Chapter Text
It had been fifteen years.
Bella ran into him in an airport bar. Her flight was delayed, she was tired and irritated, and she was halfway through a glass of wine she didn’t even like when she glanced up. And there he was.
He turned, drink in hand, and it hit her like a brick to the chest.
She almost didn’t recognize him at first. His hair was longer, his shirt buttoned a little too high, and there was a fine line between his brows that hadn’t been there before. But his smile was still the same, still lit from within.
Even at first. When it was polite, automatic; the kind of smile you gave a stranger after accidental eye contact.
Then he really saw her. He did a double take, and before she could think better of it, she heard herself say his name out loud, like she wasn’t even sure he was real.
“Edward?”
His face split into a wide, genuine grin. “Oh my god.”
The hug was immediate, awkward at first, one arm, half-standing, half-sitting, but warm and sincere.
Conversation flowed easily, as if no time had passed at all. Bella didn’t even realize how long they’d been talking until the final boarding call for her flight buzzed across the speakers. Neither of them moved.
He nodded toward her hand.
“I thought I heard about a ring on that finger a while ago. My sister saw it on Facebook or something.”
She glanced down, almost surprised to see it bare.
“Oh. Yeah. Jacob and I, we broke up. He…” she shrugged. “I don’t know. He got cold feet, or maybe just realized he didn’t want me for a partner in the kind of life we were heading toward.”
Edward’s mouth pulled into a frown.
“What an idiot.”
She laughed softly.
“No, really, I shouldn’t have said yes in the first place.”
He leaned back a little, still studying her.
“No, I mean it. I would know. I let you go, too.”
The words landed heavy in her chest, hot and sharp.
She considered him, trying to pretend her heart wasn’t racing.
“What about you? I heard you got…” she trailed off gently, uncertain.
“Divorced,” he said, with a small, embarrassed chuckle. “Yeah.”
Bella nodded. “I read about that.”
“You and everyone else.” He smiled ruefully and gave a half-shrug, like he knew how ridiculous it all was. “Well, you know what they say about Hollywood marriages.”
She chuckled, then her voice softened.
“I’m sorry, though.”
He took a sip of his drink and winced at the taste.
“Don’t be. It was a bad idea from the start.” He paused. “You seeing anyone new?”
“Definitely not.” She made a face. “Not because I’m hung up on Jake or anything. It’s just…” She gave a theatrical shudder. “Dating these days.”
He laughed. “Tell me about it.”
“What about you?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“Not even casual flings?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the whole point of being a rock star?”
He rolled his eyes and chuckled, but when he looked at her again, his expression had softened.
“You know me,” he said quietly. “I’m not really a casual kind of guy.”
Bella’s heart stuttered.
He’d said that same thing when they first started dating. About how he was all in with her. Was he thinking about that night now, the same way she was?
Before she could dwell on it too much, she forced herself to stay casual. She hummed around another sip of wine.
“And they say fame changes a person.”
That got her a real laugh. He tipped his head back and grinned wide before leaning forward again, elbows resting on the little bar table.
“What else, though?” he asked. “What are you doing these days?”
She told him about her job, her city, how she didn’t travel much anymore. How her parents had gotten back together and remarried. (“What?!” “Dude, I know.”) How she’d picked up a new hobby, or given up an old one.
He listened not just nodding politely, but really listening. Asking questions. Laughing when she laughed.
It felt… easy. So unbelievably easy.
He watched her for a moment, eyes warm.
“Can I ask something kind of ridiculous?” he said.
“Sure.”
“Can I get your number again?” His smile went a little crooked. “Talking with you again is… really nice.”
Her heart leapt into her throat.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “Of course.”
He unlocked his phone and slid it across the table, and just like that, something started again.
Eventually, her name was called over the intercom; her rescheduled flight was finally ready to board.
They both stood at the same time. It was awkward for a fraction of a second, then not at all. He stepped in and wrapped his arms around her, warm and solid and real. A real hug. Not a polite one. Not a casual, passing thing.
It was the kind of hug that said ah, there you are.
A thousand memories rushed in; his cologne, the way he always ran a little hot, the way he used to hold her close. She pressed her cheek briefly to his shoulder and murmured, “It was great to see you again. I really enjoyed this.”
“I did, too,” he said quietly. Then he pulled back just enough to kiss her cheek, a soft, lingering thing. “Please don’t let it be another fifteen years before I see you again.”
Bella smiled. “Scout’s honor.”
Then she winked, turned, and walked toward her gate. Dizzy, smitten, and eighteen all over again.
Notes:
so. this originally started as a very spicy dream i had about the lead singer of my favorite band. (i know, i know, REALLY channeled my inner Smeyer there) but it stuck in my head and i wound up sketching much further than i meant to
then i realized these two weirdos would be perfect for it. so here we are.i've been working on this for a while, but just now getting around to posting it. i told myself i couldn't post a new fic until i updated my other bella/edward one first lol
Chapter Text
They started texting. At first, it was polite. Casual. Little check-ins, tiny updates.
Hope your flight was smooth.
Thought of you when I passed that diner in Chicago.
Still drinking that god-awful green tea?
But then it wasn’t.
Bella began to recognize the rhythm of his replies. Edward texted back fast when he was bored, slower when he was in soundcheck or wandering some unfamiliar city. Sometimes he sent messages in pieces, one line at a time, between guitar changes or meet-and-greets. Other times it was just a photo; a neon motel sign, the inside of a diner that looked like it belonged in 1974, a blurry shot of the moon. Quiet ways of saying he was thinking of her.
She felt like a teenager again, her heart skipping every time her phone buzzed with his name. She smiled like an idiot when he sent a voice note, low, raspy, and so unmistakably him that it made her chest ache.
Sometimes he called after shows. His voice was always rough, edged with fatigue and something gentler. In those late-night conversations, he sounded different, less guarded. He told her which songs felt off, which crowds felt electric, how sometimes a lyric hit too close and left him spinning. She could hear the stillness of the hotel room around him, the air conditioner, the rustle of sheets, the way he shifted onto his side and let his voice go quiet when he told her he should let her get some sleep.
She called him, too. On her way home from work. When the sky was soft and gold and she needed to hear a voice that knew her. They talked about dumb things. They talked about everything.
She asked if he’d ever gone back to that place in Santa Fe. (He had. These days, he owns a little ranch nearby, actually. He said he’d like to take her there sometime, just to see if it still felt like magic.)
He asked if she still made tea the weird way she used to. (She does, even weirder now. He told her that it made him smile, and said he could almost smell it through the phone. Bet it still tastes like hot dirt, he joked, and she laughed so hard she had to pull over.)
She didn’t even realize when the line between friendship and something else disappeared. One day, she was just in it. Whatever this was.
One night, they were on FaceTime, Bella propped up on her bed in her oldest hoodie while Edward was stretched out on some nameless hotel couch. He squinted past her shoulder.
“Wait,” he said, leaning closer to the screen. “Is that your music collection?”
She glanced back. “Yeah.”
“Where’s my section?” he teased. “Do I need to send a PR box?”
She snorted and got up, turning the camera to show him.
“It’s over here. There’s too much to fit with the rest.”
There was a pause. He blinked.
Because it was all there. Every album. First pressings. Limited runs. Vinyl. Magazine clippings with his face on the cover. A tour pass hanging from a lanyard. He went quiet, eyes locked on the screen, and suddenly she felt a little exposed.
“I promise it’s not, like, a stalker thing,” she mumbled, brushing her hair behind her ear. “It’s just… I’ve always been really proud of you. And you’re good. Like, damn good. I’d still be a fan even if you weren’t my one-that-got-away.”
She tried to laugh, but her voice caught a little. On the screen, his eyes were shining, and he was trying hard to pretend they weren’t. His voice came through low, hoarse, unsteady.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything more special than that.”
And so, she confessed it, softly, into the hush between them.
“Sometimes,” she said, “I put them on just to hear your voice. Pretend you’re singing to me. Not the world.”
After that, little voice memos started showing up. Rough melodies. Whispered lyrics. Him singing in the dark, stripped-down and sleepy,like she was the only one he wanted to hear. Just her.
It was personal. Intense. A little terrifying. The pull toward him felt impossible to resist. It always had. She felt alive again, like he’d woken up something in her that she had forcefully put to sleep.
She was fairly sure he felt it too. Especially when he sent texts like:
Thinking about you.
Miss you.
Wish I was where you are.
Or when he sent a photo from the tour plane window with a caption that said, this sunset made me think of your skin in the summertime.
Or when he fell asleep on the phone with her, no goodbye, no warning, just his breath, deep and even, drifting through the speaker. She would lie there listening to it, like a song she didn’t want to end.
Sometimes she woke up to a message sent at 2:14 in the morning.
Just needed to hear your voice. Call me when you’re up.
It was slow. But it was happening.
Like gravity. Like she’d never stopped falling. It was very likely that she hadn’t.
And then, one night, he texted:
Getting dressed for the show. You’d hate this shirt. So much glitter.
Bella smirked at the screen from her couch, a half-empty glass of wine balanced on her knee, a blanket pulled over her lap. The TV was on, but she wasn’t really watching it, not when she knew where he was that night.
He was performing in a city only three-ish hours away. Close enough that, if she left right then, she could probably catch at least half of it. But she tried not to dwell on that. On how close he was. On how far. He hadn’t mentioned it, so she hadn’t either.
I wouldn’t hate it, but it would still look better on the floor ;)
Her fingers hovered over the send button for a second too long. She was trying to keep it light. Trying not to read into anything. But her heart was already beating too fast.
She hit send.
He replied almost instantly:
Semantics. Gotta leave soon. Wish you were here, baby.
Fifteen years since she’d last heard him call her baby, and somehow it still unraveled her in an instant, leaving her chest warm and achy in the best possible way.
She stared at the screen, her thumb brushing the edge of her phone. Then she typed:
Knock ’em dead, hot stuff. Wish I was there, too.
She meant it. She meant it so much it ached. She hit send. And then she didn’t move. A few seconds later, her phone rang. She already knew it was him, but the name on the screen still made her stomach flip. She answered quickly, trying to keep it casual.
“Shouldn’t you be warming up?”
She prayed her voice didn’t give her away. Her pulse was racing. Her fingers trembled slightly against the phone. But he didn’t tease her like he usually did. His voice was quieter than she expected, intent, like he’d been turning something over in his mind all day.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
She blinked. “About what?”
There was a soft breath on the other end, like he was deciding something in real time. And then:
“If I sent a car,” he said, “or, hell, a plane... would you come?”
The world stopped. Just… stopped.
“I can get you here before the show’s over.”
She laughed, but it came out soft. Disbelieving.
“Edward…”
His voice dropped lower, nearly a whisper now.
“Say yes.”
There was something in the way he said it. Not playful. Not pushy. Just honest. Raw. A little boyish. Like he was throwing his heart against the wall and hoping it stuck.
“Please, baby?” he added in that same tone. “Spend the weekend with me.”
She didn’t overthink it. She didn’t second-guess.
She said it.
“Yes.”
There was a pause, and then he laughed—soft and breathless and stunned. Like he hadn’t really expected her to agree. Like he was suddenly lighter.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay. My assistant’s gonna call you in a second.”
Bella giggled, already sitting up, already tossing off the blanket.
“Okay.”
“Don’t go anywhere.”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
The line went quiet, and her whole body buzzed.
Chapter Text
The car showed up in twenty minutes.
Bella still wasn’t sure how she packed. She tossed clothes into a bag blindly, like she was late for a red-eye or an emergency or an affair. Maybe it was both. Maybe it was something else entirely.
Her hands shook. Her heart wouldn’t slow down. She kept checking her phone, half-convinced Edward was going to call back and say he was joking. But he didn’t.
She texted him on my way and got a string of heart emojis in return. She grinned like a lunatic. Suddenly everything felt too big for her body.
The drive was a blur. City lights whipped past the window while her stomach somersaulted. Every red light felt like an insult. She couldn’t stop bouncing her leg.
The private terminal was almost eerily quiet. Not a soul in sight except the staff who guided her forward like this was completely normal. Like people got whisked away by rock stars all the time. Which maybe they did. How did she know?
She wasn't entirely sure she wasn't dreaming.
The jet was sleek and warm and impossibly quiet. She didn’t remember taking off, just her hands gripping the leather seat as the plane climbed, her heart hammering in her throat. She kept hearing his voice in her head. The way he’d said say yes. What it meant that he’d even asked.
By the time the plane touched down, her nerves were electric, but underneath all of it was something steadier. Not fear. Not panic. Excitement.
Like every cell in her body knew exactly where it was going. Like it had been waiting to move toward him for years.
She stepped off the plane. The air here was different. Cooler, heavier. She spotted a driver holding a sign with her first name on it. No last name. Just Bella.
Suddenly, it was all very, very real. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Tried not to lose it. Tried not to float away. He was here. And she was really doing this.
Bella arrived during the last thirty minutes of the show.
The stadium pulsed like a living thing. Lights flared. The crowd screamed. The bassline crashed through her ribcage. Every inch of her buzzed with nerves, adrenaline, and disbelief. She felt it thrumming in her fingers, soaking her spine, even in the soles of her feet.
She was led through corridors painted with echoes and soundcheck ghosts. She waited in the wings, one foot tucked behind the other, arms crossed too tightly over her chest. Trying to look composed. Trying to feel like a grown woman and not the girl she’d been the last time he made her feel like this.
She watched him finish the last songs. She knew there’d be an encore. The crowd knew it too. But still, they were going insane. Then he was there.
Edward stepped offstage with the band. Jacket glittering under the lights. Hair damp. Neck slick with sweat. His voice still echoed in the air. He was flushed, high on adrenaline, grinning that bright, dazed, wrecked kind of grin that only came after a show.
He was surrounded by noise and people, but he didn’t see any of it.
He saw her.
And he stopped dead in his tracks. The moment caught like a hook in her lungs.
His smile faltered. Then shifted, slower now, warmer. Something achingly familiar glowed behind his eyes. Soft. Stunned. Almost disbelieving. His steps stuttered like he wasn’t sure the floor would hold. Like he couldn’t believe she was real.
He looked at her like she was something half-remembered from a dream. Like she might vanish if he blinked. And then he moved. Faster now. Crossing the space like it was nothing. Like the years hadn’t happened. Like no time had passed at all.
Bella forgot how to breathe. Because for a second, she was eighteen again.
Because her heart was pounding like it had the night he kissed her outside that diner after their first date. Because her legs felt like they might give out. Because he was still him, just older, softer, sharper.
Because he was right there, and his eyes were still a shot of espresso straight to her soul. Hot. Sweet. Dizzying.
He reached her and didn’t hesitate. Wrapped her up in his arms. His embrace was tight. Fierce. A full-body exhale. She sank into it like she’d never meant to leave in the first place. His hands spanned her back. One cupped the base of her skull.
She closed her eyes. Breathed him in. Sweat. Cologne. Confetti and glitter.
Home.
Then his mouth found her forehead. Not a brush, but a kiss. Firm. Resolute. Like he’d missed the chance to do it for more than a decade and wouldn’t dare risk missing it again. He pulled back, but just barely.
“You came,” he breathed, like he still didn’t believe it.
Her throat tightened. She laughed, a little breathless.
“You told me to.”
His eyes searched hers. Flicked down to her mouth, then back. And then he kissed her.
For real.
It was soft at first. Sweet, tentative, the kind of kiss that felt like a question and an answer at the same time. The kind that said, we never really ended, did we?
He pulled back just slightly, checking her reaction, but she was already cupping the back of his neck, pulling him in again. This time his lips moved with more intent, a little hungrier, his hand sliding to her waist. It was still gentle, but there was heat now, an unspoken later simmering under the surface.
The lights pulsed behind his back. The crowd started to chant his name, the sound swelling like a tide. When he finally pulled away, he didn’t go far. Their foreheads nearly touched, their breath still mingling. She could feel the warmth of his mouth, the ache in her chest where he’d cracked something open.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. His voice was low and rough, like it carried something he couldn’t say yet.
She nodded, barely trusting her voice. She watched him turn and disappear back into the noise. And she stood there, stunned. Heart galloping. Lips tingling. Feeling eighteen and thirty-three all at once. She just watched as the lights shifted and the crowd roared and the band launched into the encore like nothing had changed.
But her whole world had tilted.
He moved like he always did, sharp, alive, magnetic. She’d forgotten how physical he was onstage. How his body led the music. How he didn’t just perform, he preached. She wrapped her arms around herself. Not to hide, but to hold still.
Because god, she remembered this.
She remembered what it felt like to watch him from the wings and think, this is someone I’ll never get over.
And now?
She was absolutely sure she never did.
Chapter Text
Edward barely made it through the encore.
Then it was backstage chaos again, flashes of cameras, crew chatter, congratulatory back slaps, and suddenly Bella was in a back hallway, pressed to his side, both of them flushed and breathless, barely able to keep their hands to themselves.
He was still riding the high of the crowd when the car pulled around. A black SUV, windows tinted, door held open by someone who knew better than to speak.
The car door shut, and before she could even settle into the seat, his mouth was on hers. Hot, greedy, years of want breaking loose all at once. His hands gripped her hips like he was afraid she’d vanish if he let go. He pulled her flush against him in the cramped space.
They fell back into the seat together in a tangle of limbs, his fingers threading through her hair, tilting her head as he kissed her deeper. His lips trailed down to her jaw, her throat, his voice low and husky against her skin.
“Didn’t think I’d ever get to kiss you again,” he whispered, rough with honesty.
Her breath caught, chest heaving. She clutched at his shirt, tugging him closer, and whispered back, shaky but sure, “Well, don’t stop.”
His laugh was broken, almost disbelieving, and then he was on her again, kissing her harder, like the words had set something off in him. His tongue slid against hers in a slow, deliberate sweep before the kiss turned deeper, hungrier, all heat and history and need.
The city raced by in streaks of light outside, but inside it was just the press of his body, the rasp of his voice, and the frantic pulse that felt like it was trying to climb out of her throat.
By the time the car slowed to a stop, her lips were swollen and her heart was pounding like she was still eighteen.
He pulled back and looked at her then, eyes wild, chest heaving.
“I want you,” he whispered. “Is that okay?”
Bella’s pulse tripped. She raised an eyebrow, trying for composure she didn’t quite feel.
“Do you think I came all this way just to paw at each other in the backseat of a car again?”
That earned a stunned laugh. He grinned, shaking his head like she’d just knocked the breath out of him.
She reached for his hand and pushed the door open.
The door to the hotel suite had barely shut before his hands were on her. There was no preamble. No hesitation. Just heat.
They kissed like it was oxygen, like if either of them stopped, they’d forget how to breathe. Edward’s fingers tangled in her hair as her back hit the wall, and Bella swore her knees went out from under her just from the way he said her name. His mouth found hers again, urgent and tasting faintly of mint and stage dust, and suddenly her jacket was being shoved down her arms, her bag thudding forgotten to the floor.
He was still in his stage clothes, black and glittering and a little ridiculous under the soft gold of the hotel lighting. Still damp with sweat and adrenaline and the ghosts of thousands of screaming voices.
But right then, all he saw was her.
His lips brushed her jaw, her cheekbone, the shell of her ear. She felt his smile when he found the spot beneath it that always made her melt.
“Fifteen years,” he muttered, breath hot and uneven against her skin. “Fifteen fucking years.”
“I need you," she gasped as his hands found the hem of her top, her own voice breaking. "Now.”
He groaned against her throat, the sound rough and unguarded.
“God, I’ve been thinking about this for weeks.”
Bella barely had time to breathe before he was kissing her again, deeper this time. All teeth and memory and desperation in the way his mouth moved with hers. His hands were everywhere at once, tugging her shirt up, her miniskirt down, like he couldn’t decide which he wanted to go first.
She was just as frantic, fumbling clumsily with the buttons on his vest, her fingers shaking from how close he was pressed against her, from the hard, insistent weight of him at her hip. Every second they were not skin to skin felt unbearable, and it was written in the way they pulled at each other like the other would disappear if they let go.
It was messy. Clumsy. Like muscle memory crashing into hunger. She kept touching his face, like she didn't believe he was real.
Her back hit the mattress with a soft thud. She sank into the sheets, dazed, laughing. He stripped out of his shirt like he couldn’t stand the feel of it anymore, tossing it to the side as his necklace swung forward. She caught it, fist curling gently around it, and tugged him back down to her.
The heat of his skin against hers made her eyes flutter closed.
He kissed her like he was starving. Like fifteen years of hunger were packed into every second he couldn’t have this, have her.
The first time he sank into her, he groaned. Really groaned, like he was exhaling a decade and a half of ache. Like his body was remembering things he hadn’t let himself think about in years.
Bella gasped at the stretch, at the way he fit. Deep, perfect, like her body was made to take him. Yes, yes, finally flickered through her in a rush so strong it left her nails biting into his shoulders.
Her heels dug into the backs of his thighs.
Edward fucked her like he couldn’t stand how good it felt. Like he was trying to carve the memory of it into every nerve she had. It was all sensation, all rhythm and sweat and the low gasp of her name on his tongue. Like a prayer. Like a song only he knew how to sing.
She came hard, fast, a choked cry caught in her throat, nails raking up his scalp into his hair. And then he was gone, unraveling with her, gasping her name into her mouth, forehead pressed to hers, his whole body trembling.
They both just laid there for a moment.
Gasping. Tangling their limbs together. His skin was slick with sweat. Her fingers threaded gently into his hair as his forehead fell to her shoulder, his breath still shuddering from the crash.
Then he lifted his head, eyes a little dazed, a little sheepish. His cheeks were flushed. There was something soft and awed on his face, like he still couldn’t quite believe what just happened.
She cupped the back of his neck. Ran her thumb along his jaw.
He glanced down, cheeks going a little pink.
“I’m still very sweaty. Probably should’ve showered first, sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t mind. I wouldn’t have been patient enough for you to shower.”
She let the words hang for a beat, then added, “But if you want to take a minute, especially after the show, I’m perfectly happy right here waiting for you.”
His smile tilted, boyish and a little shy, hesitating still.
“Go,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “Become human again. Not some rockstar god.”
That made him laugh, real and breathless and honest. He rested his forehead against hers for one last second before he pulled away.
“God, I missed you. And your mouth.”
She grinned. “Shower, Cullen.”
He kissed her once more, then slipped off the bed. A moment later, he was back with a warm, damp washcloth, the steam still rising from it. His touch was slow, unhurried, as he ran it gently over her skin. Careful in the tender places, lingering just long enough to make her feel cared for, seen. He pressed the soft cloth to her hip one last time, then leaned in to kiss the clean skin there, murmuring, “Perfect.”
Bella laid there in the silence that followed. Bare skin cooling in the sheets. The distant hum of the city filtered through the windows, and beneath it, the soft sound of water starting. The gentle thump of his belt hitting the floor. The zip of his pants.
The steam started to slip under the bathroom door.
She closed her eyes. Let herself breathe. Let it wash over her.
Fifteen years. And now he was in the shower. She was in his bed.
And her heart felt like it was still catching up and like it had been right here all along.
Chapter Text
The bathroom door clicked open.
Bella turned her head, still half-lost in the tangle of her thoughts.
Then she froze.
Edward stood in the doorway, barefoot on the carpet. A white towel slung low on his hips, his skin flushed pink from the water, still dewy in places. His chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths. His hair curled at the ends now, looser without product, damp and unruly. Steam still clung to him, like he’d brought the shower out with him.
For a second, she forgot how to think.
He looked softer around the edges. Stripped down. Unarmored.
Not a rockstar.
Just Edward. Her Edward.
He met her gaze, the smallest flicker of a smile tugging at his mouth before he started across the room. Each step was silent, deliberate, like he was afraid to break whatever spell had settled between them.
Bella pushed herself upright without meaning to, the sheet slipping to her waist. Her pulse stumbled, then steadied into something low and heavy, echoing somewhere deep in her chest.
He stopped at the edge of the bed. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move, just looked at her. The way he used to look at her when he thought she wasn’t aware.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said. His voice was quiet, rough at the edges, honest in a way that made her throat tighten.
A small, startled laugh slipped out of her.
“You said that when we were kids.”
His mouth curved, soft and certain.
“I meant it then, too.”
Something in her chest cracked open. The years, the noise, the distance, all of it fell away like ash.
She lifted her arms in silent invitation.
He hesitated for a single second, eyes searching hers, like he was asking one last unspoken question. When she nodded, barely, he let the towel fall.
He climbed into the bed like he’d been aching to get back to her from the second he stepped away. Warm and clean and damp, he pressed himself against her with a soft, broken sound that was half sigh, half relief.
Bella closed her eyes. He smelled like soap and steam and something that still felt like home.
He buried his face against her neck and whispered, almost to himself, “I missed this. Missed you.”
“Me too,” she sighed, her fingers finding the back of his head, carding through the damp waves.
His mouth found hers. Slower this time. Deeper. Less desperate, but no less hungry. He kissed her like she was something he intended to savor. Like he was trying to memorize, or maybe perfectly remember, the taste of her.
His hands glided over her sides, her hips, the backs of her thighs in long, light strokes, leaving fire in their wake. He touched her like he was exploring something half-remembered, like the rediscovery of her body was the most important thing he’d ever done.
He kissed her shoulder. Her collarbone. The swell of her breasts. The peaks that made her gasp softly.
Her fingers slid over his back. Still warm, still damp. The muscles flexed beneath her touch. He sighed into her skin when her nails drug gently down the ridges of his spine. His lips traced a slow path down over her ribs, her abdomen, her hips, his eyes on hers the entire time.
When he lowered his mouth to her, it was slow. Intentional. Worshipful. He didn’t rush. He devoured her like he wanted to recall everything that made her come undone.
She moaned, her fingers threading into his hair, and he groaned in return, low and guttural, vibrating against her. Her hips lifted. Her legs trembled. Her thighs fell open wider as heat flooded through her, wave after wave.
Bella came hard, gasping, crying out his name, hands clenched in the sheets. He didn’t stop, if anything, he got more deliberate, slipping his fingers into her while his mouth worked her higher. The added stretch sent a shock through her, tripling the sensation. It was almost too much, pleasure drawn out until it was sharp, until her vision blurred and she half wondered if she was going to pass out. He kept going until her whole body was shaking, her breath caught somewhere between a sob and a moan.
When he finally crawled back up, his lips were slick and his eyes were blown wide, dazed and dark with want. She dragged him into a kiss, desperate, tasting herself on his tongue. He moaned into her mouth like he couldn't take it.
Then he pushed into her. Slow. Careful. Deep.
They both gasped, the air between them taught and electric. He stretched her open with deliberate precision, every inch setting her alight all over again. Heat bloomed low and hot, curling through her spine. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, his jaw flexing like he was holding himself back. His mouth parted. He exhaled her name like a vow.
She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms looping tight around his shoulders, dragging him closer until there was no space left, just skin to skin, heartbeat to heartbeat. Nowhere to hide.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered brokenly into the curve of his jaw, her lips catching slightly on the rough stubble there.
He choked on a sound, part groan, part whimper, and she felt the tremor run through him.
“God, me too, baby.”
He moved. Slow at first. Deep and steady. Each stroke was a long drag of heat and friction, like he wanted to feel every second of it, every tight, wet pull. Like he was trying to etch the shape of her back into his bones, so it was there forever.
His forehead brushed against hers. He held her gaze like he was afraid she’d vanish if he looked away. Like her face was the only thing tethering him to the world.
Her hands found his. Fingers laced together, pressed to the mattress. He was everywhere; above her, inside her, around her. Every breath, every movement synced like a song they both still know by heart.
He whispered her name. Again. Again. Like a prayer. Like a spell. Like he was never letting it go again.
And when he came, it was with a broken sound against her throat, her name gasped like salvation. His face was buried in her neck. His body shook. His grip on her tightened like he was afraid she’d evaporate.
She held him close, lips at his temple, her hands still tangled in his hair.
They spent a long while like that, wrapped together in the hush that followed something too big to name. Limbs tangled, voices low.
Bella told him about her trip; the quiet panic of packing, the flight, the blur of landing, the surreal moment her name appeared on a sign at the airport. He listened with a faint, glowing smile, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the bare skin of her hip.
“I couldn’t get through the set fast enough,” he said, voice still hoarse from the night. “Emmett nearly chucked a drumstick at my head a few times up there. I was rushing through every damn song.”
She laughed, muffled against his hair.
“I could tell. You were practically vibrating.”
He pressed a kiss into her throat.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “For you.”
The silence that followed wasn’t heavy, just full. The air between them was soft and drowsy, but charged with the echoes of every touch, every kiss, every gasp they’d already shared.
After a moment, she tilted her head back to look down at him.
“You know what’s crazy?” she whispered. “I kept waiting for you to call back and say you were kidding. Like, ‘ha-ha, funny story, my bad.’”
Edward smiled, slow and a little sad.
“Not in a million years,” he said. “The second you said yes, I think I forgot how to breathe.”
She laughed quietly, the sound catching in her throat.
“I almost didn’t. Say yes, I mean. I sat there staring at the wall, thinking, he’s known he’d be three hours away this whole time we’ve been texting again and never said a word.”
He let out a low breath, his eyes flicking to the ceiling before finding hers again.
“I thought about it. Every time we talked. But I already felt like I was pressing my luck, just talking to you again. Being friends again.” His voice softened, almost sheepish. “I didn’t want you to think I was crazy. Or… that I was trying to mess with something that was better left alone.”
Bella brushed her thumb along his jaw, her voice gentler now.
“You couldn’t have messed it up if you tried.”
He smiled her favorite, crooked smile.
“You say that now.”
Her hand found his chest, the steady beat beneath her palm.
“I thought maybe it wouldn’t be real,” she admitted. “You. This. I thought I made it up in my head, the way I used to.”
“You didn’t make any of this up,” he said with a small shake of his head.
For a while they just breathed together. The city hummed far below. their world reduced to skin and warmth and the breathless, tender rhythm of two people who had finally stopped pretending they didn’t belong right here, together.
Eventually, their words dissolved into the quiet again. His hand stayed at her hip, hers pressed over his heart.
And in that soft, suspended moment between waking and dreaming, it felt like the years between them had never really happened at all.
Chapter Text
Hours later, everything was hushed and quiet. The world in a kind of deep stillness that only existed in the middle of the night, when time seemed to loosen its grip and everything felt softer, hazier. The city beyond the window had gone mostly dark except for a few scattered lights blinking on distant rooftops. The air conditioning hummed low and steady, stirring the curtains just enough to ripple the faint streetlight glow across the carpet.
The suite smelled like hotel linen and soap from the shower, that faintly sterile kind of clean that never quite masked the trace of him. Underneath it lingered Edward’s scent, warm and impossible, honey and lilac and something like sunlight on skin. It clung to the sheets, to the air, to her.
Their clothes still lay in a trail from the door to the bed, the room half-lit by the bathroom vanity light that hadn’t been turned off. It cast everything in a soft, amber wash: the tangled sheets, the curve of their bodies lying together, the slow rise and fall of their breathing.
Bella stirred against the pillow, drifting between sleep and the edge of waking. The air was still heavy with the afterglow of laughter and whispered confessions. Every inch of the bed was warm and cozy.
Edward pressed closer instinctively when she shifted. His chest was molded against her back, the steady thrum of his heartbeat syncing with hers. His arm slid over her waist, fingertips brushing beneath the sheet, then dipping lower over her stomach with a touch so familiar it felt like breathing, even as it left fire in its wake.
Then came the light, deliberate grind of his hips against hers from behind.
She made a soft, half-conscious, breathy sound, and he exhaled sharply like it undid him completely. She felt his breath skim the top of her shoulder, warm and uneven, and then the faintest brush of his lips against her skin, rough and tender all at once, when he whispered her name.
“Bella…”
The word seemed to linger in the air, quiet and reverent, swallowed up by the hush of the room.
His voice was rough. Sleep-rasped. Full of that raw, aching need that only ever surfaced at that late hour between sleeping and waking. His mouth found the place where her shoulder met her throat, his lips warm and soft, lingering there until heat pooled low in her belly. He kissed up her skin slowly - press, drag, breathe - like he was tasting the edges of a dream he didn’t want to wake from. His teeth lightly grazed her pulse point before he soothed the spot with another long, deliberate kiss.
His hand slid up her side, fingers spreading wide over her ribs before curving around to her breast. He cupped her fully, his thumb stroking slow circles over the nipple until she gasped. He shifted just enough to bury his face against the slope of her neck, inhaling like he couldn't get enough, then let his lips wander lower, brushing over the delicate skin above her collarbone.
His other hand coasted down her thigh, coaxing her hips back toward him. The low, needy sound he made in his throat vibrated through his chest into her back, and she could feel the weight of him, hard and ready, pressed perfectly against the curve of lower back.
She turned her head just enough to see his face in the low light.
He was watching her, eyes heavy and shadowed, hair askew, lips parted as if starved for her.
“You okay?” she murmured, fingertips tracing the line of his arm.
He nodded, dipping his head to press another kiss to her shoulder.
“Just... need you.”
There was a rough, frayed edge to his voice that lit every nerve within her. She shifted onto her back, the sheets slipping down their bodies. He followed, settling between her legs like he belonged there. One hand cupped her thigh, the other guided the thick line of himself against her. He groaned when he found her wet and ready for him.
“God,” he whispered, mouth dragging along her throat. “You feel so fucking good.”
When he pushed inside, unhurried and deep, it froze the breath in her lungs. Her hands found his shoulders, his back, his jaw, anchoring herself to the weight of him over her, the heat between them, the shiver of restraint in his body.
His movements started slow, measured, but they didn’t last. Sleepy restraint gave way to hunger, need burning through every careful touch. His hand slid to the back of her neck, thumb sweeping her jaw in a silent promise.
“I’m yours,” he breathed, voice raw and desperate against her lips.
It sent a shiver down her spine.
“Still,” he added, rougher now. “Again. Always. You know that?”
Bella moaned, nodding against his lips as the words slid into her like blades.
“Say it,” he pleaded, voice breaking.
“You’re mine, Edward.”
Something in him snapped. His groan shuddered against her skin, hips driving harder, deeper. Her name spilled from his mouth like a prayer, like it was the only thing that had kept him from coming apart for fifteen years.
His mouth moved down her jaw, her throat, over her chest. He was everywhere, equal parts frantic and tender, like he was trying to reclaim every inch of her.
“You have no idea,” he murmured, voice thick, “how much I missed this. Missed you.”
She dragged his face back up, kissing him like she could stitch the years back together with her mouth.
“I missed it, too,” she whispered. “Missed you. So much.”
He shuddered, pressing even closer, deeper, moving like he was trying to burn the feeling into both of them. She lifted to meet every thrust, holding him like if she let go, it all might vanish.
“I used to lie awake thinking about this,” she gasped. “How it felt. How you felt. Wishing I could go back.”
He whimpered, wrecked and helpless.
“We’re here now.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” she promised against his cheek.
“Neither am I,” he said. And she believed him.
They fell apart together. Slower this time. Deeper. A shared unraveling that felt like a second chance sewn directly into skin. He spilled into her with her name caught in his throat, body trembling over hers, face buried in the crook of her neck.
Afterwards, they barely moved; just enough to breathe, to press lazy kisses to her jaw and stroke his hair as they drifted back to earth.
He curled around her, holding her close in the quiet stillness. His nose brushed her cheek, breath soft and steady. Under the sheet, he found her hand, their fingers lacing together naturally, as if they’d always belonged that way.
Bella didn't remember falling asleep. Only the warmth of him against her. The sound of his breath. The slow drag of his fingertips on her skin. At some point in the night, she had turned to face him. She woke curled against his chest, one leg hooked loosely over his, her palm resting over where his heartbeat thumped, slow, steady, unfaltering.
The sky outside the window was just beginning to lighten into that muted gray-blue before sunrise.
Her eyes moved over his face slowly. Taking it all in. His eyelashes, dark against his cheeks. His mouth slackened with sleep. The faint crease between his brows was even deeper now, even when he was dreaming. His hand was still tangled in her hair, fingers laced in the tresses at the base of her skull.
She stayed like that for a long time. Still. Silent. Just watching, just memorizing.
At length, his eyes fluttered open. He saw her and smiled, drowsy and boyish, like he’d woken into a wish he’d never dared to make out loud.
“Morning,” he murmured, voice scratchy with sleep.
“Hi,” she whispered back.
His fingers tightened slightly in her hair.
“Thought maybe I dreamed this.”
“Me too.”
They lay there, gazing at each other in the quiet, dazed, almost shy. The connection between them felt simultaneously fragile and new, but also familiar, remembered and rediscovered. He watched her, searching her face, and something shifted in his expression. A shadow letting go, leaving him clearer, more alert.
His thumb traced the side of her neck. He hesitated for one breath before he spoke.
“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he said softly, words tentative and vulnerable. “I don’t want it to be casual, either. I mean, I get it if that’s all you want, and I’ll take it if that’s all I can have. I just…”
He paused for a long beat, searching for the right words. He exhaled slowly.
“I want more. I’ve always wanted more.”
Her heart skipped a beat. A sweet and dizzying ache bloomed behind her ribs.
“I do, too,” she breathed.
And something deep in his eyes broke open, hope and disbelief crashing across his features like a wave he wasn’t ready for.
“I’ve never not wanted you,” he said, voice husky. “Even when we ended things. It was never because I didn’t love you or want you.”
Bella nodded, because she knew. She’d had a full-ride scholarship to a college in another state. He had just signed his first real contract with his band. They had both been standing at a fork in the road. No bad blood, no betrayal, just pulled apart by circumstance.
She touched his face, swept her thumb along the curve of his cheekbone.
“Me too,” she murmured. “It took me a long, long time to move on. Honestly, I don’t think I ever did.”
Then, she rose up slowly, sliding over him, then straddling his waist beneath the blankets. The sheet slipped down her back, pooling around her hips.
His eyes followed the movement, darkening with every breath. His hands came to rest on her thighs, warm and gentle, thumbs brushing back and forth across her skin like he was trying to steady himself.
She leaned down, close enough for her nose to brush his.
“I want you,” she whispered. “Not just this once. Not just for fun. You. Us.”
His breath caught sharply in his chest. His grip on her legs tightened instinctively.
“Jesus,” he muttered, looking like a man in freefall. “You’re gonna kill me.”
She smiled, leaning in until her lips barely grazed his.
“Not the worst way to go.”
Then she tilted her hips, just enough to let him feel the slick heat of her, dragging slowly against the length of him beneath her.
He groaned. Deep and broken.
She reached down, wrapped her fingers around him, hard already, thick and pulsing against her palm. He twitched at the touch, pupils going wide as she guided him to her entrance.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
She sank down slowly. Inch by inch. The stretch was delicious but still almost too much. She braced her hands on his chest, breath stumbling as he filled her completely. He let out a hoarse, desperate sound like he was barely hanging on. His hands clutched her thighs then slid to her hips, like he needed to find an anchor point to stay sane.
“God, you feel…” he shook his head, like words had failed him. “You feel unreal.”
She bottomed out with a soft gasp. Her whole body shivered. They both went still, locked together, foreheads brushing.
And then she started to move.
She rolled her hips slow and deep, her breath catching on every glide. He choked on a sound, low and ruined, and his hands slid down to her ass, guiding the rhythm with unsteady, needful precision. Not forceful. But not gentle, either.
She rode him like she’d been waiting, dreaming for fifteen years just to do this. Because she had.
Every stroke felt like a reclamation. Every moan, every shift, every bite of his lip, it was like crashing into him over and over again, undoing time with nothing but skin and want. Her head tipped back as she moved over him.
“Look at me,” he panted.
She did. And what she saw, the open, raw, wrecked look on his face nearly broke her.
He sat up slightly, his mouth crashing into hers. His arms locked around her back as he pulled her torso flush onto his like he wanted to fuse them together. The kiss was messy, heated, bruising.
She moaned into his mouth, moving faster, chasing the friction the new angle offered.
“God,” she gasped, “I’m yours. Just yours.”
“Say it again,” he hissed between his teeth.
“I’m yours,” she panted, voice breaking. “Always.”
“You’re mine.” His voice shook with emotion. “Mine.”
Then he kissed her throat, her collarbone, her shoulder, her chin, like he needed to taste every part of her, mark her with his mouth.
She met him thrust for thrust, breathing hard, hands in his hair, hips grinding down like she never wanted to stop. The peak hit her first, sharp and fast. She cried out, body tightening around him, every nerve lit with pleasure.
He followed seconds later, crushing her against him, groaning her name into her skin, body shuddering as he came hard inside her, hands gripping her like he was melding himself into place.
She collapsed onto his chest. Still joined. Still trembling. Both of them panted like they had run a marathon. His arms wound around her back. One hand tangled in her hair. The other stroked lazy lines down her ribs. He pressed a kiss to her temple, and she swore his breath bled out of him like he’d finally unlocked a door he’d been leaning against for years.
“You’re not leaving again,” he said softly. It was almost a question, but not quite.
She smiled, lips brushing the damp skin of his shoulder.
“No,” she whispered. “I’m not.”
Notes:
i have nothing to say for myself re: the level of smut
Chapter Text
Bella woke to the scent of herbal tea and the low hum of Edward’s voice.
He was across the room, shirtless, bent slightly as he adjusted something on the low coffee table in front of the hotel room's plush sofa. One of those little handheld vocal nebulizers he’d mentioned years ago, back when the two of them had been sprawled out in a truck bed and he’d told her the odd rituals and tricks he was learning to protect his voice. A mug of steaming tea was cradled in one hand, the thick scent of honey drifting through the room, sweet and floral.
The curtains were drawn just enough to let in a slant of soft morning gold. It painted the planes of his back, the slope of his shoulders, the curve of his neck. He moved with steady focus. Barefoot. Bare-chested. Rumpled from sleep. Still humming a single, steady note under his breath.
He didn’t look like a rockstar right now. Just Edward. Still so beautiful it hurt. Bella stayed where she was for a moment, watching him like a dream she didn’t want to end yet.
“Hey,” she said at last, her voice raspy with sleep.
The low, droning note he was humming broke off. He turned, and a crooked, soft smile spread across his face.
“Hey, baby. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
She shook her head, dragging the sheet up as she sat. He huffed a little laugh and set the tea down on the low table.
“I ordered some room service,” he said. “Should be here soon.”
She stretched, every muscle humming from the night before. Then she crossed the room to him, barefoot and still glowing with the ache of everything they’d rediscovered. The sheet was wrapped around her like a loose, accidental chiton, trailing softly behind her as she approached.
Edward had slipped seamlessly back into his routine, steam, stretches, tea. Each motion as fluid as automatic muscle memory after all these years.
“You do all this every day?” she asked as she slid onto the ottoman behind him, her knees bracketing his hips. Her hands brushed lightly up his arms before she pressed a small kiss to the top of his shoulder.
“After every show,” he nodded, his voice still a little hoarse. “Keeps everything working.”
She hummed, fingertips skating across his shoulder blades.
“It’s kind of hot, you know.”
He shot her a sideways glance in the mirror perched above the dresser across the room.
“My sexy nebulizer?”
Bella grinned and pressed her chest to his back, cheek resting against his shoulder as her arms wound around his waist.
“The whole thing,” she murmured. “You taking care of yourself. Like you matter.”
He leaned into her touch with a sigh, eyes falling closed.
“Mm. Just getting old, more like.”
She let out a soft laugh and straightened again. Her hands drifted slowly across his skin, easing the tension in his shoulders, content to simply rub warmth back into him, tracing idle shapes along the lines of his back.
“Oh,” he said absently, as if the thought had just resurfaced. “I made sure room service brings sriracha. For your eggs.”
That made her pause, just for a heartbeat.
“You remember that?” she asked, voice soft.
He shrugged one shoulder, almost shy.
“You always said eggs taste like punishment unless they’re drowning in hot sauce.”
Bella hid her smile by leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his temple. She kept rubbing his shoulders, her touch drifting down his biceps, slow and warm. Edward sank back into her without even realizing he’d abandoned the nebulizer, melting into her hands like putty.
Bella leaned around him and kissed the base of his neck, letting her lips linger there. He went very still.
A tiny smirk curved her mouth. One hand slid up to cup his jaw, tilting his face toward the ceiling, baring the long line of his throat. She followed it with her lips, soft kisses pressed along the tendons, the warm hollow beneath his ear. She peeked at him in the mirror.
He was wrecked.
His eyes burned into hers, wide and undone and wanting.
“Careful,” he murmured, voice low and ragged. “You’re on very thin ice. You keep kissing me like that, baby…”
She smiled against his skin, pulling back just enough for him to see it.
“What,” she teased softly, “was last night all I get?”
His groan was low and desperate, more surrender than exasperation. The tea, the nebulizer, every careful part of his morning routine was forgotten in an instant. He turned sharply, hands finding her waist and tugging her flush against him.
“Bed,” he said, voice rough with need. “Now.”
Bella blinked up at him, a breathless laugh catching in her throat.
“What about room service?”
“They’ll leave it at the door,” he muttered, already sweeping her into his arms, already kissing her like he’d run out of patience somewhere between her lips on his throat and now.
She barely registered the movement across the room. The world narrowed to the warmth of his mouth and the urgency in the way he held her. Then came the soft thump of her back hitting the mattress and the sheet billowing around them as he braced himself above her.
“Edward - ”
He hovered over her, eyes sweeping over her body like he might devour every inch to make up for every second he’d lost with her.
“I know,” he murmured, breath unsteady. “I just, I can’t stop touching you.”
Bella’s hands slid up his arms, over his shoulders, pulling him closer.
“Good,” she whispered. “I don’t want you to.”
Edward let out another low, helpless sound, half laugh, half groan, and leaned down, kissing her again, molten and hungry. His hands were suddenly everywhere. In her hair. On her hips. Gripping her thighs, parting them for him. His mouth was hot and consuming. His knee slid between hers. He used it to gently pin one thigh, spreading her open further. And when his fingers slipped between her legs, he groaned at how ready she was.
“God, baby,” he muttered. “So wet for me.”
“Always,” she gasped, arching up into him.
She reached for him, guided him inside her, deliciously full and deep. His breath punched out of him in a shaky gasp, forehead tipping forward to rest on her shoulder.
“You feel - Jesus - ” His voice broke.
He rocked into her once, hard, and the sound it pulled from her made him moan in turn against her neck. There was no build this time. No teasing. No patience. He moved like he was chasing something, each thrust firm and deliberate, as if he went deep enough, he could change the past. Unmake the time lost. Rewrite it all from here.
She shifted her hips and met him stroke for stroke. Took all of it, gave it back. Her hands were locked in his hair. Her legs were cinched around his waist. Her mouth hung open as she gasped against his ear.
His lips were moving, but she couldn’t make out the words at first, not over the rush of blood in her ears, the thrum of her own heartbeat. It wasn’t until he leaned closer, forehead nudging under the line of her jaw, that she realized he was speaking.
Faintly. Breathlessly. Almost like a prayer.
Stay.
Please.
Need you.
Don’t go.
The phrases blurred together, repeating in different patterns, tumbling out of him in a raw stream he didn’t seem entirely aware of. Like the words were coming from some place deeper than thought, instinctive and unguarded, as if he’d held them back for fifteen years and they were finally breaking free.
Then his rhythm faltered.
His breath caught, the movement of his body stuttering like something inside him had come loose. A tremor rolled through him, not from exertion, but from emotion, from the sheer force of everything breaking open between them.
Bella cupped his face in both hands, guiding him until his forehead rested against hers.
“I’m right here,” she whispered.
His eyes snapped open and found hers.
Raw.
Wild.
Undone.
He looked at her like she was the only solid thing in the world, like her voice had reached into his chest and steadied something he couldn’t control. His hands tightened on either side of her. He exhaled a shaking, uneven breath and leaned into her touch as if it was the only thing keeping the pieces of him together.
“Bella…” he breathed, her name breaking on his tongue, cracked open with relief and wonder and something close to pleading.
She slid one hand to his jaw, rough with stubble, feverish beneath her fingertips, and kissed him. Firm, sure, grounding. His lips tasted of salt and desperation.
"I'm not going anywhere," she murmured against his mouth, feeling his lower lip tremble slightly.
And that was it.
He spilled into her with a ragged moan that vibrated through her bones, his face shifting over and buried in the hollow where her neck met her shoulder, breath hot and damp against her skin. His body curled around hers like it was the only place he was safe, muscles tensing and then melting, heartbeat thundering against her chest. The force of his surrender, his vulnerability pulled her over the edge as well, pleasure spiraling outward from where they were joined.
She held him through it, feeling the aftershocks ripple through him as she ran her hands over his back, tracing the ridges of his spine, the slight dampness pooling at the small of his back. She kissed his temple where his pulse still hammered beneath thin skin. She caught her breath in small, ragged gasps that gradually slowed to match his own.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled finally. “I don’t even know if I have anything left in me.”
A breathless giggle slipped from her lips as her fingers combed through his damp hair, pushing it off his forehead.
“No complaints here.”
He lifted his head to look at her, eyes soft and overwhelmed. There was something urgent behind them. Something unguarded.
“Don’t go home on Monday,” he said. “Come with me. At least to the next stop. Please.”
She blinked, breath stuttering slightly.
“Edward -”
“I need you with me.” His hand came up to cradle her cheek, thumb brushing back and forth anxiously like he was afraid she’d disappear between blinks. “If I let you go home, if I let you walk out that door, I’m scared another fifteen years will go by before you come back.” He swallowed hard. “And I can’t do that again.”
She lifted both hands and cupped his face again, thumbs tracing his cheekbones, mimicking his touch on her own face.
“I told you I’m not going anywhere.”
He searched her eyes like he needed proof, like he was terrified she was just saying it because they were wrapped in sheets and morning light and each other’s skin.
“You mean it?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she murmured. “Of course I do.”
She stretched her neck to press a soft kiss to his brow. Then, with a small smile playing at the edge of her mouth, added, “Actually, the next city has this cute little vintage shop I used to love back in college. We can go sift through the racks like we used to.”
His breath stopped. Literally stopped. He caught her wrists gently, tugging her hands to his mouth and kissing each palm like it was instinct, like he had no other way of letting the feeling out.
“Okay,” he breathed, a shy smile pulling at his lips, his eyes bright. Then quieter, like hope was finally overtaking fear, “You’re really staying?”
She nodded, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks again.
“I don’t want to be without you, either.”
Edward closed his eyes. His entire body went slack, as though he’d finally released a breath he’d been holding for years, quite possibly exactly fifteen of them. When he opened his eyes again, something had settled in them. His gaze was steady. Certain. Adoring.
“You won’t be,” he said simply.
Chapter Text
Edward didn’t have a show that night. The local NBA team had the audacity to have a home game and take their own arena back, which meant the tour bus stayed parked and Bella stayed in his bed.
They barely left it.
The day blurred into a warm, lazy sprawl of tangled limbs and quiet laughter, soft kisses shared between half-finished conversations, and long stretches of simply lying together in the hush of the hotel suite. The sheets were a mess, pillows shoved to odd angles, sunlight drifting in and out of the room as the hours slipped by. Sometimes they dozed. Sometimes they talked in that hazy, half-awake way that felt like a secret language.
He played with her fingers absentmindedly. She traced idle shapes on his chest. They teased each other, whispered old inside jokes, rediscovered familiar spots that made the other shiver or smile. Every so often, one of them would shift, or tuck closer, or laugh softly into the other’s skin and it would pull them right back into each other’s bodies, that irresistible pull neither of them even tried to fight.
By the time evening fell, they’d lost track of how many naps they’d taken, how many times they’d touched each other, how many quiet confessions had slipped out in the dim, golden light.
They only emerged because the band’s group chat finally exploded into an all-caps barrage demanding they join everyone for drinks. Emmett threatened to come bang on the suite door if Edward didn’t “stop being a lovesick Victorian maiden and show his face.”
Edward groaned into her shoulder, but Bella just laughed, running her fingers through his hair.
“Come on,” she murmured. “We really should go.”
He let out a broken little sigh.
“Bella, please. Have mercy. I’m weak. I’m a shell of a man without this bed and your body heat.”
She snorted.
“Get dressed, rockstar.”
He sighed dramatically, nuzzled into her neck once more, and finally rolled out of bed, still muttering that Emmett was dead to him.
Emmett spotted Bella the exact millisecond she stepped into the bar.
“Batten down the hatches, boys!” he whooped, loud enough for most of the place to hear. “Trouble done just waltzed back into my life!”
Before she could react, the band’s drummer scooped her up in a bear hug, spun her twice, and pressed a dramatic kiss to the crown of her head like she was his long-lost kid sister. He set her down with a grin and jogged backward toward the bar.
“Don’t move! I’m getting you a drink!”
Jasper was next, calmer, quieter, but no less warm. The band’s lead guitarist pulled her into an easy hug, brushing a kiss to her cheek.
“You look incredible,” he said, simple and sincere, and she couldn’t help but smile.
Before she could respond, Carlisle, their manager, slipped in beside them. He was older by a handful of years and had always been more of a laid-back big-brother than a boss. He smiled widely at Bella as he pulled her into a brief, solid hug.
“You really do. Not a day over nineteen,” Carlisle said, ruffling her hair lightly before she swatted his hand away. “You doing okay? Emmett didn’t break your ribs, did he?”
Bella laughed. “I missed you guys.”
“We missed you, too,” Carlisle said, shrugging one shoulder. His smile softened as he took her in. “It’s really good to see you.”
There was something warm in his eyes, indulgent, almost conspiratorial. Like he’d suspected something like this was happening between her and Edward over the last few weeks and was delighted to see he was right. Like he’d been rooting for this long before he really admitted he was.
Emmett barreled back to the table with a triumphant shout, a tray balanced precariously in one hand.
“Shots!” he announced, far too proud of himself.
Bella’s stomach dropped the second she saw the contents. The glasses were filled with something murky and brown-green, half oil slick, half hardware-store solvent.
“Oh my god,” she groaned. “Tell me that is not what I think it is.”
Emmett slapped a glass into her hand.
“Vintage Cullen Special, baby! Straight from the liquor cabinets of our youth.”
Jasper snorted. “That stuff nearly killed us. Multiple times.”
Carlisle pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m the one who had to lie to your parents about why the bathroom smelled like gasoline for a week.”
Emmett just grinned. “Nostalgia’s supposed to hurt.”
“Is it?” Edward asked, genuinely incredulous.
“Oh, I have no fucking clue. Just drink it!” Emmett insisted, already lifting his own glass like a toast.
They all groaned…but they all tossed it back.
The burn was immediate and catastrophic.
“Jesus,” Bella coughed, wincing through a laugh. “Why did we ever drink this?”
Edward took her empty glass, setting it back on the tray before she dropped it. His hand rubbed a tiny circle between her shoulder blades while she hacked delicately into her fist.
“That’s my girl,” Emmett crowed. He paused, smirk twisting wickedly. “Still knows how to take it.”
Jasper immediately choked on his own cough, sputtering. Carlisle snorted so hard he had to hide his face in the crook of his elbow.
Bella closed her eyes like she was praying for strength.
“Good to see there’s still something deeply wrong with you,” she deadpanned.
“Man,' Jasper said as he wiped his mouth, still coughing through a laugh. "You’re gonna get your ass kicked, Em."
“Not a chance,” Emmett said, waving him off. “Look at him. Edward wouldn’t notice if we all dropped dead right here. Lights are on, nobody’s home. Happens every time she breathes in his direction.”
Bella didn’t even get the chance to respond before Edward was suddenly sweeping in with laser-focused purpose, like Emmett’s jab had flipped a switch he had absolutely no intention of turning back off. His hands found her hips. His mouth brushed her temple, her cheek, the hinge of her jaw, kiss after kiss, quick and warm and claiming in a way that made the entire table howl.
“Jesus, Edward,” Jasper muttered, amused, “pace yourself.”
But he didn’t stop.
All night, he was on her. A hand at the small of her back when they were standing. Fingers curled lightly around her thigh under the table. Their knees pressed together, his leaning into hers every few minutes as he murmured something low in her ear, sometimes teasing, sometimes nothing at all, just an excuse to feel her hair brush his face.
And every couple of minutes, he kissed her. Her shoulder. Her hairline. The corner of her mouth. Little touches, barely-there brushes of lips that felt like instinct. Like he was checking that she was still there. Still his. Still real.
Bella couldn’t stop smiling and Edward looked like he’d forgotten how to do anything else but touch her.
At one point, Bella laughed at something Jasper said about Alice missing a flight because she got distracted in a museum gift shop. Edward’s fingertips slid down her spine, sneaking under the edge of her top to brush the bare skin at the small of her back. She sucked in a soft breath. He heard it. He smirked.
Then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to the hollow beneath her ear, his breath warm against her skin. Bella shivered, and he looked entirely too pleased with himself.
It was shameless. It was constant. And it made it immediately, painfully clear to everyone at the table exactly what he planned to do the second this night was over.
“Jesus,” Emmett muttered, shaking his head. “This is somehow worse than when you two were horny teenagers.”
Bella flushed, half-laughing into her drink. Edward didn’t even bother trying to deny it. He just kissed the side of her neck again, smug and entirely unrepentant.
By the time they piled into the back of the car with the guys, Bella and Edward were pressed close and practically humming with anticipation. His hand rested high on her thigh, thumb stroking in slow, teasing circles. And every few minutes it inched a little higher, unmistakably deliberate.
He knew exactly what he was doing.
She glanced at him once, catching the tiny, smug curve of his mouth that made her pulse kick.
His gaze kept dropping to her mouth, over and over, like he was counting the seconds until they were alone again.
She felt every one of those looks like lightning down her spine.
The hotel room door was still swinging shut when she grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him into her. His breathing stopped and then he was reaching for her, too, like the dams inside them had both broken at once.
She kissed him hard, like she’d been holding back just as much as he had all night - which, admittedly, wasn’t much. He groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding beneath her top in a warm, greedy sweep. He pulled her tight against him, eliminating every inch of space between their bodies.
Her back hit the wall, but she didn’t care, didn’t even register it. She just hooked her leg around his hip, dragging him closer with a soft, breathless sound that made his fingers tighten at her waist.
“You have no idea how bad I wanted you all night,” she panted against his jaw, already fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.
“I think I might,” he said, voice low and rough, kissing down the side of her throat then back up like he couldn’t decide where to put his mouth first. His hands are already working at the clasp of her bra, sliding it off her shoulders under her shirt.
She laughed, breathless, tugging his shirt open, shoving it down his arms. He helped, impatient, and then he was just there. Skin to skin, chest pressed to hers, mouth back on hers with a desperate little sound that was more a plea than a kiss.
It was all heat and urgency as they worked each other out of their clothes, the pace alternating between molten slowness and urgent need. His mouth found hers again and again, slow kisses that tasted of fire, lingering long enough to leave her dizzy. Her back pressed firmer against the cool wall, a sharp contrast to the furnace of his body pinning her there.
“Up,” he murmured, sliding his hands beneath her thighs and lifting her effortlessly.
She wound her legs around his waist, her heels hooking at his lower back. The feel of her drew a deep groan from him, vibrating through his chest and igniting the thrum between her legs.
He kissed her again, slower this time. Open-mouthed, tasting her with every stroke of his tongue. His hips rolled forward, and she felt him hard and heavy against her. She whimpered, clutching his shoulders, her nails grazing the muscles beneath his shirt.
When he slid into her, the stretch pulled a breathless gasp from her lips and her head fell back. He steadied her with one hand at her hip, the other braced beside her head, caging and anchoring her all at once.
The rhythm he set wasn’t frantic but measured, deep and rolling. Every thrust drove her harder against the wall; every kiss grounded her. Slow, deliberate, intoxicating. She gripped his hair, pulling him closer until his mouth trailed down her jaw, across her throat, sucking lightly at the sensitive skin.
“God, baby,” he whispered, voice rough but reverent. “You feel so good like this.”
She answered with a soft moan, grinding her hips into his, chasing the sparks coursing through her body. His pace built just a fraction. Still steady but more insistent, until her moans tumbled into his mouth, muffled by his kisses that seemed determined never to end.
The wall, his body, the heat, the way he held her up. She felt consumed, worshipped, completely his. He kept that steady rhythm. No rush, just so unbearably deep that she could feel every inch. Each roll of his hips dragged a sound from her throat, his name slipping out between sighs.
She tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him deeper. His hand pressed firmly into her hip, the other hand curled into her hair, tilting her head back so his mouth could claim her throat.
“Mine,” he murmured, lips against her skin. “All mine.”
Her back arched, the rough drag of the wallpaper barely registering over the way he filled her, the slow, deliberate path he carved toward her edge. She moaned, loud and obscene, clinging to his shoulders as if she’d float away without him.
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. Dark, lust-filled, intense. His forehead touched hers, and she nearly lost herself in his blazing gaze.
“Come for me, baby,” he whispered, and the words shattered her.
Her climax crashed over them both, hard and shuddering, her body tightening around him as she cried out. He groaned deep in his chest, gripping her tighter, and thrust through it. Once, twice, three more strokes, before his own release followed, his moans guttural as he spilled into her and buried his face against her shoulder.
He held her there, both of them trembling, her legs still wrapped around him, her back flush to the wall. Neither of them moved, too spent and too content in the haze. His breath was ragged against her skin as he pressed lazy, open-mouth panting kisses to her neck, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. She clung to him, body limp but unwilling to let go.
“Christ,” he panted softly, eyes closed as his forehead touched hers again, “I’ll never get enough of you.”
His hands loosened their grip slightly but didn't let go. One smoothed slow circles against her hip bone, the other brushed damp strands of hair from her face. He tilted her head just enough to kiss her cheek, soft and sweet this time, then another at her temple, like he couldn't quite help himself.
She hummed, a small, sated sound, and burrowed into the crook of his neck. He exhaled a shaky laugh, still panting to catch his breath.
“You okay?” he murmured.
She nodded against his damp skin.
“Perfect.”
His arms flexed a little, adjusting his hold, keeping her close, as though the idea of setting her down to stand or walk hadn’t even crossed his mind. The wall, the sweat, the stickiness, Bella didn’t care. She was utterly cocooned in him, in the closeness, in the quiet after the storm.
After a few moments, Edward turned and carried her to the bed, lowering her as if she were something breakable and fragile. He tugged the top sheet up over her before collapsing beside her and immediately dragging her into his arms. His breathing was still uneven against her hair, his chest rising hard and fast, his heartbeat pounding steady beneath her palm.
“How did I live without you all these years?” he murmured, voice raw and disbelieving, like the thought itself still hurt.
Bella tightened her arms around him, pressing her face into the flushed, sweat-damp curve of his neck. She gave a small, helpless shrug before answering, her voice soft against his skin.
“You don’t have to anymore,” she whispered. “I swear.”
He exhaled then, shaky, relieved, almost undone, and pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, as if it was the most important promise anyone had ever made to him.
Chapter Text
Edward was halfway through buttoning his shirt when he glanced at Bella in the mirror, a flicker of restless energy in the quick, practiced movements of his hands. She sat on the tall chair across the room by the wall, feet swinging absently like a kid’s as she watched him. The low hum of the venue, crew voices drifting in the hall, the distant wail of a guitar from soundcheck, wrapped around them like a constant, buzzing current.
“You ever been to one of these shows before?” he asked, eyes catching hers in the reflection.
She nodded. “Just twice. But I’ve watched an embarrassing amount of clips and livestreams and music videos over the years.”
He grinned at that.
“Which shows?”
“ACL, like nine or ten years ago.”
“Oh, man,” he said, wincing around a laugh. “That one made me swear off outdoor venues in Texas. God, the sweat.”
Bella shook her head, laughing. “And then in Denver, like… two-ish years ago.”
He turned fully around at that, brows pulling together.
“At the hockey arena?”
She nodded.
“Do you remember where you were sitting?” he asked, his expression intent.
“Yeah. Upper level. I guess on what would’ve been your right.”
His gaze blazed into hers for a heartbeat, sharp with realization.
“Were you in a dark blue tank top?”
Bella blinked, stunned. “Uh… yeah. How do you know that?”
“I thought - ” he hesitated, throat bobbing as he swallowed. “You can see more of the crowd than people think, especially from up there. And I… I could’ve sworn I saw someone who looked like you.”
For a beat, she just stared at him, stunned. A thousand quiet, aching possibilities passed between them in the momentary silence.
“You should’ve tried to get backstage,” he murmured at last, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. His eyes were darker now, warmer. “I’d have let you.”
Bella smirked, sliding off the tall chair and stepping toward him, closing the last few feet between them.
“Weren’t you still married then?”
He let out a soft, humorless huff.
“Separated, I think. I don’t know. Tanya… she had a lot of extracurriculars the whole time.” His mouth twitched wryly as he shrugged. “Would’ve been fair play.”
She hummed, her hands lifting to his hair, fingers sliding through the soft, damp strands. She combed it back gently, like she’d done in parking lots and bedrooms and summer evenings half a lifetime ago. His eyes fluttered closed for a second as he leaned into her touch like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“You have no idea,” she murmured, voice dipping lower. “If I’d known you were looking for me, I’d have sprinted to your dressing room. Security wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
Edward inhaled sharply like the words landed somewhere deep. His gaze flicked to her mouth before returning to her eyes, darker, hungrier now.
Her fingers trailed from his hair down the back of his neck, over the buttons of his half-done shirt, slow and sure. He didn’t look away once. Her hand drifted lower, teasing along the waistband of his pants as she leaned in, lips brushing the shell of his ear.
“Watching you drives me crazy,” she whispered. “Both times, it was a very… sensual experience for me. I couldn’t stop imagining…”
She trailed off, her mouth finding the side of his neck, kissing softly as she shook her head a little.
“Tell me,” he breathed, the word bleeding with need.
“Us,” she said against his skin. “Together. Way back when. How you look naked. How you felt inside me. What it would’ve been like to have you right then, after those shows.” Her lips moved lower, tasting the faint salt of his skin. “Plus, how you moved on stage like you weren’t even human. It really did something for me.”
She said it between slow kisses, her fingertips toying with the zipper of his pants.
His groan was low and rough as his hands came up to grip her waist. His head dipped, catching her mouth in a kiss that was nothing like the playful teasing from a few moments ago. It was hot, urgent, claiming. Like he was seconds away from forgetting he had a show to play.
His mouth crushed hers, and suddenly they were moving. His hands were on her hips, walking her backward until her lower back bumped the edge of the vanity. In one smooth motion, he lifted her, setting her down against the cool surface.
Bella’s knees parted instinctively and he stepped between them, his body pressing hers into the mirror behind you. The glass was almost cold at her back, a sharp contrast to the heat pouring off him.
His hands were everywhere at once. Gripping her thighs, sliding under her shirt, skimming up her spine. His kiss was messy and hungry, teeth catching roughly on her bottom lip.
“Do you know what you do to me?” he muttered into her mouth, panting wildly.
“Show me,” she challenged, and his answering groan vibrated against her teeth.
He pushed her skirt up her thighs with quick, unthinking movements. His hand cupped her over her underwear, and she gasped into his mouth.
“So wet, for me, goddamn,” he muttered, his eyes flicking down to watch as he pushed the fabric aside and slid his fingers into her.
She clutched his shoulders, biting back a moan. “Edward…”
He worked her fast, thumb circling her clit until her head tipped back against the mirror. She glanced up, drawn by some instinct, and saw him watching her in the side panel of the vanity mirror. His head was dipped toward her, jaw clenched in focus, before his eyes slid upward. He met her gaze in the glass, watching the two of them move together.
The sight made Bella’s stomach flip, heat curling low in her belly. His rhythm with his fingers grew sharper, more insistent, like he knew exactly what the sight was doing to her.
And then, he was withdrawing his hand and fumbling with the zipper of his pants. All at once, he was pushing inside her in one deep stroke that knocked the air from her lungs.
“Fuck, baby,” he grit out, bracing one hand on the counter beside her hip, the other gripping her thigh to hold her open for him. His thrusts were fast, deep, the slap of skin and their uneven breaths loud in the small space.
She clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, meeting every sharp drive of his hips. The mirror rattled behind her, and she saw it again; his reflection looking up at her, the intensity blazing in his eyes as he fucked her, as if he was burning the image into his brain.
It was quick. It was messy. It was desperate in a way that left no room for anything but the need to feel each other, have each other, now.
When she came, it was hard and fast, her cry muffled against his shoulder. He followed almost instantly, groaning her name like it was the only word he knew, his hips stuttering before he stilled.
They stayed tangled together for a few minutes, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together as the last tremors worked through them.
Edward finally eased back just enough to smirk at her, still flushed, still glowing, his hair a wild mess.
“Now I really need to fix my hair before I go out there,” he muttered, half-laughing, half-wrecked.
Bella smiled and lifted her chin to press a slow kiss to his jaw. “Worth it.”
His eyes fluttered closed at the contact, a soft hum escaping him, sated, grateful, almost disbelieving.
A bright little laugh slipped out of her then, breathless and sudden, the truth of it hitting her all at once.
“God… the amount of times I’ve dreamt about this.”
“About what?”
“This,” she said, gesturing faintly around them, the vanity lights, the rumpled clothes, his skin still warm under her hands. “In your dressing room. At a show. Actually…” she swallowed, cheeks reddening, “anywhere, honestly.”
Something in his eyes shifted, adoring and luminous, as if she’d spoken a truth he’d been quietly wishing for all this time. His hands slid up to cradle her face, gentle and tender, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones like she was something precious he couldn’t believe he got to touch again.
He leaned in and kissed her. Slower this time, deep and unhurried. Savoring her like he didn’t want the moment to end, even though thousands of people were already in their seats, waiting for him.
When he pulled back, his eyes were soft and shining, the kind of look that made her feel like the whole world had narrowed to just the two of them.
“I love you,” Edward said, serene and sure.
Then he froze, like the words had slipped out before he could catch them. His hands went still against her skin, breath quickening.
“I -”
Bella shook her head before he could stumble into an apology. She leaned up, chasing his mouth for another kiss, stopping the backpedal before it began.
“I love you, too.”
It came out before she could overthink it, before caution could drag her back. And the way he looked at her afterward, stunned, worshipful, like the world had just cracked open under his feet, was enough to stop time altogether.
“Honestly,” she said, a little sheepish, brushing her thumb along his jaw, “I’m not sure I ever stopped.”
“Me either,” he said softly, barely above a whisper.
The slow, deep kiss that followed was threaded with a kind of unspoken devotion, like there were entire lifetimes folded into the press of his mouth against hers. A vow without words. A promise he wasn’t quite sure how to say out loud yet.
Her fingers found their way into his hair again. His grip at her waist tightened, tugging her flush against him once more.
Then a sharp knock on the door shattered the breathless hush.
“Five minutes!” someone called from the hallway.
Edward groaned softly as he pulled away, resting his temple against shoulder.
“I am never gonna make it through this set.”
“Poor thing,” she teased, brushing her thumb across his lower lip.
He laughed, warm and completely wrecked, and stole one last kiss before helping her down off the counter. Together they helped her clean up, fixed his hair, and straightened their clothes. His hands lingered on her skin like he needed just one more second with her. And then another. And then just one more.
Bella tried to catch her breath, tried to seem even a little composed as she followed him into the hall. But it was useless. She’d lost all ability to think straight the second he crashed back into her world.
Notes:
this work is the most smut-heavy thing i've ever written. i'm not entirely mad about it. i do keep trying to put in little bits of plot but the edward and bella barbies in my head are like, SMASH US TOGETHER THEN WE'LL TALK. so.
Chapter Text
That night after the show, they were tangled up in the sheets together. Skin to skin. Her bare legs brushed along his, his thigh hooked comfortably between hers. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the hotel HVAC and the occasional pulse of traffic somewhere out on the street below.
They’d already come down from a slow, aching round, sweaty and sweet and drawn-out, all hands and mouths and tangled limbs. Now Bella lay draped across Edward’s chest, her cheek rising and falling with every steady breath he took, their bodies bare beneath the covers.
His arm was curled around her back, fingers tracing absentminded, looping circles along her spine.
“Did you really dream about that?” he murmured, voice thick with use. “Showing up to one of my shows and just… jumping me?”
Bella smiled into his skin.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like,” she murmured, “to watch your first love become an actual goddamn rock star?”
He huffed a tiny laugh, warm and disbelieving, and she tilted her head to look up at him.
“I accepted a long time ago that I was never going to date anyone cooler or hotter or better than you,” she said. She pressed her index finger against his chest, right over his heart. “Never mind all the rest of it.”
He flushed a little at that, color warming the tops of his cheekbones, but he still glanced down at her, head tilted, curious.
“What’s the rest of it?”
Bella didn’t answer. Not right away.
She let her fingers trace the seam of a muscle along his ribs. Her gaze drifted across his chest, the familiar constellation of freckles she used to count in the dark, the faint scar near his shoulder from when he fell off Emmett’s skateboard sophomore year. All the pieces time hadn’t taken from her.
Then, her hand slid down his chest. Molten. Suggestive. Past his ribs, his stomach, down his pelvis to where he was still soft and warm and only half-hard. Her fingers wrapped around him gingerly, and he stuttered on a breath.
“This,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. His eyes fell shut. But he didn’t stop her.
She stroked him slowly. Not with the urgent fiery touch from earlier, but something else. Something worshipful. Armorous. She drank in the way his body responded to her touch, already thickening in her palm as his hips shifted restlessly beneath the sheets.
“Do you have any idea,” she murmured, voice low and honey-sweet, “how perfect you are?”
She leaned forward and kissed the hinge of his jaw. He exhaled shakily, hands flexing slightly against her back.
“So big and thick,” she whispered, fingers curling a little tighter, dragging up the length of him, mostly hardened now. “And you being my first?”
She shifted to her elbow, watching him with half-lidded eyes as her fist continued its sensual work.
“You ruined me, Edward.”
He groaned low in the back of his throat and the tendons in his neck flexed as he tipped his head back against the pillow. She smirked, just a little.
“Nothing and no one has ever come close. Not even figuratively.” She paused deliberately as she swiped her thumb over the tip, spreading the moisture beading there. “And definitely not literally.”
His breath rushed out in a sharp exhale. His eyes snapped open to meet hers, pupils wide and blown.
“You keep talking like that,” he rasped, voice frayed and wrecked, “and I’m gonna lose it.”
“Uh oh,” she murmured, pure faux-innocence.
She kissed him, slow at first, then deeper when he made another small, tortured sound against her mouth. His hand tightened at her waist, fingers flexing like he was hanging on by threads, and she smiled into the kiss, knowing exactly what she was doing to him.
She moved to kiss along the line of his jaw, follow the tendons of his neck. Then lower. Down his chest. His stomach. His breathing was ragged and fast now, his abdomen trembling under her mouth.
And then she sank between his thighs. Smug. Possessive. Adoring.
He watched her like he wasn’t sure if he’s dreaming. But the second her mouth closed around him, his hand flew to tangle in her hair and a strangled sound escaped him, part incoherent moan, other part her name.
She hummed in approval at his reaction, tongue swirling, taking him deeper with every pass. He bucked beneath her, lost in transported bliss, whispering broken things in a rough staccato.
Things like:
Jesus
Fuck, baby
God, I missed this
Christ, just like that
Don’t stop, please don’t stop
She looked up, mouth still full of him, and her heart stumbled at the look in his eyes:
Wrecked. Enraptured. Pliant. Awed.
Like he still couldn’t believe he got to have her like this again. And maybe, if she were honest, neither could she.
His hand tightened in her hair, not guiding or tugging, just holding. Like she was an anchor and he was trying not to sink into a whirlpool. His breath was nothing but broken gasps now, hips twitching under her touch, every muscle drawn tight as a wire.
“Bella,” he whispered, panting and desperate. “You feel so good, so fucking good, baby.”
She hummed again in response, lips sealing tighter around him, one hand pumping in rhythm with her mouth, the other gently gripping his thigh, feeling the way the muscles trembled and tensed under her palm.
She relaxed his throat and took him deeper. Let her tongue flick just right under the ridge of the tip. He shuddered violently in a full body spasm.
“Jesus - baby, fuck - I’m -”
His voice broke. And then he was gone.
He spilled into her throat with an obscene, guttural moan, hips jerking into her mouth despite himself. His fingers clutched her hair like a lifeline, his other hand clutching the sheets as his whole body arched under the force of his orgasm.
Bella didn’t pull away. She kept going, gentle now, soothing, until his groans tapered into gasping exhales, until his hand loosened in her hair and he slumped back against the bed, boneless and breathless and utterly spent.
When she finally pulled away, she pressed a chaste kiss to the inside of his thigh. She climbed back up beside him, curled into his side. His arms wrapped around her automatically, pulling her closer. His chest still heaved. His head fell limply to one side and his lips brushed her temple.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, dazed and stunned, grinning into her hair.
She laughed, smug and satisfied, and nuzzled into his shoulder.
“What, still got it?”
He turned his head, kissed her slow and deep, tasting himself on her tongue and groaning into her mouth like it ruined him all over again.
“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered against her lips, “and I’m gonna die happy.”
She giggled as she curled back into his side. He pulled the blanket over them both, tucking her in like he was not planning to let her move for the rest of the night. His arm slid around her, palm spread warm and steady over her skin.
She breathed in the salt-and-skin scent of him, the faint trace of cologne clinging to his throat. Every so often he pressed a lazy, drowsy kiss into her hair or brushed his nose along her temple, like he wasn’t quite finished touching her, spent as he was.
Minutes stretched and blurred, their breathing and heartbeats falling into the same slow rhythm.
His hand found hers where it rested on his chest, fingers threading through without looking. He stayed quiet for a moment, thumb sweeping absently across her knuckles. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and unsteady.
“I’ve only ever felt this way about you,” he said. “Just you. The way it feels like my heart’s going to tear out of my chest when we’re together. When you touch me. When you look at me like that.”
He swallowed, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if saying it cost him something but he said it anyway.
“I’d kind of resigned myself to already having had my great love. And everything else was always going to be… second best.”
Bella’s chest tightened. She pressed her face tighter against his shoulder, her lips brushing his skin.
“So how’d you end up married, then?” she murmured, half teasing, half painfully sincere.
Edward snorted, dragging a hand over his face. “You ever heard of a shut-up ring?”
A startled laugh escaped her before she could stop it; she tried to cover it by kissing down the slope of his throat.
“No way.”
“I’m serious.” His smile was small and rueful. “I was tired. Lonely. The band was blowing up. Everyone around me was settling down, and she was there, and it just… made sense. Kind of. At the time.”
Bella went quiet, thinking.
“You cannot imagine how jealous I was,” she whispered finally.
His head tipped toward her, eyes dropping to meet hers. “Yeah?”
She nodded, settling her cheek against his chest again.
“I felt so ridiculous. Insane, even. But also just… so envious. Like, painfully. It kind of killed me,” she said, huffing a wry little laugh.
His fingers brushed over the third finger of her left hand, where a ring sat in what felt like another lifetime. His voice was soft when he spoke.
“I know what you mean.”
She glanced up at him. His eyes had gone distant, wistful in a way that made her chest ache faintly.
“When you told me you were single, back in that airport bar…” he paused, exhaling a shaky breath. “God, I thought I was going to fucking sink straight through the floor. Like I forgot how to breathe for a second.”
Bella pressed another soft kiss to his chest, a tiny smile curling against his skin.
“Edward,” she whispered, overwhelmed.
His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer.
“I never stopped being yours,” he breathed, barely above a whisper. “Even when I tried.”
She nodded against his chest. “It’s the same for me,” she whispered.
Then she lifted her head, reached up to gently cup his face. “I love you.”
His eyes fluttered closed. He leaned into her touch like he’d been waiting for it all his life.
“I love you, too,” he said, voice thick.
Then, softer, almost like he was admitting something he shouldn’t, he added, “I want… really selfish things.”
She tilted her head. “Yeah?”
“I never want to spend another day away from you.” His eyes opened, finding hers again with smoldering intensity. “I want you to stay with me. Through this whole tour.”
A short, breathless laugh slipped out of him, like even he knew how impossible it sounded.
“Quit your job. Come with me to every stop. Just… stay.”
He trailed off, the rest swallowed by feeling.
Bella blinked at him, stunned. It was insane. Reckless. Completely impulsive.
And yet.
“Leave my job?” she echoed, half-laughing, half reeling.
Edward glanced down, suddenly sheepish. He shifted to face her more fully, lifting a hand to cradle her cheek.
“We could figure it out,” he said gently. “You can work if you want. Or not. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, either way.”
Bella opened her mouth to protest, but he was already shaking his head, correcting himself.
“Not in some… weird possessive way,” he added quickly. “I just mean, I want to build this around you. Around us. Both of our careers. Whatever that looks like.”
She nodded, her chest aching with something deep and familiar. “Okay. I believe you.”
Then she laughed softly and stretched up to press a kiss to his flushed cheek, her hand lingering at his jaw, like she wasn’t ready to pull away either.
“You know I can work remotely, right? Or…” Bella took a slow breath. “I could take a leave from work. A sabbatical. I’ve been there long enough, they’d let me go for a few months, I think.”
Edward’s hand went still where it rested on her hip. “You’d really do that?”
She gave a small shrug. “I want to. If you really want me to come with -”
His eyes snapped to hers, the spark of hope in them so sharp it looked almost boyish.
“I do,” he said. “More than anything.”
Bella let out a giddy, breathless laugh. “Then yes. I can make it work.”
He brushed his thumb beneath her eye, his voice going soft and a little disbelieving.
“You wouldn’t regret that? Taking a break from everything you’ve worked for… just for me?”
She held his gaze. “I already feel more like myself with you than I have in years.”
Something raw and aching flickered in his expression. She pressed her forehead to his.
“You sure you won’t get sick of me being around all the time?” she whispered.
“Never,” he said instantly. “Never. I want you everywhere. I want to wake up with you. Fall asleep with you. Have you backstage and in every stupid hotel room and stealing half my food before shows.”
Bella laughed, eyes suddenly stinging. “Done.”
Her fingers curled into his hair as she closed the distance again, kissing him slowly. Deeply. Ardently. His arms pulled her deeper into him, like he was trying to fuse her to his side. To this choice. To this new beginning.
And when they finally drifted into sleep, it wasn’t with uncertainty. It was with the feeling of something real settling in their bones. Something long-awaited and finally, realistically within reach.
Chapter 11
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The days passed in a blur and turned into weeks of cities and venues and hotel rooms that all started to run together and smell faintly of Bella’s perfume. Like Edward’s cologne. Like both of them.
There were shows every weekend, occasionally on a weeknight, and Bella was always there. Sometimes tucked in the wings, sometimes lost in the crowd, sometimes watching from the hotel bed with his hoodie pulled around her and an iPad propped on her bare legs, the livestream playing softly as she mouthed along to every word.
He’d come back to the room after every set still buzzing with adrenaline, hair damp, voice wrecked, and she’d be there, waiting for him, smiling in that soft way that made his whole body go loose with relief. Sometimes she teased him about a missed lyric or a new riff he’d thrown in. Sometimes she just curled into him and let him breathe.
And every night, without fail, he held her like she was the only real thing in a world that kept moving too fast.
She learned his habits. The weird little rituals. The way he hummed under his breath when he stretched before a show. The way he checked the laces of his boots twice. The way he leaned his forehead against hers backstage for just a moment before walking out, like he needed her to settle the static in his bones.
She learned the rhythms of tour life, too. The faces that circled Edward’s orbit.
Alice arrived first, his younger sister, the one Bella had loosely kept up with for years through social media. She turned up for a two-week stretch with a gleam in her eye, a suitcase full of outrageous outfits, and Jasper’s guitar picks scattered in every pocket. Jasper trailed behind her looking both exhausted and completely smitten; they were married now, and Bella couldn’t imagine a more chaotic or perfect match.
Alice screamed when she first saw Bella, practically tackled her, and then immediately demanded a full catch-up over overpriced airport lattes. Within an hour, she was dragging Bella into thrift stores and little window-shopping detours between load-ins, while Jasper and Edward lingered behind like sulking retrievers left outside a bakery.
“It’s like he thinks he won’t survive without you for an hour,” Alice teased as Edward kept glancing back over his shoulder.
Bella just rolled her eyes… but she smiled.
Esme came and went more often than anyone else. She’d only been Carlisle’s girlfriend back when Bella knew her, but she was his wife now, warm and steady and effortlessly gracious. Reuniting with her felt strangely simple, as if no time had passed at all; they slipped into conversation easily, laughing over old memories and catching up on years that had gone too fast.
Then there was Rosalie.
Emmett’s wife. Bella had seen photos; Rosalie Hale Cullen was gorgeous in a way that felt personally offensive. Perfect. Blonde. Terrifying. A badass Elle Woods type who looked like she could destroy you with a single arched eyebrow.
Bella was intimidated for approximately twelve seconds.
Then Rosalie laughed at something Emmett said, rolled her eyes so dramatically Bella nearly choked on her drink.
Then she leaned over to whisper, “I promise I only look scary. It’s the eyeliner.”
And just like that, she became human. Then hilarious. Then, unexpectedly, a friend.
She had a tough exterior, sure, but underneath she was warm, clever, deeply protective, and devastatingly funny. She and Edward bickered even worse than actual siblings, snarky, biting, relentless jabs tossed back and forth like a sport. Emmett encouraged it loudly from the sidelines.
Bella found herself snorting with laughter more often than not, watching the three of them go at it like a feral family Christmas.
Every time Edward caught sight of Bella laughing, it felt like he was witnessing a miracle.
Somewhere in all of it, Edward started writing again.
It happened quietly at first. Little scraps of lyrics scribbled on hotel notepads, the corner of a diner napkin, the back of a receipt. Sometimes Bella would catch him typing into his notes app with that far-off look he got when a melody or line hooked into him. Other times he’d go still in the middle of a conversation, eyes narrowed like he was trying to translate a feeling before it slipped away.
And every now and then, she’d catch him watching her.
Not in the overwhelmed, heartsick way he sometimes did, but like he was studying her. Mapping something. Trying to memorize the way she smiled into her coffee or tucked her hair behind her ear or curled her legs up in whatever hotel armchair she was sitting in.
Whenever she asked, he said he was not writing about her. She didn’t believe him for a second.
There was a night in one hotel when Bella fell asleep draped across him on the couch, her face tucked into the warm curve of his shoulder, his hand resting in her hair. The TV played some muted documentary neither of them were actually watching, just soft light flickering across the room, painting them in quiet blues and golds.
She drifted under without realizing it, lulled by the steady rise and fall of his breathing.
When she woke hours later, she wasn’t on the couch anymore.
Edward was carrying her, careful, steady, like she was something precious. She didn’t even open her eyes fully; she just felt the soft shift as he lowered her onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he slid in beside her.
When she blinked a little more awake, he was staring at her. Affectionately. Lovingly. Like she’d hung the moon. He didn’t say a word. He just leaned in, kissed her forehead with aching tenderness, and pulled the blanket higher around them both. His arm slipped around her waist the moment she burrowed closer.
The sex was still new and wild, yes, but it was also grounding. Steady. Sustaining. It was the way they reached for each other without thinking, like instinct forged years ago and finally given room to breathe again.
The way she caught his hand in the backseat of a van between cities and threaded their fingers together, and how he squeezed back like it was reflex. The way he tucked her under his arm on the plane, holding her close during takeoff like he’d spent half his life forgetting and was now relearning oh, right, this is where she fits. The way he leaned down to kiss the top of her head in crowded hallways without realizing he’d done it.
It wasn’t just desire. It was belonging. It was the certainty that their bodies remembered each other just as much as their hearts did, too.
One night, curled up in another hotel bed, limbs tangled and bodies aching from too many hours on the road, he ran a thumb across her cheekbone and murmured, “You feel like my whole life.”
She closed her eyes. Breathed it in. Let it settle where it belonged. In her chest, in her blood, in the hollow of her throat where all the words she’d never said used to sit.
And the truth of it didn’t scare her. It settled warm and certain under her ribs, like it had always belonged there.
He told her he had a break coming up. Six full weeks. No shows, no press, no airports, no schedules.
“You wanna go somewhere?” he asked one night, elbow propped on a pillow, a lazy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Somewhere quiet? Just us?”
Bella looked up from the manuscript she’d been pretending to read. “Like where?”
He reached for her, tugging her gently into his chest.
“Santa Fe,” he murmured. “I meant it when I said I’d take you.”
She blinked, surprised but already smiling. “Your ranch?”
He nodded. “It’s nothing fancy. Couple dozen prairie dogs. A creek. The best night sky you’ve ever seen.”
She traced a slow line along his jaw. “That sounds perfect.”
His smile softened. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, lingering.
“It will be,” he said. “Just wait.”
For now, it was just the two of them, tucked into a hotel bed in another unremarkable city, but something in the air felt different. Solid. Certain. A love rebuilt in hotel rooms and backstage hallways, lit by stage lights and softened by whispered confessions in the dark.
A love that had never really died. Only paused.
Now it was running full tilt again.
And they were both holding on.
It was late afternoon by the time they pulled up to the ranch.
The sky stretched endlessly above them, gold melting into dusky violet, the first stars smudging into view. The wind carried that dreamy desert hush, the kind that made everything feel older and quieter, like the land had been waiting for them.
Edward killed the engine but didn’t move. His hands stayed wrapped around the wheel, shoulders loose but tense in a way she recognized, anticipation softened by something almost vulnerable.
Neither of them spoke right away.
They just looked.
At the house tucked low into the slope of the hill, its windows catching the last of the sun. At the scrub brush glowing rust-gold in the fading light. At the thin ribbon of smoke curling from the stone chimney, courtesy of one of Edward’s neighbors, who’d promised to air the place out before they arrived.
Bella reached over and set her hand on his thigh.
“Home sweet home?”
He huffed out a breath, almost a laugh. “It’s different, showing it to you.”
When he turned to her, his smile was small and a little shy, like he wasn’t sure how she’d see this part of his life. This refuge he’d built for himself.
She kissed him before she even realized she was leaning in. Just once. Soft. Certain. A little I’m here in the desert dusk.
Then Edward got out of the car and came around to open her door for her.
The heat hit the moment she stepped out, dry, clean, and rich with the scent of juniper and dust. The kind of heat that wrapped around you instead of smothering. The porch steps creaked under their feet, and somewhere in the distance a hawk circled lazily across the open sky.
He unlocked the front door and nudged it open. They stepped inside together.
The place was small. Sun-worn. A little crooked in places. But beautiful in a way that felt intentional, lived-in. Light poured through the windows in long golden stripes, catching on rough-hewn beams and terracotta tile. The walls were lined with shelves, half vinyl, half books. A guitar rested on a stand beside an old leather chair.
Bella breathed in slowly. “It smells like cedar and old books.”
Edward dropped their bags by the entryway and slipped his arms around her from behind, chin resting on her shoulder.
“You like it?”
She nodded, still looking around. “I love it.”
He hugged her tighter, rocking her gently side to side like he couldn’t help himself.
“Good. Because I think I need you here for, like… forever.”
She laughed, twisting to kiss his cheek.
“Start with a few weeks and we’ll see how you do.”
The days settled around them.
They slept late. Ate barefoot on the porch. He made coffee in a chipped enamel pot that used to belong to a neighbor, and she took hers outside, wrapped in a blanket, watching the sunlight filter through the cottonwoods.
He showed her the creek the second day. Led her down a trail in the early morning, hand warm in hers, and when the water came into view, it sparkled like it remembered her.
She read in a hammock. He chopped vegetables in the kitchen. Sometimes she helped, but most of the time she just watched him. Her hip leaned against the counter, watching the way his shoulders move under a faded t-shirt, the little flecks of gray that start to catch the light at his temples. There was music always playing. Sometimes a speaker, sometimes his guitar, sometimes his voice humming low under his breath.
He kept touching her like he couldn’t believe she was real. She kept waking up tangled around him, her legs looped with his, her face pressed into his chest, her fingers curled over the steady beat of his heart.
There was one afternoon, heat shimmering outside while the house stayed cool and still, when he pulled her into bed just to hold her. No rush. No heat. Just the hush between them, skin to skin, their breaths finding the same rhythm. They lay there for what felt like hours, fingers tracing the ridges of each other’s spines, saying nothing at all. They didn’t need to.
That night, the stars came out in full force, violent in their brightness, scattered across the desert sky like someone had thrown handfuls of diamonds into ink. Bella lay in the grass in his sweatshirt, shoulder pressed to his, the vastness above them making everything else in their lives feel beautifully small. The air smelled like sage and cold earth. Somewhere far off, a coyote called.
Edward laced their fingers together.
“You know,” he said quietly, eyes still on the sky, “I used to lie out here and imagine you were next to me.”
Her heart twisted, sharp and tender all at once. She squeezed his hand.
“I used to imagine this exact place,” she whispered. “I just didn’t know it was real.”
Only then did he turn his head toward her. She met his gaze and kissed him slowly, deeply.
The night wrapped around them like something sacred. And suddenly, this wasn’t just a break from the world anymore. It was something else.
Something that felt like home.
Notes:
not me plugging this in the notes of my other fic, saying read this if you want bellward smut, just to turn around and post a chapter with no smut lmao
Chapter 12
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Every evening, as long as the clouds or summer monsoons didn’t swallow the sky, they wandered out to the patch of yard behind the house to stargaze. It became one of their nightly rituals, as essential as brushing their teeth. Edward would get down an old quilt from the hall closet; Bella would tug on one of his sweatshirts, sleeves too long, hem brushing mid-thigh. The desert cooled fast after sunset, the heat bleeding out of the ground and the air filling with the scent of juniper and dust.
Some nights, they said nothing at all.
They just lay side by side, shoulders touching, letting the darkness settle around them. Listening. To the soft chorus of crickets. To the wind sliding through the mesquite with a dry whisper. To the soft hoot of an owl. To the distant yip of coyotes calling to each other across the hills. The world felt impossibly wide and limitless out there beneath a million stars.
Other nights they talked.
About the book one of them was reading. About the manuscript she’d left half-edited on her laptop. About a melody he’d been humming under his breath all day.
Sometimes it was small things. A memory from college or grad school, a stupid story from the road, a detail from their years apart that hadn’t found its way into conversation yet. Sometimes it was big things like hopes they hadn’t said aloud or hurts they thought they’d buried.
It was routine and extraordinary all at once.
The grass was dry and cool beneath them. Edward’s quilt, soft from years of sun and washing, was spread out under their backs, edges fluttering whenever a breeze whispered down from the foothills. The sky above them was a wide, shimmering canvas with the half-moon glowing softly at its center, stars scattered around it like handfuls of glitter in the dark.
They lay side by side, shoulders brushing, their hands laced together between them. Every so often, his thumb stroked hers absently.
He exhaled slowly, the sound carrying into the warm desert dark.
“You ever think about how weird it is that we’re both here?”
She turned her head toward him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean this. Now. Like…” He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow so he could see her more clearly. The moonlight caught on the curve of his jaw, the soft waves of his hair. “What are the odds that we’d circle all the way back? After all that time?”
“I don’t know,” she murmured, smiling. “I’m just glad we did.”
He watched her for a long beat, with the starlight pooling across her skin and the breeze lifting a loose strand of hair from her forehead. His whole face changed, went tender and soft in a way that made her pulse trip.
And then he said it, quiet and steady.
“Marry me.”
Bella blinked. “Edward.”
“I know.” He was already smiling, a little breathless, like the words had tumbled out of him of their own accord. “I know. It’s insane.”
She stared at him. “You think?”
He huffed a little laugh, eyes crinkling, but he didn’t take it back. Didn’t even flinch. Instead, he shifted a little closer across the worn quilt.
“I’ve loved you since we were kids,” he said, voice pitched low. “And I’ve never stopped. Not once. No matter how much time passed. No matter who I tried to be with. It was always you. Even when it couldn’t be.”
Bella swallowed hard, the night suddenly too still around them. He kept going as if the words had been waiting inside him for years and could finally spring free.
“You’re the first person I want to talk to in the morning. The last one I think about before I fall asleep. Whenever I imagine my life, like really imagine it, it’s always with you. I want to wake up with you. Travel with you. Build a life with you. Get old and wrinkly and boring with you. I want you when I’m ninety and rickety and deaf as hell and still trying to kiss that one spot on your neck.”
A helpless sound escaped her, half laugh, half sob. She covered her face with her free hand, overwhelmed, tears slipping hot and sudden down her cheeks.
“God, Edward.”
“I’m serious.” His tone stayed gentle, but unmistakably sure. “You’re it for me. You always have been.”
She blew out a long, trembling breath and dropped her hand again. He was looking at her like she was something holy. It was no act, no performance. No lights, no stage, no spotlight. Just Edward beneath a thousand stars, eyes shining, heart wide open.
“Say yes,” he murmured.
Those two words unraveled her. Said in that same boyishly hopeful way they'd been said on the phone months ago, when everything between them had begun again with a single offer.
“Okay,” she breathed, soft and stunned, the answer slipping out before she could think, before fear could touch it.
His breath caught.
“Okay?” he whispered, like he didn’t trust his ears.
She nodded, tears sparkling at the corners of her eyes.
“Yes. I want all of it. You. This.” She swallowed thickly, voice breaking. “I want to marry you.”
He kissed her then like it was the only thing in the world he knew how to do, his lips tracing the curve of her mouth with a tenderness that made her bones ache.
And when he rolled over her, the damp grass brushing their shoulders, the July night warm and humming with cicada song around them, when she tugged him down by his worn cotton shirt and felt him settle between her thighs, both of them still fully clothed but already burning beneath layers of denim and cotton, it was different than every time before.
Softer. Deeper. More deliberate.
He touched her like she was something sacred, fingertips ghosting across her collarbones. Like her breathless “yes” had rewired his whole universe into something luminous.
The stars bore silent witness through gaps in the mesquite branches as they pulled each other close, as buttons slipped free and zippers rasped down, as hungry mouths found skin and trembling hands learned every freckle and scar all over again. He slipped into her with a broken moan against the pulse point of her neck, one hand tangled in her wind-tousled hair, the other braced against the checkered quilt beneath her.
There was no rush. No frenzy. No desperate grabbing. Just the slow, aching press of two people who already belonged wholly to each other, moving together like waves against a shore.
When she came, it was with his name exhaled like a prayer and her arms locked around his shoulders, her damp forehead pressed to his. When he followed, muscles tensing beneath her palms, he murmured I love you into the hollow of her throat like etching a promise in stone.
Afterward, they lay there tangled together, limbs heavy and sated, the constellations still turning on their ancient tracks overhead.
He was lying on his back, still flushed and smiling, absently toying with a piece of her hair. It slipped between his fingers like silk. She propped herself up on one elbow, eyes glittering with mischief.
“So,” she started, smirking down at him, “where’s my shut-up ring?”
He groaned, loud, dramatic, dragging a hand over his face.
“I knew you were going to say something.”
She cackled, triumphant, as he buried his face in both hands and muttered something that sounded a lot like unbelievable before reaching up to grab at her sides. His fingers found her ribs, tickling, and she yelped, swatting at him through breathless laughter. But she didn’t let it go.
“Well,” she said, feigning innocence as she stretched herself over him, fingers walking across his chest in slow teasing steps, “you’re what I imagined too. What I really, really wanted when I was honest with myself.”
His eyes softened instantly. Molten, open, so easy to fall into. But her voice flipped again, faux-wounded and wicked.
“And then you went and got married. And I had to find out standing in line at a grocery store, glancing at some random magazine cover. I genuinely thought: ‘What if I just… remove her from the equation? Getting rid of a body can’t be that hard, can it?’”
Edward was staring at her with a mixture of awe and deep, helpless amusement.
“Jesus Christ,” he said, snickering. “That’s hot. Terrifying. But insanely hot.”
“I told you I was jealous,” she said, smirking down at him. “I almost turned into a Lifetime movie villain. Complete with the dramatic lighting and the shovel montage.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, sitting up a little, one hand settling warm and firm on her hip. His voice softened a touch, earnest beneath the humor. “If I could go back to that night in Austin, or Denver, if I knew it was really you, I would’ve hunted you down right there.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Sweaty and exhausted and totally disgusting?”
He nodded without hesitation, leaning in, lips brushing the curve of her jaw.
“Yes. Because you love it.”
She burst into laughter, half-delighted, half-exasperated, and curled into him, her face burying in the warm line of his throat as his arms wrapped around her again.
After a moment, Edward nosed at her cheek, still grinning, his voice low and teasing.
“So… was that proposal at least better than your last one?”
Bella snorted and buried her face in his shoulder.
“You don’t even know the half of it.”
“Then tell me the half of it, baby,” he said, pulling back slightly with eyebrows raised in mock-seriousness.
She sighed dramatically, like she was bracing for impact.
“Okay. Picture this. Applebee’s.”
He was already laughing again, loud and disbelieving.
“Not ironically,” she emphasized, poking him in the chest. “That was his plan. Jacob told me to dress nice and everything, and then drove me to a strip mall and proposed over two-for-one mozzarella sticks.”
He was wheezing. Actually wheezing. “Stop.”
“I wish I could.”
She rolled away and flopped onto her back, the old quilt rustling beneath her.
“He got down on one knee between the booth and the bar and said -” she dropped her voice into a vaguely dopey, overly sincere register - “‘I figured we might as well do this. It’s just practical.’”
He made a face like he was deeply, personally offended. “Baby.”
She shrugged, throwing an arm across her eyes. “I didn’t even say yes right away. I just… blinked. And then nodded. Like a ghost. A tragic, discounted mozzarella stick ghost.”
He was still laughing, but his hand cupped her cheek, thumb tracing slow, grounding sweeps.
“Okay but why?”
“Because I thought I had to,” she said, turning her head toward him and sobering a little. “I thought I was going to have to settle for the rest of my life, after you. And if that was the case, what difference did it make how much I was settling?”
His face grew serious in a heartbeat. The night air thinned around them, replaced by something heavy and tender.
Bella kept going, quieter still. “When he told me he was sleeping with someone else he met at work, someone he just ‘clicked with’, I didn’t even cry. I was just… relieved.” She gave a humorless huff. “Threw the ring in the garbage disposal. Mailed the shreds to his dad’s house.”
Edward’s eyes went wide again as he half-choked on a laugh.
“Goddamn, baby. Remind me to never piss you off.”
She glanced sideways at him with a wicked little grin, the stars reflecting in her eyes. And then he kissed her, soft, slow and gentle. Like he was trying to erase every leftover bruise that story had left on her. Like he was rewriting the memory, right there in the dark, with his mouth warm against hers and his hand sliding down to her waist.
“I’m gonna take care of you,” he murmured against her lips “Pamper you. Worship you.”
She hummed, pleased and teasing. “Oh, are you?”
He nodded, kissing her cheek, her jaw, the hollow of her throat.
“Mhm. You want a shut-up ring? I’ll get you ten. However gaudy or garbage disposal-resistant you want.”
She laughed, but it caught in her throat when his mouth dipped lower. His lips were firm and sure, his touch a promise.
“You want one that sparkles like a disco ball? Done. One that could double as a weapon? Say the word. A different one to wear for each day of the week? I’ll buy one for each day of the month.”
He kissed down her chest now, slow and deliberate.
“I’ll buy you the whole damn jewelry store if it means I get to be the one who slips them on your finger. If I get to keep you forever.”
She gasped softly as his hands parted her thighs.
“I’ll earn it,” he murmured, “Every day. I’ll spoil you so good you won’t remember any other man ever existed.”
She reached for him, fingers curling into his hair just as his mouth found her skin again. He pressed hot, open, worshipful kisses along her stomach.
“Edward,” she panted, breath stuttering, “you’ve already have. You erased everyone else a long time ago.”
He groaned softly, like the words physically unravelled him, and pressed a warm, lingering kiss low on her belly.
“I love you,” he murmured into her skin, like a vow. “I love you as if we’ve fallen in love in a thousand different lives. And I’ll do it a thousand more.”
Then he moved lower, slower, and proved it. With his mouth, his hands, his body. He devoted every inch of himself to making her feel adored. Like she was the axis his world spun on, the only gravity that mattered.
Because she was.
Eventually, they made their way back inside.
Bella’s fingers stayed laced with Edward’s as they climbed the porch steps, the wood creaking beneath them. He didn’t let go of her hand. He guided her straight toward the bathroom, stopping only to kiss her shoulder, the curve of her jaw, the back of her hand like each inch of her skin needed greeting all over again.
When the shower steamed to life, he pulled her under the spray with him.
He couldn’t stop touching her. Not urgently, not hungrily, but almost like he was overwhelmed with feeling. Like the tenderness he felt was too big for his body and had to spill into his hands.
He worked shampoo through her hair like it was a ritual, slow and gentle, his fingers massaging her scalp. Warm water slid between them, pooling around their feet. He kissed the line of her collarbone, her temple, her cheek, each press of his mouth soft and sure.
“My wife,” he breathed into her ear, arms tightening around her waist. His voice was hushed, awed, almost disbelieving. “You’re gonna be my wife.”
Bella shivered, eyes fluttering shut. “Say it again.”
He did.
Over and over, between kisses, against her skin, into the damp curve of her neck, soft declarations and whispered promises, each one sinking deeper than the last.
Later, they lay tangled together in bed, skin still damp, the windows cracked open to the cool desert breeze. The curtains drifted in lazy breaths of wind. She was curled against his chest, her hand splayed open across his stomach. His fingers combed slowly through her damp hair, aimless and automatic.
For a long while, neither of them spoke.
Then, into the quiet, she murmured, “You know… we’d have to build a bigger house.”
He hummed, low and thoughtful. “Yeah?”
“If we have kids,” she added softly, shrugging slightly.
She felt the subtle shift of his body beneath hers. The faintest tension in his muscles. His breath caught, not loudly, but enough that she lifted her head.
His eyes were already glistening in the low light.
“When we have kids,” he corrected, voice gone rough. He swallowed hard. “I didn’t know how much I wanted that until just now. Until it felt like… like something that could actually happen. Soon.”
She touched his cheek, brushing her thumb under his eye.
“I meant it. I’m not saying next month, or anything crazy. But… soon. And this place is perfect. For us. For whatever comes.”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. After a moment, she felt the warm press of his lips against her temple.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Then we’ll build it. Everything.”
Bella nodded and closed her eyes, sinking into him. His hand kept moving through her hair, steady and gentle. His hold on her was like an oath tucked around both of them. And neither of them needed another word.
Notes:
bella being terrified of marriage in the books is so dumb to me, so. voila~
also this - “Then tell me the half of it, baby,” - was said in Robert Pattinson's real voice in my head, knowing he is a certified yapper who loves gossip lmao
Chapter 13
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The morning was soft and golden. Light spilled in through the gauzy curtains, warm on the floorboards, warmer still where it touched the rumpled bed.
Bella woke first. She padded quietly into the kitchen, still wrapped in the sweatshirt he’d tossed over a chair the night before, and made coffee for him in his chipped enamel pot. The rich, familiar scent drifted through the house.
Then she made her own matcha, moving through the same elaborate little ritual he still liked to tease her about: whisk, swirl, froth, the whole deal. So much effort for a drink he insisted tasted like “sweet lawn clippings.” She took a tiny sip, smiling to herself.
When she returned to the bedroom, Edward was already awake. He was propped against the headboard with a notebook in hand, reading glasses sliding a little crooked down his nose. His hair stuck up in several directions, sleep-ruffled and wild. His chest was bare, the blanket rucked low on his hips, sunlight turning his skin honeyed and golden.
She paused in the doorway, soaking in this domestic, rumpled, beautiful version of him. Then she crossed the room with two steaming mugs balanced carefully in her hands and set them on the nightstand.
Without a word, without any preamble at all, she climbed straight into his lat and sat straddling his long legs. Her hands slipped over his shoulders, fingers playing in the waves at the nape of his neck as she smiled down at him playfully.
He looked up at her with a lazy, adoring grin as his hands found her hips instinctively.
“Well,” he murmured huskily, eyes glinting with affection, “good morning to me.”
She kissed him once, just a soft and quick peck, then sat back a little, her expression shifting a bit more businesslike.
“So,” she said casually, as if they were discussing breakfast and not the rest of their lives, “would your legal team handle our prenup, or do we need to find someone specific for that?”
Edward blinked once. Then just stared at her.
After a moment, he closed his notebook slowly, set it face-down on the nightstand, and shifted to face her fully. His hands found her waist again as his eyes studied her, suddenly sharp and unreadable.
“Wait,” he said quietly, all traces of humor gone. “Do you want a prenup? Because I sure as fuck do not.”
Bella froze, thrown by his sudden seriousness. “I just thought… I mean, you’re… famous. Super rich. Isn’t that what people usually do?”
He shrugged once, but the movement was taut, nothing casual about it.
“Yeah, maybe. But I got rich writing songs about you,” he said. “Honestly, I should’ve been mailing you royalty checks this whole time.”
Her heart thudded painfully.
“But what if -”
“No.” He shook his head before she could finish, jaw tightening. “If we split up one day, if something happens -”
He stopped. Breath catching. Like just saying the words made something in his chest seize.
“You can have all of it,” he said, voice thick. “Every dollar. Every royalty. Every asset. I won’t need any of it if I don’t have you.”
The air left Bella’s lungs in a sudden gush.
He held her gaze, unblinking, unwavering. Nothing theatrical or dramatic, just a truth laid bare between them.
His voice softened, but the weight of it didn’t.
“I wouldn’t be long for this world if I lost you again.”
For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past the ache blooming behind her ribs. The room felt too calm, too small for the enormity of what he’d just said to her.
The pain swelling in her chest hit fast and sharp, but it was layered with something else too: a kind of helpless affection, tangled with exasperation. A sound slipped out of her, half a huff, half a sigh.
“Jesus, Edward,” she muttered. “That’s dramatic.”
But even as the words left her mouth, her heart stuttered. Because beneath the slight disbelief, she knew exactly what he meant.
She let herself imagine it for one fleeting, agonizing second. Losing this. Losing him. Again. After finding him and rebuilding something that already felt like the foundation of her whole life.
The thought gutted her. [Imaginary pain so sharp and acute that her whole being recoiled from it instantly.]
She leaned in, pressing her forehead to his, hands cupping his face. Her voice came out quiet but unshaken.
“But I get it,” she confessed, lip catching between her teeth briefly. “I’d rather die than lose you again.”
His eyes closed, like the words unraveled him from the inside out.
And then he kissed her. Fierce. Deep. A vow sealed in breath and skin and the kind of love that breaks you open just to rebuild you stronger. Like every promise in his soul was pouring directly into hers through touch.
When he finally pulled back, his voice was rough and sure.
“So, no,” he murmured, thumb brushing her cheek, “we don’t need to find anyone for a prenup.”
And then he rolled her underneath him. The morning light dappled the sheets around them as he settled between her thighs. His glasses slid further on his nose and he reached up to take them off.
Bella caught his wrist, smirking. “No. Leave them.”
A flush crept up his neck. He smiled a tiny shy, wrecked smile.
“I like them on you,” she added.
Then he kissed her again, deeper this time, glasses and all.
The late-afternoon sun spilled gold across the plains, warm and heavy, but not oppressive. Bella lay sprawled across Edward’s chest in the hammock, boneless and drowsy, her cheek pressed over the steady rhythm of his heart. His arms rested loosely around her waist, one hand moving up and down her spine, like he couldn’t bear the thought of not touching her.
A soft breeze drifted through the juniper trees, carrying the scent of sage and lavender and sun-warmed earth. It brushed over her skin like a second, soothing caress. Between that and the heat of him beneath her, she felt like she might simply dissolve into his skin entirely.
He’d been quiet for a while, one hand moving in patterns up and down her back like he was playing scales. His fingertips followed the line of her spine with deft movements as if each vertebra had a note in a melody only he could hear.
“Your back,” he murmured at last, “is basically a fretboard. I could write an entire album just playing you.”
She smiled against his chest. “You say that like it’s not already happening.”
He huffed a soft laugh, shifting a little beneath her to reach for the guitar propped beside the hammock. The movement drew a soft groan from low in his throat. Bella started to adjust herself just enough to let him maneuver it, but instead of settling it across his own lap, he laid it across her body, right over her back.
The wood was cool at first where it touched her shoulder blades and the curve of her spine, but it warmed quickly against her skin. He arranged it carefully. Tenderly. As if she were the instrument, and the guitar was just a means of completing the circuit.
His arms bracketed her body a little awkwardly, but he didn’t seem to mind. He brushed lightly over the strings. The first chord was a whisper. The next hummed deeper, vibrating through her bones. He found a slow, deliberate rhythm and began humming under his breath, a sound low and warm and wordless.
The sound vibrated through the guitar and straight into her body. She felt it everywhere: her ribs, her hips, the insides of her thighs. It was like being played from the inside out. She felt the tremor of laughter in his chest when he fumbled a chord. Then the way he slowed, repeated it, and coaxed it into something smooth and true. Her breath hitched, and she arched faintly without meaning to, her hips tilting just enough for him to notice.
He chuckled once and leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. Still holding her with one arm, he fumbled a little for his phone in the side pocket of the hammock, settled it high on his chest next to her head, and started recording. Another kiss, this one to the tip of her ear.
“Gotta save it,” he murmured. “You’re my best inspiration.”
She bit her lip, eyes fluttering closed, overwhelmed by the impossible sweetness of it all. The sun, the warm drifting breeze, the solid weight of him beneath her, the guitar resting across her spine like it belonged nowhere else. Like she belonged nowhere else.
“If I get to heaven,” she whispered, voice thin and trembling around the edges, “and it’s not exactly this for all eternity… I don’t want it.”
He went very still beneath her, the music faltering mid-note. A beat of silence stretched, soft and stunned, then he let out a breathless laugh.
“Yeah?”
She nodded against his shoulder.
“Tell them to send me someplace else,” she murmured, the words almost a prayer.
He laughed again, softly and full of awe.
“Then they’ll have to send me there, too.”
She hummed in contentment, letting the moment settle over. The sun dipped lower, the breeze tickling her back. His hands never stopped moving, trailing gently along the strings, coaxing melody from wood and bone and the heartbeat pressed steady beneath her ear.
And she thought: if there was anything more perfect than this, she didn’t need it.
Later, as the light began to shift and the air cooled by a few degrees, Bella shifted against him, her cheek still pressed to the warm hollow of his throat.
“What day do we need to leave again?” she murmured, barely louder than the rustle of the breeze.
“About two weeks or so, I think. Nothing urgent. Just enough time to make the next soundcheck.”
She nodded against him, eyes slipping closed again.
“Good,” she whispered. “I’m not ready to go yet.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Me neither.”
The hammock swayed gently beneath them, the sky stretching orange and lavender around the edges. After a long, comfortable silence, he said, “I’ve gotta run into town tomorrow. For that call with my manager. Reception’s better there. And the Wi-Fi won’t sputter out every five minutes.”
She lifted her head slightly, her lips brushing along tendons in his neck. “Want me to come?”
His hand stroked the length of her spine once. “Only if you want to.”
She shook her head, slow and sleepy.
“I’ve got a thing I can work on here. Nothing major. Internet’s fine for what I need.”
He nodded and dropped another kiss to her hair, like he couldn’t help himself.
“Miss you already, though,” she said lightly.
“Won’t be gone long, baby.”
The next morning, he kissed her goodbye with far more reluctance than the situation required, as though pulling away from her might unravel something delicate between them. Bella barely noticed; she was already curled on the couch with her laptop open, hair twisted messily on top of her head, legs tucked beneath her. She lifted one distracted hand in a little wave, brow furrowed in concentration. He stood there a moment longer than he needed to, watching her, memorizing the shape of her in the soft morning light.
Town was twenty minutes away. He drove with the windows cracked, desert air curling through the cab. He took his manager’s call from the back corner of a café with decent Wi-Fi, confirmed some routing changes, signed off on a few scheduling tweaks. All routine. All easy.
And then, afterward, without planning to, he found himself walking down the street toward a small jewelry shop tucked between a thrift store and a feed supply. He paused outside the window for a beat, hands in his pockets, heartbeat a bit rapid.
Then he pushed the door open.
Inside, everything gleamed beneath warm lamplight. Not flashy. Not loud. Just… intimate. He moved through the displays slowly, fingertips trailing over polished glass, the faint hum of a song forming under his breath. The woman at the counter offered help; he shook his head politely. He didn’t need guidance. He’d know it when he saw it.
And then he did.
Delicate. Understated. A gentle, sort of glow that felt exactly like her.
He didn’t overthink it. Didn’t need to. He bought it with the same bone-deep certainty he felt the moment he asked her to marry him. The small box felt impossibly heavy in his jean’s pocket, heavy with meaning, with promise. The drive back to the ranch passed in a blur. His heart thudding, mind spinning through possibilities. Where to ask her. When. How. Every idea was too much and not enough all at once.
Through the kitchen window, he saw her sitting at the counter, sunlight pouring around her like she’d been carved out of the sky. Barefoot. Radiant. One hand wrapped around a mug, the other tapping absently at her laptop. Completely at ease in a place that had never felt so much like home until she stepped into it.
She looked up when the door opened.
Her smile was soft and immediate. Warm enough to stop his heartbeat for a second.
Something in his chest pulled painfully tight. His fingers went instinctively to the box in his pocket. For one terrifying, beautiful breath, he nearly dropped to a knee right there in the doorway, dusty boots and all.
But he didn’t.
Not yet.
And even though he technically already asked her, he wanted to do this right. To give her something worthy of the life he wanted with her.
So he swallowed, smiled back, and stepped inside.
Notes:
so i've been working on this in tandem with the other fic on my profile and i did not intend to get to the same beat of both versions of edward blurting "marry me" at the basically same time lol but i did
i feel like that one meme of like *overlapping gibberish* "also I think it's entirely possible that *more overlapping gibberish*
Chapter 14
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
One afternoon, Bella’s phone buzzed with her mother’s name lighting up the screen.
She was curled on the worn loveseat by the window, legs stretched over a sun-warmed quilt, one of Edward’s old flannels wrapped around her shoulders. Outside, the wind shifted through the juniper and sage, carrying the dusty scent of an approaching monsoon. Far-off thunder rolled low across the hills. From down the hallway came the muted rush of the shower and the faint, familiar sound of Edward humming to himself.
She smiled without meaning to as she answered.
“Hey, Mom.”
On the other end came the usual domestic soundtrack; running water, cabinet doors, the soft clatter of dishes. Bella could almost picture her pacing around the kitchen with the phone wedged between her shoulder and ear, multitasking like always.
“Well, look who finally answers their phone,” her mother chirped, just this side of accusatory. “I was starting to wonder if you’d joined a cult or run off to Bali.”
Bella laughed softly. “No, no cult. No Bali.”
“Mmhmm,” her mom said, unconvinced. “Could’ve fooled me. You’ve barely answered a text in three months. What’s going on? You sound… different.”
Bella nearly laughed. They’d texted plenty; she just hadn’t been as available to help Renee manage her constant self-inflicted chaos. But she bit her tongue, letting the accusation roll past.
“Different?”
“Lighter. Or maybe just distracted.” Renee paused. “Are you seeing someone?”
Bella drew her knees in a little, tucking the phone closer, like she was bracing for impact.
“Yes, actually,” she said softly. “I’ve been with Edward. We reconnected. I’m… at his ranch. In New Mexico.”
The line went still. No background clatter. Just silence. Thick and pointed.
Bella’s stomach dipped. “Mom?”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” her mother said finally, sharp and disbelieving. “So, what, you're some kind of… groupie? Again? God, that's pitiful.”
Bella closed her eyes. “Mom.”
“I thought you grew out of this,” Renee snapped. “All that silly teen-fantasy nonsense. Dreaming about the ridiculous kind of life he lives.”
“Yeah, well,” Bella murmured, trying to swallow the sting, “turns out I didn’t.”
Her mother scoffed, loud and ugly.
“As long as it’s just for fun. A little trip down memory lane. But don’t start imagining it’s real. Men like him don’t… settle. They show off for a while, bask in the adoration, then move on. “Especially after the success” - the word was a sneer - “he’s had since you dumped him. You think he’s going to stick around for you?”
A swirl of anger, hurt, and disbelief flared hot and bright in Bella’s chest.
“Actually,” she said evenly, “he asked me to marry him. I said yes.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not.”
“Have you lost your mind?” her mother demanded. “Do you have any idea what kind of life that is? My daughter, some roadie wife?” She scoffed, incredulous. “You know, he threw the last one away right after he got her!”
Bella winced and pulled the phone slightly from her ear as the words lashed against the speaker.
“No, Mom,” she said, voice like steel. “You’ve always been wrong about him. You were wrong then, and you’re wrong now.”
A loaded silence followed. Bella could feel her mother bristling through it.
“You said the same things when I was seventeen,” Bella continued, the memories pushing past her shaking breath, “when he borrowed his brother’s car and took me to that college tour because you were ‘too busy.’ He packed snacks. Made a playlist. Turned it into an adventure. Even though he knew there was no way we could stay together if I decided to go to that school in the fall.”
Her mother made a sharp, offended noise, somewhere between disbelief and accusation, but Bella didn’t stop.
“You told me not to read too much into it, not to romanticize it,” she went on, “but it was romantic. And it mattered.”
Another sharp inhale from her mother, like Bella had slapped her.
“And when I got my scholarship letter…” Her voice caught, and she forced herself to keep going. “He was so excited. He never once asked me to give it up or stay for him. He just told me to go. Told me he was proud of me.”
Bella swallowed. The words were thick in her throat now.
“You said he only did that because he wanted me gone and out of the way so he could go be a womanizer.” Her voice wavered. “But that wasn’t true. It was never true.”
There was a rustle on the other end, her mother indignant and gathering steam, but before she could speak, Bella heard something faint in the background.
A laugh.
Warm. Proud. Delighted.
Charlie.
Before Renee could speak again, Bella heard her dad, his voice dry, lightly amused, popping the tension like a pin to a balloon.
“Careful, honey,” he said in the background, “she’s got you cornered.”
Bella almost smiled. Almost. But her chest still ached.
“Put Dad on,” she said flatly to her mother.
There was the unmistakable sound of her mother storming off. Indignant, sputtering, muttering something about teenage fantasies and then the phone shifted.
“Hey, kid.”
Bella’s breath left her in a shaky exhale. “Hi, Dad.”
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. His tone carried an edge she rarely heard from him. “She had no right to talk to you like that.”
“I know. It’s just - ” Her voice cracked. The tears hit fast, hot and uninvited. “It kills me when she says stuff like that. Especially about him.”
There was a pause on his end, the kind that felt like someone choosing their words carefully.
“It kills me too,” he said finally, low and serious. “I told her to knock it off back then, and I’ll tell her to knock it off now. That’s not yours to deal with, Bella. That’s on her.”
Bella wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.
“Thanks,” she whispered. “Really.”
He hesitated. Then asked gently, “So… you two are really back together? And you’re happy?”
She felt her heart tug at the question, warmth fluttering through her. She smiled, small but certain.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m… extremely happy. It’s the same as when we were kids, but also so totally different, you know? In the best possible way.”
He huffed a soft laugh, because he did know. Then he shifted, steering back to the heart of it.
“She doesn’t get to act like this is some phase, or that she knows better,” he said. “She’s always underestimated how serious it was between you two. She never saw it the way I did.”
Bella blinked, stunned.
“And,” he added, tone wry but pointed, “your mother doesn’t have a whole lot of room to talk shit about reconnecting with your first love.”
A startled snort escaped her before she could stop it. She blinked hard against the tears because God, she suddenly felt seventeen again. Seen. Defended. Held up by the one person who had always understood.
“You really gonna marry him this time?” Charlie asked then, like it was the most natural question in the world.
“Yes.” The answer came out immediate. Unflinching. Exultant.
“Good,” he said. “About damn time.”
A startled giggle slipped out of her. “Wait, really?”
“Oh yeah. Tell him his brother owes me fifty bucks. I expect him to pony up at the wedding.”
“What?”
He chuckled. “We made a bet. Years ago. Emmett swore Edward was gonna whisk you away and elope. I said it’d take longer, but it’d happen. Looks like I was right.”
She pressed a hand over her eyes. “You two are unbelievable.” Charlie laughed again.
“I love you, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m proud of you. And I’m sorry you had to hear that bullshit from your mother.” His voice dipped lower. “I’ll talk to her. She was out of line. And she’s wrong. You know she’s wrong, right?”
Bella nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “I know.”
“Good. Because I’ve watched you fight for what matters your whole life. Don’t let her ruin this. I know you. You don’t jump into anything you’re not sure about.” A beat. “And you’ve always been sure about that boy.”
Her throat tightened. She swallowed. “What if she doesn’t come around?”
“Then that’s her loss,” he said gently. “But I don’t remember that ever stopping you before.”
Bella laughed. That was true.
“And hey,” Charlie added, voice softening even more, “tell Edward hello, will you? Tell him I’m proud of him too.”
“I will.”
“Alright, kid. Go enjoy the rest of your day. I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
He hung up.
Bella sat there in the whiplash. The sting of her mother’s words, the balm of her father’s, her pulse still racing under her skin. Her face was hot with leftover adrenaline, relief, anger, tenderness. Everything was tangled and raw at once.
She exhaled slowly, wiping beneath one eye with the heel of her hand.
The room was quiet except for the faint hiss of the evaporator fan still whirring from the bathroom. And then she felt the subtle shift in the air. The weight of someone behind her.
She turned.
Edward stood in the doorway, still towel-damp, a soft shirt tugged halfway on, his hair sticking up in wild, uneven tufts from the shower. Drops of water clung to his collarbone like wisteria. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes gave him away completely.
Troubled. Gentle. Fiercely protective.
Like he was trying very hard not to show how much he’d heard. How much it hurt him for her to be hurting.
“How much did you hear?” she asked, voice low.
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead he crossed the room in a few barefoot steps and sank to his knees in front of her, hands settling on her thighs with the lightest pressure. His eyes searched hers.
“Enough,” he said at last.
Her throat tightened. She looked away from his face and down at his hands on her legs.
“Wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” he murmured. “Just heard your voice, and you sounded… not okay.”
She shook her head, blinking fast, trying to keep the tears from spilling.
“She just… she never got it. She still doesn’t.”
His hands slid up to cradle her hips, thumbs brushing slow circles.
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head again, sharper this time.
“No. I’m sorry. You’re not - ” she broke off as her voice warbled. “You’ve never been any of those things she said about you.”
He didn’t respond right away. His jaw flexed, just once, but his gaze stayed soft. Steady. Watching her like he was deciding whether to pull her into his arms or let her speak first.
Trying not to make anything worse. Trying to be careful with her heart.
Bella huffed a trembling sigh and managed a faint smile.
“My dad says hello, by the way.”
That made his brow crease. “Yeah?”
She nodded as she wiped beneath her eyes with the pad of her thumbs
“He said he’s proud of you.” Her voice softened. “Proud of us.”
Something shifted in Edward’s face at that. A long-tangled knot inside him seemed to unsnarl slightly.
“And,” she added, sniffling, “he says Em owes him fifty bucks. He expects to collect at our wedding.”
Edward blinked. “Wait, what?”
She let out a wet little laugh. “Apparently they made a bet years ago. Dad said we’d end up together eventually. Emmett thought we’d run off and elope at seventeen.”
His mouth dropped open. Then, slowly, beautifully, his lips stretched into a grin that was equal parts astonishment and wonder, a shimmer of him young and breathless shining behind it.
“I thought about it,” he admitted quietly. “More than once.”
Her eyes went wide. Then he leaned forward, resting his forehead against her knee, hands tightening ever so slightly on her hips like he needed the contact as much as she did. His voice was soft when he asked:
“You okay?”
Bella slid her fingers into his damp hair, combing it back gently. “I am now.”
Notes:
even in my AU, I will find a way to whack renee
also charlie & renee got remarried, in case that isn't clear. bella says it as like a throwaway comment in the first chapter, when they're chatting in the airport bar
Chapter Text
Edward looked up at Bella from where he was still kneeling with his hands warm on her hips. His eyes searched hers, fierce and tender all at once. His jaw shifted just slightly, setting into a firm line like he’d just made up his mind about something.
“Come on,” he said suddenly, already moving to grab his keys off the counter.
She blinked at him from the couch. “What? Where?”
He didn’t answer. Just snatched a few blankets from the basket beside the couch, then disappeared into the bedroom. A moment later, he reappeared with a couple of pillows tucked under his arm.
“Just trust me,” he said, eyes smoldering.
Five minutes later, Bella was barefoot in the passenger seat of his truck, wrapped in one of his hoodies, bouncing gently as they rattled up a narrow dirt road that wound into the hills. He was quiet for most of the drive, one hand resting over hers on the console, his thumb brushing slow, absent circles into her skin.
The sun hung low by the time he pulled off to the side, turned the truck around so the bed faced the horizon, and killed the engine. Beyond the truck’s tailgate stretched a canyon, wide and breath-stealing, painted in gold and rust and long blue shadows. The air smelled like sage and sunbaked earth. Thunder murmured a few miles off, the dark curtain of monsoon rain dragging across distant foothills.
They climbed into the bed of the truck. Edward spread the blanket, arranged the pillows, then settled behind her and pulled her gently into his lap. She curled into him easily, the warmth of him soaking into her spine as the sky darkened, the breeze whispering across her skin, carrying the scent of desert wildflowers and rain.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. Just took in the splendor of the canyon and felt the pleasant brush of the wind in their hair. He sat with his chin hooked over her shoulder, cheek pressed to hers, arms wrapped tight around her waist.
After a long moment, he exhaled a slow, steady breath that fanned over the curve of her collarbone.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently.
She knew exactly what he meant and sighed, deep and weary.
“Not really,” she admitted. “But also… kind of.”
He nodded against her temple.
“I figured.”
A few seconds passed in silence. Bella wasn’t sure where to start or how to sift through everything that had been said and everything that still ached.
Then Edward spoke again, his voice low and husky in the quiet.
“That college tour,” he said. “I don’t think I ever told you what it did to me. Driving you out there. Walking through those halls. Watching your whole face light up over every little thing. Listening to you talk about your classes, your dreams.”
She smiled faintly, staring out at the canyon. “I must have been so annoying.”
“You were brilliant,” he said without hesitation, shaking his head once. “Blindingly brilliant. I knew right away that there was no way I could ask you to stay. I couldn’t even let myself imagine asking. It was killing me. But you had to go. You were always meant to go.”
She turned a little in his lap, just enough to see the shape of his profile in the fading light. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, like he was watching that old memory play out against the distant ridge.
“And then when your scholarship letter came in…” he went on, his voice rougher, “you were shaking so hard, holding out that paper out like it might catch fire. And I -” He broke off, jaw flexing. “I’d never been more proud of anyone in my life.”
Bella inhaled sharply. Her eyes stung, but she didn’t look away.
“I cried in the car on the way home,” he admitted. “Didn’t even understand why at first. Just… you were going to go be amazing. And I knew I was going to lose you. I couldn’t ask you to give that up. Not for me.”
Her throat tightened painfully.
“I thought about asking you to come with me,” she whispered. “Begging you to.”
He looked down at her, eyes stricken.
“Why didn’t you?”
She lifted one shoulder in a helpless shrug.
“Because I couldn’t stand the thought of being the reason you didn’t become what you were supposed to be. And if anyone was going to make it, like actually make it, it was you.”
She reached up and smoothed a hand over the back of his hair.
“And I was right. You’ve built something incredible, Edward. You’re practically a god to those people out there.”
He shook his head and dropped his gaze to where their hands were joined over her waist.
“Baby -” he exhaled roughly. Shook his head again.
“If all of this brought you back to me, then fine. Worth it. But sometimes…” He swallowed. “Sometimes I wish I’d just said fuck it. Gone with you. Lived off ramen in some shitty apartment. Worked nights, scraped by. Anything. As long as I didn’t lose you.”
Bella’s heart twisted. The air between them was thick with the weight of all the years they’d lost and the choices they hadn’t been able to make back then.
“Why didn’t you want to try and make it work?” Bella asked quietly. “Long distance, I mean. We could’ve given it a shot.”
Edward huffed out a humorless laugh. “Because I’m stupid.”
She snorted, bumping her shoulder lightly into his. But he wasn’t really joking. She felt the shift before he even spoke again.
“Honestly,” he said, “I just… I didn’t want to be dead weight. Some chain dragging you back to everything you worked so hard to get away from. I didn’t want to be the loser boyfriend back home trying to get famous. I thought it would be easier, better for you, if I just… let you go. No strings. No bad blood.”
“A clean break,” she whispered, sadness threading the words.
He nodded without meeting her eyes.
Silence pressed in softly. The canyon wind stirred the brush, rich now with creosote and damp stony earth. Far-off thunder rolled as the clouds glided closer to where they sat.
After a long moment, he shifted beside her with his eyes on the fading light.
“You know I’ve never brought anyone else here, right?”
She looked over. “…To the ranch?”
“Yes. But also, here. This place. This spot.”
Her heart stumbled a little. She looked out again at the endless canyon with the sky turning gold and it all felt different now. Like something holy. Sacred and secret.
“And I’ve never asked anyone to come with me on tour,” he added, almost casually, but she felt the ache humming under it. He glanced sideways and met her eyes. “Not once.”
“Not even -?”
He cut her off with a firm shake of his head.
“No. Not her. Not anyone.” His jaw tightened just slightly. “Not that she would’ve come anyway.”
He didn’t look away. Just held her gaze like the whole universe might be hiding behind her eyes. Then he let out a breath, and the words came rough and unguarded.
“But I meant what I said. What I asked you. I know it’s fast. And crazy. And maybe it looks like I’ve completely lost my mind.” He swallowed hard. “But I haven’t. This isn’t adrenaline. Or nostalgia. Or… some kind of honeymoon phase. I need you.”
The last words were almost a plea, bleeding with ache on their way out, and Bella felt them hit somewhere behind her ribs like a physical blow. He pressed his mouth to the top of her shoulder, firm and lingering, not quite a kiss. She felt the steady, controlled breath he took and knew he was fighting tears and winning by a hair.
“There will never be anyone else for me,” he finished, fierce and low.
A lump formed in her throat.
“I know,” she whispered. “It’s the same for me.”
She gave a small, helpless shake of her head.
“I’m sorry about what my mom said. It’s not okay and I -”
But he cut her off with a fierce shake of his head.
“I don’t really give a damn what she thinks about me.” He reached up and cradled her cheek, letting his thumb graze her lower lip. “I care about what you think.”
And God, Bella felt her whole chest crack wide open. She didn’t answer. Not with words.
She twisted toward him and kissed him. Deep and slow, a little desperate. One hand slid into his hair, cradling the back of his head, while the other fisted in his shirt. She poured every apology, every promise, every truth she hadn’t been able to shape into language straight into his mouth.
He groaned softly against her lips. His hand traced up her spine, the other framing her jaw gently, like he was holding something precious and breakable.
When he pulled back, he was breathless. So was she.
He pressed his forehead to hers, eyes closed, voice barely more than a whisper.
“You’re the only thing I’ve ever gotten right.”
Her fingers lifted to his face again, brushing lightly along the stubble along his jaw, soaking in the shape of him beneath her touch. Then she kissed him again. This time slower. Surer.
His hands clamped on her waist and hers slid over his chest, mapping the familiar lines of muscle and bone she’d grown to recognize by touch alone.
The kiss deepened. His mouth opened against hers, tongue teasing, tasting, coaxing her closer. She arched instinctively, her body soft and pliant under his hands and she felt him hard and insistent against her hip.
She shifted slightly, pressing her thigh closer, and he groaned low into her mouth, the sound rough and hungry.
But then, without warning, Bella giggled.
Edward froze. He pulled back just enough to blink at her, confused, flushed, breathing hard.
“What?”
She bit her lip, eyes bright with mischief.
“Sorry. Nothing. I just remembered the first time. How it was in the back of your truck, too.”
He blinked once. Twice. Then let out a mortified laugh and dropped his face into her collarbone.
“Oh God. Don’t remind me.”
She laughed too, soft and giddy. “You were so nervous. Your hands were shaking.”
“Even my teeth were shaking,” he mumbled into her skin, still hiding. “I was terrified I was gonna do it wrong, or hurt you, or… I don’t know. Pass out.”
She smiled, sliding her fingers gently through his hair. “You were perfect.”
“I left hickeys all over your neck and chest,” he murmured sheepishly.
She giggled, breath warm against his ear. “I don’t remember being mad about that.”
He lifted his head and studied her for a moment. She kissed him again. Deep and searching and passionate. Like she was reaching back in time to that night, to that boy, and wrapping her arms around him from both directions. Then and now.
A sharp sound slipped from his throat that was half gasp and half moan. His hips rolled under hers, instinctive and hungry.
This time, no one giggled. There was just heat and want and the taut, electric hum of something inevitable and inescapable crackling between them.
Her hands trailed down his chest, her touch making him shiver beneath her. She watched him watching her: his eyes hooded, dark, utterly focused. His throat bobbed when she shifted and produced the barest hint of friction between them. He exhaled her name like a prayer, his hands moving to grip her hips, thumbs stroking circles against the hinge there.
“You’re not nervous now, are you?” she whispered into his ear.
He chuckled under his breath. “Only because I want this too much.”
Her lips ghosted along his jaw then down the column of his throat and over his collarbone.
“Good,” she murmured. “So do I.”
She rocked slowly against him, felt the heat of him through the layers of fabric, and he groaned, head tipping back, throat bared in wordless surrender. Her mouth followed, dragging soft, open-mouthed kisses across his skin as his hands slipped beneath her hoodie, greedy and patient all at once.
He peeled the fabric up slowly.. And when it was gone, and she was bare to him, he just stared for a long moment. Eyes dark, breath shallow, mouth parted in awe.
Then he leaned in, aching and worshipful, and pressed kiss after kiss across the swell of her breasts like he was discovering something sacred.
“You have no idea,” he whispered, tracing his tongue along the curve, “how many nights I dreamed about this.”
She gasped as his mouth found her nipple. Soft and warm and devastating. His hand cradled the other breast, thumb brushing in leisurely, teasing circles. He lingered there, kissing, tasting, murmuring little nothings into her skin. Like he was content to spend hours here. Like he was trying to make up for every year he didn’t get to.
Her fingers slid into his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp as her body arched into him. She whispered his name, breathless and full of need, and he whimpered against her chest, eyes fluttering closed like he was coming undone.
Clothes disappeared in pieces after that. Lifted, tugged aside, dropped in the truck bed with barely a thought. Every inch revealed was worshiped. Familiar. New.
She stayed straddled over him, knees braced on either side of his hips, her thighs wrapped around him like an embrace. His back pressed against the pillows he’d tossed into the corner of the truck bed, his hands steady at her waist, his eyes locked to hers.
When he finally pushed into her, it was with a tangled gasp, like a held breath they had finally released. Like the relief of coming home after too long away.
She sank onto him slowly, one hand clutching his shoulder, the other cradling the back of his neck. Their bodies met in a rhythm that was unhurried and sensuous. Each movement felt like a word in a sentence that had waited years to be spoken.
He kept one hand on her hip, guiding, anchoring, while the other slid up her spine and tangled in the dark tresses of her hair, holding her close. Their foreheads brushed. Their mouths met between breaths. His lips grazed her cheek, her jaw, the corner of her mouth, each kiss soft and aching.
She moved against him, hips tilting just right, and he growled low in his throat, deep and guttural, his grip tightening like he didn’t trust himself to let go.
There was nothing frantic in it. Only depth. Only promise. Only the deep, devastating awe of being inside her again. Of feeling her all around him, hot and tight and trembling. Of watching her fall apart, right there in his arms. Just for him.
“I love you,” he whispered, again and again, like he couldn’t say it enough. Like every stroke, every kiss, every breath was part of the same confession. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”
She whispered it back. Against his lips, against his throat. Every word. Every vow.
When they came, it wasn’t a crash but a flood; her body arching into his, his arms locking around her as he buried his face in her neck. The whole world shifted around them. Gravity realigned.
Afterward, they didn’t move. They just held on to each other, gasping and trembling.
Their skin was damp and sticky with sweat and the lingering heat of each other. Her cheek pressed to his forehead, his hand splayed wide over her bare back, the beat of their hearts slowly falling into sync.
They didn’t need to speak. Not yet
The wind whispered through the canyon around them, brushing their skin like a benediction. As if it understood what it meant to lose something sacred and to find it again.
(Previous comment deleted.)
hollidayparty on Chapter 1 Sun 23 Nov 2025 01:25AM UTC
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Rosemmett_twilight on Chapter 5 Fri 28 Nov 2025 09:42PM UTC
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Rosemmett_twilight on Chapter 11 Fri 28 Nov 2025 09:50PM UTC
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Ranichi4869 on Chapter 12 Wed 03 Dec 2025 01:12PM UTC
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PinkElephant24 on Chapter 13 Mon 08 Dec 2025 01:35AM UTC
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Mary (Guest) on Chapter 14 Tue 09 Dec 2025 09:23PM UTC
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