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gyllenhaalstories · 2 months ago

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BODIES IN THE SAND — ELWOOD DALTON 🎂

summary: it’s your birthday and dalton wanted to make it special.

warnings: eating, mostly fluff & smut (making out, thigh riding). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 2730

gifs credits: me @/gyllenhaalstories / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: today is my birthday and i am, for the fourth year in a row, making it everyone’s problem with a (very boring) self indulgent fic. 🎈 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

The dock master waved at you when you passed by. You did not leave him enough time to repeat his speech about watching out for the damn crocs like a broken record. You had visited the Glass Key Marina so many times since meeting Dalton, one could think the old man would spare you the lecture. Whatever. This time, you ignored him. You stormed towards the wooden pier on a mission.

Dalton, now confident in Billy and Reef's abilities to handle the unruly patrons on their own (if they remembered to lift with their knees), allowed himself a night off from time to time. The pay as the bouncer of the roadhouse supported him plenty anyway. He did not splurge much, judging by the fishing box overflowing with stacks of cash. When he did spend his money, he would buy all the books Charlie recommended to him or he would treat you to his new favourite food, conch chowder.

You were usually the first person to know about his sporadic vacations, except for today. You drove to the roadhouse and Laura greeted you with a perplexed smile as to why you were there without Dalton. Frankie walked down the stairs from her office and expressed the same level of confusion. "Dalton called, said he's sick. I think the boat dreams are getting to him. Took him long enough." She explained before helping her employees to get the bar ready for another night. Dalton, sick? You stormed out of the bar with the same determination that made you beeline to The Boat.

"There you are." Dalton, who sat on the railing of the boat, stood up and turned around to greet you. The look on your face, painted with surprise, satisfied him, it was worth spending the entire afternoon decorating his corner of the marina. "Happy birthday."

You stood on a creaky wood plank and took in the scene. Orange balloons matched the colours of the sky as the early sunset reflected on the water. There were garlands and streamers, basically anything that could make the dock look festive. You scoffed at the Happy Thanksgiving banner attached to the back of the boat that clashed with the rest.

Dalton quickly justified. "I know... 'Was all Charlie could find." He worked on the ribbon of the balloon he had previously secured on the railing and held on it tight. He raised his leg to get off the boat, but you interrupted.

"I appreciate the thought. This looks so..." You spun on your heels and admired the decorations for a few more seconds. "This looks really nice. But that still won't get me to climb on that thing. It's literally sinking." You pointed at the rusty boat that the dock master constantly referred to as a frying pan. You wholeheartedly agreed with the older man.

"It's not sinking." He leaped from the boat to the dock. The tone of his voice failed to convince you. "... Yet." You both nodded in agreement. Not yet. Soon enough, Dalton would be taking a nap with the crocodile.

You let him come to you.

He tilted his head, eyes squinting at you. "You know, those little footsteps of yours sounded furious. Everything okay?" He clenched his jaw, already bracing up for bad news. It was all he seemed to attract: bad news.

"I should be asking you! Are you okay? I went to the bar and Frankie said you were sick."

"I don't get sick." He shook his head lightly.

"Then why did she tell me that?"

"Oh, I asked her to." He marked a pause, as if that was enough information. You pressed him to grant you with more details. "I thought it was a good excuse." There was a hint of pride in his grin.

"A good excuse that worried me a lot." Your attempt at reprimanding him failed miserably, especially when his grin widened while he stepped closer to you.

Dalton carefully tied the ribbon of the balloon around your right wrist. He then flicked the balloon, watching it bop. "Charlie and I have been planning this for a little while. Couldn't find a proper banner in time." His chin pointed at the Thanksgiving wishes.

"You can say something cheesy to make up for it." You suggested with a chuckle.

"I'm thankful that you're born?" Although he said it like a question, he was certain in the sincerity behind his words.

"That does the job." You both exchanged a moment of laughter. "Thank you for taking the time to decorate for my birthday."

"There's more." He guided you off the dock and through the makeshift path to the beach, always hovering a hand over your lower back to make sure he would be quick to react if you fell.

You let Dalton walk by the shore. Although you did not mind feeling the water run over your feet and ankles, he had insisted enough times that it was safer for you to stay on the other side. So you just let him do what he wanted. Your hand brushed over his a few times and you caught sight of the smirk on his lips.

He also noticed your head was turned towards the water so he pulled you to stand in front of him. He lost no time to hold your hand when you reached behind to grab his. Dalton mouthed a quiet wow when he took in just how beautiful you looked with the pink sunset sky.

Things were simple with Dalton. He did not talk much about what lead him to Glass Key, but you learned enough snippets of his life to know he wanted things to remain this way: simple. He liked the way you weaved yourself through the routine he built since working at the roadhouse. You'd visit before work, at work, after... You would hang out at the bookstore with Charlie, you would sit by the bar with Laura. It all felt simple. He did not hide his appreciation for the time you shared. He showed honesty in his intentions with you when a kiss turned into a lot more one too many times. Plenty of whispered praises, plenty of love filled gazes. You took it one day at a time with Dalton. And today was a special day in more ways than one.

Dalton bumped against you when you stopped walking abruptly at the sight of the makeshift picnic set up. Beach towels laid on the sand and held in place by a bunch of rocks and a pretty conch shell. It looked a little funky but he knew you could not care less. "After my first shift at the bar, Frankie told me this whole sales pitch about the place." He let go of your hand so you could wander towards the beach towels. "She said this was a beautiful spot to have a drink with someone special." Frankie was talking about the roadhouse, not the beach at the back of the marina but... It was close enough.

"She must be right." You sat down on the towel, Dalton joined you. He attempted to say something else, but the balloon floating in the evening breeze distracted him. You watched him intently as he untied the ribbon from your wrist and attached it to the handle of the cooler.

You exchanged a smile and enjoyed more of the sunset. You wondered to yourself how people could live in a beautiful place such as this and forget to pay attention. How could someone get used to a view like this? You certainly could never. You knew Dalton felt the same.

And Dalton knew what you were thinking about. He had travelled quite a bit, both for work and to escape it. He faced the same reflection time after time. "I don't know." He broke the silence, answering your unspoken question. "Maybe they don't have the right person by their side to remind them to appreciate the moment."

"I like the sound of that." You shifted closer to him and his hand slid along your lower back to find its place on your hip. "It's romantic."

"Wait 'til you hear about what I baked for your birthday..." He let out a small grunt when he stretched his arm towards the cooler to pull it closer.

"You can bake?"

"Nope." He opened the cooler and tilted in your direction. "But Charlie can." Kind of. He let you take a peak inside to admire the cupcakes that he prepared with the teenager and with Stephen on supervision duty.

You found it so endearing how he formed a bond with Charlie. Dalton even grew to like her comparisons to western novels and cowboy boots wearing broody heroes. You leaned in to admire the desserts and chuckled at the sight. "They're all squished."

"Shit." Dalton whispered at the sight of the dozen of misshapen cupcakes. He pulled out the tray and set it on the beach towel. He selected one that sort of held its shape during the transport from Charlie and Stephen's house to the beach. "I swear, I frosted them all nice for you." He grinned apologetically.

You grabbed the cupcake from his hand and took a bite. You swallowed thickly and tried to contain a funny face. "These are..."

"Burnt as hell." He stole a bite from the same cupcake and grimaced. He looked down at the rest of the desserts and began to explain that he was sorry, that he really tried to make your birthday special.

You interrupted him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "There was frosting." It was not entirely false, but you hoped this would stop the train of thoughts.

He still looked unsure, he worried that he had messed up.

So you kissed him again, on the same spot. You would usually let him lead and make the the first move so he would not feel trapped, but you wanted to reassure him. "Spending time with you is a nice gift on its own. So this?" You gestured around you. "This is great. And this." You held his head in your hands for a few moments, waiting for his lips to curl into a smile. "It's all I need to have a good time."

The smile stayed glued on his face even when you pulled away. You reached for the cupcake again and Dalton took it from your hand to put it back on the tray, slamming the cooler shut for good.

"You can't waste the cupcakes, you worked so hard to bake them for me." You would have eaten a couple of the sweets had he not stopped you, you wanted Dalton to know you liked the gesture.

"Then the crocodile can have them." You nodded, agreeing with his idea.

"Maybe he'll spare you for another night."

The sound of yours and Dalton's laughter blended together as one. "That's exactly what I was thinking." He replied.

"I know I just said I'm having a good time, but..." You crawled to kneel between his legs. You sat back, keeping a safe distance to let Dalton decide. "We can make it even better."

He considered the implications of your offer. Now, he felt like he was the one being celebrated. You were a real treat, kneeling before him with a gaze he had seen many times before. You wanted more... You wanted him. Dalton leaned in, glancing between your eyes and your lips.

You let him come closer until your mouths met in a gentle kiss, mirroring what you did moments ago.

His nose brushed against yours while he left you longing for another kiss. The small nod of his head told you everything you needed to know.

You erased the distance completely and kissed him again with your head tilted to the side.

Dalton's fingertips caressed along your arms and guided you to wrap them around his neck. He deepened the kiss when he felt one of your hands cradling the back of his head.

You hummed when his hands began to explore your body. The gentle touching up and down your back grew in eagerness.

Dalton's hands gripped firmly on your hips, pulling you closer. He placed a hand under your thigh and positioned you how he wanted. He took it slow, one step at a time. His hand travelled back up to the curve of your ass that he squeezed a little bit harsher than you expected.

The whimper you let out only encouraged him to keep going while his feverish touches fuelled you to take this further. Your tongue traced his lips before he parted his mouth open.

Your tongues danced together while he let go of you briefly to unbutton his shirt. Immediately after, your hands were all over him. Your fingertips followed the shape of his collarbone down to the curve of his pecs to end on the valley between his abs. You printed each and every detail of Dalton in your mind.

Your loving touch spread goosebumps on his skin, or perhaps it was the breeze getting cooler. The sunset reached its last instants, the sun appeared to be swallowed by the ocean far beyond the horizon. The marina was peaceful, but not quiet. Soft whimpers and grunts filled the silence as the waves slowly hit the sand.

You paused to catch your breath, Dalton could not take his eyes off your kiss swollen lips. "Wanna make you feel good." He whispered against your lips before leaning in again to let his tongue invade your mouth. His hands rested on your hips, squeezing the flesh and making your body move back and forth.

You ached from the lack of direct contact with him, you needed to feel him. But, again, you wanted to respect how far he seemed willing to go.

So he put his words into actions. Dalton made you straddle his thigh, trying to adjust the best he could to make sure you were comfortable. With his hands on your ass again, he began to make you grind on him. At first the movements were tentative, he let you adjust to the friction between your core and the clothes. But when you moaned at his ear, he could no longer hold back.

You rocked your hips back and forth, succumbing to the ever-growing hunger for more. More of this heated intimacy, more of Dalton's warm skin on yours... More.

Every time a door opened, Dalton closed it by repeating that you were a nice person, that you did not want to know him in that way, that you did not want to get close to him.

Yet, you waited. You showed him you had all the patience in the world for him. You showed that you were not out to get him, that you simply wanted to make Dalton feel good too.

You succeeded. The more you waited and reassured him that you would respect his boundaries, the more Dalton wanted to explore what lied beyond those limits.

"I don't want to stop." You murmured at his ear, trailing kisses from his ear and along his jaw until your lips connected again.

"I don't wanna stop either." His grip tightened on your hips, forcing you to slow down. "But since you refuse to get on the boat with me..."

You remained categorical, he would never convince you to step foot in that death trap. "We can go back to my place."

"Oh yeah?" Dalton kept you immobile, pressed down on his thigh. Your whine of complaint sounded like music to his ears. "You think you can wait that long?" It was quite the drive between the beach and your home. If either of you had the genuine intention to leave, you would have done in a while ago. "I'm not too sure about that."

You scoffed at his assumption. "Can you wait?"

Dalton answered your question by capturing your lips with his in a rough kiss. He slowly, carefully, helped you to lay on your back. He guided your legs apart to make space, his gaze meeting yours while his hands caressed your thighs. He let the tension build, he needed you to give him one more sign that you wanted this just as much as he did. When your hips bucked forward, your body pressing more against his, he grinned. "I've waited long enough."

#jake gyllenhaal #elwood dalton #jake gyllenhaal smut #elwood dalton smut #jake gyllenhaal imagine #elwood dalton imagine #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #elwood dalton x reader #jake gyllenhaal x reader #elwood dalton fanfic

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externalmemorycomic · 2 years ago

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Image description: A black and white illustration, designed to look like a book cover. On a decorative ribbon, the title at the top reads “External Memory”. A scroll work border of leaves and flowers divides the illustration into three rounded panels. The largest panel is in the center and shows a caravan surrounded by greenery, puddles and potted plants. The two smaller panels beneath it show a cartoon cat and mouse respectively, facing each other. At the bottom is another decorative ribbon with the text “a diary comic by My Murphy”. After the cover follows an 8 page comic. The style is cartoonish and the colours are soft pastels. Page one: An orange cat waves and says “Hello! I’m My.” The cat holds up a white mouse and says “This is Mouse, my girlfriend.” Caption: My name is actually My, but Mouse is a nickname for comic and privacy purposes. Caption: When I started this project, me and Mouse lived on a little island off the Swedish coast. The panel shows a stylised, tiny island with a lighthouse, spruce and birch trees, leaning houses and a little dock with a row boat tied to it. The cat and mouse are standing on the cliffs and a swan floats on the water in the foreground. Page two: Caption: Now we’ve moved to Ireland where we live in a caravan in the middle of nowhere. A small caravan, surrounded by greenery, overgrown trees, rocks, puddles and potted plants. The caravan has two windows and the cat and the mouse are looking out of one window each. Caption: We lived on the island to be close to my family. A ribbon with writing on it separates and labels four characters: “mom”, an ermine, “dad”, a wolverine, “brother”, a marmot and “step mom”, a squirrel. The ribbon has been torn in between “mom” and “dad”. Caption: and we moved to Ireland to be close to Mouse’s family. Three characters are shown, each with their own ribbon label. “mother-in-law”, a deer, “sister-in-law”, a jack russell terrier and “brother-in-law”, a hedgehog. Page three: Caption: Me and the mouse are currently in our thirties. The cat lounges on an antique fainting couch and the mouse sleeps on a cushion on the floor. On the floor is an open bag of “let’s” crisps and a laptop. Caption: We’re both pretty decrepit in various ways, so for this comic I draw couches and beds as often as I draw people. Caption: Disability isn’t especially interesting to me, but if a fish made an autobiographical comic… A fish under water paints a four panel comic with a brush held in its mouth. The panels the fish has painted show bubbles, waves and splashing water. Caption: …it’d probably be partly about water, whether the fish cared about water or not. Page four: Caption: My memory has always been pretty crappy. If a friend asks me: “do you remember when...” The question is shown asked by a red robin Caption: I usually have to answer: “no, I don’t.” The panel shows the cat giving this answer while looking away and blushing. Caption: There are many things in my life I’d like to remember. Mom the ermine watches as the cat opens a Christmas gift in front of a Christmas tree. The cat is much smaller than usual, its tail is bushy with excitement and it holds up a big book, “Mort”, with a skull on the cover. Caption: This comic is my EXTERNAL MEMORY so I can capture some of those moments… The cat admires a butterfly hovering above its outstretched paw Caption: …great or small. Page five: Caption: I try to make one strip per day, give or take. Pages with dates written on them blow off of a daily wall calendar by a strong breeze. As they turn over, comic pages are revealed to be drawn on the back. One comic shows the mouse with long fangs, biting the face of the cat and then hissing behind a bat wing. One comic is a pastiche of Tim Buckley’s “Loss” comic and one features a portrait of Frasier Crane and the Seattle skyline. Caption: and on the days when nothing interesting happens A close up shows the cat’s paw drawing a comic panel. In this panel a smaller, rounder version of the cat runs happily in the sunshine carrying a backpack. Caption: I reach back and draw something from my past. Caption: If you read this comic and wonder: A coyote looks at the comic on its phone, strokes its chin suspiciously and asks “did that really happen?” Caption: the answer is always yes. Caption: If you read this comic and wonder: A monkey reads the comic in zine form and think “did they really say that?” Caption: the answer is usually yes. Page six: Caption: When a specific phrase is the point of the strip, it’s recorded verbatim. The mouse says “you’re marching to the beat of the potato drum.” Caption: is a direct quote. Caption: When the point is something else, I sometimes take small liberties to make the memory fit well inside four panels. The cat sits at its drawing table, holding a pair of scissors in one hand and a paper with two comic panels in the other. Caption: Usually that means I make myself or the mouse play the part of the straight man because it will improve a joke. The cat and the mouse, dressed as clowns, stand in a circus tent. The cat pulls the clown nose from the mouse’s face and holds up a pie, ready to strike. Caption: In reality, neither of us is much of a straight man, but all art demands some sacrifices. Caption: In every way that matters, this comic always tells the truth. The cat looks up at a large, glowing, winged sphinx statue version of itself. The statue and framing is a reference to the all knowing Southern Oracle from the film adaptation of “The Neverending Story”. Caption: I am doing this to aid my memory after all, so it wouldn’t be very helpful to make my life seem more funny, interesting or relatable than it really is. The cat draws a comic while watching paint dry on the wall. Caption: That would be a pretty cruel joke to play on my future, more confused self. The cat scratches its head at a drawing of themselves as the winner of a beauty contest, wearing a sash and crown, waving to the crowd and holding flowers. Caption: She’ll probably have enough to contend with… The cat looks suspiciously at its own reflection in the mirror, not recognising it. The drawing is a pastiche of a panel from the webcomic “Gunshow” by KC Green. Caption: Maybe some of my comics will be funny or interesting or relatable to you anyway. That would make me very happy. The cat smiles and presses its paws to its face in joy, seeing that a bear and a horse are reading the comic together and laughing. Cartoon hearts float over the cat. Caption: Some of the comics probably won’t do much for anybody but me, but that’s okay too. The cat presses a page of the comic to its chest, looking contented and protective. In the last panel, the cat and the mouse are floating on air with a blue sky and white clouds behind them. The cat is smiling and twirling around, holding a paint brush out like a wand. From the brush flows paint that swirls around the two figures and making shapes of green leaves and orange and yellow flowers. On two looping blue ribbons appear the last captions: This is a record of my silly little life. Good or bad, I’m glad I get to share it. End ID.

Here’s a little introduction to External Memory! It was fun to make a proper neat and full colour comic - it’s been a while ^^

(If you like this project, please reblog this post! You can also subscribe to my patreon where I post one comic every day ^^)

#comic #comics #original comic #web comic #webcomic #diary comic #slice of life #autobiographical comics #journal comics #comic artists on tumblr #external memory comic #slice of life comic #apologies for the long post tumblr does that any time I put in tags for some reason #described #long post

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delopsia · 2 months ago

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fae (forget about everything) | Bob x Reader x Rhett

Word Count: 2,800 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: AFAB!Reader. Wedding guests, the Reader's wedding outfit, and the general wedding theme are left ambiguous and up to your personal interpretation. Includes flashbacks both to previous fics and never-before-seen moments. A harmless wedding prank. Mentions of food (cake). Dividers are by enchanthings. Brief Summary: After all these years, you finally marry them. You can't help but remember all the things that led up to this very moment.

This fic is delicately named after Forget About Everything by Marcus Warner. This fic was written with this song in mind, but you are welcome to imagine any song that you wish 💐

An autumn breeze twists past you. Rustling through the pristine white of your clothes, rummaging high up into the trees overhead, swaying back and forth, orange and red leaves beginning to fall like rain. You're beginning to understand why Bobby insisted you do this at the beginning of the season.

It's exactly as you remembered it being.

Crisp. Yet warmed by the gentle glow of the sun, already in the beginnings of her descent from her throne in the sky. The light catches on the archway, a delicate crafting of flowers around a wire frame that you can no longer see. If you tilt your head to the side, you can see through it, the ends of a white aisle runner leading out into a gathering that isn't meant to see you just yet.

It's almost strange to think of how you once stood in this very spot all of those years ago. Armed with nothing but your tattered little wallet and a few shopping bags, entirely unaware of what was about to hit you.

You can still hear it. Rhett's pitchy little apology, the shake in his big hands when he helped you up from the ground. Two o'clock on a Monday afternoon was way too early to be getting a drink with a cowboy you'd never known a day in your life, but how were you meant to know it would lead to this?

That you would run into a near identical version of that same damn cowboy; with shorter hair and the biggest eyes you'd ever seen, absolutely bewildered about why you would ever think his name was Rhett.

"I'm—I'm sorry, I'm not Rhett," there isn't a damn way this man isn't Rhett. He looks and sounds the exact fucking same, only Rhett certainly didn't have a pair of wire frames perched on his nose. The guy looks down at his hands and holds one out to you, "You left this on the bench."

Your wallet.

"Oh." God, were you really that distracted by Rhett's backside that you forgot to grab your wallet? As you take it from this, Not Rhett guy, it seems to be in perfect shape, only a little warm from how long he's been holding it. "Thank you?"

His hand rises to scratch the side of his neck, "you're welcome." But his eyes had might as well be on the ground because they don't lift to look at you.

"Are you sure you're not Rhett?" Your mouth is moving on its own; this absolutely has to be the same guy. "Because I swear I just...spoke to you a few minutes ago."

Not Rhett shifts his weight, those eyes finally darting up. Blue as ice, but nowhere near as bold and free as Rhett's were. "I've never met a Rhett in my life if I'm being real honest with ya."

Nothing could have ever convinced you that in a few years, you'd be marrying those strangers. But here you are, two o'clock on a Monday afternoon, twisting your clammy fingers into the bouquet you forgot was in your hands.

They're an odd mix at first glance, but Rhett insisted that rather than struggling to pick just one favorite, it includes everyone's favorites. Your beloved choices, blended amongst Bob's bluebonnets and Rhett's Western Spiderworts, wrapped up in a ribbon borrowed from a friend who had some extra lying around.

...hm. Strange. You don't recall adding these little white flowers to the arrangement. Five tiny petals a piece, oddly reminiscent of something from a cherry tree.

Does it smell like cherries?

"Eugh," your nose wrinkles. Reeling back from the bouquet as if it just bit you.

What the hell are those? And why do they smell like...that?

A petal breaks off, twisting and dancing through the air like a sugar plum fairy, landing daintily on the tip of your shoe. It blends in a little bit too well, as if it were hand-crafted to match the white of your clothes. So much time spent meticulously choosing this outfit, only to be worn once for a handful of hours. Maybe twice, if future-you feels spontaneous and wants to pointlessly crawl back into this.

"It's...cute?" Rhett tilts his head to the side, his voice strained as he forces the false compliment past his lips. He's trying. So artificial that the assistant helping you visibly winces, but it's still better than Bob's scrunched nose.

You haven't seen that look on his face since the time Maverick quoted a misleading Facebook post like it was gospel.

The shape of this one doesn't flatter your figure...in the slightest. The sleeves are a little too tight around the wrist, yet somehow poofing out at the shoulder, not quite built for your figure. It's not much better in the chest, awkwardly sticking forward. You reckon you could use this as a pocket to store your belongings in.

"Absolutely not," so stunned by its ill-fitting nature that you've almost forgotten to make a remark about it.

"So the...second to last one is still the top pick?" Bob sounds just as lost as you are; at some point, all of your try-ons have begun to blur together.

The woman next to you clears her throat. "Is that the one we'd like to go with?"

Well...

"But I thought y' didn't like the texture of it," Rhett chirps before you can even begin to open your mouth.

If you're entirely honest with yourself, you were beginning to think that you could just tolerate the texture for a few hours. It's not as if you'll be wearing this every day for the rest of your life. What else is there to go with? Four stores, countless hours, and well-thought-out opinions, and that was the best you could find.

There's nothing that you see here. It's so hard to pick something else amongst the sea of black and white fabrics glaring back at you, the occasional splatter of color caught up in the middle of it all—dresses, blazers, skirts, suit jackets, slacks, ties, tiaras. It's all the same.

Something reflects over in the back right corner. Just a mirror awkwardly catching in the overhead light.

"What about that one next to the mirror?" You don't recall seeing that one before.

Getting into it is probably the hardest part. The thin fabric is so delicate that you're convinced the slightest tug may cause it to rip.

But it fits. Hugging all of the places you had hoped it would, no awkward chest pockets, it doesn't even poof up around your joints. Cecelia's gifted pearl necklace blends perfectly with the material; the dainty blue pin from Bob's momma looks as if it were made to fit with

You know it's the right one when they fall quiet the moment you step out of the dressing rooms. Two pairs of big blue eyes gazing back at you with a familiar glisten.

One of these days, they'll realize that they look like puppies when they see something they like.

A gentle tune begins to play. For a moment, you manage to trick yourself into believing that the trees themselves are playing the song and not a handful of speakers cleverly hidden among the branches.

All of those rehearsals must have worked because your feet begin to move before you realize what's about to happen. Already drawing near the corner, delicately turning, and—

Your heart lurches.

Wow, this little crowd looks a lot bigger all of a sudden. Did a busload of people squeeze into the remaining seats? Because you think they did.

There they are, time seeming to slow as they turn their heads in unison, big smiles growing impossibly wider. The autumn breeze twists past once more, ruffling the flowers in your hands and through the ends of Rhett's hair. Shorter than it was three days ago, the only way the hairdresser could tame those curls without fully chopping them off.

Even from a distance, you catch the way Bob's eyes suddenly widen, darting off to the left.

The cakes sway dangerously in the wind, the table perhaps a little off balance, as Archie and his wife scurry to stabilize it before it can properly tip. Out of all the potential disasters lurking in the back of your mind, the potential of the cakes falling wasn't even on the list. With how he had you two trying to make it from premade packets from some start-up company you'd never heard of.

One blink, and you nearly miss it. The swift drag of Bobby's fingertip smearing the artificially dyed sweetness onto Rhett's thin lips. Leaves just a big enough mess for him to lean in and press his mouth to Rhett's, that soft pink tongue darting out to lick it off. It ends as quickly as it started, with Bobby turning back to the counter, already beginning to pour another pack of sprinkles into an empty container.

Rhett's wide eyes meet with yours. Bewildered.

...huh.

"What do we think of lemon?" Bobby's speaking as if nothing ever happened. Acting it, too.

You're not entirely sure what he means by that. "I'm sorry?"

"Cake flavors," holding up a non-descript packet of mix. "There's lemon in here."

Rhett's nose wrinkles, and you can't help but wonder if he's recalling the sourness of the lemon pie you two tried to put together for Bobby. Worst damn welcome home present you've ever made.

"Is there a difference to the icin'?" Rhett asks, poking at one of the bowls.

"They're all the same." Bob's head shakes, sprinkles audibly pouring out of the packet and into yet another bowl. Who's gonna wash all these dishes, anyhow?

Rhett's eyes meet with yours. Brows furrowing, like this is the most absurd thing he's ever heard. If the initial confusion hadn't already worn off, you reckon you'd be feeling the same damn thing. Who does this, and why are you just letting it happen? Is your life so devoid of joy that this is what you've allowed yourself to resort to?

Or is Bob Floyd just very, very good at convincing you to blindly follow his lead?

All of that effort, debating on flavors and bickering about why lemon absolutely does not pair well with red velvet. Maybe separately, but in layers? As a part of the same cake? Absolutely not. But mixing flavors is hard enough as it is when it's a traditional couple of two. A trio? Hell, is what it is.

Three individual cakes make a lot more sense than cramming three vastly different tastes into one big thing. But even that was a challenge. Bob, with his stubbornly chosen lemon and Rhett's favorite red velvet, yours settled right between them. So vastly different, yet somehow, they manage to tie into a cohesive theme.

You see the bump in the aisle runner this time, a tree root that has had you stumbling every rehearsal, but this time, it's not getting you. Not today. Not when so many people are watching.

There's a wateriness behind Rhett's eye that you didn't anticipate. From Bob? Yes. You've seen that plush bottom lip start wobbling over a Disney movie, but Rhett...you're not sure why it's got you so surprised.

Even from so far away, you can feel their warm gazes taking you in. They've seen you in this before. Have helped you decide on so many of the little pieces, your shoes, whether or not to use gloves. Veil? No veil? Accessories?

They're just as familiar with this look as you are, and yet, it's as if they've seen you for the first time. Bob covering his smile with his hand, Rhett's eyelashes fluttering like tiny little butterflies. And it's as if the world around you disappears right then and there.

It's so difficult to keep your pace. Fighting against yourself to not rush forward and run the rest of the way. Was the aisle always this long? One foot after the other, past your friend sitting closest to the aisle and Bob's momma one row ahead of them. In the corner of your eye, you catch her grabbing Cecelia's hand.

Rhett and Bobby are both situated to your left, leaving you to step to the right. It's a narrow turn, forces you to sidestep a little bit. Natasha glides forward, one of her hands finding your side, helping you stabilize yourself as she takes the bouquet with her other hand. It's so seamless that you hardly realize she's done it, only notice the flowers are gone when you no longer have something to idly squeeze.

Bob's wavering hand reaches out, enveloping yours. Rhett's is a little sturdier, but his palm is just as clammy as yours is. In the back of your mind, you've got the feeling that the crowd is already beginning to set off Bob's nerves, regardless of how familiar all of these faces might be.

Frankly, you're just glad that you made the collective decision to keep the vows a private thing. You can't even begin to remember your last name right now, never mind entire sentences.

"What the hell d'ya even say fer this?" It's Rhett who breaks the silence, peeking up from his blank notebook like a deer caught in the headlights. You'd thought he was writing this whole time, but now that you look at it, he's just been drawing a stick figure on an equally stick-shaped bull

...or maybe that's a horse.

"To publicly declare your love and your feelings to your partners," Bob doesn't lift his head, but you don't see his pen moving, either. "To make it clear to your families that you're committed."

Rhett drops the pen, letting it roll across the table and over the edge. "Well, that's dumb."

"No, it isn't," now Bob's reacting, but it's difficult to give someone a bewildered look when you also have to squint to see their face. His fault for leaving them on the nightstand again, stubbornly traversing this blurry world for the sake of 'not wearing them for once.'

"But y'all already know how much I love you," Rhett throws his hand up."Why does declarin' it in front of my aunt make that any more special?"

"Because it makes it—"

"'n who gets married if they ain't already committed to the relationship?"

Bob's brows knit together. You're not sure if that's irritation, an inability to see, or if he's simply never considered this before. "I thought this was something you wanted to do."

"I," you start, putting all of your emphasis into that vowel, "thought this was something you wanted to do."

Surely you can still make changes to the ceremony three weeks before the wedding.

Right?

"And now the rings, a symbol of your love and faithfulness."

Rueben reaches into the pocket hidden inside his suit jacket, pulling out a tiny red box, opening up and it's—

empty?

He tosses it to the ground. Reaches into his pocket and pulls out another box. Nothing. Tosses it to the ground, too.

Jake looks into his pocket. Pulls out a foam sword. Tosses it. Danny searches through his front pocket and pulls out caution tape. And then it's another empty ring box and another sword. A fly swatter. A rock.

"I got it!" Archie tosses another ring box forward.

Empty.

There goes a toy plane. And a fork. Another foam sword. A bottle of Advil. A brand new deck of cards. A duplicate of Rhett's cake topper? Why did Danny have a paperback titled 1001 Cool Jokes? Another empty ring box. There goes Rueben's tie, and—oh well, he just yanked Jake's off in return.

Archie sneaks forward, his hands dramatically patting Rhett down. And Rhett's trying his best to say something through his giggles, but it dissolves the moment Archie's hands shove into his pockets.

There's another box hiding in there, those three little rings safe and sound inside.

You get to go first. Trying your best to remain steady as you slip Bob's golden wedding band onto his shivering ring finger, then carefully pass the two remaining rings into his palm. Bob reaches for Rhett, holds him a little firmer than you did, twisting the ring onto Rhett's calloused finger like a screw.

Rhett takes your ring from him. A delicate little thing that the three of you designed. You've seen the blueprints for it, but...it feels like the first time you've laid eyes on it. Plucked right out of your daydreams, unintentionally bumping into your fingertip as Rhett gently slides it onto your ring finger for the very first time.

You hear what the officiant is saying, but none of you are truly listening. You know they aren't. Bob's smiling a little bit too much to be focusing. Rhett's gazing into your eyes like he's drowning in them.

The sun hits their eyes in just the right way. Illuminating the deeper color lurking in Rhett's irises, such a dramatic difference compared to Bob's baby blues—intense but delicate. Perfect opposites and...yet the same.

"I now pronounce you married. You may now kiss your partners."

But first, all three of you have to quit grinning like a pair of idiots, or else you might knock a tooth out in front of everyone you know and love.

#rhett abbott #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #oneshot #hawthorn au #bob floyd

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wndaswife · 2 years ago

Text

every waking moment

「 thérèse raquin & fem!reader 」

tags: smut, fingering, angst, cheating, brief implication of homophobia. MINORS DNI.

word count: 4700

summary: Unbeknownst to Thérèse that you've learned about her affair with Laurent, she begins to suspect you have a lover. She spends her every moment with you henceforth, determined to make you hers again.

a/n: i attempted to write from a naturalist perspective :> which was thrilling and equally as difficult

gif credit to creator.

“I’m leaving!” Thérèse had called back to you as you rummaged through the shelfs, dividing nylon thread from polyester ones and storing them separately. Within the last fortnight, she was away from the shop more often than not. “I’ll be back late tonight with the ribbon we need,” she said.

Thérèse returned later that evening, as she promised.

But you had tired of seeing her by then, even when she peppered your cheeks with kisses and brought back with her four handfuls of the spools of the required ribbon.

You were not able to see her undressing at the end of the night in your shared bedroom, stepping out of her crinoline and unlacing her corset, without envisioning the handsome dark-haired Laurent and his wandering hands nor the intimate sights he might have seen of your maiden.

It was not the idea that someone else had shared in the experience of bestowing their eyes onto Thérèse’s fair skin and bare body that ate at you, but instead that partnership was meant to mean exclusivity. At least, that was what Thérèse had always preached into your ear and in the tight embrace of her arms.

Hours ago, you had followed her discreetly to the Seine and saw her sprawled out by the riverbank, tranquil and happy as she laid in the cool shadow of a great oak tree. A man was perched on his elbow laying beside her, his fingers running down the side of her face delicately, then to her chin where his thumb brushed across her bottom lip.

You did know of Laurent; the childhood friend of Thérèse’s cousin Camille, who you had not seen since he and his mother moved away once you and Thérèse started overseeing the haberdashery together.

Laurent was a dashing man, or so you assumed from the meaningful stares he would exchange with any woman he came within fifteen feet of.

Before you left your previous occupation to work with Thérèse at the haberdashery, you’d worked with Laurent. You would have never considered him to be anything more than an acquaintance, for the truth was that he irritated you, and sometimes you despised him. He was an arrogant lazy oaf, and should he ever come into any deal of money, no matter how small, you knew he would have never come into work.

He lazed around and did just enough to impress the superiors, getting around by flashing a few smiles and discussing his creative history with beautiful naked models for his beautifully understated pieces of art. You could not remember what kind of artist he was, if one could ever stomach calling him such, but it was not significant to you as you continued to watch him interact with Thérèse.

In an instinctual jerk of your body as if reacting to a sudden noise, you turned your head when the man lowered his face to hers. Their lips met tenderly. Despite yourself, you peeked over, beyond the grand oak tree, to find Laurent looking deeply into your maiden’s eyes. He lifted himself up so their lips could part and he could look down at her while Thérèse grinned, her chest fluttering with her soft giggles.

Dozens of hushed secrets were exchanged within that silent stare and you abhorred yourself for wanting to know them.

Presently, Thérèse embraces you from behind, unbuttoning the collar of your dress. She hushes you when your shoulders tense, uttering a quiet, “Shh-shh-shh.”

You look ahead at the wardrobe you’re facing, your body stiff as Thérèse’s hands work nimbly at undressing you.

A dim candle flickers on top of a table in the corner of the bedroom, enveloping the entire room in a warm shade of orange. From the nightstand beside the bed at the other side of the bedroom, an off-white light gleams and casts Thérèse’s shadow against your back and the top of her head over your shoulder and against the wardrobe.

When your corset is undone and is placed atop of your skirts on the floor, Thérèse pushes your crinoline down your legs and you step out of it, moving to the side and finally slipping out of her arms.

The both of you stand in the silent shadowed room in your chemises and undone hair.

Before you met her, Thérèse was a sombre, serious woman, so still and silent that one might have believed she was slumbering when she was sitting in the chair behind the shop’s counter or tending to the Thursday evening guests in her seat beside the window and away from the night’s events had it not been for the way her eyes fluttered ever so slightly at any rupture of noise and the hypnotic curling of her pale fingers as she stroked the Raquin family’s cat, François, in her lap.

Though it was nearly a year since you’d first met Thérèse and now several months since you’d known her romantically, you often felt you knew her just as much as you did that first night Camille dragged you to his mother’s shop for a game of dominoes alongside Laurent.

She reaches out to take your hand, pulling it close to her, and your arm lifts loosely.

You turn towards her and walk towards the bed because you have little else to do.

Thérèse wraps an arm around you, hugging you and burying her face against the side of your breast. Her arm drops when you lean forward and get into bed. She follows, moving close against your side until her breasts press against your upper arm.

With her fingers wrapped around the side of your neck and the corner of your jaw, she turns your head to her. Thérèse kisses you, eyebrows pushing together and exhaling a soft hum in excited relief. Her arm wraps around your waist and her free hand rounds to the back of your neck, guiding you to move on top of her.

Feeling beside yourself and with little control, you let Thérèse move your body until you’re laying on top of her, knees on either side of her thighs. Her hand moves up to the back of your head, playing with your hair and leading your face down to her neck. She moans when your lips make contact with her and you begin kissing your way to her pulse.

You no longer wanted to control yourself nor anything else, and certainly not Thérèse. You no longer wanted to take, and Therese knew of nothing but how to give.

“Please,” she huffs. “I want your fingers inside of me.”

You oblige without knowing why. Perhaps you do it out of instinct; not knowing what else you would’ve done if you had declined. You push her nightgown up her thighs and she rubs her knee against your side.

Thérèse is the only woman you’ve ever known intimately. Her long dark-brown hair fans out against the pillow her head lays on. The lamp from the nightstand illuminates her face with a warm radiance, creating the illusion that the pale shade of her skin is glowing. The curves of her figure are delicate and smooth, and for a moment you entertain being the only one to know such paths of her body.

You never imagined being with any other woman, let alone ever loving anyone but Thérèse. The thought that you may have always been right disturbs you all the more.

When your fingers find her place of pleasure and slip through her tight walls, causing Thérèse to moan out and arch up against you, you damn yourself for knowing her body so well.

You curve your fingers inside her and lean down to bury your face in her breasts, kissing up the soft swells and parting your lips to leave trails of saliva up her skin. With your free hand, you pull the collar of her slip down and wrap your lips around her nipple, then the other. You watch as her eyes screw shut and her soft pink lips part to release her whines into the bedroom.

Your insides churn as you knew she took Laurent’s cock in the same way, a sensual ritual you also knew she loved more than your fingers.

How could you ever compare to a man?

Yet she tightens her thighs around your hips and pants into your ear when you raise yourself to kiss her neck again as if she craves you more, as if she receives more pleasure from you than him. It disgusts you and you find Thérèse to be a repulsive animal who knows only of its own survival and carnal instincts. You feel you would’ve much rather she hated you.

You bring Thérèse to orgasm then climb down from her and lay back down onto your side of the bed, fingers weakly thrusting into her as she trembles and whimpers beside you.

When your fingers exit from inside her, Thérèse wraps a hand around your wrist and brings your coated fingers to her lips. She stares at you intently, a soft grin forming as she takes your fingers into her mouth, cleaning it with her tongue. Then she kisses you and places your hand on your chest.

“Shall I read to you?” she asks, mounting herself on her elbow and looking at you with a smile evident of growing excitement.

You turn over to your side, away from your partner.

The smile falls from her face and she frowns. She moves closer to you, wrapping her arm around your chest and leaning up to kiss your neck.

“Are you upset with me?” she questions, though despite her concern you can hear a twinge of lightheartedness in her tone.

Thérèse looked incredibly bored at times, dull and near dozing off, then in the next moment, taking very little seriously and laughing at every childish jest she told.

You bury your face in your pillow, increasingly discouraged as you continue to think over the discrepancies in your understanding of her. It is of no consolation to you that after seeing your maiden with a lover, you’re now beginning to realise how much you do not know about her.

Her arm around your upper body shakes you around playfully and she urges you, lips pressed against your cheek, “Tell me. Must I ask François what happened while I was away?”

Opening your eyes and pushing your pillow away from your face, you inquire, “Who accompanied you when you went out this afternoon and until the late evening? Were you alone all day?”

“Of course not,” Thérèse replies, twisting the collar of your chemise around her finger. “I was with Laurent for a bit of the day, then some of my student friends from the university he attended. But he couldn’t join us.”

“What did you do with him?” you ask, your agitation getting the better of you.

With a reply that makes you twitch in a way that surprises you when Thérèse doesn’t notice, she responds witlessly, “Why do you ask that?”

“I’m certain people see you as a couple more frequently than they do us while we live together and show every hint of being involved,” you retort, the sudden reveal of the hidden insecurity confounding even you.

Thérèse seems incredibly amused by this and she moves her leg over your hips. With her hand flat on the bed and the other on your shoulder, she hoists herself up to straddle your lower stomach while pushing you down onto your back and making you look up at her. “Laurent is only a friend,” she says then lowers herself to trail quick pecks down the incline of your jaw, “don’t be so sensitive.”

You pull the blankets over your head, feeling finished with the conversation and fooling yourself into believing you’d end it this way.

She tugs the blankets back down to uncover your face with a strength you often forget Thérèse has. She asks as if with the intention to provoke, “What if he was my lover? Would you be jealous?”

“No,” you answer plainly, lying.

“Why not?” she presses, unsatisfied with your response.

‘You’ve always fancied him,’ you want to say, and, ‘Because it would be your choice in doing so.”

But you say neither.

What good would it do?

Even if it would have been favourable to simply get your bitterness out into the open, you don’t have enough confidence nor strength to even entertain doing it.

Fortunately for you, she sleeps with her back to you that night, seemingly perturbed by your answer to her question earlier; any contact with her while you fell asleep might have conjured night terrors.

You awaken in the morning with Thérèse’s arm around your midriff anyways, perhaps having chosen to forgive you during the night or as result of a habitual act, rejecting the troubled feelings she felt even as she was asleep.

She stays asleep while you slip out from under her arm and stand from the bed.

Hours you’ve spent staring at Thérèse’s sleeping face since you ravished her body intimately that first time you spent the night together. You listened intently to every soft breath she took, watched the faint fluttering of her eyelids as she dreamt, smiled at the quiet noises she would sometimes make in her sleep.

You swore your heart truly did do several somersaults when you heard her mutter out your name in her sleep once. That entire day was spent smiling giddily while Thérèse pressed you to tell her what had gotten you so joyful, to which you only responded each time she asked with kisses that made her giggle and declarations of your love that made her swoon.

But this morning you avoid looking at her.

How many times had Laurent seen the same sight, loved her as you do? Where do his hands travel as he watches the rising and falling of her partially uncovered breasts and the vulnerability of her soft lips? Did Thérèse like how he woke her up more than how you did, which was often with a soft kiss to her forehead or not at all?

Such thoughts ate at you from the inside, and because you were dignified, you chose to look away from Thérèse when you could.

The shop needs to be tended to and Thérèse, despite everything, cannot run it herself for the entirety of the day, so leaving until the evening is out of the question.

You heat water in a steel pitcher in the fireplace. You cut a few slices of bread, lather it in jelly, and place bits of cheese on top of it evenly.

As you sit in the kitchen, fingernails running down the lines in the wooden table, eating your bread and sipping your tea, you silently question how you’d approach today.

If Thérèse left again as she has been for the last few weeks, you’d let her without question. The time away from her would be rejuvenating, in many senses. Perhaps you’d clear your mind, think up a plan. But a plan for what, you did not know.

Thérèse descends the arcade and you feel yourself bristle, damning yourself for not having finished your breakfast in time to leave the kitchen before she arrived.

Seeing the hot water still in the kettle by the fireplace, Thérèse takes it with her and places it in front of you on the table. She rounds the chairs and lowers herself to you, a hand coming to place itself on your furthest cheek before kissing your temple. “I apologise for antagonising you last night,” she says.

Her thumb runs across your chin and when her hand removes itself from your cheek, her fingers move down your cheek, caressing you tenderly. She pined for you the moment she woke up to find you weren’t in bed, reconsidering for several moments what she had said to you the evening prior.

She doesn’t badger you any further when you don’t respond, only making herself tea and spreading jelly onto one of the bread slices you cut earlier. She takes a seat beside you, adjacently, as you’re sitting at the end of the table.

Not a word is shared between the two of you, with Thérèse giving you time to become less irritated and you delighting in every moment you did not have to partake in conversation with her, until you both leave the kitchen after breakfast to open the shop together.

For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, Thérèse sits behind the counter with François in her lap, petting him idly. You sit behind the counter, near her, fidgeting with various kinds of beads and thread and ribbon. The bubbling agitation she knows is brewing within you drives Thérèse slightly mad as she’s forced to watch you for hours.

Eventually, when the peak of the afternoon plateaus and working men and errand-running women finish dropping by the haberdashery during their lunchtimes, Thérèse reaches her limit in being patient with you.

François leaps off from her lap when her thighs shift under her skirts. Thérèse stands from her seat and wraps an arm around your shoulders. She rounds you and swings a leg over your knees before sitting herself down in your lap. She wraps her other arm around your neck and pulls herself close to you.

Thérèse lifts her hand to your forehead, pushing your hair back and placing a kiss there. “I wish to pleasure you,” she says and kisses your lips. “What shall I do?”

“I wish for nothing.”

“I want for you what you give to me.”

At the sound of the word, you perk up and look up at Thérèse, who is looking down at you with a warm smile you’d thought for months was only for you. Unbeknownst to you, Thérèse has never looked at Laurent like she looks at you, for she doesn't love him at all. She holds no sentiment for him.

But again, you look away from her and stubbornly reply, “I am comfortable with the arrangement we have now.”

Therese’s smile falls and she follows your redirected gaze with her eyes, her lips parting as something grave settles within her.

For the first time, Thérèse suspects you have a lover.

She begins to see Laurent infrequently, if at all. She spends every waking moment with you, finding every way to service you and ravish you with her kisses and gentle touches. How could you possibly adore anyone more than her if she never took her eyes off you for a moment? It never crosses her that there are many ways for you to detest her for that very reason, and they come to you at every touch of her hand and every contact her soft lips have with your skin.

Thérèse takes pride in the time she spends with you while you dread every hour with her. She hardly ever leaves your side.

Initially, you detested the way Thérèse slipped out of the shop, waving you a sweet goodbye before disappearing into the busy crowds of Rue de Seine. But now you’d count the days until she leaves you next.

An evening comes when Thérèse is overtaken with passion. Something gnaws at her and makes her unbearably anxious, the banal days in the shop having worsened her natural habit of becoming taken with nervous thoughts. She cannot keep herself away from you, roaming her hands anywhere they could reach along your body, her breath trembling with anticipation or nerves- neither she or you could tell.

She undresses you while the two of you stand in the bedroom, kissing down the valley of your breasts through your chemise as you look up at the ceiling aimlessly.

Thérèse looks up at you to see the pleasure stricken across your face as she kneads your breast in one hand, and feels dejection come over her heavily when she is met only with disinterest.

Now desperate, she takes your wrists into either one of her hands and sits you down onto the chair by the fireplace. She climbs onto your lap and kisses your lips, then each of your fingers and your chin.

Then Thérèse’s chest flares with a sharp inhale, her breaths quickening as her anxiety further blankets her, soon to completely engulf her in doubts and terrors.

A week had passed of Thérèse’s care and concern without any notable progress. How have you been communicating with your lover? Did you truly still think of them when she was pleasuring you with her tongue or making you meals, kissing you to sleep as to banish your night terrors and taking up extra responsibilities in the shop for you? She herself forgets about Laurent most days.

“Do you think I don’t know about your lover?” she snaps suddenly, straightening herself and looking down at you. Her expression is riddled with more fright than fury, even as the red-orange light from the fireplace casts angry flames onto her face.

Like the inginiting flicker of a match, you burst up from your seat, forcing Thérèse off of your lap and nearly sending her tumbling to the floor had it not been for the quick reflex of her left foot. Your sudden passionate burst of emotion soothes Thérèse’s anxieties momentarily, but they return when you begin shouting at her.

“I have a lover?” you repeat, eyes wide and wild with wrath. At the sound of your voice and having never heard you so angry before, Thérèse stays silent, now unsure of her previous resolve. “Jest about it as much as you wish, but I know about Laurent and the relations you have with him behind my back.”

Thérèse wants to sink into herself.

“You selfish bitch, never thinking even once of me and only of yourself,” you jeer.

Her shoulders raise as she bristles. “You are correct about my affair with Laurent, but you could not be more wrong saying that I am selfish,” she opposes.

“Enlighten me, Thérèse.”

“I’ve spent this entire week tending to you, doing everything for you to abandon this imaginary mistress and become mine once more,” she argues. Her lips part to argue again but you scoff and interrupt her.

“Heaven forbid you pay any mind to your partner,” you say.

Thérèse’s anxiety returns when she silently questions if any of her gestures ever warmed your heart as she had intended for them to, and if you were involved with other people, she wouldn’t have won you over with any of the attempts she made anyways.

“Why did you begin seeing Laurent?” you question, your expression calm once more and only adding to the young woman’s nerves.

To Thérèse, her affair with Laurent is as necessary as sleep is to any creature, and being with you is as necessary as the rest of the waking day is. Could she not love being awake more? Did she damn the waking hours if she should fall asleep in the evening? To her, the answer is simple. Her reasoning is simple.

But you did not see it that way.

There is curiosity and the exploration of another, a man, especially, as the centre of her affair. What harm could it have done if Thérèse continued to love you all the same, if not more every day? Your response to her affair contrasts her very values, the foundation in which she ever began the affair with Laurent. It confounds her more than anything, and she pleads for your forgiveness because she wouldn’t be able to bear the consequences of what she’d done, particularly if they meant you would leave her.

She takes your hands into hers and squeezes them.

“Please, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’ve stopped seeing him. You’ve noticed, haven’t you? I haven’t spent even an afternoon without you, and I don’t think of him at all. I’ve enjoyed caring for you, I’ll show you. Whatever you need, I will provide for you. I love you.”

Simply, you ask, “Why did you avoid answering my question that evening when I asked you what you did with him?”

When Thérèse struggles to answer, you take your hands from her and leave, choosing to sleep in the spare room that used to be Madame’s.

You force Thérèse to sign off on a cheque that gives you half of your rightful claim to the rest of the money Madame left the two of you after she settled with Camille someplace else. It will be enough to move away and find a job, especially now that you have several years’ worth of experience in accounting and a few months in the haberdashery business.

Thérèse writes to you often, and to many of her letters you never reply or even bother opening. She seals it with wax dyed with your favourite colour and prints your name and mailing post in the most delicate way on the envelope. In many ways, the letter on its own is every kiss and embrace she wishes to give you, and you sometimes cannot even give her the pleasure of doing anything more than taking it from the mailbox and tossing it into the fireplace.

You’ve never told her your address, only the post to which she could send her letters to.

Never forgetting to miss a week, a letter comes to you from Thérèse every Monday.

When you do decide to open them, you do so because of curiosity- not out of concern or the feeling of obligation. Every week, Thérèse never fails to send you a letter, which you can feel with your fingers through the envelope filled with several sheets of paper.

What could she be writing so much about every week when she often got no more than a letter back every three fortnights?

She sometimes discusses the shop’s patrons with you, asking whether you believe red or black thread would work with a certain sleeve, or a front or back stitch on a certain hemming. Such things you often used to discusse with Thérèse when you worked together. It was a pleasure to work with someone you loved, being close to them and sharing creative ideas back and forth as you stitched and ironed together. There was little chance you could get back to her by the time the order needed to be finished, so you never understood why she kept writing about silly details like that.

Paragraphs, and sometimes an entire page, would be dedicated to asking you questions, inquiring if you were at the very least living by the Seine or if you enjoyed your job and have finally settled into your new place, and if you’d ever consider visiting Passage du Pont-Neuf, even if only for a week in the summer.

She ensures in every letter that you know she would welcome you back if you ever find yourself without anywhere else to go or if you were only visiting. If she ever thinks about you coming back to stay with her again, which she very often does, she never writes about it for the fear you’d never write back to her.

Though she has implied her curiosity many times, you never tell her whether you have begun a relationship with anyone. She did not deserve to know even that.

When you choose to take the time to do so, you write back with nearly the same answers, but Thérèse is no less thrilled each time she opens the mailbox and sees your envelope. You get a letter back twice as quickly when you send one out to her, while she still never forgets to send you another that weekend so as to ensure it arrives by Monday.

You never plan to visit Thérèse, and somewhere within her endless questions and offers for you to stay in the extra room during the summer, she finds herself knowing it too.

A year has passed since you left the young woman, and a year since you’ve seen the haberdashery or Rue de Seine.

You finish reading the stack of papers in your hands- your letter for the week.

Your eyes then run across the delicate handwriting in the lower corner of the page that reads: ‘Yours always, Thérèse Raquin.’

#thérèse raquin #thérèse raquin x you #thérèse raquin x reader #thérèse raquin x y/n #thérèse raquin fanfiction #in secret fanfiction #in secret #elizabeth olsen

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strangergraphics · 5 months ago

Text

under the cut are a variety of

aesthetic & color themed dividers.

please like & credit if you use, reblogs are appreciated!

aesthetics:

• y2k/early 2000’s:

- one

- y2k computer mdni & support

• neon:

- one

- mdni & support

• black sparkles

• vintage

• bows and stars

• girly mdni & support

• gorey/creepy

• lace:

- pastel

- neutral colors

- ribbon & lace

• fire & water

• greek gods & goddesses:

- demeter

- athena

colors:

• red:

- red & green

• orange:

- yellow & orange

• peach:

- one

• yellow:

- one

- yellow & gold

• green:

- one

• blue:

- one

• purple:

- one

• pink:

- pink & purple

• color mix:

- one

- two

- three

- pastel decorative lines

- multi-colored hearts

masterlist • navigation

#mari’s dividers 🍂#aesthetic dividers #colorful dividers #cute dividers #tumblr dividers #aesthetic & colors dividers 🍂#dividers masterlist #color dividers

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anitalenia · 6 months ago

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s u m m e r & o c e a n d i v i d e r s ⋆⭒˚｡⋆⊹₊ ⋆

credits to me. feel free to use and save. of course credit would be appreciated but it is not required. I’m just making these for fun <3 | requested by @justcallmesakira ( I hope these are to your liking, if not don’t hesitate to tell me. I know I said three days but I was up all night and decided to just do them. I gave you a lot of options if you couldn’t tell 😭 and I put some simple line dividers at the bottom, I really hope you like them 🫶🏻✨)

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bangpop91 · 3 days ago

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Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Thank you @lavenderleahy for the tag! I'm working on a few different things this morning so enjoy a couple different teases!

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart:

"Ugh. It's not fair." Buck whines rubbing his belly where Strawberry is incessantly kicking him apparently wanting to come out and join the party. "How are you thirty eight weeks pregnant and smaller than me?" He whines to Maddie who is all smiles and laughter. He has been feeling better, less dysphoric now that him and Tommy are back together, working it out, dividing time between his loft and Tommy’s house. That still doesn't make it fair that at thirty-two weeks pregnant his daughter is bigger than Maddie's. "Have you seen the man who knocked you up Buckaroo?" Chimney teases, joining the conversation, "Tommy could carry me around in his pocket." Maddie playfully smacked Chimney's arm. "Be nice, Tommy's not that big." She said with a laugh. "No I am." Tommy says with a laugh placing an affectionate kiss to Evan's cheek. Buck is so incredibly thankful to Josh and Gina for everything they did to make the shower special, but not gendered. He's especially thankful that thanks to those two no one tries reassuring his belly with a piece of string. And he doesn't have to play any games involving chocolate and melted chocolate. Him and Tommy do dominate at bean bags though, and that makes him absolutely ecstatic. He is a little overwhelmed the the sheer volume of clothes, diapers, toys, teachers, crib sheets and plushies they get. There isn't room for all of it in the loft, most of it will have to go to Tommy's house. His mom gives both him and Maddie beautiful handmade quilt for the girls. The one gifted to Maddie is made up of shades of pink, orange, purple blue, and gold. It reminds him of the sun rising over the glaciers in Montana. The one gifted to him is a patchwork of canary yellow and strawberry patterned squares, with a soft lavender colored ribbon as a border.

Christmas With The 118:

He couldn't find any Christmas themed activities besides baking sugar cookies that didn't seem completely lame. He'd wanted to find a fun craft for them to do together while the cookies baked and cooled for decoration. The hand print snowman ornaments seemed promising, except he didn't want to risk Jee being covered in paint before they could decorate cookies. A fact he'd lamented to Tommy while he'd been making supper and Tommy was on shift eating his own dinner. "I have something we could do with Jee, I'll get everything we need for us to make Julehjertes with her." Tommy said in a way that was clear his boyfriend was smiling through the phone. "Bless you?" He asked because he had no clue what a Julehjerte was or if Tommy had sneezed mid word. Tommy just laughed before explaining a Julehjerte was a Danish Christmas heart, a paper basket shaped like a heart, hung on Christmas trees as ornaments.

No pressure tags for @marvelousbuckley @nine-one-wanton @30somethingautisticteacher @herrmannhalsteadproduction @girlwonder-writes

And @racerchix21 @rdng1230 @thecarrott @cliophilyra @dadbodbuck

And @typicalopposite @kinardsevan @sunnywithachanceofbi

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #lauren writes #tag games #christmas with the 118 #trans evan buckley #mpreg

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sparksqfly · 1 year ago

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─ So much for summer love𓆝

synopsis: modern au - you meet ellie during a school activity and start getting involved in an intense relationship.

warnings! bad words, low self-esteem, men being bothersome, etc.

author's note: it's actually terrifying to publish this here. i'm a very private person with my writing, but my friend told me I should share it, so i listened to her. english is not my first language, so please forgive any errors I may have made. i did my best <3

about the story: joel is referred to as ellie's father. references to taylor swift and her music, the reader is a huge swiftie (just like the writer hehehe). i have the entire story written, but i divided it into parts to make it less lengthy. If you like it, i will publish the remaining parts! thank you for reading.

wc: 4,5k (sorry)

a loud and familiar horn woke you up from your trance, jesse and dina. you looked at yourself in the mirror again to see if "you weren't trying too hard," sighed, and decided to leave your room. you realized it had taken you 2 hours to get ready and cursed yourself for being so indecisive when it came to putting together a damn outfit for a stupid school trip. although, on second thought, if there was something that had made you hesitate so much about what to wear that day, it was what ms. smith had said on friday in the last few minutes of class. "remember that this activity in the forest will be done in pairs, but not just any pair. it will be two people that the directors of both schools have decided to put together based on their academic performance and behavior within the school." great, now you couldn't spend the entire forest activity arm in arm with dina, gossiping about trivial things. instead, you would be spending the whole afternoon with a stranger that the 40-year-old administrators had decided you should be with.

you let out a sigh, coming out of your thoughts, and sent a message to jesse saying that you had lost track of time and to wait five minutes as you would be ready. didn't bother waiting for a response and threw your phone into a medium-sized white backpack along with some sanitizing wipes, band-aids, sunglasses, a hair tie, some money, your headphones, and some candies you had on your nightstand. didn't bother arranging everything neatly as you would if only you weren't in such a hurry. you slung the bag over your shoulder and glanced at yourself one last time in the mirror, looking at the curls you had struggled to create, and adjusted the small ribbon that held some of your hair back at the back of your head.

you rushed out of your room while grabbing your keys and a lip balm that was on the table, and bid rufus, your orange cat, a high-pitched goodbye. he would be somewhere in the house, but he didn't really care much about you leaving. you opened the door, briefly glancing back into your house, vaguely checking the mental checklist you had made the night before. you decided that if you had forgotten something, it wasn't important anyway because if it were, you would have remembered it by now.

you locked the door of your house and smiled as you saw dina holding onto jesse while leaning halfway out of the passenger window to greet you.

"y/n! over here!" shouted the black-haired girl as you stored the key in your messy bag on your shoulder. "please stop," sighed jesse with exasperation, watching his brown jacket crinkle from how tightly dina was gripping it.

amid laughter, you entered the car and sat in the back seat, placing your bag beside you. you looked at your friends and then leaned forward to form a three-way hug. "wow, looking pretty today," dina smiled, admiring your white dress. jesse lovingly took a strand of your hair and observed, "i've always wondered how you girls use heat styling tools on your hair, yet it never smells burnt."

dina and you exchanged glances before bursting into laughter at jesse's concentrated expression while analyzing your hair. you rested your head back on the seat and watched jesse start the car with his key. you had always loved that things were uncomplicated with them—they knew each other so well that sometimes not a single word needed to be spoken to feel comfortable.

after about 5 minutes of driving and heading towards the school, dina connected music to the stereo and settled in her seat to look at both of you. "are you excited to see who your travel partner will be?" dina asked, looking specifically at you. you sighed and glanced at your dress again. "i wish I could say no, but i spent all night thinking about what to wear today and what people will think of me," you admitted. "whoever you're paired with, i'm sure you'll get along well, unlike us, you're kind and fun," jesse said with what you called his "older brother aura." "you guys are fun... sometimes," you said, looking at them with a smirk. "thanks, and if you're both interested, on friday, as i was coming back from the bathroom to go home, i overheard the teachers talking about the pairs being of the same gender to avoid the things we couples do in the forest when we're alone," dina looked at you, and you returned her knowing gaze. "maybe you can find a beautiful girlfriend, y/n." jesse looked at you through the rearview mirror and smiled, "you read my mind, sir." dina looked at you accusingly again, and you laughed at their insistent looks focused on you. "to be honest, i would like to meet someone here, a girl. It sounds romantic."

"imagine it until it becomes real" dina said, winking at you and leaning back in her seat. she looked at the stereo with a smile on her face. "i love this song" she said as she dramatically raised the volume knob to "circles" by post malone. unexpectedly, jesse started singing the song in a comically off-key manner, and you burst into laughter, joining in with loud and off-key singing. you truly loved them.

after about 15 minutes of driving, you arrived at the school. the sidewalk was painfully crowded with people, but you could hardly recognize anyone from your class or the hallways. jesse parked the car a couple of blocks ahead, knowing how difficult it would be to get back to the car once everyone dispersed. you helped them unload their belongings and slung your small white backpack back onto your shoulder. that's when you realized it might have been a mistake to pack so few things in such a small bag. everyone else had large backpacks and even more belongings in huge tote bags. you sighed. what was the point of carrying so many things anyway? your teachers had made it clear that everything you would need for the trip, such as food, water, or even warm clothing if necessary, would be provided by the school and the guides.

you snapped back to reality, coming out of your thoughts as you walked behind your friends back to the school, trying to smooth out your dress with your hands. once you reached the school, you had a better view of what others were wearing, and you felt relieved to see several girls wearing skirts and dresses even shorter than yours, which reached just above your knees. however, it was slightly longer at the back, not long enough to touch your ankles or the top of your white converse sneakers anyway

you had to wait for about 15 minutes before the teachers decided to group them by schools into two separate groups. you watched as even more people arrived than when you had first glanced from jesse's car. you rested your head on dina's shoulder while a middle-aged man who introduced himself as mr. emery explained the first game of the day, this time to find their excursion partners. you caught some parts of his speech as you were somewhat far from the teachers, and the students seemed unable to stop talking for a second, including dina, who already seemed to have made friends with a short, blonde-haired girl. when mr. emery finished speaking, you quickly approached jesse.

"what did he say?" you asked urgently, your expression desperate to understand what had been said amidst the hurried movements and conversations of everyone present in the courtyard. he chuckled slightly at your desperate expression and the sight of the bustling crowd. "he said they're going to write a number assigned to each of us on our hand, and we have to find our partner in the crowd because the partner will have the same number" jesse replied. "that's ridiculous, it's only going to cause more chaos," dina chimed in, magically appearing behind your back. "dina! you scared the shit out of me!" you whispered, looking at your friend who smirked, before you could continue complaining about how terrifying it was to interact with people, your math teacher approached jesse and grabbed his fist, writing a medium-sized thirteen on the back of his hand and then left without saying a word. "obviously, i'm going to have great luck with my partner today" jesse joked, showing dina and you his number. dina laughed, and you smiled. "are you kidding me? it's number thirteen! taylor swift's number! i'm really jealous of you right now!" jesse let out a small laugh with adoration towards you and ruffled your hair slightly before going to the group from the neighboring school to assume, to look for his partner.

dina and you exchanged smiles, and a middle-aged man with gray hair and dark circles under his eyes called you by your last name, and you handed him your hand, indicating that it was you, seeing the permanent marker on his hand. he gave you a smile and, after checking a small grid on a sheet of paper, wrote a "27" on your hand, the same size as jesse's. you brought your hand closer to you and smiled at him. "wow, you're my daughter's partner" he smiled shyly, and you looked at him more closely, remembering his face in case his daughter physically resembled him. "she's a rather reserved girl, but I think you'll get along well" he said. "i hope so" you replied kindly, not having much else to say. He smiled at you and left. "getting to know the father-in-law?" dina startled you again, magically appearing behind you. you rolled your eyes. "you're unbearable" you said, laughing, and did the typical military salute that you knew she hated before going to look for your famous partner.

well... agonizing 15 minutes had passed (although if you were asked, you would swear it had been 30) looking for your partner. you had seen the hands of dozens of girls, but none seemed to have a 27 on the back of their hand. you were about to give up and approach a teacher to see if it was some sort of mistake on their part, considering that there were very few people left in the courtyard as most had already found their partners and boarded the bus. just when you were about to go talk to your math teacher, you saw a girl with auburn hair and a blue and white shirt leaning against one of the bus walls, you noticed that you hadn't seen her before in the crowd, and honestly, you had nothing to lose by trying one last time. any sense of embarrassment had vanished after talking to the tenth person who seemed to have your number, but in reality, it wasn't the right one. besides, this girl was really attractive and seemed kind, shy but friendly.

you approached her, who, despite having you in front of her, didn't pay much attention to you. you took advantage of that moment to look at her closely. she had a perfect profile with eyebrows that framed her face perfectly, a beautiful upturned nose, medium but full lips that seemed dry, and admirable green orbs that appeared like tourmalines of the same color in the light. only when you snapped out of your trance of admiring her did you realize that her eyes were fixed on you with an arched eyebrow, seeing that you had stayed still, lost in her appearance.

you cleared your throat before speaking to her, ignoring the warmth you felt rising in your cheeks and how flushed you must have been. oh my god. she was just a girl. why were you reacting like this? "could I see your number? i'm really looking for my partner, and i think you're the only one i haven't asked" you offered a smile as you spoke, and she just looked into your eyes with an expression you couldn't decipher. you expected some verbal response, but she only raised her fist slightly, and you had to gather courage for the next step: delicately took her hand and noticed a brief shiver from the girl as you touched her skin with the tips of your fingers. not wanting to make her uncomfortable, you carefully turned her hand and finally found the number 27 written on it.

you released her fist and with a smile, showed her your left hand where the same number was written. "we're partners" you smiled and adjusted your bag on your shoulder. "cool." you let pass what you suspected was a hint of sarcasm in her voice. nah, she didn't seem like that kind of person. "you have no idea how much i was looking for you, asked almost everyone" you said with excitement in your voice. She smiled slightly, noticing the emotion in your voice. "mind if we get on the bus?" you added a questioning tone at the end so that she would tell you her name. "ellie" she responded with a hint of a smile on her lips. "ellie, ah, wonderful!" you smiled back at her and were startled by the loud honk of the bus ahead. In a panic of being left behind, you grabbed ellie's hand, where her number was written, and joined it with yours, gently pulling her along as you started running towards the bus with her behind you.

you both boarded the bus, and you let go of her hand when the driver closed the door behind the two of you. you told your last name to the guide sitting in the front seat, moved forward to find an empty seat for both of you, and found one a little further ahead. you turned back and caught the last name ellie whispered to the woman, "williams, ellie williams, that's a nice name" you thought to yourself once you sat in the bus seat. you gestured to your companion with your head for her to sit next to you, and fortunately, she did.

before you could start a conversation, mr. emery stood up and began explaining the agenda for the day in the forest. Seeing that ellie was paying attention to what he was saying, you diverted your eyes from her to finally listen to an authority figure. "guys, you have to listen to me. we don't want to make this any longer for you. the proposal for today is a race" said the authority. Immediately, all the teenagers on the bus let out an "ohh" of disappointment, which was exactly what you thought too. had they been planning this for so long just for a long physical education class in the forest for five hours? you sighed and looked back at mr. emery, who was gesturing for everyone to let him continue with the explanation.

"i know what you're thinking, and don't worry, it's not what you kids believe. the race will consist of 3 stages of riddles, which will be explained better when you get there, but to give you an example, the first one will be to find three hidden symbols in different trees scattered in a section of the forest. once the duo has all the symbols noted down, they can move on to the next stage, which will also be a riddle." this time the reactions were mixed; you noticed some excited faces as well as some girls rolling their eyes and talking to their friends. on the other hand, ellie seemed interested in what had been told, even excited, you could say. you smiled as you observed her trying to hide her smile by pressing her lips together.

"i need you to listen to one last thing," mr. emery said, raising his hand and showing a purple ribbon. "this is the race boundary. you can't go beyond where this ribbon is located. it's a dangerous place, with traps for bears, big bears, wolves, and foxes. if you happen to encounter any of those and there's no teacher nearby, it's a BAD sign. you'll end up devoured by an animal and dead." you guessed the last part was sarcasm, although it didn't sound like it.

you paled at the mention of bears and traps so close to where you would be, until a voice snapped you out of your trance. "you don't actually think there are bears there, do you, pretty girl?" ellie said, looking at you with a sideways smile that disappeared when she realized you were genuinely scared. "hey, don't worry, there are no bears. he only says that to scare us and prevent us from crossing the boundaries." as she spoke, she placed a hand on your knee and gently moved it in circles. you smiled and placed your hand on top of hers, both "27" on top of each other. but before you could respond, your annoying classmates started playing horrible music at full volume and screaming while playing stupid games only they could understand. "oh, fuck me" you sighed heavily, looking at the white ceiling of the bus.

ellie, who had been looking back at your classmates, turned her gaze to you. "are they always like this?" she asked incredulously. "always" you replied, feeling somewhat embarrassed. ellie stood up to remove her (now that you could see it clearly) huge backpack from her lap and placed it under the seat. you took the opportunity to take out your earphones and phone from your bag, revealing a picture of rufus asleep on a book on your lock screen. ellie sat back down next to you, spreading her legs as you connected your earphones. you searched for the playlist you usually used to travel with jesse and dina (which was mainly taylor swift) and pressed shuffle. then you offered one of your headphones to ellie, who accepted with a smile, moving a little closer to you. In that moment, you thanked rufus, who had broken your airpods a week ago, leaving you with your wired headphones.

after about 10 minutes of the journey, you relaxed as ellie seemed to enjoy your music. you noticed her nodding her head to the rhythm, and you smiled. you wanted to rest your head on the bus window since you were extremely tired from waking up so early and staring at your reflection for so long. but just as you were about to close your eyes and finally get some rest, your classmates, of course, chose that moment to slam your window shut forcefully, startling you as you quickly lifted your head in alarm, while they burst into laughter, high-fiving each other. you sighed, trying not to look at them or ellie, feeling humiliated by the knowledge that they wouldn't take you seriously anyway. however, ellie seemed to have a different idea about how to act.

"hey! what the fuck is your problem with her?!" ellie stood up abruptly, slamming her hands firmly on the back of your seat. fortunately, not many people noticed what was happening amidst the loud music and shouts on the bus. ellie exchanged some harsh words with them, which you couldn't hear, and one of the guys stood up, touched your back, and apologized with his head down. you nodded slightly and turned to play the song again.

"sorry about that" ellie said, sitting back down beside you. "they're just a bunch of idiots. ond't let them get to you." you managed to smile gratefully at her before continuing your sentence.

"i'm glad you stood up for me. not many people do."

"well, I don't tolerate assholes" ellie replied with a hint of determination in her voice. "besides, we're going to have a great time on this race, and I won't let anyone ruin it for us."

her words brought a genuine smile to your face. perhaps this race wouldn't turn out to be so bad after all, especially with ellie by your side. as you leaned back in your seat, finally finding some peace, you silently thanked rufus again for breaking your airpods and bringing ellie into your life.

you offered ellie the headphone again, and she gently took it, her fingertips brushing against yours as she put it on. "do you want me to change the music?" you offered as you were about to turn off your phone screen to try and get some sleep. she shook her head. "i've never heard this music before, but it's pleasant. it goes well with the journey." you nodded with a smile. she couldn't possibly be real. She was so nice and attractive, and she called you "pretty girl"?! You blushed, replaying those words in your mind with her voice, and decided to strike up a conversation.

"so... is that your cat on your wallpaper?" you were surprised to see that she had initiated the conversation between the two of you. you quickly glanced at your phone, looking at the photo of rufus peacefully asleep on top of a stack of books. "yes, my cat. his name is rufus. my mom brought him home during christmas. he was tiny and on the streets. he's the devil incarnate in an orange cat. do you have any pets?" instantly, you wanted to cover your mouth for talking too much, fearing that you had overwhelmed ellie with information. but as if she had read your mind, she spoke up. "he looks adorable. and no, i don't have any pets. i'd love to have a cat. i really like them, even though they don't seem to like me."

"you get used to it. i don't think rufus thinks i'm cool anyway" you replied. "you look cool though, i mean, you seem nice. you had the courage to come and talk to me" she said with admiration. you looked at her with adoration, wishing you could talk to dina right now. how did you develop a crush so quickly on someone you had just met? "did you see me talking to all the girls to see if they had the number 27?" you blushed, remembering the embarrassment you had experienced approaching everyone to check. "i did! you looked really cute. you even made me feel sorry for you, so i approached stealthily. it was all planned" she laughed, her comment making you laugh as well. your cheeks were still flushed, but this time not from embarrassment, but from the girl in front of you, unabashedly flirting. "i'm glad you're my partner. i think we'll have a fun afternoon." "so be it," eillie opened her hand for a high-five, and you gladly obliged.

"can i ask you a question?" ellie inquired. "anything." "this may sound strange, but what's your name?" you paled, realizing that you had spent all that time with her without even telling her your name. you had held her hand and lent her your music, but you didn't even have the decency to introduce yourself. you stuttered for a few seconds before telling her your name and apologizing for forgetting to do so earlier. "y/n," ellie said your name aloud, as if testing it on her lips. "that's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl." all the color that had disappeared from your face came rushing back in an even stronger blush. "stop it! you're turning me into a tomato if you keep making me blush." "you look really pretty like that, that's why i do it." finally, you rested your elbows on your lap and hid your face in your hands. a cute and kind girl saying all those things to you? you were truly weak. you heard ellie laugh behind you and looked at her, pretending to be annoyed. "come on, lift your head, love. we have a long day ahead." 'it's obvious,' you thought as you observed her face full of freckles. once you composed yourself, you put your headphone back on and finally gathered the courage to rest your head on ellie's shoulder to sleep. you felt a smile forming on her face, and after a few seconds, she rested her head on yours and placed her hand back on your knee

you woke up to the sound of excessively loud chatter. you opened your eyes, adjusting to the light, and realized where your head was. you slowly lifted your head and saw ellie's profile, still in the same position as when you fell asleep, but this time looking towards the bus exit, possibly waiting for everyone to fully disembark. before speaking to her, you noticed a somewhat red mark and distinct lines on the lower part of her cheek. you pondered for a few seconds what it could be and smiled when you realized it was the mark left by your hair when she rested her head on yours. you assumed that she had also fallen asleep in the same position you remembered, and your heart filled with joy at how quickly she had become comfortable with you.

before ellie realized that you had been staring at her profile, you touched her shoulder and with a smile asked if it was okay to get off now. she nodded and helped you pick up your earphones that had fallen to the floor during the journey. she grabbed her backpack and put it on her shoulder, starting to walk towards the bus door. you followed her while closing your backpack, and when you reached the stairs to descend, you noticed that slowly all the students were gathering around the teachers who were starting to organize themselves to give instructions. you looked back at the stairs and saw ellie standing on the grass, extending a hand to help you down. you took her hand and took the opportunity to get a better look at her forearm tattoo. though it seemed unfinished, it was undeniably beautiful. you wondered if she had drawn the design herself and decided to ask her later. as you approached the teachers, you thought ellie would let go of your hand, but she didn't. she continued to hold it gently as she guided you to a closer spot near the teachers to listen to the instructions.

once again, you got lost in your partner's appearance and missed the explanation. she seemed to realize the reason when you asked her to repeat what your teachers had said, and she blushed slightly. "they said there are more than 10 symbols carved into various trees in the area, and they want us to implement technology or something like that. so, when we move on to the next stage, we need to show them the photos we've taken of the symbols on the trees. we should have at least three to complete this part." as ellie narrated, you nodded slowly, trying not to get lost in her beautiful green eyes again. "understood. anything else?" ellie nodded her head. "to make sure we don't use the same photos as our classmates, we need to make it clear that the photo is ours. like having ourselves in the photo or using our hand to show the assigned number." you nodded again, and this time it was your turn to hold her hand and lead her to the starting point of the race.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #tlou fanfiction #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams fanfic

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