#and i picked fruits off trees. i may or may not start coming over here every sunday this is the LIFE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thyras · 27 days ago

Text

→ the bearer of fruits

PAIRING → mairon | halbrand | annatar (sauron) x f!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 8.9k words

WARNINGS → 18+ mdni - dark!reader, mentions of abuse (sauron kind of manhandles reader and threatens her, while she throws stuff at him), mentions of trauma, some fluff (if that can even be associated with him), manipulation, dark deeds, unprotected p in v, implied smut, handjob, pregnancy

SUMMARY → after your husband’s departure of Eregion, you are left hollowed and sorrowed. you find solace in your work and planting your seeds until an unexpected visitor shows up at the gates of Eregion.

AUTHORS NOTE → wow this took ages to finish, sorry about that. i've been so busy with school and mom life that i just was so drained of inspiration for this part. i wanted to touch more on reader and his background as it really defines how their relationship works. they are very hot and cold with each other, she may be really dark at times, even darker than him at times, but she is good at hiding it and even can suppress it. idk i hope you guys enjoy as well be reviving up in the next few parts. @sansaorgana you asked me to tag you, so here you are my friend ❤️

FIC MASTERLIST → NEXT PART

The fire crackled against its fuel as you flipped through a volume from the First Age. You had dove into anything that could take your mind off the sorrow you felt with his departure again. This time, you thought of starting to sow some seeds for your husband’s plan. For weeks, you had been coming after all the smiths had gone home, and you would be left in silence, hoping that one person would see you.

Which had not happened once.

Your hand fanned across the page. The silver band on your finger caught the light and shined its beautiful blue hue in the moonlight. A smile crept up on your face as you twisted it around your finger. The bluish inscription appeared in Sarati lettering, the ancient written form of your kin.

You rarely spoke Quenya anymore, but the inscription on the ring was something you always remembered.

Fairest of maidens, in the moonlight, you shall find me, for we are never truly parted.

You had been there in that elven forge of old when he crafted the ring. When you bound yourselves in mind, body, and soul. The Beauty of the Woodland was no more, for she had become his Wicked Beauty.

You snorted softly at the name. The Beauty of the Woodland. That’s all you had been to your kin, a goddess crafted by the Valar and sent to honor your family with your fair beauty. Your life before your husband had been nothing but pure subjection to fill that role and heal your kind.

For you were perceived to be an emissary of Valar in fair form.

But that was hardly true; you were just an elf gifted with refined beauty, which a woman of no consequence birthed. No fair powers filled you other than the gift to heal.

As you had done with him in those days.

The morning was bright, reflecting on the golden leaves down onto your glittering hair. You pushed some behind your ear as you bent down to gather some fungi to take back with you. You had ventured alone early in the morning, not a wise thing, but with years on you and a keen sense for danger, you always carried a blade concealed in your sleeve.

You started humming a sweet song while moving through the woods, peeling off fungi and picking medicinal weeds you could not grow. Your humming grew into a lovely, silvery song.

You hesitated a moment, though, when you reached for a mushroom nestled in a small patch by a tree. A certain iciness came over the forest, the gloominess of a rain cloud crawling over the once bright forest. You stood up and swallowed hard as the eeriness fell even more over the forest.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose suddenly as if you turned and looked behind you. Nothing. Your pulse raced. Your hand reached under the sleeve of your robe for the blade. Your eyes closed as you took a few shallowed breaths before a shadowy breath crossed your ears. Its disembodied voice caused you to shiver. You took a few breaths before opening your eyes and throwing the blade at a tree behind you.

You turned and saw nothing but the shining blade in the tree. As the sun was shining once again and the iciness over the forest lifted, you walked over and pulled your blade out before saying some Quenya words to the tree in sorrow for the damage.

You turned and went back to pick the mushrooms quickly. The darkness was gone, but you still felt its lingering touch on the shell of your ear—the caress almost as seductive as the taste of the finest wine or fruit. You licked your lips as a dark smile rose on your lips.

The darkness had touched you as a little girl; watching your father turn mad at your mother’s lovers, killing her in front of you, had changed you before you even were a teen. In later years, you plotted to kill the man for killing your mother.

Each day, you waited.

And watched.

Until you struck one night, holding a pillow over his face as you plunged his dagger into his heart. The pillow muffled his screams. You leaned in and spoke;

“For the Valar have forsaken you, Commander, and I am their justice.” You paused and took the pillow off so he could look into his daughter’s dark eyes. “See my face, and know it is I who have ended you.” The shocked look crossed his eyes before the light of the Valar left him.

You had been so dramatic in the following days, playing the part of a grief-stricken daughter. Only to hold back the triumph and satisfaction of ridding this world of the man who abused you and your mother enough to stray.

You returned to the road that would take you to your village. It would not take long to get back into the confines of those walls.

Your cage.

Your shackle.

It only brought more blackness to your heart lingering there. But you could hardly protect yourself on a long journey to find another set of kin. Your feet stopped as you felt a whisper of a breeze and turned to see a man walking, well limping, just ahead of you, hand covering his leg as the fabric of his pants was tainted with blood. His reddish hair glistened in the golden sun, much like a flame would as it would against its fuel. The strands were long and braided on the sides.

He stumbled, and you raced to grab his frame before he hit the ground. The weight of him caused you to collapse onto the dirt road. You looked down to see he was an elf, from what kin you did not know. His face was of the fairest beauty, someone to rival even your own. He smiled weakly.

“By the Valar,” he breathed hoarsely. “Have I reached Valinor?” You shook your head and told him your name and that you were a healer. He repeats your name back as if it was the sweetest of nectars. His hand reached up to touch your cheek, eyes fluttering as he swallowed hard.

You looked down at his leg and saw the deep puncture of something in his upper thigh. He had fashioned a tourniquet above the wound to stop the blooding, no doubt. His eyes looked up into yours, pleading almost.

"Boar," he breathed hoarsely again. You nod and smooth your hand across his clammy cheek in a comforting gesture.

"I'll get you well again; it's the least I can do." The man nodded, and you smiled before trying to help him get up. He tried greatly not to put all his weight on you as you walked, but it would only cause him even more great pain. So when you reached the outskirts of your village, you signaled for a couple of men to help you get him to your home.

Once the stranger was laid on the bed, you thanked the other men and began mending his wound. Throughout that time, you could not help but feel the warmth of his eyes on you, watching as you cleaned and worked tirelessly in your craft.

"You are so beautiful," he said through labored breaths, "like a star from the heavens." Your face warmed, and you finished bandaging his leg carefully. He reached up his shaky hand to push some of your hair behind your ear. The touch sent shivers down your spine and caused you to look over at him. You knew he was probably delirious from the blood loss and infection. He would not remember a thing when he woke up, but you prayed he would.

"Get some rest; I'll be here when you wake." You smiled, took his hand, and gave it a light kiss of reassurance. A smile touched his battered lips before his eyes closed. You laid his arm across his chest and rose out of your chair to start the clean-up.

Hours later, when he awoke again, you sat a bowl of stew next to him on the small table and a glass of wine. He sat up, took the bowl, and began eating eagerly as you moved back to the small kitchen.

"Thank you," he said, inclining his head to you.

"You're welcome," you paused. "You should be well enough to travel by morrow's eve; your kin must be worried about you." Something in his eyes changed as he lowered the bowl to his lap. His eyes turned dark like yours had when you murdered your father. A touch of your darkness rose as his did.

"I have no kin," he said softly, his eyes still staring at the bowl in his hands. You nodded before turning back to the worktop, where you continued to mash your herbs.

Silence grew over you both until he spoke again moments later. "They perished in the war." You nod. Many of your kin had as well, but again, it was not even sorrowful to you. These people had stood by and let their commander abuse you and your mother.

"I'm sorry," you said with fake sorrowfulness. “To lose one's kin is a tragedy that most of us do not heal from.

"You speak as if you know of this," he said, reaching to grab the glass. You nodded in an ever-convincing gesture toward his question. If it was not for the darkness of the hour, you swore you saw a nebulous smile touch his lips.

"My father died in the war; his company was ambushed, and before the rest of the force could reach them, they all but perished." You lied while staring at him in those dark eyes as he watched you. Your secret still hidden.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, inclining his head toward you. But before he could continue, you spoke again.

"Don't be; he was an arrogant, abusive man." You flashed him a dark smile. He could not help but chuckle. "I was more sorrowful for the men under his leadership, and I thanked the Valar for freeing me of his abuse." You looked down at your stone, knowing you had already told him too much of your despise of this place and its memories. But it felt good to touch the darkness again, that part of you that you forced into submission to keep your facade of the virtuous, sweet, elven healer.

You heard him stand up and move over to you. His fingers cupped your chin and brought your face to meet his gaze in the dim light of the candles. His eyes were dark as night and full of desire, and you gave him an equally dark smile.

His grip tightened on your chin, and you let a sharp breath fall out as you closed your eyes. His hot breath crossed your face and sent shivers down your spine. Before his lips could meet yours, you pushed on his chest. Your hand was placed against his fluttering heart as his gaze watched you, waiting for you to make the next move.

"I hardly know you,” You said, giving him a playful look. “And it would look less than virtuous for you to be seen touching me." You continued, fingers gripped onto his shirt as you raised your brow to taunt him more. The darkness in his eyes seemed to come alight with an animalistic presence. A growl rumbled through his chest as you ran your fingers down his chest. “Now, you would not want to take a fair maiden’s virtue?” you said with a fake pout. The mischief in your gaze made a nebulous smile touch his face again. It sent your pulse racing as every inch of you heated up.

“Temptress,” he breathed. Releasing your chin and running his warm fingers down your neck. “For you have deceived an even greater deceiver.” In an instant, you had your fingers wrapped around his throat and backed up against the wall. A blade hovered above your fingers, cool Valinor silver pressed against his jaw. You felt the tension in his neck as he swallowed and lifted his chin to give you better access to the skin, his eyes closing as you leaned in slowly.

“You think you have deceived me?” You said, watching his eyes flicker open when a laugh of disbelief left your lips. “I knew you were watching me. The second I walked into those woods. I played the fair innocent maid, oh so sweet.” You tightened your grip as you leaned in to run your tongue against the skin of his jaw. His muscles tensed under your grasp again, your teeth grazing his chin. “I bet the singing got you real hard.” You tempted, his eyes closing again as his nostrils flared. “Hard enough to do my bidding and be rewarded with a taste?” Your lips ghosted over his. His hands kept perfectly still next to him, fists clenching as he struggled to stay calm against your grasp.

“Little one, you have no idea who you are bargaining with,” he growled.

“I have an idea,” You run the blade just underneath his jawline. A trickle of black blood fell to no surprise to you. You leaned in and lapped the sweet nectar, coating your lips as you took in some of his essence. It tasted godly, giving you a taste of his malice and power. You craved more and wished to allow this being to cover you in it so you could know what true power felt like, not the innocent power of one's flesh but the over someone's mind and soul—morphing them into what you wanted. “So what shall I call you, my lord? Or do you want me to scream out your true name as you have your way with this fair maiden?”

He reached up and pushed more of your hair out of your face. The touch was so gentle for a man who had murdered so many of your kin. You should have been scared of him, terrified even. But you knew you were just as black-hearted as he was, which probably drew him to you.

You were an expert manipulator and temptress.

A true dark widow leading any unsuspecting man to her web of deception. This time, though, you had caught the Great Deceiver in your web; he was yours now. Your two dark souls were finally connected, yearning for release and pleasure.

"Mairon,"

The clinging of a glass brought you out of your musings before looking over at the source of the sound. Celebrimbor strode up the staircase with a glass of wine for the both of you and a pile of parchment between his left arm. "May I join you?" he asked as a smile touched his lips.

You nodded and motioned to the chair. Finally, your plan bore fruit. He set a glass down in front of you. You reached and brought it to your lips, drinking the liquid as he moved to lay his papers out on the table across from you. Designs, no doubt, for more rings. You turned back to your reading, delicate fingers turning the large page as you read the old words.

"I see you have taken an interest in First Age magics." You look up at him as he took a drink. "It is a delightful read, even for someone who was there."

"I never experienced those magics, only the ones to destroy." You said truthfully, but you hid your dark smile at the mention of the shadowy being who had taught you many of those dark things.

“I forget myself. You lost all your kin to him.” You gave him a sorrowful look before turning back to reading. Celebrimbor raised a brow at you as your left hand moved across the page. His gaze fell when the moonlight from the window caught your ring, causing the inscription to reappear. He moved to pick up your hand as a missing piece of his puzzle had probably been solved, but before you registered what he was doing, he had the ring of your finger in haste.

Your body weakened with age, and signs started to appear on your once beautiful, serene face, showing how your choice to stay in Middle-Earth had affected you. The air in your lungs grew cold, and your mind became lonely as you could no longer feel his power and dark thread against you—the life force to your beauty and enhanced healing abilities.

Celebrimbor watched you shift and change, then glanced down at the ring. Even more surprise crossed his face as he stood and walked quickly to the window, hoping to see how it worked. But the inscription all but faded as it was not connected to your essence anymore. Your husband's blood had given you vibrant beauty for the rest of your days, but only if his gift was placed upon your finger.

The bond you shared and promised to keep had been laid into that ring, blood mixed with blood. His vow was recited and dropped into the molten Valinor silver ore as you recited yours. He forged it under the starry, moonlit night in love and promise for more. Thus, it created the final piece of your bond, gave you access to some of his abilities, and gave the beautiful silver its blue hue.

The Valar were displeased with his creation and choice to massacre your people, citing that if he genuinely were remorseful for his deeds, he would return to Valinor to pay for his crimes. At the same time, you paid for yours in loneliness and longing for the Undying Lands that you would never meet.

You both turned your backs and knew no road to redemption did not leave you separated from one another. So you both agreed to cleanse and heal this world in your image so that you may sit upon your thrones and finally have peace from the looming threat of the Valar’s wrath.

You were sure he had just felt the parting, and soon, his shadowy form would be upon you—or worse.

"How–ho–" he stuttered out as he tried to get the blue hue to show again. Your frail body stood and snatched the thin silver ring from his hand before slipping it back on, and you shifted back into your youthful, beautiful form again.

The air in your lungs returned, and you felt a tear fall from your eye. The comfort of his mind and soul returning, the pain of silence and separation becoming too much. You gave the little thread a soft tug to tell him it was alright and just part of your plan. "Teach me," His eyes were blown wide almost as he moved over to the table quickly almost knocking the wine glasses off. "Tell me everything or show me how you did it,"

"I did not do anything, Lord Celebrimbor," You said, covering your hand so he would not have another chance to snatch the ring off your hand. "It was a gift from my late husband to torture me," you said with slight anger; though this was about to be a clever story, your beloved was probably about to be very disappointed in you slandering his name.

Celebrimbor looked at you, confused. "His dying wish was to see me live an immortal life tied to this." You hold up the ring to him. "For being unfaithful to him. It is my shackle, my lord, and I doubt you wish to craft something as such." You look back down at your book, hiding the pain in your face as you tell such lies about your husband, but this was needed to keep Celebrimbor going. Keep him thinking about the other rings, sowing your husband’s dark web in even his absence.

"But you wear it proudly? And your reaction earlier tells me he means more to you." You cursed at your earlier slip in disguise, but no one had ever tried to take it off your finger. So it caught you off guard, and your mask had faded. You had not expected him to do that.

"I wear it because my immortality depends on it; my gift to heal depends on it. I wear it so I can live." You finally look up at him, and your eyes gaze into his. "Wouldn't you do the same, my lord?"

"But you have used your ring for good," You held back the snort at his comment. "Healed Eregion for centuries and been an utmost loyal friend to my family." All for your husband's benefit, he had an in and a watchful eye here. He had what he wanted, and you had a warm place to sleep while you waited for him.

"You flatter me, my lord," Your eyes turned back to the page as he touched your shoulder.

"I am sorry, my friend; I did not mean for my impoliteness. Forgive me." You placed a hand over his and smiled softly up at him, your charming, deceitful self on full display.

"It is quite alright." He released you before going back to his chair. He picked up a quill and began scratching out notes. You returned to your reading until a cool breeze entered the room from the window, causing your senses to heighten as you felt the shadows come to life. A small smile touched your lips, knowing he was about to play one of his little shadowy games. His ghostly hand wrapped around your throat, fingers trailing against your soft skin.

"Don't worry, there is an illusion over you," his voice said against your ear. "You will appear to be reading."

"And what do I owe the pleasure, husband?" You felt the pain on his form at how you did not hide your irritation, or it was coming from him for another reason. He was not allowing you to see where he was for whatever reason.

“Can a husband not check in on his wife?” You swatted his shadowy hand from touching you. The Black Speech curse that floated across sent a nebulous smile, touching your lips, knowing he was not in the mood to play games. But neither were you.

His hand moved back to your throat, hand tighter as his lips went to your ear. “You would do right to remember who—“

“I tire of these excuses, husband.” You closed your eyes, trying to keep yourself in complete control. “I also tire of these lies, " he growled.

“You are such a burdensome woman,” he said as his fingers grabbed your hair, yanking it back. You could see the dark embers of his eyes encased by his shadowy form. “Always speaking of things she knows nothing of.”

“But that’s why you love me,” You reach up to touch his shadowy face. “Without me, your immortality would have been oh so tiresome.” you teased. Your finger ran across where his cheekbone would have been. “But you’re right; I am only some innocent maiden who knows nothing of the plan she helped mold.” Another growl went through his shadowy lips, fingers tugging even more on your hair, pulling a whimper from your lips.

“We both know you are far from innocent, little one.” You had to laugh at that. “For you deceived the Great Deceiver at his own game,” you hum as his hand ran down your chest, ghosting over your breasts and down to your ripened core. You grabbed his wrist and held it up.

“It would do you good to remember that,” you growled. “It would also mind you well to tell me where you are.”

"Sowing seeds,” you rolled your eyes at his even more cryptic answer. "Just as you are, my little temptress," His shadowy lips wrapped around your ear. "Though I warn you if he touches you or your ring again, I will take pleasure in killing him right now.” You whimpered at the thought and bit down on your bottom lip as his hand met your skirt again.

“You spoil me, husband,” his dark chuckle filled your ear. “Do not forget that I can only stall for so long," you bit back at him. “He will keep hammering me about the ring,” he hummed in answer to your statement before the brushes of his tongue ran across the shell of your ear. Your walls and stomach fluttered in anticipation of your reunion once again. He was playing dirty, but whenever did he not?

"I'm aware," he whispered before nipping at your ear. A whimper left your lips in response. Through this whole interaction, you had not as much as glanced at Celebrimbor through the illusion until now.

He was working away, taking a sip of his wine occasionally. Utterly undisturbed by you and your husband’s interaction. “Only if he saw you right now,” your husband breathed against your shoulder. “In all your dark glory, wanton with desire for the very man they fear. Oh, the scandal it should cause.” He kissed your shoulder lightly before moving up your neck and back to your ear. “That innocent elven maiden disguise you have carefully constructed, completely broken against my cock.”

His lips nipped at the sensitive tip while his hand ran back to your stomach, cupping it softly.

"I will it," he breathed.

And like a gust of wind, he was gone. Illusion falling.

The lingering sadness mixed with his words caused another set of tears to fall onto your face.

He willed it.

Sunrises turned into sunsets, and each day felt like an eternity. Since his appearance that night, you had grown longingly for him even more, knowing he was still alive and well, to some extent.

But you had waited centuries with even less uncertainty. It was always a game of patience.

Though you had grown tired of it now.

You tried your best to distract yourself with the mundane tasks of being a healer, such as setting broken bones and healing minor cuts. Sure, your assistants could do such things, but it helped busy your mind and distract you from the aching in your heart as you longed for his touch and his breath on your ear.

It drove you mad when he tortured you in the night, shadows bringing you almost to the brink, only to leave you hanging like he wanted to build up the tension of your separation. You had many a thought to take your ring off so you could stop the torture, but you knew that was not the brightest idea. He would only make it worse for you after he arrived.

You bared it, though.

As you awoke this morning, something in the air told you today would be different. The air was crisper and tasted like the electricity of a storm rolling in. A smile touched your lips as you felt the lingering touch of his caress on your lips. You brought your thumb to meet your bottom lip as he had the night before, tracing across it in sweet memory. Your heart filled with what little warmth you had left in it, only reserved for the dark shadow that filled your dreams and drove you mad with his ghostly touches.

You threw the blankets off your body and got out of bed, feet walking across the stone floor toward your balcony doors, opening them to see the bright morning light into your chambers. Back when you had a semblance of pureness in your heart, you would have probably enjoyed this sight, the singing of the birds flying across the river to the sounds of the city waking up.

But that had long left you.

You found solace in the dark, stormy days and long, cold winter nights. Something about them made you feel like he was there with you after settling into Eregion. The only warmth you sought was his embrace and the dark aura that always seemed to follow him, encasing you and bringing out the life in you. Never light, just life.

He completed you in so many ways, just as you completed him.

Your arms leaned against the railing as you took in a familiar scent, one you had not smelled in many centuries—blue daises. They used to grow around that first city you and your beloved made your home in. The name had long since been forgotten through the ages. But you could always remember that smell.

When you both tried to seek peace and redemption for your dark souls, you settled down into a slower way of life. One where you tried to suppress the darkness and power-hungry souls that lived in you both, hoping it would be enough, wishing that your deeds to help the people would wash your slates clean. When there was still a tiny part of you both that was still pure of heart.

As always, you had taken on a life as a healer, and your husband did what he did best.

Created.

He created beautiful things for you at that time—things you still had tucked away in the soft confines of your jewelry box, even if they did burn when they touched your cold, dark being now. But nothing surpassed the ring you wore on your finger even though it was both your undoing.

His fingers pushed your loose strands behind your ear as you sat on one of the many flower-covered hills surrounding the city that you both had made home. Your cheeks warmed against his gaze. It was not uncommon for you both to find solace away from the city limits, as you both kept to yourselves in hopes that your dark souls would find the space to heal.

“Tell me about your day,” you asked; a smile touched his lips as he looked down at your hand, reaching to take his. “I know he has you busy, as you are so gifted.” Your husband nodded and he began to tell you about his day. You hung on his every word and gesture, getting glimpses of what he would have probably been like before his corruption. The brightness in his eyes, playful and gentle touches that he would give you at times.

You had noticed that darkness falling away in his eyes the more he did good.

The more he healed that dark part of him.

“I do have something for you,” he said, bringing you out of your musings. You raised your brow in suspicion. He moved to cup your chin, pulling your face to meet his briefly as his pillowy lips moved against yours. A giggle escaped your lips as he broke away and laid his forehead on yours. “I promised you that you would never want for anything; if you asked, it would be yours no matter the cost.” Your fingers moved to cup his face and nod.

“I remember,” He released you before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a beautiful piece of jewelry. Blue stones hung in a setting that looked reminiscent of the blue daisies that surrounded you and grew in front of your home, that you had tended so carefully to over the years. The stones shined in the sun's light and pulled you in more. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

“Crafted for my beautiful wife,” you turned and lifted your hair so he could lay the necklace on you and clasp it closed. “Forged with silver from Valinor and blue gems of the mountain. All made for the beautiful woman meant to wear it.” He leaned in and kissed your neck as your fingers touched the stones, his fingers skating across your stomach and caressing the white silken fabric you wore.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed as his lips lapped at the skin of your neck and down to your shoulder. “Thank you,” He hummed against your soft skin and continued to nip and suck on the skin he exposed when his fingers pushed down the silken fabric that rested on your shoulders, exposing your skin to the warmth of the sun. “I want to remind you that children come up here, my love.” He did not reply with words but with a grip on your breast before pulling you into him. His other hand traveled down to your core, only to make a symphony leave your lips as he fucked you into a withering mess as he always did.

You both lay bare against the warmth of the swaying grasses and flowers, intertwined still as your post-coitus bliss still hung against you both. He slid one of the blue daisies behind your ear as you kissed him passionately, fingers moving up to cup his face as he wrapped his arms around you.

Hearts and souls as one, once again. Full and warm.

“I have been thinking,” he started as he propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at you. The sun had become your greatest friend in your time here, you glowed again and seemed to fill with even more peace than he had ever seen in you.

“That is never a good thing with you,” he glowered down at you as you made the jab. “But go on,”

“I want to forge you a ring,” he breathed. “One that will bind us immortally.” You swallowed hard and moved to place your hand on his cheek, his head leaning into it as his lips kissed your wrist softly.

“We have been here before, love,” you started as he sighed. “Our hearts are still so black that even the slightest taste of power could set us off.” He continued to lay his head in your hand, only now his eyes were looking at yours.

“I know, and we have worked so hard in trying, but–” You cut him off with a passionate kiss.

“No more talk of this,” you breathed against his lips. “We promised to leave it all behind. We have built our own little bits of peace here. They have not noticed or wish to not meddle in our progress.” They, being the Valar, which you both wished to please in this time, hoping they would renounce both your crimes and allow you to live in a world of bliss and longevity together.

Though you felt that lingering wish for power and control deep inside him still. The lingering tendrils of Morgoth’s weavings were still embedded in him, fighting with the pureness that was trying to show itself again. “I know you wish to lavish me something so great, but it would be a creation built in the dark. The magic used would not be of light as we wish but of darkness.”

“Divine,” he breathed, leaning into you again. “Let’s try,”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood as that once eerie feeling resurfaced. Telling you the peace here would be limited once again.

Limited it was.

The darkness crept back in.

Slowly at first, only with signs that were noticed by you. His mind elsewhere while yours tried to keep on moving forward. Late nights in the sitting room doing whatever had been consuming his mind, to the irritation he had about his work.

On one occasion, you walked down to see him muttering to himself and scratching away at something. You moved over to him and placed your hand on his shoulder causing him to jump as he had been so consumed by his task. Your eyes swept the page to see designs for a ring. Your ring.

“I thought we were behind this?” You said, trying to take the parchment from him, causing him to rip it from your hands, tearing the parchment in half. His eyes darkened as a growl rumbled in his chest.

“And I thought you trusted me?” You looked at him, bewildered by the boiling temper in his eyes. For the last few centuries, nothing but a lovelorn look had been in his eyes.

“I do, but love, this ring does not prove my love and loyalty to you.” you breathed, holding up your half of the parchment. “It will only drive you down a path I cannot follow.”

“Cannot follow?” He yelled. You flinched and looked down at your feet, hoping not to upset him more. He moved over to you and wrapped his fingers around your throat. “You follow me; remember, I took you from that place and gave you the revenge that you sought. All because I love you.” Tears kissed your cheeks as he tightened his grip, dark eyes blazing.

“I love you too, but they will take you from me if we do this.” You cried. “A separation greater than any we have experienced before. Do you want that for me?” He sighed, loosening his grip on you, and ran his finger across your cheek.

“Then let me just make you this one ring so even if we are ever parted, you will still feel like I am there with you.”

That one choice, one singular choice, had changed your relationship forever. You agreed and he forged the bonding ring and the darkness now awoke in you again after centuries of it being only a quiet hum.

He grew obsessed and consumed by the desire to create more rings to bring order to this world. You watched as he drove himself mad with this all-but-consuming task.

Power over the flesh.

He kept saying. In those times he did not seek your comfort, grew cold and distant towards you. Each time you would walk to that hill and the flowers would wilt and die against your touch until there was none left. A personification of what was to come.

You stopped going until the darkness in your heart returned. Things began crumbling in your lives; he lost his temper more, filled people’s minds with his sickness, and fell so much further into his obsession.

The day everything changed, you watched as he stood in the doorway and told you he was going back to Fordowaith and taking up his place in Morgoth’s wake so he could finish his work. He asked you to come with him, take your place by his side, and be his queen, but you told him no.

You told him that there was no path you would not follow him. Told him that you would continue the plan, but you would do it your way. A way that kept you together.

You left him standing there.

And went on your way.

You stood back up and turned back towards your chambers, the sun becoming too much for you as your mind dove even deeper into the maddening memories. It was too much at times, and you tried not to let it affect you, but it did.

It broke you to part yourself from him, but you knew somewhere in your heart he would find you again. And he had.

As you got ready for the day, your hands skated across the fabric over your stomach. The skin had yet to stretch, but you knew they were nestled deeply in your womb.

The greatest creation he had ever made.

You had known for a bit as the dizzy spells overcame you and heightened smells that sometimes nauseated you. Life grew a little brighter in his absence, but not enough to quench the need to feel him there beside you, sharing in this joy.

After your musings had ended, you got right to work and attend to your duties. You made your rounds and finished just before lunch. You started back to your home when you felt the lingering pull of that dark thread crawling up your spine. You turn and see guards walking up the road with a man on a horse.

Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you saw him. The coppery strands glistened in the sun as he continued towards the gatehouse. You moved out of the way and watched as his green eyes met yours, a smile touching his lips as your face warmth. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you bowed your head in response before he passed, and you were only left with the lingering warmth of his shadowy thread wrapping around yours.

You rushed back home, knowing he would probably visit after speaking with Celebrimbor.

But nothing came of it.

And the night rolled in with not much as a word. The claps of thunder and flickers of lightning filled your darkened chambers. With the rain spilling moments later.

And you could not help but add tears to the sound of the pattering rain.

Heart aching at his rejection, yet again.

Slap.

Your hand connected with his face, sending shivers down your spine as his elven head turned in response. Hand shooting to his face as you seethed with anger. Your pulse raced as he looked back up at you, eyes burning with a fire you had never seen in him before. You stare at him with your seething gaze. He was so stunned by your reaction that he moved up to you with a pace unmatched by any mortal being. His fingers gripped in your hair, yanking your head back. Those elven eyes seared into yours as he snarled at you.

You did not flinch or pull away from his grasp. The pain was only temporary, and the satisfaction of seeing the red mark coming up on the pale face caused a smile to touch your lips before you spoke.

"You dare not hurt me, husband," His hand gripped harder, pulling at your roots. You struggled not to whimper at the action like you always did. Your desire to not give into his temptation and prolong this argument until he was buried deep inside you and taking you like the feral animal he could be at times. Though this time, you knew he was deprived and wanting, so this would only make his restraint last so long before he gave in to his desire to control you.

"Do you want to test me?" He growled. "Because I have killed people for less."

"And I've killed people for the fun of it, my lord," your eyes burning now as his grip loosened just a tiny bit. A chuckle left his lips, knowing you were fully capable of wreaking havoc on entire cities and his heart. "You leave without a word and only appear in my chambers again when you see fit. In a whole new disguise, may I add." You spat out at him. "What web are sowing now?"

He released you and moved past you into your chambers, speaking words that were inaudible to you. "I am protecting you," he finally said.

"Protecting me?" you say in disbelief as you move over to your desk where your books and papers are. "That's all I get?"

"The less you know, the more believable you can be." You gripped a book. The anger in your bones at his lack of faith in you had you seething for an even grander fight. You wanted to slap, punch, or kill him for even believing you could not be believable at your own game. You had spent centuries here building relationships and trust that it was laughable for him even to consider himself of more importance than you at this moment.

Your hand gripped the thick leather volume harder before your anger boiled over, and you tossed it at him, but before it could hit him, he pushed it out of the way with his abilities.

"The more believable I can be?" You roared. You grabbed more and continued to throw it at him, anger surging even more. Your pent-up heartache at his mistrust poured into each onslaught. His eyes watched you as he moved out of the way of your blows, books, quills, and jewelry box hitting the wall behind him. The pain in your eyes did not affect his emotionless face in the slightest. "Are you doubting my skills?"

"Are you doubting my judgment?" He roared back at you. "Because as I see it, you questioning me tells me they have gotten into your head." You moved quickly and pushed him over onto your bed, using all the darkness in you to overpower him. He sat up, looking at you with disbelief at your action. You had never dared to touch him in anger in all the centuries. Sure, you had been close before, but this was different. He was questioning your loyalty to him.

"How dare you question my loyalty," Tears touched your cheek. "How dare you threaten me and treat me like one of your little puppets when all I have ever been to you is faithful."

"That's not what you told Celebrimbor," he taunted, trying to sit up, but you moved to straddle his hips, holding him in place before wrapping your fingers around his neck.

"If you believe the words of a lie," You growled at him. "Then surely you've gone mad." You leaned down over him, the other hand pulling up the skirt of your nightgown over your hips while delicate fingers hungrily searched underneath his robes.

“This argument bor—” his train of thought stopped as your hand found what it was searching for. Your eyes watched as his closed against the grip of your hand. Fingers sliding up the length till your thumb traced against the tip, pulling a low hiss from his lips.

“This bores you?” You taunted, pumping lightly against the hardened flesh that filled your grip; his hips arched into your tugs as you rolled yours softly with your motions against him. You finally lean into his ear, motions growing. “If this bores you, then you have gone mad.” The tension lines in his neck tightened as you ran your teeth against them, nipping the pale skin as you went. You were in control for the moment, trying to get him to remember who he belonged to.

Your strokes grew in intensity as you could tell his peak was coming, his deprived state causing his body to fail him. “My sweet,” You breathed into his ear. “My oh so sweet Mairon, in all those centuries apart, you still believe you have control.”

His eyes opened, and he growled as he quickly had you on your back, his painfully hard cock at your entrance. His eyes burned into yours as he thrust into you quickly, pulling a moan from your lips as you closed your eyes. He leaned down to your ear. “Control is only an illusion, wife. I let you believe what you want, but you bow to me, no one else.” You whimpered against the sickly, sweet words. His thrusting grew in intensity as he took pleasure in the way you silenced the control over him, letting him take you as he saw fit.

You were a devious creature that was as slippery as a serpent. But he was only but a mirror of that. He never had to command your mind or inflict his magic on you. You surrendered so willingly, already kissed by the darkness ages before he crossed your path. Desire drove this relationship at times, a sickly sweet desire he had never fully understood until he felt those hips against his fingers, guiding you through the movements. It was maddening as the sounds of your climax repeated over and over throughout that tiny home in that long-forgotten elven city. The night you both had given your souls to each other.

After that, there was nothing he would do for you. He would murder whole cities and move the oceans just to please you. He only wanted to give you everything you desired—jewels, clothes, even a child.

The thrill of the chase, of the fight for dominance, never bored him. Even if he told you otherwise, these ‘arguments’ were sometimes needed to remind you who pulled the strings to your heart and who pulled his. The anger and heartache only fueled your desire to seek control and dominance over him, trying to hold him close to you as if he would sleep away into the abyss again.

You had left before.

And it broke him.

You sought the rational solution to lie in wait. Let them come to you. Build relationships, reputations, and trust in those you wish to subjugate.

Greed had chased you away. He paid dearly for that and spent centuries as a pile of omniscient form of liquid goo. As he regained his mind, he thought of you and how he wanted to find and surrender himself to you—telling you how you had been right. He would never doubt you again.

But you had taken your ring off.

You took the one connecting piece off, and you were nothing more than a distant memory in his mind. He had no idea where you were or if you had perished. He sometimes cursed himself for using the ring to bind your bond. But he never thought you would unbind yourself to him.

So when your mind disappeared again, it weakened his weakened state even more. He needed to feel you, and it angered him that you would even think that was a smart idea, but he had asked for trust in those first years.

And trust was a two-way street.

Your whimpered pleas for more brought him out of his thoughts. He looked down at you, all unmade under his fingertips. Hair tousled and lips swollen from biting down on them. You looked so beautiful and ethereal as he drove you mad with lust. Your fingers clawed against the linen of your bed, silver band shining in the moonlight as he tore you down with his thrust. Only to remake you once again.

It was not long before you both reached your respective highs. Climax found you both as calls of your names filled the stone walls, echoing into your hearts. His lips moved with yours as you gripped your fingers in his blonde hair. Delicate fingers took their time to ruin the perfectness of the strands. A memory finds you, causing a giggle to leave your lips. The last time he appeared like this was when he first saw you. Though his hair was much different back then, you felt slight sorrow at the choice of blonde hair.

“Red suits you more,” you breathed against his lips. “This,” your fingers moved over the shell of his ears, running up to the pointed tips, causing him to hum at the stimulating touch. “Is how I remember you each and every time I close my eyes,”

He chuckled. “I can change it,” you shake your head.

“No, my sweet Mairon,” you grabbed his face. “I am selfish and wish to be the only one to gaze upon that form.” He hummed and kissed your lips again briefly. Eyes locked as you both sunk into your post-coitus bliss. When the thought crosses your mind. A smile rose on your lips again. “Lord of Gifts,” you breathed, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I have a gift for you.” You took his lip between yours and sucked down on it.

“What kind of gift would be greater than gazing upon my wife?” Your face warmed before you ran your fingers across his cheekbones. You felt the tickle of uncertainty touch your heart. It was still so early, and you could be wrong in your assessment. But deep in your heart, you knew that you both had created something in the light of that morning when he had willed it.

“The gift of creation,” A darkness flashed across his eyes as you spoke. That earlier worry filled his cold heart. “The fruits of our union.”

“Divine,” he breathed, but you cut him off.

“You are not happy?” He sighed and ran his fingers through your hair. He smoothed out the strands as he tried to find the words to tell you how he felt. In truth, he did not know how he felt. All kinds of emotions crossed his mind until he spoke again.

“It will grow on me; I’m concerned.” You nod, and a weak smile fills your lips before moving to sit up. Fingers running through your hair as you struggle with what to say to him. This was not the reaction you had expected at all. In your belief, you thought he had wanted this as much as you did. His change of heart was sincere, but that was not the case.

“You willed it,” You whimpered. He caught your chin, bringing your gaze to his. His gaze was as soft as he could ever get it to be. Tears brimming in your eyes as you both searched for the right words. He knew you were hurt, and you could sense the fear of the unknown on his dark thread.

“Like any father, I’m surprised and shocked that it happened so quickly,” he finally said. You stifled a loud laugh of amazement at his statement, knowing it was probably not the best right now. But to know he was surprised was shocking; you did not even know he could be that.

“I did not know the Dark Lord could be stunned for words.” A thin smile touched his lips, fingers pushing your hair behind your ear.

“There is a first for everything,”

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #the rings of power #rings of power fic #halbrand #trop fic #annatar x reader #annatar #trop #rings of power #sauron

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idcbabyialreadylostmymind · 2 years ago

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Unwanted

Pairing- Tsu'tey x dreamwalker!reader

Summary- Tsu'tey has fallen in love with someone the one species he hates with all his heart.

A/N- also thank you @eywas-heir for helping me come up with who to write this for 🤭

After you and your colleague Jake Sully had to run from a thantor and survive through the night in Pandora, you were saved by a woman and a man. The woman was a beauty, blue skin illuminating in the moonlight, braids. And the man was just as gorgeous, little white freckles on his face and body, even with the deep scowl on his face you cheeks lit up a little when his eyes turned to yours.

"You two are like babys, always stepping on things don't know what to do." The woman hissed, "Come on we have to take them to Mo'at see what we must do, if the great mother has mercy she may kill them." The man said and your ears perked, killed. "Eywa has chosen them we can't kill them." She said. "Yeah I'll just wait for Grace and the tea-" You say walking backwards from the other three. "No sky-demon you will come." The man hisses at you gripping your arm.

And with that Mo'at, the Tsahik inspected you and said that you will learn the ways of Omaticaya. "You Neytiri will teach this JakeSully." She says hushing her daughter up before she could complain. "And you," she pointed at the man who brought you here "will teach this Y/NL/N." The older woman said and Tsu'tey only scoffed.

Then they made you put the traditional clothes on, both you and Jake pulled in the clothing getting popped by Tsu'tey and Neytiri. You ate with the two and you saw Jake trying to spark conversation with his teacher you thought you should do the same.

"So what your name." You say picking at the fruit peel you had in your hand. He stuck a little bit of food in his mouth, "Tsu'tey." He said. "Tsu'tey." You mummer memorizing it, "Cool." You say picking up fruit. "Whatever demon." He said making you furrow your brows, "Asshole." You think.

It was a few weeks, when you weren't in your avatar you were with Jake and Norm learning the Na'vi language and traditions barely having time to sleep. And when you were in your avatar it wasn't easy, Tsu'tey made sure of it. Anytime you messed up a menacing chuckle would erupt from him, or he would say "You should leave." "You'll never be one of us demon." And honestly you tried to ignore it, you really did. But you got tired of it.

You picked up a arrow putting it on the bow and try to hit the target missing it by millimeters. "You are terrible just give it up." He laughs and you grunt at his words picking another one up. "Yeah I'm sure you weren't Robin Hood when you started." You scoff focusing on the target again. "I do not know what this stupid sky demon you talk off." He says before walking off.

You didn't know it but Tsu'tey was going insane. Everytime he looked at you his heart felt like it was going to explode of his chest. When you smiled at someone or when a male Na'vi would flirt with you he got this unsettling feeling his his stomach. He didn't get it, he hated you he thought but your dazzling eyes, soft body, caring words he couldn't help it but love you, and he hated himself and you for it.

He only had one idea and that was to go to the Tree of Souls and may Eywa have mercy on him.

He says down in front of the tree connecting his queue to the tree, smiling as he hears the voices of his ancestors. He took a deep breath, "Great mother why do I feel these things for this sky woman." He says quietly. "Have I done something to upset you." He says, he took one last breath before disconnecting from the tree and begins walking back to Hometree.

And then he saw you with another male, he felt that unsettling feeling again. Then he saw he was giving you a flower, what! He stomped over, his nose was moving at the overflowing emotions in him. "Go." He said to the male.

Tsu'tey was an intimidating man you can give him that, so the male quickly gave you the flower and ran off. "Thank you." You yell to the running male. Tsu'tey turned to you, Eywa you were gorgeous why did you have to be so beautiful. He grips your arm and drags you somewhere secluded despite your protest.

"What the hell was that!" You say when you finally stopped in the middle of the forest. "Why were you talking to him?" He asked making you confused. "He was asking me about going to the tree of souls tonight I do not know wh-" getting cut off before you could finish your sentence. "The Tree of Souls oh that skwang, he was trying to mate with you." Tsu'tey said jaw clenching at the thought.

"Why do you care?" You say getting angry at his angered state that he has no right to. "Because-" he began to speak but he was going to slow for your patience. "You have no right to be angry first I try to be nice and you are mean for no reason and now you are getting mad because a man asked me to go somewhere." You say face flushed in anger. "So why do you care?" You ask once again this time letting him speak. His hand ran over his face and he scrunched his face in anger.

"Because!" He yelled making you jump.

"Because, you are the bane of my existence," he said. "And the objects of all my desires." He said in a low voice eyes never leaving yours. You looked at him and stepped closer and then he stepped closer, your hands and body's inches apart. Lips closer and closer.

"We should not do this." He whispered breath hitting your lips. "No we shouldn't." You say eyes hypnotized by his lips. "I am to be the next Olo'eyktan and you are of the sky it is wrong." He said body begging to be on yours. "It is wrong." You say. "I don't care." He said hands wrapping around your face and captured your lips with his.

A firework lit inside of you holding onto his muscular arms as your head and lips moved along with him. It was a prolonged kiss neither of you wanting to pull away but needing to.

Finally both of you pulled from the kiss still holding each other and you smiled at him. "You are a very stupid man Tsu'tey." You laugh patting his chest and he smiles and tilts his head up, "Is that so?" He laughs and grabs your chin in between his fingers you shake your head, "Yes." You whisper. His smile grows as his lips connect once more with yours.

#avatar 2022 #avatar 2 #avatar 2009 #avatar #avatar way of water #awotw x reader #awotw #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey #tsu'tey x y/n #tsu'tey x you #avatar x reader fluff #avatar x y/n #avatar x you #avatar x reader

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its-always-storming-in-fawcett · 4 months ago

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Okay so I moved here a couple years ago, and one of the things I did while settling in was plant an apple tree in my backyard. And. In the last couple months there have been weird things happening in my yard at night, noises that I originally brushed off as my wind chimes but sound a hell of a lot like whispering, and soft lights even though it’s not firefly season. Yesterday I was checking up on the apple tree and there was a kid with green skin sleeping in the branches??

What do I do? I don’t know a lot about dryads, I don’t want to accidentally hurt or offend them. Should I take down the wind chimes? Were they always here and just stayed hidden? Did they just manifest? Do I need to start using some magic fertiliser? Are the apples still safe for eating?

I’m happy and sympathetic in my delivery as I inform you that you may have definitely planted a Dryad in your backyard, congrats on the baby!

My first idea of action to take is to slowly introduce yourself to the child, it’s a gamble of if they’ll find themselves comfortable around you but you will probably be the closest thing to a parental figure they’ll know. To start it’ll be a good idea to increase your activity around your apple tree in the day, since that is their home and they’d be sure to see you interacting with them there.

Also take care to not pick their apples, it is a part of them and would be rude to do so. If they’ve already grown apples and they’ve been picked in the past I encourage you to apologize and ensure they understand that you were unaware of their presence. The windchimes would be inoffensive, many of the nymphs and dryads that once made their residence in Demeter’s grotto adorned themselves with tablets and decorations to cover their tree, the modern additions of chimes and nearby bird feeders and houses would assuredly delight them as beckons that attract nature.

Dryads don’t normally gain the ability to take a human form until they’re old enough so if the child you see looks to be pubescent then this is probably one of their first few times taking humanoid form to lounge in their tree, so they haven’t been hiding on purpose. And, yes, while the tree and its fruit will be safe to care for and interact with normally it still is best to take the dryads consent into consideration. If they do allow you to still take their apples I do recommend saving some of the seeds or any fallen branches you might be able to graph to another tree should a storm come in and knock them over, a dryads life is tied to their tree but they can return as long as a part of it lives on and yours sounds like a new being and not a resurrected spirit.

If you are unprepared for mystical childcare or wish to help safety relocate the dryad to an old growth community please do contact the Captain Marvel Incorporated number so Mary or Cadet Marvel can aid you in getting the proper paperwork in order should you choose relocation or with childcare aid if the dryad sees you as a parental figure.

#dryads #mystical childcare #Captain Marvel Incorperated #Mary Marvel #Cadet Marvel #dc rp blog #dc rp #only in fawcett #fawcett city #shazam #billy batson

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whatyadrawin · 1 year ago

Text

The Fruit After The Flesh 18+ -CHAPTER 1-

Masterlist

Approximately 2,395 words

Pairing: Thomas Hewitt(HeadCanon) x AFAB reader

This chapters Warnings: Brief mention of self harm

A/n: This is a really self indulgent fanfic, it may have some common tropes and it will get very mature so MINORS DNI. I am making this a large slow burner because I am seriously falling in love with the setting and where the story is going. It may not be 10 chapters, it will likely be more. As with my other fics, I will finish this to completion and there will be varying amounts of illustrations for each chapter. I want to push the fact that this entire universe is headcanon. Having said all this, please enjoy. Fell free to leave a like, reblog, or comment if you're comfortable. Thank you for reading, I am so happy to be able to share my work with so many people who appreciate it.

Chapter 1

“Ma’am?”

You’re awoken from a pleasant nap by the voice of the taxi driver who picked you up from the airport.

“I hate to wake ya, but this here’s the end o’ the line fer me”

Slowly you sit up, the bright light of the sun shines into the backseat as the air conditioning gently breezes past your neck. You look out the window and are met with large swathes of yellow grass, dried up from being beaten by the sun’s intensive rays; The yellow of the grass is only contrasted by the bright azure blue of the sky, riddled with bright white fluffy clouds slowly lumbering across the horizon.

“S’good thing ya have such a small amount’a luggage huh?”

The cab driver popped the trunk and got out of the car to help grab your luggage, a small satchel of essentials and a suitcase of the last remains of the clothes you had left in Manitoba. You get out of the backseat and are immediately blasted with a wave of heat that weighs the air down.

“If you walk one mile up past this here gate, you’ll find the road getting’ ya t’yer home. I reckon no one’s been out here fer years. Ahm still not sure hwhat y’gone get up to”

You grab your belongings and thank the driver; he warns you to not take your time walking due to the intensity of the weather, then he gets in the cab and slowly drives off. You start walking past the open gate and toward the home that was left to you by a family member you barely knew. When you received the call from the lawyer dealing with the will, it was like a miracle, your business was tanking and you didn’t have much left financially. Being a seamstress in the town of Rivers was not easy, there was not enough work for you and the citizens didn’t have much to give for payment. Living there was lonely, your only friend passed away in high school because the stress of bullying got too much for her; since that incident, a deep hatred for humans remained in your heart.

You thought you had no more family left until the lawyer told you about your distant relative on mom’s side who had put you as the sole receiver to a fortune and the property. The only condition for getting access to the money was to come live on the property and care for the orchard attached to it. The lawyer informed you that your relative’s orchard had supplied the town and her written wish was for you to carry on its legacy. After living in a small town for all 33 years of your life you were excited to start fresh somewhere new, what better place to do that than Fuller, Texas which is virtually a ghost town.

The dirt road kicked up dust from your steps as you made your way to the first intersection, you took the turn and headed up the hill, the old driveway was overgrown with grass; You were grateful for the trees along the path, giving you shade from the sun, each one rustling in the gentle breeze occasionally dropping a leaf that would silently fall to the ground. Once you reached the top of the hill, you saw the house that was in the pictures the lawyer sent over, it was a small one storey house shining white in the sun. There were no trees around the front of the house but small bushes with wildflowers bloomed around it, your car was parked casually in front of the home next to a large moving crate full of the stuff you packed before you flew down. Having all your belongings and car shipped down early was a smart choice.

You made your way to the home, looking for the set of keys in your bag, the door opened with a creak and a distinct smell of old wood mixed with the ghosts of thousands of meals cooked wafted around you. The inside was quaint, all the electronics were dated but the décor was simple and rustic, this home felt cozy and welcoming as the sun pushed through the curtains leaving a gentle glow on the hardwood floor of the living room. You set your things down at the entrance and went to open every window to allow the stagnated air to circulate and cool the house before nighttime. You peered into the backyard, it was small but charming, there was a large tree that provided shade to the fenced area, and a white swing bench that had a bistro table set next to it. You walked out into the yard which was fenced by a weathered white picket fence, it overlooked the entire property. You walked up to the edge of the fence and noticed some binoculars set against one of the posts, you take them and use them to look around the land.

You see a small home at the edge of the orchard -that must be the farmhand’s home, I should go let them know I am here and introduce myself-. You look further and see a large house in the distance, it has tall pillars in front and looks deteriorated; you slowly move the binoculars around to see the rest of that home, you find a barn and spot something large moving, you spin the binocular setting to zoom in further but struggle with the focus. After a short bit of fiddling, you manage to get a clear image and see that the moving shape was a man, a huge one, the man towers over the cow he is tending to, you squint your eyes to see if you can make out any details but all you can see is his long hair and that he has a face covering of some sort. You lower the binoculars and put your hands on your hips -who was that man? Is he really that tall? Maybe I should introduce myself to the neighbors as well-.

You spend an hour unpacking clothes and necessities from the moving crate, just enough to get you settled in, the furniture in the home still has some belongings from the passed relative that you need to clean out. After looking through the fridge and cupboards, you realize you don’t have anything to eat, and there’s no way you can get a delivery all the way out here, so you decide to take your car into town to see what’s available. The drive takes you along country road 26, you see nothing for a while and are almost startled when a small building shows up in the distance. You pull up and notice it’s a gas station and grocery store - I hope they have something I can eat in here-, you park in front of the entrance and go inside.

Everything in the store looks dusty and old, you feel a sense of unease at the prospect of going hungry tonight. You head to the register and see an older woman sitting on a stool reading a newspaper, she has white hair pinned up into a bun and thick reading glasses that look old enough to be from the 70s.

“Hi there” you say quietly

“Oh, I didn’t know someone had come in. Hi hun, how can I help you?” she places the newspaper down and stands up to greet you.

“I just moved into town and I realized I have no food for tonight, is there anything in here that can tide me over?”

“Welcome to Fuller! Let’s get you something to eat dear.” She looked surprised that you would even have to ask but she was happy to lead you over to some packaged goods and canned veggies.

“These here came in a few days ago with our latest shipment, don’t let the dust in here bother you none, I just haven’t had the energy to clean the place up better”

You smile and start grabbing some boxed oatmeal and canned vegetables, with these you would be able to eat for a day or two until you could to do a big shopping trip in the next town over.

You stop grabbing items and look over at her to say

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself, my name is Y/N. I moved into the property with the orchard”

You are interested now, and ask “You knew her? She was a distant relative to me and I actually inherited what she had, I feel bad about it because I didn’t know her at all, but I intend to keep the orchard going since that was her dying wish”

The woman’s eyes light up and she smiles, replying “Well now there’s a welcome surprise! My name is

Luda Mae, I’m your neighbor down the bottom of the hill, we did a lot of business with the previous owner, Tilly. She was a close friend of mine”

Luda Mae kept her smile but looked away as if she was starting to tear up, she spoke in a quieter tone “She was a real good friend, she felt like a sister to me. Did you know that without her starting that orchard, my folks would have” she stopped herself and paused looking around “Well let’s just say, she saved us”

Your interest in getting to know who Tilly was had spiked, the lawyer said she was well known to locals but never expanded on that. Luda Mae continues,

“Join me and my friend for tea tomorrow, I’d love to tell you all about Tilly, and that way you can meet my family as well, it’s always nice to have a friendly neighbor. I won’t take no for an answer”

You feel a bit of anxiety creep in, meeting new people was already difficult for you and what’s worse this was in a completely new place, so far out of your comfort zone. Luda Mae takes some of the items you grabbed and brings them to the counter and bags them. You follow her and place the rest of your things on the counter and say,

“What time did you want me to stop by?”

Luda Mae hands you the food and says “Just come on by ‘round noon, I’ve lots to talk about with you, there’ll be plenty of food too so that way these groceries will last a bit longer” She gives you a wink.

“That sounds really nice actually, what do I owe you for the groceries?”

“It’s on the house hun, let that be a welcome gift” she smiles and follows with “By the way dear, be careful around that farmhand, he’s a cruel old thing. Did you move with anyone? Maybe a husband or boyfriend?”

You feel a sense of worry at the thought of being alone on a property with someone mean, let alone a man who is cruel. You reply,

“No, I don’t have anyone, it’s just me”

Luda Mae suppresses a smirk, she follows you to the exit and opens the door for you saying “We’ll keep an eye out for you then, you’ll be alright dear, he’ll get what he’s owed one day”

Those last words really sparked fear in you, was the farmhand dangerous or just mean? It might be a good idea to introduce yourself in order to find out and possibly make a connection so you don’t seem rude. You put the groceries in the trunk and get in the car, Luda Mae waves to you as you pull out and head towards home.

Once you are home and the groceries were put away, you decide to go down to the orchard to see what kind of fruit are being grown. The trees are large and densely packed with fruits of all sorts, oranges, lemons, peaches, apples, and cherries. You are suddenly startled by a large, ugly man, he reeked of body odor and wore dirty overalls.

“Who the hell’re you?” he asks rudely.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in the way. I’m Y/N I am the new owner of this property after Tilly passed”

The man looks angry, he rolls his eyes and pushes past you saying,

“Ah thought she din’t have no family” You scrunch your nose in confusion, he continues “You best keep outta muh way”

You follow after him saying “I just wanted to introduce myself so you know who I am”

He continues walking off “Don’t care” and disappears behind another row of trees.

You feel upset, you were already weary of people because of their bad behavior, and now you have a rude, smelly man controlling the orchard that you are unsure how to get rid of. You decide to pick some fruits to bring to Luda Mae tomorrow and head back up to the house. You put the fruits you picked in a basket you found and walk back out to the yard to relax on the swing bench. -I’m going to have to get used to that asshole until I can learn how to manage this farm myself. At least I don’t have to work anymore, so I will have plenty of time to learn-.

You get up and head over to where the binoculars sat, and used them to look over at Luda Mae’s property again to see if there is a designated front door. -Why did she ask if I had brought anyone? was she asking if I was single?- The thought lingered in your mind until you saw that enormous man again, this time he was holding a chicken and watching a small group of them peck at the ground. The chicken looked so tiny in his hands, and he held it so gently, giving it soft strokes along the back of its head. You stood still watching this strange man pet a hen for what felt like an hour, his face being covered was intriguing and his wide frame was a real sight to behold even if it was from afar.

You notice the sun beginning to set and decide it’s time to get inside and get some rest, the thought of possibly seeing that strange man up close danced in your mind and excited you for tomorrow’s visit. -I hope I get to meet him-.

Next chapter-

#what ya writin #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x y/n #slasher community #thomas hewitt x afab reader #leatherface 2006 #texas chainsaw massacre #my art #the fruit after the flesh

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jadeddangel · 9 months ago

Note

(SORRY FOR NOT RESPONDING)

BUT YEAH like the comment said the first part on the fluttershy one

IVE ALREADY STARTED WORKING ON IT SO YAYYYY LMAO

You and Adam went way back, ever since eve ate the apple and Lilith left him for lucifer. You had taken over caring for the garden and with you and Adam being the only ones allowed back in the garden. You were quiet and didn't talk much to other angels just the animals and plants.

You were sitting in the garden surrounded by animals and plants. You had grown attached to the animals in the same way they had grown attached to you. Your dress was covered in soil stains and small bites taken out of the bottom from goats and sheep. You were humming and spinning happily in the ankle tall grass as you plucked ripe fruit from trees and bushes and even the apple tree, though the apples were made into fertilizer instead of eaten. It was calm and therapeutic almost. This was your heaven.. not those busy streets, just you here alone with nature. That was until you heard a Crack of twigs, and normally you would brush it off but it seemed like the weight was too heavy, you turned around sharply to be met with Adam just a few feet behind you. You immediately stopped dancing your face bright red in embarrassment, " A-Adam!! What are you doing here?" You raised your voice a bit at him. Adam smirked. "awwe don't be shy, girly, keep dancing." I liked the show~" Adam teased, and you felt like you were gonna collapse in on yourself. You shook your head no repeatedly, causing Adam to laugh loudly. "Be careful. You'll snap your neck doing that." You stopped immediately embarrassed from him, calling you out like that. "What did you need, Adam?" You asked softly. Adam shook his head "always thinking that you know me, yknow women aren't supposed to think " Adam said walking closer and poking your forehead roughly causing your head to jerk back from the pressure "Adam please.. I have stuff to do.." you muttered, holding Adam's hand and pulling it away from you. Adam shook his head "Alright alright but don't say nothing when they threatened to burn the witch, I wanted to talk to you about feelings," Adam said begrudgingly "feelings? I uhm.. I don't know much about them but I can listen?" You said softly before sitting down and patting the ground in front of you. Adam sighed. "There's this chick, I've known her for centuries, and to be honest, I really like her its.. hard to be mean to her? It's hard to say mean things and to push her away." Adam ranted, taking deep breaths every now and then. You then put the pieces together " I know how you feel I like this guy he's uhm really mean sometimes and doesn't always treat me the best but he's there" you said meekly before bringing your knees to your chest as you got a bit embarrassed.

Now Adam may be dumb at times but this time he clicked on quickly and smirked scooching a bit closer to her "and if this handsome and oh so amazing man asked you out " Adam nudged you a bit teasing you. With a small nod you hinted that you would say yes. "I'll pick you up tonight we can have dinner at my place alright?" Adam smirked a bit and got up holding his hand out for you to help you up, you took his hand as he tugged her up off the garden floor.

It was a few hours later when Adam went by your door to pick you up (yk that dress fluttershy wears when she turns human? Yea that one) you were wearing a dress waiting just outside your door for him to come get you. Adam turned the corner right before your door and he froze seeing you "woah.. damn butterfly didn't know you dressed up that nice " Adam smiled at you.. a genuine smile.. no mask between the 2 of you

"You look amazing too adam.."

#hazbin hotel adam #x reader #hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel #jaded works🪶#tw mysoginy #tw sexism #garden of eden #first date #confession

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boldlyvoid · 7 months ago

Text

Where There is Love, There is Life | Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Choice | for @elriel-month 2024

Summary: Elain trains, Azriel Gossips, and Lucien learns the truth.

Warnings: made up Daglan lore, mentions of HOFAS, history of bonds, Helion and Lucien talk

Word Count: 6k | Masterlist

Sitting in Helion’s personal library once again, there is a sheet of paper, an ink well and pen, and a stack of books almost as tall as Elain. And that’s just what Helion has deemed important for todays lesson. The walls are covered in books, well, 3 of them are. The fourth is dedicated to a chalkboard adorned with thoughts, theories and numbers she doesn’t yet understand.

“Now that we’ve gone over astrology, did you happen to get all the birthdays of your inner circle?” Helion asks, pushing the pen and paper towards her.

“I thought we were doing numerology today?” Elain asks, realizing she never brought the sheet of paper with the dates on it.

“We are,” he smiles. Today’s one of the rare hot days in spring, so her eyes dart from his smile to his big muscled arm that he has on show. The shirt he’s wearing can barely be considered a shirt at this point; it just covers his nipples and stomach… but she’s not complaining.

“Then why—

“Everyone has a life path number, which you get by adding up the numbers of one birth month and day,” he continues. “The easiest way to learn how to calculate the number is through repetition. So, start with your own and then your sisters; we can move on to the bat boys in a moment.”

The term makes her smile. She straightens her back, grabs the pen, and starts to write. “My birthday is May 16th.”

“It is?” He lights up. “Well, we’ll have to throw you a party, then!”

“Oh, no, no, it’s okay,” she waves him off. “I might go home for the day.”

He nods, “Or we could invite your court here? There is a beautiful plot of land my Pegasus frequents. It’s lush with flowers and fruit trees; I think it would be the perfect spot to celebrate you.”

She blushes; it sounds magnificent. “If it’s not too much—

“It would never be too much,” he assures her. “Now, May is already a single number. You’ll have to add 1 and 6 together…”

“So 5 plus 7,” she starts to write. “My number is 12.”

“It can also be simplified down to 3,” he smiles. “Out of everyone I’ve ever met, you radiate 3 more than I’ve ever thought possible.”

He pulls a book from the pile, flips through some pages and slides it in front of her. “See here; people with life path number 3 are creative spirits driven by their infinite imagination. Which is why the cauldron must’ve gifted you with sight. It knew you could see the wildest visions and still decode them.”

She continues to read the pages, absorbing the knowledge— some of it does sound like her. Like not being able to pick a singular hobby but rather jumping back and forth between everything she enjoys. She would go crazy without baking, gardening and cross-stitching. An independent, free spirit, she’s not restrained by others' expectations of her. Yet, she also loves being around people. Having friends outside of her sisters for the first time has truly changed her life. She felt so lost without Nuala and Cerridwen; she misses them so much right now. She’ll have to ensure they come for her birthday and not lift a finger the whole day! They deserve a break.

“Anything sticking out?” Helion asks.

She nods, “a few things… I’m definitely unable to stay organized. Ask Feyre; my greenhouse is a mess on a good day.”

“Speaking of the High Lady, what is her birthday?”

“December 21st,” she starts to write it down. “December is 12, so that becomes 3… the 21st also becomes 3, so her number is 6.”

“Exactly,” Helion beams. “Were you this good in school, too?”

“All 7 years that I was able to go,” she says with a sigh. “I learned what was important, my mother said that once I was married I’d only need to focus on keeping a house together. She said I’d never need advanced math.”

Helion presses his lips together awkwardly, “Well, at least this math isn’t hard.”

She simply flips the pages, finding the information on the meaning of 6… which is exactly how she would describe her sister. She starts to laugh at it; it’s way too accurate.

“As a child and young adult, responsibility was always there on your 6 Life Path, but you may have rebelled against it,” she reads. “You will learn a lot about parenting in this life time. But you are also here to create, to learn that creativity has many forms, and is not confined only to creating a biological family.”

Helion smiles. “She did make a son as beautiful as her paintings.”

“That she did,” Elain sighs, chest full of pride.

The 6 Life Path teaches you that you are primarily accountable to yourself, that family members and relatives do not own each other, and that love thrives when it is able to flow freely in all directions.

She’s always loved her sisters and always will… however loving them became a lot easier when they weren’t all sharing a bed. Knowing Feyre is on the other side of her massive mansion of a home, knowing she could just walk to her when she needs her, that’s a blessing. Knowing Nesta is just a quick trip to the House of Wind, living her best life with people who love her, that’s all she’s ever wanted for Nesta.

Being apart somehow brought them closer together.

“Nesta is April 13th,” she says, starting to write once again. “4 and 4 is 8… she has an 8-pointed star on her back.”

Helion’s eyes widen, “like the lost sword Gwydion.”

She nods, not allowing her face to change at all. It sure was still lost… it’s totally not in Nesta’s possession.

She turns back a page, finding it interesting that she and her sisters are so close in number and yet such polar opposites of each other. That’s life, though.

“The path of Empowerment,” she reads, filled with pride, once more… it fades when she starts to read and it gets too real.

The 8 Life Path signifies a lifetime of investing in yourself and overcoming judgments that stand between you and your strong ambitions. Modern numerology often diminishes 8’s meaning with an almost exclusive focus on material and financial matters. Yes, 8 is the number of power on the physical plain, but it is also the number of true understanding and balance, without which personal power is superficial and material gain is easily lost.

“I love her,” she whispers, trying not to cry. “She struggles in silence and lets it eat at her until that hunger needs to bite at someone else.”

Helion nods along, “But it’s all about balance. While she may be in her head, thinking she deserves or doesn’t deserve certain aspects of her life… she’s powerful. Not too selfish, she’s able to use her hurt and her experiences to connect. She networks and organizes, and she’s convincing. I heard about her little dance with Eris last year. I saw how she captivated the high lords during the war and managed to change even Berons mind. The bad comes with the good, making her a perfect 8.”

Elain nods along, finding her smile once more. “She is… everything.”

“Believe me, I know,” he teases. Still hitting on her no matter how long she’s been mated. “Now, do you remember the others?”

“I believe so… they’re on my desk in my room,” she shares.

“I’ll have someone bring them to us,” he assures, waving in a servant.

She writes down Azriel’s. January 27th. An Aquarius, and after her lesson the other day, nothing fits better for him. He lives in his head, thinks outside the box, and has a deep sense of justice. He's an easygoing loner, and he’s an air sign. It’s no wonder he loves to fly. One of a kind with beautiful eyes, they say what they think with great eloquence… that’s her Az.

His life path number, however, is 1.

“Ah… of course,” Helion says as he reads over her shoulder. “One typically takes care of themselves, stand on their own two feet and always get what they want.”

She smirks, blushing again. “He does.”

Once again, on his page of the book, she reads everything… but it’s not right. “He’s not self-centred or insensitive?”

“With you,” Helion reminds her. “At work, when he’s the spymaster, the shadowsinger… he has to put himself first; he has to not care because bringing feelings into an interrogation will backfire on him.”

“I guess,” she continues to read.

But because 1 is the first number, being at the top – being first – is your natural place. You will gain the maximum satisfaction from this energy when, instead of using it to compete, you use its pioneering vibrations to carve new roads in areas that interest you the most.

“He is the best at what he does,” she can agree with that. “Oh, and it says concentration is one of the splendid gifts a number 1 has. When he’s been given a command, he’s always so focused on getting the job done.”

“No wonder you’re so happy,” Helion nudges her.

She shoves him back. “Yes, and It says here: Practice the art of leadership by welcoming and encouraging your ‘following’, while confidently maintaining your position as originator and leader. Others soon realize that you will not be tricked into anything that goes against your grain or best interests.”

“That’s your man,” Helion agrees. Standing from his seat, he meets the servant at the door and takes her note. “The most powerful High Lord was born on the Eve of Samhain… when the veil between worlds is at its thinnest. When magic is at its height.”

“So his number would be…. October is 10, so that’s a 1, and 31 becomes 4, so he’s a 5,” she says with glee. “He and Feyre are just a number apart.”

“5s are an interesting breed,” Helion hesitates, sitting back down beside her, he takes a deep breath. “They’re intense, both emotionally and sexually. Their body, mind and emotions are equipped to easily adapt to change… However, they either flourish with the change or are overwhelmed by it. 5s are able to change their inner attitudes and outer appearances to suit different circumstances”

“That’s my brother-in-law,” Elain laughs.

The book states: 5 is an active and unpredictable path. It is so filled with sudden and unusual events and opportunities that you sometimes become confused by it or afraid of it. Once in a while, these 5s do let go, or the 5 current becomes so strong that they are swept away into some kind of drama, only to miss the excitement of it all because they believe they are simply out of control. The freedom of 5 starts with a burning desire to live life as fully, freely, and openly as possible and to experience variety, excitement and adventure. And, of course, these desires can only come from within. Refusing to let go of what is safe and familiar so that you can discover alternatives is a large part of what causes a mistake to be repeated. And most 5s do seem to repeat the same old mistakes, often without realizing it. Admitting to your mistakes can be a battle in itself. Accept that mistakes are inevitable in your life because that is how 5s learn and prosper.

“I’m going to need a scribe to copy this for him,” Elain teases. “He could learn a thing or two.”

Helion smirks, crossing his arms as he sits back in his chair. “Have you ever been on the wrong end of one of his decisions?”

“Just last week,” she shares. “He thought it was okay to tell Az to stay away from me so he could keep a good connection with Lucien and the Human Queen, Vassa. Not taking into account that fact that I may want say in my future.”

Helion nods slowly, “Sounds like Rhysand.”

She lets it roll off her shoulders, “I settled it. He’s learning, albeit slowly, but he’s learning how to deal with the Archeron sisters.”

“How does Cassian deal with you all? Being a Cancer and all,” he pushes the paper towards her.

“July 9th…” she reads aloud. “That would be 7 and 9, so 16 becomes 7.”

“Perfectionists, prone to secrecy, but as they get older, that need to protect themselves goes away,” Helion explains. “Knowing Cassian as long as I have, he had a hard time trusting people to be as good as he was; he did work while with his legion because he knew that he would be the one to get shit done right.”

“And now he’s accepted that the rest of us are there to help him and he’s not alone,” Elain smiles softly. “What else?” She asks as she flips in the book.

“Deep thinker, a cleaver planner… he’s the orchestrator. It’s why he leads armies and he will go down in history as the best warrior since Enalius.”

She finds a passage that is so Cassian, she sits up straighter as she reads it: Your intuition enables you to sense and feel your way through life. Positive results will follow when you learn to rely on the combined voice of your thoughts and feelings. While others sit perplexed by a problem, you can produce the right answer, instinctively, in one intuitive flash. And once you have the solution, your intuition will take you inward and backward to show you how you arrived at it.

Helion nods along. “Numerology is one of my favourite aspects of divination. Numbers are everywhere, you’ll start noticing them more and more now that you’ve learned this.”

“How so?”

“You’ll notice that you look at the clock at specific times every day, without real reason. You’ll notice things come in packs of 3 or 8 or 12. You might even have numbers in your dreams…. And in visions, speaking of which, have you had any since you’ve been here?”

She shakes her head, “No, I haven’t had one in a few weeks. They only come to me when they want to.”

He hums, “okay… Tomorrow, I wanted to do some hydromancy, but I think it’s time we look more into clairvoyance and clairaudience. Both are extrasensory perception; the mother or the cauldron or whatever you believe in either whisper the future into your ears or show you glimpses of the future.”

“I have had both,” she assures. “During the war, I had no idea what was happening and while I kept seeing the firebird who ended up being Vassa, the ravens were first whispered to me. I kept hearing ‘the ravens are coming’ and it confused me so much.”

Helion starts looking around at all his personal books, reading the titles, but he cannot find what he wants. “I’m going to have a book delivered to your room tonight,” he explains. “You don’t have to read it all. However, it will be a good introduction to what we will be discussing soon.”

She nods, “are you sure we should have a large lesson tomorrow, given that Lucien is coming?”

His eyes widen, as if he forgot that was happening. “What if we meet here at dawn? You can join me for my meditation to get in the zone for the day and I’ll have breakfast dropped off here so we can begin early.”

She nods, “I would like that.”

—

Azriel’s shadows are like a second skin to him after 500 years. He almost doesn’t notice when they come and go, not until they’re whispering secrets and warnings to him. It takes a while for him to realize that his shadows disappear around Elain. They can find her, they can follow her if he asks, yet when she’s close, they leave. He’s not sure if it’s for privacy or because they know he’s completely safe with her… out of everyone in the world, Elain is the only person he’s truly safe with.

When he returns to the day court, his shadows simply say that she’s in the library and dissipate.

He heads to the main library, the first of many in the day court, the closest to the palace. Inside, he can’t scent her over the smell of old books… yet there is a hint of Ash. His shadows come rushing back, worried for him after everything he’s been through in the last few years. He’s been hit with more ash arrows and faebane in the last 3 years than he has in his whole life, which is saying something.

He follows the smell, a hand on the truth teller as he approaches an alcove. He knows the female sitting at the table, at least from what he can see of her over the stacks of books: Nuan, the Alchemist from the Dawn Court. He knew she’d be here; she had been here all week, researching the Ash family to see all that it could do to the Fae.

He clears his throat, alerting her to his presence and making her jump in her seat slightly. “Oh, hello, Lord Azriel.”

He grimaces, shaking his hands, “Please, it’s just Azriel.”

“Azriel,” she settles with a smile. “Is there something I can help you with?”

He shakes his head, “I was looking for Elain, I think I have the wrong library.”

“Ah,” she smiles, having guessed that the high lady’s sister and the spymaster were together. “Well, since you’re here, I have a question.”

He approaches her, standing beside her work table, “What can I do for you?”

“I’ve come across a book on the Daglan, the history of the start of Prythian and old folklore,” she explains. “Do you know anything about how they were conquered?”

Az takes a deep breath and assesses if he should tell her. Rhys would be pissed… not as pissed as when Nesta gave Bryce the mask, but still pissed. If answers come from this, however, he might not stay mad for long.

So Az takes a seat.

“Where do I even start,” he can’t help but laugh.

He started when Bryce arrives, explaining their trip to the prison and the history they uncovered. Theia and her daughters, the Daglan, the portals to other worlds… how they concurred worlds and were overthrown only twice and finally destroyed by the portal-jumping half-fae who stole his dagger. He explains how the Daglan corrupted the cauldron and created the monsters now locked in the prison in the night court…. And how the same portals they used to jump worlds brought in the beasts that hunt in The Middle. Beings like the kelpie, the weaver and whatever Amren was before the war. Even Koshcei.

“Cauldron almighty…” she swears, jaw dropped as her eyes wander, thinking a mile a minute in her mind. “Do you know how they corrupted the cauldron?”

He shakes his head, “not fully. The original 8 Asteri— that is the Daglan’s true name. They pooled their power together and imbued it into the cauldron… they made the dread trove as well as Gwydion and Truth Teller.”

“Did you learn how to fix it?” Nuan asks, begging for answers just as he did that day he learned all this. “Learn why they did it?”

“No, I did, however, allow one of my shadows to go with Bryce to Midgard. The Asteri, when they were here, there was a tithe to absorb a percentage of our power; in Midgard, they created a parasite to infest the water and stifle their magic until they came of age. The coming of age ceremony was called the drop, once they partook they gave a portion of their power to the Asteri and their powers were unlocked. They were not as powerful as they could be, but they were just enough to live a long, long life. Those who didn’t partake faded away into nothing with age, like a human would.”

“And Bryce defeated them?”

He nods, “She almost died in the process… which is another way the daglan took power. The power they took in the drop was called first light, the power they take after death is called second light. Once they took it, they didn’t get to go to the forever resting place some believe is out there. They became nothing.”

Nuan slumps in her seat. Rubbing her hand over her face. “This is so much bigger than a family of trees…”

Az laughs, “believe me, it was a lot to take in when it was happening. Now, we’re left with the knowledge and no way to fix the cauldron. We don’t even know in what ways they corrupted it; what they changed.”

“The cauldron holds water,” Nuan reminds him. “They might’ve gotten the idea for the parasite from what ever they did to the cauldron.”

He hums, thinking about it. “Are you coming to dinner tonight in the great hall?”

She nods, “why?”

“Elain might be able to tell you about what the water in the cauldron was like,” he explains. “Seeing as she was the first one dunked into it, and she was blessed by it…”

“Unlike the other sister who stole from it,” Nuan knows. The whole of Prythian knew that the oldest Archeon sister was to be feared for what she did that day. They just don’t know she gave the power back.

“Would I be allowed to see the cauldron?” She asks.

He takes a deep breath, thinking it over. “Rhys and Feyre will be here in a few days, they, and Helion, can discuss if it’s a safe option for you.”

She nods, agreeing. “I appreciate the help today. I um… I figured out something, I think it’s something you and Lady Archeron would like to know.”

“Go on,” he pulls in even closer, anxious to know what she’s uncovered in her days of research.

“While Ash wood can kill us, the blooming leaves of the Ash tree can be used as a tea. The Daglan did awful, horrific experiments on the fae, all of which were recorded… ingesting the leaves doesn’t maim the drinker. Instead, it gifts them with dreams of their one true love. The Daglan put a stop to the tea the moment they found out what it could do, and now I’m guessing it’s because they corrupted the cauldron to change how bonds work. The dreams would show a true love match; the cauldron now wants powerful offspring because the Dagaln fed from them for so long.”

It all hits Azriel like a brick wall. “So if I take the tea…”

“You’ll know the truth,” Nuan smiles. “So will Lady Archeron.”

—

Feyre and Rhys arrive with Lucien right at noon, greeted by Elain and Helion in the golden courtyard. Helion’s hand is on Elain’s back, and she glances at him, noticing he’s holding his breath while staring at his son. Taking in all his features, noticing all the parts that are himself and what parts are Lucien's mother…, his heart breaks when he sees the scar on his face, knowing there are more scars he keeps inside.

“Welcome!” Elain takes over for him, breaking away from Helion to meet with him. “Lucien, it’s nice to see you.”

Surprisingly, she opens her arms and brings him in for a hug.

He’s a bit shocked, but accepts. Holding her close, smelling Azriel on her. He pulls back with concern on his face, “Did the shadowsinger fly you in?”

She shakes her head, “he’s been staying here during my training, assuring I stay safe after what happened with the cauldron the last time I started looking for answers.”

It's not a lie, just not the whole truth, either.

“In your bed?” He chuckles, “I was wondering when you’d finally get together.”

“You wouldn’t be upset about it?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t own you; you’re free to make your own choices. I’ve been alive for over 300 years; you haven’t. I’d like to see you make your own choices and mistakes and find happiness.”

She pulls him in for another hug. " Oh, Lucien, thank you! I expected you to want to follow the cauldron's orders.”

Lucien soaks in the hug, eyes closed as he holds her. “This is the one time I’m not going to blindly follow someone's orders. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“It’s also why we’re here,” Rhysand says from behind them. “We’ve learned quite a few things about the cauldron, things that you should be made aware of.”

“The uh, the dining room is all set up for lunch if you’d care to join me in there for this meeting,” Helion finally speaks. “It’s lovely to have you here, Lucien.”

He reaches out his hand for Helion, “Thank you for inviting me. I’ve always loved visiting the day court.”

They all agreed it’s completely up to Helion when he tells Lucien; if he ever tells him. This meeting is about the information Nuan found in her research, how to find one's true love and what the Daglan did to mating bonds.

They gather around the dining table and fill their plates with sandwiches, fruits, and vegetables with dips, cheeses and meats. Its a wonderful spread that his kitchen staff makes on the regular. Elain is going to have to start incorporating these into her own meal rotation at home.

“What is it you wish to tell me,” Lucien asks between bites.

Rhysand looks to Elain and then Helion, “Who would like to explain?”

“I can,” Elain assures, putting down her sandwich and taking a sip of her bubbly wine first before continuing. “Last spring, we had an unexpected visitor in the Night Court. She jumped from her world to ours thanks to the Harp— the 4th forgotten item from the dread trove.”

Lucien's eyes widened. “Is world jumping real? I thought it was a myth?”

Elain sighs, “It’s very real. You need specific items to do it the right way. However, Bryce was brought here to learn more about her heritage. She was the original Queen Theia’s long-lost ancestor… it turns out that Theia killed Fionn, took the trove and opened a portal to another world that the Daglan had overtaken after they were kicked from our world. There, Theia confirmed that the Daglan, now the Asteri, are just power-hungry monsters who feed off our power. When they were here, they used the cauldron to create deadly weapons, horrible monsters they could hunt for sport, and they corrupted the cauldron to ensure that mate bread more powerful beings they could feed off of.”

“Holy shit,” Lucien can’t believe it.

“Nuan, who fixed your eye,” Elain continues, waiting for Luciens mind to catch up, he nods. “She has been doing research for us. The wood of the ash tree is deadly for us, however the Ash tree is a cousin of the olive tree…”

She picks up an olive with her fork and eats it, “how can one thing kill us and the other be so delicious?”

“That is a fascinating question,” Feyre says under her breath.

“Nuan discovered that the Daglan discovered a tea that would allow for the taker to dream of their one true love and those who were able to could then Scry to find them,” she continues with a large smile. “Before the Daglan corrupted the bonds, all mates were assigned together for the purpose of true and happy love. They outlawed the tea because they didn’t want true love bonds anymore, they only wanted powerful offspring.”

“Are you saying we aren’t a true love bond?” Lucien clues in, shoulders slumping. “I mean, I knew it wasn’t a strong love, I just didn’t expect it to not be true love.”

Elain shakes her head, feeling sorry for having to break the news to him, “no, the Daglan would collect a tithe from us, taking 10% of our power that we willingly gave to them each year. They wanted a way to still take 10%, they just wanted a stronger 10% so they corrupted the cauldron to make mates who would produce powerful offspring that would satiate them.”

“Like my parents and Tamlin’s,” Rhysand adds. “They did not love each other; they have just been born through the generations to continue to make powerful children, even after the Daglan left.”

“How do we fix it?” Lucien asks.

“We’re still working on that,” Helion jumps in. “Elain is still learning all that she can do with her power so we can attain more answers.”

“So far, I’ve learned basic divination, meditation and relaxation, tarot, astrology, and my favourite has been numerology,” she beams at him. “When is your birthday?”

“Um, October 3rd,” he shares. “My mother tried to have all of us in the autumn.”

Helion stares at his plate, moving around his side salad and not saying anything.

“So that would make you a life path number 4,” Elain explains. “Life path number 4’s spend most of their life looking for their true identity. You find accomplishment through hard work. You have great self-discipline. 4 teaches the value of determination, effort, simplicity, and dependability.”

He nods along, slowly taking it all in. “That… that sounds right. What would someone born on January 1st be?”

“A 2,” Elain answers without missing a beat, making Helion smile.

“She is the best student I’ve ever had,” he compliments, staring right at Feyre. “I don’t want to give her back.”

“I’ll come visit you,” Elain assures him.

“What does 2 mean?” Lucien wonders, something like urgency on his tone.

“Um,” she looks to Helion for a bit of support. He nods his head slightly, reminding her that she’s got this. “the energy of 2 does not seek to control but to achieve balance. Those born on the 2 Life Path have the potential to lead the way for humanity through their refined powers of persuasion, their ability to inspire on an emotional level, and most importantly, their desire to bring equality and peace to this planet.”

Lucien blushes slightly, looking down at his plate. “She is going to change the world.”

“Who?” Feyre asks, sitting up straighter. Happy for her friend.

“Vassa,” Lucien beams. “Don’t tell her, but I’m— I think I’m falling in love with her.”

Elain places her hand on her heart, “This is wonderful news, Lucien!”

“Thank you. I’m excited to take this tea now, to see if my true love match is her… even if it isn’t, even if it was Jesminda, I still want to be with Vassa.”

“We’re still looking into her curse,” Helion assures him. “I’ll do anything I can to help you get to keep her.”

“Thank you, Helion,” Lucien smiles.

They look so similar it blows Elain’s mind. How does he not see it? It should be like looking in a mirror for him.

“The teas will be delivered to our rooms tonight,” Elain assures. “We are all taking it. Some has even been sent back to Nesta and Cassian to check. Morrigan and Amren are taking it as well.”

“What does this mean for you two?” Lucien asks Feyre and Rhys.

They look at each other and smile. Rhys is quick to hold her hand above the table, “we know the truth. This love we have between us in unbreakable.”

“I personally believe that the reason why mating has become so hard. People were shocked to find out that all 3 of us were mated so soon after becoming fae. It’s unheard of for a whole family to find a mate.” Feyre adds. “The Cauldron picked up to help it. I think the cauldron misses when it was dedicated to giving out love and life to these lands.”

“So we bring it back,” Helion announces, holding up his glass. “No matter what it takes, we bring true love back to Prythian.”

Everyone raises their glasses in response, dedicated to the task at hand.

—

That night she sits in bed beside Azriel, a mug of steaming tea in both of their hands. “Are you sure?” She asks.

“I want to know… even if it’s not you; even if I’m meant for no one, I want to know and love you anyway,” Azriel assures.

“And if we do dream of each other?”

Azriel’s eyes soften; he’s more beautiful than ever before. “Then we’ll know why we’ve wanted one another so badly.”

“Do you think this tea will make us tired or just aid in our dreams when we do fall asleep?” She asks.

A knowing smirk grows on his face, “Why?”

She takes another sip and places her almost empty cup on her night table; Azriel follows her lead and does the same. She quickly straddles his hips, hands on his shoulders, “because I would like to remind you just how badly I’ve wanted you all this time.”

—

Elain and Azriel are the last to arrive at the breakfast table the nest morning. Hand in hand, matching smiles plastered to their faces.

They dreamt of each other last night.

Feyre is sitting in Rhys’ lap, being hand-fed cantaloupe while Lucien laughs. Helion shakes his head with a smile. "Well, I take it you had good dreams?” the golden High Lord asks.

Elain nods, “We had the same dream… us and our daughter playing in the grass behind our home on the Sidra.”

Feyre places a hand to her heart, “the same girl you’ve seen before?”

“You’ve seen her before?” Azriel can’t believe it.

Elain nods, “We adopt her from Illyria, seeing as I can’t have babies for us.”

Azriel kisses her head, “we’ll create the family we deserve.”

They take a seat side by side, across from Lucien, “So, what did you dream of?”

“Fire,” Lucien explains, smile building. “Blinding, bright fire that took over all my senses.”

“Your firebird,” Feyre swoons.

He nods, overjoyed with love in his eyes, “My firebird… Helion, who did you see?”

He takes a deep breath, thinking it over. “I saw my mate… Seraphina.”

“That’s my… mother’s—“ Lucien blinks in understanding. “What?”

Helion simply nods. “I met her a year before she was betrothed to Beron. We met again during the great war, and… we had a love affair that lasted over a hundred years. Beron never knew, not until the end, when she became pregnant.”

Lucien's mechanical eye closes in on Helion, studying him. “You’re… my father?”

Helion nods. “I didn’t know. Not until last week.”

“Does my— does Beron know?”

Helion shrugs, “I’m not certain. However, his level of cruelty to you, from what I’ve heard, could be explained by knowing you’re not his blood.”

“Then where does—

“Your mother was sold to your father to ensure that the fire in her veins passed on to all his children. He wanted the strongest brood and would do anything to get it.”

“Why didn’t you do anything about it? Why didn’t you challenge him?” Lucien begs, “You know he hurts her, and you do nothing?”

“What do you do?” Helion challenges him right back. “Beron is not a man I would like to mess with unless absolutely necessary. Your mother asked me not to intervene. She asked me to let nature take its course, and she said when the time was right when he died, she could come back to me.”

Lucien just shakes his head, “I wish he would die tomorrow.”

“We all do,” Rhys murmurs, reminding the men that there are others in the room, still.

Lucien calms, shaking his head as it all settles around him. “So I’m… I’m heir to the day court?”

Helion nods, “you are… I’ve heard your fire is bright, almost white. That you can winnow and you run like the wind. I wonder if there’s more light to you, if when you become truly happy... if you’ll glow like myself and Feyre do.”

“I’ve…. I’ve glowed,” Lucien admits. “I thought it was… I’m not sure what it was.”

Clearly lying, he doesn’t seem comfortable enough to share.

“How about we leave you two,” Elain announces, standing with her plate now filled with food. “My chambers have a sitting room; we can move there. Let them bond.”

“Fantastic idea,” feyre is quick to her feet, feeling just as awkward as everyone else. “I’d love to hear more about your dreams.”

@greenleaf777 @lostvillainess

General Taglist

@ncsls0515 @stevesmunsons @reidsbookclub @sweetyyhippyy @manuosorioh @mrs-dr-reid @k-k0129 @squishyturtle @katsukis1wife @buckleyhans @mrs-ssa-hotch @ssavanessa22

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ineffable-endearments · 1 year ago

Text

Deep dive into The Coffee

The following is primarily about the symbolism of the Metatron's coffee.

Once I started thinking about it, there's a lot of cool stuff going on there (depending on whether you think, you know, symbolism is "cool," but I do!).

I think it points toward certain interpretations of what the characters are feeling and what their motivations are, but it isn't about the coffee itself affecting the plot beyond the obvious (it's a love-bomb the Metatron is using to seem friendly).

I was thinking about The Coffee as a sort of shadow version of the Fruit of Knowledge and wondering: why the heck would you choose coffee for this symbolism? It's obviously a very common, non-suspicious beverage in Soho, but surely they could come up with some creative reason for the Metatron to come bearing pretty much any edible item. Out of all the foods and beverages in the world, why coffee? Why not, for example, fruit, or Eccles cakes, or meat - or, for that matter, tea, or cocoa, which we already know Aziraphale enjoys?

But it does make sense. And it also makes sense that it's not just a cup of coffee, it's an oat milk latte with a dash/hefty jigger of almond syrup.

Here, I'll be making the big assumption that the Fruit of Knowledge is relevant to Aziraphale as a metaphor - as something he would consider desirable but forbidden. He was supposed to be guarding it in Eden ("technically, I was on apple tree duty"). And Crowley, with his red hair like the apple, has spent the past 6000 years trying to impart the knowledge of "good" and "evil" to Aziraphale, who in turn has desperately wanted Crowley and also considered him off-limits. Crowley is Aziraphale's Apple of Eden.

Here are a few observations about The Coffee, contrasted with the Fruit of Knowledge and, in some cases, the ox ribs.

The coffee is heavily processed - Fruits, including the apple in Eden, exist straight from the natural world in a form that you can pluck from a tree and eat almost whole. Meanwhile, coffee has to go through a lot of processing between the time it's a coffee berry (also a fruit!) and the moment it's recognizable as the beverage so many people immediately reach for every morning. There's a long, often-unethical production chain there, involving many people.

The oat milk latte with almond syrup is further complicated. The apple is plain and straightforward - it simply is Knowledge in fruit form. It's "pure." The coffee was already heavily processed to become coffee, and now multiple other ingredients have been added. A fancy latte beverage involves the preparation of the milk and the syrup in addition to the coffee beans.

There's a lot going on behind the scenes here. There may, as Crowley pointed out, have been a lot going on behind the scenes in Eden with the Apple purposely placed for the humans to see, but it still feels like there's significance to the difference between a thing that springs from the ground as a food item and a thing that has to be processed over and over before it's ready to consume.

Maybe the point is that the Apple of Eden did exactly what it was said to do from the beginning - gave Adam and Eve Knowledge one way or another - whereas the coffee is a heavily-altered, almost unrecognizable version of the truth.

The coffee is heavily sweetened with additives - This is the real important part for me. Fruit is, broadly speaking, naturally sweet. This obviously varies from piece to piece, as anyone who's sorted through a pile of fruit at the supermarket would know, but the most widely-understood appeal of fruit as a concept is its sweetness. Without any other input, we could guess the Fruit of Knowledge was pretty sweet, too.

Meat, ox ribs, are very different from fruit, obviously. Savory and a bit salty. But they are another food item with broad appeal.

Coffee, particularly espresso, is naturally bitter, to the point where drinking it black is often an acquired taste. The Metatron picked a particularly sweet type of milk and a sweet-flavored syrup.

He had to sweeten his deal a lot to make it palatable to Aziraphale.

The coffee is not "of the flesh" - There are no animal products listed in the ingredients to the Metatron's latte. It's vegan. Oat milk is plant-based. Almond syrup is a plant flavor, likely made with sugar, also a plant. Coffee is a plant.

Aziraphale's other major culinary experience this season? The one where he become more worldly, more of-the-flesh? Yeah, the ox ribs. Meat. The latte is, I suspect, the Metatron's subtle rejection of that worldly pleasure.

The coffee is not Aziraphale's usual preference - We've never seen Aziraphale drink coffee before. We've seen him drink wine and tea and hot cocoa and champagne and sherry, but never coffee; in fact, Crowley's espresso order seems to be set up in contrast to Aziraphale's taste. And when the Metatron brings it to him, Aziraphale initially hesitates. To be fair, I do read his enjoyment of the latte as genuine. I don't think he was lying when he said it tasted good. But he only drinks it after an awkward push from the Metatron.

The coffee contrasts with Crowley's espresso - Season 2 is bookended by espresso beverages. At the beginning, Crowley enthusiastically downs an absurdly hype-inducing, bitter concoction of six espresso shots all in one gulp to prepare for whatever weirdness is waiting for him in the bookshop. He doesn't seem to care either way about the taste. At the end, Aziraphale hesitantly sips his heavily-diluted, sweetened espresso under social pressure. He does admit he likes the taste.

Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death - The Metatron points out the name of the coffee shop, which possibly sets us up to consider that a choice between anything and death isn't really a choice at all. He also muses that people are very predictable for always choosing coffee over death. This is all done outside of Aziraphale's awareness. Maybe that's because the coffee vs death thing is more about the Metatron's underlying motivations - to coerce and force Aziraphale to accept his role in Heaven no matter what - than about something Aziraphale is consciously aware of.

So, since I'm theorizing that the coffee is a metaphor for the Metatron's offer, here's what I think it's hinting toward.

Aziraphale's emotions and motivations:

Aziraphale didn't start that conversation with any interest in what the Metatron was saying. Coffee's not his order. This didn't start out as a successful temptation, per se. It was a coercion that appeared harmless on the surface (drink the coffee/entertain the conversation to be polite).

Now that they've had their conversation, Aziraphale did like some aspects of the Metatron's offer. That part is a successful temptation.

If we assume Aziraphale really liked the coffee and then run a parallel to the Metatron's offer, it's not hard to see what sufficiently "sweetened the deal" for him: the offer to bring Crowley to Heaven. The Apple of Eden, Crowley, gave Aziraphale the knowledge of good and evil; the sweetened coffee - the suggestion that Heaven could change its mind about Crowley - once again obscured it.

All that stuff about Heaven being the side of Truth and Light and Good came out because Heaven appeared to be changing its mind about Crowley. Crowley is kind of symbolic of everything on Earth for Aziraphale, so presumably, if it can change its mind about Crowley, then it could do things better for Earth, right? Heaven's good intentions must have been sincere after all.

The Metatron's offer and underlying plan:

The Metatron has a complex plan. He's manipulating a lot of people, not just Aziraphale.

The Metatron is using sweetness to conceal a bitter plan that he knows Aziraphale will find unpalatable (separating him from Crowley).

The Metatron is going to present going to Heaven as a choice, but it isn't really one.

For some reason, the Metatron does need Aziraphale back in Heaven, and it's easier if he comes willingly, perhaps if he believes it's his own choice. They're not going to send a bunch of disguised Archangels to abduct him this time.

The Aftermath

So, Aziraphale has been taken in by the coffee, the Foisted Fruit, although the Metatron was not actually giving him a choice at all. Aziraphale botched the philosophical talk, but his choice has probably put off something worse.

Note that in the Final Fifteen, Aziraphale essentially tries to present the same temptation he fell for to Crowley: we can be together in Heaven.

But unlike what Adam did with Eve, Crowley rejects it, because he sees right through it. Instead, he counters with the truth about Heaven and the truth about his own feelings, both in verbal form and with a kiss, once again reprising his role as the Serpent of Eden and the Apple of Knowledge.

Aziraphale, having already swallowed the belief that Heaven is capable of changing, feels Crowley's attempt to disillusion him is a betrayal, an attempt to stop him from doing Good. Notice how when Aziraphale touches his lips longingly after the kiss, he finishes by looking angry and wiping, as if to dismiss what's been shared with him. But you can't un-eat fruit. And you can't be un-kissed.

The Metatron comes back while Aziraphale is clearly having a crisis of conscience. Try as he might to wipe the kiss away, it happened. And he heard the things Crowley said. And he keeps glancing toward Crowley.

This is a tricky moment in the Metatron's plan, because the sweetener he used to get Aziraphale to "drink the coffee"/accept Heaven is no longer in there with Crowley out of the picture. He rushes in and pushes Aziraphale to start his new job, dismissing Aziraphale's excuses. The fact that the Metatron needed Aziraphale without Crowley was the bitterness in the plan that he had to disguise with sweeteners.

Aziraphale, left without sufficient time to think, resolves to simply not think about his first choice, the choice that just walked out the door.

And then, at the last second, to ensure Aziraphale gets in that elevator, the Metatron reveals that the next step in the Great Plan is the Second Coming. Why reveal it at the last second, when Aziraphale is going to get on the elevator anyway?

Because it's the clincher. The Metatron knows Aziraphale won't be able to resist trying to make a difference.

He needed to divide Aziraphale and Crowley. He needed to get Aziraphale's hopes up about being able to make a difference with Crowley first. Then he needed those hopes dashed harshly so that Aziraphale would be at a loss, susceptible to joining Heaven to find a purpose again, now that Crowley is out of his life and the bookshop is being looked after.

And now, by emphasizing Aziraphale's knowledge of Earth and telling him the plan to destroy it at the same time, the Metatron gives Aziraphale a whole new purpose: thwart the Second Coming.

This has been the "predictable" part that the Metatron was scoffing about in the coffee shop. He knew that chain of events would happen. He knew Crowley would reject any suggestion of returning to Heaven, and he knew that would leave Aziraphale upset and vulnerable enough to be swept away, and he knew saving Earth would matter to Aziraphale.

THIS is the moment Aziraphale realizes he's choosing between coffee and death. He has to choose the coffee, of course.

But Crowley has rejected Heaven. He hasn't rejected Aziraphale. He's still there.

And Aziraphale looks back at Crowley the instant he's told Earth is in danger again. You can be confused, but you can't un-eat the Apple of Knowledge. He hasn't forgotten.

There is an alternate reading here: Aziraphale lied about enjoying the coffee, and he is also lying about his beliefs about Heaven being genuinely good, and he recognized that he was choosing between coffee and death way earlier, during the conversation when the Metatron brought up Crowley. I like that reading, too, and it would indeed change the flavor of some of the things that happen afterward.

But either way, we reach the same point at the end of the episode. That grin in the elevator? Maybe that's Aziraphale realizing he's going to have to be unpredictable, just as Crowley said he could.

#good omens #go s2 #good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #go s2 spoilers

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thirdeyeblue · 1 year ago

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Ten x Rose | Adult | One-Shot (9k) | AO3

Tags: First Time, Confined Spaces, Dry Humping, Fluff & Smut, Etc

Since I wrote this way too early for a Halloween fic back in February, it’s only fitting that I share it way too late on Tumblr (past 10 PM on Halloween night). I’m not feeling super great mentally, however — and posting fic makes me happy. May it hopefully find at least one person who’s never read it and wants to keep the spooky spirit alive a little longer. It’s not my best fic, not by a long shot, and the whole premise was lovingly contrived from an inside joke born out of Discord server lore — but it is what it is! 🎃

On a small, Earth-like planet called Roon, it was always autumn.

The Doctor landed the TARDIS near an orchard abounding with great, big apples he claimed were the sweetest and juiciest in the universe, having Rose’s mouth watering before they’d even stepped foot onto the luscious grass beyond the doorway.

Before them was a field lined with endless rows of fruit-bearing trees, each filled with multicolored apples so heavy that they bent the branches they grew upon.

Signs were posted every so often; worn, painted arrows indicating a myriad of family-friendly attractions within walking distance. This is how they realized the orchard they’d arrived at was actually a year-round, traditional, Halloween-themed farm; replete with pumpkin carving, petting zoos, photo ops, and what was supposedly the biggest ‘haunted maze and adventure’ on the planet.

Rose hardly even had to beg to get the Time Lord to agree to explore once they’d picked their fill of apples, even after he’d surmised they landed in the relative ‘off-season’.

‘Far as I’m concerned, that’s just fewer people around to get in our way,’ he’d declared with a grin.

After dropping their bounty back on the TARDIS, they went hand in hand down a seemingly endless row of trees, following the arrows that directed them towards what was more than likely the epicenter of entertainment.

The lack of crowds on the farm made it easy for the pair to take advantage of whatever they wanted. They spent a guilt-free hour in the Cider Barn sampling all sorts of sweet drinks, scooping pretzels in apple butter; then raced down the street to spend far too much time petting the planet’s sort-of-but-not-quite-Earth-like livestock.

(Rose’s favorites included a flock of docile chickens as tall as rubbish bins, as well as a pair of noisy horses with dog-like paws.

All afternoon long, they were looking forward to their ‘haunted adventure’, deliberately putting it off until nightfall, per the advice of an employee. He’d been a teenage boy with violet skin and amber eyes; wrists sore from dipping and packaging candy apples, obviously overjoyed to finally have a customer for the first time in hours.

"It's not the best time of year to come here," he'd told them with a shrug. "Might be a little scarier if you go after hours."

They thanked him and bought two sliced caramel apples, snacking on their treats at a nearby picnic table that overlooked a massive labyrinth of hedges.

It was already sunset, so when they’d finished eating, they returned their baskets to a collection bin and linked arms. Together, they began to make their trek towards the first part of their ‘adventure’: an arched gate leading into a dense forest.

They figured it couldn’t hurt to get a tiny head start.

With arms crossed, Rose brushed her palms up and down in an attempt to create friction, hoping to warm herself up as she watched the Doctor kneeling over a rock and grinding down pine needles. She wanted more than anything to wrap herself up in his great, big coat, but he’d left it on the TARDIS, having not foreseen any of this.

It'd all taken them by surprise: the duration of the ‘adventure’, the dramatic drop in temperature, and the need for anything that would have done a less archaic job of accomplishing what he was now working to achieve by means of a makeshift mortar and pestle.

About an hour and a half into their surprisingly lengthy jaunt along a winding path dotted with holographic horrors, flashing lights, and spooky sounds, something had caught the Doctor's eye. He’d dragged Rose behind several tall bushes when he caught sight of something lurking in the distant dark: a species of canine known as "crendals". The large, wolf-like hounds were terrifying to look at, but according to him, had only been utilized due to the fact that, in spite of their ghastly appearance, they were virtually harmless.

That is, unless you happen to be made up of “deliciously warm and plasma-based blood”, something that didn’t typically exist in the advanced species of that particular solar system.

“Probably been ages since a proper human came around,” the Time Lord mumbled absently as he dropped another hefty pinch of needles onto the flat rock and began pestling with determination. “Crendals aren’t native to Roon, so someone had to have brought them over, and… Suppose since it’s the off-season, it seemed scarier to let a bunch of big, threatening hounds loose than continue paying actors to lark about in makeup and costumes.”

After several moments, seeming content with his work, he scooped half of the powdered pine into his palm and rose to stand before his companion with an apologetic smile.

“So, what is this going to do, exactly?” she half-chattered.

“Well. Unless you'd prefer that I fashion a rope and bind you to my body for the last leg of the forest, our safest bet is to utilize a simple, temporary olfactory misdirection.” He picked some of the fragrant green substance between three fingers, holding it in front of her. “Pine is a pungent fragrance, like citrus. Incredibly proficient at masking the smell of anything else around it, which is why it’s often utilized as fragrance in things such as candles and cleaning supplies. Sort of like the way fruit is so often used to cover up the taste of vegetables in smoothies and liquor in cocktails. Now, just hold still...”

Rose did as he said, trying not to think about how it might not be so bad to be bound to him as he began to blow pine dust around various points around her body. She also tried not to pay attention to how nice his breath felt as it caressed her neck, then her arms, then thighs. Her attempts to distract herself were nearly thwarted when he collected a little more from the rock and began applying it to her visible pulse points, suppressing a shiver when his fingers pressed beneath her ears and rubbed gentle circles into her sensitive skin.

“That should just about do it,” he smiled, bending down to collect the rest in a leaf, then folding it up shoving it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “If I’d have brought my bloody coat, it’d have done a much better job of disguising your scent, but… Well. suppose I’ll never leave that behind again.”

Rose drew a cold-shaken breath. “It’s f-fine,” she chirped.

The Doctor’s eyes widened as realization swept over him. “Blimey, why didn’t you tell me you were freezing?”

“I-I’m not that c-cold.”

With an exaggerated sigh, he had his jacket unbuttoned in seconds, pulling it off and prompting her with a nod to extend an arm so he could begin slipping it onto her. “I’m sorry, Rose — I forget I’m flush with layers when I haven’t got my coat on. Good thing is, this should only help to cover up your... human-ness.”

Being that it’d been resting against his cool skin, the jacket wasn’t very warm at first, but the insulation had her warming up almost immediately anyway. Plus, it did smell like him, which was a lovely little added bonus. “Thank you,” she sighed, and still standing behind her, he smoothed the material over her back. “D’you really think we’re gonna be safe like this?”

The Doctor spun her around and put his hands on her shoulders, raising his eyebrows in that way that he does when it’s most imperative that she listen, and listen well.

(Bit difficult to listen with the way he was now more dressed down than she’d ever seen him, barring the Christmas jimjam incident)

“I will not let anything happen to you. Alright? Never. Just gotta get through the maze, and we’ll be on our merry way.” He smiled. “I’m sure the exit is just on the other side. Now…” Releasing her, he stepped back and held out his arm, which was now clad in nothing but a navy blue oxford. “Shall we?”

They walked stealthily — or rather, as stealthily as they could with arms fastened to one another — through the last leg of the forest, finally entering an area made up of tall, artificial hedges that made up a classic maze. Enormous jack-o-lanterns and assorted props were spread all over, including real, donated skeletons, but only of the native species. The rest were fake, extraterrestrial recreations (with “an embarrassingly shoddy lack of anatomical accuracy”, according to the Doctor).

There was a depressing lack of anything actually scary, reinforcing why the apple-dipping teenager had suggested they go at night; but the threat of encountering the mangy, red-eyed, wolf-like beasts around every corner was more than enough to make Rose shiver from more than just the chill.

Eventually, the narrow hall of the maze opened up into a large, circular courtyard lined with wrought iron lanterns that glowed dimly through the thick cover of fog, as well as a tall, ornate fountain that stood as a silhouette in the center of the haze. There were spider webs spread across every hedge and lamp post, as well as spooky, ambient music playing from speakers disguised as fake rocks on the ground.

“See Rose, we ought to be getting close. Been a while since we’ve seen one of these old fake rock speakers, hasn’t it? They really skimped out for a good stretch, and if I had to fashion a guess, I’d say it’s probably because nobody wanted to go hiking out that far. Really, there’s nothing to panic ab—”

The sound of a snarl in the distance cut him off, and he clutched her hand tightly, tugging her closer to his side. When she looked up at his face with alarm, he tilted his head in the direction he intended to lead them, which was through one of three openings in the hedges that lead elsewhere in the maze.

Continuing on with their strategy of following a single wall in one direction, they proceeded to make their way toward the opening on the right, picking up their feet as quietly as they could.

Neither said a word as they stepped through what was now a new area to them: a long path with a massive influx of spiderwebs strung all across from one side to the next, with skeleton alcoves lining the length of it. The spiderwebs (fake, thank god) were obviously placed strategically to require attendees to exert themselves a bit, bobbing and weaving through the thready, straggling obstacles like secret agents through a complicated network of lasers.

They met each other’s eyes again to nod in solidarity, relinquishing their held hands to begin their journey through the maze-within-a-maze. Rose wanted so badly to just tear down every web and be done with it, but to make any unnecessary noise would have been very bad indeed.

It was difficult to tell where their pursuer lurked until, just a row over, a growl tore through the quiet space.

In a move completely void of grace, the Doctor’s hand shot out to the side and grabbed one of the plastic human skeletons with the nonsense anatomy by the neck, yanking it from its alcove with a plastic clattering of bones. He then grabbed Rose around the waist and all but threw her into the small space, stepping in and pushing her into the fake, plastic hedge. She swallowed hard, now cramped into the tiny rectangle of space with the Doctor completely boxing her in.

Under normal circumstances, she’d be having something of a claustrophobic panic attack, but… well. It was the Doctor, and he was so close, and her fear was suddenly at war with a very different feeling — one which she abruptly shut down before it could fester into something very, very bad.

The next words he spoke came out quickly and quietly, but without so much as a single flub.

“Right. What I’m about to do might seem incredibly rude, if not more than a bit offensive — but I assure you, I’m only doing it because it’s absolutely vital in order to ensure your safety — so, if you… you know, if you wouldn’t mind standing still—”

Before she had a chance to puzzle through whatever it was that he was on about, claws clacked and scratched against the stone walkway nearby, pushing him into action. Without further delay, he used his whole body to press her into the hedge, tucking his face into her neck as he proceeded to grind himself against her.

Rose’s hands shot up to take hold of his shoulders as her legs nearly gave out. She gasped lightly but swallowed the urge to make any more sound, lest she gives herself away. He rubbed his body against hers over and over, doing so in a way that was undoubtedly not meant to be sexual, but her body didn’t know that — only that she and the Doctor were smashed together in the dark, and between the tight proximity and his breaths on her neck, it was almost enough to break her teeth from how tightly she clenched her jaw.

She hadn’t even realized the enemy was closing in on them until, through her half-lidded eyes, she caught a glimpse directly behind him, meeting a pair of huge, red, pupil-less eyes set in the face of the massive head of a Crendal standing no more than ten feet off.

“D-Doctor,” she whimpered, and oh god, that sounded ridiculous, didn’t it? It sounded like she was certainly enduring something, but what that ‘something’ was, err...

It definitely wasn’t fear.

“Rose,” he moaned into her neck — again, moaned into her neck — using his hips as the primary point of pressure the next time he rubbed against her, and ahhh, she did shudder then, because how could she not? It hadn’t seemed sexual before, but now it clearly was, and oh, okay, yeah, coherent thought was no longer something she would consider a ‘distinguishing feature’ of her psyche.

“Th-the… it’s right there,” she indicated as her head fell forward, landing on his shoulder. It was truly embarrassing, considering he wasn’t even applying any pressure where she really wanted it — also clearly wasn’t hard. Because what he was doing wasn’t sexual. Not one bit.

“Right there?” His voice was exaggeratedly husky as he pushed her into the hedge with his hips, making her gasp again.

Rose’s eyes squeezed shut as her arms wrapped around his neck. God. She was hopeless to hide her state if she responded even minutely, so she bit down on her lip and just waited for it to be over, waiting for either him to stop or to just be eaten by the creature and be done with it already.

The mere fact that randiness was dominating over fear in a situation involving a Lovecraftian beast was something she didn’t feel like examining, not that she could — it was difficult enough to think clearly.

Quite abruptly, the Doctor pulled away from her, avoiding her eyes as he cleared his throat.

“Right, then. Think we’ve thrown it off for now.” He turned away from her and peeked around each corner, then gestured outward from the alcove with a tilt of his head. “Let’s go.”

Rose righted her posture, straightening her skirt and clearing her throat as it registered that her face was burning hot… and she was alarmingly aroused. She didn’t even know what to say as he led her out into the open area and carefully replaced the skeleton, but thankfully, he spoke first.

“Sorry ‘bout that, I’d, erm, intended to just get enough of my scent off on you, but when the Crendal lingered, I sort of… Wellll. I panicked, and, well, I realized I needed to resort to more… radical measures.” His hand darted up to ruffle the hair on the back of his head. “It was either that or pretend to be eating you. Anything to ensure they knew you were, erm, spoken for, so to speak. In one way or another.” He still hadn’t met her eyes, ducking beneath one of the webs and holding it up so she could pass through easier.

“Course.” She sounded breathless.

“Good thing is, you should absolutely smell enough like me to keep those hounds off of our trail for a little while... Suppose pine wasn’t cutting it as much as I’d hoped it would.”

“R-right.” Rose brought a fist to her mouth and coughed, ducking beneath the web he’d cleared for her. They were nearing the end of that stretch of maze, but the bulk of her energy had since shifted to trying to steady her heart and her breathing. The Doctor had to have picked up on the state she was in, and now he was acting uncomfortable because of it. There was no other explanation for his skittishness.

Mortifying.

How did apple picking turn into this?

Thankfully, the next several minutes passed smoothly as they continued their strategy of following the wall in one direction. Amongst the quiet music (now reminiscent of a run-down carnival) and ghostly sounds playing from hidden speakers, they encountered a couple of ‘ghost’ holograms that were actually quite impressive, as well as their first (what would turn out to be the only) proper hired actor of the night: a man with a chainsaw that clearly didn’t have a chain running through it.

It was still quite jarring after having not seen anything but crendals on their trek, and with hands clasped, they ran for their lives, not stopping until they finally popped out of the other end of the maze just a moment later.

Before them was a pumpkin patch to their left side, which lay against another series of apple trees. On their right was a big, rusted barn that blocked most of their view of the rest of the field.

“Ahh, brilliant, if that’s the barn I think it is, we’re right at the end. Spotted a brochure at the Cider Barn. Only unfortunate bit is that we’ll be missing the little shop, since it’ll likely be closed this late at night… Really ought to have planned this better… But! No matter. Let’s just go around.” He squeezed her hand and tossed her a grin, finally meeting her eyes for the first time since the alcove, and her heart stumbled. She swallowed roughly and smiled.

“Yeah, that sounds good, I think. Lead the way.”

Together, they tiptoed along the back of the barn, keeping their eyes and ears peeled for threats until they reached the corner of the building and walked around it. Still threat-free, they snuck quietly along to head to the front of the building, hands clutched between them, and Rose was so ready to just finally get out of there — to just get back to the TARDIS and put the whole experience behind them.

… And deal with her body’s pleas to cope with what’d happened in the maze.

As they rounded the next corner to step in front of the barn, they saw the aforementioned little shop, which took up half of the barn, walled off to one side. On the other side was a large, open space; in the center of which they were able to make out the shape of one of Halloween’s classic cliches in the moonlight: a hearse.

A rather large hearse, at that. The elongated back had a higher ceiling than Rose would have expected, and curiously, the rear door was hanging wide open.

“Look at that, Rose! Just like back home, eh?” The Doctor’s voice was an enthusiastic whisper. “Oh, it’s a beauty, too. You know, I always wanted to drive one of these. Not the most efficient mode of transportation, nor is it exactly eco-friendly, but truly unique in both appearance and purpose.”

As he wittered on, Rose was busy scanning the landscape of trees and pumpkins they still had to traverse when she spotted a very welcome sight in the distance: the main cluster of barns, booths, and pavilions they’d first arrived at outside of the orchard. More important than anything about their 'haunted experience' was how it seemed like they'd gone much further away from where they started. They really had just looped around it, and quite brilliantly. She hadn’t even realized they’d gone in a circle.

Then she heard a snarl, then another, and at the same time, hers and the Doctor’s heads both whipped to their right, where they saw an entire pack of crendals not far off. At least seven or eight, by the look of their shadows.

“Well. That’s not good,” the Doctor murmured. “That’s very not good indeed.”

Rose looked up at him with wide eyes. “Could we get into the shop, do you think?”

He turned to her and reached into one of his suit jacket pockets, almost immediately withdrawing his hand. “Bollocks. I stashed my sonic in my coat earlier... Remind me to never go anywhere without that blasted coat again, even if we’re in the bloody desert.” He frowned, then turned fully towards her, meeting her eyes head-on. “Don’t worry, though, they can’t see from that far off — but we need to hide. Come on.”

Taking her hand again, he ushered her towards the back of the hearse and gestured into it. “Get inside, quick, quick.”

Rose did as he said, climbing into the vehicle. There was a massive coffin in the center, which sent a chill down her spine despite knowing there definitely wasn’t a body — it was a prop, after all. She slid alongside the box and sat pulling her knees to her chest, watching the Doctor trying and failing to pull the door shut.

“Oh, brilliant,” he scoffed quietly. “The latch is jammed… Oh, there isn’t even a latch. What sort of hearse is this?” A nearby growl made him stiffen, and he tossed a glance at Rose. “Get down. Far as you can. Now.”

Right when she began to lower herself as directed, she had an epiphany that, in retrospect, seemed fairly obvious.

“Doctor, wait, why don’t we just…” She got up on her knees and tested the heavy lid of the coffin, then pulled it open, not knowing what else they could possibly do that would be a better idea. She reached inside and felt the surprisingly plush interior, then she was climbing in, sitting up as she held up the lid. “Plenty of room in here, yeah?”

And there was. There was more than enough room for them to lie side by side, it would just be a bit tight. The walls were deep enough that they could close it and still have plenty of space above them, hopefully not feeling entirely like they were being buried alive. They could spend the rest of the bloody night in there if they wanted.

She saw his silhouette look back and forth from the coffin to the outside a few times. He must have been weighing the risk factor, but the sinister sounds of snarling and panting were drawing even closer — likely no more than twenty feet off — and his mind was made up. He pushed himself up and climbed into the box, still sitting up halfway on his side when a loud, barking growl jarred them from right outside the barn.

In a moment of (quite literally) blind panic, Rose grabbed his arm and yanked him down hard, accidentally knocking him half on top of her. Just for good measure, the sharp jostling of weight sent the lid of the coffin crashing onto his head, knocking him the rest of the way down onto her and practically crushing the wind from her lungs.

“Ouch,” he whispered in the pitch-blackness, seemingly unbothered by his position, chest to chest with one of his thighs sandwiched between hers. She was very happy he wouldn’t be able to tell just how deeply she was blushing. “Are you alright?”

Rose’s heart was pounding painfully from both fear and position. She couldn’t see his face — or anything, for that matter — but she imagined his deep brown eyes fixed on her with a look of concern that creased his brow beautifully. “I-I’m fine. Are you? Is your head—”

“Shh,” he covered her mouth with his palm in a fraction of a second, and before she could protest, she heard the crunching of paws on dried grass nearby, followed by a series of sniffs and deep, rumbling snarls.

The Doctor lowered himself further onto her; slowly, carefully; even taking consideration to adjust himself so there was more of his body touching hers. Covering her scent in his again, she imagined. That didn’t matter, of course; because the Doctor was on top of her with his hand on her mouth in the dark, and his thigh was so painfully close to her groin, the area of which was covered by nothing more than knickers beneath her skirt.

“Shhh,” he repeated almost shakily, pressing meaningfully against her, his chest and belly encroaching on hers and his thigh irrefutably pressed between her legs.

She shuddered.

He noticed.

At least she assumed he noticed, because she felt him grow slightly rigid as soon as it happened — but it was too late. It would have taken the restraint of a nun to keep her body from reacting to what was happening, and she was nothing of the sort, so she was absolutely fucked.

They needed to get out of that coffin.

Soon.

Her breaths through her nostrils were heavy and irregular. Just like back in the alcove amongst plastic hedges and skeletons, she wasn’t even thinking about the threat anymore, because in that small space, every sense was heightened — all of them concentrated on the Time Lord above her.

Outside, they could hear at least one of the beasts coming to investigate the hearse. Rose could hear it sniffing around on the floor of the back of the vehicle as its mates growled and cackled in the distance, and seconds later, the sounds of its sniffing traced the thin line where the lid of the coffin met the base.

Without warning, the Doctor nearly mashed his palm over her mouth as he pressed his thigh down hard between her legs.

Oh. God. Rose’s nails pressed into his shoulder over his layers as she bit the inside of her cheek, squeezing her eyes shut, channeling every shred of self-control she had to keep from moaning or shaking or grinding on him like some incorrigible little trollop.

The Doctor remained perfectly still above her as lust and frustration rushed about like madness in her skull. She wondered what he was thinking, because of course he knew, didn’t he? Why else would he be hell-bent on providing such intense barrier between her crotch and the open air while creatures were attempting to sniff out a human nearby?

When it finally grew quiet outside again, he exhaled in a heave of a sigh, pulling his hand from her mouth. She heard soft ruffling in the bedding as he planted it beside her head.

“Rose,” he murmured, his voice almost strained. And still not moving off of her, she noticed. “Are you…”

Her stomach dropped.

Please don’t send me home, please don’t send me home, please don’t send me home…

“Well… yeah.” She turned her head to the side, nose practically touching the wall of the coffin as she felt shame and embarrassment washing over her. “Sorry. Can’t exactly help it.”

The Doctor didn’t speak for a moment, completely still above her again, then she heard the distinct sound of him wetting his lips.

“Was gonna ask if you’re alright.”

He finally let off some of the pressure between her legs, and as though he’d instead been pressing his leg over her windpipe, Rose gasped in a quiet breath, doing her best to avoid sucking down air as though she’d been tied up at the bottom of the pool. It was much easier to think clearly without feeling him touching her there, however indirectly.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he added. “I had to… it’s just…Thing is, they can smell far better than they can see, Rose, and… and…”

“Doctor…” Rose sighed. “I get it. S’fine.”

“You see, in times of intense adrenaline brought on by stress, the body is highly susceptible to strong reactions to things such as—”

“Doctor. You haven’t got to say anything else, just…” She deliberately clunked her forehead against the wall of the coffin. She just wanted him to shut up, please for the love of god just spare me the embarrassment.

“Oh. I, well…” she heard him swallow, “I just wanted to tell you that it’s normal, alright? For stress to make the body do things it normally wouldn't, erm…”

Rose was at her wits end. “Right, of course, s’the bloody hounds that made me feel like this,” she bit out, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I… wait.” The Doctor was silent for a moment, and she swore she could almost hear his brow wrinkling above her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Still struggling to breathe properly, Rose curled her toes in her trainers in a nonsensical beat from one foot to the next. “Don’t pretend you don’t know.” Because he had to have been pretending. Of course he was. Surely she wasn't just dumping a bucket of new information over his head.

The Doctor’s voice was deep and serious the next time he spoke.

“Indulge me.”

... Or maybe it was new information.

Maybe she could have just kept her mouth shut. Saved them both the trouble. Her fear of rejection was searing hot inside of her, loud and growing and clamoring about.

Well… It was too late to walk it back now.

“I just mean… y’know. Maybe…” Her voice trailed off, then she collected herself. “Maybe I’m not reacting like this ‘cause I’m scared.” She licked her lips. “Maybe I’d, you know, still react the same way even if there weren’t any… dogs.”

There were several seconds where the Doctor said nothing; not moving an inch as he allowed the air to fill with the sounds of their breaths, hers still far more uneven than his.

She'd already said too much. She knew that, and she was scared — but for that quiet, in-between period, she found stasis beneath him; in the surprising warmth and smell of him, all crisp autumn leaves and warm, sticky caramel from the apple slices they’d been dipping before they’d embarked.

After the longest handful of seconds she could ever remember experiencing, there was a slight shift, and she knew he was closer now. She could feel the presence of his face right above hers, could hear the sound of her breaths bouncing off of his face at a much closer proximity.

“Rose…”

His voice was low and labored, and though Rose always thought there couldn’t be a chance he would handle it well if he were ever made privy to her feelings, his body language would suggest that he had no intention of moving away.

Not a single centimeter.

“You’ve been in this state before around me,” he realized. “Not just tonight.”

She should have known he could tell. Of course he would be able to. Her heart clenched with nerves. She was searching his voice for any evidence of disgust, any indication that he was uncomfortable with this revelation, but she consistently turned up short.

“Yes,” she admitted, biting down on her lip and chewing anxiously.

“Was…” He cleared his throat. “Are you saying that was because of—”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He swallowed. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.”

A few more seconds of silence.

“Really?”

She rolled her eyes. “Doctor, don’t be stupi—“

He dropped down and kissed her suddenly, swallowing the end of her sentence with the insistent press of his lips that was so unexpected, it took her a second to register that it was actually happening. It was imperfect, messy; an impulsive clash that only hit the mark by half — the other half landing somewhere in the vicinity of her chin.

Rose didn’t care if it’d landed on her bloody eyebrow. The Doctor was kissing her. He’d just found out that he turns her on with semi-regularity and now he was kissing her, breaking away and coming back to take her lips properly in a demanding snog that swiftly had her heart fluttering with the beat of a hummingbird’s wings.

Before she could wrap her arms properly around him, he used his thigh to push very deliberately between her legs, the action so unexpected that a moan flew unbidden from the back of her throat.

Breaking away again, the Doctor breathed in through his teeth, pressing a little more firmly against her. “That okay?”

Rose nodded shakily, frantically; but just as soon realized he probably couldn’t tell, so she did the only thing she could think of and rolled her hips down to grind against him.

The groan he responded with was incredible; possibly the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. Shock and pleasure zipped brilliantly through her, adrenaline running high, then she felt him moving and shifting above her.

He rolled onto his left side just slightly as his hand moved and reappeared at her hip, skimming down the outside of her thigh, then slipping beneath her knee. Rose could only surrender to his actions as he pulled her leg further open, readjusting his lower half at the same time.

As his weight settled comfortably back over her, her frazzled brain shorted out as she fully recognized their new position, with the Doctor’s hips between her thighs.

Her breath hitched.

“Rose,” he whispered, so close to her face. He lowered his forehead to hers and pressed tenderly, shaking as she felt him stiffening beneath his pinstriped trousers. He grew hard much quicker than she could have anticipated — probably a Time Lord thing — but in that impeccable moment, she could feel him there, feel the gorgeous weight of him resting between her legs. He was letting her feel it, feel him, and her responding goosebumps covered her body from head to toe.

“Doctor.” Her arms were like jelly as they attempted to clench around his neck. He kissed her softly as he drew back, then rolled forward and ground his erection against her. He moaned and Rose gasped out a small, squeak-like sound, her head dropping hopelessly against the soft pillow beneath her as a tremor ran through her in the darkness. “Oh, god…”

The Doctor hummed deeply and kissed her again, then he was tugging at the denim skirt of her overall dress, pulling roughly until he’d gotten them up far enough to push her legs further apart. When he pressed himself against her that time, she made a needy, begging sort of noise against his mouth, feeling the length of him pressed snugly against her. It left very little to the imagination other than wondering exactly what it might feel like to have him inside of her.

She hooked her leg around his hips to slowly rut against him and he groaned achingly; trapping her lower lip between his teeth, skimming fingertips around her thigh to grab a handful of her bum as he pinned himself to her with a firm push of his hips.

It took a few tries to work the angle out, but when they did… Oh, when they did.

Amidst a soft chorus of moans, three hearts beat heavily between them as he began a slow, dragging rhythm, pulling her close each time he ground his hard cock against her. Rose let out a shaky mewl as the fabric of his trousers slid along her thighs, rasping over her knickers; precise, focused thrusts working his length against the split of her folds to rub gentle friction along her clit.

His kisses were teeming with emotion as he pulled one moan after another from within her, moving his body in wonderful sync with hers. She clung to him just as he clung to her, not caring for one second that this was all very sudden — she wanted him, she was smitten, and if the way this was finally going to happen just happened to be fully clothed in a pitch-black prop coffin, she would take it.

When the tiniest little sound cut off in the back of her throat, the Doctor broke away with a shuddering breath, murmuring her name against her lips. It was intoxicating, and oh, she wanted more than anything to look at him, to see her beloved, beautiful Time Lord spun out in pleasure. However, just to be able to hear him, to feel him; it was so intimate, so perfect, that she didn’t care if she never saw anything else ever again. She could stay suspended with her Doctor in the heart of darkness forever, until she breathed her last breath, so long as she could do so in the cradle of his arms.

So softly, he pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue sneaking out to gently tease her lips apart as warmth bloomed through her chest like cotton wool. She parted for him and he slid inside; his caramel-sweet tongue moving like velvet over hers.

He was a devastatingly brilliant kisser, she was pleased to find; lost to the way he continued shrouding her in affection, rocking into her with insistent hips.

Scraping her nails through his hair, Rose lowered her calf from his hips to wrap around the back of his thigh, tugging him closer each time he rocked into her, whimpering hopelessly into his mouth. He broke away and panted hotly over her lips between a few wet kisses, still hard at work unraveling her.

“Oh, Rose.” He met her hips with a swiveling twist that made them both shiver and gasp, and again, why did it have to be so dark, she was aching to see him. “This feels so good. You’re so warm and soft…”

Her breath caught on a moan and she nodded, eyes nearly closed. She started to say something, but then he swiveled into her again and her voice fell into a whimper, completely lost to what he was doing to her.

“Yes,” he hissed, lowering his face to her neck and sucking softly at her skin before kissing his way up to her ear, where he began to whisper as he moved. “You make such sweet, lovely sounds. You must look so beautiful, Rose… I wish I could see you right now. Wish I could watch you.”

“Aaahhh…”

“Oh, yes… Yes, just like that...”

“Please,” she sounded quiet and frantic, split on a razor’s edge as her hands moved across him like she didn't know where she wanted to touch most, when really, she just wanted to touch him, all of him, all at once. Her hands found his perfect bum, then moved again to his lower back, pressing her tension into his oxford with her nails. “Oh, please, Doctor…”

He purred against the shell of her ear, flicking his tongue across her earlobe. He then drew back and kissed her again, three loving presses of his lips, his mouth slanted over hers as he whispered, “Anything.” Another kiss. “Anything you want. I’m yours.”

“Please,” she repeated, shaking all over. She couldn’t believe how badly she needed him, how much she loved him. She couldn’t believe he was doing this with her. Her heart felt like it might burst. “Pleasetouchme.”

He hummed again, a hungry, impassioned sound that expressed approval as he eagerly raised his hips and slid a hand down between them to cup her sex.

“Ooh,” her hands clenched at the fabric of his shirt and tugged. “Yes…”

The Time Lord let out a tattered sigh as he rubbed a few circles over her knickers. He only toyed with her for a moment before slipping beneath the edge of the thin fabric, flicking it aside so he could press intently, two fingers dipping between her soft folds. He breathed out a curse.

“Rose,” he growled, then briefly pressed inside, pumping gently as she mewled and writhed beneath him. “Oh, sweetheart. Just feel how wet you are…”

His slick fingers retreated to coast upward through the split of her, then he was playing with her clit, stroking back and forth before painting tiny circles that had her whole body racked with shivers. Endless, quivering sounds poured from her lips as he touched her reverently, skilled and determined.

She was so close already. She’d already been dancing along the edge from their grinding, but now she was properly there, rotating her hips along with his touches, picturing what he must look like above her as he stroked her. She mewled his name again on a shuddering breath and he kissed her, sucking at her lip as his fingers teased the pulsing bud again and again. He broke the kiss to lay his forehead back over hers.

“So beautiful,” he purred, nuzzling her nose. “Go on, sweetheart… I want to feel you come for me… That’s it…”

Seconds later, her mouth fell open as she slipped straight over the edge, gasping, nearly breaking her hands with how tightly she gripped his shirt to keep from crying out in the darkness. The Doctor’s fingers continued slipping back and forth over her clit; soft, wet caresses that propelled her through her pleasure, slowing down near the end as he brought her down gently.

As she returned to herself, he was pressing kisses all over her face, ending at her lips, where he welcomed her tongue back into his mouth in a lazy snog that he moaned into almost instantly.

“That was wonderful,” he murmured when they broke apart, making her melt with the way she could literally hear his smile in his voice. “I wish I could have seen it, but oh, the sound of it…”

Rose came so close to saying it: ‘You can see it any time you like’, ‘We can do it again as soon as we get back to the TARDIS’, but she was afraid to, so she just kissed him again, sliding a hand into his hair to hold his mouth against hers.

When he pulled back, he dropped a kiss to her forehead, then pressed another to the tip of her nose. “Was that alright?” he asked once she’d been quiet for a moment. “Is everything…?”

She exhaled in a soft huff. “God, yes, but…”

“... But?”

She steeled herself as her tongue darted out across her lips, tasting him there. “Do we have to stop?”

A few seconds passed before he spoke.

“Rose,” his voice was somewhat guarded, trepidatious. “What do you…?”

“I mean,” she pressed into him, where he was somehow even harder now, which was a bit too much stimulation over her for a moment. “You’re still…”

“Oh… Oh, don’t worry about that,” he chuckled lightly. “I’ll be alright.”

Ergh. He was always taking the lead in just about everything they got up to. Why did that have to end at sex?!

She took another long, deep breath. “But… do you want to stop?”

“As opposed to…?”

Damn it.

Right, okay then. He had to be deliberately skirting the obvious, she realized. Playing dumb because he was the one worried about overstepping her boundaries.

She rocked up into him and he groaned, breathing hot and heavy, pressing into her at the same time. The sound spurred her on, and she did it again.

“I want to do this,” she purred, pushing against him one more time. With a burst of bravery that she latched onto with everything she had, she reached down between them, pressing her fingers over the button of his trousers. “Without these.”

The Doctor gasped at the unexpected touch. “F-fuck… Rose, are you sure?” A pause. “Here?”

No hesitation this time.

“Yes.”

Thank god, he didn’t need any more convincing after that.

It was a little frantic in the tight space as they both attempted to divest him of his barriers, like they were both equally worried the other might change their mind about this reckless thing they were getting up to in the dark. Still, the Doctor slipped the button free himself, which was followed by both sets of hands working in frenzied tandem to get both his trousers and pants down his legs as best they could — which was just about to his knees.

Rose reached between his legs and wrapped her hand around the warm, smooth skin of his shaft, then he swore again, moaning and dropping his mouth to hers. He lowered his hips as she continued to stroke him, reaching with her other hand to pull her knickers further to the side, not even caring about taking them off. She needed him desperately, no more interruptions.

She gently pressed him through her slit, teasing herself with the silken head of his cock. Bloody hell, he was so smooth against her; so much hotter than the rest of him, pressing tantalizing heat against her sex as she guided him up and down again and again. She couldn’t wait to feel him inside of her, and he must have felt the same, because the sounds he made now were every bit as eager and needy as hers. It only served to make Rose wetter for him, igniting a primal need that brought her just short of begging him to fuck her.

They moved together a few times, slickening him up. He was breathless, trembling above her, then she positioned him at her entrance, keeping him there to guide him as he pushed forward and into her.

“Fuck,” they gasped in unison, then his lips were back on hers. He kissed her as he buried himself deep, fitting her perfectly, then he broke away so they could both moan.

“Ooh...” He drew back and slid into her slowly. “Oh, Rose.”

She didn’t know how to form words, overcome with emotion and all-encompassing completeness beneath him, so she pulled him down mould her lips against his. He felt so good inside of her.

The Doctor started to make love to her right there on the bedding of their coffin, and did so exquisitely. The threat outside was long forgotten, replaced by their soft, tremulous sounds of pleasure, joined together in the dark.

“Oh, god,” Rose’s hands returned to his lower back, sliding down to his bum and pulling him closer with each delicious slide through her heat. “Don’t stop.”

He whispered her name as he slid a hand back beneath her to angle her pelvis, then his hips, making her cry out softly as he entered her with one exploratory thrust that was both hard and fast. The adjustment created the perfect pathway, which he followed eagerly, each thrust driving his cock straight into her g-spot as he entered her.

Over and over, he drove his hips into her, burying himself deep; panting and moaning above her as Rose spiraled into a procession of whimpers and curses and ragged, wavering moans. Tiny specks of blue burst through her vision in the dark as the Doctor fucked her hard and slow, nurturing that delicious heat as it pooled inside of her all over again.

It was difficult to believe what was happening to her, that the Time Lord would share himself with her like this, but the thought was fleeting as he brought his mouth to hers. “I’m yours,” he murmured through her parted lips, dipping his tongue inside to glance against hers before withdrawing slowly from her mouth. “So long, I’ve wanted this. Wanted you… Needed you… Oh, fuck, please tell me you’re close…”

“So close,” she insisted breathlessly. “Doctor…”

He brought a hand to her face and caressed her cheek with his fingertips, drifting across her eyebrows, her eyelids, then her mouth, and she realized with a skip of her heartbeat that he was trying to ‘see’ her, trying to paint a picture of what he looked like while he moved inside of her.

“Beautiful,” he rasped, kissing her before tracing her lips again. “Mine. Oh, Rose. Need… Please…”

His desperation meshed with the incredible feeling of him throbbing deep inside of her, and Rose came hard; her climax hitting her with a suddenness that made her entire body surge upwards against his. He gasped out her name as his body stiffened, then with a heavy, shuddering moan, he was coming apart above her, riding her through her orgasm as he joined her in release.

Their bodies shook as they slowed to a stop, kissing each other over and over, not an inch between them. They continued to exchange languishing kisses as they caught their breath, slowing until he finally broke away, resting his forehead against hers.

“Wow,” he gasped. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.” Rose laughed. “Wow.”

“Rose, that was unbelievable.” Another soft kiss. “You’re incredible.”

Her heart, still raw with emotion, did a flip in her chest. “Doctor…”

“Mm?”

“Are we alright?... You and me?”

Again, she could practically hear his face contort above her. “What do you mean?”

“After that, I just mean…”

He cut her off with a brief kiss, then he sighed. “Rose, I don’t know what that was for you, but as soon as I get you back to the TARDIS, we’re going straight to the Vortex so we can do that again. All day, preferably, with the lights on, so I can see every brilliant face you make.”

She blinked, not knowing why she was so shocked — only that she most definitely was. “Really?... You’re not, I don’t know, planning on running for the hills?”

He laughed properly at that, sliding back and out of her before carefully repositioning himself at her side. “What I said a moment ago wasn’t just… dirty talk.” He sought out her forehead in the dark, then traced his fingertips along her hairline and brushed a few loose strands away from her face. “I have actually wanted this, you know.”

Rose was incredulous, wishing she could look at him properly; wishing they had so much as a single Christmas light to be able to see each other in the darkness. It was killing her, not being able to make eye contact with him for any part of this. “But why didn’t you say anything?”

“Come off it with that. What could I have said? I’m not supposed to get up to these sorts of things. I don’t get up to them, thanks. Well… that is to say, I have, but I certainly haven’t in… Oh, longer than I can even remember. Certainly not in this body, nor the previous.”

The relief that flooded through her was almost embarrassing. Perhaps once or twice, a couple of incidents had led her to believe that he’d perhaps that wasn’t the case, but she trusted him completely, knowing he wouldn’t lie to her about something like that.

“We can talk about this in the morning, though. Hm?” He cupped her cheek and leaned forward, missing her lips again now that he was in a new position, having not memorized their location from her side. They both laughed lightly before he kissed her again, his lips resting perfectly over hers before he drew back. “Should probably get some rest. At this point, I’m certain I smell just as much like you as you do like me, so I’d rather not risk crossing that field tonight.”

“We’re just going to sleep here?” Rose grinned, certainly not hating the idea. “Grab a kip in a coffin?”

“Well. We’ve just grabbed a shag in a coffin, haven’t we? Where exactly is your line, Rose Tyler?”

They laughed together again, ending as he pulled her close and tucked her head beneath his chin. She snuggled up to him, happier than she ever thought possible.

After a little light pillow talk, they finally drifted off, arms glued around each other in the night.

Early in the morning, the Doctor jolted awake to the sound of a loud creaking sound, followed by the hearse shaking beneath the coffin.

It was light enough outside that the light shining through the cracks in the coffin dimly illuminated the space, and he looked down at Rose, who was looking back at him with wide eyes.

She had never looked more beautiful, and blimey; he wanted to tell her as much, wanted to show her, wanted to pin her down and fuck her all over again, but it seemed they had more pressing matters to attend to.

“What was that?” She asked quietly.

Outside the box, there was another voice.

“What? Is there someone in there? Hey, who’s in my hearse?!”

The Doctor held up a finger, then he turned his head as he pushed up slowly on the lid, peeking out. At what he saw, he cleared his throat. “Ah.”

Directly outside of the hearse, they’d managed to miss the elaborate photography setup about fifteen feet away. The roof of the hearse was also on hinges with a mechanism to prop it open, and clearly, they’d taken refuge inside the coffin that was intended for people to pose inside for a photo op.

“Who are you!?” a large, green-tinted Roonish man yelled from beside the vehicle, arms crossed. “What are you doing in there!”

The Doctor lowered the lid and looked down at Rose, who had her lip caught between her teeth. Her face was tinged pink as she smiled sheepishly.

“Erm, well. Rose, it would appear we’ve taken shelter in a Halloween photography setup.”

“What?!”

“There’s cameras and haystacks and lighting rigs outside, evidently.”

“Oh.” Her hand flew up to her forehead, and she looked like she was trying very, very hard not to laugh. He smiled.

“I’m calling the authorities!"

“No, no, no, no —” the Doctor pushed up the lid again, this time joined by Rose, who popped up at his side. “There’s really no need for that —”

The man’s jaw dropped when he saw that he wasn’t alone. “Wait… Wait! What were you doing in there? Get. Out. Of. My. Coffin!”

Rose waved a hand flippantly. “Sir, please at least let us get decent, for god’s sake.”

The pair disappeared back into the coffin, ignoring the angered babbling of the employee as he prattled on. They held back their laughter as best as they could; exchanging a few kisses as they got their clothing situation in order, pulling things up and buttoning them, and tucking things back into place.

It took a moment, but when they finally got out of the coffin and stepped dizzily out of the back of the hearse, there were already security guards waiting for them.

With just a touch of guilt, the Time Lord reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, which was still being worn by Rose, and retrieved his psychic paper, demonstrating that they had every right to be there, as they were testing the safety and durability of the coffin. It didn’t please the owner of the photo stand at all, but they were still allowed to leave, which they did hand-in-hand, running at full tilt for the TARDIS. He already had too much in store for their day, and jail didn’t factor into any of his plans.

The following evening, a brand new and far superior coffin appeared in the hearse with an apology letter neatly tucked inside.

The previous model was hauled away, stored deep in the TARDIS, awaiting what was destined to become a new and brilliant Halloween tradition… One they would be sure to enjoy in a far more private location next time.

#doctor who #tenth doctor #rose tyler #tenrose #fanfiction #dw fic #I know I should be posting new content but I’m overwhelmed #all of the new/updated things coming very very soon #tenrose smut #halloween #ten x rose

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charlesandmartine · 21 days ago

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Saturday 9th November 2024

First impressions of Tennant Creek are that it is Katherine on steroids. As we drove in, we noticed a large IGA supermarket, which, like the Woolworths in Katherine, was attracting a large group of locals. The remainder appeared to be out and about milling around the main roads. The town has a population of 3,000, of which half are Aborigine Australians. The indigenous name for Tennant Creek is Jurnkkurakurr, and the Warumungu people have lived in the region surrounding Tennant Creek for thousands of years. Anecdotally, in 1930 a wagon carrying beer broke down, and when folk around heard about it, rather than taking the beer to the people, they set up a town where the wagon was. Great story, but I suspect that's all it is. The name Tennant Creek was given by our old chum, John McDouall Stuart, who named it after one of the financial backers of his expedition, which must have been one of the first confusing things the good Warumungu people must have come up against. Mind you, it is a lot easier to say than Jurnkkurakurr! It might appear that there could be one or two social problems in the area, and tourists, it is fair to say, are told to be careful. The caravan site's electric gates close at 6pm and reopen at 8.30am. We obviously have a code to get out, but I think people probably hunker down during this time. For added security an electric fence surrounds the site. All this seems extreme, but nobody wants to take chances. A policeman we were talking to reassured us crime was not too bad in Tennant Creek.

It was a quiet start, with a visit to the Tourist Information Office to find out what's around. Tennant Creek has been and is a mining town for gold, copper, and silver. Gold was first found in 1925 when an Overland Telegragh engineer was working in the area. Gold mining ceased in 1985, but recently has restarted with gold prices higher, and production costs lower, it makes mining here viable again. We decided a visit to the mining museum would be desirable tomorrow.

A place people were trying to get us to stay instead of Tennant Creek was The Devils Marbles. This appears to be an interesting sacred place of massive granite boulders; the site being called Karlu Karlu, translated as 'Round Boulders'. These can be found nearly 100kms south of here, straight down the Stuart, and though we were torn about going, we felt a detour of 200ks was unjustified for a day trip. However, not all is lost because the sister site is just up the road, but the little version. The Pebbles’, another site of equally awe-inspiring geologic phenomenon which the Warumungu hold sacred as the place of the Munga Munga dreaming. The Munga Munga dreaming travels through to the Devils Marbles (Karlu Karlu). The Munga Munga went to pick up their loved ones from Karlu Karlu. They picked fruit off the fig trees and headed back, singing all the way. They stopped at three white gums along the way before returning to Kunjarra. So the story goes. Well, it's all very mystical, but they do treat this very seriously. Kunjarra is a womens dreaming site that is important to the Aboriginal women of this country. It is a place where they go for ceremony, dance, meeting place, sacred place, since the beginning and of dreamtime. The site is so important to Warumungu that when one of the Pebbles from the site was moved to Peko Park in Tennant Creek as a tourist promotion, the outcries lasted more than a year until the Pebble was returned back to Kunjarra a year later. The stones are stunning, and in the silence, there was a sense of 'place', the feeling you may get in a cathedral when you sense the age and purpose of the stones that hold this building together and the use it has had over the centuries. Then, almost on queue to increase this feeling of awe, the wind suddenly started to swirl around us, the lightening flashed, the thunder crashed, and a few spots of rain were felt. Our route to The Pebbles was 3kms off the Stuart along an unsealed road. These roads are not approved by Mr Europcar but are usually good in dry conditions. They can be an uncomfortable drive because, for some reason, parallel grooves are cut across the track, causing vibrations throughout the vehicle that Ford had not intended in its design for a smooth ride. Now, with the potential for a heavy downpour, we began to feel a long way from base and hoping we would not experience flooding on the unsealed road. We were also completely alone in the middle of nowhere. Thankfully, the heavy rain held off despite the increase in thunderstorm activity, and before long, we were back on the Stuart and heading down to Tennant Creek and our Chinese meal from Woks Up. Into BottleO for beer and SB. Here in Tennant Creek, we are only permitted 2 bottles of wine each! Or 2 bottles and some beer between us. That's all the policeman would allow us. Then the heavens opened, and we have not seen rain like it before. Cats, dogs, and kangaroos. As I write this 3 hours later, the storm continues, and we have just lost all power, and very large puddles are forming in the caravan park. All is black in our little cabin, meaning the air-conditioning is also off, too.

Fantastic Chinese meal, though, from a place renowned throughout the Northern Territories. Just consumed in time.

Hopefully, all shall be back to normal in the morning. Well. It is the wet season now!

ps. Power is restored and the air-conditioning is working again.

pps. The idea had been to watch the sunset over the stones. Clearly not appropriate tonight!

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darkhighness · 1 year ago

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Good Omentober Day 17 - Apples

Prompt by @disaster-dog

The angel and the demon journey to discover what's so tempting about apples anyway.

“Why do you think God chose an apple tree for Eden?” Aziraphale asked as he worked on filling out his diary for the day.

Crowley was laid out on the lounge, eyes shut and probably trying to sleep but the angel had questions and Crowley would be damned if he wasn’t going to be the one to answer them.

“I like to imagine she had a list of all her fruits and picked the first one,” Crowley murmured, shifting over to look at the angel.

“But surely there’s another fruit that comes before apple?” He cautioned.

“I mean, maybe now. Humans have made all kinds of fruits.”

Aziraphale hummed and signed off his diary entry before snapping the book closed and standing up proudly, “I think we should investigate. There’s plenty of lovely desserts the humans make with apples. Surely a taste test would find the answers we’re looking for.”

“You’re looking for, angel,” Crowley corrected before dragging himself up from his position with a sigh, “What are you thinking? Apple pie? Crumble? Candy Apples?”

“You’re the original tempter, aren’t you? Surely you would have the best idea~” He replied in a callously sing-song voice.

“Well, I’m going to start with a strong cider. From there it's a mystery.”

The demon grabbed his sunglasses from Aziraphale’s desk and headed out to the Bentley. There were a few places he could take Aziraphale but he wanted to go somewhere special. They hadn’t been on a date as such for a while and this was possibly the best opportunity.

“What if, my angel, we go to an orchard, get the freshest apples we can and then we can come back here and cook all the apple treats your heart can desire? We can even give some of the extras to Maggie and Nina?” Crowley suggested, opening up the door of the Bentley for his angel.

He wasn’t as close to the humans as Aziraphale was but Crowley knew he cared about them a lot and regardless of whatever ‘side’ they were on, Aziraphale was still entirely angelic in his desire to bring joy and gifts to all.

“Oh Crowley, I think that sounds wonderful,” Aziraphale breathed, a smile resting comfortably on his face as he sat down and got comfortable.

Crowley slunk into the driver’s side and gently stroked the dashboard, “Hey gorgeous, you know what to do.”

For a moment, Aziraphale felt a pang of jealousy. He knew Crowley loved the car but he wanted to be the centre of the demon’s attention. Crowley was quick to notice and reached over, his hand teasing Aziraphale as it brushed against his inner thigh.

The angel let out a tiny gasp at the unexpected touch and his face flushed red, “Crowley, what if someone looks through the window?”

The demon made a quick snap of his fingers and the Bentley began driving off, the windows became so tinted they were near black and some smooth music began to play.

“What do you say, angel?” Crowley asked, his other hand reaching over to cup Aziraphale’s cheek.

Aziraphale led a quick prayer for their safe travels before he pulled Crowley closer to him and smashed their lips together. A refreshing kind of heat was flowing through his body as his arm snaked around Crowley’s waist to hold him close to him.

He broke apart for a moment, flashing a grin to the demon who looked at him, dumbfounded with those big golden eyes, “It’s so cute when you pretend to be in charge.”

His hand ran through the demon’s hair, desperate to explore every inch of his body that the demon would allow. Their lips once again collected, with both the angel and the demon feeling relief at the returning connection.

While no one could have seen through the windows, a few nearby drivers may have noticed the strange rocking moments of the car on the way to the orchard.

After a minor miracle, the angel and the demon exited the car with the grace of a swan, though the expression on the demon’s face may have told an entirely different story. His hair was slightly tousled but his clothes had returned to their usual ‘comfortably unkempt’ state. Aziraphale, of course, looked flawless.

“Right, the apples-” Crowley stammered, reaching for Aziraphale’s hand to lead him into the orchard. They approached a small building where a bored-looking employee offered them a basket to take with them which was graciously accepted by Crowley.

“This is lovely, my dear. We ought to get out more often,” The angel smiled, gently rubbing circles into the back of the demon’s hand.

They walked through the orchard, slowly picking the best-looking apples and enjoying the breeze. Despite having spent 6000 years together, they didn’t have all that much to talk about beyond a small ‘That’s a nice one’ or a simple ‘I love you’.

But that’s what being together meant. Enjoying the company with no expectation of conversation. Especially when so much had already been said in the car.

They returned to the tired vendor who weighed their haul, “Two and a half pounds of Golden Delicious, that’s £5.10.”

“Bit pricy for apples, don’t you think?” Crowley groaned before dumping some cash on the counter. He took the bagged apples into his arms and began to head to the Bentley, the sun setting in the orchard behind him.

Aziraphale had the sinister grin back on his face. “I don’t think these apples are the only things we can call Golden Delicious,” He teased, his hand resting on the demon’s back, suspiciously close to his ass.

Crowley suddenly had a pep in his step as he made haste to the car.

#good omens #crowley #good omens 2 #good omentober #anthony j crowley #aziracrow #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ao3 fanfic #aziraphale x crowley

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cyrusclouds · 7 months ago

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another dsaf oneshot!!

☆ posted on ao3 ('Dayshift At Freddy's Oneshot's' by cyrusclouds), but i figured i may as well upload here as well since y'all liked the last one so much!! :) p.s: oneshot requests open!! ☆ summary: jack and dee have a wholesome sibling moment -- It was a beautiful Sunday morning in mid-March. The weather was perfect, and birds could be heard chirping in the trees outside. Likewise, this was the first thing young Dee Kennedy was going to tell her brother … when she could get him to wake up. She had been poking him for a solid 3 minutes, and still, nothing! He was always a very heavy sleeper, but that didn’t stop the child from getting irritated. Annoyed, she climbed her way onto his bed and started wildly shaking him (a bit more aggressive than necessary, if you ask me). “JACK, WAKE UPPP,” she yelled, her eyes closed as she kept shaking the man around. Jack opened his eyes with a start, but before he could alert her that he’d awoken, he felt a sharp pain on his arm. Oh, great, she’d bitten him. “Jesus Dee, chill out, I’m up!,” he said, sitting up and very gently moving her aside slightly. Opening her eyes back up, she blinked at him for a moment before smiling softly. “Jackkk look outside! It’s so nice out!! You should take me to the park!,” she replied, grinning sweetly at her older brother. Jack paused, raising an eyebrow at her. “It’s 8 in the morning, we can go later, alright?,” he sighed, patting her head and slowly getting himself out of bed, to which she quickly hopped off and ran over to his side. “But I wanna go now! Please, please, pleaseeee?,” she begged, clinging to his shirt and looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. He gave a chuckle of amusement, carefully prying her hands off and starting to walk towards his door. “Let’s have some breakfast first, then I’ll take you. How’s that sound?” “Yay!,” she cheered, skipping after him and looking absolutely ecstatic. Jack made his way out of his room and to the kitchen fairly fast, since the house was decently small. Dee trailed him the whole way there, walking right behind him, her big green eyes sparkling with excitement. “What’re you gonna make for breakfast?,” she asked with curiosity seeping into her tone, watching him as he grabbed a pan down from atop the fridge. Opening a cabinet, he dug through a couple boxes before grabbing one down and responding. “I was planning on pancakes. I’m assuming you want yours with strawberries again?,” he questioned as he set the box down to grab the red fruit. “Yes, please! Oh, and whipped cream on top!,” she confirmed, observing his actions and trying to see exactly what he was doing. He replied with a short “gotcha” as he began preparing the pancakes (which wouldn’t be too difficult, considering he had pancake mix). Not much time passed of Jack cooking before Dee got bored enough to walk away. Running back into her own room, she kneeled down and snagged her markers and a coloring book out from under her bed. It was just a bit too heavy for her to carry, but no matter, she’d made it work. With a slight struggle, she took the objects back to the kitchen and plopped them onto the table. She then climbed into one of the chairs and made herself comfortable, grabbing a few markers, opening her book, and getting to work. Another fifteen minutes went by of the siblings contently doing their own activities in the room, before finally, “Pancakes are done Dee.” Jack slid the plate in front of his younger sister, right beside where she had been drawing. She gave a small squeal and pushed her drawings aside, picking up her fork and digging in without hesitation. Her brother laughed lightheartedly, sitting down in the chair opposite her and starting to eat his own breakfast as well. Surely, nothing would ever come between them, right?

#dsaf #dayshift at freddy's #dsaf jack #dsaf dee #dee kennedy #jack kennedy #dsaf fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #oneshot requests

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kolbietheaggrievedwriter · 14 days ago

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white moonlight au ahead. pretend it's an animated shot, a manhwa panel, or whatever makes you visualise better with this writing style.

the one below is a description of how i envision niren and elliot's white moonlight. (he's become his own character helpme— he has become a monster from too much brainrot. i'm the hostage chat.)

(A pale and slim hand can be seen moving in and out of frame, sewing a furred coat with grace and care. The nails seem to be bitten short, the ends of their fingers with small, almost not-there callouses. The coat is dyed a dark red, almost brown, that has small yet beautifully etched and painted flowers, leaves, branches, and little animals into the seams of the cloak. His arms are covered in small, crisscrossing scars; some are still pink from healing, while the others are starting to blend in with the rest of his skin.

The angle then moves upwards, briefly showing the tunic that was handmade by its wearer, and the first thing that catches your eye is his long black hair that is tied with a simple fabric scrap. Although his black hair may not be luscious as his prince's nor the nobles locks, or as attention grabbingly bright as his darling knight's red hair. His is just a simple black, that may seem blue under the moonlight. Though the colour may seem dull, it does make it easier to playfully scare the little urchins that visit him at night. His hair is soft and unmatted due to habitual brushing, and it seems to absorb the sunlight that is peeking through the trees and his open window onto him. His brown eyes are curved with mirth as he casually reaches a leg out to sweep away the child running under the table, only to be playfully pushed away and out by her babysitter's leg.

"Ow! That hurts, ya know!" The preteen whines, rubbing at where she was swept by the man who she knows as Gladiolus and is called Lucy by the street kids.

Gladiolus just snorts as he stabs the Chel doll he made — which is already stabbed with many needles, of different varieties too! — with the needle he was using. He bends down and picks up the small child, taking a wooden and handcarved brush to smooth out any of the unruly child's knotted or matted areas of her hair. The blond hair in his hands was washed clean by him earlier that morning, alongside many of the street urchins that had decided his 'witchy, super creepy old house!' was a good location to be their 'headquarters' and now basically live here with him. The brush was wonky, one of the first attempts he had made for the carved brushes he made as a gift to the little princess.

"Don't be a baby, I know that I didn't put that much force into that sweep." He finishes brushing through the hair and hums happily at the sight, now using his hand to run through the blond locks. "Oh, and tell the others that we will be harvesting all of the vegetables and fruits before spring ends. We will also be using the blooming flowers to make perfumes and dyes."

"Hah? Ya should be happy that I understand what yer sayin', old man," She sneers. She rolls her eyes and stands up, grumbling as she pushes away the hand in her hair. "You speak too fancy, some of the kiddies are startin' to catch on and speakin' fancy jus' like y'all."

She walks towards the backdoor leading to the garden and her face forms a grin when she stops by the doorway.

"Hey, witchman, how much are we sellin' off? 'Cuz 'm sure that we're gonna get way more kiddies later this winter since some of the nearby orphanages're running out of space. Might be a good idea ta start stocking up soon for the harsh weather."

"We're still selling off half of them, we'll be getting a shit ton of squash—" A groan of annoyance cuts through his words, causing him to chuckle. "Oh, don't you complain. The squash kept all of us fed even with the sudden influx of citizens coming to us for emergency food."

He sighs happily as he finally finishes up the cloak for Elliot, finally looking up and stretching. He crosses an arm over his chest, the other using it as a platform to hold his jaw, and continues speaking, "The squash will start producing mid-summer and may continue until the first frost. We'll start to save our scraps and dry our hunts later in the summer and the whole autumn, just in case the winter is too long once again."

The barely-teenaged girl nods and goes out to the garden. Though, she makes sure to flip off Gladiolus just before she fully leaves his eyesight. He sighs in fake exasperation while he fully stands up to start packing away the cloak to be delivered to the Academy. )

scene: introducing one of wm's identities known to people, gladiolus! and yes, i called it a cabin previously, but it's more similar to being a house that keeps expanding due to the street kids that keep coming over and ending up staying there full-time, as well as the citizens' way of paying him back for the amount of times he hands out food from his winter stock for free when it's deep into winter.

just a bit of development and appearance reveal for our white moonlight! hope you don't mind the little worldbuilding i added, i imagine that winters would sometimes be longer than usual since the nobles n royalty lean towards the goddess of night and nighttime is, you know, longer in winter.

.... i wrote too much, oops. hope you don't mind! i'm trying to get these lil' rascals of ideas into text before they bury themselves and disappear forever.

Not the Chel doll 😭😭😭 Also we have a name!!! And an appearance!!! He's just been a faceless brown haired guy in an apron to me until now!! Don't ask me why brown hair. Idk. Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed it!!! It really gives me transmigration novel feels. Like the first chapter before the MC runs into canon characters and/or the plot. Was super interesting considering its my own world in the background + I know they're not going to meet until the main plot is over. Also I liked the worldbuilding! ! It makes sense!! It wasn't too long at all. Once again, I was engaged to the end. You're very good at pulling the reader in!!

#kolbie blabs #white moonlight au #fanfic of my fanfic #fool of a prince

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hallowgracie · 2 months ago

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To Sail on Seas of Sky Excerpt: EloKas

Note: This excerpt is from one of my current wips, a pirate-themed high-fantasy that I'm aiming to bring to my platforms by next summer. I thought I might as well post a little excerpt for Talk Like a Pirate Day.

One of the features of the work is the tangled love-pentagon between the five young leads. One of these pairings is Elodie/Kas, and here is their first real meeting! Enjoy!

“Ah, it’s good to see milady out here.”

She turned her head to see none other than the gaudy blond pirate boy with his back against the railing, turned away from the endless ocean. It unnerved her, as she had not known how long he had been there.

“I’m Kas, by the way.” He leaned his head back, his hazel eyes gleaming with something she did not understand. “Kas Beaumont—I don’t think we had the chance to exchange names.”

“Elodie Fleetwood,” she said, mostly out of reflex. She then felt the heat rising to her face. “Sorry—you probably know that already, don’t you?”

“I do, but I never correct a lady, if I can help it.”

Elodie pressed her lips together, and looked back out at the water. The golden light turned the sea as dark as wine or the liquid that came from the jeweled-looking fruits that grew in the trees around Port Augustine.

“Enjoying the view?”

There was something softer about Kas’s voice, something that made her feel more at ease.

“I’ve just never been outside of Port Augustine before,” she confessed. “I had no idea that the world was so. . . so big!”

Kas laughed good-naturedly. “It still doesn’t fail to amaze me, for what it’s worth. And I traveled plenty before I ever set foot on a ship like this.”

“A ship like this?”

“A pirate ship—sorry, privateer, Captain will give me an earful if I don’t use the proper terminology.” He grinned all the same.

“How did you end up on a privateer ship, then?” Elodie asked.

She noticed the briefest darkening in his gold-rimmed hazel eyes. His smirk did not falter, however. “Have any theories, my lady? Maybe I was born to sail the seas and skies. Or perhaps I am like your friend we picked up, or dearest Jade, born among the pirates?”

“I don’t think you are.” Elodie pressed her lips together as she examined Kas. “Your accent is much crisper, and you speak like the students at the college. Clearly you have expensive tastes given—“ she gestured at the jewelry— “All of that.”

His eyes gleamed as his head bobbed back. “Very good. You have an eye for detail—you should ask Captain to put you on lookout.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Elodie tilted her head. “You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. You can come out and say it.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” Kas turned around, propping his elbows on the side and leaning back so he could look up at the sky between the billowing sails. “Besides, it’s no real secret. I don’t mind telling you.”

Elodie planted her hands on her hips. “And you’re going through all this song and dance about it why?”

“Because that’s what makes a conversation fun, my lady, it’s a battle of wits!” He adjusted his hat, so it wouldn’t blow off as the sea-winds picked up. “You should try it sometime, it does get so terribly boring being on the sea for so long.”

Elodie huffed a sigh. “If you aren’t going to talk, you might as well not waste my time.”

She started to storm off when Kas grabbed her arm.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the smile less conniving and the slightest bit more sincere. “Look, maybe I’ll tell you the story some other time. But let me at least escort you to dinner.”

“Escort me?” Elodie raised her eyebrows.

“Well, I suppose you haven’t been there yet, and Jade’s a bit busy at the moment.” He let go of her arm, but his hand still hovered over her skin, lingering like the kiss of the sun. “Besides, I thought you might not want to be on your own.”

“I guess not.” Elodie tilted her head, reconsidering Kas.

“Don’t worry, I can be a gentleman at least sometimes.” He tipped his hat to her, then slipped his arm into hers. “May I?”

“You may.”

#to sail on seas of sky #writeblr #ya fantasy #fantasy #pirates #pirate fantasy #sky pirates #sailpunk

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house-of-galathynius · 2 years ago

Text

The Long Road Home

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Eleven - Chapter Thirteen

Word Count: 4.7k

This has been a long time coming and I’m so sorry for the delay in posting! I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas and New Year (if you do celebrate), I am looking forward to another year with all you lovely people ❤️

Lyon, France. March 1859: Seventy-Eight Years Later

The trees had finally begun to show signs of new life. It had been another long and tortuous winter for Aelin, never being able to stop in one place for long. Always moving along, her life constantly disturbed. She could blame it on no-one but herself— she could have remained in Denmark, or Austria, or even Germany. But she always felt the unrest, the uncertainty. She was looking for him in every place she went to, and when she could not find him, it was time to move on.

France was never her first choice, she had been there before and had not felt even a hint of him. But in the last few weeks she felt the universe pushing her here. It had been luck that everything had lined up perfectly and it was too much of a coincidence for her not to pursue another attempt at a life here.

She had been on the German-French border living up in the mountains, renting a small room on a farm. The couple who owned it were old and needed help so Aelin had offered her assistance for the room. She had spent her summers working in the garden, picking vegetables and fruits, in the autumn she found herself preparing the farm for the cold, bitter winters, then when spring would arrive she would help the new lambs be born and sow new seeds ready for the summer again. It had been a peaceful life. In her spare time she would go for swims in the crystal clear water of the nearby lake and lie in the long grasses with a book, watching the clouds glide above her. It was tranquil and she could have been happy there for a long time.

Things changed though when a merchant had come by to purchase some goods from them and as they had been packing up his purchases he had explained his plans for the rest of his journey and how he needed some company. He had expressed interest in Aelin, and she had been tempted. He was a kind man, with a gentle manner and a smile that would make any woman fall to her knees in love. She trusted him from only one conversation. So she had agreed to go with him to Lyon, where she would work for a bookshop he was opening. There was a small apartment above the shop where she could live for free. It had been years since she had moved on anyway. She knew the old couple had started to become suspicious of her lack of ageing and so it was time for her to depart— even though it pained her to say goodbye.

Lyon was beautiful too though. The cobbled streets and the grand buildings. The theatre that Aelin would surely spend a lot of her time at. The people who were still as friendly to her as when she’d been in the country all those years ago.

She also enjoyed speaking French again; and although her words may have been a little rusty, she found it easy to slip into everyday life there.

The sun shone there more often than not, and she was enamoured with the way it would bask her apartment in golden light, the way it would warm her softly and slow. On her days off she could follow it around her apartment, curled in various chairs as she would read, or sew, or just nap.

The bookshop below her was just as lovely. Tall light coloured shelves towered over her, reaching to the ceilings. Each shelf holding mountains of books from across the world: Dickens, Wordsworth, Tennyson, and all the other great authors of the time. At the front of the shop were huge glass windows that looked out onto the busy street. Aelin could people watch all day, always looking out for that one face she craved to see.

“Bonjour.” A woman said as she entered, a young boy in tow. Aelin replied politely and waited patiently as the woman and child look around, then left without buying anything.

It had been like this for a few days now. But after such a busy beginning of the year it was nice to have a slower pace. So she didn’t mind so much if people preferred just to browse.

When there was no one browsing, Aelin wandered around the shop, tucking books back into their places and wiping dust off the ones that had been there for a long time. She continued with her tidying sweep until she heard the familiar sound of the door opening and she poked her head around the shelves to offer her assistance.

For a moment she could not see anyone. But then a tall figure moved out from behind another aisle of books. She wiped the dust from the front of her skirt and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she then carefully set the books she was carrying down on a nearby stool and walked to where the customer was standing.

“Bonjour Monsieur.” Aelin said cheerfully. Her next words caught in her throat.

The male turned around to reveal the face she had dreamed of for so long. The white hair that was shorter than the last time she had seen him— in Amsterdam. The unmistakable green eyes.

It had been fifty years since the last time she had seen him. She was still unsure of how this was happening. Of why she was the way she was, why Rowan appeared and then disappeared. There was no pattern to it. Fifty years was a long time to wait, and she would admit that on a few occasions she had thought about giving up. But he was here.

Alive and smiling.

“I am just browsing.” He said in French.

Aelin nodded. Not sure that she would be able to find the words to say, or keep her voice steady. Though fifty years had passed, it was like it had been a mere day. She felt every ounce of love, every touch of their skin, the feel of his mouth. It was hard for her not to stare as he strode down each row of books, picking them up and inspecting them before returning them to the shelf.

She was constantly diving into the nearest aisle, trying her hardest to not let him see her following him around. But there was nothing she could do to help herself. She had been hoping for fifty years to see him again— and now here he was— there was no way she was going to let the opportunity to be near him slip through her fingers.

Moments later Rowan was striding towards the desk which she had hurriedly moved to, sitting on the stool pretending to be fascinated by the pile of books she had stacked in front of her. She feigned surprise when he came to a stop in front of her. She put on her friendliest smile, willing herself to not reveal her nervous manner.

“I am looking for a book for my mother. It is her birthday tomorrow and I wish to give her something special.” He said calmly. There was no recognition in his stare, nothing in his mannerisms that would suggest he knew Aelin. But she could not help but smile brightly at him, acting like he was in fact a close friend.

“Do you know what genre she is interested in?”

Rowan laughed quietly and shrugged. “My mother is not very forthcoming with information. But I imagine she would be happy with anything— perhaps a romantic novel?”

Aelin stood from the stool, “does she have any particular interests? If so I could try to find something to match them.”

Rowan thought for a moment, his tongue brushing over his lip as he did. “She enjoys riding, she is often at the theatre listening to the orchestra. Although I am not sure that is all that helpful for you.” He chuckled.

Aelin was struck silent. The sound of his laugh awakening something inside her. So she could only gesture for him to follow her as she led him to one of the shelves. “Here are some books on music, some might be overly technical…” she handed him a couple to look at, “but they are interesting if you love music.”

“What other options do you think I have?”

Aelin held a finger up and moved to another section and pulled off another few books. “These are a mixture of romantic and more adventure based novels. I’ve read them myself and can highly recommend them.”

Rowan balanced the books in his hands. “I can take them all.”

Surprise flashed across her face. It was rare that anyone would come in to buy so many books, and when they did it was usually to stock their own private libraries or for schools. However, she would not complain as she totalled up the cost and wrapped each book in cloth, tying it with string.

“Will you be able to carry these?” Aelin asked casually, helping to place the books into his hands once again. “I can help you if you need it.” If not just an excuse to be near him for longer.

Rowan shook his head. “The carriage is right outside. I appreciate your offer though.”

She wanted him to stay longer. But there was nothing she could think of that could delay his departure any longer, not as she opened the front door and loitered there as he packed the books away into a trunk on the back of the carriage, and then waved politely at her before climbing up into it, closing his door.

Aelin remained on the steps of the shop for a minute or two. Watching as his carriage rode away into the distance and then out of sight. It was still sinking in that he was here again. That she was not imagining him or dreaming him. He was alive and here. She wished she could talk to Elena— to ask her how to do this, ask her why this was happening and how long she would have Rowan for. Except Elena was gone and all Aelin had was a vague letter and her own wild ideas.

She thought about him for the next few days. Looking out for him on every corner and in every shop. She prayed to every God that he would return to her again. She started to dream of him too; every night she would dream of their time together in Brighton, of their sleepless nights of making love, their walks along the beach, their mornings by the fire reading or swapping stories of their childhoods. Then she would dream of their son. Of the life they should have had, and Aelin would wake with tears on her cheeks.

Nine days passed before she saw him again. She had been taking inventory and had barely heard him come up behind her, jumping out of her skin when he tapped her on the shoulder.

“I am sorry for startling you.” He said sheepishly.

“Oh! No, you’re fine.”

Rowan cleared his throat and smoothed down his coat, standing straighter. “I wanted to thank you for your help the other day. My mother was thrilled with the books.”

Aelin grinned. “I am so glad! It can be hard to find a good book these days.”

Rowan nodded in agreement, his shoulders relaxing. “She has finished three of them already and demanded I return at once to get more.”

“Well I am here to help you, should you need it.” She wanted him to need it. She needed any excuse to get him to stay here longer.

“Well that is actually why I came here… You were so wonderful last time, I just had to return and ask for your services again.” Rowan ran a hand through his hair, Aelin trying her hardest not to stare. “Of course, I will pay you extra for your time.”

Aelin shook her head, “there is no need to pay me more. I receive a sufficient salary.” And she had money from Arobynn that she had been squirrelling away for when she needed it, as well as money from previous work she had completed. But she needn’t tell Rowan that.

The two of them stood in the silence of the books before Aelin came to the startling realisation that she had not introduced herself to him. She didn’t even know if Rowan was his name this time.

“I’m Aelin,” she stretched out her hand and Rowan shook it firmly in his. And it was just the same as every time before. His hands soft but hard— firm from all the years of work she assumed he had done. But they still fit together just as perfectly.

“Henri.” He said.

She couldn’t lie, her heart sank a little at the name. Not that the name mattered— he was still everything she loved. Even now, after fifty years, she still felt that undeniable pressure in her chest, the beating of her heart as she beheld him.

“Aelin is not a French name.” Rowan, or rather Henri, said hesitantly.

“No. I was not born here.”

Henri’s eyes widened slightly and he looked pleasantly surprised. “You speak very good French. For someone who was not born here.”

Aelin shrugged and brushed the dust from her skirt. “I have had a long time to practice.”

“Have you been here long?”

“In Lyon?” She shook her head, “I arrived here a few months ago. I recently moved from the mountains on the border.”

Rowan… Henri, actually looked like he was genuinely interested in what she was saying. And she wondered whether he could feel it too— this pull. Like they were magnets, where he was she would follow. But then he stepped back from her; like he had been jolted awake from a dream.

“Do you have any other recommendations?” He changed the subject quickly.

Aelin didn’t show her disappointment, but quickly collected up some of her favourite books and stacked them on the front table before going to retrieve some more. Rowan (she could never seem to think of him as anything other than that name), happily perched on a nearby chair and surveyed her as she went back and forth between shelves. Eventually the stack was over ten books tall and she looked to Rowan sheepishly.

“I have a lot of recommendations…” She laughed. And she could have sworn there was a flash of surprise— or maybe it was delight— cross over his expression. It was gone in an instant though, his face back to normal.

“My father is never going to be able to pry my mother away from the library now.”

Aelin grinned. “Well, I can think of worse places for her to be.”

“Today was maybe not such a good day to have walked here.” He said, studying the mountain of books.

Aelin glanced outside and the sun was shining high in the sky, the wind gently rustling the leaves, the river glistening in the afternoon light. It was a beautiful day; and if she did not have to work she would have been outside lounging by the water with a good book too. There weren’t many people milling outside though, and she looked around her shop, noting the empty spaces where customers should have been and then to the clock on the desk— it was near enough late afternoon and she was certain there would be no other customers.

“I could help you carry them back if you would like,” she cleared her throat, “free of charge of course.”

Rowan chuckled and nodded. “The help would be wonderful.”

So they packed up the books together and Aelin hastily shut up the shop before skipping down the steps and coming to Rowan’s side.

“Do you live far?” She asked curiously.

“About ten minutes,” he looked straight ahead, then turned to her, “I am not in the habit of using my carriage for such short distances— but I was in a bit of a rush last time.”

“I wasn’t judging you for that.” She replied. She remembered when she had lived with her parents, or even with Arobynn. Their carriage usage had been high too.

They meandered through the streets, eventually coming to cross the bridge over the river. It had quickly become one of Aelin’s favourite places. She loved to watch the water flow through the city and under her, sometimes looking at the ducks that would lazily glide down it. On some occasions she had even watched as people swam down it too. Rowan was a few steps ahead of her when he stopped and turned to make sure she was still with him.

And it stopped her short. It was such a small act, but it had been something that Rowan had done multiple times when they had been together before. So though his name was different, even though they were in a different city, speaking a different language… he was still the same. The same Rowan she had fallen so deeply in love with.

“Everything okay?”

Aelin nodded quickly and sped up her pace to catch up with him. “Just distracted.”

For some reason Rowan had found their time together to be pleasant. He had called in on her almost everyday after they had delivered the books to his mother— who had been thrilled to meet her too, even offering for her to stay for supper.

Sometimes when he came to visit her he would arrive with freshly baked goods from the bakery down the road; sometimes he would come with a newspaper and he would just sit and read it, occasionally looking up to watch Aelin work. The two of them sharing a smile and then going back to whatever they were doing.

Aelin knew that it was dangerous doing this. Dangerous getting close to him, letting him come into her life and allow herself to fall in love with him even further. But she couldn’t help it. He was just the same as she remembered and her heart was leading her astray, ignoring her head that was blaring sirens and warning her that this could only end in disaster, just as it had before. But she had no proof, nothing to go on to know how this would end. Elena was long gone and had left Aelin with no explanation, no clues to what was happening.

So Aelin let herself fall for him again, and let Rowan fall for her too.

And it was magical and invigorating and lovely. She did not let herself think of the possibilities of their fates— not as she basked in this new lease of love that she had been granted.

“I think we should get married.” Rowan had said to her one day. They had been lying in the garden of his parents’ home, enjoying the July sun.

She turned to Rowan who was still watching the sky, his eyes focused on the birds soaring above. “You do?”

He turned to her then too, a small smile on his lips, his eyes bright. “When you find the person who you can bare your soul to, I find that you want to keep them for as long as possible.”

His words were sweeter than honey, more precious than rubies or diamonds. His love for her settling around her heart, encasing it forever.

“I know I cannot ask your father for approval like I should… but I would hope he would not mind me asking for your hand.” He sat up and rummaged in his pocket before revealing a little box, “this isn’t much, but I would like to give this to you to confirm my intentions to marry you.”

Aelin was almost crying. How many years had she dreamed of being able to live this life with him? How many years had she cried over what they lost? She looked at the little band of gold the circular diamond nestled in the middle and wished she had the words to tell Rowan how right this was— how she wanted to scream to the world that she was getting her happily ever after.

But all she could manage was a nod. Her smile big enough that her cheeks began to ache.

“You will?” Rowan asked.

She nodded again, “yes.” Her voice barely a whisper as Rowan slid the ring onto her finger and kissed it softly.

“You can tell me no and that I am being insane… but how about next week?”

“Get married next week?” Aelin asked, still reeling from it all.

“I know it’s fast. But when you have chosen what you want in life… you want to start living it.” Rowan kissed her hand again and smiled warmly at her. “I love you, Aelin. I have been lost for so long. Never knowing what I wanted, not knowing who I wanted. But the moment I met you it was like everything fell into place. It is cliche, I know. But there is something about you… something so familiar. I cannot possibly let you go.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. She could not find the words— she would never be able to tell him just how deep her love ran. How he is the origin of all her dreams. All she could do was lean over to him and capture his lips with her own in a scorching kiss.

They were in fact married one week later just like Rowan had suggested. It had been a small intimate ceremony, only Rowan’s family and a couple of his friends attending. Afterwards they had returned to his parents’ home and they had enjoyed a dinner with copious amounts of champagne and dancing and laughter. It was nothing like how it had been with Arobynn and she was happier than she had been in almost eighty years.

She did not think about the consequences of this. She did not think about the fact that she was not ageing and at some point she might have to explain to Rowan. All she cared about was being with him right now, letting him hold her close as they swayed to the music. His hand gripping her waist, his other holding her own hand tightly; her head resting on his chest— listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I will never have the words to tell you how grateful I am that you said yes.” Rowan whispered into her hair. “I will love you until the end of time, Aelin. I promise you that.”

She glanced up at him. He was smiling gently, his eyes shining in the candlelight. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever beheld, and she would thank Elena, or whatever Gods had granted her this time with him. For however long they allow.

“Do you promise?” She managed to whisper back.

Rowan huffed a laugh. “I will find you in every life, in every world. I would go into hell itself to be with you. I cannot see how we are anything but inevitable.”

She buried her head into his shoulder and sniffed. These were the words that she had wanted to hear for so long, the words that were like music to her ears. And she would find him too— no matter where she roamed, no matter how many years had passed— she would find him.

“A toast to the happy couple! May their lives be happy and long.” Rowan’s father lifted his glass, and suddenly Aelin was holding her own flute of champagne and toasting along with their friends, smiling wide. “Welcome to the family, Aelin.”

There had been a day when Aelin had dared to hope a little more than before. A day where her and Rowan had been strolling along the river hand in hand, the autumn leaves falling around them. Rowan had been deep in thought before he turned to her with a curious expression.

“Do you ever get the feeling you’ve done something before?”

She furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

Rowan stopped them and leant on the stone wall. “I dreamt of you the other night. It was so vivid and felt so real.”

Aelin laughed nervously. “It’s not unusual for you to dream of your wife.”

Rowan shook his head, still serious. “We were in London. Which is strange because I’ve never been to London with you. But we were walking through a park and it was winter. You were storming ahead of me and I can’t remember what we were saying…” he trailed off, staring ahead.

Aelin was silent too. She didn’t dare hope, because hope led to disappointment— and she’d had plenty of that.

“It felt like a memory.” He finally said. “I must be going crazy. Obviously it was not a memory, I was probably just mixing books and dreams and real life.”

Aelin tried to laugh, it coming out as more of a choke. “Dreams can be funny like that.”

Rowan chuckled too, his face brighter. He took her hand again and continued on their walk. They were both silent though. Aelin unsure of what to say. Should she tell him it wasn’t a dream? That the vision he had had was a real life event, something the two of them had shared together almost one hundred years ago. She knew she would not tell him, but even so, she tried to take some comfort in knowing that maybe one day he would remember.

Lyon, France. August 1860

He didn’t remember.

And she shouldn’t have been surprised.

Not when throughout her life she had only been handed bad luck. The Gods simply not letting her be happy for any amount of time. And Aelin should have been used to it by now. After all, she had lost Rowan twice, and her son and had to live with everyone dying around her as she remained unchanging.

Although, she should correct that last statement. She had lost Rowan three times.

Her hands were clasped tightly around the handkerchief in her lap. The church bell chiming solemnly in the background as people shuffled from the church, murmuring their apologies as they passed her. She could barely hear them over the roaring in her head.

Her eyes were blurry from the tears, her gaze set straight ahead, staring at the white stone wall of the church. The air was cold even though it was the middle of August and the temperature was soaring, the sun burning hot. But she could feel nothing.

“Aelin,” a voice said behind her. “We should be leaving.”

She blinked and hastily wiped the teardrop from her cheek before turning to the voice. Rowan’s mother stood there in all black, her eyes puffy from crying and cheeks stained red. Aelin was not the only one mourning today.

“I’ll be out in a moment.” She replied.

Rowan’s mother nodded and traipsed outside alongside his father who had not publicly shed a tear— yet she had heard him quietly sobbing in his study only yesterday.

Aelin finally stood, smoothing out her own black dress and looked to the empty altar, where only a year earlier she had been stood with Rowan, saying vows, promising themselves to each other. And now she was standing there alone, Rowan gone. Taken from her like everything else had been.

She had cried for days after his death. The sadness consuming her wholly. But day by day that sadness shifted into anger.

Anger at fate, at the Gods, and with the world.

She hadn’t asked for this life. Aelin had not asked to be constantly searching for him— for a life with him. She did not ask to be stuck forever as the same person. But no matter how she begged it was never enough. No matter how much she prayed or cried to Elena, to any God who might listen, none did. She woke each morning feeling nothing, her body and mind and face the same as before.

Elena had told her that love would conquer all. She had told Aelin that as long as she had love in her heart she would weather any storm, survive any battle. But this was a battle Aelin didn’t know she wanted to win. She didn’t even know what she was fighting against.

Someone called her name from the back of the church and she wiped her face once more. Sending off one last prayer to anyone who might listen.

Her heart was empty once again.

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