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theladyofthevarioussorrows · 22 days ago

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In honor of Lestat de Lioncourt's 264th birthday, I present to you...

Written in Blood, or the Play in which The Brat Prince Ties the Knot

Part I (of IV)

Fandom: The Vampire Chronicles (Gothic horror novel series, 1976-2018); Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire (TV series, 2022-present)

Pairing: Lestat de Lioncourt/fem!reader; Lestat de Lioncourt/You

Word count: 3,900+

Characters: Lestat de Lioncourt (Sam Reid, the best version…the only one that matters, obviously); fem!reader; The Vampire Armand (lol ouch); Nicolas de Lenfent (even bigger ouch, RIP); Santiago; Estelle; Celeste; Eglee; Sam; Gustav; Quang Pham; pretty much the entire Theatre des Vampires.

Summary: Fem!reader is the newest addition to the Theatre des Vampires, and Lestat becomes smitten with her (of course he does, the little whore!). Lestat’s allure, charm, beauty, and viciousness are not lost on the reader, and she falls for him (I mean, who wouldn’t, let’s be honest). With fem!reader being the freshest member of the Coven, Santiago “initiates” her (similar to how he brought Claudia in) by casting her as Lestat’s co-star in the next play as his love interest. The play, overseen reluctantly by Armand is about a wedding (in the vein of The Taming of the Shrew, As You Like It, or something similar but accurate to the time period, that is the vibe…Lestat, little miss Lady Macbeth himself, “barely Balthazar” Armand, “too old to play Hamlet, too young to play Polonius” Santiago, and I are all Shakespeare girlies, so I thought it would make sense); fem!reader and Lestat are actually getting legally married, unbeknownst to the mortal audience. Fem!reader and Lestat are to be the bride and groom, Santiago is the Justice of the Peace, and the rest of the TDV are the wedding party. While Armand is still the Coven leader, he “directs” the play and Nicki leads the orchestra. Things do not go the way they were planned to go (in Armand’s case); a story of love, sex, and vampire drama unfolds.

Warnings and additional tags: New/eventual relationship, established relationship, smut (P in V), fluff, mention of sex, mention of masturbation, (F and M), oral sex (F and M receiving), all characters (except the reader, duh) are written to be as close to the way they are in the books as well as the show to the best of my ability, reader-insert, reader-interactive, use of Y/N, Lestat gives the reader pet names in French (this is Lestat, after all), mutual pining, flirting, slight voyeurism, slight exhibitionism (is anything Lestat does really a secret? No, not really), blood drinking, blood sucking, bloodletting, biting, gore, violence, murder (feeding on humans is the only instance of this), both Lestat and fem!reader are bisexual, age gap (fem!reader is younger than Lestat by at least a bit but it doesn’t really matter as much because he himself is a new-ish vampire; Lestat would still be somewhere in his thirties in mortal years by the show’s timeline), Lestat is very seductive and persuasive (fem!reader doesn’t need much persuading, so it’s not a bad thing), a bunch of mentions of Shakespeare, lines from As You Like It are in italics and dialogue from vampires using the Mind Gift are in bold italics.

Notes: This story takes place while Lestat is still performing with the Theatre des Vampires and is newly a vampire himself. Magnus is obviously dead by now (thank God). The events of this fic take place after Lestat breaks up with both Nicki (he is still alive at this point in time) and Armand, but before he meets Louis de Pointe du Lac and later Claudia. I don’t have anything against either character (I adore both greatly!), this is just a “what if?” kind of situation. This is a basic idea I had had for literal years ever since I read the books, but I didn’t do anything with it until the second season of the show started, specifically episode 10. I wasn’t immune to Harlequin Lestat, and I was FERAL about it. Sam Reid only made that worse for me (God, I am so in love with him…that man IS Lestat. He doesn’t just play him, he BECAME him, and no one else has come close. Tom Cruise and Stuart Townsend could NEVER!). The premise of the fic came to me while listening to “Written in Blood” by She Wants Revenge…one thing led to another, and here we are! Also, yes, I KNOW the vampires don’t “have sex” in the novels, but they do in the show (a LOT). I might make references to things that have happened in the books (mostly Interview with the Vampire and The Vampire Lestat, possibly a bit of Queen of the Damned) but might not have been shown in the TV series yet, so reader beware of that. Let this be the spoiler warning if you are not familiar with the books or haven’t watched the show. I am completely ignoring both movies, because they mean absolutely nothing to me now that the (far superior) show exists. The piece that fem!reader uses for her audition comes from Shakespeare’s comedy As You Like It…she is reading as Rosalind while disguised as Ganymede, and Lestat reads with her as Orlando. I thought the parallels were a nice touch. I obviously do not own the rights to As You Like It, I merely used the one scene for Y/N’s audition, and to add romantic and dramatic effect. Special shout out to my best friend Riley for their contribution and ideas!

Language: English (except for a handful of pet names and expressions used by Lestat in French, hopefully I did it correctly. I took 4 years of French in high school, but I am not fluent)

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It was a cool autumn night in Paris, and while mortals slept, the undead were busy welcoming their newest member to their coven inside the old auditorium. The Vampire Armand stood proudly in front of the stage, looking up at the Theatre’s founder and poster child Lestat de Lioncourt, giving him notes and stage directions he knows full well Lestat will not listen to. Next to Lestat was Y/F/N Y/L/N, a freshly turned vampire herself.

Today was Y/N’s audition to join the Theatre des Vampires, and although nervous, she felt at home already among the other thespians in the room with her. With her lifelong love of theatre and literature that only intensified in her newly immortal life, Y/N knew she was in good company. She caught herself stealing glances at Lestat, as if against her will, but she knew she couldn’t help herself. Of all the vampires in this room—the stage director and Coven leader Armand, fellow company members Eglee, Celeste, Estelle, Sam, Gustav, and Quang Pham in the seats, as well as the gifted violinist Nicki hiding in the wings—there is something captivating and enchanting about this charismatic blonde actor. Y/N felt immediately attracted to this man, and she was both alarmed by and pleased with this sudden revelation. Lestat could feel Y/N’s attraction to him, something he found adorable, endearing, distracting, and quite arousing. Lestat gazed at her, a charmingly wicked smile on his face as he admired the young vampire in front of him. Armand, annoyed but pushing the uneasy feeling down, turned to look at Y/N.

“Welcome to the Theatre, dear Y/N. The Coven and I are interested as to how you found yourself in Paris, and how you found us. Please, enlighten everyone,” Armand said, with a slight air of both curiosity and mild arrogance rolled together. Y/N quickly moved her glance from Lestat to Armand and shivered slightly before she answered.

“Hello all, my name is Y/F/N Y/L/N, and I was visiting when I was given the Dark Gift. I have been in Paris ever since. I heard about the Theatre through my maker, and through discovering the Theatre, I found out about the Coven.” As she told the truth, she felt Santiago staring daggers at her, full of amusement.

“So, little miss Y/L/N, it seems as though you enjoy the arts, is that right?” said Santiago, with a slithery snark. Y/N nodded her head. “A birdie told me that you’re auditioning with one of Shakespeare’s lesser works, yes?” Y/N nodded again. Lestat’s blueish violet eyes widened as he grinned a little bigger.

“Yes, I will be reading as Rosalind disguised as Ganymede. I hope you find it suitable,” she said politely, trying to stifle a small tinge of laughter. Santiago exaggerated his giggle to mock her slightly before speaking again.

“Hmm, I assume you would like to have someone read with you. I wonder who that could be…” Santiago’s voice trailed off as he shifted his glance from Y/N to the left of her.

The slender, blonde, and devilishly handsome vampire beside Y/N spoke before she could even have the thought to respond. Watching from the wings, the violinist Nicki put a hand to his forehead with a quiet groan.

“I volunteer myself. I know the play by heart,” said Lestat. He shot Y/N a soft but sly grin as he placed his hand on his chest, reeling in the blush that appeared on her face. Armand had to hold back a scoff as Lestat offered to read with her. “I’m quite curious to see how she does, if I may.” Lestat gently bowed as he spoke to her, with a smile on his face and intrigue in his heart. Lestat was many things, and subtle was not one of them. Y/N nodded, smiling slyly back at him.

“You may,” Y/N said, bowing slightly. Her cheeks cast a rosy glow upon them as she smiled. Santiago chuckled to himself, and Armand choked down another scoff as he looked back to Y/N and Lestat.

“As you wish. Lestat, you will read with Y/N as Orlando, starting from his entrance after Jaques exits the scene. Y/N, you will follow.” Armand crossed his arms over his chest as he watched the two vampires in front of him on the stage.

“Yes, maître,” said Y/N, slightly nervous but strangely excited about reading alongside this hauntingly tempting creature next to her. She got herself into character quickly, trying to fight off the thought of how sweet Lestat’s blood might taste on her tongue and how soft his full lips must be, among various other salacious and primal things that she wasn’t aware of that she needed or wanted. It wasn’t an unwelcome thing—Lestat had something disarmingly attractive about him. Y/N felt drawn to him somehow, but she tried in vain to hide it. Lestat cleared his throat and prepared himself as well, his own pale skin turning a faint pink as they moved to the middle of the stage. Butterflies fluttered inside their bodies as they began their scene. After a few seconds of silence passed, Lestat launched into character.

“My fair Rosalind, I come within an hour of my promise.” Lestat said, remembering the lines from memory as if it was nothing out of the ordinary. Despite her nervousness and giddiness, Y/N began herself.

“Break an hour’s promise in love? He that will divide a minute into a thousand parts and break but a part of the thousand part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may be said of him that Cupid hath clapped him o’ th’ shoulder, but I’ll warrant him heart-whole.” Y/N matched Lestat’s intensity and focus as she spoke her lines. Astonished by her delivery, he carried on with his own lines.

“Pardon me, dear Rosalind,” continued Lestat, feeling a rush of adrenaline in the pit of his stomach, the pleasant sensation only growing stronger as she went on. Lestat watched her as she moved effortlessly through her audition, overcome with awe, very nearly stumbling on his own lines as a result. Armand and Santiago watched from the bottom of the stage as Y/N and Lestat kept going.

Armand watched from the front row and noticed Lestat’s immediate and oddly natural chemistry with Y/N and was well aware of the subtle attraction and quiet infatuation she felt towards Lestat. Armand could feel it through her, and it bothered him. He couldn’t help it; he began to feel his face turn green with envy. Santiago, however, was greatly amused at what was unfolding in front of them—and he relished the drama of it all. The rest of the Coven watched from the seats intently, some engrossed, some unbothered. Nicki leaned up against the wall backstage, a pained expression etched on his features. Looking on at his former lover floating across the stage with a woman whom he had only met mere hours ago and watching her fall under his spell just as he had, Nicki shook his head, a grimace forming on his face.

With all due respect, maître…maybe we should keep an eye on the new one, said Santiago, filling Armand’s head with his thoughts without moving his mouth. It’s only a matter of time before our dear founder tries to take her to bed with him…you know as well as I do how he is. And seeing how she’s looking at him—Armand did not want to hear this. Lestat and Y/N were too immersed in their scene and lost in each other to hear them through their own minds.

Armand cut him off. Enough, Santiago. I know very well how Lestat operates. Let them finish. I’ll allow Y/N to continue, for now. We shall decide what measures to take when the time is right… As Armand and Santiago sized Y/N up, she breezed through her audition.

“Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent. What would you say to me now an I were your very, very Rosalind?” Y/N continued as she blushed and smiled at Lestat. Anything he did in his impromptu performance, she followed with masterful skill.

Lestat slowly walked closer to her, his gaze never leaving her eyes. Lestat looked at Y/N, smirking as he brushed some of his long blonde hair behind his ear. He let the silence expand for a second before he continued.

“I would kiss before I spoke.”

Lestat and Y/N gazed at each other as if they were the only beings in the room, amusing Santiago morbidly and annoying Armand profoundly. A mixture of admiration and a deep hunger formed inside Lestat’s chest, and Y/N’s heart pounded against her ribcage. She gulped quietly as she tried to keep up with Lestat. Determined to give the best audition she could despite having to act opposite the most gorgeous creature she has ever laid her eyes on, alive or dead, Y/N tried to fight off her own desire building within her. Soft gasps could be heard from the other vampires watching them from the seats.

“Nay, you were better speak first, and when you were gravelled for lack of matter, you might take occasion to kiss. Very good orators, when they are out, they will spit; and for lovers lacking—God warn us—matter, the cleanliest shift is to kiss.”

Sensing Y/N’s struggle to maintain her composure, Lestat met her energy with his own words. “How if the kiss be denied?” He looked at her for a beat, cocking his head to one side quizzically. Y/N answered him with a playful shrug.

“Then she puts you to entreaty, and there begins new matter.”

Lestat continued his teasing, delighted by the thrill Y/N gave him. “Who could be out, being before his beloved mistress?”

Y/N pretended to scoff. “Marry, that should you if I were your mistress, or I should think my honesty ranker than my wit.”

Lestat looked at Y/N with a look of mock surprise. “What, of my suit?” he said, his voice harboring a more sensual tone this time.

“Not out of your apparel, and yet out of your suit. Am I not your Rosalind?” Y/N floated across the stage like a ghost, every single movement calculated and carried out so smoothly.

“I take some joy to say you are because I would be talking of her.” Lestat’s face reddened slightly as he noticed how Y/N’s jaw dropped, but only for a second before she kept going.

“Well, in her person I say I will not have you.” Y/N let out an exaggerated giggle as she playfully spun around slowly.

A dramatic sigh escaped Lestat’s lungs. “Then in mine own person I die.” He looked back at Y/N as she turned to face him again.

“By this hand, it will not kill a fly. But come; now I will be your Rosalind in a more coming-on disposition, and ask me what you will, I will grant it.” Y/N gazed at the vampire in front of her, only inches separating them now. Lestat reached out to gently caress Y/N’s cheek as they looked deeply into each other’s eyes, making her blush even more obvious in her face now. He has her right where he wants her, and as fate or some other mystical thing would have it, Y/N is right where she wants to be. Once again, Lestat drew the silence out for a beat too long before he spoke.

“Then love me, Rosalind.”

Y/N’s voice trembled a little as she leaned into Lestat’s touch. His unbroken focus on her made her feel slightly faint just from the way he looked at her, but she kept her cool as best as she could. “Yes, faith, will I, Fridays and Saturdays and all.” She shyly smiled up at him, trying and failing to hide her quiet swooning.

Lestat hung on to every word that left her lips as if he had never heard such language spoken before. Of course, he was no stranger to the stage himself, having been the Theatre’s main selling point for a few years now. The act of performing on a stage in front of an enamored audience always thrilled him, but she…she was different. This new and sudden but pleasant feeling cut him way deeper, hit him harder—he knew that she was something magical. And Lestat wasn’t quite sure where to put that desire and hunger, so he decided to do the thing he does best: he needed to have her all to himself, by any means necessary. Lestat was delighted to find that the feeling was so clearly mutual.

Santiago watched Lestat enchant Y/N as they continued with their performances. He gasped quietly as he saw Lestat become smitten with Y/N, rolling his eyes. Just look at those two! Can you believe them? They’ve made eyes at each other from the second she came through the door. They’ve only just met a few hours ago and he’s looking at her like Venus de Milo herself…and she looks as if she’s about to melt through the floor. Armand found himself becoming more and more annoyed as Lestat and Y/N carried on like they were, and Santiago took notice. Maître, you’re grinding your teeth…

Armand huffed quietly. I said let them continue. Y/N is smarter than we realize. If she doesn’t know who she’s getting herself tied up with, she will. I can guarantee that. Armand maintained his mildly annoyed expression as he crossed his arms over his chest. I see potential in her. We can use that potential.

Santiago, ever the drama queen but also the suck-up, tried to push Armand’s buttons. How shall we do that, maître? I wonder what our violinist has to say about this…I can’t imagine he’s especially thrilled about—

Armand cut him off once again. Be silent now, Santiago. Nicki is the least of my worries right now.

Now mildly aware of the growing discomfort in the pit of Armand’s stomach and Santiago’s antagonizing of him, Lestat continued to read with Y/N. He was enraptured by her, this was true—but he also found quite a bit of amusement in making Armand uncomfortable. Y/N, less aware of the effect her performance is having on the Coven leader and his all-too-willing sidekick, matched him masterfully.

“And wilt thou have me?” said Lestat, sultry and low.

Y/N nodded her head and smiled. “Ay, and twenty such.”

Lestat felt his heart flutter in his chest as he moved closer to her. “What sayest thou?”

Y/N gently bit her lip then let it go with a smirk. “Are you not good?”

“I hope so.” Lestat rolled his eyes in a sassy manner.

“Why then, can one desire too much of a good thing?” Y/N went on, closing the small space between herself and Lestat.

The vaguely pained expression did not escape Armand’s face. Still wanting to maintain some sort of order and power over his Coven, Armand kept his focus fixed on the two vampires on the stage in front of him.

Santiago, an evil grin taking shape over his features, watched Lestat and Y/N’s bond become deeper by the second as Y/N continued. “Come, sister, you shall be the priest and marry us. Give me your hand, Orlando.” Y/N gently reached for Lestat’s hand, and he placed it in hers, tangling their fingers together. She looked to where the audience would be sitting. “What do you say sister?” Y/N looked back up at Lestat as he gazed back at her, their vampire eyes blown out with love and desire for each other.

After what felt like an eternity, Lestat put his finger under Y/N’s chin and gingerly tilted her head up. He started to move down to press his lips to hers, and she moved up to meet him. He closed his eyes, and her eyelids fluttered shut as his lips gently—

A groan could be heard from Armand as Santiago abruptly rose from his seat and applauded loudly. Lestat and Y/N snapped out of their trance and pulled away from each other, no longer able to hide their blushing. The rest of the Coven began to applaud as well. The vampires Sam and Gustav were enthusiastic in their encouragement of the new potential member of the Coven and her undeniable and palpable chemistry with their Theatre’s founder. Celeste looked on with a proud smile on her face, while Estelle clapped wildly. Eglee rolled her eyes before eventually joining in with her applause. Backstage, Nicki shook his head again as he quietly left the auditorium, quietly cursing under his breath.

“Very well done, Y/N. Very well done indeed,” said Santiago, sounding giddier than he probably should. He looked at Armand. “What say you, maître?” he asked with mock amusement.

Armand once again did not listen. He looked up at Y/N as Lestat released her from his gentle but bold embrace. “Exquisite work, Y/N. Exceptional. While we evaluate your performance, you are welcome to remain here with the Coven. We have provided a coffin for you near your maker’s.” Armand started to dismiss everyone before he turned back to Y/N. “We do expect you to keep our hours, curfew is three o’clock sharp.” He shot a subtle but menacing glare at Lestat. Lestat rolled his eyes and chuckled to himself as he turned his back to him. Armand looked at Y/N again. Lestat smiled warmly at Y/N as he winked at her.

Still reeling from everything that just occurred, Y/N nodded and bowed. “Yes maître, I will. Thank you all.” Armand dismissed Santiago and the rest of the Coven, and they all left the auditorium.

It was then that Y/N heard a sensual and seductive voice inside her head.

Très bien fait, ma chérie. I’m impressed.

Y/N turned around to find Lestat leaning against the piano on the stage, his arms crossed over his chest, looking her up and down, dripping with genuine curiosity and insatiable desire. She blushed and smiled as she met his gaze.

“That’s very sweet of you to say, Lestat. It really means a lot to hear.” Y/N walked over to him, slightly nervous but not at all deterred. “You were amazing yourself.”

Lestat rolled his eyes playfully at her compliment but accepted it. “You flatter me, mon amour.” He stood up straight and walked over to her, looking down at her with that softly sly smirk again. “I must say, my dear Y/N, you are quite the actress. Many have come and gone from this theatre, but none have bewitched me so like you have, ma petite fleur.”

Y/N swooned at his words, slightly taken aback by the sincerity in them despite the obvious attraction. “Oh, you’re too kind. It’s not often I’m in the presence of someone so…” She caught herself getting lost in his eyes again—something she has by now realized is very easy to do—before she continued. “So…enchanting as you.”

Lestat chuckled lowly. “Is that so? Well, you have captivated me too, love,” he said, pausing briefly as he took the sight of her in. “I haven’t seen such talent on this stage in quite some time, Y/N.” She blushed deeper as she took a second to gather her thoughts. Y/N sighed softly before speaking.

“Thank you! I’m just happy that I can finally do what I love to do. Up until today, I thought it was unfortunate that I couldn’t do this kind of thing when I was mortal, but I don’t have that feeling now that I’m here. In an odd way, it feels right like this.” Y/N chuckled lightly.

Lestat listened to her words intently. “I know that feeling very well, mon coeur. For what it’s worth, I’m quite glad you wandered into our midst. I can see already that you’re passionate about the Theatre, and it’s refreshing. You’re simply lovely.” Y/N smiled at his words of admiration and encouragement. “I cannot wait to see what other talents you possess, if you don’t mind my saying so,” he said with a smirk, appreciating the slight drop of her jaw. Noticing the positive tension on her face, Lestat spoke gently to her. “Oh, and don’t be nervous, chérie. There is nothing to be afraid of. I have no doubt you’ll fit in here, I am sure of it.” He traced her jawline affectionately before tilting her head up to bring her eyes to meet his, just like he did during her audition. “And, if I may be so bold, I would love to get to know you better. If you’ll have me, of course.” Y/N’s eyes widened as she swooned. She nodded as she stuttered slightly.

“I’d love to, Lestat. I would be honored.” Y/N felt her heart jump into her mouth. The gorgeous blonde vampire in front of her reveled in how flustered she looked as he spoke to her.

“Very well then, dear Y/N. We’ll continue our little conversation after your initiation tomorrow.”

Y/N gulped. “My…my what?!”

Lestat giggled slyly. “You heard me correctly, ma chérie. Welcome to the Theatre, darling. You’re one of us now as far as I’m concerned.”

“But…Armand said—” Lestat gently placed a finger over her lips to shut her up as he spoke lowly to her, sultry and dripping with desire.

“Shh, ma jolie fille…never mind what that manipulative gremlin Armand said.” Lestat let his finger gently drag across her bottom lip before letting it go. He brushed some of her hair behind her ear as he continued. “I’ll be seeing you backstage afterwards, yes?”

There was no way for him to be coy about his appetite for her any more than he had earlier. The vampire Lestat de Lioncourt, the Brat Prince himself, was anything but shy about his unquenchable thirst for Y/N; it only grew exponentially in the few hours since he met her.

Y/N felt as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs as she nodded. “Of course, Lestat. You will.” She smiled at him, trying to regulate her breathing.

Lestat smiled wickedly at her again. “Très bien, mon amour. I’ll see you then.” He caressed her face again before turning to walk away. “Bonne nuit, ma belle. Sweet dreams.”

Y/N could feel her heart pounding in her throat as she smiled. “Good night, Lestat. I hope you sleep well.” Blushing, she beamed at him, and he smiled back, a blush of his own on his face.

With that, they left the room. As she lifted the lid to her coffin next to the others to crawl inside it, Y/N gasped as she heard Lestat’s voice in her head again, stopping her momentarily.

Remember what I told you, ma petite fleur. There is nothing to worry your pretty little head with. And know this too, my darling: I don't bite...hard.

#lestat de lioncourt #lestat #sam reid #the vampire lestat #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #amc immortal universe #theatre des vampires #lestat x reader #lestat de lioncourt x fem!reader #lestat de lioncourt smut #the vampire armand #nicolas de lenfent #iwtv #the vampire chronicles #happy 264th birthday lestat!#Spotify

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ch3rryb0mb3rr · 6 months ago

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Tldr; please put warnings on smut and have it below the cut and stop sexualizing minors in media. Especially if they just came out of middle school thats weird. Write what you want but tag and put warnings when needed.

I get so pissed when im going to read something about my favorite character, and it's smut WITH ZERO WARNING.

No 18+, no NSFW, no MDNI and it isnt even in the fucking tags. I dont wanna read that shit. Put the damned warnings there for the love of all that is green on this earth it takes two seconds. maybe a bit more, but if you could pump out 3.4k words of pure porn, I think you can handle a couple of tags and warnings

I am a minor, and i use those warnings, so I dont read straight-up porn!! I also dont need to read about incest accidentally because there was NO warning, and it was NOT in the tags!!

(And for those of you who do put warnings, i thank you and wish the best in life!)

(I am also well aware that a lot of people dont listen to dnis like that, but it's helpful for the people trying to avoid reading stuff like that)

Also, while im on the subject, let's not sexualize minors in media. Yeah their hot, i can see that. But i dont want to see the start of an NSFW alphabet for a 15/16 year old. Aged up my ass. Just put the beginning below the cut?? And not after the first four letters??

I do NOT need to know a fav characters preferred body part is the tits thank you very much. I definitely do not need to accidentally read that they wanna suck on it like a damned bottle.

'This character as your friend is soo perverted he wants to steal ur panties hehehe' NO HE DOESNT. HE'S A TEENAGER AND LIKES CATS. TF?? theres adults in the majority of the show that are reasonably attractive. Write that shit about them.

'Oh, they have this list of kinks,' and its shit only someone who has read hardcore smut would have. They are 16 and most probably haven't had sex because the creator cant give them a fucking break from trauma.

'He would be soooo toxic and blahblahblah [insert romanticised assault and abuse and trauma]' NO. that boy is my age and is a nerd. Motherfucker wants to study at princeton and has absolutely no flirting ability. You're only saying that because he's black, most of that shit reeks of racism.

These characters are kids, CHILDREN, and you as an adult (if you are one) should not be writing smut about them, aged up or not. You should not be thirsting over a sophmore when theres PLENTY of good looking adults that you can be.

Theres a difference in growing up liking a character and having a crush on them and growing out of it when you're an adult. And being an adult thirsting over a teenage boy. It's not cute. it's not 'oh, it's fine because he/she's not real'.

Its really fucking gross actually.

At the end of the day just tag your stuff correctly. That way its easier for everyone else to find EXACTLY what they wanna read. Because at this point im just gonna start reporting fics with no warnings at the beginning.

Someome younger than me with no parents looking through their devices could stumble on that, and not know what it means, read it, and be scarred for life.

I was reading that stuff way way way too earlier and its fucked up my mental state a bit so if we collectively start putting in the effort to help prevent this from happening to another 11 year old or younger than we should do so.

Start gatekeeping fandoms like creepypasta from young kids, start tagging shit correctly

Another child does not need to end up somewhat hypersexul with very violent intrusive thoughts by the time they hit high school because their parents wouldn't look out for them, and the fandom did NOTHING to try to prevent it.

Its not your job to parent the kid, and to look over their should. Thats not what im saying.

It IS your job to, again, tag shit correctly, put warnings for gore, bluring violent images, saying outright that a certain game/book/story/etc your recommending is NOT for kids due to its violent nature/sexual content/etc. Reporting accounts of children under the age limit for social media (i.e., a 10 year old with discord or instagram) (it is breaking the T.O.S)

Act like that one lgbtq+ chat room website I was on for a couple weeks where all the adults kinda looked out for me a bit. And supported me figuring out who I was and collectively riped a guy to shreds after I blasted him at a failed attempt to groom me. (And told me I had done exactly the right thing in this situation. Also, hi, if you know who I am from there!!!) (Story time if ya'll want I look back and think its the funniest thing ever how I dealt with him 💀)

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mischievouslittlecreature · 4 days ago

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Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: As Tommy and Lizzie's wedding day draws near, Lucy battles doubts and insecurities about their arrangement.

Word Count: 6,221

Notes: Warnings for depictions of smut, insecurity, and references to past torture and injuries.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: Say We'll Be Okay

When Polly walked unexpectedly through the door, Lucy briefly panicked, thinking that she’d forgotten about a meeting Tommy was supposed to have with his aunt and accidentally double booked him. But one quick glance at the diary on her desk proved that not to be the case. She frowned a little, a pulse of trepidation finding its way into her throat. Polly looked every bit like royalty, dressed in a lavish, deep purple coat embellished by a fur collar over an equally expensive blouse and skirt, a wide brimmed hat atop her head. She was growing her hair out from the short style she’d worn it in during the vendetta, the dark curls styled neatly around her chin.

“Polly,” Lucy greeted, sitting up straight. “Tommy’s in a meeting right now–”

“Actually, I’m here to see you.”

Lucy blinked, the uneasiness within her growing even more pronounced. She always got nervous when talking with Polly without Tommy present to serve as a buffer between them.

Polly’s dark eyes darted to where Adam was seated at the second desk in the office near the back.

“Adam,” Lucy said, getting the kid’s attention, “why don’t you take your lunch break a little early, today?”

He looked up from the speech he’d been editing, noticed Polly and the clear tension between them, and hastily put down his pen. “Are you sure, Lucy?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Go on.”

He got up and collected his hat and coat from the hooks by the wall, offering Polly a respectful nod and a soft “Mrs. Gray,” when he walked past her.

“He seems to be settling in well,” Polly remarked, sliding off her gloves.

“Yeah. He’s a good kid. What do you need?” Capping her pen, Lucy folded her hands in front of her on top of the papers she’d been looking over before Polly came in.

Removing her hat, Polly slid into one of the leather chairs across from her, meticulously crossing one leg over the other and laying her hat in her lap.

“Lizzie told me about the conditions you and Tommy put forth to her about the marriage.”

Lucy started to unconsciously fumble at the plain gold bands encircling her fingers. The wedding was in only a few short weeks, and to say that she was dreading it would be an understatement. Things had happened very quickly after the proposal.

“And?”

Polly lit one of her black cigarettes with the snap of a lighter, puffing on it greedily and eyeing Lucy with an obvious challenge in her dark eyes. “You really think that it’s a good idea for you and Tommy to keep up this…whatever it is that goes on between the two of you after he’s married?”

“We were still together after he married Grace–”

“That was different. He’s a politician now. His every move has the potential to invite scrutiny. If it gets out that he’s having an affair with his assistant, it could put his very position here in jeopardy.”

I know that. You think that I don’t fucking know that? Lucy swallowed hard, reaching for the cigarette case on her desk, pulling one out and lighting it, stalling to give herself time to think of a response, hoping that Polly wouldn't notice the slight way that her hands trembled.

“We know the risks. We’ll be careful.”

“You two have never been nearly as good at being subtle as you think you are.” She shook her head. “I thought that it was a bad idea, him choosing to bring you along with him here in the first place. Too many people in Birmingham already know you two are caught up in some sort of…entanglement. Rumors are already starting to circulate. You really think that they’ll stop just because he marries someone else?”

Lucy crossed one arm around herself, her elbow moving to rest on her wrist. Holding her cigarette close to her face, she used her thumb to brush a few stray red curls out of her eyes. She could barely meet Polly’s harsh gaze.

“Lucy,” placing her still smoking cigarette into the ashtray on the desk, Polly stood, planting both hands on the fine wood between them and leaning towards her, looming over her. For a moment fully encompassing the identity of the Shelby matriarch exerting her whole force of influence. “Being with you is not worth Tommy potentially losing everything he has worked so hard for.”

Hearing the words that had been circling over and over in her own head actually spoken aloud hit as hard as a slap would have. Lucy jerked sharply, cringing away in spite of herself. She stared at Polly destitutely.

“What would you have me do, Polly?”

Polly’s dark eyes softened a fraction when she recognized the sorrow on Lucy’s face. “I think you already know.”

“You really think that he would be unaffected if I just…left?”

“He’d get over it. In time. Especially with a new, beautiful wife and two perfect children at his side.”

A small sound emitted from Lucy’s throat. It would have hurt less if Polly had walked in, dumped a bucket of gasoline over her head, and set her on fire.

Sometimes, the only thing that kept her from packing a bag in the middle of the night and going to the train station was knowing how heartbroken Tommy would be if she left. The mental images of him with tears in his eyes, chasing after her train, screaming for her to come back, was more than enough to convince her to stay. Despite everything, she still could not bring herself to leave his side.

Who would take care of him, if she was gone? She certainly did not trust Polly to–at least not in the way that he really needed. Arthur, while his heart was in the right place, was too messed up to be of much help. Ada and Uncle Charlie could maybe both be of use, but they each had their own shit to deal with. They could not devote themselves entirely to Tommy in the way that Lucy did.

But maybe Lizzie could…

Lucy shuddered, fingers clenching hard around her cigarette in an attempt to ground herself. She loved Tommy. She wanted nothing but good things for him. She could not leave him if she thought that her departure would cause him unhappiness. But if she could be sure that he could find happiness with Lizzie, if she knew that she could trust Lizzie to take care of him the way that he needed…

Polly reached across the table, and touched her shoulder. It was only then that Lucy realized that a single tear had slid down her cheek, with more gleaming unshed within her eyes.

“I’m not trying to be cruel, dear. We’ve had our differences in the past, I know. I really am just looking out for the good of everyone.”

Lucy looked up at her, lips parted to speak, when the double doors leading into Tommy’s office opened. She hastily looked down and away, trying subtly to brush away the lone tear she had shed before Tommy stepped out with his colleague. He quirked a puzzled eyebrow at Polly’s presence, shaking the man’s hand and bidding him goodbye before turning to his aunt.

“Hello, Polly. What are you doing here?”

“I was in the city running some errands, so thought that I’d come by and say hello,” Polly smiled, chipper as a chipmunk that had just found a whole bushel of nuts to keep it happy and well fed the entire winter.

Tommy’s eyes went to Lucy’s, not entirely buying Polly’s story.

What happened? his expression asked, noticing something in her face. She just gave a miniscule shake of her head.

It’s fine.

He didn’t look wholly convinced, but caught on that now wasn’t a good time to pry further.

“Well, since you’re here, we can talk about the latest developments. Have you spoken with Michael lately?”

“Yes, actually,” Polly started to launch into a recount of her latest phone call with Michael while Tommy shepherded her into his office. He didn’t look to be entirely listening to her, instead shooting Lucy a concerned glance from over his shoulder. She offered him a weak smile that only made him look more worried, and before following Polly into his office he leaned forward, and pressed a firm kiss between her brows.

Whatever she said, don’t listen to it, his eyes told her. Lucy gave a tiny nod.

“Tommy?” Polly’s voice called from the office.

“Coming,” he sighed, but didn’t actually move until after he’d brushed the back of his hand affectionately down Lucy’s cheek with a small, comforting smile. Despite herself, she leaned into the touch desperately, closing her eyes while his thumb stroked her skin.

“I love you,” he mouthed to her when she finally met his gaze.

“Love you too,” she whispered hoarsely back, so quietly it was a wonder that he even heard her. With another gentle smile, he kissed the top of her head, ducking back into his office before Polly could shout for him again. He left the doors open, as if to let her know that she was more than welcome to join them at any time.

Lucy raised a fist to rest against her lips as she stared after him, heart aching, and Polly’s words swirling around inside her head.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Thank you again for the teddy bear. I swear that she hasn’t let it out of her grasp since I first gave it to her.”

Lucy smiled softly, leaning forward to watch Ruby play on the blanket Lizzie had set up for her in the sitting room. The aforementioned teddy bear was clutched in the baby’s arms, one of her chubby cheeks squished against it. Lucy was always buying her gifts. Tommy kept joking that she was going to spoil her, as if he were any better about not buying her anything and everything that he thought she might want.

That sweet girl deserved to be spoiled as much as possible.

“I’m glad.”

“Thanks for coming by and watching her. I swear, with Tilly on holiday I haven’t gotten even a second to myself.” Lizzie finally swooped in from the kitchen with two teacups for them. With all the wedding planning and then her nanny taking a week long holiday, she looked more than a little frazzled.

“It’s no problem. I’m always happy to spend time with her.”

Lizzie’s gaze softened, passing Lucy her teacup and sitting down beside her on the couch, putting her own cup down on the table so she could reach over to stroke her daughter’s cheek.

“Aren’t you excited, Ruby? We’ll be going to live with Daddy soon. You’ll get to see him allllll the time,” Lizzie cooed. The baby babbled excitedly and she giggled, leaning back. “God, she’s getting so big.”

Lucy nodded, remembering how fast Charlie had seemed to grow. “It always happens so fast.”

They both watched little Ruby play for a while, sipping on their tea in silence. Lucy knew that she needed to get going, but there was something that she needed to ask, before she did.

Mustering up her courage, she took a deep breath, setting her teacup back down into its saucer. “Lizzie?”

“Mhm?” her gaze did not leave Ruby.

“Are you sure that you’re alright with our…with our arrangement for after you're married?”

Lizzie glanced at her, eyebrow raised. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Once it’s done, it won’t exactly be easy to back out of.”

“Yes, I know.” Lizzie splayed out her left hand, looking down at the glittering engagement ring on her finger. Lucy could only look at it for a moment before she had to glance away. “It’s all going to work itself out.”

Lucy examined her face closely. Something about the way that she said that last part had the fine hairs on the back of her arms standing on end.

“Lizzie…” she spoke as gently as she could, terrified of accidentally setting her off. “You can’t force someone to love you. I don’t want you to go into this expecting that once the marriage license is signed he’ll just–”

“I know,” Lizzie cut her off, but Lucy did not really think that she did. There was a distant look on her face, a dreaminess as if she were lost in a faraway fantasy. One in which Lucy was certain that she did not exist and Tommy was falling over himself to kiss Lizzie’s feet.

How many times had she attempted to get it through Lizzie’s head that she could not brute force Tommy into loving her the way that she wanted him to? Too many to count, at this point. There was not much more she could do but hope that Lizzie managed to figure it out for herself, and trust that she–like Tommy–could make her own decisions.

“Okay,” she murmured, even though she felt anything but.

∗ ∗ ∗

On the night before the wedding, it took nearly every ounce of willpower that Lucy had not to pack a bag and run far, far away.

She felt sick with anxiety and guilt. Like a huge stone had been lodged in her gut. Polly’s words played on a loop inside her head, and the look of quiet hopefulness in Lizzie’s eyes flashed before her every time she shut her eyes.

She had not mentioned the conversation she’d had with Polly to Tommy.

She knew that she probably should have, but she always hated it when he argued with any of his family because of her. So she kept her mouth shut, despite Polly’s words circling and festering in her mind.

Would it not be better for everyone if she left? Tommy would not have to juggle prioritizing her along with Lizzie and everyone else, Ruby and Charlie would have a stable, normal household to grow up in, and Lizzie could finally have a shot at actually living out the fantasy she’d been dreaming of for years and years. No one in the family outside of Tommy would even miss her, and he could easily find a new assistant to replace her. There were plenty of qualified people, even amongst just the Blinders.

“Lucy?”

She roused from her internal downward spiral at the sound of Tommy’s voice. He was standing in the middle of the bedroom, having already removed all his clothes save for his trousers, white button down shirt, and suspenders. He had his hands in his pockets, staring at her worriedly. When she looked up at him and he saw her face, he quickly came to sit beside her on the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, carefully draping an arm around her. She let him pull her into his side, head coming to rest against his shoulder.

“Mhm.”

“No, you’re not,” he argued back gently, lips finding the top of her head. “Worried about tomorrow?”

“Do you really think that this is a good idea?”

He frowned, confusion entering his eyes. “What? The wedding?”

She shook her head. “Us staying together.”

The confusion morphed into panic. “What do you mean?”

Lucy swiped at her nose with the back of her hand, aware that she was about two seconds away from starting to cry. It felt like ever since the vendetta ended, most of what she did was either cry or mope around feeling sorry for herself. He must be so tired of having to comfort her all the damn time.

Yet another thing to add to the list of improvements that her absence would bring: Tommy no longer would be burdened with having to take care of her.

“Having an affair after you get married is a huge risk, Tommy. If someone finds out about it…it could ruin everything.”

Tommy drew back slightly to stare at her. His brows were pulled in, lips turning downwards, his gaze apprehensive and hurt.

“Do you…” he swallowed hard, throat convulsing, and she realized that the question he was about to ask her was almost enough to bring him to tears. “Do you want to split up?”

“No. No; of course I don’t want to split up. I love you. But I don’t think that I could live with the guilt if I were the reason you lose everything you’ve worked so hard for.” She touched his face. “I don’t want to become a problem for you.”

His hand covered hers, squeezing against her knuckles. “You could never,” he said softly, leaning closer to bring their foreheads together. “It’ll be alright. We’ll be careful. Besides,” he angled his head to kiss her nose. “You think I’ll be the only MP having an affair? Most of them are sleeping with at least one other woman who’s not their wife. Hell, a lot of them have whole second families stashed away somewhere.”

He’d had her gather up dirt on a good many of his fellow MPs after he was elected. Just in case they ever needed to twist someone’s arm on something or ensure their silence on certain topics. She knew better than most the kinds of dirty secrets those men in their pompous, expensive suits and positions of power held close.

“Listen,” Tommy wetted his lips, sitting up and taking a hold of both her shoulders. “If you really don’t want me to marry Lizzie, I won’t.”

“No, it’s fine…”

“If me marrying her means that I can’t be with you, then I won’t do it. You’re too important. I can’t lose you.”

She leaned closer, until their foreheads were touching, her fingertips laying upon his cheeks. “You have me. This marriage is what’s for the best. For you and Ruby.”

“Your happiness matters too.”

She looked down with a sad smile. Sweet and gentle as his words were, they were hard to believe. Not when she’d put what was best for him over her being content every time.

“Hey, look at me,” he coaxed her chin back up with his hand. “It does. It does. Ey?” He cradled the side of her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “We’re going to be just fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

She nodded shakily, breaths stuttering with the emotion inside her chest.

“Come here,” he drew her closer, and she let her hands rest on his chest when he slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her in a way that was soft but impossibly deep, tongue stroking slowly into her mouth.

She kissed him back, eager for him to drive away the storm inside her and silence the cruel voices in her own head. With a soft sound of desperation, Tommy’s hands went to her shirt, fumbling with the buttons. Lucy’s fingers found their way into his hair while he abandoned her lips to instead pepper kisses down her neck. His large hands were warm even through the material of her clothes. With a soft whine, Lucy pressed herself closer, chasing the heat of his touch.

Soon as her shirt was fully open, he pushed it eagerly off of her shoulders, hands smoothing across her ribs. While he explored the newly exposed skin, she set to work getting him out of his own shirt, tossing the button down to join hers on the floor, then coaxing him to raise his arms enough so she could pull off the undershirt layered beneath. Tommy loosened the ties on her bra, pulling it away and almost immediately cupping both breasts in his hands, squeezing and massaging the globes of flesh, running his thumbs across her nipples until she trembled.

His mouth returned to hers, and as they kissed he got her out of her trousers and knickers and promptly manhandled her into his lap, an arm around her waist to help keep her balance. Their foreheads knocked clumsily against each other at their eagerness to steal more kisses, but neither seemed to care.

By this time tomorrow, he would be married. Lucy wondered if moments like these with him would become a rare occurrence. Ones that she would have to hold dear and make the most of whenever she got the chance.

As if reading her mind, Tommy pulled back just enough for their eyes to meet, thumb stroking her freckled cheek.

“I’m always going to be yours. No matter what,” he said resolutely.

Lucy felt a lump swell in her throat. “Don’t make me cry right now.”

His lips quirked up. “Sorry,” he kissed her again. “But I mean it.”

“I know. I know you do, love.” She found his lips once more, and he promptly banished any other thoughts of his impending nuptials with the opening of his mouth against hers, and the tender stroke of his hands down her back.

After what happened to her during the vendetta, her back was covered in a mass of crisscrossed scars. Tommy’s hands traced the shape of them, as he had dozens of times before with both his hands and lips. The skin was more sensitive since the injuries that left it so mangled, and he kept his touch light and careful.

Pressing down deeper into his lap, Lucy ground against the growing bulge in his trousers, earning herself a deep hiss. He tried to chase her when she drew back from their kisses, the small whine he released making her smile.

Giving him a small, teasing smirk, she slid her hands down his body to fumble with his belt, Tommy lifting his hips dutifully to allow her to easily pull his trousers and briefs down his legs.

His half hard cock sprang up, bobbing before her, and a low groan sounded from Tommy’s throat when she wrapped her hand around it, stroking him slowly to full hardness. As he swelled in her hand, she leaned forward to press kisses to his stomach, making her way lazily up his chest. Between her legs, her clit ached, her walls squeezing around nothing at the way his cock throbbed against her palm.

The arm Tommy had around her waist gave her a small squeeze, readjusting her in his lap so that she could straddle one of his thighs. She moaned softly into his chest when she pressed down, grinding eagerly. Tommy hissed through his teeth at how wet she already was, her slick soaking his leg whilst she humped him. Peering up and seeing a sudden opportunity in their current position, Lucy settled her unoccupied hand on his ribs, dipping her head to suck one of his nipples into her mouth. He let out a startled grunt at the action, hips bucking into her hand of their volition. Lucy giggled, circling her tongue around him and enjoying the way he shivered as she bit lightly at the hardened peak.

Letting him go with a small pop, she peered up at him innocently, probably looking far too pleased with herself at having caught him unawares. Tommy touched her cheek lightly, brows knitted in mock sternness that was greatly undercut by the sparkle in his eyes.

“What was that for, eh?”

She shrugged, trying–and failing–to contain her grin as she gazed up at him. Tommy’s eyes narrowed playfully.

“You trying to get me to punish you, hm?” his hand stroked her face, and when his thumb passed across her lips, she nipped at it, snickering when he snatched it away.

“Always.”

His cock twitched in her hand, and she raised an amused eyebrow at him, taking note of the reaction.

“Get over here then,” he grunted, both hands landing on her hips. She bit her lip around her smile, letting him pull her into position over his cock. “Ready?”

She nodded, and he kissed her cheek, slowly guiding her down onto him. They both moaned at the stretch as she slowly took him into her inch by thick inch.

“God, you’re always so tight,” burying his face in her neck, Tommy wrapped his arms around her. Lucy hummed, walls aching slightly at his considerable girth, giving herself a moment to adjust before she started to move.

Tommy’s moans were low, his eyes lidded heavily whilst he watched her begin to bounce on him, hands situating to help guide her movements, their pace starting out slow.

It was amazing how easily it was for her to realize just how silly she was being once his hands were on her. The way that he looked at her, with so much love and adoration brimming in his big blue eyes, was proof enough that he was just as unlikely as she was to be able to survive them being parted from each other.

When he was there to help ground her, it was easier to quiet her insecurities and trust that he would ensure everything turned out alright. He cherished their relationship as much as she did; surely he would do everything within his power to keep it safe.

It was when she was on her own, left with only her own thoughts to keep her company, without Tommy around to help balance out and quiet them, that she started to get into trouble. No matter how unreasonable and absurd she knew she was being, once she started to spiral, it was almost impossible for her to manage to stop it on her own.

They’d learned that the hard way, during the holiday they took right after the vendetta was over, when they both nearly lost themselves to their ravaged minds.

“Oh fuck, fuck. That feels good. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, Lucy,” Tommy groaned, eyes rolling in his head when she started to pick up the pace and swiveled her hips on him. His grip on her tightened, cheek resting against hers while his head tipped back.

“Close,” she warned, as if he couldn’t already tell from the way she was moaning into his neck, walls fluttering around him.

With a growl, his hips rolled up more vigorously into her, hand sneaking between their bodies to find her clit.

“Oh…” her eyes screwed shut, orgasm so close she could almost taste it. “Please, please…”

“Hm? Please, what, pretty girl?”

She sobbed at the low octave his voice had dipped into, hands scrambling at his powerful shoulders. Tommy chuckled.

“Can’t give you what you want if you won’t tell me, sweetheart.”

“H-harder…”

“Harder, eh? You mean like this?” Hand splaying out firmly at the small of her back to keep her from falling off, he started to snap his hips up with more force, adding more pressure to her clit as he did.

She could only answer with a moan, drawing scratch marks down his back. Tommy chuckled, the vibrations reverberating throughout his chest and rumbling pleasantly against her.

It took only a handful more thrusts, and a kiss to her temple, and she came hard. It sent explosive bursts of color flashing across her eyes, entire body tensing and relaxing simultaneously with the force of her orgasm. She held onto Tommy for dear life, and without even really thinking, so overcome with pleasure and affection for him, she bit into his shoulder.

Tommy let out a massive moan, eyes rolling at the sting of her teeth against his skin. And suddenly he was seizing her in his arms and rolling them. Her back hit the mattress, one of his strong palms cradling the back of her head and neck to protect them.

He practically loomed over her, something wild and animalistic awakened in his eyes. Lucy couldn’t quite stop the gasp that left her lips at how the sudden position change emphasized just how much bigger he was than her.

But it didn’t feel threatening. Not in the slightest. To her, Tommy would never truly seem scary or intimidating. When it came to her, he only ever offered protection and love.

Biting her lip, she stared at the center of his chest. She probably wouldn’t have been able to even recall her own name had someone asked. She was too encompassed by the feelings of being both incredibly protected and aroused.

With a growl that seemed to echo throughout the entire room, Tommy started thrusting into her wildly. Lucy gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him in tighter against her.

“Fuck,” her eyes closed, head falling back as her hands moved from where they’d settled on his waist to instead smooth across his strong back, feeling the way his muscles clenched and shifted under his skin. Tommy chuckled when she reached down to briefly squeeze a handful of his ass, vibrations rumbling against her neck where his lips were pressing soft kisses and gentle nips.

She could feel that he was drawing nearer to his release, his breaths stuttering in his chest, hips driving into hers desperately. He was entering her at an angle that had his pubic bone grinding against her clit with each thrust, and it did not take long for her to be teetering on the edge as well, walls starting to spasm around his twitching cock.

“Shit,” Tommy grunted, hands fisting in the bedsheets on either side of her head. “Lucy.” He said her name like it was the most precious thing in the entire world, and she felt tears burn at the edges of her eyes.

“Fill me up,” she half begged, head tipping back and eyes closing. Her second orgasm ripped through her with such ferocity that her legs twitched around Tommy’s waist, walls clamping down on him in a vice grip.

Tommy cried out, one hand scrambling to seize hold of hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing as he spilled his seed inside her. His forehead landed to rest on her temple, breaths heaving in his chest, hips thrusting lazily to prolong their pleasures until both were utterly spent.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Lucy stared up at the canopy covering the bed, Tommy’s weight comforting and heavy on top of her. He curled both arms underneath and around her, head turning to settle on her clavicle while his breathing returned to normal. She ran her fingers delicately through his soft dark hair, sighing when he pressed a delicate kiss to the hollow of her throat.

When he finally did decide to move, it was to merely pull his softening cock out of her and maneuver them to lay on their sides facing each other. He always did worry about squishing her when she was under him.

Lucy swallowed harshly when she looked into his eyes, his hand returning to its favorite pastime of stroking her face.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, tracing the shape of her lips. “I know that this whole thing is so fucking shitty for you, love.” The arm around her tightened, and he drew in a little closer to her. “Whatever you need from me to make it easier for you, please, just tell me. Don’t ever feel bad about it. You won’t be causing problems, or being selfish, I promise. I need to make sure that you’re okay.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, laying a hand on his waist, feeling his side expand with his breaths.

“I mean it, if you really don’t want me to do this…”

“So long as Lizzie continues to be alright with our arrangement, I think it’ll be fine. It’s just going to take some getting used to at first.”

“More for her than for you or me. Once the honeymoon is over, things will go mostly back to the way that they were before.”

“It still doesn’t seem fair to her.”

Tommy shrugged. “She agreed to it. And we’ve asked multiple times now if she’s still sure that she’s alright with the arrangement. She’s said yes every time.”

“She could still always change her mind.” The thought chilled Lucy to her core. What would they do if that happened? Tommy would be bound to her, unable to get away without creating an absolute shitshow. “Once the ink dries on that marriage license and the rings go on, she has you forever.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Tommy propped himself up slightly, brows pulling together. His hand reached out for her face, taking firm hold of her cheek, thumb drawing across her cheekbone. “She doesn’t own me. I can make my own choices. We have made it as clear as we can what she is getting herself into. If she does change her mind, as far as I’m concerned, that’s her problem. Not ours. She’ll have to decide if she can live with what she agreed to or not. Rings can be taken off, love. If they have to be.”

“We both know that it’s not that simple.”

“Hey,” his grip tightened, forcing her to meet his worried eyes. “It doesn’t have to be forever.”

Face creasing in confusion, she searched his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Tommy swallowed. “Well, after I retire from politics, or after Ruby comes of age, or when society becomes more accepting about things like divorce–”

She gaped at him. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“Why not?”

“So, what? You just divorce her when the time is right?”

“Yes.”

“And then what?”

He shrugged. “And then…you and I could get married, if that’s what you wanted,” her heart did a little swoop. “Or we could carry on as we have before. Whatever you want.”

“If you wait until Ruby is of age, that’s almost twenty years,” she frowned, suddenly deeply aware of her own thirty-three years. “You aren’t gonna want me anymore when I’m all old and wrinkly.”

“I’ll always want you.”

“You make it really hard to argue with you when you’re being so bloody charming.”

He grinned, thumb running along her cheekbone. “Sorry,” he said, though he very obviously was not. He took hold of her face with both hands. “I know how bloody selfish it is to ask you to wait for me–”

“I’ll wait,” she said, without hesitation. His gaze softened, leaning down to kiss her deeply in gratitude.

“Thank you,” he dropped his face to peck her bare shoulder. “It isn’t forever. Remember that. And if we need to end it prematurely–if you need me to end it prematurely–even if the timing isn’t ideal, I’ll do it. Just say that word.” Leaning back, he cocked his head, suddenly very serious. “She doesn’t have me. You have me. Always.”

She started to sniffle. “I told you not to make me cry.”

He stroked away her tears and then engulfed her in a tight hug, her cheek squishing into his chest. “Sorry,” he said again, this time much more genuine. She shook her head against his apology, burrowing closer.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Lucy.” His cheek adjusted against her head. “Promise you will tell me if you’re having trouble in here,” he tapped the crown of her head and stroked her curls, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I don’t like the thought of you suffering in silence when I could help.”

“I don’t want to be all clingy and cause you more problems—“

“You and your needs are never a problem,” he leaned back, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “And maybe I like you clingy.”

She snorted quietly at that. “It’s going to be hard to be away from you for so long.” The honeymoon was only planned to last a week, but it was easily the longest they’d ever been away from each other.

Tommy let out a pained sound. “I really don’t want to go.”

She touched his jaw, trying to soothe him. “You might have fun…”

“She’s making us go to fucking Paris, Lucy.”

“I know,” she said softly. Her eyebrows had nearly risen all the way up to her hairline when Lizzie had announced Paris as the location she wanted them to honeymoon in. It made her wonder how Lizzie could claim that she knew Tommy at all, when she couldn’t even seem to understand why he might not be particularly thrilled to go anywhere located in France. “It’s just for a week,” she tried to convince herself as much as him.

“We can talk on the phone.”

“Oh, she’ll love that.”

He shrugged. “That’s the price she pays for not wanting you to come.”

“Mm,” Lucy hummed, touching his face affectionately. Silence fell over them, just staring into each other’s eyes, caressing the other’s cheeks and jaws tenderly.

“You still have my soul, you know?” she remarked, voice seeming very quiet in the otherwise dark stillness of the room. The first gift she ever gave him, presented at their first official meeting, during the deal that began the merging of their two beings into one. Please, don’t throw it away.

Tommy’s hand took hold of one of hers, guiding it to press against his chest above his heart. “And you still have my heart.” Please, don’t break it, his eyes begged. Lucy swallowed at the memory of the night he offered it to her, as an equal trade for the soul she’d already relinquished to him.

He urged her face up to look at him, her wide green eyes meeting his icy blue ones. He kissed her softly, so much raw emotion packed into the brush of their lips that she nearly broke down into hysterical sobs right there in his arms.

“We’re going to be okay.”

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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!

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #my ocs #tommy shelby x oc #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #lily writes #my fanfiction #love me where i'm most ruined

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five-bi-five-mind · 1 year ago

Text

Corruptible

Fandom: Buffy The Vampire Slayer

Pairing: Faith Lehane x fem!r

Genre: Smut

Words: 2.8k+

Summary: Faith can’t help but want to corrupt you… just a little. She was practically hooked on you and when she got that itch… well she would only have one thing on her mind until it was scratched.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics; overstimulation; strap-on use (r receiving); top!Faith, bottom!r; rough sex; choking; a lil innocence kink…

A/N: Just a short little smut fic of Faith being... well you know... Faith. Hope y'all enjoy. The Dru one will be next and then I might focus more on the actually more serious, angsty Faith fic.

Faith was feeling cooped up. It really wasn’t her jam to be sitting around like this. Her time of sitting around doing research on whatever big bad was lurking had been long over. She hasn’t done this shit since she was part of the misguided Scooby gang. But here she was, pretending to pour over books while you sat on the other side of her tiny studio apartment. How did she get pulled into this?

Oh yeah, she bumped into you two minutes before becoming a demon’s midnight snack and immediately she was smitten. Of course, she had to go and fall for a softy with a heart to help the helpless. And, of course, when you found out about Faith’s slayer status you were eager to be her useful little sidekick.

You were also a worrier though. So, that made Faith go along with your little plans. Something about being more prepared, finding weakness faster than just throwing everything at it… blah blah blah… Honestly Faith zoned out about that conversation and instead focused on how nice your tits looked that day. She did that kind of often. It wasn’t that she didn’t value what you said. She really did. It was just that you were so endearing when you were passionate about something and it made Faith’s mind wander.

Like now for instance. You were sprawled out on the floor, very focused on whatever it was you were reading. Faith was again paying attention to anything but the monster at hand. Currently, she thought about how innocent and unsuspecting you looked as you scanned the pages in front of you. It made the wheels in Faith’s mind start turning it.

It was always when you looked particularly small and adorable that got Faith going. She had this weird, maybe slightly twisted need to corrupt you just a little bit. But not in an evil way. No, she’s been there, that's the past. This was in an almost… animalistic way.

So an idea came to her. Abruptly, Faith shot up from her spot. You watched as she dug for something under the bed. She purposely shielded whatever she was grabbing from view and scurried into the bathroom.

You stared at the door for a moment, shrugging it off when she didn’t come out quickly enough to keep your attention. Your eyes went back to the books in front of you, dutifully trying to sleuth out this demon’s origins and weak points.

A moment later, the bathroom door opened again and your eyes went up to glance at Faith. She had the perfect poker face on, but still something told you she was up to something.

She plopped down on the bed and started to grin down at you. This had your full attention now.

“Let’s take a break, babe,” She said with a hint of excitement in her tone.

“Okay…” you said hesitantly. “And do what?” She was definitely up to something.

“Well first you could strip for me.”

You immediately blushed at that, your eyes bugging out of your head. “Faith!” You exclaimed, jumping to your feet. “We’ve got serious work to do!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Faith rolled her eyes teasingly. “But baby, I’ve got that… itch.”

Of course she did. She was practically useless in terms of brain work until she fixed that little problem. Faith warned you up front that she had a pretty strong libido. She said it was probably a slayer thing. You thought it was really just a Faith thing.

“Please, baby?” She broke you out of your thoughts. The way she was looking at you was already breaking your resolve. She had her lip between her teeth and was giving you those hungry eyes that already had you weak at the knees.

“I guess we have been going for a while…”

“That’s right, babe. Time for a break.” She leaned forward where she sat, the anticipation of what was to come already had her body buzzing. “Now, give us a show?”

Your face flushed even more at this, but you rolled your eyes to play it off. You were still going to give her what she wanted, you just didn’t know how much of a show that would be.

For whatever reason, your hands went to your jeans first. Popping the button of them before moving to the zipper, you noticed the way Faith watched your every move. You shimmied out of them slowly until they fell to the ground and you stepped out of them. Then you did the same with your panties. Your hands went to your shirt and started to tug up, but then you saw Faith’s hand shoot out in a stop motion.

“Wait!” Faith interrupted. “Leave it on.” There was something about the image in front of her that had her eager to just grab you and throw you on the bed. It was her shirt you were wearing, after all. So, to see you in just her shirt and nothing else had her feeling more and more keyed up by the second.

You shifted where you stood. Not entirely sure what you were waiting for. Faith, on the other hand, enjoyed the way you squirmed under her gaze. She also loved the way you were waiting for her to give you your next order. The way she already had you a little bit in tune with her, trained to be good for her. She could feel the wetness flood between her legs where she sat.

“What next?” You asked impatiently, feeling very exposed, despite still being half dressed.

Faith’s smirk just grew as she looked you up and down. What she had planned next was going to get a reaction out of you, she was sure of it. She could almost picture it, and she couldn’t wait for it to come to fruition.

“Now…” she started. “You’re gonna come here, princess and do as you’re told.” Faith gave you a devilish smile. Her hands went to her belt. Your eyes were glued to the way she slowly undid it and then began to pop the button of her jeans. Then your gaze went a little lower. How did you miss the slight bulge in her pants?

Faith’s eyes never left your face though. She was wearing a cocky smirk as she watched your cheeks slowly flush when she began to pull out the toy she had hidden. She let you take it in for a second, your eyes widening as you realized that must have been what she scurried to the bathroom to put on. Of course she would want to shock you with it. That was something so… just so Faith. She loved the way she’d get you flustered and she was doing a damn good job of it right now.

Faith slapped both her legs. The sound caused you to jump and break your dazed stare at the toy between her legs. “So, c’mere.” Faith’s hands planted on the bed as she leaned back a little. “Ride my cock.”

You blanched. Your eyes went from her face to the strap-on and back up. You’d never done that before.

With hesitant steps you approached where Faith was perched on bed. Again you looked at the toy between her legs before looking back up into her eyes. Her pupils were totally blown and she licked her lips as she watched you slowly start to mount her.

“That’s it,” She purred as she watched you line the toy up with your entrance. “Good girl.”

Her words instantly sent a flush to your cheeks, but still you focused on the task at hand. You slowly let yourself inch down on it. It wasn’t fast enough for Faith though.

In a flash her hands were on your thighs. She simultaneously pressed your body down and thrust her hips up, fully sheathing the toy inside you. You let out a strangled cry at the feeling of being so filled by her, but you also felt instant pleasure with the way she rolled her hips a second later.

It didn’t take long for you to do the same, rocking yourself into Faith to match her motions. One of her arms hooked around your body as she fucked up into you while the other moved behind her to keep her balanced.

She had ordered you to ride her, but really it was her movements that had you bouncing up and down on her lap. You were just doing your best to keep up with her, your hands gripping fistfuls of her tank top to keep yourself upright and grounded.

Faith had that cocky grin on her face the whole time. Watching you moan and whine on top of her gave her a sense of pride and even power that slaying never quite did. It was something about having you so completely like this, her cock buried deep inside you, making you do the filthiest things without a peep of protest that made her feel like that. No one else could do that, but her. So as you began to shake on top of her, signaling your impending release, something primal took over her.

With her hold on you, she had you flipped with your back hitting the mattress hard in two seconds. With a growl, she started pumping herself into you with what you could only describe as slayer speed. Your hands still held fistfuls of her shirt as she fucked you to your edge. You let out a long whine and your body shuttered as you came around her cock, but she didn’t even slow down.

Instead, she grabbed your legs and pushed them up until your knees practically hit your chest, allowing her to pump deeper inside you. At this point you couldn’t stop yourself from constantly moaning. The way Faith hit deeper inside you than any time before and the fact that you haven’t even come down from your orgasm was making you lose total control of yourself.

Faith, meanwhile, was grunting on top of you. It was like she was in a total trance as she fucked you. Her eyes went from watching between your bodies and being mesmerized by the way her cock disappeared inside you, to watching your face as it twisted in pleasure.

It wasn’t long before you came again, crying out her name as you did. She actually slowed down this time, allowing you to catch your breath.

Her hand glided up your body until it stopped at your throat. She let it rest there, her fingers wrapped around your neck but not applying any pressure. Her head cocked to the side as she stared down at you.

“Why is it,” She began breathlessly, “that I can never get enough of you. Is this what it feels like for a vampire to crave blood? Only, you know, for me it’s your pussy…”

She was always so crass. But with her cock still buried in you and the way she was licking her lips and looking down at you like a snack… you couldn’t deny all of it, even her words, turned you on all over again.

“I’m not done with you.” She said that more to herself than you, punctuating that with another slow roll of her hips. You groaned and braced your hands on her shoulders, trying to indicate to her to hold up a moment. Words were escaping you though. Not because she was pressing harder on your neck now. No, she still wasn’t cutting off your airway. No, it was because the last orgasm she gave you still left you breathless.

“I just want one more, princess.” It sounded more like a demand than a request, yet you still weakly nodded your consent. Her hips rolled into you again and this time it seemed like she was going to take it slow.

She pulled the toy almost all the way out, taking a breath, while you held your own. Then without warning she snapped her hips, bottoming out again inside you.

You cried out for her again and her hand flexed on your neck. “Yes, fuck, scream for me, baby,” she growled above you as she repeated the action. The control she felt in that moment was almost like a drug. The way you were so helpless underneath her hold gave her such a rush. She literally held your life in her hands, with the way her hand applied just the slightest pressure to make your breaths turn shallow.

But it wasn’t her knowledge of her strength compared to your weakened, fucked out state that made her feel so high right now. It was the fact that you had utter trust in her as she pressed harder. It was such a wild mixture of love and lust that ran through her veins as she picked her pace back up and began fucking you abandon. She would never hurt you, even if she easily could, and you knew that deep down as you let her absolutely ruin you in the filthiest way.

The choked out cry you gave as her hips slammed into you gave her indication to let up a little bit. Her hand left your neck and you took a deep breath before another pathetic moan left your lips at a particular hard thrust from her.

You were a whining, moaning mess and all you could do was turn your head into the pillow and take it. At some point your hands have left her body to grab at the sheets. Your nails dug into the mattress as Faith’s hips met yours in a way you were sure was going to leave bruises.

“I know princess, I know,” Faith grunted from above you as you let out yet another pathetic whine. It was all becoming a little too much, but still it was unbelievably pleasurable. “But you’re taking me so well.”

At this point you thought Faith’s goal was to fuck you absolutely raw. And honestly, she thought about it, but she needed you in one piece for when she inevitably had this same itch to scratch again in the next day or two.

Your face was fully buried in the pillow now and your whole body was shaking. Faith was leaning down to basically attack your neck with her teeth and tongue as she kept fucking you. With a low moan that was muffled by the pillow, you finally came for a third time. Your back arched as she drew the orgasm from you and your knuckles turned white from how hard they were holding onto the bed.

Faith let you ride out the orgasm, slowing to a stop as you came down. She finally pulled out of you after a moment, practically collapsing on top of you as she did.

She honestly wasn’t even exhausted though. Not even a little tired. She could go all night if you could take it. But you were still so fragile, so new to her slayer strength that she didn’t want to push you to your limit yet. Just strengthen your endurance a little… So instead, she willed herself to calm down and pulled you into her arms.

You were still out of breath as your head pressed to her chest. She was also breathing hard, her excitement still not quite quelled. If she kept going she was sure she would break you, and that was something she swore she would never do.

She wanted to ruin you, sure. But she planned to do that over and over again for as long as you’d let her. That meant she obviously had to make sure she left you in one piece after practically fucking your brains out.

You nuzzled into her as your breathing relaxed. It was this part of the night that she wasn’t used to yet. The softness that came with you being hers. She didn’t mind it though. Fuck like an animal and love like… well whatever this was. Gently. Delicately. Faith hadn’t adjusted to it yet, but she would get there.

Her strong arms folded around you and tightened slightly. You hummed in appreciation for that small act of affection.

Having your naked body pressed closer to her still had her a little revved up, but she was willing herself to chill out for you. Maybe, she could push it a little more after a bit of rest. Maybe she could convince you for another round. After all, she was still wearing the strap…

A devilish grin spread on her lips again as her hands began to roam your bare body. She was never good at waiting anyways. You looked up at her with such a curious innocent look that had Faith’s heart racing again. Seriously, you couldn’t give her those cute doe eyes. It made her want to corrupt you in the dirtiest ways…

“Just one more, princess, yeah?” She practically purred into your ear.

You gulped, but nodded. Your body was sore and spent but when she gave you that hungry look of hers, how could you say no?

It was a long night and as per true Faith nature… it was not just one more.

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dreamingofep · 8 months ago

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Sinned Awakening pt. 26 🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/ Vampire Austin! Elvis x reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond beliet and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, ANGST, smut, mentions of blood/gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: Hello everyone!! Enjoy this new part! It’s a bit shorter than normal but it’s because the next chapter is a MONSTER and I had to break it up somehow! Some questions are going to be answered and some other things are going to be uncovered😈

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here or Ao3! hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

You now understand why Elvis considered not sleeping as part of his ‘curse’. There was no escaping your thoughts and it was just endless noise that played in your head. It was hard to focus on the things you wanted to hear because you had nothing to put your focus on. You were getting the hang of focusing on the sound of Elvis’ heart when he was here, but now he was so far away you couldn’t hear him anymore.

You don’t know how long you cried, it felt like forever. You just wanted him back here so you could apologize and make things right. The empty pit inside your heart ached for him. Despite the distance, you felt him ache for you too. You knew he was out there feeling the same longing you were experiencing. You prayed he’d be back in a day or so to talk things out and figure out how you guys can find answers on your new life.

But he doesn’t come back the next day, or the day after that. One full week drags on and no one has heard from him. Not even a phone call. You grew desperate for him, needing him to be here with you and hold you again. You were lonely and most importantly scared. You hadn’t even been away from him this long and you were worried.

None of the guys were hanging around the house lately and if they did stop by to check in on you, it was the same answer when you asked them if they heard anything from him. Jerry was the only one that hung around the most. He knew how worried you were even though you kept assuring him you were fine.

“Maybe I should go out there looking for him… what if he needs me,” you suggest to him one day.

“Where would you begin to look for him? E would kill us if he knew we let you out there by yourself,” he says worriedly.

“I’m stronger than all of you right now!” You snap. He swallows uncomfortably and looks away from you. You instantly feel bad and apologize.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap like that. I just mean, I could take care of myself,” you try to explain.

“I understand, there’s no doubt you would win in any fight with us but you don’t have any control over your abilities,” he says gently. “You’re kind of a loose cannon lately,” he jokes.

You can’t help but laugh and have to agree, you had no idea what could tick you off if you mingled with other humans you didn’t know.

“No, you’re right,” you sigh, “well maybe you can come with me?”

He pauses and considers the proposal, weighing the pros and cons of this idea.

“Elvis is my best friend. I’d do anything for him. Hell, I let him bite me. But most importantly, you’re his other half. I’ll go anywhere you go,” he says sweetly.

“But I think we should give him a bit more time. If he doesn’t come back in a few days, we’ll start looking for him,” he says.

“Okay, sounds good,” you say with a smile, thankful he’s on board with the plan.

You tried to put your time into reading all the books Elvis had on vampires. Anything to help you understand what was going on with you. Or what was going on with him? The books couldn’t keep your full attention, however. Too much worry plagued your mind and certain topics in these books disturbed you. The human part of you became squeamish when you read about the more gruesome things like how to kill a vampire. You couldn’t bring yourself to read what was in those passages. It made you physically sick to think of anyone ever trying to hurt Elvis. You hoped Jerry was right, he was just out there looking for answers to understand why you changed the way you did and what else you needed to survive.

You didn’t have an appetite while you were worrying about him so much. You weren’t eating like you should have and it had been days since you drank any blood. There was this dark part of you that craved to have Elvis’. You could barely remember what he tasted like from when you first bit him, but everything inside you screamed to bite him. It was extremely frustrating that this incessant voice in your head was begging to have him when he was God knows where.

The next few days pass slowly, and still no sign of him. You couldn’t sit in this house any longer not doing anything useful. You weren’t going to let Elvis shut you out and get himself into trouble out there. You started to gather a bag full of things you might need on your journey. You tell Elvis’ housekeepers you’ll be back soon, but don’t give them an exact date you’ll be back because you didn’t even know yourself. They had worried looks on their faces they couldn’t hide and you hated to see them worry.

You wait for Jerry in the living room, double-checking that you both have everything you need.

“Any idea where we’re going to start looking? He can be anywhere,” he says jokingly.

“Well, hopefully, he’s not too far and we can find him quickly. I just want him home. If he still didn’t find any help, we’ll go together and help him,” you say matter-of-factly. “I guess I should follow my instincts, follow the bond that tethers us together.”

“Let’s go, you know I won’t question anything you say,” he says grabbing his bag he pack and slinging it over his shoulder.

Your attention gets pulled away from the conversation and your head snaps to look at the front door like a magnet. You heard a heartbeat. A loud, melodious heartbeat, beating only for you. It was one you could recognize from anywhere.

Elvis.

You rush to open the door and see him, looking as good as ever walking up the steps to the house. His hair was slicked back, showcasing his handsome face. His eyes were still golden and more captivating than ever. He had this boyish innocence in his eye though, like he was silently pleading for you to forgive him for being gone so long. You could feel how happy he was to see you and how his heart raced faster the closer he got to you.

He stood in front of you, eying you head to toe and taking a sharp breath in. He pulls you quickly by your wrist and envelops you in his arms. You wrap your arms around his waist and hold onto him tight. You sigh a breath of relief and feel his warmth wrap around your body. His scent fills your head like an intoxicating drink. You hum content, so happy to have him in your arms again.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers as he picks you up slightly from the ground and gives you a deep, passionate kiss. It was intense and electrifying, wrapping you in his blinding love. You place your hands on his face, making sure he’s real and not some cruel dream.

He gently puts you down and you look up at him in anticipation.

“Where have you been?” You ask, hurt filling your voice.

“I’m sorry I was gone so long baby. I-I-I had to take care of things,” he says overwhelmed. He tries to comfort you but suddenly pick up another scent behind him. You suddenly feel on edge as you don’t recognize the scent at all. You dart your eyes back up at him, trying to push him to the side to see who it is but he doesn’t budge.

“Umm honey, I need you to meet someone…” he says uncomfortably. You push at his chest slightly to see who is behind him and he gives way.

It was a girl, maybe twenty years old or so, with long black hair, and flawless golden skin. She wears sunglasses shielding her gaze from you. She doesn’t say anything right away, just stares at you behind the glasses, inspecting your every detail. You step in front of Elvis instinctively, wanting to create a barrier between him and this girl.

“What do you want?” You growl. She smirks at you, amused by your protective tone.

“I’m not a threat,” she says calmly, “my name is Iris.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” you say through your teeth, “what do you want. What are you doing here?” You press. You feel Elvis place his hand on your shoulder to try and calm you but need to focus and don’t want him to touch you right now. You brush his hand off of you and take another step forward to Iris.

“Elvis found us in search of answers,” She starts to explain when a man you’ve never seen starts to walk up the steps behind her. “We are like you, Chosen.”

You feel your stomach drop, not believing what she just said. You glance over at the man standing next to her. He was young too, with wavy dark brunette hair, and pale icy skin.

“My name is Alexander, it’s nice to meet you,” he says sweetly.

You look back at Elvis, unsure if you should trust them or not.

“It’s okay, they’re here to help us,” he says low.

You look back at them, nodding your head that you’ll let them talk.

Iris smiles, “Perfect, where did you guys want to begin?”

Elvis pushed the front door open and stepped to the side. “Please, come in,” he says kindly. You let them walk in first and watch as they inspect every detail of the house. You pull at Elvis’ hand before you two walk in behind them.

He looks at you intensely, as you pull him away from the door.

“Do you know who these vampires are you just invited into your home?” You say low, your eyes blazing with intensity.

“Baby, it’s all okay. They can be trusted. You need to hear what they have to say. They’re the real thing trust me, I was skeptical at first too. Please, just listen to what they have to say,” he says squeezing your hand slightly.

You huff, knowing you can’t say no to him.

“Fine, I’ll let them talk. Then we need to talk too. Alone,” you say shortly.

“I know,” he says softly, knowing there’s a lot left unsaid after your fight.

He lets you walk into the house first, resting his hand on the small of your back.

A spark.

A little golden ember blazes inside of you with one touch of his hand.

You look back at him and he has this look on his face. Smug and yet still tender. But you know he feels it too.

“Mine.” He sighs.

Tagging: x

@powerotelvis @burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog

@myradiaz @tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf@eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony.

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938 @50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs @sloppiest-of-jos

#elvis presley #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis smut #elvis presely smut #elvis fic #elvis fluff #70s elvis #elvis #sinned awakening #dreamingofep

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alchemistc · 21 days ago

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I’m so SAD. But the hardest part is everything is just boring now 😭.

I’m a multi shipper at heart, started watching 911 for buddie (I thought it was a cannon ship, turns out I’d gotten it confused with Tarlos). But was barely in fandom, and then when Bi buck happened I was so excited and spent that first week reading both types of fics loving the boost in content. But, I really really quickly realized I had to block a ton of negative Nancys and without really meaning too started following almost exclusively bucktommy blogs.

I’ve had to take a break from that content for a while to deal with the breakup - so I’ve temporarily unfollowed a lot of blogs while the initial shock and anger is going on. I know that eventually I’ll be able to enjoy it again, although this may be a show I stop watching I don’t plan on abandoning the fandom for now.

So now my dash is so blank, and I got rid of all my other social media after Tuesday. I literally have nothing to fill my time right now!!!! It’s so damn boring. I need another hyper-fixation quick before my mental health nose dives.

Hi!

I'm giving you a warm hug. We had the rug pulled out from under us and I'm positive I am getting the least of the bvddie heat out most of the people I follow.

It's sad. It sucks.

It was astronomically bad writing and did not fit with the entire rest of the arc they gave us in canon.

I'm sorry you're feeling like this. I will tell you that last night I finally started listening to Fourth Wing while I prepped food for my weekend getaway, because at least I know it's gonna emotionally destroy me. After that I read some comfort fic from another fandom from my bookmarks, pet my dogs, drank some water, and went to bed.

We all get emotionally invested in things that don't have an end date when we start. It's just a facet of humanity that is so hopeful and beautiful and often bites us in the ass. Don't feel badly for feeling upset today, tomorrow, or in the future, when you thought you'd moved past it but something pings a memory - but grieve it, remember it for the joy it brought you, and try to move past it.

Some people will probably stick around. Inevitably some people will decide it is best for them to fully disengage. I'll be here, somewhere in the middle. So what's best for you. Take comfort in knowing that however long we were in this we were here together.

Drink some water, watch a comfort movie, find a book or show or movie that catches your attention. Cry about it if you need to.

Curate your community in a way that makes sense for you.

I've genuinely enjoyed getting to talk to and create for and cheer for the fic and art bucktommys created. I have discovered old friends and new ones because of it. I'm excited to see where they go next.

But right now it really sucks and it's okay to sit in that for a bit. I hope you can find the right balance and that the boring shifts into something that sparks joy for you.

♥️

#catie for ts #bucktommy #and also block the shit out of anyone and anything that doesn't spark joy #this is my space not a space for people to be absolute fucking cunts #i'll block and delete shit at my leisure

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hkblack · 5 months ago

Text

Let me tell you a story...

It starts in the summer of 2021. Honestly it probably starts a little before that. 2020 through 2022 ish are a bit hazy because there was a lot of sitting around at home doing nothing.

Somewhere in that haziness my partner goes “wait, you haven’t watched this Good Omens show yet? And you haven’t read the book? … oh no. You should do that.”

And immediately after finishing the show I knew I was in trouble. I knew if I read the book I would absolutely fall down the fandom rabbit hole and be trapped, and so for a very long while, I didn’t. Until I did.

And then in August 2021, I wandered into fandom. I had been lurking. Seeing what AO3 had to offer. Crawling back onto Tumblr. But I had a story idea, and I needed a beta reader. And the last time I was in fandom, LiveJournal was still a thing, so I didn’t know where to go.

I found out about Discord, and I signed up for a thousand servers, it felt like, and in one server I bravely started sticking my neck out.

There was talk about someone writing a Human AU on a farm, and farm animals in general, and I chimed in about goat-scaping. And then I made the joke that would seal my fate.

“I don’t know if I could write a kid fic, but you know. I could write a kid (goat) fic.”

It was meant to be a short, sweet, meet-cute. Professor Aziraphale has a goat from the goat scaping team break into his office. Based loosely on a campus experience where a member of the goat-scaping team at a campus I was on tried (and failed) to get into a classroom once.

A simple formula. Maybe a 4+1? 4 times a goat broke into Professor Aziraphale Fell’s office, and one time it didn’t.

I even found the first beta reading request. First chapter done, I’ve got four more planned. Rated T.

Ha.

I started writing Chapter 5, you know, the final chapter, and realized—there’s more to this story. These characters have life, and story, and who doesn’t want to see more goats? Also, had I truly fulfilled the “kid-fic” portion of my joke?

I think we can all agree that no, no I hadn’t.

So, I kept writing. But I also found my stride in other Discord Servers and in Fandom in general. And in the winter of 2021, I went on a beta-reading blitz for the Gift Exchange happening in the Do It With Style Events Discord server. I read something like 14? 15? stories in a very short amount of time and in doing so, got to know some really amazing people and began to carve out my spot in the community.

From this server I found folks with lived goat-experience who were willing to share and advise me. From this server I found beta readers and brit pickers willing to cheer me on and guide my writing to the best version it could be. I found friends and joy and I found community.

And if you look very carefully through the pages of Bleating Hearts, I think that at its heart, past the puns, past the obvious fast burn love story, and the crooked Luce Matin and demanding James Starr, and even beyond the goats, it’s a story about finding your place in a community. While we talk about Aziraphale and Crowley and their relationship, so many people have asked me about Anathema and Crowley at the chicken coop (we only got to see Newt and Aziraphale in the bedroom). The most commented on scene is Anathema pulling the car over and getting Aziraphale’s consent to go to Tracy’s for lunch.

It's a story with goats, romance, and drama. But it’s a story about community.

I have thanked the people most involved a thousand times over, and I will always take an excuse to thank them again. @ambrasue, my ride or die beta reader. She is who to thank for the sentences making sense. And for me not beating you all over the head with the word “Gently.” HolRose, for the Brit-Picking and second pair of eyes when Ambra and I had gone cross-eyed, and always, always, always having a kind comment ready to go for every chapter update. @writingordinaryrealities, for all things Goats, and for not laughing at me when we met in person and I lost my cool over real life goats.

@mirjam-writes! Mirjam made me my first ever fanart for one of my fanfics! And so many more of you have followed suit and I never know what to say when I see it but I always make a noise and run excitedly to my partner and flap my hands and show him his heart and he always gets the dumbest smile and goes, “I love when people make you goat fanart. You are adorable when you’re verklempt.”

But also, the DIWS and Good Omens community. Every single person who shouted at one of my snippets when I needed a boost and shared a bit of what I was proud of. Every single person who tagged me in a goat video—you all have tagged me in so many goat videos. I watch each and every one of them. Every single person who got excited when I said I was finally ready to start posting.

Because you see, that support, that community, led me to pay it forward. At TIC4 in 2023, I had just finished my panel on beta reading and was feeling a bit amped up. I saw in the chat that someone wanted to talk Slow Show and Human Aus and, I don’t know if y’all know this, but uh, I’m a big fan of human AUs. And so I hopped into the break out room and met J.

J is a lovely human who has been fandoming since the OG Star Trek days with Kirk and Spock. She had found a physical copy of Slow Show and just needed to talk to someone, anyone about it. She wasn’t sure what the Archive was, she was still learning her way around digital fandom, and I instantly wanted to reach out and help her find community and joy the way I had when I got started in the fandom. So, I sat down and I gave her my favorites. I told her how to find me on socials. We connected on Discord. We sent each other long letters back and forth on Discord sharing our joys and frustrations and our love of GO and talking about all sorts of other things. And it has been amazing listening to her stories and getting to know her.

Unbeknownst to me, J had reached out to @brunheiffer to ask for a physical copy of Bleating Hearts. Now—I’m all for fandom in the physical space, but it’s never even crossed my mind to do more than something printed out at my home printer, hastily hole punched, and shoved into a binder so I could sneak fanfiction reading time during 5th period math class after I was done with my worksheets many, many, many moons ago. When brunheiffer reached out and asked if they could print and bind a copy for me—I didn’t know what to say. Or do. Or think. I think I keysmashed? I keysmashed after I made my partner read the message out loud. And then I went and looked through tumblr and all of brunheiffer’s excellent work. And then I went, “Do I say yes?” and he went “um YES OF COURSE YOU SAY YES. WHAT”

So, I said yes.

I also said yes to progress shots and got to watch some of the coolest work ever. I didn’t know how books…ya know…booked. Witchcraft probably? I’m still convinced there is witchcraft involved, but there is also an incredible amount of skill, and time, and patience, and hard work, and love that is put into making a book a book. And learning what I did, and watching the process, and seeing the care that brunheiffer put into each of the three (THREE!) sets of books that were made (one for me, one for brunheiffer, one for J), was just stunning.

Do you know, J reached out to me and apologized for not asking me first and asked me if it was okay that she had reached out and asked if brunheiffer would do this for her? Why would I ever be against something so heartfelt and kind?

I cried.

I legitimately sat in my office and cried.

When people ask me how I write the way I do, or why I write, or anything along those lines. I have the same answer. “I write for myself.”

Oh sure, I started to write Bleating Hearts to make Ambra laugh and/or have feelings, but at the end of the day, when I write, it is because I need to get the bed time stories I tell myself at night, the day dreams while sitting on the bus, out of my head and somewhere else—so that a new movie can play. And when I write, I write knowing that I will come back to that story. That I will forget the little pieces (because I have a pretty shit memory tbh), and I’ll be able to go back, and wrap myself up in the comfort of the story I have written, and be surprised by some of the little details I left as presents for myself. And be excited. And be happy. And watch my favorite movie again.

So every time I see someone make art of this story, or talk about how they love the story, or how happy it made them, or the feelings it inspired, or how reading goats made them want to write their own fanfiction—I get, well, like my partner says, “verklempt.” I don’t know what to do with that feeling, other than to just be overwhelmed that somehow something I made to entertain me has brought other people so much joy. Has helped people connect and find community.

What a powerful and beautiful thing that is.

Not everything I write is going to be Bleati—y'all I am just going to call it Goats. Calling it Bleating Hearts feels so weird. It’s Goats. That’s the name of the story. That’s my name for the story.

Anyway.

Not everything is going to be Goats. I’ve got some wips in the hopper right now that are um…lots of angst and heavy spice. Not everything I write is going to be liked by everyone. Some of it may even offend you.

But knowing that this one thing has inspired you all to the point that I’ve been gifted the ability to hold my story in my hand?

That’s powerful.

And it only exists because this community, this Good Omens community, has come together and chosen joy.

There’s some bad apples out there, there are in every bunch. But I am liberal with my block button and have been blessed to find a welcoming and warm community that creates some amazing and incredible art—whether that’s like actual like digital or pen to paper art, or the fiction you write, or the podfics you record, or the meta analysis you write, or the playlists or the animatics or the beta reading or the shouting unhinged support or the role playing or the plushies, or the books you bind—this community is full of incredibly creative and amazing people.

So thanks, y’all, for letting me part of your community, and enjoying my silly little goat fic. And thank you brunheiffer and J for this amazing gift.

If you haven’t read it, or just want to reread it, you can read Bleating Hearts (GOATS) on Archive of Our Own.

All my love,

(I am the most cringe sap on main right now. No regurts)

#long post #with photos #bleating hearts #hk writes #hk is having a MOMENT HERE #OKAY #I'm FINE #LOOK AT THE THING #brunheiffer made a hat!#where there wasn't a hat before!#someone please get my sondheim references I am begging you as a fandom #I literally wrote you a Sondheim and Good Omens primer #I'll put it in a fic next #no #don't let me pick up more plot bunnies #I am actively writing three stories right now #stop #I'm crying over these pictures though #honestly fuck the pictures I'm trying to keep myself from shaking these books apart #I keep touching them #I don't think they're real #there is an argument happening about whether they are allowed in the main shared space bookcases #or if they are to stay on my private bookshelves in my office #I am voting private bookshelves #my partner is against this #please weigh in if you've read this far: let the books be part of my good omens collection in my office #or display them proudly in the main space

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itsgameofthronesimagines · 2 years ago

Text

Strong Dragons (Part Four)

(Gif not mine)

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Masterlist Here

Pairing: Daemon x Fem!Reader x Rhaenyra

Warnings: NSFW! 18+ only! Smut, mature themes and language, P in V, dirty talking, breeding kink, fingering, arranged marriages, unprotected rough/raw sex (wrap it before you tap it), incest, oral (female receiving), dom!rhaenyra, graphic depictions of pregnancy and labor, threesomes, death, depictions of both the books and shows, etc.

Word Count: 7,563

Tag: strong dragons hotd fic

Summary: Y/n’s pregnancy progresses as well as her reputation on Dragonstone. Daemon and Rhaenyra are enthralled by their Mother of Dragons.

Requested by: @ivy-targaryen

Taglist:

@lol-im-done @stitchattacks @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @faerosewood1723 @esquivelbianca @demiismylord @evattude @goldensunflowe-r @fexibau @chiyausu @aphroditesmoon @winter-soldier-101 @ashlatano7567 @mochimommy2002 @champomiel @ilovemydinoboi @jackthemarvelfinatic @kindaslightlyacidic @bubbles2416 @hotd-fic @thatkinkylesgirl1 @nnyets @honeypillowsblog @pindoris @sugarmilkteaxkookiesxcream @rxscpctals @lethal-minds @witch-of-letters @green-lxght @wondergal2001 @boofy1998 @elliemilani @minbeatriz16 @siriusdumblittlepuppy @rockerchick05 @midnightrqin @starloriha @kaitieskidmore1 @kat4na @ally22042000 @deathlyweird @eonnyx @weepingwitchofthewest @borikenlove @lovleaura @thewitch-lives @kneelarmhstrung @xrosegoldwolfx @mikariell95 @mxxny-lupin @gruffle1 @siimiasoi @the-spectacular-spider-bitch @automaticwizardnerd @here4thefanfic @i-love-morally-gray-characters @esmeralda-tupi @deadgirldreaming @poppyreader @mukduk-not-murder @bri3009 @issybee0611 @nzygftoji @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @watercolorskyy @ripnevillestrevor

(I do not consent my works to be reposted/copied)

A/N: Tumblr kept deleting this as I worked on it so now I’m frustrated to the point I’m in tears. I’m definitely taking a break from this series as I’m too exhausted to bother right now after all that stress.

The following week upon Y/n's arrival was a busy one, to be sure. Dragonstone was filled with activity as Rhaenyra announced to her staff that both Prince Daemon and Lady Y/n would act as every bit the lord and lady of the keep as the princess and her own husband. The servants, loyal to Rhaenyra and loyal to her secret arrangement, welcomed Y/n with open arms, each individual introducing themselves while Y/n tried her best to remember all their names for their devoted kindness. It appeared as though the idea of a child excited the entire island -not just her lovers- as they helped their new lady feel at home.

Gerardys, Rhaenyra's head maester assigned to Dragonstone, confirmed what Y/n already knew, that she was, indeed, with child. He suspected that she was, at the very least, three moons along, since she hasn't even begun to show through her dresses. Now that her pregnancy was confirmed, Rhaenyra made sure to provide the best servants for her female lover, even introducing her to her own handmaidens, including the most loyal, Elinda Massey. Elinda was the youngest of Rhaenyra's ladies-in-waiting and the most devoted to House Targaryen overall. She was sweet and caring, a pretty young woman who pulled at Y/n's heartstrings. After meeting Elinda, Y/n pats Rhaenyra's arm and assures her that she would get along beautifully with her handmaidens.

Y/n had been aware of the fool, Mushroom. She knew of him only by reputation in court, a three-foot dwarf with a large head and a lackwit of intelligence, but nevertheless, a devoted, loyal servant to Rhaenyra, who has known him for the entirety of her father's reign. Mushroom tended to favor the princess over King Viserys and therefore followed her back to Dragonstone. Once introduced to all the handmaids at her disposal, Y/n was then greeted by a particular servant Rhaenyra had promised would make her laugh. Mushroom was delightful to Lady Y/n. A little crude, perhaps, but he did indeed earn a hearty laugh out of her and a silent trust to always rely on him with her secrets, as many have gained with Mushroom over the years, whether it was earned or foolishly given.

While Rhaenyra was in charge of Y/n becoming acquainted with her staff, Daemon charged himself with helping his new wife feel more comfortable with the island itself. He took her on many walks along the beaches and gave her plenty of cautionary tales about the volcano looming over their new castle. He made sure Y/n was aware of the many caves surrounding the island of his ancestral home, and informed her of what to do should she ever accidentally stumble upon a dragon. Daemon wasn't entirely worried about the tamed ones, as long as Y/n didn't try to ride them without their respective companion... he was more or less bothered by the idea of his pregnant wife accidentally coming across a dragon with no rider.

"How many are there?" She had asked one night over dinner, "Which dragons are without a rider?"

"Vermithor and Silverwing are castle dragons, beasts who had been tamed before but over the years have lost their riders," Daemon explained from his seat beside her, one of his arms draped over the back of her chair, "They once belonged to King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne, my grandparents. Then there are the wild dragons, beasts untamed and have never known the bond of a rider. Grey Ghost, the Cannibal, and Sheepstealer are the ones you should be most careful of."

"That doesn't mean to be less cautious of the other dragons, like Vermithor and Silverwing," Rhaenyra had cut in with alert eyes captivating Y/n's, "They may have known human companionship in the past, but that doesn't mean they will be familiar with you. It's been a long time since they have been ridden, therefore it's best to just give them their space and they will give you yours."

"Our dragons might be the most decent towards you," Laenor assures Y/n, "Caraxes, Syrax, and Seasmoke have more experience with human interaction and are smart enough to realize that you are a friend to them. But I wouldn't suggest seeking them out unless you were with one of us."

"Which reminds me," Rhaenyra beams, avoiding the less dreary topic while setting down her fork excitedly, "With our new prince or princess on the way, we will need to pick out a dragon egg for them."

One of the many topics that made Y/n feel like a stranger in her new home. She had nearly forgotten the prospect of a dragon baby in her belly, "To place it in their crib, right?"

"That is the custom, yes. Usually, the parent chooses the egg, and you are welcome to come with us."

"Into Dragonmont?" The woman's dark eyes widen, looking around at the three dragon riders before her, sheepish and possibly worried, "I have no experience with dragons let alone their eggs."

Daemon nods in agreement, addressing his wife but exchanging a glance of approval with Rhaenyra, "It's best if we get you and the dragons properly acquainted then."

Rhaenyra nods in response, "Perhaps you should ride with one of us on our dragon."

Laenor bursts out laughing, startling everyone including the servants as they bring silverware and food to and from the table. Y/n recognizes the jest and found herself in the mind of a child as she grabs the nearest thing, an apple, before aiming and throwing the fruit across the table at Laenor's head. She had missed pitifully, but the attempt made the Velaryon lord laugh, even more, clutching his midsection when his ribs began to hurt. Y/n could feel her cheeks burning with embarrassment, but even the corner of her mouth turned up into an amused smile.

Rhaenyra, however, looked baffled while turning her gaze between her husband and her aunt, "Have I missed something?"

Y/n had barely heard her over Laenor's laughter. One look from Daemon slowly shuts him up, but a grin is still plastered on his face, eyes twinkling at Y/n as she bashfully ducks her head, "I didn't fare very well at sea. I doubt I'd fare well on the back of a dragon."

The princess grasps her meaning and relaxed her furrowed eyebrows, flashing a heatless glare at Laenor and causing him to cough to cover the last bit of laughter within him. Y/n playfully glared at her niece's husband as well but didn't even try to fight the smile this time.

"Well, the choice is yours, my love. You may not want to be familiar with dragons now, but perhaps you can learn and grow alongside our child's dragon when their egg hatches."

Her smile sparkles, "That would be lovely. I will start out small, just as our child will with their lifelong companion."

~~~~~~~~~

Getting used to kisses on her belly would be a bit of a challenge for Y/n, but not something she would likely grow tired of. Despite not showing through her dresses, it's clear to her lovers that her body has already begun to change in order to accommodate the child. Rhaenyra blatantly kisses Y/n's abdomen one night, after already shedding the Lady Strong of all her layers, and feels the slowly forming bump beneath her pale lips. Rhaenyra smiled into her female lover's flesh, biting back a moan when Daemon involuntarily thrusts into her at the sight before him, Y/n sprawled over the edge of the bed while Rhaenyra bent over her. Daemon stood behind Rhaenyra, lined up against her backside as he continued to pull out and slowly ease back into her heat. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra continued to kiss Y/n's belly before leaving a wet trail down to her already glistening cunt, the princess softly blowing cool air over the heat and sending shivers up the lady's spine. Y/n arched her back, whimpering without any friction to satisfy her needs, trying her best to remain still with her hands fisting the bedsheets near her head.

"Rhaenyra--"

"My apologies, love," the princess kissed the soft inside of the lady's thigh. Y/n could feel her smirk against her trembling skin, "I was merely doting on our child."

Y/n scoffs up at the ceiling, "Perhaps you should dote on me first, or else I'll pray to the gods for our child to bear my reputation of holding a grudge."

"We best be careful with this one," Daemon cuts in, still thrusting his hips against Rhaenyra's arse while whispering into her ear, amusement stitched into his low voice, "I'm beginning to think her bite is worse than her bark."

Rhaenyra hums in agreement, closing her eyes and pulling her head back in bliss when his cock hits that certain, perfect spot inside her, "I think she's becoming more of a dragon the longer she's here. Perhaps it is both a blessing and a curse."

"It'd be less of a curse if you would stop talking and touch me, Princess."

The female Targaryen is startled out of laughter, gasping up to the ceiling of her chambers when Daemon's hip jerks forward unexpectedly, out of rhythm. Both uncle and niece are clearly affected by their Strong woman's demand, both equally shocked and aroused by her sudden boldness.

"If pregnancy brings out this side of you, I think we'll have to keep you full with our children all the time."

~~~~~~~~~

High Valyrian proved to be a difficult language to learn. Y/n had asked one evening if one or both of her lovers could teach her so that she might be able to communicate with them and any children they'll have in the future. Daemon and Rhaenyra were delighted to teach Y/n their mother tongue and tried their best to teach her when any free time was given. Much like the times Y/n and Daemon would spend time together by the hearth in King's Landing, the three lovers now spent the same time by the hearth together on Dragonstone.

"Ñuhon lenton Targārien jorrāelza issa?" She tried reciting one evening, her nose scrunching up as even she doubted the way she phrased the sentence, "'My love is for House Targaryen?'"

Lounging on the other end of the couch, fondly watching her female lover, Rhaenyra faintly smiled, a breath of laughter escaping her lips, "You were close, my love, though I believe there's an easier way to phrase that."

Y/n's eyebrows scrunch together in frustration, scowling, "It doesn't help that there are half a dozen ways to say your family name and half a dozen ways to say 'my'."

"We can continue learning words before having you recite full sentences." When Y/n nods in agreement, Rhaenyra straightens her posture to be fully facing her, "Mountain."

"Blēnon."

"Mountains?"

"Blēna."

"Iron Throne." Their male lover cuts in from the chair across from them, wine goblet in one hand and an open book in the other.

"Daemon."

He shrugs in response to Rhaenyra's reprimand, "She'll likely be saying that more often than 'mountain.'"

Y/n's expression turns devious, her eyes shining with mischief while purposely staring Daemon directly in the eyes as she spoke in confidence, "Āegenkon Dēmalion."

The fire blazing in the hearth casts a dark shadow over Daemon's silhouette, but Y/n's figure is ignited by the flames, glowing softly, driving the Rogue Prince into silence. He stares right back, the essence of a gentle smirk beginning to form as he stands from his seat, "Very good, lady wife."

She beams with pride, tilting her head up to him, carefully watching his every move as she responds in kind to his praise, "Targārien kostōba Āegenkon Dēmalion issi."

{Targaryens are powerful on the Iron Throne}

Even Rhaenyra's stomach jumped with delight at Y/n's powerful phrase, complementary to the way Daemon sinks to his knees in front of the woman as if her words weighed him down. He was short of breath, strong hands reaching out to caress her legs beneath her skirt, reaching up underneath until they graze the inside of her thighs, "Excellent. And how would you say 'my son will sit upon the Iron Throne?'"

Y/n shivered under his touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she willed herself not to move under his ministrations. She had nearly forgotten her husband's question until she felt Rhaenyra's hand in her hair, bringing her back down to the mortal realm. By now, Daemon's fingers were already reaching into forbidden places in the eyes of the gods, while his forehead leans into her growing stomach. Rhaenyra was placing soft kisses into Y/n's shoulder, over her dress until the princess decided to move the sleeve aside and continue the kisses along her bare skin. Y/n licked her lips, forcing herself to remember her lessons, hesitant compared to the other two phrases as she stutters out a response,

"... Ñuhon trēsy Āegenkon Dēmalion dēmagon."

~~~~~~~~~

"My love. We have a gift for you."

Looking up from her book, Y/n spotted Rhaenyra standing in the open doorway of her chambers, Daemon following close behind the princess as they entered their expecting lover's apartments. Smiling, Y/n closed her book and carefully stood from her chair, one arm sticking out for balance while the other held onto the more prominent bump around her middle that has grown significantly in the last few moons. Peering back at her lovers and noticing their appalled reactions, Y/n flashed them a devious look. They had recently become more possessive than usual and dote on Y/n almost religiously, worried by every step she takes. Normally, they are right by her side when she has to stand up, and even Lady Strong could admit that they're helpful in that aspect. Sometimes it's hard to get back up on her feet. If it weren't for her silver-haired dragons, Y/n would have likely found herself stuck in place until someone would eventually came around and find her there.

Daemon rolled his eyes at his wife's antics, stepping forward to take her hand in his while looping his free arm around her lower back, and walking alongside her toward her tea table. Y/n directed her gaze to the door again when two figures emerged, carrying a rather large item.

A large urn, heavy enough that two dragonkeepers must lift it together. It was round and likely made of iron, with padded handles the dragonkeepers used to carry and refrain from burning themselves. They place the urn on the tea table, hot steam billowing out from beneath the lid. When Rhaenyra nods her head, one of the dragonkeepers removes the big lid, slowly to further express its weight. Inside, without being told, it wasn't hard for Y/n to guess that the gift was none other than a dragon egg. She had never seen one before, but the rounded shape and the light green, scale-like shell surrounding it was a dead giveaway. Heated coals and embers surround the object, acting as a portable incubator.

Daemon announced the egg with pride, "A gift fit for the Mother of Dragons."

Y/n reached her hand out but refrained from touching the egg, feeling the heat coming off around the scales. Her smile was faint, eyes sparkling in awe as she breathlessly stated, "It's beautiful."

Rhaenyra beamed proudly at the praise, "I picked it out myself."

Daemon moved to stand behind Y/n, hands gently holding her shoulders as he kissed the back of her head, "A dragon egg sired from Syrax and Caraxes. There could not be a more perfect choice for our future prince or princess."

Rhaenyra reaches out and Y/n gladly takes her accepted hand. The princess brings her female lover's hand over to the egg, unafraid and showing the lady that the egg was not too hot to the touch. It was considerably warm, forming sweat in Y/n's palm almost instantly, but Rhaenyra appeared unbothered by the heat, "Hold this against your womb tonight, my dear. And when the baby gets here, we will leave it in its crib."

The expecting mother nods in understanding, taking the instructions to heart. She straightens her posture, addressing the dragonkeepers standing across the table. Y/n nods to them, trying to best to perfect her accent as she spoke, "Kirimvose." {Thank you}

The dragonkeepers nod back, eyes widening in acknowledgment of her proper pronunciation. Rhaenyra radiates pride for Y/n's High Valyrian before she also addressed the dragonkeepers using the same tongue. They leave at her behest and Daemon moves away from Y/n and circles the table, placing the urn's cover over the egg again.

Y/n takes her hands back and places them on her new perch over her belly. A thought enters her head and she hesitates for only a moment before addressing her lovers, "Speaking of the baby's arrival. I have made arrangements with the midwives for when I begin my labors." Both Targaryens tilt their heads in attention to her and she continues, "I will have four attend to me along with Maester Gerardys and Elinda Massey."

"Do you not want us there?" Daemon questions with a small raised eyebrow.

"I wouldn't ask that of you," she explained gently, "Traditionally, husbands don't accompany their wives to the birthing bed. I would be content if the two of you accompany each other on dragonback while I go into labor."

"That's not what he asked, my love," Rhaenyra countered quietly, "He asked if you did not want us there for the birth. If that's what you truly want, then say the word and we'll respect it. But I doubt it." Her suspicions were correct, as Y/n appeared troubled, a crinkle forming between her eyes when her eyebrows scrunched together, "What is it?"

"It's just..." Y/n sighed heavily, her weight shifting with the pregnant stomach clearly weighing her down, "Both you and Daemon have suffered the horrors of childbirth. You might not have experienced it personally, but you have suffered through both of your mothers. Aemma and Alyssa suffered and perished due to complications of childbirth, did they not?"

Neither of them answered, but their eyes appeared haunted at the reminder, nevertheless. Y/n shook her head as her voice slowly began to crumble, "... I couldn't possibly ask you both to sit and watch something like that happen to me."

The Rogue Prince appeared skeptical, "And you believe something like that will happen to you?"

Rhaenyra changes direction, addressing Daemon in defense of Y/n, "Childbirth is a woman's battlefield, Uncle. Many women, even the strongest, sometimes never survive it. It is the way of things... at least that is what my mother told me."

The princess turns back to Y/n, rounding the table to draw closer to her. A mist forms in Rhaenyra's eyes, clouded by distant, unpleasant memories, "I wasn't there when my mother died. I wish I was. Perhaps I could have been a form of comfort for her. I could have held my brother for however long he lived. I won't make that mistake again." She slowly moved her hands up, placing them on either side of Y/n's face to gently force their eyes to meet, stepping closer until their unborn child was snug between their bodies, "It would hurt me more if I was not there for you. Riding on dragonback while you faced this alone would not give me peace of mind. Please, allow me to stay with you."

Y/n hesitates, opening and closing her mouth but couldn't find the words she was searching for. Instead of refusing, she nods, letting out a shaking breath as Rhaenyra pulls her face in and kisses her cheek lovingly. They share that moment of silence, past ghosts still fresh in their minds before they both take a deep breath and turn to their prince, awaiting him.

Daemon moves around the table to join them, his pale eyes fixed on Y/n, "My mother was strong. Stronger than most of the women in my family... and my brother, they named him Aegon... he didn't survive long after she... I was too young to remember much, but I know that if I had the power, I would have taken my mother's pain from her. In a heartbeat. If I could somehow pull it from you, I would. Let me try."

Even if she was unsure of accepting the offer, Y/n didn't want to necessarily worry her lovers more by arguing further. She knew that if she wanted to refuse, she could, and they would respect her decision, no matter how much it would concern them. However, she couldn't bring herself to do so, nodding to Daemon in acceptance.

~~~~~~~~~

For the majority of her pregnancy, Y/n appeared blessed with easy, healthy milestones. Not to say Y/n didn't have any unpleasant days. She was nauseous toward the beginning and her feet ached when she began to grow round, but the biggest most unpleasant change was her attitude. Daemon and Rhaenyra were not the only ones who noticed Y/n's bite. Servants, maesters, and dragonkeepers alike noticed the change in aggression. It wasn't as though Lady Y/n was violent or unbearable, but if it wasn't for the known fact that she was a Strong, most people of Dragonstone would've initially believed she was born a Targaryen and not just married to one.

Laenor didn't appear to mind this new side of Y/n. In fact, he very much enjoyed it. It was like being back home in Driftmark with his sister, full of spirit and brutally honest.

"Must you always wear that pin?" Y/n sneered as she crossed the gardens to join the Velaryon, holding her stomach as she waddled.

Laenor grinned, standing up to help her into the chair next to him, "My sister gave it to me as a wedding gift. Don't tell me a seahorse makes you nauseous, too."

She groaned as she sat down, "The idea of the sea makes me nauseous."

He hummed in agreement as he settled beside her. They met almost daily in Aegon's Garden so the lady could get fresh air, and more times than not, they would summon Mushroom to entertain them. Today was no different, the fool making his appearance not long after Y/n and going about his newest routine of tricks and mischief.

As the fool performs, Laenor leans into the lady's space, "You're cross. And I doubt it's over my pin. What ails you, good aunt?"

She side-eyes him for the address of her title over him, eyebrows angled in annoyance as she spoke, "Both my husband and your wife have insisted on being with me for the birth."

His eyebrows raise, unsurprised, "And? Are you asking me to join as well?"

"Heavens, no, I wouldn't even play at the idea of you seeing my cunt."

"I appreciate it."

Y/n snorts and smacks his shoulder light-heartedly, "Shut up. I'm just... terrified that something bad will happen and they'll have to... watch the child or me or even both of us die."

"Why must you think about what might happen?"

"Because I'm a realist, Laenor."

The Verlaryon frowns, unconvinced, "You married a prince and secretly planned on carrying his children then passing them off as someone else's. Is that what you would consider being a realist?"

"Don't patronize me. I'm just simply stating that childbirth isn't easy. It's torture. Septas can romanticize it all they want but I wouldn't exactly listen to celibate women who have never borne a child. A wet nurse is likely to tell you the truth and the horrors behind the labors. Many women bleed out, or many of them birth stillborns. I... I've heard rumors of a more recent practice."

"Such as?"

She bites her lip and grows quiet, unsure if she should gossip about what she may or may not have learned. It wasn't a known rumor, and she had mostly heard it between women in the court of King's Landing. But if there was any lord she could trust, aside from her twin brother and her husband, it was Ser Laenor, "Maesters have learned that in order to save the child, they can cut the mother open and pull the infant from her womb. It's not ethical, but the studies show that if they must decide who to save if the threat of losing both is imminent, the maester will turn to the husband to decide."

"That's not even unethical. It's also barbaric!" Laenor exclaims, appalled as rage crosses his features, reminding Y/n that he was half Targaryen as well as Velaryon, "Surely, no one would approve of this method."

"I don't know. All I know is... it's not going to be easy."

"I would suggest raspberry leaf tea."

Both Laenor and Y/n look to the third voice, only to find Mushroom to be the only other person in the gardens. The dwarf fool had since stopped his tomfoolery and just stood there, looking at the pair of them expectedly, head tilted. Both of them looked at him, shocked as if they had forgotten he was there.

Y/n tilted her head back at him, curiosity getting the better of her, "Pardon?"

"Raspberry leaf tea." The dwarf stated confidently, puffing out his chest with pride.

"Perhaps you should properly address the lady before barging into her conversation, jester." Laenor's lips thin out, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the fool.

"It's alright, Ser Laenor." She mocks amusingly at the lord beside her before turning back to Mushroom, addressing the small man sweetly, "Why raspberries?"

"All whores know the ingredients and methods of concocting moon tea. In their line of work, it is essential and necessary." Mushroom flashes a vulpine grin, the corner of his lips stretching from ear to ear, "Not many men would bed a whore with child."

"Get to the point faster, fool." Laenor grumbled, nose scrunched in response to the dwarf's boldness, "I doubt you would talk to his lady wife in this manner if Prince Daemon were here."

"However, there are times moon tea does not work or a whore forgets to even drink it. There are times when children are born and to make the labors bearable, the whores have created a simple concoction, one that makes the birthing easier and sometimes faster. Raspberry leaf tea."

Y/n clung to every single word, awestruck and suspicious all at once, "And this tea does not harm the child?"

"Not to my knowledge."

Laenor stood once he realized that Y/n was actually entertaining the ideas of the fool, "I will speak with the maester to confirm or deny this."

"Thank you, Laenor." She smiled and watched him leave before turning her head back down to the dwarf in front of her, "And thank you, Mushroom."

Bells jingle obnoxiously as Mushroom dips into a bow, overplaying his courtesy with flair, "I am but a humble servant, my lady."

Doubtful but amused, Y/n laughed quietly under her breath, the small noise joining the soft, scented breeze of the garden, "I would hardly describe you as humble if you are to be believed knowledgeable in the methods of whores."

"Perhaps it's humble if I use my knowledge to soften my lady's worries," Mushroom beamed confidently, "After all, it would be a shame if maesters learned how to save the child, but not the mother."

"Well said, my fool."

~~~~~~~~~

Maester Gerardys listened to Laenor's suggestion and then proceeded to intently research before approving the consumption of such tea. He recommended Lady Y/n drink the tea before bed every night, and thus a new nightly routine was born. After such a heavy discussion about the dangers of childbirth, Rhaenyra was visibly relieved when Y/n took to finding solutions and even learned how to make the tea herself to aid her pregnant aunt.

In Mushroom's Testimony, published years down the road, the dwarf stated it was all because of the tea he had recommended to the Mother of Dragons prior to the birth that made the babe slip out so easily. He even spun a small tale about how the tea softened Lady Y/n's womb so much that she had barely noticed she had given birth. Much like a giraffe, Mushroom's tale would have us believe that Y/n had simply gotten up after her child was born and went about her day as if nothing ever happened.

Other scholars who wrote about such historical events did not agree with this, however, despite the fact that Mushroom was the only source to be on Dragonstone when Y/n Strong went into labor. It had been early morning when Y/n awoke in Rhaenyra's chambers, the sun not yet fully rising over the island but the sky was becoming a lovely purple and the stars were disappearing. Daemon had rolled over just as Y/n was trying to rise out of bed, Rhaenyra still unconscious to the world around her on the opposite side of her uncle.

"Careful, wife," Daemon muttered into the pillow, only half awake, "I wouldn't try getting out of bed so fast if I were you."

The responding thud that echoed throughout the room drove Prince Daemon into survival mode, waking every instinct he had as he lunged out of bed to search for Y/n. She had not gone far, having landed on her knees just at the foot of the bed, one hand holding her stomach while the other was placed on the floor below, holding her up.

Chaos erupted that early, quiet morning. Rhaenyra was roused as was the rest of the keep in response to Daemon's demand for the maester and the nurses. When asked, Y/n will look back and have little to no memory of what happened that fateful day. She remembered the labor being quicker than anticipated, given this was her first child, but over time she had forgotten what the pain felt like. Her mind was either not as sharp as it once was or it had purposefully locked away those certain traumatic events.

Needless to say, there were a few small things she remembered that she was able to reiterate in the future when asked. Maester Gerardys had refused to move Y/n from her knees on the floor, stating it was too late to place her in the child bed. The baby was coming quickly and it had barely given anyone enough time to prepare for its arrival. So Lady Y/n was forced to stay where she had landed, but she was not alone. She remembered holding onto Daemon for dear life and he dutifully stood still for her, anchoring her, gripping her arms though not as tight or as fiercely as she held onto him whilst she cried out in pain, resting her sweating forehead on the center of his chest. Rhaenyra had finally joined her as well, pulling her hair out of her face and occasionally rubbing her back and hips. The princess had gratefully taken a pillow from Elinda when she arrived to help and placed the pillow underneath poor Y/n's knees which were already bruised and will continue to be for the foreseeable future.

Daemon's heartbeat and Rhaenyra's gentle voice were all Y/n could remember apart from her screams. That, and the weird shifting of her internal organs as everything moved down with her baby and with gravity. After that, the pain subsided and Y/n remembered taking big, sobbing gulps of air, clinging onto Daemon weakly as every part of her body began to violently shake in exhaustion. Her gasps and cries were the only things echoing in her ears as the whole room bustled about, people scrambling and shouting that Y/n was unaware of. Daemon held her close and eventually demanded the maester that they move her to the bed. Gerardys agreed and by the time Daemon had lifted her into his arms, Y/n's hearing returned, and she realized that she was not the only one crying. Weakly, she turned her head in the direction of the baby's cries as Daemon laid her down over the pillows and blankets.

Nurses and maids were working frantically about the room, but one woman remained perfectly still among the chaos and Y/n instantly recognized her by her silver hair. Rhaenyra was sitting in a nearby chair, smiling widely to the point her cheeks had to hurt, her misty eyes staring down at the bloody, crying babe in her lap as Elinda knelt before the princess to wipe down the infant, not having the heart to take the child from her in order to clean it. Y/n's breath had been stolen again, and her gaze never broke from the infant even as a couple of the maids came around to help clean the blood and grime from her skin. She could briefly recollect Daemon's hand in hers and another gently brushing her hair, remaining dutifully at her side while Rhaenyra attended to the child.

With the babe finally cleaned and swaddled, Rhaenyra carefully lifted it into her arms as she stood up, moving toward the bed where her eyes finally met Y/n's, tear tracks of joy cutting through her flawless face, "A son, my love. Our Little Jace is here."

~~~~~~~~~

Jacaerys Velaryon.

Y/n has held babies before, though she might have been too young to remember it, and even then she was smaller. A baby would feel heavy and a lot bigger than they actually were in Young Y/n's arms. But now, fully grown and with her firstborn son in her arms, Y/n was awestruck by how little and fragile he was. He wasn't born early enough to be considered sickly and after fully inspecting him, Maester Gerardys confirmed that the boy was a picture of health and only a little smaller than average. Relieved she had managed to birth a healthy son without much of a risk, Y/n hardly had a care in the world even when she noticed the small tufts of dark, incredibly soft hair her son bore on the top of his little head.

However, the day after his birth, after she had been rested and Laenor was able to meet his son for the first time, Y/n spoke of the future with a shadow over her eyes, "On my wedding day, you said we would cross that bridge should our baby have dark hair."

Rhaenyra looked up from watching Laenor gently rocked Jace in his arms as he slowly traveled around the room, whispering softly to the sleeping baby. Y/n was sitting comfortably in a chair by the window and meets her princess' eyes, expression blank as she continued, "Well, he does. So how do you propose we convince the world that he's yours and Ser Laenor's child?"

"Laenor's grandmother was a Baratheon. She had dark hair." Rhaenyra comments hopefully.

The dark-haired woman shook her head in response, "It won't matter. You know as well as I that the lords of the realm won't see reason in that. They only need one reason, however small, to proclaim you as an unfit heir to the throne."

"We have a fail-safe."

"Which is...?"

Daemon, still watching Laenor and Jacaerys like a hawk, spoke in regards to Y/n's question, "We let the kingdoms whisper."

"Daemon," Rhaenyra chided him, the prince shrugging without a care. His niece sighs, turning back to Y/n with a sheepish expression, "It's only half true. We let them whisper, but we misdirect them. In the public eye, I am Jace's legitimate mother. That will be indisputable. No one could deny that. But his father... it would have to be someone close to you in appearance. Someone who would do anything for you and for the crown. Someone we trust."

Y/n was no fool, but disbelief can be a bitch and it was disbelief that drove Y/n to slowly come to the realization behind Rhaenyra's words. There is a clear, hidden meaning behind how she had phrased this mystery man and Y/n wanted to outright deny it at first before she caught sight of Daemon staring at her expectedly. He trusted her to come to the same conclusion on her own and she did, albeit with a dry throat, "... My brother?"

"Yes. Ser Harwin." Rhaenyra nodded.

A flash of hurt appeared and then quickly vanished over her eyes as she looked between her two lovers, "Why was I not informed about this?"

"Because we knew you wouldn't want your brother to risk himself."

"And yet you still went through with your original plans?"

"Yes, because we also knew that your brother would do anything to protect you," Rhaenyra crossed the room, kneeling down to Y/n and clasping her hands, "He's loyal to Daemon as a soldier of the City Watch, he's loyal to me as the future Queen of Westeros and most importantly he's loyal to you as his sister. He's the perfect ally to have in King's Landing while we establish our family here on Dragonstone."

"And... and he knows about our arrangement? He's aware of all of this?"

"Yes."

A decision is made in Y/n's mind and it physically shows over her facial features, the uncertainty melting into one of petulant acceptance as she gently but firmly pulls her hands out of Rhaenyra's to take a cup of tea from the table beside her, "Next time you do something behind my back that would make me look like a fool, just don't tell me."

Unbeknownst to her, Y/n's lovers will take that promise to heart in the far future.

~~~~~~~~~

Rhaenyra writes to her father first, officially announcing the birth of her and Laenor's firstborn son. Daemon waits a few days after Rhaenyra's raven has gone before he writes a letter to Ser Harwin, inviting him to Dragonstone to visit with his sister. The prince also implied that he would like to have a soldier he could trust to be here while his niece and Ser Laenor adjust to parenthood. He had added this in case the letter was ever intercepted and considered suspicious, in case someone clever knew how to fit the missing pieces of the puzzle. King Viserys' response was joyful, congratulating his daughter and practically begging her to bring his first grandchild to King's Landing when she and the baby are well enough. Following Viserys' letter was another from the capital, announcing Ser Harwin's departure and expected arrival at House Targaryen's ancestral home.

After the letter had been received, Y/n would often find herself in the Sea Dragon Tower, usually in Laenor's chambers, overlooking the sea and waiting for a ship that would likely have her brother on board. Laenor didn't mind the intrusion as long as Y/n brought Jace with her-- or so he claimed. Despite the feigned annoyance, he always made sure Y/n had the chair with the most cushion to be seated at the window and would summon a wet nurse if his good aunt appeared not to have the strength to feed the babe herself. He secretly didn't despise her little visits if it meant getting to know the baby meant to portray as his son. The knighted Velaryon was already full of love for this child, despite the fact he didn't sire him. Nevertheless, he couldn't wait to introduce the boy to his parents and sister.

During one of these visits, Y/n finally spotted distant sails floating toward the island, her heart leaping for joy as she got to her feet, proclaiming her brother's arrival. Laenor had laughed and urged her to take it easy and not exert herself. With the babe in one arm, he offered the other to Y/n, which she took and together they brought Jace down to the gardens where Y/n was to anxiously wait for her twin. Laenor handed Jace over to his birth mother once she had been seated and for extra measure, kissed the babe's forehead and wished Y/n luck before retreating. Y/n spent the time cooing softly to her infant as she waited, trying not to feed the urge to get up and meet her brother halfway up the stairs leading to the keep. She doesn't have to wait long before she heard someone enter the garden. When she quickly looked up, she found Ser Harwin Breakbones, the same man she remembered leaving behind in King's Landing. Only at the sight of him did she finally stand, babe in arms, and scrutiny on her tongue.

"You fool. You stupid, loyal fool."

Harwin laughs joyfully, "Hello to you, too, sweet sister."

"Shut up."

He rushes forward and brings Y/n into a hug, being as gentle as possible with the baby between them. Y/n melted into the embrace, taking the time to breathe in that familiar scent of home and family before the twins slowly pull away. Harwin beams down at the infant in his sister's arms, "I take it that this is what you were referring to when you mentioned an impossible task. I don't know about you, Y/n, but this looks as though you know how to make the impossible possible. He's a handsome one. What do you call him?"

Her smile is infectious as she lifts her son up higher for his uncle to see him, "We named him Jacaerys. Jace for short."

"Jace," Harwin removed his leather glove and gently placed his bare hand over the top of the boy's head, marveling at how it easily fit into his palm, "Strapping young lad."

"Yes... he already has a dragon."

"Are you fibbing?"

"No, I swear!" Her eyes sparkled in awe as she relayed the story to him, "The egg hatched in his crib a few nights ago. Until Jace is old enough to tame it, it will be under close watch."

The amazement and possibly terror lingers for a moment before Harwin's gaze softens to one of worry, "Y/n... tell me how you are."

She tilts her head, "How do you mean?"

"Are they treating you well? Are you cared for? You can tell me the truth. If they treat you poorly, just say the word and I'll bring you and the boy to Harrenhal. You'll never have to--"

"Harwin." Y/n laughs quietly under her breath, holding Jace in one arm while she takes a hand to gently pat Ser Breakbones' cheek, smiling fondly, "I love you, brother, but you truly are a fool. Even if I was treated unfairly, you cannot protect me from dragons, especially not at Harrenhal of all places. But I'm happy to inform you that that would never be the case. Daemon loves me, as does Rhaenyra. They could never harm me."

She sits down on a garden bench and invites her brother to follow, "How did they come about asking for your aid?"

"Originally, they didn't think I would need to take part in this web they intend to spin," Harwin explained, "Prince Daemon assured me that he would only send a letter if your child was born looking more like a Strong than a Targaryen."

Y/n nods automatically, "Daemon is playing his part well, pretending to be Jace's uncle... though he tries keeping his distance."

She had been staring sadly down at the bundle in her arms, drawing Harwin to a worrying conclusion, "Do you think your husband despises the fact Jace does not look Targaryen?"

"No. At least-- I don't think so." She shook her head, unsure, "I want to believe that he's slowly realizing just how hard this whole situation is going to be for us carrying Laenor and Rhaenyra's children. Once Jace and any siblings he might have start growing, Daemon and I will have to stop parenting them and start pretending to be their aunt and uncle. Knowing my husband, he's probably thinking that when that day comes, it will hurt less if he started keeping his distance now rather than later."

Harwin nods in acknowledgment, believing he understood what his sister meant, "Prince Daemon has always struggled with arranged marriages--"

"I may have been an arranged wife to him at the beginning, Harwin, but that is no longer the case." She reminds him, "As I said, Daemon and Rhaenyra grew to love me and I grew to love them in return. That's likely when Daemon realized that this arrangement was going to be hard, knowing he couldn't openly love our children when they get older."

"I understand." He decides to change the subject, leaning over to gently stroke Jace's little face with a single finger, "What is to be done with the King?"

A different kind of shadow falls over Y/n's face, "Rhaenyra and Laenor will fly to King's Landing with Jace and his hatchling."

Harwin peered up, eyebrows raised, "And you agreed to this?"

"My son is a Targaryen, no matter who he was born to. The King's own mother would fly on her dragon's back when both of her sons were infants. While they're gone, Daemon suggests I try flying with him."

"Y/n..."

"I am Daemon's wife. I've never heard of a dragon harming his rider's wife."

"Still, I have seen you grow ill from tall heights and unsteady ground."

Y/n scoffs when she catches the mockery in his voice, nudging him with her elbow, "You embarrass me, brother... Daemon and Rhaenyra call me the Mother of Dragons. I should probably learn to fly with my children someday, don't you think?"

~~~~~~~~~

Harwin stayed in Dragonstone for a full moon cycle before planning his return to King's Landing per his father's summons. With the Hand's request also came the King's, begging his daughter to bring her son to him as soon as possible. Rhaenyra had prolonged this enough and announced it was time for her and Laenor to present the babe to the King's court. They would wait until Ser Harwin had returned to King's Landing, then they would follow on dragonback. The morning came for the heir of Harrenhal to disembark once again, and so Y/n stood on the docks of Dragonstone with her son in her arms in order to watch him leave.

Harwin smiled while placing his hand on Jace's head once more, "It won't be such a tiresome journey knowing that I'll be seeing you again in the capital soon. You behave for your mother in the meantime."

The strong knight then leaned over and kissed the top of Y/n's head, "As for you. Promise you'll write to me. As much as you can."

"Until my wrist falls off," she promised, "Give Father and Larys my love. Tell them I miss them."

"I will. Until next time, Mother of Dragons."

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Kofi account here. Please support if you can!

Next chapter will have time skips. As I said, I will be taking a break from this series after all the frustration I went through just to post it. Please support my kofi and other fics. If you want to check out other fics that are not Game of Thrones related, my ao3 is Po_ta_toes, thank you!

Enjoy an edit I made of our favorite OT3!

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