#poly cullens

It had been four months and seventeen days since they vanished, not that you were counting.

One crisp January evening, Carlisle had gathered everyone in the living room of their sprawling house. His golden eyes were filled with regret as he spoke: Victoria was circling, the Volturi were watching too closely after James’s death, and the risk to you— a fragile human they all loved— was too great. Alice's vision of the Volturi's investigations had tipped the scales; they were leaving “for your own good”, and the house was being put up for sale.

You had begged; you had cried; you had screamed at them that this wasn’t protection, it was abandonment. Rosalie had looked away, jaw tight, gripping Emmett's tree-trunk like arm as though to stop herself springing forward; Jasper had sent waves of calm that you didn’t want, that felt saccharine and artificial.

Esme had embraced you and kissed your forehead with trembling hands, whispering, "I'm sorry... Please don't hate us."

You remember it so clearly: the moment they filed out of the door, Edward held back and whispered through gritted teeth: “We love you too much to watch you die because of us, Y/N.”

And in a blur of movement, he was gone. They were all gone.

The first month was agony: you barely ate; you skipped school. Your friends worried themselves sick, and then gave up on asking you to come out: they knew you weren't coming. You slept in the hoodie Carlisle had left behind, imbued with the scent of the whole family— soap from Esme, patchouli from Alice, smoke from Jasper, earth from Emmett, old books from Edward, and that sweet note that was distinctly Rosalie — until the scent was gone and the hoodie just smelled like you again: tired, sweaty, depressed.

You wrote letters that you never sent. You drove past their empty house until the For Sale sign went up. You told yourself every day that it was time to move on, and that they weren’t coming back— until they did.

It was a grey Tuesday in late April when you saw a silver Volvo parked on your driveway. You were pulling into the driveway after school when you saw seven familiar silhouettes. Your foot slammed down onto the break as you panicked to get out of the car. As you exited, the familiar purr of the engine cut through the rain like déja vu.

You froze, unable even to pull your hood up against the rain. All seven of them stood there beside the car, unchanged and still impossibly beautiful; Carlisle, in his navy coat, eyes apologetic, gave you a small smile. Everyone looked wrecked, seven pairs of golden eyes locked on you like you were the only thing in their universe, and like they didn't expect you to forgive them.

"You're back," you spoke as though you couldn't believe your own eyes.

Carlisle stepped forward toward you first, purposefully walking slowly so as not to startle you. He stopped arm's length away from you, voice low. “Y/N..."

You couldn’t speak and your hand flew to your mouth as you trembled. Four months of hollow silence, of convincing yourself they had really gone and life was going back to normal, crashed down all at once. Your head was spinning and you felt your knees buckle. Of course, before you hit the ground, a small but muscular arm wrapped around your waist: Edward, caution to the wind, had run to catch you.

"Y/N? Are you ok?" He steadied you on your own two feet, panicked. You stood there, eyes darting between all of them, for what felt like an eternity: they were patient, and waited for you to speak.

"Are you really here?"

Emmett couldn't hold back anymore: he took two enormous strides toward you and pulled you into his chest with bone-crushing (but still reserved) strength. "Missed you so much, baby. Every single day.”

"Jesus, Emmett, give her some room," Rosalie rolled her eyes as he released his embrace, though she herself looked like she was holding back from grabbing you.

Your clothes were now soaked through, leaving you trembling both in surprise and cold. Esmé, maternal as ever, spoke up: "Y/N, we know you must be angry and confused...but please, can we talk inside?"

You nodded tentatively. "Right, yeah. Nobody's home." You blinked, suddenly aware of how normal it used to be for them all to gather in your front room when everyone was out— it felt bizarre, now.

Alice appeared suddenly at your side, guiding you toward your front door with furrowed eyebrows. “I saw you every night in my visions. I hated every second we were gone. You were so sad. I'm so sorry.”

Jasper hung back slightly, but you felt the gentle wave of love he sent, his eyes full of quiet apology: you were, for once, grateful for his interference.

Alice guided you to the sofa, sitting you down and then backing up to give you some space; the rest of them stayed standing, eyeing you cautiously. Carlisle emerged from your kitchen moments later with a cup of tea in his hands, handing it to you.

"It's sweet tea... for the shock."

"You remember where everything is," you said.

He just gave you a soft, sympathetic smile. "Of course."

Esme gently sat down next to you on the sofa, pushing your wet hair out of your face. “Sweetheart, we understand if you hate us. If you want us all to leave—” she looked at the rest of the coven, "then we will. We just didn't want to come back without explaining ourselves."

Edward spoke at last: he looked like he hadn’t hunted in weeks. “Alice's visions were right: the Volturi came to find us, hoping to see us with an unchanged human and to.. .the plans they were had in their heads—" he stopped, tensing his jaw. He stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest. "We thought that leaving would keep you safe; that not promising you we'd be back would give you the chance to move on."

You finally found your voice, cracked and raw, sounding nothing like yourself. “You left me. I thought… I thought you got bored, or wanted out.”

Carlisle sat down on the other side of you, looking uncharacteristically worried. He pulled your small hands gently into his, cradling them like you were a child: relative to him, you supposed, you were a child.

“That's not possible, sweetheart," he began, "I don't know how we can make you see that it was out of love for you that we left."

You looked at each of them— your Cullens, your bizarre chosen family—and searched for a way to reverse the feelings of abandonment. As you looked in their regretful, golden eyes, you started to feel the broken pieces inside of your chest start to knit back together.

“I missed you,” you whispered, burrowing your face into Esmé's shoulder to hide your crying. “God, I missed all of you so much.”

Emmett grinned, relief flooding his face.

Carlisle tilted your chin up, thumb brushing away a tear. “We’re never leaving without you. And never without your permission.”

• they are defo very much attuned to you. like they can sense your emotions, your scent, even your heartbeat from across the room. You never have to explain when something is wrong bc they already know if you're sick, on your period, stressed, etc.

• every plan that they make pretty much circles back to you and how it might affect you. they never go away without telling you (they learned that lesson with Bella) and they rarely go hunting all at once; half of them will go out, half of them will stay with you. you think it's silly, that you can look after yourself for a day or two whilst they trek up the mountains, but they really would rather stay with you

• same goes for if you're living at home: if you want to live outside of the cullen house, they respect that (one of them is defo checking in on you nightly though. whether you know it or not is another question), but they'd be just delighted if you ended up living with them. if you're a student, they'd relocate for you. carlisle would make some excuse like "people are noticing our age, anyway"

• they are endlessly patient, gentle, and fascinated by your humanity, even though they once were human, too. bc time moves differently for them, they have infinite patience for you. A day to you is a second to them, so they really are believers in quality time with you.

• they are 100% tactile creatures. expect constant casual touches, whether it be fingers brushing your arm, a hand on your lower back, forehead kisses, being pulled into one of their laps... physical closeness is their love language, and how they make you feel safe (and subsequently, them)

• that being said, they will go to extreme lengths to keep you safe— sometimes to the point of being overprotective. they worry about your fragility as a human constantly, even though you don't feel all that fragile. this wld probably be the main point of contention w them.

• they also try (sometimes unsuccessfully) to give you a normal life, bc they consider your mating with them to be somewhat of a sacrifice (obviously you feel like the luckiest person in the world being quasi married to 7 majorly hot vampires).

• as was the case with Bella and Edward, the immortality question looms. they struggle with the idea of watching you age and die, or the moral weight of turning you. it's a question you want them to get on with and decide (with your input, of course) because you don't want to be a 60 year old vampire; might as well get turned at 30 and be in your prime forever

You lay in the oversized bed, staring at the ceiling as another wave of nausea and ache rolled through you. Sleep had been teasing you for hours: close enough to taste, but every time you drifted, your body yanked you back with a spike of discomfort. The blanket felt too heavy; the unnaturally quiet hum of the house (even though you were used to it) only amplified the pounding and swirling thoughts in your head. You tried to tune into Bella’s soft breathing, but nothing stopped the noise of discomfort tonight. You’d just have to get up.

With a soft sigh, you slipped out from beside Bella (with whom you often shared a bed, since you were the only two who slept in the house), careful not to wake her. Your bare feet padded across the cool, wooden floorboards as you made your way downstairs, one hand trailing the banister for balance. The house was dark and still, but you knew better than to think you were truly alone. Halfway down, you heard the faint rustle of movement— or rather, you felt a presence. Jasper appeared at the bottom of the stairs, golden eyes glowing softly in the low light.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked gently, a wave of calm already easing in as he felt his way around the edges of your pain. You shook your head, leaning into him when he offered his arm. “Just… feel like shit tonight,” you scoffed. “What’s new.”

Before Jasper could reply, Carlisle stepped out from the kitchen, a glass of water in one hand and a small pill in the other. “Edward mentioned you were feeling unwell,” he said, eyebrows furrowed with that calm and earnest concern that years’ of bedside manner had taught him. “We weren’t sure when you’d be down, but Alice didn’t think you’d fall asleep.” He swept across the room— something you were mostly used to, but still found slightly unnerving when Carlisle or Esme did it, being the most ‘human’ of the bunch— and pressed the glass into your hands. Slipping the oil into your hands with a firm look, his cool fingers brushed your forehead to check for fever. He hummed in approval, satisfied you weren’t too sick.

As you swallowed the painkiller, Esme emerged from the living room looking mildly concerned, and wrapped a soft throw around your shoulders. “Come sit with us,” she murmured, guiding you toward the wide couch, rubbing soothing circles on your back. Alice was already there, knees pulled to her chest, patting the spot between her and Rosalie, who was playing absentmindedly with her hair— until you stepped in, and her face lit up with adoration.

As you entered, you felt a whoosh of air pass you: Emmett had shot down the stairs with a mountain of pillows from his own bed (rarely used, unless you fell asleep in there), and began arranging them with surprising delicacy on the sofa between the girls. “Can’t have our Princess uncomfortable,” he teased, though his eyes were full of love as he helped you settle. Usually, he’d sweep you off your feet and place you where he wished, but tonight he just hovered nearby, worried you were too delicate for rough housing.

Edward drifted in last: you guessed he had already sensed the specific flavor of your discomfort. “You to blame for all this?” You smiled at him, gesturing to the scene of absolute devotion before you: every member of the Cullen coven strewn across the living room with various items to help you through tonight. “Sorry. You know I can’t help myself,” he smiled coyly. You didn’t reply: you knew he could hear your gratitude without you saying it aloud.