In The Bleak Midwinter

In The Bleak Midwinter

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,  Part 12 & Part 13

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Mentions of death

Gif Credit: @peakymurphy​ & @peakyblinders1919​ Thank you for letting me use your beautiful gifs!

Tag: If you want to be tagged let me know.

My Intent: Alright, I’m attempting to purge this from my soul. So this is sort of a hybrid. It’s first person, because I love how that makes it feel, but you are also a character, with a name and backstory. So hopefully you don’t hate it.

Also, it should be noted I love Grace and Tommy. So Grace will be held in high regard in this story. This story takes place in season 3, I think. And this is my first Peaky Blinders story, so go easy on me. I’m full newb.

My other stories are not forgotten, but this idea gave me no peace.

As the car takes the long drive up to the manor, you can hardly believe your eyes. 

It’s far bigger than anything you’ve seen in a long time, but you expect nothing less for Mr. Thomas Shelby.

The manor is a rich red color that reminds you of the clay that sticks to your boots after a heavy rain has washed away the top soil. 

The windows stare back you like blinking eyes - tall and plentiful, like gatekeepers for the secrets inside. 

With a grand stone archway entrance that announces you’ve arrived.  

It’s more than you ever hoped to offer Finn, compared to that tiny shoebox room you were squeezed in before in Small Heath. 

It’s quiet out here in the country too. No drunken men hollering in the streets, fornicating and fighting before your son’s eyes at every turn. 

The idea of working for Thomas Shelby is an intimidating one, as it should be, but it’s a chance for Finn. A chance for something more, so you had to take it.

Finn gawks in wonder as the car pulls up the drive. 

His jaw slack, eyes wide, and you have to tell him more than once to return to his seat while the car is still moving, as he fidgets about the vehicle in amazement at what’s before him. 

You catch the smile that edges at Polly’s face as she watches your son. And you get the sense you or Finn remind her of someone, someone she lost or maybe a former version of herself, and that’s why she’s extended this offer so graciously to you.

“Who’s this? Tommy said no more visitors.” A young woman asks as Polly leads you and Finn in through the entrance, ceiling so tall you have to crane your neck back to see the top.

With dark curly hair swaying around her shoulders, deep features, and fire in her eyes, surely, she’s a Shelby. 

And judging by the way she looks only a few years older than you, you guess she’s Thomas’s sister, Ada. 

You’ve heard of her too, you’ve heard of them all, but who hasn’t in these parts.

“I brought her here to help with Charlie, Ada. Tommy is going to need a hand.” Polly says with ease, as if she’s got it all already figured out. 

A beautiful woman for her age. With dark curly locks and skin pale like the full moon. There’s something bewitching about Polly’s eyes and the curl of her mouth that makes you think she knows everything, capable of anything, and probably both.

But the weary look Ada sends her way makes you feel less confident about the whole arrangement. Like maybe things aren’t as settled as Polly made them seem.

Turning your way, Ada looks you over. 

“And the boy?” She inquires with a tilt of her head, glancing at your son who stands nervously at your side, trying to look taller than his tender years.

“Her son.” Polly answers before you can.

That answer seems to soften Ada a bit. Her eyes easing off their edge as a small almost indiscernible smile curls at the corner of her mouth.

“A widow, good.” She says, mostly to herself. 

And the way she eyes you, as you stand silently hoping to be approved, you can see the idea of your loss eases something inside her.

“Very well, Tommy’s in the parlor.” You hear her say, as you turn back to Finn with the feel of his tug on the length of your coat.

Your eyes meet your boy’s baby blues as he gazes up at you as if he’s torn between sheer excitement and intimation being surrounded by all this.

“What’s a widow, mum?” His young voice asks you as he stays close around your legs.

Finn’s never seen a place like this and certainly never stepped foot inside one. 

You want things for your boy, good things, better than you have, but you’ve only ever been able to scrape by. 

But this is your chance to change all that, your chance to give him what you never could before.

“Your mum apparently.” You say with a small laugh, smiling down at him with reassurance as you pinch playfully at the apple of his cheek.

“This way,” You hear Polly say as you glance back up with the sound of her heels clicking on the wooden floors. 

Taking Finn’s hand as your lead through the house. Deep mahogany walls greet you at every turn, ornately carved and shining. 

Beautiful things fill every space your eyes can reach. Things you’ve only seen in the pictures and could never imagine lying before you in full color.

Finn’s hand reaches out in curiosity before you quickly slap it away.

“Touch nothing.” You scold him gently as fear speeds up your heart. This place like one giant bomb, set anything off and this opportunity could blow up around you.

Entering the parlor, you take in the sight of the walls filled with books as you follow Polly near his desk. 

Mr. Shelby’s seated behind it, only glancing up as you approach. 

He eyes you, your eyes catching as you feel Finn dart behind your coat. You don’t look away, don’t blink, you’re not even sure you breathe, it feels like a test and you’ll be damned if you fail it.

Polly starts in, pulling his attention as you suck in a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

He’s not as tall as you expected, Mr. Shelby. The myth larger than the man, but he has an energy about him. Bigger than life. Like a vortex, pulling all the energy from the room and pointing it squarely upon him. 

It’s in that moment you realize the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. Comin’ into the home of a man who’s just lost his wife, offerin’ to help with his now motherless child, the situation couldn’t be more bleak.

You try and smooth down Finn’s hair, drawing him out from behind you as Polly tries to seal the deal. Their words filling your ears as you turn back.

“Fuckin hell Pol, he has one. Just cause she’s- doesn’t mean-“ Mr. Shelby stumbles over his own words and you can see he’s growing agitated.

“I know, Tommy, I know, but you need help. Children require a lot of time. You have the business to think about and she needs a job. It solves both your problems.” Polly says diplomatically, and you get the sense she probably knows how to talk to him better than anyone.

“She looks weak, Pol. Skin and bone the best you can find.” He insults, his eyes surveying you briefly like an item he’s considering for purchase, but never meets your eyes.

It’s true, you could use a few pounds, but you’ve barely eaten. What little you have mostly goes to Finn. 

You take just enough to get by, keep going. You don’t have the luxuries of more, but circumstance hasn’t dampened your spirit. 

If anything, it’s made you more strong willed, you have no doubts what you’re fighting for.

“That may be, but I’m strong and good with children.” You speak up suddenly before Polly gets a chance and all eyes turn on you instantly. 

Polly looks surprised, but Mr. Shelby, his gaze is to vacant to warrant anything worth counting.

“We’ll see about that.” He answers before rising from his chair and calling for the help.

“Mary!” An old woman appears in the doorway behind you before Mr. Shelby summons her to retrieve his son. 

When she returns with the boy, Mr. Shelby is quick to take him. Holding him close as he walks over to you, his gaze cautious as he stands before you.

The boy is precious to say the least. With big round cheeks, sky blue eyes, and straight rust colored hair. 

He looks like his father, but the color reminds you of Finn’s when he was just a baby.

“Hi Charlie, I’m miss Fiona.” You tell him softly, smiling over at him as your fingertips dance along his hair, the apples of his cheeks, settling on his plump little hand as he wraps it around your finger.

You catch the little boy’s eyes on Finn with curiosity.

“This my son, Finn. He’s just a little older than you.” You tell him, explaining matters most would think are too advanced for a child of his age, but you always felt children understood far more than we gave them credit for.

Charlie glances back up at you and you greet him with a smile as you reach for him, praying he’ll trust you enough to let you hold him.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief when Charlie reaches for you in return and lets you pick him up. 

Placing him on your hip, you give him a gentle hug.

“Hello sweet boy.” You whisper into his hair as your hand runs down along it.

Charlie reaches for Finn and a smile breaks out wide on your face as Finn takes his hand, the boys enamored with each other.

Your face shoots back up to Mr. Shelby as he clears his throat. 

His eyes are hollow deep pits filled with raw madness that’s barely contained. He looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. 

Perhaps he hasn’t. You wouldn’t know, you don’t know this man, but you need this job, so you stare back into his eyes as if the sight of them didn’t break your heart.

“Alright then,” He says simply on a low gritty breath, giving his approval as he sparks a cigarette.

“But don’ touch anything in the house. Not a fuckin’ thing.” He practically spits out at you, his words shivering down your spine as you take it, because he isn’t the first man to send a blow your way.

“Mary prepare a room for Miss Fiona and her boy.” Mr. Shelby orders. And just like that, you’ve changed your son’s world.

 Mr. Shelby is cold and distant, and you expect nothing less of a man who’s lost his heart. So you keep your distance and attend to the little one. 

Charlie is easy to care for, easy to love. He’s sweet and joyful, and the boys have taken to each other easily. 

The only hardship is the way he breaks your heart every time he calls for his mum. You wish you knew her. Knew how to bring her to life for him.

The house is bigger than any you’ve ever stayed in, but still Mr. Shelby and his moods manage to find you even inside these many rooms. 

You know you shouldn’t be surprised. Not after the way you heard his family talking about his current state earlier in the morning. 

But still, the way he comes at you, almost as if on attack, as if he needs to bite at something to lick his own wounds, and you’re the nearest one in sight, takes even you by surprise.

You’re preparing a picnic for the children since the sun has decided to come out from its hiding place, when Mr. Shelby thinks it’s time to a have a word.

“I asked around about yeah…” He starts as he appears suddenly, standing across from you in the white tiled kitchen. 

You’re unsure if his interlude is supposed to stir a response, but you pay it no mind, barely glancing over his way as you await him to continue.

“Thought I hired a good catholic widow.” He says, his words low and full of innuendo as he pulls at a cigarette on his lips.

Your hands settle from the basket you’re tending to and offer him the undivided attention he seems insistent on having.

“I am a good catholic.” You tell him, looking him square in the eye, unflinching, because you’ve heard worse, from worse and you decided long ago others weren’t going to define you.

“Aye, a good fucking catholic girl who got herself pregnant outside of marriage.” He says, with that unflinching stare you can sense has a way of riling people up.

And it’s good, he’s good at pushing all the right buttons, because the indignant way he speaks to you easily serves its purpose and instantly you’re defensive of his claim.

“He loved me.” You defiantly tell him and anyone else who will listen. 

How dare he take the moral high ground. He may have friends, and those with loose lips who are quick to pass judgement upon you, but you’re no fool to Mr. Shelby’s doings either. 

You know about the Peak Blinders, everyone in these parts does. How dare he think he has a leg to stand on talking to you about morality.

“That why he ran off to the war stead of makin’ an honest woman of you?” He carries on, undiminished by the fire on your tongue. 

And you know you should shut up, leave it be. This man has given you a job, given you and your child room and board, food in your bellies, living in a place far more grand than any you ever could have imagined. But even now, all these years later, you can’t rest when others presume to know how your son came to be a bastard, as they are so quick to call him to your face and behind your back.

“He didn’t know about the baby and when I sent word, he gave me his. Even from the pits of hell over there he promised we’d marry once he came home, but he never made it back. Swallowed up like the rest of ‘em to slaughter.” Tears biting at your eyes as you push them down and tighten your jaw.

“So you Mr. Shelby, you and all the others, you know nothing of it. Not a thing.” You unleash upon him. 

You know the sins you committed. Know the price you and your son will pay for the rest of your lives, but you weren’t some foolish girl who got taken for a ride. And you’re tired of the world pretending as if you were.

Mr. Shelby’s goes silent with your confession, his face expressionless, but his eyes hold upon you, steady with you. 

You get the sense you’ve taken him by surprise. Maybe he wasn’t expecting such a fervent response, maybe he didn’t think you had fire in your belly, or maybe what Polly had told you was true, he knows a little something about the prices of war. 

Whatever the reason, Mr. Shelby doesn’t speak again and as your burners cool, you begin to feel the need to backtrack before you ruin a good thing for your son.

“I apologize Mr. Shelby. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” You say formally, cordially, albeit forced, before you scoop up the biscuits and jam, placing them into the open basket resting on the butcher block before you.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking the children for a picnic while the weather still permits.” You say softly before making a hasty escape.

You’re nearly free, basket in hand, eyes staying steady down around your hands as you try to slip past him, but his arm drops down, blocking your passage, and you’re forced to look up at him, awaiting his word.

In your short time there you’ve learned Mr. Shelby has a way of taking up space, filling even the largest of rooms when he stands in them. 

You find Mr. Shelby’s gaze waiting for you, and you brace yourself for the repercussion of your quick temper, but they never come.

“I didn’t…” He starts, his words stalling as he pulls at the cigarette on his lips.

You can feel he’s struggling, fighting with an apology of some sort. So you set him free.

“No need. You’re entitled to your opinions, Mr. Shelby. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my son. Given me a job in all.” You say, the blue of his eyes holding you captive. 

The depth of them like a pit that could swallow you up if you stand too close to its edge.

“Charlie likes you.” He notes on a long breath, his words easing the tension thick between you.

“And I adore him.” You say simply.

Your answer pleases him and seems to diffuse the moment as he offers you a quick nod and lets you pass.

Late Night Brilliance

Pairing: Rafael Barba x Reader

Summary: Barba shows up at your house unexpectedly one evening to go over a case. What began as an honest need to work through some inconsistencies, turned into a battle to maintain professionalism and composure.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (P in V), oral (M receiving), mentions of F receiving oral, fingering, light dom/sub vibes (Rafi is totally a dom).

A/N: Spanish Translations:

Querida/Cariño/Nena: Terms of endearment (darling/sweetheart/baby)

Meirda: shit

Por favor: please

The rest will be in brackets and italics after the sentence.

You were in the middle of eating your Chinese takeout when you were disturbed by a knock at your door. You weren't expecting any company and had been taking full advantage of a quiet Friday night in.

You sighed quietly as you pulled yourself off the sofa and went to answer the door. A shiver of surprise ran down your spine as you peered through the peephole. You groaned inwardly, glancing down at your rather disheveled appearance. You'd thrown on an old baggy t-shirt and leggings when you'd gotten home from work, but one look at the man standing on the other side of your door filled you with regret.

You pushed down any feelings of dread--and butterflies--as you opened the door and greeted your visitor with a warm smile. "Rafael Barba. What brings you by at 6:30pm on a Friday?"

Your tone was light and teasing, despite the unease you felt internally. He gave you his signature half-smirk, eyes quickly scanning you from head to toe, making you feel even more self-conscious.

He was wearing a beautiful three piece navy pinstripe suit with a lovely pink tie. You had no doubt he had matching suspenders under that damn vest...you hated how good he looked even after a long day of work.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said in a tone that indicated he knew damn well he wasn't interrupting anything. "I was hoping to talk to you about the Milligan case."

"Nothing better to do on a Friday night, Counselor?"

He chuckled. "My options were to spend the evening in my office, at home alone, or come spend it with a beautiful woman. I chose the latter."

You were more than a little surprised by his words, though you did your best not to show it. The two of you were known to flirt occasionally, but neither had dared to cross the line. A relationship between the two of you was out of the question, not that he was even interested in pursuing one with you. After all, he was married to his work and you were quite far from his type...you'd seen Yelina.

"Lucky for you, I also have no life outside of my job," you teased. "Come on in and make yourself at home. I've got Chinese food if you're hungry and I just opened a bottle of Merlot."

Rafael followed you in, shedding his suit jacket and draping it across the back of a dining chair. He began to roll up the sleeves of his white button down and you felt a stirring in your abdomen. "Chinese sounds amazing, but I can't say I'm a fan of Merlot."

It took you a moment to register the words he'd spoken as you were too preoccupied with not revealing how incredibly sexy you thought he looked in that moment. "I, uh--I think I have some bourbon if you're interested."

You practically bolted to the kitchen to look in the cabinet where you kept the liquor. You desperately needed to be as far away from him as possible before your face gave away the thoughts in your head.

"Bourbon sounds good."

Your eyes scanned the cabinet, locating the half-empty bottle at the back of the shelf. "Two fingers or three?"

"Three," he answered, voice much closer than it had been moments before.

You turned around to see Rafael leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest. Your eyes nearly rolled into your head at the sight and you let out an audible sound you hoped could be interpreted as surprise.

You poured the drink in silence, before handing it to him and gesturing for him to follow you to the living room. "We can eat at the table if you prefer..." you trailed off.

"Not necessary. The couch looks perfectly comfortable."

He sat down on one end of the couch and you sat on the other, as far away as you could possibly get without sitting on the arm. He raised an eyebrow at you, but didn't comment on the awkward distance you'd managed to put between you.

"So you--um--you wanted to talk about Milligan?" you asked.

"Not exactly. I wanted to talk about the victim, Shelly."

"What about her?"

"Something about her story isn't sitting right with me."

"Okay..."

"I want you to go over it with me again. Maybe give me a fresh set of eyes and a different perspective?"

"I'm not sure how much help I can be, Barba. I was in the room when she disclosed--that's not exactly a fresh set of eyes."

"Perhaps, but you are a psychologist. You see things very differently from the rest of us."

You sighed. "Alright, I'll bite. Where do you wanna start?"

As the two of you began to discuss the case and the inconsistencies in the victim's story, your discomfort started to evaporate. This is what you were passionate about--what you were best at. Everything else simply faded away and Rafael became just a colleague, not a man you were hopelessly romantically interested in.

Two hours passed, but it felt like no time at all. Your coffee table was littered with files and papers, and both you and Rafael were leaning over it, examining pieces of evidence. He was mere inches from you, but you were so absorbed in what you were doing that you hardly noticed.

"Cariño, can you pass me that witness statement?" Rafael asked.

You grabbed the paper he was referring to and handed it to him, eyes still scanning the page in front of you. The term of endearment didn't even register in your mind, nor did he seem to realize he'd even said it aloud.

After a few moments, Rafael asked you another question. "Do you have the surveillance photos from the bar?"

You pushed a few folders out of the way, digging the file with the photos out from the bottom of the stack. "What are you looking for?"

"Her outfit."

"Why?"

He didn't answer as he flipped through the photos, finally landing on the one he had been looking for. "Look at this."

He handed you the photo, which you'd seen before. "Yeah that's Shelly leaving the bar before the assault."

"Right. Notice her outfit?"

You glanced at the photo again. "Typical night out attire. Why is this important?"

He handed you the statement he'd been reading earlier. "She came directly to the precinct after her assault to disclose, right? Nowhere in her initial statement does she say she ever changed clothes."

You'd been there the night in question, had sat beside Olivia as she took Shelly's statement. "She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt," you stated.

"So why didn't she tell us she went home first?"

"She might have been worried we would judge her or blame her for the assault because she wasn't dressed like a nun."

"Yeah, I suppose that's possible."

He looked a little crestfallen, like you'd rained on his parade. He knew in his gut Shelly wasn't telling the whole story, but he couldn't prove it. He needed a single thread...just one thread to pull on. He needed to know now before the trial began and the defense unraveled the entire case.

A thought dawned on you. "No semen, no body fluids," you mumbled as you searched the coffee table for the rape kit report from the hospital.

Rafael watched you, unsure of what you were thinking.

"Ahh!" You grabbed the report and flipped through it. "There was evidence of trauma to her vagina and several bruises on her body, but there were zero traces of any DNA that wasn't hers."

"Okay, but that's not uncommon."

"Perhaps if she'd waited to report, I would agree, but I think there's an alternative reason."

He raised an eyebrow and waited for you to continue.

"She went home and showered."

Realization dawned on his face. "Didn't you or Olivia ask that question?"

"Of course we did, but I think she was scared to tell us, scared of what we'd say."

"We need to reinterview her."

You nodded.

Rafael pulled out his phone and called Olivia. He relayed what you'd discovered and asked her to reinterview Shelly the following day. Olivia agreed and thanked him for letting her know.

"You're brilliant, you know that?" he said as he hung up, vivid green eyes locked on your face.

"Minor detective work, at best," you said with a shrug. "I've been doing this long enough that I should be able to put pieces of a puzzle together. Besides, as you rightfully mentioned, it's my job to study and understand human behavior."

He smiled. "Even still, it was good work."

"You found the pieces, I just put them together."

"Take the compliment, (Y/N). You know I give them so rarely."

You laughed. "Alright, alright. Thank you, Rafael."

His expression shifted slightly, gaze darkening as he looked at you. "I don't think you've ever called me by my first name before." Even his voice was lower, huskier.

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks. "I--uh, I'm sorry."

He reached out and grabbed your hand. "Please don't apologize. I liked hearing it...very much."

Heat began to spread through your entire body, coloring more than just your cheeks. You were unsure how to respond--the unfamiliar territory both daunting and exciting.

Rafael mistook your silence for discomfort, immediately removing his hand from yours and looking incredibly uncomfortable. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

Everything in you wanted to reach out and touch him, reassure him that his words--and his touch--were welcome, but you knew that would be crossing a line you couldn't uncross.

"No worries," you mumbled.

The awkward silence stretched on for a few moments, during which time you were silently kicking yourself for making things weird.

"Well, umm, thank you for your help tonight. I-I guess I should be going," Rafael muttered lowly.

He started to get up and gather the papers strewn about the coffee table. You knew you should help him, but you didn't move--frozen in place with indecision. He couldn't see the war raging inside you, couldn't hear the thoughts screaming in your head.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally forced out two words, "Don't go."

Rafael paused, holding a few papers in one hand and a folder in the other. "Pardon?"

You swallowed thickly, rising to your feet. "Please stay."

Surprise lit up his handsome face. "It's getting late," he said softly. "Are you sure you want me to stay?"

You nodded.

He slowly set the papers back down and came to the other side of the coffee table, positioning himself directly in front of you. He reached out, tentatively placing his warm palm against your cheek. You leaned into his hand, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

"I need to hear you say it, querida," he murmured.

Your bright (y/e/c) eyes met his, a surge of confidence making your words clearer. "I want you to stay, Rafael."

His lips parted slightly, partially in surprise and partially in arousal. He stepped closer to you, closing the gap between you. His lips ghosted over yours before finally pressing gently against them, pulling you into a soft kiss.

You wanted nothing more than to lean into his kiss, to feel his hands on your body--you wanted to know what it was like to be worshipped by him, to make love to him.

But the rational part of your brain--the part that kept you on the straight and narrow your entire life--had managed to rear its ugly head. You couldn't drown out the voice in your head screaming at you that this was wrong--that you couldn't do this with him...he was your coworker, for god's sake.

You suddenly pulled away from him, voice coming out in a rushed whisper, "We can't."

While he was disheartened at the sound of your words, he wasn't really surprised. It wasn't forbidden--technically--but that didn't make it easy, or even right. "I won't force you, cariño."

His soft, comforting words made you want him even more. You sighed quietly and leaned your forehead against his. "We shouldn't," you whispered so softly he almost missed it.

His hands had settled on your hips and he began to rub soothing circles into your sides. "Can't or shouldn't?" he asked lowly.

Your trembling hand pressed firmly against his chest in a way that made him feel like you were pulling him closer, not pushing him away. "Please," you begged softly, neither of you sure of exactly what you were asking for.

Rafael's left hand slid lower on your hip, the tips of his long fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your bottom. His right hand pulled you closer to him, holding you flush against his body. "Tell me you don't want me--don't want this," he pleaded, voice husky with desire.

Your lips trembled against his mouth, body responding to his like it was made for him. "I can't..."

His left hand moved to grab you more fully, eliciting a soft moan of need from your lips. "Querida...tell me to stop."

"Please don't stop," you whimpered. "I need you--por favor, Rafi."

"Mierda," he growled, pulling you somehow even closer to him. His lips crashed into yours with a hunger you couldn't describe--a hunger you returned in kind.

The next several moments were a flurry of hands all but tearing at each other's clothes, desperate to feel skin to skin contact. In what had to be a record pace, the two of you found yourselves standing in nothing but underwear in the middle of your living room.

Rafael grabbed you tightly and tugged you down with him as he fell into a sitting position on the couch. You straddled his strong thighs, lips still hungrily devouring his.

He groaned lowly as your pelvis ground against his erection, the intense need for friction almost painful. His soft hands ghosted up your back, unclasping your bra with practiced ease.

You pulled away from him just long enough to send your bra flying across the room. Rafael licked his lips in anticipation before leaning forward to capture your nipple between his soft lips.

You sighed softly, fingers twining through his hair in order to hold him tightly against you. He used one hand to massage your other breast before switching to ensure both received equal treatment.

"Rafi," you whimpered as the need to feel him inside of you continued to grow.

"Si, hermosa?" he murmured.

You ground down against his erection again, silently telling him what you needed.

His hands immediately went to your hips, halting your movements. "I need you to tell me what you want, querida."

"You," you begged.

He smirked. "Puedes hacerlo mejor. Usa tus palabras." [You can do better. Use your words.]

If you were being honest with yourself, your Spanish was not nearly as good as it had been when you were younger...after all, you hadn't really spoken much Spanish since high school. Working with Nick Amaro, and now Rafael, had forced you to revisit your knowledge of the language in an attempt to brush up. Thankfully, you understood a hell of a lot more than you spoke, so you were able to piece together what he was telling you to do.

"I want you, Rafael, please."

"I'm right here, hermosa."

You glared at him, which earned you a patented smirk in response.

"Si quieres algo solo tienes que preguntar," he murmured softly. [If you want something, you just have to ask.]

You bit your lip. You weren't a shy person, but you had never been very vocal during sex in the past. Your partners didn't often ask you what you actually wanted, so you weren't even sure how to respond to him.

"I want you to touch me."

"Donde?" [Where?]

You realized he wasn't going to let you get away with not being explicit, but you couldn't quite bring yourself to say the words out loud. Instead, you grabbed his right hand and guided it between your legs, placing it firmly against your extremely damp panties. "Here."

Rafael smiled wolfishly. "Now was that so hard?" His voice was teasing, but there was a heat in his eyes that betrayed exactly how turned on he was.

He didn't give you a chance to respond as he pulled your underwear aside and slipped his fingers between your dripping folds. You gasped softly, hands gripping onto his shoulders for support.

"Is this what you needed, cariño?" His fingers gently toyed with your clit, providing some stimulation, but not exactly what you needed.

"More, Rafi, por favor," you begged.

In response, Rafael slipped two fingers inside of you, twisting his hand to form a come hither motion as he sought your sweet spot. His thumb provided the pressure against your clit that you so desperately needed and you moaned loudly as his fingers found your g-spot.

"There we go, nena. Te tengo." [I've got you.]

You clung to his shoulders as his expert fingers worked you closer and closer to the edge. You were almost surprised by the ease with which you felt your orgasm approaching--you couldn't remember the last time you'd cum from nothing more than a man's hands.

Rafael slid a third finger inside of you and began to add more pressure to his movements on your clit. The stimulation was exactly what you needed and you knew your orgasm was close. You were hesitant to tell him, but you also didn't want him to stop. "Rafi, I'm so close--please don't stop."

"I won't," he murmured, changing nothing about his current movements. "Quiero sentirte venir." [I want to feel you come.]

Your breathing was labored and your legs had begun to shake--a surefire sign of your impending orgasm. He could feel your walls squeezing his fingers and he couldn't wait to feel the sensation around his cock.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as your orgasm rushed over you, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Rafael slowed his motions, but didn't stop until you began to whimper and squirm away from him.

He pulled his fingers out of you and lifted them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of enjoyment. "Tastes so good, nena. Can't wait to taste you properly."

Your eyes widened slightly, having found the action extremely arousing. Your gaze then traveled down his body, landing on his still clothed cock. Your eyes flicked back up to his, your expression practically begging him to fuck you properly.

"Hay algo que quieras?" [Is there something you want?] he asked with a smile.

"I'd really like you to lose the boxers."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, enjoying your demanding tone more than he'd expected. "Stand up for me, querida."

You did as he asked, albeit slowly.

He lifted his hips and slowly tugged his boxers down, finally freeing his painfully hard cock. Your eyes widened slightly, gaze appreciative of his member. He was both thick and long, and the head was leaking enough precum to give you the strong urge to taste it.

Your eyes never left his cock as you tugged your own panties off, wanting to be just as deliciously naked as he was. You started to drop to your knees, but Rafael reached out and grabbed your arm.

"What are you doing, nena?"

"I wanna taste you," you answered softly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, swearing softly in Spanish under his breath. "As much as I would love to feel your pretty little mouth on my cock, I don't think I can take it."

You felt incredibly disappointed and your expression must have shown it because his gaze took on a slightly pitying look.

"Just a taste?" you pleaded.

He couldn't deny he wanted it as badly as you did--probably more so, but what really pushed him over the edge was the sound of your soft voice begging him. He didn't wanna say no to you--ever.

He released your arm with a soft sigh. "Está bien--just a taste." [Alright.]

You grinned, feeling pleased at having won. You dropped to your knees and gripped his cock in your warm hand, gently stroking him before leaning forward to lick the precum from the tip. Rafael groaned at the feeling, followed by a string of Spanish curses as you took his cock in your mouth.

The sensations you were providing him had him making more noise than you'd ever imagined. His fingers fisted into your hair and his hips jerked as you pleasured him--a feeling of pride settling into you as you listened to his moans. You felt powerful, having made the great Rafael Barba turn to putty in your hands.

His grip in your hair tightened and he pulled you off his cock much sooner than you would have liked--a groan of displeasure leaving your lips in protest.

"Get up here," he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was the same tone he used in court when he was tearing someone apart on the stand.

You immediately did as he asked, once again straddling his thighs, but this time, you awaited further instructions. Everything about his demeanor oozed dominance and you were more than happy to slip into a submissive role for him.

He gripped his cock and slid the head between your folds, sending sharp bolts of pleasure through both of you.

"Dime que me quieres," he demanded. [Tell me you want me.]

"I want you, Rafael," you answered instantly.

He smiled at your clear willingness to obey. "Dime que me necesitas." [Tell me you need me.]

"I need you."

He leaned forward so his lips were inches from your ear. "Vas a gritar mi nombre?" [Are you gonna scream my name?]

"Si, Rafi! Please!" you begged. "Te necesito dentro de mi." [I need you inside of me.]

He rolled his hips up slightly, pushing the head of his cock into you. He held you tightly in place, not allowing you to move lower.

"More, please!" you cried, desperately trying to lower yourself onto him fully.

"Rogar por esto, nena. Dejame escucharte." [Beg for it, baby. Let me hear you.]

"Please, Rafi, please," you pleaded. "I'll do anything--please. Please just fuck me!"

His grip on your hips lessened just as he rolled his hips upwards, allowing him to plunge into you as you pressed yourself down on him. The tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, sending a jolt of pain through you, but pain quickly turned to pleasure as he began to move.

"You feel so good, querida. So tight and warm--made for me, weren't you?" Rafael murmured into your skin as he slowly rolled his hips.

You whimpered slightly, the slow pace not enough to soothe the burning ache within you.

He noticed the way you shifted, clearly seeking more friction, so he loosened his grip on you, allowing you more freedom. You gripped onto his shoulders, using them as additional leverage as you began to ride him properly.

Salacious sounds filled the room, a mixture of your bodies joining together and your shared moans and whimpers. Rafael's mouth nipped and sucked at your pulse point, your collarbone, and your lips--anything he could reach.

The position was enjoyable, but Rafael sensed you needed more--and he felt the need to take over. He pulled you in close to him, holding you tightly as he stood, flipping you onto your back on the couch.

You gasped in surprise, delighted at the change in position. Rafael immediately took charge, bending your legs towards your chest and thrusting into you hard and fast.

"I need to feel you cum, hermosa. Dime que necesitas." [Tell me what you need.]

You were a whimpering, moaning mess beneath him, and your brain was struggling to make sense of the words he was saying. It took you a moment to understand, but even then you couldn't find the words. Instead, you slipped your hand between your bodies and began to rub your clit.

Rafael pushed your hand out of the way, replacing it with his own. He'd be damned if he wasn't the one who made you fall apart. "Vendrás por mi?" [You gonna come for me?]

"Rafi!" you cried out--the only coherent thing you'd said in minutes.

Your pussy clenched down on his cock, squeezing him so tightly he nearly came on the spot. He continued to fuck you exactly as he had been, fingers still pulsing against your clit.

Moments later, you came with a loud cry of his name, wave after wave of intense pleasure crashing down on you as he rode you through the orgasm.

He removed his hand from your clit, using it instead to grip the back of the sofa, his other hand supporting his weight on the arm. He chased his own high, finding it a few seconds after you. He groaned your name as his hot seed filled you up, hips still pumping for a few moments before he collapsed on top of you.

You wrapped your arms around him as he came down, aftershocks wracking both of your bodies.

Once you'd both caught your breath, Rafael lifted his head to look at you. He smiled as he took in your fucked out appearance--evidence of your enjoyment written all over your face.

"You're so beautiful, querida," he murmured.

You blushed. "So are you."

He chuckled. "I'm not quite sure a man wants to hear that he's beautiful."

"Eres muy guapo, papi," you said with a grin.

His eyes darkened slightly. "That's much better."

He pulled himself up so he could kiss you properly. When he deepened the kiss, you found yourself heating up--the desire once again building in your core.

"How 'bout I take you to bed and properly worship you, cariño? Would you like that?"

Your eyes widened. "You don't have to..."

"I know, but I want to. I wanna taste that pretty pussy properly before I fuck you again."

You grinned a little, enjoying the twinkling in his eye as he looked at you. "Second door on the left," you stated, pointing down the hall.

"Perfecto," he murmured as he stood up. He leaned down and scooped you up in his arms, bridal style, and began to carry you towards the bedroom.

"Rafi!" you yelled in surprise, a soft giggle leaving your lips.

He tossed you onto your bed and crawled on top of you to kiss you deeply. "Now, if it pleases the court, I'd like to spend the next 15 minutes with my head between these sexy thighs."

Your cheeks blushed as you chuckled lightly. "It pleases the court very much."

He gave you one last grin before lowering himself between your legs and sending you to heaven as many times as your body would let him.

It was super hard to pick just 10!!!

I'm stretched out on your grave- Kate Rusby

I'm a wanted man - Royal Deluxe

Wonderful Life - Smith and Burrows

What he wrote - Laura Marling

Do I want know - Arctic Monkeys

Is this desire - PJ Harvey

St.James Infirmary Blues - TheWhite Stripes

Nick cave and the bad seeds: ⬇️

Brother, my Cup is Empty

Abattoir Blues

Beat the devil's tattoo ----------------------------------------------------

K, It's the 10th anniversary of Peaky on 12 Sept and I must know, what are the top 10 songs you associate with Peaky Blinders?

Oh Lee @zablife I love this!!! What a beautiful way to blend the 2 things I talk about most on here: music and Peaky! However, it was so hard to pick just 10 - I hope you don’t mind my 2 honorable mentions at the bottom!!

Ok so of course I could have just added 10 songs from the soundtrack that I obviously associate with the show since that’s where I was exposed to them…but I decided to dig a little deeper, look through my playlists, and pick out some songs that make my mind go to the show whenever I listen to them. So without further ado, here’s my 10 (+2) songs — I’ve added links to the songs if you’d like to listen to them:

1. Grandfather Collar by Liam St. John

I just had to include this song because, for me, there’s no better song where every single lyric reminds me of Tommy and his energy.

2. Backbone by KALEO

This one immediately makes me think of the Shelby Brothers in the war — so much so that I just had to make a moodboard based off of it.

3. Brother Run Fast by KALEO

Ok so there’s a few KALEO songs that I can add on here, but I’ll leave it to 2 for the sake of the others haha … this one also has that almost haunting tone to it - definitely makes me think of the brothers.

4. Heavy by The Glorious Sons

The lyrics of the song are pretty self explanatory as to why I’ve associated it with the show. I mean: “it never paid to be merciful” , “I’ll put you down if the group’s what you need” and the opening lyric “come heavy or don’t come at all” are shining examples of why.

5. Heaven Loves A Fire by LAOUD

I like the vibes of this one - they’re rather haunting and I can honestly see it playing over some of the scenes … it also makes me think of Arthur and the struggles he faces throughout the series.

6. Sleeping On the Blacktop by Colter Wall

Another song that’s just got the same vibes as Peaky. A few of Colter Wall’s do — @moral-terpitude wrote an amazing piece with The Devil Wears A Suit and Tie … this one can be another candidate to play over the montages we all love.

7. Work Song by Hozier

I couldn’t make the list without a Hozier song on it … I have a few in my playlist, but I chose this one because of the vibes it gives off. Everyone knows it, everyone loves it - I think it fits the show perfectly.

8. Grim by The Blue Stones

I just found this song/band recently and have been vibing with it. I think a lot of the lyrics match the Shelby Brothers and the whole song has these kind of ‘f-you’ vibes that are prevalent in the series…again, another montage candidate??

9. Make It Rain by Ed Sheeran

Kinda like Heaven Loves A Fire - the vibes are just haunting and the lyrics are pugnent…I think it could either many of the characters.

10. Song of A Dead Man by Taylor John Williams

This is another song that holds strong Tommy vibes — it’s also just overall haunting in its tone and some of its lyrics.

Honorable Mentions:

1. Dipped In Bleach by Liam St. John

This is another artist whose discography lends well to the show … a lot of the songs he has are gritty and the topics he includes really relate well with Peaky.

2. Makin’ It by Bishop Gunn

This is a bit of a lighter song, but I definitely find myself thinking of the Shelby brothers while listening to it - again, mostly Arthur … the lyric “if hells where I’m heading, then I’m making good time” resonates with all of them, I think.

———

Ahh this was so fun, Lee!! I hope you liked my choices!! Like I said - I can go on and on about music — if you’ve made it down this far, thank you for reading!! I’d love for you to share the songs you associate with Peaky Blinders too…I’m ALWAYS looking for new songs!!

Changes - Joel Miller Imagine [The Last of Us]

Title: Changes

Pairing: Joel Miller X Reader

Word Count: 2,158 words

Warning(s): gunfire, murder, awkwardness, abandonment

Summary: [Episode 6] (Y/n) thought that Joel and them were finally making some steps forward in their relationship... in a few ways. If only progress didn't run the constant risk of going backward.

Author's Note: I have a friend that asked if I had written The Last of Us fanfiction... I am adding to the collection for their sake... totally not my own.

PART TWO HERE

PART THREE HERE

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Working with Joel was strange.

There were these times when he was completely closed off. Gruff and abrasive. Acted like he had never smiled a day in his life. I would affectionately call him Oscar to Grouch at those times. In my head. The last time I said that one out loud, I'm pretty sure he had to use all of his self-restraint to keep himself from shooting me.

But there were other times when the shell cracked. He would smile at me. He would actually participate in my admittedly stupid banter. He was sweeter. Not a lot, but enough for both of us to relax.

I sometimes thought that I clung to those "other times" a little too tightly.

That was why I stuck around him for so long. Those looks behind the curtain were enough to get my attention. I held onto them as much as possible. It was like holding a burning candle and watching the flame dim until you could find another match.

I tried to believe that I wasn't seeing things that weren't there.

But that would have been too easy.

I had to face the possibility that there was nothing there between us.

That realization came like a slap in the face.

We had gotten a truck and supplies from Bill and Frank's compound. The three of us were hidden away in the woods, far away from the road.

Ellie was asleep.

I was sitting next to Joel. I had always had trouble sleeping, even before the apocalypse. The constant threat to my life didn't help.

"You should rest."

"Don't tell the chronic insomniac to sleep," I replied. "It's like telling a psychopath that they're a psychopath."

I looked over just in time to watch his eyebrows furrow. "What?"

"It's very upsetting," I explained.

"Right," he mumbled. "I will never get how your mind works."

"Keeps me interesting," I shrugged.

I leaned my elbows on my knees as I watched Ellie a bit longer. I took a deep breath.

"It feels weird how protective I feel over her," I said quietly. "It hasn't been all that long, yet I feel like I'd burn the world down to keep her safe."

Joel hummed in response.

"You are so talkative," I mumbled. "It's one of your best qualities."

"I've been saying that for years," he replied sarcastically. I scoffed.

"I think you're obsessed with the gruff, mysterious reputation you have going on."

"I would've changed it if I could," he explained. "Damn thing made it so you're stuck to my side, why would I choose to hold onto it?"

"Oh, hush, I've grown on you."

"Like a tumor."

I chuckled at the sarcastic response. "Asshole."

"Keeping up the reputation."

I rolled my eyes as I turned my head to look at him. He looked at me.

Maybe it was the silence. Or the loneliness of the whole thing. Or some stress spilling over into the current moment. Maybe it was just something about the woods. Something around us made me braver for just a few moments.

And those few moments were all I needed to push myself over and pressed my lips to his.

It was nothing more than a peck before he pulled away from me. Abrupt and sudden. Like a scared animal.

I felt a sliver of pain slide through my heart as I turned my attention away from him, looking straight forward.

"(Y/n)," Joel said.

I didn't respond. I felt dizzy from my own stupidity.

"Me and you... we're two people that happen to do jobs together," he muttered after a while.

I nodded, trying to ignore the embarrassment that wanted to come out as projectile vomit right about now.

"That's it-"

"I got it," I cut him off. "I... I'm sorry."

He cleared his throat. "You should-"

"Get some rest. Yeah."

There it was. That shell.

I should have just grown accustomed to it.

We continued on like nothing had happened. It was all work. Nothing more than that. We just needed to get all of the work done.

I held onto that as we drove off the next morning.

It was easier to focus on Ellie than it was to think about Joel.

She was a smart kid. Smart and resourceful and brave. She was ready to kick ass at the drop of a hat. I admired her. Maybe that was part of why I was so protective of her.

It was especially easy to ignore my embarrassment when the chaos broke out around us in Kansas City.

The truck crashed through some old store. The gunfire followed soon after. We had gotten Ellie some hole in the wall. Safety.

The silence after the gunfire was almost scarier than the sound of the shots. It was the adrenaline. The fear meeting caution. It was like a closed soda bottle getting shaken up.

I heard the door slam open before I saw anything move. A guy tried to pin Joel to the ground.

Shooting him was the easy part.

Getting my hands to stop shaking after was the worst. I let out a loud sigh.

I heard Ellie climbing out of the wall to check on us.

"You alright," I asked her. She nodded. I took another deep breath.

Joel had pulled himself off the ground by then. He was just staring at me with this shocked look on his face.

"What about you," I asked.

"I'm good," he nodded. "Thanks."

"We'd be kinda screwed if I let you die," I replied. "Just doing the right thing."

There was a long pause as the tense air seemed to dissipate. I barely managed to drag my eyes from Joel.

"Head back in there," I told Ellie. "Look for a door for us to get through."

She nodded.

It wasn't until she was gone that I turned to Joel again. "You sure you're okay? You got a... look."

There was no response from him.

"Joel?"

"Ellie, turn around," Joel said, still looking at me. I glanced back at the wall, chuckling a bit at her little face poking out.

"Why," she asked.

"Just do it," he muttered.

I heard the dirt and gravel shift under her feet as she grumbled and spun around on her heels.

I raised an eyebrow at Joel. "What is it?"

He grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. I stumbled a bit as he awkwardly kissed me. I grinned against his lips as I balanced myself and kissed him back.

I pulled back first. I smiled before stepping away a bit. I saw a grin pulling at his lips as I did.

"You can turn around, Ellie," I chuckled.

"Did you guys kiss," she asked as she did, popping her head out again.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I shrugged as I walked over to her. "No idea at all."

"You're full of shit!"

"Am I? Joel, am I?"

He shook his head. "Not at all."

Ellie looked between Joel and me. She finally scoffed and rolled her eyes.

It felt like something had changed. Shifted.

And I liked it. I really, really liked it.

After the heartbreak in Kansas City, I expected that shell to build itself up again.

Joel wasn't romantic. I knew that much. But I found enough comfort in how his hand touched my back. It was barely there, but it was enough. I offered him a sad grin.

Three months.

Three months after that change initially happened.

We developed some patterns.

We found ourselves in a camp. A commune of survivors that made a life for themselves. A new beginning. It gave me a moment of pause. A small shimmer of hope that I felt silly entertaining.

Ellie and I ended up following Maria around while Joel caught up with his brother. It was nice. Knowing that he found him again.

We were put up in some house to shower and change. It was in amazing condition. Unfair, honestly.

I stuck next to Ellie as much as I could.

We snuck out of the movie they were playing that night. She was reading from some old diary. I was looking at the old photos and posters. It was a museum. A perfectly preserved image of the past.

Joel walked in a while later.

He stood in the middle of the room. Tense. I stepped over to him. I didn't want to cross any lines, but my brain was yelling at me to grab his hand or touch his face or something. Do something to bring him back down to earth.

I stood halfway between him and Ellie.

"Why are you here," Ellie asked from her seat.

"I came here to talk to you."

"No, why are you still here," she corrected. "If you're gonna ditch me, ditch me."

"No one's ditching you," I shook my head, looking at her for a moment before turning my attention toward Joel. The guilt was etched into his face. "Isn't that right, Joel?"

"I heard him," she spoke up. "Talking to his brother while you were focused on the lights and shit. 'I have to leave her. You have to take her.'"

I clenched my jaw. "Goddammit, Joel."

"I stood up for you today because I thought..."

Ellie trailing off broke my heart.

"I made this decision for your own good," Joel spoke up. "You'll be way better off with Tommy."

"You didn't think to talk to me about this," I asked.

He ignored me, "He knows the area better than I do-"

"Do you give a shit about me or not," Ellie slammed the diary down as she snapped at him.

"Of course, I do."

I looked down and let them argue.

I knew where I would be at the end of all of this. The only question was whether or not Joel was going to join me.

"Then, what are you so afraid of?" she stepped closer as she spoke. "I'm not her, y'know?"

I tensed.

"Maria told us about Sarah and-"

"Don't," Joel stopped her. "Don't say another word."

"I'm sorry about your daughter, Joel," Ellie walked closer to him. "But I've lost people too."

"You have no idea what loss is."

"Everybody I have cared for has either died or left me. Everybody, fucking except for you!"

I barely moved forward as she went to shove Joel backward. He didn't flinch.

"So don't tell me that I'd be safer with somebody else because the truth is I would just be more scared."

I touched her arm.

"You're right," Joel said. "You're not my daughter. And I sure as hell ain't your dad. Now, come dawn, we're going our separate ways."

"Joel," I muttered, following him out. He slammed the door shut. "Let's talk about this. Because that should have happened long before you made this choice."

"There's nothing to talk about," he replied.

I scoffed.

"Be ready to go in the morning."

"Joel, no."

"Our job's done."

"She's terrified," I said. "We're probably the most stable things that she's had in years. I'm not gonna abandon her. She's a kid-"

"She's not a kid, she's cargo. This was a job and now the job is done. Let's go."

"You're gonna look me in the eye and tell me that you actually still think that?"

"What did you expect to change?"

I froze.

The last thing I wanted to do in that moment was cry in front of him. But I couldn't help the burning behind my eyes. After all that had happened... all we had been through... the kisses... I thought that it was safe to assume that things were different now. That something had shifted in his mind.

"Have a safe trip, Joel," I muttered, blinking away any tears that tried to fight their way out.

"(Y/n), come on-"

"Job's done, right," I asked. "And nothing's changed?"

He paused.

"You said it before... we are just two people that sometimes do jobs together. Well, the job's done so you don't have to worry about me being 'stuck to your side all the time' anymore. You can finally get rid of me. Go do whatever the hell you want. I am going to make sure that kid isn't completely abandoned."

"(Y/n)-"

"Have a safe fucking trip, Joel!"

I walked back inside and slammed the door shut behind me.

I looked over at Ellie, who was standing in the middle of the room with tears in her eyes. It broke my heart. Damn near shattered the thing.

I stepped forward and yanked her into a hug. "I'm not going anywhere, got it?"

She hugged me back.

"I am not leaving you," I repeated, finally feeling the tears fall as my voice became shaky. "I'm going to stay right here and keep you safe. For as damn long as I can. Got it?"

She nodded against my shoulder.

"We're gonna figure this out, kid."

I just hoped that time would prove that I wasn't lying to her.

----------------------

Author's Note: I know it takes him all of like a minute to turn his ass around, but I needed the dramatic cut off. Let me have this one.

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Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

Ma'am please bestow upon me your amazing smut writing ways! 😩Your smut scenes are always top tier and I'm so jealous! I feel like all of my smut writing ends up turning out sounding the same.

Awwwh Lau 🥹🥹 Thank you babe, that’s so sweet of you - you’re so kind to me ♥️

And I was going to joke that I have no idea how I do it (and that is true to an extent - lots of it just happens in the moment!) but real talk, writing smut is one of the things I find MOST difficult in writing. It’s so time consuming to get it right, or it is for me anyway!

But here’s how I try and approach it… apologies I’m chatty and this got a bit long but I hope it’s useful to you and others!

Alex’s Guide To Writing Smut

Understand the context

1. What’s the vibe? Why are they having sex?

Is it angry/angsty/longing/needy/soft/sweet/something else I can’t think of right now? How are the characters arriving into the smut, because it totally shapes how you think about the tone of the scene and how the actual act will play out. Angry rough fucking is not the same as soft, we just woke up and I need you again sex. And that doesn’t need a tonne of exposition to set out in the story but you, the author, need to know where it’s coming from.

2. What’s their relationship?

Like above, sex between people who have been together for ages is different from sex with someone new(ish). Of course you can still surprise each other in a long term relationship but new relationships are all about discovery. And this affects how they communicate during the act itself, and how comfortable they might be together (as well as in voicing likes and dislikes). Also, a one night stand won’t be the same as a pairing who are a couple, and not all of those are born equal - is it a one night of fun or is that we only have one night, because we shouldn’t/can’t do this, but I love you? Those bring very different energies!

Creating scenes that feel ‘real’

4. Limbs logistics

This is the stuff that takes me the longest because I’m a weirdo and I like to be able to properly picture who and what’s where at any given moment! Do think about whether it’s physically possible for his hand to be there if it was just somewhere entirely different. And don’t be afraid to have a little fun with it if your setting allows a bit of real life challenges. Getting stuck or whatever and giggling about it is so human and relatable and will add realism.

3. Use ALL the senses.

Obviously this is an important tip for writing generally but if you want to build a sensory picture and create intimacy it’s extra important in smut writing. Smut writing isn’t just describing where all the limbs and appendages go - if you want it to be immersive you need to go beyond that and explore how the characters FEEL and what else they are experiencing:

- Smells in particular are especially evocative and unique. They stir up emotions and or create a sense of safety.

- Think about how you describe the different kinds of touches (again, all relates to knowing your context). Not just stimulation touch but how they hold each other, breath on skin etc. Are they gentle or rough. And most importantly, how does it feel - both touching and being touched.

- Don’t forget about taste - you don’t have to major on it if it gives you the ick but it’s part of the sexual experience so don’t forget to consider how it might be useful to include.

- Sound allows you to convey emotion with and without dialogue. How does their voice sound? When you’re pressed together can you actually feel the sound? You can use this to show progress too as they get closer to climax. (That feels so wrong to write in a non-smut scene context!)

5. Choice of positions/ sexual acts

My personal preference is starting with foreplay cos I enjoy writing the build up, but sometimes (back to context again!) that doesn’t make sense for your pairing. Deciding what they actually do during the smut scene totally depends on all the stuff in the section above. For example, are they short on time? Do they have all night? Is it the only night they might ever have and so they want to do everything you can think of? All of these will affect what kind of sex they have and the kind of energy they bring to it.

I rarely sit down and plot this out (but I’m not a plotter anyway so that’s just me) - I write what feels right in the moment because I’ve focussed my effort on knowing WHY these two particular people are having sex. Allow the context to guide what feels natural and have fun with it.

6. Dialogue

I used to write with hardly dialogue during smut because it made me uncomfortable trying to squeeze it in, but I’ve got better at it as I’ve written more. So I think you have to do what feels right for you, as the writer. But also, once again, you need to know what your characters would do. Are they talkers? Is one of them noisy but the other is the silent type? Does one have a filthy mouth that makes the other weak and they like to use that against them? Do you want to include a praise kink or someone who gets off on being humiliated (don’t forget AFTER CARE!). All of that affects what kind of dialogue you might have.

Personally I still tend to keep it quite limited (writing Emmett and the whole ‘having to be quiet’ is my fav kink of the moment!). Instead, I focus more on the senses side of things, and let them get a bit lost in the pleasure inside their own heads. And instead of external dialogue, I often opt for more internal chat about how the other person and what they’re doing makes them feel. And how they feel is influenced by, you guessed it, the context!

What to do when it all feels a bit too ‘samey’

So to Lauren’s original ask about scenes feeling overly similar - especially when you’re working with the same set of characters in a long running series. I have this all the time, especially with my Lockdown series because those two are just feral for each other! To tackle getting stuck in a rut, here’s what I think about:

Surprise, surprise, it’s all about CONTEXT again!

Ok yes, you only have so many sexual acts and positions to work with. And not everyone wants to write all the kinks in the land, I know I don’t! But what is different every time is why your couple is having sex - what’s led to/inspired that moment and how are they coming into the scene. So I refer you back to the very first section - understand the scenario and mood you’re trying to create. You can stack the different acts however you like but the energy and emphasis and emotion your characters bring to that should inherently make it feel different each time.

If you want a real life example, check out the smut scenes in this mini series - they fuck in every chapter but each time the context and how the characters come into the scene is different, so (I hope!) the smut reads differently.

And finally

Do not underestimate the power of a little humour! Real life sex can be funny. It’s intimate and, lots of the time, with someone you are (or want to be) very close to. They are moments of physical and emotional connection. Let the people be people. Don’t make it all perfect all the time. Life isn’t like that! 🤍

Other useful resources

How to write smut by @youneedsomeprompts

Smut terminology study

Useful smut language/sound descriptors

Really good guide to smut terms

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Awesomely cute dividers by @firefly-graphics

With All Of Me | Part One

For: Anon Characters: Rafael Barba/(Female) Reader Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Assault/Rape Word Count: 2,059 Notes: So, I got these three prompts all at one time in a row, and they lended themselves to a three-part imagine. So I hope y’all enjoy this short story!  Prompt: Imagine a Barba x Reader where you’ve been assaulted and are too scared to name the assailant because they are of a higher rank. Part One | Part Two | Part Three

“Barba,” the prosecutor answered, his phone balanced precariously between his shoulder and ear as he accepted coffee from the barista behind the cart. He smiled his thanks, carefully adding a small serving of sugar before swirling it twice with the skinny stick and tossing his trash before snapping on the lid.

It was supposed to be an easy day. He didn’t have court, he had one meeting about striking a plea with their most recently indicted criminal, and there was a conference that afternoon on tracking the movements of serial criminals via social media. There was no doubt in his mind that he could even call it an early night. Yet, Benson’s incessant and frantic mumbling on the other end of the line was starting to make him doubt the simplicity of his schedule.

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