#queen blurb
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[Tldr: Big spider wifey Yan and sweetie little human darling]
W...women... Tiny, kind-hearted Darling who welcomes the bitter rightful hier to their kingdom with open arms after she returns centuries after her trial and execution. Her new form frightens most, but Darling finds her piercing glowing eyes and ashened skin to be quite gorgeous. All those extra limbs she's grown would be wonderful for hugs. As the kingdom runs itself mad trying to find ways to defend themselves from the evil queen, Royal Darling is in their garden creating a bouquet of their favorite flowers to gift to her upon her arrival.
"You there... I've come to take what's mine. Give me my throne or I shall take it along with your head."
"...Okay! When is the wedding?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"T-the wedding?..... Seeing as I am the current ruler the only way you can become Queen now is if we are wed... Oh, is that not what you intended? I'm sorry... "
Darling knows the pain of being rejected by their people as well. Their dislike for their ruler has never reached the same scale as the former Queen's treacherous flock, but had there been anyone else left in Darling's family the crown would have been theirs. Nearly all of Darling's kin had been whipped out by some mysterious plague. Darling is all that's left and there have been whispers throughout the kingdom how unfit they are to wear the crowd for how soft hearted they are."
"hm, you are stronger than you appear. I suppose I can humor you for the rest of your natural life. I and the rest like me will outlive you and your people for eons...."
The Queen planned on killing Darling the day of their wedding. Did this fool truly believe she would want the last remaining member of that bastard bloodline who betrayed her to stay alive? It would be a spectacle for all to see, yet - as they day arrived her withered heart had changed its tune. Everyday since the Queen had agreed to Darling's proposal they waited outside her door with a fresh bouquet and handpicked fruits from their garden. They asked their servants to add minerals and rose petals to her water whenever she bathed so that the cracks in her skin hopefully never worsened. Though she never spoke back much in the beginning, Darling spoke to her as if they were already married.
It was almost.... endearing.
"Do you take this....woman to be your wife?"
"I do."
"And do you take this person to be your spouse?"
"....I do."
How humorous is it the Queen's rage was snuffed by a descendant of the people who made her as she is now. The new queen carries her adorable spouse in her arms every which way she goes. If her spies hear even a word of someone speaking ill of her angel for giving into her wishes so easily she'll have their tongue ripped out and fed to the hounds. The flower crown's Darling makes for her decay within a day's time atop her head yet she wears them with pride till the final petals falls.
#female yandere#Yandere Queen#yandere oc#yandere x reader#yandere imagines#yandere x you#yandere scenarios#yandere headcanons#yandere#yandere insert#yandere blurb#yandere teratophilia
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37 w Eddie 🫡
roommate!eddie munson x fem!reader + we always snuggle, and this shouldn’t be any different, but i’m trying not to press my lips to yours because they’re right there and i don’t want to pass up another chance, but you take initiative and do it yourself. oh.
warnings: fluff, a little suggestiveness, kissing. eddie being a soft boy.
There is no excuse, at this point.
The only excuse he could give himself, at first, was that he's a tactile person. His uncle used to tell him he had eyes in his hands, always picking things up in order to look at them. His hands are always fidgeting, reaching, touching.
Eddie’s friends are all used to it. He hugs, holds, and squeezes. Hands on their backs and arms, guiding, reassuring. Excitedly pulling and slapping when he's telling a story, or laughing.
This only grew tenfold when it came to you.
At first, he kept a safe distance. You weren't his friend, after all. Just Nancy’s friend from college, someone who needed a place to stay after your last roommate bailed on you. Coincidentally, Gareth had left their apartment to move in with his girlfriend not too long before.
Fate, it seemed — or just two broke young adults trying to make ends meet, which was, in a way, fateful too.
His caution was thrown out the window when he realized you were just like him in that aspect. It all started with small, delicate touches.
A hand on his back while you were sharing the kitchen space in the morning, too tired to get off each other's way. Messing his hair to tease him, kissing his cheek as a greeting anytime you got home. You'd put your feet on his lap during your self-appointed movie nights, and his hands would carefully land on your calves, rubbing your legs under his rough palms, and you wouldn't pull away.
The blue light of the television, the only source of light in the room, had him feeling light. Your soft skin on his hands, and the warmth under it, the fuzzy feeling of the hair there. He let them wander, squeezing your knee, massaging your feet, always keeping an eye for your reactions. It seemed as if you preened under his touch, leaning into it. As if, if he'd pull away, you'd ask for more.
After that, he grew bolder. Hungrier. It didn't help that you were always within his reach.
An arm around your waist while you bumped into each other in the hallway. Hovering over your back when you both had to use the bathroom in the morning, letting his chest graze your back. Pulling you closer on the couch, his arm over your shoulders, your head on his chest. Hands eagerly looking for your warmth, for your skin.
Hugs from behind in the kitchen, climbing into each other's beds at night. A habit that started because you simply didn't want to stop your late night conversations, so you'd drag yourselves from the dining table with mismatching chairs, or from the couch, and into each other's rooms.
Talking about the latest book you finished reading, the last band he got obsessed with, your hopes, your fears, whatever silly conspiracy theory he read about and couldn't stop thinking of. Sharing the same blanket, hands touching, legs too.
It doesn't take long until you're in each other's arms more often than not. There is no excuse. Eddie is a tactile person, and he longs for your touch. He'll seek it until you turn him away, but that doesn't seem like it's something you'd want either.
Tonight, your faces are almost touching. You're sharing the same pillow, the one that smells just like your hair. Vanilla and coconut, sweet like you. He chases the shadows on your face, dancing with the lamp light that comes from the opened window. You're speaking, but he's not entirely listening — until you stop.
“What is it?” He whispers. The silence feels sacred.
“Nothing.”
It's not nothing, not when you lean in, neither when your lips touch his. Softly, and slowly, testing the waters. You catch his upper lip between yours, and kiss it. It makes his stomach flutter, like the wings of a moth, searching for the light. It's over too soon, and he almost whimpers with the loss.
He's learning forward, trying to catch your lips again. You giggle, putting a finger to his aching lips.
“I'm sorry. Is that okay?” You're whispering too. Neither of you know why.
“Depends. Is it okay if I tell you that I've wanted to do this since the first time I saw you?” Eddie is honest. There's no excuse not to be.
You kiss him again, firmer this time. Your mouth lingers on his, and it tastes like sunlight. “Me too.”
#hope i made justice to your request my witch queen🫶🏼#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson fanfic
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Ok, so In your response to my last spiel, you mentioned that Alexander will have a zero tolerance policy towards anything that may harm Reader and her the twins, including other wives.
It does make me wonder how Alexander would react to one of the wives (aka Roxanna 👀👀👀) trying to kill our girl. I keep picturing this scenario where it's a banquet, feast or some sort of get together with Alexander, Reader, Roxanna and maybe some of the generals. Long story short, Roxanna hands Reader a cup with a 'special' drink (ie she says promotes health, will help with the pregnancy etc). Reader, being as smart as she is, and knowing Roxanna's history, is automatically suspicious. To see if it's safe she either asks Alexander to 'taste' if for her or insists that Roxanna take the first sip. In either case, it results in Roxanna frantically slapping the cup out of Reader's hand before either she or her husband gets poisoned. At that point, everyone has noticed the commotion, and have realized that Roxanna has just tried to poison the Queen.
My question to you is this: what does Alexander do next? Lets assume reader is pregnant just to make thing extra spicy.
Since requests are open again, perhaps you could do it as a reaction blurb? I'll leave that up to you though. I'm just curious as to what you think would happen next.
Thanks, and hope you feel better ❤️!
--O-
❝ 📜— lady l: this was longer than I thought and I don't know if it's good, I liked it, but let me know your opinion, anon! Forgive me for any mistakes, love you! ❤️
❝tw: attempted murder, mention of poison, domestic violence (??), physical punishment and perhaps torture.
❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.
❝ 📜word count: 1,246.
It was supposed to be a happy and fun dinner.
Needless to say, that's not what happened.
You were sitting next to Alexander, being shown off as his beloved Queen and heavily pregnant. Everyone was hoping for an male heir and was happy for you, everyone except Roxanna who looked at you as if she wanted to stab you or, in this case, stab you in the stomach.
That scared the shit out of you.
You were already familiar with her story, about what she had done to Stateira and Parysatis, and you were afraid that she might try to do something to you and the baby.
You wouldn't let anything happen, though. Although you weren't excited about the pregnancy news at first, you warmed up to the idea and began to look forward to holding your baby in your arms. And you'd be damned if you let anyone try to take that away from you.
''Are you alright?'' Alexander leaned over and whispered in your ear. You looked at him and smiled, it was still strange calling him your husband, but you were getting used to it.
You gave a weak nod to his question.
Alexander frowned and placed his hands on your swollen belly. It was just a few months until the birth and he was so excited. He did want an heir, but he couldn't help but want to have a girl.
A little princess to love and spoil.
''We need to start choosing names.'' He joked, trying to ease your obvious tension, although he didn't know what was making you tense. Yet.
''I already gave you some choices.''
Alexander grimaced, ''Yes, you did and they are all horrible. What kind of name is Augustus?''
You laughed loudly, attracting attention. Augustus, yes, you had given him that option as a joke. Obviously you weren't going to name your child after the first Roman emperor, but it was fun to play with your husband about historical things.
''It's just a common name where I come from.''
''Hm...'' He half-closed his eyes and you touched his face gently, caressing him. Alexander purred and leaned into your hand.
This earned you a look of compassion and a furious, jealous look from Roxanna. You didn't notice and neither did Alexander, both too busy in your affection for each other.
''I love you.'' He murmured, looking into your eyes intensely.
You smiled at him, ''I love you too.''
''Let's make a toast!'' Nearchus' amused voice sounded and everyone turned to the admiral.
''A toast?'' Cassander asked with a loud voice looking into his cup of wine.
Nearchus laughed loudly and slapped his friend on the back, ''Yes. In honor of our beloved Queen, (Y/N).''
Nearchus didn't notice Roxanna's withering look at him. But you did and the pure hatred you saw in those dark eyes gave you goosebumps.
You knew that look and you knew nothing good was coming.
Everyone raised their cups, even your husband's second wife. You were the only one drinking water, even Hephaestion was drinking wine, and he was loose and happy. And that made you happy, you liked him and he was one of his closest friends and you hated seeing how haggard he seemed lately.
''I dedicate this toast in the name of our beloved (Y/N). Our Queen, sometimes soldier and friend.'' Everyone laughed as they remembered what you had done in the Indian Campaign, ''And the child she carries in her womb. May it come healthy and, regardless of gender, we will love and protect this child. To (Y/N) and the baby!''
''To (Y/N) and the baby!'' Everyone repeated and drank the wine in your honor, you laughed, feeling loved and took a sip of water.
You took a piece of bread and bit into it, satisfying your hunger. Roxanna looked at you and smiled. She took a clay jug and poured the thick, dark liquid into a cup and handed it to you.
You raised your eyebrows in doubt as you picked up the cup.
''It's for you. My doctor told me that it helps with pregnancy and helps the health of the baby and the mother.'' Roxanna explained, biting into a piece of bread.
You mentally scoffed. She didn't think you were that stupid, did she? It was insulting that she thought she could poison you in such a blatant way.
You decided to act quickly, ''Why don't you take a sip first?''
She furrowed her dark eyebrows, ''Excuse me?''
''It's a custom among my people that the person who gave you a cup must taste it first.'' You explained, handing her the cup.
Roxanna looked at the cup in your hands with hatred.
''Take it'' You encouraged her, ''or is there some reason why you don't want to drink it?''
Alexander turned his eyes to you and Roxanna, before he could ask what was going on, Roxanna slapped your hand, making you drop the strange liquid on the table.
The noisy room fell silent in a matter of seconds as Alexander stood up from his chair and fixed his eyes on Roxanna.
''What do you think you're doing?'' Alexander's voice was so cold, so lethal that you stiffened. He ignored you, focusing entirely on his second wife.
Hephaestion, who was sitting on Alexander's left side, stood up and touched the thick liquid on the table. He grimaced as the liquid stuck to his finger.
''That's...'' Perdiccas started to speak but couldn't finish.
''Poison?'' Ptolemy finished for his friend.
''How dare you?!'' Cassander growled, also standing up and glaring furiously at Roxanna. He never liked her, he wasn't oblivious to the hateful looks that Alexander's barbaric wife sent to you, to his friend. And now she tried to poison you.
Cleitus was still sitting, watching everything with a stony expression, but his hand was on the dagger stuck in his chiton. He was prepared to act, one word from you and Roxanna would be eliminated from the world.
Alexander still didn't take his eyes off Roxanna, but he spoke to you, ''Go to our room. I'll be there in a few minutes.''
You wisely decided not to disobey.
You stood up carefully and quickly looked around, watching all your friends, your husband, stare at Roxanna who looked terrified. You should have felt bad for her, but you didn't.
Not when she threatened the life of your unborn baby.
Once you were out of sight, Alexander addressed one of the guards stationed at the entrance to the hall, ''Take the whip.''
Roxanna's small body shook in fear at her husband's words. Her shaking legs gave way and she fell to her knees on the floor, feeling hot tears fall onto the dress she was wearing.
Alexander did not feel sorry. And neither do the others. She had brought this on herself.
Actions have consequences and punishments must be applied. And Alexander would not tolerate anyone threatening your life or that of his unborn child.
Alexander felt satisfaction fill his body as the guard brought out the whip and positioned himself behind a desperate Roxanna's back. He watched with satisfaction as the whip hit her sensitive skin and felt satisfaction when he heard her screams of pain.
Roxanna was to blame for her own pain and the scars that were forever marked on her skin were true proof of that.
#yandere history#history#yandere historical characters#the lost queen#yandere alexander the great#yandere alexander the great x reade#alexander the great x reader#yandere reaction#reaction#yandere blurb#blurb#imagine#i'm not sure#o- anon
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[CN] Li Zeyan’s upcoming date!
“I have enough patience to wait for you to come to my side.”
“You can take your time to explore my boundaries.”
—
#it’s gonna be AU btw. and from the date blurb - he’s your gege (哥哥). you grew up together + have feelings for him#when he decides to be independent from his family your feelings grow more intense and the story unfolds~#THIS LITERALLY SOUNDS LIKE A DRAMA PLOT HHHHH AND IMAGINE CALLING HIM GEGE FOR AN ENTIRE DATE HHHHHH#I'M NOT GONNA SURVIVE WTH (>/////< “ )#mlqc victor#mlqc li zeyan#mlqc#mr love victor#mr love queen's choice#恋与制作人#李泽言#love and producer#mlqc cn#mlqc spoilers
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Has anybody written a fanfic yet about being like uh…the Tennessee Governors daughter? -or some such, and being a young debutante who’s part of Elvis’ welcome home committee when he comes back in 1960, and you gotta show him ‘round the capital and help with the ceremony making him a honorary colonel and he takes far more of a shine to you than he oughta considering you’re barely outta high-school, come from Old Money and are headed down a trajectory that doesn’t involve being his live-in-dolly and backseat fumble?…
…even once it lands him in a heap of trouble he still insists that even fancy little girls have simple needs, he was just fulfilling yours when they caught y’all in the broom closet
This whole aura just came to me and I’ve nothing else fleshed out with plot or motivation but I just had a hankering
#he was so dreamy coming home and I’ve always wondered about him and sampling beauty queens#I’m sorry my mind goes there but uh…we’re here now#elvis fanfiction#elvis presley#elvis fanfic#elvis imagine#blurbs#baby elvis#army elvis#elvis and me#welcome home elvis#elvis on tour#pricilla 2023
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"Ohhh Donnie-D!~"
Leo leans on the back of the purple turtle’s chair, arms crossed and a smirk plastered on his face. "I have a questionnnnn."
Donnie sighs, pinching the bridge of his snout in annoyance. "'Sure, I am not doing anything right now,' he said sarcastically." He turned off his phone screen, and turned to his brother. "What was it, Leo?"
"I was just thinking-" Donnie gasped, before he could finish. Leo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever, shut up. Do you think we would be twins in every universe?"
"Of course not, that's not how the multiverse works," he replied, "but meh. I like this one better anyways." He simply shrugged, going back to his phone.
"Awww! I love you too, Dee!~" he said, repositioning so he could gently bonk his head on top of his twin's with a churr. The softshell simply chirped in reply, reaching a hand up to pat his head.
...
Kadeen, standing in the doorway, simply looks on at them. Hearing Donnie’s response, he smiles softly. ...I should probably go call Viper, she thinks to themselves, walking away.
#aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa#original content#original character#kadeen#rise of the tmnt#rise oc#rise leo#rise donnie#rottmnt#rottmnt leo#rottmnt disaster twins#rottmnt queen of the birds au#qotb!donnie#qotb!leo#Viper is Kadeen’s twin by the way :>#just a little blurb
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That's how the money works
Summary: Villain par excellence (much more efficient than other male villains) you are in a relationship with Jeremiah Valeska and you are his queen of Gotham: Lady Gotham
Warnings: maybe a lil suggestive, fighting, mention of injuries and blood, mention of harassment of women, bad words/coarse language
wc: 1.8k this is hort folks
A/N: inspired by Lady Gaga's song "money honey"
Clicking hard with your steps echoing on the cold wet sidewalk of Gotham City. The nauseating vapors came from the sewers and gave the city a mysterious and dangerous vibe, it was always like that. It was night and you were tired, the last robbery went perfectly, you always got what you wanted. This time you were dreaming about a pearl necklace that you saw in a shop window, you remember telling your boyfriend Jeremiah that you were going to get it no matter what it took. He looked at you with a knowing and mocking look because he knew it was true. And there the necklace was now, adorning your neck exposed to the cold temperatures of Gotham.
A luxurious life is what you always aspired to, and being a villain it was much easier to achieve. Although to be honest Jeremiah was a lot of help, you know, he's a millionaire and he can buy you anything, and he does, but it's much more fun to steal. You are an independent woman too. You knew that trying to be a hero in this putrid city would never lead to great things, Gotham had been lost for a while. And that stupid Bruce still believed there was hope, poor thing. With you at the helm as queen of Gotham City there was no place to hide. You continued walking, taking off your sunglasses to put them on your head, it was night but you didn't care, it made you look elegant. Your long black dress with a cut on the leg accentuated your best curves and caught eyes, but be careful of the slimy guy who whistles at you on the street and says dirty things to you.
To top it off, your beautiful white feather boa hugged your back and rested in your arms, serving as a shelter. Every step you took squared your hips. You passed near an alley where there were two tall guys who looked like thugs, when you passed they licked their lips and gave you lustful glances. You made a face of annoyance and disgust.
"Hey doll, what is a pretty girl doing alone at night?"
"What do you fucking care, idiot?"
The other jerk who hadn't said anything whistled in amusement as he continued to look at you up and down.
"Chill out pretty, don't get angry with us"
They were making you sick. You gritted your teeth and continued on your way in silence, or so you intended when one of them grabbed you by the arm tightly.
"ah, ah, ah where do you think you're going huh?"
If you were a different person you would be terrified and shaking, but all you felt was an angry anger building in your stomach and chest like a volcano about to erupt. They didn't know who they were messing with.
"If you don't want to lose your useless arm you better let me go NOW"
You struggled until you got away but the other asshole got in front of you and cornered you, you were in the middle of those two creeps who were now starting to get angry.
"You're not leaving here, bitch."
The one who was in front of you grabbed you by the wrists making you hurt and he clung closer to you. Now they were going to meet you. Baring your teeth, you kneed the person in front of you in the groin; he doubled over, uttering insults. The guy behind you grabbed you by the stomach trying to get you off the ground but you were faster and threw your head back, headbutting hard towards his face. He screamed and put his hand to his bloody nose. The other one who was lying on the floor started to get up but you kicked him in the stomach, leaving him immobilized.
"Damn whore!!"
Still holding his nose he tried to punch you but you stopped him just in time and hit him in the ribs. Before he fell to the ground in pain, you grabbed him by the face near the jaw with your cat claws digging into his flesh, scratching it and causing him to bleed slightly. You brought his face closer to yours so he could listen carefully.
"Listen to me, you stupid bastard, if you were looking for a defenseless woman to preach your disgusting things, you were in the wrong person. I feel sorry for the woman who had to give birth to such a useless being like you."
You spat the words like they were bullets piercing his skull, your eyes flashing with rage like burning flames. Your nails kept digging into his skin. They'll probably leave a nice mark tomorrow. With your face contorted with anger you slammed the man's head into the ground hard, it made a crunching sound when it hit the cement. But he had not died, no, he would simply suffer some bruise or fracture. Painful enough for him to remember who he had messed with.
You turned around threateningly and breathing hard towards where the other guy was ready to continue fighting if necessary. The idiot was still on the floor clutching his stomach, visibly terrified, you couldn't help a small grimace similar to a smile on your lips. You slowly crouched close to him who tried to crawl away from you without success, he was still very sore and you could see it in his expressions.
You tilted your head, considering your words. "You're lucky you're still alive or Jeremiah isn't here with me." Upon hearing that name, the guy's face turned pale as wax as he opened his eyes wide, a feeling of pride flooding your chest. Mr. Valeska as you used to call him was the most feared villain and you were proud to be able to stand by his side.
"Oh I see you know him, well in that case you know that his favorite prey are the perverts who harass women and of course, that he loves to test his new acid tanks on them" You stood up now smiling smugly. "So if I were you I would be careful next time, take that as advice." You shrugged your shoulders and left the alley with the same confidence and security that you felt before this attack.
As you approached the mansion you could notice that your nail had broken "fuck" you cursed under your breath. The truth is that after that fight you were no longer as presentable as before, your perfectly combed and stretched bun was now letting out rebellious strands and you were panting from the effort of the fight. He noticed that, and as quickly as you entered, somewhat disheveled, he looked up from his desk where he was arranging and cleaning his weapons on top of some plans and fixed it on the person who had entered.
"Darling, what the hell happened to you?"
His deep voice took on a serious but calm tone, when he spoke like that you knew he was trying to control his confusion and anger. He sometimes got upset when you went out alone or were reckless about who you messed with. But you were his Lady Gotham and he couldn't hate you for that, on the contrary, he knew perfectly well that you were capable of disarming an army of men with a look, and he was delighted to have a faithful and loyal companion like you.
You tried to make light of it by standing up straight, crossing one leg in front of the other, one hand on your hip and the other brushing a rebellious strand out of your face. Jeremiah snorted, feigning exasperation, but a glow dilated his pupils. You knew that when you posed like that he melted
"Come here"
He ordered, pushing the chair he was sitting in back with his feet to move away from the desk and make room for you, then he patted his thighs demandingly. There were countless times you had sat on his thighs, sometimes when he was working on a new plan. Sometimes you did it casually or when you wanted me to buy you something, and other times it ended up being something else. You bit your lower lip and approached him, sitting on his legs with yours between the space he had left. You placed your arms around his neck.
"Some thugs harassed me in an alley." You said with an anguished pout, trying to be sad.
Jeremiah's face tensed as he looked at you seriously. He knew very well that you were not just any defenseless girl, even so, having some miserable perverts hissing at his favorite woman was something that made his blood boil.
You noticed that his face was acquiring a slight reddish color, furious with anger. You placed a finger on the tip of his nose. "But don't worry, I taught them good manners." You ended up smiling mischievously and openly.
The villain's face relaxed and a seductive smile emerged. He loved a woman who knew how to defend herself, he loved you.
"That's my girl". He smiled wider looking at your lips.
Without waiting any longer, you succumbed to your desires and kissed him passionately, licking his lower lip. With each kiss he placed his hand on your thigh and slid it, caressing you up and down. Suddenly his gloved hand slowly came up and came dangerously close to your inner thighs. The fabric of his glove tickled you. You moaned into his mouth.
"Miah..!"
He flashed you his white-toothed smile in response. Your lips were running over his chin and jaw, barely resting on his pale skin, humming his name. Your warm full lips rested on his neck and you smiled against his skin while he caressed your back. You felt his breath and his fragrance near your ear.
At the best moment, Ecco came in abruptly, opening the door with a slam, making you jump and making Miah's muscles tense.
"Tell me one good reason not to blow your mind with a bullet now for interrupting my office like that."
Jeremiah's face was serious again, he didn't even bother to get up from the seat or push you off his lap. The clumsy Ecco swallowed and spoke with an erratic and fast voice like a nervous hummingbird.
"I'm sorry, but it's the weapons supplier. He says he does not accept the payment terms. In fact, he's here waiting at the front door".
The pale man uttered insults in a low voice with his eyes still on Ecco but he did not seem to see her, his mind was beyond this earthly plane, devising a plan. Suddenly you had an idea.
"Oh but who does he think he is!" You said out loud dramatically as if you were in a theater. Jeremiah looked at you surprised but he caught your intentions at once, you had that Machiavellian glow on your face and he knew what it meant.
"I think we should teach him good manners, don't you think dear?". He said smiling and looking at you knowingly.
Oh yes, Team Valeska was back in action, it was so romantic to destroy annoying people together as a team. Who wanted one threat when the world could have two?
- - - - - - -
first time writing for this fandom of which I'm not a part and I have no idea what the series is about or most of its characters, but tumblr insists on showing me fics about the valeska twins in my feed, so here I am.. *sighs*
#one shot#imagine#female reader#drabble#blurb#short pov#jeremiah valeska#jeremiah valeska x reader#jeremiah valeska imagine#gotham tv#badass female characters#old money vibes#gotham city#gotham#gotham fox#badass fem reader#lady gotham#queen of gotham#jerome valeska#jeremiah valeska x fem reader#jeremiah valeska x female reader#dc universe#dc#Spotify
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sirius would watch 10 things i hate about you
and then recreate the scene where Patrick sings Cant Take My Eyes Off You to Kat to remus
fight me if im wrong.
#hp marauders#sirius black x reader#sirius orion black#james & peter & remus & sirius#siriusposting#sirius being sirius#sirius black blurb#sirius blurb#sirius imagine#10 things i hate about you#marauders era#mauraders#maurauders fanfic#blurb#imagine#sirius is a drama queen#remus lupin#siriusxremus#wolfstar#remus x sirius
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dorothea | c.b
~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~❦~
ooh, you're a queen
selling dreams
selling make up and magazines
ooh, from you i’d buy anything
colby brock x reader
warnings : depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mention of drugs (xanax)
word count : 1.4k
notes : i love writing emotional fics so much omg. inspired by taylor swifts song, dorothea. you and colby were best friends (aka both def crush on each other but whatevz) and you decide to pick up the unknown call
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colby scrolled through his instagram feed, feeling like every photo was you. last night had been the release of your highly anticipated album, and he had of course listened to it.
you and colby had met when he first moved to LA with sam. you were one of the first people he had met and you both immediately clicked. you easily fell into his patterns and hung out nearly everyday. you helped him and sam film videos for their channel, and he helped you with pursing a music career.
everything was fine until you had released your first album. it was incredibly successful, you had even won a grammy award. you began to travel not only all over america, but the world for interviews, tour, photo shoots, and everything else in between. it was an extremely difficult change and even more difficult to balance your relationships.
at first you insisted on calling colby at any and every moment you could. even if it was for a few minutes, talking to him helped your nerves. but as the months went on you had begun getting depressed, withdrawing yourself from not only colby but many of your other friends. you felt you only had time for your career, and if you weren’t asleep you always had something or somewhere to be.
colby was never mad at you for calling less and was extremely understanding. he just wanted you to be happy, and he believed that at that time you were happier with whatever you had been doing. he couldn’t deny one thing though; having to find out bits of your life through the news made him extremely sad.
it was almost 4 in the morning when you had gotten home from your release party, which you didn’t even want to go to. you had tried to leave multiple times but your manager insisted you should stay. you groaned when your phone began to ring, expecting your manager to update you on some statistic you couldn’t care about.
‘no caller id’
you didn’t know what came over you, because technically you weren’t supposed to pick up a call you didn’t know. especially without a caller id. it could be a fan who somehow got your number, but you picked it up.
“hello?” you said after picking up the call.
“hey hello? y/n?” an extremely familiar voice replied, letting your stomach drop at the thought of who it could be.
“colby brock? are you seriously calling me right now?” you asked, excitement and anxiety running through your voice.
“yeah, yeah it’s me! how are you doing? it’s been forever i feel like.”
“i’m okay, really tired right now. i just got to my hotel room after being out all night at the listening party for my album. how are you?”
“i’m good, your album is amazing by the way. sam and i listened to it when it dropped. are you in la?”
you almost felt guilty talking to him right now, it felt like nothing had happened and just like the years together before but something wasn’t right. it didn’t feel the same.
“no, i honestly wish. i’m in new york right now, i have a show at madison square garden tomorrow night.” you told him.
“oh damn! you’re just selling dreams and everything now. i’m really proud of you, holy shit!” colby exclaimed, he couldn’t believe you had picked up his call. but he could hear a dullness in your voice that wasn’t there before.
“thank you” you lightly laughed
“are you seriously doing okay though? you sound a little more than just tired y/n.” colby asked, not beating around the bush. if he felt something was wrong he wanted to know.
his question took you aback; although you expected him to say something along those lines. you didn’t know how to answer, because truthfully you didn’t know how you were feeling. you were filled with joy from the overwhelming support, but you desperately missed your old life.
“y/n? hello?” colby said, pulling you from your thoughts of your emotions.
“uh- yeah. i mean no, but it’s not like bad. it’s not amazing either- but- i don’t know really.” you answered, best you could.
“what’s up? just talk to me, you’re good.”
“i just really fucking miss my life before all of this, whenever i just sat and edited your guys’ videos for hours a day. when we were younger down at the parks. whenever we would be together all of the time. all of you even. obviously you more- but whatever i just miss it all.”
“i don’t want to live this life anymore” you whispered, focusing your eyes on a bottle of xanax for a spilt second.
colby felt a more of a relief than he did sympathy in that moment. you were finally opening up to him after almost a year and a half. but he also couldn't help feel helpless for you.
“i’m sorry, but there’s definitely a way to balance everything. i know you have so much going on, but you’ve gotta be able to take yourself back and out of certain situations. standing up for yourself” colby said, still in disbelief he was having this conversation.
"i know but it's just after my first album it's been absolutely nonstop, i haven't had longer than a day to just do nothing. i don't know when that's gonna end."
"you have more people who want to help you than those who want to see you fail. you cant keep these things hidden, it doesn't help anyone."
"i'm sorry" you said
"nothing that's happened to you is your fault, don't be sorry for your emotions. especially with me, we're way past that point."
you weren’t sure if that was something you needed to hear, or if it was just because colby was saying it, but it encouraged you to make a spur of the moment decision.
“what if you came to new york for my show tomorrow? if you have nothing going on obviously, i’d pay for everything. and if you want too.”
colby’s jaw dropped even though you couldn’t see it. he didn’t have anything going on for the next four days, and couldn’t have been more thankful not too.
“i have nothing going on the next four days actually”
“are you serious? please say you’ll come.”
“of course i will!”
you immediately opened you laptop and looked at flights from lax to jfk, your heart breathing through your chest.
“ do you think you can be ready in five hours?” you asked him, wanting to suddenly see him extremely badly.
“are you kidding? yeah i can be, definitely. whatever you want.”
as the word ‘yeah’ came out of his mouth you booked the tickets as fast as you could, sending him the email confirmation. you couldn’t really process what you had just done fully. you also didn’t realize it at the moment but you had still had his email perfectly memorized.
“i just sent you the email, i’m so excited fuck!”
“i’m really excited to see you y/n. i feel i’ve only seen you on screens the last year.”
colby saying that so nonchalantly made you more upset that you would've liked to feel, but it had almost been an hour since he first called and you were very tired.
“i’m gonna try to sleep before you come, i’ll text you in a few hours. actually wait- do you have a new cell? it showed up no caller id.”
“it’s the same as it’s always been, not sure why. but okay get some rest, i’ll see you soon.”
“see you soon” you said before hanging up the call.
you stood up and walked over to the counter that the bottle of xanax held, tearing up staring at the bottle. you proceeded to take them into the bathroom and flush them all down the toilet before going back to bed.
all you could think about was you fully laid down was how you were pretty sure colby had just saved your life.
colby couldn't have been more relieved as he called sam letting him know he'd be in new york for the weekend.
#angst#fanfic#sam and colby#colby brock one shot#colby brock angst#colby brock fanfic#colby brock#sam golbach#colby brock x y/n#colby brock x reader#colby brock blurb#colby x reader#writing#fanfic writing#dorothea#evermore#queen selling dreams#colby brock fluff#colby#brock#fluff#fanfic rec
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spider wife....
woukd she use her webs as bondage ropes??
Without a doubt. She probably makes her little sweetheart an entire silk lingerie set once they reach that stage in their relationship-
Sweetheart Darling: I love this outfit you made for me, hun! One thing I happened to notice though is these wrist cuffs get really sticky when I put my arms together. I don't think I'll be able to pull them apart myself, haha!
Spider Queen Yan: :)
Sweetheart Darling: o-oh..... Can we at least ask the servants to leave before we get started?
Spider Queen Yan: No~
#Yandere queen#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere oc#yandere x you#yandere insert#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#yandere headcanons#yandere blurb
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codename: nightingale - the before masterlist
a collection of blurbs and head cannons and ficlets that take place before season 1!
pre season 1 blurbs/hcs:
robin catching feels (02/21/23)
birdy has a crush (03/20/23)
that time where everyone met birdy (06/22/23)
main masterlist
codename: nightingale master post
season 1 series teaser
season 1 masterlist
#codename: nightingale#cnng#cnng nav#cnng season 0#cnng pre season 1#cnng blurbs#cnng headcannoncs#cnngs hc#cnng hcs#young justice#young justice series#young justice x reader#dc#dc series#dick grayson x reader#robin x reader#black canary#roy harper#oliver queen#red arrow#green arrow#dinah lance
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Everyone Introduced in Dimension 20′s Dungeons and Drag Queens episode 3
#dimension 20 spoilers#dimension 20#d20 introductions#dndq#dndq spoilers#dungeons and drag queens#hm. so funny thing is that there's multiple intro cards for the PC statblocks that have different little blurb lines at the bottom#whereas otherwise they're identical#i'm thinking of making the executive decision to include these 'duplicates' anyway because they're cute and charming#anyway HOLY FUCK THIS EPISODE#this one was long but like HOLY MOLY that was fantastic#dude dude dude i just KNOW the gays will be going wild over norelle and thanara i just know it#god stay winning#and man like- it's just so SO sweet to see these people new to dnd get to play and learn and experience it and see like.#THIS IS WHAT IT'S ALL ABOUT#the characters bonded so tight so fast this is just so wonderful#i'm so fucking glad brennan is here in drag helping them have a fun exciting experience in all this#i almost want to be like. this is the best thing to show someone who doesn't know anything dnd at all like what a game of it is like#like a newcomer audience gets to learn about all this right along with the queens who are doing the questing#it's wonderful!!!!!!! gahhhh i'm so happy this season is here
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Inoichi: Ino is washing the dishes and I just heard her say, “Who do you work for?! Who’s your contact?!” while repeatedly pushing a glass under the water.
Shikaku: ...
Chouza, smiling nervously: At least she’s having fun?
Inoichi, beaming: I'm so proud!
#naruto incorrect quotes#thats our future T&I spook queen fam!#academy days#yamanaka inoichi#nara shikaku#akimichi chouza#naruto blurb#ino is the best
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Since today is Women's Day, I want to take a second to talk about a personal accomplishment. I've been writing as an intern for an entertainment news source for the last few months, and it's been incredibly rewarding. I have been given the opportunity to write about things I love, and they're published with credit. I didn't intend to pursue a career in entertainment writing, but I've fallen in love with it and want to continue on this path once my internship ends.
I've been able to write about a lot of women I admire, and some of them have even acknowledged my work. I love being able to support women, and it feels great when they support me back. I'm so happy about this internship, and I'm so grateful to the women that have taken the time to acknowledge and appreciate my writing. It's really cool seeing artists repost my articles, and also I'm extremely grateful for the women in my life who have shared my enthusiasm for this endeavor.
#Tina. you've been my number 1 cheerleader and I love you so much!! 🩷 thank you for being so enthusiastic about every single article#Kelsey. you inspire me so greatly and I appreciate the support you've always shown me#as far as women I don't know personally. Scene Queen reposted my article and that's really stinking cool#all 3 members of Millionaires reposted the full text of the blurb I wrote about them and Anissa sent a lovely thank you message#Daisy Grenade reposted my article on 2 different platforms and were very kind#when I met them irl Keaton complimented the article again and told me to keep writing#this internship is really the first time I've shared so much of my writing and it means the world that I've received so much support#I wish I could scream more about my writing here but the articles have my full name so for privacy I can't#if we're mutuals though and you ever want to read an article lmk!#this is such a cool experience I'm having and it really feels like a dream#anyway women are awesome. thank you women#ashley rambles
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now why didn’t the writers tell me episode 6 was the calm before the storm episode like hold on there’s still 10 more episodes to go
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Bound to You: Chapter Fourteen—Listen Before I Go
“If you need me
Wanna see me
Better hurry
'Cause I'm leaving soon” —Billie Eilish
Summary: With Ida’s life on the line, (Y/N) is finally forced to come face to face with the demon in her court. The resulting battle is calamitous.
Word Count: 10.5k
Warnings: ANGST, SMUT, major character death, mention/hint of sexual assault, hostage situation, typos, depictions of grief
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
You had the letter crumbled in your hands now as Tom spoke, trying to explain what his plan was and how this had happened, but all you could hear was the blood rushing through your ears. All of his words turned to lies, all of his explanations turned to mere stories in your mind. You couldn’t be bothered to even listen to him; it wasn’t like he had listened to you.
All you could feel was anger. Complete and utter outrage. You could feel your own face heat up as if it was being held beneath the sun.
“(Y/N), please don’t cry,” Tom tried to soothe you, but Dahlia was already asleep in his arms.
Seeing the tears silently fall down your hot cheeks was killing him.
“I can—will fix this, m’love,” Tom said gently.
“How did he even get her?” You asked sharply, “She was with Dahlia all day.”
Tom’s frown deepened, “My mother said she saw her last when she went to the nursery to see Dahlia. She said she left the room and never came back.”
“Take Dahlia to your mother,” you told Tom, “you and I need to talk about this and I have a feeling that this won’t be an easy conversation.”
Tom looked down at the sleeping baby in his arms. He was hesitant to leave you here, worried that he’d come back and you’d already be gone. But he also knew that Dahlia was just a baby. She was too innocent to be privy to the conversation you and Tom likely would soon have. The venom you would spit was too harsh for her delicate ears.
“Okay,” Tom nodded, “but please, don’t leave this room. Wait for me, (Y/N).” You didn’t even look up at him. Tears blurred your vision as your hands played with the ruined parchment in them. It was all you could do to keep them from shaking.
Tom came back within minutes. He raced back to your room the minute his mother had Dahlia in her arms. He found you rummaging through his trunk of clothes, pulling out trousers and a white linen shirt one he would usually sleep in. No way would you be able to face Hawthorne in this god-forsaken corset.
“I have to go after her,” you stated, once you heard the door shut behind him, “I brought her here, now I have to save her.”
“No, (Y/N),” Tom protested, “you don’t have to do this alone.”
“I do,” you insisted, “he said to come alone. He’ll kill her, Tom,” you looked over at your husband with fresh tears glistening in your eyes, “you know that he will.”
“Tell me where to find him, I’ll send Ivy and her guards there—”
“No,” you shook your head, “you know I can’t do that. I can’t risk that—”
“But you’ll risk your life for this?!” Tom snapped, “Our entire future? You’d hand that over to him?”
“I have to do this,” you said quietly, “it’s not just about us, Tom. Ida deserves a future too.”
“You’re not listening to me!” Tom yelled.
“And you’re not listening to me!” You yelled back, “You haven’t been for a very long time, Thomas! That’s why we’re in this mess!”
Tom squared his jaw and ran his hand over his face. He turned away from you and shook his head. He knew you were right. His failure to listen to what you had planned for your future is what brought Hawthorne to England. He was an easy target. He should have to pay this price, not you.
“Tell me what to do,” he said quietly.
“What?”
“Tell me what I have to do to make you stay,” Tom turned back to you, tears running down his cheeks, “because I’d do anything, (Y/N).”
“Tom,” you set the clothes on the floor and walked over to him, “there’s nothing you can do,” you placed your hands on his cheeks and felt the wetness of his tears on your palms and between your fingers, “and that’s okay.”
This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. You sacrificing yourself over his mistakes. You paying the price for his incompetence. If anything happened to you, he'd never be the same. He knew that when he first fell in love with you. He could remember vividly thinking, if I fall for her, I’ll never be the same. Nothing will be as it was. And he was back then he was okay with that because he knew things would be better. Now, he could not hold the same optimism or sentiment for the path his story was taking.
“(Y/N),” Tom wrapped his hands around your wrists, “you can’t take the money from the treasury. At least, not now. It would take days to get those funds. We may never even get them. Ida is just a chambermaid, the lords will likely not be willing the spare the expense. How are you going to do this alone?” You looked up at Tom and the look in your eyes said it all. “No,” Tom’s face fell deeper into sorrow and fear, “you can’t go, (Y/N).”
“I have to,” you whispered, “when you go to the council and tell them he’s taken me rather than just some maid, they’ll be much more willing to give you the money. We just have to hope time is a luxury Hawthorne will grant us.”
“What if he doesn’t,” Tom snapped, “what if he takes you from me?”
“Then you prepare for that,” you ran your thumb over his cheek to catch the new rush of tears that were coming, “and you tell Dahlia that I love her. You tell her every day—”
“No,” Tom pulled his head away, “I won’t. You’ll tell her yourself because you aren’t going.”
“Tom, I have to. This is my duty, my responsibility—”
“Since when have you ever cared about those things?” Tom cried, “You never once cared about those in the past. Stop caring about them now and get back into that damn bed with me!”
“You know I can’t just let this go,” you said quietly, trying to keep your own voice calm for the sake of your husband, crying in your arms, “if this were you, and it was Harrison or one of your brothers who had been taken, you wouldn’t hesitate—”
“You’re right,” Tom agreed, “I wouldn’t. But you would stop me. You would keep me safe and try to keep our future alive. That’s all I’m trying to do, (Y/N). That’s all I want.”
You looked at Tom sympathetically, “That’s all I want to,” you sniffled, “but I can’t build this future on Ida’s death. I can’t possibly think of our future when her life is on the line.”
Tom nodded but the tears in his eyes didn’t cease.
He let go of your wrists and quickly wrapped his arms around you. He rested his head atop of yours and didn’t speak as you both swayed.
“Just give me some time,” he whispered, “let me try to fix this. I can’t lose you. I just—I need time to think and plan—”
His plea was so raw and torn. There was nothing else he could say or do other than beg for you to stay by his side. He felt hopeless and broken. Part of him wished he never showed you the letter, but deep down he knew it would have been worse to keep it from you and attempt to solve it himself. If Ida had died without you knowing she was even gone, you would’ve never forgiven him.
You needed to trust him. This was the final test of your love and trust in him.
“Tom…” you pulled away, “we don’t have the time now. Our time is up.”
You turned to walk away, back to the task at hand: getting his clothes, changing, and then saving Ida.
Tom wrapped his arms around you from behind. He moved your hair from your neck, exposing it to himself. He pressed kisses to your soft skin, a selfish attempt to break your resolve.
“Please, m’love,” Tom sniffled in between kisses, “we have a future. I need that future.”
He began to nip and suck at your skin as he spoke, “There’s a summer palace in Italy we can run off to. For a few months, it can be just us and Dahlia. We can have more children. We can have dozens. I want more children, (Y/N). I want it all with you. I want to give you the world.”
His hands found the ties of your corset and began to undo them, “I want to grow old with you.”
“Tom,” you turned around and placed yours over his, stopping him, “we can’t.”
“Please,” Tom’s eyes were red and his cheeks were wet with tears, “please tell me you love me.”
“I do love you,” you assured him, “more than I’ve ever loved anyone.” You pressed a kiss to his lips, savoring the taste of him, relishing in the fit of his lips against yours, before pulling away. “But I won’t choose you over saving someone who also means so much to me. She’s in danger because of me, Tom. I brought her here—”
“No, she’s in danger because of me. I did this, let me fix it.”
You held Tom’s face in your hands, “you have to let me go.”
“Please don’t make me,” Tom cried, a new batch of tears falling from his eyes at your words, “please, please…”
You quieted him with your lips on his once more. You kissed him hard as tears gathered in your own eyes. You hated seeing him cry and you hated even more that you were the reason for his tears. Tom didn’t hesitate to kiss you back fiercely. He tangled his hand in your hair and used his other to finish loosening the corset he’d set to work on earlier.
His mouth was hot against your skin as he moved from your lips to your jaw, and then down your neck. And the moment your corset was loose and undone, he moved to the tops of your breasts.
“Tom,” you sighed, running your fingers through his hair as he pushed your dress down your body.
He couldn’t stop. He was a man on a mission and his mission was to remind you of the love and passion the two of you share—the reason he could never let you go.
He removed his lips from your skin only to remove his own jacket and shirt. Once those were gone and his chest was bare, much like your own, he pressed himself to you again, to feel you close to him. He could feel all the blood rushing south. Just the thought of feeling you again after so long was making his head spin.
He undid his belt and let it fall to the floor along with his sword and with that he shoved his pants down as well, freeing himself.
He pushed you down onto the bed and fell atop of you, kissing his way down your body until he was placed between your legs.
“I’ve missed this,” he sighed, breathless from merely the look of your weeping heat, “I’ve missed having you like this.”
“I’ve missed it too,” you breathed out as Tom began licking your pulsing bud, tasting your sweet juices. He moaned into you as your closed your legs around his head. It’d been so long and you were so sensitive.
Before he could really even get into it, you flipped yourself over into a position where you were straddling his chest. Tom chuckled at your change of dominance.
“I want you like this,” you said gently, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“Whatever you want,” Tom hummed, rutting into you with his length against your leg, “as long as you stay.”
You worked your way down his body, licking and kissing each divet in his sculpted torso. You did love him, more than anything, and you want him to feel that love. You wanted him to feel worshipped.
You slithered down until your knees hit the floor and you were between his legs, length in your hand. You pumped him with one hand, tearing soft grunts from his lips. He bit his thin lips in an attempt to keep the noises in as to not disturb the baby sleeping soundly on the other side of the bed.
Tom’s eyes were shut and his face was scrunched in a beautiful scowl and his eyebrows furrowed with pleasure. You bent down and enveloped his head into your hot mouth, making him hiss.
“(Y/N),” he moaned, abs clenching as you sucked him in. He ran his hands through your hand, holding you to him. You released him and rose to the bed, straddling his thighs, keeping his cock in your hand.
“I love you,” you peered down at him through hooded eyes as you sunk onto him, drawing his length in your wetness. Tom grunted and placed his hands on your hips, giving him a squeeze.
“I love you more,” he sighed, sitting up to capture your lips as he began thrusting into you from below.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Tom slept peacefully with you in his arms. He always slept better with you around. These past few months had been filled with sleepless nights and dreamless slumbers, so to have to wrapped in his arms after having you in a way he hadn’t in so long, sleep came naturally.
But you didn’t sleep.
Instead, you savored these moments in his arms as though they would be your last. You pressed kisses to his hand, one for each knuckle, before moving to his face. You counted his freckles like you so frequently used to do. You missed that—the counting of the stars upon his face. How could you have taken such scattered beauty for granted?
You pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, just below his eye. His eyes fluttered behind the lids, but he remained asleep, just as you needed him.
The sad thing was that you did want to stay with him. You could feel your heart clench looking at how small he was. Hearing his pleas for you to stay nearly broke your resolve. And now, laying on the bed, vulnerable and at peace, he looked like a child that you were abandoning.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “Forgive me, my love.”
You got out of bed and replaced where you were with a pillow for Tom to hold. You were dressed in his clothes; a white shirt and trousers. Something simple and easy to move in.
You had a plan of your own. Reckless as only you knew to be.
Looking back at Tom, you knew what you were doing would hurt him. There was great potential for loss here. But the risk was one you had to take—a sacrifice you were willing to make for Ida. Furthermore, it wasn’t solely for Ida—it was for yourself as well. You had a demon you needed to face. It was time to stop hiding away.
Looking at Tom made your heartache, knowing that this battle with the demon in your court may not end well, knowing that you might leave him, the one thing he begged you not to do. Tears sprouted in your eyes as you sighed out a shaky breath. You walked over to him one last time and pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the warmth and the gentle thumps of his beating heart. You pulled your hand away and wiped your tears. Now was not the time for them, now was time for you to be strong.
You went to your desk and pulled a piece of parchment out and began writing.
Tom,
I’m sorry I left. I hope you know how much it pained me to do so. I pray that we will see each other again when this is all over. I pray that the future you envision for us comes to pass. I pray for that as I write this, and I shall pray for it as I make my way to Hawthorne.
If we never see each other again, just know that I have only one regret in this life, and that is not loving you sooner. I feel as though I wasted precious moments I could have spent loving you, hating you. In our next life, I promise not to make the same mistake.
With that same thought in mind, you must tell Dahlia every day how much I loved her. Make sure she can feel my love.
Hawthorne will be at Arthur’s grave. It’s his last cruel jest towards me. Meet us there with the gold if you should get it.
With all my love,
(Y/N)
You left the room quickly, in fear that staying any longer would keep you from the task at hand.
“Your grace,” A guard stationed outside of your door stopped you immediately. He noticed the clothes you wore and the sword in your belt and a worried look formed in his eyes, “you can’t leave this room unaccompanied, I have direct orders from the king—”
“That’s ridiculous” you cut him off, “I shall traverse in my own home on my own terms.”
“I must insist,” he grabbed your arm.
“Unhand me,” you pulled away harshly, “before I take that hand from you as well as your titles. Who do you take orders from?”
“The king, your grace.”
“No,” you shook your head, “you take them from me, your queen. Now, you will stay stationed at this door and you will let me go in peace. Is that clear?”
The guard hesitated, but your unwavering stare and self-assuredness convinced him to concede, “exceedingly, your grace.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“Your grace,” the guard at the door of Nikki’s chambers shrouded worry as he took in your appearance. The outfit accompanied by a sword at your side, “you shouldn’t be out here by yourself. Where is his grace, King Thomas?”
Not again, you thought. Though, you had to commend your guards for being so painstakingly cautious and aware of what they were doing, even if it made your tasks harder.
“Asleep in our chambers,” you said curtly, “I‘ve just come to see my daughter.”
“Alone? You should have accompaniment. Where’s your chambermaid?”
“I don’t need accompaniment,” you said simply, brushing past him and opening the door for yourself.
Nikki was sitting by the fire with Dahlia in her arms, peacefully sleeping. She herself looked worn from the day’s stresses as her eyes drooped.
“Nikki,” you whispered to her.
She turned and furrowed her brows before registering who had spoken her name, she smiled as your face came into focus in her vision.
“(Y/N)?” she whispered back, “what are you doing here? And dressed like that…?” she trailed off as she studied your attire.
“I just wanted to see you,” you said quietly, “and her.”
Nikki handed you Dahlia as you took a seat on the cushy chair beside her, “She’s precious,” she smiled softly at you, “you’ve got a perfect angel there. If only I had been so lucky.”
“Lucky?” you chuckled, “You had four strong-headed boys, if only I should be so lucky. I love my daughter more than life itself, but Tom is right, we should try for more. There is security in numbers.”
“Boys are trouble,’ Nikki sighed, “though, I’m sure you’d have no trouble at all,” she smiled warmly at you, “you always handled my boys with such…passion.”
You smiled back, “You mean aggression?”
“Whatever you did, it got the job done,” Nikki chuckled, “especially now, in such times of sorrow and suffering. My boys look to you for comfort, but also they look after you. You did something to all of them—it’s something you seem to do to all the people you meet; you make them care. You ignite passion and fire—the same you have on your own, you share it, and spread it. You’ll be the best queen there ever was, (Y/N),” Nikki reached for your hand, “I know it.”
“Nikki,” you said softly, eyes sparkling at her words, “I’m nothing special—”
“You are to me, and to my boys, and to your girl there, though she might not know it yet,” Nikki smiled down at the baby in your arms, “and that just covers my world, so imagine how special you are to all the people in yours.”
ou let out a sigh as you rocked Dahlia in your lap, “You’ll always be there for her though, won’t you? To watch over her and make sure she grows up to be a good ruler.”
“Of course,” Nikki said slowly, “but you’ll be there for her too. There’s nothing that can replace the love of a mother.”
“You could,” you looked up at Nikki, “your love was better than my mother’s ever was. I wish you were my mother.”
Nikki cooed and stood up. She hugged your head to her chest and stroked your hair, “I am your mother,” she smiled, “and I love you very much.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
You left Nikki’s chambers close to tears, knowing that there was a chance you’d be leaving your daughter behind. Nikki was right, nothing would be able to replace you in her eyes, and perhaps it was selfish of you to deny her a chance at your love.
But Ida needed you and Hawthorne needed to be dealt with. You were done hiding in your chambers like you had for the majority of his stay in England. You were ready to face him and whatever evil was behind that man. And if tonight would be your last, then you’d be sure to drag him to hell with you.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Ida was just waking up, a bruise over her cheek and an ache in her jaw to truly set the tone of the trouble she had found herself in. Hawthorne was pacing around, reciting the prayers of the lord he could remember to himself.
Ida was bound and tied to a tree. Her immediate struggle clued Hawthorne in on her consciousness, prompting him to come towards her.
“Do not be frightened, little one,” he said quietly, “this is not your fight,” he shined his lantern in her face and held up a piece of bread, bringing it close to her lips.
Ida spat at him, “you snake! You filthy, dirty, snake! They’ll have your head for this!”
“Hm,” Hawthorne hummed, “you are much like (Y/N). It’s as though her own personality has rubbed off on you. You two must be close. That is good, that means my assessment is correct. So fear not, wench. Help will be arriving soon.”
“No,” Ida shook her head, “They won’t come for me. No matter what it is you asked of them, I am not worth the risk. You'll be dead by daybreak, as you should be,” Ida sneered.
“For someone so close to (Y/N), you seem to know nothing of her loyalty,” Hawthorne scoffed, forcefully showing the bread into Ida’s mouth, muffling her insults and screams, “Yes,” he said as he rose again and looked out towards the castle, where you’d be coming from, “even for a poor wench like you, she is loyal. A terrible flaw; her Achilles heel.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
It was sick of him to hold Ida captive at the graves of those you’ve lost. Past the large oak tree on the hill, through the field, and on the other side, where you laid to rest your loved ones. It was sadistic. That’s how you knew he’d be there. He wanted to remind you what he was capable of as he held Ida captive over Arthur’s grave.
At the top of the hill, you could see him down there. He even had the nerve to wave at you. A friendly wave, beckoning you towards him.
“Here she comes,” he smiled sinisterly, “our little queen.”
Ida wept when she saw you making your way towards the two of them. She wanted to scream at you to run back the other way, to leave her. To forget about her altogether and live your life.
Hawthorne had untied her from the tree the moment he saw the light of your candle. He wrapped cloth over her lips to silence her cries before kneeling her in front of him, sword to her neck.
“Your grace,” he proclaimed when you had made it within earshot, but it was mocking. It was a joke to him, the fact that you held such a title, “I see you’ve found us. My note made it to you alright I presume?”
“I don’t have your gold, Hawthorne,” you stated, “I’ve only brought myself.”
“That’s a shame then,” Hawthorne pressed the sword closer to Ida’s neck, causing her muffled cries to a crescendo. You could see the tears streaming down her cheeks glistening in the light of the lantern.
“Stop,” you held your hand up, “please, I’ve come with a better offer.”
“Speak then, before I grow tired of this distraction.”
“For a man who claims to be a king, you clearly know very little about finances in the court,” you spat, “I would never be able to receive enough money from the treasury to satisfy you.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I wouldn’t be able to get the funds to spare her life,” you looked down at Ida, “but she can go back to Tom and get the funds to spare mine. It’s a simple trade.”
“How do I know this isn't a trick?” Hawthorne accuses, yanking Ida’s hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck more to the blade. She yelped beneath the cloth over her lips, silencing her, “You’re a venomous snake, I hear.”
“If you don’t get the money, I die,” you explain, “you can finally rid yourself of me. Just let her go because you know deep down that this vendetta is ours, and only ours. And this is the only reasonable way you’ll get what you want.”
“You’re a real bargainer, aren’t you?” Hawthorne clicked his tongue, “I could almost say I’m proud of you. Now get on your knees.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“Help me! Help me, please!” Ida’s lungs were burning when she finally made it inside the castle. The edges of her dress were muddy and ruined and her face was red. Her eyes were puffy and her throat her as she screamed for help.
Guards rushed to her side, one holding her up and she nearly collapsed in his arms, “M’lady,” he looked down at her, “what’s wrong.”
“He has her,” Ida cried, “Hawthorne has her grace, (Y/N).”
The three guards looked at each other, all silently knowing the direness of the situation.
“Come,” the one that held Ida’s arms said, “we must tell the king.”
The four of them raced off to Tom’s chambers.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“None of you stopped her?!” Tom yelled at his guards. He was livid when he heard that you had gotten away, slipping past all of them so effortlessly. Though it wasn’t just anger, it was fear. He could feel it in his gut. He had a lump of dread lodged there—if he were any weaker of a man it would have incapacitated him.
“She’s our queen, your grace,” the guard stationed outside yoru chambers tried to defend himself, “I follow her orders as well—”
“No,” Tom snapped, “you follow my orders. Mine alone! She’s gone now because of you!”
“Your grace,” Ida spoke up, “please, this isn’t solving anything. We must gather the council and get the money from the treasury. Hawthorne won’t wait past dawn.”
Tom took a deep breath and motioned to the door, “Go then, all of you. Gather the lords and my brothers and have them meet me in the great hall.”
They all left quickly, leaving Tom in his chambers by himself.
For a moment, he didn’t have to hold it in anymore. The second the door closed behind Ida, he could feel the dam behind his eyes break. He fell backward onto the bed with a sob, muffling it in his hands. He held his hands over his face as he cried, pushing the palms of his hands into his eyes, grounding himself with the pressure.
He hiccuped a few more cries and he wiped his eyes. His breathing was uneven as he rose from the bed and began getting dressed. And on his way to the trunk of his clothes is where is found your note, sitting neatly on your desk.
He picked it up, his wet hands smudging the ink of your name as he read it. As he read, more tears fell onto the parchment, staining it with his sorrow.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“Why are you doing this?” you asked before Hawthorne could put the cloth over your lips.
“You know why,” he said simply, “I have to get out of this country—”
“No,” you shook your head, “why do any of it? Why did you kill my father? He was a good man, he was good to you. I thought you cared for us.”
Hawthorne placed the cloth over your lips and tied it tightly, causing you to whimper. He almost looked regretful to see what this had all simmered down to, but then he smiled, and the demon was back.
“You know nothing, little princess,” he dragged your body towards his and held you close, “I would think you of all people would understand that if you want something, then you should just take it.”
You squirmed in his grasp as he sat and moved you to sit in his lap. Panic filled your eyes at his advances.
“Shhh, don’t worry,” he snickered, “I’d never sully you like that. You’re just protecting me,” he explained, “in case your charming husband has the wise idea to shoot any arrows this way.”
Hawthorne held your hair in his hands and began to play with it, “Remember how I used to braid your hair?” he asked as he began to plait it, “I was quite good at it, I think. Your mother always laughed though, whenever she saw my creations.”
You shook your head, “Hold still, little princess,” Hawthorne chided, “or how else shall we pass the time?”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
All Tom could think about was your body in a casket. Six feet under. Covered in dirt. Your eyes milky with death. Your hands cold and grey. Your lips frozen against his. He didn’t even notice that all the lords had arrived and were seated, all looking at him, wondering why he would call a meeting at such an ungodly hour.
The calls of ‘your grace’ fell on deaf ears it would seem. So finally, Harrison placed his hand on his friend's shoulder, and addressed him as such, “Mate,” he squeezed Tom’s shoulder, “are you alright?”
Tom looked up at his friend, his blue eyes familiar and comforting. His own eyes were red and tears were kissing the edges, threatening to fall over.
“No,” Tom shook his head, blinking, letting the tears go, “Hawthorne took (Y/N),” he breathed out, “and I have to get her back.”
Harry and Sam looked at each other, both of their faces had dropped the same. The room's murmurs ceased as the air grew thick.
“What do you need from us?” Harrison asked.
“Money from the treasury,” Tom said, “enough to appease Hawthorne.”
The silence in the room was deafening. Tom’s heart constricted when nobody immediately jumped with their declarations of love for you, nobody immediately agreed that you were worth more than any sum of gold Hawthorne could want.
“Ida,” Harry turned to the girl, still shaken up and bruised in the chair beside Tom, “where is Hawthorne?”
“Just past the field at the end of the hill,” Ida said, “he’s alone.”
“Then I say we go after him,” Harry stated, “we don’t give into the demands of a madman. What would father say? If we let a man like that out into the world? He’s one cowardly man against a kingdom.”
“He has (Y/N),” Tom reasoned, “I’m not risking him hurting her,” he shook his head, “I won’t—I can’t lose her—”
“Harry’s right,” Sam nodded, “(Y/N) would understand why we can’t just give him his money and send him on his merry way. She—”
“She traded her life for mine!” Ida cried, “I don’t care if he’s just one man, he’s taking everything. He acts like he’s a god. I-I can’t let her sacrifice be for nothing,” she rose from her seat and began to walk towards the door, “if you need me for any more information on Hawthorne and how he has her, I’ll be with Dahlia, but I can’t sit here and listen to you talk about (Y/N), so ready to sacrifice her. She would have given her life for any one of you, and she did for me.”
Ida slammed the door shut and Harry shook his head, he rose from his seat as well, prepared to get up to calm her down—
“Sit,” Tom ordered, “you can fetch her later, I still need your council here.”
Harry reluctantly returned to his seat, “So what then? We give Hawthorne all of our gold and let him roam free? That’s not right.”
“Let’s do both,” Harrison suggested, “let’s get him the money, get (Y/N) safe from him, and then dispose of him. It’ll be hard to see the setup he has, but that’s our best bet on getting her out alive as well as ridding the world of him.”
The lords around the table all nodded and mumbled in agreement, but Tom was unconvinced. If somehow, this was to go wrong, and you were put at risk, he’d never forgive himself. He knew he’d never move past it. He could hardly stomach the thought of a life without you.
These past few months, without your touch, he felt empty and alone, but at least you were still alive. At least he knew you were safe, you were warm to the touch still. Even if you only gave him the cold shoulder, even if your words were only venom dripping from your viperous lips, he still pick that over truly losing you.
And then you told him you loved him. He held you in his arms again. He had you to hold again, and everything felt right, if only for a moment. And when he slept, he dreamt of you and Dahlia, out in the sun, singing melodies with smiles on your faces. He dreamt of you happy. He woke up happy. That was until he realized the reason for his slumber being invaded, and the moment his tired eyes met Ida’s frantic ones, his heart sunk, and it hadn’t risen since.
“Ivy,” Harrison looked at the guard, waiting patiently by the door for her next orders, “how many men can you spare tonight?”
“As many as you ask of me,” she said certainly.
“We’ll need men to surround where Hawthorne is, but they must stay far away enough to be undetectable. If he tries to run, we must make sure he doesn’t make it far,” Harrison got up and walked to a bookshelf in the corner of the room, one that held maps for any stretch of land in Europe. He came back and unrolled the map onto the table, “The trees over here will shield any guards,” he said, running his finger across the tree-line of the forest, “that’s about a quarter mile from the graves. You can circle your men throughout, so long as they’re under cover of these trees.”
“What about here?” Ivy asked, pointing towards the hill and the large oak tree, the one that came right before the field.
“I’ll be there,” Tom said, “with the money.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“I never wanted to hurt Lola,” Hawthorne hummed as he braided your hair, “she was just…in the crossfire. Tough, I suppose she wanted to be involved, so in a way, she did it to herself.”
Your response was muffled against the cloth pressed to your lips.
“Oh, right,” Hawthorne lowered the fabric.
“Lola was just a pawn,” you spat, “and even with her loyalty to you, you betrayed her.”
“Loyalty?” Hawthorne scoffed, “She sold me out the minute things went and got tough. You though, you hold loyalty well. Why is that, little princess?”
“Because I, in return, am loyal,” you said, “I love my family and my people—”
“But still, you left your sister here to fend for herself in a dangerous court. She died alone, (Y/N). that doesn't seem very loyal of you—”
“I loved her!” you snapped, “Don’t you dare question my loyalty or love for her—”
“And your dear mother, I hear you’ve locked her up,” Hawthorne clicked his tongue, “to rot away in her chambers—”
“Stop it—”
“Now I will admit, your father, that was my own doing,” Hawthorne chuckled, “that was a crack in my loyalty. But at least I don’t preach myself to be so high and pious. I never claimed to be a good person, my little princess. And when I drove my sword through your father's back—”
You flung your head back hard, connecting with a resounding crack against Hawthorne's nose. You tried you squirm away, but Hawthorne recovered quickly, grabbing you by the hair and pulling you to him.
“Fucking whore,” he spat, slapping the side of your head, hitting you right on the ear, and knocking you to your side. He kicked you in the face, chest, and stomach repeatedly. Everything started to burn, but at some point, right before he stopped, it all went numb before the endless aches came.
You could taste the metallic sting of blood in your mouth and you could feel the aftermath of Hawthorne’s aggression in the way your head pounded.
Hawthorne grabbed you by the hair and lifted you to face him. He crouched to meet your eyes and he smiled at his work, “You have your father’s eyes.”
“Fuck you,” you spat blood onto his face.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
“Mother,” Tom gently shook his mother awake.
He felt like a little boy again, waking his mother up in the middle of the night because his head hurt, or because he had a nightmare. Although, this time, he was in a nightmare, and it was ever-present in his mind.
When he was little, Dom would scold him for always running to their room every time he heard a bump in the night, but even his father couldn’t be too hard on the boy. The two of them always ended up in the kitchen at some ungodly hour of the night, eating sweets while Dom told Tom stories about when he was a boy.
His father was gone now, and even if he wasn’t, eating sweets in the kitchen while he listened to him rambling, while a welcomed distraction, would not soothe Tom’s mind this time. Though, he would give anything to have just one more moment like that.
“Darling,” Nikki immediately saw the tears in her son's eyes, it was the first thing she noticed, “what’s wrong? Come here,” she opened her arms for him to crawl into. And though he didn’t fit anymore, the bulky man that he now was, he curled into her arms, as though he’d still sit comfortably.
“(Y/N) left,” Tom sniffled against her shoulder, “and H-Hawthorne took her. And I can’t—I can’t think straight—” Tom began to heave sobs against Nikki’s nightgown.
“Shh, shh, my darling,” Nikki cooed, though she too was now feeling the stinging prick of tears in her eyes and the hard clench of her heart. So that’s why you said all those lovely things tonight, she thought. You weren’t just assuring that Nikki would be there for Dahlia, you were asking her to be, “breathe.”
Tom tried to take deep breaths but he could hardly get through one without it being cut off by his own choked sob.
“She’ll be okay,” Nikki tried to assure him.
“No,” Tom cried, “I—she won’t. I can feel it.”
Nikki knew immediately what Tom meant. It was that dread he felt in his gut that had now consumed his whole body. The same she had felt the night before Dom died. It was all-consuming and inhabilitating, knowing that something bad was going to happen and feeling powerless to stop it.
“Tom,” Nikki pulled away from the man crying in her arms, “you don’t know what will happen. You're not powerless in this.”
“I feel like no matter what I do, he won’t spare her.”
“Have you called your lords? Your brothers?”
“Yes,” Tom nodded, “they’re preparing now.”
“Okay, good,” Nikki placed her hand on her son’s cheek and wiped his tears with her thumb, “so what I’m hearing is, you did everything you could. No matter what happens from here, it’s not on you, my love.”
“It is, though,” Tom cried, “she—she’s only with him because he took Ida, and he’s only here because I invited him into our home. He—he killed Arthur—”
“I know,” Nikki hugged Tom’s head to her chest, “and he will pay for his sins. But his sins are not yours. Now, my darling, you must dry your eyes and put on your brave face. (Y/N) needs you. And if anything should happen to her, Dahlia will need you.”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Harrison ended up going with Tom, to help carry the sacks of gold down to the other end of the field where he was to meet Hawthorne. The walk there was mostly in silence, save for the crunch of their footsteps over leave and dry grass.
“We need a rain soon,” Harrison noted, looking down at the brownish-colored grass beneath his boots. It was strange to have such dry weather in England, it almost felt wrong, but then again, there seemed to be a lot of things wrong in the English court as of late.
Tom only hummed and trekked on. He kept his pace swiftly in front of Harrison. He was a man on a mission, and Harrison could hardly blame him for seeming so cold and focused. He would be the same way if the role in this was his to play.
“I’m going to ask Ivy to marry me,” Harrison said suddenly.
Tom stopped for a moment to look back at his friend, “You are?”
“Mhm,” Harrison nodded, “with your blessing as our king of course. Ivy made vows that can’t be broken, but, I was hoping with your blessing, we could look past those?”
“A knight's code is very strict, Harrison,” Tom clicked his tongue as he continued on, “but, for you, I’d make an exception,” he smiled.
“Thank you,” Harrison beamed, “I know things have been rough for her and me, but after the last few weeks in Norway, I’ve realized that I don’t want to be without her. I only hope she feels the same.”
“If she doesn’t, then that’s on her,” Tom assured his friend, “but as for my end, you have my blessing and she will be pardoned of her vows to chastity.”
“Keep your sword on you,” Tom said as they made it to the oak tree at the top of the hill. He squinted down to the edge of the field where he saw the light from the lantern and two bodies, one knelt before the other, “I see them.”
“He here comes,” Hawthorne smiled widely when he saw the sacks Tom and Harrison carried, “our generous King.”
He grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your feet, holding you tightly in from of him.
“Just take the money and go,” you pleaded as he held his blade to your throat.
“I will,” he assured you, but we’re going to have some fun first.”
Tom’s stomach did flips when he saw you. His first emotion was relief; you were alive. That was all he could ever ask for. But then he noticed the blood on your brow, and how a trail of red spilled from your lips. He could see your eye dazed and puffy.
“What did you do to her?” He asked quietly as he approached the two of you.
“Only what she deserved,” Hawthorne smiled, holding your face with his other hand, “doesn’t she look better this way? So calm and submissive? I’m shocked this isn’t how you prefer her.”
“Let her go,” Tom spat, throwing his sacks of golden on the ground, “you have your money and your freedom. Now—”
“Not so hasty, my friend,” Hawthorne chided before nodding down to the bags, “open them.”
“What?”
Hawthorne pressed his knife harder against your neck, causing you to gasp, “show me the gold.”
Tom pressed his lips into a thin line and looked over at Harrison, who had his hand held to his sword. He gave him a small nod, signaling him to stand down. He bent down and began opening the bag, expecting to see the shimmering yellow of gold, but when he didn’t see it, he began to panic. Opening the back wider, he only saw the grey dullness of pebbles.
Hawthorne looked over your shoulders, watching Tom’s face drop as he opened the bag wider. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, “You can’t trick me, little boy,” he said.
He moved the blade from your throat and held it behind your back instead, about to run it through.
“Tom!” you cried, feeling the tip of the knife against your back.
“No!” Tom yelled, jumping towards you, only for Hawthorne to press it further, drawing blood. He backed up and held his hands up, “Please, just—that wasn’t me. M-My brothers did that. They didn’t know—”
“Then her death is on them,” Hawthorne said simply, running the knife through your back until Tom could see the glint of metal peeking through your stomach.
Your scream was cut off by Hawthorne’s hand around your throat. But the pain burned. It felt like he did it so slowly, as though he was taking his time. Perhaps he was remembering all those years ago when he did the same thing to your father.
He pulled the knife from you, letting the blood drip out from the gaping hole. You turned your head slightly, just to get a look at his face as he did this to you. And in his eyes, you saw nothing. Where so long ago you saw someone you trusted, you now only saw darkness.
The minute he let go of your body for you to fall limp to the ground, you held onto the wound. You felt a gush of blood seep through your fingers.
“No!” Tom yelled the second he saw that sinister smile on Hawthorne’s face, but he wasn’t quick enough. By the time he got to you, Hawthorne had thrown your body to the ground.
Harrison was right on Tom’s heels, sword out and clutched in his hand. The minute Hawthorne saw it he started running the other way. Harrison threw the sword at him with all of his strength and anger and the blade found its home lodge through Hawthorne’s chest.
Harrison ran to his body, flipping it over with his boots. He was dead. Dead at last, after taking far too many with him.
He looked back, “He’s dead,” he called to Tom.
Tom had your body gripped in his arms. He was on the ground with your head laying loosely on his shoulder. Your blood was seeping through his shirt and staining his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, more tears falling from them each time, in a sorry attempt to wake up from this nightmare, but it was real.
“Tom,” Harrison ran to the two of you. He knelt by your side and took your hand in his. He placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder as you offered him a sad smile, “I’m sorry,” he said, looking down at you.
���Go get help,” Tom whispered through gritted teeth and frantic eyes.
“But Tom—” Harrison tried, knowing that leaving would be futile. If anything, he would just gather an audience for your death. He wanted to say goodbye as well.
“Go!” Tom snapped, “Or are you too fucking stupid?!” You were in his arms and you were getting colder by the minute.
“Tom,” you whispered, scolding him even as you lay bleeding out in his arms, “please, don’t—”
“No,” Harrison said softly, “I’ll go, you’re going to be okay,” he smiled sadly at you, stroking your hair, “Ivy and her men are just beyond those woods, it’ll be quicker than running to the castle.”
Tom nodded as Harrison pressed a final kiss to your forehead, “I’ll see you soon,” he said, but you could hear the crack in his voice.
“Okay,” you nodded before he ran off.
He let out a sob at your voice, so tired and worn. You were probably exhausted. He took your hand in his.
“Tom, it’s okay,” you squeeze the warm hand in yours as hard as you could, but it wasn’t hard enough for Tom.
“It’s n-not okay,” he cried, “Harry and Sam—they were supposed to put gold in there—” he was cut off by his own cries.
“Don’t blame them,” you said softly, “please. Don’t let hate take refuge in your heart.”
Tom sniffled and held your hand to his face. He wanted you to wipe his tears like you always did, but your hand was so cold and so limp. You could hardly move your fingers. You slowly moved your fingers against his cheek, catching the few tears that you could.
You looked at him through the tears in your own eyes, “At least I get to see you one last time,” you offered him a small smile.
“Don’t say that,” Tom held you closer, “one more time isn’t enough for me.”
You got quieter as Tom held you, and though it had only been a minute, maybe two, he began to panic.
“(Y/N)?,” he cried, “(Y/N)?!”
“I’m here,” you said. You sounded so sleepy. You had lost so much blood by now.
“Please don’t leave me,” Tom pressed a kiss to your hand, uncaring that they were stained in blood. He winced when he saw the scar on your palm. Your hand was facing upwards in his, and the two twin scars you both had were one it the same. They were your physical proof of each other’s love; the willingness to sacrifice for each other.
“You,” your breathing was heavy and raspy, “take care of Dahlia,” you said, “I’ll take care of Arthur.”
The sun was rising, making the sky a cold dawn blue. It fell over your face, highlighting the light in your eyes that was dying out.
“No,” Tom shook his head, “this wasn’t supposed to happen,” he cried, “you were—we were supposed to gr-grow old together. I—I can’t live without you. Just hold on a little longer, please,” Tom’s tears streamed down his cheeks, dripping off of his chin and onto you.
“I love you,” you sniffled, looking up at Tom.
“Don’t,” Tom shook his head, “you can tell me that when we’re in bed and you’re okay. Don’t say goodbye to me.”
“Tom,” your hand went limp in his, “I’m sorry.”
“Stop it,” Tom cried harder as your eyes closed, “(Y/N)? Stop it, come on—(Y/N)!”
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Tom had never felt like this before.
Not when Dahlia died, or when he thought Lizzie carried his bastard, or when you had hated him—every time you did so—, or not even when his dad died. Tom had never felt this emotion if it was only one. That was something he couldn’t pinpoint, nor did he give himself time to ponder.
It was sadness, overwhelmingly so, and anger. It was emptiness and brokenness and nothingness. He held your dead body to him until Harrison came back with Ivy and her men, all of them. And they all got to see the king at his worst.
Ivy, a woman who was usually so strong, so unmoved by the forces around her, fell to her knees at the sight. Harrison fell with her, hugging her from behind as she removed her helmet and cried.
And when your body was carried back to the castle, everyone saw.
The castle was bustling at the time, with lords and ladies getting ready for a start to their day, cooks getting the breakfast prepared, and maids running fresh linens to the rooms. Everyone stopped when they saw the entire king's guard returning with the king. They all gasped and fell to their knees when they saw the two bodies; one belonging to the queen.
Harry and Sam knew, just by the look Tom threw their way, that he blamed them, despite what you had said. His eyes were red and puffy, and he could hardly look at them. When he did spare them a glace, it s quick and it held all the malice he could muster.
Tom didn’t talk to anyone, he just went to the nursery and looked down at Dahlia, who was sleeping peacefully. She had no idea the pain that he was going through. She had no idea what she had just lost. He envied that of her.
Nights were the hardest. Tom hardly slept, if he did at all. Every time he closed his eyes, every time he dreamed, for months, all he could see was your body, dead in his arms, all he could hear were your screams. All he could think about, day and night, was how he never said goodbye. He cursed himself for being too stubborn to tell you he loved you too.
“Tom,” his mother sat on his bed. It had been a week since you died, “come on, my darling,” she was dressed in all black, and she too had held the pain of your death in her heart, “it’s time.”
“I’m not ready,” Tom looked out the window at the oak tree in the distance.
“You’ll never be ready, my love,” Nikki said sadly. She patted the spot on the bed next to her, “come on,” she said, “just for a moment.”
Tom sighed and sat next to her. He rested his head on her shoulder as he ran her fingers through his hair.
“Her side of the bed is cold,” he sniffled.
“I know,” Nikki said.
“And I keep reaching over, thinking she’ll either be there or it will at least be warm again.”
“I know,” Nikki nodded as tears fell down her cheeks, “trust me, I know.”
They sat in silence until there was another knock at the door. “Come in,” Nikki called, wiping the tears from her eyes.
Ida walked in with Dahlia on her hip, “Your grace,” she came over to Tom, “Dahlia has something to tell you,” she had a small smile on her lips.
“You do?” Tom wiped his tears and reached for the baby, who held her arms out for him. He smiled as his daughter babbled in his arms. She was the only one he could muster a brave face for.
“Come on, Dahlia,” Ida encouraged her, “can you say it again?”
Dahlia looked curiously at Tom as he looked at her with hopeful, kind eyes, though they were red-rimmed and tired. She loved having all the attention on her. She giggled as Nikki cooed at her, pinching her chubby cheeks.
“Mama,” she finally babbled out, causing more tears to spring to Tom’s eyes.
“Oh, darling,” he said, hugging her to him, “good job, my sweet girl.”
“Her first words,” Nikki smiled, patting her head gently.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
The funeral was like no other held at the castle. Tom kept it small, only the people you knew and loved attended. Though all the people in England sent their condolences to the castle in the form of letters and gifts. The actual ceremony was just Tom, his mother, his brothers, Harrison, Ivy, Ida, and Dahlia.
Instead of keeping you in the family tomb, he had you laid to rest next the Arthur and James, so you could take care of him, just like you said you would. He liked to think that that’s what you would have wanted. However, he put all of your personal possessions in the tomb, next to Dahlia’s grave. Your little Russian doll leaned against her casket daintily, always watching over her.
“Tom,” Harry came up to his brother that evening at dinner. They hadn’t spoken since that night, “I’m sorry.”
Tom shook his head before looking up from his plate, “Go away, Harry.”
“Please, I didn’t know—”
“You should have listened to me!” Tom snapped, “She’s dead because of you.”
Harry recoiled at Tom’s harsh tone, “I was just trying to do the right thing…” he said quietly.
“Well, you didn’t,” Tom said, “you got her killed,” he glanced at Sam who was standing behind Harry, “you both did.”
“Tom, please—” Sam pleaded with his other brother, but Tom just got up and stormed off to his chambers, ignoring the downcast glances from everyone at the table.
Tom stayed in his chambers for the rest of the evening. It was the only place he could stomach because it was the only place he could be alone. If he was lucky, he could close his eyes and still smell your perfume, maybe he’d even trick himself into thinking you were actually there.
But the room was devoid of your personal charm now, it even seemed dimmer than the last time he was in it just that morning before he had so many of your things moved out. The only thing he had left now to hold onto was the memories. The ones of you and him in this bed, making love. The ones of you and him giggling on the balcony in the early hours of the morning, taking in the cool summer breeze. The ones of you waking him up with your gentle caress of his face. That’s all this room offered him now.
“Tom,” Ida didn’t even bother knocking, she knew it was futile that he’d even respond.
“Get out.”
“No,” Ida shook her head, “not until you listen to me.”
“Nothing you say can make this any better,” Tom said dejectedly, “(Y/N) is gone.” it was the first time Tom had said it out loud and it sounded bitter on his lips. The words tasted like ash on his tongue.
“She kept a diary,” Ida said, ignoring Tom’s moping, “she kept it under one of these floorboards.”
“Why?”
“It had personal things in it, things about her family, private thoughts, things she wouldn’t want to get out into the wrong hands,” Ida moved across the floor, stepping on all of the boards, and listening for a specific creak, “but you’re not the wrong hands.”
Once she heard it, she got to her knees and began lifting the board, digging her nails under it, and pulling the plank of wood up. Inside was filled with dust and dirt and one lonely book. Ida picked it up and dusted it off, blowing on it and patting it clean before handing it to Tom.
“How do you know about this?” Tom asked as he took the book in his hands.
“She told me about it,” Ida said simply, “sometimes she’d read some entries to me when she was teaching me how to read and write. You won’t like all of them,” Ida warned him, “the first one is from when she first arrived from France, but anything after the wedding, I think you deserve to hear.”
“Thank you,” Tom looked at Ida with tears in his eyes, “truly.”
“Of course, your grace,” Ida nodded, “you deserve to know how she truly felt about you, through it all.”
Ida left quickly after that and Tom opened the diary to the entry from the day you and Tom were wed.
Although we were supposed to consummate our marriage last night, Tom did not force me to. I appreciate that from him. He told me at the alter that he would be whatever it is I need him to be, and last night, he was just that: a confidant.
If only he were always such a gentleman instead of a brutish, frog-face—
Tom skipped to the entry from the night you first made love.
Last night, Tom and I made love. I let him have me in a way I’ve never let anyone have me before. It was magical, extraordinary, and inconceivable. I’d never be able to describe it in words, just how lovely the experience was. And afterwards, he said he loved me. I didn’t say it back, I refused to, and perhaps that was a mistake. Because as I am writing this and thinking it over, I think I may harbor feelings for Tom that I’ve never once harbored for anyone before. I do not find him nearly as frog-looking as I did before. Dare I say, he’s the most charming man I’ve ever met. Perhaps I do love him.
Then there was the entry from the night of his birthday party.
My heart is shattered irrevocably. My punishment must finally be upon me for abandoning Dahlia in England, for today, my happiness was ripped from my grasp.
Although the day began lovely, waking up in Tom’s arms, it ended horrifically. Lizzie Farley has claimed to carry Tom’s bastard, and in turn, Tom will have a child with her. I have yet to give him an heir. Is this what my life is to become? Second to her? I’m so sick with heartache, I can hardly breathe.
And the day you found out you were pregnant with Dahlia.
After missing my bleeding days and waking up feeling grotesque, I have come to the conclusion that I am with child. Tom and I have been trying for months now to conceive an heir, and although I am thrilled with the possibility that I may give Tom a baby, I am worried that something may go wrong. I‘ll tell him soon when I feel more sure of my conclusion.
And then, just a few pages down, there was something special Tom found.
Tom,
If you’re reading this means you’ve found my diary. It also means that you’ve been snooping, which you must remind me to scold you for.
Of course, nevertheless, I hope you are reading this in good health and with a smile on your face. I assumed at some point in time you’d either find this or I’d cough it up and hand it over, just because so much of it is about you.
I love you. I hope you know that by now. I mean, as I am writing this, I am carrying your child, so I’m sure you are aware of my affections. Even so, it doesn't hurt to express it more. Sometimes I feel like I don’t tell you enough. So, I love you with all of my heart. And I love the life we have created.
Even though this isn’t the life I wanted and you’re not the man I thought I’d fall in love with, there is such beauty and privilege in being yours. I love being bound to you.
Love you forever,
(Y/N)
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
A/N: and thats a wrap! finally, this series is complete! there will be an epilogue posted soon, i am already over 1k words in on it, so look out for that!
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✧tags & moots✧ PERM
@ptergwen @princessofguineapigs @peterbenjiparker @cherrytholland @itsapeterthing @justapurrcat @kelieah @celestialholland @hollandcrush @scarletspideyy @blissfulparker @spidernerdsblog @spideyspeaches @andilovetowrite @sinisterspidey @annathesillyfriend @lovelybarnes @white-wolf1940 @arvinsescape @super-not-naturall @allthisfortommy @selfcarecap @misshale21 @morganwilliams-blog-blog @loveaffaire @angelmavmurdock @pogueslandia @tomshufflepuff @hallecarey1 @a-daydreamers-day @holland-styles @cloudyfeel @peni5parker @slut-for-steve-rogers @kitkatt18-blog @kitkat2015-blog @bookfrog242 @slutforfics @wildxwidow @prancerrparkerr @petesrparker @arlo-sanders @sxuxgarplxum @peter-parkers-gf @namoreno @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @byersboys @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hollandsvogue-blog @marvelobsessed10031917 @z3ndaya @sunflowerfive @yunho-leeknow @xxxstormyninixxx @marvelhasmyheart235 @lowkey-holland @blahblahblah-boo @nocturnalms @happyt0exist @kpostedsum @noemiix1 @mischieftom @sophi54 @allazay101 @spideybrina @rqmanoff @rory-cakes @parkerdarling @samaraaaaa-blog @freds-slut @misslady246 @tonystarksfavoritedaughter @adayasgeorgia @mn-jun @spider-man-stiles-gubler @wildholland @demirunner @marvelobsessedteen @lolooo22 @moniffazictress11 @sleepybesson @sweetpeterparker @bradtomlovesya @teenwishes08 @hogwartsmarvelmommy @dracoswhore007 @elishi03 @beth-gallagher22 @hunnybunimdun @badbatch-simp24 @raajali3 @vibezayn91 @heyyitsreign @iamsherloki-wholocked @itscaminow @blankspaceblankday @denkisclown @spideysloverera @minejungwoo @dirtytissuebox @whoeveniskendall @princessnnylzays @katie-navarro @hollandscherry @demirunner @lucypevensie111-blog @dottirose @tiaamberxx @wh0re4zaynmalik @luvwanda @kinlie-l @cevans-winchester @502spidey @wondergal2001 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @belovedholland @randomstufflol29 @t-lostinworlds @kaitieskidmore1 @milkiane @pandaxnienke @onceuponameli @ju1cyang3l @maximoffbarnesprotectionsquad @indouloureux @d22malfoys @chaoticevilbakugo @princessnnylzays @cmrxac @edgycatx @seolaseoul @evermoresilk @uwiuwi @meghanmhill1 @esposamultifandom @princessatoru @evanstanwhore @alohastitch0626 @f-ergj @lovesanimals0000 @eichenhouseproperty @1-800-imagines @aslutformarauders @thelaststraw3 @s-we-e-t-t-ea @queeniequinn @totheblood @liltimmyst @jayheartswritting @ptrsprincess @1-800-mocha @zendayassimp @varshhyy @miyukiistuff @lnmp89 @chxosunbound @eviemarvel @Dasha-Aaliyah @kazbekkarluvbot @bath1lda @gypsytraveler86-blog @madsttx @bitch616 @alicjaalaki @tessas4 @crvshnburnn
✧tags & moots✧ TOM HOLLAND
@harryhollandsgirlfriend @hollandlover19 | @worldoftom @hollandsrecs @theonly1outof-a-billion @thevelvetseries @moonchild-s-blog @lmaotshollandd @tomhollandlol @outshineallthestars @masonslovie @summer-paris-lights
BTY: @frogsbelike1 @bobo-bush @allthisfortommy @t-hollanderr @tomsirishgirlx @marishaslove @enjoymyloves @hidejeon @username2002 @honestly-who-even-is-this @myshaahmad77 @webslinger-holland @yeetzel
#tom holland#tom holland au#prince!tom#princess!reader#prince!tom holland#King!Tom Holland#queen!reader#tom holland x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland x y/n#tom holland smut#tom holland series#tom holland angst#tom holland fluff#tom holland oneshot#tom holland blurb#tom holland imagine#tom holland fanfic#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fic
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