Hushed Willows [m] I only got one thing in the back of my mind

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We can keep this super short since we have so much other stuff going on <3 I just couldn't pass up this bit of development. Set directly after this!

She couldn't seem to calm down. Nor could she decide whether she was upset or angry or — she didn't know. All Reverie knew was that even after the strange woman disappeared from sight, she found herself still bristling, still agitated and pacing and brushing herself aggressively against the trees and rocks in a fit of possession over the forest. She wanted to pursue the stranger. She wanted to retreat far inside the borders and never get near them again. She wanted —

her husband. So Reverie went looking for him, all rippling hackles and spine stiff, uncertain what she would do when she found him. What could she even say? That she'd driven someone from their home? That some sick part of her had almost enjoyed it? She did not know what @Boone would think, if he would hate her for it or see her differently, or what he would make of the strange effect it had on her. Reverie couldn't even begin to put that part to words, the way she was caught in some vicious stirring of an instinct which had only just now awakened in her. But he would know it when he saw her, she was certain; it was impossible to miss.

it had become routine for reverie to come to him when something was bothering her. and this comforted him, the fact that she felt safe enough with him to confide in him. it made him feel as if he had to be doing something right.
and he welcomed her now, as he sat with his toes dipped in the half-frozen pond sitting in the heart of hearthwood's claim. hey, b-- woooooooaaaaaaahhhh, he'd never seen her like this before. her fur is tousled, crazed, with shards of tree bark and flecks of dirt peppered in her typically pristine coat. something was wrong. his first thought is that he must be in trouble.
ears flattened, he scurries to his feet and takes a good few steps away from her. you, um, y-you've got somethin' stuck in your hair, baby.

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Boone's reaction startled her a little; she stopped short in her approach as he stepped back, and for a moment she almost felt hurt. Only a moment. Reverie blinked and stepped closer, slowly at first, hackles still aloft. Why was he retreating from her?

He was hers.

The hesitation fell away from her in the next instant and she moved to press against him with a low, breathy growl. Yeah? She murmured, reaching up to nip at his ear. Maybe you can help me get it out. Another nip to his jaw this time, and she slid herself teasingly beneath him only to emerge from the other side, stepping just out of his reach. Reverie meant to provoke; caught in this white-hot agitation, she meant to drag him into it with her, into a familiar dance set to a very different song. He was hers, and she would never let him forget that.

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she hurtled herself at him with an intensity he had never seen before. normally, he would have reciprocated, but this time; hey, no, we need to-- as gingerly as he can, he pulls her away from his jaw and instead wraps himself around her in an embrace. the equivalent of smothering a flame with a towel.
we need to talk about whatever it is that's got you riled up, first, alright? i'm not-- he wasn't sure how to do this. he'd never — he'd never said no to her. i-i don't feel comfortable gettin', y'know, um, wild. while you're like this.

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Rejection.

It was not what she'd expected. And Reverie was hurt then, perhaps more than she should have been. Her eyes filled with tears, and though she did not pull away from his embrace, she scarcely returned it. He didn't want her. Not while she was like this.

Alright, She said quietly, hating herself for the way her voice trembled on the word. He didn't want her. More than anything Reverie wanted to disappear; to break from his embrace and seek the safety of their den, but even there she would not be able to hide from this rejection. He didn't want her. She couldn't bring herself to say anything else at all.

Boone was swift with his reassurance — and then there was guilt, his and her own, and apologies falling into the space between them. Reverie didn't understand at first, when he explained, though it didn't really matter if she understood or not. It was his desire that she wanted, not only his touch; his pleasure, not only hers. And it did make sense after a little while, after all the explanations had been laid out and it felt as if they'd reached a place of understanding. She'd made him feel unsafe. He wanted her to be soft with him always, or at least that was her comprehension of it.

So she was, this time in chaste kisses and gentle warmth. She led him to their den, where they would spend what remained of the day soothing one another. In the end Reverie was grateful that Boone had not responded to her rattled affections, that he'd found another way to make her feel safe and loved. And she would remember this; she would remember that he needed tenderness from her. She'd never wanted to make him feel unsafe.

Later in the evening, when they'd both settled, the story of all that had transpired earlier in the day finally spilled from her; haltingly, hesitantly, but that fear too was unfounded. Boone was proud of her — and that was a strange and addictive feeling. That night she went to sleep tucked in his arms, murmuring sweetly to him, telling him that she loved him. Boone was more fragile to her touch than she'd realized, and in a way Reverie was glad for the knowledge; it meant that she could try to be what he needed. It meant that she could avoid ever hurting him this way again.