#temptress too long fic

[thedenerts]

love isn't red ; it's blue

Hi! This is my first fic on Logan Howlett. Not very good with english but i hope you guys would enjoy reading and if you want to see more please, do ask me ! ^^

dofp LOGAN X FEM!READER

tags: MDNI 18+, bad parenting, fingering, logan and reader are married, reader is in their 30s

word count: 1445

notes; if there's any bad english grammar, i mind you that english is NOT my first language

The night came by too quickly; Logan washed what was left off the little dishes by the sink. He watched as you and Hera (your first born daughter) talking on the patio. He stared at the mother of 2 who hasn’t aged a day since they had met. Your hair wild as a gyspsy’s, and body clothed in a simple shirt dress. You looked over your shoulder and smiled; Logan’s heart skipped a beat. You, yourself don’t even know what you had done to him after all these years. Logan felt his pants tighten at the sight of your black and silver lace bra through the white material. His thought process was broken by a loud grunt behind him, his hazel eyes met Hank’s. Hank had a smirk across his blue furry coat ass face (i intended to write down like this).

“Been awhile huh?” Hank asked, catching Logan’s sexual tension. Logan rubbed his face with his wet hands, turning away from his hairy blue friend. He grabbed the beer Hank offered, leaning against the counter. "Yeah, Mateo, he's definitely my son, alright...but damn," he grunted, taking a sip. "Every time Y/N and I try to get a moment alone, that kid senses it and wakes his little ass up." He slammed his palm on the counter, frustration evident. “Tonight, I’ma put some beer in his milk and keep him asleep all night long" Logan grinned at himself while Hank laughed at his friend’s irritation.

Logan's ears perked up as he heard Hera's yawn and Mateo getting fussy, signalling bedtime. Hank, noticing the situation, slapped Logan's back and exited the kitchen, leaving Logan alone with his thoughts. You were pulled by Hera, who forcefully tugged on your arm while cradling Mateo in the other. Before you could reach the stairs with Hera, Logan stops you by standing in front. “What’s the matter, Lo?” You asked with a soft chuckled “Oh, nothing, I was wondering if I could take over and handle that little monster of ours while you’re off to shower huh?” Logan replied as he picked up Mateo up away from your arm and cradles him in his. You raised a brow at him, feeling a bit sceptical but took the chances as you continue to make your way up with Hera.

Logan waved you a goodnight then looks down at his son’s drooling face. “Hey there bub, I’m not gonna let you ruin me and your momma’s time tonight. Not on my watch.” He cooed at the now smiling baby who was playing with Logan’s mutton chaffs. His tiny hands playing with Logan’s facial hair is almost too adorable to handle as Logan makes his way back into the kitchen. Unscrewing off the cap of the baby bottle, Logan put a few drops of diluted beer into Mateo’s milk and fed him up. He looks up at the time and noticed that it was almost nine p.m. Cradling Mateo in his arms while feeding him the diluted milk, Logan makes his way to Mateo’s room and gently sets him down in his crib. Letting the bottle beside him in case if Mateo gets cranky again.

Hurriedly, Logan makes his way to the master bedroom where you both shared. Hera, who was already sleeping in her other room, unbothered with what noise that will be occurring next. Logan enters the bedroom and waits anxiously as he sat down at the edge of the bed. His eyes clouded over with lust and deep desires when he saw you in a black almost see through that night shirt of yours. He whistles lowly when you smiled at him through your reflection, he approached his temptress nice and slow, hands on your hips before roaming that sweet sweet curve body of yours. Logan brought up his hand behind your head before placing kisses on your lips then to your shoulders while his other hand on your hips, pulling closer to his body. Your breath hitches, your (insert your hair colour) sprawled across his back as you threw you head back, allowing him more access. You felt a burning sensation in your lower belly.

Logan growled lowly, moving the both of you towards a large California king black oak bed. He laid you onto the red sheets, adoring your body with more kisses and soft touches. He spread your legs wide apart and settled in between them. “I missed this…I missed you, darlin’” He groaned with his eyes looking down at you with pure desire, pulling away your panties down and throwing aside as his hands now reaching your now wet sex; you moaned softly. Logan smirked at the sight of you arching your head back telling him that you wanted more. You rolled your eyes at the back of your head as Logan inserted two of his fingers into your wet sex. Your fingers intertwined within the silk sheets of the bed. Logan tries his best to restrain himself as best he could, but as he caught sight of your body begging for more…he withdrew his fingers out, removing off his clothes and pants and threw it aside.

You panted heavily, trying your best to lift your head up, eyes looking down to where Logan's shaft comes out leaking with pre-cum. Logan positions himself between your now spread legs, he looks down at you on the bed, biting his lower lip slightly, his heart racing as he smirks. Seeing you all flustered and panting to his magic touch…makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. “It’s your fault, you know…looking all mighty fine under that night dress of yours, darlin’”. His hand gripping on your hip, tightening while the other bracing against the bed. His voice, rough and ragged as he plunged into you. With that; you let out a strangled moan, your hips slightly raised by Logan’s thrusts. His hand that was bracing against the bed slides under your night dress, then bra and removing it so that his only restrictions is your beautiful body.

As soon as they were on the floor beside his clothes, Logan then returned one hand back to your moist area and the other on your breasts. You moan even louder than before almost begging for more. “You like that, honey? Huh? You like how I’m gonna fill you up real nice and good?” He continues to pound you harder than before, his voice coming out with heavy grunts and moans; You clutched onto his arms as Logan groaned, filling you up. Logan moves with such pace in and out, building up your moans until they were his name. “Please…Lo…I’m gonna come…” you moaned loudly, arching your back causing you to cry out with pleasure. Logan’s primal instinct kicked as he could feel you tightening around him; “Fuck…darlin’! You’re so tight” he said. Your body turning into deep red blush from cheeks to hips. You couldn’t think or said anything except moans and cries from his thrust; hitting your spot every time. You met his already deep thrusts with your hips moving down as he went up.

Logan growled, grabbing your hips and kissing you roughly as your climax hits hard. You came undone on his thick throbbing cock, sweat dripping from both of you but Logan… he wasn’t done. Instead. He withdrew and lifted you on your hands and knees. You didn’t have time to react, so without second to waste, he re-entered. You threw your head back as your body taking every inch of him. Pushing your bottom closer, Logan took your submission and grab ahold of your hips once more; thrusting at full speed. You feel another climax coming quickly. Logan’s hands moved up to your spine, stroking as he finally released his hot seed into you as you let yourself go for a second time. Logan moaned deeply and flops down on top of you before rolling to the other side of the bed. Logan, his arms wraps around you, holding you close against his chest, feeling your body nuzzling into his, his own strength beginning to return. He rests his chin on the top of your head, his breath still uneven, his heart pounding in his chest. "You okay, darlin’? I didn't hurt you, did I?" You shake your head then smiled, laying your head on his chest with your finger playing on his chest.

Both you and Logan laughed before Mateo stirs awake, crying for attention. Logan groans, rolling his eyes. “Well, I guess someone’s awake. Better go check him out” You chuckled softly at him and nodded.

[eddiethehunted]

hi it’s me with yet another snippet from a fic idk if i’ll ever finish 😈

——————

Eddie doesn’t bother knocking anymore. Steve hears the front door open and the distinct sound of Eddie kicking his boots off, probably flicking specks of mud all over the place, before calling out his name.

A smile tugs at his lips as he calls back, “I’m in the kitchen!”

Eddie walks in and jerks to a stop, taking in the sight. Steve had thrown on an apron just to make sure he didn’t get any sauce on his pants or Eddie’s shirt while he was cooking. It’s just an old thing that’s been in the kitchen as far back as he can remember, faded and stained and fraying around the edges. He’s pretty sure it belonged to his grandma before she passed away.

Still, it seems to really do something for Eddie. He clutches at his chest like Steve just shot him point blank, and says, in a wounded voice, “Oh, you devil. You little temptress. You… you…” He trails off, thinking hard as his eyes linger on Steve’s ass. “You coquette. Jezebel. Seductress.”

Steve laughs. “Hi, Eddie.”

“Hello, Stevie,” Eddie replies in an absolutely salacious voice, one that makes delightful little shivers run down Steve’s spine. “God damn, you look hot as fuck. You tryin’ to end this date night early?”

Steve turns away, rolling his eyes, but he’s grinning so big it hurts. “Go pick a movie or something.”

A pair of arms slips around his waist instead, and then there’s the tickle of frizzy hair against his cheek as Eddie hooks his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peek at the lasagna.

“Looks yummy,” he says, punctuating his statement with a lick on the side of Steve’s neck.

It’s not sexy, though, is the thing. It’s actually kind of gross. A little too slobbery and long and annoying. Steve knows Eddie did it on purpose when he groans and shoves him away, wiping at the spit, only to get a cackle and a swift slap to the ass in response.

[messrmoonyy]

- you sunshine, you temptress

Tess Servopoulos x Female reader

Request- already in like Jackson, and so Ellie and Joel live together but Tess doesn’t. They’re new in town so they’re still not used to the whole nice civilized thing, but the reader is her nice neighbor who wears her down. She plants stuff and even like cooks for tess. But she’s not a wimp either, very skilled with guns and stuff. Just a fic where they meet and like reader takes care of Tess. Smut too if you want

A/N- I took this request and ran with it. It took me a long ass time I apologise but I do really like how this turned out. It became far more angsty than I’m sure you wanted it to be but. Here we are. I wanted to explore an idea that Tess didn’t like Jackson and took time to adjust, didn’t really like reader as well. Tess leaning to adjust and love and be loved. Also in transferring this over none of my italics saved and I could’nt be fucked to go back through this again and add them back lmao

Warnings- 18+ | tess is quite low for the majority of this, canon compliant discussions of death and violence, vague/ implied smut (wc- 13.2k )

Tess masterlist | AO3 - Tess requests are open but not currently top priority

SPRING

Tess didn’t like Jackson. Not at first. The drastic change from Boston to the nomadic lifestyle she had been living with Ellie and Joel as they crossed the country had been difficult enough. But to then transfer to something so wildly different from both of those things? Yeah. It took some getting used to.

She didn’t quite know what she had been expecting really. Maybe something like Boston but without the soldiers. Small pockets of people doing their own things to get by, together for safety but nothing much else. Not the working, thriving town she had walked into. Not the cleanliness, the stores, the diner, the hot water- that apparently was only a little temperamental in the colder months compared to year round like Boston- and clean clothes. Jobs. Families. Farming. She felt like she was in an alternate dimension.

She didn’t like the way everyone was so… cheerful. Which was a weird thing to say, but it was true. Because it threw her off.

She had developed her own bubble of happiness with Joel and Ellie over the months. They laughed together at Ellie’s shitty jokes, shared in her joy when she found a can of ravioli she liked. But would be stoney faced in an instant to protect each other. Joel and Ellie she loved like family, they were her family. She was used to warm smiles from them, a desire to be near her and talk to her. She wasn’t used to it from others.

Other people were scared of her. They moved out of her way and they did as she asked. They kept their heads down in case they upset her and they didn’t cross her path. But not in Jackson. No.

They smiled at her in the street, asked her how she was, said good morning.

And it spooked her. She didn’t like it. And she hated that she didn’t. That she had become so hardened that genuine kindness scared her. Because no one was kind anymore. No one showed care unless they wanted something else in return.

So she didn’t know how to take it. She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the new found trust people had in her, their ease at having her around. To her surprise Joel didn’t seem to be struggling as much. He had Tommy back after all and that seemed to be easing his discomfort. Ellie was fitting in… kinda. Her colourful vocabulary and brashness had put some of the kids off at first. But they seemed to be warming to her now.

So it was just her. Trapped in some odd isolated headspace where she didn’t quite know what to do. She didn’t mention it to Joel, didn’t want to interfere with him and Tommy as they rebuilt their relationship again. Maria had tried to pull Tess into things more, and Tess liked her. Maria didn’t take shit, she had power and was in charge. People respected her. And she didn’t let Tess mope around for too long either.

But even Maria couldn’t quite pull her out of that disconnected state completely.

Part of her felt she was being ungrateful. She was alive and as safe as anyone could possibly hope to be in the current climate. Joel was alive. Ellie was alive. She was alive. But there was just… something.

Maybe a sick part of her missed it. Missed Boston. But then again maybe it wasn’t so sick. She hadn’t liked Boston really. But spending so long in one place would always make it hard to leave behind. Even the things she had so often complained about. She found she couldn’t even sleep on her new bed, Jackson having been looked after for so long that the mattress was actually still soft. She was too used to the lumpy one in the zone, and sleeping on the ground for months.

She’d been sleeping on the couch since she’d arrived. If she even managed to sleep at all, unable to fall asleep on the soft sheets and bed.

She missed her power too. Got tetchy when she thought about who was running operations back in the zone now. Who was living in her and Joel’s apartment, had they found their stash? Who was selling her shit and walking around like she had? She had to remind herself she shouldn’t care. That wasn’t her life anymore. It never would be again. Boston was a distant memory she needed to put to rest.

But it was difficult.

The new house felt too big. The town too clean. The people too nice. She didn’t know what she was supposed to do with herself. She mildly regretted living separately from Joel. Just out of… familiarity. She wasn’t used to such an open space to herself. Even before the outbreak the house she had shared with her husband and son hadn’t been so big. And she had had two other bodies to fill the space.

In Boston that tiny apartment she had had Joel to fill the gaps.

But she knew she couldn’t impose on him any longer. Joel was handsome and mellowing. He would no doubt find someone in town… and she couldn’t be the one to stand in the way of that. Especially seeing as she herself had no desire to go there. Their relationship had always been purely platonic and she had no intention of changing that.

So when Maria had asked, she had taken her own place. Ellie had taken the garage. They all had their own space. But those two seemed far better at living in it than she was.

It had taken that stark shift though for her to realise that maybe she simply wasn’t made for being alone. She had met her husband in college. They had moved in together immediately after, and had their son young. Then she’d fallen into the group heading for Boston, met Joel… she’d never really been alone.

Though she also wasn’t particularly doing anything to change that either. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Back in Boston she’d get lonely from time to time, would go out and pick someone up with ease. Now? She didn’t know where that confidence had gone.

She felt people looking at her when she ventured out. She knew she wasn’t exactly unattractive, she knew people liked to look. But she had no desire to pursue. She didn’t even entertain them for a second. And they all grew bored of trying and moved on.

Everyone was friendly enough, but some kept their distance when they realised she wasn’t the… happiest of people. But one person didn’t let the permanent frown glued to Tess’ face deter them.

You.

You lived across the street from her, would wave hello every morning when Tess ventured out to find out what tasks Maria had to keep her busy for the day. You’d smile. You’d say hello. You even left her things on the porch.

And you liked flowers.

She gathered that pretty quickly. The window boxes were full, potted bushes and blooms littered your porch and edge of the dirt path street. It made her own place look incredibly dull. But maybe that was fitting.

She’d never been one for flowers. So expensive for them to just sit and wilt away in a vase, to be left with nothing but some crisped petals and dead stems within a week. So amongst the sandwiches and pies left at her door, the odd flowering embellishments she knew came from you.

A lot of people in town left stuff for her and Joel, to welcome them. To give them things they needed. She didn’t like accepting any of it. She didn’t like the feeling of… owing people. Feeling like they would have a hold over her, that they had given her a new jacket so now she owed them something. That you had left her a pie so now you were owed something too.

So she left the majority of it exactly where it was placed on the porch, Maria being the one to bring them inside for her.

“ You are gonna attract every damn animal in town if you keep leaving this stuff on your porch Tess “ Maria used as a greeting when Tess opened the door one morning, seeing the woman standing there with what seemed to be a loaf in her hands “ and wasting food? Really? Especially this? Now this looks delicious. Still warm too “ Tess scoffed but before she could speak she heard your voice.

“ Good morning Maria! Good morning Tess! “ she looked over Maria’s shoulder to see you jogging down your porch steps and waving, thankfully turning to walk into town rather than try and start a conversation

“ morning hun “ Maria responded with a smile, glancing over to Tess when she ignored you as she always did.

“ what? “ Maria sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in the way she so often did when she was at her wits end. Usually with Ellie and Joel’s bickering.

“ I’ve told you a million times. We all get along here. It’s a small town Tess, you can’t have grudges. Or.. at least public ones. I have a few secret ones myself “ Tess sighed and stepped back to let Maria inside, who only sighed too when she eyed the blanket on the couch “ you’re still sleeping on the couch? “

Tess brushed her off and grabbed her boots from by the door, sitting down to pull them on. She could already sense another of Maria’s lectures brewing, and the headache pulsing behind her temples made her hope she’d hold off on it.

“ I just fell asleep there I was… reading “ Maria did not seem even remotely convinced and walked through to place the bread down in the kitchen.

“ And what’s with the silent treatment with the doll across the street? “

“ she’s too… happy “ Maria laughed and shook her head

“ She's harmless. She’s kind “

“ she’s fuckin annoying “ Maria’s eyebrows flew up and she gave a small laugh again

“ Theresa “ it sounded almost scolding. Tess scoffed at that “ you sound like Ellie “ Tess scoffed again. Fucking Ellie?

“ calling me a kid now Maria? “

“ yeah. Cause you’re acting like one “ she sighed and stood with her hands on her hips, the way that told anyone nearby that she meant business. To shut the fuck up and listen to her “ you’re here now. And you need to stop isolating yourself “ she walked over to her and placed a hand to her arm, a gentle comforting squeeze “ I know it’s hard. I do. But you have to try “

She knew she did. She was just stubborn and stuck in her ways. And you really were… peppy. One of those people that seemed constantly in a good mood, seeing the world through rose tinted glasses and trying to spread your joy.

Tess’ own glasses had smashed a long long time ago. And she saw no reason for the amount of joy you seemed to hold.

“ I’m trying “

“ Try harder then “ Maria said before folding her arms and tilting her head a little as she watched her “ what’s going on with you? “ Tess stood up again and ran a hand through her hair, wishing she knew. Wishing she had the words to explain.

But how could she? How could she tell Maria that she wanted to go home? She wanted Boston back. That she felt out of place in Jackson and had never felt as lonely as she did in her entire life.

“ I’m fine. I’m just tired. Shall we go? “ Maria didn’t seem convinced but nodded, following her outside.

It was a nice day. Spring was in full swing now, in the weeks between Salt Lake City and settling into town the chill of winter had finally disappeared. She could see daffodils sprouting in the window boxes of your house. Her own were barron.

“ I’ve put you on farming rotation today. Sounds good? “ she nodded “ okay. It’s easy enough. Pot things, label things, pull things. It’s quite therapeutic “ she’d be the judge of that one.

She followed Maria around to the greenhouses, watching how people greeted her and smiled when they saw her. She didn’t know whether she was jealous or annoyed.

“ okay. Greenhouse 4, shouldn’t take more than a couple hours. When you’ve finished in there come find me if you want to help out some more. Okay? "She followed where Maria was pointing and stopped when she spotted someone already inside greenhouse 4.

“ are you fuckin kidding me Maria“

You.

Maria smiled and squeezed her shoulders, leaning close to her ear

“ Be nice “ Tess scoffed and turned to try and beg her to assign her anywhere else but there, but Maria was already walking off.

“ Maria- “

“ be. Nice! “

“ fuck “ she gave a frustrated huff and headed into the greenhouse, you turned around at the sound with that usual beaming smile on your face. She didn’t have the energy for this today. Didn’t have the energy for you.

“ Oh hi. I didn’t know I was paired with you today “ she stood not really knowing what she was supposed to do, annoyance practically steaming out of her ears “ you wanna get that side and I’ll continue with this side? Seeds are in that bag there, compost and soil is there, tools in the crate under the table. Okay? “

She gave a small nod and headed for the crate of tools, pulling out a small trowel and grabbing a pot. But she found her hands refusing to move. Simply staring down at the equipment in her hands. It felt like a weight was pushing down on her shoulders, crushing her chest, turning all of her muscles to lead.

“ I thought Maria would’ve had you trained up for patrols by now “ you said lightly, the sound of your trowel filling another pot “ from what I’ve heard your pretty handy with a gun “

What had you heard?

“ yeah “ she said, almost having to force herself to reply “ soon… they don’t like new people straight on patrol “ her hands still wouldn’t move.

“ figures. You could always ask her to put you on my regular route at first if you like. It’s one of the busier ones, you seem a little stressed. And well blowing the head off a clicker might be beneficial “ you laughed as you said it but quite frankly she felt you were right.

She didn’t like being unarmed. Adults in town were allowed to own their own weapons but weren’t to bring them out of their house unless they were heading on patrol. Her back pocket felt too empty without her gun there. Her fingers itched to hold it, if only for the familiarity of the metal on her fingers.

“ or why don’t you see if she’ll assign you on the hunting crew? Shooting rabbits isn’t exactly as fun as putting down clickers but. You know it’s something “ you seemed fully convinced that the answer to Tess’ supposed stress was killing something one way or another.

What had you heard about her? Who had been talking?

“ right “ she still hadn’t potted a single seed, some unmoving crushing sense of dread still heavy on her shoulders.

She didn’t know why the weight of her problems was weighing her down so heavily in the last few days. She didn’t know why she couldn’t just adjust to Jackson. Why was she feeling more anxious and depressed in the safest possible place she could be, than when she had been living under the looming threat of being murdered everyday?

No normal person's mind worked that way. No normal decent person craved the life she had once had. The familiarity back at least. She felt sick.

You were humming a song to yourself now. It felt irrationally loud in her ears. She could hear Maria’s voice in her head too. Telling her to try. To try be nice. Try to mingle.

“ thank you. For the bread “ she said in an attempt at conversation. She’d known it was you that had left it. Had seen the sprig of some kind of flower tucked into the cloth it was wrapped in. Obviously you “ but I don’t need charity “

“ it’s not charity “ you said, the sound of your tools stilling “ it’s a gift. I don’t know… welcome to town gesture that’s all “

“ Whatever it was. I don’t need it “ maybe this wasn’t exactly nice. But it needed to be said “ you can take it back if you want. I haven’t touched it “

“ alright “ she didn’t have to look at you to know your face would be reminiscent of a kicked puppy “ keep the lavender though. It’s calming… it’ll help you sleep” she turned around to look at you then. How did you know she wasn’t sleeping?

“ how- “

“ I came from a QZ myself, I spent years after that roaming. I know it takes time to adjust Tess. I barely slept a wink when I first got here… paranoid an infected was gonna jump me in my sleep or FEDRA was gonna come arrest me cause they suspected me of rebel activity… silly I know but. Our brains are hardwired into survival mode and it takes some time to shake it off “

It sounded genuinely sincere. Caring. She barely knew you and yet you seemed as though you actually wanted to help her. It made her skin prickle.

“ yeah. Well. I’m not you “ she turned back around as if to resume her previous activity. Though she had still not potted a single seed.

“ That's very clear “ even annoyed you sounded remotely cheerful still. Like no malice truly laced your words.

What was she doing here? The world was a hell hole, it was full of shitty people all doing shitty things. And there she was planting fucking carrots. In some odd altercation with you about her behaviour.

“ Tess? Everything okay? "Your hand falling on her shoulder shocked her into reality. She stepped away from your touch, moving so quickly it was as if you’d burnt her, heading for the door. She felt like she was suffocating she needed to get out “ Tess? “

“ I- I have to go “ you hurried out after her and she took a deep breath of the fresh air trying to calm herself. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t skittish and scared. She didn’t get anxious and erratic. She didn’t recognise herself anymore.

“ Can I do anything? I can get Maria or-“

“ look. I know you mean well. But I don’t need… any of this. I don’t need you thinking you’re helping all of the time “ her words were harsh and as much as you annoyed her, it was like looking at a kicked puppy “ just. Stop “

She turned away from you and headed straight for home. Home. Home that felt nothing like the word.

She felt ungrateful. People were sleeping out in the woods or in derelict buildings basically waiting to be attacked by infected. And she had a house. Warmth. Safety. But she couldn’t shake the feelings and she hated it.

She closed the town out behind her, closing the door and leaning against it to catch her breath. Why was this all so difficult for her? Why was she so incapable of adjusting to some kind of regular society again?

She debated talking to Joel. If anyone in town understood her it was him. Joel knew her inside out, could talk to her with just a look, knew what she was going to do before she did it. But he was settling in fine. He wasn’t struggling like she was. She didn’t want to weigh him down with that when he finally seemed so light.

She hid away for the rest of the day, almost expecting Maria to come and drag her back out again. But she didn’t to her relief. She had her peace and quiet to mope. To wallow in her own stupid sadness and isolation.

Until the evening.

She sighed when there was a knock on the door, probably Ellie ready to go charging around the room rambling off every piece of information about her day with an amused Joel in tow. Though she actually wouldn’t mind that.

But it wasn’t Ellie. Or Joel.

“ hey “

“ I thought- “

“ I know. Look. I just wanted to come and tell you I was sorry if I offended you or something. You just… you seemed like you needed a friend and I wanted to help “ she could tell you genuinely meant it. That you truly were one of those people that was just… nice. Good. Even after the past two decades that had twisted and warped so many others, herself included, you had somehow remained what she assumed was the same.

“ well I don’t… need any help “ you gave a small nod but didn’t immediately leave, shuffling a little awkwardly on the spot “ anything else? “

“ I noticed. I noticed you don’t have anything in the window boxes. I have some spare seeds… flowers can really help brighten the place up. I find that on sad days it’s always a little bit nicer to look at a flower than an empty box “ she opened her mouth to decline, to tell you she didn’t want you in her way. But you seemed to anticipate it “ you won’t even have to see me. Or talk to me. I can do it when you’re not home or if you are I can… I can just knock so you know I’m there. So you can wait for me to leave or- it’s just an idea “

She figured that in the long run giving you something to do that you might take as being helpful, might actually make you leave her alone a little more. And so, ever so slightly reluctantly, she sighed and nodded.

“ fine “ the smile on your face after that almost made her want to smile too. Almost. So kind. So genuine. So… bright.

“ yeah? Okay. Do you have any preferences? Or allergies? Colours maybe- “ she lifted a hand in a silent request for you to shut up.

Be nice.

She closed her eyes for a moment and gave a steady sigh, forcing some attempt at a smile onto her face.

“ anything. Anything is fine “ you gave a nod and turned slightly before pausing. You seemed to debate something for a moment before delving into your pocket and pulling out a small jar of something that looked like jam.

“ I know… I know you said you didn’t want- it goes real nice with the bread “ she waited a second before taking it from your hands. You said nothing else, just gave her a small nod of a goodbye and headed down the steps and across the street.

That evening she ate bread with the jam. It was annoyingly good.

———————————

You’d appeared the next morning to plant the seeds. And then you tended to them everyday. Watering them and doing god knows what to the soil. You would let her know you were there each time, a small knock on the door that you didn’t even mind if she didn’t answer. Just letting her know you were out there. Just as you’d said.

And as time passed she found herself answering it from time to time. Just poking her head around the door to see what you were doing, always there with your small watering can and a smile.

And that was okay. You were okay. Nothing else in her life felt right at that moment. But having a new constant did. And she had to admit that even when she woke up on the couch, rubbing at her sore neck, seeing the sprouts through the window almost made her crack a smile. Almost.

SUMMER

As the cold completely shifted from Jackson’s air she found that not even the warmth could truly raise her mood completely. Everyone in town seemed far more cheery, like the sun had some odd healing ability to make everyone more joyful after the bitter winter and the final week of spring which had been nothing but solid rain fall.

Though Tess, begrudgingly enough, found that her own joys still only stemmed from her family. But also from you. As much as she refused to admit it, she’d found herself looking forward to your small knocks on her door each morning, or on mornings where she left early for patrol she found herself almost hoping you’d be on the porch with your watering can and your smile.

Which she didn’t exactly understand or care to understand either. In fact she blatantly ignored the voices in her head warning that she was going soft. That she was beginning to almost look at you as some kind of friend.

She opened the door more often than not now, even made attempts to ask you about the flowers or ask about your day. You never probed her about herself which she liked. You didn’t pry. You let her be. You let her keep her walls fiercely guarded without so much as a complaint. And she kind of hated the fact that made her like you a little more.

And that morning was no different to the rest now, you had knocked and she had gone out to say hello. Had offered you tea and you had accepted as you so often did.

Her night had been filled with bad dreams. And she had feared that it would send her into another one of those days. Where she wanted to do nothing but hide and mope. But she had forced herself to go outside. At least to say hello.

Annoyingly to her, Maria had been right. And she lived there now. And that meant she had to try. She had to try adjust. Fit in. Be… nice.

She still felt wary around you. Maybe even more so because of how she was beginning to sort of like you. Or maybe tolerate was the better word. She told herself it was anyway. But she had been in Jackson a few months at this point. And after a few months your joy and happiness was bound to wear her down. Even if she was reluctant about it.

“ you know if you take good enough care of these they’ll bloom next spring too “ you said as she hovered by the door watching you “ it takes time and care though. Pretty things but strong enough to survive the winter if they’re tended too correctly “ your eyes flitted up to her for a moment as you said it and she felt the statement were a little more loaded than just being about the flowers.

“ I’ll leave that up to you “ you smiled warmly and looked back down at the plants.

“ here’s hoping “

Tess watched you carefully, still unsure exactly how to pinpoint what she was feeling. She was beginning to like having you around. But also your joy drove her insane. You were annoying. So unbelievably annoying with your bright smile and desire to care.

And yet… you had managed to be the one to coax her out of the house. Yes it was only to her porch but it was still out. You had given her something to almost look forward to each day.

She didn’t like it.

“ oh shit “ she blinked a couple of times to drag herself out of her head to see blood in her peripheral, dripping between your fingers and between the floorboards of the porch.

“ what did you- “

“ fucking sheers they slipped I. Look, it's fine it’s just a cut… You got a bandage or something? “ Tess nodded and glanced towards her door. She realised how bad it would seem to keep you out on the porch. To just leave you there whilst she went looking. But also the thought of you in her home…

“ yeah. Do you wanna… come in? Wanna wash it or something “ part of her almost wished you’d say no, but the relief on your face made her regret the thought instantly

“ thanks Tess “ she headed straight for the kitchen. Not even looking to see if you were behind her, rummaging around in a cupboard for her box of medical supplies.

“ wash it. The sink “ she murmured, watching you carefully from the corner of her eye as you headed for the sink beside her, cupping your hand in some attempt to not drip blood onto the tiles. She looked at your bloody hands, ignoring the guilt rising in her chest at the fact you had injured yourself doing something for her, and reached out for you. She held your cut hand in her palm, leading it carefully under the water. She could feel you watching her, eyes almost burning into her skin as she gently washed away the blood and the soil.

She focussed on the pink swirls twisting down the drain rather than looking at you.

She didn’t like it. Didn’t like how you put her on edge. She didn’t want to go delving into why exactly that was either. Why in the space of 6 months she had gone from despising your very existence, to having you in her home because you’d hurt yourself tending to her flowers. It was a lot to try and process all in one go.

“ Marias always laughing at me “ you said as she turned off the water “ says I’m one of the best snipers in town yet I’m clumsy as shit with anything else. Can shoot a clicker miles off but can’t handle a pair of gardening shears? Idiot “

Maria had told her all about your impressive skills out on patrols. She was yet to see them for herself though, Maria hadn’t paired you together yet. Thankfully. Though she couldn’t lie that curiosity on the matter was strong. She’d always had some morbid fascination with the nicest of people that were able to kill like it was second nature.

A silent chaos raging behind a gentle smile.

“ guns more important than sheers “

“ well that depends on the situation don’t you think? Gun won’t help clip the weeds “

She bandaged your hand silently with the care and tenderness that few saw from her, wrapping it up and admiring her work for a second.

She stood back when she was done not exactly knowing what to say anymore. And she hated it. Despised it. Tess always knew what to say. She was always one step ahead of everyone in the room, but she faltered when it came to you. And she didn’t know why. Or what power you seemed to hold over her as of late. Was it your kindness? Was it the simple fact that you had never shown her nothing but care and respect since day one and she just didn’t know how to accept it? Maybe.

She wandered if you noticed how she looked out of place in her own home. Surrounded by so many things that she had no connection to. Objects that weren’t hers, placed into a house that had once been lived in by others. Loved by others.

Like so many others she had gotten used to not getting attached to materialistic things. She could see you glancing around, how you could probably see that from the way the place looked so… bare. Unloved by her. Un- lived in by her. That you probably figured it out pretty quickly.

You were watching her intently as you wandered the kitchen and she didn’t like it, she didn’t like the way you made her feel like a prey animal ready to dart any moment. That wasn’t her. She wasn’t prey. She wasn’t the hunted. She was the hunter. She was the one with the upper hand.

But not with you. Not with you and your unyielding kindness and desire to know her.

So she turned around and started packing away the medical box slowly and carefully. Just to give her hands something to do.

“ why are you so afraid of me? “ you asked suddenly and she turned around with a confused look on her face. Afraid of you? Why would she possibly be afraid of someone like you.

“ what are you talking about? “

“ you’re afraid. You won’t let me in. You barely even let me be your friend. You keep trying to scare me away with being so… miserable. You have to let people in Tess… and I think it’s because you’re scared yourself I- “

“ I’m not afraid of you “ She said immediately. Her heckles raised at the intrusion. And at the confusion for your sudden lack of ability to not interfere “ are you afraid of me? “ she asked, her voice calm. And low and steady. Intimidating. The way she spoke to people in Boston who were pissing her off and she needed to remind them who she was. Her eyes had not left you for even a second. They were burning into you. Calculated. Smart. Intense.

Some desperate attempt and desire to keep you out. To make you back off. Even if it meant missing those morning knocks and tea on the porch. She couldn’t let you in. She wouldn’t.

But you weren’t afraid of her. You never had been. She could tell. You were stubborn. So unbearably kind but stubborn. Stubborn in the way you had kept up your daily visits even when she wouldn’t answer her door, in the way you still waved at her before she even spoke to you. So stubborn in the way you were standing your ground before her.

“ no. I know I should be. I know what you did. But I’m not “ she folded her arms across her chest, quirking a brow. Who had you been talking to? What could you possibly know. So you hadn’t been refraining from asking her questions all along, you’d been getting your information else where. She was almost impressed. It was smart. Calculated even.

At this point she wouldn’t be surprised if you’d cut yourself on purpose to get inside and make her talk.

“ oh? Oh you know what I did? “

“ someone in town… was gossiping I- everyone’s done bad things “ you said with a shrug.

“ what do you know? “ she advanced on you then. Slowly. Crossing the room to where you stood by the wall. You didn’t move. You held your ground.

“ a lot “

“ tell me “ she wanted to hear you say it. To confirm if what you knew was true. But also because maybe some sick part of her needed reminding what she had once been capable of. Of what she had been before she had become that misery of a human whose only joys came from her pseudo kid and the woman who planted flowers for her.

“ all the people you killed. Tortured “ your voice had dropped to almost a whisper as she stood in front of you. But you still didn’t look scared. And she couldn’t decide how that made her feel. Annoyed? Because she clearly didn’t hold the fear inducing powers she once had. Or… relieved? That she had finally come across someone that took what she had done and dusted it under the rug. Accepted it and moved on.

“ and it doesn’t scare you? “

“ you must’ve had your reasons “ there was a heavy tension hanging in the air, she could feel it thickly between you. Soon enough one of you would choke “ I know what you did. I don’t care. You can’t scare me away Tess “ at this point she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to.

No one had challenged her like that. No one like you anyway. No one so… sweet.

Her old self would’ve laughed. Would’ve laughed in your face and thrown you out. But then again. Her old self would’ve laughed at what she had become too.

Things had changed. And she needed to accept it.

“ stop trying to scare me off “ to her surprise you reached up, your hand gentle on her face. She recoiled at first. As if your fingers were steeped in acid and you’d blistered her skin with your touch. But you waited a moment and did it again. And she froze, unsure of what you were doing or how she was supposed to react to it “ I want to be your friend. Let me. You don’t have to scare every single person that wants to care for you away. If anything you damn well need it “

She didn’t know what to say. Stood there like she was made of stone with your gentle hand on her cheek, your face full of nothing but warmth and affection for her. She felt like a deer in headlights.

“ you don’t know what I need “ she finally spoke, taking a single step back so that your hand fell away. Though she was certain she could still feel it. A kind touch was so unfamiliar to her, so rare that it lingered in her skin “ you know nothing about me “

“ I know enough “ so stubborn. So unwilling to take no for an answer or let yourself be pushed away. She kind of liked it. Liked the challenge “ you have to let people in. Let me in. I know how you feel- “

“ how could you possibly know how I feel “ she almost spat “ you’ve lived here. Comfortable and safe “ you gave a small laugh at that

“ not always “ she didn’t know why she had assumed you had been there so long, maybe because you were so… settled. Adapted “ spent two years captured by a bunch of slavers before I even set foot in Jackson. I’m not some sheltered little girl born into comfort Tess “ she took a step back, eyes narrowing as she tried to asses the new information presented to her.

She knew about slavers. Had been taken by them herself at one point. But two years? She had been there two days, in a tiny camp as they prepared to move her to their main base before she’d managed to get away. Those two days had been hell. She couldn’t imagine two years.

Maybe she had underestimated you after all.

But before she could answer you properly there was another knock to her door.

“ only me! “ Maria’s voice sounded as she entered the house, opening her mouth to say something else but stopping when she saw you stood there. She looked violently overjoyed “ oh! I’m sorry. Didn’t know you had company “ it must have been an odd sight to walk into. Tess as stoney faced as ever and you practically gazing at her.

“ sorry I- “

“ did you need something? “ Tess asked

“ lunch, the whole family. Good haul from the hunting crew today “ family. Her family. As dysfunctional as it was she very much wanted to escape the current situation and see them “ but if you’re busy- “

“ no. I’m not. She was just leaving “ she glanced over at you as you gave a small nod and a smile, quietly excusing yourself and heading for the door.

“ just. Think about what I said Tess? I’ll see you tomorrow “

She didn’t hear the end of that for the entirety of lunch. Maria not usually one to pry. But knowing very much that Ellie and Tommy would. Casually mentioning it and… that was that.

Ellie seemed particularly delighted. Looking at her in a way that she recognised from her own childhood when she realised liking girls wasn’t just a her thing. That she wasn’t the only one. But Tess didn’t probe. Though she was happy in the knowledge Ellie would come to her if she needed.

“ y’know I think it’s real nice “ Joel said to her when she stepped outside stating she needed a little air “ she’s softenin you “ Tess scoffed and folded her arms across her chest

“ you have no idea what you’re talking about. She’s a neighbour. And she looks after the flowers. She’s a pain in my ass”

“ baby steps Tess “ she glanced over at him and he was giving her that look that said he knew something was going on inside her head “ you leave the house more now “

“ to my porch and back “ she mumbled not entirely wanting to get into that conversation. She was not in the mood to discuss her long hours trapped inside her house. And her head.

“ baby. Steps “ she sighed and ran a hand over her face. She was tired.

“ she wants to be my friend “ it sounded so unbelievably juvenile to say out loud. She almost regretted saying it

“ and… you don’t want that? “

“ no “ she said maybe a little too quickly

“ right “ she could feel him watching her, trying to read her as he so often did. The way only two people who had been together for so long could do “ I don’t think I believe that “

“ I’m not asking you to “ he sighed again, used to her stubbornness. Her bad moods.

“ you are allowed to have friends Tess. And… more than that. I don’t know what that girls intentions are, I don’t pretend to know how your mind works either. But if you really didn’t like her then why are you still lettin her around? Tess I know would’ve told her to fuck off and threatened her for good measure for even tryna talk to you if you didn’t like her “

“ you’re talking shit “ he laughed and shrugged

“ you’re proving my point. Tess. Just do something. If you want her? Go get her. Tess I know would. And if not? Tell her to leave you be. Cause this mood you’re in… it’s not nice to see “

“ ‘ the Tess you know’ “ she muttered under breath. She didn’t feel like that Tess anymore.

By the time she walked home she couldn’t tell if she was more annoyed by the entire situation or relieved by it because somehow Joel of all people had begun to put things into perspective for her.

Maybe it was both.

Though the annoyance was slightly winning out. She wasn’t soft. She didn’t like the implications that you were softening her. She was stronger than that. Stronger than you. She hadn’t pushed you away because Maria said she needed to be nice. That’s why.

It was.

Wasn’t it?

She felt a sudden desperate need to prove to herself that what she was thinking was correct. And not Joel.

She was not soft. She was in control.

She didn’t quite know what it was that compelled her feet to head up your porch steps rather than her own. Knocking on the door before she’d even fully come to a halt.

Waiting impatiently for you to answer, looking a little surprised to see her when you did appear.

She pushed past the threshold, watching you take a step back in mild confusion at her sudden intrusion, cupping your face in both her hands and kissing you. You stumbled for barely half a second, kissing her back with a muffled moan and your fingers wrapping around her wrists.

The confidence she was used to felt far more present in your space, in the four walls of your home rather than her own.

She pressed you up against the closest wall, kissing you like her life depended on it. Far more in control than she was a few hours earlier. Than she had been in a while.

And this was it. This was the familiarity she had craved wasn’t it? This was the power she had been missing, the ability to take what she wanted when she wanted it. Even when she wasn’t entirely sure it was what she wanted.

So why didn’t it feel the same. Why did it not even slightly fill the void in her chest.

You were breathing heavily as she pulled away to catch her own breath, a joyful almost dopey smile on your face. You looked so incredibly beautiful. Sweet.

She’d break you. She would. She knew she would. It was a vicious awful cycle. Anyone she got close to got hurt. Friend or… more. It would all end the same way.

“ this won’t end well “ she said quietly, not entirely meaning to say it out loud. The words escaping her as she watched you, someone so beautiful and kind didn’t belong with someone like her.

Someone who had not let the awful things that happened to them twist them into something unrecognisable. In the way that Tess had.

It would be a mess.

“ maybe not “ you answered, voice just as quiet “ but did you ever stop to think that maybe it will be okay? “

“ no “ you laughed softly, head leaning back against the wall and your eyes falling closed for a moment. She wished she could have such a carefree look. She didn’t think her face even knew how to relax into such an expression.

“ have a little faith “

AUTUMN

It had been over 20 years since her life had completely fallen apart. And a lot could happen in 20 years. A lot had happened. Tess was good at having bad shit happen and then burying it so deep down that she didn’t have to think about it. She was good at having a blank face when inside she was screaming. But in the end, one person could only hide so much stuff for so long. Eventually it would spill. And every now and again it did.

And when it did? It was suffocating.

It struck her out of no where. She never saw it coming.

Sometimes it almost scared her. Scared her that the stuff she had done wasn’t even the worst of what kept her up at night. She had no remorse for the people she had killed. Tortured. Those bodies and those sounds. They didn’t haunt her. The stuff that had come before that had damaged her beyond repair.

The first few years had been the worst. Before FEDRA had full control, before any rules were in full effect. When everyone ran rampant, when people looted and murdered because they felt like it. When groups formed and did whatever they wanted. To who they wanted. When Tess had been alone. Had left her home with nothing but the clothes on her back and ran. And ran. And by some miracle survived.

That time before Joel. Before the entirety of the group making their way up to Boston.

Tess didn’t get scared. She wasn’t afraid of things. But she had been back then. She had been so afraid.

So utterly powerless and out of control.

She tried to see the positives as ridiculous as it sounded. Tried to twist the shitty things that had happened. The shitty things that she had done. She had done them to survive. And maybe that scared her even more. That she felt justified in her actions.

That she could think back to certain people she had tortured. Killed. Ambushed. And justify it. Not feel as though she had done the wrong thing at all.

And that she would do it all again if she needed to.

She would throw herself in front of trucks feigning an injury. Just a poor, defenceless woman. Beg for help only for Joel and the others to spring from the bushes and take everything they had. She’d kill every man and woman that got in the way of her rise in the smuggling ring. She’d tortured ever last piece of information out of those fuckers who had taken Ellie. Murdered every. Last. Firefly. In that hospital.

All again. A million times over.

But her humanity was still in her somewhere. Buried deep down but there. And when it reared its head it was ugly. Filled with words to make her feel like the worst person alive. Fill her ears with the strangled cries of her son. The sickening sound of the blood that pooled in her husband’s throat.

It made her feel numb. Like she was floating. No longer in her body and desperately trying to claw her way back down to it.

“ Tess? “ she was too lost to react. Too deep inside her own head to even turn around and look at you. But she knew that voice. The voice that had become as familiar as Maria’s. Ellie’s. Joels “ Tess what are you doing it’s freezing out here “ your voice was soft compared to the voices that were screeching inside her head, soothing. Gentle. Quieter yet somehow speaking over the screaming ones.

Your hands fell onto her arm and she flinched, shifting away from your touch.

“ hey. Sorry “ you said softly, hands raised in some kind of surrender “ won’t touch you again “ the voices were still shouting at her, but a little further off now. Like she was on one side of the room and they were on the other. And wasn’t that interesting. Where in the past only Joel had been able to coax her back to reality. Ground her. Now you had. And she had known you far less “ can I sit? “ she gave a small nod and you sat down, leaving a small gap between you both.

Things between the two of you had been a little different as of late.

You hadn’t kissed since that day she’d barged through your front door and re established that she was very much the one holding the reins. But she was letting herself be lighter. Trying her hardest to open up to you. To go into town more. Smile back at people. And it was hard. And slow going. But she was getting there.

Baby steps. Like Joel had said.

“ I’m gonna go get a blanket okay? It’s so cold “ she listened as you went inside, returning a few moments later.

“ why are you here? “ she asked as you sat down beside her again, wrapping the blanket around you both.

“ I was out on late patrol. I saw the light on… was gonna come see why you were still up. Have a chat or something… you didn’t answer so I just poked my head inside and I saw the back door was open“

She gave a small nod and continued staring out at the backyard. She hadn’t really done much to it. But there was a rope swinging attached to the large tree at the bottom now. Ellie loved it.

“ do you need to talk? About anything? “ you asked quietly “ it’s what friends are for you know. Talking “

“ I’ve never been very good at friends “ you gave a small laugh and nodded

“ yeah. I figured that one out myself “ you shuffled a little closer to her, nudging her leg with yours “ you must’ve had friends at some point “

The ones that truly stuck in her mind were Bill and Frank. Frank would’ve loved you she realised very quickly. You were so alike. So happy. Made to see the positive in absolutely every single thing. Yet becoming friends with Frank had been far easier than becoming friends with you.

She’d been different back then.

“ I had. I had friends “ she started, realising in that moment that she had never actually spoken about Bill and Frank since they’d died. Her and Joel had done as they always had and refused to talk about it. Let it settle and weigh heavy until it began to dissipate on its own “ they lived a few miles out of Boston. Met them over the radio “

“ they weren’t in a zone? “

“ no. Bill… fuckin crazy been planning for doomsday his whole life. Had the whole town mapped out and wired up “ she actually cracked a small smile thinking about it “ Frank though. I think. I think he’s the closest thing to a friend I really had “

She missed him. She missed them both. And missing Bill was something she never thought she’d feel, even if he was more open to her company than Joel’s.

You listened diligently as she spoke about Lincoln. Dinners in the garden and Bills stash of supplies, the awkwardness that always lingered between Bill and Joel. The bi monthly drop offs that had started increasing in distance as Frank got sicker and Bill got older. And then finding them with Ellie. The silent moment she had taken in the garden to cry for her lost friends whilst Ellie showered and Joel fixed the car.

“ they sound like amazing people “ she shrugged and glanced over at you for a moment. And maybe it was silly of her to take so long to realise it. But maybe she had a friend in you, maybe more than that. Maybe she had done all along and had been too blinded by her own self loathing and moping around to truly notice it.

It was the early hours of the morning and there you were, sat on her porch steps in the dark. Listening to her talk. Comforting her. And she realised that you were exactly what she needed. In that moment and every other moment to follow. Your compassion and your calming force of a personality. The way you cared…. Loved even. Your stubbornness. Your loyalty.

“ thank you “ she said quietly “ for being here “ you looked up at her and smiled. That warm, sweet smile that made even the coldest of days feel mild. Tess was all sharp edges and bitter words, someone so soft should be keeping a safe distance to ensure they didn’t get cut. But you weren’t afraid. You never had been “ for everything “ she didn’t want to elaborate and you didnt make her.

She reached forward to cup your face in her hand, thumb tracing over your cheekbone. You understood her in a way it had taken Joel 20 years to. Some odd force of nature that wiggled your way through the cracks in her heavily guarded walls.

Her eyes drifted down to your lips. Remembering the hard, forceful kiss you had shared that one time before. The kind she was used to. The kind she was good at. She wasn’t very good at being tender and caring. Kissing and all that lead from it had long since been something she did out of care and love. It was a means to an end. A release. A way to remind herself she was human.

But it didn’t have to be that way anymore.

“ you gonna kiss me or not? “ you whispered. And it made her lips twitch into a smile.

Tess had kissed a lot of people in her time. And if she was perfectly honest she wasn’t entirely a fan. Kisses were not like how the movies or books portrayed them most of the time. Uncoordinated or clumsy, too much teeth or tongue. She didn’t care much for kissing.

But kissing you was different. Kissing you was like a shot of adrenaline straight into her veins. It was the closest she felt she could come to understanding why Joel had been so hooked on pills before Ellie. It was addictive.

But something had changed now. Some locked gate inside of her had finally clicked open and you had seized the opportunity to slip your way inside. And she surprised herself with the realisation that it actually didn’t seem all that terrifying now, having you there. Having those feelings and thoughts.

Of course there was still… something. But it was less so.

Holding your face in her hand, your willingness to let her lead and melt into her. With every soft and gentle movement of her lips against yours she felt herself slipping. Like when the winter storms would hit Boston and her worn down boots couldn’t find grip on the icy paths.

But this slip wouldn’t end with her falling flat on her ass and nursing a bruised leg. You were keeping her tethered. Your fingers that were looped around her wrist, your hair that was tickling her face.

It made her feel startlingly real. Alive. Present. Present in a moment in a way she hadn’t done all day, she’d spent the day drifting. Some far off place in her head where her demons scrambled over her and suffocated the air out of her lungs. But she was breathing fine now, breathing in air that was yours, breathing as if you were her air.

She kissed you until her jaw started to ache, not sure how long it had been or how many quick seconds apart to catch her breath there had been. But when she finally did let you go the fog that had been blinding her all day seemed to have disappeared. Everything felt as though she were looking through glasses that had just had the lenses cleaned.

Sharper. Clearer.

“ it’s really fuckin cold “ she murmured, causing a giggle to bubble past your lips.

“ yeah. It’s freezing “ you didn’t seem even mildly pissed that that had been her first words after practically kissing your face off. Instead you both silently seemed to agree to go inside, collapsing onto her couch and kissing some more.

Something had shifted after that. Had changed after she’d woken up the following morning on the couch with you.

She actively chose to be around you, even more so than she had been. Spent enough time with you that people began to murmur about it. But she found she no longer cared.

There was still an odd weight looming in her chest, one she was certain may never actually go away. But it was far lighter than it had been.

WINTER

Tess had always preferred winter to summer. Especially after Boston. She hated those sticky summer days. Especially in that apartment that was freezing in winter but a sauna in the summer, no comfortable in between. Days when she felt like the heat was suffocating her and every drop of water she drank sweated its way out of her within the minute.

Winter felt so much… fresher. She liked the snow and the opportunities to wrap up and be warm on her own terms.

Some people found it bleak. But she rather enjoyed it.

You seemed to like it too. Because you could use the cold weather as an excuse to be close to her. And it felt nice. To have you there, to have you wanting to be near her. Even if she was beginning to believe you were forgetting your gloves on purpose now so she would hold your hand.

The arrival of the winter months had brought along the silent confirmation that you two were… something now. Dating didn’t feel right. That word didn’t feel like it belonged in the world anymore. And there had been no real discussions of the matter, mostly due to her own refusal to mention it. And ‘girlfriend’… it felt a little juvenile. Even if was Ellie teasing her every fucking day that you were in fact her girlfriend now.

Jackson was starting to feel more like somewhere she could begin to call home. Riding back through the gates with Joel, watching them close behind her but not feeling that feeling of imprisonment anymore. Not feeling as trapped as the walls in Boston, but finally feeling safe.

She walked into the Bison, happy to find it slightly less crowded than it could be. She walked over to the bar, smiling at the guy stood drying off a glass

“ hey… she here? “ something in her still prickled with an odd sense of anxiety that she didn’t need to ask for you by name now. That they all knew who she meant. That Tess would not venture into the bison alone for anyone else, and that you would never be leaving with anyone else but her.

But she pushed it aside.

“ yeah she’s out the back. I’ll grab her “ she waited patiently as he disappeared through the door, glancing around with some still deep rooted fear that someone was watching her. She didn’t think she’d ever shake that. But she had to remind herself that no one there was after her. No one there was watching her to find her weakness and abuse it.

“ hey you “ you appeared through the door a few moments later and you greeted with that beaming smile of yours, looking at her as if she were the singular source of joy in your life. You leant over the bar and she met you half way, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. It was the kind of kiss that was… familiar. The kind two people in love shared without thought, something as simple and regular as breathing.

“ having fun? “

“ oh yeah. Making sandwiches, riveting stuff “ she watched you wipe your hands off on a towel before slipping your way out from behind the bar “ but I’d really like to go home now “ Tess nodded and offered you her arm without needing to be asked, your hands slipping into their usual place and huddling close against her.

It was getting chillier out, the sky had taken on that odd yellowy state that signalled impending snow. The kind of day that back in Boston would’ve been some forewarning of an impending low ration season. But there was no such thing in Jackson.

You spoke about your shift in the bison as you walked and Tess listened diligently, all the while silently musing over you asking to go home. And very much heading with Tess towards hers.

But. You stayed over more often than not now. Your things were starting to intermingle with her own, the space that had previously felt so barren and so disconnected from herself… now felt almost like a home.

There were some of Ellie’s drawings tacked to the fridge, her talent alone making the space seem a little more lived in. A few pictures had been framed now too and dotted about the place. Tess, Joel and Ellie over for dinner at Tommy and Maria’s. Another of Ellie pulling a stupid face with Joel looking slightly amused at her side. One of you and her, you beaming at the camera as she looked at you. Maria had taken that one much to Tess’ original dismay. But she was quite thankful for it now.

That was the first piece of you that had made its way into her home.

You had a toothbrush in her bathroom now. A spare jacket on the hooks by the door. A small box of gardening tools by the front door. A hand knitted blanket across the back of her couch.

You were in the air even. The air wafted of the flowers you adored wherever you went, you filled the place she had only ever referred to as a house into home.

And sometimes it almost made her want to laugh. Laugh at herself for what she had become. Tess didn’t take things slow like this. Tess didn’t let her space be invaded by someone else. Tess didn’t have feelings or let herself… love.

Which was exactly what she was feeling more and more these days. Which was completely and utterly terrifying but she found she was just letting it happen. Because she could. And because she was allowed to.

She wasn’t old Tess anymore. If anything she was beginning to feel as though she was slowly becoming more and more like the version of herself that had existed before an apocalypse had destroyed the world. The kind of woman that did date and did take things slow. That had girlfriends or boyfriends and wasn’t scared. Was care free and happy.

And maybe that was more scary than the fear she had felt at losing the version of herself that had developed over 20 years of hell.

She was beginning to think that nothing would ever be without fear these days. But she was working on it. And it was lessening.

And you becoming a permanent fixture in her house was part of that.

Quite often the nights ended exactly as they currently were too. With you walking home together, cuddling up together on the couch to escape the chill of winter.

And making out until she forgot how to breathe.

It had not been more than that. She hadn’t allowed herself to let it be. Had happily let you sit in her lap or let you pull her down over you and sink into the couch cushions. But she never let it progress.

She didn’t truly think about why and you had never asked it of her either. Until tonight.

“ why are you holding back? “ you whispered, pulling back from her slightly. Still close enough that she could feel your breath against her lips.

Why was she holding back?

Because you weren’t some random girl she picked up in the zone because she was bored and lonely. Because until you, sex had become something with little feeling. Something to do because she needed some human contact that wasn’t Joel stitching up a stab wound.

And it was funny, really, when she thought about why she was holding back. Why as much as she may have wanted to, as much as the old her would’ve gone and gotten what she wanted months ago… she hadn’t.

Because it hadn’t felt right. Hadn’t been the time. You deserved more than that. You deserved more than a quick, meaningless fuck off somewhere secluded because she wanted to feel like a human being again. No, you deserved more.

Maybe you still did. She couldn’t figure it out yet.

But what she did know, was if now was not the time then she would wait. She would wait a million and one lifetimes. As much as she knew the short serotonin boost would breathe some life into her for a few hours again… she would endure. Because when she really thought about it, that wasn’t what she wanted really.

She wanted you. Of course she did. Needed you. In every single sense of the phrase. You had been a shiny little light in her darkness, you had prevailed and endured her bitterness to discover something sweet hiding beneath.

And so you deserved the best. Deserved every ounce of love and compassion Tess could find deep within herself.

“ where’d you go? Hm? “ you whispered softly, fingers trailing along the side of her face and tucking an unruly strand of her greying hair behind her ear “ you seem… else where “

“ just thinkin “ your touch was gentle, fingertips somehow still smooth and soft. So different to hers, calloused from years of fighting and doing shitty jobs in the QZ. She felt too rough for you. Too sharp around the edges. Like her hold on you alone could shatter you.

She knew in reality you weren’t delicate. She had watched you shoot like a trained marksmen. Had seen you jump on clickers and stab them until you face was splattered in blood. Chop firewood for town like it was nothing. You were strong. Capable. And yet she felt like she could bruise you like a peach just by looking at you wrong. She was no stranger to your strengths, your capabilities. Yet to her? She felt she could always see you as breakable.

Fine China. Soft fruit. The petals of the flowers you cared so much about.

Soft and pure and delicate. Not made to be touched by the rough and ready hands of the likes of her

And yet…

“ thinking about me? “ you said it with a small laugh, half joking. Half hoping. She gave you a small smile, a small nod.

“ of course “ it came out so quiet she wasn’t even sure she’d really said it right away. But your warm smile told her she had. And you’d heard. And even now, even in that moment, she still took a moment to be amazed at that smile. Amazed that it was because of her. You were smiling because she was thinking of you. You were on her mind. And you liked that.

Her hands twitched slightly at their place on your waist. Almost involuntarily. Like they were trying to make her move, go ahead. Do… something.

You looked down for a second before letting go of your gentle hold of her face, sliding your hands along her arms and trailing your fingers over her wrists.

“ I’m not going to break “ you picked up her hands, moving them down to brush over your ass, your thighs “ you can touch me “ she was afraid she’d do something stupid like blush. So she kissed you again, gently tugging you close by her soft hold on your thighs.

Your hands slid back up her arms, over her shoulders, up to hold the back of her neck, your fingertips slipping under the collar of her shirt. Everything about you was soft. Precise and purposeful. She could practically feel the desire radiating out of your fingers. But also the care.

She hadnt been touched like that in… a while. Touched in a way that conveyed love. A way that was gentle. Caring. Deliberate and slow. Like you wanted to take your time, in a way akin to how you had behaved since you had met her. You wanted to know her. To understand her. To peel back the layers she kept pulling on to keep you out.

And maybe a part of her would always want to keep you out, deep down. Fear of the unknown. Fear of a vulnerability she was still learning to adjust to.

But she was adjusting. Had been. And it felt right now. Felt right having the soft weight of you on her thighs, having your gentle fingers rid her of her sweater. Felt the shame of her equally as raging desire dissipate.

It was okay. She was okay.

She watched your deft fingers carefully unbutton your plaid shirt, one that now she thought about it looked remarkably like one of hers. When had you taken that she wondered.

She let her hands slip over the bare skin of your waist, disappearing under the soft worn cotton of your- her? - shirt. There was a scar along your ribs, the kind that had been there a while. No longer angry and red but faded and soft. She ran her thumb across it.

“ chains “ you said, answering her unasked question.

“ the slavers? “ she murmured, still tracing her thumb over the long stretch of scarred skin. You hummed a reply, your eyes watching her intently

“ plenty of permanent reminders of those fuckers on me “ it still baffled her how you had endured such cruelty and appeared on the other side as gentle as you were. She wanted to track those fuckers down. Torture every single last one that had even looked at you wrong. And reserve a special place in hell for the ones who had left their permanent marks.

She leant forward, dipping her head and pressing her lips to the scar. Your chest deflated in a soft sigh as she did, ghosting her lips over the skin in some feeble attempt to replace the pain with care. Your fingers laced into her hair, silently urging her to kiss you some more. And she did. She kissed up your chest, breath stuttering embarrassingly as her cheek brushed against the cotton covered swell of your chest as she pressed kisses to your sternum.

Everything about you was soft.

She inhaled deeply, your skin smelt of that familiar scent of being outdoors. As if winter air had been bottled and sprayed across your skin like perfume. Something so usually mundane and common place, yet intoxicating on you.

She kissed up your neck, skin in flames with every single soft sigh it caused you to let out.

“ can… can I.. “ you said in between kisses, hands now fumbling with the button of her jeans.

“ not here “ she murmured, pulling away from your lips slightly reluctantly “ you deserve better than the fuckin couch “ that made you smile, head titling to the side inquisitively.

“ well aren’t you just a lady “ Tess scoffed, patting your leg gently to urge you to stand up

“ lady? You must be thinkin of someone else “ you seemed reluctant to stop kissing her, grabbing her multiple times on the way out of the lounge. Including a long pause on the stairs where she almost regretted suggesting you move. And seriously debated just letting the entire thing play out right there on the staircase.

She’d never really been one for kissing. But with you she couldn’t stop. She was obsessed. A woman possessed. And she was taking her time.

But she remained on track. Leading you into her bedroom and the bed she had barely slept in.

She sat down on the edge, watching you as you closed the door before turning to her. Leaning back against it for a moment.

You were truly something. Stood there in your jeans and your bra. Your mismatched socks and your ruffled hair. Lips kiss swollen and eyes watching her intently.

“ c’mere “ she said quietly, gesturing you over with a tilt of her head. You wandered over, coming to a stop in front of her and reaching out to cup her face gently “ you’re so fuckin beautiful you know “ she said, not entirely intending to say it out loud and rather just think it. But the blush that crept across your cheeks made her glad she had said it.

“ you think? “ she hummed a reply, her fingers trailing up and down the backs of your thighs.

She didn’t know what it was about having you there in that room. Her room. Alone. It felt so incredibly intimate. In fact the entire night had. She’d never taken such… time. Time to explore and to appreciate, to admire. And now to have you in bedroom, a room she had barely been able to step foot in alone since arriving in town. But felt almost at ease with you there.

It was a lot to attempt to process all at once. And so she decided not to. That it wasn’t the time to send herself spiralling into yet another pit of despair and dread, she focussed all her attention back to you.

“ you’re sweet “

“ I’m not sweet I’m honest “ you smiled again at that. In reality she was not an honest person. She was deceitful and not to be trusted by anyone but Joel. But you trusted her. And she was honest with you.

She was. You truly were beautiful. And she felt a fool that it had taken her as long as it had to stop and really look at you. Had spent so long despising your presence rather than admiring you from day one.

She slipped her hands further up your legs, cupping the denim clad flesh of your ass and pushing you forward slightly. You took the hint, stepping over her legs and placing yourself back in her lap. Your arms looped loosely around her neck.

She couldn’t resist diving forward, lips against your neck and teeth grazing your soft skin in a way that made the most delicious sounds leave your lips.

“ oh, Tess “ your fingers tugged lightly at her hair as she continued her gentle assault, hands wandering and desperate to touch as much of you as she could. “ I can’t take much more of this teasing “ you whispered after a few moments, tugging at her hair to make her raise her head.

Her fingers ghosted over the blooming marks on your skin. Blossoming spots of red and purple, marks of a gentle cruelty that had sent the most beautiful look of bliss to overcome your face. Yet another mark of possession on your skin, but not of chains and binds this time…. Of hatred. But of teeth. Of lips. Of desire.

Possession through the deep rooted need to keep you as her own, but simply to hold. To protect. To love.

“ Tess “ she wouldn’t make you wait any longer. She wanted to keep touching, to commit every single inch of you to memory. But she figured that she’d have plenty of opportunities to do so.

And she would give you anything you asked of her. So she would not make you wait.

Through a desire blurred haze she manoeuvred you to lay down, a blur of clothing making its way to the floor and soft moans as her hands ventured downwards.

“ no no keep looking at me “ she said, her voice as quiet as it had been since you’d lead her up those stairs, coaxing your head up from where you were hiding with her free hand “ that’s it I wanna see you “ you slipped a hand to the nape of her neck, pulling her down to press your forehead against hers with a small nod, lips parted slightly as she moved her fingers in soft circles.

She lost track of time. Of all straight forward thinking. The seconds and the minutes all blurring into a moonlit haze of body parts in her mind. She took her time, breaking you down and unwinding every single knot under your skin.

Nothing else existed outside the four walls of that room, just you and her. The soft lewd sounds of her fingers between your legs, your quiet whimpers and gasps into her mouth, the rustle of the sheets beneath you as you arched and writhed beneath her.

There was something incredible about having you there, foreheads pressed together as she hovered over you, something so… romantic. How your hands held onto her, fingertips warm like they were branding her skin. Isolated in that room in a newer way than she had been used to.

And when she finally brought you to your long awaited climax, she watched you intently. Admiring the beautiful way your face moved and contorted in pleasure, watching your lips part and your legs tremble.

You returned the favour once you’d regained your regular breathing pattern. Pushing her onto her back and leading a trail of soft kisses down her chest and her stomach, settling between her legs and sending her eyes falling into the back of her head.

Her back arching off the mattress and her hand twisting into your hair, relishing in a bliss she hadn’t felt in an incredibly long time.

And then you lay there together. A comfortable silence enveloping the room, only disturbed by the occasional kiss or soft sigh.

Tess’ fingers played gently with your hair, inevitably lulling you into sleep. And she took the time to think.

She realised that in the time she had lived there it was her first night actually sleeping in her bed. She glanced down at where you were sound asleep on her chest, the weight and warmth of you pressed against her keeping away any anxious thoughts that wanted to creep into her mind.

And she didn’t want to escape downstairs, didn’t want to run. To push you away and tell you to leave. That sleeping together was far more intimate to her than any form of sex act could be.

The thoughts didn’t come.

It had taken her meeting you to finally come to terms with what her life was now. And the things that she had done. That in the current climate there were really no good or bad people. Just human beings trying to survive. Do whatever it took to live to see another day. Doing unspeakable things to get by and trying to convince themselves afterwards that they had done the right thing. That they had had no choice.

And that was okay. She was coming to peace with that. She would never fully forget, but neither would anyone else. But that was okay. Because as long as she had you by her side, she was quite content in the knowledge that she could handle it.

That then come spring those flowers you had planted would bloom again and she would let her fears die with the frost.

Everything would be okay.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Pursuit

Author’s note: this is the second in the Bully(ing) Cato Sicarius fic. Prev. Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: unreliable narrator, ask me to tag something else

Summary: Cato searches for you on Macragge’s Honor

Despite having gotten rid of his hard-on from his wet dream distressing nightmare he had involving you, Cato still felt the urge to seek you out and have your attention on him, ideally him alone insure that you weren't causing problems or being a Slaaneshi-sent Temptress to less wary and experienced Ultramarines. He was well aware of the fact that your silver tongue and poisoned-honey disposition had disarmed an ~~annoying~~ distressing number of his brothers in the second company, foremost among them being lieutenant Titus who really should know better, given his experiences in the Ultramarines. He tracked your faint scent across the ship, pausing and searching locations where he knew that you frequented.

You were not in your personal quarters sleeping or plotting. Your temporary quarters were filled with your scent, and he sneered a little, seeing a small pile of your dirty and discarded clothes in a pile on the floor, unsurprised that you couldn't bother to keep your room tidy enough for Ultramarine standards. He sent a nearby serf to go fix up your room, still stalking silently after you, and he would not be deterred from finding his goal: you.

You were not in the widely available library, where you spent long-hours researching god-emperor only knew what - there were no heretical materials in this library. If there were any heretical documents that Cato may or may not know about their existence of, they would be held in a secret, smaller library known only to a few individuals, which was rigged to be destroyed should the ship be boarded and unlikely to be recovered, to ensure that such sensitive material did not fall into enemy hands. 

He paused by the small reading nook that you usually curled up in adorably. The blanket was rumpled and the pillows were in disarray. Cato frowns as he picks up the blanket, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling, catching your scent. By its faded nature, you'd been here at most a couple of hours ago. Cato could feel his hearts twinge a little, as he could practically taste in your faded scent surprise and mild distress, and a scowl furrowed his brows. Given your position as one of the Lord Regent's favored diplomatic toys, few of his brothers would openly taunt or torment you - and he'd ensured that they knew that any discipline that you required was to be informed to Cato himself, so that he could administer it personally.

Cato stares at the nook, slowly putting down the blanket as he tries not to let his mind wander to one of the many times he’s found you curled up reading one of the carefully kept scrolls or datapads, your ~~cute~~ face scrunched up with determination. Often you paused during these reading sessions to write down notes on your personal datapad. Occasionally he would find you slumped over in a position that had to be deeply uncomfortable long past your scheduled waking hours on Macragge’s Honor.

As one of your assigned bodyguards babysitters, it was his duty to ensure that when you did sleep, you were well rested, so that when you awoke, you could serve the Imperium to the best of your impressive limited capabilities. Which was why he would carefully bundle you up in this blanket so that his armor - when he was wearing armor (currently Cato was walking around in his body suit - which was perfectly acceptable, considering Macragge’s  Honor was unlikely to be attacked suddenly this deep in Imperial territory) - to avoid waking you up.

Because you would get fussy if he was the Brother who picked you up while you were sleeping. He’d seen Titus occasionally pick you up while you were sleeping and if you awoke with his far too gentle touch, you smiled up at Titus why won’t you smile for him like that? and snuggled into his often-armored chest with a yawn, resting your head against one of the lieutenant’s shoulders.

But if you woke up in Cato’s arms, you’d fuss and whine sleepily, your face scrunching up in confusion as he joyfully dutifully carried you back to your bed. He’d not hear a word of your protests. The handful of times he did set you down, you’d stumble and nearly fall, exhausted as you were from your efforts, and he’d need to pick you up again for your own safety anyways. He’d tease you, as was your due, about staying up far too late for your own good, though he kept his voice down to a low murmur, trying to lull you back to sleep, as you were easier to handle while sleeping.

Regardless as to whether or not he’d succeeded in getting you to go back to sleep, Cato would not put you down until he’d carried you all the way to your bed, lightly tossing you onto the mattress and blankets. Then he’d leave your room, asking sure to give you one last passing taunt - to ensure you remembered that you were wearing shoes and to take them off before sleeping. He mentally shook himself, refocusing on his self-imposed task of finding where you had wandered off to.

Father had often saddled him with your protection and care, and despite the honor mild insult that such a heavily decorated Astartes such as himself was given by being in charge of your safety and security, it was a duty that he did take seriously. Only because Father found you to be of use of him. It wasn't as if he'd ever worried about your health and safety. You were often in the presence of often no less than a full squad of seasoned Ultramarines. Nothing short of a full invasion or insidious poison, a curse, a talented sniper on one of the many worlds you visited, a suicidally brave assassin had a chance of causing you to be in danger. 

The fact that he was moving faster through Macragge's Honor, growling or glaring at any idiot who dared to be in his way as concern irritation bubbled in his chest as he sought you out with increasing frantic determination meant nothing.

[blouisparadise]

There were some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of January. We really hope you enjoy this list and show these fics love. Happy reading!

1) Strawberry Cake | Teen & Up | 1,789 words

When Louis gets stuck in a bad situation at a bar, Harry steps in to help.

2) Intoxicated | Mature | 2,156 words

“Could, I-uh- get a drink, perhaps?” The stranger asks. Louis snaps back. Quickly closing his mouth and attempting to respond to the deep and surprisingly demanding voice. “Oh, I’m sorry but we are closed for the day” Louis responds. In all honesty he could have made the man a drink, but the lack of supplies Louis had thus far prevented him from offering anything but a half drunk bottle of beer. “But the door was open.” The person retrots. Inviting himself further into the establishment and seating himself down on one of the tables. Louis knits his eyebrows together out of confusion. He also stops admiring the man and feels annoyance building up instead. “Yes, the door was open, but my bar is still closed.” Louis replies. Annunciating the fact that he was in charge so his words could be taken more seriously by this customer that was turning from charming to sour.

3) I’ll Love You When The Oceans Dry, I’ll Love You When The Rivers Freeze | Explicit | 2,515 words

Harry and Louis are on vacation with their friends. Louis gets very drunk so Harry takes him back to his hotel room. He sees text exchanges about Louis liking some guy and he gets jealous so snoops more and realizes it is him. In the morning, Louis realizes that Harry snoops and secrets are revealed.

4) Powerless (And I Don't Care) | Explicit | 4,061 words

Everyone on tour calls each other daddy, don’t ask why. And Louis is so used to calling everyone “daddy” that, when he finally comes home, naturally he calls Harry that.

5) Now You Hang From My Lips | Explicit | 6,292 words

Louis gives him an appraising look—starting at the soles of his expensive shoes and ending at the top of his head. “Just a drink,” he answers, because he loves this part—the chase. He loves having someone hanging on his every word and if there’s one thing for sure he’ll make somebody work for it. If H isn’t down for that, if he gives up too easily then it wasn’t meant to be anyways. Because that’s the other half of it, Louis also wants someone who will put him in his place. “Well in that case, I’ve got room with a minibar. Why don’t you come upstairs with me and you can have whatever you want.” Bingo.

6) Mother In Law | Mature | 8,070 words

Harry has been watching Louis from afar for about a month, but he refuses to call himself a stalker. He just admires him, not following him like a creep. Until one day, Louis approaches him. They have sex. Harry finds out that Louis is rich and he feels insecure. He decides that he needs to let Louis go. The problem is Louis falls deeper.

7) Behind Smoke Stained Curtains | Explicit | 19,054 words

It was a particularly lonely night when Harry walked through his door with a flurry of snow. He was a little rough around the edges with a trucker hat pushed down over untamed long hair. He looked a little greasy, a shower definitely not in his recent past. His tan Carhartt work coat was smudged with dirt and oil and caked with grime, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. The scent was overwhelming as soon as he walked in, unmasked alpha from days on the road stewing in a cab of his own pheromones. Louis was sure it was so deep into the fabric of his coat that no amount of washing would ever truly remove the stench. The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

8) Sunshine (You Temptress) | Explicit | 26,870 words

All it took was one idiotic dare, one boy, one night. He’s twenty eight years old, six months fresh out of possibly the worst break up you could ever imagine, and his Friday nights are spent fucking a nineteen year old stranger. He’s still not completely sure how it happened.

10) The Road Not Taken | Explicit | 35,285 words

Louis’ not paying attention as his phone unlocks, and he’s shocked when the thread opens and there’s only one message there from an unknown contact. I’m home. For a minute he assumes it’s got to be a wrong number, and before he can decide whether to just ignore it or send a response the three dots show up and then a second message. It’s Harry by the way. And finally a third right after that. Are you busy tonight?

11) You Could Be The One That I Love | Explicit | 39,797 words

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Niall waved off. “Now, let’s talk man to man to man. You two have had a crush on each other since uni. Now’s your chance to finally get something going. I could see the sparks and connection and attraction back then and I can still see it now, God damn it! You’re just denying fate at this point.” He looked impassioned, his blue eyes wide and imploring. Louis shook his head again and chuckled. “You can’t just snap your finger and expect us to, like, get it on.” “I’m not,” he reasoned. “I’m merely telling you to do something about it.”

12) Paradise Is Getting Closer | Mature | 52,685 words

Louis hated his life, which consisted only of death and destruction. Despite the lives he had saved and continued to save, a part of him couldn't feel satisfied. He had been the one who gave up a normal life and although he knew what was to come, the loneliness had never left him in all these years, not even for a second. He felt it in his heart every time he approached a target, he felt it in the few minutes before falling asleep in his dingy car or while he allowed himself a few hours of sleep before setting off again, and he felt it every time he closed that door behind him.

13) Don't Want No Other Shade Of Blue | Explicit | 58,638 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis. “All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.” “As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

14) Men Are Shit | Explicit | 77,728 words

Welcome to Louisland. Here you'll find fluffy socks, chaos and always enough alcohol to toast the fact that all men are shit.

15) You Were My Because | Explicit | 109,089 words

Note: Please remember to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Louis has battled the demons of his past for years now and has little hope of finding happiness for himself. Especially now that a school reunion is taking place and the memories of his school days are suddenly coming back with full force. But after rain always comes sunshine, in Louis’ case in the form of his old schoolmate Harry. A story about healing, friendship, finding trust and love.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[seraphiism]

𓆩 ღ 𓆪 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

( RUN TO YOUR DEVIL ; I'M SURE HE CAN HELP YOU. )

chara : ais fandom : touchstarved quote cr : bioshock a/n : if this makes sense , good . if not, blame maid ais ( this fic is not abt the halloween art, i just think he's neat )

i. SO YOU WILL CALL YOURSELF CURSED, your life riddled with havoc and death in innocence lost. in the road traveled, there are horrors untold, bandaged hands trembling as you hide them in fear of others and yourself. an evil deeply haunts you, finding belonging in your existence, in your blood, and in the corruption of what is meant to be good.

you will not drown yourself in damnation, not yet, but the water rises and rises, the murky tides seizing a coldness around your throat, a subtle violence looming in the waves that threaten to rid of your breath.

you have encountered far too many strange things in far too little time. at this point, you should be used to it, but there is something, or rather, someone, that constantly catches you off-guard. you find yourself at a loss, unsure if you wish to embrace it or flee from the feelings that stir your heart. how they frighten you so, and in his presence, there is always the quickening of your pulse.

but maybe you are reading too far into things. maybe you're just overwhelmed ; maybe the loneliness is getting to you, the starvation for companionship convincing your mind to make something out of nothing. but in the devil there is kindness, and in his touch, you cannot help but wonder : are you overthinking? or is there more to him, this demon that is made of cruelty and comfort?

ii. it begins with the learning of the seaspring, the radiant temptress : a sickeningly vicious crimson that envelops one in some means of escape , a void in which you lose yourself , intertwined with the existence of those who have succumbed to some sort of madness. the red in that resigned fate is the same as the red of his eyes, and in his gaze, you almost think you see regret amidst the scorn.

but you don't think for too long-- you can't, your balance suddenly off, consciousness nearly wiped out in the near fall into a crimson void. ais is quick to grab you, sparing you from a fate undeserved. it wouldn't have been fair, he tells you, if you didn't get to make the decision to take the fall on your own.

but there's amusement in the curve of his lips, and there's a warmth in the way his hand rests on the small of your back. there's something more, something else that you don't quite want to identify as he holds you close for longer than necessary.

and you let him, you do. you wonder if this is what safety is supposed to feel like. it terrifies you.

iii. it continues with the troublesome reunion at the bar : you almost want to drown the sorrows and stress away with the harsh taste of alcohol that leaves a burning in your throat, but you don't. you can't afford to lose yourself in the haze, can't afford to lower your guard. your nerves are frayed, mind on the edge of frenzy from the sheer exhaustion of the past few days. it's been too eventful. too overwhelming.

you need fresh air, a strange panic brewing in the roots of the soul as you feel it all sink in : your death , your revival , the encounters with those you want to trust but do not dare to. your hands rest on the bar counter, clenched, and your gaze almost seems... absent, he notices.

he may be occupied, may seemingly have his attention focused elsewhere, but there is something so fascinating and terribly entertaining about you that he cannot seem to look away. he may have taunted you earlier, pushed and pulled to see what your limits were, but even he has a heart, after all.

you feel a familiar presence near you -- a hand gently resting on your waist, a soft murmur in your ear.

"doing alright, sparrow?"

your body stills. you swallow hard, barely turning your head.

"i'm fine." you respond, and you slip away from his grasp, throwing him a brief glance before you sneak through the busy crowds in search of a calm you'll never find.

iv. and now-- now, you have come to a defeated conclusion : calm is the farthest thing that will ever be granted to you. doesn't matter where you are, doesn't matter what you do-- it would be too convenient, too kind, really, and you wonder if you are asking too much.

all you wanted was to try catching your breath, try finding some semblance of peace amidst the chaos. but instead, you found trouble, landed yourself in yet another dangerous situation, because what's a night out at the bar if there's no drunken fight? it's not fun if you're not dragged into some god awful brawl somehow. you don't question it. no point, not with your luck.

so now, you find yourself hiding in the dark alley, lungs burning with deprivation. the movement of your chest is subtle, shallow, and ais notices it-- it's hard to not notice, not when his body is pressed against yours, his hand over your mouth in determination to keep you safe and quiet.

he deems it an interesting predicament. you don't.

not with the lack of distance between your bodies, your back against the wall, his blood on your lips. his smirk falters only the slightest bit at your bite-- a surprising defiance he didn't quite expect from you. but the flicker of bewilderment soon twists into pure amusement, and you think you love and hate it. he keeps his mouth shut, and so do you, even when his hand falls to his side. nearby, there is a rising panic, then the quick steps of enemies fading as they make haste in their escape.

it's safe now. you let out a quiet sigh of relief knowing you've avoided harm once more, and though you hate to admit it, it's because of him. your gaze focuses on your surroundings, searching for the possibility that someone may be deceiving you, waiting in the shadows for the right opportunity to strike.

"you've got a bad bite, little sparrow." ais murmurs, and you feel his hand gently grip your jaw, forcing you to focus on him. "that's no way to thank someone who keeps saving your life."

there's a heat that suddenly rushes to your face. timid, you want to look elsewhere, but you don't dare give him the satisfaction of looking away. it's hard to focus, the faintest trace of iron on your tongue, the feeling of another's warmth against your body.

"so sorry, ais." your apology seethes with sarcasm. "next time, i'll be sure to be gentle."

he chuckles softly, doesn't even think about pulling away from you. not when you're this close.

"don't worry, pretty thing." he tells you, thumb tracing over your lips, and perhaps that smirk softens into something gentle at the sight of the crimson that is his. "my red looks good on you."

[writerthroufire]

A Symphony of Lies

A Simon angst fic

Simon's heart would pound with excitement every time he finished a new track. His fingers danced across the keys, conjuring up rhythms that pulsed through his veins. Each chord was a piece of his soul, laid bare for the world to hear. He lived for the moment when he'd share his creations with his friends, their eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.

Wilhelm, his boyfriend, was always the first to listen. His tall frame would engulf Simon in a warm embrace, his head resting on Simon's shoulder as he closed his eyes. "It's beautiful, Simme," he'd murmur, his voice thick with adoration. Simon would beam, his heart swelling with pride.

His other friends, a vibrant group of art students, were equally supportive. They raved about his melodies, analyzing the lyrics with an intensity that flattered him. Their genuine interest fueled his passion, making him believe he was on the brink of something extraordinary.

But beneath the surface of their enthusiastic praise, a subtle dissonance began to creep into Simon's mind. Their reactions, once brimming with raw emotion, now seemed a little too rehearsed, their compliments a bit too generic. It was as if they were going through the motions, offering empty praise to appease him.

Doubt, a venomous serpent, slithered into his thoughts. Was it possible that his music, the product of his heart and soul, was simply not good enough? Or worse, were they lying to him, their smiles masking a hidden truth? The more he played his music, the more convinced he became that his friends were merely humoring him.

A cold dread settled in his stomach as he realized the terrifying possibility. Had he been living in a gilded cage of illusion, surrounded by people who pretended to adore his music? The thought was almost unbearable.

The weight of uncertainty had been gnawing at Simon for months. Every smile, every nod of approval felt increasingly hollow. He longed for genuine feedback, a critique that would help him grow as an artist. But as the days turned into weeks, the silence around his music became deafening.

One afternoon, Simon arrived home earlier than usual. As he slipped off his shoes, he heard voices coming from the kitchen. It was Wilhelm, on the phone with their friends. Curiosity, a dangerous temptress, urged him closer. His heart pounded in his chest as he pressed his ear against the door, his breath catching in his throat.

The familiar voices of his friends washed over him, but their tone was different. Gone was the enthusiasm, replaced by a casual indifference. Then, Wilhelm’s voice cut through the conversation. “His music? Honestly, I don’t get it. Reggaeton? Come on, it’s so... basic.” Simon's blood ran cold. Basic? His music, the culmination of countless hours of passion and experimentation, reduced to a single, dismissive word.

A wave of nausea washed over him. Wilhelm continued, his voice laced with condescension. "I mean, I love Simme, but his music? Not my thing. Maybe he should try pop or something. He’d be better off." Simon's vision blurred. Pop? The very suggestion was a betrayal of everything he stood for. His music was a reflection of his culture, his roots. It was his identity.

The words cut deeper as Wilhelm elaborated, his voice dripping with certainty. "And the beats? Don’t even get me started. They’re just... off. Like, he clearly doesn’t know what he’s doing." Simon’s hands clenched into fists. Off? Those beats were the result of countless hours of trial and error, a labor of love.

Simon’s world crumbled around him. The boy who had been his rock, his confidant, was now exposing his deepest insecurity. The pain was a physical sensation, a heavy weight settling in his chest. Every ounce of pride he had built around his music was being systematically destroyed.

He stood frozen, unable to move or react. The words echoed in his mind, a relentless assault on his self-esteem. For the first time in his life, Simon felt truly alone. The boy who had always seen the best in people had been cruelly betrayed by the one person he trusted most.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Simon stood frozen, the blood draining from his face. He had poured his heart and soul into his music, only to have it dismissed as "basic" and "off." The words echoed in his mind, a relentless assault on his self-esteem. Shame, a cold, insidious creature, coiled around his heart.

He had trusted them, his closest friends and his lover. They had feigned enthusiasm, their lies a carefully constructed facade. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow. How could they have been so cruel? How could they have hidden their true feelings for so long?

With trembling hands, Simon retreated to his room, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. The door clicked shut behind him, a barrier between his shattered world and the rest of the world. And then, the dam broke.

Sob after sob racked his body, each one a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil within. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision. He curled up on his bed, a small, broken figure lost in a sea of despair. Hours passed, the world outside fading into a distant hum.

The silence in the room was deafening, punctuated only by the rhythmic sobs escaping his lips. His mind raced, replaying the hurtful words, analyzing every inflection, every nuance. He questioned his talent, his worth, his entire existence. In the depths of his despair, he felt utterly alone.

Simon took deep breaths. He didn't wanna bother them anymore. He'd shut up about his writing and music. When hanging out with his boyfriend he refrained from mentioning anything to do with his music. And it didn't seem Wilhelm noticed. That, or maybe he was grateful, Simon couldn't tell. Either way it hurt, and Simon began to sink into himself.

The vibrant, passionate Simon was slowly fading, replaced by a hollow shell of his former self. His once sparkling eyes now held a dullness, a reflection of the dimming light within. The music, his solace, his escape, now felt like a heavy burden, a constant reminder of his failure.

The joy he found in creating, in losing himself in rhythm and melody, was replaced by a gnawing sense of inadequacy. Every chord he played, every lyric he wrote now felt like a desperate plea for validation, a cry in the void.

He retreated into himself, building walls around his heart. The Simon who once shared his dreams, his hopes, with abandon was now a ghost, haunting the empty corridors of his soul. The once open book was now a tightly sealed volume, its pages filled with unspoken words and buried emotions.

[horizon-verizon]

Isn’t it kinda weird that people ship daemyra? I'm not targeting daemyra, but the shippers. Though their relationship was acceptable in their era, I see many fans using this as a pretext to actively endorse it, which is problematic. It's one thing to acknowledge the historical and cultural context of a relationship, but it's another thing entirely to romanticize or ship it when we now have the knowledge and understanding that one of the individuals involved is a child.

Need your opinion on this

DISCLAIMER: I am a Daemyra shipper. Read with caution.

You're essentially asking why it isn't a dealbreaker? You could refer to my post HERE, but here it is in short:

Perhaps I'm going to be flowery, exhaustive, and "purple prosey" again, but I think it is basically that that very context creating the exploration of a tragedy of forces stronger than oneself. People love tragic tales, esp doomed ones. It's almost always validating in that there is a persistence of self against outside pressures that may or may not (but usually does) have said pressures be compulsions to conform against one's own happiness or authenticity, even and sometimes especially when the couple dies at the end. That in of itself is a sort of "resistance" that's supposed to coincide with GRRM's whole thing of "choosing life in spite of death" or "we found love in a hopeless place" sort of thing in ASoIaF, but for royals and in a royal iteration.

Rhaenyra's story is a doomed one not because she was the entire cause of the Dance pr some evil temptress but bc the historical actions of her ancestors and the feudal-patriarchal system they all live under has already set up designs against women and those the women could use to occupy the positions granted to men. GRRM loves his tragic tales of love; look at Rhaelya! But they also tend to--long way forward--lead to strains of hope in later generations...which works to make the whole thing even more bitter sweet and melancholy. They also both buy into it of course, which certainly contributed, but from the jump we know these two will not succeed. So from there it's a thing of enjoying the couple as they are and what they serve in the narrative. Oh, and of course the true star is Dany, and Rhaenyra had to die for Dany's story to be what it was (death of the dragons, women subjugated, Targs losing their sense of self leading to the Rebellion).

When there is no or mostly and actively morally upright party like a Daenerys, humans will root for the most impressive, thrilling, or aesthetically beautiful story/characters/relationships that scratches that itch some. You can certainly whack GRRM for creating so many ships that are this too-taboo thing(s), but people are very prone to misleading some things about people-as-people that I think (even with the historical inaccuracies GRRM defends as "accurate" about ages when noble people married) the writer does convincingly capture between this "conversation" in his work about the relationship between environment and choice. At least for enough people that there is something to how he's doing it.

And then, yes, sometimes people will over-romanticize, and much more than I think you're imagining it, anon. I've read some fics...let's say that sometimes people feel the need to dramatically change the characters that always puts me off bec it erases what was fun about them in the first place.

Here it is written in another way:

A)

The draw of Daemyra for a lot of people is that CONSIDERING THE CIRCUMSTANCES AND EVEN DESPITE/BECAUSE OF THEM, they had one of the most the strongest bonds for the longest time (and yes, even with Daemon loving Laena) in the orig story and they matched each others' drive/fire/pride (the last in all its meanings). They seem (operative word here) to understand each other the most, were the most comfortable with each other, and were the others' biggest support.

Again, it's not exactly the incest but what the incest/age gap (IN THE CONTEXT GRRM CREATED) does for the bond that comes to be.

Daemon for all intents and purposes could have become a perfect culmination of patriarchal privilege and male pride: one of the best warriors of his time, access to one of the most formidable and impressive creatures through his state of birth, action-oriented but not opposed to using strategy tactics, nearly irresistible to women an attitude and inspiring enough to men both in the story and in the fandom with his charisma, blah blah. And he certainly still had all those things or was written that way.

The kickers are that he's forced to acknowledge his truer desires to support his family towards prosperity and survival--where his loyalty to Rhaenyra comes in--and those desires are so much a priority he basically shuns much else, or at least removes himself from that, and thus he cannot/does not bother to put on much airs or try to gain approval...which is a very common thing amongst nobility who often curry favor or imagine themselves to be "good" people because they follow an honor code. There's a "purity" to that, an shameless honesty that draws people in similar to how some people feel about Oberyn and Jaime. And it especially is very attractive to people who have quite a bit of shame themselves over love and sex (for whatever reason, religious shame, queer shame, female shame for sexuality and desiring a stronger partner even anyway) and are (at first or never) inclined to not to try to ennoble it but are lonely and looking for a story of a strong connection/ride or die. That loyalty to Rhaenyra is a "flaw" that some men in the fandom never forgave GRRM for.

Rhaenyra similarly could have been a typical or ideal princess--either way, people wouldn't have liked her or found something to say was a damning "flaw" to say she deserved her fate-- and in some ways, she was. Loved wearing luxurious things and showing off her beauty, beautiful, fertile. But she's inplacably different from the ideal of Andal patriaechy be

Rhaenyra "replaced" Daemon as heir, yet instead of really planning her downfall and committing to his ire against Viserys (yes after being forced away), he appears accept his subordinate position towards the middle and end of his life, even before they marry and fully commitsd to her without losing his own...je-ne-sais-quoi. Despite her loneliness and the surrounding doubt around her for being a female heir, Rhaenyra never seemed to seriously lose her belief in her right to occupy that sort of space and never demurred like some other female characters we (pre-the rise of YA fiction and the Capable+Alluring MC Girl/Woman) were familiar with WHILE not being that kind or good a person (the trope of a Steel-Under-Silk strong, Lady usually has the Lady be good or kind of selfless, sometimes to the point of self effacement). Both had a sort of belief in themselves to a degree and under contexts that put off both readers and their own contemporaries--for different reasons...sometimes the same ones. that sort of symmetry is very appealing BECAUSE OF AND UNDER THE CONTEXT of a world and system (unequally, but the closest it's gotten and could get).

B)

The argument of "for the time/environment", I think, is for use of when we have people claim that some characters like Ceryse Hightower, Larra Rogare, Daemon, Viserys I are pedophiles...when we have Robert Baratheon, Craster, Walder Frey, etc. right there. that they go out of their way to mess up children or teens bec they are genuinely want them for their teenhood/childhood. The childness (full knowledge of childness) is exactly what they aim for.

Sure, none of these characters do not and cannot have the exact same moral systems or values as real moderns (sometimes Western people) do...because they simply do not have that framework to live on and through. So automatically saying a character is a pedo or a groomer can be hasty and inaccurate.

SOMETIMES (again, Walder, Craster, Robert).

It requires one to think about what a groomer or a pedo really is. Which I've squared down to the person wanting to prey on what is known to them and everyone around them as a "child" or "too young" that is socially excluded from every practice and dynamic of sex and romance that adults are expected to participate with each other, and not with said child (or simply manipulate them away from their security/non-security to do so) because the "child" cannot develop psychologically/physically when said adults interrupt their development and/or make them think is one thing when it is the other. Characters like Daemon, Viserys, etc. do not try to seek out what is recognized as "children" or "childlike" (and the "young maidens" or virgins the text states weirdly juxtaposes the lack of Daemon continuing said behavior into his adulthood, which true groomers/pedos always do). All this is strictly against the idea of him being a "groomer", even though like other men and a few women, he gets into something with 14/15 yr old Rhaenyra...

HOWEVER, it is true that patriarchies tend to apply sex-purity values in ways that inevitably encourage attentions on teens (as these are the closest) AND this ALSO doesn't mean that GRRM wasn't/isn't trying to say that this is still a wrong thing for 111 A.C. Daemon to have done and that it wasn't potentially screwy. (I think this is kinda what also "saves" it for some people, that the narrative acknowledges this particular crazy as crazy).

And just as with Dany and Drogo and the age revealed at her first pregnancy, even with Dany having been a bridal slave to Rhaenyra's princess and thus presenting a more visceral stake the latter doesn't have, determining how one sees Dany's regard for Drogo as blatant victim-mindset. For Daemyra, though, it's still not exactly the same and it's just that there isn't much for a claim, story-wise not life wise, of blatant you-know-what-it's.

There are about 4 main theories as to why Daemon of the bk does what he does with Rhaenyra:

he wanted to get back at Viserys for all the years of his ignorance and the recent event of his shipping Mysaria off only her her to lose what would have been Daemon's first kid (so a denial of person, position, and his own heir/family when he seemed to start trying to make himself after a long series of war in the Stepstones, also trying to make some "glory" for himself that Viserys--for him--keeps preventing or ruining)

he thought that the issues of succession Rhaenyra or even Viserys might have with the burgeoning greens, esp Otto, would be better handled if he forced Viserys to have him and Rhaenyra marry and combine lineages...tag him in, coach, he's been ready and you're not doing the job right, so let me in (ironically, I think this is very Visenya-coded...no one is going to be as competent and dedicated as me...just [ugh] with all the male trappings and privilege that shaped his...all that) -- a burgeoning storm they all had to prepare for, and he has to be there for them to survive -- he sees Rhaenyra at court surrounded by greens and is so offended he's even more determined--some might read "desperate"--to handle things even with such little...grace, shall we say

he was "tailoring" and "preparing" Rhaenyra to become more like the wife/partner that would make him most happy and rationalized that he would pay her back with his "hand" and sword, bc they were the best bet for their house...yeah...

when he got there and saw Rhaenyra in her "marriageable" state, he became attracted to her and similar to Laena and the duel, decided to "risk" the damage to his own rep...without letting himself onvder over the possible damage to Rhaenyra

or, ALL OF THE ABOVE...SOME OF THE ABOVE

Whatever Daemon did with her/to her (sex, kissing, near-sex, groping, etc., we don't know what happened but I think it was either sex or something that looked like it would definitely lead to that), it wasn't based on a habit and intention of straight up p*dophilia. More so him being very selfish, continuing the pattern of Targ men Targ-menning against their female counterparts. Using Rhaenyra against Viserys, putting his foot down, whatever.

Therefore he was still abusing his experience and relation with her, the "child-not-child-who-should-have-been-seen-as-a-child-but-wasn't-bc-society-and-patriarchal-selfishness/advantage". So I don't fault or perfectly disagree with people who say "groomer!" After all, their priority is not allowing other crazy people or out already-male-scorched world in further footholding for nonsense in the real world. Can't call them stupid or morally incorrect for that or being concerned. However, I still think there's a misunderstanding of what's being conveyed by the text versus what such a thing would be in real life (Watsonian vs Doylist) AND we can't stop ourselves form writing or showing even the odd and taboo or genuinely concerning stuff when there's something to be shown/told.

It changed to what it needed to be, became what was its potential, AND Rhaenyra was set to marry someone else (before the confirmation that it was always gonna be Laenor, and she didn't know it was him until last minute) who she would likely never be able to trust because of her position, men, yada yada. Might as well be someone she cared for her entire life and we know would not go out of his way, even shift for someone he thought was "worthy", and whoo-boy, was Rhaenyra "worthy" to Daemon. Again, refer to the doomed narrative.

Now Daemon here is so not exactly a good guy if he:

was willing to use his own about-to-married-off-and-subiect-to-purity-politics-standard-that-could-affect-her-reputation both as a girl/woman-as-a-female-heir niece in this way, even if it was after Viserys basically caused him and Mysaria to lose their first kid and came after years of Viserys basically ignoring Daemon--Daemon's eyes, bk and show--in favor of a man who could never hope to be as loyal as Daemon....IN FACT, THIS PROVES HE WAS NEVER THE "GOOD" GUY (I'm yelling at some fics)

prioritizes "sameness" and it comes off as arrogance--"only people like me can handle all this"...however, he'd be not totally incorrect (just annoying to some, charming to others, a little bit of both and feeding-into-each-other for others-others). He's not only a person who grew up, like both female and male nobles, value having the highest classed and prestigious person as a potential mate even if it may contradict "obedience" and he like others wishes to, he also. Again, the appeal of SYMMETRY. And sameness (albeit, in lesser degrees) does have an importance in how many people define what their ideal partner is. Not have the same hobbies or ways and color of dress, but values. Which Rhaenyra and Daemon have the potential of to the max.

If a potential partner's "worth" to be of a certain category or class...but it's fun to see shamelessness at a point AND such shamelessness works to, again, support said female character bc it's a great pair to loyalty, which Rhaenyra needs a lot of and assurance of from. And, no, I don't think she got enough of that from Harwin for all that she did love him (if they did become lovers...but I know you know they were, come on now). Those two had to hide; Rhaenyra's not a hider, not where it doesn't concern her kids' safety at least.

C)

Ironically those assurances come from the reversed--or at least done a little topsy turvy--familial relations, feudal constraints, AND the reality of Targaryens being both a part of this society but also not really on part because of their dragons/innate magicness but also because they are the ruling family.

They are apart from most people around them and find more things in common between themselves, us against the world (yes, in the bk, too); isolated always--unless you're like Rhaena, Dreamfyre's 1st rider, who could and did find female friends everywhere and discovered more freedom and comfort in them through their woman-ness than anyone in her family...but even then, she was more or less emotionally isolated just by being such a woman and a Targ, and the male stink still manages to encroach its way in through Androw Farman and the love she had for Androw's father/her lover's love for said Androw. and as royals, they are by social definition not in physical proximity, thus not as easier seen as any more than political figures/leaders. I mean, sure, we might say "boo hoo", and we'd not be totally wrong, but there is still an effect of treating people not like people that humans have never been able to rein in, and it's important to how the Targs handled many things and were perceived, thus how they responded--queue Jaehaerys I. When we especially talk about the costs to oneself and to how others treat you under the nonphysical protections of power. Whether for good or ill.

Contrast to Jaehaerys and Alysanne, who, thought GRRM notes as one of the greatest pairs, also end up separated by Alysanne's & Jaehaerys' fights over their children's safety and places in the succession, with the obvious running line of it going back to misogyny for the sake of assimilating/holding power instead of using it for making the said society a little better/a lot better.

Contrast to Daario and Daenerys (yes, yes, why would I compare PoV character's observations of a person vs a history book, we get it), Daemyra/RoguesDelight has Daemon knowing and giving more suggestion of longevity bc it's suggested in the text that he had access to the most intimate stirrings of Rhaenyra's head (final letter at Maidenpool as well as all I said above) in a way Daario never did or wanted to with Dany. Oh, of course Daario knew Dany loved her people, was lonely, was all that and the 3rd; but I trump that up to be his observation of what she needed and wanted so he could indulge in being with such a woman and profit from it. Even though he wasn't exactly terrible or whatever, or impatient. This is far from Dany's fault, tbc. Daario is gonna Daario. But, as one person kind brilliantly explained about Dany being a goddess in Twitter:

Part of her struggles is w being dehumanized as a symbol of power but she constantly subverts that by placing the weight of her responsibility/influence into liberating ppl.

Jaehaerys I sorta sets himself and his later scions, by contrast, even with it having had the desired effect of getting people off his back about sibling incest. So does Aegon I, tbh, when while it left the Targs the ability to adapt to their necessities concerning succession, his and his sons leaving it open to duking-it-out...then Aegon named heir over Rhaena...made way for the first stone against women in their house....those most necessarily it seems (after the Dance).

Anyway, they were pretty solid until Rhaenyra's kids started falling like dominoes and were caught in a deceit.

D)

I remember an ask I got once about Daemon showing Rhaenyra explicit imagery in S1E4, where anon said that him doing so proves he is a groomer in the show, where Rhaenyra is 19 instead of 14-15. And adult but just barely AND a lot of people hold that grooming--nonsexual, too--can happen to people to people as old as 34. Personally, I think that the latter is more general manipulation more than "grooming", but I digress and it doesn't really work for 18-20 year olds and up, who again, are practically teenagers.

But I brought up my misgivings about Daemon wanting to abuse children/children adjacent for its own sake already, and it's less evident in the show where the show makes it a point that he wanted Rhaenyra at most stages of her life (when again, she wouldn't be a child-child to them, scowl at GRRM, not me):

the beach scene in S1E7 with adult Rhaenyra, we all saw them heave for each other

we hear/see nothing of his messing with too-young girls after said marriage...the narrative implies he was likely imagining it as some "perfect" Valyrian bride...who happens to be around the same age as state as his niece (still problematic for all the implications of Rhaenyra's significance to him----both in the nature of sex work affecting women/girls AND we really didn't need to hear of that without proving how old those girls usually were to be so used like this as proxies…this is where I personally would have rolled my sorry self out) -> -> -> the probable immediate recall of Jorah doing similar with Dany OR simply Mysaria's observation of this unconscious/repressed desire/teasing him and show!Daemon never having actually done these things -> -> -> of course this could be due to any number of reasons, like his frustrations with Viserys manifesting in looking for a companion in the closest person possible more than that sort of desire

Mysaria: What troubles you, my Prince? I could bring in another. Perhaps a maiden. I have several. I could even arrange one with silver hair. [pause]

This included language of "could" and "perhaps" and "even" (as if this were a thing that she knows it's out of the ordinary) plus her solicitousness to meet his silence and disappeared enthusiasm indicates that show!Daemon was not in the habit of messing w/very young sex workers as bk!Daemon is rumored and told (A Question of Succession):

"and was said to have an especial fondness for deflowering maidens"

Language is important these types of documents. We're given an entire description of his philandering and the contrast of "he sampled" (definite, final, statement-to-not-be-doubted), but there is room with "was said" for Daemon to not have gone around this particular act of seeking out virgin girls. Like how one would say now "I heard such and such also went pulling people's pants down after Marcus saw him go into a strip club" or "people say that Marsha went to Payless for her prom shoes".

Active ("he sampled") vs passive voice ("he[...]was said") can be pretty important to indicate what def happened vs what people believed and could have happened but was never proven. But what do I know, I'm just a probably too-biased Daemyra shipper (this genuinely was not to be snarky, really, you can take or leave my points).

END

For me, it's more when Rhaenyra & Daemon both get older that they shine and I "approve" or really most enjoy Rouges Delight (bk ship name some have taken to call Daemyra) whatever you want to name and distinguish the couple. (I prefer their younger interations [pre E6, S1] in the show not bc Emma is a bad actor--they re not, they're just underutilized and Rhaenyra is written so...terribly that I can never get as into it...I liked Daemyra when they reconciled in S2, for example, but I hated how they got there and not bc of "the ship is sinking" but bec it genuinely was not written well and depended on diminishing both characters). I'm not, however, out here trying to say that anyone else should love this ship, this couple, this story just as much as I don't really mind people not getting into GRRM's writing.

The 111 A.C. issue, there is a certain odd quality it of being obviously out of line and manipulative...while evidence of being a convergence of long-held tension, a beginning towards an inevitable outcome years down the line. SYMMETRY and good writing. I suspect that part of the appeal for some is that push-pull of the delight of "matching freaks and the moral conflict of "but....he's her uncle and he's 2x her age and/or they probably did things when she was way too young", but that's a whole other thing. It keeps people engaged and is perfectly symptomatic of that quality of medievalesque/historical fiction, sure, but bc humans love to play with taboos in fiction...to a certain point. (Personally, again, it is that later timeline that "saved" Daemon for me, as flawed as that may be.) They can indulge in the curiosity of the play of "what ifs" GRRM writes and the subsequent quandaries safely in fiction without getting openly judged & misunderstood for wanting such stories. Sometimes we "play" too close to the sun, though, I admit.

So unless someone's gone off the deep end trying to say that they wouldn't be bothered by a 15 yr old and her 2x older uncle smooching in real life, or try to deny that Daemon was performing, it really doesn't discomfit me that much in the grander scheme of things to me.

Again, I can't blame HotD for uping Rhaenyra's age AND people for just not jiving or hating the ship just as there are those who cannot ever get into ASoIaF for the incessant (to them, too often unpunished by the narrative) incest even outside of the Targs alone. And I get how this is just not going to be enough or that he later is her strongest supporters is enough for a lot of people. But I do want the air cleared a bit and explain the position from where I'm standing. Could change, but I dunno about that. Perhaps this all too biased a breakdown. I warned ya.

This is all in regards to shipping, of course. 😉 Anyway, watch out, there might be more freaks about you in your everyday life like Daemyra shippers, anon!

[crowleys-bentley-and-plants]

handwritten asksss 📝💻

📝 do you have a WIP? share a piece of it!

because you didnt force me to write it by hand i will share both my wips but only this once!! i believe i already talked about both but will give a short summary of both. falling stars was initially about post final fifteen crowley having a conversation with god but the plot evolved and so now there is a lot of pre fall crowley as well (not to spoil too much but... your body horror angel crowley is, let's just say, not too far off). here's a snippet:

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the beautiful sketch of the Mona Lisa. With trembling hands, Crowley reached behind it in his safe and retrieved the water bottle Aziraphale had given him all those years ago. The holy water, a gift from Aziraphale, a reminder of a time when things had been simpler, when they had still believed they could defy fate. He eyed it warily, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. Would it really be that bad? What did he have left to live for anyway? The holy water sat before him like a silent temptress, promising release from the agony of his existence. What harm could it do, he wondered, to swallow the very essence of divinity itself? But as he reached for the bottle, a flicker of doubt danced behind his eyes. Was this truly the answer he sought, or merely another desperate grasp at oblivion? He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the bottle. He closed his eyes and placed his hand on top of it, feeling the weight of centuries pressing down on him. The memories of happier times with Aziraphale whispered in the back of his mind, begging him to hold on, to find another way. But what other way was there, he thought as a tear slid down his cheek.

yep well on to the next one. Only human is very complex in the sense that a lot is happening lol. Crowley has lost his memories sometime after eden and he now believes he's a human. an immortal one, that is. in the present day he's a private detective and is investigating a series of disappearances that may not be what they look like (lol does that even make sense). oh and he has this recurring dream about a certain angel that he made up a long time ago to cope with his loneliness. turns out the angel is real. and also an angel. and he's begging crowley to help stop the apocalypse. are we just glossing over the fact that angels are real?? hello??

anyway here's my favourite part i have written for this fic (and probably for any fic lolll) (oh little context, the story is set in present day but every chapter has a flashback a random (or not so random👀) time period. this is part of a flashback from the year 1789, Paris. did i mention it's at a masquerade ball?)

“You’re not from around here, are you?” the stranger asked, tilting his head to the side while adjusting the delicate feathers on his mask. Crowley, intrigued by the question, offered a wry smile beneath his own disguise. “How did you know?” “It’s your clothes,” the man answers. “And the way you move.”

“The way I move?”  “I saw you dancing. The French don’t dance like that.” Crowley became vaguely aware that the man had seen him dance. A flicker of realisation crept in — had the mysterious figure been watching him the entire time? “How do the French dance, then?” Crowley asked. “Calculated. Like every step is a move in a game of chess. But you,” the man glanced at Crowley, “you dance like you're defying the very concept of rules. There's a freedom in your movements, a rebellion against the constraints of structured elegance.”

if you liked this little snippet you should see the rest of the flashback im literally shaking everytime i think about it it's the best this ive written frr (i know im biased but ahhhhh it's so delicious)

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Fan Fic Humble Brag Tag

Sometimes we love something we wrote so much we want to knock on every door spreading the good word of our little story. But sometimes we fear being seen as rude or too self promoting. Here is your chance to do a bit of self promo and bragging without fear because some asked you too.

Answer the questions and then tag five writers who you think deserve to brag about their work. Tagged by the lovely @ginnyw-potter

1.) the funniest bit of dialogue you wrote

This is from Chapter 37 of Evolution. Ron is not here for Hermione's wedding planning To-Do list!

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” cajoled Harry, as he read the list again. “If we head straight to Diagon Alley now, we can get measured for the suits, pick up the invitations from the engravers, collect the confetti samples, get the travel brochures for the honeymoon, enquire about the prices for trained doves…” Harry paused and looked confused. “Trained to do what, exactly?” Ron shook his head. “God knows. Coo the wedding march? Crap out our initials in formation? As long as I get the price list for Hermione, I really couldn’t care less.”

2.) A story you wrote that made you cry

Chapter 10 of Into The Hinnyverse, my Ginniversary Bingo collection. It's called That Next Great Flighty Temptress, and I absolutely sobbed while I was writing it.

3.) A story that still makes you laugh every time you reread it or think about it

Miss, one of my Hinny Microfics, always makes me snigger. I loved writing it so much!

4.) Best moment of canon compliant characterization

From But A Shadow, chapter 8 of Into The Hinnyverse:

During the day, what haunts him the most are Ron’s words to him, just before he left. “We thought you knew what you were doing!”   Harry remembers defending himself against the accusation, but Ron, he knows, was right. He wonders, for the thousandth time, when that thought will also occur to Hermione, because when it does, she is sure to leave him too. In his darkest moments, he imagines doing this alone. It nearly breaks him.  “We thought you had a real plan!” Ron had him bang to rights with that one too. ‘Find the horcruxes and destroy them’ really wasn’t ever any sort of credible plan, was it? It torments Harry. If he had the first clue what he was doing, then he and Hermione wouldn’t be aimlessly wandering the country, bouncing from one godforsaken spot to the next. Constantly cold. Always hungry. Perpetually damp. It is pointless, it is hopeless, and it is soul destroying. 

5.) Something you wrote in a fic you secretly (or not so secretly) think as canon

Oh, it's such a tiny thing, and this is a tiny microfic, but I really do think Ginny spent most of her 6th year wearing Harry's scarf right under the Carrow's noses.

6.) The most romantic bit you’ve written

There are a couple of chapters of Evolution that (I think) are super romantic - Chapter 29 (The Things We Do For Love) and Chapter 47 (Always) in particular, but I can't say why because: spoilers.

So, special shout out to my Hinny Microfic Rose, which is a Muggle third party perspective, and is bittersweet romantic throughout.

7.) A fic you wrote that everyone sleeps on, but you know, is excellent

I am super proud of Enigma, my entry for the Ladies of HP Fest Monthly Mini in honour of Hermione. If you've read it, you are (unfortunately!) part of a very select bunch haha.

8.) Wow us with an excellent excerpt

OK, this is from Hunted, no part of which has yet been posted - and it won't be, until it's finished, at least up until final edit stage. So there is a good change that this will be the only bit of this fic ever published, depending on how writing the rest of it goes!

“I brought you coffee, Harry, and one for you too, Dr Granger.” “Oh! Thank you Jenny. That’s very kind.” “It’s no trouble,” smiled Jenny. “I was making one for myself anyway.” Jenny put the tray on the table and gave Potter a beaming smile before heading back to her desk. Potter watched her go, admiring her shiny, brunette hair, the way her pencil skirt curved over her backside, and the lilting sway of her hips as she walked. It wasn’t until he wrenched his eyes back to Hermione that he realised that she was watching him, watching Jenny, and smirking at him knowingly. Sometimes it really irritated him how well Hermione knew him. “Oh, shut up,” he muttered. He reached for his coffee to cover his embarrassment and succeeded only in burning his tongue. “Fuck! That’s hot.” “You’re referring to the coffee?” asked Hermione, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

9.) Five words to describe your writing

Romantic, self-indulgent, angsty, fluffy, affectionate

10.) The fic you are most proud of

Evolution. It isn't perfect, but I bloody well wrote a novel. So yeah, I'm proud of it.

Tagging: @deadwoodpecker @gryffindorhealer @starlingflight (because of the Hunted snippet!), @nena-96 @wearingaberetinparis

[goneahead]

so **shuffles feet** @cowandcalf and @stephmcx tagged me way back when Tarquinus was still king. In my defense, it was summer and I was summering. (estivation really should be a hobby. just saying)

Five fic recs of my own personal fics (under the cut ‘cuz I got long-winded)

note 1: All of my fic is on Dreamwidth, some of it has been cross-posted to A03.

Click for lists-> Masterpost of A03 fics Masterpost of all my fic

note 2: My dreamwidth account is friend-locked, but you can drop me a DM if you need an invite.

note 3: fic titles are clickable links. The USDA recommends consuming a minimum three fanfics a day in order to stay properly hydrated.

O-Ate-Four

Addams Family and Avengers 530 words

pairing: none, gen

Why I wrote It: Because my muse is a seductive temptress. And also because I’m convinced the Addams family has to exist in the same world where **checks notes** people fight aliens with pointy sticks.

Why you should read it: Natasha, Wednesday, French cemetery. Come on, what else do you need for a perfect Halloween fic?

Talking about pointy sticks, I may have written an entire fic where Hawkeye renovates a cabin. My ability to write truly riveting plots is… questionable😜

Operation: Cupcakes 1,427 words

pairing: Steve McGarrett/Danny Williams but gen

Why I wrote it: Because the only thing better than writing about cupcakes is writing about red velvet cupcakes. No really, thats the plot. Did I mention my riveting plots?😆

Why you should read it: Because there is a serious dearth of McDanno baking fics. And because there are red velvet cupcakes.

Beam Me Up, Danno

Hawaii Five-0 42,995 (including sequel)

Why I wrote it: Either this was a whumptober fic that got out of hand—or my muse tied me up and threatened to put a Ceti eel in my ear if I didn’t write it. Take your pick.

Why you should read it: Because the world needs a Hawaii Five-0 Star Trek AU? Also, there is Cardassian poetry, diplomatic javelining, and aliens that love butter pecan ice cream.

Yes, this is my second ‘Hawaii Five-0 in space’ AU, and I’m totally done writing about aliens. **hides my Hawaii Five-0 MIB wip behind my back**

Care and Feeding of a Super Seal

Hawaii Five-0 59,934 words

pairing: Steve McGarrett/Danny Williams

Why I wrote it: This is my coda for the Hawaii Five 0 finale and all @cowandcalf’s fault. My muse agreed with all her points in this meta she wrote and… stuff happened. Also, I was obsessing thinking in a very normal fashion about how the ohana deserved better, too.

Why you should read it: I did my best to explain the ending, various plot holes the size of an spider crab, and a few other things that have bugged fans over the years. There’s also Steve!whump, some badass!Danny, and a generous sprinkling of ohana. Most importantly, the boys talk about diving, and get their happy ever after.

Beasts and Outlaws note: this fic is only on dreamwidth

Supernatural 145, 622 words

pairing: Dean Winchester/OMC

Why I wrote it: I’ve always wanted a paranormal fic that felt like it was set in the southwest, so I decided to write one cleverly disguised as a Supernatural AU.

Why you should read it: Where else are you going to get a fic with nagueles, rain gods, and the FBI? Also, Old Man Coyote makes a random appearance and Dean’s in love with a were-cougar.

And yes, I wrote a Hawaii Five-0 AU where I turned Chin into a were-leopard but its totally not the same thing😂

tagging: @itwoodbeprefect @simplyn2deep and @herveiwfromthefloor

[noa-ciharu]

Hi!! I love your meta about X! I would like to ask your opinion, if you feel so inclined: Kamui is drawn in official artworks in a very seductive, sensual, erotic way. He is often more naked than Fuuma, clad in tight leather clothes and such. But Kamui in the actual story is not a sensual character: he seems to not have particular erotic desires. He loves Kotori, he loves Fuuma, he feels very close to Subaru, but he doesn't seem to live erotic longings. And in anyway, he does not try to seduce anyone (not even Fuuma). He is beautiful, but he does not wear seductive clothes or such.

So, why this difference? Why is Kamui in artwork so sensual and carnal?

My guesses is

1- Kamui is a temptation, more specifically Fuuma | other Kamui's temptation .

2- to win, Kamui has to connect with his earthy side, including his sex drive.

But I'm not sure. What do you think about this?

Thanks! I wish I had more time for writing metas but alas, irl work to be done + writing fics takes a lot of time.

About Kamui...well, most obvious answer would lay actually outside of narrative and in marketing strategies actually: fanservice.

Or perhaps not even that but simply the fact clamp loves to portray certain characters in more sexual light and Kamui happens to be one of them. But again, out of all male tbx characters he's the mostly sexualized one, especially in rather 'feminine' light, so to speak (as opposed to, Yuuto for example who has bold arts too, but is taking far more dominant masculine roles). Subaru is sometimes seen in bondage-like scenarios in offical arts, but again, it's nothing compared to seductiveness on Kamui's arts.

You're right about Kamui not being 'the temptress' in manga, I wouldn't say he's trying to provoke anyone. There's a matter of how he's drawn during his battles with Fuuma but again, I'm nor sure how much to brush that off on fanservice. Issue is that X is in hiatus, thus we can't know if there's additional reason for sexual undertones - aka if matter of sexual attraction (be it one sided or not) would be ever addressed.

In terms of 1) I have two options:

- Kamui was either sexually attracted to old Fuuma and cannot differentiate between him and doe!Fuuma thus doe!Fuuma is fulfilling his 'wishes'

- or old Fuuma had repressed sexual desires towards Kamui and doe!Fuuma is acting upon them with all inhibitions gone.

If we go by hypothesis doe!Fuuma was, initially, created as extension of Kamui, then both theories could withstand - old Fuuma and Kamui yearned for one another and doe!Fuuma is manifestation of that unfulfilled craving.

As for 2) I think it comes back to Kamui's subconsciousness and how he lacks awareness of what he truly wants. Bat wings are usually symbolism of darkness and 'flying in the dark', so to speak. Bats are creatures that use echolocation, they don't have sight thus rely on something innate - if we translate that onto Kamui it'd mean he'd have to get in touch with his subconsciousness and intuition, to simply get in touch with himself. It doesn't necessarily have to be in terms of sexuality, just whatever he needed to realize in last volume

Sexuality is often seen as something innate and earthly - primordial to human beings. Thence sexuality might not be necessary something Kamui needs to get in touch with, just serves as manifestation/example of unconcious wishes. At the end of the day, I really doubt last 2.5 vols of X would dwell deep on exploration of Kamui's sexuality, so my guess is that we'll always be in the dark what clamp truly meant there.

I mean, at one hand fanservice is answer laid on silver plate. But on other they could have drawn every male character in such provocative aspect but did not - thus I guess there were additional reasons why they viewed Kamui in such sensual manner

[irenethewoman]

Mrs. Shelby - Chapter 14 - Churchill

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@vanhelsingsbigtoe

February 1922 London Tommy and his brothers stayed at my house for one night and then left. After I got up, I took care of some trivial matters and then left To Churchill's office. His appointment was at the Ritz, but I wanted to try my luck at his office. "Wow."

Seeing the woman taking off her clothes in his office, I just raised my eyebrows and closed the door. "Please take a seat, Madam Baroness. Although if I remember correctly, I remember that our meeting should be at the Ritz Hotel." I sat aside and calmly took a sip of the tea brought by the secretary. "The tea is very fragrant." In front of this old man like him, I'm too lazy to pretend.

He sketched his nude and I drank my tea. I also randomly picked out a book from his bookshelf and flipped through it. random The ground was just like it had been in my father's office. I've been waiting for a long time, but today's trip did not disappoint me. "Oh, God!" It's Campbell.

Hearing the familiar voice, I raised my head, supported my chin with one hand, and looked at him. Campbell saw Mr Churchill naked After taking the mannequin, he immediately lowered his head and didn't even see me sitting on the side. "Forgive me, sir, but your secretary doesn't seem to be here." In front of Mr. Churchill, Campbell's words sounded like

Like a complaining child. Thinking of this, I laughed out loud. Mr. Churchill looked over. "Sorry, sir." I said, but still with a smile on my face, "But it's funny, isn't it?

Everyone wants to have lunch. " Campbell visibly stiffened when he heard my voice. He wanted to turn around to confirm my identity, but was afraid of seeing the model's appearance. It looks very funny. I smiled even brighter. It wasn't until he found the right spot, one where he could see Mr. Churchill but avoid the model, that he saw Me on the side.

I looked at his surprised expression. He would never have imagined that I was negotiating a deal with him in a garage in Birmingham. After winning the inheritance, he became the biggest winner and qualified to appear in the office of his immediate boss. To be honest, I really wanted to show off my power and make myself look like a temptress in troubled times, so as to relieve my anger. "This is Baroness Turner."

I stood up and gave him my hand. Before he could react, he withdrew his hand and sat back gracefully. "Ireland It’s not a land of etiquette, is it? " Churchill glanced at me and told me not to go too far, but I just smiled. I am one of the important patrons of the Conservative Party One, he would not make me unhappy, at most he would give me a small warning like just now. Although Churchill appeared on the surface, he still

He is from the Liberal Party, but I know his little calculations - after all, he has also betrayed the Conservative Party. "What's so urgent? It's more important than lunch." Churchill spoke up to help Campbell. Campbell looked at me, and I stared back at him, not to be outdone. Very good, even if Churchill immediately asks me to leave now, with his look, I have already confirmed my guess. Unfortunately, we are in big trouble.

"Baroness Turner is an important patron of ours. As you can see, she is a young, wealthy, single woman who is looking for A husband worthy of her. " I frowned as I listened to Churchill's words. What does he mean? His wife is not worthy of his lordship! I They are indeed considered in-laws, but that is also the business of George I. When will my wedding turn get this eight pole? Are you worried about your relatives who can’t even afford a wife? "Sir, our manpower in Birmingham has passed the first round of testing with flying colors."

Campbell looked at me, and I took a sip of tea with a normal expression, pretending that I knew nothing. They talked openly about killing donkeys in front of me, as if they thought women should not understand these things. "To put pressure on a guy on a mission like this, you have to know his weaknesses. And I know this guy's weaknesses very well. What is it. "Campbell looked at me maliciously. As it happened, I also knew Tommy's weaknesses: his family, and me as his fiancée.

The next lunch, I faced Churchill and braced myself, pretending to be my true feelings. They just talked for a long time without mentioning the name Thomas Shelby, and Churchill never mentioned that I had been to Birmingham.

John, met Campbell, and my relationship with Tommy. I think I understand what he means. He will help me hide my past, and I can use this to choose a husband from the upper class; but as a In exchange, he asked me to give up Tommy and let them use my lover as a knife.

I was worried about Tommy and furious. Even when I got home, I was still thinking about countermeasures. This is simply a dead end! We can get around Campbell and get a little bit of life. But if you can get around that hypocrite Campbell, you have to deal with Shangqiu. Gill is such a villain, no one is good at all. If Churchill could have chosen Tommy for If we get rid of Campbell, he can get rid of us for another guy. I kept thinking about it until around two o'clock in the morning before I slowly fell asleep… "You can't come in! This is Baroness Turner's mansion! I'm calling the police!"

I was woken up by the sound downstairs. Since returning to London - apart from sleeping with Tommy yesterday - I've often suffered from insomnia; I sleep very lightly, and the slightest disturbance can wake me up. What's more, now, the sound of breaking porcelain, fighting Sounds, screams… I took out the pistol hidden under the pillow, put a coat on myself and walked out of the bedroom. I stood on the second floor and watched Sabili leading his men to do evil in my house. My concierge lies in the garden and stirs My maid was being pulled by her hair, my housekeeper and other servants were being beaten. On the floor are porcelain and The shards of glass left two more holes in my door. I know this is revenge for Tommy. But I never regret falling in love with him. "Bang!" The pistol was no longer fit for purpose, so I took the shotgun off the wall and fired at one of his men. That person was shot by me , immediately lying on the ground, blood flowing like a river. When they heard the gunshot, they immediately drew their guns and aimed at the direction of the sound.

"You forced your way into my house…and you dared to point a gun at me!" I held the shotgun and yelled at them angrily. "You must make Opposite? ah? ! A group of Italians dared to hold a gun against the baroness whom he personally named in front of the King of England's eyes! war

The war has just ended, are you declaring war with Britain? " The group of people visibly flinched when they heard me carrying out the king. They glanced at Sabi, who was unwilling to give in The ground moved its mouth and spat on my ground. "You are Diana Turner, the gypsy bastard's mistress."

I stood on the second floor, looking down at him with my head held high. "You are that Dago with the big pizza nose." (Note: Dago means Italians and Spaniards are derogatory names, just like Chinaman to us and Nigger to black people. Appear here Only for plot needs) I saw the gunman next to him move, "Shoot! If you dare, shoot in my house! Come on!"

He dares? ! As long as he hits me with this shot tonight, I will be able to seriously injure Sabi tomorrow. a gun In exchange for half of Sabi's property, it was worth it! Although Sabili didn't know that I had set fire to my hands, he also knew the danger of attacking me at this moment. risk. He raised his hand to signal the close guard not to be impulsive, and then threw something at me. "This is a gold tooth dug out of his mouth. I think you must have seen it many times. You must be more familiar with its appearance than I am."

Son, after all he must lick your pussy for many times. " Tommy… I don't have time to care about what nasty things Sabi said to me, I just feel sorry for my Tommy. That must be him living it from Tommy's mouth Digging it up alive…how dare he! But if Sabili thinks that this can make me cower in fear, then he is totally wrong. Maybe he should go to hell and the old bus Let’s have a chat and see the consequences of underestimating me. "I will use your finger to exchange for my fiancé's tooth. We'll see." Sabili just twitched the corner of his mouth in disdain. I felt like my eyes were breathing fire. He may think that Thomas Shelby is an aristocratic lady who is lucky enough to sleep in London, and that I am just a ruthless person. A talkative, incompetent lady. I do what I say. "Now, get out of my house right now! Don't let me say it a second time!"

I raised the gun again, this time I aimed it at Sabi's head. I looked at the mess in silence. "Fortunately, the portraits of my ancestors are fine." I said to myself. "Thankfully I didn't leave dad hanging outside…" "Aunt Dai Ni…" I heard Maria's voice and turned around. She must have been woken up by us. She was only wearing a thin nightgown at the moment. He stood upstairs with bare feet, his hands and feet trembling helplessly. "Did something happen at home…" "It's okay, my dear, go back to sleep." I tried my best to soothe my frozen face and coaxed her gently.

she. "Juana, go and stay with Miss Maria." When Juana came back and told me that Maria had fallen asleep, I turned around. "No need to clean up." I waved my hand and asked the servants to go back and rest. “Jenny, go to the refrigerator and get some ice packs to apply on Face, go to the pharmacy to get some medicine for everyone. Everyone, go and have a rest. Don’t talk about today’s affairs everywhere, you know? this Everyone will receive additional bonuses every month. Okay, let's all go and have a rest. "

I first called Attorney Collins and asked him to come to my house tomorrow morning to discuss important matters. Then I held it from The booklet taken out of the warehouse, compared with the furnishings broken by Sabi, calculated my losses tonight, and the hired secret agents. money from the people who protect Ada. The wool comes from the sheep, and I will ask Sabi to compensate for all these losses! I looked at my hand which had returned to its original state. The hands had recovered from past burns, and the fingers were long and beautiful. The skin is tender and fair.

"Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!" I looked at the extra handprints on my face with satisfaction. The left half of my face has become swollen. My fair face turned red from my own beating It was swollen, and the corners of the mouth were slightly bloody. I was very worried about Tommy's situation. I didn't sleep all night. I just kept looking at the dark circles under my eyes and the wounds on my face, with my hair hanging down. Sitting on the sofa, watching the dawn sun emerge little by little from the wide open door.

Attorney Collins is probably arriving soon. When Edward Collins saw the mess at Turner House, even though he and I had been through a lot together, he was still struck by the sight. I was shocked by the scene in front of me. "Is there a burglar in the house?" "Thieves are looking for money. It's best to keep silent. How can there be blood? Please write a few complaints and lawsuits for me. One copy for "Thailand" Times, one copy to Mr. Brown and Mr. Stuart, and one to Scotland Yard. With a job provided by taxpayers Capital, all the police on King's Road went on strike last night, leaving law-abiding taxpayers to be bullied by London gangsters. Ling. " "…Madam Baroness…"

I raised my head, exposing the clear handprints on my face to his sight, and Edward swallowed the persuasion that came to his lips. He has always been like a relative to me. As long as he sees me being hurt, he will choose to help me. I knew he would give in. Baroness Turner's private residence was forcibly broken into, leaving a mess in front of the entrance door. The handprints on the baroness' haggard handsome face were clear. It can be seen that… this is news that is enough to cause a sensation in London. So what if Sabili controls the police? I am Baroness Turner, the most popular of the social season, and an important figure in the Conservative Party. As one of the patrons, I could change the tide of public opinion in London. Those who either rely on my support or want to become a baroness My husband's politicians are my marionettes, quarreling fiercely in the House of Commons and telling the electorate big questions. lie. They have gained their own interests, and they must protect the interests of their sponsors. This is the law of the jungle in London. Even when facing the police chief, I was still wearing a nightgown, with my hair disheveled, and my face bare, but I slapped my own hand on my face. The seal has long since disappeared. Anyway, they are all Sabili's people, at least they received the benefits from him last night. To them, I'm too lazy to act like a reporter and I Like that in front of funded politicians. Not to mention acting, I didn't even bother to show off, I just turned my back to them and lay down On the sofa, I listened to the policemen's nonsensical nonsense. Just ask, from time to time, “Where were you last night? Why did you fail to protect taxpayer safety?” Complete? ” can be exchanged for a moment of tranquility. They would be silent, and then after a while they would continue to tell me the same nonsense in a condescending tone. talk. Although it made me upset, I just didn't ask them to leave my house. Of course I don't accept their queen. Pao apologizes, but since you have accepted Sabi's money, then come to me and beg for mercy.

In this way they can President, remember, if you see Sapele's pounds in the future, you won't act like a dog that has never seen money. Their masters don't dare to touch me at all, let alone these people. In London, I am still the baroness who controls everything and no one dares to mess with her. Like last year's gossip, I'm Everything was settled quickly. I saw Sabi's public apology letter published in The Times and received the Compensation in pounds sterling. But what about Tommy?

[susandsnell]

1, 6, 24 😉 xx

eeee, thank you so much ditty!!!! you're an absolute gem, hope this solstice thursday is treating you well!! <3

choose violence ask game 🔥

1. the character everyone gets wrong? pick a Batman Rogue. any rogue. literally any of them, and they will be Flanderized to hell and back over one to two traits they may not even have canonically possessed for two to three decades. I readily and wholeheartedly admit that this is not entirely the fault of fandom, and is at least partly owing to the broader problem with having long-running comics universes, because there is such a huge variance in characterization (and quality of said characterization thanks to the overabundance of edgelord and bigoted comics/comic media writers), in the gravity of their actions and where they land on the moral spectrum, and even in motivation that it is nigh impossible to even say what getting said character 'right' means unless the person is talking about a specific iteration (ex.: someone writing fic or making headcanons about specifically Paul Dano's Riddler from The Batman 2022, who has a very particular voice/ethos/motive distinct from your other Riddlers, though there are core shared traits). But of this bunch, i'd have to say my poor Ivy gets it the worst. I'm truly glad she's evolved beyond being just another Temptress of Men Who Hates Them But Also Needs Their Validation Through Constant Sex (although done right she's still a great femme fatale wasting their time and catfishing them for eco-terrorism purposes), and of course as a canon queer character she means the world to me, but as is the case with every popular female character, she's either Holding The Braincell (aka everyone's mom, and I don't mean in the kink way), or Irredeemable. A lot of this does arise from how poor the execution of modern canon Harlivy has been because of respectability politics, but reducing her to Snarky Husky Voiced Plant Lady Rolling Her Eyes At Harley's Antics, making her have her shit way too together (she's always sent to Arkham!), making her the one-sided babysitter/healer of Harley's problems (and by extension, the problems of any other woman), making her a snarky queer auntie to the Batkids (vomit, it's as cringe as the rest of mainstream Batfam fanon), making her have way too much emotional intelligence to the point of counselling others (she's not even one of the psychologist rogues!), having her whole existence revolve around Harley....it's exhausting. (And again, unfortunately something the writers are fucking up in canon constantly, too.)

Fandom as a whole is allergic to women having flaws that impact the narrative concretely without demonizing them for it (when the dudes doing the same and worse are adored and worshipped for it), doubly so if she's BIPOC or queer (because again, double the respectability politics), so they flatten out those flaws and it's like, is she even a villain anymore with her own motivations and ethos, or is she a big tiddy witch gf from a paywalled phone app dating sim? Let her be as complex and angry and jagged and hypocritical as the other male rogues, my god!! (Sidenote that I'm not against retooling characters' designs/presentations/tactics anew entirely for a new universe iteration, especially if it refreshes the narrative, so long as they're interesting and true to some spirit of the character. In other words, masc Ivy's are fine and more than welcome lol.)

6. Which ship fans are the most annoying?

Oh, you really want me to swing my bat at the hornet's nest with this one, huh? While the cheat answer for this is "all of them if you spend enough time in any given ship fandom", I'm the most frequently exhausted by migratory Good Girl Fixing Bad Boy fandom. Fuck it, I'll name names with periods. The Zutar.a/Reyl.o/Darkli.na/Dae.myra et cetera fandom. The ships themselves, I can take or leave (though my main gripe is frequently their execution is just boring). There's no moral objections on my part, to be clear. I'd be hypocritical to take that tack considering my own tastes in markedly more fucked-up shit and like, hello, I cut my teeth in Phantom of the Opera fandom since I was 12 and love gothic romances, so like, glass houses. My issue comes in where these types without fail are consistently smug about the potent feminism inherent to ships they specifically in fanon interpret in the most boring, gender essentialist, wattpad daddy-dom-size-difference kink ho-hum ways imaginable because...it makes them horny, and woman horny about traditional gender roles equals feminism somehow. If it stopped there, I'd've never developed such an animosity, but no no. They make arguments about how much more feminist it is than the (often canon) hero/heroine ships because Feminism Is When Woman Is Treated Like Property By The Man I Find Attractive. They act like cishet romances, usually between two white characters, is the most marginalized thing imaginable and whinge that artists/studios/creators are "too cowardly" to "include romance" if it doesn't go canon in the way they like, as if more marginalized romance stories aren't fighting tooth and nail just to get off the ground. And on that note, the bigotry I have witnessed firsthand in these circles is just appalling; this is a fandom-wide issue and certainly not exclusive to any one shipping community, but the amount of times I have seen them come off as just frothing at the mouth to be homophobic should a slash shipper not bend the knee to the Great Potent Feminism of their ships, and the amount of times the mask as come off is just. Whew. It's okay to just be horny. It really is. One does not have to make a Social Issue Thing about it.

24. Topic that brings up the most rancid discourse? Weird corollary to the above question, and kind of an overbroad answer so I apologize, but Appropriate Amount Of Condonation Versus Condemnation of both characters, and works of fiction as a whole. I feel like the purity culture discourse has gotten so toxic it's gone completely 0 or 100 "if you watch something where something bad happens You Yourself Are Guilty Of This Thing" or "nothing fictional has any impact whatsoever", when my take is a more nuanced idea of media normalizing and reinforcing certain biases, but also, it's not real lmao. If the work itself espouses certain troubling viewpoints it's unsurprising if the audience takes that on (ex: Frank Miller perpetuating racism and misogyny through his writings), but people are such whining babies about so much as glimpsing any kind of Problematic Media (especially miserable if you're a horror fan) that I understand how the knee-jerk defensiveness arose. On the other hand, the baby got thrown out with the bathwater, including by opportunistic bigots who want to shut down any and all critical discussion of social issues present in or surrounding their interests, lest it Spoil Their Fun (and to silence people over whom they're privileged), to the point that any critique from a moral standpoint is immediately branded as Purity Culture with no regard to nuance or the context of the perspective of the person making the critique. So for example, you have people who throw hissy fits about Catra from She-Ra getting a redemption arc and you have people who thoughtfully point out how the writing of certain tropes in a given work perpetuate transmisogyny, and they're all thrown in the same basket and it's exhausting. No space for nuance, you're either Pro or Anti, and to quote Sarah Z's excellent video on this issue, I for one am a tax-paying adult woman.

[blouisparadise]

Today we have the fourth part to our established relationship rec list for you! If you'd like to check out the previous parts, you can find part one here, part two here, and part three here. If you enjoy our rec lists, please show these fics love and be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Heaven In These Sheets | Explicit | 3,557 words

Bunny Hybrid Louis has it out for his boyfriend’s phone.

2) Comfort Is Found When I'm the Only Thought on Your Mind | Mature | 5,087 words

Prompt 396: Established relationship - very domestic PWP. Louis complains about being out of his favorite moisturizer, and Harry suggests giving him a facial.

3) Stripper | Not Rated | 6,579 words

Harry is a bartender at the same strip club Louis works at. They're a power couple.

4) Call My Love In | Explicit | 6,601 words

And it’s cheeky and bold and so fucking Louis that Harry’s almost blindsided by it, takes it like a slap in the face to be reminded, yet again, that he is so eternally thankful to have found this boy. This boy who will bite at him with words, with teeth, will claw at him with hands, will destroy his heart by loving it fiercely, will put it back together again with a look, with a thought, and is never, ever, afraid to be so utterly himself around him; Harry’s so in love he can’t think straight.

5) Act Out | Explicit | 6,721 words

Harry leans forward so he's closer to Louis's ear, and murmurs, "If I was your husband, I'd never let you out of my sight." It’s ridiculous. He is his husband. There’s hundreds of photos, and official papers, and rings, and two babies with the last name Tomlinson Styles that prove it. But it’s also possessive, and hot and Louis doesn’t know what he was expecting when Harry told him he wanted to try roleplaying a little, but so far he’s not complaining.

6) Alone Too Long | Explicit | 10,371 words

By the time The Temptress finally reached bay, the Captain only had one thing on his mind, and that one thing was Louis Darling.

7) Under the Same Sun | Explicit | 10,662 words

Louis and Harry live 400 miles away from each other. Sometimes it’s hard. (internet boyfriends, indie bands, and happy endings) “I already miss you. I miss you all the damn time.” Louis says, because it’s late enough for honesty.

8) Out Of The Woods | Explicit | 15,560 words

The past and the future merge to meet us here. What luck. What a fucking curse.

9) Everything I Do | Explicit | 16,390 words

Harry’s ready, has been for a while now, and he’s fairly certain Louis is too, it just hasn’t been on the top of their priority list. There have been offhand mentions, a comment here and there, more in jest than anything, no serious discussion or consideration. Harry stands up straighter, a stomach-churning thought forming in his mind. Has Louis been waiting for him to ask?

10) Three's A Crowd, Four's A Party | Mature | 16,659 words

Harry and Louis tell their five year old they're pregnant.

11) Were We Ever This Young? | Explicit | 17,296 words

Hogwarts AU in which Harry and Louis both return to give talks to seventh years about the 'real world' with slightly varying results. Inspired by the Chilton scene between Rory and Paris in the new Gilmore Girls.

12) Under the Lights Tonight | Explicit | 20,905 words | Sequel

Note: There is a BH mention.

Harry’s an A-list supermodel, Louis’s his make-up artist boyfriend. They’re something of a dream team.

13) Suddenly They're Right | Explicit | 22,384 words

Louis is a painting professor with an art block the size of Texas and a global superstar for a non-boyfriend, who he wants to keep.

14) Wrote You a Love Letter | Not Rated | 23,092 words

Where Louis writes love letters to Harry through the good and bad times over their years together, until the very end.

15) The Devil’s In The Details | Explicit | 25,372 words | Sequel

He squeals when Harry smacks his bum as he bends over to pick up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. Harry smiles smugly at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “When are you going to start calling me professor?” He asks. “When you actually are one,” Louis says with his hand on the doorknob. He cocks his head to the side in curiosity. “Isn’t that how words work? You did study English, right?” Louis’ quick to slip out the door before Harry can smack him again, his laugh echoing through the hallways as he makes his way to his next class with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

16) Fetish For My Love | Explicit | 27,388 words

Louis has too many worries to even think about a moment of peace in the days that now exhaust him and become a complete rush for him. Fortunately, Harry doesn't take long to take care of the matter as he knows that he has wanted it so much, finding the solution in a particular sheet full of colored stickers.

17) Lovin' Online | Not Rated | 27,627 words

“Huh?” Harry asks, muffled by his forearm. He feels lips on his face and the tip of Louis’ nose against his ear when Louis repeats himself. Brain sluggish with sleep, it takes a moment for him to process the words, but his eyes snap open, and he’s met with darkness. He's got to be dreaming, there’s no way Louis just said what he thinks he said. “What did you say?” He can see the vague shrug from Louis before he turns around to toss the towel with the pile of their discarded clothes. “Did you say…” he starts slowly, automatically slinging his arm around Louis as he gets back into bed and throws the blankets over them. “That we should make a sex tape?” Louis asks rather nonchalantly for such a big proposition. He cuddles easily into the warm body and confirms, “Yes, I did.”

18) Like The Stars Above | Explicit | 33,759 words

Louis has a witchy little secret that is slowly ruining his relationship. When that secret comes out, it turns out that he has a lot more to worry about than just losing the love of his life. He might lose everything.

19) Beneath The Shining Stars | Explicit | 35,207 words

A Hamlet retelling/AU on steroids, where Harry is Hamlet, Louis is Horatio, and comedic chaos ensues (with a dash of tragedy). Featuring the rest of OT5 and the original characters of Shakespeare's "Hamlet".

20) These Hallowed Woods | Not Rated | 35,535 words

Louis becomes Luna of the Tomlinson Pack after the untimely death of his father, the Pack Alpha. Saddled with his newfound responsibility and an unpleasantly demanding pack council, he finds secret respite in the arms of a rogue wolf that camps out just outside his territory. The only problem? The rogue has no idea who Louis actually is, and as Louis falls harder and harder for the man he escapes to every night, the weight of his lies steers him along a path of certain misery.

21) This Glass House | Mature | 42,072 words

While deployed, Alpha Harry gets injured by an IED explosion, leaving him to deal with severe injuries in its devastating aftermath. During his road to acceptance and recovery he learns with the help of Louis and their children just how important family can be for the mind, body, and soul.

22) Show Me Life Like I've Never Seen | Mature | 42,948 words

Louis never expected to leave the small art studio three blocks down from his job with anything besides the painting he caught a glimpse of and simply couldn't forget.

23) Til' The Darkness Softly Clears | Explicit | 45,430 words

Something thuds nearby, and Callie sits up in bed, eyes still fuzzy from sleep. She yawns and rubs her eyes, looking around the room for the source of the noise. When she doesn’t see anything, she huffs quietly. Sliding to the floor, her feet take her towards the door. At the doorway, something disturbs the silence again: the distant sound of footsteps. Callie holds her breath and creeps out of the room. On the landing, she stands on her toes to peer over the railing. She can see the front door, and, outside, through the windows on either side of the door, she sees a shadow pass by. It walks one way, then disappears from sight for a second before it turns and walks back in front of the door. Callie’s eyes widen, and she backs up from view when the figure pauses its pacing directly in front of a window. Slowly, it turns, and it seems to stare right through the window, directly at her.

24) Flash Back To Me | Explicit | 73,068 words

Louis narrows his eyes, wanting more than anything to tell Liam to go fuck himself, but he can’t be sure, is the thing. As much as he knows for a fact that he would never date someone like Harry Styles, he has months missing from his memory. And it’s scary to think that, in that time, everything he’s come to know about himself could have changed so drastically.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[stars-and-darkness]

many thanks to @garglyswoof & @morningstargirl666 for tagging me in this game. the rules are to repost an older fic, so i’m gonna share the funniest thing i ever wrote in my life:

I Choose Dare

An ode to how Aang, under the power of a mighty temptress, was forced to grow a beard.

Oh, and the birth of his first child, too, he supposes.

tagging anyone who wants in <3

What international peace summits include for most of people is a lot of arguing, too much pomp, enough politics to make one's head ache, a needless amount of balls and banquets ... the list is both endless and ever-expanding.

What international peace summits include for the six of them is finally reconvening after far too long separated, tearful hugs, and doing activities very few outsiders could imagine the people of their status and influence doing; pranking dignitaries, playing board games, sparring, or, as they were doing now--playing Truth or Dare.

It was Sokka's idea. Well, the alcohol was Toph's, after she reminded them that the reason they haven't played the game in so long was because dares like kiss x person and truths like who do you have a crush on? lost their charm when they all started dating and/or marrying each other. She thought booze might spice things up, so what, sue her!

The kids were all asleep, it was the last day of the summit, all important decisions were made. People being hungover tomorrow morning wouldn't change anything!

Her friends, being her friends, had to ruin it of course.

Fangirl failed her first. She didn't say anything, but as the night progressed, she made it perfectly clear she wasn't getting drunk.

Sweetness only had a small shot glass. She said it was because someone needed to stay sober and responsible. Boooo sobriety and responsibility!

Sparky outright refused to drink. As a reason for this travesty, he named his young twins, which was just a hit below the belt, but Toph saw right through him. He just didn't want to draw attention to the fact that he was a first class lightweight.

Only Sokka and Aang stayed in her corner.

A few rounds of the game passed with relative ease, until the bottle (a fine firewhiskey Sparky gifted her for her twenty-sixth birthday, now empty through the united efforts of Fan Girl, Sweetness, Snoozles, Twinkles and herself) landed on her ... and Aang.

Twinkles's heartbeat spiked. Toph felt great satisfaction at the fact that, in the fourteen years since they'd met, she'd trained her boyfriend well enough to have him anticipate he was about to be wrecked.

"Twinkles, my love," she said, in an unbearably sweet voice, "truth or dare?"

She felt him swallow. "Dare."

The grin that spread her lips truly was terrifying. "So you chose dare."

"I did."

.

"I dare you," her smile widened, "to grow a beard."

"Toph ..."

"A beard," she continued. No one else dared breathe.

Aang gulped again. "When ... when can I shave it?"

She grinned again. "Who said anything about ever?"

"Toph, please," he whispered, weak. "Please."

"All right." She wrecked her brain for an idea. Long ago, when she was a kid, her governess would read fairy tales to her every night before bed.

Inspiration struck.

When she spoke again, it was in a throaty, mystic voice. "You may free yourself of this curse with the birth of your first child," she announced. "Should you attempt to rid yourself of the beard sooner, you will have wrought upon yourself the fury of the Greatest Eartbender in the World."

No pleas would rescind her judgement. No amount of begging, groveling, scraping.

Toph Beifong was unmoved.

.

"Avatar Aang!" said King Chinou, the squinty-eyed monarch of a minor Earth Kingom city-state. "Your appearance is ... unexpected."

Aang wished he could say the king meant his arrival was unexpected; that would let him pretend for just a while longer. But Chinou had invited the Avatar himself, and therefore there was no confusion about what he meant.

It was Aang's physical appearance that was so off-putting. The abomination on his face has been there for months now, and everywhere he went, the reaction was the same. People stared. People laughed, and then pretended they weren't laughing, because who would dare to make fun of the Avatar, right?

Toph-monkey-feathering-Beifong, that's who!

(Spirits above, he loved her.)

He resisted the urge to scratch at his chin. The terrible thing was awful and hot and itchy. No one in their right mind would ever voluntarily have one.

He gave King Chinou a neutral look. "What is the reason you've summoned me, Majesty?"

The king snapped out of his trance soon enough, and the work began.

Three days later, after an oddly tense dispute between two rival merchants of cabbage was settled, Aang all but collapsed into bed.

He and Toph didn't exactly have a permanent address. He was a nomad, after all, and Toph wasn't particularly attached to any single space. They lived everywhere: the Air Temples, her metalbending academy, random inns all over the world, the Fire Palace, Sokka and Suki's house ... wherever they found themselves. This particular lodging was an outpost of the Beifong family.

Yeah, Aang thought, fingering the satin sheets under him, it shows.

"How was the lovely King Chinou?" Toph asked. He could hear the grin in her voice.

Chinou may or may not have banished her from his territory after she called him a spineless fuck-faced beetle-tapeworm.

The context, she'd impassionately tell him every time he tried to pull the story out of her, didn't matter.

Aang let out a long groan. Toph chuckled.

"He had me settle a dispute between two cabbage merchants. And one of then just kept giving me a side-eye, like I'd killed his mother or something!"

"Well, I have some good news for you then," she said, turning onto her side and promting him to face her.

"Oh?"

"Oh, yeah," she said. "You'll finally be allowed to shave that abomination off your chin."

"Urk?" He didn't recognize the sound he made. "So ... you changed your mind?"

"Well ... not quite yet. In nine months."

Aang frowned. "You'll ... change your mind in nine months?"

Toph rolled her eyes. Sokka taught her to do that a few years ago, and she hasn't stopped since.

"No, Twinkles, I'm fucking pregnant."

Aang sat up. "Are you messing with me, T? Because I honestly can't tell."

Toph rolled her eyes again. Her hair, silky and inky black, was unbound, spilling down the pillow. Her sleep clothes were his own clothes, so loose on her small form it seemed she would slip out of them at any moment.

She reached up and took a hold of his hand, pressing it to her abdomen.

Aang didn't hesitate to call some water to himself from the vase on his nightstand. He never had Katara's talent at healing (or any other part of waterbending, really), but as the water beneath his palm glowed and he could feel a small, impossibly small, heartbeat.

There was a baby in there.

.

His baby, their baby, their own baby, to cherish and love and protect.

His throat was closed up. He couldn't say a word. But then Toph's small hand squeezed his, and he knew no words were necessary.

After several hours and many death threats, most of which had been directed at Aang himself, the tiny little Gyatso Beifong came into the world.

He really was minuscule, with his Dad's steel-grey eyes and a tuft of his Mum's inky-black hair atop his otherwise bald head. He had two eyes, two ears, one nose, ten fingers and ten toes. Aang should know. He'd counted them all, over and over again.

He'd seen babies before--there was Hope, back in the Serpent's pass, a multitude of newborns and toddlers whose parents sought the Avatar's blessing, and, in the recent years, his friends' own children.

But, watching the sleeping bundle in his arms, a bundle that had been screaming relentlessly up until half an hour ago, and Aang took him into his arms and out onto the balcony, he decided he'd never really seen a baby before, because surely this absolutely flawless, perfect, tiny human being was the standard to which all other babies aspired.

Toph was asleep in the bedroom just beyond the balcony doors. All those death threats were exhausting business, after all. Oh, and childbirth too, he supposed.

"Hello, Gyatso," he whispered, tickling his finger over the baby's stomach. The giggle that burst out of his mouth melted Aang's heart. "Who's the cutest boy ever? You are!"

Gyatso didn't answer verbally; he was, after all, just a newborn.

"And I am so, so glad to finally meet you! Yes I am! Yes I am!" Truly, Gyatso's laugh must've been the purest, most perfect sound in the world. "And not only because I can now finally shave this monstrosity off."