#like sun on her shoulders wind in her hair the smell of the flowers she held in her hand

[flintmirandas]

sometimes i forget how good the lyrics for nytw hadestown were and then i listen to nytw epic iii and broadway epic iii back to back

like come on…

[trulyumai]

Looking Past the Fire

Paring: Messmer x Reader

Synopsis: Between the shadow lands, laid Messmer. And between that? His darling wife.

Warnings: Talk of Death

A/N: Ive officially began the DLC and I am WASHED. Also this big nosed fella has been taking over my mind please send help. (I love it)

Enjoy!

For whom could ever love him as much as his wife once did? 

She would be there, to carry his heavy soul, kiss the bruised skin and wipe away the rotting blood. 

His wife was ever so patient; wiping at his dirtied frame carefully, cautiously. Like he was someone who deserved it, needed it. He got used to such loving touches, it was dangerous. His family scoffed behind his back- mumbled about his newfound weakness. But between his own blood was a wall of fire, and between that was her. 

In truth, he craved coming back home, to her, and her adoring frame and sappy expressions. 

He would always call out to her. 

“My love?” His voice was so soft, much more than one would ever guess a man like him would- could carry. 

A man of death and flame. 

“Over here, darling!” And he would see the back of her head, peeking up from the windowsill that laid just in front of their kitchen. 

She would always be in the flower filled garden, tending to each plant with care until her fingers were overtaken with blackened dirt.

She’d lift herself high then, peek over at him with blinking lashes. A serene expression always to be seen when gazing upon the red haired man. 

Messmer without thought would walk forth, to her, and her sun kissed cheeks. 

As if in a daze the man wouldn’t dare avert his eyes; for the goddess in front of him was enough to hold the attention of such a man of power. 

His head ducked under the wooden back door. His back would crack loudly almost every time, and sometimes a groan of protest would leave the pale man’s lips. 

And he would reachout, gently coaxing the woman to him once more, he wanted- needed to feel her soft skin against his rough and war torn body. 

She’d listen of course, and would press her frame to his without further delay. 

Messmer would allow his arms to wrap around her, with his nose digging into her neck to smell the sweet scent of sweat sticking to her damp skin. 

“Husband,” she giggled, hearing his sighs of contentment. 

“I’ve missed you, has the trip fared well?” 

The wind picked up, the giant yellowing trees swayed with the breeze and Messmer could no longer subdue his mind to the stress it was in mere moments ago. 

Right before he placed himself in his wife’s presence, the worries of the palace laid upon his shoulders. 

His command, his power, his reign- 

“Husband?” 

How would she react to the bodies littering the field, the broken families, the hierarchy?

Her fingertips grazed his cheek.

“Hm? Oh, yes, the trip was easy, my wife,” 

The knight picked a fallen leaf that had laid upon her hair carelessly. 

“I’ve established safe perimeters. None shall lay harm to the south for quite some time.” 

She smiled. 

“Of course you did, my strong Knight. For who could be more of a protector than you?”

Bile reached up to the man's throat, it burned his insides with spite and regret. 

His wife was ill informed, she hadn't heard of the burning castle walls- with its soldiers laying crumpled and burnt in his wake. 

In fact, he hadn’t been a knight for the order in many moons, his siege had taken over much of the shadowlands, in which he was close to winning.

For none could stand the fiery ambition held between his sword and gaze 

He was a protector yes, but only for her. 

Messmer let out a deep laugh, it was short and muffled by his lips. 

The knight leaned down and began to trail kisses down his wifes temple, to her jaw, then finally, her lips. 

With a tilt to the head their mouths met, he placed a pale hand on the back of her head, pushing her to meet his lips with more strength. 

Nipping lightly the girl's hands fisted upon his armor, lightly trying to push herself away from the man- most likely for air. 

He complied, and smiled as she let out a gasp for air with pink cheeks and lidded eyes. 

Taking his thumb he brushed it upon her chin, clearing up the saliva that had dribbled down. 

She leaned into his palm, and Messmer once more felt the bite of regret nip at the edges of his mind. 

“Are you staying the night?” Her voice, barely above the howling wind, brought him back. 

Messmer hummed, his hand found the back of her waist. 

“I have dinner going, i'll make your place at the table.”

He only nodded his head as she padded off, not taking his eyes off the darkened clouds approaching their vicinity. 

From the corner of his eye, Messmer eyed the rising smoke. 

The south let out a plethora of darkened fumes, the village there laid in smoldering, blackened ash. 

Of course the south laid safe and ill of enemies; for he had cleared its population down to nothing. 

The land may never return to its original state with its burnt hills and mountains.

“It's ready, my love!” 

Messmer turned back, meeting the gaze of his lover by the doorframe. 

Little drops of rain plopped onto his loosened hair, no longer did light shine through the gray skies, but muffled streams of sun. 

He turned his back to the village, the smoke and bodies. 

For a more important matter was at hand now; the happiness of his wife.

[rhyrhy]

Fields of you 🍎

Finished! 13k words

Farmhand Abby! X female reader

Synopsis: Nana was right; Anderson, ‘Miss Fix-It,’ was a looker... And you were definitely staring.

⚠︎︎︎ cw: homophobia, angst/fluff, Yearning (lesbian shit), slowburn!

Taglist cuties: @abbylvr69 @snake-in-a-flower-crown @cutyoursoul @abbyswh0r3

How did it all start?

Well, with one day in mid-February…

One: Under the hood ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The sunlight poured through your sheer cream-colored curtains, casting a heavy golden glow over your eyelids. The familiar smell of coffee poured into your room. That meant Nana was up. I better get up before she thinks I’m sleeping the day away, you thought. knowing how your grandmother doesn’t believe in staying in bed all day.

Nana and Papaw had been taking care of you since the days of pigtails and hiding under their wooden dining table.

You could still picture the same rocking chair on the porch where Nana would sit you down, tugging your hair into too-tight ponytails with those clunky, colorful beads at the ends. “Keep them hands out your head,” she’d warn, swatting your then small hands away.

She wasn’t being mean she just wanted it to be out of your face so you wouldn’t bump into anymore walls or track mud on the floors. They loved you. even if they were hard sometimes, that’s grandparents for you. Loving ones, anyway.

As you grew into a young woman your papaw would always pull the hem of your clothes down or ask you to put jackets on as he didn’t want men on the farm ‘getting ideas’. little did he know you weren’t the slightest bit interested in the males who came and gone on the land.

Especially after seeing her. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

You sat up, rubbed your eyes, and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. After throwing on your usual work boots, you headed out, careful to avoid stepping in Clover’s excrement one too many times in your nice shoes. The house dog, who shadowed nana.

Making your way down the carpeted stairs to see the familiar sight of Papaw in his usual seat on the end of the couch, newspaper in hand, circling deals from the supermarket. And Nana in the kitchen making breakfast, which you always helped with.

Not feeling particularly hungry, you settled for some fruit and buttered toast. Nana raised an eyebrow at your choice but didn’t press though. However, she couldn’t resist saying, “Your stomach’s gonna be talkin’ to ya soon.” Which is just her way of saying ‘please eat later’.

You promised you would and headed out for the day.

The sun was beaming down on the grass, the air was warm complimented by the crisp breeze of the small gust of wind. pushing small pieces of hair off your lipgloss that stuck occasionally.

Meanwhile, Papaw put on his beanie to keep his head warm, no matter the weather. Along with the swish of his pants that your nana hated but it was his favorite pair. so, jokes about the noise sufficed instead of her throwing them out.

“Oh good lord” papaw groaned, as the engine of his truck struggled to keep—again. That thing was a bucket of bolts, but he wouldn’t scrap it. He loved it yet was always surprised when it broke down on occasion. through he always got it magically working again with some handyman who lived down the road apparently. They felt like a myth as you never got a chance to meet em’. “They could fix just about anything with their hands”. You just always gave papaw a pat on the shoulder when he would happily exclaimed that it was up and running again so he could continue his day.

“I’ll call Anderson,” Nana called from the doorway, shaking her head. She wished he’d just use one of the newer vehicles.

Yeah, Anderson. That was the name Papaw always dropped when talking about the helping hand. Yet, You didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Nana snapped you out of your thoughts with a teasing smile. “You’re quiet today, sugar.”

“Just thinking,” you replied.

“Well, stop all that thinkin’. Barn won’t clean itself, ya know.”

She joked and nodded towards the side door.

Welp, time to get muddy and that gross yet comforting smell that lingered as made your way to the showers. By the time you were done, your arms ached, and that earthy smell crept in.

You didn’t mind the extra elbow grease you had to put in helping on the land you used to run a muck in.

Sighing deeply, and cleaning your hands off with a rag. You made your way back to the house, to see if nana needed you to do anything else before you flopped down on your bed and spent a few hours reading.

The sounds of humming and metal clinking traveling into your earshot as you crunched down the gravel path. you were always greatful for it, as your sense of direction wasn’t the best, really. how embarrassing would it be to get lost on the land you grew up on. As you grew closer your sore eyes caught a glimpse of something that made you double take.

A Head ducked under the popped hood. One boot rested on the bumper. The other knee deep into the car, like she’d be swallowed if she leaned in any closer. White skintight top stuck to the figures toned torso. Sweat on their lower back. As your eyes trailed higher, you couldnt help but feel a little fluttered at the slight of their arms flexing with each twist, pull, and tinker. they really knew what they were doing.

The all-mighty handyman Papaw always talked about was a woman?

And woman she was indeed.

You tilted your head and took a step forward to get a better look, you couldn’t help yourself.

The crunch from behind gave her a slight startle the woman bumping her head on the hood. Dropping her tool in her hand to rub the spot. One eye shut from the sting. Your hand flew to your mouth, feeling bad for giving her such a scare. Yeah, you probably should have announced yourself.

“Damn it” she mumbled.

A pause breezes by as she steps out from under the hood of the vehicle. Still rubbing her head with a wince.“Well, that’s one way to start the day.”

“Oh my, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean—Are you okay?”

She raises an eyebrow, curiously looking you over with small smile tugging at her lips.

“Just a bump, nothing major” She laughs, wiping grease off her hands. “If your grandfather sent you over, I’m just about finished.”

She knew of you? You almost felt bad, that means your grandparents must have been embarrassing you. Telling stories and what not, but You nodded, and proceeded to make small talk and double checking that she was alright with the small bump of her head. Her voice was soft, in contrast to her appearance.

Halfway through the conversation, you both realized you hadn’t to introduce yourself properly and that’s when you finally knew her name.

Abigail ‘Abby’ Anderson.

A name that definitely suited her. now, you only hoped papaws truck broke down more often because…

she was a sight you wouldn’t mind seeing more often.

Two: causal conversation ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Yesterday,

Abby couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes would linger on her biceps during the conversation. She was used to people staring, but something about your lingering glances made her feel more self-conscious than usual.

A small part of her would come undone when you looked at her like that. But it wasn’t just physical; it was how easy the conversation came to you both... it was... nice. Not to say that Papaw wasn’t a chatter when she fixed his truck, but this was different, maybe?

She couldn’t quite place her finger on what felt so different about your short interaction with her. Before she could dive deeper into why, she gave a light chuckle, breaking the brief trace of thought.

“Well, I better finish up.” She gave the old reddish-brown truck a light pat as she turned back towards the hood.

Later, that day

You had made your way back to the main house, feeling a little embarrassingly flushed by the sight of Abby working on Papaw's car. “Miss Fix-It,” he called her, and it was damn sure fitting. He failed to mention how much of a stunner she was, you thought.

The screen door creaked open; Nana was in the kitchen when you walked in. She was at the stove, stirring a pot of what smelled like chili, and glanced your way with a raised eyebrow.

“Who was that you were talkin’ to?” She asked curiously.

“Just Abby, saying hi.” You went to the sink to wash your hands, getting any grime from the day off.

Nana stirred the pot a few more times before resting the spoon against the side.

“Mhm, ’just saying hi, huh?” She teased, a look crossing her face.

the thoughts paused. ‘Is she reading my mind?’ You brushed it off and quickly replied.

“Yeah, I hadn’t met her before today is all.” You shrugged nonchalantly. Unfortunately, Nana leaned against the counter, studying you for a moment before speaking up again.

“…Well, isn’t she a looker?”

She mentioned it casually, a sly smirk on her lips as she watched you for any kind of response. You paused and kept your eyes on your hands washing them. The warm water only adding to the slight embarrassment creeping in

“Oh, I wasn’t looking hard, but I’m sure you’re right.” You lamely brushed off. Oh, of course you were looking. It was burnt into your memory.

The sweat trickling down her forehead. Her muscles flexing with each movement. The way the wind caught her stray hairs from her braid. The lines of her waist when she lifted the hem of her shirt to wipe her forehead. Her hands, that you couldn’t help what they would feel like touching your ski—yes. You were definitely looking. Nana couldn’t know that, though. She was a gossip, and the last thing you needed was her telling anyone your business.

You went on the rest of the breezy day as usual. Remembering you told Papaw you’d check in on Delilah. The heavily pregnant cow, amongst others. As you headed out to the barn, the crisp air tickled on your skin, and you could see Delilah lounging in her usual spot. Her belly rounder than ever.

You spent some time tending to Delilah, making sure she had everything she needed. The gentle, steady presence of the expectant cow was oddly calming. Occasionally, you could hear the soft rustling of straw from the other cows and horses in the barn, a gentle reminder that life was going on around you.

As you finished up with Delilah, making sure she was fed and comfortable, you couldn't help but wonder about Abby. Nana's teasing had stuck with you, and your thoughts kept drifting back to the striking woman you'd met earlier. Was your staring really that obvious? That’s embarrassing, good lord.

The image of her broad shoulders and strong arms working on the truck kept popping into your mind, each time sending a small jolt through you. you bite your lip and shook your head. She was an acquaintance and Papaw's friend; you shouldn’t be thinking like that. Get it together.

Returning to the house, you made your way upstairs to your room. As you walked down the familiar hallway, the quiet peacefulness of the farmhouse sank in. It seemed like everyone was either resting or out working, leaving the house eerily still. As you entered your room, you noticed the soft afternoon sun streaming in through the bay window. You sank down onto your bed, the soft sheets enveloping you as you laid back and closed your eyes. Letting the day and thoughts of Miss ‘Fix It’ roll off your back.

However, as you lay there with your eyes closed, your thoughts kept drifting back to Abby… and the memory of her eyes, locked onto yours... Those eyes—you groaned. And rolled over onto your stomach, face stuffed into your pillow.

You just met this woman; stop it. Just sleep.

Today,

Eventually, the sound of Nana’s voice outside your door jerked you from dreamland.

“Girl! You better wake up before you waste the whole day!” She called out from the hallway, her voice soft but filled with determination to get you moving again.

After the refreshing shower and a change of clothes, you made your way down to the kitchen, where Nana was busying herself with preparing breakfast. Her comforting morning routine. The aroma of whatever she was cooking wafted through the air, and your stomach rumbled in anticipation. Gosh, I’m hungry.

It would be nice to have a distraction from the thoughts you were having, Miss Handywoman.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange. The air was still crisp, with a hint of dew on the grass. You took a deep breath, relishing the familiar scent of the farm that filled your nose.

As you made your way to the spot where Papaw’s truck was parked, you noticed something different. The usual rattle of the engine as he tried to start it was gone. It must be up and running again.

You approached the truck, and as you got closer, you saw the now-familiar figure of Abby leaning into the engine. Dressed in her work boots, a flannel, and faded jeans. She worked gracefully, her hands moving with practiced precision. The early morning sun glinted off the tools in her hand and highlighted the sweat on her brow. She hadn’t noticed you yet, her focus entirely on the task in front of her.

Should you say hi? You didn’t want to scare her like last time…. Okay, here goes.

“Good morning,” you called. Trying to not stare.

Abby looked up, surprise and then a smile crossing her features. A few loose strands of hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat. She straightened up, using the sleeve of her shirt to wipe her brow.

“Mornin’,” she replied, her voice soft, tone that rang through your ears beautifully. She set the wrench in her hand down and leaned back against the truck, crossing her arms.

“You’re up early again, huh?”

“Oh, I guess I am, “and you are fixing that bucket of bolts again?” You joked. Abby chuckled along, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. She eyed the truck; her expression felt fond.

“Guess your Papaw just can’t help but test my skills every other week.” She teased, tapping the hood fondly with her knuckles.

“He’s bound and determined to get his money’s worth out of me.”You couldn’t help but follow the movement of her hand. What you wouldn’t do to have it on your skin.

“Well, he appreciates you coming when he calls. Talks about you all the time”, you said, glancing back to her face.

“Oh yeah? Only good things, I hope?” Her smile widened, a slightly bashful expression on her face. She ran a hand through her hair.

You reassured that it was only ever good things. Abby chuckled again at your response, picking up her wrench and resuming her work on the engine.

"Better be," she replied, "I don't need him spreading any rumors about me.” She teased, her voice light and playful as she tightened a bolt.

"But in all seriousness, I like fixing things and helping people. It's satisfying, you know? Especially when what you're working on is as stubborn as a mule, but you just keep at it..." Her words trailed off as she concentrated on the engine again.

You couldn’t help but selfishly feel disappointed. You wanted to keep the conversation going, but you had your own things to do, and she was clearly busy. Before heading out, you gave her one last once-over. drifting from her skilled hands to her face. Every now and then, she would mutter something under her breath or bite her lip, concentrating on the complex mechanical dance she was leading. It was fascinating and captivating. You could almost feel her dedication in the way she moved, in the precision of her every action. God, what else can those hands do?

You turned your head away, shaking it of those wondering thoughts.

“Well, I’ll see you around; have fun,” you said, turning on your heels to get back to your own task. Abby looked up from under the hood, giving you a questionable look, but seeing the glance you were so not subtly giving her, she smiled.

“Uh huh, sure you will. See ya round, yeah?”

She said in a sing-song tone, almost knowing full well the effect she was having on you. As she watched you walk away.

The day went on as usual, your chores and duties keeping you busy. But, much like a melody that gets stuck in your mind, Abby’s voice and smile crept their way back into your thoughts every now and again. You tried to resist the urge to think about her or the way her muscles flexed when she leaned over the truck… Nope, you shook your head. Focus. Focus.

Jesus, it’s been two days, and she’s already driving you up a wall from casual conversation?

What the hell were you going to do now?

Three: late night ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

By the time the sun was setting, the barn was cleaned, and the livestock were fed and tucked in for the night. Before heading into the house to wash up, you stopped by the driveway, wanting to see if Papaw’s truck looked any better.

The last thing you saw was Abby’s yellow toolbox resting on the bumper, confirming she’d left for the day. Oddly, you enjoyed the sight. It was almost like she left behind a small part of her.

As night fell, you tried to get some rest, but unfortunately your thoughts went wandering back to the handywoman. You cursed yourself for thinking about her so much.

The memory of her, focused, knee-deep in the hood of the car, was too stubborn to be ignored. Tossing and turning, every time your eyes closed, she would appear in your mind.

Ugh!

You eventually gave up on sleep, kicking off the tangled fuzzy blankets and sitting up in bed. A small creak followed your movements. You had a crush, no doubt. Abby was like a stubborn splinter you just couldn’t get rid of. You decided some cold air might help clear your head and quiet your racing thoughts.

A small annoyance crept in: not being able to sleep over a woman you barely knew? Felt pathetic, downright.

With it being too late to phone a friend, a walk sounded like the most sound decision. You tiptoed down the carpeted stairs, onto the worn wood. Creaking open the side door, you saw Clover settled in sound sleep on the corner of the porch. Your house slippers softly padded down the gravel and dirt path, needing to clear your mind.

Outside, the night air was comforting. The stars against the black-blue sky. crickets somewhat replacing the noisy thoughts in your head. You’d been walking about for a good while, enjoying the peace and quiet of the night, when suddenly, an unfamiliar sound cut through the silence. It was coming from nearby. A series of soft clangs and muffled cursing.

You knew approaching wasn't the best decision, but who would be on your family’s land at this hour? Were they doing something they weren’t supposed to? Or maybe lost?

You crept closer to the noise, not wanting to make a sound just in case. As you neared down the path, you spotted a soft glow coming from the open garage door of a barn. a figure silhouetted against the warm light within.

The cursing got a little louder and more colorful, but with a familiarity to it. Then, as you came to a stop beside the open door, the mystery was solved. There, still dressed in her work clothes, was Abby, kneeling beside a familiar black truck. She was clearly having car troubles.

“You alright?” You called out, arms crossed.

Abby jumped at the sound of your voice, not expecting anyone else to be around at this hour, especially not you.

"Oh! You scared me!” She exclaimed, a hand over her chest, eyes wide from the surprise. You were going to give her a heart attack at this rate. Maybe you should start wearing a bell, to keep from scaring her for a third time.

“Sorry! Sorry!” You said, lips falling into a small frown. Abby shook her head, a soft, warm chuckle escaping her lips.

"Nah, don’t apologize. It’s my own fault for being so focused I didn’t hear you come up."

She shifted on her knees, pushing back a brown strand of hair that fell on her face. She looked worn down but still so, so gorgeous.

“It’s late…Why aren’t you home?” You asked, tilting your head. Scanning over the clear frustration on her face. She shrugged, her gaze returning to the truck's engine as she spoke.

"Eh, I've always been a bit of a night owl. Plus, this old rust bucket decided to give me a few more problems.” She gestured to the vehicle, a hint of frustration in her voice.

Abby went on to explain that she’d be out here in the dark for around an hour, give or take. It was almost cartoonish how upset she was. Honestly though, after a long day of work, your car not working would definitely have steam blowing out of anyone’s ears.

You watched as she reached for a rag and wiped some grease off her hands. Picking up on the small habit of constantly cleaning off her hands while working.

You sat arms crossed listening the best you could. She did help out around the land; the least you could do was listen. Although this definitely wasn’t helpful in the ‘clearing my mind from Abby’ department.

"This thing just doesn’t want to cooperate; it’s been a real pain in the ass.”

“Can’t get home in that, huh?” You asked rhetorically.

"Not unless I enjoy walking the five miles back home. And trust me, no one wants to see me do that after a day’s work.” She gave the stubborn vehicle a light kick with her hard boot. Frustrated to hell.

“Need me to drive you? I don’t mind…” “I can’t sleep anyway, car ride might help” You sighed and honestly hoped she would accept the offer. More chit-chat would be nice, especially if she insisted on not leaving your brain while you tried to rest.

"You'd really do that for me?" Abby looked up at you, a mix of surprise and gratefulness in her eyes. She asked, clearly caught off guard by your offer. A moment of pause filled the air as she seemed to think over your offer. Then, a warm smile spread across her face."Ah, I suppose that wouldn’t hurt. I think I’ve hit a stalemate with this thing anyway."

You felt a rush of excitement goosebump your skin. Relax; she just wants to get home.

Small talk filled the air. She followed you down the familiar path towards the garage, her heavy work boots grinding against the gravel. As you both entered the garage, the silence of the night was briefly interrupted by the soft clicks and whirs of various machines and tools. Abby slumped back into the truck's passenger seat, her exhaustion showing on her face. Eyelids heavy.

She gave you directions as you navigated through the dark country roads, passing over gravel and occasionally potholes. The ride was mostly silent, save for the hum of the truck’s engine and your occasional question to confirm the right way. You couldn’t help but feel soothed by her small hum, another small habit you’d noticed.

As the vehicle crested a small hill, you approached a cozy, yet modest cottage with a few other outlying buildings. Soft yellow light spilled from the windows, casting a warm glow over the property.

"Thanks, for driving me…really."

Abby unbuckled her seatbelt, preparing to get out of the truck. A small zip followed. She placed a hand on the black door handle before pausing, turning back to you. "Hey…You sure you’ll be alright getting home this late? Don’t want you to get jumped by a badger or some other wild animal.”

“Oh? I can handle myself, thank you” you laughed. Abby chuckled, a hint of a smirk on her face.

"I don't doubt that. Just…promise me you’ll lock your doors, alright? And no more walks in the middle of the night." She teased, one boot hanging out the door.

“Only if you promise to look over your shoulder more,” you joked back since she clearly startled easily. Abby rolled her eyes; a huffed laugh followed.

"Oh, so I’m being lectured on safety now, huh? Is that what this is?" She placed a hand on her hip, looking you over with curiosity.

“Just dishing it back out is all.”

"Mhm, always gotta get the last word, hm?"

She chuckled, a flicker of challenge in her eyes. "Alright, fair enough. I’ll look over my shoulder, and you stay out of the fields after dark. Deal?"

“Deal.” You had to feel those hands, so you said, “We shaking on it?” Abby glanced down at your offered hand, a smirk on her lips. She looked back up at you, that beautiful twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, you’re going for the old-fashioned handshake, huh? Sure, I’m in." She placed her greasy hand in yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

The handshake was solid, sending a small tingle down your arm. Abby laughed, a soft, genuine sound that made the corners of her eyes crinkle. She slowly released your hand.

"Goodnight. Get back safe, ya hear?"

She stepped out of the truck, waving goodbye. The porch light flickered on as she disappeared into the cottage, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

The drive home was a mix of silence and the hum of the engine, your mind wandering back to the encounter. You thought about the way she laughed, how her hand felt in yours. Strong but gentle. You felt a little silly getting all worked up over a simple handshake, but you couldn’t help it.

For some reason she had gotten under your skin in the best way possible.

Four: Shear luck ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Early march on the farm,

The days were getting longer, the nights shorter. The temperature had turned milder, and flowers were beginning to bloom.

A warm breeze carried the scent of spring through the air. You found yourself eagerly watching the tulips bud and blossom, their green stems giving way to red and orange petals, bees already hovering over them like supper

With the warmer weather, it was time to get down on your knees and shear the sheep. You knew you’d be blowing white hair out of your nose for a week after each session. The slight itch of stray strands clinging to your skin wasn’t exactly fun, but seeing the sheep happily bouncing around afterward always made it worth it.

The night she’d let you drive her home rushed back into your mind. The twitch of a smile that ghosted Abby’s lips when you held out your hand to her. The small head tilt she did when she was taken aback by something you said or deep in thought. For a moment, your heart was still racing, but as the sleepy haze faded, you took a deep breath and sat completely up.

Yes, there were other farmhands who would do it, but you’d been subconsciously waking up earlier in the past few days. Why not get a head start?

Oh lord, now you were starting your day thinking about her?

You groaned into the air and rubbed your heavy eyelids. Why on earth was this affecting you so much? She was just a farmhand. And an attractive one, sure, but you’d met attractive people before. So why was she different?

With a huff, you threw off the covers and got up, determined to get your mind off her. With Papa's truck running sweetly, you felt relief breeze over. That meant no Abby for a while. Plenty of time to sort yourself and these lingering thoughts out. You were going to straighten them like an iron to a wrinkly shirt.

You had a farm to help run. Plenty of things to keep your mind from wandering to her.

Trucking your way down the path to the sheep’s pen, a metal bucket of supplies swinging with each step. You enjoyed the soft hum of the razor when carefully peeling layers of wool off the sheep, like an onion.

White hairs flew in the air, blowing away some others stuck to your clothes. The pink-white face of the sheep, known to be a bit more stubborn, rested on your thigh as you carefully shaved back a layer of wool. Revealing the pinkish-white skin underneath.

The hum had died out, indicating a piece had gotten stuck inside the blade. No big deal; you always carefully removed it and continued on your merry way to finish the job. But today, when you turned your back to the ewe lamb, she’d curiously wandered off.

As she disappeared from your line of sight, you continued to get the blade up and running again. She wasn’t going anywhere; she was enclosed.

When the buzz finally returned, you sighed with relief. Then you laughed to yourself thinking about how if this was Papaw, he’d probably call Miss ‘Fix-It’ to come to his rescue. You’d swear if that man wasn't married, he’d keep Abby for himself. She was useful and dependable, though, at least that’s what he said.

Then horror washed over your face.

The small sheep was wiggling her way through the crack of the not-fully-pushed-in gate.

“Oh no, no, no!”

You quickly shot up and tried to make your way over in a calm manner to freak it out or encourage it to run. The sound of its feet pushing past the wood, causing your heart rate to shoot up higher.

You slowly bent down, hand hovering over its leg, when damn it, it saw you and forced its way through completely. The small half-shaved creature was now roaming out the pen.

You felt like a fool, shooting for the stars before you were fully awake; now you’d let a sheep loose. Great.

It had been around thirty minutes of chasing around the woolly troublemaker. She’s disappeared from your field of vision.

You cursed to yourself. Head hung down, catching the muddied reflection on the tops of your boots. A pout smacked onto your face, ugh.

You wiped your brow of sweat and defeatedly pushed off the oak tree you’d been resting on.

Clover would round up the lamb; you wished you would’ve remembered that before you ran around like a chicken with her head cut off.

Legs sore, out of breath, and hair stuck to you in places you’d rather it not be.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

The sound was growing louder behind you, and you tiredly turned to face the individual behind you.

It felt like a prayer had been answered; there she was! Happy as can be, like you hadn’t been losing your mind all morning. Then following the rope up to the hand holding it.

Abby, that ghosted smile on her lips.

“Missin’ Something?” She teased, nodding towards the little sheep.

“Oh, thank heavens! Where’d you find her?”

You took the lead from her calloused hands, keeping your cool at the slight brush of fingers.

“She wandered all the way down to the edge of my place. Looks like you are having a day, huh?” Abby chuckles, leaning her hands on her hips. boots scuffed, sleeves rolled up, and that small smirk that makes your heart stutter a little.

“A day? Please,” you brush off, embarrassed.

“Sureee,” Abby drawls out, biting back another laugh. “Just racing a lamp for fun? Gotta try it sometime then.”

“Yeah, yeah, thanks,” you murmured out.

“No problem,” Abby replies, patting your shoulder a tad firmer than she probably realized. “Next time, maybe try not letting’ her outsmart you, huh?”

Abby chuckled under her breath before tipping her hat, heading back to her land. You sat there, watching her figure grow smaller with the distance.

You sighed deeply and turned on your heels, taking a moment to look over your shoulder and feeling a small flutter as you saw her head turn back as if she’d done the same.

“What a morning,” you huffed, boots carrying yourself back to the pen. Double-checking the lock.

How embarrassing

Five: Held up in the rain ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You weren’t sure if you were just more aware of her presence or if she’d actually been around more these past few days. Nonetheless, the small sway of her brown hair and the sound of her work boots against the ground became a familiar occurrence.

One you didn’t mind one bit.

But last Wednesday is still stuck in the back of your mind. You were down with a small cold, so soup and a lazy day were your savior. You got up to stretch, bones cracking with an oddly satisfying sound. The room feeling a bit stuffy, you went over to open the window above your desk, but the figure a few feet below made your hands pause. Abby, miss handywoman herself.

You wondered what she was doing here so early, but instead of calling out, you took a few moments to admire and be nosy. She’d been out chatting with another farmhand; she seemed familiar with the man. Owen had helped you around the land a few times with projects that required more than just you. Eh, you thought. You turned your heel to return to bed when he snaked his arm around her shoulder, and she didn’t even flinch.

The hell.

He was okay looking, you supposed, but you couldn’t help but feel sick at the sight. It was a harmless gesture, hopefully... yeah, No way they were a thing. Oh, wow, you were getting territorial over her. You pinched the bridge of your nose, embarrassed.

Sure you two hadn’t outright flirted, but it couldn’t have been in your head, right??

Or were you just borderline pining for her?

It was too early to ask such questions; she’d think you were nuts. Correction, More nuts since she’d seen you chasing around that escaped lamb.

You tried to shake off last Wednesday, but you couldn’t help the small twist in your gut at how comfortable he looked. Probably just a friendly gesture; relax.

The following few days the skies had been a bit cloudy but still warm with a small cast of sun peeking down. That same fence the lamb escaped from was found to be broken. It definitely made me feel less embarrassed, but what didn’t is Nana asking you to call Abby on the house phone to see if she could come fix it.

Talking to her on the phone made you uneasy for some reason. You took a deep breath and pressed the grey buttons with the number she’d had written down on our fridge.

‘Always down the road if you need me xxx-xx—Anderson’

The small heart she drew next to it was cute, soft. She really was just a woman underneath all that grit.The sound of a soft sigh and click made you rock on your heels a bit. Holding the phone close to the shell of your ear.

“Hello?” She said, sounding like she had just gotten up.

“Heya, Abby, did I wake you?” You asked sympathetically.

You jumped at the sound of her clearing her throat and rustling on the other line. Almost like she had just suddenly sat up straight.

“Hey! No, I’m up…I’m up; what’s going on?”

Her voice much clearer now.

You twisted the red cord of the house phone talking to her. Explaining the situation and seeing if she was free. She wasn’t at the moment but said she’d be over in an hour or so. You thanked her and said goodbye, letting her hang up first.

A beat of soft breathing passed, then she spoke up.

“Alrighty then, see you…”

Was this awkward that you both had said bye and yet neither one of you had hung up yet… or confirming your thoughts of the past few weeks not just being ‘nothing.’.

You laughed awkwardly and eventually clicked the phone to hang up.

As much as your mind was jumbled mess, it would be nice to see her face. Nana was teasing but said she’d brought by a box of tissues for you. How sweet, driving five miles just for that. You were lost in thought thinking about all these unspoken moments happening between you and the all mighty miss ‘fix-it’

You didn’t even notice how crazy you must’ve looked, hand still on the phone, giggling to yourself.

You pulled yourself together and straightened up. You still have chores to do yourself; maybe you could see the sleep last so you could see Abby for a bit while she worked. To thank her for the tissues, nothing more.

The afternoon had grown a grey color, a small shadow of clouds falling down. You being much too distracted with doing other things hasn’t noticed the sudden stillness of the wind.

You’d been mid small talk with Abby, watching her nail a few things in place when you felt a droplet on your shoulder. The cold sensation caught you off guard, but Abby asking you to hold a nail still snapped you out of it. The closeness to her definitely made your heart speed up a bit. You could count the freckles on her cheeks if you wanted, but you focused on helping her.

“Just hold that still for me,” she asked.

You nodded and let her finish up with your minor help when the first crack of thunder rolled past.

The next thing you two know, Abby's hat brim was filling with rainwater. The heavy downpour wasn’t sudden, but you’d been too distracted to notice. Great.

“Damn it to hell—come on!” You weren’t sure if you were impressed or startled by the firm grip she had on your wrist, pulling you to your feet. Dropping the nails you had in hand. You both retreated to the nearby barn.

With heavy breathing, you leaned against a wooden beam. Clothes soaked and sticking to you, uncomfortably.

“You alright?” You asked her, glancing over to her shaking off her hat.

“Yeah, just drenched,” she replied, gesturing to herself.

“You and you both,” you laughed and looked away from her tee that was definitely a little more see-through with the rain soaked into it, whew.

When the rain began to ease and Abby moved to check outside, you blurted out, “Thanks, by the way.”

“…For what?” She glanced back at you, brows lifted slightly, with that cute head tilt.

“Oh, uh, the tissues. That was… thoughtful of you.”

“Didn’t think it was a big deal. You needed them, so…” Abby’s lips twitched into the faintest smile, and she gave a small, nonchalant shrug.

“Well, it was sweet,” you said quickly, feeling a little flustered as her gaze lingered on you.

Her smile grew, though she didn’t say anything else. Instead she turned to stop herself from the smile growing further. She opened the barn door just enough to peek outside, gesturing for you to follow as the drizzle began to slow.When you got back to the house, Nana was in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove. She turned to greet you with a knowing look. “Storm catch y’all off guard?”

“Sure did,” you muttered, setting your muddy boots by the door.

Abby offered a polite nod. “Rain came out of nowhere, but we got everything squared away.”

Nana’s eyes flicked between you and Abby, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Well, it’s good to have help around. Lord knows she can’t do it all herself,” she said, nudging you lightly.

“Don’t I know it,” Abby teased, her voice playful. Shooting you a small wink, then back to your grandmother.

Before you could retort, Papaw’s voice called from the living room. “She can handle herself just fine. Ain’t that right, girl?”

You winced at his tone, a little sharper than usual. Clearly not a fan of the insinuation. Nana shot you a look that said, Don’t start anything, before turning back to her pot.

“Well, we’re grateful for the help anyway,” she said, her voice light but pointed.

“I should get going. Thanks for letting me dry off here.” Abby seemed to pick up on the subtle tension, clearing her throat as she glanced toward the door.

Six: Hands on, Hands off ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

This morning the air was unmistakably thick with the smell of damp earth, the last traces of last night’s rain still clinging to the fields of the land. Your yellow rubber boots carried you as your mind was elsewhere. The sound of dry skin rang out as you rubbed your hands together, trying to push away the stiffness in your fingers as you made your way toward the barn. Today was supposed to be like any other, with chores, routine, and keeping yourself busy.

And yet, all you could think about was the lingering weight of yesterday. The phone call. The way neither of you had hung up right away. The distaste in Papaw’s voice. And, of course, her.

You shook your head, setting your shoulders. Enough of that. Enough of this damn near yearning. If you can even call it that. I mean what was going on? It was starting to irritate you if anything.

A silky voice cut through your thoughts. Low, familiar.

“You always look this serious, or is that just for me?”

You jumped at the sudden voice and turned to meet it. Abby, wiping her forehead with the hem of her shirt. Giving you a clear view of her midriff, Jesus. You quickly picked your eyes up before she glanced back up to meet your gaze. Just for her? Okay, she’s just teasing now.

“Pfft, just you,” you chuckled.

A thoughtful hum came from her, almost like she was approving of your answer. Things had been a little…awkward since the storm. You had been cutting conversations shorter, needing to get a grip on this schoolgirl crush. You are grown, damn it! Plus you aren’t even sure what all this could mean, too afraid to ask. Much too early to tell.

Since the storm, any worn wood had taken a hit during. Wobble here, loose there, a mess.

“Make yourself useful; they could use the extra hands,” Papaw said, newspaper in hand.

So you did. Adding yourself to the bodies scattered around the farm. A part of you enjoyed days like this; it could be a bit lonely when you weren’t in town or the loud city. Home is nice but too quiet at times. You’d been working at arm's length from her all day, and now you two had to work together. Great.

She was knelt beside you, the heat of her body mingled with yours. Working with the animals most days, you weren’t sure how to reinforce a fence with new nails without it looking like an arts and crafts project. Abby’s guidance was more than helpful; the slight praise when you did something right definitely made the nonexistent room you were in feel hotter.

“Here, grip it like this—yeah, just like that. You don’t want to hold it too tight, or you’ll throw yourself off balance.” Abby, when from hovering to standing close behind, occasionally reaching over to adjust your grip, her calloused hands settling over yours. Her voice is always in that low, steady tone.

“Loosen up a little—relax; I got you.”

Oh, she was killing you. Her chest almost grazing your back, head damn near on your shoulder. You weren’t sure if you wanted to run, scream, kick her away, or do all of them.

You kept your cool and let her show you what she needed to. Work still needed to be done regardless of how flustered you were feeling. The occasional brush of her tan kissed skin against your own made you feel a little dizzy.

A deep sigh fell out as you finally finished with the damn fence. After hammering into more than you can count, the two of you were standing by the barn, the scent of wet land still fresh in the air. Abby had a length of thick rope in her hands, casually twisting it between her fingers as she explained.

“Tying a good knot isn’t about forcing it—it’s about letting the rope do what it’s meant to. Feel it, don’t fight it,” she said, stepping closer. “Cmere, let me show you.”

She took your hands in hers, rough fingertips brushing against your palms as she guided them. You swallowed, focusing hard on the rope instead of the warmth of her touch.

“See? You keep hesitating right here,” Abby murmured, her voice low. She adjusted your grip, fingers pressing gently over yours. “Just let it loop through, like this.”

You nodded and listened the best you could. You weren’t sure if it was the knot-tying or the fact that Abby was this close—her breath warm against your skin, the faint smell of her shampoo lingering. This was that softer side of her you grew fond of. Gentle but firm when needed.

Then, footsteps crunched against the gravel path behind you. You felt a bit of relief for the distraction until you saw who the figure was. Sigh.

“Well, would you look at this,”

Owen’s voice cut through the moment, light and teasing. “Abby Anderson is giving hands-on lessons now? Thought you didn’t have the patience for that.”

Abby didn’t pull away immediately, but she did loosen her hold on your hands, stepping back just slightly. She glanced at Owen with an easy smirk. “Some people are worth the effort.”

Those familiar laughs that made it clear he and Abby had history, even if it wasn’t anything serious.

“Didn’t know you had a soft spot, Anderson,” Owen grinned, nudging her playfully.

Your stomach fell a little more than you should have. You didn’t have a right to feel jealous or anything of the sort, not really. But watching the way he leaned into her space, how comfortable he was with her, it sent a slow burn of irritation through your chest. Abby must’ve noticed, because when Owen finally left, she turned back to you, arms crossed, lips quirked in amusement. Those feelings from Wednesday were clear as day on your face. Abby studied you for a long moment before speaking. Her hand fixing the strap on your overalls before pulling back.

“Y’know, if looks could kill, Owen’d be a goner.”

Your face burned. “I wasn’t—”

“Mhm,” she hummed, not looking convinced. A slow smile tugged at her lips as she reached for the rope again, holding it out to you. “C’mon, Show me that knot one more time.”

You huffed a playful sigh and went back to focusing. You weren’t sure why his presence bugged you so much, or maybe you did? Regardless, she was free woman it was best you didn’t medal in business that wasn’t yours.

Seven: A Fair trade ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Summer was full of sweating through gray shirts, shaving until your skin was red, and, most importantly, the annual farmers market, the one event you actually looked forward to.

You grunted as you wiped sweat from your forehead, pushing up the wooden stand until it was at least semi-straight. It wasn’t perfect, but it would hold.

Nana and Papaw were already laying out our goods homemade wooden crafts, jars of preserves, and fresh fruit so ripe the juice would run down your chin. The market was alive with movement, packed with bodies and city folk gawking at non-artificially tainted foods like they’d stumbled into some mythical past. Pricing them way higher than needed but hey, you weren’t telling. You focused on setting out more things, but Papaw’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“Keep your head on straight,” he said, not even looking up as he arranged a line of jams.

You frowned, glancing at him. “Huh? I am.”

What was he on about, you prayed it had nothing to do with abby. He made a noise, something between a grunt and a sigh. 

“Mhm. Just saying’. Been seeing’ a lot of you ‘round Anderson, lately.” You rolled your eyes, irritation prickling at your skin hotter than the sun beating down. 

“And..? She’s helpin’ fix the fence. Y’know, the one that needed fixin’?”

Papaw didn’t push, but you caught the small shake of his head before you turned back to work, biting your tongue. This was family time, whatever he was sitting on could wait. You told yourself to relax, not to dig too deep. Not now.

Whatever his issue was, it wasn’t yours. Of course you’d been around the farmhand! She basically lives there, it’s not like you’d been going out of your way to see what she’s up. No, you’d only been offering her cold drinks and helping hands for efficiency purposes…yeah, totally that. You were in the middle of setting out more wooden trinkets when a smaller shadow fell over the stand.

“Are these yours?”

You looked up, expecting another customer, but instead, a boy..maybe sixteen or seventeen, stood there, holding up a small carved horse you’d made. His brown eyes were curious, fingers tracing over the details.

“Yeah,” you answered.  “You interested?”

Before he could respond, another voice, one much more familiar cut in from the next stall over.

“Didn’t think I’d see you peddlin’ your goods out here.”

There was that beautiful distraction, it was almost like you could feel when she was around. The wind would shift and goosebumps would run down your skin. Abby stood next to her own stand, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at her lips. She was dressed the same way she always was worn jeans, a simple tee, hair braided back but something about her presence made the market feel a little smaller, a little warmer. That same softness.

“Gotta make a livin’ somehow,” you shot back, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped.

Abby picked up one of your trinkets, turning it over in her hand. “You any good at this?” she asked, tossing the question toward the boy.  “Or am I going to regret buying?”

“Guess we’ll find out,” he replied, smirking like they shared some inside joke.

You narrowed your eyes, glancing between them. “You break it, you buy it.”

Abby’s smirk deepened, but she said nothing. Instead, she placed the trinket back down and leaned casually against her stand. For a few minutes, business went on as usual. people coming and going, picking through the goods, but you kept catching glimpses of Abby. And, more annoyingly, you weren’t the only one.

Someone stopped by her stand, a young woman, maybe mid-twenties, clearly interested in more than just whatever Abby was selling. You weren’t listening to their conversation, but you could hear the way Abby’s voice dipped into something easy, something familiar.

And for some reason, it made your stomach twist. She had nothing on you though…right? Oh Christ, stop it! There’s no need to put her down just because she’s near a woman who has her free will. Sigh. You went back to organizing jars with more force than necessary.

“…You get this weird look on your face whenever Abby talks to people. You know that, right?”

You stiffened, turning to see the boy, who was still hanging around. Watching you with clear amusement.

“I don’t— what—” you started, but he just raised an eyebrow. Nearby, Abby was still talking, but she had definitely heard. Embarrassment creeping in. That Heat crawled up your neck. You focused on your work, refusing to acknowledge either of them.

Eventually, the day wound down. Stalls started packing up, and you wiped your hands on your jeans, exhausted but satisfied.

Just as you were about to start loading things into the truck, Abby wandered over. She picked up one of the last jars of preserves and examined it like she was actually considering the purchase.

“Hey, you …Reckon this is a fair trade?” she asked, holding it up before swapping it with something from her own stand. You glanced at what she handed you—a small, well-crafted wooden charm, simple but sturdy, And oddly painted in your favorite color. She’d picked up on that? ..that’s sweet

Before you could respond, the boy—who had finally wandered back over—spoke up again.

“Oh yeah, Abby’s got a thing for homegrown stuff.”

You blinked. “Wait—you two are…?”

Abby, already stepping away, gave a lazy nod.

“He’s my kid brother.”

That threw you. Before you could piece together a response, she patted your shoulder.

“Guess I’ll be seein’ you around, farmer girl.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving you standing there, jar in hand, heart pounding for reasons you weren’t quite ready to admit. Mixing with a bit of joy to know more about her.

Eight: A glimpse of truth ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The wooden charm hit the floor with a dull thud, but in your half-asleep state, you mistook it for the sound of your alarm and slammed the snooze button for the second time.

You’d earned a slow morning. With family visiting, you’d put in extra work the night before, making sure everything was in order so you could take your time getting up without guilt. No mud-streaked clothes, no sweat running down your back before noon—just a morning to yourself.

Sitting up, you yawned and stretched, running your fingers through the tangled fairy knots in your hair before grabbing a comb. Your eyes flickered toward your bedside table, where the wooden charm now rested.

You hadn’t spoken to Abby much since the market, not because you were avoiding her, but…well, maybe you were. Not on purpose, but the lingering weight of Papaw’s words settled heavy in your mind.

“Keep your head on straight.”

It was stupid. You knew it was. He loved you, always had. He was just…traditional. That’s all. It wasn’t a big deal. Right?

You exhaled through your nose, shaking the thought away as you pulled yourself together. No point in lingering on something you weren’t ready to unpack.

Downstairs, the house buzzed with conversation, the scent of fresh biscuits and coffee thick in the air. You stepped into the kitchen, immediately met with the sight of family gathered around, familiar faces and warm voices filling the space.

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” one of your aunts teased, arms crossed with a knowing smirk.

“Had to sleep in after all that work I did,” you shot back easily, stealing a biscuit off the counter before Nana could swat your hand away.

The chatter continued, questions flying back and forth, laughter filling the room. It was nice, this—family being around, the nosy teasing that came and went with love.

Then the godawful repeated question,

“So, you got yourself a boyfriend yet?”

The question landed casually, but it made your stomach twist. You hesitated just a second too long, biscuit halfway to your mouth. Papaw was at the table, flipping through a newspaper, seemingly uninterested in the conversation but you knew he was listening.

“Oh, leave her alone,” Nana’s voice cut in before you could figure out how to dodge the question. “She’ll tell us when there’s something worth telling.”

The tensions small it barely had time to settle was gone, just like that. The subject shifted, laughter picked up again, and you took a slow breath, shoulders easing. You glanced at Nana, but she wasn’t looking at you. Just kept on kneading dough like nothing had happened.

A short memory flickered, Nana shushing similar questions when you were younger, always deflecting when anyone pried too much about who you were interested in. Your chest tightened, warmth curling behind your ribs. She knew. She’d always known. And she didn’t see you any differently.

The day passed lazily, family filling the house, conversation and meals stretching long into the afternoon. You didn’t think about Abby..not too much, anyway but as you stood near the open window, watching the evening settle over the land, movement caught your eye. Down the gravel path, back covered in sweat, Abby walked with an tired sway, probably heading home for the day.

When The words left your mouth before you could think twice.

“Hard working or hardly working, Anderson?”Abby glanced up, shielding her eyes from the sun. Her smirk was immediate.

“I’ve done my work, you get back to lazing around!”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. She was only joking. you both had rest days, and she knew damn well how hard you worked. Still, as she walked on, disappearing down the path, you found yourself staring at the empty space she was once in.

Laying down for the night, your fingers found that charm again.

Nine: Lovers’ quarrel ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Thanks again.” You said a little too quickly.

The words were clipped short, barely more than a breath, as you set down the box and turned to go. You didn’t look at Abby. You hadn’t looked at her much these past few weeks, not really. You honestly couldn’t. it wasn’t on purpose, that there was just too much going on. Family coming and going, chores piling up, Papaw’s watchful gaze always feeling a little heavier than before. That distaste on the tip of his tongue.

But that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was, you weren’t sure what to do with all the feelings tangled up inside you.

Jealousy sat at the pit of your stomach, strong and stupid. The way Abby laughed with Owen, the way she smiled easy at that lady at the market, Ugh. it had your chest twisting more than needed. And then there was Abby herself, with her ridiculous small touches, the teasing words, the way she’d smile when she knew she had your attention. She gave you crumbs. And you hated how you were basically starving for them. For her. So, you pulled away. Bit by bit. Maybe if you distanced yourself, you’d stop wanting.

But Abby, This Abby, wasn’t the type to let things slide. So, why were you surprised when she cut you off causing your heels to stop in their path with:

“Y’know…,” her voice came, casual but edged with something else, “if you’re gonna keep avoidin’ me, at least put some effort into it.”

You halted. Slowly, you turned back. She’d noticed, of course she did. You came to face a slightly tensed Abby. She was watching you, arms crossed over her chest, eyes lined with something unreadable.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” You lied right through the skin of your teeth, not wanting this conversation to take place. Not knowing what it would unlock, if anything.

“Yeah?” She scoffed, shaking her head. “C’mon, don’t do that.”

The heat rose to your face before you could stop it. you weren’t sure how to reply to her, so you choked up whatever came out first.

“Do what?” You knew exactly what. Feeling guilt climbing from somewhere you’d rather it not. She was pushing on a place she shouldn’t.

“Act like I’m just makin’ shit up.” Her brows pulled together, frustration creeping in. “You’ve been different. Ever since the market, maybe before that.”

“Ain’t nothin’ changed. Will you relax?” Your jaw clenched down.

“Bullshit!” Abby stepped closer, her presence all-consuming, and you hated how your pulse jumped at the nearness. “You don’t talk to me the same. Don’t look at me the same. Hell— I barely see you anymore unless it’s in passing.” She wasn’t wrong. And that made it worse. Your fingers curled into your palms, nails pressing into skin as the words slipped out, unfiltered and bitter.

“Maybe you should be talkin’ to someone else then, seems like you got plenty of options.”

The second it left your mouth, you regretted it. Abby’s expression shifted, something flickering behind her eyes before her head tilted. But it wasn’t that cute head tilt it was one of defense.

“What was that?” She asked, and boy Your stomach twisted.

“Nothin’.” “Dismiss that, I’m just talking out my ass”

“Nah.” Abby took another step forward, her voice softer now, but no less intense. “Go on.” You swallowed hard, unable to meet her gaze. You weren’t about to say it again. Weren’t about to admit what was really brewing, not if she wasn’t going to say Anything outright. Why should you?

So, instead, you shook your head and muttered, “Forget it.” A beat of silence stretched between you. Then Abby exhaled sharply, her frustration giving way to something else.

“Fine,” she said finally, voice cool, “it’s forgotten”

And just like that, she turned and walked away. You let the tension sit in your chest for the rest of the evening. It gnawed at you, made your skin itch.

So, that happened. Sigh, you found yourself at the stall with the newborn calves, feeding them in the quiet. Their little pink noses nudged at your hands, soft and warm, pulling a tired smile from you. Today— the past few weeks have been mental gymnastics. You just wanted a bit of solace. Hell, even a crumb would do. It was starting to pile up, weighing down.

The sound of footsteps made you roll your eyes so far you swear you saw your brain for a moment. Then, of course she wasn’t going to let the conversation end like that.

Abby wasn’t looking at you at first, just setting down a small sack of feed. Awkwardly putting her hands in gas’s stained jeans.

“Figured they could use some extra,” she muttered.

This wasn’t about the cows. She stayed still, waiting.

And maybe it was the way she’d come back instead of leaving things unfinished. Maybe it was the way she’d always been the one to reach out first, even when she was just as caught up in this mess as you were. But for the first time in weeks, you let yourself meet her halfway. Might as well, you sighed.

A truce

Your hand lifted, slow and hesitant, before brushing across the broad plane of her back. Just a light touch, the warmth of it lingering.

Abby stilled at first, then exhaled, shoulders dropping slightly as she let herself lean into it.

No words needed. Not yet.

As you dusted off your hands of feed and turned to leave the stall, you glanced at Abby over your shoulder, a teasing found in your voice.

“…Didn’t know me avoidin’ you bugged you that much.”

Abby scoffed, rolling her eyes, a hesitant pause fell. Letting you close up, taking one last look at the calf. Then, just as you were stepping away, she muttered, half under her breath but loud enough for you to catch.

“Yeah, well… guess I’m not used to wantin’ someone to stick around.”

By the time you turned back, she was already busying herself with heading back, like she hadn’t just said something that made your chest tighten. You wanted to call her back, make her repeat herself…but she clearly wasn’t ready to be more direct. we’re either one of you? Past small touches and jokes?

The questions stayed there, as you stared at that small charm on you bedside later that night.

Ten: A close call ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The house was tense. It had been for days now. You could feel it before you even reached the middle of the carpeted stairs, voices rising and falling in the kind of hushed argument that still carried enough weight to settle heavy in your chest. 

“She ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong,” Nana said, voice steady but edged with warning. 

“It isn’t right.”  Papaw’s voice was gruff, tired, but firm.

“Ain’t right by who, exactly?” Nana shot back.

You hesitated on the last step, fingers gripping the railing. you stayed put, not wanting to pull away..and not wanting to hear more. This was absurd. None of their business; you aren’t the same girl with beads in her hair and muddy sparkly rain boots . You were a woman with her own mind and wants. 

“She’s young. She doesn’t know what she wants yet.” He said, in a half-hushed tone.

“She knows just fine,” Nana snapped.  “And even if she didn’t, that isn’t for you to decide. You love that girl, don’t you?”

Papaw huffed. You could picture him standing there, arms crossed, jaw clenched, struggling to put his feelings into words. 

“Then act like it.” She sighed deeply, dissatisfied with her husband’s reaction to something of this manner.

But it was too much. The heat, the pressure in your chest, before you knew it, your shoes were hitting the wooden floor harder than intended as you stepped into view.

Their heads snapped toward you.

“I’m goin’ out.” Your voice was short, clipped. That same tone that had been stuck in your throat since it all had been building on your shoulder. You didn’t wait for a response before stepping out the door, letting the creaky screen slam behind you. Usually Nana would call after you to be more gentle with her doors, but not today. Not after what she knew you’d been hearing whispering of since that day you’d come in from the rain with Abby.

Papaw didn’t call after you. Maybe he knew better. Maybe he felt bad. Either way, you didn’t stop. You need a damn minute, just a second.

You weren’t sure where you were going until you were there. The stables smelled like hay and dust, the late afternoon light filtering through the gaps in the wood. It was quiet, save for the occasional snort from one of the horses. 

Good. You needed quiet. Finally, quiet.

Your hands still trembled slightly from the argument, so you busied them, grabbing a nearby brush, anything to keep yourself—your brain—occupied. How did this all come so quickly? You’d been nice and said hi to a woman who fixes shit, and now you felt like you’d been put under fire for it.

So caught up in your own thoughts and breathing You didn’t hear Abby approach at first, but the sound of her boots against the wooden floor made you tense.

“You got somethin’ against doors, or do you just like stormin’ off dramatically?”

You exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes, but didn’t look at her. “Not in the mood.”

She didn’t ask again. You were clearly having a day. She Just leaned against one of the stable posts, arms crossed, watching. For a while, neither of you spoke. Giving you a moment of needed silence 

You forced yourself to ignore her presence for once. for once in moment, you let the darkness of your eyelids in the world of your brain. Settle for just a beat. The sound of her adjusting her position on the wooden post didn’t even register until.

“Ouch!—Shit.”

Your head turned just in time to see Abby staring at her hand, a small splinter sticking out of her finger. There was again that gentleness beneath the carefully crafted stone wall of her outside. 

You didn’t even feel the frustration flow down your back like a stopped faucet. She just stood there, staring at her finger like she wasn’t sure how to help herself. If you weren’t so frustrated previously, you might’ve laughed, but instead, you stood up and took a few careful steps over to where she was standing to get a better look at her now very slightly wounded hand.

Abby sighed and began patting the pockets of her worn jeans for something to pull the splinter out. When she tensed at the sudden hold on her wrist. 

“Let me see,” you said blankly, still not in the mood but not wanting her to hurt herself further.

Abby rolled her eyes but extended her hand anyway, palm up. You stepped closer, taking her calloused fingers carefully in your own. The splinter wasn’t deep, but you took your time anyway—digging it out slowly, dragging your fingertips along her skin just enough to be annoying.

“There,” you said, once it was free.  “Think you’ll live.”

She huffed a soft laugh when you made a joke about you fixing something for her for a change, feeling a little bit apologetic for your dismissal of her earlier. She was trying to check on you, and you had been a bit mean. Abby shaking her head, but when the laughter faded, she didn’t pull away from you. Letting her arm stay in your hand. 

Instead, she just… looked at you.

It was subtle at first. The way her gaze flickered, just briefly, downward. You caught it. Your heart kicked up.

It would’ve been easy to ignore. To brush it off as nothing, keep things light. But instead, you took the risk. Going against better judgment, you repeated the eye movement.

Your gaze dropped—to her lips, then back up.

Abby noticed. You saw it in the way her lips parted slightly, as if she might say something…but she didn’t. You recognize this silence, the way both of your breathing picked up. This was exactly like the day you called her. She didn’t want to hang up; she told you she’d be there in an hour, and she still didn’t move her fingers to the gray buttons to hang up her own house phone after the conversation had already faded into nothing but the same silence that was washing over right now.

The barn suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker. Neither of you moved; neither of you spoke.

And then, Abby shifted. Just enough to snap the moment, clearing her throat as she pulled her hand away.

“Y’know,” she muttered, stuffing her hands into her pockets, “if you were really worried about me, you’d kiss it better.”

It was a joke. Obviously. But her voice wasn’t as confident as usual, a slight rasp in the words that made your stomach twist.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you turned away, but you couldn’t hide the heat creeping up your neck. Instead, you told her to stay put while you grabbed a Band-Aid for her hand just until the small break in her skin of the finger healed.

Final: Kissing it better ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Supper in mid-April was warm, filling, and laced with the kind of easy conversation that only happened when things were settling into place. Nana and Papaw had their moments, but there was no thick tension, no sharp words. Just the clatter of dishes, the low hum of the radio, and the occasional chuckle between bites.

You could feel the shift—subtle, but there. Even in Papaw, who had spent the past few months stiffening at the mere thought of you and Abby being something. Now, his comments were still gruff, but there was something softer underneath, something close to acceptance. Nana, of course, had caught on well before him. She never said it outright, but the glint in her eye when she glanced between you and Abby made it obvious. Especially when she passed you a dish towel with a knowing little smile. 

“Figure you two can handle clean-up.”

So here you were, sleeves pushed up, fingers dipped under the warm, soapy water, while Abby stood beside you, drying the plates you passed her. Her hair was styled differently today, hm. You glanced down at her face and spoke.

“You’re awful quiet,” you teased, bumping her hip lightly.  “Suds got your tongue?”

Abby huffed, giving you a sideways glance. “You Just focus on not breakin’ a plate.”

You gasped at her comment. Putting on some bariatrics to get her to crack a smile. That smile you loved. The one complimented with the pink of her gums. “I’ll have you know, I’m very delicate.”

Abby hummed, clearly unconvinced. But before she could respond, you flicked a bit of water at her. She blinked as the droplets hit her cheek, then slowly turned to you, an eyebrow raised.

“Oh, you’re really funny, huh?”

“Hilarious, actually.” You bite your bottom lip to not laugh. Trying to hold composure.

A second later, her hand was in the sink, long fingers sending a splash of water in your direction. The sound of splashing water echoed through the kitchen as you and her turned the simple task of dishwashing into a soak city. The first flick of water from your hand was a quiet challenge, a warning. But she was quick, her hand moving faster than you expected, sending a spray of water in your direction.

You laughed, barely managing to avoid the worst of it. “Oh, it’s on now,” you said, wiping the droplets from your cheek.

Abby’s eyes lit up, and before you could react, she’d dunked her hands into the soapy water, splashing you again. This time, it soaked the front of your shirt. Dripping down the fabric.

“Abby!” You shrieked, laughing as you swatted at her the next few minutes were chaos—water flying, dish towels being used as weak shields, your laughter mixing with hers as you both tried and failed to keep the mess to a minimum. When the counter was a disaster and your shirts were damp, Abby’s grey shirt now darkened to a new shade. You finally called a truce, breathless and with light smiles.

“Reckon Nana set us up,” Abby muttered, shaking her head as she wrung out the dish towel.

“I ‘reckon’ you’re right.” You quipped back. 

She chuckled, then nudged your shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s get outta here before we get wrangled into sweeping’ too.” She whispered into the hollow of your ear, lips grazing the skin. 

The night air was crisp but not cold, wrapping around you both as you sat in the open trunk of Abby’s pickup. You meant to check in with her when it broke down the first time, but she clearly has it running again, so no need to mention it. You turned your gaze to the sky stretched wide above, dotted with stars, the occasional chirp of crickets filling the silence.

You absentmindedly traced the wooden charm between your fingers on your keychain, the one Abby had given you weeks ago.

“How’s your brother?” you asked, glancing over. 

Abby smiled slightly. “He’s good. Annoying as hell, but good.” She seemed pleased that you were asking more about her family and life outside of being Miss Fix-It.  You smirked, nodding before twirling the charm between your fingers again. When one of two questions you’d been wondering blurted out.

“…say, How’d you know my favorite color?”

She hesitated. Then, with a small huff, she leaned back on her palms, looking at you with a mix of amusement and embarrassment. 

“I mean, You always wear somethin’ of that color. Your curtains are the same too. Wasn’t that hard to figure out?

She said it like it was obvious, like it wasn’t a big deal. But it was. The thought of her noticing…really noticing. made something warm bloom in your chest. Like a tulip in the springtime. You chuckled, shaking your head. 

“Guess I’ll have to switch things up, keep you on your toes.”

Abby snorted. “Like hell you will.”

For a while, you both sat there, the quiet stretching comfortably between you. Abby’s gaze dropped briefly, and when you followed it, you saw where her focus had landed—her bandaged finger, the one she’d gotten a splinter in back at the stable. The stable, when you caught her looking at your slightly pouted lips. 

“How’s that healing?” 

“Pfft, just fine. Basically a paper cut…Thank you for checking, though. There goes that second one. You had to ask; the worst she could say was no or laugh it off, right? 

“You still want me to kiss it better?” You pointed to her hand, then looked back to her face. The words rung out into the small distance of your bodies.

The space between you felt charged, thick with something neither of you had been able to name for months. The teasing had always been there, the lingering touches, the glances that lasted just a little too long. But this? This was different. This was an open door, an invitation waiting to be accepted. Abby’s head tilted—just slightly, that same motion you’d caught onto since the start. Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, holding steady, searching.

She exhaled softly, her lips parting like she was about to say something, but no words came. Instead, her fingers twitched against the truck bed, like she was waging some internal battle. And then—

She moved. 

Slow, hesitant at first, like she was giving you a chance to pull away. But you didn’t. You wouldn’t.

Her calloused fingers found the back of your neck, warm and careful, her thumb barely brushing the edge of your jaw. There was a second just one where she hesitated, where her breath stuttered slightly like she couldn’t believe she was finally doing this. And then, the months of waiting, of tension thick enough to cut with a knife, finally took over.

Abby pulled you in, her grip firm but still giving you the choice, the chance to stop her. But you weren’t going anywhere.

Her lips met yours, slow and searching, like she was memorizing the way you felt against her. You sighed into the kiss, hands finding the rough fabric of her shirt, fisting it slightly like you needed something to ground you. She responded in kind, her fingers tightening against your skin, pulling you just a little closer.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads nearly touched, both of you breathing a little heavier than before. Abby let out a short, breathless laugh, almost like she couldn’t believe she’d actually done it. Months of waiting, months of ups and downs, months of wanting to close that gap.

Her gaze flickered to her finger, still wrapped in its makeshift bandage, then back to you,

“Much better,” she murmured.

Time seemed to still as that weight that had been pressing on your chest for months, thick, unspoken, and suffocating…seemed to melt away the second Abby’s lips met yours. It was like exhaling after holding your breath for too long, like finally stretching out sore muscles after a long day’s work. The tension, the wondering, the stolen glances that never felt like enough, all of it moved to replaced by something …warm and steady. Relief. Certainty.

It wasn’t just the kiss, it was the knowing. Knowing that you hadn’t imagined it, that she’d felt it too. That you hadn’t been foolish for wanting, for hoping. It settled in your chest like a quiet reassurance, like something that had always been meant to happen,

…Just waiting for the right moment.

Ty for reading babes! 💐 whew

Want another long read? (Click)

[klausysworld]

Hear me out.....

I have this idea for you... hear me out.

Reader is camping in mystic falls....klaus just broke his wolf curse. His first rut hits him and he runs into the woods. He gets a whiff of a very good smelling scent. He follows it. Turns out he has a mate and she is not a super creature but a human. Hear me out now.... she's his true mate...and he considers her his omega.

So when he approaches her she's like a tad bit freaked out but she feels that same pull to him he does with her. She sits down on the ground and klaus let's her pet him...

Let's just say this reader is into...werewolves cause she reads a lot of fanfiction so in her mind her wildest dreams are about to come true.  And you can put two and two together.

Wolf!klaus fucking his human!reader as his mate. And after that moment they became inseparable. Your welcome. 😌

Dream or Reality?

Klaus ran far and fast, the pads of his paws thudding against the ground, wind blowing through his fur and that delightful rush of adrenaline had his undead heart pounding.

He dismissed Elijah’s annoyed callings for him and continued to enjoy the freedom he had longed for.

Everything was so intense now, even more that it already was. Every chirp of a cricket, every buzz of a bee, every crinkle of a leaf and every flap of a birds wings. He could hear for miles on end. As he looked around at his surroundings, the greens were brighter, the sky bluer. The the mud and blades of grass against his paws could each be individually felt and when he inhaled deeply, a wave of scents filled his lungs.

However one in particular stood out.

He made a sudden stop, his body skidding to a halt and his ears pointed straight up as he sniffed a few more times. His mouth watered and he pressed his snout down, following the delicious scent, chasing it as he heard the hum of a girl.

He slowed gradually and followed her as she weaves through the trees, a basket in hand which was filled with a range of wild berries. He sat down and watched as she picked from a large bush of blackberries, leaning a little closer to smell just how lovely she was. It had his claws digging into the ground and his tail beating the floor.

His eyes shone gold, bleeding into red as she bent right the way over to pick up her basket once she was finished picking from the high parts. Her short, flowy dress allowing him to see just about everything as her matching white thong left very little to the imagination.

Oh how he wanted to run up behind her and shove his mouth into her cunt. If she smelled this delicious, he could only dream of her taste.

But instead he decided to wait, follow her some more until it began to get dark and her stroll came to a stop. He looked around at the clearing she had chosen to rest at. Klaus kept low to the ground, the grass and flowers not hiding him as well as he might’ve hoped but enough.

He took a few tentative steps as she sat down against the grass, just watching the sun set. Her skin glowed under the golden hue and her hair lay beautifully against her skin. The white of her dress complimented her skin tone wonderfully, he could onto imagine how soft it would be against his tongue.

The thought alone had him walking straight to her, his muzzle brushing her shoulder making her freeze in place. Her head slowly turned to face him, wide eyes staring back at him and her breathing came to a stop.

He slowly sat before her, her lips parted slightly as he rolled his shoulders back and he sat tall before her. Her head tilted back to take in his height, a nervous breath leaving her as a soft growl rumbled through him.

She looked so weak in-front of him, so small and innocent. Oh how he knew he could just eat her up, in many ways.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, shock written all across her as maintained eye contact with him for as long as possible. He found it amusing how she tried to stand her ground by holding his stare, he allowed her to win this, allow her to feel as though she may have the upper hand.

Klaus brought himself down to lay on his forearms and back legs, his chest barely touching the grass below.

Her hand very slowly lifted, she held it out with fear flashing through her and a twinge of curiosity as he sniffed her hand. He groaned at the addictive scent of her blood underneath the surface and licked the soft skin of her palm. She giggled quietly at the tickle of his tongue as he dragged it up her arm and her other hand pet his head gently.

“Wow” she whispered under her breath and a smile tugged at her lips as he pulled his face away and looks down at her through hooded eyes. His head tilted when he caught the scent of something rather sweet. His tail whipped side to side when he realised the source of the delicious smell and lowered his head. Her eyes widened when his nose pressed to her lower belly and she gasped softly.

Her hands ran through his fur on his neck and down his back, well as far as her arms could reach from her seated position. When she leaned forward to touch his tail he took the opportunity to get his head under her skirt, the top of his snout pressed to her panties making her jolt and squeal.

“Shit” she whispered when she fell forward in surprise onto her hands and knees over the top of him. She kept still, unsure what her best move could be here, she couldn’t make any sudden movements, it might spook him and she didn’t exactly want to be with a violent wolf when it’s nose was rubbing against her panties.

An involuntary moan left her when his long, warm tongue pressed against her and she quickly rolled to her side and onto her back.

“Oh gods” she whispered when the wolf stood over her, licking his lips and sniffing her intently. She looked up wide eyed and even more so when he barked quietly at her before pressing his nose to the valley if her breasts.

Her mouth opened and closed as she stared into his eyes, a strange glint in them that told her he was definitely more than he looked.

Dear god she read too many werewolf fanfics. She was in a field with a fucking huge animal trying to feel her up and she liked it way more than she probably should.

“Okay, okay” she uttered to herself while slowly pushing herself up to be sitting again but he didn’t move, instead her face was hidden in his chest and his rustic scent was filling her head. She groaned softly at the addicting smell and found herself nuzzling her nose against his fur.

Klaus watched in both amusement and lust, his front leg lifted to wrap around her, his large paw holding the back of her head in encouragement as she huffed him in. Warmth spread through him, pooling at the pit of his stomach as her hands tugged his fur. God he needed to have her right now, make her his before anyone else could get even the slightest view of her.

His nose sniffed at the top of her head, her hair freshly washed and soft. Her cheek pressed to his chest and a small moan left her as he stepped forward and pressed a paw to her now damp underwear. His tail wagged and he turned his head to lick the shell of her ear and make her squirm.

She fell back against the grass as he pressed his nose to her throat to gently push her downwards.

“Fuck fuck fuck” she chanted as she closed her eyes and felt the warmth of his tongue along her neck. His teeth caged her throat, the action should’ve made her reek with fear but a low growl erupted from his chest at the flow of arousal she released as he bit down gently. Her hands latched onto his fur tightly, keeping his teeth in her as he pierced past the skin to leave his mark. “Oh god” she breathed as he licked over the wounds more moving his snout further down her body.

“This can’t be happening” she whispered as his canines nibbled along the swell of her breasts and pushed the top of her dress down to have more access. Klaus tugged at the fabric but she didn’t move to take it off making him huff and bark at her.

She looked back at him confused and shook her head slowly making him grumble before grabbing the skirt of the sundress and pulling it up making her yelp as he exposed her thong. Her hand moved to cover herself and she groaned when she realised how wet she was, not noticing the way his tail wagged rapidly when she pushed them down off her legs. “What am I doing” she mumbled to herself before glancing to the wolf.

“Sit” she whispered unsure but he did so and her eyes widened. “Okay” she laughed slightly and stood up, entertained by the fact he followed her. “Go on, go home” she shooed him, but he kept his nose nice and close to the source of her scent and followed her until she stopped at a large teepee tent. She sighed and went inside, closing it up before Klaus could step in making him growl softly.

Not that it was an issue, he just powered his way through and drank in the sight before him. Seeing her pull off her dress and pull out a skimpy pair of pyjamas. Perfect for his eyes but he also hated that she would come to an open area, anyone could come by, and wear such lack of clothing.

She shrieked when she turned to see him stood before her and grabbed her sleeping bag to cover herself. It wasn’t appreciated apparently as he showed her by grabbing the end of it and pulling it roughly like a dog would a tug toy. Her hold on it was nothing compared to his and she ended up fully naked again for his eager eyes.

“What the actual fuck” she whispered looking back at him with a slightly fearful, slightly aroused look in her eyes while his shone with lust and hunger.

Her legs pressed together, her hands awkwardly hiding her sex from his view. She took a reluctant step back as he stalked toward her much like a predator does his prey before closing her eyes nervously and praying to god that this animal wouldn’t eat her.

Oh but he wanted to, just a little differently to the way she was thinking.

So when his tongue licked at her slightly shaky hands, she moved them slowly in anticipation. Her eyes flew open when he nuzzled his nose between her thighs, nudging them apart and locking his eyes on hers and his tongue curled between them. “Oh fuck” she breathed as it slid along her folds, then between them until the tip of his tongue stroked her clit.

“This isn’t real. This isn’t real.” She told herself “it’s just a dream” she whispered with a long breath, her hands moving to pet the top of his head. If it were a dream then she could do this, just live out her dirty fantasies and wake up in the morning all hot and sweaty.

Klaus chuckled in his head at her words and continued his actions. Her hands in his fur felt delightful, and her taste on his tongue was more than heavenly. Her body was so beautiful from where he was, looking straight up at her. Her face was looking up, avoiding his stare making his tail wag lowly as he buried his face further into her cunt, tongue deep inside her and the blunts of his teeth nibbling the hood of her clit to have her thighs trembling, legs struggling to keep her stood up. Her nails dug into his scruff and her knees went weak.

He let his eyes fall closed as he focused solely on her. She was overwhelming in every aspect but he couldn’t stop craving her. Such an addictive taste, smell, feel. Her slippery pink flesh was so incredibly soft, smooth like silk and he could only imagine how it will feel around his shaft as he slides in and out of her.

His tongue reached up into her, feeling for and finding that spongey little spot within her. One stroke of his tongue was all it took for her legs to give out, knees hitting the base of the tent as she moaned loudly. Her arms moved out to ease herself down as she laid on her back, thighs open for him to indulge between.

“Fucking hell” she uttered under her breath as her hands grabbed him tightly and kept his face right against her. Her fucks bucked and a sharp cry left her when his cold nose rubbed at her hot clit, his tongue continuously curling inside her until she was spilling her pleasure into his mouth. Moaning loudly with no control over herself as she came over his muzzle, she pushed herself up on her elbows to watch him tongue dart out to lap up every drop.

His dark, dangerous eyes gazed right into hers, hunger was all she could see as he licked his snout clean with a low rumble echoing through him.

Klaus couldn’t think about anything else. He needed to have her right now. He took a seat before her, he looked down between his legs to see he his long, thick cock stood in desperate need of attention. He glanced back to her, seeing her lips parted and eyes dark as she whimpered at the sight of it. He sat a little taller as she crawled forward, nervously looking up to him every few movements before she was right in-front of him. God she looked pathetically tiny compared to him like this, and he loved it.

Her small soft hands reached forward to get a gentle hold on his cock. A grunt instantly left his throat as she kept her eyes on his, waiting incase he reacted threateningly. Her eyes flickered between his face and his dick, her breathing getting heavier as both her hands slid up and down his length, his thickness filling both hands more and more as she stroked him.

“Jesus fucking Christ” she whispered when she looked at it a little too long, watching a spurt of pre-cum leak down him making her spread it all over his cock. A soft moan left her lips when his hips jerked forward and she glanced to him before slowly leaning down.

Klaus’ tail whipped side to side as her breath ghosted his tip, growl like groans leaving him before he choked on his breath as her plump lips pressed to his cock. A gasp left her and he looked down to see if something was wrong but he felt her suckling at the slit telling him everything was just perfect.

His hips jumped forward, his claws digging into the ground as he stretched her mouth open. She moaned in pain at the sting of her face but his taste was so rich and addicting that she just ignored it.

Klaus rose so he was stood up instead of sat, his hips rocking into her little mouth as she sent a flow of vibrations down him. She too was on all fours as she seemingly tried to swallow him down. His head leaned down to lick over the top of her ass, the softness of his tongue making her whimper around his succulent cock. His tongue dipped down between her cheeks to taste her once more, and of course to feel the moans she released around him again.

He listened as his little mate choked around him as his swollen tip knocked as far back as it could. Her poor throat contracted around it until she gagged and he stepped back to spare her. She coughed a little and sucked at his tip a little more before pulling back to catch her breath.

Klaus stood tall and turned around, still stood over her but now in a position ready to mouth her. Though she was so small infront of him he would be nearly lead down to fuck her.

He licked her back softly as her breathing sped up and her head looked over her shoulder to see his strong form over her. She let out a lengthy breath, a small nod to her head she she tried to mentally prepare herself for the step she was taking.

Klaus’s back legs bent to bring himself lower, his large cock going between her legs and sliding against her dripping cunt. He admired how soaked she was, he wondered how long she had fantasised of this position. To be fucked by a werewolf.

Though her loud moan told him it must’ve been a while as his tip pushed inside her. Her pussy clung to him tightly and her gasps for breath were obvious as her little body stretched for him. Klaus wouldn’t have been surprised if she came as soon as he thrust himself inside her from the way her body reacted.

Klaus wasn’t sure if this was exactly ethical but neither one of them seemed to exactly care very much about morals at that moment. She tilted her head back to look up at him, his tail wagged at the sight of her glossy eyes. Her mouth opened and a whimpered “Please” left her soft lips. He listened to her pleas, bucking his hips forward and listening to the scream that she released as her head fell back forward to look down. His front paws pushed against the tent floor to thrust himself back and forth slowly.

Her moans were melodic, her velvet walls tight. Klaus only wished he could whisper his filthy thoughts to her.

He shifted his from legs, his paws grabbing onto her hips and his claws digging into her skin making her hiss. Her pain only lasted a second as his hips began to abruptly thrust faster.

“Oh fuck” she yelled as he roughly humped into her. He stood strong on his back legs, lifting her lower region up as he pounded her from behind, quite literally like a wild animal. Her palms lay flat against the ground as her body jolted forward each time his swelled tip smacked her cervix.

His panted grunts filled the air as well as her rapid breaths and moans. The tent felt much smaller as the air got thicker. Hard thrusts knocked the air out of her every second, sharp breaths leaving her as she felt her cunt spasm around his dick. Klaus fucked her faster, harder at the feel of her slippery walls squeezing him desperately.

Klaus felt something extra sensitive growing at the base of his cock and hitting against her tight little hole. She let out a pleasant cry as she felt herself be stretched out further.

Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped open at the feel of his wolf’s knot shove in and out of her.

Klaus’s mind clouded over, he barely registered how her body shook and her screams got loud enough for the whole forest to hear. All he focused on was getting his knot so deep inside her that she was bound to him forever. His wolf clawed at her waist and hips as his hind legs steadied to fuck her as roughly as he could.

Her cunt clamped around him tightly, his knot locking inside her making her cry in pleasure when their orgasms mixed. His stuffing her full of his seed and hers exploding down her thighs. Her body fell exhausted immediately, the knotting taking its toll as it should for first time mates.

Klaus pulled out and whined as her arms gave out under her and she hit the ground with a thud. His tongue was on her face, trying to wake her up but she was barely conscious.

He circled her for a full minute before curling around her, wrapping her frame in his warmth.

His snout squeezed between her thighs which desperately tried to squeeze together. He lapped his tongue against her folds, cleaning her cunt and thighs so she wouldn’t feel sticky when she woke.

Klaus stayed awake while she slept. She slept for nearly 16 hours but he didn’t move. He abandoned any plans of hunting and terrorising civilians like he had originally wanted to when he released his wolf and instead smuggled his mate. He found himself with his muzzle in her pussy nearly every few hours no matter how hard he tried to resist, he knew it was making her sleepier but god he just couldn’t help himself. At least he managed to stop himself from fucking her again, he can only imagine how she would scream herself awake.

But he was able to hold some of his desires inside.

He kept her warm and safe for over half a day. Even when she woke, she was still drowsy and wasn‘y up to moving so he kept her comfy and pleased.

They both seemed to forget that the woods were open to anyone walking past. Elijah made the futile mistake of thinking his brother was killing the girl onto to find him with his furry face between her legs. Klaus nearly ripped his eyes out of his head.

Elijah left and returned a full day later with both men’s and women’s clothes, tossing them into the tent.

Klaus had turned back a few hours before and had to confirm the girls dreams, he was a werewolf.

“Hybrid actually” he told her and her eyes widened making him chuckle and kiss her lips softly. She wasn’t expecting such gentleness from the animal which had ruined her poor pussy but there he was, rubbing her skin to keep her warm and encouraging her to keep her eyes closed.

Klaus growled when Elijah threw the clothes in but somewhat appreciated it anyway.

He dressed y/n and then himself, scooping her into his arms and kissing her cheek.

“We’re going on a trip sweetheart, we’ll be finding many more werewolves and I’ll teach you everything you can know about the supernatural” he told her with a soft smile and slow strokes her hair as she nuzzled his chest.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Thirteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Canon typical violence. A walk through Velaris turns for the worse and the secrets of The Book are finally revealed...

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It would seem I was wrong. It does not take much for Bethsevah Mordeigh to turn. 

I should be ashamed, but the more often Thanatos keeps coming back, the more I come to like him. Make no mistake, he’s as dangerous and volatile as a starving animal, but compared to his siblings he’s a saint. 

I saw him kill a male yesterday. One who stumbled upon our hidden ceremony and threatened to come back with Koschei’s army and crush us and the Mother beneath his boot. 

But with a snap of Thanatos’s fingers the nameless fae was gone. Gone in a gust of red wind that smelled and tasted like metal. And Thanatos looked stronger for it. His pale skin stopped being so translucent. His hair looked a touch darker, so dark it swallowed all light. A piece cut away from the fabric of the world. 

Death is his food. Him and his siblings feed on it and crave it like nothing else. 

Except for me. 

Thanatos says he craves me. And I think I believe him. I think I’m beginning to crave him too. 

Gwyn froze when the mountain’s door slid back. Azriel stood outside Cagniv Library with a bouquet of salt-white water lilies clutched in one hand and pale blue tulips in the other. 

“Azriel,” you smiled brightly, the last word you’d meant to speak to Gwyn dying on your lips. “What’re you doing here?”

The midday sun beat down on the face of the mountain, shortening the shadows around your feet. 

“I was coming from the House of Wind and was hoping you’d take a long walk home with me. These are for you.” He held out the tulips. “And for you.” He held out the lilies for Gwyn, which she accepted after a brief moment of hesitance. 

Azriel looked… lighter. His shadows were stronger than ever, clinging to his body like a second scent, but his eyes held a fondness and love for you that Gwyn had never seen before. Not when he was looking at Mor, not when he was looking at Elain… not when he was looking at her. It was so obvious to Gwyn’s eyes, she was amazed you hadn’t caught on yet. You just looked at the flowers with a touch of color flooding your cheeks. Bashful and uncertain of how to accept such a gift. 

“Thank you.” You touched the velvety petals between your fingers as though they might crumble if you weren’t gentle. 

“Yes. Thank you.” 

Azriel looked at Gwyn, that small smile of his faltering and then growing once more when Gwyn nodded her head. It was a silent acknowledgement. A quiet understanding that didn’t completely escape your notice. 

I’m not happy with you. Gwyn’s eyes spoke. But I understand. Her teal eyes flashed protectively. Don’t fuck this up.

“I assume I’ll be seeing you tomorrow?” Gwyn smirked at you and nudged her shoulder with your own, feeling the soft give of her skin and the strength in her arms. 

“Where else would I be?”

“At home. Sleeping.”

“Pffft. Sleep is for the weak.” 

“Careful. You’re starting to sound like Az. Now shoo.” Gwyn waved you off, watching as you took the arm that Azriel offered and made your way down the smooth steps of the mountain back to the city. 

You bowed your heads together, lips barely moving and cutting out two dark silhouettes in the air. Azriel must have said something funny because your gentle laugh carried itself on the wind, weaving into the air like silver thread. Gwyn couldn’t help but smile at you. 

If she knew what was about to happen, she would have never let you leave the library. 

“They’re in love.” 

Azriel looked sideways at you, catching the sweet scent of your hair as you leaned against him. The Palace of Hoof and Leaf buzzed with quiet energy, the air tinged with the scent of sugar from the confectionary booths. 

“Who?”

“Beth and Thanatos.” 

The book rocked against your hip, matching the beat of you and Azriel’s steps as you walked through the cobblestone marketplace. Lanterns hung unlit from the arches above, bobbing on wire like the bubbles that a pair of hawk-winged children were blowing from the steps of a peach-stone apartment. The girl, blue-eyed and red-haired, nudged the boy, pointing at the Shadowsinger with something like awe. Azriel offered them a faint smile and a few tendrils of his shadows licked at their feet as they scampered away with laughter. It was just a game to them after all. 

“I didn’t think he was capable of love,” Azriel noted. He thought back to the memories you’d unearthed with your powers and of the violent ways Thanatos had inched his way into Beth’s life. Wherever he lingered, death followed. But so far as you knew, he was also incredibly protective of Beth and the other priestesses. They’d benefited from his presence even if they were unnerved by it. He’d kept them hidden from Koschei.

“Beth didn’t think so either.” You flinched when one of the marketplace hawkers held his hand out to you. He didn’t shout like the others and seemed grieved when you stepped back into the folds of Azriel’s wings. He opened his sticky fist palm up to the sky revealing a handful of neat caramel candies wrapped in wax paper. 

“For the miss.” 

Y/n looked at Azriel, who only nodded with a smile.

“Thank you.” You gingerly took them from him, taking a moment to admire the light brown of the confectioner’s eyes, like burnt sugar, and the wisps of candy floss clinging to his shirt like loose threads. 

He didn’t resume his shouting until you were a good distance away, deep voice bellowing out over the square that his wares were made fresh that morning. You unwrapped one of the candies and stuck it in your mouth, sighing as it turned around on your tongue, slowly melting. Azriel took one of the candies you offered, but tucked it into his pocket when you turned your head to inspect the baskets of spices laid out on the sidewall.

“But he keeps staying with her. Keeps warning her of Koschei’s movements so she and her fellow priestesses can stay hidden. He… he cares for her. Or at least Beth seems to think so. The information — the story — is more pleasant than I could have hoped for, and I’m eternally grateful she doesn’t go in depth about their activities—” 

Azriel chuckled. “So it’s not like one of Nesta’s books.”

“Thank the Mother no. But it doesn’t get us any closer to finding out how to defeat Koschei. She doesn’t even talk about Koschei or the priestesses much. Only Thanatos. It’s just a love story.”

“Love stories are never just that though. They’re probably the most powerful things in the universe. Look at Rhysand and Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. I don’t think we’d be where we are now if not for their love for one another. The things they were willing to do to protect what they cared about.” 

“Do you ever wish you had that?” You dared to ask. “That kind of love? A mate?” Azriel turned to look at you, eyes filled with more cryptic meaning than you could ever imagine unraveling. There was hope, longing, grief, and a slew of other emotions. Their weight seemed to press in on you, but you didn’t feel overwhelmed. 

“All the time,” he whispered. Then he smiled, staring down at where your arm was linked to his. “Do you?” 

You turned away almost bitterly. “I don’t know what I’d do with that kind of love. If I’d be able to handle it. It might be too much for me.”

“I would disagree.” 

You couldn’t find the words to respond, so you settled on silence. Luckily for you, silence with Azriel never felt uncomfortable. 

“If your shadows keep taking them, I’m going to forget how many I’ve selected.”

“I see no problem with this,” Azriel shrugged and continued to follow you around the bookshop. It had stuck out to you immediately on your long walk back to the River House. A squat, two-story townhouse with charmingly chipped white paint laid over sturdy brick and sage green shutters. Candles winked in the afternoon light pressed up against window sills where two fat ginger cats lay purring in the sun. The dark, woodsy interior dripped with books, leather notebooks, and automatic writing pens that hovered over thick pages like butterflies. “We have space in the house.” 

“It’s less about space and more about how much I’ve spent.” Your fingers brushed the next book on the shelf and its deep purple binding. 

Oh that one’s interesting — a romance between a Spring Court nymph and a Dundarian knife maker filled with adventure, lust, longing, and found family. 

You’d no sooner plucked it from the shelf before shadows crowded your hands, whisking it off to whatever ether Azriel kept them hidden in. He wrote the name of the book on a sheaf of paper, his handwriting neat and simple. 

You turned on him, arms folded over your chest. “You can’t keep doing that.” 

“You are not to spend a copper of your own money here. Rhysand and Feyre’s orders. Just put it on the House’s credit. Rhysand’s already added you.” 

“They put me on their credit?” You balked even thinking about the money you’d been given access to.

Azriel nodded. “Consider it repayment.”

“Repayment for what? I haven’t done anything.”

Azriel looked at you quietly, as if the answer were obvious. “You’re the reason I still have a sister-in-law and a niece. You’re the reason we now have a name to investigate and are one step closer to defeating Koschei. You’re the reason the Godswoods and the Gallows haven’t been stolen from yet and a number of Librarians still have their lives. Do I need to continue?”

You thought through what he said. It was true that Helion’s intervention in the Godswoods and the Gallows had been effective. No deaths had been reported since then, but it didn’t make you feel any safer. A snake was still a snake, even when camouflaged.

“Only two of those things matter to the Night Court. Helion owes me for the latter.” 

“Then you can have him contact the banks and transfer the sums.” Azriel’s eyes twinkled with mischie. You went to snatch the paper out of his hands, but all he had to do was raise his arm to the ceiling, a smile tugging at his lips. You jumped up, one hand firm on his shoulder for leverage, but it was no use. He was too damned tall. 

You stood on the tips of your toes to get closer to eye level with Azriel. His eyes flickered down to your lips, the shapes they made as you quietly said, “Thank you.” 

You lingered in the stacks for a few moments longer, nervously asked the shop owner to put the list of books on the High Lord and High Lady’s tab — which she did with a warm smile — and then made your way back outside. The bell hanging above the doorway jingled happily, the wood burned sign saying Come back soon! Love, Jessebell. 

You trailed ahead of him down the street. Every sign, every shop window display, every street sign — you drank them in like you were ravenous. 

Azriel felt Rhys’s presence drift in the outskirts of his mind, and without hesitation, he let him in. 

Where are you? What’s taking so long?

Nearly to the Sidra. I brought her to Jessebell’s. 

That explains your lateness. Rhys paused. She must have loved that. 

Azriel smiled inwardly. She did. She really did.  

A female with weathered, dark skin and flowers sprouting from her ears stopped you on the street and although your first instinct was to recoil, you relaxed when she only lifted up a deep black tulip in her textured hands. The wilting flower straightened up when you kissed one of the petals as instructed and the gentle laugh that followed had Azriel’s heart soaring. 

Well make sure you get here in time for dinner. I want as many of our family members under my roof as possible.

Is this an ask, or a command?

Don’t make me use my High Lord voice on you.

Azriel rolled his eyes with a smile. I am absolutely trembling. Do you use that tone of voice on Nyx? 

He felt as much as heard Rhys’s laughter. Enjoy your time with Y/n, but come back soon. Mor is looking to get her hands on your mate. Mother help us all.

Rhys cut the connection and Azriel was free to admire you once more. 

You cradled the bouquet he’d given you in your arms, light reflecting off the petals and casting a faint blue glow on your face as you chatted with the florist. Your smile, which had started out forced and nervous, was slipping into something more relaxed. When the female laughed merrily and touched your wrist, you didn’t flinch. 

Dark tendrils of night curled around his ears and Azriel felt a shiver trail down his spine. 

Behind you. His shadows whispered. The boy needs help. There’s something wrong with him.

The boy startled back when Azriel turned towards him, tripping over a nick in the cobblestones and landing with a wince on his palms. Glassy pale eyes stared up, wide and terrified. His clothes were rumpled and unkempt and his white-blond hair was a mess of curls flecked with grey, like he’d been rolling around in dust. Pale pink and blue veins rose to the surface of his green-tinged skin, sickly and unnerving. He looked like a corpse on puppet strings.

Azriel looked around, but no one was searching for the little boy. No yelps belonging to scared parents. No calls from a sibling. 

“Shadowsinger, sir?” Even his voice sounded sickly, like his vocal chords were disintegrating in his throat. 

Azriel immediately dropped to his knees and slid his hands behind his back. “What’s happened, little one? What’s wrong?” His voice was smooth and gentle. 

He was too busy thinking that his boy was younger than Nyx, too busy ordering his shadows out to search for the boy’s parents that he didn’t think twice about the lingering stench of blood clinging to the boy’s shoes or the faint pain beginning to grow behind his hazel eyes. 

The boy looked around furtively while wringing his grubby hands, and then leaned close to whisper in Azriel’s ear. His pale eyes narrowed in concentration.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen a black tulip before.” 

“It’s a little secret of mine. You need to get the seed and soil just right.” The female brushed her waist length hair over her shoulder. The knotted strands had the thick, coarse texture of seafarer’s rope, as aged and wise as the rest of her. When you held the flower back out for her to take she shook her head. 

“For you, my dear. I have dozens more and I think it would attract more business if you wore it around today. A beautiful creature like you must get lots of attention.” 

You knew she was probably just saying these things to get your business, but you couldn’t help the spark of joy the compliments gave you. She helped tuck the flower into the braids of your hair and you felt the petals kiss the tips of your left ear. 

“Say.” The female leaned in like she was about to share a secret. “If you aren’t already taken, I have a niece who’d love to have a pretty girl like you on her arm.” 

Your blush deepened and you found yourself stammering, “That’s very kind, but I don't-I don’t-'' You glanced up the street. Azriel was kneeling on the ground, head bent down to a small child. You only caught the wisps of white, candy floss hair over Azriel’s broad shoulders. 

The female traced the path of your gaze and sighed. “Ahhhhh. I see.” There was a triumphant look in her eyes, even as she said, “Shame. But I’ll still give you my niece’s name if you don’t mind.” 

Your eyes snapped away from Azriel’s and you smiled in embarrassment. “Oh, we’re not—”

“Henna.” 

You stepped back. Panic froze the blood in your veins and you felt pinpricks traveling up your body, stabbing your heart and your mind. You could see her now. Her silver hair fanned out around her. Her broken body. Her bloodied eye socket, dark and empty. 

“I’m sorry. What did you say?” You had to have heard her incorrectly. Your head was pounding but you pushed back on your mental wards, shoring up your defenses until the feeling passed.

The female tilted her head to the side. Her eyes were as milky and glassy as pearls. “Does the name mean anything to you, dear?” 

You took another step back and the female stepped forward. Her eyes seemed to clear then and her brows furrowed in concentration and pain. She lunged forward, tearing away at your clothes and knocking the flowers of your hands as she begged. “Help me. The boy. He’s inside—HELP ME!” 

You surged back, crumpling to the ground under her heavy weight as she continued to pull and claw. 

She’d been restocking the back room when the dirty little boy and the tailor showed up in the alleyway. He still carried that bolt of fabric under the crook of his arm. He took out a knife, orange eyes flashing and slit his throat from ear to ear while the little boy watched. Smiling.

“LET GO!” You kicked out, ramming your knee up and into the soft flesh of her stomach like you’d seen Emerie do to Cassian, but you lacked her strength and technique. The female wheezed but didn’t let go, even as others came to try and pry her off of you. Their voices were frantic, trying to calm you down, but they were the voices and hands of strangers. 

“AZ!” You screamed, feeling the female sink her nails into your arm.

There was an ugly tearing sound and the cool touch of wind at your chest. Your robes were ripped apart under her rough hands and her eyes narrowed in on your belt and the chain that connected to the book. She bucked off a cherub-faced female with a blow to her nose and blood splashed over your cheek. 

“Help me. Please. Oh… oh gods.” She grabbed at the book, but the chain glowed iron hot in her hands. The smell of burning scorched your nose as the magic did what it was meant to do. Nothing could break that chain. Not unless you willed it. Not while you were still alive. 

“Oh gods. Oh gods help me. I’m so sorry.” There were tears streaming down her face, tracing the canyons and valleys of her skin. She threw off the fae clamoring around you both and ran with jerky, uncoordinated leaps back into her flower shop. She snatched the gardening shears off the windowsill where she’d been trimming her hydrangea bushes. She wept and shook her head, mouth struggling to open and scream as she held the shears up high and then drove them into her neck.

The scene took a long time to filter through the haze of panic and disbelief. 

“Az… Az… Az—AZRIEL!” Your shrill scream pierced through the air. You scrambled away from everyone. Stones shaved away the skin of your knees, your palms. The tattered silk of your robes trailed behind you. “Don’t touch me!” You shrieked at the male who tried grabbing your arm, soft voice whispering. 

He wasn’t the one you wanted. 

“AZRIEL!” 

The female dropped to her knees, hands clutching her throat as blood poured out in bubbly, gurgling spurts. The candy pink strips of her apron turned a wet, sticky black as she crawled back towards the door.

“Oh gods… Please,” she wheezed, wet and agonized, before collapsing face down on the floor. Motionless. 

You staggered to your feet twisting away from everyone crowding around you. 

“Don’t touch me. Don’t!” 

“Miss you must sit. Please—”

“Let me help—” 

“Are you hurt? What’s—” 

“Don’t touch me. Please don’t touch me. Don’t touch me!” 

Screams. The sound of doors slamming shut. Locks turning. Commanding barks calling for a healer. Calling for the High Lord and the High Lady. Calling for the Shadowsinger to help.

Azriel was still kneeling in front of that boy and no matter how many times you called his name and pushed through the crowd of people now rushing up and down the streets in a frenzy, he didn’t get up. He didn’t look at you. You may as well have not existed. 

You finally reached him, narrowly missing being run over by a satyr who seemed to have gotten the wrong impression about which direction to sprint in. Every clip clop of his hooves shot through you. 

“Az.” 

Why hadn’t… Why hadn’t he helped you? 

“Az.”

Why hadn’t he come when you called?

The Shadowsinger rose. One hand grabbed the hilt of Truth Teller and the malicious blade sang as it was unleashed. The shadows that normally hovered about him like mist were gone. They were all around you now, tugging you in the opposite direction towards the Sidra. They pleaded for you to run, but you couldn’t understand them.

Something was deeply, deeply wrong.

“Az.” You begged and grabbed hold of his hand. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

Truth Teller shot out and pain radiated up your arm as the blade cut neatly through your clothes and sliced open your skin. You tripped backward, landing with a thud on the street that rattled your bones. Your sleeve turned dark with blood. 

You whimpered, holding your ruined arm up to your chest. There was no feeling in Azriel’s eyes. No flicker of recognition. None of that warmth and kindness you were so accustomed to. Just a menacing, silent form towering over you and blocking out the sun. 

A pale boy stood by Azriel’s side with ice chip eyes and rectangular pupils. He grinned brightly and the stretch of his waxy cheeks was too tight. Too forced. He shouldn’t have been alive. He-he—

Andrian. 

You’d seen him in Henna’s memory. You’d heard the snap of his neck beneath Koschei’s hands. Even now the boy was bent awkwardly, his head left in a perpetual tilt that should have looked charming and inquisitive but instead made you want to retch.

Andrian smiled at you then plastered a practiced look of horror on his face before running away with tears streaming down his cheeks, shouting for his mother. A burly male grabbed his shoulders, alarm on his face as he hoisted Andrian into his arms and disappeared into the crowd. Because who wouldn’t stoop down to help a fragile little boy? Who would dare suspect that the daemati that had roamed the Day Court’s halls and slithered his way into Velaris was a child?

Azriel gripped you by the front of your ruined clothes, hosting you up in the air. Your feet kicked uselessly and grabbed onto Azriel’s arm, trying to alleviate the choking pressure of his hand so close to your neck. 

“No. Azriel please. It’s me,” you whimpered. “It’s me.”

There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. There and gone. So brief you wondered if you’d imagined it.

His left hand parted the tatters of your robes, and you flinched when his fingers brushed against your hip before settling on the chain that kept the book tied to you. 

Panic seized your soul. 

You’d been chipping away at the book’s secrets for months and you couldn’t let Azriel — couldn’t let Koschei — get his hands on it. Not without you knowing what it was that made Beth’s story so special.

You flung a hand out, feeling the leather of the book beneath your fingertips like it was your own skin. Your magic called out to the book, desperate and powerful and familiar, and the barriers it possessed to hide its secrets melted away at your beckoning. You poured every inch of your power into it even as Azriel’s lips turned down in an ugly frown that didn’t belong on his face. 

Your eyes turned to gold, bright as the sun as you basked in the knowledge flooding your mind with the force of a tsunami. You didn’t hold anything back. Not this time.

You were so lost in the book — in the emotions and memories wrapping around your mind, sharp and brighter than the light of a thousand suns — that you didn’t feel it when Azriel gripped that golden chain. The metal flared, a high-pitched ring piercing the air as it snapped in two, giving way to Azriel’s power. Nothing should have broken it. And yet there it was dangling from your waist.  

You did feel it when he broke your wrist. 

When he forced the book from your grasp. 

And then stabbed you in the stomach. 

Cassian and Nesta winnowed to the street and watched in horror as your body was dropped to the ground. Your head cracked the pavement, hands twitching palms up at your sides. 

Nesta shrieked. The sound was harrowing. The mourning, dying screams of an animal.  

She charged forward, twin blades flashing in her hands, and silver light shot out of her chest, crashing into Azriel’s shields and forcing him back twenty feet. He gritted his teeth. The rubber soles of his shoes skidded and burned. 

Cassian collapsed on his knees beside you, peeling off his leather jacket and wrapping it around your head and neck to keep it in place. 

“Shit.” His hands came away bloody. RHYS! FEYRE! He screamed into the corners of his mind, hoping they’d hear. GET HERE NOW! 

“Thanatos.” Your voice was weak.

“It’s Cass. Hey, keep your eyes on me ok.” He pressed his hands against your stomach, wings flared out to protect you from the cold burn of Nesta’s power as she went toe to toe with The Shadowsinger. Magic sizzled in the air, raising the hair on the back of Cassian’s neck like a lightning strike waiting to happen. Blood pooled over his hands, thick and dark. “Eyes open,” he commanded, “On me.”  

Your eyes were open, and glowing strangely, but you weren’t staring at Cassian. No. You were miles outside of your body. 

“The Bone Carver. That’s it.” 

“Eyes on me, Y/n. Eyes on me.” 

“Thanatos,” your hand twitched, “The Bone Carver. That’s how she did it.”

Nesta screamed, flying overhead in a burst of blue light that had her back slamming into one of the marketplace towers. The white marble cracked viciously and Nesta dropped to the ground, dazed and distracted as blood dripped out from her nose. 

“NESTA!” Cassian roared, eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as Azriel waited at the bottom of the street. 

The Shadowsinger muttered something dark and revolting beneath his breath. Ancient, powerful words that were whispered in his mind. He held onto the book in his hands as it lit up in flames and then blew the ashes into the wind that would carry them all the way to Andrian’s master. 

Koschei.

The call of her mate sharpened her senses and Nesta rolled onto her feet, calling her weapons back into her hands and leveling a glare at Azriel that would have killed a lesser male on the spot. 

She was Nesta fucking Archeron. 

Lady Death. 

Queen of Queens. 

And she would be damned if she let Azriel hurt her or anyone else.

“I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, Az,” she growled. 

She’d been holding back before. She’d been holding back a long while. But no more of that. The power she let out burst through Velaris with light brighter than a dying star, crackling with an energy that knocked Azriel off his feet and sent him crashing into the river wall with a sickening crack that shattered the bones in his arm, his leg, and his wings. 

Rhys appeared at his side, violet eyes wide open in shock. He could feel the magic suffocating his brother’s consciousness, burying him so deep there was almost nothing left but anger behind his whiskey-brown eyes. 

Rhysand grabbed the sides of his head, shoving his way into Azriel’s mind even while he fought back. Rhys flinched when one of Azriel’s knives nicked his temple, drawing blood that dripped down onto his velvet dinner jacket and floated on the dense material like dew drops. 

“Stop. This isn’t you, Az.” 

Azriel seethed, teeth bared and bloody. He spit in Rhysand’s face and he winced. Rhysand would never be able to forgive himself for what he did next. But someone had burrowed themselves into Azriel’s mind so thoroughly, so viciously, that in that moment, it was the only thing Rhys could think to do. 

Rhysand’s talons dragged down on Azriel’s mental walls so viciously he screamed as they were torn to pieces. He dug in with brutal efficiency. Reaching, tearing, clawing to catch the curl of power that had infected Azriel’s mind before it could do any more damage. He latched onto its slithery, silver body and wrenched it out of Azriel’s consciousness. 

When I find you. You’re as good as dead. Rhysand promised. 

The daemati slunk away with a giddiness that sent a shiver through The High Lord’s bones. 

Azriel slumped, weak and boneless, against his brother’s shoulder. Sweat beaded his brow and he shook, blinking the saltiness out of his eyes. He felt like he’d been beaten within an inch of his life. His bones were broken. His wings twisted. There was a raging headache that a hundred shots of vodka paled in comparison to. 

But it was his hands that horrified him most. Red and slippery. 

His breath shook.

He couldn’t… he couldn’t remember… what…. 

His eyes shot to Rhys, then up the street where he could make out Feyre, Cass, and Nesta huddled over your still body. The bond sat deep within him pulsing with terror and pain. 

“Rhys.” His voice broke. Rhysand angled his body to hide you from view, but it was too late. Azriel was panicking now, body trembling uncontrollably. “What happened?”

Rhysand said nothing. His eyes shined with horror. 

“What did I do? Rhys, what did I do?!” 

“Cass. Cassian, I’ve got her.” 

His hands were shaking. There was so much blood. The smell burned his nose and made him want to throw up his lunch. Feyre covered his hands with her own, peeling them away sticky and red from Y/n’s stomach. 

Light flooded out from Feyre’s palms, warm and lovely and Cassian and Nesta breathed a sigh of relief as the flow of red slowed and then stopped, flesh knitting itself back together. 

“It’s ok. You’ll be ok.” Nesta’s words were commanding as she held your neck and head still.

Your eyes searched the empty sky, seeing and unseeing. Then your hands shot up, grasping Feyre’s shoulders and digging in deep enough to leave bruises. Your eyes were wide, staring at her with an intensity that spoke of a thousand years. An unfathomable wealth of knowledge that should have crushed you beneath its weight. 

“Y/n it’s ok,” she murmured gently, pushing more power into your body, willing you to heal faster.

“Look. Feyre you need to look,” your voice was thick. Wet. Blood coated the inside of your mouth bitter and metallic. 

“I’m looking. Y/n, you hit your head. It’s going to be ok. You hear me? It’s going to be ok.” 

“You need to look,” you said once more.

You trailed a bloody, weak hand down Feyre’s arm and pulled her fingers up to your temple, tapping once. Twice. 

Without any more direction, she slipped into your mind and gasped.

Feyre stood in a pool of mist, white fingers reaching up her legs and splintering outwards before they changed direction and started to climb up into the darkness like trees. Or rather… like bookshelves. The mist formed stacks that disappeared into the distance, endless hallways and shelves that wound around each other. Chaotic and orderly at the same time. 

She could feel your presence beside her. Or rather she was you. In that moment she felt the raging winds of your power, hot and ravenous. It wrapped around you, tugging you to and fro like that uncontrollable lurch when you stand too close to the cliff’s edge. The call of the void.

She needed to answer that call the same way you did whenever you used your powers, because somewhere in the halls of your mind stood the knowledge you’d worked so hard to obtain. The truth of how it was Bethsevah Mordeigh was able to trap Koschei, and how to end it once and for all. 

Feyre let your magic pull her in the right direction. In the mist she stumbled upon the final memories you’d absorbed from the book before it had blown away in the wind.

Bethsevah wept, “No. No. No. I won’t,” shoving away the reed thin body that held her so close. Thanatos grasped her face in his pale hands, begging her to listen to him even as she shook her head frantically. “I won’t do it.” 

“You must. Bethsevah, you must.” His pitch black eyes winked with starlight… or maybe it was his tears. 

This world and its people had changed him. He could feel it in his bones. Something very deep and cruel within him had been twisted into something sacred. Something that toed the line of kindness. 

Koschei thought it was this element that made fae and humans beneath the three of them. They were supposed to be pure. Powerful. Handing out life and taking it away like the gods they were. But now Thanatos knew better. Now he knew exactly what it was that made Koschei and Stryga worse than even him — they would never be able to care for anyone. Not the way he cared for Bethsevah. Not the way he cared for the world she loved. 

“I won’t do it,” she growled.

“Then they’ll die,” he said, with a tone of finality that could only belong to a death god. “Everyone. Everyone you love. Everyone you care about. I know my brother. Koschei craves attention and devotion above all else. He won’t let you worship your Mother. He won’t stop until you all kneel or until you’re ashes in the wind. Beth—” He wrenched her hands back from where she covered her eyes, refusing to even look at him. 

He tucked his crooked finger beneath her chin, coaxing her gaze up. Together they were storm clouds blanketing an eternal night. A lightning strike — brief and chaotic and electrifying. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she whispered, steel laced in her soft voice, “You don’t know what you’re offering.” 

He smiled, sad and simple. “I know exactly what I’m offering up.”

“Once I lock you in The Prison, I won’t be able to let you out. No one will. You’ll be trapped there for eternity.” She shivered, closing her eyes. She wouldn’t wish that fate upon her worst enemy, but her mate? She shook her head. 

“I know.” 

“No, you—”

“I have seen the first fall of snow on a new world. I have seen entire cities leveled to dust with no survivors. I’ve lived thousands of years. I understand.”

“We’ll find a way. Kosch—” 

“Remember what I told you,” he whispered, “Back at the cabin? You were made to ruin me, Beth. And I will let you do it a million times over. Without hesitation.” 

You and Feyre felt Beth’s pain as acutely as if you shared the same heart.

“I wish she hadn’t done it,” Beth whispered, “I wish the Mother had never created me to be your mate.” 

“I don’t.” Thanatos leaned his forehead against Beth’s and got lost in her. “There is no other way, Bethsevah.” He kept saying her name, like just speaking the word and feeling the shapes it took in his mouth would prolong the time they had together. Would tie them together more surely than the bond that burned in their chests.

She felt the battleground slip beneath her feet and no amount of power, no amount of willpower, could change it. 

He brushed back her hair and trailed one of his slender fingers down the curve of her cheek ending one teardrop’s race to her chin. “Mating bonds are powerful things, Beth. Your magic — your blood — and yours alone will be able to cut through my defenses and sever me from my power. I want you to take it and lock me away. Once my magic is yours, Stryga won’t be able to see you coming and you’ll be able to take her power as well. So long as you leave Koschei for last it may just be enough power to rid him from this earth once and for all.” 

“You’d have me do this. Destroy you and your family. This is what you want?”

Thanatos hesitated. “I am not a good male. But this… this will have to be enough. This is what I want, Bethsevah. For you and your family to live. To be happy and safe.”

“I won’t be happy, “ she said, eyes now flat and dull as the silver coins they placed over the dead, “I won’t take anyone else.”

“I want you to,” he begged, “I want you to marry and to have children. I want you to grow your family so that one day, if I ever do make it out of that Prison, I’ll still see pieces and memories of you roaming this earth. That’s all I want, Bethsevah, and it’s already more than I deserve.” 

“I’ll find a way,” Beth promised. “I’ll find a way to get you out. I swear it.” 

“Don’t make any bargains with me.” He smiled sadly, thumb wiping away at her cheeks, “That’s what got us into this mess.”

Finally she laughed, just a little. “I don’t regret it.” 

“Neither do I.”

The memory froze. A moment in time trapped like a beetle in amber.

A hand grabbed Feyre by her shoulders and swung her around. You stood there cloaked in pale, golden light, your eyes shining like copper coins. When you opened your mouth, you spoke in Beth’s voice.

Thanatos told me that magic runs in blood — familiar, same. But mates are different. Powerful. Their magic can protect one another. Identify one another across space and across time. But they can also turn on each other viciously. A lock and a key. Madness and salvation.

What I could destroy in Thanatos, I stood a chance at destroying in his siblings.

Your face fell, hauntingly beautiful in the glow of your powers. 

But I couldn’t do it. Not in the way he asked. I took his power. I locked him in that Prison. I bound Stryga to her cabin in the woods. But I didn’t kill Koschei when I should have. When the power of three gods was coursing through my veins and stripping me down to my bones, when I had enough light within me to see the birth and death of stars and the face of the Mother, I couldn’t do it. 

I thought I would be capable of destroying Koschei and freeing Thanatos, but I couldn’t do either. I had only enough sanity left to take that power and bury it somewhere Koschei couldn’t touch. To trap him on the lake where he can live in madness knowing his magic is so close by and yet locked away. Unreachable. 

I’ve done my part. I’ve had my children. I’ve left my mark on the world, great and terrible as it is. If you’re reading this, my daughters, do what I could not. Take the power in the lake and destroy him. It will open for you, and only you. My power. My blood. 

And if you have any love for me at all, find a way to release Thanatos. That is what I ask of you.

Bethsevah’s calls had never been answered, at least not by her children. You knew this much in your heart. Thanatos — The Bone Carver — had freed himself thousands of years later only to die beneath the Cauldron’s power. 

You whispered a silent prayer to the Mother. You hoped the Bone Carver was at peace now. Now that he must be with his Beth. 

Azriel was screaming your name, broken cries cutting through the quiet of the marketplace. You’d never thought him capable of such a wretched noise. 

The High Lady sat shock still above you with tears streaming down her face. Grey eyes glistening.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

I apologize if you thought I'd forgotten about the plot with Koschei and was just writing cute, fluffy scenes between our favorite Librarian and our favorite Batboy. But you also should've remembered that I burned this girl's house down and had her kill a another character in self defense so... this was coming... sorry...

This is by far the chapter I've been most nervous about posting because it's where I start to tie together all the weird loose threads that have been accumulating throughout this story so I am very much open to feedback on how I can do things better and on how I can make things clearer moving forward. Or! If you thought I did a good job and are intrigued, I'd appreciate it if you let me know that too!

But anyway thanks for reading 😅.

[undertheorangetree]

Pomegranate Seeds

Summary- A retelling of the abduction of Persephone.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Hades and Persephone AU. Star-crossed lovers vibes. Uncle/niece incest. Making out. Angst. Fluff. Titty sucking. Handjob. Cunnilingus. Vaginal fingering. Soft smut. Mild praise kink. Mildly OOC Aemond.

Author's Notes- Yeah I was a Percy Jackson/Greek mythology kid, thank you for noticing. I'm still playing incredibly fast and loose with the mythology tho so we're gonna have to make our peace with that. This is a beast btw, it's like 9.6K and you can find the rest on AO3 with the link below :)

divider created by @firefly-graphics

It is moments like these, she thinks, that she loves most.

Alone in the meadow, surrounded by wildflowers, the babbling of the creek as it flows over the rocks. Everything green with the exception of the purple, white, and yellow flowerheads but lush and everbearing and alive, the sun little more than a hazy warm glow, not yet hot enough to be overbearing. It is peaceful here, so much more than she is used to. She had come to an agreement with her step sisters, Baela and Rhaena, that they allow her a few hours on her own in this meadow, undisturbed by anyone else. Though her mother much preferred to that she remain alongside her sisters whenever she is out of sight, she, Baela, and Rhaena had come to an agreement that what her mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. And besides, they were never too far away from her. Being water nymphs, they could be by her side in less than a moment if she really needed them, so long as she doe does not stray too far from the river. And she has never been more grateful for it than she is right now.

Stretching her arms high above her head, she stretches out along the grass, enjoying the feeling of every blade of grass, the sweet smell of the blooms wafting on the breeze. Admittedly, this meadow had not been quite so plentiful when they had found it, following along the winding river, but she is the goddess of spring. Flowers bloom at her word and sun shines with her will. It had not been too difficult to turn this meadow into her own personal paradise, away from the chaos often wrought by her mother and brothers and stepfather.

There is a sudden change in the wind that causes her to sit up. Colder than it had been before, something more akin to winter than spring. The ground seems to rumble beneath her, shaking as if the sudden cold has sent it to shiver. Curiously, she turns her head toward the tree line, where the birches and willows keep the meadow shielded from view, only to find a man standing among them. Dressed in all black- breeches, cloak, and the shred of his tunic she can see beneath it- his platinum hair is almost jarring in contrast. He is not a big man, long and lithe, but there is an air to him that feels dangerous, dangerous enough to give her pause. He has not noticed her yet, face turned away, but she can see the long, stern plains of his face from where she sits, looking incredibly serious. That seriousness is only exacerbated by the dark leather eyepatch covering the eye closest to her, a deep red scar carved beneath it.

She does not think she has ever seen anyone here before, not outside of Baela, Rhaena, and herself, and his presence here is almost incongruous. Still, there is an air about him, one that makes it clear that he is a god just as she is, and that alone should make his surprise appearance less shocking.

“Hello.”

The sound of her voice seems to catch him off guard. Quickly, he turns toward her, shoulders tense, but they relax when he takes her in. She cannot imagine that she is intimidating, sitting flat in the grass all alone. “Hello.”

But it is that reminder of the grass that brings her pause. What is this man doing here? Where had he come from? It is not as if this meadow is easy to find, hidden amongst the trees as it is. She feels her brows furrow, head cocking in question. “How did you find this place?”

She had not put a glamour over this meadow, but she did not feel she had too. The forest, though light and airy, was a labyrinth of trees that seemed deterrent enough to keep any unwanted guests away. They were incredibly difficult to find your way through and she had been convinced it would be impossible to try- for God or mortal.

Near impossible, it seemed then.

His eye darts back to the treeline, taking half a step back. “If I am intruding, I can leave.”

“No.” She says it far too quickly and she can see the way his eyebrows raise in response to it, but she can’t find it in her to be ashamed. She is intrigued by this man, more so than she likely should be, and finds she wants to know more. To learn how he came to find this place. “Just because this place is unknown does not mean it is mine alone. You may stay. Beauty like this should be enjoyed.”

“Wise words,” he agrees, coming toward her. He hesitates at the end, torn on whether or not to truly join her, but it seems courtesy wins out as he lowers himself to the ground, joining her amongst the flowers. He looks entirely out of place, black against the blooms, but she says nothing, keeping her observation to herself.

They sit in absolute silence but she does not mind. He sits stiffly, as if uncomfortable, while she continues to take in all that is around her. From here, she can see the way the willows sway with the wind, the white puffy clouds floating by in the soft blue sky.

“I did not mean to,” he says. She looks at him, head tilted once again. “To find this place. It was not my intention. Though I admit I have never seen anything quite like it.”

She smiles, though he could not possibly know that he had complimented her. “It is a rare thing.”

“It feels almost as if it were from a painting,” he adds, looking around the meadow to take it in further.

She joins him in it, finding no shame in admiring her own work. It is a pretty place, though that had always been her intention. Olympus was beautiful in and of itself, but it was stark in that way. Ethereal and otherworldly, but cosmopolitan. Bright white marble, painted statues, stained glass. Everything beautiful, to be sure, but not in the untamed way that she seemed to crave. She preferred the beauty that was found in nature, in heavy branches filled with green leaves, tall grasses and wildflowers and crystalline waters.

“Do you know much about art?” she asks to fill the silence.

He seems caught off guard again from her question, but answers it anyway. “Not as much as I would like, but I can appreciate the beauty in something as well as any man. Though do not tell anyone. It would ruin my reputation.”

She laughs. “You needn’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Which periods do you prefer?”

They talk for hours, the conversation unfurling as naturally as a bird’s wing. Art, history, philosophy. There is no subject they do not indulge in. He becomes less awkward with time as he grows more comfortable around her and she almost pulls a laugh from him not once, but twice. It seems quite the feat, for a man as serious as this one seems to be, though she does not let her pride get the better of her. When she asks him how she managed to find her well kept secret, he had simply said that one always finds the best things when you are not looking for them. A non answer, but that was alright. She was sure she could coax the answer from him eventually.

“Forgive me, I never asked you your name,” she says after what must have been hours, half appalled by her lack of manners.

He does not seem to mind, a good natured half smile making its way onto his face. “My friends call me Aemond. You may as well.”

It is not uncommon, for Gods to prefer more earthly names. She is often the same. There is power within a name and for such an innocent encounter, she does not feel the need to have him call her Persephone or Kore or any of those that strike some rumination of power and fear. So she gives him her common name, the one she feels is more true to who she is, and he smiles in response to it, repeating it back to her as if to test it. She likes the way it sounds when he says it, the way each letter seems to roll off him tongue, and somehow hearing him say the word alone is enough to make her flush.

She turns her head to hide it and only then notices that the sun has dipped below the trees, leaving the sky a hazy orange. Her mother will be expecting her home soon and there is no telling how poorly she will react if Rhaena and Baela return home without her. She doesn’t doubt that Rhaenyra will send her great serpent Syrax after her should she be even a moment late.

“I have to go,” she says, unable to keep the apologetic tone from her voice.

Reluctantly, she stands, brushing the dirt from her skirts. His lips had parted at her announcement, but now he ducks his head in an understanding nod. She smiles at him, not truly wanting to go yet, and makes her way toward the creek to call upon her sisters to come and fetch her. She does not make it two steps before he is calling after her.

“Can I see you again?”

She turns back to look at him. The insecurity on his face does not seem to match his features, looking almost out of place there. Still, she finds it entirely endearing and she realizes that she would absolutely like to see him again.

“Yes,” she agrees softly.

“Tomorrow?”

She does not bother to fight the smile itching its way onto her face. “Yes.”

He matches her smile then before standing. He comes forward and takes her hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips and placing a chaste kiss there. “Then I shall see you on the morrow, my lady.”

She can do nothing but hope he does not notice how hot her face has become.

“On the morrow.”

Read the rest here

[loveaurdeepression]

White Lily-Umemiya Hajime

a/n:This is actually so shit im so sorry, it was supposed to be something else but it became this. please comment and reblog if you like it i love feedback :3

Fluffity Fluff, ume being clueless and whipped, tsubaki and hiragi are besties i love them sm

It was cold, when you'd first met him. He must've been around fifteen, flung to the ground after a brawl. He had seen you in his peripheral, his vision was blurry.

Like a movie scene, you had entered his line of view, the sun shining behind you as you knelt down beside him, holding his head up and saying something he couldn't hear.

He woke up in his bed later. Sensei was sitting on a chair to his right, and to his left, you. The both of you were chatting animatedly and Sensei was soothing your worry, In fact, it was quite normal for Umemiya to come back to the institution beaten up and bloody.

He coughed and your gaze fell on him, your eyes widening, "You're alright!" you exclaimed.

'You have a goal', his mind provided, he couldn't be distracted by frivolous things like partners and love.

But gosh, you were so pretty. You were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

Your wide eyes sparkled when he smiled, "I am, aren't I. Thanks to you."

Sensei huffed, "Damn right, Ume. She shouted for help until one of the girls ran back here to get me. She was about to carry you on her shoulders."

Now his eyes widened, and he looked at you in surprise.

"Please, as if I would be able to carry him. He's really strong." you scoffed.

Ume had been called strong by many people, and it was a fact that he had accepted. He needed to be strong to change Furin.

So why in hell was he feeling so warm, all of a sudden?

He looked down, focusing on the pattern of his blanket. Bruised knuckles brushing against the soft wool.

"I am glad you're okay." you smile, "And thank you for having me, sir." you nod at the smiling scruffy-haired blonde opposite you, "I'll take my leave."

"Wait!" the words fall out of his mouth before he knows what he's going to say next.

You turn around and he freezes. He freezes like a little rabbit.

"Uhm." he looks away, a deep flush on his cheeks. He doesn't see Sensei trying not to laugh, "I don't even know your name! How will I see you again?"

You laugh, and it's like wind chimes. You give him your name and it sounds like it belongs in his lips.

'That is so cheesy', his fifteen year old brain mocks, 'What is wrong with you?'

"I'll see you in town, Umemiya-kun."

The next day, the boy looks for you like a panting deer in search for water.

When he finds you and you smile at him, he realizes two things.

He likes you :D

Shit. He likes you.

-------

He kisses you on his sixteenth birthday a day after you hand him a potted flower and a handwritten letter.

"Take care of it, Ume!" you had said on the messy, dirty rooftop of Furin, "It holds my feelings for you." The flower is a white-lily to match his hair and the letter smells of your perfume that he has grown to love.

He races to you after he reads the letter, a letter that says nothing about your feelings for him, but contains all the hopes you have for him.

'I hope you achieve everything you desire' He runs down the steps, two at a time, his hand burning as he scraps it on the rusty railing.

'I hope you never lose the fight in you. The resolve I admire so much.' his lungs burn, he's always hated running, but he presses on.

'I hope that you know that you are loved by so many.' he can see you from one of the windows, waving goodbye to Hiragi at the gate.

'I will never forget you as long as I live.'

"Wait!" he shouts again, like the younger boy on the bed, desperate to know you.

You turn again, your eyebrows raised at his panting form.

"Wait, " he groans, god he hates running, "Give me a second." he coughs and you giggle.

Hiragi slowly backs away with an eyeroll, he doesn't hide the small smirk on his face.

A moment later, Umemiya takes your hand in his, "I, uh. Your letter."

"Yes? Did you read it?"

He nods frantically, "Thank you. For everything."

You tilt your head, "Do you know what White Lilies stand for?"

He clears his throat, "Um, not really?" he winces.

"THEY STAND FOR LOVE, YOU IDIOT!" Tsubaki shouts, Hiragi standing next to him, covering his face in embarrasment.

He looks to you, his eyes a little wide.

You smile at Tsubaki and he winks at you.

"You love me?"

You look away, "I have, for a while. And-"

Whatever words you're about to say never come to light because Umemiya holds your face in his hands and brings your lips to his. Goal be damned, he was a fool for ever thinking that love was frivolous. Fool, his mind cackles, how could this ever be stupid? How can your hands in his hair be stupid? how can your smile when he pulls away be stupid?

It is love that makes him live, he realizes, Love for the town, for the people, for you. It makes every punch worth it.

----

Umemiya plants the white-lily you gave him. There are still white lilies, two years later, along with your favorite flower, planted side by side in the garden he grew on Furin's rooftop.

He tends to them in the mornings along with Sugishita and he takes a picture and sends it to you.

"I can't wait! Sugishita!" he exclaims as the younger boy nods, his eyes sparkling. He looks up to you as well, you are always so kind to him.

"It's our two-year anniversary!"

[thorin-is-a-cuddler]

Benedict Bridgerton x pregnant wife!reader

A/N: I have received the following prompt: “Benedict Bridgerton with wife pregnant!reader. If any of Bridgerton's siblings had any problems, she was the first one they came to ask for advice even the oldest. All this attention was making Ben jealous as he was having less time with her. She told him that he would have to share her for the rest of his life before letting him know age was pregnant. You decide how it goes. Thanks!! :))” And I have tried to write it. It must be my first reader!insert romance story and it was so much fun. I hope you like what I have made of it. (~ 4650 words)

Benedict was grinning like a cheshire cat and you found it increasingly hard to refrain from tackling him to the ground to pepper his face with kisses. Expertly you were decorating his chestnut hair with flowers from the Bridgerton country home garden, the large rose bushes on either side of the alley leading up to the house shielding you from the sun. You were sitting in front of him cross-legged, the flowers gathered up in your lap. Benedict was facing you, his long legs stretched out in a way that his shins touched your hips. His hands were propped up in the grass behind his back and the sun was painting shimmering golden flecks on his head when the wind rustled through the leaves of the bushes.

Your husband looked deliciously delighted and nothing made you happier than seeing him that way. After one year of marital bliss, you’d decided to go to the country side with the rest of the Bridgerton family to spend the days in their presence and to enjoy the fresh air outside of London. A week before departing you had realized with heart-wrenching joy that your cycle was interrupted – you hadn’t bled when the time was due and had the very strong suspicion that a small version of yourself and Benedict was growing inside your belly. As nature sometimes tended to have its cruel way with humans, you had not yet mentioned it to your husband, fearing that the regular bleeding would merely commence one or two weeks late. But since your arrival, nothing had changed. The sheets remained unstained and your suspicion  transformed itself into something of a certainty. You tended to wake in the night and almost instinctively moved your hands to your belly, greeting the tiny human sprout with the warmth radiating from your palms. “Hello,” you’d started to whisper, “I hope it’s not too dark in there. Don’t worry, you are not alone.”

Now, as your husband was enjoying your melodic humming and the sweet smell of the flowers that caressed his hair, you felt inside of you a bubbling wish to lean forward and whisper the good news into his ear. The good news you’d barely managed to fully apprehend on your own. It was scary to reveal such a tender, fragile and unpredictable thing as a pregnancy. There was too much that could still go wrong, too much that still stood between you and the day of birth. Yet, looking at Benedict all calm and relaxed made you wish to comment on how you hoped your child’s eyes would be like his or how you could imagine him holding the small bundle to his chest, a little nose peeking out from white cloth.

You leaned over, closer towards him and moved your hand to the side of his face. His half-closed lids blinked open and his smile deepened when his gaze landed on your tender face.

“Am I positively in bloom now?”

You snickered and carefully brushed your fingertips over the petals behind his ear, making Benedict shiver ever so slightly. “Any young lady would envy you for such an exquisite coiffure!”

Narrowing his eyes, Benedict snarled at you, shaking his head and sending a few petals flying off onto the grass. “You’re lucky I had four younger sisters with a similar taste for dressing me up or I would have long taken off over the meadows!”

Biting your bottom lip to keep from grinning too widely, you got on your knees in one swift motion to wrap your arms around your husband’s shoulders, bringing you faces closer together. “You wouldn’t even have taken off if I had brought a pair of scissors with me to experiment on your hair!”

He chuckled gently and moved an arm over the small of your back to pull you even closer. “It can’t possibly be a good thing that you are correct about this!”

His lips found yours and you melted into the kiss as if the sun had suddenly gotten strong enough to evaporate you. Smoothly you moved your chest over his torso, your hands following the outlines of his shoulders. He hummed into your mouth, his voice vibrating through your skin as your fingers found his face, where your thumbs started caressing the slightest hint of a stubble.

“Benedict,” you sighed, your smile mirrored on his lips, “I have something to-“

“(Y/N)!!” A shrill voice shouted from the front steps of the big country house. You were so surprised, you almost choked, your forehead knocking against your husband’s. Benedict grabbed your elbows to keep you from falling over, one eye closed against the pain of head-to-head contact.

“Oww,” he groaned, looking over his shoulder with faint annoyance. Hyacinth’ voice was easily discernible and lately, she’d managed to interrupt quite a few of your… get togethers.

“(Y/N), are you in the garden?!”  

Raising one hand to your forehead, you couldn’t keep from letting out a breathless laugh. “Ten minutes of peace were quite the luxury, I daresay.”

Benedict let out a sigh, but pulled the corners of his lips up in a little smile, when he saw the humour in your eyes. “Sooner or later, I am going to grab her and lock her in the closet!”

Comfortingly, you patted his chest, before moving your hand to his hair to straighten one crooked daisy. “She’d probably find that rather amusing.”

“Are you sure? She is so very … fourteen now!” Benedict said, an overly accentuated speck of fear concerning teenage-girlhood glinting in his eyes. “When the day comes that we have a fourteen year old daughter, you must help me make sure I never become the object of her wrath!”

Holding your breath, you turned to look at him in awe. Did he know? Had he already figured it out all by himself that you were pregnant? But no, his eyes merely showed signs of good-tempered amusement. He had not yet a clue, which made his comment all the more valuable to you. “I love you,” you stated with feeling and crashed your lips to his in such a surprising manner, that he almost fell over, which laced your kiss with his sweetest chuckles. Moving your face away, you hesitated for a second, gazing in his shining blue eyes, unsure whether you should tell him immediately.

“Are you alright?” He asked, his eyes twitching curiously. You bit down on your lip, enchanted by the way he could almost read your mind. The good news about possible upcoming parenthood would have to wait though. You wanted to tell him, when it was only the two of you.

“Perfectly so,” you therefore exclaimed, before bringing your hands to his chest to push him over for good. Quickly you rose to your feet to answer to Hyacinth’ incessant shouting, laughing at Benedict’s attempts to grab for your heels in retaliation.

“I am here!!” You sang, taking your skirts in your hands to take a few running steps in her direction. She did the same, meeting you halfway and wrapping her arms around your middle, asking to be coddled, while she was going on and on about how she needed your help with this one French book she was reading. You walked back to the house with her, a smile on your features and your arms around her smaller body, as you indulged in the fantasy of her being your daughter and of you being the mother she’d asked for counsel. You looked over your shoulder and saw that Benedict was watching you two. You couldn’t help but wonder whether he was imagining the exact same thing as you.

--------------------------------

After two hours of translations and musings about the difficult French language, Benedict came barging into the study, looking at Hyacinth with a quarrelsome expression.

“Sister,” he growled in a rather menacing tone, “are you kidnapping my wife?”

Holding both your hands on the pages of the big book, you tilted your head in his direction with a meaningful grin. “Oh, you!”

But Hyacinth wasn’t the youngest Bridgerton for nothing. Defiantly she stood up from her chair and walked towards him in the middle of the room. “How dare you!! You didn’t even knock!!”

Benedict almost flinched, when she drilled an authoritative finger into his chest. With seven older siblings, there really wasn’t much that seemed to scare her. He opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately interrupted.

“I am in the midst of a very important lesson and I am fairly certain you still remember how to breathe without (Y/N)!! So!! Fare thee well!!”

It was incredibly hard for you not to burst into a small laughing fit with Benedict looking positively puzzled and his youngest sister intonating every single word as if there was an exclamation mark behind it. Yet, you managed to hide your smile behind your hand as you feigned a cough, which, judging by the way your husband looked at you, Benedict easily identified as an act. He narrowed his eyes and looked from you back to his sister who was still planted before him with a vigour unlike her size and age.

“Very well.” He eventually said; but it wasn’t without a lightness at the end of his phrase – one that was giving him away. Not only to you who had only known him for a short time compared to Hyacinth who had grown up with him. She gasped out “NO!” and wanted to take a step back, but Benedict had already grabbed her and thrown her over his shoulder.

“BENEDICT!!” She screeched, still sounding very childlike, despite wishing to appear much more adult at her tender age. “LET ME DOWN!!”

You looked on with a smile, chuckling at the way Benedict was trying to avoid kicking feet from hitting him in the face. “Do you really think you intimidate me, sister?”

Hyacinth’ squeals mixed with hysterical giggles, when Benedict managed to pin down the swinging legs and started tickling the backs of her knees and calves, her fists drumming against his back. “Dohohoohn’t!!” She giggled, all vigour gone from her sweet voice that sounded much more like the one of a child again.

“Will you release (Y/N) and continue your ‘very important lesson’ some other time?” He asked teasingly, a wide grin appearing on his features when Hyacinth’ mirthful sounds started resonating through the study.

“I WILL I WILL!!” She conceded hastily, her hands trying to grab the fabric of his waistcoat. “Don’t tickle!!”

With an approving noise, Benedict stilled his hands and bent over to plant his sister back on the floor. Groaning from the effort, he shook out his arms when he’d finally managed it. “You are getting too tall for this, aren’t you?” The seriousness in his voice combined with the way he cocked his head to the side in wonder had you throw your head back with a laugh.

Hyacinth put her hands on her hips and looked up at her brother with a pout. “I do definitely hope so!!” She sneered, before planting a fist in the crook of his stomach and quickly making her way to the door. A small smile was grazing her features, when she turned around again in the doorframe, directing her question to you. “We will continue our lessons, tomorrow, yes?”

“Of course, Hyacinth! We will make time for it!” You responded with a smile of your own, closing the book about French history and getting up from your chair to join your husband who was over-dramatically enacting an on-the-brink-of-death scene in the middle of the room, coughing and wrapping his arms around his middle.

“Internal bleeding! Internal bleeding!” He repeated hoarsely, making it impossible for Hyacinth not to break out into a laugh. “You’re so annoying!” She giggled, quickly bustling away, when he took a menacing step in her direction.

When the door fell close behind her, he dropped the act immediately and turned towards you with a sigh of relief. “Finally!”

You made a very undignified noise, when his hands grabbed for the fabric of your dress and pulled you towards him, your bodies colliding in an inelegant way, full of hunger and devotion. Giggling, you turned your head to the side, when his lips found your neck, kisses and nibbles sending ticklish jolts into your hairline. “Stop it! What are you doing?”

“It appears, I am overcome,” he mumbled into your skin, taking a deep breath from the sensitive skin under your ear, “by a very strong need to spend some… quality time alone with you!”

“Quality time?” Moving your hands up his back, you allowed him to lead you backwards into the study, your steps mirroring his own until you reached the table with the big French history book. Your eyelids fluttered shut at the warm touch of his lips to your cheeks.

“Mhhh,” he agreed, his nose circling your own and his lips grazing your mouth as he spoke, “the rare, special occasion is one I am very ambitious for!”

Smoothly, Benedict’s hands moved under your behind to lift you ever so slightly and place you on the table, the book shifting backwards, giving room to you. You moved your hands from his back to his cheeks, your hands cupping the face in front of you and holding it steady for the kiss you planted on its lips. Benedict smiled peacefully, his blue eyes sinking into yours. “I love my family dearly, dearly, dearly… but I need to have these moments with you alone, truly alone!”

The heart within your chest contracted for one beat, sending a slightly painful sting through your body. It was only a short moment, only one small hint of fear, but it sufficed to make you realize that you were scared Benedict might not actually be as thrilled as you were about the child blossoming in your belly. What if it was too early? What if Benedict still required, perhaps even hoped for some time without a family? What if he would be overwhelmed by a family that grew and grew and never seemed to allow you two any more time alone? You gulped and suddenly moved your hands back to his shoulders, holding on tightly.

Benedict seemed to notice that something was off, moving his head away from the side of your face to look you in the eyes. His gaze was soft and sweet and you wanted to drown in it, wanted to get lost in it as he moved his hands all over your body. But for now there was no more movement aside from his nose brushing against yours, a movement equal to a question.

“Are you alright?”

You realized you’d been holding your breath and took a deep one, before pushing your face into his as affectionately as you could. “I just want you,” you whispered, meaning it in every way possible, from head to toes, from now on to the end of your days, from his soul to his heart to every memory you’d make together. You wanted him. And every single part of him that grew through you. You could only hope that it would be the same way for him. “I want you so badly,” you continued, your voice almost hoarse from raw emotion which made his eyes flicker with a suddenly burning fire. Devotion radiated from his kiss adjoined to something that went deeper, something that was inexplicable and yet so strangely clear.

“You have me!” He growled into your neck, breathing your scent another time and kissing the vein running up your skin with an urgence. “You will have me! Entirely!”

You smiled against his cheek and moved your lips to his mouth to steal a kiss from its corner. That made him smile your favourite smile and suddenly you were lifted off of the table and carried towards the door. Moving your arms around his neck, you held on to him, running your eyes up and down his face to not miss a single sign of his happiness. You didn’t have to ask where he’d take you, knowing full well that he would tug you into the sheets of his bed, caressing your skin with his own and joining your bodies to become one. You wanted to be as close to him as possible, and afterwards you would tell him, afterwards you would try to find the right words and hope for a reaction that wouldn’t scare you. Right now, he was right, it would be just the two of you.

He opened the door… and ran into Anthony.

“Anthony!” He exclaimed in surprise, not yet considering to drop you which you found at the same time embarrassing and sweet. Trying to turn around in his embrace, you looked at Anthony over your shoulder, greeting him with a quite awkward “Hello!”

“Where have you two been, I was looking all over for you… wait, don’t answer that!” He waved his hand around in front of his chest, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly. “Though I do have to say, I’d like to know if the study should be er… cleaned!”

“Brother!!” Benedict groaned, his head dropping on your shoulder, the warmth from his reddened cheeks burning your skin.

Chuckling, you patted Benedict’s shoulder to signal you’d like to be let down. The muscles in his arms clenched from unwillingness, but he did indulge you and let you slide to a standing position.

You decided not to answer the last comment and simply tilted your head to the side expectantly, your unashamed smile making Anthony’s own grow. “What was it you needed from us?”

“Not I,” Anthony responded, his amusement at his brother’s unmistakable frustration quite obvious. “But our dear mother. She needs your opinions for the upcoming summer ball. Apparently Daphne and Kate would like you to join in on the preparations.”

Benedict groaned loudly. You tried not to send him a sympathetic glance and merely nodded at Anthony’s request, asking in return where you could find the other ladies.

“Don’t worry, brother!” Anthony consoled your husband, when you took his hand in a silent goodbye. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you after dinner. I know how hard it can be to find… some time alone.”

Benedict actually felt compelled to smile at his brother in gratitude, before sending you one more longing gaze. “I can’t wait.”

Then Anthony wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in one direction and the preparations for the ball pulled you in the other. During the time it took to walk to the ladies of the house, you couldn’t stop worrying about what Benedict’s reaction would be once you told him of the pregnancy after dinner.

------------------------------

Being at the table with the entire family always put Benedict into good spirits, no matter how much he’d longed for a moment alone with you throughout the day. He made faces at Daphne, poked Eloise into the side until she almost choked on a piece of bread, laughed at Colin’s jokes and exchanged warm glances with his mother. You were having lovely conversations with Kate and spoke some more to Hyacinth about her French. Everyone at the table tried to outdo Colin and his funny remarks, but no one quite was as good at it as he was and he seemed to be taking great pride in it.

Seeing Benedict interact with his family reassured you in a way you had not entirely realized you’d needed. Yes, you were both in great need of being close to each other in private. Yes, you were both enjoying it immensely, when no one interrupted your time together. But being at the table with everyone, conversing, joking, teasing and simply enjoying each other’s company was something Benedict would never have to ‘suffer’ through. Time spent with his family was time well spent and you could see in his face that he was more than content. e

It took away so much of the fear you’d felt throughout the day, the fear that he might not be happy about the news that you were with child. This was his world and he would be, you were very certain, delighted to have such a world of his own.

Kate and Anthony were the first to leave the table – in the dim candle light you couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like he was waggling his eyebrows at you – and after a while, you, Benedict, Daphne and Simon all decided to do the same, bidding your adieus from the family for the day and retiring to your chambers.

Benedict was in high spirits which was most likely due to the lovely evening and the prospect of finally being alone with you without fear of interruption. You suppressed a squeal, when he decided to chase you up the stairs, scooping you into his arms at the far end of the hallway that followed and banging open the door to your shared room with his shoulder. You giggled uncontrollably, when he kicked the door closed with his foot and practically ran towards the bed to throw you on the covers.

“I am going to jump out of the window if anyone dares interrupt us here and now!” He hissed humorously, taking off his waistcoat as quickly as he could and starting to work on his breeches.

Laughing cheerfully, you moved your hands in his direction, demanding him to get into the bed this instant. “Must you seriously be standing over there while getting undressed?”

“Where are my manners?” He gasped out in fake shock and all but dove into the sheets next to you, grabbing your waist and pulling you underneath him, drawing more silly laughter out from you when he pushed his face into the silk covering your belly. “Taking off clothes is almost as intrusive as my siblings! We will simply ignore them!!”

It was hard to speak through your laughter, but somehow you managed to grab a hold of his head and pulled it up towards you. “Ben, please, I must breathe! I must breathe!”

Grinning widely, he pushed his face against yours. “You should have to quit laughing for that first!”

It took a moment, but you did manage to calm your breathing, your arms wrapped around your husband who had his head propped up on one hand and was looking at you with a lazy smile. “Better?”

That almost made you burst out laughing again, but you managed to control yourself and instead grabbed him by the shoulders and changed positions, ending up on top of him. He huffed out in surprise, but his smile was big enough to light up the room, when he grabbed your thighs on either side of his hips.

“I feel deliciously trapped!”

“I have something to tell you!” You mused, searching for his hands with your own to interlock your fingers. Apparently you were in need of holding on to him while telling him what would come next. The pressure of his palms against your own quieted your mind and helped you focus on the matter at hand.

“Something you have to pin me down for?” He joked, his eyes widening with amusement. For you, his question brought back a small amount of dread and your smile fell ever so slightly.

“I… I hope not!” With hesitation you looked away, running your thumbs over his hands to calm yourself, while you were in search of what exactly to say. It would appear easy enough, declaring that one was pregnant, but, in truth, uttering the words was quite powerful and made the reality of the phrase stand out quite drastically.

“What is it?” Benedict asked, sitting up slightly and observing with a portion of concern the way you were biting the inside of your cheek. “(Y/N), is everything alright?”

You moved your eyes up, locking your gaze with his and taking a deep breath. It was all there, in his eyes: the love, the devotion, the care. He would be delighted. Yes, there was no other way…

“Ben, I know that sometimes it feels like we do not have a lot of time to ourselves.” He snorted in response to your words, underlining them with his reaction.

“The time I get to spend alone with you is a most cherished treasure.” You continued and slightly bucked your hips against his, making him chuckle softly. “Now, it is simply so…” You gulped and looked from left to right, before deciding to bring both of his hands to your belly. “It is so that… I am almost one hundred percent sure that I am…”

“YOU’RE PREGNANT!!!” Benedict shouted over your poor attempts of uttering the words you found so hard to actually say out loud and before you had a chance to asses the situation, you were pushed on your back, with your head by the foot of the bed and your husband fussing over you. His big hands were moving from your cheek to your belly to his head and back to your belly, all while he made noises of the purest and most natural delight you’d ever seen in a man.

“You’re pregnant!! You’re pregnant!!” He kept on repeating, his joy reverberating through every single nerve end on his body and conjoining with your own. All the insecurities of the day fell off your shoulders and the light weight that remained made your eyes water.

“Oh, my love,” you almost sobbed out, “I am so happy to see you react this way!”

“How could I not?” Benedict laughed with joy, cupping your face and kissing you and kissing you some more, small wet drops falling on your cheeks, when his emotions got the better of him. “We will be parents!” He choked out, before kissing you again and moving his hands to your belly again. “You are having a baby!” He uttered with teary eyes, sinking down on the level of your middle to place a thousand kisses on your gown. “A baby!!” He repeated again, before laughing incredulously.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him up and towards you. You needed to have him close as you buried your face in his shoulder and allowed tears of your own to run down your cheeks. “I love you!” You whispered with all your affection. “I love you and I love you and I love you!!”

More of Benedict’s tears fell on your face, when he moved himself up slightly, the salty traces mingling with your own. “My love,” he hummed softly, “you were worried, weren’t you? You were worried, it would make me fear for our alone time! Oh, (Y/N), I don’t fear that! I don’t fear a single thing when it comes to us!”

He buried his face in your neck to breathe you in, before looking at your belly again – it would become a recurrent thing in the following nine months, as your belly grew, he would look and look and look with all the adoration he was capable of. “I am beyond happy!”

“As am I!” You placed your hand over his own on your belly, as you were starting to realize the truth of this situation together, as you started to talk about names and traits, as you started to exchange assumptions and plans. It was exactly the way you’d hoped it would be.

A new chapter in your life began.

[the-ellia-west]

Fallen (Possibly may revive this WIP)

Dyn and Adémiah - Rustpearl

(I was inspired, have some Fallen)

-

Adémiah ran a hand along his shoulder, smiling with a melancholic grace in her eyes, the pearls and opals strung over her face. Gold tassled to her shawl and dress as her fingers stung across his neck.

"You are my sunrise, my daylight, and my light. The burning passion buried so deep in my heart I forgot what it was like to feel this. You are the reason I awake in the morning, and the reason I do not sob my prayers to the sky for shield in the evening." A strange electric shock racing up her fingers as she teased a touch to his jaw, where the finely groomed beard covered a portion of his skin. "The fox that tricks my dreams, you are my fire."

He glanced at her hand, stiffness trying to tense his muscles, but at her touch, his inhibitions melted, and he allowed her to cup his face in her smooth, elegant hand. Her long, delicate fingers wound into his fiery red hair, and he leaned into her, the same electric connection buzzing beneath his skin as his mind screamed at him to leave her on the sofa and run as far away as he could manage. Her fingers met the skin beneath his hair, cool but not icy, and he turned his face into her gentleness, kissing the heel of her palm softly, just a brush, nothing more.

His breath caught in his throat as she leaned closer, breaths gently caressing his neck as she drew close to his shoulder. "May I?"

He nodded gently, and she rested her head in the crook of his shoulder, closing her eyes. She found his breath matched time with hers as he leaned into her, opening a space between them where they rested. And for a moment, she let herself forget it all. Let herself forget how much she loathed him. There was no anger in this moment, no hurt, no hate. There was only him.

Adémiah nestled into him, knowing he wouldn't want to return her affection, but she didn't care. As long as he let her have this one moment. It was all she needed.

She pulled back slowly, and locked her eyes into his, deep ocean blue lost in the green of the forest on an early summers day when the light drafts through the leaves. His face twisted in a look of joy and pain. They drifted closer together. Fire an inch from water.

"What is this?" She whispered, his breath more gentle than she could have imagined against her cheek. "What are we? Two lone wolves destined to die together? The sun and the moon, partners in a dance who never meet? Are we meant to be, or meant for loneliness? Are we a fated touch and a bittersweet embrace? Or a chain and pendant, a perfect match? Are we a whisper on the wind, or a prophecy a thousand years in the making?"

He leaned closer, darting her fingers from his hair as the air heartened, thickening into a heavy blanket between them, energy and unspoken thoughts racing from one look to the next. "A mistake." He whispered with the urgency of a man warning war, and he pulled her into a kiss.

They connected at a single point and the fizzling energy exploded into a flower, blooming all at once into a sweet scent that washed all around them, a feeling so complex neither remembered how to breathe. Tension travelled from her to him and back again, locking them together as his hand delicately found her shoulder. A million thimgs communicated in a single moment. Passion and desire, love and hatered, regret, and longing, fire and ice, all and naught.

In that moment he was all she knew. The fire inside him she'd seen the moment she first laid eyes on him, his hair as soft as down feathers haloing around her face in the space. His hot, rough skin as one of her hands wove back into his hair and the other found his arm. She smelled the faint wisp of pinesmoke in his hair, heard the loathing in him despite he did not speak, tasted the wine on him that he doubtlessly tasted on her.

"A misfire." He gasped against her. "A crack in our logic, a flaw in the universe. I hate you."

"And I never want to see you again."

But their lips met again despite the warnings tossed between them, a garden of weeds neither had dared to pick, now stuck between them like a magnet. She didn't remember how many times they repeated this dance.

Only that it ended with a scowl, as Dyn pulled away from her, loathing in his eyes and blood on his lips. He smoothed his hair back, glared down at her, and said, "No matter how much you pretend, I see you for what you are. A fragile raven with a silver tongue. She calls misfortune and manipulates the heart. She is afraid of emptiness, because she knows death by name. She lies and schemes to stave off the inevitable when the cold comes creeping in and she is left without love. And the end she calls upon will come for her at last with hollow mind and icy hands."

And with that, he left.

(This is my third time writing a kiss scene...)

Please Comment you thoughts!!! I WOULD LOVE TO READ THEM

(Read tags for extra context)

@thewritingautisticat @yolbert @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @ambersky0319 @lunaeuphternal

@an-indecisive-nerd @homelessnerd @vesanal @thebookishkiwi @write-with-will

@hihopelessromantics @pastellbg @seastarblue @i-do-anything-but-write @darkandstormydolls

@supercimi @blargh-500 @sunflowerrosy @corinneglass @carb0n-m0n0xid3

@tiredpapergirl @whatwewrotepodcast

[viesanterieures]

𝐓𝐨 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏.

William Killick (The Edge of Love) x fem Reader

next chapter

note: This story is set in May 1936, William is about 27 and it takes place years before the actual movie.

summary: William Killick takes a break from his London life and spends a few weeks at the country estate of the wealthy Hallward family. The family take an instant liking to William and try to get him to marry their beautiful daughter Norma. Also on the estate is the reader, who works as a maid. When William receives anonymous poems, he ends up falling in love with the mysterious writer instead of Norma.

word count: 2000+

warnings: … none!

masterlist

"Excuse me sir, we've reached the end of the line." Yawning, William opened his eyes as he heard a voice behind him and stretched sleepily, curious to see who was speaking to him. A woman in a uniform with a dark skirt and matching hat stood beside him. "Are we there yet... What time is it?" he asked her. "It's just after half past seven, sir," the train attendant replied with a friendly smile. As William straightened up in his seat and then saw that the landscape before him had changed from the brown roofs of London to green hills and beautiful mountain scenery with small lakes. "My God... I must have slept for hours." The train attendant smiled at him kindly and wished him a good journey.

William felt the train slow down and grabbed his suitcase from the luggage rack. Once outside, he set it down on the floor and took a deep breath. The air smelled fresh and the wind blew through his hair. Although he had never been to this place before, he had the strange feeling that he belonged here. He closed his eyes for a moment. The orange light of the setting sun shone through his eyelids. The green hills of the Scottish Highlands stretched out before him, surrounded by a light mist. Green meadows, colourful flowers and streams dominated the landscape. The sky was cloudless and the air smelled of fresh moss. William could hardly look away. It was so different from London. The grass rustled softly under his shoes as he made his way to his accommodation for the next few weeks.

Curious, he looked up at the big building. It was built entirely of stone, with small windows adorned with red, ivy-covered shutters that glowed in the evening sun. William dragged his suitcase up the stairs that led to a wide wooden door. The muffled sound filled the silence as William knocked on the door. It opened with a squeak to reveal an older, very elegantly dressed lady with shoulder-length curly hair.

"Good evening, you must be our new guest, Mr Killick, aren't you?" Her voice sounded friendly and welcoming. "That’s right. And you must be Margaret Hallward, the owner of the estate," William replied. The lady nodded. "I am. Come in, you must have travelled a long way, sir." William followed her into the warm house. Mrs Hallward disappeared for a moment behind a wooden counter and handed William a key. "Room seven is yours. The dining room is in the ground floor and the common room is on the second floor. Breakfast is tomorrow from seven to half past eight. YN, would you be so kind as to accompany our guest to his room? And take some of his luggage."

"Of course, Mrs Hallward," a quiet voice sounded behind them, and William turned around curiously. In front of them stood a young woman in a red apron and white blouse. William smiled kindly at her. "No, wait, I can carry that," he interrupted her when she tried to take the suitcase off. Shrugging her shoulders, she finally gave up and told William to follow her. They walked along a corridor decorated with old paintings and photos of the country estate and stopped in front of a room door with the number 7.

"Thank you so much, Ma'am," he said, putting the room key in the lock. The young woman smiled and wished him a good night before disappearing without another word.

****

William had slept very well that night. It was probably because he was quite tired from the long journey. When he finally entered the dining room for breakfast, it was already quite full. He took an empty seat at a table where an elderly man was still sitting, reading a newspaper.

"Tea, sir?" It was the young woman again who had shown him his room yesterday. "Yes, thank you“, he said. "What was your name again?"

"YN," she said quietly, and poured some tea into a small cup.

"Beautiful name."

William could clearly see her cheeks turning slightly pink at the words. "Thank you, sir." But they were interrupted by Mrs Hallward, who approached the table with a big smile. "Good morning, Mr Killick! Did you sleep well?"

"Very well, Mrs Hallward," he replied. "I don't think I've slept as well as I did this morning for months. So I'm really going to enjoy my holiday."

"I'm glad to hear that." She laughed. "Oh, I'd like to introduce you to someone, wait a moment please " She turned to one of the tables and called out in a loud voice. "Norma! Will you come here, please?"

"Yes, Mother." Another woman joined them at the table, she was about a year or two younger than William. She had white-blonde hair, red lips and was wearing an elegant purple dress with ornate embroidery. She was very pretty, William realised.

"Mr Killick, this is my daughter Norma. She lives in Glasgow at the moment, but is here for a few weeks. She grew up at the country estate. If you like, she can show you around the neighbourhood and the town."

"It would be an honour. How about we meet outside the estate at three this afternoon?," Norma chuckled softly as she twirled a strand of her blonde hair between her fingers. William was very happy about the Hallward's hospitality and gratefully accepted the offer.

"But now we won't bother you any longer, Mr Killick. Enjoy your breakfast," Mrs Hallward said with a smile as she took Norma's arm and led her away from the table. As they walked, he heard them whispering to each other, catching bits of sentences like 'isn't he lovely' or 'he looks like a prince from a fairytale'.

Slowly, William turned in the direction where YN had last been, but she was gone.

***

William spent the morning in the garden of the country estate, sitting on one of the benches beneath a cherry tree. The weather was warm, and the birds chirped softly in the treetops. Eventually, he closed his book and stood up to return to the house. As he passed one of the large flower beds, he paused. He saw a person sitting there, gardening.

"Nice to see you again, Ms YN," he said kindly. She didn't seem to notice his arrival and flinched when she heard his voice behind her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," William apologised immediately. "It’s alright, sir," she said, turning her attention back to the bed.

"Call me William, please."

She immediately looked at him in surprise. She had never expected that. A gust of wind came up and brushed through William's dark hair, and his bright blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.

"Shall I help you?" he asked her, pointing to the bucket of weeds. She immediately declined his offer. "No, William, you're here on holiday. Not to work." William shrugged. "Anything where I don't have to be in London is a holiday for me. I really love this city, it's my home. But sometimes I really need to go somewhere else." YN nodded briefly. "I've never been to London or any other big city. I imagine it's stressful."

He laughs and shrugs. "I can't deny that it's stressful sometimes." Slowly he knelt down beside her and began to pluck the weeds from the ground in front of him. "You don't have to do that," she said quickly. "It's okay," William replied quietly, continuing to work.

YN laughed. "This has never happened to me before. A guest helping me with my work. If Mrs Hallward finds out, she'll scold me." William smiled a little. "Tell her I did it voluntarily. "You already have enough work." When they were finished, the young woman smiled briefly, then took off her gloves, stood up and reached for the bucket. "I have to go now."

"Wait, don’t you want to stay here a bit longer?" William asked hastily.

"Sorry, I've still got a lot to do. But thank you for helping me, that was very kind of you." She waved goodbye to William and finally turned round. William looked at her for a moment, a bit disappointed. Then he glanced at his pocket watch and flinched. It was ten minutes past three, Norma was probably already waiting for him.

He quickly grabbed his book that was laying in the grass and hurried to the front gate. Norma was waiting there, her arms crossed over her chest, looking at him with raised eyebrows as he finally greeted her completely out of breath. "Sorry I'm late."

She finally smiled and said in a friendly voice, "It's okay." Her hair was pinned up in an elegant braid, her lipstick was the same colour as the new pastel pink dress she was wearing, and she carried a matching handbag.

"I was in the garden talking to YN. I must have lost track of time."

One of her blonde eyebrows immediately raised again and she looked at him as if he had just said something completely stupid. "You're talking to household staffs? They're working for us, it’s far below our class."

He looked at her, confused. "But why shouldn't I talk to her? She's really nice."

Norma stayed silent, grabbed his arm and pulled him along without a word. She led him through the Scottish Highlands, down a small forest path, until the roofs of houses appeared in the distance. This had to be Tobermory. The air smelled of salty sea and a fresh breeze as they walked along Tobermory's coastal road, lined with colourful houses. High mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks shrouded in a gentle mist. "Wow, it's beautiful!" marveled William.

"I know, right?" Norma replied giggling, taking his hand and pulling him towards a small café.

"My aunt works there," she said. "She makes the best cakes." They entered the café and sat down on a corner bench by a small window. "Norma, how lovely to see you again." A lady with bright red hair came up to them and pulled her niece into her arms, laughing. When she noticed William, she looked him over from head to toe, smiled and turned back to her niece. "And who is that handsome young man next to you? Did you meet him in Glasgow?" Norma shook her head, laughing. "No. He's a guest of Mother's. She asked me to show him around."

"Oh, how lovely. You know, Norma, it's time for you to get married. Can I bring you both some of my Dundee cake?" William frowned slightly when she mentioned marriage. Did the Hallwards already see him as their future son in law?

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the little café, William telling Norma about his home in London, his job, his family, and she seemed to be very interested. But William hadn't forgotten her nasty comment about YN. He was torn by Norma.

After they said goodbye that evening, William went to his room tired. In the corridor he saw Mrs Hallward talking excitedly to YN. "You forgot to fluff up the pillows in Room 9! How many times do I have to tell you?" she snapped at her in a harsh tone.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Hallward, I..." But she didn't let YN finish, because when she noticed William, she put on a big smile again: "Oh, Mr Killick, how nice to see you. Did you have a nice day with Norma?"

"Yes, I did, thank you for asking," he replied. He looked at YN, but she avoided his gaze, holding a white sheet in her arms.

"You know, Norma is still not married and we're looking for a suitable husband for her. Or do you already have a wife?" Mrs Hallward wanted to know. William shook his head slowly.

"She is such a beautiful young woman. But no man has ever met her standards. You're the first one she has shown interest in", the lady explained to him. "Come, YN, you need to get back to work now, the dishes need to be washed."

"Good night, William," YN said to him as he walked past, nodding to him.

"Good night," he replied.

As soon as he entered his room, he took off his jacket and shirt and yawned softly. He intended to read, but he was so tired that he just wanted to lie down in bed. Suddenly he heard something crunching under his feet and looked down in surprise. There was a small piece of white paper under his shoe. Someone must have slipped it through the gap under his door. He bent down and picked it up carefully. It was no bigger than William's hand, made of good quality and written in black ink.

Holding his breath, William began to read:

𝓣𝓸 𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓶 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮

ℐ𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝑔𝒶𝓇𝒹𝑒𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓌𝓈 𝒹𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒, 𝒶 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝒷𝓎 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒.

𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒻𝓇𝒶𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝒷𝓁𝓊𝑒 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒻𝓁𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝒸𝑒.

ℋ𝒾𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽, 𝒽𝑒'𝓈 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑒 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒, 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓇𝑒.

Confused, he turned the letter over in his hands. Was it from Norma? But she had been with him all afternoon, hadn't she? Who else was writing him poems?

****************************************************

Thank you so much for reading! If you want a part 2, let me know! 🖤

[itsbubbleteataro]

Like a Petal in The Wind

Koga x fem!human!reader

Warnings: blood, miroku

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Koga! Koga slow down” Puffed Ginka

“Yeah! Koga! Please we need water” Huffed Hakkaku

The gray tornado several meters ahead stopped. In its place stood a wolf demon. His skin tanned from time in the sun, eyes a shade of blue that looked back at the two other wolf demons who panted and gasped for air. Long black hair tied back with a simple brown chord. A brown fur headband helped to keep his bangs off his face while he ran. shoulder plates, a fur loincloth and a sliver and black cuirasse adorned his body, with shin armor finished what the demon wore.

Pointed ears listened to a babbling brook close by as clawed hands scratched the back of his head while the two other wolf demons caught up.

One with a sliver mohawk was dressed in similar clothing to Koga. He panted with his hands on his knees.

"Koga! Water! Please!" Spat out Hakkaku.

"Koga! We can't keep up with you! We don't have sacred jewel shards like you do! Please let's rest" Half begged Ginka.

Begrudgingly, Koga agreed. He knew he had less of a chance of killing Naraku and avenging comrades if his pack was tired.

"Alright. It smells like a river is just east of here. Let's rest there for the night" He turned his back, starting to walk in the direction of the river. Excited, Ginka and Hakkaku went after him, still calling out his name.

The sun was high in the sky, Ginka and Hakkaku had gone further down stream to fish for lunch, as Koga sat under a tree. One of his ears flicked, his head turned in a direction as he stayed put. His nose crinkled, the sweet smell of flowers and bitter smell of herbs clashing together was putrid.

The sent only grew closer till he spotted a young woman. long black hair tied back with a simple white linen chord. Dressed in a simple kosode that went down to her ankles. A carrying cloth mixed with flowers and herbs. He studied her, watching as she knelt down to the earth, and untied her carrying cloth, adding a few more herbs to her bag.

She stood up after gathering what she needed and retired the bag. She stood up as a gust of wind blew by. His nose twitched. underneath the putrid sent, was a sweet one. It was like the flowers she had picked, yet much lighter and fragment, something almost undetectable if he were not a demon, like a tsubaki flower. As soon as he had caught the sent, he lost it, the sent flowing away like a petal in the wind.

Koga watched as the woman started to walk away. Some part of him missed the sent layered under the putrid mix of herbs and flowers, soon having to remind himself that he only had eyes for Kagome. It was long after she had left that Ginka and Hakkaku returned from fishing.

"Koga! Koga look!" His eyes snapped over to Ginka and Hakkaku, each proudly holding a bundle of fish in their hands.

Eyeing the look in their eyes, Koga decided to indulge himself as they had with fish. "I've come to the decision" he scratched the back of his head. "Since you guys wanted to rest, why don't we stay here for a few days. The pack could after all use a break"

The pack seemed happy at the decision, deciding to take the time they had and spend the evening resting and fill their stomachs. Koga stayed where he was, nose to the wind. He had caught the putrid sent once more. Maybe it was because he was bored, or maybe because he wanted to get another sniff of what was hidden under the putrid sent, the wolf demon ran after it, the jewel shards in his legs aiding his speed.

Koga found himself on the outskirts of a village. The local shrine quite large for its size. His curiosity quenched for the night, Koga returned to his pack.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the village the woman Koga had been watching from a far had finally made it to the shrine. Approaching the priest she showed him the herbs and flowers she had gathered. Together the two had separated the herbs from the flowers. The herbs organized to be laid out in the sun the next day to be dried, and the flowers to be displayed inside.

The woman stayed with the shrine as she had no where else to go, and busied herself with helping gather herbs or do odd jobs for others. Like was simple, yet fulfilling.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a night like any other when a group of five entered the temple one hot sunny afternoon. The woman watched as the priest welcomed a monk draped in purple robes and his friends. Watching closely from a far she was filled with curiosity, she had never seen such an odd group of people. A half dog demon with long white hair dressed in red robes. A woman with mid length black hair in a strange set of clothing of white and green. The monk with purple robes who's eyes were glued on a woman who looked like to be a demon slayer judging by the large boomerang on her back. Her eyes widened with wonder wonder as she looked at the twin tailed little cat on the demon slayers shoulder. She sighed as she saw a little fox demon child jump up on the one with the red robes.

"Its rude to stare you know. Come on out don't be a coward" The one in red stated, turning his back towards you.

Taking a deep breath you came out from the hiding spot as the priest chuckled. The priest then introduced you to the group as you shyly waved and apologized for staring.

"Hi! I'm Kagome! That's Inuyasha" The girl in the strange clothing motioned over to the one in red. "That's Miroku!" Kagome motioned to the monk, who waved his hand. "Shippo is the one on Inuyasha's shoulder, Songo is the demons layer and the one on her shoulder is Kirara!"

You sat there, taking in all the information before nodding your head.

"The priest here said you could give us a tour of the area?" Songo asked, to which you nodded. Together you all left the temple, heading towards the stream where Koga, Ginta and Hakkaku were staying.

-------------------------

Koga sniffed the air a few times, before mumbling something underneath his breath, and taking off running towards the village, leaving Hakkaku and Ginta to once again chance after him. Koga's nose was on to the Inuyashas's sent as well as the ever flowery sent of the woman he's only seen hand full of times.

Kagome waved at the approaching tornado as you looked worried, opting to stand next to Songo, someone you knew would protect you if the occasion occurred.

The tornado dispersed. You gasped softly looking at the attractive wolf demon. "Hey Kagome! You gonna ditch that mutt yet?" Smirked the wolf demon as Inuyasha snarled.

"Hey who you calling a mutt?" growled Inuyasha, reaching for his sword.

"if it's a fight you want it's a fight you'll get!"

"Hey lets uh, lets calm down right guys?" Kagome nervously chuckled, raising her hands and looking over at Miroku who simply shrugged. Cringing when she heard the sound of Tessaiga being drawn Kagome had enough, “Sit boy” You watched as Inuyasha fell flat on his face with a pained cry, one that wolf demon looked quite proud about. “Sorry Koga, what brings you around here? It’s not often that we get to cross paths?”

You placed a calloused hand over your mouth, gasping under your breath as Koga took Kagome's hands into his own. "Oh just here to ask you to be my wife." You're attention snapped to Inuyasha, who was now up and walking.

"She's not interested!"

"Ah I'm so sorry (y/n). It may be a while, do you think you coul-Ah!" Apologized Songo before wiping around, covering her behind. You followed her gaze to see Miroku the monk. One of his hands holding onto the staff, his face looking serious with his eyes closed. The hand with the light purple covering twitching slightly.

You cringed physically as Songo wacked him over the head with her boomerang made of bone.

"Why you-!"

"I'm sorry Songo! The hand as a mind of its own I swear!"

"Pervert!"

You sighed. Frightened, confused and slightly annoyed you knew you were in for a long day.

------------------------------------------------------------------

The sun was finally starting to set as you showed them the area around the river. Falling to the back of the pack was Koga, his eyes drifting between Kagome and You. He was feeling mixed. Kagome was the woman he was set on having his wife, yet on the other hand it was your sent that made him so curious about you.

The sun set had only served to paint you in a beautiful light, the warm tones leaning into night would be enough to make him question. Watching as the group waved goodbye and moved on into the village, Koga, Ginta and Hakkaku made there way back to the camp they had been staying in for the past few days. Once again, Koga sat with his back against the grand tree, with his nose up in the air. He closed his eyes, unsure if he were savoring the sent of you or Kagome.

With each good gust of wind, he swore he could smell you. He was confused, a human who he did not even know the name of, had such an effect on him. Trying to distract himself, he focused his thoughts on the crude Naraku and his little puppets made from his flesh Kana and Kagura. With his eyes closed, he swore he could smell Naraku's sent in the wind flowing up from the village.

Inhaling once again, he focused more on the sent. Jumping up, he had gotten the sent of human blood mixed in with Kagome's your and Naraku's sent. Not bothering to inform Ginta or Hakkaku he took off running full speed in the direction of the village.

----------------------------------------------------------

You were sleeping peacefully in the room the priest was so kind as to give to you. Keyword "were". Some sort of tornado seemed to appear out of nowhere, rousing you from your slumber with a a start. Scrambling outside to see what was going on, your eyes winded in horror. You watched this woman dressed in a long red and white stripped Kosoke with a fan in her hand. With each swipe if her fan, another tornado seemed to fall.

“Inuyasha! Come out come out wherever you are” The woman taunted. Unleashing a different sort of attack. With a grunt several half moon shaped blades cut through the very building she was once sleeping in. Gasping in fright, you stared to run away, only hearing as Inuyasha responded to the taunts himself.

You dare not look back as you hear more blades being flung in your direction, no thanks in part to a tornado currently making its way through your village. You went down with a scream, your leg feeling damp and heavy al of a sudden. Adrenaline pumping through your vanes, you pushed yourself up, running further and further way from the carnage of your village, making your way slowly to the stream.

——————————————————————————-

The stench of human blood filled Koga’s nose, standing up. The unforgettable stench of Naraku mixed in with the blood. Growling, he took off running, leaving his pack behind. Quickly making it into the village he spotted the demon behind the attack, Kagura. He could do nothing but watch as the two battled, before watching as Kagura backed off. Plucking a feather from her hair and tossing it in the air, both Kana, holding the mirror and Kagura stepped on. Once more he watched as Kagura taunted Inuyasha, before floating off into the night, leaving Inuyasha shouting nonsense back. His eyes drifted over to Kagome, his shoulders dropping when he saw she was safe. Still in the air was the stench of blood, mixed in with the faint smell of flower blossoms. Alarm crossed is mind as he looked up the hill, seeing a trail of blood. Cursing under his breath and asking himself what Kagome would have him do, he followed the blood.

Reaching the stream Koga stopped, his emotions swirling in his head as he walked closer. There on the bank of the river you laid. The stench of blood was strong coming off you, Koga inspected you for injury, hesitating when he saw the cut on your leg. Making a fist he undid the bandana around his head, using it to stop the bleeding. Koga could hear the the short breaths you took, slowly coming too as he finished tying it around your leg.

With a groan you looked up at him, recoiling in horror for a moment before seeming to relax just the slightest. He looked at you, confusion crossing his features.

“Well, aren’t you going to scream in terror? Beg for your life?” Koga seamed to loom over you as he spoke.

You shook your head. “Nay, I saw how you were with Kagome and her friends, if you wished to hurt me I should think you would have killed me already”

Koga scoffed, sitting back and giving you space to sit up. Wincing as you do, his eyes scanned you for a more injuries, only looking away when he was sure he saw no others. After a few moments of silence, he stood up, getting his arms underneath you and picking you up, being mindful of your injury.

“Hey! Wait! What are you doing?!”

“Taking you to Kagome. Her medicine form her world would help you faster than any other person I can think of” Koga responded, his tone not giving away any of his emotions as he walked with you towards the ruins of your village. You clung on tight, both out of fear and pain, biting your lip as he carried you.

Reaching the village Koga waisted no time in tracking down Kagome. Explaining the situation as your eyes squeezed shut not wanting to look at any bodies that scattered the ground. You heard Kagome agree with Koga, the loud thunk of a bag being dropped and the rattle of things begging savaged through. You were carried into one of the few still standing houses, being set down carefully. You watched as Kagome carefully peeled away the now blood soaked wolf fur bandana, handing it back to Koga. Koga took it, holding onto it, looking away from Kagome and you. Inuyasha sat with his back against the wall, eyes shut, seeming to be resting after his fight with Kagura.

—————————————-

A few days later it was decided, you would travel with Inuyasha and his friends while you recovered, hoping to find a new village for you to move into after you had recovered. Koga and Inuyasha had talked about it, figuring it would be safer for you to go with them.

And so your adventure started, traveling with the half demon Inuyasha, Kagome, the fox child Shippo, demon slayer Songo and monk Mruko. Unknown to everyone but inuyasha, Koga and his pack seemd to trail behind, be it for Kagome or you, only time could tell.

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part XXX

Find all previous parts on Ao3 :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge thank you to the lovely @sad-scarred-sassy who deserves all the credit for the post that inspired me to start writing this :) Another huge thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 / @cauldronblssd / @xirose / @rarephloxes / @thehighlordishere / @the-darkestminds / @lady-of-tearshed / @what-about-elvenis / @gameafoot /

The sky was a vicious blue, bright and cloudless. The smell of blooming flowers was in the air, strong enough to choke. Elain had to raise a pale hand to cover her eyes, blocking the unforgiving sun. A gentle wind blew, kissing her cheeks. The grass was cool beneath her bare feet, dew drops making the edges of her pink skirts damp. 

Elain glanced down, tilting her head when she noticed that it almost looked like blood. It stained the elegant fabric, ruining it. She frowned as she straightened the wrinkles, her brows pinched. Red rose petals were littered between the emerald blades of grass, a perfect path that she chose to follow. 

Elain walked with steady steps, unnerved by the silence in the open space. There were no singing birds, no buzzing bees, no trickling streams. A shiver danced along her spine as she continued forward, the scarlet petals shifting until they whirled together like a rushing river. 

It looked like hair, she observed. She tracked the length of it, searching. Her mind moved slowly, her thoughts disconnected from what she saw. 

Empty eyes stared upwards, unblinking amber gemstones. 

Elain woke up with a gasp. Her body moved involuntarily, shooting upwards despite the numbness she felt in her limbs. Someone quickly created more distance between them, and Elain twisted her neck so she could face whoever it was. 

“Vassa?” She said, voice a strained rasp. She had forgotten to refer to her using a title. Elain cleared her throat, wishing she could have a sip of water. She let her vision adjust to the night, pretty hair the colour of a copper coin flashed as the other woman nodded. 

The cursed queen breathed a relieved sigh, tension leaving her shoulders as she slumped into a more comfortable position. “Elain?” At the tilt of a chin she received in response, Vassa ran a hand over her face roughly. “You weren’t waking up,” she declared, her accent similar to the one in cities that had bordered the wall. 

Koschei. 

The death god’s name echoed in Elain’s mind. If Vassa was with her, his involvement was the only explanation she could think of. 

Elain took a shaking breath. “That happens sometimes,” she mumbled, letting her fingers dig into the soft earth in an attempt to ground herself. She checked her surroundings to decide what she might do next, hoping that she recognised where she was. 

The moon was high, and stars glittered tauntingly against the endless dark. Elain was left with the impression that they were laughing at her misery. She could tell that she was near water, perhaps past the forest’s edge and a bit farther than the clearing she found herself in. The air was damp, a humid fog clinging to the trees and creating a rather uncomfortable atmosphere. 

Elain was certain that she was no longer in any of the seasonal courts of Prythian, and although she might have been in one of the solar ones, she determined it was quite unlikely. There was something distinctly ancient about the forest, leafless branches reaching up towards the sky like hands made of bone. The wood of each tree was a ghostly white, a stark contrast to the dirt covering the map of roots beneath the surface. 

There was magic thrumming all around her, Elain knew, but it was unlike her own. There was something about it that briefly reminded her of Nesta. She frowned, concern replacing all other emotions. She wondered if she was in the Middle, keeping in mind the stories Feyre had told her. 

“Had a good night’s sleep?”  

The question rocked Elain, snapping her out of her own thoughts. She had not noticed that there was someone else there, but the familiar voice was enough to make anger rush through her veins. 

Elain faced Lethe, scowling as she saw how beautiful the other female still looked despite the ordeal they had endured. Her dress was left in perfect condition, no tears in the expensive fabric. She had unpinned her hair, and it fell in an icy sheet to her waist, not a single knot between the strands. Embers sparked to life in her eyes as she raised an unimpressed brow. 

“You’re here.” Elain said without thinking, stating the obvious. For a moment, she was glad to have someone she knew with her, but she was quickly reminded that the two of them did not exactly get along.  

“I’d rather be dead,” Lethe declared with a sniff. The words hung between them, sharpened by the silence. 

“That can easily be arranged,” Vassa offered, but was promptly ignored. 

Elain kept looking at Lethe, their gazes locked, when a horrifying realisation dawned on her. “No one knows,” she muttered, heartbeat thunderous in her ears. Panic gripped her like a claw and she tried to pull at the mating bond with no success. While she thought it was probably the distance, a million awful scenarios came to mind. 

Lucien. 

Elain grabbed at the curls against her scalp, tugging to stop herself from whimpering. If Beron would go so far as to harm Eris, she had a hard time believing he would have second thoughts about doing the same to her mate. 

“No one knows,” Lethe confirmed, sounding exhausted. 

“Fuck,” Elain mumbled under her breath, the foul language slipping from her tongue easily. “What about Eris?” 

Lethe straightened, a commanding air to her at the mention of her friend. “What about him?” When Elain remained quiet, the other woman shook her head. “There’s nothing to be done for him.” 

Elain felt the events leading up to that moment crash down on her like a wave. With no outlet for her frustration, she heard her own voice raise accusingly. “Some friend you are,” she spat, the anger making her brave. “We should have helped him, he’s hurt–”

“Hurt?” Lethe snarled, interrupting the rest of Elain’s sentence. “You think he’s hurt?” 

Elain winced at the aggressive tone. “I think–”

Lethe laughed, the sound grating like a blade against marble. “You think Eris is hurt?” When Elain remained silent, she waved a hand, the nails on each finger filed to a dangerous point. “I think you’re stupid,” the Autumn noble snarled. 

Vassa made a soft sound, a gentle warning. Lethe continued as though she had not heard, teeth bared threateningly. “Eris is dead, and I’m stuck here with the foolish little human girl he felt responsible for.”  

“I’m not human,” Elain corrected, a finality to the statement. It was the first time she had said the words out loud, acceptance sneaking up on her as steady as the rising sun. Where grief once would have been, confidence in herself only remained. “I’m not human,” she repeated, “and Eris isn’t dead. He can’t be.” 

Elain refused to consider it. There was something constant about the Autumn heir, like the unchanging seasonal court he had been born in, timeless.

All the fight seemed to leak from Lethe, her shoulders curling inward as she bent her legs to her chest. “No one could have survived that.” She rested her chin against her knees, looking very young, voice breaking like glass as she spoke. “You wouldn’t have recognised the dagger, but it’s made entirely of gold and tipped with ash.”

“The ash is enough to kill him?” Elain asked, her question wavering. She felt a burning behind her eyes, and she blinked to keep her tears at bay. 

Lethe sighed, but there was no judgement in the sound. “Our teachers in the Forest House told us that the High Lord slaughtered his father with that weapon and forced himself onto the throne.” She paused, using her sleeve to wipe at her cheeks. “Ash wood is like a poison without a cure for the fae.” 

Elain closed her eyes, clenching them shut to cut herself off from the rest of the world. There was a sharp ringing in her ears, like the aftermath of a bell’s toll. It took all of her willpower not to break down into wretched sobs. 

A gentle hand rested on Elain’s back, a comfort as she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. 

“Everything is going to be fine,” Vassa lied. The human queen rubbed at the spot between Elain’s shoulder blades, staying close even as her nerves settled. 

“Hope is for those who don’t know any better,” Lethe offered, no matter how unwelcome the opinion was.  

“Lucien is going to come for us.” Elain said softly, putting her wish into the universe and hoping against all odds that it would become a reality.

[sunflower-azura]

OKAY SOO IVE DECIDED TO POST THE DRAFT FOR AZURA'S DEATH SCENE

THIS IS DRAFT UHHH NUMBER 4 OR SOMETHING

Also a thank you to @lethia-not-athena for being my proof reader who made sure I knew it would make people cry ✨

Its under the cut incase you dont wanna read it + TW for death and stuffs

Please feel free to give feedback, correct spelling mistakes etc, I'm always up to improve my writing! And if you dont get anything, feel free to comment/dm and I'll explain :)

Im just gonna @ a few people soooo uh sorry if you didn't wanna be get tagged

@calvalia @apollo-ask-blog @cotton-candy-anon @the-great-emperor-commodus

[Bit from previous chapter so y'all know what's up]

Apollo grinned as he held up the glass orb, standing among the rest of the Gods as they chattered. And then, he let go.

[Chapter 22]

Everyone fell silent as the sound of glass shattering cut through the air, halting all the formerly lively chatter. Demeter paled, rushing forward. Her fingers made contact with the once beautiful sunflower, who's petals crumbled under her touch. "No..." The shock and despair was palpable as her voice broke the silence. Apollo looked at Zephyrus, a smug expression on his face. The west wind raised an eyebrow. "Sorry, am I supposed to care?" He asked, annoyance tinging his words. "Am I supposed to care about some stupid flower?"

The grin dropped from Apollo's face as not Kiara, but Azura collapsed. Kiara pushed her father aside, staring at the broken glass and wilting sunflower with pain in her eyes. Tears welled up, falling to her knees next to the lifeless form of Azura. Her fingers trailed through the gold feathers, trying to savour the touch and warmth as long as possible. "Az...?" Kiara muttered, voice soft. She moved her hands to Azura's shoulders, gently shaking the Goddess in an attempt to rouse her.

Trembling, the Sunflower Goddess's hand squeezed Kiara's, a silent attempt at reassurance. "Move! Out of the way!" Helios's sharp voice cut through the air as he pulled Kiara away, taking her place next to Azura. The wind Goddess longed to protest, yell at him for not being here earlier, but she decided otherwise as her gaze fell on his eyes. Red from crying and actively producing tears as he sobbed silently. Wordlessly, the Sun took his daughter into his loving embrace, burying his nose in her hair, taking in the smell. She smelled just like the small baby she was when he left her. She might've grown, but to Helios, she was still his little Azura.

Demeter watched as he cradled the sunflower's limo body, before turning away, resting her head in the crook of Hestia's neck as the Hearth Goddess attempted to console her little sister. She wasn't sure if Demeter could take losing another daughter, seeing as had lost Kore already, and could barely keep herself together while Persephone was in the underworld. Hestia whispered soft words of consolation, rubbing her sister's back. "She'll be okay. Persephone will take care of her soul in the underworld."

This only made Demeter cry harder. She lost both her beloved daughters to the realm of her brother. And the chance Hades would return either of them was smaller than the chance Zeus would ever be loyal. Her hands grabbed Hestia's dress, holding onto the fabric like a lifetime. "We'll talk to Hades, okay? Make sure she is well-cared for, even if Persephone is with us. Azura will be okay." The Goddess of the Hearth whispered. Slowly, Demeter stopped shaking, although refusing to let go of her sister.

"Azura? Mi pequeña flor? Amor? Girasol? Wake up! Wake up..." Helios uttered, voice soft. His calloused hands strooked her cheek, a lone tear rolling down Azura's face, which had formed when she'd realised she was dying. The Sun pressed a soft kiss on her forehead, a goodbye to the daughter he never said hello to.

[klausysworld]

Peaceful Power

Valentines day.

Klaus didn't care for it nor understand it.

If you truly loved your person then why did you need a special day to prove it? Every day should be valentines day.

But Y/n loved love so much that something about valentines day was so magical for her.

She was a very calm soul.

Despite being a witch in New Orleans, her patience and compassion was everlasting. They were traits that Klaus deeply admired and was eternally grateful for. Not many people would be so tolerant of him.

She offered other methods to settle his rage.

The first few times he found it silly and embarrassing when they would sit on his art room floor, gentle music in the background as they closed their eyes and meditated until they felt the weight of the day lift off from their shoulders.

She had made him playlists of songs that she knew he would like and were peaceful enough to settle his nerves when he should need to.

A few times he had let her guide him through a yoga routine or two however those sessions almost always ended up with him testing just how many positions he could actually get her into before she was too exhausted for him to carry on.

She was his serenity.

So when she had expressed her passion for valentines day, he knew he couldn't disappoint her. Not that he believed there was a way to disappoint her at this point.

Now Klaus was quite romantic anyway, his main love language was gift giving and acts of service followed closely behind so he wasn't too sure how to really impress her.

However if there was something Klaus was known for it was his dramatic flare.

It was because of this that Y/n found herself blindfolded and wearing noise cancelling headphones while sat in fist class while Klaus stroked her hair and fed her the over priced airplane food. He would of course lift her headphones to whisper to her throughout the flight to ensure she was sated, thankfully Y/n was just fine with the arrangement and rather excited for where they were wind up.

He kept her covered right until he got her to their hotel.

Only when he had her stood on the balcony with the view of the sea before did he allow her senses to return.

A glowing smile lit up her face at the sight and she quickly spun around to face Klaus. He beamed back at her, chuckling when she leaped into his arms and wrapped herself around him like a koala. His grin grew as she repeatedly kissed his face and he spun her around playfully until she dropped her legs back down and leaned over the balcony pointing at the beach excitedly.

"It's so beautiful!" She gasped but he wasn't looking at the landscape, he was just looking at her. "Where are we?" she whispered, her soft voice expressing her astonishment.

"Italy" he answered with a smile as she turned to face him in amazement, "Amalfi Coast to be exact" he added and she squealed.

"For how long?" she asked excitedly and he shrugged

"For as long as you would like" he told her simply and she practically bounced where she stood.

Klaus eventually coaxed her into the hotel room, surprising her further as she was overwhelmed by the valentines theme spread throughout the apartment.

Heart shaped balloons rest in the corners of each room, pink and red candles made the hotel smell heavenly and a sweet little meditation area was set up in the lounge. Their bedroom was covered in heart shaped pillows and roses. Y/n was expressing her appreciation all night before finally resting, her mind filled with anticipation of what would come the following day.

Morning arrived and they spent valentines day on the water, giggling and smiling as they spotted dolphins and reached their hands into the sea to see the fish shimmer. Klaus braided her hair and gradually slotted more and more little flowers into the strands as they day went by.

They ate at a sweet little place just down the road from where they were staying before heading to a cocktail bar and finally laying against the coast, watching as the sun hid below the ocean line and the moon slowly found its way to the top.

"I've always loved the moon" Y/n whispered softly, looking at Klaus from where her head lay on his chest. "It's so peaceful but so powerful, you know?"

"Just like you" he uttered and her heart melted

Klaus's gaze remained on her as her cheeks blushed rose and her eyes softened to the point where he worried that he had made her cry. A singular tear slipped past her eyes before she kissed his lips and tucked her head under his chin comfortably.

"I love you" she mumbled, her voice weak as he wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled the top of her hair.

"I love you so much more, my little valentine"

[dailyunstableeve]

Fluff and Angst

Shadowheart x reader (no specific gender)

My maladaptive daydream made me write this. No proofread.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .•°:. *₊ ° . ° .

You woke up with Shadowheart next to you, you couldn't tell how long she was looking at you sleeping. You didn't question anything and just pull her closer to you, snuggle up with her, embracing her warmth. This isn't the first time you wake up with Shadowheart looking at you, you remembered the first time, she told you, “you look so adorable when you sleep and I want to take in the peace we fight so hard to get and now we're here next to each other with nothing to worried about.”

Shadowheart gave you a kiss on the forehead and both of you drifted back to the dreams with you in her arms. 

When you wake up again, you're no longer in the embrace of Shadowheart. You were in confusion for a few minutes until you smelled the scent of freshly baked bread, the bittersweet of coffee’s scent coming from the kitchen. You quickly wash up yourself and skip your way towards the kitchen, excited like always to eat Shadowheart’s cooking. 

“Look who finally woken up,” you made your way next to Shadowheart, she gave you a quick morning kiss and passed you a plate of mixed fruits, you made your way to the back door and got welcomed by all of the animals both you and Shadowheart adopted. 

“Good morning to you all,” you chuckled as you watched all of them circling around you, you picked a space and placed the fruit plate on the floor. The pets couldn't wait anymore, they were already digging in. 

You returned to Shadowheart, hugging her from her back, planting soft kisses on her neck, wondering when the breakfast would be done. You turn into a koala bear, you cling onto Shadowheart everywhere she goes until both of you are seated down by the dining table. 

After breakfast, Shadowheart and you will have only different duties, she will be grooming the pets while you'll be cleaning up the house. 

You looked at the art portraits of you and Shadowheart painted for each other by the fireplace while you're cleaning. You remembered that day, both of you used the shade of the tree to block out the sun, holding hands, watching the pets running free on the field. You brought out the paints and two empty canvases, challenging her to paint, then let the pet pick who painted better. 

You painted the colourful flower field with Shadowheart standing in the middle, how the wind gently blowing by, lifting the silk of the dress along with it, Shadowheart had her hair down, white as snow, pure, looking like a princess who finally discovered freedom. 

As for Shadowheart, she painted the moment when you, her and all the other party members reunited again, the joy on your face, the hair that she braided for you that night, the perfect details. 

The competition was a close call when Shadowheart asked all the pets to pick who’s the winner. Shadowheart won the competition because of the squirrel she adopted a few months ago. The squirrel has been your little enemy since then, all because she kept on sticking onto Shadowheart whenever you wanted to hang out with her. Months passed, you and the squirrel made peace, all thanks to the speak to animal potion, both of you talk out the terms. 

Time flies fast when you’re focused, the chores have been done so you and Shadowheart decided to sit out at the bench, enjoying the afternoon breeze. You rested on Shadowheart’s shoulder as she rested on top of your head, enjoying the cold tea you have brewed while cleaning up the house. 

Since Shadowheart had made breakfast for the day, you take the turn to cook dinner. Shadowheart would sit on the counter, sipping her favourite wine, drinking the sight of you cooking. Whenever you pass her just to grab something, you will take a chance to steal a few kisses from her. Meantime, she will tell you about all the adorable things the pets did during the day, and you can hear the pets responding to Shadowheart’s comments from their shed just by the kitchen window, you will just laugh along because Shadowheart will try to argue back with the pets while she basically on the losing side but that doesn’t stop them to have a cute interaction. 

After dinner, both of you will take a walk by the beach, taking off the shoes, allowing the sea to brush through both of your feet, the coldness that brings refreshment. Holding hands, walking next to each other, Shadowheart would look at you with those lovely eyes, listening to every word you say, perhaps some old story you haven’t told her yet, she listens to it all. 

You and Shadowheart ended your day filled with activities, it’s time to hit the bed. The squirrel will be sleeping in above both yours and Shadowheart’s head, you feel the warmth from Shadowheart’s hand, running gently on your arm, causing a little tickling sensation. You would try to ask her to stop, despite you enjoying it, having Shadowheart’s touch on you, makes you feel alive, belonged. 

You snuggled up to Shadowheart, you could hear her calm heartbeat, like a lullaby. Shadowheart gave you a kiss on the forehead and fell asleep together. 

Morning arrived, you opened your eyes, finding yourself alone on your bed. You got out from your bed, washing up yourself then sit in front of your study table, turning on your computer, staring at your screen as a voice played, 

“Good, I was just starting to miss the sound of your voice.”

[patrice-bergerons]

lady of the seas

@wandererseas your jfj piece, 'lady of the seas' was so beautiful, i simply had to write something for it--even if it is a rather loose interpretation of your brilliant work! i'd love to turn this into a full blown fic when I have time, but for now, pls have these 1.4k words of james as a captain's wife- (cw for a brief suicide reference)

Standing in their garden in the sunshine, it is hard to remember that there was once a time Francis used to mourn every second on dry land.  That is how Sofia had put it.  Deny it as Francis may have done at the time, she had a point; Francis had come to recognise that even before he found his way back to James, all those years ago.

He smiles at James.

“Your flowers are nearly as lovely as you are.”

James gives him a dismissive wave.  “You flatter, Francis,” she says, but the pleased little smile that graces her lips tells him that the compliment is well received.  James likes to be cherished, even when he is a man, but doubly so as a wife.  As she should be—cherishing James is the greatest honour Francis has known.

The flowers are lovely, too.  Roses and white lilies and marigolds, each in full bloom.  He gently takes a white rose between his fingers and he is not disappointed when he brings it to his nose; it smells wonderful.  Birds are twittering in the trees and the bushes, and Francis’ heart squeezes at the sight of James standing in the middle of the garden she has cultivated, her cheeks pink with a delicate blush in the sunshine, looking perfectly at ease.  He rarely gets to come home in the spring—or the summer.

The joy spills out of him in a huff of breath like water from an over-full cup.

“Oh, who knew?”  

“That roses could be scented?” comes the sly reply.  All these years and James has not lost a modicum of her wit.

Francis tuts at her with equal playfulness.

“No, it is the weather I speak of.  Not a cloud in sight.”  He raises his face towards the sun, momentarily closing his eyes to bask in its warmth, before he turns to James again.  “I do not remember the last time we weren’t plagued by storms or howling winds or frost.”  James takes his arm and together they start to stroll through the garden, towards the bench under the willow tree, the long branches of which are swaying gently in the breeze.  Francis chuckles at a memory.  “Remember that time I came home and the bloody sea was frozen over?”

Their home sits perched on a cliff, and there was nothing but ice as far as the eye could see, then.  James had built a roaring fire and held Francis to his bosom, rubbing his arms, and still Francis would not stop shivering.

“That one was rather your fault,” James says, with little sympathy.  “A captain of your experience should know better than to fall into a crevasse.”

Honestly, Francis thinks.  He reminds, kindly, helpfully,

“You were equally happy to see me, as I recall.”

James stops, however.  He turns to Francis, her eyebrows two perfect arches in her forehead as thunder booms across the heavens above.

“Very well,” Francis concedes.  Speak of a message received, loud and clear.  “I shall not push my good luck.”

“You are ever so wise,” James replies as they start walking again.

When they reach the bench, they sit as closely together as they can.  Francis wraps his arm around James’ currently rather slender shoulders, and with a content sigh, James drops her head to rest against Francis’ chest.  It is perhaps the touch they miss more than all else when they are apart, the touch that grounds them, reminds them both that they are real.  By necessity, Francis’ visits are few and far in between. 

He presses a kiss onto James’ hair.  There is much to say and he wonders where to start.

“James’ eldest is engaged to be married.  A love match, an upstanding young man from a good family, but he does not know how to swim.”

The groom-to-be is from Birmingham and has not so much stepped foot on a beach in his life.  James—his other James—had come to him distraught, as if the concept that such a thing could be possible, let alone be desirous of his daughter’s hand, was too awful for a mortal mind to comprehend.

James laughs, the sound a brilliant rumble that echoes through his own chest.

“Yes, I know.”

She surprises him still.

“You do?”

“Elisabeth Ross told me all about it.  She was here.”

Oh.  Francis cannot help but blink rapidly at the name, a string pulling at his ribs.

“Yes, Francis, she is well,” James says warmly, hearing his question before he has the chance to voice it.

“Is she-?  She is too young to be on her own.”

Only eighteen.  Far, far too young.  But here too James reassures him.

“No, she came to me with her companion, in fact.  I was happy to host them both.”

“That’s a relief.”  Francis exhales.  “Her grandmother?  She doted on Elisabeth.”

James laughs again, deeper and for longer this time.  Francis pokes her shoulder—whatever has amused his beloved so, he too would like to know, thank you very much.  At long last, James stops laughing and indulges him.

“Her companion was altogether closer to Elisabeth in age than her grandmother.”

This appears to be all she is willing to say on the matter, however; she is in fact waiting for Francis to catch up and divine the true meaning of her words.  Who could it be, Francis thinks for a moment, racking his brain, before he gasps.

“The maid?  Oh, what was her name, Caroline?”

Caroline who was so overcome with grief that she slit her own wrists, foisting further shock upon a household already in mourning.

He has pleased his wife, who declares,

“The very one.”

Briefly, Francis turns his gaze to his left, to the sea glimmering in the late morning sun.

“Hang on.  I thought there were no servants here.”

Every day they make their own dinner, lunch and breakfast, and the eggs burn if one gets distracted by certain other activities and leaves the stove unattended—and even catch on fire.

James is grinning from ear to ear, Francis can hear it in her voice.

“Their relationship is of a far more equitable nature than one of a servant and her mistress, I believe—which might also explain why they came to me and not to Elisabeth’s grandmother.”

Francis lets out another gasp, he cannot help it.  Elisabeth and her maid, right under the noses of not only Francis but her family?  And now reunited here, despite what Caroline has done?

James shifts a little under his arm.

“Need I remind that you make home with a former officer in Her Majesty’s Navy, my sweet?”

Ah, well, when you put it like that.

Francis huffs.  His darling is truly never wrong.

“Are they–”

“Yes,” she replies emphatically, before he can finish.  “They are happy—they were with me for quite a while, actually.  It takes a bit to settle here, when you have first arrived.”

Are you happy? Francis had asked him once, on one of his earlier visits, when Sophia’s words were fresher in his mind.  I have no intention of becoming a captain’s wife; I’ve seen that life and it is not one I aspire to.  He would have made James a better offer than he had to Sophia—to retire there and then and to never return to the sea.  Money was not a concern.  He had already seen James suffer so very terribly once, unable to ease it, to help him, except through the most final of acts.

But James only wrapped his arms behind his neck and pulled him into a kiss.  Yes, he said when they broke apart ages later, a smile in his eyes that did not waver and his breath still ghosting over Francis’ skin.  Now go back.

James reclines further into Francis now so that she may turn her head and look up at him, all wide, brown eyes and pink lips.

“Tell me,” she says with the most demure of sighs, “how I am more beautiful than any rose again.”

Seeing as Francis could spend an eternity doing just that, he is happy to oblige.

“Your cheeks,” he starts, brushing a knuckle over them and marvelling at their texture and warmth, “are softer than the petals of the most exquisite rose.”

He could get used to this.  He thinks that every time, but he is an old man, now.  He has done his bit and spring is in full bloom and as he preens James looks and feels exquisite in his arms. 

If James would have him-, if Francis gets to have a say-

Until then, he has compliments to give and gorgeous lips to kiss.