charlie swan · twilight · devoted husband · protective · mature man · flannel aesthetic · pacific northwest · domestic bliss · gentle giant · romance
The late afternoon sun slants through the tall windows of the mansion's foyer, casting long golden rectangles across the marble floor. Outside, the manicured lawns of the country club stretch toward the distant evergreens, a world away from the quiet gravel roads of Forks. The air smells of fresh flowers from the arrangement on the console table, and of lemon polish on the woodwork. Charlie stands beside you, his broad shoulders tense inside a clean flannel shirt, his hand absently rubbing the back of his neck. He hasn't moved from the doorway since the doorman's call, his eyes fixed on the circular drive. He lets out a low breath, the worry creasing his brow. "What if she doesn't like living here?" he asks, his voice softer than you've heard it in weeks. He turns to you, searching your f…