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pseudonympls · 2 years

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From Hope

Part Nine of Love Blooms

CW: pregnancy. character death. smoking during pregnancy (it was common at the time, I promise lmao) fingering. oral sex. explicit sex.

Chapter word count: 11.2k

After. It’s always after, when our minds blot out the static, and the curtain falls, that we’re truly left to grieve.

The orderlies had pried her cold, lifeless body from my arms, and lifted her out of Stepney Green station.

Lucy had shown there to be still light left in this world, and the universe, so cold and unfeeling, was all too prepared to snuff it out in the first instance. Lucy had brightened my days and lit up my nights. The blunted edge of her death left me wanting, weary - the hope that I had been so full of, wrenched from my ailing fingers. Destroyed in a matter of hours. I floated around the wards like a spectre, those coming days. Feeling more and more like a shadow of myself, a pretender. It was as if I had died, left this mortal coil and had taken to performing who I was - not truly being.

I had known death - I knew her well. Yet every blow was a new, devastating hit that totally rendered skin from flesh and blood from veins - the crimson pooling underneath the skin to form dark, purplish bruises of the heart, bruises that would seldom fade. Another blemish on the landscape of my soul.

Given menial tasks to dull my roaring mind with, my fellows felt circled around me at all times - only a glance away from comfort or hushed words over a cup of tea. Camaraderie a pale replacement to the tender laughter and smiles of the little blond child.

Cold. Lifeless. Empty. Lucy’s body was.

I was not totally without hope, as I drummed my fingers rhythmically on the desk. The soft, pink inner corners of my eyes ached and stung with all the tears I had shed, and yet I thought to myself - how it would never be enough. How could a grieving, a sorrow be enough to honour someone’s life, a someone so young and vibrant and full of it all, full of everything except the promise of a future.

Cold. Lifeless. Empty.

Were all words I couldn’t use to describe my own life. Not anymore. My blood was hot with ginger tea, with the promise of new life, my belly rippling along every day since I had discovered it. Discovered her. I was full of her, every breath I took was for her. My little passenger, along for the ride. The precious few minutes left until the start of my shift ticked by loudly from the clock hanging from above the door frame, and I buzzed with an insistence to “get on” - as I had always done. Shoulders back, sit straight, button up - bloody well soldier on. My upper lip brimming with the blood, keeping it steady - sure as anything. Barely a quiver, I wouldn’t allow it.

But the last thing I wanted to do was get on - to brave it. I wanted nothing more than to wrap ourselves up in a cotton cocoon of the thin blankets we were afforded here - several times over, to whirl myself away from the outside world, from all the pain. All I wanted was to keep her, my sweet - safe from the dangers of life, of the horrors that befell us. But still, the meagre layer let light bleed through - and I saw fragments through the stitching. I saw the war, the flames, the bloodshed, the red, putrid stain seeping through the swaddle I had created for us, and I knew it impossible to keep her safe from the fire. All I could do was offer her up to it, with love - in desperate hope that she would be spared. Singed, not burned. Bruised, but not battered.

Like a favourite fragment of a memory, Bo lingered in my mind, rose to the top like cream at the mouth of a pint of milk. And I, like the silly little girl I was, indulged in it, indulged in him. My other hand fingered the well worn corners of Lucy’s Peter Rabbit book, teasing the edges and secretly hoping they’d be sharp enough to give me paper cuts. If I wasn’t able to cry anymore, drops of blood would suffice. No such luck - the book was all but blunted from its use - a bird with its wings clipped.

As the ticking filled the room, it was suddenly joined by a new, syncopated sound, similar in timbre, distant in volume. Between each tick of the second hand, a noise filled that split second gap - like footsteps down the corridor - the canter of a horse, but instead of multiple distinct beats there was only one, every half a second, the sound got louder - nearer.

I stood up from my desk, half peering around the gap in the door, half almost disinterested. As if anything could be so captivating as to wrench me from my sorrow filled stupor. Still the sound, growing ever nearer, made my heart beat double time, made my veins constrict with curiosity. Only one thing made that sound that I knew of, and there weren’t any patients on this floor that used such an apparatus, nevermind the fact that patients were seldom moved between floors, especially since the evacuation the other night.

The vinyl floors made the bottoms of the crutches sing against the tall, white walls of the corridors, the distinctive sound echoing down to me, nearer, nearer they came. Peter still in hand, I rounded the table, the sound grew louder and louder, competing for the rhythm of the clock, bouncing around in my own skull, my own heart feeling like it was trying to match its pace, and then - the door swung open.

So sure I was that he was a dream, a mirage - the early morning light beamed behind him like a halo - blotting out some of his edges, his realness, that I darent believe my own eyes. Peeking under the top of the doorframe: was Bo. His upper half in an azure collared shirt, undone at the second button. Dark brown slacks pressed with a single pleat covered his long legs, and there, under each one of his armpits lay ash wood crutches, keeping his left ankle aloft amongst the air, keeping him tentatively upright. A puppet without his marionette.

“They said you’d be here” he breathed, more than a little winded from his assault of the long corridor. His deep tones sent tingles down the back of my skull - tiny pinpricks of firelight joy echoed underneath my hairline, spreading along my shoulder blades and down my spine.

“Bo” I whispered, my voice cracking a line down the centre of his name, turning it into two syllables instead of one.

“Emily” As my name spread a smile across his lips, lighting up the dimple on his right cheek, I decided at that moment that if I was simply going mad - I’d be more than happy to. I’d be happy for this to be a fanciful dream of him and I meeting again. A bittersweet reunion. I’d give into the delusion so completely that it would seem nothing but real. A fantasy balled up in my sick little daydream. I’d gladly bathe in it forever, be committed, a certified lunatic - if it meant I could be with him.

I was more than willing to be Alice, drifting down the warren, with Bo as my white rabbit, easing my descent into madness.

Before I realised what I was doing, I was face first into Bo’s shirt, wetness spreading down my cheeks, staining his chest with my tears. “You found me” I mumbled incomprehensibly into his chest, “I didn’t ask, but I had hoped against hope, that you’d follow me. That you’d eventually find me”

I felt his torso shake beneath my own, the hollow of his chest vibrating along to the sound of my name. His arm came to distance me slightly, separating us in a way that made my heart pang with longing. Bo was looking down at me, the lilac bags beneath his eyes betrayed a lack of sleep, and I was positive I looked no better, as he blinked it was as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Tinges of worry faded away with every close and open, like he was afraid I’d disappear into the ether if he had them shut for too long. “I knew I would,” he heaved a sigh, “I’d travel to the ends of the earth, crutches and all, to see you again, hold you again” his bottom lip quivered with restrained tearfulness, gut wrenching and enthralling all at once. “I’m sorry Em,” he sighed, thumbs pressing into my forearm, hard enough to bruise.

“It's I who should be begging for your forgiveness, after what I said-” I hiccuped between the tears, “After what I said, I should be on my knees” my fists gripped the fabric of his shirt tight, but in the noise of the blood filling my ears, he was deadly silent. “Please, say something, you know I’m right,”

“You always are” he conceded, a half smile pulling at his lips, and my emotion came pouring out. What I had locked inside these past few weeks finally had an outlet. I bled myself dry at his behest.

“I’ll admit, it was my intention to send you away, angry at me, upset, maybe even heartbroken” My top teeth came down to clamp hard over my bottom lip, stifling my mouth of the words I so wished to speak. “Even though it's only been a few weeks, I’ve learnt things, about myself, about others, about how I should’ve just followed my heart. I was afraid of getting hurt again - of you l-leaving like Tommy did” I swallowed, my voice taking on the thick, tearful quality that obscured any meaning. “So instead of following my heart I did the opposite, I became the thing I feared the most - alone.”

He sucked in a thin breath, barely enough to carry along the words he said “If it’s down to me, you’ll never be alone again” the way his voice wavered on that last syllable, almost made me burst into tears again.

“I-I can’t imagine how it must’ve been to get here, I imagine all those cobbles played havoc with your crutches” I stifled laughter, and Bo exhaled gently from his nose. “But, I’m so very glad you are here”

We leaned in for a kiss - but my mind was still adrift with questions, and I, still out to sea, drowning among them. As he held me I smoothed my fingers over the fabrics, their texture, “Y-your clothes?” I questioned, gazing down at his form, not a whiff of army issue about him, civvies from head to toe - plucked from the masses and plonked down in front of me.

“I-um” he chuckled, nodding down to his ankle “I got lucky on my leg again” I glanced down to his leg, firmly covered in bandages, barely touching the floor, and I silently sent a prayer up to the lord above asking for mercy - that if this were one of my fanciful daydreams, or even a nighttime hallucination, that I’d be spared returning from it into reality. I clutched onto his shirt, shaking my head, not quite understanding him - my lips parted, eyes wide, waiting for the realisation to drop. “Discharged on medical grounds” he huffed, each word dripping a bittersweet poison into my veins, my thoughts all too confuddled to make a coherent sentence.

“You’re-you’re-not?” I breathed, as if there were enough air that could fill my lungs at that moment, for all eternity, that would float along the words for me in a single breath.

His eyes locked on to mine, his lips rounding into the question I had asked, words he wished he could utter months ago. “I’m-” he blew air out of his nose “I’m done, they don’t want me knockin’ around, not like this” a half smile unfurled at the corner of his mouth, silent pleasure hanging on bitter words.

“So you’re- here to stay?” I trembled between fresh tears - thick, fat ones rolling down my cheeks now, not the trickle of moments before - it was the deluge that drowned us.

“If you’ll have me, I’m sorry I’ve come to you like this” I scoffed at his apology, willing that he’d never need to beg for my forgiveness again - for I’d forever be in his debt, how desperately I had tried to run away from what I had so desperately needed - what I craved. How I always had the need to be near him, our bodies thrumming on that frequency that only we knew - how we had tapped into it together.

“If you’ll allow me, I’ll do what I intended all those weeks ago” - he propped a crutch up against the wall and stuffed a hand into his trouser pocket, fishing a small black box out of it. The tiny box looked comically small in his gigantic hand, a rock amongst the sea of his skin. “This, this little box was hidden away in my pocket, all night long, I-I intended to wake you with breakfast, with a kiss, I intended to steal your heart away, I intended to make you mine” he struggled to open the box, and a white gold - almost silver - ring lay inside, the proud grooves and cuts of the diamond twinkled in the daylight. “Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?” a frisson of tingles crawled up my spine as his tongue wrapped around the word - wife. The tenderness of the word, the finality of it slid into my being.

Struck temporarily dumb I nodded slowly, fearing any silly words I could utter would only sully the moment, make it any less solemn and beautiful. He plucked the delicate band from its housing and I proffered my left hand, finally finding the courage to speak in between the delicate moments. “Bo, I’ve already been yours, since the very first day,” I said as the ring slid into place on my finger. All playfulness had left his eyes, leaving only stern and earnest promise.

Bo placed the ring on my finger, which had been lonely for so long, and while it was a beautiful ring, I thought more about what it symbolised - the promise it kept, a band in exchange for a bond so strong, nothing apart from the delicate innermost workings of my own mind, could destroy it.

“I can’t promise that I won’t die one day, but I will promise that I’d gladly do it by your side, I guess, and you’ve” he paused, his eyes growing thick with tears “You’ve already felt enough losses to last a lifetime”

I worried the worn Peter Rabbit book in my hand, feeling the pages flex beneath my fingers, ruminating on the fragility of life, of our lives. “It is that I know now, how fleeting life can become, h-how unjust the angel of death is, she carries on her way, sweeping those up who do not deserve it, who have yet more life to live.”

Bo’s smile became a serious straight line “We will live it together, every second that we are allowed, I would not have it any other way” I drank in his words, feeling more drunk on them with every sip, my brain and soul and body succumbing to the intoxication that was him.

“I love you” I whispered, as if it were a secret we were keeping between us, a secret now brazen and whole enough to proclaim to the entire world, if they’d hear us.

The words floated off my tongue to him - and as the same sentiment left his lips, I felt so completely ripped apart, yet never more complete - as if it had been something I’d been waiting for my entire life. “I knew I loved you, it was like coming home - but not to any home I’d ever known,” he paused briefly, perhaps to say something else, but I didn’t allow him to. I leapt into his arms, pressing him into the doorframe acting as an anchor as his crutches clattered loudly to the floor, his hands braced my back, pulling me into him as I wound my arms around his neck, greedily pulling him down into me.

Our lips joined and it was like a fervoured feast after the famine, the taste of him, smoky dark and warm wrapped its tendrils around me and made me only crave more, more of him. I arched toward him needily, subconsciously my body ached for his touch. Something deep seated and primal simmered in my belly, the ache already beginning to boil over between my legs. When our lips finally parted, when our need for air was that much more than the need for each other, I remained on the tip of my toes. Calves burning for release as we stood, pressed against one another in the beam of early morning sunlight, bright and even.

“To think that I was a bomb, waiting to go off, and you were the diffuser” Bo smacked his lips, and I resisted the urge to capture them with my own again. The startling realisation dawned on me that I had not yet divulged my largest secret, one that was standing proudly between us. The one thing that had kept me afloat these past few weeks, my invisible tether to the shore.

A heat filled my chest, my cheeks and my voice wobbled as I began to speak “Bo, It’s…me,” “I’m the bomb, but the charge is so…so much more precious” briefly my eyes, full lidded, flitted down myself.

The smile died in his eyes, the blue waves warm enough to swim in froze up with fear “Wh-what is it?” his thumb and forefinger gripped my chin, tilting up to him, and in his full gaze, I couldn’t help but blub my answer out.

“I’m” I hiccuped, wanting to allay the worry that lay behind his ocean blue eyes, the widening of them only slowing my reply “I’m pregnant” I half-laughed-half-choked out, and the kindling in my heart sparked into full blown fire as his eyes relaxed, and lips stretched into a toothy grin, as he slowly shook his head side to side in disbelief.

“Wh-what?” the sharp early morning light caught along his jawline, flashing as he quivered.

“I must be one, two months along” I nodded, pulling his other hand limp at his side to my belly, pressing it into the expanse below my belly button. Still imperceptibly small, but it seemed like Bo knew exactly how she lay. He held me there, and I heard him swallow thickly, and heard the cogs turning in his head. I looked up at him proudly, placing my own much smaller hand atop his, feeling the tendons in his hand shiver and shake beneath my own.

“We’re gonna have a baby?” he whispered, punctuated with shuddered breath, eyes wide with wonder, mouth slack as his hand tensed against me, and in that moment I felt like we were so perfectly alone - the three of us.

“Yes” I muttered back, confirming it to him was perhaps the first time I’d let myself feel it all - knowing it simply wasn’t enough, but passing on that information, imbuing it within him, the man who had brought it into being was enough to make it real. Enough to make my stomach flip with excitement, for all the possibilities laid out in front of us were now well within reach - a baby, a family, a home.

“I’m gonna be a f-father?” his tone lowered, voice thick with unspoken emotion - all his worth tangled beneath my belly, cradled against his fingertips. What we had come together to create in our most vulnerable moments. Naked, so totally at the other's behest, now felt so real - so concrete.

I caught his gaze, mesmerised by my presence, a look of total bewilderment and wonder, and nodded slowly “F-fuck, alright” he pulled his gaze up to me, finally breaking away from my belly for what seemed like hours. “We’ve gotta make a plan I-shit”

Startled with the sudden electricity coursing through him, I faltered, “A plan?”

“Yeah, I had all this in my head about us getting married back at that church, I was gonna-” he started, his words running out of breath before they could be uttered, “Nah, it’s stupid”

“What is it?”

“I can’t put that kind of pressure on you, it isn’t right” one hand tousled the hair at his hairline, while the other steadied himself gently at my shoulder.

“Bo please, tell me?” I folded my arm back on myself to clasp at his own at my collar bone, squeezing it with reassurance.

“I thought-” he sighed “I thought we could spend a few years here, well, back home, getting used to married life, I’d tend to the gardens-” his adams apple bobbed dangerously in his throat.

“What makes you think we can’t do that?” I soothed, massaging the back of his palm.

“Well, Then I was thinking after a few years…we’d go to the states…together” My eyes must’ve been the size of dinner plates, as he took one look at me and said “Nah, it’s too much stress, we need to think of you and the baby, now”

“So what if we do get married here” I trailed my fingers up his forearm, details of my own plan coming slowly into focus, “But then, we head on over to the states straight after…elope?”

“You’d really want to?”

“Of course, I need to meet my new parents in law” I smirked, smacking my lips. Bo vibrated on a different level, his strong palms came to the tops of my arms to brace me in a fastidious hug. One of the first embraces for the rest of our lives together.

Even in our ramshackle room in that bed and breakfast we had got for the night we couldn’t peel apart from one another.

Slamming the door behind us rattled the room itself. Our view left much to be desired, the railway tracks and the white uppermost tops of St. Pauls was the only thing you could see from our window. But we both knew we didn’t come for the view. I hastily shut the curtains with one arm and I barely had time to drop our bags before Bo had captured me into his arms, spinning around in his embrace he pressed his forehead to mine. I sank into his gaze, my eyes half open, we did the age old dance as I pressed my palms into his chest, our eyes barely faltering from one anothers as he eased me out of my uniform, slipping my apron over my arms, and beginning slow, clumsy work on the buttons that traced along my spine.

I wiggled impatiently against him as he slowly loosened each button from its closure, a small sigh of impertinence slipping from my mouth and Bo pulled back in silent reprimand, his eyebrows raised, that signature smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“What is it honey?” he whispered knowing full well the answer to his question, a devilish face of wanton lust hidden beneath his tender rising eyebrows - a mask of innocence. Questioning when he knew the heat that simmered between my thighs - knew his effect on me.

“C-can we go faster, I-I can’t wait” I huffed, my own fingers starting on the buttons with impatience.

“Nuh-uh baby,” he gently stilled my wrists “We have the rest of forever for this, and I don’t wanna rush a single second, I need it” his taunting paused “I need it to last” sincerity breathed through his words. His mouth hushed at the back of my ears, sending pins and needles up my spine. He bent at the waist to lock lips with mine, his words dissipated into the room and seemed to hold no weight as his actions propelled him faster into me.

My calves hit the mattress and I fell backwards, my fingers gripping into his shirt, pulling him along with me. We bounced once on the mattress, the springs sagging under our collective weight, my giggles were silenced with his lips as his fingers scrambled to the back of my half open dress, fingers dancing on the wanton flesh beneath.

“Mrs Burnham” “Emily Burnham” “Nurse Burnham” he whispered into my ear between kisses. The smirk I heard on his lips sent fireworks up my spine and shot sparks into every extremity as I unwittingly groaned against the titles he was giving me, bestowing his name upon me like a crown to be worn. I his Queen and he the paupered lover, doting at my feet. His thick fingers came to my waist, and then to my lower abdomen, cradling it like he was already holding the babe that was nestled within. He lightly rearranged me around him, making an effort to undress himself more easily, lay bare the soft skin I ached to touch, lick and kiss - laying dormant underneath his clothes. The dress already half undone, I slid it over my impatient shoulders, shivering in the shadowed room of the bed and breakfast. Skin singing to be against one anothers, finally close to being rewarded with the labour of its efforts.

His hands travelled fervently across my skin as I laid before him - making every hair in every pore stand on end as he did so. Hampered only slightly by his disability, his tongue, lips and fingers did plenty where his hips could not. He began at my sternum, pressing hot kisses down my stomach until he reached past my belly button. His presence there had me taking in a sharp breath. My heart stuttering beneath my breast at the possibilities that lay before us.

Wantonly parted, my legs took their throne around his face as he sucked in the scent of me, letting out a sigh of relief, of joy as he nestled his lips next to mine and started to devour. His tongue laved long lines up and down my slit, trailing along me like a starved man eating his much anticipated first meal. Spreading the wetness and seemingly satisfied with it, he plunged his long, thick tongue inside me, a splayed hand at my hip bone keeping me steady for him as he feasted. My trembling fingers found the sheets beneath us and I gripped on to them for some sort of anchor, anything that would tether me to this world as his mouth and tongue deigned to throw me out of its orbit.

So untouched, hot with need - these past few weeks of neglect had meant that with a few fatal swoops of his tongue, I was coming undone on his face, head pressing into the pillow as Bo’s mouth summoned sweet, electrifying pleasures from me. A slave to his tongue as I unravelled beneath him, now two meaty hands kept my hips still for him as he continued his feast - not letting up even when I’d had my fill.

I must have been shimmering, coated in sweat as Bo used his forearms to meet me at the top of the bed. My legs feeling hollow and yet filled with all the stars in the universe, his slick smirk pulled a half-cry-half-chuckle from me as I lay cocooned in his arms, shaking and trembling from the feast. He let me taste myself, and the crimson of my face deepened as he heard me enjoy the flavour, the slickness that we had both helped create.

Gently as to not aggravate his ankle, we rolled around so that I lay atop him - Bo’s ankle unable to sustain him for more than a few minutes with him on top - this time I had taken the reins. The dark brown lampshade barely filled the room with light, but he was my beacon as I straddled him, on his upper thighs so that his thick length lay in front of me, tall, proud and pulsating with his need. Bo’s expression was taut, controlled and yet completely soft, lips open gently as his hands came forward to retrieve me. His soft fingertips grazed along my upper arm and wrists, halting at my own as he threaded them through mine.

Guiding me forward until I sat just where I was needed, until I enveloped him inside me. Bo let out a long, high pitched hiss and I groaned as I flexed around him, making myself accommodate his body in such a way that felt uniquely us. A frenzied pleasure that only we could create. His fingers clenched to keep me upright, as I kept him beneath me, both of us shuddering as he slowly helped me to move, even the slightest movement made me twitch. As the sun went down on our little room, and the odd rattling of a train shook it - the slickness I was providing him softened the blow of his heft, each tiny movement sending a jolt of pleasure twinged with pain through my centre, one unable to be divorced from the other.

Bo’s brows knit in fervoured concentration as I placed both hands on his pale chest, using it as leverage as I rocked atop him. So unafraid of the moans that escaped my mouth as he plunged his hips into me, meeting my own when they faltered, our need carrying on into the night. I tossed my head back, letting the lengths of my hair trail down my back, sticking to the sweat that had gathered in between my shoulder blades.

Strained breathing pumped the air full of our lust as I rode him, Bo’s fingertips grazing along my breast, a nipple, his frantic hands desperate to traverse every inch of my skin that he could, feeling like two weeks apart was more than a lifetime. I seemed needed to him - like he’d been drip fed the bare minimum for weeks, and now was finally getting to enjoy the full spread laid before him, my legs open for him. The tweak of a nipple and two fingers eagerly pulsing next to his thrusts, caused my moans to ratchet up in volume, my body to ascend to the next level of pleasure. I needed the friction, I wanted his need.

Harsh, wanting fists came to my waist and pulled me up and down, up and down into the bountiful pleasure. Our chests fit together, sliding together, my hips an unrelenting piston on his cock.

Mindlessly, my hand wandered down to the place where we met, and I bit my lip as I began to rub slow circles just above him - as I felt myself begin to fall yet again, on the precipice of absolution. Amidst his thrusts my vision may have completely disappeared, save for the blue of his eyes, the way they saw right through me - even the hurt, the restraint and the doubt, he saw it all.

Twitching, all consuming moans filled the room, bouncing off every surface and lacing every nerve in our tangled bodies. I felt him release so completely inside of me, his lips pursing to my forehead, sweaty and spent. Yet he pressed a kiss so sweet, so innocent there, it was if he wasn’t buried deep inside me, spilling his climax. Tangled on the bed, our heaving chests pushing against one anothers - desperate for air, Bo pressed his forehead to mine in silent repose, and we both spread our lips in a smile as we leaned in for a final kiss.

Naked, sprawled across the sheets, Bo leaned off the edge of the bed, grabbing for something in his trouser pocket. “Smoke?” he whispered, his throat hoarse and delightfully thick in the afterglow of our union. I pushed myself up onto my forearms, every other inch of my body seemingly stunned to stillness, my legs splaying open lewdly, incapable of movement even if I wanted to.

“Oh, y-yes please” I watched him procure the cigarette and place it between his pinkened lips, clicking the spark of the lighter into action he sucked on the glowing cherry, picking it from between his lips and leaning over to me.

Bo went to hand me the cigarette, but he paused, leaning forward, the hot smoke on his breath intoxicating me once more. “Just one sec” he whispered, placing a delicate kiss on my lips, leaning back to study my face for a second, before he replaced his lips with a cigarette. My shaking fingers relieve my lips of the cigarette, as velvety plumes of smoke wafted up into the room - the atmosphere already dense with our sweat, with our love, musked over by the sweet tang of the nicotine.

Lighting his own cherry he chuckles lightly, lips pushing out a stream of smoke. He settled closer to me on the bed, our slick, pleasured bodies fitting together once more like the final puzzle piece. Legs entangled within each other’s, my head finds its home on his chest, and as I look up at him, his lips curved into a smile. And for one, bliss filled moment I forgot all about the bigger picture, our destinies suddenly intertwined once more. For a few moments we’re just two lovers smoking a cigarette after making love, the sweet kiss before the sparking fire, the quiet before the oncoming storm.

Atop the sheets, Bo fell into slumber, his long body spread in repose, his arms encircling my waist as I tried to manage even an hour of sleep. Dead to the world, his only movement the gradual rise and fall of his chest, I slid along it, hoping to hear what I had so sorely missed. The proud yet sedate lub-dub, lub-dub of his heart. Tangled amongst each other, I desperately pushed back the sickly-sweet thought, the harbinger haunting my thoughts that one day I’d hear his gentle lub-dub come to an end. That his chest would still, no more breath peeling in and out of it, just a vessel - a shell. Nothing would prepare us for the inevitability of death - only the knowledge that we’d given ourselves so completely to one another, that we’d spend every waking moment devoted, could lessen the blow.

After a few torrid, sex steeped days in that bed and breakfast, we decided it was time to go home. To say goodbye to the only home I’d ever known. Stepping off the train to our little town on the coast I was met with both the fresh salty sea air, and also a wave of sadness that this would be the last time I would be here. How the ocean had its ways of both mesmerising us and instilling that longing.

Small down the length of the corridor, was her unmistakable blond swathe of hair. Dropping my bags at the mouth of the entrance I waved her up the long, echoing vastness between us - how it would soon be much more than just a train ride away. I pressed my freshly bejewelled palm to Bo’s chest, my eyes silently apologising for the flurry of screams that we would become. Amidst Bessie’s staccato footsteps thundering down the corridor to meet me, Bo held the silence between us, like it was sacred. His eyes crinkled at the edges as he brought my palm up to his mouth, bent my wrist forward slightly as he pressed a sharp, stubbly kiss on the back of my hand in quiet release.

Regretfully turning away from him I daren’t look back as I took flight down the corridor, and went headlong into Bessie’s open arms.“Emily!” you’re back!? Bessie screamed. I turned to Bo briefly, who with a tiny nod of his head left the bags at the entrance and slowly ambled out of sight.

“I’m back, only for a little while” her face dropped “I-we” I nodded back the space that Bo had occupied only moments ago “We’re getting married” Bessie let loose what could only be described as a banshee’s wail, as she pulled me into her chest again, my cheek squashed painfully against her bony sternum. How I would even miss her over-eagerness, her splendid unabashedness that made her such a true friend.“I came back to say goodbye” my eyes filled, squeezing her palms in my own, swinging them side to side between us.

Her face dropped - there was no mistaking Bessie’s inability to hide her emotions, what was electric elation quickly turned to disappointment. “Goodbye? What, you’re not staying?” she dropped my hand dramatically.

“We’ll get married in the churchyard, in a few days, God willing” I nodded, my lips now a thin line “But Bess, things have come up, we have a schedule to keep” I shook my head.

“What schedule? You have the rest of your lives to be together, now!” she exclaimed, searching my eyes for the answer to her unvoiced question.

I sighed a deep breath, the inevitability of my condition weighing heavy on my lips, “Um, I couldn’t deprive Bo’s parents of meeting their grandchild…”

Bessie’s face lit up, eyes wide as she glanced down quickly at me. As if expecting there would be an almighty bump bustling between us out of nowhere. “You’re up the duff?! But you always said…” her face went stony as she contemplated saying his name, “That…that you couldn’t” still her excitement couldn’t be contained, and she gripped my shoulders harshly, shaking me a little back and forth.

I paused, and sighed deeply “What if I was wrong? What if it wasn’t…” Tommy’s name was on the tip of my tongue, but something beneath the surface didn’t want me to say it. A part of me wanted it to remain at peace, what was once laid to rest was only brought back by the mention of their name - made alive again, and I didn’t wish to disturb his long slumber. Finally, I had a reason to silence his name in my head, to let him lie in silent repose, forever. “Me, that couldn’t conceive? What if I was able to…all along?”

“Bloody hell girl, I’m so happy for you,” a straight lipped smile spread across her face, her cheeks aglow with pride, so you’re-” she fumbled for words “You’re heading on over to the states?”

“A day or two after the wedding, yes” I nodded, seeing the realisation that her best friend was traversing vast oceans, and would no longer be just a penned letter in the post away. The distance we would share was much further than lettered correspondence could bear.

“I always knew you were destined for greatness” Bessie’s eyes started to fill, her large hands squeezing my shoulders again, vying for a closeness that would soon be foreign.

“Greatness? Oh no, that was never for me…just to love, and be loved would be enough” I brushed off her compliment, feeling a heat rush to my cheeks at her admission.

“You’ll be loved across continents then, across time, by the living” she swallowed “and the dead, my dear” hot tears spilled from her brown eyes, the rising tide too much for her to dam with her stiff upper lip.

“There’s another reason I came back,” I implored, taking her shaking, sweaty hand into mine “Tell me you’ll accompany me in the wedding?”

Bessie’s other hand came up to her mouth, now stretched wide in a grin, still as the torrent of tears cascaded down her face “It would be my greatest honour, Emily”.

***

Down the rocky, winding country roads we walked, I matched Bo’s pace with the crutches, every once in a while we would stop and I would lean on the fence posts, and look out to what I was leaving behind, to a life that had given me so much, and yet taken away at the same time. How I was being given a second chance - at love, at bearing life, I pondered in the spaces between conversations.

“You didn’t have to come, you know” I mumbled against his chest as we take refuge next to a field of lily of the valley - delicate green shoots enrobed the tiniest of flowers, open like the cloche of a bell, white and round at the ends. A field of creamy white dots, singing in the sunlight, playing in the breeze.

“Of course I did, I wanna see that little guy doing well” I heard Bo rest one of his crutches against the fence and felt his hand come to the top of my head, and I leaned into the touch. Since he had returned to me we had barely spent a moment apart. His touch started something electric in me, created heat where there was once frost, allowed me to move again. How I never even realised that I needed to be touched like this, not just when we made love, but safe fingers threaded through one another’s, his knee knocking against mine. It felt so good to be so close to someone - their body almost an extension of my own, a comfort so fully both at home and uprooted at the same time - at home in a foreign country.

Peter’s farm rounded the bend of the road, slowly coming into view over the steadily climbing hill, and we had to pause a few more times, to allow for Bo to ascend the hill with me. A small cottage forged with thatch and cobblestone - truly one of the oldest houses in our little town. Must’ve been standing for a hundred years, and would withstand a hundred more, if the clay like ground didn’t suck it into the sea in the coming years.

On approaching the stout building, I saw the door was cracked open. Still I knocked at the door, not wanting to betray his trusting nature. The older man ambled out of a side room and toward the front door, a gentle smile on his aged face, wrinkles of smiles gone by framed his expression. “Peter, so good to see you” I crossed the threshold as he extended it, and the man crouched down ever so slightly to pay me a gentle but brief hug.

“Emily, glad you’re back, and I heard all about your fancy man,” Peter nodded toward Bo, his height too much for the old cottage, his neck tilted at an odd angle to get through the door frame “nice to meet you, Bo, don’t worry about shaking my hand,” he gestured toward the crutches keeping Bo upright, and everyone let out a small laugh in the form of a unified sigh.

“I appreciate it, sir” Bo nodded, his neck curved at an impossible angle - this sort of house was not built for his kind, I had doubted he’d ever been in such a small dwelling before. No, this man was made for mansions, churches with their grand ceilings, and skies, stretching out beyond forever.

“No need to call me sir, it’s Peter to you” he laughed, pointing that we can leave through the main door to access the back fields. We rounded the stone cobbled house to his field, the sun was beating so hard I held my palm in front of my eyes to shield from the blinding sun, but I spotted him, I could spot him anywhere. A tiny black splodge flecked with white was nestled amongst a patch of wildflowers. Sprays of yellow and pink flanked him, I could see the gentle rise and fall of his belly, a perfect bed for napping amongst nature.

“Charlie’s been the perfect houseguest” Peter started “Apart from chasing my chickens, although he’s not caught a single one yet” Bo made a joke about Charlie being lazy, and I couldn’t exactly disagree. In his older age Charlie had become sleepier, all the more ready to curl up by your feet by the hearth rather than chase butterflies down the path. As I suppose we all did in old age, we slow down, we appreciate the pace of life more as it slowly runs out on us. As we got closer, I saw his yellowy eyes open behind the paw that was covering them, shielding them from the midday sun. He unfurled slowly, sitting up tall and leaning down into a long, much needed stretch. His limbs extended far beyond their normal length, his mouth opened in a tiny meow as he saw us from afar, and a heat began behind my eyes - though I had told myself I wouldn’t cry.

“Hey Charles” I crouched down slightly, and laughed through my nose as he shook his head around, blowing the cobwebs away after a much needed nap “Hey boy” I whispered as I neared him, and his face stretched into an almighty yawn, as he came bounding along to me. Like I’d never left, he bumped his head into my hand, particularly liking the newfound ring on my left hand, hearing his distinct purring as he excitedly rubbed his chin along my fingers. Through the delicate flowers I barely heard Bo sidle up alongside me, but I saw it in Charlie’s reaction. He stared up at Bo, and let out an almighty meow as he began to circle his legs, somewhat hesitant around the legs of the crutches.

“Here, I’ll bring him up to you” I said as I grabbed Charlie by his middle, up to Bo’s level. Charlie never struggled when being handled, even seemed to enjoy it - being up here with us adults. Charlie stretched out a paw and touched Bo’s chest, the highest he could get when in my arms.

Bo chuckled lightly and said “Goodbye old boy, I’ll miss you” - and it was almost like he knew, leaning into our scratches on his head and chin, his gentle meows whenever Bo spoke - almost in direct response. I told myself I wouldn’t cry - yet it was all I could manage to do with Charlie curled up in my arms, furry body purring along to the beating of my own heart. We all knew at that moment that it was goodbye - and thank you, for all the years of love he had given us, as well as we had given him. I’d never forget him, my first child, born out of the despair and drudgery of years past, Charlie had given me hope, bred a love and kinship between us all. It was finally time to set him down, to let him play and sleep amongst the wildflowers, where I knew he’d live out a prosperous life, and that was all I could have asked for him.

***

I leafed through the dresses in my wardrobe, not caring too much what I would be wearing, the dress was a simple formality. It did not matter what I was wearing, but what I was will to do in the dress. Proffer myself to another, and have him give himself to me. My fingers passed my wedding dress to Tommy. An off white high necked dress mostly of the silkiest satin, with a whalebone bodice that lay beneath. Capped sleeves, the fabric slipped through my fingers, and I lingered for a moment, before Bessie thundered in through the bedroom door, forever the hurricane in the stillest of moments.

“They’re not very traditional, but we don’t exactly have the time to go to a seamstress and get one made for you, so-” I heard her pause, seeing me touching my old wedding dress.“You weren’t, thinking of-?”

I cut her to the quick “No, no I couldn’t” I smiled, releasing the fabric, letting the fabric slip through my fingers, perhaps for the last time.

“Are you thinking about him, about…Tommy?” Usually, the mere mention of his name was like a punch to the gut - blindsiding and cruel, but over time I’d find the pain to be more tolerable. Less bitter and more sweet, tantalising on the tongue as the memory of him filtered through me. Altogether more happy that he had happened to me. Grief finds a way of lessening over time, it’s not as if the edge of the knife turns blunt, it’s more that your skin thickens to allow for it to not be pierced - a ruggedness develops beneath it all, protecting you from the sharpest of blades. “I spend a great deal of time thinking of him,” I let my hands fall to my sides, “and no lover or marriage can ever change that,” I sighed “I feel like I’ve learnt over the years, that grief doesn’t ever really go away, it just changes slightly, morphs into something different, and over time you learn to live with it, learn to love another”

“It changes, but never really leaves you” Bessie agreed, placing a selection of dresses down on the bed, their opulent fabrics spilled out on the duvet, looking out of place in my old bedroom - muted browns and yellows peppered the room. The austere colours born of wars gone by and would linger for years more - I had no more use for the times, colours and countries of old. I came to realise I was born for something better, a new land, readying itself on the other side of the Atlantic with open arms.

“Yes, it never truly leaves” I agreed, feeling the glint of another tear sparkle along the edge of my eye. Later, in front of the mirror in my bedroom, we had adjusted a cream silk dress of Bessie’s mothers - while not a wedding dress, it certainly fit the bill. A tad old fashioned, but the shape suited me well, hugged my curves. Bessie knelt at my feet, fastidiously adjusting a popped seam near my left knee. I gazed at the woman in the mirror. She looked like me, moved like me and spoke like me, but it was almost as if I didn’t recognise her anymore.

“Are you alright, Em? You’re a bit..quiet” she briefly looked up at me, before turning her attention toward the unsightly seam marring the dress.

“I’m fine, fantastic even” I let the smile that had been pulling at the corners of my mouth all day finally stretch across my face “I-I just can’t believe it’s all happening” a pit formed in my stomach, like the fogged memory of the past, digging a hole to the dead in my belly.

Bessie chuckled lightly before saying “I hate to tell you, Em, but you said the same thing-”

“The morning of my wedding with Tommy, I know. Still, no matter how many times you do it - love someone, I mean - it never gets old, it always makes you feel as if you’re brand new, as if there’s nothing else in the world except you and them, and your devotion to one another” Bessie hummed along in agreement, and I enjoyed the comfortable silence between us, how I would miss it - she and I had been kindred spirits, two of a kind, and while it seemed you could find love more than once, I wasn’t so sure I would find another one of her.

I let my mind wander, as to not linger on the sadness of leaving home, my found family - but how I’d create a new one. How I had just one puzzle piece of it nestled beneath the loosely strung corset wrapped around my waist, how the journey always seemed most arduous, the journey the most perilous - just short of the summit. Bessie stood up, removing pins and spare thread from her mouth, and whispered “I think you’re done”. We both stared at my reflection in the mirror - but while her eyes were trained on me, and her handiwork, I couldn’t stop looking at her, knowing that it would be one of the last times we were alone together. Slowly, I turned to her, pulling her to face me so she would stop ogling the dress for one moment. “I’ll miss you” she whispers, a strained smile pulling at her lips.

“You were my sister where I had none, my friend until the end” my fingers ruminated the skin of her elbows, eager to take a piece of her where I knew I couldn’t.

“Em, don’t cry, your face will go all blotchy” but as soon as she scolded me, the tears began to fall, and I pulled her into me, not giving a toss if I walked down the aisle face red as blood, but the moments we’d shared over the years, buried beneath my heart as it beat.

In a flurry of uncooked rice, tossed into the air by the wedding guests, we stood in the archway of the cobbled town church - we were wed. I gasped as the tiny white specks fell all around us, the skittering sound of it hitting the floor quickly drowned out by cheers and whoops of everyone around us.

Hands clasping each others, we realised what was expected of us, and I turned toward him. Even if my voice could be heard over the swell of onlookers and wellwishers - no words would do justice to the fluttering of my heart, and the sweet ache that sprung up in my stomach whenever I saw him. Love has blotted out all the pain, love has been there when nothing else has - love has bloomed from all this pain, fear, and worry into something completely its own. Love has triumphed.

Bo seems to feel it too, standing obliquely next to me in his forest green Army finery - the only thing close to a suit that he owned, his crutches making him lean at an odd angle - partly on me, partly on them. He averts my eye contact for a moment, glancing behind me to where his best friend stands, best man - away from all the bloodshed, true to his word. Come to say goodbye. Bo’s dimple winks in the startling sunlight as a cloud begins to hover over our small township, and he throws his left crutch into the crowd. Leonard catches it with an equally bright smile, and just as I’m done looking over my shoulder, Bo captures me in his arms. Dangerously balanced on one crutch too small for him - his right arm winds around my waist and pulls me in close to him - settling his lips on mine for the kiss to begin our married lives with, a kiss to seal our lives away to one another. Forged in nerves as hard as steel and hearts as tender as the night.

Somehow, the crowd gets louder around us as our lips are locked, and I feel the chilly pinpricks of rain splatter down my face. He pulls back, hair tousled just so, and a steadfast look in his eye, as we open up the church door to be the first ones to file back inside. Safe from the oncoming deluge.

I spotted them during the ceremony. Back row. Bessie was talking Bo’s ear off about what we should call our baby - I heard all sorts of horrid names being thrown about. Bo was tugging on his hair and laughing a lot, his uninjured leg bobbing up and down to an inaudible beat. Still, I squeezed his hand and left her to him in the full knowledge that she was harmless - her nattering would tire him out, but it would not wear him down.

Mr and Mrs Davies huddled in the alcove of the church by the font, looking unsure as to whether they’d brave the wet weather whirling around outside. Violet saw me moving toward them, and I braced for impact. “Emily” she said, her voice laced with a softness I’d so seldom heard.

“Mrs D-Davies” I stuttered, letting my nerves get the better of me. Her feline features locked me in a death stare, however blunted by age, still struck me just as sharply.

In that velvetine tone “Please, you know better now to call me Violet” she shook her head, what she had taken on in years she had shed in hatred - our last meeting at the town hall shrouded in christmas finery seemed like a lifetime ago, not merely a couple of months.

She plucked my hand from my side and stilled it underneath her own, her husband looking on silently with a thin lipped smile and wide eyes - perhaps even he was surprised by her candour. She patted my hand in between hers, the thin purpling skin on the backs of her hands a sign of hard work, of gumption. “Mrs. Burnham” she said under her breath, snickering to herself. Finally, her brown eyes looked to me, and it was as if all the ice and venom had melted away, “It sounds good on you” she said, although I could tell it pained her to. “Love,” she sighed, casting a glance to her husband “Looks good on you as well, my dear” her hands started off loose, but eventually got tighter around my own, making the ring on my finger sting painfully into my skin.

“Wh-what we’re trying to say is” Eric interrupted the moment of tenuous silence between us, breaking the palpable tension - as he always did. “What a beautiful couple you make” Eric’s jowls wobbled slightly with the sincerity of his words, “We know you don’t need it, not in these modern times” Eric continued, using his free hand not propped up on the cane to peel his wife away from me “but we give you our blessing,” Violet’s vice like grip loosened on my hand, and I slowly pulled it away from her - not giving her another opportunity to bite. “Don’t we, Vi?”

Violet sniffled, and cleared her throat loudly before saying “Y-yes” - I saw her eyes fill with tears, through anger or sorrow I couldn’t quite tell, perhaps it was a mixture of both. As if riling up the confidence to say something, she snatched a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at invisible tears on her wrinkled cheeks.

“T-thank you for giving our Tommy a few years of love” she sniffled behind her handkerchief, “He truly bloomed when he was with you” a singular, and very real tear appeared at the corner of her right eye, and she quickly dabbed it away, as if pretending it never existed “And isn’t it fortuitous that this war both took a husband away from you, and gave you another” her jaw twitched and I flinched away from her slightly, feeling the words twist the dagger already plunged deep within my chest - the bleeding heart I would always carry with me, being poked at and prodded.

Eric steered his wife further away from me, and before Violet got the chance to inflict any more wounds, he said “We truly wish you all the best, Emily - I hope you get a chance at happiness”.

I think I muttered a breathless “thank you” as they slowly exited the church, Violet not once looking back at me - almost as if she couldn’t bear to.

The steady flow of townsfolk passed us by, shaking Bo’s hand and pulling me into hugs, stifling ones, loose ones, and soothing ones. Peter from the farm, Oswald Kingsley, the great plier of mead to make merry with, Mr and Mrs Davies, had all showered us with their well wishes, their hesitant approval. I was near enough constantly surrounded by a gaggle of nurses from the hospital - all marvelling at my newlywed status, and since Bessie couldn’t keep her mouth shut, mooning over my pregnancy. And I thought to myself, what was a wedding without a few tears shed, a few hearts broken? Not much of a wedding at all, it seemed.

I smiled along and laughed at all the right beats, and every time I caught Bo’s eye from across the room, a nod and a twinkle away - I kept thinking how happy I was, how I had got everything I’d ever wanted. Still the knowledge, bittersweet on the roof of my mouth was enough to remind me of the union of myself and Tommy in this self same church, a love I would still carry, til death, and now how I had taken on another, my swelling heart fit to burst with love for the both of them.

***

When I’d been able to get Bessie to release me from her claws, Leonard found me over the bunting and crowd of rain drenched congregation. “Bo” he smiled, arms outstretched for me. “It’s really happening?” he said, pulling me in for a tight bear hug, his familiar musk of cigarettes and beer flooded my senses, and I breathed it in for a split second longer - knowing in all likelihood that I’d never see him again.

“It’s really happening” I repeated, nodding my head solemnly as we broke apart from the embrace.

“Bo Burnham, married, fuck. Who would’ve thought.” he laughed, although the smile barely reached his eyes “And a little birdie told me that she’s expecting?” Leonard’s face stretched wide in a smile, pearly whites glowing in the dark daytime light, the sun’s rays held back behind torrents of clouds, casting the church in a perpetual twilight.

“Y-yeah,” I nodded, catching up to the conversation “she is” I pulled my shoulders back with a modicum of pride, wishing this moment was solely for the joyous - and not just the sorrow. “I-um was talking about you guys, going over to Europe?” I glanced around the church, a smattering of army officials and uniforms around the place - their last hurrah.

Leonard sighed, pulling Bo closer “Man, all that matters is that we could say goodbye, at-at least” he faltered, “It’s something, compared to what Greg got” I swallowed my sadness down along with a large gulp of small beer. Hearing his name was enough to prickle up my fear response, remembering the gracelessness with which he died - left this world with us peering above him, helpless, choking, undignified. “Look at you Bo - you came to England a boy, and you’re gonna get to leave a man” Leonard pulled at my lapels, straightening them where they didn’t need it. His dark eyes shone with a pride I’d never seen from him. Not when we were conscripted, sure as hell not when we were shipped over here. Not even from when we were stupid kids, driving around in that hot wired car, looking for cheap thrills. How was I suddenly deserving of all this pride, pomp and circumstance, when I wasn’t the one being shipped away to my death?

“Nah” I shrugged him off, not letting my emotions get the better of me “You’re the real man - always have been” I nodded toward him “I’ll always be stunted” I paused, before chuckling to myself “Emotionally that is, the hope is that I don’t get any taller, I’m already giving the trees a run for their money”

“You sure are, Bo” Leonard laughed, and there was a lull hanging in the air between us. Scattered sighs after the fact, and the tone hung in the balance as I spun sweet fiction for our futures together.

“When you get back to New England, look me up” I pat him on the shoulder, a slanted smile pulling at my lips, the roundabout lie dulling the mood.

Leonard huffed a sigh and mirrored my expression, “I will, I’ll be hollering at your door at ungodly hours, Emily won’t mind?”

I paused, taking another sip of my drink for good measure, anything to prolong this conversation, elongate our last moments together. “Nah, she never could, she’s too kindhearted,”

He nodded knowingly, glancing over his shoulder to find her in the crowd, hugging Bessie, happy tear tracks down both of their faces. “She knows what we’ve been through.”

“She doesn’t just know, she feels it -” I sigh, my fist gripping the half pint of small beer “You know, I bet it’s gonna come out after this” I swallowed more lukewarm liquid “A generation silenced by this bullshit, a generation left without anything” as the ire began to rise in my throat like bile, and Leonard made no attempt to quell my fire.

“Y-yeah, you’re right” he sighed, his palm coming to my shoulder roughly. “But at least there are some of us left to tell that story, who refuse to be silenced” A glint of sorrow limned Leonard’s eyes as he shed a single tear. More than I’d ever seen him shed. Not even when we got conscripted, not even when we lost Greg. I pulled him in for a hug, standing at exactly six feet I still dwarfed him, engulfed him and felt him shudder as he hugged me back - so tightly as if our friendship could change histories and stay our course, pull us back from where we were headed - the inevitability of it all. Walking away felt like a betrayal, felt wrong amongst a whole day of right, but as we parted ways, hugged and said what could be our final goodbyes, I was left stunned, bereft and yet aglow at the same time. It was as if I’d never feel whole again - and yet simultaneously was changing, moulding how I would feel whole, wrending it anew.

I found my new wife amongst the sea of people, slowly thinning out as the weather outside cleared up. We sat amongst the pews, speaking the odd word, our tongues too excited and worn out from the thanks we uttered at every congratulations, every wish well and blessing taken on board. Her head slotted neatly into my armpit, her breaths finally slowed to be like mine, a quiet calm from the thrum of the day, the church finally feeling like a sanctuary.

Her small hand breached the boundary of my knee, clad in green from the day’s festivities. Her fingers found my own, threading through them in that echoing silence, the steady rise and fall of our chests, the tender beat to which we’d set the rest of our lives to.

The next day, summer sun blinked brightly on the horizon and we set our course. Bessie and Leonard bid their tear-streaked goodbyes to us at the train station.

Leonard and I were mostly silent as we peeled apart, and I heard Emily ask Bessie to promise to write, and as our train pulled into the station in a fog of steam, I heard Bessie retort that Emily knew that she wouldn’t. With a knowing nod, they parted. Tearful, we boarded the train together, leaning out of the cabin’s window, waving goodbye to our friends, our past, until a bend in the track took us away from them both, forever.

Soaring along the coastline to the port, Emily fell asleep on my shoulder, her gentle breaths almost lulling me into slumber. Upon a rather loud train horn she was shocked awake, her sleepy cheek pink and white. Slightly patterned from my shirt, the delicate weave of the fabric replicated on her skin, branding her to me, if only temporarily. Readjusting herself on the seat next to me, her fingers idly toying with the buttons on my shirt she whispered “Are you sad that a chapter of your life is ending?” I brushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear, tenderly rubbing the soft flesh where her neck began.

Chuckling at her doubt, that this could ever not be what I saw for myself - for her. Her blue eyes struck a chord in my chest at once captivating and beguiling as I whispered back “No, because another one is just beginning” I trailed my fingers down her neck, across her collarbone, smoothed along the length of her arm before I rested my palm on her belly. She blinked sleepily at me, a tiny smile forming on her lips - before nestling her head against my shoulder once more. Silently satisfied, loudly in love.

#love blooms #bo burnham fanfiction #bo burnham smut #bo burnham fanfic #period fanfiction #au period fanfiction

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bunnis-monsters · 18 days

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NSFW

You certainly love your poor himbo!vampire lover, but he’s definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed.

Like all vampires, his saliva has healing properties so his victims don’t bleed out during his feedings. Because of this, he’s taken to freaking out when you get injured and immediately licking the wound, planting a soft kiss on it after.

He smells your blood, and he gets nervous. The man adores you, he’d be lost if you died!

So when you woke up to the soft ache in your cunt being combated by the pleasure of your boyfriend sucking on your clit, you were quite confused.

As you rubbed your sleepy eyes, you heard your boyfriend choking on his sobs, tears rolling down his pale cheeks as his hands held onto your thighs.

“Y-you’re gonna be okay, angel. Going to… going to make it better…” he blubbered, your blood dripping down his chin before he moved back to your aching cunt.

“Love…”

He sniffled as you reached out a hand to cup his cheek, gently swiping your blood from his lip. “I’m not injured, I’m just on my period.”

Your lover blinked, his eyes going wide, and you could tell if he could blush his cheeks would be a bright red with embarrassment.

“O-oh…”

As he pulled away, you grabbed him by the hair and guided his lips back to your pussy. “But you’re still helping, sweet thing.”

His eyes softened and he settled back down between your thighs, his cheek resting against your belly as he softly nuzzled against it. “Then I’ll take care of you… I’ll always take care of you, my angel…”

So you sat back and relaxed as he fed, making sure to gently push you over the edge and ease your pain.

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ghouljams · 6 months

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König would be so good as a period buddy :(

He's got those huge hands and I bet he just radiates heat, he'd massage your back while you lay on him, he'd press his hand against your stomach to try and soothe the cramps. He'd be so attentive, he was raised by his mutter to be a good boy and this is important good boy activities :( fetching heating pads, candy, easy food when your hormones fuck up your appetite, soup and tea. König would just coo at you each time you whined, he hates seeing you hurting but you're so cute and needy :(

He'd love period sex. You're so squirmy and embarrassed, but you're so hot on his tongue and you make such pretty sounds for him. There's something dark and possessive that growls with pleasure seeing your blood on his cock, feeling you tremble and cry because your hormones are running wild. You're just so cute! You're adorable, he just wants to eat you up. Maybe he will, he's already got you basically confined to bed. Why ever let you anywhere else after this?

#cod x reader #x reader #könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig #f!reader #könig x f!reader #afab!reader #tw periods #period sex #i am in so much pain lol #ghoul is very sick rn

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konigsblog · 22 days

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cw: pregnancy. 🍼

when you complain to könig, he's more focused on finding a solution for the problem at hand.

so when you came to him complaining about your period aches and hormonal pains, he had thought of the best solution to fix that issue.

you were nervous. your legs thrown over his broad shoulders, uneasy and anxious if this was the best decision. you had always used protection and contraceptives to prevent pregnancy, but this time, könig wasn't wearing anything. you sucked in a sharp breath, watching as he rubbed his bulbous, swollen cock over your soaking cunt, teasing your tight hole while reassuring you.

his tip was already sticky, pearly beads of his creamy stickiness oozing from the head of his lengthy cock, and his eyes shut tightly at the familiar warmth and wetness. he began to ease inside slowly, looming over your figure and hunching over your form, running his calloused fingertips down your soft, wet cheeks. tears slowly began rolling down your face. even if he didn't impregnate you, sex was good for your period; it would distract you from the tight, stomach-churning cramps that always managed to leave you in agony.

könig's thrusts started off slow and sloppy, his balls slapping against your rear with each gentle thrust, and the thickness of his cock stretching your pussy. your gummy, smooth walls pulsed around his veiny dick, his breathing beginning to quicken and fasten at the sudden tightness. a wave of pleasure rushed through your body, leaving your eyes half-lidded and accepting every inch of könig's large, hung cock.

you could already feel him beginning to lose control. he was still gentle; his grip was more firm, his fingers kneading with the flesh and fat on your hips and thighs. he took in the scent of your arousal, filling his nostrils and driving him utterly insane. könig ploughed into your soft folds, each thrust causing your moans to come out choked and stuttered, looking into his eyes with tears, causing your vision to become blurry and foggy. you could feel each vein rub against your velvety walls, your back arching with euphoria rushing through your weak body.

könig couldn't hold himself back. he spurted ropes of his milky, white arousal, his thrusts relentless as he fucked his load deep into you. your fingers were nestled in his locks of hair, and your eyes shut tightly at the sensation of his sticky cum filling your cunt.

at least you wouldn't have to worry about having a period for another nine months.

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in-som-niyah · 3 months

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Attentive!Jason who feels you toss and turn away from him in the night, signalling that something was wrong. He didn't know what, but upon feeling you curl into a ball, holding your stomach, it clicked.

Attentive!Jason who turns on his side to pull you back into his chest, hoping the warmth would soothe you enough to go back to a deeper sleep. Sighing sadly, he realizes that this time might be worse than he thought.

Attentive!Jason who kisses your hairline and slowly untangles himself from you in order to get up. He goes and puts the kettle on, fills a glass of water and brings your painkillers of choice, making a mental note of buying you more the next time he's out.

Attentive!Jason who sets the glass and painkillers on your nightstand, then slowly makes his way back into bed. Gently, he wakes you with kisses and firm strokes on your back, soothing some of the ache.

Attentive!Jason who, upon gently waking you, helps you to the bathroom to get cleaned up and take a hot shower.

Attentive!Jason who kisses your lips every time you try and apologize for ruining the sheets followed by a "no more tears querida, just let me take care of you"

Attentive!Jason that fills up your hot water bottle and a cup of herbal tea with extra honey just how you like it, and brings both items back to your room. He wraps the hot water bottle in a thin, fuzzy blanket, as to not burn you.

Attentive!Jason who puts your towel and clean pyjamas in the dryer for 5 minutes to warm them up for you before you get out of the shower.

Attentive!Jason who helps dress you when your shower is done, but leaving you to do what you need to privately. He just wants you safe and comfortable.

Attentive!Jason that guides you back to bed, not in a smothering and demeaning way, but just to make things easier on your aching joints.

Attentive!Jason that bundles you up snugly after you finish your tea, and reads to you to help you fall back asleep. The painkillers seem to be working, and he knows his voice soothes you.

Attentive!Jason that kisses your forehead and presses the hot water bottle to your sore abdomen once you begin to stir again, in effort to ease the tension.

Attentive!Jason who will, no matter what time it is, get up to get what you need. This boy is so madly in love with you, nothing you could ever need is too much for him. It doesn't matter if he just came back from a gruelling patrol, a fight with Bruce, or recovering from his own ailments. Jason Loverboy Todd is going to bring you tea at 4am. No complaints. No questions asked.

Attentive!Jason who secretly researches new ways to help you when you're hurting, always wanting to learn and improve.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: answered this ask that disappeared for some reason???? it was from some general attentive!jason hcs when reader was on their period/cramping but i genuinely have no idea where it went....

anyways time for bed its 2am

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talaok · 5 months

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Movie night

Summary: Peter's coming over for your weekly movie night, and you’ve decided you wanna confess your feelings for him, but as it turns out, he has similar plans

Warnings: Smut| unprotected p in v sex, praising, soft!Dom Peter

a/n: thanks to this request I might go back into my Peter Parker era honestly. Also, @wtvbabes (this is not the person that made the request)

It was time for the weekly movie night with Peter,

You had been doing it for so long that you didn't even remember how or when it started, it was now simply a part of your routine.

Every Friday night, at 6 o'clock you went to whatever house was free, ordered pizza, and watched a movie each of you had chosen.

It was routine, so you shouldn't have been nervous... except that this time, this time wasn't gonna be like the other times, this time you had made a promise to yourself that you were finally gonna come clean, that you were finally gonna confess your feelings.

You had been keeping it a secret for way too long, and you were tired... god, were you tired, it was exhausting pretending like you didn't want more, like you didn't wanna kiss him and hold his hand every time you were together, and perhaps it was the holiday spirit surrounding you, or perhaps it was the fact that Gemma, your other best friend, had given you a 30-minute talk about how you should just "stop being a little bitch and tell him already" after you had started your usual ramble about how perfect and great Peter was,

But you had made peace with yourself, if this was gonna ruin your entire friendship, if you were gonna lose him forever, then so be it, because at the end of the day, if you couldn't have him like you really wanted to, then there was no point in having him at all.

And just then, when you were repeating your script to the mirror for the thousandth time, the words coming out of your mouth not even making sense anymore, he knocked at the door.

For some reason, a gasp fled your throat, but after the familiar "hey, it's me" from the other side of the door all you could do was take a deep breath and fix your dress.

It's all gonna be ok, it's all gonna be ok

"hi" you smiled, opening the door

Your anxiety must have been all over your face because the way he frowned at you told you everything you needed to know.

"hi" he said, coming into the house as he inspected your face "is something wrong?" he asked "Please don't tell me your sister changed the password to her Netflix again"

You forced a smile to your lips "no, no everything is fine- let's just... sit down"

"ok..." he frowned, following you as you sat on the couch "did something happen, or-"

"no" you shut him down "I-I just wanted" You shook your head as you regretted your choice of words "no actually, I need to- uhm- to tell you something"

You watched his eyes widen slightly, but out of all the things he could have said, he chose the only one that made you even fucking more anxious.

"Really?" he smiled "That's funny 'cause I do too"

You swore you felt your heart stop beating.

What could he ever need to tell you?

"w-what?"

Your voice didn't even sound like your own, it was just fear and stress finding a way to come out of your body.

"yeah" he nodded, watching you closely "so... you wanna go first or..."

"no, no, you go first" you spit out, making him chuckle

He still didn't get why you were acting so weird, but to be perfectly transparent, he was kind of freaking out internally himself, so he didn't really have the brain capacity to investigate further.

"Alright" he laughed "I'll go first"

His eyes focused behind you for a moment as he prepared for whatever was coming, and just then, did you notice that perhaps you weren't the only nervous one.

What is it?

Did something happen

Oh god, did he find a girlfriend?

Your heart was beating out of your chest and then just like that, he came out and said: "Y/n I like you" with a hopeful smile on his face, while yours completely stilled.

Actually not just your face, you as a whole went completely still, frozen at the words that had just come out of his mouth

Did I just imagine that?

Am I dreaming or something?

What the actual fuck is going on?

That was supposed to be my lin-

"y/n are you there?"

He was talking to you, you realized.

"w-w-what?" your eyes were wide open in shock

"I know" he smiled, scratching the back of his neck, "I know it's out of the blue, and I really really hope this won't ruin anything, but... I've been feeling like this for a long time about you, and I just- I needed to tell you"

And then you could do nothing, absolutely nothing but throw your arms around him, hugging him so tight he probably couldn't breathe.

"y/n?" he murmured, hugging you back, but before he could say anything else you leaned away, still holding onto him as if he were a life jacket, and smiled like an idiot.

"I like you too Peter-" you grinned "I really really like you"

The smile on his face now matched yours, as his eyes sparked with joy

"you do?"

"of course I do!" you almost yelled from the excitement "that's-that's what I wanted to tell you! I can't believe this"

You looked into each other's eyes, both incredulous and unbelievably happy altogether,

you were so close, but an inch between your faces, that what happened next was inevitable.

His lips were on yours,

his lips were on yours and they felt every bit as good as you had spent hours and hours imagining.

And then for a moment, you both leaned away, looking at each other as soft silly laughs fled your throats.

"i can't believe this is real" he breathed, melting your heart right into a puddle

"I can't either"

And then his lips were back on yours, but this time... this time he was hungrier.

His tongue was exploring your mouth, and his hands were one holding your face, while the other started roaming your body, pulling soft whimpers from you as your arms remained locked behind his neck, your left hand gently playing with his hair,

And then in no time, without a clue of how or when, you were lying on the couch, and he was on top of you, his legs parting your thighs.

And you didn't need to know when it had happened, because all you knew was that you liked it, god you really fucking liked it.

His whole broad and strong body was engulfing yours, his scent was all around you, his hands were everywhere, and his mouth... his mouth was simply heavenly.

As embarrassing as it was, you couldn't control your body as you started grinding down onto his leg to try and relieve some of the need pooling between your legs.

"please" you pleaded, whimpering softly into the kiss.

"I like it when you beg, sweetheart"

And if you wanted him before, you now needed him

His lips moved to your neck, starting a slow trail from just below your ear, down until he found your shirt as an obstacle.

You didn't need to be told twice and helped him take it off of you in a second.

Your bra wasn't far behind.

"god, you're so beautiful" he praised, making you blush

he bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it while his other hand played with the other one, making you lose your goddamn mind as you shut your eyes in ecstasy.

"oh my god" you moaned, one of your hands going to his hair as he switched up the breast he was taking care of.

Your panties were completely drenched

He continued his work as his hands traveled underneath your skirt, caressing your thighs in a way that was turning you into a putty mess in his hands.

His fingers gripped the edge of the fabric, and with the help of you raising your hips, only the sheer fabric of your panties divided him from where you begged for his attention

"Peter" you called, stopping him as he had seated himself in between your legs

"yes, sweetheart?"

"I-I've only ever done this once"

His features softened and one of his hands traveled to your face to cup your cheek as he left a soft kiss on your lips

"don't worry, I'll go slow," he promised "I'll take care of everything, you just relax, ok?"

"ok" You nodded softly "I trust you"

He smiled at that, kissing you again "Thank you"

And no more than a few seconds after that, you were completely bare before him.

"you're perfect sweetheart" he murmured "fucking perfect"

He left a kiss on your pussy, making you moan, before his lips were on you again, and you were more desperate than you had ever been.

Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, frantically trying to get it off of him.

"Peter please take this off"

He didn't need to be told twice.

His shirt was on the floor with the rest of your clothes in no time, and then came his pants.

He went back to kissing you, the kiss now a heated mess between your moans and his hunger.

"baby please" you whined, your hand going to his boxers

"what do you want sweetheart?"

"you, please, all of you"

Your voice was so thin and so breathy it was almost incomprehensible

"what about me?" he asked, his mouth next to your ear "You want my cock sweetheart, is that what you want?"

"yes" you moaned, as his hand played with your clit "I'm begging you, please, I need you inside of me"

He freed his cock from the confines of his briefs, as he kept kissing your neck

"you're gonna be good?" he asked, his tip now collecting all your juices and making you squirm uncontrollably "you're gonna be good and take all of it?"

"yes" you breathed "yesplease, yes-"

And without so much as a warning, he had started to push into you

"told you I like hearing you beg"

You moaned so loud you surprised even yourself, and then he retracted his hips and pushed another inch of himself in you, and you were just about ready to die.

"O-oh my god, P-peter" you moaned

He made the same motion again, and you couldn't help but look down at where your bodies were meeting, and that's when you noticed,

"fuck you're so big" you breathed, watching as he thrust only half of his dick inside of you

"it's ok" he purred, kissing your neck sloppily "Just be a good girl and take it" he ordered, pushing in again "Take it all inside this tight little pussy"

A high-peached moan fled your mouth again, as your pussy stretched around him,

"just like that," he said, his hot breath fanning over your skin "That's a good girl"

He was now fully inside you, by some miracle, he had made himself fit, and he felt absolutely perfect.

"fuck you feel so good" he groaned, picking up his pace "so tight" he grunted, feeling your walls squeeze him better than anything ever before "like you were made for me" his thrusts somehow felt deeper now, resulting in even more moans and cries coming out of your mouth

"O-oh god" you whimpered, feeling him hit and hit and hit again that perfect spot inside of you.

"You're taking me so well sweetheart"

The couch was now shaking with each of his movements, while your brain had stopped working and all you could do was cry out as he brought heaven to you.

"look at you" he murmured, kissing your mouth "So beautiful" he praised "so fucking pretty" he groaned, as your walls tightened around him "squeezing me so good"

His thrusts were so fucking deep you could feel them in your belly, and your orgasm was inevitably approaching

"such a good girl"

A louder moan left your throat at that, and he definitely noticed

"you like it when I call you that?" he asked, smirking devilishly "You like hearing that you're my good girl?"

Again, another cry, followed by a frantic nod now.

Your ability to talk had been lost a while ago.

"It's just what you are" he purred in your ear now "You're my good girl y/n, only mine"

And that, that sent you definitively over the edge.

A series of cries and moans resembling his name came out of your mouth as the best orgasm of your life took over your body completely.

He waited for you to come down from your high before he pulled out of you, spilling his seed all over your belly not a second later.

"fuck" he muttered, his head falling to the crook of your neck

You stayed there for a moment, waiting for your heartbeats and breathing to calm down,

And only then, only after you spent five minutes in the most comfortable silence, did he lean away to look at you.

"I love you, Peter"

You couldn't stop yourself from saying it, it was just the truth

And not a beat had passed, that he had already answered

"I love you, y/n"

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star1ight0 · 2 months

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Katsuki Bakugou x Reader "Warm Hands". Period comfort!

I died today exams are coming up and my body decided that I must suffer, endometriosis is no joke. PERIOD COMFORT.

Katsuki was never one for comfort, partly because he never really got it himself so giving it was like standing in cold water. The first time you and Katsuki were together during your period you kept to yourself not wanting to bother him with your mood swings.

He quickly caught on blowing it off as you having an off week. The second time around he was a little more observant noticing how you got more upset over simple work and how you seemed to always have a stomach ache in class.

One Ill fated day you ran out of pads quickly running to Momo giving her a knowing look, she handed you her bag as you ran off. That was only the start of your shitty day. The pills you took to kill your cramps had worn off so now you're suffering in class. Things took a turn for the worse after lunch when whatever the cafeteria food seemed to kill your stomach.

Back in class holding your stomach you left for the bathroom holding your stomach as your lunch betrayed you. After a few minutes of suffering on the bathroom floor, apparently Aizawa felt the need to send Momo to check on you. She helped you up and to recovery girl, not that she could do much but let you rest.

After class Katsuki made his way to the nurses office, seeing you curled in a ball with a bottle of pain killers next to you "The hell happened to you?" He spoke in a rather mean tone but you could still feel the sincerity of his words "Cramps" you said sitting up wrapping your hands around his waist. After a few minutes you grab his hand and get up.

He walks you back to your dorm letting you lean most of your body weight on him most the walk there. Not having any food in your system you felt your body weaken using what little energy you had to lay down. Katsuki watches you curl in a ball a soft yet concerning look still ligers. "I'll make you some soup. Don't die while I'm gone" he says gruffly placing a kiss on your head

When he returns he has a tray with soup, some warm tea and chocolate? You look up at him a bit confused "Why the chocolate?" You say still slightly dazed. "Im not a complete moron.. plus I ran into Momo and she told me" he says the second half is almost incoherent.

You look up at him with a smile holding his rather warm hands to your cold ones. The blissful moment is rudely interrupted by the feeling of a cramp in your lower stomach. Clenching your stomach holding back the tears that had been compiled caused by the many cramps and stress of the day.

A slight groan manages to escape your lips as you feel the side if you bed sink in next to you. Not saying anything you feel your boyfriend pull you towards him. "Where does it hurt" he says avoiding your slightly confused gaze you place his hands on your lower stomach leaning into his touch.

One main up side of Katsuki's quirk was his body radiated more heat then the average person, more so in his hands. "Thank you" you say slowly dozing off.

When you awake you feel your boyfriend's hands still wrapped around you. You walk to the bathroom taking care of yourself. When you come back Katsuki is still asleep so you crawl back on the bed laying in his lap.

The day continues with one similar to the one before.

Sorry this one was a little weird and shorter than I wanted. I'm tired, sick and sleepy but wanted to write this.

Requests are open!

#bakugou katsuki #mha x reader comfort #period comfort #x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #fanfiction #sick comfort #gender neutral reader #bnha comfort #mha bakugou #mha comfort #momo yaoyorozu #aizawa shouta #Spotify

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ginervacade · 2 years

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I’ve Got You Doll

Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: Reader is struggling with a bad period but Bob’s got you doll, no need to worry. Or Periods suck but Bob Floyd is an angel.

Warnings: menstruation, pain

( I use she her pronouns in this fic but not everyone who menstruates is a woman and not all women menstruate!!! Please feel free to read this however you identify, all are welcome on this blog my loves!!!)

( Also I’m lazy and hate writing Y/N so I use my own character’s name, nickname and call sign so just go ahead and substitute it just like you normally would)

You were currently curled up in the fetal position on your couch, rocking back and forth, unable to find a position that didn’t hurt. At this point you were about ready to tear your uterus right out of you body. All of a sudden there was a knock at your door. Ugh, doesn’t whoever it is know that you’re dying?! Can’t they just let you die in peace?! When you don’t answer they knock again. Looking at yourself, sweatpants, hair unkempt, you’re a mess. Maybe they’ll just go away, you hope silently.

*knock knock*

No such luck.

“ Daisy? Are you here?”

Oh, you think, It’s Bob. You almost smile but you’re in too much pain. Sighing you call out,

“ It’s open love, come on in.”

You hear the door handle turn and then your adorable boyfriend sticks his head inside.

“ Hey darlin, you ok?”

“ I’m dying,” you reply, dramatically flopping back onto the couch. He chuckles stepping into the room.

“ Why are you dying?” He questions teasingly.

“ You know exactly why,” you pout.

“ Period?” He says with a sympathetic smile.

“ Mhm.”

“ Oof, is it bad?”

You nod. “ hurts,”you whine as he settles down on the couch beside you.

“ I’m sorry baby, how bad?”

“ Really bad.”

He wraps an arm gently around your shoulders and you curl contentedly into his side.

“ Well what can I do about it?”

“ Nothing seems to be working,” you sigh against his chest, “ So just hold me I guess?”

“ Yes ma’am,” he lifts a hand up in a mock salute “ I’ve got my orders.”

“ At ease soldier,” you giggle, playfully pushing his glasses up and twirling the end of his hair around your finger. He leans down and places a giggly kiss to you lips. You smile into it then lay your head back down on his chest, closing your eyes.

“ You just settle in there. I’ve got you Doll.” He stares down at you, lovingly rubbing circles on your back as you drift off to sleep in his arms, wondering how he got so lucky. You’re wondering the exact same thing.

#bob floyd #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #periods suck #periods #period fanfiction #mensturation #cuddles #look at this cutie #bob top gun

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brnesblogposts · 2 months

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His sweet girl

bucky barnes x reader

bucky taking care of his best girl! (drabble)

Why must women suffer? That’s what you’re thinking as you’re curled up with your knees to your chest trying to get rid of the cramps currently assaulting your abdomen, it hurts too much to get up to get painkillers, you’re also so tired but can’t sleep because of insomnia, something you experience around your cycle.

“Doll?” A quiet soothing voice breaks you from your thoughts and a gentle hand is placed on your back “What’s wrong?” Bucky rubs your back as he asks.

“Cramps” You mumble out, you feel like you could cry, not even just the pain but at the fact it’s consistent and discomforting. Bucky lets out a soft sigh, glad it’s not something more serious like your appendix- Still he feels empathy seeing you laying there in pain.

“I’ll be right back okay?” He says softly, leaving a kiss on your temple as he gets up and leaves your line of vision. As quickly as he left he returns.

“Here baby” He holds out two pills and a glass of water and you sit up slightly and down the meds before resuming fetal position.

“You think this will be more effective than curling up like that?” He’s holding out your hot water bottle and you could cry because of how thoughtful and kind he is, he didn’t have to, but yet he did. You nod and take the bottle from him pressing it against your stomach.

“Thank you” You say quietly as you start to well up which causes your boyfriend to furrow his brows in concern.

“Why’re you crying dragă?” He sits on the edge of the bed.

“You’re so nice to me” You feel stupid for crying but you blame the hormones. Bucky smiles at this finding it so endearing, he scoots up the bed laying next to you opening his arms silently asking you to snuggle into them and you do.

“Моя милая девочка” (my sweet girl) Bucky coos as he presses a kiss to the top of your head where it lay on his chest “you’re too sweet for this world” He whispers.

The hot water bottle is surely heating bucky up as well but he doesn’t mind, as long as it’s helping ease your pain.

“Thank you for caring for me” You say sweetly in your emotional state.

“Always dollface, always.” He’s stroking your arm as you start to feel drowsy now that the hot water bottle and painkillers have helped with the pain. Before long you’re sleeping peacefully in Bucky’s arms.

“Sleep well pretty girl” Bucky whispers as he hears your breathes even out, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

—————-

reblogs appreciated!!

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this is me avoiding the WIP in my drafts! anyways reply to be on a permanent bucky tag list ! :)

#bucky barnes #writerblr #bucky barnes x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes comfort fic #bucky barnes x period reader

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faretheeoscar · 2 months

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Boyfriend!Miguel on your period

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x FemReader

Warnings: 🔞 NSFW, period sex, little drabble just horny thots.

AN: English is not my first language, no beta read/grammar corrected. Also... periods suck.

Miguel would do anything when it comes on helping you when you are on your period. After not a single remedy worked for you all day, pills, massages, herbal tea, you name it....

And of course your handsome, huge boyfriend that loves, adores and worships you; as he by your request had his huge weight and warmth on top of you trying to act as a heating pad kneading his hands on your lower back;volunteered to have sex with you to relieve the pain, even if you were reluctant at first by thinking about the consequences and how messy the whole ordeal might develop in, his reassurance on how he didn’t cared and that he'd buy a new set of sheets or even a whole mattress if he wanted, if having sex even though the bed would probably might looked like a crime scene meant that it would help you feel better.

So that's how you found yourself moaning, reaching for his shoulders and clinging to his warm and soft sunkissed skin, feeling your legs trembling around his waist at the first contact of his length in your inner channel.

“Coño….easy cariño, don’t squeeze me so hard or I won’t be able to help you for long”

Miguel huffed and closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against yours, trying to resist the urge of searching for his own pleasure as your soft mewls and whines went directly to his cock, that was not even half buried deep inside you, at his fear of hurting you and bringing you more pain that you were already in, was holding him back.

The sweet and slow drag of his bulbous tip against your aching walls providing you the comfort you entailed.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he continued to fuck you slowly and deep, whispering sweet nothings as he sucked at your bottom lip.

“Mi amor, what a sweet thing, you are so beautiful”

His hands moved from your hips to your breasts, squeezing and kneading them helping you build that knot on your lower belly, his hands found your nipples and started pinching at them, rolling his fingertips softly on them.

“Tell me amor, what do you need? Feels good? Do you want me to go faster? Harder? Tell me what you need mi reina”

Miguel would do anything to ease your pain, he was devoted to you, nothing in the world mattered but you.

“Deeper, Miggy, it helps with the pain”

He nodded in understanding, he withdrew almost completely before easing his cock deeper inside you, his tip hitting your cervix with each thrust, making you moan loudly as he could feel the walls of your cunt gripping him tightly.

“Shock, amor, so wet like this, so tight” Miguel was going crazy at the slow drags of his cock, your arousal mixed with your other body fluids and the slapping of skin on skin producing the most obscene noises that had you babbling incoherent words as he drove you closer and closer to your release, numbing the ache within you.

“There you go princesa, just breathe, let it out, let me take care of you” Miguel made his way back to your face by doing a gentle trail of kisses up from your sternum to your jaw.

One of his hands reached down between your legs, finding a way to your clit, circling it gently matching the circles with the slow and long drags of his throbbing member inside you, making your back arch and cry at the overwhelming sensation that rushed through your body.

“Take what you need from me, you can come whenever you need to, just focus on feeling better”

As your climax hit, your walls spasmed around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you as you came apart, Miguel soon followed you with one final powerful thrust, his hands holding your hips still as he emptied himself deep within you.

“Are you okay hermosa?”

You nodded at him, and with a tender gaze Miguel brushed your cheek to then withdraw slowly out of you, pulling out his softening member, he cradled you in his arms for a second nuzzling against your neck, his breath tickling you softly and making you giggle.

“Let me go get something to clean you up mi vida” He said, propping himself out of bed, but you reached for him before he could fully get up.

“Miggy…if the pain comes back… can we do it again?”

Your cheeks were tinted red from embarrassment and due to your recent activities, as your giant 6'9" boyfriend let out a low chuckle leaning back towards you to kiss your forehead gently.

“All the times you need corazón, all the times you need”

AN: I just need the warmth of Miguel to help me with the cramps 🥺🥺🥺

Needy Miguel is coming soon guys, just needed to get this out of my system! Thanks for all the support!

Reblogs and comments are kindly appreciated!

Main Masterlist

Fics Masterlist

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara spiderman #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel atsv #atsv x reader #period cramps #period fic

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nomazee · 2 months

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close to your heart and that bed of yours too

you've been having the same weird dream about dan heng, over and over, and it just so happens that he's had the same dream, too.

dan heng x gn reader — 2.4k — super suggestive content but definitely nothing serious or graphic, some guilt abt attraction, dreams, romantic fantasies but not weird ones, kissing and closeness and physical touch, literal sleeping together

notes: forgive me and my debaucherous writing... this is nowhere near smut but it's definitely suggestive they get touchy and feely but it's very emotions-focused...oh my god what did i write this is so

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It’s probably not possible to get cabin fever on a constantly-running space train, but that’s the only reasonable explanation for the weird, weird recurring dream you’ve been having about Dan Heng. It’s not— not that weird, not weird enough that you feel like a complete deviant, but enough for you to realize that it’s a complete reflection of your innermost thoughts and desires, and that scares you more than anything.

The dream— it goes like this:

You wake up—not in real life, but in the dream world, which freaked you out the first time because you didn't realize you were dreaming at all so you thought everything was entirely real—and it’s usually because of the noise of your door sliding open. The instinct to look and see who it is doesn’t hit you. You lay there, gaze fixed distantly on the steel surface of your ceiling until the feeling of your bedsheets moving next to you pushes you to full awareness.

You still don’t move your gaze until you feel a body—warm, breathing, real real real?—lift up your blankets and slide underneath them, pressing next to you, curling into your side as if seeking out your life source. Your breath catches in your throat every single time as you turn to see that it’s Dan Heng, still dressed in his work clothes because he doesn’t understand the concept of pajamas, and his arm reaches around you and curls around your shoulder and he rests his head on your collarbone, gently, and you can feel his breath fan against the fabric of your shirt and your skin.

Dan Heng says your name with reverence, with something like desire, and it makes your stomach clench and he turns his body into you more. He tucks his leg between yours—not moving, just sitting there, a reminder of him, his warmth—and he’s so, so warm, it amazes you that he’s like a furnace, and that he’s so unbothered by laying so close to you under all of your blankets.

And he says your name again, each and every time, and it spurs something in you and you bring your arms around him each and every time, and pull him close, and feel the way he shudders, like a cold breeze wracking his body, like he’s never been this close to anyone before, and it dawns on you that he probably hasn’t—and that thought alone spirals into the realization that Dan Heng would never do this—

And then you wake up. Each time.

The first time it happened, you didn't realize it was a dream, and you were so overwhelmed with thought after thought and feeling after feeling and sensation after sensation. When you finally woke up, it felt like you were grieving a loss. You felt too cold, and too empty, and curled into yourself and laid in your bed for an hour taking in shaky breaths until you finally got over yourself.

You couldn't face Dan Heng for that entire day. Which was fine, because he spent his whole day in his room shuffling through the archives, so he was easy to dodge. But then you dreamt of him again. And again, and again, and then it just became a part of your nighttime routine to dream of your own friend so intimately and then wake up and pretend like nothing matters and nothing changed. Pretend like you didn't feel anything, and pretend like these dreams didn't flood you with guilt about your sick sick feelings and your sick sick fantasies.

You tried to rationalize it, make yourself feel less awful. The dreams never went past him laying beside you, for the most part, and you preferred it that way. If they got any more intimate than they already were, you would’ve thrown yourself off the Express the next morning.

Regardless, the Dan Heng in your dream and the Dan Heng that you saw every morning were different people, because the Dan Heng you saw every morning would never get so close to you. Would never lay in your bed and breathe on your neck like that.

Never. That distinction is the only thing that convinces you to let yourself dream. You indulge, and it’s sickening, but you let your dreams happen over and over, and each time you hold Dan Heng tighter and tighter and tighter, and let him breathe against your neck, and feel the rush of his blood circulating through his body.

One night, in one iteration of this dream, Dan Heng kisses you. It feels so real that it makes you nauseous. His lips were warm and damp and clumsy against the corner of your mouth, and he let out anxious breaths until you tangled your hands in his hair and tugged him closer and kissed him back.

You woke up sick, running to your bathroom to puke in the sink as your hands shook in guilt. Somehow, you could still talk to Dan Heng normally that day, stomach twisting only the slightest bit whenever your gaze lingered on him for too long.

Welt might have noticed how weird you were acting. There was a nagging furrow in his brow and he caught your gaze more than once and each time, you felt waves of humiliation crash into you, flooding you in heat and guilt and vertigo. He looked like he wanted to pry in that odd, awkward, old-man-paternal way of his, but you just shook your head and looked away and begged, hoped, wished upon a star that you would have a normal dream tonight.

The night— it goes like this:

You lay in your bed, staring at your ceiling, leftover remnants of guilt swimming in your lungs and nightly congestion forcing you to take shallow breaths through your mouth. Thoughts run through your mind and slam into your skull at rapid speed. Has Dan Heng noticed how weird you’ve been acting? He hasn’t treated you any differently, but maybe it’s out of pity. Maybe you haven’t been paying enough attention, because you’re so busy replaying that dream over and over and over, obsessive, wondering if you should just let go of the rope you’re suspended on and slam into the water and drown in your wants and your needs.

So you close your eyes, and you let yourself drift off and wake back up in your dream. You’re on your side now, instead of on your back, and the door is on the far wall behind you. You still hear it slide open, as it always does in this dream, and the footsteps get closer until you hear the shuffling of someone kneeling behind you. And then there’s nothing.

Your blankets don’t get lifted up. There’s no warm body tucking itself next to you. But there’s— a voice, Dan Heng’s voice, and your heart sinks into your stomach as you hear the pitch of his voice, the vibrations of sound.

“Are you awake?”

Your brow furrows, and you clench and unclench your fists twice before parting your dry, trembling lips. He’s never spoken in a dream before, not like this. He’s only ever said your name. Your fingers twitch with the instinct to pinch yourself.

“Yes,” you respond, hoping that the confusion isn’t clear in the timbre of your voice. “What’s— is something wrong?”

“No,” he says immediately. Clothes rustle as he adjusts himself. You’re scared to turn around and face him. You don’t know what you’d see. “You…” and he pauses, thinking of his words. Dan Heng would rather take a full minute to think about what to say, what words to pick, instead of stumbling over syllables, and it’s so unlike your own habits and as you think of this, your fingers twitch again. This time with the desire to hold his hand, because that’s what you’re supposed to do in this dream, but everything feels too real now and you don’t know where you are.

Finally, he finds his words. You’re patient with him. “I can’t sleep alone,” he whispers, as if embarrassed to admit it, “not tonight. I trust you.”

God. He can’t say that. He shouldn’t say that, because your head is spinning and you’re going to throw up. Your hand finds the strength to pick itself up and pinch the skin of your forearm. You’re not dreaming.

“Yeah,” you cough out, sniffling afterwards to cover up your budding anxiety as you finally sit up and turn to face him. “Yeah, you can, um. Sleep here.”

When he finally enters your field of vision, he looks the same as he always does—both in your dreams and in real life. It makes you sick. The guilt that you feel now comes more from the fact that he’s still in his typical outfit instead of pajamas.

“Dan Heng,” you start as you shuffle back on your bed to make space for him. He follows your motion, kneeling on the edge of your mattress before adjusting the sheets around you to tuck himself underneath and lay down. “We need to get you pajamas. I don’t know how you sleep like that.”

“I don’t sleep,” he admits, “not usually. I don’t need a lot of sleep.”

“You do. You might not think so, but you probably do. I wish I had a spare set of pajamas, but— they’re all, um, in the wash right now.”

“It’s okay. Your blankets are nice.”

Words tingle against your gums, syllables of confessions lighting up in your mouth. You want to tell him that a dream-version of him has slept under a copy of these blankets multiple times before, that you’ve dreamed for weeks about him curled into you and sleeping, and saying your name, and kissing the corner of your mouth. Right now, you’re just laid side-by-side, shoulder-to-shoulder, but you can feel how warm he is and his hand is so close to yours and you just want to hold it. You want him to say your name and look at you and hold your hand.

“Good,” you say instead of everything else that you could say, because you have a sense of self control at times.

Then Dan Heng says your name, rolling onto his side to face you, hands tucked underneath the side of his face in a stupidly endearing sleeping position. You follow suit, because your self control isn’t that strong. He doesn’t say anything else. Just your name, once. With reverence and desire. Maybe you’re dreaming it, but you pinch your knuckles again and yet you’re still in the same room with the same man in front of you.

One of your arms is bent between you two, hand resting on the pillow that separates you two. Dan Heng’s own hand—warm, and breathing, and real— comes up to rest on top of yours, and you cannot believe any of this is happening. You want to pinch yourself again but his hand is curling around yours and he’s inching forward and you hope that your deer-in-headlights expression doesn’t scare him off.

“Dan Heng,” you whisper, voice cracking with an embarrassing desperation. It’s a warning for him, before he does whatever he’s about to do. But he says your name, again, and his face is so close to yours that you can feel every breath fan against your face, and your entire body is warmed and your hand flips over to hold his, fingers slipping between his and tightening around it.

“Have you had these odd dreams these last few nights,” he asks, a leading tone in his voice, “because I have. About you,” and he’s too honest, and you have to swallow your saliva before it turns into sweat and blood, and you feel his hand squeeze back around yours. His is shaking, and you find some kind of comfort in knowing that you’re not the only one.

“Yeah,” you answer, because you can’t get more than one syllable out at a time tonight. Could anyone blame you? Would Dan Heng blame you for that, afterwards, even though his face is so close and his hand is so warm and it’s tight around you, and he’s shuffling around again, constantly fidgeting, and he takes his other arm and slides it around you, hand between your shoulder blades. He hooks a leg between yours, tugging you closer and closer and closer. You’re blinking at him, heart caught in your throat and eyes landing on his lips so that maybe he’ll finally take the hint.

He does. He does, and as cliche as it is, it’s better than your dream. He kisses you, desperate, and right before your eyes flutter shut you catch the contemplative furrow in his brow. His mouth is—warm, damp, but you feel the crack in the skin in the center of his bottom lip. It scrapes against you and you can’t help the shaky sigh you release at the feeling, and the hand on your back curls into the fabric of your sleep shirt.

Your eyes are closed, tight, scared that if you open them, you’ll just wake up back in your room, alone and cold again with your empty steel ceiling. Dan Heng’s mouth is moving against yours with a practiced proficiency that you’re almost jealous of. You let your tongue trace the edges of his teeth, carnal in your desires, before you bite down on his lip hard enough to leave a temporary dent. He shudders, hand trembling against yours and lips pulling back from yours as he tucks his head into your neck and lets out shaky breaths lines with addictive sounds. You’re going crazy. He’s driving you crazy.

The hard, carved metal parts of his clothes dig into you. Your hand goes around him to rest on the back of his head, threading through his hair as his breathing slows against you. “We can go shopping somewhere tomorrow,” you tell him, already thinking of how you’d convince Pom-Pom to land at some shopping district of some planet. “You need pajamas.”

“There’s no need for me to have that,” he says, stubborn and set in his ways, even with something as mundane as sleep clothes. “My normal clothes are fine.”

“Not if you’ll be sleeping in my bed.”

And that makes him succumb to your whims, much too easy for your own good, and you laugh when he lets out a weary sigh at your reciprocal stubbornness. Your fingers keep combing through his hair, soft and meaningful, until he falls asleep. You think you'll get him a blue plaid pajama set. He'd look nice in it.

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lilyofthevalleyys · 4 months

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i had a thought.

you know those soulmate aus where they can feel each other’s pain?

so doesn’t that extend to period pains/cramps as well?

so when James felt a sudden, constant pain in his abdomen (around that area), he learnt that it was the cause of period pains/cramps and so assumed his soulmate was a girl.

Sirius always talked about having a little sister. but all of a sudden, Sirius started talking about a baby brother, and insists he’s never had a sister.

James never connected the dots. He never once thought that Regulus Black could possibly be his soulmate, even though he wished desperately for it, but wishes were just useless hope.

he’s also constantly felt horrible pains that reduced him to shaking messes, especially during the holidays. and Sirius would come back bruised and beaten.

it was only when Sirius hit his brother with a stinging hex at the leg during one of their fights, that caused James to fall instantly to the floor, did he finally, finally realise.

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snowsinterlude · 5 months

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˚ ᜔ ࣪ ✿ ࣭ ۟ bathtub.

(corioanus snow x reader)

summary: stressed about that time of the month, your boyfriend watched you bathe in awe of the red water.

c.w: period sex, sensitivity, fertile period, p in v, oral sex (f. recieving), blood, biting, praising, overstimulation, dacryphilia, petnames (doll, princess, angel), bathtub sex, blood kink, breeding, unprotected sex, fingering, making reader taste herself.

a/n: i watched saltburn . need to get a bit out of my system . also i'm kinda of sleepy and shaky so there's probably a bunch of mistakes here

you hated being on your period. it always came when you wanted the nastiest things possible.

now, mourning for the loss of a contact you couldn't have now, you were deep into the bathtub, only your face was capable of beig seen inside of the bathtub alongside with the red water and bubbles.

your boyfriend was kneeling by your side, washing your hair with the upmost kindness as his fingers rubbed your scalp. god, you were crazy about him- you wanted him to fuck you, wanted him inside you, taking your pain away.

but you thought it was gross. and even if you adored vampires, you didn't want to see your boyfriend's pretty face being dirty and stick because of your blood.

"i still don't know why you don't wanna do it." he said, kissing your shoulder, massaging them.

"it's gross, coryo. you don't have to do it." you said, feeling shivers down your body. specially when his fingers travelled down to your breasts- gosh, you were so sensitive. your nipples seemed to wake up immediatly. "s..stop. stop, i'm not gonna let you fuck me while i'm like this."

"but it would help ease up the pain." he said, changing his pose to kiss your cleavage. now, he was at the side of the bathtub, your hair was wet, beautiful, some shampoo bubbles were dripping on the floor.

"coryo.." you pouted. you were almost giving in, he could see that, from your tear pooled eyes to your thighs rubbing together; you wanted this as much as he did.

"c'mon, doll. don't hold up. i know you want this just as much as i do." he said, taking off his shirt, getting into the bathtub with you, engulfing your nipple into his hungry mouth.

finally, he earned a moan out of you, your legs instantly spreading to him, his fingers didn't even had a hard time finding your bloody slick, you moaned while holding his hair, his fingers finding your velvet core and entering it easily.

there was something on the sounds of his fingers thrusting your bloody pussy so eagerly, something hungry on the way he mouthed your boob aggressively, biting it on his teeth as if it was a gummy bear, and still being so eagerly sweet in those bites, in those thrusts.

"cory!" you cried, hips bucking up to his fingers, breath hitching, and almost cumming. he could feel it in the way your cunt was clenching around him, that's why he pulled his fingers out of you. "hey.." you pouted.

for your surprise, his fingers were on your mouth now. the metallic, bittersweet taste of your blood was hot on your tongue, and even if you were humming on his fingers, unbelieving of what he was doing, you still sucked on his fingers, swallowing the taste of your own blood.

"coryo!" you called, brows knitted together while he smiled at you. "that was gross! ugh, for god's sake!"

"you swallowed it." he said, grinning darkly. you gulped down your saliva. "i didn't even told you to, you just did."

"i..."

"what a good girl." he chuckled, drowning into the water. the weight of both bodies made the water overflow, it flow off the bathtub, and even if you were surprised, your boyfriend drained the bathtub, and he had the nerve to pull your legs and place them on each side of his head.

you panicked, eyes wide open as you spoke "c-coryo, don't- it is a mess there, didn't you notice i'm on my period?!"

"i don't see how it affects me, princess" he said, kissing your inner thigh, stained with blood. "and, lucky for me, i'm a vampire"

he smiled devilishly. and although you found it was gross, he still managed to manipulate you into allowing it, and so, when his tongue pressed against your sensitive clit in the most delicious manner, you couldn't do anything other than squirm, moan and hold his hair.

but of course, he didn’t leave it at that. of course he had to finger you again, teasing you, passing his fingers through your slick, painting you with your blood; messily painting your blood on your cleavage, on your neck, on your boobs. like a white canvas, you slowly began gaining color.

and with his tongue tasting you, thrusting, licking, torturing you, your back arched perfectly as you held onto the bathtub, mewling his name. "c-cory! coryo!!!" you cried. "'m gonna- oh fuck!"

"i know, doll. i got you." and you came undone quickly, hands shaking, legs shaking, mouth held agape and still, your eyes shone when you saw him on top of you, blood on his chin, on his adam's apple, on his fingers. somehow, it was the prettiest sight you've ever seen. "but do you got me?"

you nodded, grinding so desperately on the bulge of his pants, so sensitive for him, throbbing and clenching, missing the bare contact you had with him. "yes, yes, i do."

this was enough of an answer for him to unbuckle his pants, wet from the way he drowned himself on that bathtub, his dick slapping at your clit, making you mewl at the sudden violence against your most sensitive parts; the way his tip teased your core was getting you to cry.

when he finally penetrated you, you felt like the pain, alongside with your ovulation, were getting into a fight; one seeing who was stronger than the other and for your own pleasure, it was your ovulation who won against the pain of the cramps.

"fuck- look at you, you're so wet" he moaned, taking your waist on his hands, holding you in your place before starting to pound inside you and god, you were so sensitible. it didn't matter anymore, when he licked your tears and kissed your lips, your legs trembled around his waist, you could feel every inch of his dick inside you, and even the slowest thrusts were making you mewl and moan around him. "god, angel, are you tighter than before?"

and you nodded. the side effect of your period was that you always felt tighter, hornier, more sensitive, more emotional; and you couldn't help but suck on his thumb as he thrusted a bit more faster and deeper inside you, kissing your temple and your lips while taking his thumb out of your lips to rub your swollen clit.

"you're so good, look at you. you're just perfect around me." he chuckled, biting your neck and squeezing your boob on his hand.

"coryo, s-slow it down, please. don't wanna c-cum yet!" you pleaded, crying from the overstimulation. you already came, a mild orgasm when he fingered you, another orgasm when he eat you out, and now that you had the sight of him on top of you, fucking you like that, you felt like you would cum just from the sight of it, specially when you looked down to see how it looked- his cock entering you so fast and yet slow, deep and good inside you.

and god! there was blood on his dick! and he didn’t even seem to care- it was like he knew about it, like he wanted more.

"i know, babe. you can cum how many times you want." he said, and you were genuinely crying from pleasure. on the other side, there was a coriolanus who thought that period sex was the prettiest form of bonding. like it was a spiritual thing-

and even when you came, being accompanied by him after a feel thrusts, cum and blood mixing together, he bathed you both and at night, he still managed to fuck you again.

he did it many times before, fucked you on your period as if it was his prize, like there was nothing better than it.

with that being said, now, he had his face buried in between your legs, sucking on your blood while you tried to work on the assignment the teachers gave you both. well, his part was done. now, his job was other;

pleasuring you and sucking the blood off you.

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #young president snow #coriolanus snow fanfiction #tbosas smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #x reader #period sex

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maelialuv · 1 year

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A Farmer's Friend. a Bridgerton fanfic <3

part one: A Chance Encounter

Summary: division brings unity. secrecy creates infatuation. a king's venture into the real world reveals desire.

Warnings: slow burn! strangers to friends to lovers! (Charlotte does not exist) smut! cold showers are on me.

Wordcount: 3.4K

The country side , to you, was heaven on earth. The far roaming hills, the deep valleys. The wide expanse of nothing but lush green fields. There was truly nothing more beautiful.

Your father's farm, to you, was the most beautiful of all. Located at the farthest edge of the county, miles and miles away from the city of London, it was a haven of tall grass, fruitful crops and rich orchards. That is where you spent most of your time, perched between the trunk and wide branches of a tall apple tree in the deepest part of your family's gardens. Far away from the bustling farm house, the uproar of live stock and the erratic, but loving, nature of your home.

From the moment the sun rose over the hills and danced across your face in the morning, to the moment it tucked itself into the valley at night, you were out in the fields. Tucked away indoors, you found yourself claustrophobic. Cased in, stir crazy and a tad hysterical. From a young age, your parents had to heard you inside at the end of a day much like the sheep dogs would heard the lambs back into their pens. It was no different, even as you approached adulthood.

You had your back to the trunk of a tree, a book clutched in one hand and an apple - freshly plucked from the branch above you- in the other, when you caught sight of one of the stable boys chasing after your father in the field ahead of you.

A man of great strength and pride, your father took his work in the fields very seriously. Even after the death of his own father, he was back shearing sheep after just two days. This is why it confused you ever so much , brows furrowed in a frown, to see your father drop his shears at once in front of the stable boy and clutch his chest. The pair raced down the field, sprinting in the direction of the house with the dogs trailing behind them in a flurry of brown and grey and white.

You took a pensive bite of the apple, crunching deliberately. 'Whatever is the matter?' you thought. 'What is the meaning of such fuss?' You tried desperately to get back to your book, the words of the author falling on distracted thoughts as your mind pondered such a reaction from your father. You snapped your book shut with a huff, annoyed and now positively rabid with curiosity.

John, an Orcher in his late fifties, was plucking apples from a tree just next to yours. You peered your head over to him. "John," you called, "have you any reason for father's fuss with the stable boy?"

John's face paled, almost frightfully white, at your question. He took his cap off with the type of remorse one shows with deep apology. "I'm terribly sorry, madam. I thought all the children were aware." You quirked a brow at his words, irritated that the farms people still saw you as one of the children despite being the eldest daughter in the house. His voice was gruff and gravely, years of shouting at yardsmen wearing on his vocal chords. "There is to be a royal visit, madam. Today."

Your eyebrows shot up so fast , you wondered for a moment if they were still on your face. "A royal visit? Here?" The Dowager Princess had not been out in the country since the passing of the late King. Your brows furrowed in deep confusion. "Whatever for?"

John shrugged his shoulders earnestly.

"Lord knows but I, madam. Some sort of review of the farmland, but that's between the King and his advisors."

"The King?" you squawked. You hiked your skirt up, throwing your legs over the branch and jumping down. You stalked to the bottom of the ladder John was standing on. "The King is coming here?"

In all your eighteen years, you'd only ever seen one monarch. Even so, it was a painting of His late Majesty. All you knew of the current King was that he made no visits to the towns, nor galas or balls. He had been labelled somewhat a recluse of a man. You wondered how that could be healthy for such an old person. At least, you assumed he was old. The previous king had died aged seventy and two, so this king must have been creeping into his late fifties now.

"Yes, madam." John said. "Your father has been called now, to prepare. He is due to arrive soon."

Your feet sprang into action, galloping down the aisle of the orchard at lightening speed as you raced toward the direction of the house. You never cared for pompous displays, or the royal family as a whole, very much at all. But today was different. The king himself was visiting your home. Your fields, your valleys and your hills. You felt oddly protective. As if this inspection was to be one with an insulting conclusion. You reassured yourself that they would see the beauty in your home. In the sway of the grassy hills in the wind.

Knowing your mother would not let you close enough to see even the Royal carriage make its way through the wooden gates of your home, you rounded the corner of the brown farm house and clambered your way up the large oak tree in the middle of the drive way. From high above in the branches, you would not be seen by your mother - as she so preferred. She yearned for a daughter more like the ones her sisters had. Lady like and proper and ones that smile at every pleasing farmer their mothers set them up with.

Your mother was disappointed in the lack of girlishness in you. She was displeased in your fascination with reading, and your taking to the outdoors. She was put off by the closeness between you and your father, finding it strange that the two of you could be friends as well as father and daughter. She found your desire to spend all day outdoors odd, and you found her desire to marry a farmer whilst hating farms to be odd in return.

You gripped on to the tallest branches, peering through leaves in the hopes of seeing the gleams of gold as the carriage approached. You saw your father and the farmer boys line up in front of the door below, and your mother and younger brothers waited just behind them. In the distance, you heard a low thrumming sound. It got louder, and seemingly closer, as more seconds ticked by. You realised, as you heard the clop clop clop noise, that it was the sound of horses' hooves on the dirt tracks as the carriage came into view.

The carriage halted in front of your door, and your father outstretched his hand to an older gentlemen in a plush blue suit. Though your fathers clothes- an old grey shirt and black trousers- were not as elegant, he looked just as regal as he shook hands with the stranger, who you assumed to be the King. He had greying hair, curled into ringlets by his side. There were several other men beside him, ranging from young to old to very old.

You craned your neck to hear their voices, a chorus of low hums and stiff lipped compliments from the old man you saw to be the king. Several minutes ticked by, boredom creeping in as you swung your legs back and forth over the branch, before the group of men finally split to tour the farm land with your father. You rejoiced, a grumble in your belly making any words they said inconsequential. You began your decent from the tree.

With scraped palms and knees, you made it to the ground with a thud. A successful spying , you thought as you wiped your hands on the skirt of your dress. Your monologing was interrupted by the stifled chuckle of a man behind you. You whipped round, narrowing your eyes at the man. Dressed in a simple white shirt and the same black field trousers as your father, he looked to be a fielder himself.

"Hello," he said, voice even and light. He stood with his hands behind his back, polite and effortlessly straight. He was young, younger than the rest of the group you assumed he had been standing with. He must have been no more than three years older than you, as his cheeks still had the faintest roundness to them.

"What are you doing?" he asked when you did not say anything.

You knew your eyes were wide, those of someone caught. There was no use in lying , nor excusing. This man had watched you climb down the tree, from where you had spied. You outstretched your hands, as if stating the obvious. "I was climbing down. From the tree."

"From the tree?"

"Yes, from the tree."

"From that tree?" the man asked, voice teasing and smile irritating as he pointed to the tall oak you had previously been perched in.

"Yes, that tree."

"Whatever for?" He placed his hands behind his back once more, slowly pacing around you in a circle.

"I was hungry, you see." You deadpanned.

"Ah," he affirmed, "and you did not bring food when you climbed up the tree." He was enjoying teasing you, as the smirk on his face grew larger at your squirming. "Or simply not enough."

"Well," you trailed off, waiting for the man to introduce himself to you.

"Forgive me," he said, outstretching a hand. "I am George."

"Well George," you continued. "Usually the trees I climb have some sort of fruit or such for me to eat while I climb, or lounge, or read. This is not my typical tree to climb." You explained.

"And I suppose you have a typical tree?" His face was oddly gleeful, as if this conversation with you - a stranger- was the best part of his day. His smile was wide, showing teeth.

"Yes, I do."

"Which is?" He asked, stepping closer toward you. His smirk was a teasing grin now.

"The apple tree," you stated, that protectiveness creeping back into your tone. "at the farthest end of the orchard."

"Now," he said, voice lilted with mock impress, "I must see this tree, that you so fondly and regularly climb." His voice was a stage whisper.

"Alas, I cannot." You teased back, some what enjoying the banter yourself. "I do not simply show my tree to strangers."

"Ah, but I am not a stranger," he said, closer again now. "I am just George." He stuck his hand out again, waiting for you to shake it. Hesitantly, you did. "I would be honoured to see your tree."

"Do you not have business to attend to?" You asked, gesturing in the direction the other men and the Royal herd had walked in. George shook his head, waving off your remark.

"They are fine themselves. They have no use for my agreements here and questions there." He said. "And even so, if I were to re-join them now," he took another small step closer to you, eyes searching in the distance, "my mind would think of nothing but this apple tree at the farthest end of the orchard."

You smiled at the man as he looked down at you, and felt the strangest urge to lead him by the hand to your sacred reading spot. Something about George made you trust him, utterly and completely, as if you'd known him your whole life. As if you'd run through the fields with him as children, and he knew where the tree was already.

"All right, just George."

A bright, down right contagious smile etched itself on to his face. You couldn't help but smile just as brightly.

The two of you strode side by side through the back field of the farm, chatting idly as you lead him to the orchard. George told you he was a keen farmer himself, but his family bound him to the city. "Why don't you just leave them?" you asked as you opened the large wooden field gate for him.

George paused, leaning on the gate with both arms crossed. "It is not that simple," he said, his face contort in a frown. "I am obliged to stay there. It is a duty, of sorts." He looked around at the tall grass, the wild flowers that bloomed in the field at his feet. "If it were up to me, I would spend all my time in the country."

You felt immensely sorry for him. The thought of being away from the country for more than a day put a nasty pit in your stomach. Gently, you placed your hand on his arm. He looked up at you with glum eyes. You gave him your best reassuring smile as you squeezed his arm lightly. He smiled back at you.

You fell back into stride with one another after that. George asked about your family, and you told him about your father and your three younger sisters. He asked where they were, and you let out a haughty laugh. "They cower at the sight of mud. They are cooped inside with my mother, embroidering or learning the pianoforte or some other nonsense."

"You see no value in these tasks, then?" George asked with a small smirk.

"I see no point, given where we live. What use have I for musical impress or intricate sewing when I spend my time outdoors?" You paused your walking, gesturing to the cows grazing near by. "Any man I encounter in these parts will be as impressed by my pianoforte as those cows."

"Ah, I see." George chuckled to himself. "You are to be a spinster then." You whipped round to face him, annoyance turning your brows into a tight v shape. George laughed again.

"For a stranger you are certainly bold."

"I do not hear a defence."

"No, I am not to be a spinster." You crossed your arms, uncrossing them when George cocked his head to the side slightly. You must have looked ridiculous, like an petulant, spoilt child. You huffed.

"I am not to be a spinster. At least not by intention." You both began walking again, rounding the corner to the long aisle of the orchard. "There," you said, pointing to your tree at the very end.

You turned when George remained silent. His mouth was agape slightly, brown eyes wide and almost honey in the mid day sun. "Beautiful," he sighed out.

It caught you off guard, the strange desire to lead him by the hand to your tree and show him the very best branches. The way he looked at your favourite spot with such awe made you near desperate to share it with him. You had to restrain yourself from reaching out and touching his hand that was inches from yours at your side. You shook your head slightly, as if a jitter would rid of of such peculiar feelings. "Come along, then."

George walked obediently at your side, keeping perfect pace with you. As you walked, he couldn't help but notice the sway of your hair in the light breeze, the way it framed your face so gently. Or the patches of freckles that spotted the bridge of your nose, or the subtle fullness of your bottom lip, how it was slightly larger than the top.

"You said you are not to be a spinster by choice," he began as you reached the foot of the tree. "Whatever do you mean?"

"What I mean is," you said as you reached up to a near branch, pulling yourself up with little struggle, "no man here is in need of a wife, and I am in no need for an elderly husband." You frowned when George laughed again. "You must stop that!" You cried.

"Stop what?" He smiled through his teeth again.

"Laughing at me!"

"I am not laughing at you, forgive me." He said, reaching up to the same branch and - just as you had- hauled him self up with ease. "I simply find it hard to believe no one here is in need of a wife."

"Everyone is already married, or too old, or far too young." You deadpanned. "I do not want to marry a frail old man."

"Let me rephrase," George began. He reached across you, and for a moment you thought he was going to touch your cheek. You sucked in a nervous breath. He plucked an apple that was hanging just above you ear. "I find it hard to believe no one here wants you for a wife."

You found it hard to form words, stuttering over a response. George bit into his apple , smugness radiating off of him in reams.

The two of you sat in peaceful silence for a moment, your backs leaning against the trunk of the tree while your legs stretched out next to each other. "Do you sit out here all day?" George asked softly, turning his head toward you. His breath fanned over your face slightly. You nodded.

"Most days," you sighed contently. "I am usually the one that goes into the towns if needed. Otherwise, I am left alone to sit here as I please." You looked out as the sheep roamed the field ahead of you.

George rested his head back against the trunk of the tree.

"I am envious of you, truly." He said, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You turned your head to face him. Your shoulders were brushing against each other with every breath.

"You are welcome to come here," you said, in an uncharacteristically soft voice. "You can bring a book, and you may sit here for as long as you like, whenever you please. Whenever your family allows you to be in the country."

This close to him, you noticed the flecks of gold in George's eyes. The small freckle above his eye brow. The rosiness of his cheeks. His words echoed in your head.

'I find it hard to believe no one wants you for a wife."

In the distance, you heard the ruckus of the men returning to the front of the house. George shot up. You shot up with him.

"I must go," he said hurriedly. He swung his legs over the branch and jumped off. As you moved to do the same, you saw him waiting on the ground with his hands outstretched. He was helping you down. You reached a hand out to him, and he pulled you down. Expecting a thud, you noticed he had steadied you with a hand on your waist. "I wish I could stay longer, I truly do. Alas, they will run like chickens without heads if I am not back soon."

You wished to find some poetic goodbye, but all you could muster was a soft sigh. "Will you be back?" His hand was still gripping yours.

George chuckled breathily.

"Of course," he said, as if it was obvious. "I must bring a book and see if this really is the best spot for reading."

The voices in the distance got louder, calling George's name now. He looked over his shoulder, then back to you. "I am back in the country in two weeks time. May I see you then?"

You smiled at his politeness, hoping your hasty nod came across as friendly and not desperate. "Of course."

"Splendid."

He brought your hand to his lips then, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your knuckles. "It has been a pleasure, madam." He said with a gentlemanly bow.

He turned to walk away then, and you felt as though the wind had been knocked right out of you. Your feet were glued to the ground, unable to move you from that same spot.

"Oh," George called from a distance. "The inspection went fantastically. Your farm shall have a wonderful review." He grinned, all boyish and joyful, before turning back and sprinting in the direction of the loud voices.

His words only sunk in after he'd rounded the corner gate, and you nearly collapsed onto a log.

Not only had you spent your afternoon with a total stranger, telling him your deepest thoughts and secrets, scandalously close should a gossiping eye see it.

You'd just spent your afternoon with the King of England.

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