Ichabod Crane/Abbie Mills - Works | Archive of Our Own
We felt really good about the relationship that Abbie and Jenny have this season. to utterly and completely support her sister, come what may, to the test. sacrifice that Abbie Mills makes, not only for her sister but for Crane. For once Abbie was glad Crane wore his big old coat even in the summer, .. an idea: established relationship (Maybe they haven't done the do yet? . Her fingers itched to test the edges of the flint knives, feel the cool glaze. She took in a deep breath and pulled down the pregnancy test that looked the familiar. "Ichabod Crane," Abbie told the lady and she bustled back to pick up In the beginning of their relationship, Crane loved to celebrate.
I do the same with my own husband. Their's just happen to be bit more comfy," The pharmacist smiled again, before passing her the receipt and bag. She gave a small wave to her and made her way through the store, running back out to the car to keep the cold wind from her legs. It was the anniversary of their first date. In the beginning of their relationship, Crane loved to celebrate anniversaries and other milestones while Abbie thought it was silly.
After a few years together, she began to warm put to the idea. She found it endearing he cared so much about what she considered the little things. It also didn't hurt that their anniversary usually fell on Sweetest Day. When she first mentioned to him nearly 10 years ago, Crane was left scratching his head and wondering if Abbie had made up the holiday. She explained to him is was small,concentrated American holiday, originating from the mid-West that was celebrated on the third Saturday of October.
When Crane pointed out she lived nowhere near the Midwest she shared it was celebrated it in her household due to her father growing up in Detroit. Crane likened it to a scaled down Valentine's Day in the fall. He found it more thoughtful and romantic as autumn leaves were nice than winter snow.
So it became a way for the couple to carry on one of Abbie's childhood traditions and to celebrate the beginning of their relationship without much did. She had purchased Ichabod's gift weeks ago, and today while he was at work it had come in.
Something extremely special from her to him. Abbie rubbed her bare calf as she pulled into the grocery store, and quickly made her way through, filling up the cart easily and quickly.
Crane generally handled the groceries, but Abbie volunteered since she knew she'd have the day off. Once home with all items but one out away, the internal taunting began. The lone Target bag was teasing her, enticing her, begging her to open it and take out the pregnancy test, but she couldn't. Instead, she started on supper. She had already changed into her lounge clothing which consisted of a grey tank top and black yoga pants.
Ichabod would be home from work in an hour and hoped to have things completed by then. It was after everything was placed into the oven, ready to cook that she found herself with idle time on her hands.
There was the bag again, sitting on the counter, calling out to her. Abbie stood there silently, Jackson gurgling somewhere in the distance, with her leg shaking. Decided to bite the bullet, Abbie threw the bag into the cabinet but kept the pregnancy test in hand. Once she left the master bathroom, Jackson was sitting at the door, looking at me happily as if he knew this trip to the bathroom was one of the most important in her life.
He immediately flopped on his back and Abbie curled her fingers through his fur and stroked his belly. This man, who she loved more than anything in the entire planet, who she got so ecstatic over seeing each day, who excited her, just from the thought of him. She loved him so much, and this was their baby she was having. This was a combination, a little tiny person that has created.
Abbie began to feel a tiny surge of elation, and she knew exactly the gift she wanted to give him. She left the pregnancy test, with two little pink lines on the bathroom counter. She boiled the kettle and made a mug of black chai spice tea, picking up a knife and an apple as she folded herself into Ichabod's favourite arm chair.
She turned on the television to a marathon of Criminal Minds, and to her delight it had just started. While it was not something she would admit to her colleagues, Abbie enjoyed the dramatised depiction of her job. She pulled the afghan that always managed to smell like Crane off the back of the chair, wrapping it around the dog and herself. Jackson remained curled next to her while she munched on her snack.
Roughly 30 minutes into the show, Abbie heard the garage, altering her that Ichabod was home. I love you immensely " That made her burst into a fit of decided to get up from her seat and wander into the master herself.
I am currently eating a Fijian Apple That would have been quite a journey for a singular apple. I'll be right out, and you can tell me more about this tea you've brewed. She leaned against the wall next to the door. Ichabod was holding the test, his eyes wide and jaw wide open. Abbie smiled, he looked so cute. You're just scared of how hard I'm gonna whip your—" She flipped his cards over.
She looked from him to the cards and back again. Maybe he didn't understand. He was still new to the game, after all. Not due to the follies of a card game. He said stuff like that, and to the very bottom of his soul, he meant it. Abbie turned her back on him. She slid a finger beneath the strap of her bra. It was up to him. If he was serious, if this was what he wanted to do, then he could do it. If not, they'd chalk it up to the booze and repress. You know, the healthy way of dealing with things.
But then his calloused fingers were on her back. There was no fumbling with the bra; it was unfastened in a hot minute. But he took his time pushing the straps down. The bra fell away and he traced where it had been, drawing lines along her shoulders, around the curve of her torso with a long finger. By the time he actually found her breasts, hefted their weight in his hands, thumbed across her nipples, Abbie was ready to burst into flames. But he continued to take his time, tracing these new hidden places of her body, savoring her every angle and aspect without ever even lookingat them.
After what felt like forever after what felt like a secondhis hands found their way to the top of her jeans. I'm new to SH but all caught up and angry! Ichy loses control in a similar fashion to "Necromancer" with the yelling, and then takes control, if you know what I mean. I mean bossy, "I'm in charge! And Abby is crazy turned on and bites her lip and maybe says "Yes, sir" and oh my god I'm so sorry.
Abbie planted a foot in the minion's chest and yanked her sword free. There was a wet, squishy sound. Then a big one. When Abbie spun around, Crane was standing over a decapitated minion. His shoulders heaved; a line of the creature's blood spattered across his face in a dark diagonal slash. Thanks for having my back. Then he kicked the body. Again and again he shoved his boot into the thing's rib cage until it turned into a pulpy, formless mass. He planted his foot right on the thing's sternum and stomped down with a sickening crunch.
And that's when Abbie pulled him away. The important thing is that I didn't. For him to apologize and hold her face softly and tell her how terrified he was and how precious she was. For him to kiss her like she was made of cotton candy and might melt away. That was usually the way these things happened. And it was nice. It was still weird and wonderful to be treated like someone who needed to be protected.
But Crane didn't play to form. Instead, he walked away from her, fingers raking through his hair, heels digging into the ground with every step. Abbie gave him a minute. She took the time to admire how his anger made his neck draw up into cords, how his hands were for once still, balled into fists at his side, how his shoulders seemed to grow even broader with his rage.
She found him pacing by the car. He looked up at her. She didn't see Crane lose it very often. He kept everything all very wound up and British. So to see him, for once, just feel something instead of think something…yeah. It did things to her. His eyes flickered over her body, lingering at the places where her shirt clung, where the neck had been tugged down to reveal more cleavage than usual.
But she didn't touch him. She needed to make sure that he really wasokay enough for this. That neither one of them were gonna get hurt. She must've misread something. Let's just go home, get cleaned up. He ground against her ass, hard and ready.
She guessed it was called bloodlustfor a reason after all. Usually he was perpetually and sometimes irritatingly romantic, sweet and tender, like they were on the cover of some fucking romance novel. But she had a feeling that tonight might be a little different.
He grunted and bent his head. He kissed roughly down the line of her jaw, down her neck. He found that sensitive cradle where her shoulder met her neck and bit down with full force. Not enough to break the skin, but enough to send electric waves of pain and pleasure jolting through her. She gasped and grabbed his thigh to stabilize herself.
He'd never—not once—but— Jesus. His hands darted up under her shirt. Feathery caresses were replaced with scrabbling fingers tugging insistently at nipples.
Palms scraped, nails scratched. Abbie made a noise she wasn't sure was quite human and bucked back against him. This was no time for talking,and for once even Crane seemed to get that. He nipped at her earlobe, pulled at the stud long enough to make her ache. Then he was kissing and biting down her neck and his hands were fumbling with his pants.
Abbie took her cue and tugged her own jeans down. Her pussy quivered as it met the chilly air. It trembled again when he put a hand around the back of her neck and bent her over the hood of the car.
There was no teasing.
He was just in, to the very hilt. It was fast enough and just premature enough to sting, but Abbie did. Her hands scrabbled for purchase on the slick car hood, but he was holding her tightly enough that she didn't need to worry.
She pressed her cheek against the cold metal and turned off the part of her that thought as he pistoned into her fast and harsh and perfect. He pushed her up the hood until she stood on her tiptoes. He arched up from beneath her deeper and harder, hitting places she wasn't sure he'd ever hit before. And when she felt him tensing, heard him gasping and growling, that's when he finally reached around and flicked her clit mercilessly, over and over again until her scream bounced off the trees and she just disappeared.
When she opened her eyes again when she remembered she hadeyes againCrane had laid her gently on the grass and was curled around her, making shushing noises into her hair.
With the battle and then your unexpected offer, I fear I may have become a bit carried away in the moment. I'm pretty pissed about it in case you couldn't tell. She could still feel a faint throb beating between her legs; she could already feel a pleasant ache where his teeth had marked her. She was gonna have to bust out the concealer tomorrow. And then so terribly angryat that thing for almost taking you from me and—" "I accept your apology. Better to just get it out of the way. He ghosted his lips across her neck.
Or anything about the two of them you feel inspired to write, really: Her fingers itched to test the edges of the flint knives, feel the cool glaze of the painted pots, read the stories of the intricate bits of beadwork with her fingertips.
But Ash was being incredibly cool by letting her look at these precious objects at all. She could never disrespect him by polluting them. I thought most of these objects had been destroyed centuries ago — holy shit, is that what I think it is? One of my favorites. No mystical powers, but a hell of a story. So much power in one place, lovingly maintained through the most impossible circumstances.
She managed to tear herself away from the beauty before her and beamed up at Ash. And for keeping Ichabod from getting his fool self killed. But his eyes lingered on hers, then dipped to her own lips before swooping back up. Rocket was sprawled on his side on top of it, looking cozy and conked the fuck out in his little dog hoodie.
Ash picked him up so gently, the dog didn't even wake up. He just kicked his sticklike legs and sighed when he was placed on his giant, fluffy bed. Jenny had never much cared for tiny dogs; at that point, just get a cat and then you don't have to walk it.
But if Ash loved that stupid shivering thing so much, there must be something to them after all. But he once ate a guy's pinky finger.
I wouldn't fuck with him. No, we don't fuck with Rocket. Jenny had no idea if he was joking or not. She decided not to laugh, just to be safe. After a quick pat, Ash dug a few bottles out of the cooler.
Craft beer from somewhere upstate. He passed one of the wet brews to her and she popped her own top off. I never understood why you didn't punch his teeth in after the way he treated you guys. Jenny did too; the beer was shockingly good. But we got ours. You shouldn't trust every virility charm you're sold.
I wish I could be there when he figures it out. I thought you two were fucking. Not for a long time now. The silence was heavy and yeah, Jenny felt a little judged. But it was quickly replaced with a different kind of tension. Their knees almost touched. And every time he moved, she was hit by the smell of him, a weird but appealing mix of sage and motor oil. You've gotta have a biker babe of your own, yeah?
He set it aside. Then his hand was on her knee, thumb just stroking against the bony cap. But neither of them cared much. They were too busy weaving their fingers through long, dark hair, discovering the rhythms of their lips and tongues, and stripping off their vests.
She hadn't realized how cold she was until she was starting to warm up again. Behind her, Crane fumbled with the billion buttons on his trousers. Did you see that woman with the tits the size of my head? And Abbie, did you see the size of Crane's—" Abbie lifted a foot and whupped her sister's still-bare ass. Hi, idea for a prompt was for newly "divorced" Ichabod to see a kiss between Nick and Abbie.
He begins to act different and perhaps she starts to investigate? While I'm not a Nabbie shipper, I just want Ichabod to squirm a bit. My dear sweet Non, I love you, Abbie, and myself too much to write that nasty ship even as a means to Ichabod and Abbie. Will you accept Luke as a substitute?
The words on the page were indecipherable hieroglyphs to her tired eyes. She checked the cover of the book to make sure she wasn't actually supposed to be reading hieroglyphs, but nope. Probably a good sign to call it a night. We'll hit it again first thing in the morning. In fact, because you realized you mistranslated those runes, we actually went in reverse.
I'll just boil up a fresh pot of coffee and—" Not again. She wasn't going to play this fucking game. She ducked under his hands and spun to face him. What's up with you?
Whenever she tried to leave, he'd find some excuse why they had to research a little more, train a little harder, hunt a little longer.
- Abbie Mills
One night she swore he'd even faked being sick just so she'd stay and watch a few more episodes of House Hunters Internationalwhile he gave counterfeit sneezes. As always when she called him out, Crane looked like someone had clubbed a family of baby seals in front of him. I have merely recommitted myself to the seriousness of our cause.
If you do not hold it in the same esteem as I do, I of course understand. Then he grabbed her bag. For a minute she thought this was going to turn into a tug-of-war — one which she would win, make no damn mistake — but then he let go.
‘Sleepy Hollow’ Boss on How Midseason Finale Shocker Will Change the Show
At least he had the good manners to look embarrassed. I spoke in anger. No one could ever be more stalwart and dedicated than you. Was almost gone, almost dared think that she'd successfully gotten the last word for once, when— "Why are you so eager to go?
The Collectibles Chapter 1: Sweetest Day, a sleepy hollow fanfic | FanFiction
Are you off to see him? And there it was. She stopped but didn't turn. I would have hailed you, but then both of your mouths were rather occupied at the time.
But after the whole thing in the cabin he'd needed someone to talk to. And one thing led to another and well, Luke always knew how to make sure she was taken care of. He dipped his head and scuffed a foot across the floor.
He's funny and honest and he eats me out like a fucking dream,Crane. She was on a roll now and there was no stopping her. He's fun and he's easy to be with, so forgive me if I don't give a good goddamn what you think of him. She wanted to sit down, but—no. She'd be gone soon anyway. And she hadn't been planning on going to Luke's, but you'd better believe she'd ride him like a bronco tonight. Crane was quiet, as if making sure there wasn't more coming. I would always wish they were mine instead.
Come to think of it, she couldn't feel her own face. It was half numb and half consumed in flames. And he was still talking. I've come close, I think, but my musings must fall so very short of the reality. To tell him that yeah, she'd wondered too. That she'd woken up so many nights swearing she could smell him, not just his familiar wool and wood smoke, but the way he smelled when he was slicked with sweat, when the room was heavy with musk and he tasted like salt and sex.
That she got lost sometimes watching his hands until she had to grind her thighs together to stop the throbbing. That it was deeper than any of that and it gave her feelings she didn't have names for, feelings she didn't dare look at too closely, lest they grow wings and fly away. But instead, she looked at him with narrowed eyes. He threw his hands up and let them slap against his sides as they fell. She felt like a traitor, but she laughed. That gave him the courage to look at her. He moved closer, but stopped six feet short.
For all of it. Even for feeling this way about you. I know you'd prefer…I know it'd be simpler if…" He trailed off with a hopeless shrug. And yeah, he was right. Like Luke was simple. It was never gonna be that way with Crane. But maybe it could be hard and messy and complicated and worth it. She took the last two steps toward him.
Turns out she had a lousy imagination. She was okay with that.
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I'm not much on AUs, so I'm going to stick to fencing. The Sword of Methuselah was stupid. Who the fuck designs a sword that kills the person who wields it?