#maroon shawl

[thewildbelladonna]

Rumours Tour, Santa Barbara, California, 1977.

[twola]

Defying Conventions II

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI, A/B/O

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link ➵ Previous Please be warned -cw: omegaverse, breeding kink, impregnation, pregnant sex, graphic birth. If those things bother you, then this is not the fic for you.

I feel like I am taking a big risk with this one. As someone who has recently gone through childbirth, it is definitely a traumatic thing, even when things go well. I write as a coping mechanism for trauma - so here it is.

It’s all going to shit.

Hosea. Lenny. Dead. John just busted out of Sisika. The bank robbery in Lemoyne gone completely south - and being marooned on that godforsaken island.

Not to mention Dutch and his behavior. Seems like Micah is in the man’s ear more than anyone else nowadays.

Beaver Hollow is miserable - damp, in these dark, dusty hills of Roanoke. It's stifling, the misery this place exudes.

“Arthur-” 

Arthur whips around, ready to snap at yet another person asking him to do something-

It’s you. Your cheeks are the slightest bit flushed. His hackles settle, temper calmed by the nearness of his other half.

“What d’ya need, darlin’?” He smiles as he raises his hand to welcome you into an embrace.

You don’t move, causing him to frown.

“I… uhm, I-” You stumble slightly, your hand unconsciously moving to your neck, where you have pinned a shawl to cover your skin.

Realization dawns on him, and a low, dull ache begins to burn in his gut.

“Y’ sayin’ we need to get away for a few days?”

You sheepishly shake your head, cheeks flushed. His smile returns and he takes the step to move closer. He wraps his arms around you, clutching you to him. You sigh and melt into his strong embrace.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest, shuddering slightly as you can feel your heat closing in on you. Tomorrow you’d be a blithering mess.

Arthur presses his lips to your forehead.

“Reckon that’s the best thing anyone’s asked me to do in a while.”

“You ain’t mad?” You look up at him, incredulous.

“Am I mad about my mate askin’ me to get away from this shithole for a few days and spend the hours ruttin’ away?” 

“I just hate being so… needy. Dumb omega shit.” You sigh, burying your head in his chest again. 

Arthur sighs knowingly, then grins as he pulls the shawl down to expose your neck and immediately buries his head against your clammy skin.

You yelp in surprise and arousal as you feel his tongue press against your mating gland - it’s a good thing that he has one arm strong around your waist, or else you would be stumbling to the ground.

Arthur groans quietly, squeezing you gently. “I’m yer alpha. Y’know what I need? I need to satisfy you.”

You try to push him back, afraid that you’re going to go into heat standing here in the middle of camp as he nuzzles at your neck. Alas, your lover is built like a brick wall, and it is only after quite a bit of fidgeting and you trying to yank your shawl back up that he takes the hint.

“Annesburg? Or d’ya want to go further?” He drawls as you try to collect yourself. 

You scowl up at him, “After that, we’ll need to go to Annesburg. Now.”

Arthur smirks, his eyes hidden under the rim of that old gambler’s hat. “Say less, darlin’ girl. Say less.” 

-

It’s a miracle that you can stand upright, there in the gunsmith’s shop as Arthur leans on the counter. While he had been in the foulest of moods earlier in the day, he’d found a second wind the moment you told him you needed him - suddenly acting full alpha - cocky and possessive and hell-bent on getting you desperate for him.

Christ, the whole ride down from Beaver Hollow was near excruciating - Arthur having dragged you onto the saddle in front of him, pressed against him completely, instead of pulling you up on his horse’s rump. Leaning over every so often and nipping at your neck. Groping your breast after passing another rider on the road. By the time the two of you had ridden into the dusty mine town, the flush that had dusted your cheeks before extended down your neck and chest.

“One room. ‘nd here’s extra to not bother us for a few days.”

The poor gunsmith blanches, completely understanding the threatening tone in Arthur’s voice. He nods, handing the alpha a key, muttering directions to the room, in the building next to the shop.

Arthur smirks, turning around and grabbing your arm, guiding you quickly to the room. Punching the key into the lock, he opens the door and watches as you stumble inside. A rumble, all alpha, punches out of his chest as you wipe at your brow, leaning against the wardrobe in the room.

“I’m just gonna get the horse straight. Be back in a minute.” Arthur calls back as he steps out of the room, leaving you to pant wearily as you survey the room that you’re going to lock the two of you in for the next couple of days.

You whine as you paw at the shawl hiding your neck, finally unlatching it and throwing it unceremoniously to the floor. Feverishly unbuttoning your blouse, you pull your arms out of it and toss it aside as well. You’re yanking the straps of your chemise down your arms and baring your breasts as Arthur re-enters the room. Your chemise hangs around your waist as your hands cup your breasts, your breath coming in short, fast pants.

“Need it that bad, omega?” Arthur purrs, pushing your hands away from your chest and placing his own atop your breasts, squeezing gently as you moan.

“Don’t - don’t be cruel- I’m…shit, I’m in heat.” You gasp out as his thumb traces over your nipple. Your knees shake as your hands grasp at him, and you feel your bloomers dampen as your slick begins to come.

One of Arthur’s hands moves from your breast to your waist and immediately starts yanking at your skirts, loosening the waist and pushing them down, along with your bloomers, to pool on the floor at your ankles, leaving you completely bare.

“I’ve got you, darlin’ girl,” Arthur grasps one of your hands and presses it against his massive erection in his pants, and you mewl desperately, craving the way he fills you.

“Go on, get on the bed.” He nods to you and you shakily follow his order, laying down on the bed and opening your legs, rubbing at your throbbing core, watching as your alpha undresses himself. Jacket and work shirt, denim and union suit, they are all shed as you watch, touching yourself all the while.

He goes to climb into the bed with you as you catch a glimpse of his eyes - the faintest red rim around those blue pools.

You groan, a pained cry from your chest, and he stops immediately. Your heat has fully set in, and your body jolts in furious need. You sit up rapidly, trying to gain some semblance of control over yourself.

“I.. you… you begin to rut, there’s a chance-” you suck in a breath against the cramping pain, “I’ll take.”

Arthur hovers over you. “Is that what you want?”

A pained gasp is all you can reply.

“It hurts-” you moan, crumbling forward in the bed, clutching at your lower abdomen. Arthur’s large, warm hands find your sides immediately and gently push you to lay fully on your stomach.

“Hands and knees, let me take care of you.”

You breathe heavily, labored, through your mouth, your fever making you weak. You let him maneuver you however he wants, having lost the strength to do anything else. Your limbs are drawn under you, and your head presses heavily into the old pillow. He positions himself behind you, grabbing your hips and hoisting them up. You moan throatily into that pillow as he takes one hand to stroke his cock into full rigidity.

Before he presses inside, it hits you. You push up on your elbows and he stops, rubbing your lower back. You breathe out against another cramp that shudders through your body. “You… you’re gonna…”

All of the hotheadedness of being an alpha vanishes.

“Honey we don’t have to - it’s what you want.”

You swallow. He’s in position to mount you, the most base and primal of ways to slake this biological need. The complete and utter submission of an omega to their alpha.  Some say it’s an old wives tale, but omegas know - they are taught very early on, that being mounted was supposedly the best way to breed - the surest way to conceive a child. That if they were caught out in the world by an alpha, to fight like hell to not be mounted.

“What do you want, Arthur?”

He leans over you and you feel his lips on your shoulder as one of his hands gently grasps the crest of your hip.

“I wanna spend my days wit’ you.”

“That don’t answer the question.” You suck in another breath against the pain.

He pets your cunt gently, making you shiver as his knuckle parts your folds. “I’ll be happy either way. If you wanna spend our days ridin’ as partners or raisin’ children - I’ll be there as your mate.”

“And… and if I want…?” You gasp out against the pain, your slick starting to run down his knuckle all the way to his wrist, “If I want to have your child?”

He groans loudly and removes his hand from your cunt, immediately smearing your slick all over his cock and he pumps it vigorously. His opposite hand clamps hard on your hip, yanking you up to align with his swaying pelvis.

“Omega-” he growls, all predator, with the blunt head of his cock pressed against the seam of you, probing against the rim of your cunt, raring to plunge into your body, “I’ll breed you right, girl.”

His voice is rough, his tone warning. Another sway of his hips and his cockhead slips in, you do your part and press your hips back to take him, to urge him forward. You moan throatily into the pillow as he presses inside - somehow his cock feels bigger, thicker in this position than at any other time. 

“Fuck, darlin’.” Arthur curses when he’s fully sheathed inside you, hands strong on your hips. On his knees behind you, he guides you on and off of his cock as he thrusts his hips in tandem. The bed squeaks with the movement of your bodies. You clench the pillow hard as your lover picks up the pace, fucking into you frantically.

With each powerful thrust of him into you, you feel his knot start to grow, stretching you with a pain that you crave. If you were able to turn around and look up at him, you’d see his eyes rimmed in red. But you could tell, with the way his hands clamp on your hips, the hardness of his cock - you know he’s gone into rut.

He slows, breathing heavily through his nose, reminiscent of a beast of burden.

“Darlin’-” his voice is rough and thick with arousal, “Last chance, omega. D’ya want me to put a baby in you?”

You shudder, hissing at the finality of his implication as you feel the trickle down your neck from your mating gland of that sweet, pheromone-filled oil. 

“Yes.” You whine, “Yes, Arthur, let me - give me, ngh-” you throw your hips backward to spear yourself on his hard cock, “Breed me.”

“Fuck-” Arthur groans, and almost immediately, his knot swells, stretching the rim of your cunt as he locks himself into you. You whine against the pain-pleasure of it all.

Here you are, on your hands and knees, alpha mounting you, waiting for him to breed you - oh, what a place to be in - what a situation you thought you would never be in. Arthur quickly leans over you, plastering his chest over your back, his strong arms caging you in on either side of your own. It’s terrifyingly intimate as he breathes loudly through his nose, nipping at the gland on your neck.

The world slows. 

“I love you,” he rumbles into your ear, and gives one more thrust into you, knot keeping him snugly in your cunt, “I love you - I love you -” He babbles before sucking one final breath in.

Every nerve of yours is alight. You’ve never felt so in tune with your body. For one final instant, you shiver, your womb ready to accept. One final cramp of need, lower than ever, and you know it is the way your body sings for your mate. Your heart stops. Your cunt clenches at Arthur’s cock, as if it were begging for him the same way you shamelessly are.

Splayed over you, his lips quickly find your gland and he sucks, you gasp, and then you can feel it - deep in your body, you feel the warmth of his seed, his cock pulsing in your cunt as he fills you. 

The sound he makes is beautiful, a moan that transcends physical need. No, this was more. This was your mate, this was breeding, this was the pinnacle of what you were born for. This was creation. The swell of emotion overflows as tears burst from your eyes. You let out a crooning moan of your own as you take him, you take all of him, every pulse of him into your womb. 

The moment seems to last forever. Heaving, panting, groaning, Arthur empties himself into you, locked at the hilt, your body shaking at the sheer implication of it all. For once in your life, your omegahood was not a curse. Your alpha, bent over you, mounted and pumping his hot spend into you.

Arthur gasps like a fish out of water once he’s done. The roaring of your heart in your chest seems to overpower everything. You sob loudly and he immediately sobers and moves the two of you to lay on your sides on the bed, still locked at the hips. He brushes back a lock of your hair, “Honey, are you alri-?”

“I love you,” you cry out, taking his hand and pulling it to your breast, over your heart. “Arthur I love you, I need you - you’re everything-”

He settles in behind you, his knot still locked strong within your body.

“Honey darlin’ girl…” You can feel him smile into your hair, “Mate.”

All of the fierceness, the rough possession, it all has faded as Arthur gently nuzzles the back of your head.  You pull his hand down to your belly, right to the cradle of your hips, to splay out over your womb. “Our child - Arthur.”

He presses against your hot skin, arms wrapped tightly around you, and the next thing you know, that overwhelming warmth shoots through your cunt again as he breathes out heavily.

“Gonna make sure I give you one.” He groans, voice rough as he shallowly pumps his hips against your rear, another round of spend coating your insides.

You mewl, accepting him, rolling your hips as you make another noise of desperation.

“Y‘okay?” He asks, his arm tightening around you.

You whine, wiggling your hips, testing the strength of his knot. He growls in your ear, one of his hands shooting down to your cunt and forcing your legs apart and the other wound under your ribcage, engulfing and squeezing one of your breasts.

Arthur sucks in a breath and nuzzles the back of your neck. His hips jut forward once again, and his cock swells within you.

“Got one last one in me - gonna, gonna g-give you-“

Your entire body quivers in anticipation, and you grab Arthur’s hand from your breast and spread it over your lower belly, holding your hand over his. Over where you will grow and create and swell with child, his child.

“Give me a baby, Arthur-”

Arthur grunts, cock pulsing, and you mewl as you feel the bleeding warmness of him exit his body and enter yours. Gentle waves of him, dripping down and over his knot, smearing across both his and your thighs. A physical sign that he’s filled your cunt to the brim with his seed.

Finally, as the two of you breathe heavily from near-exhaustion, Arthur’s knot recedes enough that he is able to pull himself from you. Arthur slides himself from your body gently, and you whine as his inches leave you. He leans over you and kisses your temple. “I’ll get us some food. Get some rest.”

You turn over in the bed to face him, rubbing gently at your belly. You smile, mischievously.

“I like you mountin’ me.”

Arthur scowls at you, “Jesus Christ, you can’t just say that. We’ll never leave this bed if you keep acting like that.”

You simply smile, leaning in and taking his lips with yours, throwing your leg over his hip, preventing him from leaving the sanctity of the bed. One of his hands rounds your hip to cup your ass.

Shivering slightly, you involuntarily clench as you feel another trickle of his essence leak from your cunt. You look down between you, Arthur’s eyes following yours. You unwind your leg from his hip and turn to lie on your back. 

Your dark hair has lovely drips of white coursing through it, and Arthur groans quietly when he sees it. He reaches, collecting that viscous rivulet on his finger, and you watch intently as he looks back at you, raising his brow as he trails his finger through your thatch of hair.

He lovingly, gently presses it back in, and you whine with oversensitivity at the feeling of his thick trigger finger slipping through the sore rim of your cunt. Arthur takes your lips with his, smothering your complaint.

After several moments, he extracts his hand, leaning back on his elbow. He nuzzles against your neck, the now-faded ring left by his teeth those weeks ago.  “When will you know if you took?”

You shrug, “I guess when my heat ends. Never really paid attention much to them omega lessons…What happens now?”

Arthur rolls onto his back, stretching himself out in the bed, looking up at the moisture-stained ceiling of the rented room. “Things are endin’ with the gang. As much as it kills me to say it…”

You move closer to him, laying your head upon his chest. “And us…?”

“You’re my mate. You’re hopefully carrying my child. Ain't gonna make the mistakes I’ve made in the past.”

You fiddle with a strand of your long, messy hair. “I know we’re mates and all but…” you trail off, eyes trained on the strand of hair instead of him.

“Let’s get Swanson to marry us,” Arthur says, winding his arm around you again.

A smile blooms across your face and you immediately sit up and kiss him, hard, dragging him back down to the bed.

You awaken the next day in the mid-morning, when the sun is already high in the sky.  Arthur’s already up, sitting on the side of the bed, half-dressed. He looks back at you as you stretch your arms overhead. Yawning, you run your hands down your body to rest at the cradle of your hips.

A warmth blooms under your hand. You don’t know how to explain it, but you’re sure you took.

His large hand covers yours.

“Thinkin’ so?”

You nod, looking back at him, unable to stop yourself from smiling. You push yourself up and crash into his embrace.

“But you know, can never be too sure.” You giggle.

A spark of amusement shoots through those river-blue eyes of his.

“Get on your knees, omega. Let’s make sure.”

-

Months Later…

“Absolutely not.”

You frown, pouting reminiscent of a petulant child. You have to stop yourself from stomping your foot on the old wooden floor.

“Ain’t no way in hell am I mountin’ you when you're this close to giving birth.” Arthur scowls at you, looking you up and down with a set jaw and exasperated tone.

“C’monnn…” You tease, taking your hands and running them down your ribcage to highlight your quite large belly under the fabric of your dress.

“No. Christ, it’s hard enough not to go into rut when you’re just sleeping next to me.” Arthur shakes his head, turning away from you, trying to distract himself.

“Gentle?” You wind your way around him, your hand tracing up his back.

“Woman….” He gives a warning tone, but you can tell that you are wearing him down.

“Please, alpha.” You press yourself against him suggestively, taking one of his hands and placing it over the swell of your belly, “You need to take care of your omega.”

His fingers pulse over your skin, and with a sigh, he gives in, “I ain’t knotting you, no matter how much you beg. Christ, I shouldn’t even be entertainin’ this.”

With a giggle, your fingers fly to where his suspenders are fastened to his black work pants, and before he can even react, you have one unclipped. He snatches your hands away from his waist and holds them up above your head.

“You are the most troublesome-”

You lean up on your and kiss him, effectively silencing his retort. When you pull away, you smile up at him, and he cannot help but give the smallest smile back.

“Like I was sayin’, troublesome. C’mon now, get in bed.” Arthur playfully swats at your hip as you grab his hand, pulling him toward the bedroom.

The small cabin could use some updating - but for the soon-to-be three of you, the small homestead tucked away in the hills of Ambarino is exactly what you never knew you needed. A small bedroom, a bed tucked over in the corner, a fireplace, and an old, beaten-up dresser - for all the time you’d spent running, sleeping in tents and on bedrolls - having a home with your husband was something you’d never think you’d have.

As you reach the bed, he stops you and spins you around, holding you upright all the while. Arthur leans down and presses his lips against yours, one hand pulling at your dress, gathering up the skirts, bunching them up, raising them up, up to your hips. With an awkward shimmy with your belly hanging low, your bloomers pool to the floor with a quick tug from Arthur’s fingers.

“C’mon - lay down,” Arthur taps your hip and motions to the bed.

You raise your eyebrows as he undoes his other suspender, about to comment on how dressed the two of you still are.

“No-” he warns, “You take everythin’ off and I’m definitely knotting you. And we aren’t doin’ that.”

You’re about to complain again but are cut off as he pushes you, gently, down onto the bed before shoving his pants and short drawers down his saddle-hewn thighs.

At that sight, you quickly lay down, rolling onto your side as you hike your skirts up to bare your cunt.

“Thought so, troublesome.” Arthur jokes as he slides himself into bed behind you, the skin of his pelvis and cock warm against your rear. 

It takes some awkward maneuvering - everything is awkward when you are this far gone, but finally, he slowly presses himself into you, and you sigh in contentment.

It’s everything he is not to slam his hips into you, to knot you, to claim claim claim. But he needs to be soft, to be gentle, to be careful. 

You moan appreciatively when he gives a shallow pulse of his hips. The sheath of your body feels like a live wire - primed and ready to snap at any time. The pace he finds is slow, but full and heady. You mewl, your body shuddering as you come, and Arthur is forced to pull himself from you and wrap his hand around his cock, hissing as he feels his knot expand around nothing.

You struggle to turn yourself over, but finally do so and wrap your hand around his knot, joining his hand around that swollen base of him. He unclenches his jaw and looks down at you as you squeeze at him, moving your fingers from his hard knot up his shaft, and downward again.

“Sweetheart you don’t-” he grits out as you begin to pump him.

“Hush-” you interrupt as you lay your head upon his chest, twisting your hand around him as you stroke up and down. It doesn’t take long for him to find his own end. Arthur growls, thrusting his hips upward as he comes, spurting white out of the head of his cock over both of your hands.

After catching his breath, he kisses the crown of your head, “You okay?”

You look up and smile at him, satiated.

-

Arthur tosses the last of the firewood he’d been chopping all afternoon in the pile under the overhang, wiping the sweat from his brow as he lays the ax against the outside of the cabin. Grabbing the carbine that he had been cleaning earlier, he shoulders it as he pushes through the front door.

“Darl-”

The bedroom door is closed. Warily, he grabs the door handle and slowly opens it. Arthur stops completely, eyes widening as he scans the room. The whole atmosphere has changed from even this morning, and he slides the carbine from his shoulder and props it against the wall. 

It’s dark, the curtains drawn against the midafternoon sun. Before his eyes adjust to the darkness, he can just barely make out your form, leaning against the mantle, your head on your forearms.

He closes the door again, recreating the safety of the nest. He realizes that’s what it is only after shutting the door. A nest. 

“Is it-?”

You nod as pain rips through you and you groan, clutching your belly. Arthur is on you in an instant, holding you upright. 

Immediately, a fierce agitation in his blood sings. Protect, protect, protect.

You breathe out heavily through your nose as you stand up to full height again. “C’n you make a fire? I need… I need-”

“Anythin’, darlin’. Here, how about you sit down-”

“No, no I need to walk.”

For the next hours, you pace back and forth in the room, wincing every so often, one hand supporting your belly. You’ve kicked your shoes off, and Arthur has as well, sitting in a chair next to the fire, knee bouncing as he watches you intently. The warmth of the room is nearly suffocating to him, but he would never dream of asking to open the window or put out the fire. He simply rolls up the sleeves of his faded blue work shirt.

You suck in a pained breath and a groan echoes through the room as you double over, trying to assuage the overwhelming feeling in your hips.

“I- I think it’s time… h-help me get undressed and onto the bed.”

Arthur nods, stepping closer to you and reaching for the laces of your dress, pulling them apart and helping you step out of the fabric. He continues, solemnly, pushing the straps of your chemise down your shoulders. Gently, your chemise falls away, your bloomers puddle at your feet. Arthur’s blood is on fire as he can see the rivulet of liquid trail down your legs. Your breasts heavy and full, nipples darkened, your belly low. Your body heaving.

He is in awe. Not carnally - though he always wants you - he is in awe of you gritting your teeth against a wave of pain. He is in awe at the movement he sees in your belly. He is in awe of what is about to come, what you are about to do. You groan and reach for him. He immediately places his hands around your waist to steady you. You murmur softly as you lean into his embrace.

“Let’s get you to bed, darlin’ girl.” Arthur gently leads you to the bed and helps you lie down in it. You groan, trying to get comfortable, but it is a lost cause.

The hours continue to roll by, punctuated by your body seizing in agonizing pain every few minutes. You whimper to the ceiling, jumbled syllables of prayers, of curses, of his name.

He wants to growl, he wants to go outside and tear something to pieces. There is an overwhelming need to destroy as he watches you writhe in pain trying to bring his child into the world. He wants to fight another alpha - to dominate - to provide some kind of placation to the inferno in his chest.

Another pained, agonized whimper from you brings him back to reality.

“Si-sit me up,” You grit your teeth as Arthur helps you up, he sits at the head of the bed behind you and you lean back on him for strength. He will give you it all, he would give you anything to take this pain away, if only he could shoulder this task for you. You spread your legs a little further as your head falls back upon his shoulder, a wail crawling out of your throat. Slick trails down your neck from your mating gland as Arthur helps to hold you in a reclined position.

Spiced, warm, rich- with just a hint of the sweetness you usually smell like. It’s different, and instead of driving him wild with the need to rut, it’s making his heart pound with anxiousness and protectiveness. He’s sure if someone were to encroach on the area he would tear them to shreds with his bare hands right now.

“Doin’ so good.” He murmurs against your temple and you moan again in response, your head lolling forward as you hoarsely cry out.

“A-Arthur, its- it’s comin’, the baby-” You pant, and your hands move from clutching the bed sheets hanging between your legs.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Assurance is all he can do at the moment.  Blood begins to stain the sheet underneath you as you breathe heavily out your nose. Red smears your thighs as the end draws near. Your back tenses and your fingers clutch at his. Your nails dig into the back of his hand, but his pain be damned. Your head turns into his chest, squeezing your eyes shut, searching for some sort of comfort.

A rumble, deep and strong, claws up from his chest. His free hand spreads out over your belly, pulsing, cramping, hard - he can feel the ordeal your body is going through beneath his fingertips. Moments drag on as you breathe heavily through your nose.

With a gasp, you grab his hand from your belly and draw it down between your legs, against your cunt. Tears stream from your eyes as you wail loudly, the final moments having arrived. 

“Y’can do this, sweetheart, you’re doin’ so good-” He murmurs into your temple as you pant, another cry clawing up from your throat.

“Arthur-!”

Taking in a measured breath, you shudder in against him, a hoarse shout filling the room as you deliver the child. In a rush of blood and fluid, Arthur finds himself cupping the baby’s head as it slides into the world. A final scream pierces the room as you push again, the child’s shoulders and the rest of its body leaving you and into the waiting hands of its parents.

You immediately are lucid, and bring the child up to your chest, and the newborn’s piercing cry fills the room. The white-blue cord from the child’s belly pulses against your own, the blood connection between the two of you still strong. 

Arthur is struck dumb. He can barely comprehend what has just happened as you coo gently at the wailing babe, sticky and bloody. 

“L-lie us down, and get that linen blanket o’er there.” You whisper as you rub the child’s back, and its cries slowly quiet. He is jolted back to reality, and slowly, gently lies you down in the bed, standing up and grabbing the aforementioned blanket and bringing it back to you.

You’re able to wrap the babe loosely upon your chest and belly. You look up at Arthur, but his gaze is trained on the rough swaddled babe. The tufts of dark honeyed hair peaking out from the linen. Those blotchy red cheeks.

“Your son, my alpha.” You whisper.

Arthur gapes up at you, seemingly unable to comprehend your words, until something clicks and he immediately leans over and places his lips upon yours in a desperate, emotional kiss.

“Oh, sweetheart - you - you-”

You chuckle softly.

“You’re perfect, he’s perfect - my darlin’ omega girl.”

The child latches to your breast and begins to slowly suckle. The warm spice of your scent from giving birth recedes, and a sweetness replaces it. It’s new, this scent, the tang of milk and notes of comforting vanilla. Arthur breathes in deeply, resonating deep in his bones that you are no longer just his mate; you are mother to his child.

The boy’s scent - a combination of yours and his, invades his nostrils. Of sweet vanilla and leather. Of that tang of milk. He wants to nuzzle against the child and breathe in deep. The only scent he wants to be bathed in forevermore.

In those quiet moments after the ordeal of birth, you open the swaddled linen to give him access to cut the cord between you and the child, a quick flick of his hunting knife above the child’s abdomen. He holds you, kissing your temple and murmuring sweet nothings as you clutch at the child, delivering the afterbirth with a soft, stifled whine of pain.

Things start to slow. He’s got a new purpose now. As you drift to sleep, cleaned and in a new chemise, upon fresh sheets, his gaze moves to the basket next to the bed, where in a fresh swaddle of linen, his son also sleeps.

It's murderous, the things he would do to protect the two of you. This nest, the newborn child, and you recovering from birth. His blood sings- not in the need to fuck, but in the solemn duty he now has - as alpha, as husband, as father. It's fierce, the protectiveness he now feels. Like a snarling wolf defending territory. Alpha, protector. Head of the family.

He sits down in the chair opposite the bed, carbine in reach, beginning his watch.  The watch that would consume him for the rest of his life. 

But he’s content with this new calling. 

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hiiii

Can you make another Alastor x Rarity reader like I love it sm and I need more 😭😭❤️

If you do thank youuuu

I definitely can! My dear @sillyalastor, here will be yours and @nenerobobot’s post for Rarity-reader and Al! I hope you both like our kinda short follow up to the Radio Demon and his Drama Queen!

Alastor- Diamond Trio

Alastor knows how much of a detail-orientated and fussy woman you are, and he knows fashion colours, stitching processes, habits, facts and more on the top of his head. He knows what is considered eggshell white and what is considered ivory white. That’s how much time he spends with you

Alastor has been teaching you some new recipes, ones that get a bit messy. Whilst, you’re very worried about getting food on you and is wearing about five layers of protection each time you cook with him. He finds it cute and cheers you on for you being so precise and careful with the measurements. You’ll stand there for five minutes making sure the water percentage is just perfect and he thrives off that

Alastor is not a fan of you being friends with any of the Overlords except Rosie, so when he finds out, you befriended a fellow fashionista Velvette. He is supportive of your wishes but he is glaring down Velvette and threatening her behind your back to not hurt you or he’ll hurt her. Needless to say… Al’s protective and he doesn’t tolerate any of your friends trying to ruin your spirits or your work

So that means, if anybody rejects your outfit choice and creation you made for them, even politely. Alastor will hunt them down. You’re generous and you should be praised for that generosity. Alastor takes everything you give him, if he doesn’t like it, he’ll merely ask for some additions. He won’t ever demand a new outfit or item

Now. How did you and Alastor meet, you ask? You met him at a grand gala. It mainly consisted of Overlords but a handful of Sinners were invited and you were one of them, brought into this ‘incredible’ party

Alastor had been quite intrigued by you, the moment he saw you. A gorgeous, classy, sophisticated sinner dressed in the most pretty, regal maroon pink dress he has ever seen. You had attended this ‘best night ever’ party in hopes to find your prince, the man of your dreams and when you ran into a prissy but handsome Overlord that screamed prince-like grace, you immediately latched onto him. Unaware that you’re actual prince is the one Overlord all the guests avoided like the plague

Alastor couldn’t bring himself to just ignore the only shining jewel within this boring, prim and proper high-class party. He was so uninterested that he only got entertainment out of talking to his dear friend, Rosie. So after some careful yet quick consideration, he begun to follow you and your… date around the large palace hosting this gala under the cover of shadows. He was curious on what you’d do and the disgust he felt over this Overlord acting so uncharming and so harsh to a sweet lady such as yourself. He doesn’t tolerate women of radiance being disrespected

Alastor is so glad that you finally put your foot down after all the treatment: that ‘Prince’ of a Overlord making you pay for treats, making you give up the cushion seat, taking your rose for himself, making you throw your gorgeous silky-fabric shawl over a puddle so neither of you would slip. No gentleman should treat his lady this way and his blood is boiling in pure disgust at his fellow Overlord. The final straw is when that Overlord used you as a shield to block off the pretty strawberry icing cheesecake that came flying at the pair of you

Alastor watched from the sidelines with much pride and respect, over you talking that Overlord down and proclaiming he is a royal pain but of course, that ‘prince’ only cared about his looks and was scared of you drenched in the cake. Shaking off some of the cake on your dress, hair and face to get it onto the Overlord, out of raw rage. You ended up stomping out of the main big dance ballroom, furious and on the verge of crying. Leaving that ‘date’ of yours behind

Alastor couldn’t stop himself from following you. He was curious how a pretty mid-atlantic accented lady would handle being humiliated and having lashed out against her ‘date’ in front of almost ALL of the guests in the Gala. Your pretty sparkly almost diamond-like eyes poured tears, smudging your nice mascara and light blue eyeshadow as you stomped into the pretty empty gardens and cried out your rage

Oh. Alastor didn’t like seeing somebody so innocent and done no wrong mistreated like this. Even if it was amusing, he doesn’t like it

So, he finally approaches you after a few seconds of watching you vent out your feelings through sobs. His strong sharp crimson red eyes going from your forehead golden crown to the glass plumps to the still damp shawl tied around your shoulders in a classy princess style. You’re the most beautiful guest at this sorry excuse of a Gala. Alastor folds one arm behind his back, his own gala-style black, white and red coloured suit making his red and black colouration pop as he presents you with a rose

“I believe this is yours, my dear” Your glassy eyes turned over to look at him, the almost folded, multi-layers of your dress hugging your curves and hiding your leg movements as it just felt like this night went from the worst to the best. Is this the actual gentleman you’ve always wanted?! Gently reaching out, you’re a bit intimidated by how strong his glare is, how visible his golden yellow fangs are through that wide open grin, with how menacing his long fingers are

Taking the still stemmed rose from Alastor, you didn’t even know his name but you wished you did… you are a bit scared he may be a fake like that awful Overlord you were chasing after just before but he seems friendly enough. Alastor lifts up your hands with his single one, precisely placing the rose into your prettily curled and tied up hair, just above your bangs before speaking once more. His entire presence leaking charm, grace and poise

“Shall we dance?”

You were a bit shy, still drenched in destroyed layered cake batter but Alastor didn’t even chuckle at how ruined your clean, neat look is now. He merely snaps his fingers and like that, all the sweet confectionery remains are gone and all the ruffled, ripped or knotted parts of your dress and hair is smoothed out to perfection, as well as your slightly wet shawl back to being completely dry and your makeup returned to more presentable. Just like how you looked when you entered this Gala and when Alastor first saw you. Taking a deep breath, your cheeks flustered and blushy

You take his hand and with a single tug, you and him are dancing together in the calm, breezy, beautiful gardens of the giant gala palace, no music, no other prissy annoying guests. Just the plants, the animals and you two

Your eyes are no long filled to the brim with tears, anger and heartbreak. You’re now developing a sense of admiration and awe at Alastor being so gentlemanly and sweet with you in seconds flat, he’s treating you the way you wanted that blueblood ass to treat you and it’s making your heart flutter. Twirling slowly in a nice slow steady waltz, the only music ringing is the sound of the nearby birds singing

That night was the best night ever

[thezombieprostitute]

Another Bad Day

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: has it been a year already?

A/N2: Written as a follow up to Bad Day Alternate.

Warnings: Implied violence, Mild smut, Non/dubious consent. Let me know if I missed any!

You're working on some crochet while listening to an audiobook, one of the very few escapes from reality allotted to you, when Ari loudly walks in, startling you out of your story.

"Are you ready, Sweetness?"

"For what?" Nothing I could do would help me be ready for whatever you have planned.

He grins with that damn smile that had charmed you so much when you first met him. The one you can no longer stand. "It's the anniversary of our first date!"

"Has it been a year already?" you ponder. It feels like it's been an eternity.

In truth, you'd stopped keeping track of the days. You can't remember the last time it had been important for you. Ari was insistent on keeping you locked up inside his expansive house. He said it was to keep you safe. You know it's to keep you away from others. To be reliant, dependent on him for all social interaction. The one time someone had come into the mansion, Ari beat him to a pulp in front of you. You still have nightmares from it.

"I know, the time just passes by so quickly, doesn't it?" Ari croons as he pulls you up onto your feet for a kiss. "A year ago today you missed your bus and fate brought us together."

"And I had been worried it would be a bad day." If I hadn't slept through my alarm I'd still be free.

"I figured it would be appropriate to celebrate by taking you to that restaurant we went to for our first date."

Your eyes widen, "oh that's so lovely! Sincerely, thank you for such a romantic idea." I hate that I'm so dependent on you for my happiness.

"Anything for you, Sweetness," he beams. "I know I can be a bit of a jealous man, keeping you all to myself. But I suppose I can share you with the world for a couple of hours."

"So generous," you jokingly jab, making him chuckle. A couple of hours to remind me of what I lost.

"Although I did make sure to pay for the restaurant to close to the public for the evening," he confesses, not a mote of guilt in his expression. "It'll just be us and a few of the staff."

"So romantic and protective of you," you coo as you kiss his cheek. Probably for the best. I'd have likely been overwhelmed at being around so many people after so long on my own. "Shall I dress up? You could probably go shirtless like last time," you giggle. Do I even know how to be around others anymore?

Ari throws his head back and laughs. "I was only shirtless for a little bit, Sweetness. And though you were so shy, I know you appreciated the view."

"Still do," you wink. I hate that I was so obvious with my attraction to you.

That seems to please him as he finally tells you to go ahead and get dressed up, "but don't keep me waiting too long."

While most of the clothing Ari has purchased for you is rather showy, he did include a few shawls, cardigans and other items that can help cover you up. The last thing you need is Ari claiming you're trying to get someone else's attention. You've put on an elegant maroon colored dress with a full jacket button up. Given the way Ari's eyes darken when he sees you, how he licks his lips, you're pretty sure he's pleased with how you look.

On the ride to the restaurant, you want nothing more than to look out the windows and see the world you've been taken from. But Ari keeps redirecting your attention back towards him. The divider between your seat and the driver is up so Ari is more openly groping you, pinching you, teasing out all of those sounds he's told you are only for his ears.

As much as you hate him, you can't deny that he is skilled in the bedroom. The way he makes you fall apart so completely and puts you back together again is nothing short of addicting. He reaches his hand under your skirt and grins at how wet you are, pleased with the power he has over you. He sticks a finger inside you, making you whimper against his shoulder, not wanting to risk upsetting him if you got too loud. He removes his finger and you give a soft gasp. He shoves it into your mouth, eyes burning with intensity. You know what he wants and start sucking on his finger.

"That's it, Sweetness," he growls. "You're so good, remembering who you belong to."

When he removes his finger you say what you're supposed to. "You always take such good care of me. How could I not be good for you?" You terrify me and I'd do just about anything to keep you from hurting me.

He smiles and pulls you into his arms.

As promised, the restaurant is empty when you arrive, with the exception of a few employees. You sit as far away from Ari as you can get away with, which isn't far. He makes sure he's always got a hand on you. The waiter, a young man, wilts under Ari's warning glare as he pours your drinks.

"Should we just try the entire menu, like we did that first day?" Please focus on me and don't hurt the poor kid.

He smiles softly at you. "Well, that was because we were trying out the place. If I recall correctly, you didn't care for the salmon."

"Yeah, that's true." You put your hand on his chest and look into his eyes. "What do you say you go ahead and order for the two of us? You do know what I like." Please don't kill the cook if I don't like something.

Given how he practically purrs at your touch you relax a little. He has to know that the waiter is just doing his job and that there's absolutely nothing for him to be jealous of. For someone so handsome and powerful, his jealously is painfully easy to set off.

After he gives the kid the food order, he focuses all of his attention to you again. He takes your hand in his much larger one.

"I am a very lucky man," he murmurs. "One missed bus led me to the love of my life."

You smile because you have to. "And, true to your word, I haven't had to worry about a single thing since. No bills to pay, or work schedules to keep. You've given me such freedom from the stresses of the world. Thank you for that." I'd gladly go back to my stress addled life in a moment if it meant my freedom from you.

"You always know what to say," he says, kissing the back of your hand.

"I'll admit, I didn't always. You were so much more generous than I was used to." I had to learn what you wanted me to say because I was so scared you'd hurt me.

He gently cups your chin. "But you've learned. And you've made me feel like the luckiest, most loved man in the world."

The food arrives and you make sure to look only at Ari when you say, "thank you for this." Please note my attention is on you, not the kid who's just doing his job.

Ari smiles and kisses you before picking up his silverware, a silent signal that it was okay for you to start eating. Wanting to try to encourage Ari to take you on more outings, you make sure to play with him. Jokingly exchanging bites of food. More casual touches. You're also trying to not overdo it, lest he figure out your play.

It was going well until the waiter asked, "is there anything else I can get you?"

Ari's mood instantly turns angry and he quickly stands up from the table and grabs the waiter by the front of his shirt. "Did I give any signal that we wanted anything else?"

"N--no, but---"

"But, what?"

You rush over, placing a gentle hand on Ari's arm. "Ari, honey, he's just doing his job." Oh god, please don't kill this poor kid!

Ari throws the waiter to the floor and turns on you, eyes full of anger. "Are you standing up for him? Are you choosing him over me?"

"I would never choose anyone over you," you affirm. I know what would happen to me. He huffs in disbelief so you move closer, your eyes never leaving his. "I have no interest in anyone else." You've removed me from the world so there is no one else. "All other men fall short when compared with you." Every time I see another person, I think about how easily it would be for you to hurt or kill them and it scares me.

You pull the front of his shirt so that you're eye-to-eye. "You've ruined me for all other men." I'm stuck with you for life and I hate how easy it was for me to accept that.

Ari's face turns from anger to lust. "I believe you, Sweetness. Now lets get you home so you can show me."

Previous

Tagging:

@alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness;

@lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

[suuuupernovaaa]

pxen

pxen [p’ɛn] n. functional clothing (item of)

Based on this request.

Lo'ak reaches out, touching the delicate woven poncho that his sister is wearing. It's not the kind of thing Lo'ak would typically notice, but something about it has caught his eye. There's a sparkle to it, something woven through the fabric that catches the light, very similar to the na'vi skin in the darkness of night.

"Where did you get this?" Lo'ak asks. Kiri looks down, and then shrugs.

"It was just with my stuff. It's really pretty, though. Tuk found one too... and mom."

"Huh," Lo'ak says, and his attention is then drawn to the carpet under his feet. A rug, brown and maroon, intricately woven and brand new. "This is new too, right?"

Kiri looks down, following her brother's gaze. "I think so. Looks clean."

"Huh," Lo'ak repeats, and then shrugs and moves on with his day.

xx

Even though I knew this day would come, I've been hoping to put it off for as long as possible. It isn't so much that I don't want to meet Neteyam's family, it's just that I'm worried to disappoint them.

As much as Neteyam hates it when I point it out, he's special. Not just because of the things I love about him, like his quiet sense of humor, his easy-going smile, his strength and his compassion.

He's special because of who he is, and who he was born to be. His birthright makes him special. Eldest son of Olo'eyktan. Were Neteyam ugly, harsh, stupid and cruel - the true opposite of himself - he would still be above my station.

He would still be too good for me.

And yet, here we are, walking hand in hand to meet his parents, so that he can introduce me as his betrothed. His intended mate. I had always told him I did not want his family to know about me, but never really told him why, until last night.

"Why now?" Neteyam had asked when I told him I was finally ready to meet his parents, moments after he took my hands into his and asked me to be his mate for life.

"Because I know now, truly that you love me. I don't need to be afraid anymore."

He had shaken his head and brushed a tear from my cheek. "I've loved you since the moment we met."

So now we approach their home, and even though I am secure in my relationship with Neteyam, I am nervous about being accepted into their family. He reassures me over and over that they will love me as he does, they will be thrilled for us, but it doesn't stop me from feeling sick to my stomach.

"Neteyam!" Taruk Makto is the first to greet him as we enter their tent, looking up from where he sits, and it's overwhelming to be in such close proximity to our clan leader. I bow my head as he looks from me to Neteyam and back at me again. His wife, Neytiri, is seated at his side, and turns her attention away from the arrows she is sharpening to look at us.

"Dad," Neteyam says, "Mom. I want to introduce you to Y/N."

He lets go of my hand, and places his arm around my waist, pulling me close to him. After only a moment of hesitation, Neteyam's parents rise to their feet. As they do, I feel movement behind me, and glance to see Neteyam's siblings entering.

Kiri is wearing the shawl I made for her, and Tuk has a dressing wrapped around her tail that I crafted. Beneath our feet, I notice a rug I just finished a few days ago. It makes me feel a little more at ease and at home, to be surrounded by my creations.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N," Olo'eyktan says, and I touch my fingertips to my forehead, and then bring them down in a formal greeting. I repeat the gesture for Neteyam's mother.

"I've been, uh, spending a lot of time with Y/N. She's really wonderful. She's better on the loom than anyone else in the clan. She made the rug we stand on, and Kiri's poncho, and many other things I've brought home. She was just too, uh, shy to own up to her talent."

Neytiri turns around, looking on a nearby table, and grabs another poncho I made. This one is green, more earthy than the sparkly one Kiri is wearing.

"This, too?" Neytiri asks, and I nod. "This is beautiful. They're all beautiful. Truly, unlike anything I've seen. You made these?"

"I did," I reply a little nervously. "I wanted to give them to you myself but, since we hadn't be introduced, I had Neteyam bring them to you."

"I asked Y/N to be my mate last night, and she said yes," Neteyam says suddenly, and a hush falls over the room.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, wondering which way their reactions will go.

Confusion? Anger? Disappointment?

"Wow, that's insane!" comes a cry from Lo'ak, and he reaches out, extending his arms to me for a hug. "Another sister, I guess! I mean, I've got enough, but you seem okay." He wraps me in strong arms, and I return the hug, so grateful that he's broken the silence.

When Lo'ak releases me, I turn anxiously to see Neteyam's parents, and the scene is exactly what I would have dreamed up if I hadn't been too scared to imagine this day.

Netytiri holds her eldest son in her arms, and over his shoulder, she smiles serenely at me. Jake has his hands outstretched, one on his wife's shoulders, the other on Neteyam's.

"I wish you had brought her here sooner, so we could get to know her!" Neytiri says.

"You guys are scary," Neteyam replies, and his father laughs. Neytiri reaches out, extending a hand to me, and I place my hand in hers.

"I have known something was going on with my son. He is as happy as he has ever been, smiling like a moron from morning until night. I was waiting for this moment." She holds one of my hand in both of hers, grinning at me. "You are welcome in our family. Now we can give you gifts in return, for the beautiful things you have given us."

I shake my head, feeling embarrassed at the tears pricking behind my eyes. "No, you don't have to do that. I like making those things."

Our chief hugs me next, quickly and a little awkwardly, and the relief I feel is palpable.

Quick acceptance is a surprise. I had imagined at least a little resistance, but I hadn't counted on Neteyam's parents putting his health and happiness above all else.

How could I? I didn't know them, hadn't known that besides being Olo'eyktan and the next Tsahik, Neytiri and Jake were just parents who loved their children.

We leave the tent much later, after hours of talking and celebration, and before we get too far away, Neteyam pulls me into his arms and presses his lips to mine in what feels like a long overdue kiss.

"I knew they would love you, just as I do," he whispers, his lips still touching mine.

[lilyahsviolet]

Violet Harmon in Open House ⊹˙܀ 🕯

sorry that i didn’t post yesterday! these are the outfits vi wears in episode 7 of murder house!

below listed are the names of the outfits violet wears and what scene they are worn in 🕯️

-banana republic skinny striped open cardigan in navy, free people scandalous lace top in purple, free people plaid cabin woods skirt: violet having dinner with her parents

-free people scandalous lace top in purple, free people ladder ribbon shawl in maroon: violet seeing beau in the attic and finding old things with tate

-free people lost in the forest sweater in faded rose: violet showing an old picture of the house to vivien

i’ll be posting episode 8 later today. feel free to ask or comment about anything! ��˙⊹ 🕯

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

thinking about noble bell college’s uniforms

In the story event Glorious Masquerade, the NRC guests fight fire lotuses/crimson flowers, which are depicted in battle like so:

As you can see, the flowers are in red robes. This design appears to be an intentional callback to the red robes of the worshippers that chant in the song Hellfire:

Idia comments that the fire lotuses/crimson flowers “wormed their way into some of the [NBC] students’ robes”. He then theorizes that there must be lingering magic in the robes which attracts the flowers, whether that magic is from the mages that once wore them or imbued in the cloth of the robes themselves. The latter is true of NRC’s ceremonial robes (and their dorm uniforms, as we learn in book 6).

Just looking by at the ceremonial robes vs the red robes, they’re similarly shaped—though of course NRC’s are much more elaborate, given that their school is larger, more prestigious, and likely received more funding. NBC’s robes are a plain solid color and appear to be longer in length (though maybe it just seems that way because the flowers are low to the ground??? It’s hard to gauge scale).

Since Idia brings up a potential comparison between NRC’s ceremonial robes and NBC’s red robes, I wonder if those red robes are NBC’s equivalent of ceremonial robes?? Like, is that what NBC students wear for important events or when they’re representing their school…? Because if that’s the case, I swear I didn’t seen any NBC mobs or the student council wearing it to receive their guests.

The only prominent red I see on their outfits looks too short to be the same red robes the flowers crawled into… It looks more like a shawl or caplet with a hood, and it’s not quite the right color (more maroon than red)… Maybe it’s the lighting?? It could be the same as the red robes, it could not be 😣 I’m not sure!

Something else I noticed is everyone seems to wear the same uniform except for Rollo, which makes sense given his position as student council president. Their school only has one prominent historical figure they look to, so that’s probably reflected in a lack of dorms. Azul likens Rollo’s position to the status of dorm leader, so it feels like a variation of a dorm leader uniform while the NBC mobs wear a more generic “dorm uniform”.

If these standard clothes and the red robes are two separate outfits, then I’d wager both are like NRC’s dorm uniforms and ceremonial robes respectively (ie NBC’s uniforms and robes are also infused with magic). So… uh… if that’s true, I wonder if Rollo’s skin crawls whenever he has to wear his school uniforms… 💀

[n0blefl0wer]

Reggie Crochet Headcanon

Strap in and strap on for my latest trans regulus headcanon!!

W*lburga (transphobic cunt) tried to instill traditionally “feminine” traits into regulus from an early age, forcing regulus into the role of a “good pure blood girl” 🤮

One of the ways she tried to achieve this was by teaching Reggie to crochet. Unlike most of W*lburga’s attempts, Reggie actually took to crocheting and it’s one of the things that got him through the toughest times in his life.

Remus also crochets, and it’s something that the two of them bonded over. Remus knits too, much to Regulus’ astonishment (he’s tried so many times to knit, but just can’t get the hang of it)

He eventually taught all of the skittles, and they (and Remus) all have crochet gossip sessions once a week.

Regulus makes stuff for all of his friends and loved ones. Dorcas’ favorite top is a gold and green crochet bralette Reggie made in fifth year. Pandora loves her periwinkle shawl. For Remus’ bar mitzvah, regulus gave him a set of yarmulkes, and for his fifteenth birthday, reggie gave him a cardigan with moons and stars embroidered all along the sleeves, enchanted to glisten as he moved. Sirius would never admit it, but the worn out maroon fingerless gloves he wears every winter were made by a 9 year old Reggie.

When Regulus and Sirius fled Grimauld Place to go to the Potters’, he drowned Effie and Monty in handmade gifts.

James was the last of the friend group to receive anything from Reggie. He tried his hardest not to take it to heart, but James is such a people pleaser, and overthought it for years. It wasn’t until the first Gryffindor quidditch match after they got together that regulus gave James the gloves he made 5 years prior. The blue-grey gloves bore a striking resemblance to Regulus’ eyes and were enchanted to keep James’ hands warm and an extra gripping charm to help James grip the broom, allowing him to fly one handed much easier. It took James a while to find, but embroidered in silver thread on the inside of each cuff was “R.A.B. + J.F.P.”

[harmonaesthetic]

Violet Harmon wears the “Free People Ladder Ribbon Shawl in Maroon” in Open House

[scribblesbyavi]

Dhwani - a beautiful dream.

We met at a friend's wedding and she was from the bride's side while I was from the groom's. Upon introduction, we started talking and it just kind of continued. I realised that she was younger than me but we instantly clicked. She seemed like an introvert as she didn't mingle with the other guests much. She was very friendly and told me that she has heard about me and my friend from her cousin. But it was already night time the first day so we couldn't talk much. So I looked forward to see her the next day.

In the morning, I kind of looked for her but couldn't find her. Then I went on to get some of my stuff from the car and that's when I saw her near the garden with a beautiful maroon shawl and some flowers in her hand, white and red roses. She was coming for the stairs and I approached towards her and suddenly some flowers fell out of her hand. I told her to stop a while and that I'll pick them up. I started picking them while looking at her and our eyes met each other's. It was not the first time that our eyes met because we had already seen each other the night before but this time was something different. I handed her the flowers, all but one petal. The last one, which I picked of a red rose and kept in my front pocket. She smiled and I asked, "What will you do with these flowers?", to which she replied that she would dry them and keep them inside her books. Amazingly, I loved dry flowers too. I thought to myself, "How in the world she loves them too? But it is not impossible right? I mean, who doesn't love flowers? but also dried?"

Then we both left for our rooms to get ready for the wedding.

It was my time to get dressed but some family member had already occupied my washroom and most of the hotel rooms were occupied and so I was asked to use one of the available rooms. I was okay with that as weddings can be such, specially when family members from all parts of the region have come to attend it. And some of them had reached the hotel on that very morning. Then I walked the hallway with some of my clothes and searched for the room. I found the room no. 207 and without thinking much I rang the door bell of the room and a little girl opened it. Her name was Mouni or Munni, as much as I remembered from all the introductions from yesterday. The important thing was that she was Dhwani's little sister. So I expected Dhwani to be nearby. I looked around the room as much as I could before going all the way inside and there she was, Dhwani, all dressed in her traditional attire.

Dhwani was standing in front of the mirror and she was looking absolutely stunning. I didn't say much. I just explained my situation that all the rooms were occupied so I was told to come here. She immediately acknowledged and graciously offered her washroom and sat on the bed. She started searching for something in her black bag. I planned to have a shower and change myself there itself. I came out after a while and asked if I could borrow a comb. She offered one and now we were getting ready together. It was just the two of us in the room now as Mouni has gone to have her breakfast. Dhwani was wearing a cream colored mekhela sador and was doing her touchups and her makeup. I was wearing my black kurta. I wanted to talk to her about something so I asked her about the makeup kit. She explained to me which item is called what and how it works. I heard words like primer, powder and messcara and understood most of it, may be because I wanted to understand. She said that the kit was only for occasions like this and otherwise she uses some kajal and lipstick only. Then she asked if she can do my makeup as well. And I agreed as most of my stuff were in my room which was occupied. So it was a win-win for me. She started with some moisturizer, followed by a cream, but during this very professional makeup process I was just looking at her eyes, and god her eyes, I could look at them all day. She was praising my skin the whole time and I swear that I never thought so highly of my face or my skin. It would be unfair to not add this but at one point I did try to see us together in the big mirror in front of us. And then suddenly some other people came in to the room and after a while her mother as well and to her she said that she was just helping everyone with their makeup and that she tried her hands a bit on me as well.

Then the whole day went by and we saw each other from time to time while the wedding rituals went by. There was people everywhere and everyone was busy with something, so as the both of us. But whenever we saw each other we exchanged smiles and that was a different feeling altogether.

In the afternoon we all went to change as the reception would start in a few hours. I quickly changed and came to the reception hall so that I can see her but she had not yet arrived. I went to the room where the newly married couple was getting ready and I saw that some flowers are not being used by the bride so I asked the hair dresser and also the bride if I could keep one. They both said okay and my friend gave me the task to create a playlist to play during the reception. I agreed and left after clicking a few pictures with them. But soon realised that I was not that great with party music. I sat near the music system and tried to create a playlist but all the songs I was coming up were the same old generic wedding songs that everyone plays in the weddings, whereas, I wanted to create something special for my friend. I went to the balcony for some inspiration and that is when Dhwani came to my rescue. It was as if she came there in search of me. She came and stood near me and I told her about the playlist. I don't know how but she was way comfortable with me. We both sat in the balcony and she instantly started working on the playlist. Now we were a team and both of us started picking songs one by one. I didn't quite knew some of the songs she had suggested, so she sang bits and parts of the song so that I could recognize them and after a while we were ready with a solid playlist with a perfect combination of party music and wedding songs. And that is when she asked me if I would like to go out with her for a walk as it was getting a bit hot inside the wedding hall and also that there is still some time for the couple to arrive at the reception.

So we took the back door and climbed down the stairs from the second floor to the ground. I was wearing a kurta and she was wearing a saree, both all dressed up, now walking the streets in the evening. This is when we passed by a grocery store upon which she said, "What if we went in like this all dressed up?" I laughed and asked her if she would like to go grocery shopping with me. To which she agreed playfully. In my head I could think of a kickass reply but only after a while, "but the kids are waiting for us at home, no?"

After walking for a while I made the gesture of throwing a cricket ball to which she asked what I did and I said, "nothing". That puzzled her a bit. Then I put my hand inside my pocket and found the flower that I kept from the bride's hair makeup. I gave the beautiful white flower to her and she took it with a smile. She asked what flower it is, to which I replied, "chrysanthemum". She nodded to that. Then I said that she could add this one to her collection of dry flowers. She nodded once again.

We kept walking and it was almost dark by then and so we decided to return. Then I thought to myself that we barely even talked. I wished that the walk could go on a little longer and that I could talk a bit more with her. That is when I saw an ice cream wala. I told her that we can have some ice cream and then we can go back. She agreed. Then we went to have ice cream. I had to get my chocolate ice cream and she took strawberry. This is when we waited a while to enjoy the ice cream and we talked about the wedding. While talking about both the families and their relations she mentioned that she is actually a bit of an introvert and that she can't approach anyone directly. Then I asked her how she was able to talk to me, to which she replied that she was introduced to me by her sister and that is when we started talking from the first day and so it kind of continued. May be we both knew each other from somewhere? I don't know.

I then told her about having a bit of self confidence in us because some things have to be said by us because no one else can think exactly like us so we have to be able to express them in our own way to the world. She then mentioned that she creates art and writes poems and that she also sings and plays the guitar. I was amazed and told her to play something for me as well someday. I also told her that I tried my hand on the ukulele but failed miserably. Then she said that may be I didn't try hard enough with proper focus and so I should give it one more try. Then we returned to the venue and decided to take the lift.

While walking towards the lift we talked about our favourite books and authors and she recommended me some of her favorites. I also read one of my favourite urdu poems to her in the lift and trust me when I say this that I don't usually do such things. And when the lift reached our floor and the door opened, it was playing our playlist in the reception hall. I said, "our background music" to which she smiled and then her phone rang. She told me to come after a while so that no one would know that we were together. She walked in to the hall and after a few minutes I went in. There were guests everywhere, guests taking photos with the newly wedded couple, everyone dancing and celebrating but we could still find each other in the crowd and smile at each other.

After a while we planned to have dinner so she went with her family and I went with mine. After dinner I couldn't find her. I thought she might be clicking pictures somewhere. So I went to meet my friends, some of them just came from downstairs. One friend of mine randomly talked about some family members already leaving. I didn't think it was her. But soon realised that she had left with her family without saying a word, without a good bye.

avis

(i don't usually do long form content here but let's see if my people likes it. thank you for supporting and loving my work so far. it means the world to me.)

[thewildbelladonna]

The Other Side of the Mirror Tour, 1989.

[monotone-artist]

[pls dont tag as ship]

i think amy is one of the few people shadow would actually tolerate being near him, let alone touching him

[id: digital drawing of shadow the hedgehog and amy rose. shadow is wearing an open leather jacket with a maroon shirt and jeans torn at the knees. he has a square-shaped notch in one ear. amy is wearing a dress with a striped skirt colored cream-white-black-blue-red, a blue shirt, and a striped blue shawl with a red ribbon on it. she also has an eyebrow piercing, a couple earrings, and an industrial piercing.

shadow is sitting cross-legged on the floor, a phone with a red case in his hand. however, even as he's facing forward his attention is on amy, who's sitting on a stool behind him, braiding his quills. he's got an eyebrow raised and is trying really hard to not smile as she animatedly talks, gesticulating with her free hand. text pointing to her reads, "gossiping about Sonic." end id]

[illuminatedquill]

Worship Me

A Sabine Wren & Ezra Bridger story

Story Summary: Tucked away inside their watchtower during a snowy night on Lothal, Sabine Wren and Ezra Bridger ponder the future and their relationship.

The beverage dispenser whirred and deposited the last of its contents - sweet, sweet hot chocolate - into the mug; Ezra watched the steam waft up from the dark brown ambrosia, bringing with it the tantalizingly sweet aroma that made his mouth water.

Even with the heating unit at max, the watchtower's interior was still chilly. Outside the temperatures were approaching near freezing and bringing with it fresh concerns of an early, bitter winter with its sleet and snow. But, for now, the snow was harmless and provided an endless frosty wonderland for all the children - and not an insignificant number of adults - to enjoy. Ezra took the fresh mug of hot chocolate in one hand and grabbed another less recently filled one in his other and moved to the watchtower's balcony.

His partner, Sabine Wren, was standing there. Wrapped in a comfy gray shawl - a gift from her departed master, Ahsoka Tano - she leaned against the railing, watching the snow drift lazily down. Just beyond, lit brightly against the snowfall, was Lothal's Capital City with its gorgeous array of spires and skyscrapers. Ezra smiled wistfully, thinking of all the families living in those towers, their children's faces pressed against the glass to watch the snow come down.

He remembered with a pang of melancholy of doing just that with his own parents, Ephraim and Mira, many years ago. Waking up to see the snow, riding a sled down the hills of Lothal's fields, scampering after the loth cats to find their hidden burrows . . .

"Enjoying the view?" Sabine called to him, jolting him out of his reminiscing. He blinked, re-focusing on her.

Even after all these years, she still took his breath away with her beauty. Sabine's hair had grown a little longer, the dyed orange tips just brushing the top of her shoulders now. He knew she wouldn't grow it any longer, purely for practical reasons, but oh how he yearned to see Sabine with longer hair. Underneath the shawl, she wore casual clothes: a bright orange tunic, yellow combat pants, and maroon boots. Once upon a time, he had teased that her outfit was similar in style to the one he wore during the Rebellion and had received a sharp poke in the side for his observation (but he had noted slyly that Sabine was blushing as she did so).

Playing it cool (ha ha), he replied, "Yup."

Smooth, he thought dourly. Very cool, Ezra.

Sabine snorted and took one of the mugs to sip at. "Charming as always, Ezra."

He batted his eyes at her in, hopefully, a smoldering fashion. "Hey, it's a part of the package. Prince Charming, that's me."

She choked on the hot chocolate.

Using his sleeve to dab at her mouth, he said, "That wasn't meant to be a joke."

In between gasps of air, Sabine choked out, "You're going to kill me with any more of whatever this is you're trying to do."

Ezra sighed and took her gently by the arm. "Let's just head inside."

Once Sabine had settled down, they settled onto the couch and wrapped a large quilt - a gift from Zeb and Kallus (with an apology note from Kallus about the quilt's clumsy construction but Zeb tried really hard, and he hadn't the heart to tell him otherwise) - around themselves. Sabine was sipping at Ezra's mug of hot chocolate, since he was the reason why hers had been spilled. Normally he would have protested, especially since it was his favorite beverage, but Ezra had learned long ago that certain arguments were futile with Sabine, so he gladly acquiesced.

They sat there in silence, just listening to the watchtower's gentle mechanical hum and the occasional mewling from Murley, who had taken up the usual perch at his favorite window.

Ezra closed his eyes and took in the ambience, enjoying the simple feeling of being at home and beside the person he loved the most in this galaxy.

. . . And trying to ignore the fact his hands were shaking ever so slightly.

Sabine set down her mug on the table in front of them. He felt her turn towards him, leaning in close, her warm breath tickling his ear . . .

"Your hands are shaking, cyar'ika," she said quietly.

Ezra's eyes opened as he grimaced. "You caught that," he said glumly.

Sabine arched an eyebrow at him. "You can't hide anything from me, Ezra," she replied. "We're partners."

Ezra shrugged off his side of the quilt, glaring at his traitorous hands. "I don't know why they're doing that," he confessed. "It's been happening more and more lately."

She cocked her head at him, thinking. "Not during our missions," she said. "Only when we're home."

"Yeah," he said. "You think they'd be acting up while we're fighting off pirates or negotiating trade disputes or any number of stressful situations we've been in . . . but no. Just whenever we're home."

Sabine gently grasped his shaking hands. They stilled in her touch. "It's fear, I think," she surmised, studying his face. "And something more."

Ezra frowned at her. "What am I scared of when we're home, safe and sound, alone together?"

"Talk it out. Let your thoughts flow along with your feelings, cyar'ika."

Ezra sighed. "Okay," he replied. Closing his eyes, he reached out to the Force for calm and just . . . listened to himself, breathing in and out. He felt Sabine's presence beside him - a constant fierce light, radiating love and belief and support -

The quiet.

He opened his eyes, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck raise unsettlingly. "That's it," he murmured. "That's what it is."

Sabine looked at him, frowning. "What is it?"

"It's the quiet," Ezra said. "It's the peace. I'm not used to it."

He leaned back into the couch, processing this revelation. After a few moments he said, "Sabine, do you realize we've been fighting for most of our lives?"

Her grip on his hands tightened. Ezra looked and saw the discomfort appear on her face. "It's not something I like to dwell on," she said. "But, yeah. I know."

"I think it's come to the point where I feel more at home in a battlefield than I do at our actual home. The peace, the quiet . . . Sabine, it scares me. I'm scared it could be disrupted at a moment's notice, that it could be taken away."

Ezra stared at her, his vision going blurry. "I'm scared you could be taken away. Or me, taken from you. It all feels false, somehow. I can't truly enjoy it."

Sabine reached out and cradled his face to her chest. He heard the gentle, re-affirming beat of her heart. It calmed him a little.

"The galaxy's a scary place, Ezra. We've already lost each other once. I wish I could guarantee that it will never happen again . . . "

Ezra said bitterly, "You can't. No one can."

She turned his face upwards towards hers. "I love you, Ezra. That's all I can promise you. I'll love you until the stars go cold."

"Is it enough, Sabine? Love doesn't promise anything. It wasn't enough for Kanan and Hera. It didn't save Kanan. It killed him." The mention of his former master, Kanan Jarrus, brought a bitter taste to his mouth. He felt awful for saying it, but it held true. Kanan had loved Hera deeply - enough to give his life to ensure hers and everyone else's future on Lothal.

But he had still died. And he knew Hera still felt that loss keenly everyday.

Yes, the love had been there. But it hadn't changed anything.

Kanan still died. Hera had told him of the regrets she felt; things that should have been said but were put aside in the foolish hope that there would be another time to say them.

"You don't mean that, Ezra," said Sabine sharply. "I know you don't."

Ezra turned his face away, hiding his shame. He shrugged in response.

Sabine grabbed his face and wrenched it back towards her. Her brown eyes, normally bright and compassionate, burned with a fierce anger. "Listen to me," she said. "Do not let this fear turn you into something you're not, Ezra. You're better than this. I know you are."

Ezra let out a frustrated breath, bowing his head. "I know. I just . . . I don't know, Sabine. Will this be enough for us? With the lives we lead? I don't want there to be any regrets between us."

"You mean like Hera and Kanan?" asked Sabine. "I get what you mean."

He looked at her, feeling lost. "So what do we do?"

Sabine looked back at him. Then, with a soft touch, she placed a finger under his chin and titled his face up ever so slightly.

"If the love is not enough," she said softly, "then I will ask you for more."

Ezra stared at her, entranced. "What do you mean?"

Sabine leaned in close; the scent of her, a lilac fragrance, filling his nose, intoxicating his mind . . .

"Adore me, Ezra Bridger," she whispered. "Worship me."

His mind went blank. "I . . . how?" he heard himself ask.

With her other hand, Sabine reached behind his head, running her fingers through his hair. Silvery sensations erupted from his scalp; Ezra could hear his heart pulsing loudly within his ears. The fingers clenched, and she pulled him into a deep, searing kiss.

After what felt like an eternity, she let him up for air. Breathing heavily, she placed a hand on his chest.

"I will worship you too," she said huskily. "All of you."

She leaned forward and kissed his chest. "I worship your heart."

His forehead. "I worship your mind."

Sabine reached for his hands, still shaking but for different reasons now. She brushed her lips lightly against each of his fingers. "I worship your hands."

Ezra shivered at her touch. When she was finished, she gazed deeply into his eyes. "Your turn now," she said with an impish grin.

"Are you sure about this?" Ezra asked. "I haven't . . . I mean, this is my first time."

"Mine too," Sabine admitted.

Ezra's eyes widened. He smiled, feeling surprised - and a little gratified. "You waited for me?"

Blushing, Sabine punched him gently on the arm. "Obviously, goober."

He grinned at her. "So, who will take the lead then?"

"Me," she said bluntly. "Unless the Noti gave you directions."

Ezra laughed, feeling some of the tension slide out of him.

Sabine poked him in the chest. "Hey. Focus. Back to worshipping."

He reached out through the Force and dimmed the watchtower's lights. Sabine quirked an eyebrow at him. "Trying to set the mood?" she asked.

Ezra glanced at his hands - they were steady as a rock.

He slid his hands underneath the quilt, searching . . .

Sabine frowned at him. "What are you - oh."

Ezra gently pressed himself against her and returned her kiss with a fervent ardor that left them both breathless. Blinking at him, stunned, Sabine asked, "Where did you learn to do that?"

"Maybe the Noti did teach me some things," he teased. "Oh, I've got tricks that will blow your mind, Sabine Wren."

A sly smile grew slowly on her beautiful face. "Yeah?" she challenged. "Are you willing to show me some more of these tricks?"

"Certainly," said Ezra. "If you're not busy this evening."

She rolled her eyes. "I've got some free time, sure," she replied dryly.

"Excellent," said Ezra. And he promptly got to work, worshipping her, adoring her.

*Author's Note: One of the craziest lines I've ever heard in romantic fiction is a woman saying to her lover, "Worship me." I immediately knew it was something Sabine would say to Ezra and, well, here we are.

[little-frog-writes]

The song “Wine and Wheat” by Madds Buckley has been in my head for so long and I feel like it fits well with Mirabelle from “In Stars and Time”. She has her own Change god / Change belief struggle with her sexuality, so I combined the two! Maybe this could fit into a looping Mirabelle story at one point who knows! For the drawing itself, I paralleled it to @orbitalmoonrat ‘s format for Madds Buckley’s song!

As for the colors on Mirabelle, I think her primary color would be red-ish, pink-ish. Her bow needed to be white to match her gloves so I’m gonna change that and her shawl would be more maroon but I don’t have the right color. I do like that in the background I put the aromatic and asexual colors 💚💜

[quietblueriver]

one word prompt: intention

Hi!! Thanks so much for the prompt. Had a few minutes to write and it's Thursday (woo!) so here's some soft Imogen-centric Imodna fluff with a little bit of violence at the start.

-

Imogen has always loved the smell of rain. It’s in the air now, the sharp scent at the back of her mouth, but it’s tainted, covered with layers that press against her tongue and turn her stomach–burnt hair and singed flesh and something she thinks might be fear, made manifest in human sick and ammonia and she can’t even hear the cries of pain anymore, much less taste them, smell them, but it feels almost like she can.

Her eyes roam over the bodies strewn in the tall grass around her, collapsed over and under and against each other, brutalized and mutilated and motionless.

Like pick-up sticks. The thought comes unbidden and Imogen’s breath catches in her throat, stuck between a laugh and a sob, both hysterical and neither able to make it into the world. It’s enough to unfreeze her hands and her body, which begin to shake and shake and shake. 

I didn’t mean to, she thinks to herself. “I didn’t mean to,” she says aloud, desperate, a confession and a plea, because she’s not a monster, is she? And maybe that’s a lie, because she’s always known there’s something not quite right with her, and everyone else has known it, too, has said it or thought it or scrawled it across the little shed daddy used for storing tools, across the slate Imogen used in school.

Freak. 

Freak. 

She snaps back into herself, body stilled and determined, reminded that there’s something more important, someone more important, and she turns to see Laudna, body hunched against the sturdy, ancient trunk of the oak tree behind her, fragile legs splayed in front of her, one hand limp at the nasty wound on her torso while the other rests palm up on the ground. 

Pushing back the flash of anger that whites her sight and heats her hands, she runs the few steps it takes to reach her, smoothing back long dark hair and tucking it carefully behind the ever present gold cuffs. A deep breath steadies her, and she’s well past questioning the comfort of the faint smell of decay, of wilting flowers and the leaves of the forest floor in fall. 

They have to go. They have to go now, and she doesn’t want to move her, not like this, but there’s no choice. With a wince, she takes Laudna’s hand from the wound and bites her lip, retrieving the maroon shawl that had fallen from Laudna’s shoulders during the ambush and wrapping it as tightly as she dares around her waist, the best she can do to keep pressure until they make it somewhere safer. 

A small whimper causes Imogen’s chest to seize with empathy and affection, and she shushes reflexively, cupping Laudna’s jaw. “I know, honey. I know. I’m so sorry.” Furrowed eyebrows settle and Imogen lets herself run her index finger down the cool, clammy skin between them once before she starts to move. 

“Okay,” she breathes to herself, leaning back so that she can adjust Laudna’s limbs, slip an arm around her waist and under her knees and lift. A few of the men had ridden, and thankfully their horses are not terribly far away at the fenceline. Laudna weighs almost nothing but it’s enough that Imogen’s grateful for long afternoons with sacks of grain and bales of hay as she begins to walk as carefully and quickly as she can.

A groan from behind stills her. Maybe not dead, then. She adjusts to take in the scattered bodies one last time, the smears of black and red and pink. Her eyes stop on one of them, angry flesh visible through a half-burned sleeve, arm stretched toward a thick coil of rope he would never get the chance to put around Laudna’s neck. 

Jaw clenching, shock and regret fade further into the recesses of her mind, anger filling in the space. She may not have meant to do it, but she would gladly do it again. She will learn how to do it again. 

Her hands pull Laudna’s body just a little tighter against her own as she leaves the mob behind. It takes nothing to ignore the next noise of pain she hears, the little prickles of one or two deeply unpleasant returns to consciousness that reach her mind before she reaches the horses. 

Laudna’s awake but more out of it than Imogen has ever seen her by the time she’s maneuvering them both into the saddle, slurred questions about Imogen’s well-being on her tongue and in her thoughts. 

“Hush, darlin’. I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about,” Imogen says as she settles them so that she can keep Laudna tight to her front. It’s going to hurt her; there’s no getting around it, and she apologizes sincerely but doesn’t slow them down when Laudna gasps back into a fuller consciousness at the pain. She nods at the apology as she tucks her head against Imogen’s chest and moves her hands to squeeze at Imogen’s forearm where it’s flexed above her wound to keep them together. The metal of her ear cuff is sharp against Imogen’s sternum as they ride. 

Smells like rain. The thought floats absently from Laudna, part of a largely incoherent set not seeking or requiring a response. Imogen, who has never been happier to hear nonsense, hums in agreement anyway, knowing Laudna will feel it. 

Later, she tells Laudna that the scent was Imogen herself, that she became a summer storm, sudden and unforgiving in its violence. Laudna’s wide eyes track the scars spreading over Imogen’s hands and wrists until Imogen offers them up, cool fingertips exploring carefully. There is fear in her eyes when she’s finished, but it doesn’t sting, because Imogen doesn’t need to read minds to know that Laudna is not scared of her but for her. 

“I’m gonna learn how to control it,” she says into the night between them, and Laudna squeezes at her fingers encouragingly. 

“Of course you will, dearest,” she affirms with the kind of soft affection that makes Imogen confused. “You’re very capable.” 

Much later, Imogen learns to control it, at least as much as she can. She fights with Laudna and for Laudna and gains a new family and fights with them and for them, too. She grows used to the blend of petrichor and iron and sweat that clings to her more often than not, and the lightning that springs from her is full of intention. She is glad, more than once, that her daddy made her hard. She is scared, more than once, of the way that it makes her feel to have that much power, to be able to hurt, to choose to hurt, to, in the worst parts of herself, enjoy it when she makes that choice. 

“I am the storm,” she says, and she means it, but she means it just as much when she tells Laudna not to let go. She doesn’t want to be untethered. She doesn’t want to lose herself. Laudna doesn’t understand but she listens, and they are moored together. 

Eventually, body scarred and lightning licking at her heart, she is given the option to pass the mantle. There is a new group, eager and younger and capable, if a little lost. Laudna’s cool hand wrapped in hers, she chooses to stop. It is more difficult than she would have hoped. 

Eventually, they spend hours sitting on a porch they’ve decorated with colorful potted plants and rocking chairs and a table Imogen made herself. If they are outside on days when a storm is coming, Laudna will stare at the clouds and take a sip of her tea and say, “I love the smell of the rain. Don’t you, dearest?” And Imogen will see the curl of her lip and know exactly what she means. 

“I prefer the smell of fall,” she says every time, always a little bashful and always rewarded with a smile that reminds her that she may be the storm, but she is more than that, chooses to be more than that, too.

[sarahs-secrets2]

In Your Wildest Dreams ˋ♡ˊ

regency era/bridgerton inspired au!

duke!leon x fem!reader (no use of Y/N)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: not period accurate, tad ooc bc its an au, other than that none!!

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

The start of a new season and you were officially making your debut, with your first outing being the highly anticipated Queen’s ball to welcome the ton to the start of a fresh season. The ballroom was filled with potential suitors, fresh debutantes, and mamas scurrying about hoping to secure a match for their daughters. As expected it was quite stuffy, being new in town brought a bundle of attraction as all sorts of suitors tried to win your hand. The voice of the man next to you droned on as you tried to remain pleasant, a small smile glued to your face. 

“Would you excuse me, my lord,” the suitor looked taken aback at the interruption, was it ladylike? Probably not, but right now the suffocating nature of the ballroom had overwhelmed you and you were in dire need of a breath of fresh air. You bowed your head quickly before disappearing into the gardens behind the Queen’s luxurious estate where the night's ball was taking place. 

The brisk air chilled your skin, the satin gloves and thin shawl did little to warm you as you wrapped your arms around yourself making an effort to heat up. The murmur from the ballroom could still be heard from your spot on the balcony overlooking the gardens. Taking a few steps forward your hands rested on the ledge, grounding yourself with the brick under your satin-covered grasp.

“Surely, it is not fitting for a lady of such elegance to remain unpartnered and unattended on the terrace,” the sudden voice caused you to jump clinging onto the ledge a bit more than before. You turned around to see the man in front of you. His ashy blonde hair swept across his face as he straightened his dark maroon suit jacket. 

“I was merely seeking a breath of fresh air before I return to the party, sir. I couldn't help but notice, that you have followed me out here, leaving us unchaperoned,” you leaned against the ledge behind you as you spoke to the unknown man. 

“It seems you have a point miss. My apologies,” he smirked before stepping closer and joining you on the ledge. “As it happens, I too was seeking some refuge from the crowded ballroom and swarming mamas, mind if I join you?”

“Please,” nodding as you spoke, “Pardon me if this is too forward but you do not look familiar and I am here for my first season, are you also a new arrival for the season?”

“Ah, no miss,” he glanced down, his hair covering his face to hide his emotions. He settled next to you, his hand accidentally grazing yours. He quickly withdrew his hand and readjusted his position, as you stood frozen at the touch. It was something you had never felt before, saying it was a spark would be dramatic but something inside you craved more. He cleared his throat trying to gain his composure before starting again, “Business, unfinished affairs on my father's account I must settle before returning home,”

“I see, well I hope you are able to find some peace here in London for the time being,”

He smiled and nodded, looking off into the gardens. You studied him as he seemed to withdraw from the conversation. There was more to him than he was willing to give up, the way he carried himself to the way he spoke was guarded. As if one small misstep would expose his true self. 

“Well you must forgive me, but I think I see my aunt looking for me,” his attention turned back to you as you slowly made your way back to the wide glass doors that led back to the ballroom. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” you paused, waiting for his name.

“You as well miss,” he swiftly answered dodging the attempt to get his name and offered a small smile before redirecting his attention back to the nightsky overhanging the gardens. 

You huffed hoping to get something more out of the mystery man who now occupied your mind. Although you didn't know his name he had an allure that you hadn't felt before. A guard opened the door back inside for you as the immediate wave of music and chatter flowed back over you as you stepped into the warmly lit ballroom.

“Oh dearest where have you been,” 

“Aunt Agatha,” although she seemed pleased to see you, you knew she was unhappy with your disappearance. She was kind enough to sponsor you this season, it was only fitting for you to put your best foot forward and try your hardest to secure a match. “I was merely taking in some fresh air, do not worry.”

She chuckled, taking your arm in hers as she led the pair of you through the crowd towards the front of the ballroom. “While you were out doing god knows what,” you patted her arm playfully as she teased you, “I had the pleasure of conversing with Her Majesty, and she expressed a desire to introduce you to one of her guests who shall be residing with her for some time this season.”

“I do not know whether to be honored or insulted at the introduction, does Her Majesty not think me capable of finding a match?”

“Now,” your Aunt shot you a look of disapproval, “You are well aware of the past history between Her Majesty and I, she is simply doing me a favor,”

“Oh Aunt Agatha, you have little faith in me,”

“I have plenty, now be on your best behavior,” she squeezed your hand lightly as you both approached the Queen, “Ah, your Majesty,” the pair of you bowed down to greet her. “May I introduce you to my niece who I am hosting this season,”

“Your Majesty it is an honor to make your acquaintance,”

“I have someone I would like you to meet dear, I like to think of myself as quite the matchmaker you see.” The Queen was known for her matches; all of the pairs she introduced ended up married within the following months. A question often asked though was: were they married because of love or fear of disappointing their Queen? “Ah come here,” she motioned to a man a bit further from her as he moved to join the group. “This is the Duke of Clyvedon, Leon S. Kennedy.”

And there he was, the mystery man from the balcony standing right in front of you. He was already handsome, but somehow seeing him in better lighting, he had become even more handsome. Looking at him took your breath away as you let out a small gasp. 

“Is everything alright dear?” your Aunt whispered into your ear quietly. Unable to form words you just nodded, your mind too clouded with the man standing in front of you. 

“It is a pleasure to formally meet you,” he bent down, placing a small kiss on the back of your extended hand. His piercing blue eyes catch yours as he stands up slowly, both of you holding the secret of your first informal meeting on the terrace earlier. 

“Your grace, the pleasure is all mine,” 

“Look at you two, quite the match I have made already,” the Queen exclaimed, applauding her own work. 

“Oh they truly do look wonderful together I agree,” your Aunt chimed in agreeing with Her Majesty, “Let us leave these two, hmm?” Agatha motioned for the Queen to join her as the two walked away already heavy in conversation, probably planning the wedding already. 

“Nice to see you again,” he eyed you up and down, taking in you fully now.

“You as well, your grace,”

“Please, just call me Leon,” he extended his arm for you. Hesitantly you entwined your arm with his and the two of you maneuvered your way through the ballroom floor. 

“Leon, I understood you were just here on business. Does the Queen know that?”

“No, she does not. She is determined to find me a match this season,”

“Oh, I see,”

The two of you arrived at the refreshments table, he grabbed two glasses and swiftly handed you one as he began to sip on his. “I feel compelled to make this known before this goes any further, I have no intention of marrying this season.”

A part of you wished it to not be true as you didn't see anything wrong with marrying Leon even from the short interaction he seemed like he would make a fine husband. “That is quite alright, and I don't think it is me you have to worry about,” you smiled saving face as you gestured towards the Queen.

“Ah, I am well aware,” he raised his eyebrows. His forwardness was not something you were used to, and you weren't sure if this remark of not wanting to marry was because of you or some other outside force. The Duke’s confession drew a silence between the two of you as both of you were unsure how to navigate it further.

“I-,”

“Well,”

Both of you spoke at the same time, causing you to get quickly flustered at the entire interaction.

“You go first your grace- Leon, my apologies,”

“Well, just because I have no intention of marrying I assume that does not hold the same for you I suppose?”

“You would be correct,”

“Let me help you then miss,” he seemed quite cheery at his suggestion.

“I am not sure I understand,”

“When the other suitors see such a lady as yourself with a Duke, they will surely rush to catch your attention,” he studied your face as he went on trying to gauge how you felt about it. 

“And what do you receive from this?”

“I can conduct my business in peace without having to worry about mamas pushing their daughters at me,”

“Your performance must be convincing enough to deceive even the most discerning eye,” you were skeptical at the idea but what could you lose? It seemed he genuinely wanted to help you find a good match this season. 

“Trust me, I am quite capable of being convincing, the ton will have not a clue” he bent down and whispered in your ear, sending a chill down your spine as he spoke. He grabbed your drink and placed it back down on the table along with his before he slipped his hand around your waist and tugged you toward the dance floor.

The two of you danced for the entirety of the song, with each step you melted more into his touch still unable to identify the feeling that bubbled in your stomach as he gently held you. The dance ended and your bodies were pressed together, your back firmly against his chest. He bent down slightly again and whispered, “What say you?”

You tilted your head back, catching his eyes, “I accept the proposition, your grace.” Leon gave you a small look, “My apologies, Leon, I accept,”

“Now that is precisely what I was hoping for,” he grinned before turning you back to face him properly. “I fear I must be leaving now, I shall hope to see you shortly,” he winked before kissing your hand goodbye and disappearing into the crowd.

You clutched your hand as he left trying to lock the feeling of his lips on your glove into your memory forever. Before you had a chance to fully process what you had agreed to, your Aunt Agatha was quick to reappear at your side.

“I assume it went well dear?” 

“One could make that assertion,” you said, trying to conceal the smile on your face. 

“I think it is time for us to take our leave darling, I have a feeling tomorrow we will be quite busy.” And with that, you and your Aunt departed your first ball of the season where you harbored a secret of your future courtship. The night's excitement had dwindled as you stared out the carriage window, feeling nervous about how this arrangement with the Duke would work, or if it could even work. 

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

i have part 2 mapped out already, this is very much a slow burn but i have a lot planned:)