#restconfetti

[benbraeden]

benjamin braeden.

"eleanor crain," he gently echoes. a soft hum bites his throat as he presses a much needed kiss against her brims.

[razedhell]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MERIDA!! I HOPE TODAY IS THE BEST BIRTHDAY FOR YOU. enjoy a nice sweet treat at some point.

THANK YOU NAUSI!!!!! The boyfriend will be getting me ice cream later tonight so don’t worry, a sweet treat will be enjoyed!! I hope your day is amazing!!!

[benbraeden]

"i just.." the shapeshifter starts, before he scoffs a bitter laugh, the anger and hatred bleeding from his very pores at the mere thought of the braeden. he turns on his heels to face where eleanor is, studying her features to figure out if through gaze alone he could find the answer for why she could love someone like him. again, he nearly revolts at the thought. "did he ever tell you what happened with his mom?" @restconfetti.

[benbraeden]

"i wanted t' call you every single night i've been gone." and it's the damning truth, he finds as he stands across her threshold, rain soaked and a week's time stretched between them because of his absence. his secret festers like a disease in him, the urge to tell her about all of him burns too hot. too long he has wracked himself over the guilt of wanting to be close to her, the aching of wanting more, the selfish tug of his heart. "i-i've never done this before. never..." he struggles for the right words, and finally, he blurts them out, "-wanted something." @restconfetti.

[benbraeden]

did you miss me?

he takes in the slope of her cheeks within the palm of his calloused, hunter worn hands, cupping her features while thumbing her skin gently by the corner of her mouth. the same one he brings in to a kiss, seizing the swell of her lower lip between his own, pressing another kiss there with fervor. "i always miss you," he murmurs into the crook of her neck, pressing his lips against her pulse point where he hears the stutter of her heartbeat. "think i might've worn down that cassette y' made me. might need another one, or a coupl'a more." he sighs against her skin with content, the smell of her shampoo and perfume alone enough to possibly bring him back to life. he could never go far when she's here, always desperate to come back, walking or crawling. "maybe one of 'em is just the sound of your voice."

[algorithymn-archive]

𓂀 “You look lovely darling, I am so glad you made it.”    @restconfetti

[nota1one]

i think they deserve a NYE kiss.

he's  not  watching  the  countdown —     he  tries  to ,    but  his  efforts  fall  short  when  forced  distraction  and  a  grin  to  match  the  rest  is  held  only  by  the  bite  of  his  teeth .    his  mind  is  a  push  and  pull  of  should  i - i  shouldn't  that's  much  too  loud  for  bob  to  think  on  anything  else .     this  new  year's  was  vastly  different  from  any  other  he'd  willed  himself  to  stay  awake  for ,    the  first  of  many     (  to  be  hopeful  was  a  resolution  he'd  tried  to  turn  into  habit  early  )     he'd  celebrated  with  confidence  that  the  year  would  be  better ;    he  was  better ,   he  was  clean ,   he  had  friends .    he  had  nell .   she  sat  beside  him  watching  the  seconds  tick  down  to  the  new  year ,    the  occasional  early  burst  of  premature  fireworks  beyond  the  windows  bathe  her  in  all  colours .

one  minute  to  go .    excitable  voices  raise  as  the  new  year  approaches ,    they  elevate  his  heart  rate  and  brings  about  a  panic  in  the  absence  of  a  firm  decision .    his  hands  are  restless ,    fumbling  over  the  creases  in  his  pants ,   fingernails  scrubbing  against  his  palm .

bob  shuffles  closer ,    an  extra  inch  or  two  and  his  shoulder  nudges  up  against  her  own .    ten  seconds ,    and  the  crowd  made  of  friends  and  associates  begins  their  chant .    his  fingers  curl  into  his  palm  when  their  proximity  has  his  fingers  brush  against  her  leg ,    he  rushes  to  observe  her  from  the  corner  of  straining  eyes .    she  doesn't  move ,    doesn't  react  how  something  had  told  him  she  would -    she  leans  against  him ,   shoulder  pressing  into  his  upper  arm .    five  seconds .   four  seconds .   three .   two .   one .   a  choir  of  cheer  and  happy  new  years  breaks  out  all  at  once .    there's  movement  as  some  embrace  one  another ,   while  others  opt  for  a  pat  on  the  arm .        " happy  new  year . "        he's  quiet ,    a  celebratory  thing  meant  only  for  her  to  hear .    his  mind  is  already  made  when  she  returns  the  phrase ,   watches  him  .  .  . 

bob  moves  before  something  can  change  his  mind .    he  leans ,    conscious  that  the  crowd's  private  celebrations  occupy  their  attention ,    and  presses  his  mouth  to  nell's .    hands  scrunch  where  they  rest    ( something  for  him  to  dwell  on  later  when  pleasant  reminiscing  turns  to  overthinking  and  criticism )  ,    a  beat  of  stress  tenses  him  while  he  waits  for  her  to  respond .   she  does ,   half  a  second  felt  like  an  eternity ,   and  bob  prays  the  year  doesn't  stray  too  far  from  its  pleasant  beginning .

[benbraeden]

there is not much that a hunter can offer, 'lest the clothes on their back or their loyalty that comes without an expiration date. as ben drives closer to the field, shrouded by the promise of night as darkness blanket their horizon, there is a part of him that grows nervous with @restconfetti in the passenger seat. the gnawing fear that perhaps what he prepared might not be good enough, or worse, that he wouldn't be good enough. the ring box in the bottom of his jacket pocket feels like it's wanting to burn a hole through his jacket, out his intentions long before he musters the courage and find out for himself.

when he reaches the field, he imagines the atmosphere feels more akin to something more grave, but perhaps his years of being a hunter has carved that thinking into him. hands that usually burn bones in graves, instead burned candles beneath string lights woven between the over glancing branches of trees, with a blanket and a basket of snacks and wine. it's not much, mostly thrown askew with the touch of someone who is more gruff than he is kind; but it's something he tried to put together for her. it's the best he can do, and she deserved the best. hell, she deserved the world if he could have robbed it for her. "do you trust me?" he asks her, a soft smile tucked in the corners of his brims, body in driver seat shifted to face her.