#counting toes in previous fandom?

[fluentmoviequoter]

Confident in Us

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x confident!fem!reader (single mom)

Summary: You're confident, you keep Tim on his toes, but he realizes that it's not enough. He learns that you have a son from a previous relationship while Angela is pressuring him to ask you out, but you beat him to it.

Warnings: misogynistic comments (not from Tim), fluff, flirting, Tim gets a little nervous around r, r's son likes Optimus Prime (bc I like Transformers)

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“C’mon, babe, wake up!” you call again, holding your phone away from your face. “Okay, sorry, Angela, how can I help you?” you ask into the microphone.

“Babe? Did someone spend the night?” Angela teases.

“You know he did. Early morning calls from you are new, though.”

“We’re infiltrating a money laundering scheme. The Metro captain said you’d be a good fit to lead the operation,” she explains.

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Perfect! And I’d tell you to take your time getting ready, but you always look good.”

“Back atcha.”

You end the call and yell another wake-up call with more urgency. There’s a case to be worked on, and you know you can get it done. If you can get to work, that is.

“Sergeant Bradford,” you greet as you approach Angela’s desk. “Detective Lopez.”

“Morning,” Tim replies.

You smile at him before asking Angela where your temporary team is. She tells you they’re arriving shortly and meeting in the roll call room. There’s a case file spread open on her desk, and you lean beside her to look at it.

“When do you think your captain will just realize that I’d be a great permanent fixture on your team?” you ask Tim, looking up through your lashes. “I’d only distract you boys sometimes.”

“I think that’s the major concern,” Tim deadpans.

“Granted, we wouldn’t be able to work together,” you sigh.

“Why not?”

“We’d draw too much attention, Tim. Look at us.”

You smile again and Tim shakes his head. Your confidence reads as flirtation occasionally, but Tim has always been drawn to you. He’s constantly impressed by how good you are at your job, and how aware you are of what you are worth. Your strengths and weaknesses are well-known to you, and you use them to your advantage. Most importantly, you don’t let anyone walk over you. Being a woman in the police force is hard, but you make it look effortless and do it with grace.

“Why am I in charge of this?” you ask.

“You’ve worked a laundering op before, right?” Angela asks.

“I assisted in one when I was on patrol, yeah.”

“A very successful one, from what I hear. Since you’ve been on the ground for one, you were the best choice.”

You nod before you notice the Metro team enter. As you stand and move toward Tim, he wonders if you’re this confident outside of work, or if it’s something you’ve built up to maintain your sanity in a job surrounded by men.

“Think we’ll be done by eight?” you murmur.

“Why? Have a date?” he counters.

“Something like that,” you reply with a wink. “Let’s go catch some money launderers, Bradford.”

“We’ve got three Metro teams here for this op,” the Metro captain explains as you enter. “Work together or get out of my station, is that clear?”

Overlapping replies of “Yes, ma’am” mix as you lead Tim toward the front of the roll call room. A television screen shows the layout of the warehouse you will be infiltrating, but you have to explain all the minor details. Your previous success in a place like this was due to the precision of little movements, and this will be no different.

“So, what’s the plan?” a man in the front row asks.

You nod toward him and say, “Our goal is-“

“I was asking Sergeant Bradford,” he interjects.

You smile at him as you explain, “I’m in charge of this operation, so I can answer any questions you have. Our goal is to infiltrate the operation without breaching. Once inside, we can better understand the operation. Then, three different teams will breach from the locations marked on the map.”

“‘Scuse me,” someone calls from the back.

“Yes?”

“Why leave the front side open during the breach?”

“Excellent question. This unit backs up to a storefront on the opposite side. Patrol units will evacuate that store before the raid, so there will be no exfil points nor civilian interaction.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“No problem. You have your team assignments, and we will ensure each team is in location before the infiltration. In the case of anyone exiting the building before the breach begins, immobilize and detain as quickly and quietly as possible. Are there any other questions?”

Everyone shakes their head, and you hear the first man who cut you off mutter something under his breath.

“One more thing,” their captain adds. “If any one of you have decided to feel misogynistic today, get out now. I will not tolerate you rejecting orders for any reason. One more disrespectful comment toward another officer will get you benched. Indefinitely. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the men call together.

As they leave, she apologizes to you, but you brush off her concerns with a smile. You’re used to it, and she is too.

“Thank you for letting me join this operation,” you tell her.

“Of course. I hear you and Bradford are the best,” she replies. “Prove ‘em right.”

You nod before following Tim out. There’s a bit of time until you have to change and prepare to infiltrate, and you have paperwork to do until then.

“Good work in there,” Tim says.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls, Bradford,” you joke. “See you in a bit.”

He watches you walk toward your desk. When Angela slaps his arm, though, he turns away quickly with wide eyes.

“What was that for?” he demands.

“Are you going to ask her out or not?” she sighs.

“Not.”

“Why not?”

“Um, I don’t have a death wish,” Tim says dramatically. “She does not like being hit on, you know that.”

“No, she doesn’t like being objectified. You asking her out – genuinely being interested in her – would get an entirely different response.”

Tim rolls his eyes and notices a man walking toward you. He lays a hand on Angela’s shoulder and turns her toward you.

“Hey, baby, you need someone to escort you home tonight?” the man asks, though his eyes are nowhere near your face. “No need to go home without a man one more time, right?”

“The only boy I’ll be taking home tonight is my son, so no thank you,” you reply easily.

“Son?” Tim whispers.

“You didn’t know?” Angela asks.

“No, I… Look, Lopez, the point is I don’t need her to stop talking to me because I asked her out.”

“Then don’t ask her out like that.”

“She doesn’t want anything!” Tim exclaims. “Drop it.”

You look up when his voice raises, and your brows furrow when you see him talking to Angela. They wave, and you shake your head in amusement before returning your attention to your paperwork.

“I didn’t even know she had a son,” Tim adds quietly. “She keeps me on my toes at work, and that’s enough.”

“Sure,” Angela agrees. “But what about when it’s not enough anymore?”

“So…” Tim begins as you walk down a street to reach the target location.

“Put your arm around me,” you say suddenly.

Tim doesn’t question your request as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. His eyes are on your face, and you smile as you look up at him.

“It’s busier than I thought it’d be,” you murmur. “Don’t need to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves.”

“Not a problem. We’re going to a place that doesn’t exist anyway,” Tim replies.

“You seem… off. Are you okay to do this?” you check.

“Yeah, I’m good. Angela just pried into my personal life again. Made me question things, for some reason.”

You chuckle and shake your head against Tim’s forearm. “Trust me, I know that situation all too well. She’s been trying to get me to start dating since my son got old enough to be left with a babysitter.”

Tim hums and you realize he may not have known as much about your personal life as Angela. You don’t talk about your home life much at work for a couple of reasons, but the biggest is your concern about the comments you’d get. Being a cop is hard enough, but a cop who is a single mother is much different. The things that the men you work with would say require a level of patience that you don’t have, and your confidence can’t conceal that.

“We’re here,” Tim alerts as you reach the entrance.

He removes his arm from your shoulders and opts to take your hand as he opens the door and leads you inside. The false front, Coo-Coo Cash Checking, is tiny, though you suppose they need as much room as possible for their backdoor counterfeiting business.

“Welcome, folks,” a man says as he steps to the desk. “What can I help you with?”

“My girlfriend and I are looking to buy a house but can’t get approved for the loan we need. A friend of mine told me you, or your boss, Malcolm Dmitri, could help,” Tim explains.

The man nods at the mention of the code word and steps back. “Sure, we can. Mr. Dmitri is in a meeting right now but should be done in about five minutes. Mind waiting?”

“That’s perfect,” Tim replies. “Thank you, sir.”

The door closes behind him and you turn toward Tim.

“Something feels off,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

He looks around, but there isn’t much to see in the five-foot-deep entryway where you stand. You rise to your tiptoes and look over the desk, but there’s nothing back there, either.

“They’re going to do something unexpected,” you say. “Let’s just roll with it.”

“Within reason,” Tim argues.

“What if my reason is different than yours?” you ask, leaning against him and smiling.

“Then I’ll pull rank,” he answers, sounding breathless.

“And here I thought we were friends.”

You pout, and Tim looks away quickly. Just as you stand and prepare to apologize for going too far, the door opens again.

“Mr. Dmitri can see you now. The problem is his office is small, so it’ll have to be one at a time. He’ll see you first, Miss…” he trails off, waiting for your name.

“Walton,” you answer, making up a name quickly.

Tim squeezes your hand, but you run your finger over his palm as you step forward. He registers your signal but doesn’t like what you’re about to do.

“I’ll be right back, honey,” you promise as you walk through the door.

Tim leans back against the wall as he waits for your signal to breach. He will rush inside the moment he hears it. Not a moment before, though, because he knows you and you know what you’re doing.

As you and Tim walk out of the front door after a successful raid, you pull his hand into yours again.

“Ask me what you wanted to ask before,” you say softly. “I don’t keep my personal life a secret from you on purpose, it’s just that some of the guys at work… I know how they’d treat me if they knew I had a kid.”

“I get it,” Tim replies. “You said you’re a single mom. I guess I’m just surprised anyone would leave you.”

“I left him,” you admit. “I know what I’m worth and that didn’t always sit well with him. I wouldn’t change a thing, though, because I got an amazing son out of the deal.”

“What were you thinking?” one of the Metro officers demands as you near the rendezvous point. “Going in there alone was stupid!”

“I had the situation under control,” you reply calmly.

Tim drops your hand and levels his gaze on the man before you. He’s too close to you, but Tim won’t step in unless he has to. You can handle yourself, he knows that, but it doesn’t keep him from getting angry with people who talk down to you.

“Clearly! They could’ve taken you in a second!” he replies. “How do you deal with her, Bradford? You just let her waltz into a death trap.”

“She is good at what she does,” Tim answers. “And you would do well to treat her like the cop she is and not my assistant. This is her operation, so stop questioning her decisions.”

“Oh, she’s got you on a tight leash, Bradford.”

“That’s enough,” you interrupt, your friendly smile long gone. “I know what I am doing, and since you clearly have no trust in me as a member of your team, you can go.”

“That’s not your call, girlie.”

Tim steps forward, but his Metro captain approaches before he can say anything.

“She dismissed you, officer. That means go. Now.”

The officer rolls his eyes and stomps as he pushes against your shoulder to get past. You shake your head before you ask if all of the suspects are in custody.

“Every one of them,” the captain answers. “Excellent work in there.” “I appreciate that,” you reply. “Sergeant Bradford was a great asset in there.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Reviews are coming up soon.”

She winks at Tim before she pats your shoulder and returns to the mobile command unit. You exhale and roll your shoulders back to stand straighter.

“I’m sorry,” Tim offers.

“I don’t let it affect me anymore. My confidence threatens their insecurity, so they try to knock me down. I’ve gotten very good at standing my ground. But I meant what I said, you were great in there; couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I wasn’t even with you,” Tim argues.

“Yes, you were. I knew that you’d be there the moment I signaled. That’s why I was okay going a few steps further alone because you had my six.”

“Always.”

“There is one thing I’d like to ask you to do, though,” you begin. Tim nods, and you request, “Whatever Angela wanted you to do, go do it. She looks out for our best, even when it just feels like pointless meddling.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Sure, you can.”

“No, I really-“

“Tim,” you groan, leaning back.

“She wants me to ask you out,” Tim blurts out.

You stand up to look at him, and he simply shrugs. Though you suspect why he doesn’t want to do it, based on how you usually respond to being hit on at work, you know that you would say yes before he even finished.

“I have a kid,” you remind him quietly.

“So?” Tim asks, furrowing his brows.

“That’s a non-starter for most guys.”

“Most guys are idiots, then.”

You smile as you agree. “But you’re not. So, what are you going to do?”

Tim shakes his head, so you sigh and do something for both of you.

“Tim Bradford, will you go out with me?” you ask.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m asking you out. Now, my son may have to crash the date because my sitter is supposed to leave early tomorrow, but he’s a good kid. Most of the time.”

“Okay,” Tim says. “Yeah, let’s go out.”

“See, that wasn’t so scary,” you tease. You lean toward him to whisper, “And I promise that I’m not just using you to be a good influence in my son’s life. He has all the father figure he needs in Optimus Prime.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Tim asks quietly.

“Which part?”

“The-“

You cut Tim off with a kiss on the cheek, and when your hands hit his shoulders to steady yourself, he knows that Angela was right. She can never know that, though, and it was a one-time thing. Tim pulls you into a hug before you can pull back.

“Thank you for defending me,” you tell him.

“You didn’t need it,” he counters.

“Yet you did it anyway. That makes it even better, Tim.”

“Thanks for asking me out.”

“Now that we did need. I can get another sitter so we can go on a real date.”

“No, bring your son. He’s important to you, so he needs to be a part of this. If he doesn’t like me, we go back to being work friends.”

“And if he does?”

“Then I guess I have to fight Optimus Prime.”

“Mm,” you hum, pretending to think. “I think you could take him with a little help from me.”

“A sentient robot who turns into a semi versus two human cops? You’re more confident than I thought.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No, I don’t.”

You step away from Tim and smile. “Then it’s a date. Am I in charge of this operation or are you?”

“Well, you did this one so well… I’ll handle the date; you just look perfect as always.”

You gasp and point at Tim as you walk backward toward your car. “You can flirt!”

“I learned from the best,” he replies playfully. “See you tomorrow.”

“Twice!” you remind him. “And, Tim, don’t bother to brush up on your fighting skills. You’re better than Optimus, every day of the week. He’s going to adore you.”

I hope so because I adore his mom, Tim thinks. Maybe more than adore.

[fairy-writes]

Hii, can i request a oneshot of Ayato (tokyo ghoul) with an investigator reader?

STAR-CROSSED

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Kirishima Ayato x Reader

Word Count: 0.8k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, CCG Investigator!Reader, Human!Reader, Angst

Notes: Ayato is :re age in this (so around his 20s for those who haven’t finished :re (like me lol))

__________________________________________________________________________

You should’ve known this was going to happen. 

You stare blankly at the packet in front of you, a big bold “CLASSIFIED” stamped in red across the front. You had gone through it already before the meeting, only to go through it yet again in the meeting to make sure nothing was missed. 

Not that you would miss anything. No, no, no, you were too good at your job for that. 

Which is probably why they assigned you this mission. Because you were one of the best, not the best—that was reserved for Arima Kishou. But you were still an accomplished Special Class Investigator despite being in your twenties. 

But that didn’t matter right now. Or maybe it mattered more than anything in the world. 

Because you were being forced to kill your lover. 

The packet weighs heavily in your leather satchel on the bus ride home, but you refrain from opening it again to shield the classified information from prying eyes. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out, your heart sinking. 

“Ayato <3”

You swipe your thumb across the screen, sending the call to voicemail. Almost immediately, Ayato calls back but you do the same thing. 

And again. 

And again. 

Until…

“Boy troubles?” Comes an older woman’s voice, and you jump, turning to face her. She looked sympathetic, watching you with big eyes filled with sadness and warmth. You feel unexpected tears well up in your eyes,

“Something like that.” You sniffle, and her eyes soften. 

“It’ll be okay, dearie, just talk it out with him, yeah? That’s how my husband and I did it for sixty-three years.” She smiled encouragingly, and you let out a watery laugh.

“I’ll give that a go,” you mumble and shake hands. “Thank you,” You say, and she pulls you into a hug.

“Everything will work out in the end.” She promised, and the two of you parted ways. 

Ayato is waiting for you at the train station. You spot him almost immediately after getting off the train, just as he spots you. He pushes through the crowd until you are facing each other. 

“What did I do?” He demands, and you sigh, all your previous thoughts rushing back. 

Your mission. 

Your job.

You had to kill him or face the consequences yourself.

Could you even do it?

“Nothing.” You say and brush past him, intent on walking home. He follows you, boots kissing the heels of your dress shoes. His anger is palpable, making a shiver run down your spine at his dangerous emotions. He was infinitely stronger than you, being an SS-Class ghoul. You were pretty sure he’d stand no chance against Arima Kishou, but you? You’d need help from your team, but you were supposed to be the leader of this execution. 

The two of you didn’t say a word until you got to your apartment. The second the door shut and you locked your various locks, Ayato was in front of you, hands on his hips and demanding an answer. 

“Why are you upset?” He asks, and you toe off your shoes and hang your coat in the closet.

“I’m not upset.” You try, and he scoffs, 

“Bullshit. I can tell you’re upset about something. You never send me to voicemail unless I screw up or something happened at work.” You set your work bag on the dining table, the heavy papers inside thumping against the wood. 

“Can we not do this right now?” You say, pouring all your weariness into your voice. He arches an eyebrow and, thankfully, doesn’t say another word. 

You wake up a couple of hours later when Ayato slides into bed beside you and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. He noses the back of your neck, inhaling your scent in a way that was comfortable to him. You close your eyes again, feeling tears welling up yet again as you try not to cry. 

You didn’t want to kill him. 

You weren’t even sure that you could. 

“I looked in your bag.” He mumbles, and your heart stops. 

“You—”

“I know, I’m sorry, but I was worried.” He says and squeezes you tight, pecking the back of your neck. 

“But that meant you saw my case file—” He cuts you off gently, and you feel your soul cry,

“I’m not mad. I want you to know that. It was bound to happen anyway.” He says, and that makes you turn to face him. He presses a kiss to your mouth and you can taste the coffee on his lips. 

It was almost funny how much he had changed. You knew from his sister that he used to be a brash and obnoxious teenager who was extremely violent and ruthlessly slaughtered investigators and humans alike. 

It was a wonder he fell in love with you at all. 

[queers-gambit]

One Sunrise at a Time

prompt: you have news for your husband.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 7.4k+

note: last in the series, my heart. got a thing for making 'bad boys' simps for their ladies - that's great shit right there. author has had too much coffee and can feel her heartbeat in her eyes.

warnings: cursing, mild angst, Daemon's a shitty husband and a dumb boy, but he's also a simp so super OC!Daemon, um, more baby-making smut, talk of difficult fertility journey, let's all run away from our problems.

previous: part five: Bright Light

Three years after your wedding night, and you still had not given your husband an heir; leaving a small divide between you both. You knew it stung at his pride that his seed will not take, and you grew worried that you were past your prime to bare children; where you both felt an obligation each month to couple, wait for results, and speak little.

By every God did it drive you insane. You wanted to be close to him, but Dameon busied himself while you took up post as 'Master of Whispers' for the King.

After 'the incident' that followed rumor of her virginity, he took your ear often to speak worries to you. And the young servants and orphans of the city passed word to you of their findings, dubbing them your Little Birds that like to tweet in your ear. You filtered what passed unto the King, wanting to take your Lord husband's ear, but was scarce in his appearance, and little did you get to his counsel.

However, you remained in Kings Landing for those three years, and you could tell it was wearing at Daemon's already limited patience. You passed time with Princess Rhaenyra, who you became quite close to in your time, and during court season, you still sponsored your step-sons; adamant on finding them suitable wives.

This season was going favorably, and Kase was courting Lord Stark's second daughter while Jamie was courting the young, but beautiful, (only) Lady Caldwell. You heard nothing from the Ladies Aline and Jocey, but you worried not for them, because Kase gave you every update possible. He liked taking afternoon teas with you, and you knew you'd miss him most.

"Mother!" Kase grinned, finding you in the gardens. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Oh, whatever for, my dear boy?" you asked gently, knowing damn well what the lad wanted.

"Might you... Accompany me?"

"Where?"

"Into the city," he nodded with a growing grin, bouncing on his toes to swish his long, dark hair around his face. "I need to visit the jeweler."

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to propose," he grinned, making you giggle and clap your hands.

"Oh, my boy! This is so exciting!"

"Oh! Isn't it!" He beamed with you, taking your hands tightly in his. "And I need your help picking a ring, mother."

"Yeah?"

"Please?"

"Of course," you nodded, "just let me stop off at my chambers, I will get money for the ring."

"No, I've plenty - "

"No, no, you're going to let me pay, and we're not going to let expense be a barrier. Please, I will do the same for Jamie," you whined. "'S no fun being a Princess if I can't spoil you."

Kase nodded, "Let us go now, I want to be back by sunset."

"When are you doing it? When are you asking?"

"I'm asking her father for permission tonight, I want to show Lord Stark the ring first. You know, show I can provide for his beloved daughter," he explained, making you nod with understanding. His arm was then offered to you as escort, whisking you away to your chambers, and when you both burst through the door in a fit of giggles, he straightened up first.

Your eyes cut over to see Daemon idling by a table, the Grand Maester at his side. "Oh, right," you breathed, turning to Kase, "love, go to the foyer, I'll meet you there in a few moments."

"Are you sure?"

"I forgot, but this is a prior commitment," you smiled, giving his forearm a squeeze. "Go on, I'll be right there."

"I'll wait with the guards," he nodded with assurance, offering a nod to the Grand Maester. Then, "Prince Daemon," and he was bowing out of the room, closing it behind him.

You sighed gently, nearing the pair with your fingers twiddling nervously. "Is there any change?" You asked diplomatically to the Maester.

His old eyes shot between both you and your husband, "Well, I ran the tests, just as I usually do..."

"Is there any change?" You repeated firmly.

"No, Princess. Not this month, apparently..."

"Right," you nodded, waving him off, "then we are adjourned. Something is... Wrong with my womb," you hesitated to admit, feeling jarred by the notion as Daemon would not meet your eyes. So, you stared at the quivering Maester.

"Well, we could try other methods," the Grand Maester explained, making your throat bob. "I can bring a list of options later, or we can go over them now, if either of you are prepared to hear them?"

"No, later will be fine," you assured, sniffling after, and clearing your throat. "Thank you, Grand Maester, again... That will be all, thank you," You moved for the door, opening it with meaning; the old man glancing at your husband, who remained quiet, and did not look up from the table's top.

"My Prince," the Grand Maester nodded, shuffling out of the room, "Princess."

"Thank you," you whispered again, the door shutting firmly after. You did not look at Daemon as you moved for the safe you kept, drawing a velvet draw-string bag of Gold Dragons to your possession as Daemon remained stoically still.

"Where are you going with that?" He asked, eyeing you wearily.

"We agreed to pay for Kase and Jamie's engagement rings, did we not?" You asked gently.

"Right," he nodded. "Kase is ready then, is he?"

"He is."

"Right..."

You paused before deciding on changing your shoes, finally bucking up the courage to speak as you did so, "I'm sorry, you know."

"What for?"

"For being unable to give you a child," you admitted meekly, staring at the laces you did up tightly. "I did not - if I knew, I would not have - I would not have married you."

"No?"

"No," you answered definitively, tying off the laces of your boots before standing and settling your purse to your person. "I will understand if you do not wish to continue this marriage with me, as you were anticipating a healthy, functioning wife."

Your bitter, vile words marred your face as you hastened for the door, but his hands were like a stranger's grabbing your upper arm. You gasped lightly as you turned almost in shock, back against the door as he looked down at you with something akin to anger.

"Why do you speak such words?" He asked in High Valyrian.

"Because it's true, isn't it?"

"You are deeply mistaken," he shook his head, "because nothing about your ability to bare me children has ever influenced my want to marry you."

"That is laughable, for you fuck me like it's a chore, barely share my bed, only half-way look at me, and have been avoiding me like-like-like the plague, or something! As if I have Grey Scale!" You emotions tipped and tears filled your eyes, cascading past your waterline. "As if your mind is far from your body, and Gods only know where that is!"

"Sweetheart - "

"No, I needed you!" You sobbed. "I needed my husband, and it was like you couldn't even look at me! Be in a room with me! Share my bed - hold me in your arms! My God, Daemon, when was the last time you told me you loved me?"

His mouth opened before his brows furrowed, expression falling, "I fear I do not know."

"See?" You sniffled. "It's like I am not here, like we are not truly married, and my heart hurts, Daemon. I do not want this for us, so, if this is the grounds you use, being that I am barren, then use it, and cut us both free. I'm sorry. I really am, Daemon, please, I did not intend for this to happen. I did not know."

"Please, do not apologize to me, and let me offer my own," he shook his head, shame taking his features. "I have no excuse for myself - "

"Are you here now?" You begged.

"Yes," he swore.

"Then come with us to pick a ring, spend the day with me, please. I miss you so much, I am so fucking sad and by Gods, do I feel so alone."

"No, I am here now, pet," he promised. "I'm so sorry I was absent, but I'm here, I'm with you. I'm so sorry. Fuck, my dove, I'm sorry you feel alone."

"I'm sorry I'm not pregnant," you whispered, your hands moving to press to your empty womb; his hands laying over yours.

"No matter what is to pass, you are everything I need, and more. Everything I need, all I have ever wanted. Look at me, please," he asked quietly, forehead resting on yours as your eyes slowly rose - forcing them apart. "I have loved you everyday I've known you, and nothing will change that. No child will make me care more or less for you, because you're perfect for me, poppet."

"I don't want to be alone..."

"We will never be alone," he promised, kissing your forehead. "The Grand Maester will bring us options..."

"I want to give you a natural child," you whimpered.

"The Gods will decide, but for now... I could stand taking my duties as husband a little more seriously. You have felt unloved and I took vows to never let you go a day like that - I will resolve this."

You nodded, lifting your hands to pet over his chest, "Please just stay with me today. I feel like a fucking failure - not only as a wife, but as a woman."

"You are fare from a failure," he swore, switching back to the Common Tongue to prove how serious his words were.

"Then why can I not give you a child?"

"Because the Gods have not deemed it so," he sighed. "I am disappointed, yes, but nothing makes me love you less. I'm sorry I've neglected you."

"Be with me now, maybe buy me something pretty, and all is forgiven."

"Deal," he agreed with a small chuckle, sliding his hand over your cheek. "I love you. Fuck, dove, I love you so much."

You nodded, tears still falling, "I love you, too. So much so, Daemon, that being away from you hurts. As annoying and pathetic as that might be."

"Hey, no," he hushed you gently. "Never again will you know that pain for I will not be the cause of it any longer," he promised, pressing a searing-hot kiss to your salty wet lips. "Now, when is Jamie proposing?"

"I don't know yet, we're worrying about Kase today," you nodded, nuzzling your nose to his.

So lead to Daemon preparing for your day, lacing your fingers together as he escorted you to the foyer. Kase was waiting patiently, smirking when he saw the pair of you approach, "Ha! I knew it."

"What?"

"That he would be joining us," Kase grinned now. "Everything's good now?"

"Yes, we are resolved," you assured. "And we're dedicated to finding you a ring, so, shall we?"

He sighed, "She deserves something pretty. You know?"

"Pretty is a great start," you smirked, Daemon's hand tightening. "It's what Daemon's going for today, too."

"Yeah? You're in the market?" Kase wondered.

"For anything my wife wants," Daemon nodded, leading the way out of the Red Keep. "She's been without something new for far too long."

"I want to be able to do that," Kase sighed. "Like, my wife's sad? I can just up and buy her a new ring, or necklace, or whatever, and she's okay."

"In all honesty, I'd be happy with flowers from the gardens," you chuckled, "but my husband is dramatic, Kase, and likes to spend money."

"Only on you," he assured, tugging you in closer. "So, Kase, any idea where to start?"

"Something shiny?"

"Oh, he's helpless," your husband teased, to the enjoyment of your step-son.

"So, tell me," Kase muttered when you finally stepped off castle grounds - half a dozen Gold Cloaks at your flank, "what news did the Maester bring?"

"I am not pregnant," you admitted with indignation, trying to remain passive - as if this whole situation didn't cause your skin to crawl.

"Yet," Daemon tacked on with encouragement, "because in truth, lad," he told Kase, "I have not been as diligent in my duties as a husband as I should be."

"Meaning?"

"We don't fuck nearly enough - but that is set to change," he eased with a smirk; you hand smacking his stomach playfully.

"Well, you actually don't spend any time with me," you pointed out, feeling silly admitting it aloud. "Might we... I don't know, move along to another subject? How are matters with the Lady Stark, Kase?"

"Well, Jamie and I spoke of it, and if the Ladies agreed to it, have a duel wedding here with you before we return home. My Lady's father gifted her a small stead near Winterfell... I think we might move there after the ceremony."

"And Jamie?"

"Would still be Lord, only, married, and no longer in the capital," Kase paused to consider, "with very little reason to return to this city."

Pointing that out seemed to set you off some, though you did not let it show. The idea was that both lads were to marry this season, and Daemon was antsy to escape Kings Landing for across the Narrow Sea seemed like a terribly convenient coincidence. Daemon's been more than gracious to let you linger as you did, but now that the truth was tangibly verbalized about your boys leaving and not returning, Gods, did it sting!

Daemon and Kase asked one another a few questions back and forth in further effort to know one another, your feet and lower back starting to ache. Perhaps you were to start your cycle soon...

Time through the city drug only because it was evident Kase was 'forcing' time between you and your husband by going the long routes through market stalls. By the time you arrived at the jewelers, all 6 Gold Cloaks were holding items bought because you had so simply as 'gazed fondly at it.'

And he was even worse in the jeweler, though you talked him down to only one item - be it a ring, or heavy necklace, so solid gem broach... With reluctance, Dameon agreed, and the pair of you focused on helping Kase make his decisions. Your husband advised he simply go with whatever spoke to his heart, but it was evident the lad was becoming overwhelmed.

So, you stepped up, and together, pieced together what he thought would be suitable for his bride-to-be. Daemon watched with a smirk, gazing over other options for anything he found intriguing for you, but paused when Kase exclaimed, "AH-HA! YES!"

"Kase!" You scolded.

"Sorry, sorry," he winced, looking from you, to the jeweler, then to Daemon, "sorry. I just... I think I found the one!"

"Let's see it, lad," Daemon nodded, clasping the young Lord's shoulder and looking at what he held. "Befitting for a young woman so beautiful as your bride. It will do nicely - yes, we'll take it," he assured the salesman.

"Gems are imported from Qaarth."

"Where before?" You wondered.

"No idea," the man admitted. "But it's real nice, yeah?"

"It is, please, set it aside for us," you nodded to the man, then pointed to a pretty, solid gold necklace that held a plaque that looked as if it could be carved into. "And might I see that, please?"

"Course," the man mumbled, and the necklace was produced for your hands to examine.

"If I gave you script, could you engrave this for me?"

"Anything you'd like, Princess," he nodded in agreement.

"I'll send the instructions with a lad later," you smiled. "We'd like those two items - might we settle the debt now?"

"If you'd like, of course."

"I'd like to, yes," you nodded from the salesman to your Lord husband. "Daemon? Love?"

"Right," he sighed, pulling the money pouch from his belt after fearing that if you carried it, it would encourage violence against you. "What's the number then?"

As the two talked price, Kase was beaming as he examined his ring choice - glancing at you, and making you prompt, "She'll be blown away."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you assured. "It's a beautiful selection, she's going to just die when she sees it. And her father will not think you lowly, but capable of providing for his daughter."

"But what if... What if I can't?" Kase mumbled, turning to you. "What if I screw up so bad, it can't be fixed, and she leaves me - or whatever have you!? I fear I am only a second son and hold no land or titles, but that my brother does, and so long as he draws breath, I have nothing..."

"Kase..."

"No, no, just that I want to be with the Lady Stark - even on her homestead, if it means being away from you all... But what if I ruin it?"

"You won't," you spoke with assurance.

"So quick to - "

"I know you, Kase, get out of your head," you advised as Daemon paid that debt owed. Kase sighed and thanked the jeweler, following Daemon from the shop, after you.

The entire walk back through town, Kase worried he wasn't good enough for Lady Stark - and Daemon was far too amused when the boy asked him for help. Daemon's solution? To take the lad to a tavern, but you weren't sure.

"C'mon, Mum, it'll cap off a great day," Kase encouraged. "And we can get drunk! It's a win-win!"

You chuckled, "You're aware of what we've on our person?"

"Yes, yes, but no one would dare cross the Prince of the City!"

Heaving a sigh, you glanced around to the Gold Cloaks. "Can we trust you to bring this all back to our chamber and lock the door?" You asked them, handing over the engagement ring but Kase lunged for it.

"Wait!"

"Oh, hell no," you snapped, taking the ring and pointing a warning finger, "I've been to enough taverns in my life to watch men gamble away whatever be in their pockets - and I will not jeopardize this ring! It's going to our room to be locked up, hmm?"

"Well," he looked nervous.

"I trust these men," Daemon nodded, "and if they choose to steal from us, or to vary from whatever my wife asks, they know the extent to which I will take to punish them."

"Oh, Daemon," you swatted at him, "you do not need to threaten everyone!"

"How would they know I'm serious?"

You sighed, handing the ring over. "Please?"

"Of course, Princess," one of the guardsman assured. "You've a key?"

"Yes, you can lock it, I've a way in for us," you smiled lightly, nodding as they took their leave. "Are we sure?" You asked Kase and Daemon.

"About the tavern? Yes - c'mon," Kase groaned, tugging you forward as Daemon quickly swooped in behind you. The tavern was relatively lively for the middle of the afternoon, but you were not one to offer judgement as Daemon was greeted calmly, happily...

Like you would a friend.

Your hand found his quickly out of nervousness, lacing together as Kase went for the bar to open a tab and Daemon secured a table by shooing off the residents of the back corner booth.

"Look here, position is everything," he mumbled, guiding you into a seat with him beside you; stuck like glue, "and from here we've the advantage."

"Should we even be here?"

"We're all right," he assured softly. "But if you are uncomfortable, my dove, we will leave."

"No," you sighed, peering around him to the bar, spying Kase talking with animation to the bartender, "he looks excited. But do you frequent this bar?"

"I do," he nodded. "'S why I brought us here, the security is under my payment right now... But I wanted to talk to you about something."

"What would that be?"

His fingers gently pinched your chin, sighing almost sadly, "How would you feel about leaving Westeros?"

"Not just Kings Landing?"

He nodded, "I'd take us across the Narrow Sea."

"Oh," you breathed, nodding slowly. "Well, that's something... When do you want to leave?"

"After the lads are married, so, the end of the season?"

You worried slightly, "Is that enough time?"

"We've three months, dove," he nodded, petting down your cheek, "and in truth, we've no more attachments here... Let us leave," he breathed against your lips, puckering his to kiss you. "Let us be done, we'll get away from the city."

"See the world?" You smirked some.

"I'll take you wherever you want to go," he nodded. "Maybe getting away from the city will give us the stress-free environment we'll need to conceive a child."

"You think that's our issue?" You sighed, lacing your hand with his to lean your chin on his shoulder. His own head tilted to caress your forehead.

"Perhaps," he alluded, "but we still have to hear the Maester out."

"Right..."

"Come on, pet, there's hope still," he nodded, kissing your forehead. "And perhaps we see the world instead," he chuckled some, "I don't think I'd mind that. Traveling the world with you?"

"What if we have children?"

"Hey?"

"Wouldn't you want your children to have dragon eggs?"

He sighed, "We can talk logistics later, but yes, I would... It is their birth right," one of his arms was around your back, the other flattening his palm to your stomach. "The Gods will bless us one day."

"But no harm in practicing?" You teased, leaning up to peck his lips quickly. "I fear it's been too long since I've loved you properly, husband."

"Make that my burden," he shook his head, glancing up as his hips shifted when one of your hands laid on his thigh, "and I will make it up to you when we get back - ah!" He hissed when you boldly palmed his crotch before casually settling your arms at his hips when Kase returned to the table, carrying two jugs of ale and three cups stacked on his head. "Devilish woman," he mocked in your ear.

"Here, here!" Kase laughed, setting the jugs down as he dodged around to keep the cups on his head.

"Kase - good Gods!" You laughed, helping him.

"C'mon, we're here for a good time," he laughed in return.

"Are you drunk already?" Daemon perked a stoic brow, but you saw the mischief stretch across his face as a smirk.

"Yes," Kase nodded rapidly, pouring the ale for you all. "The lads at the bar were happy to hear of my impending engagement!"

"Oh, sweetheart," you chuckled lightly, giving Daemon's thigh a squeeze - making him jolt a bit - but Kase didn't notice because you asked, "sure they weren't hitting on you?"

"Really? On me?" He gaped, taking his seat finally, gulping his ale. "No, no, no, it was... No, it was harmless!"

"Mhm," you smirked.

"They were kindly!"

"Okay, okay!" You relented, "So, we are celebrating this afternoon. Is there something you want to talk about?"

"Yes," he slurred, "why won't her father give his permission?"

"Wait," you perked up, "did you already ask?"

"Mhm, weeks ago," he waved off between gulps of mind-numbing-ale. "But he said no, but let me continue to court her... So, I thought the ring would show I am the man for her!"

"Oh, wow," you nodded from under Daemon's arm now tossed around your shoulders, "well, that's, uh... Wow..."

"Lad, you've nothing to worry over," Daemon assured, "because there is no other for his daughter, hey? Obviously it is a love-match, and she is adamant on her end that he's not been able to force her to court others. He will not limit his daughter's happiness, yet I would argue you were smart in thinking the ring would help."

"You think it will?"

"Yes," Daemon nodded.

"Hmm," he considered, skulling his drink in full. Daemon chuckled in your ear, nuzzling into your neck, as if three years of slowly drifting apart hadn't been overcome in an afternoon at the jewelers. Your mind began to drift with ideas of how to get him back, and as Kase was enraptured with telling a story, you started to slowly palm Daemon's growing bulge. You felt his thighs tighten, but his throat bobbed to keep his cool - eyes set on Kase's overly animated storytelling movements.

"Dove," Daemon warned under his breath when you pulled the strings of his trousers loose.

"Sh," you cooed, sliding your fingers along his girth to reposition and give a few slow tugs with the table being the only cover between his bare cock and prying eyes.

His breathing shifted but he kept his cool, your hand needing to keep at an angle to protect his cock from the under belly of the table. Kase had shifted his attention half to those who would listen, Daemon's jaw steeling - hips sinking into the seat to keep from bucking. "Oh, fuck," he whispered, stifling a groan.

"Good boy," you purred, giving his shaft a squeeze as his tip leaked. "Always a good boy for me, hmm?"

"Yes," he panted, head bowed to yours again - and to anyone looking over, they would think twice about bothering you. "Just for you."

"Don't cum, save it for my cunt," you switched your tongue to High Valyrian. "Hold it, my Prince."

"Enough," he growled, literally smacking your hand away and instantly tucking himself back into his trousers. Nobody paid you any mind as he stood and gathered you from the booth, then hoisting Kase's arm over his shoulders. "Come on," he told you, "hold onto me."

Your hand latched onto his belt as he had full-hold of Kase. The tavern had grown in patron numbers, forcing a part in the crowd for you as you moved. On the street, Kase started singing, and Daemon kept a wobbly hold on him. When you return to the Keep, luckily, you didn't run into anyone important on your way to deposit the Lord in his chambers - you returning to your chambers, and finding the door locked and all the shopping left in the room.

Good, everything was where it should be.

You were sorting through the day's shopping when Daemon returned, who was then instantly on you with his mouth open to your neck; hands bunching up your skirts as his swollen cock was rutted into the round of your arse.

"Daemon," you gasped, hands bracing on the mattress of your bed as he finally gained access to your cunt, groaning in satisfaction when his fingers met your wet hole.

"I need this," he panted, yanking his cock free to run up and down your slick, and then push in. You both gasped in relief, your chest falling to the bed as his pressed to your back; humping into you as you let him take you as he wanted. "Wanted you in my mouth first but fuck - I couldn't wait."

"Harder, Daddy," you begged, clutching your sheets with desperation.

"Yeah, that's right, fucking beg for me," he encouraged, lifting off of your to piston his hips almost painfully. "Yes, my dove, fuck, take it all. Make me a Daddy, please, please, dove. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck - "

"Fucking cum in me, please," you begged, "I need it - I need to be full."

"Keep talking."

"Let me make you a Daddy, please," you yelped, whining into the sheets before yelping when his hand slapped over your arse cheek. "Fuck me harder, please, I need it so bad!"

"Take it then," He barked, one foot up on the mattress for leverage, hands wrapped around your neck and into your hair. You whined wantonly as he grit his teeth and jack-hammered forward into you with desperation. "FUCK!"

He came with a shout, coming to a standstill as his balls emptied into you; leaving him to rut boyishly into you as his lungs stuttered for air. You were panting as well, letting one elbow hold you up as the other reached up to pet over his cheek. "Someone can't last like before, hey?"

"Oh, you wicked woman," he laughed lightly, breath fanning across the back of your neck before his face was nuzzling there. "Got me worked up in public - I'm surprised I lasted that long." You laughed in return, your legs shaking slightly. "On the bed, pet. I don't want you off it for the next few days."

"Daemon," you whined when he pulled out of you suddenly, legs giving way with a small whoop of surprise.

"I got you," he rushed, catching your body; arms tight around your waist to gently pull you up with him. "Easy," he smirked, "if you're feeling it now, you're in for a long weekend, my dove."

"Gods," you laughed, pulling yourself onto the mattress. "You know, we're going to have to talk..." He sighed when you turned to face him, his fists propping him up on either side of your hips. "Can't just hump our way through this."

"We can't?"

"Daemon."

"I know," he sighed, dropping his forehead to the crook of your neck. "But what is there to say? Besides I am sorry..."

"I fear that if we leave, you will become distracted. My love, we do not have allies outside the Capital City, and I could not bare your same behavior in strange lands."

He sighed, pausing to pull back and pull the rest of his clothes off; stepping out of his boots, too, before reaching for you. He focused on pulling your dress and boots off, almost weakly palming your bare breast before speaking, "I have not been a very good husband, and I know that now, and I cannot apologize enough. But I can try to rectify the situation, and to do that, I suppose I could try harder to prove I love you."

"I know you do," you sighed, leaning back to your pillows, guiding him with you as you took under the covers. "But what happened to us?"

He sighed, deflating into the pillows beside you and pulling you into his chest. "In truth, pet... I fear it is me who is the problem of our infertility..."

"What?" You wondered, looking up at him, confusion knitting your brows together.

He sighed, "Ah, my dove... There are written accounts that sometimes, fertility issues do not fall upon the woman only. Sometimes... It can be the man who struggles to sire an heir."

"Oh," you breathed, pushing further into his embrace. "No, my love, I do not think it's you."

"No - "

"Love, look at me," you frowned, titling his head down towards you. "Sometimes, when a woman takes Moon Tea for an extended period of time, it can... I don't know, alter the state of her womb."

Daemon winced, "If I waited, you wouldn't ever have had need to take the tea..."

"Okay, are we going to go in circles about who's fault this is? Or accept it for reality?" You sighed. "What're we going to do if we don't have a family - and what if we do?"

"It's to be figured out as we go," he sighed against your forehead; cradling you closer. "I just want us gone from the City, my dove."

You sighed, "Then swear to me that you will not put me through this again."

"I'm going to show you I can be the man who deserves you," he swore, leaning in to nuzzle your nose. "No talk of dramatic means; I am yours, and you are mine."

"Would you be honest with me?"

"Of course."

"Have you been visiting the taverns and brothels?"

"Only the taverns," he frowned. "There's been many a night I find myself waking in the stable after drinking far too much."

"Ah, sweetheart..."

"I know," He groaned lightly, readjusting. "Come, nap with me."

You pouted lightly, "You don't want to fuck me again?"

His head, which was settling on your chest, shot up in shock as he eyed you almost wearily. "Really?"

"Mhm."

"Fuck," he whispered, leaning up to latch his mouth onto your own - leading into another frenzied baby-making session.

Months later, you had married both of your step-sons off, and within days, Daemon had approached you regarding your departure.

He made no move to explain to his family where he was heading, choosing to instead latch your shared belongings to Caraxes' saddle as if to just disappear. But as fate would have it, when you approached him with confidence to hand off the last of your rucksacks, you were startled when Caraxes swung his head around to look at you with a great, heaving, cocking-with-curiosity head.

"D-Daemon?" You worried, hands held up in defense as the dragon's muzzle neared you; giving a great heave against your stomach. "Daemon, what is happening? What's he doin', love? Oh, this feels strange, what do I do!?"

"It's all right, you're all right," Daemon soothed, coming behind you to pose as a backboard as the scaly beast nuzzled into you. The power behind the movements jostled you some, but against your husband's chest, you were better secured.

"What's he doing?" You wondered again with greater fear.

Daemon's hands moved to hold over your hips, peering over your shoulder to watch the great beast breath against your belly. "Dove?"

"Hmm?" Your hands were still held up in defense.

"Have you bled this month?"

You paused, glancing up at him slowly, "Not to my knowledge."

"Last month?"

"No... I don't think I remember my last cycle," you admitted, looking up at him with widened eyes. "Does this mean what I think?"

"He's protective of you," he pointed out, sighing after. "No use in getting our hopes up right now. You've been to the Maester, yes?"

"Yes," you nodded, Caraxes growling when Daemon tried to pull you back. "O-Oh, okay," you sighed, gently holding his head to placate the beast, "okay, all right. Shh, shh. Okay, there yah go."

Daemon finished tacking the saddle, watching the pair of you for a moment longer than he would've usually allowed. Something stirred in his gut, and for some reason, he pondered, "What if we left in the morning?"

"Daemon," you sighed, "a single night makes no difference. We want to cross the Sea before night fall, yes?"

He nodded, "One last night here..."

"What are you hoping to achieve?"

Daemon again neared you, glancing up at Caraxes, whilst the beast purred. "There is a feeling I cannot shake."

"What feeling?"

"That we are missing something."

"Not per se," you sighed, patting the underside of the dragon's chin. "What do you think we're missing, love?"

Your eyes closed when Daemon's forehead met your temple, a beat passing, before he admitted, "An egg..." His hand slid across your lower belly to cradle it, "for the babe?"

"Daemon, you just - I'm not - look," you sighed through your nose, feeling frustrated, "it's been over three years, and it's not happened. Perhaps we just let nature take course, yes? Stop trying so bloody hard?"

He sighed, dare you say it, sadly.

"Give us tonight... Let me search for any eggs Syrax might be hoarding..."

You sighed, shifting on your feet. "Everything's packed already."

"We'll make do for the night," he tried.

"If I agree, might I go nap? Or do you want me with you?"

"No, you go rest," he nodded, pressing a kiss to your temple. Yet when he let go, Caraxes whined and had to be held at bay while you made your way back to the Keep. Though, while Demon descended into the Dragon's Lair, you rushed for the Maester's chambers to pound rapidly.

"Princess!" He gasped when he opened the door to your tearful face.

"I-I need another test, Maester..."

"My Lady, it has been months since our last exam - "

"Hence why I need one now," you frowned, wiping your cheeks of tears. "Please."

"Of course, come in, come in," he ushered you, moving about his chambers to prepare his tools and herbs. You gave urine, blood, and spit; waiting impatiently as the Maester prodded around your stomach, ran his tests...

And by the end, he was blinking in near shock. "Well?" You demanded, exhausted by the long day of tests - but you knew Daemon would not be back for hours more.

How wrong you were - but first, the Maester turned with tears in his aged eyes. "M-My Princess... You are with child - without a doubt. I'd wager some eight or nine weeks in? Perhaps ten," he nodded, consulting his exam results. "Yes, just shy of three months, probably when we stopped our exams, yes, yes... Have you had symptoms?"

"I don't... Know?"

"All right," he sighed, "your blood?"

"I cannot remember my last cycle," you admitted with a nod.

"Hunger?"

"Some," you shrugged.

"Mood swings?"

"Well, perhaps no more than usual..."

"And have you any pain in your breasts?"

Sighing, you shrugged, "They are tender, yes, but that's not..."

"It is," he nodded softly. "But I'd wager you're ten weeks in, you'll start to notice your belly swelling soon."

You blinked a few times, "You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I'm pregnant...?"

"You are."

"I'm gonna have a baby?"

"Finally," he teased gently, smiling brightly at you. "What joyous news, Princess."

"Well... I... I do not know what to say," you whispered, feeling panic swell in your chest. "M-Might you send for my handmaiden? H-Her name's Mary, please, Maester, I am feeling overwhelmed."

"Just breathe," he nodded, moving for the door to send for Mary. As you waited, he lead you through breathing exercises; trying to quell your worry before Mary was bursting through the door.

"What's this?" She worried, rushing forward.

"I-I am pregnant," you told her, taking her hands tightly, "an-and I fear I am panicking."

"Do you want me to get your husband?"

"He's in the Dragon's Lair."

"No? I swore I saw him making for your room," she cocked her head, squeezing your hands. "Why are you panicking?"

"B-Because I am not - I do not - for fuck's sake, I don't know in full, but I am scared."

"Of what - "

"Of the birth!" You yelped, tears filling your eyes. "My Gods, they whisper about the Targaryen Curse but I thought it was just me - and that I could not bare children. But now... Fuck's sake."

"Okay, breathe," the Grand Maester advised. "This stress is not good for the baby, you'll have to take that into account the next few months, as you grow the babe."

"Fuck's sake," you snapped as you wept, latching onto Mary as she shot a glare at the Maester.

"Yes, okay, thank you!" She snapped, waving him off. "My Lady, listen to me," she sighed softly, caressing you in comfort, "you are not of Targaryen blood, and that can yet work in your favor when carrying a Targaryen child. Ease your mind, my Lady, you are not doing yourself favors with this stress."

You tried to calm down, but she was still petting your hair as you wept. But then, something in your mind snapped in place, "D-Did you say you saw my husband?"

"Yes, on my way here," she nodded.

"All right," you sniffled and wiped your face, "I-I need to go to him."

"Go," she encouraged, "but allow me to be the first to say - holy fucking shit! You're pregnant! Oh, my Gods, I'm so happy for you! Congratulations!"

You giggled lightly and hugged her tightly, letting her yank you off the exam table to lightly hop around in an excited hug. "I am blessed," you whispered into the hug. "Thank you, my friend."

"Truly!" She squealed. "Oh, no, but does this mean you're still leaving?"

"Let's find out," you breathed, squeezing her hands and moving for the door after. She held your hand as you moved for your chambers, but before you got there, she let go and insisted you talk to your husband alone. With tears in your eyes, you pushed the door to your chambers open, calling, "Daemon?"

"Dove?" He answered from the chair resting at the table's edge, his wrist flourishing as he wrote on parchment, almost sighing with relief. "Where have you been?" He glanced at you. "Thought you were napping, and I come here, you're not in bed."

"I've been - "

"Never mind that! Why are you crying!? Who did it?" He demanded, jumping to his feet and trying to take your face in his hands.

"Why're your hands covered in ash?" You dodged, holding his wrists, easing him back into the chair. "Did you find an egg, my love?"

"I did," he breathed, grinning shyly.

"Good," you nodded while blinking rapidly down at him, gently caressing the side of his cheek to pull his gaze up to meet yours, "because it will lie in our child's crib, finally."

His gaze met yours slowly before realization coated his features, almost gaping at you, "Truly?"

"Daemon," you spoke slowly, taking either of his hands in your own to pull them to rest on your waist, "we're going to have a baby."

"You're pregnant?"

"I'd like to think we are, but yes, I am pregnant."

"Finally," he breathed, leaning forward to caress your stomach with a grin, laughing some after. "Oh, thank the Gods - well, no, thank you, my beautiful wife."

You smiled and caressed his head, keeping him close as he leaned back a little; arms tight round you, legs spreading, and keeping you set between them. He sighed deeply, nuzzling your belly.

"A blessing, is it not?"

"It is," you whispered, petting down his neck. "See what happens when we don't try so hard?"

He chuckled, his breath felt across your lower tummy. "Oh, my sweet wife... How I celebrate you."

"How I celebrate us," you smirked.

He gave a gentle nibble to your belly before lifting his gaze; chin laid to your stomach with his arms tightly around your hips to keep you in place. "I love you, thank you for this. I-I don't know what else to say."

"We've a long way to go, you might not be thanking me yet," you chuckled nervously, but Daemon saw through you. He sighed and leaned back more, guiding you to his lap to sit.

"What is it, sweet girl? Hmm? What's on your pretty little mind?"

You frowned a bit, leaning into his shoulder to caress his cheek and jaw; lowering your voice to mumble into his skin, "I am afraid."

"Of?"

"The birthing..."

"Ah," he sighed, tightening his hold on you. "I see... I will ensure the best midwives and Maesters are at your chambers."

"I need only one promise from you."

"You need only ask it."

"You'll be there with me. In the room, even. You will not leave me to do this alone..."

Daemon tightened his grip on you, pressing a kiss to the column of your neck. "You will not be alone, pet. Never in this. I am here with you, and I will be here until the end. You will not be apart from me, and I will not leave you alone in this."

"Thank you," you whispered, holding onto him tightly. He sighed lightly, nuzzling into your neck as tears surfaced. "I'm scared, Daemon."

"I've got you," he assured, tightening his hold. "You're not alone, dove. Not now or ever, I'm so sorry, pet, for how I was before. But it's gonna be different," he whispered, kissing at your jaw after, "I do swear this to you, my sweet wife, 's all gonna be so different."

You nodded, petting through his hair, "All right... All right, so, how about we go share the good news? Have one last dinner with family? And in the morning, we make for Pentos? Or Essos?"

He smirked, "It's a surprise first."

You sighed lightly, "Of course it is. What do you say?"

He sighed, nodding mutely. "A fantastic idea, dove, but let me bask in this moment first." Readjusting in his lap, you easily curled under his chin and let your eyes close. "I love you."

With a smile matching his, you swore, "I love you, too."

🍒 fin

Midnight Calls masterlist

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[euphor1a]

Yeonjun eating you out til you cry

thirst drabbles (6/∞)

fandom » txt

pairing » yeonjun x f!reader

rating » 18+ (minors dni)

genre » smut, established relationship 

word count » ~ 600

warnings » profanity, soft dom!yj, sub!reader, cunnilingus, overstimulation, daddy kink (quick! everyone act surprised!), praising, pet names, size kink, lmk if I missed anything!

“You taste so amazing, sweetheart. Such a cute, pretty pussy, and all mine.” Yeonjun repeats for the umpteenth time tonight. You snap your eyes shut, still reeling from the aftermath of your orgasm. Your whole body feels mushy and boneless. Although, he’s ruthless, continuing his ministries on you.

Trembling limbs, short breaths, teary eyes and a leaking cunt — you feel like an utter mess. Your hands turn into tight fists around the bedsheet, helpless whimpers ringing through the closed room. Yeonjun bends your legs further with a groan. His nose is resting right against your clit, tongue disappearing into the molten warmth of your pussy.

“Shh, you’re doing so well for me, such a good girl for daddy.” His whisper is hot against your core. You clench instinctively at his praise, a broken whine escaping your swollen lips. You’re not sure how it feels at this point, the lines between pleasure, pain and numbness blurred out.

As if he can sense your distress, Yeonjun presses a chaste kiss on your mound, his right hand gently stroking your tummy. You squirm at the ticklish touch. A fond smile curls his lips upwards; he has always found your sensitivity very adorable. “What am I gonna do with you, hm? Do you know how fucking hard it is to always hold back when you go around being the cutest little kitten?”

His mouth returns to your pussy, soundly sucking on it to prove his point. The suddenness of the action catches you off-guard, making you squeak out of surprise. Yeonjun grunts, the sound sending vibrations deep inside your wrecked cunt that pulsates from overstimulation. Your lower stomach feels like it’s about to explode and your body throbs involuntarily. It’s too much. Are the previous four orgasms not enough for him?

“Da–daddy…” you sigh shakily. Your whole system is exhausted and overwhelmed. His tongue is devoted to taste every single drop of nectar you offer, his face now buried in your cunt entirely. He smiles against your nether lips when you moan out his name, toes curling where they rest over his shoulder.

“What is it?” Yeonjun pulls out for a second to murmur huskily, those predatory eyes searching for yours. Without waiting for your answer, he immediately attaches his lips to your pussy again — as if it’s the oxygen to him. However, his eyes remain trained on you. He knows exactly what his mouth can do to you, and he surely is not hesitating even at the slightest.

The tears you’ve been holding back for so long break out of the dam of your eyes, an intense feeling knocking the air out of your lungs. You don’t know if it is euphoria or despair, your body giving up entirely. Yeonjun curses when he feels your spongy walls squeezing his tongue. He holds your trembling body firmly, making sure to slurp up all the juices that gush out of your weeping hole.

“No– no more, d–daddy, please… hurts–” you cry out, trying to thrash around helplessly. Yeonjun climbs up your body in record time, holding your face in his hands and wiping off the tears with his thumb. Your body keeps convulsing under him, a string of incoherent words leaving you.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I know, baby. I’m so sorry for hurting you. You are the best girl, aren’t you, hm? Shhh, daddy got you. I’ll take care of you and run you a bath and put you to sleep, okay?” He tries to shush your sniveling, hugging your smaller frame tightly against him.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 💌 author’s notes ꒱

thank you so much for reading woo!! i hope you enjoyed it <3! consider leaving a reblog or a comment to let me know what you think of this!! feedback through asks will be appreciated too! 🌺✨❤️‍🩹

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[emotionalcadaver]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: New information arrives that could prove extremely useful, and Tommy is reminded of someone from his past.

Word Count: 6,091

Notes: I know that these first couple chapters have been a little slow, so thank you for sticking with me so far. I promise that things are going to start picking up after this chapter! Warnings for references to past sexual assault, prostitution, disease, death of a minor character, and suicide.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 9: No One Came Back

Lucy winced at the way the door slammed behind Arthur, the relief that she’d felt initially at the sight of him alive and well in her and Tommy’s office had quickly drained when he started in on Tommy about the vote Ada had told him about. He was furious and hurt. Not to mention that he looked to be about to come down with the shakes after having just killed two Italians who’d tried to get him.

Great. So now they couldn’t trust the men in their own damn factories not to give them up. The Changrettas were gaining more allies within their territories. That was a problem. 

Tommy stood there, staring at the door Arthur had stomped out of, a hand raising to wipe across his face. 

“He’ll get over it,” Lucy said, rising from where she’d leaned against the desk, arms crossed over her chest while she silently watched the encounter. She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll still be the one who gets to kill Luca and this’ll all be a mum point anyway.”

“Mm,” Tommy grunted, dropping his hand and turning to her. “He was upset.”

“He still blames himself.”

Tommy gave her a sad look. “It wasn’t his fault.”

Lucy cocked her head, eyes narrowing slightly at the tone in his voice, it clear who he actually blamed for John’s death. “It wasn’t yours, either.”

“Yes, love. It was.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “John died because he was an idiot and didn’t kill Audrey Changretta when he had the chance. The whole mess with them wouldn’t have even begun in the first place if he hadn’t lost his head over Lizzie dating someone else,” she cupped both sides of his face. “John’s death was his own fault. Not yours. Not Arthur’s.”

He closed his eyes, and she knew that he didn’t entirely believe her. It was in Tommy’s nature to blame himself for every little thing that went wrong. But still, she needed him to hear it. Maybe, someday, he would believe her. 

She leaned her forehead against his for a second, his hands resting upon her forearms before letting him go. He moved to collapse exhaustedly into the chair behind his desk. Lucy followed him, hopping up to seat herself on the edge of his desk beside him. Had there not been men working in the betting shop just outside the office windows, she’d have climbed into his lap instead. But this would do for now. 

“He’s going to be angry over this for a while,” Tommy huffed, rubbing at his brow as if fighting back a headache. 

“Yeah,” Lucy acknowledged, sighing. “It’ll be alright. He’ll understand eventually that it’s for the best.”

“Mm,” Tommy grunted, fingers pressing to his lips, eyes growing unfocused slightly as he was lost in thought. Lucy nudged his knee with her toe to get his attention. 

“Tea?”

“Hm? Oh; sure,” he nodded absentmindedly. Jumping off of the desk, she ducked out the door, dodging around men busy at work in the shop to get to the kitchen. She was just putting the kettle on and grabbing two teacups when the backdoor squealed open and Polly came in.

“What are you doing here?” Lucy asked curiously.

“Just came by to pick up a few things,” she set her hat down on the table. “Did you find Arthur?”

“Yeah, he just left. He’s not too happy about the whole thing.”

“He’ll get over it,” Polly said with a dismissive wave. Lucy raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anymore, instead moving to grab the tea from the pantry. “Where’s Tommy?”

“His office.”

But Polly didn’t move, and Lucy found herself growing increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze, boring into her back, shifting from foot to foot while she tended to the kettle. 

“I’ve set a time and place to meet Luca,” Polly said in a soft voice. Lucy swallowed, throat suddenly dry. It was a dangerous plan, for all of them. But at the moment, it was the best they had.

“That’s good.”  

“Tommy doesn’t want you to be there when Luca comes for him,” Polly stated simply. Lucy felt her shoulders tense, turning to face her.

“He’s protective. Especially after…” she choked briefly on the name. It was still hard to say it without opening up the well of grief inside of herself. “Especially after Grace.”

Polly nodded, pulling out a clove cigarette and lighting it. 

Lucy smiled tightly. “Too bad for him that I’m protective too. I’m not letting him deal with Luca alone.”

“Good. I don’t like the idea of him getting into a shootout all by himself. Even if he knows that they’re coming for him. I’m assuming your presence is to be kept a surprise?”

Lucy nodded, pouring the tea, letting it steep while she cleaned the kettle. 

“You’ll tell Tommy? That I’ve made contact with Luca? I need to be getting back.” 

“Sure,” she didn’t ask where Polly needed to be getting back to, probably home or the hospital. She wondered if Michael might be getting tired of her constantly hovering over him.

At the thought of Michael, something else occurred to her. “Polly.”

She turned at the doors, cigarette between her lips and hat clutched in her hands, brow raised. 

“Yes?”

“Have you told Michael about the thing with Luca?”

Her brows pulled together. “No.”

Lucy nodded, thinking. There had been something in Michael’s eyes for the past year…she couldn’t quite place it. But it had been there since he’d killed Hughes. Lucy had thought at the time that murdering his rapist would help him, similarly to the way it had helped her. But she was beginning to think that might’ve been a miscalculation on her part. 

The way he looked at Tommy, in particular, as if sizing him up, made her particularly nervous.  

 “If it’s all the same to you, I think it best we keep it that way. I don’t know what Michael’s…acting skills are like, and the fewer people that know, the better.”

Polly thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

Lucy cracked a humorless grin. “Look at us, agreeing on things for a change.”

Polly snorted. “Don’t get used to it,” but there was half a touch of humor in her voice, before she turned and wandered her way into the shop. Lucy picked up the two cups of tea, steaming rising steadily and the delicate China warm against her fingers, and carried them back to Tommy’s office. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

It was dark, when Isiah brought Devlin to them. They were in the kitchen eating a quick dinner when they arrived, and Isiah silently took him to an office, leaving him seated at a table with one of their other men keeping watch. They’d let him sweat a little before actually speaking with him.

In the kitchen, Isiah spoke in a quiet voice. Everyone else had gone home for the day, and the betting shop was dark and eerily quiet.  

“He had a one-way ticket to Glasgow in his pocket when we searched him, like you said he would.”

Lucy nodded. That was to be expected. Tommy had asked her to do some digging into Devlin after Arthur was given up by someone in their own factory. Devlin had keys to all the doors, and he’d been frustrated with them as of late. He was the obvious candidate for a traitor. 

Whether it was fear of the Changrettas, or hatred for them, it was hard to say. To Lucy, it didn’t particularly matter. The outcome was the same. 

“His wife and kids had already left for there three days ago,” she told Tommy, leaning back in her chair and puffing at her cigarette. “According to the woman selling tickets at the train station.” 

“You find the address they’re staying at?” Tommy asked. She nodded, digging around in her pocket and pulling out the little slip of paper she’d scrawled it down on, handing it to him. He looked at it for a moment, committing it to memory, before tucking it away. 

“I already called some of our men we have allegences with in the gangs in the city. They’re prepared to do what we ask if Devlin doesn’t cooperate.”

“Good,” Tommy started fumbling with his briefcase, clasping it shut. Isiah shifted from foot to foot nervously. Lucy raised an eyebrow at him curiously, his eyes lifting to meet hers. 

“There’s a woman who I think you should speak to, Lucy,” he said. “She’s just outside, with Skudboat. I can have him take her home, if you’d prefer, but…”

“What is it?” Lucy asked, head cocking curiously.

“She has information about where Alessio Changretta is hiding.”

Lucy’s eyes snapped over to share a look with Tommy. Her breath caught in her throat with excitement. Finally, they might have something they could use.

“What do you mean?” Tommy asked, being cautious in his optimism. 

“She’s a girl who works at the Midland. She says that one of the other girls there has been bragging about getting some extra work on the side of what she does at the hotel. Serving some Italian men living in a flat nearby.” 

Lucy looked back to Tommy. That certainly sounded promising. Could be a trap, too. So they would have to be cautious.  

“You and Scudboat searched her?” Tommy asked Isiah. The boy nodded. Tommy looked back at Lucy. “See what she has to say. I’ll deal with Devlin,” he turned to Isiah. “Go wait with him. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Isiah nodded, and scurried away. 

“Watch for if she’s lying about anything,” Tommy said, clearly thinking the same thing that she’d been about a potential trap.

“Right.”

He finished clasping his briefcase, standing and making her smile when he dropped a kiss on the top of her head before striding  towards where Devlin was waiting for him with steps she suspected his overdramatic ass was purposefully ensuring sounded booming and intimidating. Standing, Lucy scooped up both of their plates, setting them down in the sink to be washed later. Once the table was cleared, she went to the backdoor. Outside, Skudboat was standing with a young woman Lucy instantly recognized from nights spent with Tommy at the Midland. 

“Clara,” she said in soft greeting. The woman was pretty; almost as short as Lucy, with soft, golden colored hair, and wide, sea-green eyes. Lucy held the door open to her. “Come in,” she let Clara step past her into the dimly lit kitchen. “Wait out here,” she ordered Skudboat, who nodded, leaning against the wall and pulling out his cigarettes.

When she closed the door and stepped back into the kitchen, it was to find Clara with one hand held out, smiling while Asher sniffed at it. Lucy watched the encounter curiously, taking note of Asher’s reaction. A moment later, his tail wagged, tongue darting out to lick Clara’s hand in approval. Clara giggled, and gave him a scratch behind the ears that left the dog practically overjoyed. 

“Ash, come here,” Lucy chuckled, and he trotted to her side dutifully. “Have a seat,” she said to Clara, nodding to the table. She sank down into the seat next to her, Asher plopping down at her feet. 

“Isiah says you have some information for us?” Lucy prompted, opening her cigarette case and offering Clara one, which she politely declined, fiddling nervously with the buttons on her coat while Lucy took a cigarette out and lit it. 

“Yes, um…you know Elizabeth,” Clara started. Lucy nodded. Elizabeth was another prostitute that worked at the Midland who sometimes served her and Tommy. Though not as much as Clara. “Well, shortly after Christmas, she came in wearing this expensive necklace. I thought, maybe her mum or some guy she’d been seeing, or maybe even a client had given it to her for Christmas. They do that, sometimes. But then she started coming in wearing more expensive things, and cutting down on her hours at the hotel. Billy wasn’t happy about it,” she looked down.

“So, eventually, one day, while we were all in the powder room getting ready for the evening, Maria asked her about it. Elizabeth said that she’s been seeing some new man who’s staying in a flat nearby. She says that he and his friends are rich. He and another man work as a…a…I don’t know, I guess as security guards of some kind, for another man. She’s always taken work on the side, you know. Even though Billy doesn’t like it when we do, he doesn’t stop us either. Apparently they called on her and she serviced all three of them one night, and then one man out of the three took a shine to her. He’s been buying her things, taking her around town with him to fancy restaurants. All that sort of stuff. I didn’t think much of it, at first. You know, it happens, sometimes, that a client takes a real shine to one of the girls and decides to play Prince Charming. If you ask me, I think he’s just trying to get free services out of her for him and his friends, but that’s not any of my business. But then…” Clara stuttered, fidgeting with her hands nervously. Lucy held out her cigarette to her, and this time, she took it gratefully. 

“She mentioned that they were all Italian. And I’d…I’d heard rumors that there was trouble between you and Tommy and some Italians that had come to town. And then Elizabeth–she’s got a big mouth, you remember? She mentioned something about how they’d been asking all sorts of questions. Mostly just about the city. But also about you and Tommy. And it just…it didn’t seem right, so I poked around the Garrison until I found the preacher’s son who works with you and told him what I’d heard.”

Lucy leaned back in her chair, fiddling with her rings while she considered Clara’s words. “Did they tell Elizabeth what they’re doing in Birmingham?”

“Just that they’re in town on business.”

“You get any of the names of the men from her?”

“No,” Clara shook her head regretfully. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Lucy assured her gently. “Do you know where they are staying?”

“Yes, I made her write it down,” she fumbled with her handbag. “It’s a flat just down the road from the hotel. I told her to give us the address in case something happened to her while she was with them. I think she thought it was silly, but she did it anyway. We have to look after each other, you know?” she handed Lucy the paper. Lucy took it, looking over the address and quickly drawing out her notebook from the inner pocket of her suit jacket and copying it down, handing the paper back to Clara. “I think that they hurt her.”

Lucy looked up sharply. “What makes you say that?”

Clara shrugged. “Just noticed some bruising on her arms that wasn’t there before, and she sometimes gets this look on her face…but she keeps going back. I think because she really likes the one guy, and because they pay her so well.”

Lucy nodded in quiet understanding, sympathy building in her for the girl. “Clara, thank you,” she said genuinely. “Really. You’ve no idea just how big of a help this has been.”

She nodded. “Of course. I…you and Tommy were always nice to me. And since you’ve been around, the men…some of them used to be really bad, sometimes. But since you came around with the whole…punishments for hurting women, things have been a bit better. There are still some arseholes every once in a while, but not so many as there used to be,” she shrugged, looking away and blushing when she realized that she’d been rambling. “So, anything that I can do to help…as a way to say thank you…”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Lucy said gently. “But if you hear or see anything more about Italians in the area, you call my office,” she wrote down the number and handed it to her. “Especially if you get anything more out of Elizabeth.”

“Of course.”

“There may be a day, soon, when I’ll need you to keep Elizabeth away from that flat for a few hours. Do you think you could do that?”

Clara thought about it. “I think so. If I could get Maria to help. Elizabeth is more likely to listen to her rather than me.”

“Okay. Good,” Lucy thought a moment more, then rose to her feet. Clara followed her lead. “Skudboat can walk you home.”

“Alright,” Clara gave Asher a parting little pet to the head. She seemed only then to realize that she was still holding Lucy’s cigarette between her fingers. “Oh,” she offered it back to her, but Lucy shook her head with a kind smile. 

“Keep it,” she led the way to the door, opening it and allowing the chill of evening air to enter the kitchen. “Thank you again, Clara. Really.”

Clara nodded once, with a bashful smile, and stepped out the door. 

“See to it that she gets home safe, Skudboat,” Lucy told him.

“Sure thing, Luce.”

She watched them begin to walk away, not closing the door until they were out of her sight. Returning to the table, she sank back down into her chair, hands clasped in front of her, fingers fiddling idly with her rings while she stared at nothing, just thinking silently in the dark.  

She barely registered it as Tommy came back into the kitchen, softly closing the double doors that led to the betting shop behind him. It wasn’t until he dropped a large hand onto her shoulder that she roused, head raising to peer up at him. 

“We have to go,” he said in a soft voice, expression apologetic. Her brows drew together. 

“We do?”

“Mhm,” he gave her a gentle tug on the arm. “We can talk on the way.”

“Okay,” she stood, still a little baffled, taking her coat that he’d pulled from the peg it was hanging on from him and tugging it over her shoulders, securing her cap atop her head. Tommy shepherded her out the door.

“Stay, Asher,” he told the dog when he moved to follow them. Lucy felt a little bad at the sight of his wagging tail and the eager perking of his ears. But he sat down obediently at Tommy’s command, taking up position quietly guarding the door until they got back. 

“Where are we going?” she asked as they began to walk. Tommy took her hand in his and she was grateful for it, his warm fingers helping to shield hers from the cold of the night air. 

“To see Jessie Eden.”

“At this hour? She won’t like that.”

“She might when she hears my improved offer.”

“Is that a euphemism?” Lucy chuckled with a suggestive raise of her eyebrow. Tommy huffed out a small laugh.

“No,” he gave her a mildly mischievous look. “Not yet, anyway.”

She pressed her smile into his arm, moving to press closer to his side as they walked. He was warm and it was chilly. 

“How did it go with Devlin?”

“It wasn’t him who gave Arthur up,” Tommy sighed, sounding simultaneously relieved and dejected.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. He’s just afraid of the communists.” Tommy’s gaze was focused on some faraway point in front of them. It was late enough that the streets were mostly quiet, a light drizzle of rain slickening the cobblestones. “He said that he heard that there were two Italians who attended a communist meeting in Stechford.”

“Ah. I see now why we’re on our way to speak with Miss. Eden.”

“Mm,” he nodded conspiratorially. “I’m keeping Devlin here in Birmingham. Isiah will get some of our men to watch his house. Tell our friends in Glasgow to look after his family.”

“Will do.”

“Did you get anything useful out of the girl from the Midland?”

“It was Clara. And actually yeah, very useful. She said that Elizabeth has been running around with some Italians that are living near the hotel. Apparently one of them’s taken a shine to her and has been buying her all sorts of expensive jewelry and taking her around town. Clara said that there’s three of them that Elizabeth has talked about. I got the address they’re staying at from her,” she pulled out her notebook and passed it to Tommy. He took it, examining the address carefully before handing it back.

“Do you trust her?”

“I do,” Lucy affirmed, tucking her notebook back into one of her inner pockets. “She seemed genuine. I don’t think it’s a trap. I think it’s just some of Luca’s men getting sloppy with the whore they’ve taken a liking to. But I’ll have Isiah and the boys case the place for a few days to make sure it’s not a trap and to work out a schedule of when they come and go.”

Tommy nodded. “Do you think Elizabeth knows what they’re actually here for?”

“I doubt it. You remember how she is: sweet, but a little ditzy and naive. Clara said that they told her they’re just in town on business.”

“Right. Well, just have the boys look into it and gather up information on the location and the men holed up there for now. Before we decide what to do about it.”

She raised an eyebrow, noting how he clearly was trying to avoid a discussion about her being the one to go after the Italians. But they were approaching Jessie’s building, so she decided not to push it. “Right.”

Tommy paused for a moment before heading inside the building, head craning up to look at the windows, most covered by the material of curtains, some more sheer than others, light only filtering out through them dully. Tommy squinted, as if trying to make out any of the silhouettes that passed across the windows, before moving to the door. He held it open for her, and she ducked in quickly, thankful to be out of the cold. Inside, she could hear a baby crying in one of the rooms, and the hum of music from another one upstairs. She climbed the narrow stairs after Tommy, looking around at the somewhat dingy, cramped lodgings. 

He came to a stop at the door that the music was filtering in from, smoothing down his fringe after he removed his hat, switching the briefcase to his other hand, then knocking softly at the door. The music came to an abrupt stop, and then Jessie’s voice was calling through the door, asking who it was. 

The meeting was going…well, not well, necessarily, but decent enough, considering their past dealings with Jessie. Lucy kept quiet, making herself comfortable in a chair at the little table in the center of the room, sipping at the beer Jessie offered them and observing her carefully. 

Jessie wasn’t particularly helpful, but that wasn’t actually a surprise. Nor was it cause for Lucy to bristle at her.

But, oh, did she bristle at the name that suddenly and entirely unexpectedly fell from Jessie’s lips. 

Greta Jurossi

“Did he ever mention her to you?” Jessie asked, suddenly turning to Lucy, her voice raising ever so slightly in pitch, expression smug.

“Yes,” Lucy said, softly. Many times. He had always been forthcoming and honest, when it came to her questions about Greta. She knew that it was hard for him to talk about, and she appreciated how eager he was to answer her queries despite that.

Under the table, she moved her leg to press against his. The softness in his voice when he responded to Jessie caused her to press it a little harder against him. The mention of Greta had not been something he was prepared for, and it had knocked him off kilter. 

“After she died, you went away to war. Kitty said that the sweet boy who left never came back,” Jessie continued, recounting the sad story that both Tommy and Lucy already knew. 

“No one came back,” Tommy’s voice was hoarse. Lucy cocked her head, looking at him sadly. 

Because the way Jessie recalled Kitty Jurossi’s description of Tommy: charming, sweet, loving, sitting at Greta’s side every day when she was sick, holding her hand, tending to her for months until she died, did not sound all that far off from the Tommy she knew. Perhaps he was a little rougher around the edges, a little more worn down from so much pain and hardship. But the sweet boy she spoke of was not nearly so lost as both she or Tommy seemed to think.

“Jessie, that’s enough,” she said harshly, not wanting to see the pain that had sprung up at the mention of Greta in Tommy’s eyes anymore, but Jessie just smiled in mock sweetness and continued on as if she hadn’t even heard her. Lucy would have snapped at her again had it not been for the sudden admiration in her voice as she recounted the stories Kitty had told her about Tommy. Lucy could see it so plainly: Tommy, young, barely a man grown, wrestling furiously with a brute he’d caught beating a horse, striking him savagely and goadingly on the arse with his own whip as the man scrambled away. 

The mental image made her smile a little. 

But as Jessie went on, Tommy grew more agitated, suddenly rising from his seat. Lucy kept her eyes on Jessie’s face. She couldn’t quite figure out how she felt about her. On one hand, she could appreciate some of what Jessie was trying to do. Particularly the push for advancing women’s standings in the workforce. But on the other, her smugness and attitude of moral superiority bothered her. And this…this action of digging up all these things about Greta, then throwing them in his face…they had been calculated. Lucy couldn’t tell if Jessie was simply trying to draw out his past sympathies with the communist cause, or if she was just trying to hurt him.       

Tommy put back on the music Jessie had been listening and dancing to prior to their arrival. 

All smugness left Jessie’s face when Tommy started to relay the information Lucy had gathered previously on her: how her sweetheart had gone off to war, and returned with shell shock so severe that he killed himself. 

Jessie’s face grew haunted, big dark eyes filling with tears, before hastily looking away. And finally, she was serious, answering Tommy’s previous question with only a minimal grumble. But Lucy was still on edge, her protectiveness of Tommy flaring.

It blazed back into full-force when Jessie pulled out a picture Kitty had given her of Greta and Tommy in Blackpool. 

“We’re done here,” Lucy announced, the legs of her chair screaming against the floor as she stood up hastily. She looked at Jessie with quiet rage, and she must have let a little more darkness filter into her eyes than she’d intended, because for a very brief moment, Jessie looked genuinely unnerved by her.

Tommy did not protest her suggestion that they leave, simply gathering up his things, tucking the photograph Jessie had given him into the inner pocket of his coat.  

Lucy, in what was perhaps a somewhat petty display, did not say a word to her as she went to the door and yanked it open, holding it ajar so that Tommy could follow her outside. And she put perhaps a little more force than necessary into her stomps down the stairs, to really telegraph just how she felt about the whole thing. 

“Are you okay?” she asked once they were back out on the street.

“I’m fine,” Tommy said, in a voice that was very much not fine.

“Tommy…”

“Let’s just go home,” he sighed, swiping a hand through his fringe before replacing his cap back on his head. She hovered in close to him as they started to walk, this time not just for the warmth that his body provided. She didn’t say much, knowing better than to try to push him to talk when he was like this.

When they got home, he went upstairs without a word. Asher greeted them at the door, tail wagging, following eagerly at Lucy’s heels when she ascended that stairs after flicking off all the remaining lights that were on in the kitchen.

Tommy was in the process of taking off both his coat and waistcoat, brows creasing in mild frustration when one of the buttons momentarily caught. Lucy swallowed hard at the sorrow in his eyes, her heart aching for him. 

She did not think about Greta all that much. A part of her didn’t particularly like to, because there was always the question, if Greta had not died, if she and Tommy would have even ever gotten together. It made her feel so incredibly guilty, that her happiness with him might have come at the price of the sweet Italian girl’s life. 

Taking a step forward, she took the coat and waistcoat from him.

“Thank you,” he said softly. She just nodded, hanging the coat up on a peg and folding the waistcoat to tuck away in the chest of drawers. He lit a cigarette, then picked back up the photo he’d pulled from his pocket before taking off his coat, looking down at it longingly. Lucy felt something inside her twist.

It was not right to wonder if he loved her as much as he had Greta. There was no competition between them, and it wasn’t logical, or productive, to even consider such things. 

And yet, a tiny part of her brain, the part that she was pretty sure only existed to cause her pain, still mulled it over.

“I’ll be right back,” Tommy said, tucking the photograph into his trousers pocket. 

“Okay,” Lucy said softly. She watched him go, fingers fiddling with her rings long after his figure had disappeared out the door. In his dog bed, Asher whined. “I know, boy,” she soothed, reaching down to stroke his big head, then setting to work changing into one of her nightgowns, folding her clothes with slow, methodical movements and tucking them away beside Tommy’s in the drawers. 

He wasn’t back yet when she went to the washroom to remove her makeup and finish getting ready for bed. She figured he just needed a moment to himself. He’d come back to her. He always did. 

Wiping off the remains of dark eyeliner, she looked at herself in the mirror and frowned.

She’d never thought of herself as particularly pretty. Not with her face full of freckles, eyes that were a few sizes too big to be in proper proportion to the rest of her face, and messy red curls that never seemed to want to cooperate.

Her lips pursed as she took in the dark circles under her eyes–neither she or Tommy had been sleeping very much since this whole thing started–and a hand raised to brush across one of her cheeks. She might’ve been imagining it, but she swore that she’d lost some weight. Not that she couldn’t stand to probably lose a few pounds, but she was starting to look a little gaunt in the face. 

Shaking her head, she poked and pulled a little at her skin for a moment more before stepping out of the washroom and heading back to bed.

Tommy was there when she entered, scratching Asher absentmindedly behind one ear and undoing the laces on his shoes with the other. Lucy approached him slowly, making sure that her footsteps were loud enough so that he would hear her coming up behind him and not be startled. When he kicked off his shoes and straightened, he turned partially, and looped an arm around her shoulders at the same time that she wrapped her own around his waist, hugging his middle with her head on his chest. Tommy’s face dropped down, burying in her hair with a deep sigh. She felt him inhale, breathing in the scent of her soap and perfume, and relaxing a little in her arms. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. There wasn’t much more that she could say. He rubbed her shoulder, giving a small shake of his head. 

“I love you,” he murmured, and she let out a small breath, squeezing him tighter. 

“I love you too,” adjusting her head on him, she considered her next question for a moment before verbalizing it. “Can I see it?”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out the photograph and holding it out to her. Taking it carefully by the edges, she eyed the faded, grainy image, smiling softly at the serious look on the younger Tommy’s face. Good to know that it had always been a chore to get him to smile when having his picture taken. 

Greta was beautiful, with dark hair that was carefully done up and slightly stern features. Her dark eyes fixed upon the camera steadily, but despite the seriousness in her face, there was a spark of levity there too. 

“She was pretty,” Lucy commented. Tommy hummed in quiet agreement, hand smoothing down her back, shifting them so that his head was hooked over her shoulder to look at the photograph with her. 

“I think you would have liked her. I know she would have liked you.”

She craned her head back to look at him. “You think so?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, and closed his eyes, turning his face to press a few kisses to her neck. Lucy raised an eyebrow, even as her head tilted to give him better access. 

“I doubt she would have approved of the part where I’ve fucked her lover.”

“I don’t know…she could be pretty open minded too, you know…” Tommy mumbled, and Lucy chuckled. 

“Building quite the harem for yourself there in your head, aren’t you?” 

He snorted, pinching at her hip playfully. “You know what I mean.”

Angling her head back, she looked deep into his eyes, taking in the sincerity in them, understanding what he was trying to get at.

“I would’ve liked to have met her,” she said, more serious. He was right, after all. Everything he’d told her about Greta indicated that she and Lucy would have gotten along very well together. 

“Yeah,” Tommy gave her a sad smile, and she stretched up on her toes to press her forehead against his. His eyes lowered. “Who knows if we would have even stayed together, after I got back from the war.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I don’t know,” he sounded so lost and sad. She wanted to cry for him. It was so unfair, that he’d had to experience the loss of not just one, but two women who he’d loved so deeply. 

“Everything that you’ve told me about her indicates to me that she loved you very much.”

Tommy blinked hard, eyes a little glassy, throat working as he swallowed hard. “She loved the person I was before I went away to war,” his thumb circled mindlessly around Lucy’s hip. “I don’t know what she would think of the man who came back.”

Lucy stroked his face, brows pulling together. She could not say whether or not Greta still would have loved him after he returned to war. She would like to think that she would, and nothing that Tommy had told her indicated that Greta would have rejected him after he returned home. But ultimately, she could never say for sure. 

Unsure what she could possibly say to make it any better, she stretched up on her toes and kissed him. Tommy’s arms tightened around her, leaning into the kiss gratefully. 

“We should get some sleep,” she murmured once they’d parted, still caressing one chiseled cheek. 

He hummed, nodding, and took her hand, leading her over to the bed. She climbed in first, and he immediately snuggled against her, their arms wrapping around each other under the blankets, her head on his chest and his face tucked against her hair. 

“I love you,” she repeated, hand trailing along his strong back, feeling the warmth of his skin through the material of his shirt, tracing delicately over the scar on one of his shoulders. Tommy kissed up her neck to her cheek, nuzzling at her like an affectionate cat. 

“I love you too.”

And with her hands tenderly petting his back, she felt him slowly sink into sleep against her. 

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Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[swissmissficrecs]

Top 10 Sherlock fics by kudos in 2023

Top 10 fics completed in 2023 that garnered the most kudos on AO3. Excluded: chaptered "fics" that are actually collections of standalone ficlets and crossovers that are mostly about the other fandom. Fics that began posting earlier (in some cases, years earlier) obviously have the advantage of more time to rack up kudos. Kudo counts as of 2 Jan 2024.

1. 1,720 kudos: The Case of the Man Who Was Wanted by MyDearLadyDisdain (232K, M, Sherlock/Harry Potter) After an inexplicable case in Surrey, Sherlock is after the strangest criminal he's ever encountered: a mass murderer, that has eluded the authorities for almost 14 years. Unfortunately, Sherlock Holmes is the only one that can see right away that this Harry Potter character is completely innocent. And hang on, is that tea set floating?

2. 1,682 kudos: Shift by stopthat (48K, E, Johnlock) Sherlock is tired. John senses a shift.

3. 1,102 kudos: Ride On by Silvergirl (38K, E, Johnlock) After the disastrous reveal at the Landmark, John tells Sherlock there can be no excuse for what he’s done, and no forgiveness. Sherlock leaves London and starts a new life, and not even the British Government knows where. It’s up to John to track him down and make things right, with a trip around the world and a clue only John would recognize.

4. 851 kudos: Till Death Do Us Part (Not Yet, Not Yet) by Civilized_muppets (8K, T, Johnlock) In which Sherlock and John have been married for years, not that any member of the yard has ever heard of John, much less that Sherlock was married at all, until John is kidnapped from Afghanistan.

5. 797 kudos: The story of the Forgotten Wallet. by Headphones_on_the_Skull (25K, E, Johnlock) Just some dirty Alpha/Omega Johnlock porn.

6. 788 kudos: Nothing to Celebrate by DiscordantWords (30K, M, Johnlock) Sherlock Holmes is back from the dead. Things only get worse from there.

7. 726 kudos: A Tale of Two Soldiers by batslikepastel (14K, T, Johnlock, Jolto, Mystrade) It's Christmas, and Sherlock and John are finally flatmates again after the tumultuous events of the previous year. But a sudden revelation about John's sexuality and James Sholto's unexpected presence throw a wrench into Sherlock's plans, and his jealousy threatens to overwhelm him even as John remains blithely oblivious. Their relationship has reached a turning point, and the ball is in John's court now.

8. 671 kudos: Nightjet by khorazir (22K, M, Johnlock) Officially deceased for eighteen months and still looking for the last remainders of Moriarty’s criminal empire, an exhausted Sherlock boards a night train in Germany to bring him to his next hunting ground. Due to a mishap with the sleeper cars, he is forced to share a compartment with a stranger – who turns out to be not quite as strange as Sherlock thought. The universe isn’t lazy, after all …

9. 646 kudos: Our Love Keeps the Things It Finds by her_ladyships_soap (25K, T, Mystrade) Everyone has a soulmate. Everyone. It's simple human biology. Over the course of every person's life, they develop tattoos of the things their soulmate loves most. Though he has always disliked the concept, Mycroft Holmes is painted from head to toe with dozens of brightly-coloured tattoos. Greg Lestrade, once-firm believer and hopeless romantic, has just nine. They are all quietly sophisticated, sketched in smooth shades of black and grey and easy to hide. Neither of them has gained a tattoo in years. But when they both suddenly find new markings, things finally fall into place.

10. 636 kudos: In Fine Spirits by EventHorizon (189K, M, Mystrade, Johnlock) A very upscale bar/private club needs a bartender and scruffy, punky Greg Lestrade is certain he has the right skills (and needs the job), so walks in to apply in person. He didn't realize that someone else he knew works there, also. Though… 'knew' probably isn't the proper term for a one-night stand where you didn't even learn their name during the fun…

[loz-untold-myths]

The Princess’s Heart ⊶⊰❣⊱⊷ Chapter 5

Last Dance .𖥔 ݁ ˖ Spellbound

˖⁺‧₊˚ Zelink Week 2024 ˚₊‧⁺˖

༺

Chapter Summary જ⁀➴

~ Zelda’s curse has been weakened, but still her sacred power evades her… Even still, the ball to celebrate her seventeenth birthday is held. Together, Link and Zelda dance in light of the promise they have made.

Fic Summary જ⁀➴

~ A fairytale told in Hyrule, set in a forgotten age of the golden queendom. Passed by word of mouth from queen to princess, it is a tale of sacrificial love, hope, and determination.

Preview જ⁀➴

Before the two of them, Zelda stood in a dress colored like wildberries, with beautiful accents of pinks, oranges, blues, and golds. Ribbons and lace built off the wide skirt, while gems and beads and feathers decorated her hair. And were those… tulips?

Spryte drifted from his hands to brush herself off, and he hardly noticed. He kept his hands in the same place like a fool! He looked practically spellbound!

“Isn’t it all lovely? It’s something Spryte and I have been working on for nearly a year… I wanted you to be the first to see me like this, Link.” Zelda twirled, letting the layers of fine fabric follow her path. When she stopped, she tilted her head and practically bobbed on her toes. “So… what do you think?”

He felt a frog hop its way into his throat. This was different from the new ceremonial robes that she presented herself in the previous day. This was so, so much different. Whereas the white veil and sacred jewels painted her as a goddess of the spring, this gown proved her to be something much more beautiful. She was uniquely, wholly Zelda. His Zelda.

Ao3 Link જ⁀➴

✧ Word Count: 4,322

✧ @zelinkcommunity

𓆩o𓆪 ࿐

[ssukidesu]

what friends do

Fandom: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Nalu

Rating: T

Nalu Week 2024 ( @allaboutnalu @thenaluarchive )

Summary: Lucy gets a little too happy and does something (maybe not) regrettable.

Chapter 6: what counts as a cheap shot (injury)

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

Read on AO3

Read under the cut

1… 2… 3… 4…

Shit, shit, shit!

Lucy’s mind raced through her options and found them limited, to say the very least.

The man pinning her front to the floor was laughing cruelly. His knee was on the center of her back, and her hands were pinned together beneath it, right on the meat of his calf. She felt a bead of sweat drip onto her neck from above.

5… 6… 7…

Options… options… what were her options? She could try to dig her nails into his hands, but that almost never worked. She could try to buck him off, but she could tell he was pushing almost all his body weight onto her back—she had no shot. She could…

Aha!

He was leaning on her from her right side, and the leg that wasn’t digging into her back had to be bracing somewhere for balance. From what she could tell, it was probably somewhere by the bottom half of her legs. If she could just…

8… 9…

In one movement, Lucy bent her right knee and swung back her foot—and prayed. Thankfully, her toes clipped his shin, and she managed to sweep his leg off the ground, throwing off his balance. Immediately, the weight on her back lessened, and she rolled onto her back. He still had her hands gripped together, but the momentum of her movement ruined his balance even more, and she landed her knee right into his stomach.

With the wind knocked out of him, she could yank her hands free and scramble back to her feet.

Fists poised near her face, Lucy bounced on her toes.

And smiled.

“Damn, Lucy… really thought I had ya there,” said her sparring partner, Natsu, who was flicking the sweat off his bangs and shaking loose his stiff fingers. “And at the last second, too!”

“What can I say?” she bragged. “I’m getting better.”

Natsu and Lucy began to circle each other again, both trying to spy an opportunity to lunge.

This scene was becoming a more frequent one lately. No magic, no tricks—just pure, hand-to-hand sparring. It was Lucy’s idea; Natsu was always asking her to fight him, but she knew she had no shot in hell if it was a real spar with magic. So, after coming up with some stipulations, she proposed this compromise.

While the rules were appropriately adjusted for a male-versus-female fight, she knew he’d never go easy on her. Yes, the requirements were that he had to pin her for ten seconds while she only had to pin him for three—but no one would be fooled to think that he was being nice.

The evidence?

…She had never won.

Don’t misunderstand—she’d gotten close, a few times. But it was just like him to pull through in the last moment and, if anything, manipulate his previous vulnerability into being an advantage in the very next moment. She’d complain about it, but, well… would she love him if he were any different than how he was?

Lucy pursed her lips and blew a puff of air upward to get her bangs out of her eyes. She knew he’d come at her any second, and that would be her moment to attack. There’d be no openings until then.

His expression was concentrated—it was confident and competitive. He knew he had the upper hand, as he always did, but Lucy recognized that Natsu truly did find joy in making her stronger—in testing to see if this time was when she’d finally beat him.

He lunged. He went for her middle, his shoulder lowering so that he could get her around the waist. He was fast, but she was hoping he’d make this move; it was one with which he’d defeated her many times before.

Yes—this time, she was ready for it.

She went lower. She was almost on the ground; if he was a taller man, she wouldn’t have to sweep so close to the floor to avoid his arms. She passed by him on the left, clipped his foot with hers, and reveled in the sound of his body thunking heavily on the mat. His momentum had already been moving forward—he’d normally be too sturdy to trip outright, but his own shifting body weight worked against him.

Now behind him, she moved like lightning to grab his right leg. She gripped his ankle with her right hand, then threw her entire body over his shirtless back so that his ankle would be lodged over her shoulder. She had no hope of holding it with just her hand, but if she could manage to keep her own body down, she might be able to hold him in place.

Her left hand perhaps pulled a cheap shot—but those were allowed for her (with obvious exceptions, such as his eyes and his family jewels). She tangled her fingers into his hair at the base and clenched her fist. She wasn’t mean enough to pull his hair, but this, she hoped, would provide a big enough distraction from the rest of his body that the three seconds could pass.

1…

Since his hands were free, his first instinct was to grope at the hand in his hair. He was muttering all the while, “Shit… Lucy—” in a gritty voice that might have made her stomach flip.

2…

But he was a quick thinker. Noticing the mobility he still had with both hands, he pushed his torso off the ground—much like a regular push up—and to get his leg and back free of her, he tucked to crash down on his left side. Lucy went with him, of course—and unfortunately, it jostled her off his back.

Ugh! So close—!

But she couldn’t dwell on that now: she was still on the ground, and he’d be a fool not to take advantage. She was propped up on her side, but as he flung himself to grab her, she learned that he was set on forcing her on her back. In a flash, he had her wrists in his left hand, her hips pressed down under his right forearm, and her two legs raised so that her hamstrings were pinned under his thighs. She could move them slightly and straighten her knees, but that sort of thing didn’t matter. With her hips pinned down, she wouldn’t be able to buck him off.

Well, she thought—his hot, panting breaths washing over her face—this is a new one.

1…

There’s no way I can get out of this one, she thought, trying desperately to wrench her wrists from his grip. He smiled pridefully at her fruitless efforts.

2… 3…

He’s so close. Their eyes were locked—hers wide in panic, his half-mast in arrogance. If I wanted to, I could…

Wait.

…That might work.

Let it be known that, for the record, there was a lot of blood pumping into Lucy’s brain at that moment, and whether this idea was a reasonable one would be an object of her own future scrutiny.

“I really do appreciate this, Natsu,” she muttered, her lungs tight from her raised arms.

4… 5…

He blinked, pupils dilating. Their faces might have been three inches apart. “‘Course,” he said amiably, though his brow quirked in suspicion.

6…

“I’m happy that I’m getting stronger because of you,” she mused.

His breathing halted. His eyes widened, and he froze.

7…

Her blond hair was splayed out beneath her. It had shaken so loose from its ponytail that it might as well have not been tied at all. With the little mobility she had, she raised her chin and lifted her head off the ground. His eyes widened further, but he didn’t pull himself away.

8…

Her lips pressed against his cheek, close to his jaw. It was covered in sweat, but not the kind that made his skin slick. It was sticky, and the tender skin of her lips clung to the touch in a way that made the action seem even more intimate than it was.

Or maybe that was due to the fact that he was pressed quite thoroughly against her in a manner that was more than a little suggestive.

9…

She pulled away, and his half-lidded eyes were fixated on her mouth.

She felt his grip on her wrists weaken.

In one mighty test of strength, Lucy jerked her hands from his hold, placed them on his head for leverage, and pushed herself upward just enough that her legs were freed from the hold of his own. She gripped the wrist of the arm that had been below her stomach, hooked the underside of her knee around his torso, and heaved until she’d flipped them both. At the end of it, he was on his back, and she had his right arm bent behind his back—just shy of the point of dislocation. Her legs were on either side of him; she’d sat herself just below his groin.

Lucy was relieved to be free, but she knew her success would be short-lived; there was no way she could keep him in this hold. Other than her body weight on top of him and his one (much stronger) hand in the grip of her own, she had no way to secure him.

So why wasn’t he moving?

1…

Natsu was just staring up at her, lips parted and brows furrowed. His left hand, which was completely free, was splayed out to the side, motionless.

2…

Lucy wondered if she’d hurt him in the movement somehow—but she scratched away the thought just as quickly. This guy could take a boulder to the skull and break the boulder; surely there was nothing she did in that tussle that hurt him.

Well, except maybe one thing…

“Three,” she breathed.

Neither moved. She watched a couple different emotions flash over his face; first, confusion—as if he wasn’t sure what she was talking about; then, self-abhorring displeasure. He exhaled loudly through his nose and let his head drop an inch to rest fully on the ground.

His lip curled, and his eyes narrowed. “Ouch.”

Lucy released a single laugh. She let go of his arm and brought both of hers to brace on his chest. “What, did I hurt you somewhere?” she asked doubtfully.

“Nope,” he huffed. “Just my pride.”

She smiled with her tongue between her teeth. “Finally,” she giggled against his skin. “I finally won!”

Natsu scoffed, but he brought his newly-freed hand to play with her hair, which had devolved into tangles around the elastic band. He fumbled to loosen it, but gave up after figuring it was a lost cause.

Lucy rolled off of him and stood before offering him a hand. He took it despondently, and they made their way to the bench.

“I think we should add that to the list of cheap shots you aren’t allowed to take,” he grumbled, chugging from his water bottle.

“Don’t be a sore loser,” she drawled. “I was just thanking you for all your help. What’s cheap about that?”

He gave her a flat look that seemed to say, You know exactly what was cheap about it.

Lucy shrugged. “I guess I might have been hoping it’d throw you off…”

“Hoping? Lucy, it wasn’t fair! You’d be saying the same thing if I’d done it to you!”

Lucy had to take care not to choke on her water as she took a sip. The image of him kissing her on the cheek in the middle of any of the positions he’d had her in before…

Well. She supposed she understood his point.

She watched him tug his shirt back on, and she threw the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Natsu,” she began, as cute as she could manage. She walked backwards to look at him as she led the way out of the gym. “What can I do to make it up to you?”

Natsu always liked questions like that. His lips tilted into a smirk. “Cook me dinner.”

She should have known he’d say that. Rolling her eyes, she turned her back to him and pushed open the door. “Fine,” she said sulkily.

But the stubborn grin on her face wouldn’t go away.

[sleepingdeath-light]

her needy princess ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (kinktober entry)

word count ; 941

content ; sexually explicit content, mummy kink, vaginal fingering, clit play, praise kink

fandom ; star wars

pairing ; padmé amidala x cis female reader

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

Being married to a senator often meant that you ended up spending plenty of time apart, whether that was because she had business off planet to arrange trade routes or mediate alliances, or because she was stuck in the senate building for a meeting that was both unnecessarily long and blatantly classified for civilians like yourself. You knew that this would be the case even back before you started dating, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating — especially after you and Padmé had set up your new arrangement as a couple and you were forbidden from using any of the toys you owned without her presence and approval.

So you were not only denied the presence of your Mummy to get you off, but she’d also banned you from tending to yourself when she was away. How very cruel!

But she did at least make it up to you whenever she was home; she couldn’t just leave her needy little princess unsatisfied, now could she?

—————

‘That’s it, sweetheart,’ she cooed, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin behind your ear, ‘let mommy take care of you.’

Your position was precarious for sure — legs spread as wide as they could go whilst sat on your wife’s lap, the two of you facing the floor to ceiling windows of your apartment — but you couldn’t bring yourself to protest whilst her fingers were buried in your cunt and her lips were pressed gently against your ear. No, the feeling of her slender digits pumping in and out of your wet pussy (scissoring and crooking at just the right places to have your toes curling and your back arching) combined with her rubbing the soft pad of her thumb against your clit in hypnotic circular patterns was far too distracting for you to think of anything else but her. Her and her lips and her hands.

You gasped and she chuckled approvingly, leaning forwards to kiss you on the cheek. ‘Good girl.’

Her other hand was busy playing with your chest, using a mixture of tender massaging and rougher groping to leave your mind spinning. Though she didn’t neglect your nipples either as she went, alternating fairly between the two as she rolled and pinched them between her thumb and forefinger — doing just enough to get them pebbled and sensitive before moving on to the other, eager to have you arching into her hands and whimpering under her touch, but still careful enough not to overstimulate you.

She thrust a third finger into your entrance and you gasped, bucking up into her hand despite yourself and you felt Padmé smile against your skin. ‘Did you like that princess?’

You whined and offered a weak nod, not quite trusting your voice.

‘Use your words, sweetheart.’

‘Yes, mummy.’

She leaned forwards and pressed a wet kiss against your bare shoulder, uttering another ‘good girl’ before she returned to her previous position and continued touching you.

But now she seemed much more focused on getting you off rather than just playing with you, transitioning as smoothly as she so often did from having fun to giving you your real reward. You had been a very good girl this week, after all, and followed all of the rules she’d set out to the letter, so it was only natural that she give you what you wanted in return.

And, thankfully, your mummy (or, as she would say, ‘mommy’) really loved getting you off so really it was like a reward for both of you.

Then again, how could she not love seeing you reach your climax when you looked so pretty when you came for her? Especially when you sounded so adorable when you whined, and moaned, and whimpered, and called out for her in that way you knew she couldn’t refuse. Or when she felt those velvety walls of yours clamping down and fluttering around her three fingers as you orgasmed, your juices gushing out and soaking her hand and wrist and the blanket beneath you as she continued to toy with your aching clit in a shakier rhythm (trying dearly to keep on going for your sake when she wants nothing more than to take one hand and bury it between her thighs so she can finish with you — it would be easy, she’s already so close from just watching you after all…). Or even when you collapsed back against her, hands reaching out to grasp at her wrists to try and ground yourself as you called out to her over and over again — begging, whining, praising, asking things of her that she wouldn’t even dream of refusing whilst she’s only able to praise you and hold you and kiss you from your shoulders to your neck to the back of your head.

‘That’s my girl.’

‘Keep on going, princess, I know you can do it,’

‘You look so pretty, sweetheart, so so pretty,’

‘I love you so very much…’

‘Be as loud as you need to, princess, it’s okay.’

And on, and on she went. The words falling as easily as water from a stream as she rocks your trembling body to-and-fro, slowing down and withdrawing her hands bit by bit to prolong your high and make the come-down as easy as possible for you. Trying to ignore the ache between her own legs as much as she can, for your sake as much as hers, by focusing all she has on taking care of you in the moment.

You: her good girl, her gorgeous wife, her love, her well-behaved (but oh so needy) princess.

Yeah, her needs could wait just a little bit longer…

[chosenimagines]

Stuck (Daiki Aomine)

Fandom: (L) Kuroko's Basketball

Summary: After a long school day Akari has to take the elevator -which she is scared off. To make things worse she gets stuck and not alone.

Prompts: -

AU: Satsuki having an adopted sister the same age as her

Tropes: -

OC: Reader named Akari Momoi

Warning: Passion & Making out (I guess?) and Panic Attack !!!

Language: English

Request:��-

Word count: ~2.6k

A/N: This is my first one shot for KnB and my first one shot for a character like Daiki so please be nice to me

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Home. The only clear thought I could still form after this long, grueling day. However, I didn't need any other thought.

Today had been one of the worst days I've had in a long time. Probably the worst.

But luckily for me, I was finally able to draw a line under today. I just had to get out of this building. But I couldn't escape as quickly as I had hoped during my lunch break. To make matters worse, I had twisted my ankle due to an unfortunate encounter and could not take the stairs as usual. Instead, I was forced to ride the damn elevator...

The thing about me and elevators was that I was terrified if I even walked past one. But I had no memory of why I was afraid. It had always been that way and had never really bothered me. My fear hadn't affected me once in my entire life. There was always the possibility for me to move through the stairwell in every building. Only today I was forced to get into an elevator.

With shaky fingers, I pressed the button and crossed my arms in front of my chest as soon as it lit up. My heartbeat sped up with every passing second. Each breath was shorter than the previous one. I began to bob up and down. From my toes over the balls of my feet to my heels and back to my toes.

I had a new thought that filled my brain in a continuous loop. Why, why, why, why, why...

A moment that felt like a small eternity passed until the metal doors opened. Although my legs wanted to fail me and my muscles became more and more tense, I managed to enter this machine straight out of hell.

I kept my eyes down, clinging to the thought of home. I had longed for this all day. I wasn't far from it so I need to keep my compsure!

Nevertheless, my heart, my head and my body were flooded with panic. I only had to get through one minute in here and then I made it. Only sixty seconds and I was liberated from this day. But only if I didn't die the next minute because of heart failure or lack of oxygen!

Just before the doors closed, a hand slid into the gap and the doors pushed apart again. As soon as the elevator doors had fully reopened, a tall, muscular figure filled the metal frame. I didn't have to look up to know who I had in front of me. For a moment I pressed my lips together.

I could still see the school corridor by a five centimetre wide gap. In a second, this construction would start moving and I was never more scared.

But there was nothing to worry about, because thousands of people rode elevators every day. Nothing happened to them. Therefore, the probability was high that nothing would happen to me either. But my thoughts circled around all kinds of scenarios! One worse than the other.

Only the appearance and the aura that surrounded him revealed his identity. Daiki Aomine. The person who had broken my sister's heart. The person who gave Satsuki the feeling that he didn't care about their friendship. The person who had left me with the shards and tears. The man who had broken my heart without even suspecting anything about it.

The day Daiki had changed and no longer showed up for practice was the day everything had changed.

Just the memory, of the look in Satsuki's eyes, made my heart contract every single time. That's why I sat in the stands at every practice and studied, because on that gray day, Satsuki had asked for it while we stood in front of the Teiko school. I probably served as a distraction. My presence against Daiki's absence. It didn't bother me if I could ease her pain over her best friend's change, I would always do it for my sister.

For a second, I let my gaze slide to his face. It was just as always. This expression had become a habit in the last two years. Cold, arrogant and remarkably bored. A shame for such an attractive face and a formerly sunny souled person...

My panic caught up with me and suddenly Daiki was completely forgotten. I lowered my eyes and began to stare at the velvety floor again.

Why did the doors close so slowly?

Did it take just as long before?

Was this a sign that something was wrong with this elevator?

Shouldn't I rather get out and try to walk through the stairwell ignoring the pain?

Why on earth hadn't I walked down the stairs anyway?!

My right leg suddenly bounced up and down. With every panicking thought, the wobble became stronger. It became more and more violent until you could see the trembling in every part of my body.

My white hair slipped forward, covering my face. A few strands stuck to my sweaty cheeks.

I lost all control over my body and was willing to give it up voluntarily. I had difficulty suppressing my reaction to my major fear. So what was the smartest thing to do? Regain control and suppress my emotions or let my panic run wild?

Why didn't it move anymore?

I didn't come to a conclusion, because my streak of bad luck continued. With a violent jerk, the elevator stopped. I lost my balance and fell onto the ground. The pain in my ankle intensified and tears filled my eyes.

But the pain quickly faded into the background when the elevator didn't start moving again. The light bulb lost its luminosity and bathed the elevator in dim light. With that, my self-control threatened to disappear into thin air.

What had happened to the light?

Will we crash?

Was the elevator really defective?

How could I get out of here?

Why did I step foot into this stupid elevator?

"Are you okay?" Daiki's deep, bored voice penetrated through my constantly moving thoughts. I jerked my head back. His navy blue eyes were directed at me. They didn't let me out of their sight, not even for a second. My jaw muscles loosened for the blink of an eye. But unfortunately that was all.

My panic grew as I couldn't find a solution. Of course not, because there could be no solution if you didn't know or understand the problem. Still, my eyes moved incessantly, looking for what wasn't there.

After a heavy swallow, I nodded. "Everything is fine," I muttered to myself as I lowered my head again. I couldn't maintain the eye contact. It was too intense for me and in panic mode I hated keeping eye contact.

In addition, my pupils were looking for a solution to this problem in an uncoordinated way, with me reaching for the metal bar above me and pulling myself onto my healthy foot.

Suddenly, Daiki's fingers slid under my chin and gripped it gently. He then pushed it up and moved closer to me. I felt the heat of his body. He was standing close in front of me, that his rather athletic physique prevented me from continuing to look around. Now I was forced to look into Daiki's eyes, in which something had changed.

"You're not okay," he contradicted me. His thumb stroked my chin. "You're shaking."

"This might be a bad time to tell you that I am scared of elevators," I mumbled. Meanwhile, I put my still trembling hands on his chest and firmly pushed him away from me to free myself from him. As soon as I had distance from him, I began to walk up and down in the cramped space.

Pain shot from my ankle to my knee. It intensified my limp and made it visible. But that didn't stop me! I had to move in order to be able to control my panic attack somehow. So I limped from wall to wall. Nevertheless, it didn't do me any good. My heart was racing and I was still short of breath, which was worsened by my sprained ankle.

I couldn't believe that I had took an elevator despite my fear. Something I had avoided all my life! Then I got stuck in the elevator in which, to make matters worse, the light didn't work properly. To top it all off, Daiki Aomine was here with me - of all the people at To oh High School.

I had to get out of here! Right. Now.

I didn't know how to survive this situation. A persistent panic attack combined with shooting pain in my foot and there was no light at the end of the tunnel.

I kept my statement. Today was one of the worst days ever!

"God, here!" Daiki grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me to his side. I stumbled over to him, flinching. My foot hurt so badly.

"Just hold my hand. We are going to be fine," he sighed.

Without saying another word, Daiki slid his fingers between mine and interlaced them. It distracted me. But only for the fraction of a second...

"You don't know!" I snapped at the blue-haired man. Involuntarily, my free hand ran through my hair and the strands that had stuck to my face lined up again in place.

"This devilish machine doesn't move anymore and if there's another jolt now, then the probability of us dying is damn high. The school is fucking empty and no one knows that we are here. So how are we supposed to get out of here, Daiki? The elevator could crash at any moment! Or we could run out of air if we have to wait here for too long-"

All my worries fell silent. But that's not all! All thoughts fell silent. Everything fell silent. Every cell of my body had found a new focus and they too fell silent in order to be able to concentrate. To be able to concentrate on Daiki. He took my breath away as he mixed the air he breathed with mine.

How did I got here you asked? Out of the sudden, Daiki had let go of my hand, stood up in front of me and placed both hands on my waist. After a second, filled with an intensely blazing gaze by these navy blue eyes, he pulled me close to him and put his lips on mine.

But it was not a soft or gentle kiss. This kiss was like Daiki Aomine, the ace of the court. Passionate, intense, strong and above all mesmerizing...

There was only one small detail that didn't suit Daiki. The desperation he put into that kiss.

Without letting our lips part for even a second, Daiki pushed me further and further back. As soon as my back brushed against the side wall of the elevator, he broke away from me. I moved my face after his, hoping to feel him on my lips again, but his lips were no longer on mine.

Nevertheless, I could feel his longing, his hunger. This wasn't enough for him! And it wasn't for me either. He had awaken something in me that I saw burning in his eyes.

His lips were so close in front of mine. Close enough to seduce me and far enough away that I couldn't reach them. Suddenly he came closer and brushed my lips.

"Jump," Daiki murmured against my mouth. Being drunk on him, I followed the instruction and jumped, launching off one foot.

It took Daiki no effort to catch me. He put my legs around his waist and he again pressed himself against my lips and body.

My fingers had a minf of on their own, ruffled his hair and pulled it gently.

Daiki kissed me dizzy while he let out a soft moan. Despite the dizziness and the unfamiliar tingling on my skin, I didn't want Daiki to ever stop. That was my only wish. Especially when he kissed me just like this...

But today I really was out of luck and didn't get anything I asked for. Again Daiki broke away from me. Immediately I longed for him. Panting, he looked into my eyes. I returned his gaze, breathing just as heavily.

His eyes captivated me. There was something in them that I hadn't been allowed to see for the last two years. Love and his gaze was soft. The shadow of the Daiki I had loved. The Daiki I used to admire.

"I won't let anything happen to you, Akari. Not in this fucking elevator. Not anywhere. I swear," he murmured.

My hands slowly slid from the back of his head down to the back of his neck, where I interlaced my fingers.

"Why?" I wanted to know.

For years, he had hardly paid any attention to me. For him, basketball, his friends from the Generation of Miracles and Satsuki were the only important thing in his life. He had never seen me. Really seen me. Our last real conversation was an eternity ago and the reason for it was a school project. We didn't have a close relationship back then and we certainly didn't have one now.

I fell in love from afar and stayed there. Far away from him. For Satsuki and for myself.

"Because I have loved you since the moment you stumbled into my arms. The first time you entered that stupid gym at Teiko with Momoi. You were laughing so loud that every boy looked at you. But you didn't even notice it and your foot hit one of the boys' bags. You fell right into my arms and that's the moment you never left my head. Funny, enough, you filled just as a large space as basketball, which I never wanted to admit. I never wanted it to be true, so I ignored it until I just saw your panic-filled eyes and the only thing I wanted is to hold you in my arms. To keep you there so nobody could hurt you or take you away from me," Daiki gushed out.

At the same time, our eyes widened in disbelief. It was obvious by the look on his face that he hadn't intended to say anything about this. I on the other hand couldn't believe what he was saying.

"You hurt Satsuki...", it blurted out of me. "I can't love you. Not like this."

"You love me?", I echoed. Still stunned.

But I knew that Daiki wasn't lying or retracting words. He stood by every word that left his lips and always did.

"I do," he replied. He was so serious and I recognized today's Daiki again.

"I hurt Satsuki? You love me?" Daiki frowned. With a puzzled look on his face, his index finger ran along the contours of my face.

I lowered my gaze. I couldn't bear to look him in the eye. I missed the memory of him, before the Generation of Miracles were ruined by the coach at Teiko, and I missed the moment just a seconde ago far too much for that.

"Does it bother her so much that I don't come to practice?" he wanted to know. His thumb stroked my chin. I was tempted to melt away, but that wasn't the right moment.

"Yes. You hurt Satsuki. Deeply," I murmured.

Again, Daiki's fingers slid under my chin and pushed it up. Now I had to look into those endless dark blue eyes.

Those beautiful, stubborn, dark blue eyes...

"If you really believe that, then I can't help you," I scoffed.

"It's what came along with me missing practice, isn't it?", Daiki concluded. I nodded.

"You should talk to her, Daiki," I said.

"I will."

The tips of our noses brushed against each other for a split second. I hitched my breath.

"Could you do me a favour?" he asked and I was completely taken in by him again. It was like a curse...

"Sure," I assured him, but I wasn't really focused on his words. His proximity completely threw me off my game.

"Say my name again," Daiki whispered. His breath hit my lips and sent a shiver down my face directly to my spine. "It sounds so pretty coming from your beautiful lips."

As if to underline his words, he gently ran his thumb over my lower lip and pulled it down slightly.

A soft sigh escaped me. "Daiki..."

"That's all I wanted it to hear, baby."

Suddenly the elevator started moving again. In a panic, I pressed myself even closer to Daiki and hid my face in the crook of his neck. I had expected everything but that.

But Daiki didn't let himself be disturbed. "Everything is okay, baby. Nothing bad is going to happen. We are almost out of here. I'll protect you. And I promise you to fix everything. I want you to be mine..."

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Taglist: -

Kuroko's Basketball Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

[ugsomebeauty]

A Disagreeable Heat [T] - Tentoo x Rose fic

Summary:

Rose is pregnant and experiencing hot flashes. The Doctor must deal with the consequences of this, in mid-November. “Time was that I’d have to be pressing you to the fridge to get that look from you,” tongue flicking across his lips. “And look where it got me.”

Word count: 1,194

Read on AO3

Notes:

Response to a prompt on a previous account in another fandom: Paraphrasing an Anonymous ask: Every woman experiences hot flashes during her pregnancy at least once. Except things are a bit different for [Rose]; she’s been experiencing them quite frequently and everyone at [home] is dealing with the repercussions. (I just have this image of [her] walking out in nothing but a pair of shorts and an undersized tank top and [the doctor] walking out in a hoodie (with a long sleeved t-shirt underneath) and heavy pajama pants and socks bc she won’t let him turn the heat on

A Disagreeable Heat

Two months, he thinks, has never seemed longer than it does right now. It is November in the London suburbs and winter has truly arrived. Frosty mornings and dark evenings that begin mid-afternoon. Their home is lavish enough thanks to their jobs, and a hand from Pete, that it is perpetually comfortable in its warmth. Yet here he is in fleece pyjama bottoms, sweatshirt and a long sleeved shirt he’s glad Rose didn’t throw out in a fit of homemaking. He’s pondering if the early arrival of their first child would be that bad. Just another two months.

At that moment Rose strides from the living room with purpose, straight to the kitchen fridge for a chilled bottle of water touching it to her chest, releasing a moan the Doctor previously believed only he could provoke. Really, it’s the stuff of dreams. Rose Tyler clad in tiny sleep shorts, showing just enough of her bum to keep his mind occupied with thoughts of taking her back to bed. She’s sporting one of her strappy vest tops, tighter now than ever before as it stretches across her 7 month pregnancy bump and swollen breasts, leaving the bottom half of her stomach bare.

All in all it leaves little to the imagination (not that the Doctor has to imagine). The sheen of perspiration across her chest and brow with the flushed colour of her cheeks - he knows precisely how he wants to warm up.

“Not getting any cooler, huh?” he enquired with a gentle tone. This is the 18th hour of her latest hot flash and he knows she’s reaching the end of her tether with discomfort. 

Rose’s brow raises, mid-gulp of her chilled refreshment and rolls her eyes. Swallowing, she rubs her hand across the exposed portion of her belly before leaning back against the fridge and sighing, eyelids fluttering shut at contact with the cool metal. 

“Time was that I’d have to be pressing you to the fridge to get that look from you,” tongue flicking across his lips. She does look gorgeous, all flushed and heavy with his child, nipples puckering against the overstretched top she wears.

“And look where it got me.” Glancing down to her stomach before appraising the Doctor’s attire, Rose sighs, this time with discontent, “I’m almost sorry, you look cold.”

“Almost?” he asks with a glint in his eye making his way towards her.

Peeling herself from the fridge, Rose meets him halfway by the breakfast bar. With her arms wrapping behind his neck, she drops a kiss to his lips having to fully extend on tip toe to reach around the bump. She affirms, ”Almost.”

The Doctor’s brow raises now. His hands smoothing down her sides, taking in the heat of her taut skin and feeling sympathetic.

“You did knock me up after all. It’s kinda your penance.”

There it is, the humour that she has lost much of through heat induced moods. A smirk playing across her lips as she meets his eyes through feathery lashes and another swig on her bottle. It makes her tilt her head back, exposing her neck and he can’t resist quickly planting a kiss there. She feels hot beneath his lips too, the slight tang of salt left lingering.

“If I do recall - and I tend to remember these things - you were a more than willing participant at the time,” smugness colouring his tone once more, before meeting her eyes. She doesn’t look impressed and her skin feels more like it’s mid-July, “But I am sorry that you’re in this situation,” a hand tightens on her waist, where it used to curl around her but now lies flat beside their growing child, “Rose, if there’s anything I can do, you know I will.”

“Open all the windo-”

“I’m afraid I’ll get hypothermia if we open any more, not to mention the TARDIS. Thermal shock wouldn’t be ideal for her in this growth stage.”

“We can wrap her up. Hell, we can put her down my top,” Rose whines, feeling fully pathetic but more than ready to regulate her own temperature once more.

An idea pops into the former Time Lord’s mind, hoping late night internet research would pay off just one of these times. Pulling her a little closer so her belly brushes his lower torso, “What about- don’t you think this is the perfect opportunity for a bath, hmm?” His eyes twinkled with hope.

She can’t think of anything worse, scrunching her nose, “Absolutely not.” Pushing away from him she begins heading back to the bedroom where she was sprawled across the empty bed, “Doctor, I might pass out if I have to smother in warm water with you touching me.”

He sniffs at the insult before trailing behind her belatedly like a puppy, “Oi!”

“Sorry, just, cannot put up with any additional… heat sources, right now.” She turns to face him as she sits on the edge of the bed, placing down her water.

The Doctor nods in understanding and considering carefully before he elaborates. Lingering in the doorway he watches as Rose picks at her top, pinging the overworked fabric against her skin in an attempt to get a draft. 

“Except,” he draws out, “I could run you a nice temperate bath, nothing hot, just the perfect temperature for your body and you can lay there as long as it takes for you to self-regulate again.” That garners a look from her. He knows that look. It’s the look she gives him when he suggests something in bed that she wants to try but also wants to make him squirm a bit first.

“Isn’t that just tempting hypothermia for the baby, submerging my bump in cold water?” Her hands have begun stroking her bump in a much loved subconscious tick she has developed on late. Oh Rose.

This time he can help, he has the answers and he thanks deities real and not, that Google exists. His persistence with researching every single little bit of information has finally paid off.

“You’re in luck,” he moves towards her, “You married yourself a Time Lor-” the look, he’s getting the look now, “A man with an expansive knowledge and some fun genetic additions, which means my tinkering with the hot water system - that you once derided - will come in handy at maintaining a delightful 37 degrees for as long as it takes you to do the same.”

Rose is a little skeptical but he knows he’s onto a winner as she starts getting herself to the edge of the bed to get up. Before he can move to offer his hand she’s up and peeling the skin tight top over her head.

She shoots him a determined look, hair falling everywhere while the vest hits the floor, “I knew the gold digging would pay off,” a bright smile, the first he’s seen in days, “Get the bath running then!”

The Doctor hops to it, happy that he may finally have a solution for his wife’s discomfort. As he crosses into the bathroom, he swears he hears the breathless addition of the words, “Sugar daddy.”

He’s so onto a winner.

[middleearthpixie]

Living Proof ~ Chapter Ten

Summary: When he puts himself between the Uruk-hai and Merry and Pippin, Boromir knows it means sacrificing himself. But it also means redemption for his near betrayal of Frodo and the Fellowship, and so it is a price he is more than willing to pay.

Kaia has been on her own for as long as she can remember, having escaped a terrible life in a village not far from Mordor. When she hears the sounds of battle, she knows what it means and when she ventured forth and finds a gravely wounded man lying amongst the leaves and debris, she takes him in, not knowing he is actually the son of the steward of Gondor.

Angry at himself and faced with a long road to recovery, Boromir does not make things easy on Kaia and it is only through her own sheer will that she does not give into the urge to hit him over the head with something on a daily basis. That refusal to give up brings about changes neither one of them could have foreseen.  She just wanted to save him. She never thought he would save her in return…

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Kaia 

Warnings: Unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving)

Rating: M

Word Count: 4.2k

Tag List: @sotwk @heilith @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls @doctorwhump @kmc1989 @estethell @emrfangirl @emmanuellececchi

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Kaia slid her arms about Boromir’s waist, her hands flat against his back, as she leaned into him and parted her lips. The scruff of his beard teasingly scratched around her mouth, along her chin, but she didn't care. It didn't matter. All that mattered was the fire with which Boromir kissed her. The same fire that slowly spread through her as his mouth moved slowly against hers.

His hands splayed across her cheeks, his fingers reaching into her hair, and when she parted her lips and his tongue swept along hers, she couldn't hold back her sigh. The caress was silken and teasing, hot and soft and gentle all at the same time and the sensations alone made her toes curl in her boots, made her blood bubble hotly through her veins, and set forth a sweet, achy tightness deep inside her. It had been a lifetime since she’d felt what she did right then, since any man kissed her the way Boromir did. 

His kiss started out soft and teasing, but it did not remain that way. The fire between them erupted into an inferno that had her fingers curling on their own to grip the back of his tunic, her back bowing as she did, and when he released her face to wrap her in his arms, breaking the kiss was the furthest thing from her mind. Instead, desire burned a fiery path through her, beginning at her lips and melting its way clear through to her core. 

She would have melted into him if she could find a way. After all, her blood burned through her veins and the cabin just grew warmer by the second despite its dark hearths. All she knew was that she could go up in a smoke at any second and she did not care a whit. 

Boromir swept his lips down over her chin, and her head fell back as he kissed his way down her neck, into the vee of her tunic. The sensations he sent rippling through her made her heart race and her head spin and pleasure skitter along her skin, growing stronger with each passing moment. 

Breathless, he looked down at her, his eyes smoky gray as he brought a hand up to catch the leather lacing and gave a gentle tug. Her eyes grew even more heavy-lidded at the soft skim of equally soft leather against her skin. Even that was a caress, every bit as teasing as his hands on her body would be. 

She should stop him. Should reach up and still his hand. And yet, that was the last thing she wished to do, so she gripped a handful of the front of his tunic and tugged him back to her.

A soft laugh swept along her lips, followed by his whispered, “Kaia?”

“It’s all right,” she assured him, around his kiss. 

“If you’re certain…”

She nodded feverishly. “I am.”

He surrendered to her tug then, wrapping her in his arms once more as their lips met. He backed toward the sofa, tugging her with him, until his legs bumped the sofa. Then, he stopped and reached down to hook a finger in the waist of her trousers. He met her gaze, his smile holding all of the promises of a night she would never forget and eased the button through its loop to unfasten them. They skimmed down along her legs, a caress in itself as they hit the floor. She stepped free of them, and mirrored his smile as he sank onto the sofa and drew her down with him.

She came astride him, her knees on either side of his hips, sinking into the worm cushion beneath him. This time, she caught his face in her hands, cupping his bristly cheeks, her thumbs moving from those bristles along the smoother, warm skin above them. Heat wafted from him, as it had when he’d been with fever, but this time, it drew her to him, sinking into her body from his. His arms wrapped tight about her, he pulled her hard against him. She shivered at how that teasing bulge of his erection fit perfectly into the heated vee of her spread thighs and they each sighed into the other’s mouth. 

Kaia sank against him, slowly rocking against him to sent heat surging through her as that solid part of him ground against that oh-so-very sensitive part of her. He moaned softly into her mouth, his fingers tightening on her hips, pulling her firmly against him to meet the teasing thrust he offered up. 

Her breath came hard and sharp, her clothes almost unbearably warm now, fair too heavy to lay against her skin. She thrust her fingers up into his hair, far softer and more silken than she would have imagined, and twisted into it as she bowed her back to press her breasts firmly against his chest.

His hands slipped up along her hips, beneath her tunic, to graze up along her skin toward her breasts and when he found them and cupped them gently, she shivered against him. His touch came gentle, teasing, and he kneaded a fullness into both breasts that sent a fresh heat billowing through her. One that had her bowing her back once more to make certain he didn't release her.

And he didn’t. Instead, he pushed her tunic up, whisked it over her head, and then did the same with her worn chemisette. 

His fingers danced along the inner curves, and as they moved along the outer curves, he looked up at her, his eyes filled with what looked very much like wonder as he murmured, “You are so very beautiful, Kaia…”

A hint of embarrassed heat swept through her. No one had ever called her beautiful and hearing him whisper those words left her at a loss for what to say. Her cheeks grew warm and her eyes wanted only to close as he continued his gentle strokes along those curves. Her nipples tightened, beading to send a renewed ache that was equal parts delicious and frustrating swirling through her.

He sat back, in no hurry as he continued his leisurely perusal of her, his eyes almost caressing her as they swept down her length. Then, a teasing smile curved his lips as he swept his thumbs over the taut beads of her nipples and she couldn't hold back her gasp. His smile widened and he did it again, swirling his thumbs lazily about them, each caress making her eyes heavier still. She surrendered to the tingling heat ribboning through her, her eyes closing, her hips moving slowly against him, each sensation more delicious than the last.

Boromir met her, his thrusts slow and teasing, offering up a taste of what would soon come and it was enough to make her beyond hungry for him. Her entire body ached now, desire thrumming through her with more force than she remembered it ever having. 

Her head fell back as he teasingly rolled her nipples between thumb and forefinger, her lips slack and her breath impossible to catch. She melted against him then, winding her arms about his neck, her lips searching for and finding his to seize them in a kiss that had him wrapping his arms about her and pulling her hard against him once more. 

He broke the kiss, sweeping his lips over her chin and down her neck. She leaned back as he smoked a kiss down between her breasts, his lips hot and damp as they swept along over the inner curve of her breast to capture her nipple. The tip of his tongue flicked over the aching bead, his teeth gentle nipped at it, each motion making the knots inside her tighter, making the damp heat between her thighs hotter still. 

Her fingernails sank into his shoulders. She rocked hard against him, almost shivering at the teasing zing of him grinding against her. The knots deep within her belly dropped lower, down into the apex of her thighs, where she ached for him the most. 

He slid a hand down along her side, around across her belly, and down into the darkness between her thighs. A moment later, a teasing finger slipped through that damp heat, slid along arousal-dampened flesh, to sweetly brush the sensitive bead nestled within the thatch of equally damp curls.

Her head spun madly now at his teasing exploration and when that finger slid slowly inside her, she tensed about it without thinking. Fire blazed through her, his strokes deliberate and deep. She rocked to meet him, whispering, “Boromir…” as he swirled that finger inside and did something utterly magical, something that had those knots slowly popping to release even hotter, sweeter pleasure.

She ached to touch him, her hands easing between them to find the button on his trousers. A sharp tug, and she opened them, then a moment later, eased her hand into a heated darkness. Her fingertips crept along the trail of coarser hair, to where it thickened, and then she found him and curled her fingers about his thickness to let them caress over the somewhat veined length. He moaned low in his throat, shuddered at her stroke, his breath hitching as she moved back up, then swept downward again, freeing him from the confines of both his small clothes and trousers. 

“Kaia…” Her name emerged as a whispered growl and he offered up a slow thrust into her hand, made silkier by the warm bead of fluid bubbling to his slit that she caught and swept down over him. He met each stroke, dipping back to capture her lips once more.

She returned his kiss with all of the fire she could muster, teasing him with faster, tighter strokes now, smiling as he practically mewled in her ear. 

“Take care, love,” came his breathless warning, “for you have me very close already…”

“Oh…” she slowed her caresses, “sorry…” 

“Do not apologize.” He pulled back to offer up a sleepy, heavy-lidded smile. “I would just hate to give you an unexpected surprise at this point.”

She couldn't help her laugh. “I would hate that as well.” 

“Come here.” He tugged her back to him and she wrapped herself around him once more. Lips locked, tongues entwined, she reached down to wrap her hand about him once more and then, guided him into her.

He moaned into her mouth as she sheathed him, as she rocked against him to draw him deep inside her. His hands came upon her hips, and it was his turn to dig his fingertips into her as he breathed, “Kaia…” when she began to move silkily along him.

The sensations racing through her were unlike anything she’d ever felt before. It was as if ice and fire combined to tear through her veins and smoke her blood. She eased back, linking her fingers at the nape of his neck as she moved slowly against him, savoring each ripple, each shimmering dart of delight that sliced through her. 

He held her gaze, his eyes heavy-lidded and seductive as he murmured, “You are so very beautiful, love…”

A pleasant heat stung her cheeks, softer than the one that stung the rest of her body. He slid his arms about her waist, his fingertips skimming along her back and she leaned in to press her lips to his as she arched toward him once more. 

They moved in perfect rhythm, each feeding off the other’s pleasure, and that pleasure built steadily, filled her and twisted her insides into the most amazing knots. She tightened about him, the crisp hair sprinkled across his chest teasing her taut nipples to fire her desire further. He held her gaze, his eyes more gray than blue now, and a smile tugged at his lips as he murmured, “So beautiful…” and tightened his arms about her.

She resisted the urge to close her eyes, not wanting to miss any part of this, not wanting to miss the way his pleasure played out across his face, the sinful promise his smile held, and even as she drew near her climax, she fought it off as long as she could. The tingles grew sharper. The knots within her belly grew tighter. The pleasure burned hotter than anything she’d ever felt. The end bore down upon her. She felt it in the tension winding through her body, through Boromir’s body, in the way his breathing grew ragged and smoky around the edges. He filled her so perfectly, her body tight about that magnificent part of him stroking her so sensually now. 

He thrust deeper, a low moan rising to his lips, his breathing harsh and his voice a low growl as he murmured, “Oh… yes… oh, love… oh… yes…”

She could stave it off no longer. The knots all burst at once, the fire erupting into an inferno that tore through her with all the heat and fire of Mount Doom itself. She clung to him, her arms tight about his neck, her breasts flattened against his chest, her fingernails digging deep into his back as she surrendered to the moment and gave herself up entirely to him. 

Boromir tensed, ground her against him as he gave a powerful thrust, and then went over the edge himself, coming with a low moan, crushing her against him as he, too capitulated. 

Pleasure, white hot and sweeter than any wine, burned through her, had her clinging to him as she shivered and throbbed all around him. He sank into the back of the sofa while she sank into him, her head spinning wildly, her heart racing madly, and her breath impossible to catch.

“Oh, love…” Boromir breathed, cradling her now as her head came to rest in the slope of his shoulder, almost sobbing from the ecstasy still flooding through her. Pressing his cheek into the side of her head, he whispered, “Shhh…”

She trembled against him, but he wasn't entirely still, either. He trembled as well, his heart beating with such force, the vibrations thrummed through her as well. Her eyes closed as she just let him hold her, just savored the scent of musk and leather and man that surrounded them. A smile played at her lips at the gentle stroke of his fingers up and down along her back. Never had a moment been so peaceful for her, and she was in no hurry for it to end. 

Boromir appeared to be in no great hurry, either, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple before whispering, “Are you still awake?”

“I am, indeed,” she murmured, a delicious drowsiness washing over her. She could gladly remain exactly as she was, as they were, in his arms, their bodies joined. But, of course, that wouldn’t last forever—he was already slipping from her, but she still had no desire to move.

But, nature cared not what her wishes were and as he eased completely from her, he let out a soft noise that sounded very much like a whimper. She couldn't hold back her chuckle, whispering, “Come with me.” 

She eased off him, and smiled as he stood. A sigh rose to her lips at the way his trousers sat opened against his hips. He bent to tug off his boots, wincing as he did, and then shed those trousers, leaving them where they fell as he simply stepped out of them. He caught her by the hand, linking his fingers with her. “Lead on.”

She did just that, and when they’d crossed the threshold into her bedchamber, Boromir swept her up in his arms. At his wince, she whispered, “Take care, love. Your wounds.”

“My wounds are fine,” he whispered back as he pressed her down into the soft, somewhat lumpy mattress and covered her body with his. “And I am fine.”

“You most definitely are,” she whispered back, a hint of a laugh at her lips as he came flush against her. 

He stifled that laugh with a hot kiss, then pulled back, a devilish smile playing at his lips as he whispered, “I will show you I am.”

Her urge to laugh died away as he moved to brush a hot kiss along her jaw. Then down the side of her neck, where he playfully nipped her to make her laugh anyway. 

Catching each of her hands in his, he linked his fingers with hers and pinned her hands on either side of her head, then slowly crept down, feathering kisses down along her breastbone. Kaia caught her bottom lip between her teeth as she tensed in anticipation of his flaying her nipple with his tongue once more.

Only he didn't stop at her breast. Instead, he moved lower, his fingers tightening about hers as he pressed a hot kiss into her stomach. Down along her lower belly. Toward her hip. He released her hands then, and crept down further still, to nuzzle the triangle of russet curls between her thighs. 

Her gasp was strictly involuntary as the tip of his tongue slipped into those curls, into the damp folds of her womanhood, and slid slowly about that bead nestled within. Without thinking, she shoved her hands into his hair, parting her legs wider as he teased her with slow flicks and teasing swirls, and heat flooded her. Her hips moved of their own to meet him, to make each stroke sweeter and hotter still. Desire flooded her. Arousal slicked her flesh. Pleasure so hot, it burned white stung her from the inside out and twisted those now-familiar knots deep within her. No man had ever done this to her before. No man ever teased her so intimately and with such great enthusiasm, as Boromir did then. He moved slowly and deliberately, bringing her to the edge of sanity, only to draw her back and torture her more.

“Please…” It was the only word she could speak, the only one her mind would form. She could think of no others. The pleasure surging through her rendered rational thought impossible, and she was powerless to resist it. Not that she wished to, for it was so hot and sweet and she never wanted it to end.

However, at the same time, the strangling need for release threatened to drive her mad. The pleasure built steadily, fed off itself, to flood her veins with erotic heat and make her rock up against him to draw out the sensations, but at the same time, she needed him to push her over the edge. 

“Boromir…”

He must’ve heard the pleading in his name, in the breathless voice carrying it, for now he moved more furiously, teasing with each sweep of his tongue, increasing his pressure until she shattered with a cry of thanks and relief, her hips bolting to meet him as her climax flooded body and rendered her utterly senseless. 

She sank back into the bed, fighting to breathe, to think, and when he slid along her, she cried out his name once more and opened her legs wider to welcome him.

His first thrust was hard and deep and she wrapped around him as he did not ease up. Linking his fingers with hers once more, he surged hard inside her, each thrust more powerful than the last, until she wrapped her legs around him and met him at the summit once more. He thrust hard, crushed her against him, and with a low moan of ecstasy, erupted inside her with a hot blast that tore his name from her lips and her sense from her body. 

He trembled as he arched hard inside her, shuddering and growling her name as he came. There was nothing gentle about it this time, and that was absolutely fine with her, and she smiled as he sank against her, spent and fighting for breath. Wrapping her arms about his neck, she cradled him as he’d done to her earlier, and whispered, “Oh, my…”

His head came to rest in the slope of her shoulder, his breath hot and hard and fast against her overheated skin. Her hand trembled as she brought it up to the back of his head and stroked his hair with light fingertips as he stilled against her, his breathing slowing back to normal. 

She smiled at the gentle brush of his lips against her shoulder, and he murmured, “Oh, my, indeed…”

He carefully eased off her, stretching out alongside her, and gathered her into his arms. She snuggled against him, her head tucked into the curve where his shoulder met his chest. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he assured her, his fingertips idly grazing along her upper arm. “I’m almost back to myself, and what pain I did feel is almost gone.”

“I apologize if I hurt you.”

“Kaia, trust me, this was far worth any twinge I might have felt.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “And I felt no more than that.”

“Still—”

“No still.” He pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “I feel better than I have in weeks, so trust me when I say I am fine.”

“Good,” she murmured, her eyes growing heavy as a delicious drowsiness set in. She fought it off, though, not wanting this night to end just yet.

She had no idea how long they lay there in comfortable silence, and she thought perhaps he’d fallen asleep. He was so very quiet, and the only sound was that of his soft breathing. 

“Where are you?” His whisper broke the gentle silence.

“I’m right here. Why?”

“You’re so quiet.” His fingers went still. “I thought you might have fallen asleep.”

“No,” she shook her head gently, “not yet.” She trailed her fingertips through the soft hair curling away from his chest. “Are you all right?”

“I’m a little sore,” he confessed, his fingers moving once more, “but before you ask, I’ll live to see the morning.”

“I think the worst of it all is behind you,” she murmured.

“I do hope so. For I’ve no desire to ever experience that again.”

“Then I would suggest you stay out of the path of arrows.”

He chuckled softly. “I’ll try to keep it in mind.”

“Where will you go from here?”

He said nothing and she wondered if he would simply pretend he’d not heard her. She didn't press, but traced a small circle about his left nipple, then brushed over it, smiling as his breath hitched and his hand tightened on her shoulder. 

“I’m not entirely certain, for I have several options,” he finally said, tightening his arm about her shoulders to press a kiss into the top of her head, “but I do not know I’d be welcome in any of them.”

“Not welcome?” She lifted her head and shifted, propping herself on one elbow to gaze down at him. It was dark, the only light coming from the small fire still crackling on the great room hearth, but her eyes had adjusted to make him out. His eyes were open, glittering in that low glow, and they slid in her direction as she rose. “Why?”

“It’s a long story,” he murmured, “and not a very good one, I’m afraid.”

“Does it have to do with the halflings in the clearing?”

His eyes closed, his lashes thick, black crescents against his cheeks. Once more, she thought he’d remain silent, but then he nodded. “It does, yes. But—”

“You needn’t tell me, if you’d rather not.”

“I did something,” he replied, easing onto his side to face her. He reached out to trace along her cheek with a fingertip. “Something I am not in the least bit proud of. Something I regret down to the marrow of my bones.”

“I understand that.” Her eyes grew heavy-lidded at his gentle strokes. She had the feeling he was trying to distract her from her questions, and she let him do just that. His fingers traced down over her jaw, down along the side of her neck, where they curled about her to draw her in to meet his kiss.

The rough linens rustled softly as he urged her onto her back, easing over her to cover her body with his and a moment later, she was losing herself in him all over again. 

****

Kaia stared up into the darkness. Boromir lay beside her, and for the first time since he’d come to be in her company, he did not snore. Curved against him, she wished she felt the same peace as he did, but peace was nowhere to be found. Instead, her heart was heavier than it had been since the day the orcs descended upon her village. 

He was going to live. The danger had passed for him. She hadn’t been able to a damn thing for the men and women of her village, hadn’t been able to help keep her family safe. But she had saved Boromir. 

With that, she carefully eased away from him and slipped from the bed. She’d made her decision earlier, when she realized just how low her stores had run. There was no game to be found, nor had she any luck at catching fish. The garden had yielded the last of its crops, and those she left in the pantry. Boromir no longer needed her.

The time had come for her to move on.

She dressed quietly, and moved to the doorway, where the pack she had readied earlier stood behind the door. She shouldered it and without a sound, slipped from the bedchamber. Minutes later, she had slipped from the cabin as well, and into the night’s thick darkness. 

[yletylyf]

Fic Writer Wrapped- 2023 Edition

I did this in 2022 and 2021, and am revving it back up for my own personal interest in tracking these things. Tagging anyone reading this if you want to participate!

Like in previous years, this is about fic published on ao3 in 2023 (not amount of words written in 2023, which I don't keep track of).

How many stories did you complete?

I completed one longfic (more than 100k words), eight medium fics (between 15k and 100k), and forty-two short fics (under 15k). Just like last year, I continue to have considerable lag between writing and publishing. The longfic and some of the medium fics were mostly written in 2022, but published and finished this year.

What is your total word count for the year?

547,416 words

What fandoms did you write in this year?

I really committed to the multi-fandom bit. I also discovered an addiction to cdramas. I wrote in Harry Potter, Tolkien, The Grisha Trilogy, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen, Emma - Jane Austen, Twilight, the Locked Tomb, House of the Dragon, 陈情令 The Untamed, 山河令 Word of Honor, 苍兰诀 Love Between Fairy and Devil, 莲花楼 Mysterious Lotus Casebook, 无量 Wúliàng, and 长月烬明 Till the End of the Moon.

Did you write more, less, or roughly about what you expected?

This year's published word count borrows from many projects that were written in 2022, probably about 150k words' worth. Even subtracting that, I wrote a lot more than I expected. Because I didn't write a long fic this year (123k of Rainbow of Chaos's total of 130k words was written in 2022), I felt like I was unproductive compared to previous years. But I actually I wrote a lot!

What’s your favorite story of the year?

To catch a fox (Grisha verse, the Darkling/Nikolai). I had a blast writing this, it felt like it wrote itself, and I think the fic is so much fun, I still enjoy re-reading it, and I'm really happy about how many other people liked it as well!

What is your most underappreciated story of the year?

This question gets harder and harder to answer every year, because the more deliberately niche I write the happier I am when I get a single comment and feel that is more than sufficient appreciation. I guess if I had to pick one, it's my Aredhel/Celegorm fic, because imo this ship deserves to be more popular than it is!

Biggest fanfic-related disappointment of 2023?

I was riding the high of discovering the Darkling/Nikolai ship after watching the TV show Shadow and Bone in March. A good friend left a prompt that I loved, in an event called Fandom Orienteer, which had a several-month-long writing period and then a posting window in August. I bit off more than I could chew when I started writing Palace in the Dark, found my ideas too plotty, and did not finish in time to post a completed story in August. By the time I actually finished over Thanksgiving, not only did I miss being part of the event, I had lost almost all my WIP readers (except my friends from the darkolai server, shout out to you, you are the best!). It's fine, the fic is finished and complete on my profile, and readers will slowly find it. But I was disappointed in not being able to finish in July for the event and when the momentum from the show was hotter.

Biggest fanfic-related surprise of 2023?

I'm surprised by how many multi-fandom exchanges I did. I was only dipping my toe into them in 2022 and was not sure the whole thing really suited me. I wrote almost forty exchange fics this year, and got some amazing gift fics in exchange, and it's been really fun.

Something you look forward to working on in 2024?

I think I'll work on more villain-centric fic for MDZS, and also hopefully write more new-to-me fandoms for exchanges.

[no-where-new-hero]

Thank you @batrachised for tagging me in a 20 questions fanfic author game!

1-How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 2, will soon be 3 :)

2-What's your total AO3 word count?

Currently 10,518.

3-What fandoms do you write for?

LM Montgomery novels and Tale of the Nine-Tailed at the moment.

4-What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

"A Dream of the Woodland," my Barney Snaith pov fic, has the most kudos simply because the Blue Castle Book Club are lovely and generous people!

5-Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do because I'm still new enough to this that every comment has me giggling and kicking my feet, and I want the commenter to feel like their time was spent well on typing out a reaction! It also feels like a mini-conversation about my favorite thing (my work hehe).

6-What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I mean, "The One who Takes" will automatically be the angstiest because it's canon compliant, basically a canon novelization, and I spent the previous 4800 words leading up to the finale shaping the characters to deliver the maximum possible pain out of an already painful situation. I have to admit I enjoy writing angst; I enjoy happy endings but until now the main feedback I've gotten on my works and pairings is that they're "sweet" and that feels like a vital misrepresentation of my core self lol.

7-What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

"A Dream of the Woodland" probably, again canon compliancy. The two drafts I have growing won't be happy to the same extent.

8-Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet 👀

9-Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I've become a very fade to black writer after several years of struggling to walk a fine line between graphic, which I guess is the point but not always, and merely allusive, which ends up kind of...unnecessarily poetic (me staring at the sex scene in Divine Rivals, which had me convinced the writer was Christian). This is me standing on my bandbox, but unless it's explicit, I find including smut incredibly awkward. And sometimes being explicit simply doesn't fit the story, and pwp is not my thing. So I've decided to start steering clear of it until I've found a way to toe that line (Starling House comes closest to achieving this for me, but it's almost not a smut scene? Like you know they're having sex but it's so barely there? OT).

10-Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not yet, but I'm still percolating elements for the Dean Priest x Barney Snaith x Walter Blythe fic. After that discussion about Dean being bisexual or at least closetedly in love with Douglas, that idea surged back into my consciousness again.

11-Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, luckily. I'm not famous enough for that to happen lol.

12-Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but that sounds like a huge honor.

13-Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No, but I'm open to the idea!

14-What's your all-time favourite ship?

Oh lord what a question. It's hard because I have a few but so often I want to keep them sacrosanct from fanfiction because I have the only correct interpretation of the ship and won't accept others lol. The one exception is that "euchronology" story about Dean x Emily, but otherwise yeah I tend to avoid reading about ships that are special to me.

15-What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I mean, that LMM sad guy crossover feels a bit ambitious for my time right now, even though I have the elements in place. We'll see.

16-What are your writing strengths?

The prose. I've been doing this for so long that getting pretty words out onto the screen stops feeling like effort.

17-What are your writing weaknesses?

I think I get stuck in my prose and forget that a story needs momentum. And also a shape. Learning how to outline would be great haha.

18-Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

This is actually interesting considering I'm writing for a media created in another language that I partially know, so while writing the new dialogue in "The One who Takes," I was very conscious of not just "would he say that" but also "what would the sentence structure feel like" and "I am also aware that I am filtering this awareness of speech pattern through translation." I don't think I did very well, but it was a thought process.

19-First fandom you wrote for?

I mean, the first "real" OG writing I ever did was very very thinly veiled The Hero and the Crown fanfic (by Robin McKinley, another of my formative books), so I guess that one? Though I feel like I only entered fandom properly this year with The Blue Castle.

20-Favorite fic you've ever written?

"The One who Takes." I don't see that getting dethroned by any of my other ideas any time soon. I love my murder children, I achieved what I wanted with it, I feel like I was writing at the top of my form. It has every element I ever loved in a fic (star-crossed love, hurt/comfort, charged mentor/mentee relationship, unhappy ending) and the form satisfied me (unlinear, lyrical, close 3rd person POV, thematically circular). ANYWAY I'm gassing this one up so you can all check it out here if you haven't already :)))

Tagging (if you haven't done this already): @mollywog @kehlana-wolhamonao3 @thesweetnessofspring

[fanfic-scribbles]

Dinner Date Chapter 26

Masterlist

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Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend. A prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.

Quick Facts: Romance – Steve Rogers/Reader – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 26: Trip Trip

Chapter Summary: A trip to DC is made, and something new is realized.

Chapter Word Count: 6011

A/N: This chapter took some doing. But after a lot of cutting and reworking, I think it came out all right =) Apologies to anyone in/familiar with DC because I did barely any research and a lot of the movie was filmed in Cleveland so I did what the pros do and just Made Some Shit Up about Sam’s neighborhood. Sorry <3 Hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I have…a vague idea of what I’m doing after this, but we shall see how things actually play out >=3

~

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just…nervous.”

“Uh huh. I didn’t notice.”

I looked at him and followed his gaze down to the armrest. The whole thing was shaking from how much my hand was moving. (Not that my hand was shaking; I was just...fidgeting.) Still, Steve looked so damn amused I put my hand in my lap and looked away. Jerk.

“Hey,” Steve said and when I refused to look again, he stole my hand for a quick kiss. I glanced around on instinct, and he just grinned at me.

“You’re terrible,” I said softly, but I smiled despite myself.

“It’s a quick plane ride,” he said.

“And you’re pretty meaty if we don’t make it all the way,” I said.

He gave me his best smart-ass look. “You mean if we go down in Philly?”

“Exactly.”

He rolled his eyes and I felt a little better for having annoyed him less than a day into my vacation. Packing and planning had taken up a lot of focus, and I was really behind on my daily quota.

Though it was then I noticed he was sitting pretty stiffly. But then he relaxed so fast I wondered if I was just imagining it. But no, he kept shifting like he was almost as antsy as I was. I almost called him out on it but something in his expression made me stop. Well, we couldn’t both be nervous wrecks for the plane ride. What to do…

I pulled out a piece of paper, made a few lines, and set it on the armrest between us. “Here,” I said and held out the pen to him. “I’ll let you have first go.”

He looked and did a double-take. “Did you seriously make a tic-tac-toe board on a sheet of paper?”

“What, is it too high-tech for you?” I said and hit him with the pen. “This is a travel classic. Now make a move, loser.”

He rolled his eyes, but he snatched the pen and did make his move. It took him all of thirteen seconds to annihilate me, so I scratched out the board and made a new one.

“Hey!” he said with some actual offense.

“That was a fluke. I need a do-over,” I said and though I tried to keep hold of the pen, Steve managed to wrest it back and write his name over the scribbled board.

“For the record,” he said.

I actually laughed. “Yes, let the record show you beat me at a game of tic-tac-toe. Truly your most impressive accolade.”

He gave me a sneaky grin, but he let me move first on this game. This time it took him almost twenty seconds to beat me– mostly because I spent some time at least trying to pick a good spot. Again, I scribbled out the board, claiming shenanigans, and again he wrote his name, claiming his all-important record. By the time the plane was actually ready to take off (fucking finally) the paper was covered in tic-tac-toe games which were in turn covered by Steve’s name. There was one with mine, but that was because I took the paper away, made the board, then quickly drew my three-in-a-row.

“That doesn’t count,” he said as we put the pen and paper aside in favor of belting up for takeoff.

“It counts because I say it counts,” I said. “You won seventy-bajillion games; give the drummer some.”

He looked thoughtful, glanced around, then snaked a kiss to my neck so fast I only knew it happened because I felt it. And as soon as I tried to tell him off for it, there was the flight attendant in all her professional glory, walking the aisle to make sure we did as we were told.

“Dick,” I said quietly after she passed. “You know you’re the only one observant enough to get away with that.”

The smirk he gave me let me know I was going to be in for one frustrating flight.

~

We made it without somehow going down in the Andes, and considering we were just in town for a long weekend, getting our bags wasn’t any more complicated than Steve dragging them down out of the overhead and leading the way off the plane. I was happy to be out in a semi-open area again, and even happier to be making our way out of the airport entirely.

“See? No cannibalization necessary,” Steve said and slipped my bag away as I tried to take it from him.

“Hopefully we’re as lucky on the way home,” I said and tried to get it again, only for him to slip it back and hit me in the ass with it. “Steve!”

“I’ve got it,” he said, but he grinned, and I just barely dodged the battering ram again.

“I hope you got two beds because at this rate you’re gonna be on the floor tonight,” I said and barely missed getting run over by someone rushing past on their phone.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t kick me out of bed?” Steve said and moved closer to me, but didn’t try whapping me with the bags again.

“In your apartment,” I said and stuck close to him as we moved through a sudden burst of people. “In my bed or shared travel beds, all bets are off.”

“Even if I’m paying for the travel bed?” he asked, still smiling like a little shit.

“You got me out of the house,” I said. “I wouldn’t leave it without something comfy to lay and or sit on. That is the price you pay for my otherwise priceless company.”

“Well, that’s worth it then.” He leaned into me a little. “Lucky me the room has a couch.”

“We’ll see how lucky you feel after twenty minutes on it.” A hotel room couch with a throw blanket? I was honestly being generous even with his stubbornness.

~

Technically we both took the couch. At first. Play-wrestling just inside the door of our (very nice) room turned into hands ‘accidentally’ sliding around spots they weren’t ‘supposed’ to, which turned into predictable grabbing, gripping, holding, and a pretty nice make-out that killed enough time that I was ready for dinner when we came up for air.

“Huh.” I gave the cushion a little bounce. “Yup. Hotel room couch sucks.”

Steve laughed. “Are you preparing yourself for grading Sam’s couch?”

“I think you’re gonna be trying to apologize like hell and crawl into the nice bed within five minutes,” I said and stretched. “Are you hungry? I’m fucking starving.”

“I could eat,” he said. “Do we want to go out, or do we want to try room service?”

I gave it some thought. “How’s your social meter after the plane?” I asked.

“I didn’t really interact with many people,” he said.

“Uh huh.” That was indicative of an answer, but I wasn’t letting him off that easy. He never would for me, and if you couldn’t torment your loved ones in the name of their health, what were relationships even for? “How’s your social meter after the plane?”

He let out a little huff, but after a requisite moment of stubbornness he then gave me a tired, crooked smile and admitted, “Not great.”

I pulled the room service menu off the table nearby and smacked it against his chest. He huffed and opened it, but I had a thought as I leaned over his shoulder. “Should we split it?” I asked and winced at some of the prices. They weren’t as egregious as I feared they might be, but they were still pretty up there as far as my limits went.

“Don’t worry; I’ve got it,” he said and bumped me.

“You paid for the whole trip,” I said.

“So let me pay for it. I invited you, and I’m good for it.” He gave me a smile. “Besides, with all the time I spend at your place I probably owe you a couple months’ worth of rent at this point.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” I said and poked his side hard enough to make him jump. “I like having you there.”

“And I like having you here,” he said and reached around to jab my side.

“Well fine then,” I said and hung off him (and tried to only read titles and descriptions; not egregious or otherwise, the cost was still more than I felt deserved for food that was probably going to come lukewarm). He seemed a little too serious then, too into reading a menu, so I kissed his cheek. “I’m glad I’m here too. Thanks for inviting me.”

“I’m happy you came. Even if you did have to leave your apartment for a few days,” he said with a small smile, and then we were distracted by food.

Distracted by food, and then just…distracted, to the point where Steve looked away from his meal and stared at the curtained window for several long seconds.

I reached out to touch him and he jumped a little, even. He coughed as if to cover it up and stood. “You know, actually, I’m feeling a little wired still; maybe I should go for a run…”

He looked like he might trip and fall on his face if he tried. “Steve, if you need some time alone you can stay and I’ll go take a walk or something,” I said. “Really, you…kind of look like you might cross the street without remembering to look and get hit by a car or something.”

“I’m not that tired,” he said defensively.

“You’re thinking real hard about something,” I said. He didn’t have a response for that, and still looked a little lost. I stood. “You know, the tub looks really nice; I think I might take a bath.” I hesitated, but… “And if you do decide to take a run, leave me a note at least, yeah?”

“Okay,” he said and I grabbed a few things before escaping to the bathroom for some enforced private time. If I gave him a half hour I figured that would be good enough either for him to get his head on, or to decide he really did need some air and run out for a bit. It wasn’t a hardship though– the tub was very nice, maybe big enough to fit the both of us, and I soaked until the water was no longer nice and steamy, and then I took extra time drying off, getting dressed, putting away the extra toiletries in case they’d give us more…

When I came out Steve was still there, to my great relief, slumped in the armchair and staring through a crack in the curtain. I went and leaned over him from behind to kiss his head, but before I connected, he leaned his head back and moved to meet me in a real kiss.

A little distracted still, but more settled. I’d take it. “The bath is really nice,” I said. “I left you hot water.”

He grinned crookedly. “I don’t think they’re gonna run out here.”

“Well I still made sure I did. On purpose and everything,” I said and bonked my head against his.

“Thanks.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and with nary a quip about me not being a jerk after all, took a change of clothes and went right into the bathroom.

I sighed. Oh but he was in a weird mood. And considering we were on a tight timeline for the weekend to squeeze in Peggy and Sam around Sam having a job (and a life, I could hardly believe I knew someone with one of those), I picked up my phone.

Me: So I don’t know if I should say this but fair warning I think Steve is feeling weird about me meeting Peggy so hanging out with us tomorrow might be awkward if you wanna bail? Sam: Ah Sam: It’ll be fine Sam: When it comes to Peggy he stews a bit but he gets on Sam: He’s been doing a lot better with that lately jsyk ;p Sam: It’ll be okay. I’m looking forward to seeing you

Despite the weird air, I breathed a sigh of relief.

Me: Okay cool Me: Cause same Sam: Are you okay?

Oh. Feelings.

Me: I’ll be fine Me: It’ll be weird but maybe it’s supposed to be Me: Not a lot of etiquette on this TBH Sam: So don’t sweat it. Just take it easy

I plugged my phone in and flopped onto the bed. Take it easy. Right. I was only going to meet my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend, who had fought in a war and forced her way into history and politics and had a list of accolades that had to be scrolled down. More personally, she was someone my boyfriend was still a little bit in love with. And from how he had already warned me she could ‘seem kind of stern’ and ‘was a little bit overprotective sometimes,’ I could read between the lines that said love was very likely mutual.

Right. Don’t sweat it. Easy.

Fuck.

~

The ride to the home where Peggy lived was quiet. And quick. It felt like I was barely getting a decent greeting ready in my head when we parked and I…froze, unable to move at all out of fear of fucking this all up. ‘What if I say something stupid’ had been my recurring fear, but right then I felt like I couldn’t speak at all and what if I couldn’t say anything, what if she greeted me like a normal and reasonable person and I just fucking whiffed it.

Steve said my name and I hurried to get out of the car. But Steve got out, walked around, stood right in front of me, and I just looked down.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said firmly. I looked at him and he was as resolute as I had ever seen him. “I’m not…trying to put you through anything, and you have nothing to prove.”

I was nervous and about to go into a social situation that was going to be inherently awkward from the start. But. “I want to meet her,” I said, even though the hotel room was sounding really, really, really nice about then. “I do. I’m just…nervous.”

“You’ll be fine.” He brought my hand up to press a kiss to the back of it. “I’m here with you. If I didn’t think you’d get along, I wouldn’t put either of you through this.”

Well, there was a point, and Steve was the resident expert. “Okay,” I said, faced the building, and took a deep breath. I squeezed his hand. “Okay.”

~

We went in without incident, or any more of me chickening out, which might have counted for an incident maybe but it didn’t matter because it didn’t happen, and I was perfectly polite when Steve made his introductions.

Which was, honestly, more than she could say.

She smiled. “So, you’re Steve’s little coffee date.”

I…wasn’t sure how to respond to that. On the surface it seemed fine, in any other tone it might have been teasing, but the way it came out made me feel…small. And a quick glance at Steve showed that I was not wrong to feel that way, which was both reassuring and…not.

“Peg,” Steve said, a little sharp, and as nice as it was to feel his hand slide behind me protectively, I did not want to cause a fight between the two of them. Though I did allow myself to relax a little bit, because if she was going to be rude, maybe I could be a little rude too. Before I could say anything, though…

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said in a rueful sigh. “I’m sorry. It truly is nice to meet you. I apologize for putting my foot in it.” And then she smiled warmly. Like she meant it.

That caught me out in a different way. I was suddenly struck with remembering she had helped found SHIELD. Like, an organization that Natasha and Clint and Steve worked for, and Fury and Coulson and a lot of other really, really smart people who were also really, really good at making people feel how they wanted them to feel. And yeah, the rug got pulled out from under them nearly entirely and it was by the skin of some really clenched teeth it still (barely) existed at all, but…but it was enough to make me paranoid. Spy was a skill people like her could turn on and off at will. Could she tell how nervous I was? Should I have tried to cover my–?

Actually; no. I wasn’t stupid but this was not my skill set, so I let it go as much as I could and, mostly, gave up trying to catastrophize and make new conspiracies to be paranoid about. Weren’t first impressions all about manipulating someone’s perception of you anyways? It wasn’t like I was trying to do much different than she was. “I dunno about sticking your foot anywhere; it depends on who you ask,” I said and sat down in the chair next to Steve. “Coffee’s a major food group as far as I’m concerned, so it’s basically like a dinner date for normal people.”

She smiled a little wider. “Normal. But not you.”

“I assume ‘normal’ is a threshold that exists, but I have no idea what qualifies,” I admitted.

“And I don’t think she can manage even if she tried,” Steve said, glancing between the two of us, and relaxing minutely.

Margaret– Peggy?– Miss Carter?– looked at me like she expected me to have at him for it. I lifted my head like I was preening. “He sure knows how to sweet talk, doesn’t he?” I said and only after I said it realized hey, maybe talking about your current boyfriend like that with his ex-girlfriend was maybe out of bounds.

She laughed. Fully. I felt relief bubble up in my chest and Steve rolled his eyes and I thought maybe, just maybe this was going to be okay.

~

“How has he been?”

I thought about that for a moment. Steve had stepped out and I wondered if it was all right to talk about him like this…but if anybody else got it, Peggy (“Do not call me Miss Carter my God do you want me to kill you,” “Peggy!”) would.

“Better, I think,” I said. “He’s…more open, I think. More willing to admit he’s not all right.”

She smiled wryly. “When I heard he was taking time off…well, I feared the worst.” She reached out, wrapped her long, cool fingers around my hand, and gripped. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t really–” But she gave me such a look I straightened my back. “You’re welcome ma’am yes ma’am?”

She rolled her eyes. “Smart mouth,” she said, gave my hand an honest-to-god rap, and leaned back with a real smile as I let out a laugh. Her expression let up a little bit, became a little…sad. “You have to watch out for him,” she said. “He has a hard time asking for help.”

“Boy oh boy do I know that,” I huffed, and she actually laughed. I shrugged and relaxed my posture again. “But most of the time he can be browbeaten into it, at least.”

“Truly?” she asked, not like she didn’t believe it, but she didn’t know I could do it.

“Yeah. I’m getting the hang of it, I think,” I said. “He’s…” I swallowed. “He has it tough, sometimes, but he is doing better. Really.”

Her smile was a mess of something fond and sad and…something else entirely. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear that,” she said softly, her age infusing her words. “Please take care of him.”

“I will,” I said on instinct. “I am,” I amended and sat back. “I mean, I’m kind of a mess, so he’s not getting off easy, but…”

“Good,” she said decisively. “Make him work for it. He never has taken the easy route. Stubborn man.”

“He’s kind of a jerk like that,” I said. “Stubborn and proud and moody and…a lot of things people wouldn’t think, as well as all the good things they do.” I cleared my throat. “But I’ll take care of him, because he takes care of me, and because I lo–”

I…stopped. And swallowed the word. And sat on it. Peggy smiled a little more, but said nothing, and let me have my moment in peace. Somehow, almost telling Steve’s former partner that I loved him was less shocking to me than the full, real, aching feeling that I did. That I didn’t just trust, or care, but with my whole fucking chest…I loved him.

I swallowed again, breathed deep, and moved on. “Hey,” I said, a little shaky, and quickly evened out my voice as much as I could. “Since he’s out, wanna hear the story about how he tripped over his own feet trying to get some food once and nearly caused a domino effect in a busy pizza place?”

Her grin was sharp and sharklike, and for a moment I saw exactly what Steve had fallen in love with. “I want to hear every last detail.”

~

Steve came back, and nearly walked right back out when he heard the tail end of the story I was telling, but he was close enough that I could tug his hand and he fell into his seat with a long-suffering groan, but slid his fingers to lace with mine as I finished the story and Peggy laughed. She then shared a story with me about how he had done the same with half a mess hall and how Bucky had walked in, seen the commotion, shook his head, grabbed Steve by the back of his shirt, and dragged him out before he could get piled on.

“Strong guy,” I said, sticking with a soft nothing comment just in case, but Steve and Peggy looked happy at the memory.

“It was sort of comforting to see; he hadn’t been feeling so well up to that point.” Steve smiled fondly. “It figured he would get his strength back pulling me out of trouble.”

We stayed for a little while longer, but when Peggy started to get tired, and a nurse came in, we begged off to allow her to get some rest. She gave us each a “proper goodbye” (which was definitely an ego boost, when Steve looked surprised that I too got a cheek kiss) and we left before the day wore on her too hard.

We were both quiet on the ride out. But this time I felt…okay. Mostly okay, at least; Steve was stewing in his own head about something, but I felt resolute that I was going to get to the bottom of whatever this mood of his was. I had my own thoughts to wrestle with, but they honestly didn’t need much work. For as much ‘feelings’ as I hated, this was easy. I’d already gone through the trust and caring issues and this felt so natural that I didn’t mind it. I loved Steve, and that was that. And it felt good.

We parked in a driveway of a fairly nondescript house in a pretty normal neighborhood, and sat there for a moment. I pulled up Steve’s hand and gave it a kiss. He jolted, but forced a little smile for me. “Play along,” I said and got out of the car before he could ask why.

Sam greeted us both before we even got to knock on the door. Sam’s hugs were truly some of the best, and I was happy to receive mine, but he lingered a bit with Steve and shot me a look over his shoulder. I gave Sam a little nod to acknowledge the long day, and he gave the briefest roll of his eyes before his smile returned and he stood back to look at Steve, a firm grip on his shoulder. “How are you?” Sam asked.

“Fine,” Steve answered reflexively but corrected before Sam could even call him out. “Just…you know.”

“Yeah. I know.” Sam clapped his shoulder and stood back to let us in the entry so we could toe off our shoes. “Come on in; let me give you the tour.”

“I only care about one thing in particular,” I said as I looked around. It was a really nice house, clean, well-appointed…and the living room was very, very close.

“The bathroom?” Sam guessed and made as if to gesture. “It’s right–”

I walked right past him, circled to the front of the couch, and plopped back on it. I thought for a moment– Sam’s neighborhood didn’t have much, but there had been a small strip mall on the drive in, not too far away. Walkable. I thought about that, and Steve’s quiet mood, and figured it would have to do.

I jumped off the couch and kept a straight face to Sam’s near-grin and Steve’s incredulous ‘you wouldn’t’ expression. “What’s this all about?” Sam asked, his smile cracking open a little more.

“You once said your couch is better than mine,” I said. “I had to test.”

He actually did snort, and Steve held his face, hiding the tiniest smile. A shame– were he in a better mood, he’d have been turning a little red holding himself back from laughing. Maybe Sam would be able to help. I hoped so. “Well then,” Sam said, openly grinning now. “How does it rate?”

“Hmm…” I walked back to the door. “Solid B.” I slipped my shoes back on. “Not too firm or soft, but I wouldn’t sleep on it overnight.” I opened the door, said, “Okay, I did what I came to DC for. Later!” and slipped out, shutting it behind me.

Steve groaned loud enough for me to hear, but Sam’s laughter covered that up quick. I smiled to myself and walked down the steps until I could see Sam in the window. I held up my hands with all fingers splayed to signify ten minutes and mouthed, ‘I’ll be back.’

He was still smiling widely, but he nodded, and I set off on a walk.

~

It ended up being more like thirty minutes. And it was boring; nothing but houses on a quiet street until I reached the tiny shopping center, and half of the storefronts were useless and boring, aside from the biggest place– a drugstore. I stopped in, grabbed a drink to fortify myself for the walk back, and some candy as a reward, and then made the return journey.

The door was unlocked, thankfully, and Sam and Steve were sitting and chatting pleasantly in a little dining nook when I stepped in and took off my shoes for hopefully the last time for a while. The darker shade of Steve’s mood seemed erased as he lifted his head and gave me a smile. I huffed out a breath. Worth it then. Unfortunately.

“Where did you go– oh hell yeah,” Sam said when he caught the king-size candy bar I bought for him.

“The drugstore was farther than I thought it was.” I chucked the other chocolate bar at Steve’s head and then went and fell over onto the couch. “Your couch grade has been amended; it’s great, A plus, and also I live here now.”

“The drugstore wasn’t even a mile,” Steve said so that I could hear his smirk.

I lifted my head to try and glare at him, but he was standing behind the couch and I didn’t want to wrench my neck, so I flopped back onto the cushion. “I don’t even have to go half a mile from my place to get doughnuts.”

“I guess I have to come to your place sometime.” Sam leaned over the couch and grinned at me as he unwrapped his hard-won gift. “Buy you a doughnut. Get powdered sugar all over your couch.”

I turned onto my back so I could scowl at him, but then I considered and had to amend, “Well I am sweating all over yours, so I guess that’s fair…”

Sam lifted an eyebrow as he chewed a bite of chocolate. “You call that sweating?” he said in a resolutely unimpressed inflection. “You would not last five minutes in bootcamp.”

“I think you’re being wildly flattering to imply I would last one minute in bootcamp considering even lacing boots properly is too much fucking work,” I said.

“I’d put money on you getting the figurative and maybe literal boot from the very first second you meet your drill instructor,” Steve said, taking a bite of his candy bar. He definitely looked a lot better. I could have felt bad about that, but honestly a best friend was probably exactly what Steve needed after all that. I couldn’t be everything he needed, and I was…surprisingly okay with that.

I gave Steve a hard look. “You made it through boot camp and you are way mouthier than me.”

“Special circumstances,” he said.

“It’d have to be,” Sam said dryly.

“My girl and my best friend,” Steve sighed theatrically. “Is anyone on my side?”

Sam and I shared commiserating looks. Peggy was right– he was so dramatic.

And I loved him anyways.

~

It was a heady thing. Stupid, maybe, to feel like this when I was just opening my eyes to what was already there, but the thing was– the thing was that Steve loved me too. He hadn’t said it, had never gotten close to the word, but the more I thought about it the more I knew it. And it felt good. It felt so good.

“Do I even want to know what you and Peggy talked about while I was out?” Steve asked, smiling slightly at me. He looked wan and worn in the dim light of our hotel room, but he was still trying to be ‘on’ for me.

“Well we had fun, so probably not.” I slid my arms around him, and he pulled my legs over his lap with one hand while his other set behind my back and pulled the rest of my body closer. I snuggled in, and rested my head partly off his shoulder, just above his chest. “Thanks for bringing me. I’m glad I came.”

He exhaled deeply, and gave me a little squeeze. “I’m really, really glad you did too,” he said. “Thank you.”

I smiled. This might not go over well but…I couldn’t put it off forever. I didn’t want to. “Hey Steve?” I said as a deep, frightening, wonderful thrill raced through me and peace settled in its place, down through skin and muscle and nerves to rest in my very bones. “I love you.”

He froze. But as he swallowed harshly I just smiled more, and when he tried to speak and failed, I said, “Shh,” and snuggled closer and squeezed him tighter, and lifted my head to kiss his face. “It’s okay. I know.” Because I did. It showed in what he did, what he said; in everything he was when he was with me.

“I don’t…no; no it’s not that I don’t– but I don’t kn– it’s just…” He moved his head down and pressed his face to my shoulder, nearly hard enough to cause an ache. “N-not yet, I can’t– I’m so sorr–”

“Shh.” I stroked his hair and pressed a few kisses to what of his head I could reach with him trying to burrow a hole in me. “It’s okay. I can wait.”

He relaxed a little then. I kept holding him, running my nails up and down the back of his neck and head, and I was content to wait for him to settle down and come back to neutral and then get on with the rest of our night like nothing had happened. Because Steve was an expert in many things, and many of those involved shoving down feelings until they came to bite him in the ass. It was just one of those things we had in common, and I really was perfectly content to wait.

Apparently, though, I didn’t have to.

“Oh my God,” Steve blurted out, dismay in every syllable. “I do love you.”

I…

I burst out laughing.

Cuddling was over and I fell back against the side while Steve held his face and groaned. I only bothered to try and get a handle on myself so I could breathe. “Wow,” I wheezed and hit my chest. “The– the disappointment; are y–!”

I let out a yelp as Steve suddenly pressed into me with his whole body. Gently, but I squirmed and laughed as he wrestled me down flat into the cushions and growled, “Not disappointment.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” We settled with him hovering right above me, his hands on mine, palm to palm and fingers laced through. His expression was devious but soft, and I felt myself soften in response. …Mostly. “You're such an asshole.”

“Uh huh.” He leaned down to kiss me. “We’re well-matched then.”

I let a smile crack through. Just a little. I hated to encourage him like this, but he was too fucking cute sometimes. “I guess we are.”

“Good.” But he snorted and smiled wryly. “You tell me you love me and I have an existential crisis. I tell you I love you and you break into hysterical laughter.” He sighed. “That…sums us up more than I’d like.”

“Well, I gotta keep my crown. World’s Biggest Jerk isn’t a title you can slack on,” I said and arced up to give him a kiss that ended up being slower and softer than I intended, but it felt good. It felt right. I fell back down and stared up at him. “That was kind of fast for a crisis though. I meant it– I’ll wait.”

“You’ll wait because you already knew.” He gave me a crooked smile and nuzzled my face before placing a kiss at my jaw.

“Not just because.” I turned my head to put my forehead to his. “But yeah, I just…realized,” I said. “How you show me. How you have showed me.”

He kissed me again, and then actually came down and let his body settle on mine– not wholly, but still a comforting weight. Like a living blanket, and one that would move in an instant if I needed it.

I didn’t intend to test that, but at my deep breath and contented sigh he suddenly jerked up– not away, but definitely off. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For wha– oh.” I shook my head. “No. I actually kinda like it sometimes when you squish me.”

“You…do?”

I barely had a second to see his devilish smile before he suddenly came down and wrapped himself around me like a fucking boa constrictor. “Steve!” I laughed and squirmed and tried to wriggle out, but he held fast for a few seconds before he let up.

“But I thought you like me squishing you?” he chuckled and lifted himself back up. His hair was mussed and flopped awkwardly, and I reached up to put it back in some sort of order. His smile was gentle and still tired, and I thought of all the ways we could have missed each other, all the many ways we could have never even met, let alone come to this, and yet…here we were.

“Hey Steve?” I said softly. He cocked his head, and I swallowed and shifted my shoulders. “I’m really glad you’re here.” I slid my hands over his cheeks to hold his face. “And I’m really sorry you’re here. Because I love you and want you to be happy.”

He smiled and touched his forehead to mine. “There’s a lot of different ways to be happy,” he said. “And I found one of mine.”

I crinkled my nose. “Sap.”

He grinned. “You love it.”

“Yeah,” I said, smiling again. “I really do.”

~

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[emotionalcadaver]

Part 9: Bound in Blood

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: To some, the blood bond is as sacred as marriage.

Word Count: 1,979

Notes: Today (April 29) is Lucy's birthday! This might be the sappiest thing I've ever written. Also, I couldn't find much concrete information on blood bonds, so apologies if I got some of the details wrong or had to fudge any of the real-life aspects of these bonds to accomplish what I intended in this fic. Don't try this at home, kids; blood-born illnesses are a thing. Warnings for depictions of blood, self-inflicted injuries, and smut.

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The knife stung as it bit into the flesh of her left palm. Blood, like red pearls, beaded at the first prick, then rushed from the wound in a small gush as she increased pressure on the blade and it sliced deeper into her flesh. She dragged it across nearly the full length of her palm, leaving a diagonal, bleeding line from the base of her index finger to the heel of her palm opposite the side of her thumb in its wake. 

When Tommy had asked her what she thought about marriage, she had been honest with him. Her feelings were conflicted. All her life, marriage had seemed to be akin to a cage. She’d watched women–not just her mother, though she was certainly the most potent example–have their entire beings almost entirely stripped away, until nothing, not even their name, remained. Nothing but a maid, housekeeper, nanny, and whore all rolled into one.  

Perhaps she was being a bit harsh, but that was the example of marriage she had been exposed to for almost her entire life.

And it did not ultimately matter what Tommy wanted, either. She knew it was never his desire to cage or chain her. But it would not be up to him. Society had a very particular expectation for women who were married. And if he wanted to stand even a miniscule of a chance of being accepted into the circles he longed to be a part of, he could not have an unconventional wife. At least not now. 

Perhaps someday, with the changing times and more modern outlooks…if equal rights for women ever truly properly took off, then maybe. But not right now. 

And she would be a rubbish wife. Bored out of her mind. She detested cleaning, was an absolute disaster when it came to knitting and sewing, and she was certain that sitting at home with the knowledge that her husband and his boys were out enjoying all the action and thrills of the life without her, would eat away at her. 

She never had handled the feeling of being left out very well. 

She’d grow to resent it. Resent her life. Maybe even resent him. And that was not something she was willing to risk. 

He had been startlingly understanding, all things considered, when she explained her feelings to him. He knew her so well, he probably had half been expecting it. He’d just stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head. 

“I don’t need a ring and a certificate to know that I’m going to love you forever,” he’d told her. She’d locked her arms around his neck, stretching up on her toes to touch her forehead to his. 

“I plan to love you forever too,” she’d affirmed. And she meant it. Just because she could not say yes to being his wife, did not mean that they didn’t intend to be together for the rest of their lives.  

“But the door is always open. If you ever decide someday that you do want it,” Tommy had promised. Her brows raised, she’d looked at him with eyes that were only half joking. 

“Really? What if you end up marrying someone else?”

He’d scoffed at the mere suggestion, but must have caught the seriousness behind the teasing tone in her voice, because he’d pulled her closer, fondly kissing her nose. “Doesn’t matter. The promise still stands,”  he’d shrugged as if it were no big deal. “You decide you want me to marry you, and I’m already married, I’ll just get divorced.”

Laughing, she’d shook her head. “I don’t think you can ‘just get divorced,’ love. It would fuck your reputation.”

He shrugged again. “Would be worth it,” her laughter faded at the dead seriousness she saw in his eyes as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “I’d do anything for you.”

There was something about the way he’d said it, the complete and total certainty, that made her nearly want to cry. No one had ever loved her like this before. 

Completely. Passionately. Unconditionally. 

“There’s something else we could do. In the place of an official, legal marriage. If you’re interested,” he’d suggested, voice but a tempting purr in her ear. And when she looked at him, brow raised with intrigue, he smirked devilishly. 

And so here they were, kneeling in front of each other on the rug in the bedroom of her flat, each of them clutching a dagger in one hand, drawing it across their palms. Lucy watched the blood ooze from her cut, slightly flexing her fingers. She set the knife aside, looking from the warm, red gush to see Tommy doing the same, the dark red of his blood striking against the pale white of his skin.

He looked up, sky blue eyes glimmering in the low light of the candles they’d lit. Her eyes traced over the sharp lines of his jaw and cheeks, softened slightly by the freckles dotting his skin. Those eyes that could be as cold as ice or as warm as a sunny sky boring into her. Dark fringe falling over his forehead. When it was less styled, like it was now, he could have almost been described as a little boyish.  

The blood pooling in both of their palms dripped between their fingers. Sticky and warm.

Slowly, being careful so as to not jostle the cuts too much, they pressed their palms flush against each, then, just as slowly, interlaced their fingers.

Lucy gasped quietly at the feeling of his cut kissing hers. Their blood mixing together. Pouring into each other. Running through the other’s veins. 

If they had not already been one being simply split in two before, they certainly were now. Lucy shuddered, Tommy’s free hand going around her waist and pulling her a little closer, keeping their bleeding palms clasped tightly together. She tilted her head up, nose brushing along his neck and jaw as she did. He dipped his head to kiss her, deeply and open mouthed, the slow stroke of his tongue against hers making her moan softly against his plush lips. 

To some, the blood bond was as sacred as marriage. An unbreakable intermixing of the two bloods. The closest thing one could get to entwining their soul with another. Not only was it a symbol of the deepest possible love and trust, but also a silent promise of eternal devotion. A bond that would last as long as the scars remained present on their skin. A permanent mark tying them together for as long as they both lived. 

Of all the scars marking her flesh, faded but never truly to disappear, this was the only one she would ever truly be happy to have.     

His blood ran in her veins, now. He was a part of her. Forever.   

She’d have wanted it no other way.  

She kissed him back hard, the hand not clasped in his landing on his chest, feeling the steady rise of his breathing and the thump of his heart. Their palms squeezed impossibly tighter against each other, the blood coating them slick, smearing all across their palms, impossible to tell which belonged to whom. 

When they finally parted for air, foreheads resting against each other, they looked down together at their still clasped, bloody hands. 

It was done. 

Tommy’s arm around her waist tightened, somehow pulling her even closer to him, his lips on her forehead. Lucy closed her eyes. He was so impossibly warm, body large and strong and safe around her. She could have stayed like that forever. 

“I love you more than anything,” he said, and the words left tears brimming in her eyes. The weight of those words was not lost on her. 

“I love you too,” she said, angling her face up to his. “More than anything.” 

He smiled at her softly, head dipping to kiss her one last time before they parted, and his fingers flexed a little around hers. Their mixed blood was starting to run down both of their wrists. 

“We should get bandaged up. Before we both bleed everywhere,” he mumbled. 

“Mm,” she nuzzled at his chest. “Yeah.”

He reached for the gauze and bandages they’d set to the side in preparation. Some of the blood had congealed, half sticking their palms together, and it took a little bit of gentle fidgeting to pull them apart. Lucy hissed as Tommy poured a helping of alcohol over her cut, leaning into the kiss he brushed against her temple in apology. They cleaned and bandaged each other’s cuts with quick, practiced movements, examining their handiwork critically to ensure it was satisfactory and wouldn’t leave the other open to any complications or difficulty in healing.

Once that was done, Tommy was gathering her back up into his arms again, kissing her everywhere he would possibly reach. She giggled, overjoyed at the blatant display of affection, returning it as eagerly as she knew how. Strong arms scooping her up by the back of her thighs, he lifted her up onto his hips, standing in one fluid motion and carrying her towards the bed.  

Still kissing, they collapsed in an entanglement of limbs onto the mattress. Clothes were shed hastily, and then there was just the sounds of pleasure and utterances of love filling the room. Her fingers clenching in his hair as he kissed his way down her body, lips, tongue, and fingers working together once he’d reached his destination to make her cry out, back arching off the bed. 

And then he was over her again, wiping his mouth and looking far too pleased with himself. He grinned when she needily dragged his mouth back to hers, legs wrapping around his waist, eager. They both cried out when he sank into her in one deep thrust, the penetration serving as the second unioning of their bodies that evening. 

The bedframe creaked with the pace of their love making; thrusts steady, slow, and deep. Lucy clutched to him as tightly as she could, never wanting to let him go. Never wanting to have to spend another moment of her life without him. 

She’d given him her soul. And in exchange he’d gifted her his heart. And now, with their blood running through each other’s veins, it was as if the merging of their beings had finally completed. They were one now. No one and nothing could ever tear them apart. 

She cried out his name when his cock hit the spot inside her that made her see stars, his thumb rubbing circles into her clit. Her head tipped back against the pillows, babbling nonsense about how good he always was to her. How he always took care of her. How he knew her more deeply and intimately than anyone else ever could. 

When her walls squeezed around him, Tommy moaned her name like it was a prayer. Like it was the most precious thing in the entire world. And then his lips were at her ear, whispering over and over again how much he loved her. That she felt so good. That he promised to love her for as long as he breathed. Maybe even after that. 

She came with a sob of his name against his lips as he kissed her, felt it as he came with her at the exact same moment, filling her with a groan, hips rolling to a stop to rest inside of her as he emptied while she tightened around him like a vice. For hours, or maybe only minutes, neither of them moved, just laying there, holding each other as tight as they could. 

Later, Tommy laid reclined against the pillows, with Lucy cuddled securely in her spot on his chest. And there, in the dark and quiet of night, they traced each other’s bandaged cuts, and whispered promises of eternal love.

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