ccwpidsblog

[ccwpidsblog]

Starting a jacob fic just as fall starts?? You absolute sweetheart 🥹💗💗

omg stoppp 😭🍁 you’re making me blush. had to… Jacob = falling leaves + angst embodied lol. twilight’s defrosting & so am I

[ccwpidsblog]

STORMBOUND — Twlight

♡ ˚ Summary: They’re bound by something neither of them chose — and it might destroy them before it saves them.

♡ ˚ Genre: Twilight AU, imprinting, slow burn, angst, supernatural romance, series

♡ ˚ Warnings: Canon-level violence, imprint themes, swearing, messy emotions, stormy makeouts, religious undertones, hints of smut in later chapters, supernatural danger, teenage recklessness, Jacob Black being a feral menace, Sam’s cult vibes, all the stormy yearning, language, heavy angst, canon divergence (timelines shifted from books/movies), themes of fate/choice

♡ ˚ Word count: ~2.4k (chapter one)

♡ ˚ CUPIDS’ Notes: I’ve been in a Twilight frenzy and none of the fics are hitting how I want, so here I am!! 😭 ik I have like 3 other stories to continue but I had to do this before I even published anything else. This will be a series and will be cross-posted on AO3 later. I already have 5 chapters drafted lol enjoy my arrows 😊

The steam from her shower hadn’t even cleared, her bonnet still damp against her edges, robe cinched tight at her waist. Outside, the storm raged like it had been written from her insides.

Angry, Sharp, Relentless.

She’d been feeling like the rain lately, heavy as the puddles it left behind, struck through with flashes of lightning. Padding barefoot into her room and froze. The window yawned open, curtains whipping like frantic wings. Rain had bled across her hardwood, pooling into a dark, shimmering stain. Her stomach dropped.

“I didn’t…” she muttered, frowning as she yanked it shut, the glass rattling in its frame. “Great. Just great.”

She spun, ready to grab a towel for the mess, and her heart nearly catapulted out of her chest.

Jacob Black stood there.

Dripping. Shirtless. Barefoot.

His skin glistened with rain, a trail of droplets sliding from his collarbone to the edge of his shorts. He looked like the storm had spat him out and left him here: shoulders squared, jaw set, eyes so hollow she almost didn’t recognize them.

Her gaze snagged on the ink curling over his shoulder, dark against golden-brown skin. The tattoo. The one she knew belonged to them, the same guys he’d spat venom about for months.

Her breath hitched. His hair—God, his hair. Gone. Shorn short. The beautiful length she remembered, hacked away like he’d shed it along with something else. He was taller, buffer, cut into harder lines. Different.

Her voice wavered as she forced the words out. “How’d you… how’d you get up here?”

Her room was on the second floor. A long, long ways up.

Jacob didn’t answer. He just stared, chest rising and falling in quick, uneven bursts, like he’d run through hell and only barely made it back.

Her throat went dry. He just stood there, dripping on her rug, not saying a word, not even blinking, like she was something to study instead of someone he used to know.

“Jacob,” she whispered, taking a half-step back until her shoulder blades touched the cold glass of the window. “Why are you here?”

Still nothing. Only the thunder answering for him, rattling the walls.

She let out a sharp breath, anger rising to cover the sting in her chest. “You can’t just show up like this. You can’t just—” her voice broke, then sharpened, “climb into my room like nothing happened. We don’t even talk anymore!”

That made his jaw twitch. His eyes, dark and burning, locked on hers.

“You stopped talking to me,” he said finally, voice low and frayed at the edges.

Her laugh came out short, bitter. “Because you gave me nothing to say! You shut me out, Jake. You pushed me away. And now… now you look like this.” Her hand trembled as she gestured at him: his shorn hair, his hardened frame, the black tattoo seared into his skin. “Do you even realize what you look like? Who you look like?”

His chest heaved once, twice. “You think I had a choice?” he ground out, stepping closer, water still dripping from him onto her floor.

The storm cracked outside, lightning flashing across his face, carving him into something both familiar and frightening.

She shook her head, robe tied tighter around her. “You could’ve told me. You could’ve trusted me. But you didn’t. You leave me in the dark, Jacob, like I mean nothing.”

His eyes flickered, hurt cutting through his anger for just a second. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“From what?” she snapped, her own voice breaking now. “From you?”

For a beat, there was only the rain, hammering the roof, beating the earth. His gaze dropped to the floor, then dragged back up to her face. His voice was raw when he finally spoke.

His gaze dropped to the floor, then dragged back up to her face. His voice was raw when he finally spoke. “When you left…” His throat worked, the words catching like they hurt to say. “When you left, I was angry. So angry at myself for letting you walk away. And when you didn’t answer my calls—” his jaw clenched, the muscles ticking, “I thought maybe that was what I deserved. To lose you. To lose everything.”

Her chest tightened, but she kept still, nails biting into her palms where they clutched her robe.

“This isn’t who I thought I’d be,” he whispered, motioning faintly to the tattoo, to the hardened lines of his body. “It’s like something pulled me into it, whether I fought or not. Like I didn’t even have a choice.” His jaw worked, breath catching. “And I don’t even know why I’m here except… I need to know. I I just need to see if you still look at me like I’m worth anything.”

He stepped forward, closing the space between them until her spine pressed against the cold pane of the window. His arms braced slightly at his sides, almost caging her in without touching. The storm flared behind him, but the pull between them was louder, heavier.

Then their eyes met. Really met.

And something inside her chest gave a sharp, breathless tug, like a string pulled tight, binding her to him in a way she couldn’t name. Her lungs stuttered, her pulse roared in her ears, and for a second she couldn’t feel the floor under her feet.

Jacob stilled, as if the storm had frozen him in place. His pupils blew wide, his breath shuddering out like he’d been punched. And the look in his eyes… it wasn’t just longing, or anger, or sorrow. It was recognition.

Terror.

Reverence.

It was the look of someone who had found the missing piece they’d been chasing all their life. Terrifying because he hadn’t been ready. Devastating because he couldn’t undo it. His lips parted, but no words came—only that look, raw and unmasked, as if she’d just reached into his chest and touched the core of him.

Her heart raced wildly, her own breath trembling as she whispered, “Jacob…” not knowing why her voice sounded like a prayer.

Her chest still throbbed from the strange pull in her ribs, that invisible thread tugging and tightening between them. She tried to steady her breath, but it only hitched when she looked at him again—rainwater still streaming down his body, eyes burning like something more than human was inside him.

“You’re gonna be sick,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “Out in this weather… no shirt, no shoes…”

He didn’t move. He just stared at her, chest rising and falling, like he was holding back a tide that wanted to drown them both.

Her hands shook as she lifted them, hovering for a heartbeat before pressing her palms to his forehead. Heat poured off him, not just warmth but a searing fever that made her gasp. “You have a fever already, Jay,” she whispered.

That broke him.

A low, guttural sound rumbled from his chest, animal and unrestrained, and before she could pull away, his mouth crashed against hers.

The kiss stole the air from her lungs. Hard, frantic, desperate, as if he thought she’d vanish if he didn’t hold her down. His hands found her waist, gripping tight, dragging her closer until her robe strained against its knot. One slid up, broad and hot, wrapping the side of her neck. He pressed her back into the cold window, lips clashing with hers—sucking, biting, tasting her like he needed her carved into him.

Her gasp opened her mouth to him, and he groaned, tongue sliding against hers, deeper, wetter, rougher. She clutched at his shoulders, his skin burning beneath her fingers, and the storm outside roared like it was keeping pace.

With a sudden surge, he hoisted her up, strong hands gripping her thighs. The edge of the windowsill dug into her as he sat her there, his body slotting between her legs, lips never leaving hers. She wound her legs around his waist instinctively, pulling him in closer, tighter.

He kissed her like a man starved—licking, sucking, breaking only for a sharp breath before diving back in. Every sound he made was raw, aching, reverberating through her chest until she couldn’t tell where his heartbeat ended and hers began.

And through it all—through the feverish heat of him, the storm thrashing against the glass, the dizzying pull in her chest—she felt it. That same unshakable tether pulling them together, binding them in ways she couldn’t explain.

He tore his mouth from hers only to press it lower, scattering kisses down her jaw, her throat, the curve where her collarbone met her shoulder. Each brush was frantic but reverent, like he was memorizing her with his mouth. His breath came ragged, hot against her damp skin, and she swore she felt him breathe her in.

Her robe slipped, the tie loosening just enough for the fabric to fall askew. His hand found her thigh, big and rough, sliding under the hem. He gripped and rubbed, fingers sinking into the softness, pulling her closer as if he couldn’t stand a millimeter between them. Her legs tightened instinctively around his waist, her chest rising and falling in uneven bursts.

“Jay…” she panted, the word torn out of her. Not a stop. A warning. His name sounded like a plea, like a prayer, like she didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t slow down—and didn’t know what would happen if he did.

And then—“Honey? Are you okay?”

Her mother’s voice, muffled but close, drifting from the hallway. “I heard some yelling?”

Jacob didn’t pull away. He only slowed, lips still ghosting against her collarbone, teeth grazing lightly as if daring her to tell him no. His grip on her thigh tightened possessively.

“Yeah, Mama,” she called back, her voice strained, almost too high. She swallowed hard, forcing steadiness. “Just on the phone with Kees!”

A pause, then her mother’s warm, oblivious reply: “Okay, baby. Tell him I say hey.”

Her pulse thundered harder than the storm outside. Jacob finally lifted his head, his eyes locking onto hers. They were dark, wild, glowing with something that terrified her and drew her in all the same. His lips were swollen, his chest heaving, but he didn’t move his hand from her thigh.

“Jacob…” she whispered again, softer this time, not warning but something else—something she wasn’t ready to name.

Her breath was still ragged, her robe slipping, her lips swollen and wet from his kiss. The storm rattled the glass at her back, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside her.

Reality crashed in, sharp and suffocating. She pressed both hands against his chest, trying to push him back, but her palms met something like stone—solid, unmovable. He didn’t even sway.

“You—” her voice cracked, lips trembling as she lifted her hand to cover them, as if she could hide the kiss he’d branded there. Her other hand tugged her robe tighter, fumbling with the sash. “You should go.”

Jacob’s chest rose and fell beneath her palms, hot and unyielding. His jaw flexed, his eyes locked on her like he was seeing every piece of her at once and refusing to look away.

His voice came out rough, almost broken. “I can’t. Not now.”

Before she could argue, he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. Heat radiated off him in waves, his breath shaky against her lips. Her heart slammed so hard in her chest she was sure he could feel it.

“Jacob…” she murmured, swallowing thickly. Then, softer, with a small, nervous laugh, “You know my mom’s nosey. She’ll come back in here wanting to know what we’re talking about.”

For the first time that night, his mouth twitched. The sound that left him was low and rough, almost a laugh, and it broke the tension just enough to make her chest loosen.

Their eyes met again, and this time he kissed her slow. Soft. Melting her inch by inch, nothing like the frantic crash before. His lips lingered, savoring, tasting her like she was something precious. Her hands curled into his damp skin, and she felt the tether pulling tighter, anchoring her to him.

When he finally pulled back, he didn’t let her go. Instead, he slid his arms beneath her, lifting her as if she weighed nothing, and set her gently on the edge of her bed. He stood over her, drenched and trembling, chest heaving like he was in the fight of his life. She could see it all over him—the battle between wanting to stay and knowing he couldn’t.

At last, he leaned down, pressed his lips to her forehead with aching tenderness, and pulled away.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised, voice low but steady.

Then he turned, dripping and barefoot, moving toward the window as if it was the only way he could leave without shattering completely.

She stood quickly, robe tugged tight, heart lurching at the sight of him stepping toward the window. “Jacob, wait—you’ll hurt yourself,” she blurted, voice shaky. “Climbing out like that again, you’ll—”

But before she could finish, he was already moving. For him, it was nothing. A breeze. He swung one leg over, then the other, and dropped down with impossible ease, like gravity itself bent for him.

The storm had softened into a drizzle, the rain misting against the glass. He turned once, glanced back up at her, water dripping from his hair. And then he smirked—crooked, familiar, enough to make her knees threaten to give.

Before she could breathe his name, he disappeared into the dark, the woods swallowing him whole.

She stood frozen for a moment, then sagged to the floor, palms flat against the boards where his puddles still glistened. Her body felt boneless, melted, her heart still thrashing against her ribs. She pressed a shaky hand over her mouth, trying to catch the last trace of his kiss.

Just like she called it, the knock came at her door.

“Honey?” her mother’s voice, warm and nosy, slipped through the wood. “What are you and Kees talking ’bout?”

Her eyes flew wide, robe clutched tight as she scrambled to her feet, heat rushing to her cheeks.

“Uh—n-nothing, Mama! Just… just homework,” she blurted, wincing at how shaky her own voice sounded.

A pause. Then her mother’s easy chuckle filtered through the door. “Mm-hmm. Sounded a lot more serious than homework, baby. Don’t be up too late.”

Her footsteps drifted away, and the silence that followed felt louder than the storm.

She sagged against the edge of her bed, pressing her palm hard over her mouth. Her lips still burned from his kiss. Her skin still hummed where his hands had been. And in her chest, that strange, unshakable pull knotted tighter, like a thread she could never cut loose.

Tomorrow. He’d said he’d see her tomorrow.

The thought terrified her. The thought thrilled her.

She curled in on herself, heart still sprinting, trying to decide whether she wanted the night to end—or to never end at all.

© ccwpidsblog — my work is soul-crafted & spell-touched. don’t steal. i’m divinely protected & your karma will be swift.

[ccwpidsblog]

Hello beautiful! your writing i literally cannot put into words how wow it is. Literally so amazing. I’ve found you looking for a good Louis fic and then I found saints and sinners and it’s just literal poetry 🤩 i did have a question on if you would cross post it here on tumblr?

omg hello!! 🥹 you’re way too kind — seriously, this means so much. i’m so happy you found saints and sinners and that it’s resonating with you (poetry?? i’m screaming 😭🖤). as for tumblr, i decided to keep this one ao3-only — it’s my little baby and i’ve learned it’s happiest there. i can’t tell you how much it means to see it getting so much love, and comments like this make it even better 🖤

[ccwpidsblog]

Yall will not take my dashes and semi colons away from me !!!!!

How to use Em Dash (—) and Semi Colon ( ; )

Since the ai accusations are still being thrown around, here's how i personally like to use these GASP ai telltales. 🦄✨

Em Dashes (—)

To emphasize a shift / action / thought.

They're accusing us—actually accusing us—of using AI.

To add drama.

They dismissed our skills as AI—didn't even think twice, the dimwits—and believed they were onto something.

To insert a sudden thought. Surely they wouldn't do that to us—would they?

To interrupt someone's speech. "Hey, please don't say that. I honed my craft through years of blood and tears—" "Shut up, prompter."

To interrupt someone's thoughts / insert a sudden event.

We're going to get those kudos. We're going to get those reblogs—

A chronically online Steve commented, “it sounds like ai, idk.”

Semi Colons ( ; )

To join two closely related independent sentences / connect ideas.

Not only ChatGPT is capable of correct punctuation; who do you think it learned from in the first place?

Ultimate pro tip: use them whenever the fuck you want. You don't owe anyone your creative process. 🌈

[ccwpidsblog]

i’ve got serious writer’s block with white dress, black cat, too many directions i wanna take the story and i can’t decide on just one. i’m a chronic overthinker and overdoer so it’s taking longer than i hoped 🫠

part 2 is postponed for now, but if you like my southern gothic mess and religious angst, i highly recommend checking out saints and sinners on ao3 in the meantime. trust me, it’s just as unholy

and my updates have been more consistent lol.

[ccwpidsblog]

BEEN AWAY | MOODBOARD: kyle garrick

all from pinterest

[ccwpidsblog]

Did a couple updates of Saints and Sinners on AO3. Tomorrow will be 2 more updates if I feel like it after work <33

[ccwpidsblog]

do u guys read saints and sinners on AO3? was thinking of updating

[ccwpidsblog]

me when I search up x black!reader and it’s nothing but word porn

[ccwpidsblog]

idk what this is ... been thinkin abt things lately so i will let it reflect in my writing ノthis has implied suicidal thoughts , depression , anxiety and self isolation. based on francis forever && crackbaby by mitski.

the bathroom tiles were cold beneath your bare skin, your back pressed against the porcelain tub. your thoughts pound into your head like a heavy hammer, familiar like an old forgotten friend.

you can hear the rain pattering against the window, its distance like white noise to you. the twins left for business 4 hours ago. They spoke their love to you before they departed from your shared apartment, you remained in the same spot since then.

unaware of long you stared at the wall, your phone chimed. you ignored it, it chimed again. you picked up the phone, the light illumining off your face. you looked at the notification and it was stack. 💬 stack 💸

" hey. you haven't answered my text from a few hours ago, you good? " " me and smoke gonna go to bo's for a bit, text me or him if you need anythin. "

you never responded, his message was left on read. you sigh standing up from your seat on the floor, legs feeling tinglingly from staying in the same spot for hours. you come fact to face with your reflection, you look dull like a haunting entity sucked your soul from your body.

your eyebags sagged low and dark, your curls dried and tangled evident of abonnement of care, your body has changed within a few weeks that it was noticeable to you but not the eyes of others. your collar bones are more prominent and your legs create a space in between them if your feet were pressed together.

you don't know when everything started but you know that you've been feeling like your body isn't your own and that you are nothing but a empty shell.

you blink slowly, tired; physically and emotionally. you slowly turn away from the mirror, making your away into your bedroom. apartment silent, nothing but the sound of the old wooden floors creaking from the weight of your foot. You slide into the covers, breath shuddering.

your heart feels like it's going to jump out of your chest, your breath begins to get stuck in your throat. your sobs become more clear that this is more than just a cry, its desperation to be set free of this.

[ccwpidsblog]

Hey cutie!

I'm still here... patiently waiting...patiently... for a new chapter of White Dress, Black cat...no rush though!

I just wanted to know where you are with the writing.. Ik ts takes a while cuz the last story was 10k and I just fought for my life writing 3k plus words..

P.S. I love your writing please don't go bald!

hey friend 😭💕 don’t shoot me i beg… i haven’t typed anything yet 😭😭 i’m a paper-outline-first type of girlie and babyyy… i’ve been outlining and outlining til i can’t no more. my glitter pens are cryin, my notebooks look like scripture 😩

plus i’ve been working like a dog but i have finished the opening of chapter 2 (about 1k words 👀) and it’s already giving biblical horror, possession, generational sin, and southern gothic nightmares 😭✝️

we’re finally getting more into y/n too. her role, her power, and why the town is so damn pressed about her even existing. and the religious trauma?? yeah my own demons had a pen in their hand.

chapter 2 is a slow descent. ghosts, voices, curses, scripture as a weapon, ony is going through it!!

it’s tough out here but we gon make it slowly but surely 😭 thank you for being patient with me fr, it means everything. just praying i don’t go bald before i finish this chapter lmao

[ccwpidsblog]

thinking of alt ony mmmm 🫦

[ccwpidsblog]

“ you sweeter than honey ! ”

sammie “preacher boy” moore x farmer’s daughter! black! fem! reader

synopsis: showin’ your favorite preacher boy ‘round the farm

cw: fluff. 30s in the south. written in southern tone. mentions of racism. slight cussing.

the sun hung low, slow and lazy like molasses drippin’ off a spoon. the air smelled of dry earth and the faint sweetness of wild honeysuckle, thick with dust that floated in long golden rays. you sat easy in the saddle of belle, your old mare with a mane tangled like summer vines and eyes steady as the fading light. horses out here weren’t just animals—they were partners, pullin’ wagons, haulin’ shit tons of wood, carryin’ you through the sticky southern heat when roads turned to mud.

your curls/coils were are wild and free, like summer vines climbing a fence. mama always said, “they perfect just the way god made ‘em.” you wore a soft, faded-colored dress— maybe a sunwashed blue or faded rose— and sturdy boots you’ve stomped in a million fields.

down the dirt lane, the rumble of a worn-out car broke the quiet. dust kicked up behind it like a restless ghost, swirling lazy and red in the fading sun. the car was battered and dusty, no polish or shine to hide the miles it’d traveled, but it carried who you’d been waitin’ on.

you slid down from belle’s back, boots crunchin’ on dry straw, and stepped toward the porch where sammie’s folks stood. his mama’s eyes softened behind tired smiles, and his papa’s face was weathered but kind. you wiped dust off your hands on your faded dress and tipped your head in greeting.

“good afternoon, mr. moore, mrs. moore,” you said gentle, voice carrying just enough warmth to settle in the evening air. “glad y’all made it safe.”

mrs. moore nodded, “thank you, miss.” mr. moore gave a slow, steady nod that felt like a promise.

you stepped back, catchin’ sammie’s brown eyes from across the yard. he was leaning against the porch, that easy grin tugging at his lips already.

“look who’s showin’ up all fancy,” you teased, voice soft and teasing like a breeze through the magnolia leaves. “preacher boy.”

he cocked his head, eyes bright, slow and smooth as molasses syrup. “n/n,” he said, copyin’ you.

you tilted your head, eyes twinklin’, “still got that damn guitar?”

he smirked, steppin’ a little closer, “still got that damn goat piss on your dress.”

you laughed easy, the sound warm and bright, and before you knew it, he was pulling you in close. the hug wrapped around you like a worn quilt — familiar, steady, and safe.

“reckon if you keep ol’ boy out the house too long, he gon’ get dirty,” you said, nodding toward the guitar case resting by the porch.

after a moment, you pulled back, eyes gleaming. “come on, i wanna show you somethin’.”

| ⟡ ˙🐎 ̟

you led sammie into the barn where the smell of hay and horses settled like a warm blanket. belle stood patiently, her big brown eyes watching you both with quiet trust. a horse whinnied nearby, the sound carryin’ soft and sure in the evenin’ air.

“this here’s belle,” you said, voice steady. “she’s stubborn as a mule but she pulls her weight. we use her to haul the wagon, carry wood, and when the roads get slick, she’s the only way to town.”

sammie reached out, fingers brushing’ through belle’s mane, a slow smile playing on his lips. “she’s got fire in her, like you.”

you laughed, “wait till you meet old blue — he’s got a mind all his own. but, i’ll save that interaction for later.”

the horses stood quiet as the sun dipped low, the orange rays bleeding into the large, open windows and cracks through the wood.

you reached for the stiff-bristled brush hangin’ on a hook and handed it to sammie. “here,” you said, voice soft, “this one’s for takin’ the dust off. gotta brush in the same direction as their hair, slow and steady.”

sammie took the brush, fingers unsure but eager, and you guided his hand gently down belle’s neck. the mare shivered, leaning into the touch like she knew she was in good hands.

“see?” you smiled, “she likes that. horses don’t take kindly to rough hands.”

he laughed, a little embarrassed, but careful, brushin’ with slow, gentle strokes. “like with people, huh?”

you nodded, heart flutterin’. “yep. gotta be real patient and kind, or they’ll let ‘cha know real quick.”

as he brushed, you slid close, finger’s brushin’ ‘gainst his face to straighten up his hat.

“you doin’ just fine, preacher boy,” you teased, voice low and warm.

he grinned, eyes meetin’ yours, the world shrinkin’ to the quiet barn, the scent of hay, and the simple rhythm of two hearts gettin’ to know each other.

| ⟡ ˙🌿 ̟

you started walking back, boots crunchin’ over dry straw and dirt. voices drifted from nearby, your daddy and sammie’s papa deep in talk.

“yeah man,” your daddy said, wipin’ sweat from his brow, “them white folks—no mercy. we got the best crops in the south, yet they always turn away.”

“aye man,” sammie’s papa said slow, placin’ a hand on your daddy’s shoulder, “they don’t deserve it. you have an abundance of goods, and when god...”

“here he go,” sammie muttered low beside you, makin’ you chuckle softly.

“heard through the grapevine that you been lazin’ on them bible verses?” you teased him, elbow nudgin’ his ribs.

“cause,” he spread his arms wide, “the blues. it’s callin’ me.”

you turned the conversation light again, talkin’ bout the chow family’s grocery stores.

“yup, we one the reasons they still in business,” you said, boots crunchin’ over dry straw, “but,” you dropped your voice, “they don’t be telling folks where they get the produce from, ‘specially white folks.”

“why don’t they tell us?” he asked, eyes catchin’ how your hands and head moved as you talked.

“news spreads like wildfire. you tell somebody, then they tell somebody else—’round an’ ’round it goes.”

| ⟡ ˙🐓 ̟

later, you both bent low in the henhouse, picking eggs nestled safe in straw. hens clucked and shuffled nearby.

you crouched low by the henhouse, the wooden slats rough against your palms, the smell of straw and feathers thick in the air. soft clucks and gentle fluttering surrounded you as hens shuffled around, scratching at the dirt with their little feet. nestled in the corner, eggs sat safe in nests of golden hay — some smooth and white, others speckled like they’d been kissed by the sun itself.

sammie eased down beside you, eyes wide and curious, like a boy seeing something new for the first time. “you scared a chicken gon’ nip at ya?” you teased, nudgin’ him playfully with your elbow.

“no!” he said quick, voice a little too loud, cheeks flushing like a summer rose.

you laughed, that easy, warm sound you loved to hear. “you sweeter than honey!” you kee-kee’d, brushing a stray feather from his collar. “they ain’t gon’ do nothin’.”

a plump hen clucked nearby, peckin’ at the dirt right by your boot, making sammie jump back and chuckle, eyes crinklin’ with amusement.

“here,” you whispered, holdin’ out an egg you’d just gathered, smooth and warm in your hand. “look how delicate it is, but still holds so much life.”

sammie reached out, fingers just barely brushin’ yours as he took the egg, careful not to crack it. “like you,” he murmured, eyes meeting yours, soft and steady.

your heart stumbled, caught in that quiet moment where the world seemed to slow just for the two of you.

“reckon i like this part,” he said, voice low. “feels... simple, good.”

you smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder. “me too.”

for a moment, all the weight of the world outside that henhouse faded away, and there was just you, sammie, and the soft rhythm of life around you — warm, gentle, and full of promise.

| ⟡ ˙🐄 ̟

then came the milkin’.

you showed sammie how to kneel beside the old cow, its breath warm and heavy, the pail set steady beneath. your fingers worked slow and gentle, squeezin’ just right till the milk splashed white and cool.

his fingers brushed yours, a spark in the fading light, and he laughed at the awkwardness of the first try.

later, the goat. smaller, quicker, and feistier. she nuzzled your hands, sometimes nipping playful.

“reckon she’s testin’ who’s boss,” you said, grinning.

sammie grinned back, more confident now, as the two of you worked together, hands wet and warm in the soft southern dusk.

after the last splash of milk settled in the pail, you wiped your hands on your dress, the cool evening breeze catching stray curls around your face. sammie watched you with that quiet smile that made your heart beat just a little faster, like a soft rhythm beneath the southern sky.

“reckon you did good,” you said, nudging him gently with your elbow.

“not near as good as you,” he said, eyes shinin’.

you laughed, the sound light as the wind through the tall grass.

“come on,” you said, reachin’ down to grab the basket sitting by the barn door— handwoven from sweetgrass and pine needles, the work of you and your mama’s patient hands. the basket was sturdy but delicate, the kind that smelled faintly of earth and sunshine, perfect for holdin’ the treasures of the land.

you led sammie down the path where wild blackberry brambles tangled thick, their deep purple fruit heavy and ripe against the thorny branches.

“these here berries,” you said, kneelin’ low and showin’ him how to pick gentle so the berries didn’t squish, “they’re sweet like honey but need careful hands.”

sammie crouched beside you, fingers fumblin’ but eager as he reached out to pluck a berry, holdin’ it up like a rare jewel.

“like you,” he said (again) softly, eyes catchin’ yours again.

you smiled, heart bloomin’ like the wildflowers nearby.

“bet mama’s got a pie bakin’ when we get back,” you whispered, your tongue flickin’ over your lips.

“hungry ass,” he teased before getting tapped upside the head. sammie laughed it off, the sound warm and easy. together you filled the basket with the summer’s bounty — dark jewels against the green, catching the last light like tiny promises of sweetness and hope.

and all around, the world was heavy with history, with struggle, but also quiet hope—like the soft hum of a blues guitar on a summer night, raw and real, but full of somethin’ that could carry you through.

hey hope ya’ll enjoyed !! second time ever publishing a fic so lemme know what ya’ll think of this one xx

[ccwpidsblog]

you fell off fr. i remember when you only wrote porn with plot, like “issa nut bby” had me in a chokehold. now you over here tryna be an author and it’s giving… salad with no dressing.

bring back the filth. i miss when you wrote like you had no future.

my growth as a writer should be something you’re happy about, but ok ig??? you sound like a loser with a problem. go get your pussy played with maybe then you won’t gotta read smut to feel something bitch. i’ve moved on catch up or keep scrolling.

[ccwpidsblog]

i’m in loveee with your white dress black cat series. you’re such a fruitful writer and i can’t wait for the next chapter!<3

Thank you so much, love! Updates soon, I promise 💕 Kisses right back at you! <3

[ccwpidsblog]

Your writing 👉 😩😮‍💨🥴

awee shucks !! more stories and updates coming soon babycakes <33

[ccwpidsblog]

u seem SO cool like omgggg

Thank you baby !!! 🎀