you to marry him. 

“I would introduce you to my brother, however, he is currently running errands.” 

You snapped out of your thoughts, looking at him, cheeks flushed warm. ”I’m sure I’ll meet him soon.” 

He chuckled in response to your expression. “You haven’t been listening to anything I have been saying, have you?”

“That obvious?” You look away, the embarrassment rising. 

“Yes, but it is cute, seeing you blushed like this.” His hand came up and gently caressed your cheek as he turned you to face him.

Your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with him, the anxiety of marrying this man had disappeared, and in fact, you were looking forward to it. 

“There is still so much to show you.” His smile was warm as his hand left your cheek. The pair of you continued to walk around the building, talking as if you were old friends, while the adults, your parents and his, were talking in another room. Talking about your wedding day. 

And it came quicker than you had expected. It felt like you were in a daze for most of the day until the final few hours when the party was coming to an end. You had yet to meet his brother, but your attention quickly shifted back to your now husband. His eyes were on you, watching you for a few minutes, admiring your beauty. His hand held your thigh under the table, giving a it gentle squeeze. 

A playful smile embraced your cheeks as you looked at him before looking back around the room. You had realised a while back that other family members hesitated to approach you. Maybe the Shimada you had married was intimidating to everyone else until Hanzo whispered into your ear. 

“Don’t worry about them. You look beautiful.” His breath was hot against your ear, sending a chill over your body. “It’s all this jewellery.” 

“That… That would be my mothers doing.” You whisper back to him. 

He nods in response. “A little overboard, I won’t deny that, but-” 

“Please, I’m glad I’m not the only one to think that.” You laugh quietly and Hanzo joins you, small creases at the corners of his eyes. Oh how you could look into them all day… 

“But-” He continued, “I still find you the most exquisite thing in the room.” 

You could feel the heat rising inside of you, cheeks flushing hot as you look at the man who only chuckles in response. 

“Let’s leave, shall we?” He offers a hand as he stands up to which you take, standing beside him. A few members of the party whistle towards you and Hanzo as you walk away and out of the room, the music slowly quieting down as he leads you to the car that had been waiting outside.

His hand never left yours even as you reached the hotel, his grip only tightening as you reached the elevator. The moment the doors closed behind you, his hands were all over you, pulling you close to him and kissing you passionately. His lips were soft against yours, hair tickling you as your hands tangled in his hair, pulling out the silk ribbon and letting his hair rest on his shoulders.

As you pull away, gasping for air, you speak out. “I suppose this is when we make our heir, huh?” 

Hanzo laughs, shoulders rising and falling as he does, a faint blush on his cheeks. “You’re funny.” 

You smile at him, pulling him down to kiss him once more before the doors open. His hands pull you up, carrying you as he walks down the hallway. 

“Lets have some fun first…” His voice was low in your ear as he fumbled with the keycard to the room. He kissed you again, lips locking to yours as the door opened. He stepped into the room with you still in his arms. “We have all night…” He kicked the door shut, not breaking any contact. Soft gasps and giggles were barely audible from behind the door, slowly leaving earshot.

Perhaps my parents won’t mind waiting a little longer…