here your doing requests👀 I recently discovered Emily Wilde's encyclopedia of faeries and rushed to ao3 after finishing it only to find like 30 works...
could you do an Emily/wendell?
your wish is my command <3
Wendell x Emily on a cold Irish night
The cold of Ireland is really not to be underestimated. Snow in thick drifts everywhere. In the light of day it reflects a rainbow across the hills. But, alas, in the dead of night, when not even the maybug can be heard, when the wind howls through the trees, the icy cold does not feel so magical or welcoming.
Emily sits at the small table in her rented cottage on the edge of town. Coat still draped around her shoulders and she shivers but doesn’t even notice. She writes and writes and never stalls even for a second. Tomorrow she’ll notice the shakiness of her handwriting and try to remind herself to maintain the fire in the grate, but she will forget, as is her way. The phouka they were hunting today finally stopped to say something other than riddles (though it did still speak in rhyme), but it did make fun of Wendell for a considerable amount of time, which was quite hilarious in the moment. The phouka has still refused to leave the townsfolk alone, however, and the special attention it has paid the cattle farms near the woods cannot be overstated. In all, it was a bit overwhelming to have to reason with the little creature and her journal entries will reflect that fact.
Wendell opens the front door quietly and Emily doesn’t even raise her head. It’s unclear if she even knows he’s there and he’s not going to waste this opportunity. He stands in the doorway, leaning his head against the door jamb and just looks at her. She is the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of creatures. Her hair is a mess from where she picks at the strands when she’s thinking and her bottom lip is bitten red with worrying. He understands the legends and the poetry whenever he looks at her. She makes him want to compose sonnets, and to write them in the clouds for everyone to read. For everyone to know the wonder that is Emily WIlde. Cheeks flushed from the cold and a fire dying in the grate has Wendell collecting himself and making his arrival known.
“Oh, Mrs. Dragon, your fire is dying, and then how will you make do?” Wendell drops his bag and walks behind Emily’s chair to place his hands softly on her shoulders, careful not to upset her writing. She doesn’t respond, too focused on her task, but she waves a vague hand in the direction of the fire and makes a little humming noise in the back of her throat. He has no idea what she’s trying to say but he smiles all the same.
“Em, my love, you know I adore you and your brilliant mind, but I will not see you fall asleep at this table another night, nor will I allow you to freeze when there is a fire in the chimney and in my chest. Let us head to bed and we can continue our pursuit of the little demon on the morn, hm?” Emily pauses writing for the first time in who knows how long and he gives her shoulders a little shake and rubs up and down two quick times, to remind her he’s there.
Emily turns to look at Wendell and he’s surely taken back by the dwindling light of the fire in her eyes, a true dragon. And he’s so overcome by his love for her that, at this point, he would do whatever she wanted, like butter melting in her hands, dripping through her fingers. He wants to giver her the world on a silver platter, but, he has to stay strong, god, he has to stay strong. He has to make sure she’s well taken care of, or it can never be. A hand comes, unbidden, up to hold her face and she blinks slowly as if waking up from a deep slumber, which, in a way, she had.
“Will you help me get ready for bed? I’m too cold to do it myself,” and Emily watches as Wendell becomes a puddle on the floor. This is the woman Wendell would make great speeches for, who he would fight a battle against an ifrit for, who he would go to war and come back victorious for. And, here she is, asking him to do one simple task, and lord, the feeling burns in his heart. Emily isn’t the most receptive to emotional intricacies, but she thinks she can see something in his eyes that has her stomach somersaulting away down the lane.
“Anything for you, darling,” and he’s rewarded by a blush creeping up her neck. He leans down to give her a gentle kiss against her hairline and takes her hands, pulling her away from the table to maneuver her toward the bed.
It’s quiet while he takes the pins out of her hair and brushes the tangles out, the two of them becoming one unit, a calm settling over them. The wind becomes louder outside the window, making Emily shiver but Wendell just presses a kiss to the side of her neck and helps her into a shift and a robe. She leans against him whenever she can, and he is more than happy to take the weight.
Wendell makes his way over to stoke the fire in the grate and stares at the flames, waiting to see if the work will hold at least until they’re asleep. The warmth of their bodies will keep them well after that.
Wendell, feels arms wrapping around his waist and a cheek pressing into his back. His hands fall on top of hers where they’re placed on his stomach, his thumbs rubbing back and forth across her knuckles. Their breaths begin to feel the same and they each heave a deep sigh, content to hold and be held on a cold winter’s evening.
I would love to write more of them, and I can also do x reader for both of them! Ty for reading <3
