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The Terror - Prompt Post 1
This is for prompts for all things AMC's The Terror (2018). Go nuts!
Cast RPF also goes here, shine on you crazy diamonds.
Cast RPF also goes here, shine on you crazy diamonds.
If you've filled (or started filling) a prompt, please make sure to link it in the comments of the Fills Post. And if you would like to cross-post your fills on AO3, here is the collection!
If you have questions or comments please contact us in the comments of the Mod Post.
Just to reiterate from the Mod Post, here are the RULES:
1. Be fucking nice. YKINMATO/KINKTOMATO at all times.
2. This meme is CNTW (Choose Not To Warn) but warnings are highly encouraged.
3. Prompts should use this format in the subject line: [SHIP], [DESCRIPTION]
e.g.
Hickey/Crozier, CNC knifeplay
Solo gen can be prompted as well alongside (a) character name and description
e.g.
Gen, Edward Little, having a nice day
4. Fills should use this format in the subject line: FILL: [TITLE], [PAIRING], [RATING], [ANY WARNINGS]
e.g.
Fill: The Last Hour, Hickey/Tozer, E, cw dubcon
5. One prompt per comment please.
6. Multiple fills for each prompt are welcome!
7. You don't have to be anon for your prompts or your fills but we do encourage it because of the vibe. You're also welcome to deanon your stuff by posting on AO3/Tumblr as you please!
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FILL: Fitzier, Sir John>Francis, omegaverse pregnancy kink [1/3]
(Anonymous) 2023-07-18 05:32 pm (UTC)(link)It was easy to forget Francis' sex, given his bearing and gruff, self-assured nature.
James had not even known he still had his cycles, and likely would have gone on in blissful ignorance indefinitely, were it not for their present circumstances. The expedition's stock of suppressants would soon expire, and with spring hard upon them, they could ill afford disorder on the ships. In a rare canny move, Sir John had ordered officers and marines to forgo them first, so they might keep order among the men once the rest ran out.
Men and women of Francis' age were oft past their childbearing years; those who still experienced heats or menses oft did so irregularly and with a great deal less intensity. Thus, when Francis had coloured and shifted in his seat at the wardroom table, James had thought his discomfort rooted in prudishness. Then he'd opened his mouth, and - as was his wont - set James' thoughts roiling with out even the barest indication of having noticed.
"Lieutenants Hodgson and Irving will have charge of Terror, then, while myself and Lieutenant Little are indisposed." The men in the command meeting had nodded and murmured assent, politely ignoring Crozier's stiff and humiliated bearing.
It was an uncomfortable thought- Francis as a vital, sexual creature. The man vexed James more than enough already, even without the prospect of his sturdy body bared and wanting. Worse, Francis' evident fertility gave rise to even more dangerous thoughts, when James allowed his mind to wander - Francis in heat gave rise to the troubling possibility, however remote, of Francis with child.
He'd run his mate ragged, James had no doubt of it; magnify every moment of discomfort with his cheerless manner and terse, imperious complaints. Likely take pleasure in spreading his own unhappiness, too. His alpha would have quite a job of it, caring for such a contrary creature through nine months of indisposition. And yet, there was an undeniable appeal to the prospect of his belly and tits grown soft with child, his dour face glowing in quiet contentment. A squalling babe, nestled in those sturdy unflinching arms.
A bare week later, Terror had signalled, and here he and Sir John were, crunching across the ice together towards whatever awaited in Francis' bunk.
Really it ought to have just been James - he was the highest-ranked alpha aboard either ship, and Francis the highest-ranked omega.[1] While the expedition's officers suffered through the indignities peculiar to their sexes, it only made sense for the two of them to see to each other's needs. But Sir John was seigneur, here, and he seemed determined to exercise his droit. James could not complain; merely stew quietly in his own vexation at this turn of events.
Sir John had phrased it as a concern for the health of his Second, but his manner had made it plain what he expected to get out of the encounter. James was uncharacteristically vexed with him, and hoped the passion would pass shortly, for his own good as much as Sir John's. The man had been nothing but kind to him since their first acquaintance, and James could ill-afford to lose his regard now. Although a kind and genial soul in most respects, Sir John had a tendency to peevishness when he felt himself slighted, one which largely manifested itself towards Francis but reared its head unpredictably in conversations about various Admiralty figures James knew only by reputation.
Even with this knowledge in mind, James found he could not keep up his customary agreeable chatter. Sir John blustered along equitably enough, speaking in turns of the lead parties they would send out shortly, and how delighted their friends back home would be at their safe return, and (disquietingly) longing for his absent wife— a formidable woman whom James had met only thrice.
There was a tinge of lewdness to the tone of his voice, the longing evident in his bearing, that James did not wish to dwell on. It discomfited him greatly to think of this appetite turned upon Francis; of Sir John finding release in his warm, sturdy body, thinking all the while of another. James himself would be hard-pressed to think of anything but Francis, surly and infuriating, but singularly prepossessing by the same token.
Mercifully, Sir John’s steady stream of chatter wound down as they approached the snow-ramp to Terror. He puffs slightly as they climb, something James would ordinarily overlook but today’s contrary mood seized on as a small but potent irritant.
Lieutenant Hodgson greeted them on the foredeck; a perfectly routine event which took on heady significance when James allowed himself to think of where Francis might be this very moment, and what he might be doing there. Images of Francis laid out in his berth, sweaty and disheveled, his broad callused fingers wedged in his wet cunt, bloomed bright behind James’ eyes. He dismissed them swiftly, biting his cheek hard to distract himself with raw immediate sensation. It would not do to get his blood up before the men.
He had missed some prompt in the conversation— Hodgson was watching him politely, waiting for a rejoinder which would not be forthcoming. Sir John seemed vastly amused at his Third’s obvious distraction.
“I fear the commander’s mind is elsewhere, gentlemen,” he said genially, laying a fatherly hand on James’ shoulder. “Would you show us below? The spring breeze is awfully brisk to-day.”
Pitch had been smeared around the Great Cabin’s doorframe — an old sailor’s trick to disguise particularly thick scent in close quarters, James recalled. He felt lightheaded.
He stood stupidly as Sir John rapped at the door, hallo-ing in that booming genial tone that was suddenly intolerable to James’ ears. After long, excruciating moments of silence, a dull scraping came from the other side of the door, like a bar being lifted away. Alea iacta est, James thought nonsensically, as the two of them hurried through it like sailors debarking for shore leave. No turning back now.
1. Altho' above James in rank, Crozier would be beneath him here. James would not deny the illicit thrill of that idea.
Re: FILL: Fitzier, Sir John>Francis, omegaverse pregnancy kink [1/3]
(Anonymous) 2023-07-26 03:06 am (UTC)(link)