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chihoshisai · 2 months ago

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Double Arrangement

Sabo x Reader

Part 1 Part 2

cw : royalty au, strangers to lovers, arranged/political engagement, reader is royalty, sabo is cold (but will warm up over time), fem reader // wc : 2.7k // A/N : Chapter was originally 7k words but has been cut in half because I judged it too long for tumblr, so part four will be longer

Part 3

“Reduce the budget set aside for the ball, and the volume of dishes as well,” you told your elder brother. Having found your way into his office — furnished with more books than furniture, large windows and an overall navy blue color— without seeing the need of an appointment due to your familial bonds, you watched as he stopped scribbling to give you an imposing look. He seemed to give you a moment to reconsider your words and take them back had they been spoken out of folly, and though you felt intimidated by his silent pressure you maintained your ground.

After some time had passed and he conceded to your determination, he asked rather darkly. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

The pen he had been holding got placed down, and his hands intertwined, signifying he now was according you his full attention. “What is your reasoning behind such a request?”

“I would like for us to take into consideration the likings of my fiance.”

He gave a rather offending scoff. “Does that include for the royal family to appear foolish as well?” His gaze on you remained sharp even while the ridicule of his words sent a puff of shame to your cheeks.

“Surely you jest.”

“Unfortunately dear sister the castle has a certain face and decorum to maintain. Surely your beloved can understand that?” He brought his chin to rest on the back of his joined hands, giving you silent instructions through his face to let the truth reach, and convince, your fiance.

You shook your head, standing your ground. “And as the trendsetter of the kingdom, we can also encourage and set a model for the nobles to follow. One that involves the decrease of abundant waste.” Your desire to appear more than a figurehead reflected not only in your immovable posture, but also through the beating of your heart, wishing to win your plea.

“It will not be easy.”

“Oh please,” you blinked to hide an eyeroll. “We all know everything is mostly for wealth display and no one ever eats that amount of food anyways. You're not powerless either and can make it happen.”

Your brother narrowed his gaze. “What is the reason behind your insistence? Is all well between you and your fiance?”

A pause occurred in which you pursed your lips, memories painting the blank canevas of your mind. “All will be if you do as I ask of you. Might I remind you, the event isn’t only about me after all.”

He sighed while shaking his head, but finally by the look of his untensing shoulders, he seemed to give in. “If we proceed, a valuable reason must be given to convince the nobles of the display.”

At the hearing of his words, you had to suppress your glee. “Say the union between royal and noble isn’t about showing off the wealth of one but balancing both on the same pedestal.”

Your brother mused on the idea for a second. “The family in question might find offense in this,” he gave as a last resort rebuttal.

You thought back on their words and ungrateful behavior towards a gift many would have appreciated and found value in. “Their problem, not mine,” you waved your hand as though their opinion was benign. “I don’t care as long as this will satisfy the one that matters.”

“Fine,” a compromising sigh heaved itself from his lips. “What more do you have in mind?”

You grinned, taking further steps towards his desk to partake in the sharing of your ideas, a slight nerve tingling down your stomach.

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

The castle busied itself beyond usual on the said morning — you were the first child to be engaged, first of the kingdom to soon administer such news to the populace. As such, it holded a rather significant meaning necessitating grand preparations, which you had personally asked to turn down a notch. As you heard the clamor and running steps of staff, the whispers of the maids, it dawned upon you that no one would criticize or point blame in your direction for holding such a downgraded ceremony. And you felt bad for your brother who shouldered the nation on his shoulders, therefore thinking of making it up to him someday.

Modesty was what you envisioned, what brought you to stroll down the gilded corridors of your mansion, towards the location of the event and to witness the fruit of your scheming. A secret meddling in which you had faith your brother would have upheld, considering he had never failed you once in the past.

It was nearing midday, a time in which preparations were nearing their end and in which your liberty lasted before the excruciating hours of bodily prepping and glamoring for the ball happened. Finding the excitement of a child, you skipped, not without proper respect, over servants and flight of stairs to reach the main floor and ultimately the ballroom.

What you saw, much in increase to the tying knot of your insides, your heart and your breathing, was… dumbfounding. Defeat was what you felt, while your eyes circled over many rows of yet to be lit chandeliers, falling from the ceiling like golden jewels when you had asked a single one to be placed in the center of the room. Horror choked you, when amidst those were encircled the signature wisteria flowers of the garden, with promises of soft fragrances throughout the night.

The worst of it all, what caused you to feel lightheaded and zydizziness, sharp and ruthless in its provoking your suppress anger, was not the amount of tables set, for they were the same as you instructed, but the lining of the nappe used. Its lace linen, far more detailed and precise, done by handy crafting skills that must have taken an eternity to unjustly paid workers, the bows attached to hang as a need for details and it's overall palette matching the golden beige of the room with subtle lilac flowers to reflect the colors cascading from overhead.

This was, truly was not what was previously agreed upon. After your eyes had analyzed the room with your chest heaving in an anxious way, they scavenged the personnel present for the traitor who had allowed this foolery.

He was there; your brother — standing further in the midst of the room, his lavish clothing allegorating his importance next to the servants he spoke with, and finding place next to the similar garments of your mother.

Seeing her, you quelled your rising anger, fearing a stern reprimand and coldly let the sounds of your heels announce your arrival.

“Sister, you're here,” your brother greeted with a well hidden guilty face.

You clenched your jaw, returning politeness through gritted teeths. “Mama. Brother.”

“How do you like it?” Your mother looked you dead in the eyes, giving you a faint smile, leaving you self-conscious of the feelings that were currently suppressing themselves inside you. She wanted without a doubt for you to feel your happiest and satisfied with things.

“It’s more detailed than I expected,” you gave her a stiff, forced smile. One that you gave whenever you felt empathetic of her feelings.

“Well of course, dear child,” she waved your remark with a shroud hand. “It is a ball, it must look as such. You wouldn't have believed the state of the room when I first got in. It looked quite drab.”

The comment landed on your heart rather bitterly and with no words left to offer, you gave a chuckle.

“Isn't it about time you went on to prepare yourself?” She pointed out, joining her hands together in a stout manner to look at your attire.

You nodded, refuting her words far from being a possibility. “Before that, could I have a word with his Majesty?” You purposefully called your brother by his title, a silent threat that had not failed to stiffen his shoulders.

“Of course, I will leave you children to it,” your mother gave a slight smile, feeling happy of the celebration no doubt, before she trailed away to further attend to the room's composition.

Once out of earshot, you shot an angry glare at your brother. “This is not what we agreed on,” you whispered viciously, tilting on your heels to face him.

He, making no attempt to show emotions on his face, returned a devoid expression by staring away from your eyes. “As you can see, mother's had a hand in it. There wasn't much I could do once it came to it.”

You pressed your joined palms until a sharp pain prevented you from losing the grip on your temper. “I came to you so this could be avoided.”

“Count yourself lucky sister, this is the best she could do with the budget restriction. And even then, for a ball thrown by the royal family it still falls under the label of simple.” He gave you a look, one that impelled you to shut it and accept facts as they were.

Yet, frustration still swelled inside you like a ripped apple, and as it spread you couldn't stop your tongue from running. “For God's sake, you're the king.” The words left as a high ushered whisper.

“And she's our mother,” he harshly spat in your face, startling you enough to recoil your neck to the back. “I did my part as best I could and you are welcomed,” he heaved a dry sigh to the side. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have a list of tasks awaiting me other than dolling myself up for hours.”

Your elder brother walked past you, exposing you to stand amidst the room, laying bare, bitter and out of options. Refusing to cast suspicion on yourself after your talk, you turned your heels away, making sure not to cause eye contact with another soul in the room and exited its vicinity.

There was nothing to be done, your brother had been right in the sense that defying your mother would be as easy as seeking immortality. Therefore, with tainted red feelings as companions, you coursed through the palace, your expression grim all the way to your room. Your sole consolation was, perhaps with enough convincing, that Sabo would come to believe you if you claimed to have arranged for things to be otherwise.

If your words were your consolation, you realized, as the door of your chambers trapped you inside with its closing, that you still retained power — no one could enforce an attire on you. Not your brother, nor your mother who had, after many years of proven worth, allowed you the choosing of your gowns at your own discretion.

As such, when your lady-in-waiting and maids came to fuss over you upon your entering, a smile had found its way on your face.

But not for long — many times in the past, ever since the first crack of dawn broke through the sky, punctual in its glowing duty, you had been forced, dragged, entailed to sit through a full prepping routine. This time was no different, if only for the hour of the day. By prepping we��re talking massages, haircare and skincare. Every inch of your body, from the thinnest strands of hair to the nails of your toes was touched, handled, with attention and care meticulously..

If not for your position requiring for you to be handheld, like the nurturing of a garden by others since birth, you probably would have felt overstimulated — there was no need for you to lift a finger, as you let yourself lay about, giving idle thanks to the perhaps honest compliment of your staff. This time, the endless routine was what bothered you more than feeling the dry, moist or damp hands of your selected personnel. Laying down for a facemask while a pedicure was being done, bathing in a rose and citrus scented bath, sitting for a scalp massage; it never ended nor did you see its necessity. Rather you doubted it, shuddering at mental images you formed of Sabo had you the willpower to tell him of your day. For that reason, it would undoubtedly remain as a hidden fact, even if he did suspect how much water, products and whatnot was used, lost, wasted.

You couldn't hide the results of the ballroom, but your own self-care was different.

By the time the ginger colors of dusk warmly embraced your room, a reminder to the time to come, you stood; detailed undergarments on your shoulders awaiting for the final piece of clothing to be brought.

“Are you sure about this dress, your highness?” One of your maids asked, holding the item in question in a way that revealed its full length. A satin pastel lilac ankle length dress, detailed with short puff sleeves and golden flower embroidery on its core. It was a simple dress, one that wouldn't entice a second look your way. One unfit for a ball, let alone royalty.

“Yes. Put it on me please,” you had, with Sabo's taste in mind, chosen it for its modest aspect. And to your eyes, it didn't fail to strike you as pretty. In fact it would, were it worn for another occasion.

Your maid did as ordered ; slipping the fabric with ease on your body, attaching a simple white pearl necklace decorated with a metallic golden bow, placing similarly colored Huggies earrings and a brooch attached to the side of your hair.

After the fitting of lilac heels, your prepping had come to an end, much to your relief and the fragrant way in which your muscles relaxed under your skin despite your growing anxiety. You stood in front of your mirror, turning only your neck to scrutinize the final result — the impersonating of a lowly born noble daughter at best was the image exuded.

However, it didn't register as such to your mind, instead thinking whether the golden embroidery might have been a notch too much and would displease Sabo. Worse have him criticize your taste. Lost in your musing, you ignored the subtle silent fretting of your maids that lined up in a corner of the room, frankly aware that your current attire far from undermined all you had ever worn.

What came to interrupt your moment, was the knocking on your door. You turned your head momentarily from the mirror, feeling the beat of your heart increase for you knew who stood behind it. “Come,” you commanded loudly.

Seeing your mother enter, you returned your attention to the mirror, her silence broken only by the clacking sound of her heels. Your years of experience told you that the longer it lasted, the angrier she was or worse, the backlash would be.

She circled you like a hawk, her eyes piercing layers of thick skins, edging you to falter. “Is this your way of opposing this mariage?” She asked, having stopped to stand on your left, her gaze ever so burning you.

“I would never dare do such a thing,” you kept your look straight, staring only at yourself in the mirror.

“Frugality has no such place at a ball,” her words, uttered dryly, seemed to have dried along the air entering and exuding from your lungs.

“Call it simplicity, mama.”

She surprised you, only enough to compel you to look at her from the mirror, by scoffing at your claim. “Simplicity? I will not let you embarrass yourself,” she spoke sternly.

At this, having not found her support, you broke free from the spell of the mirror to face her. “What else can they do but gossip? Let them if they want to,” you spoke briefly of the guests without care. “Is this ball not in honor of my engagement mother? I at least wish to wear what I want,” your chest heaved from the air it had finally found.

“How stubborn you have grown,” she looked you up and down rather pitifully. “Yet still remains a child,” she looked away to step aside to face the servants. “Mount her hair in an updo with more accessories.”

“Mama—”

“It is a command,” she gravely looked at you, much to shroud the voice in your throat. “Add braids to her hair, perhaps it will help salvage the mess,” she ordered towards the staff, before giving you a last look. “Let lessons be learned tonight if necessary.”

This time, she excused herself completely from the room, the closing of the door resonating like the drums of insecurity that roused deep from your stomach. There was no doubt you had disappointed her, and yet, maybe out of pity or mercy, she had let you do as you pleased; not forcing you to change out your gown. You stared at the door, dreading what would await you beyond its path following the first objective reaction you had received.

“Princess, we must do your hair by order of the Queen Dowager,” one of your servants politely asked of you.

You nodded, with no better choice but to obey.

Part 4

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myteavsricochet · 11 months ago

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Favorite firstprince fanfics, an incomplete list:

One shots:

All the Stars We Steal From the Night Sky :

Alex is quiet, and something is wrong.

Or, Alex struggles with emotions and Henry is there to help.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Basically Just Them Being Soft, Alex is struggling, Henry helps)

In His Wildest Dreams

Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. Pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process.

(Please, look at the tags carefully, this fic is very soft, very hot and very consensual but may not be for everyone: Consensual somnophilia, Kink exploration, Porn with feelings, Smut)

5 times Alex called Henry baby ‘casually’ and 1 time it was (definitely) because of love

How did “baby” become a thing in the film universe? When did it become a thing in the film universe? Fine, I’ll answer these questions myself.

(Additional Tags: Overuse of the word "baby", Pet Names, Fluff, Angst, 5+1 Things, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Mild Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort)

Who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay?

Alex has always been too much. Objectively, he knows this. He talks too much, his volume is too much, and the fire under his ass is too much. So, when he’d met Henry, when he hadn’t cared about Henry’s opinion and had been his real, authentic, annoying self, and Henry had liked him anyway? It was something Alex struggled to wrap his head around. It started in kindergarten.

Or: A look at Alex's childhood and how hard it is always being the too-much person in any given room.

(Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Childhood, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, So much comfort)

Déjame Ver Cómo Es Que Floreces

Oscar gets in close and bluntly asks, “Earlier. In the bathroom. Did you do it?”

Alex scoffs, “No. Don't be a perv. Why would you wanna know that anyway?”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “Mind out of the gutter, chamaco. Did you propose?”

Ah.

Henry is introduced to the extended Diaz side of the family at their matriarch's birthday. Shenanigans (and romance and feelings) ensue.

(This fic is absolutely amazing ❤️

Additional Tags: Humor, Fluff, Family Fluff, Pre-Engagement, Mexican-American Culture, Mexican OC's galore, Drinking, Family Bonding, Karaoke, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Alex Claremont-Diaz Speaks Spanish)

Forty-Four Days

"God, I haven't seen you in forty-four days," Alex suddenly spits, and Henry feels the pain of his words in his own chest, like ice replacing the blood in his veins. Because that's it, isn't it? Forty-four days of separation. Forty-four days of waking up to an empty bed, of making coffee along with his tea only to realize that Alex isn't there to drink it, of long meetings without any of Alex's witty jokes, of cold hands on chilly autumn walks because Alex isn't there to warm them up.

Maybe it's the simple fact of hearing for the first time, or maybe it's the tipping point of the taxing day, but Henry feels something inside of him snap, and —

And all he knows is that he needs to see Alex now.

(Additional Tags: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Separations, Separation Anxiety, Late Night Conversations, Minor Character Death, but it's nothing to worry about I PROMISE, Reunions, Kissing, Literal Sleeping Together, Mild Sexual Content, they love and miss each other, that's the plot, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

A Mind That Never Sleeps

Five times Alex stays awake with Henry, and the one time he coaxes him back to sleep.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Insomnia, Sleepless nights, Piano, Weddings, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, that's really all this is, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

talk too much

Alex has his wisdom teeth removed and Henry takes care of him, fluff ensues

(Additional Tags: wisdom teeth removal, not bloody or graphic, just fluff, pure fluff, No Angst, Henry Pov, firstprince, living in the brownstone, FLUFF I TELL YOU, Henry taking care of Alex, and Alex taking care of Henry too hehe, You’ll see)

silk and steel

Thanks to a welcome day off, Henry and Alex spend a lazy morning in bed. Soft, mid-morning cuddles escalate into semi-soft, mid-morning sex.

(Addictional tags: Morning cuddles, Morning sex, Body worship, Light dom/sub, Praise kink, Established relationship, Top Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Bottom Alex Claremont Diaz)

I don't wanna dance, if I'm not dancing with you

"You want me at a ball?"

"I want you with me as often as possible," Henry says, immediately, as if it's obvious. Maybe it is. "But yes, it would be nice to have you there. I'm not necessarily actively trying to anger my grandmother, which you being there might, but... Well, she hasn't exactly extended an invitation but I have just as much right as anyone to bring a date and--"

"Baby." Henry's rambling stops short on what nearly sounds like a gasp, and Alex grins to himself. Sometimes, his boyfriend is too easy. "Do you want me there?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll be there."

----

or, Henry wants Alex at a ball and Alex is anxious about it.

(Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Ballroom Dancing, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD, Hurt/Comfort)

If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me, You’ll Be the First Who Ever Did

Henry feels himself aching for Alex—this Alex, the one who’s at home in Texas, the one who’s vulnerable and free—and he sees the ache reflected in Alex’s eyes.

The first night they spend at the lake house, before Alex wakes up with Henry's swimsuit tangled around his elbow.

(Additional Tags: Emotions, Anal Sex, Bottom Henry, alex calling henry baby, henry calling alex love, Boys In Love, Porn with Feelings, Henry Pov, so it's a wee bit angsty)

love dares you, to change our way of caring about ourselves

Henry has read it all: fairy-tales of princes and their courters, unsung histories of kings and their secret lovers, and he has read all their happy endings. But he is not a prince in a fairy-tale, and he has always thought his own secret love story was likelier to end in tragedy.

Perhaps it’s time that changed.

(Or, Henry’s POV the morning after The Great Claremont-Diaz Ambush at Kensington Palace)

Let Me Hold Your Head in My Hands

Alex has a migraine.

Henry takes care of him.

(Additional Tags: Sickfic, Sick Character, Boys In Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Caretaking, Idiots in Love, Headaches & Migraines, Tooth-Rotting Fluff,Domestic Fluff, Bathtubs)

you would not believe your eyes (if ten million fireflies)

Alex and Henry are staying at Alex’s house in Texas. Henry has never seen fireflies before, and Alex can’t let him get away without the experience of catching one.

Or,

Alex is helplessly in love with Henry.

(Additional Tags: Fluff, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Summer, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, firefly catching, Fireflies, Lightning bugs, Texas)

Promises, Promises.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes again.

The corner of Henry’s mouth does the thing it does. His walls are back up.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” he mutters, before turning on his heel and marching down the hall.

——

Alex has never felt so horrible. And 3 days is a long time.

(Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Arguing, Fights, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Loves Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Stressed Alex Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Anxiety, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues, Abandonment Issues, Leaving Home)

The Red Side Goes Up

Henry brings home a little something new to try in the bedroom. Or: The One Where Alex Gets Jealous of a Butt Plug.

(Additional Tags: Smut, Rimming, Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Post-Canon)

(all of me changed like) midnight rain

“They’re fighting again,” he whispers instead. Henry’s eyes are sad.

“I know, love.”

Or, 5 times Alex believes his relationship with Henry won't last, and 1 time he knows it will.

Or, 5 times Alex doesn't believe in love because of his parents and 1 time Henry proves him wrong.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Established Relationship, Breaking Up & Making Up, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Divorce, Canonical Divorce, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Song: Midnight Rain (Taylor Swift), Depression, References to Depression)

We'll Get Together Then

5+1 times Oscar was a good dad to Henry (ft. Abuelo Oscar)

(Additional Tags: Henry and Oscar bonding, 5+1 Things, I have Feelings about their relationship, Arthur's death is mentioned)

The Bet

Looking back at it, it's all Nora's fault.

Or, the time Henry and Alex bet on who can last the longest without sex.

(Additional Tags: Bets & Wagers, No sex bet, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, but it gets resolved eventually, Wet Dream, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Porn With Plot, like it kind of has a plot, Mostly just porn though, Kissing, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Riding, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Switching, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant)

What Kind of Day Has It Been

Even after thirty-odd years of being together (twenty-five of those married) Henry still has to drag Alex away from his desk and up to bed. Even just a few days after routine surgery Alex can't help himself.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Future Fic, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Boys In Love, Kissing, Married Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor)

take a bite, babe

And, well, Henry can no longer lie to himself. He couldn’t be more in love with Alex if he tried.

Or: five moments Henry notices Alex’s eyelashes (and falls a little more in love).

I miss you, i'm sorry

"I—I’m killing myself trying to make this work, trying to make both you and my family happy, living on planes, and it’s still not enough for you? I don’t know what else to do.”

“Well, I’m sorry it’s so hard for you to be with me,” Alex says bitterly, wiping furiously at his eyes and refusing to meet Henry’s.

"Alex—"

“No,” Alex interrupts angrily, “get it off your chest! I can’t wait to hear all about how much work I am to be with. You know what, if you’re just gonna leave me again then you might as well go ahead and do it now. Save us both the hurt.”

Or: the fight.

(Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Fighting, Healthy Relationships, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has Abandonment Issues, Comfort, Healthy Conflict Resolution, Conflict Resolution)

Too Much

Okay, so maybe Alex talked too much for them. It was fine. He could still sit with them at lunch, he just had to make sure not to talk so much. Just listen to them. He could do that.

The next day, and the day after, Alex sat with the same group of kids. Only, he no longer went on rants about movies or books or what he saw on the news that morning or what his parents talked/argued over at dinner.

Alex stayed silent, desperate to not be too much.

***

OR 5 times the people in Alex's life thought that he was too much + one time Henry assured him that he wasn't.

(Additional Tags: 5+1 Things, Hurt/Comfort, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Author Projecting, author's first fic)

the common tongue of you loving me

Where did kissing come from? Henry has always wondered. Why kisses? At the beginning of history, which long forgotten person, which ancestor of all mankind, was the first to press their lips to another’s in a declaration of their love?

Was it a lover, perhaps, so consumed with devotion that they sought to use lips as well as fingertips? All followed the base urge of their bodies — the innate knowledge that the pressing of lips was the highest form of touch. But no one knows why.

Except when Alex quirks his cupid’s bow, licks into Henry’s mouth and lets his bottom lip rest on Henry’s, and oh. Henry knows.

(Additional Tags: Kissing, henry has so many feelings about kissing, Explicit Sexual Content, Grinding, Frottage)

All Your Closets Of Backlogged Dreams

It’s not that the loss of the President’s oldest child is a secret. It’s just that nobody talks much about the death of Catalina June Claremont-Diaz.

It takes Alex years before he talks to Henry about her.

(The painful story no one asked for that ties June into the movie.)

(Additional Tags: Past Character Death, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Alex Claremont-Diaz Has ADHD)

i'm so in love (i might stop breathing)

He looks so fucking gorgeous like this, eyes half-lidded as he looks at Alex. He rests his head on Alex's chest, tightening his arms. Alex can see the tips of his ears turning pink.

"It's ! H G E J F M W C D 2 4 !" he mumbles in embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of Alex's neck again. A beat of silence.

Then, almost shouting in joy, Alex yells, "Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor- Claremont-Diaz! That's your fucking password?"

"Shut up!" Henry hisses and Alex feels so many butterflies in his stomach that he's going to throw himself off of a cliff. Really, teenage girls with celebrity crushes have nothing on him at this moment.

or,

Henry is drunk and Alex is so in love he could die.

(being with you) makes the flame burn good

“Ah, would you look at that,” Alex says hoarsely, breaking the kiss, “Looks like you got a bit of batter on your neck.”

He lowers his head and licks a stripe up Henry's neck until his tongue reaches the spot below his ear and Henry shudders slightly in his arms.

“Tastes so good, baby,” Alex teases and fits his thigh between Henry's legs, feeling how hard he is and how immediately he grinds against Alex's body, searching for any form of relief.

“Oh, piss off,” Henry breathes and tangles his hands in Alex's curls, fisting his hand lightly and moving his hips a little faster.

(Additional Tags: Married Alex Claremont-Diaz and Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Kitchen Sex, Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Laughter During Sex, Body Worship, Sort Of, Hickeys, Begging, Praise Kink, Nipple Play, surprisingly there's NO food play in this, Dom Alex, Sub Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor)

we thought we ruled the world

Alex stares down at his latest text from Henry. A link to an article he’s seen about ten versions of so far. He’s managed to resist clicking on any of them, but now Henry is sending it, so he supposes he should at least give it a skim.

How Prince Henry’s Relationship With FSOTUS Lost Ellen Claremont The Election

............

Or, what would have happened if Ellen lost.

(Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, mostly happy at least)

pictures of you

Henry has seen photos of Alex before, of Alex’s easy grin and disarming smirk, wild curls awry and lean muscles on casually stretched biceps. He’s seen countless photos of him before.

But.

Alex has never sent him a photo before. Not like this.

---

Five times Alex sends Henry a selfie from bed (+ one time Henry sends him one)

the dresden dilemma

The Crown had expectations when it sent a member of the royal family abroad but after a handful of years navigating said expectations, Alex and Henry had become adept at circumventing them when possible. Like tonight: They were supposed to be in Berlin for the weekend, but after a bit of needling and a lot of promises to behave, Alex had convinced Shaan to arrange for them to spend at least one night outside of the city.

Dresden, Alex had argued, was close enough to Berlin that they weren't really disobeying the Crown and besides, what harm could a single night in Dresden do?

(Additional Tags: Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, Established Relationship, Alex Claremont-Diaz has Trauma, cause he's an american kid and who doesn't, or at least he thought, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Fireworks, School Shootings, implied/referenced anyway, Guns)

the clementine thing

And, really, it doesn’t matter whether or not Alex explains it to Liam and the rest of his friends. They’ve never really discussed it between themselves through the years. Slowly, Alex had gone from asking Would you please peel this for me? to Please? to silently extending the citrus without any comment at all, just a soft smile. It’s one of the things that make them Alex-and-Henry; the silent conversations and the contentment in each other’s company.

Now, as Alex starts to flourish through his position on the lacrosse team, his slew of AP classes, and his role in student government, getting him to slow down at all is a feat. The only way that Henry can do it, guaranteed, is by one of those innocuous little fruits. There’s nothing Alex can’t do—surely, he could peel a fucking orange if he felt so inclined—but Henry delights in being able to do this for him.

Five times Henry shares a clementine with Alex, and one time Alex returns the favor

(This is one of my favorites, please read this ❤️)

In the Low Lamp Light, I Was Free

“You wanna go again?” Alex asks, pressing the back of his head into the pillows, offering his throat more fully to Henry’s hungry mouth, and when Henry laughs and retrieves another condom and the little bottle of lube from his toiletry bag, he adds, “I had a thought, though. I thought, maybe… you could be inside me this time.”

(Movieverse; there were two condom wrappers on the floor in Paris.)

he is exactly the poem i wanted to write

There is no Turkey in Alex's room this year, but there is a prince.

AKA, Henry spends thanksgiving with Alex after the election and reflects on all of his dreams coming true.

(Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, so fluffy it borders on worshippy, Porn with Feelings)

we might fall

A little ficlet of Alex and Henry in the hammock. Metaphors about falling.

lifeline of mine

Henry hates hospitals, has hated them since he watched his father wither away in one that smelled just like this one, that had the same unsettling chill in the air. And every time he walked into a hospital after losing Arthur, he would see his father’s ashen face, would feel the ghost of his cold skin prickling his own, would hear the slowing beep of his heart monitor. And now, it’s Henry in a hospital bed, not knowing what’s wrong with his body. And he’s scared, and he’s thinking about Arthur and…

“I saw him,” Henry whispers.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Major Character Injury, Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hallucinations, Hospitals, Hospitalization, Hurt Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Worried Alex Claremont-Diaz, Sick Character, Sick Fic, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Needs a Hug, Forehead Kisses, Fever, Angst with a Happy Ending)

please don't ever become a stranger (whose laugh i could recognize anywhere)

Alex’s love language is physical touch.

Henry knows this—has known it from the first moment he’s met Alex, all wild curls and bright eyes and a smile that could breathe life into Henry’s little, fragile hife. He’d stuck out a hand at that first meeting, dejected when Henry didn’t even take it. Found a way to poke and prod Henry every single time they’d met after, sharp jabs hitting his shoulder and rough hits shoving him around.

Now, Alex’s fingers are gentle as they lace around his. His arms hold him tight to his chest. His hair tickles the nape of Henry’s neck, and the couch is entirely too small for the two of them but Henry doesn’t have the heart to kick him out.

Or, 5 times Alex clings tight to Henry and 1 time Henry finds out why.

Bear with me

The first time it happened, Henry was not having it.

“For the last time, I’m not helping you shave your arse.”

—

In which Alex is very hairy, and Henry sort of has a thing for it. Not that he'd admit it, though.

(Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Canon - Book, But can fit the movie verse too, tzp is a walking thirst trap, this was supposed to be crack but became quite serious real quick, Domestic Fluff, Mentions of Sex, No Smut, Body Hair Appreciation, Healthy Relationships)

i ask you how you’re doing (and i let you lie)

The first time Henry sees it happen, he knows instantly that it is not the first time it has ever happened. They’re sitting in the living room of the brownstone, the two of them surrounded by their favorite people in the world, a night of board games long abandoned in favor of mocking the eighth season of Game of Thrones.

“God, don’t you have an off switch?” June groans, laughing as she chucks a piece of popcorn in Alex’s direction while he rambles passionately about the international legal implications of the Red Wedding. Nora cackles. “Whatever you do to thank Henry for putting up with you, it’s not nearly enough. Jesus, I can’t believe he put a ring on your loud mouth.”

Or: Alex is fine. Really, he’s fine — he just wants Henry to stay, even if Alex is too much. Henry just wants his husband back.

but i'd put you first a million times over

Henry first noticed it shortly after the Waterloo incident. Apparently, it hadn’t been enough to thrust all their private thoughts and emails into the public eye; they had to be thrust into the limelight as well.

Or the 5 times Henry asked the Crown for better security, plus one time he no longer had to.

(Additional Tags: Protective Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Paparazzi, Hurt/Comfort, 5+1 Things, Hurt Alex Claremont-Diaz, Post-Canon)

in every scenario

Henry can practically hear Alex thinking. They’re curled up in bed, Alex’s head resting on his chest, and his mind is so loud. He can hear it in the rustling of the sheets, in Alex’s hand skating up his ribcage; the anxious curl of his toes against Henry’s ankles. He’s nearly vibrating with thought.

Henry’s hand tucks into the base of Alex’s spine. “Love,” he murmurs, ducking his chin to look down at his boyfriend. “What on earth are you thinking about?”

Or, Alex has something important on his mind.

Long fics:

all that glitters (is not gold)

Alex Claremont-Diaz has it all. His mom won the election, he’s got the perfect boyfriend. He gets to love Henry out loud. Everything is great. Perfect.

Except for the itch under his skin every time he goes outside, and the tightness in his chest when he goes online, and the fact that he can’t fucking sleep.

But it's fine. He's fine. Really.

—-

Or: after the emails, Alex Claremont-Diaz isn’t fine.

(The masterpiece. The firstprince sequel. The canon sequel.)

But I love him, whether or no.

Henry moves to New York City to help Pez with the opening of his new bar in the East Village. The location—fortunately for business, but unfortunately for Henry’s sanity—is directly across the street from a fire station. The sound of sirens is bad, Alex the gorgeous firefighter is worse. But when Alex helps Henry avoid a near catastrophe the night of the bar’s opening, the two form a tentative friendship that starts to develop into something more.

(Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Firefighter!Alex, Canon typical mental health issues for Henry, Canon typical struggles with grief for Henry, Canon typical child of divorce issues for Alex, Canon typical struggles with sexuality for Alex, Firefighter injuries, Hospitalization, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending)

the poem you make of me

After being discovered on Instagram as a teenager, Alex Diaz is thriving as a social media influencer and model who just landed a high profile, high fashion contract with Calvin Klein. Alex can get any girl he wants, and he’s loving it. Meanwhile, British poet Henry Fox has just arrived in L.A. to kick off a North American tour promoting his new, steamy book of gay erotic poetry, and he’s attracting a lot of attention.

Bad blood is immediately sparked between them when Henry blows Alex off at their first meeting. Several tabloid rumors and an Instagram tantrum later, Alex and Henry are reluctantly thrust together to make nice, resulting in a grudging friendship and a magnetism between them that Alex can't explain. Why is Henry's poetry making Alex feel like this? And just what is it about Henry Fox that gets to him so much?

God Save the Blessed American President Mom

["June stopped by at lunch; she showed me a delightful channel called Hallmark, which repeats the same story every hour after they swap one round of white, straight, small-town conventionally beautiful actors for another. It was entertaining.”

“June and I used to play a drinking game with those. Take a shot every time someone goes ice skating, sledding, or leaves the big city for their tiny hometown.”

“Good lord, you must’ve been sloshed in the first ten minutes.”]

***

On December 4, 2021, an attempt is made on President Ellen Claremont's life.

Alex gets shot instead.

How wonderful life is (while you're in the world)

The corner of Henry’s mouth. It’s disappeared now, covered by the oxygen mask fixed securely around his head, but if Alex concentrates hard enough, he can see it sprawled out in front of him. Every ridge, every bend and edge and turn of it.

He knows Henry’s heart. And that’ll be enough.

(or: the one where henry gets shot and alex is a goddamn mess.)

#it's been 84 years #but i did it #this is the longest post I've ever made #please don't ignore it #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince fanfic #firstprince fic #rwrb fic #firstprince #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor

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meanbossart · 5 months ago

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Ask Compilation: Advice, influences and Misc.

Apologies for taking so long on some of these, admittedly I'm much more likely to entirely forget about asks that are about me and my interests 💃 Thank you for all the questions regardless! And thank you specially to everyone who just drops nice messages into my inbox out of kindness.

I'm brazillian and a native portuguese speaker!

I'll probably return to twitter eventually, but a) I hate that place and b) It didn't make much sense to me to turn it into a BG3 account out of the blue. I am considering making an Instagram or a new twitter just to have more places where people can follow in case they don't care for tumblr, but it's just been a very busy year so far and so that's kind of low on the list of priorities. If I ever do that I'll be sure to announce it here. Have a nice day yourself!

Sorry to hear that! I've gotten a few messages before about this issue, and the problem is that since I am myself not from the US, my options are also limited :( a lot of patreon alternatives don't work for me because they either don't go through paypal, take insane currency conversion fees, or just straight up block me from signing up.

Speak for yourself, I just assume everyone I speak to online has committed some sort of atrocious crime until proven otherwise. Except for me - of course. I have never done anything bad in my life.

I still have a lot to learn! But I will basically use whatever works for me at the moment, as well as make a sincere effort to learn about musculature and anatomy so I can understand those components and how they move, instead of only knowing what they look like when still - that's how you get better at drawing from memory. Volume mostly comes from coloring and understanding light, which is it's own beast but can very much be learned from similar reference materials and observing it IRL!

My favorite places to get reference are medical diagrams, weird pictures I take of myself, 3D software (often Virt-a-mate) and questionably phrased image google searches.

My favorite artists are Jason Shawn Alexander and Sean Murphy, but I'm not sure how much of it reflects in my art nowadays! I generally seek to pick up techniques from artists rather than to emulate style.

Honestly I love that you guys generally do the thing he would hate the most: take him very non-seriously LOL

I've been in a real Chelsea Wolfe and Amyl And The Sniffers kick lately! But usually you'll also find me listening to stuff like Boy Harsher, Swans, FWF, JK Flesh Lingua Ignota, Nick Cave, David Bowie, and so on. Music for the weird gays, basically.

I went insane and wrote a 23-chapter-long-and-still-ongoing fic in like four months. But also - I'm not that good, I'm just shamelessly pretentious LOL

Hm. That's a good question, but I'm not really sure. Sincerely not trying to be a edgier-than-thou here (in fact, this has made me a little self conscious at one time or another) but a lot of art that I don't mean to be horror-y in nature at all has been associated with the genre. So perhaps I don't know what I'm doing either, LOL.

I think just leaning on making things look slightly "wrong" or "ugly" on purpose is the way, but I also find that if you just seek to depict people as they are instead of idealized versions of themselves, you will arrive at that either way.

Thank you for reading! Honestly, I'm guilty of having not read much at all since I was in my late teens, and the style I'm employing for ANE is very different from the things I would call "influential" for me, or even that I used to enjoy reading at all before. I read a lot of Chuck Palahniuk as a youth (and, no slight to people who do like him still, but nowadays I'm not sure why I ever did. His stories don't speak to me at all anymore) as well a lot of weird experimental lit that I didn't even care to remember the name of. My last book stint from one or two years ago was composed solely of historical and medical literature, and last year I got really into Cormac Mcarthy thanks to the internet.

So, all in all, I'm absolutely all over the place LOL if you put a gun to my head and told me to list my favorite books, I'd say The Indifferent Stars Above and Blood Meridian.

(Consider the reading portion of the question to have been answered above) I really really liked Beau is Afraid and think it's a really great "horror" movie. Sue me.

#ask compilation #ask

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treacheryinblue · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 2/4

A Noah Sebastian x F!Reader One Shot Series

Word Count: 7.1k

Masterlist

× Summary: Noah is Death, the ruler of the after life (or whatever you want to call it), though he is cursed to watch you come and go from his never ending existence time and time again.

× Warnings!: Eh-level smut (oral [f receiving], P in V obviously, touch of spanking), language, little bit of violence, tiny fluff if you squint, slight dom!noah, smut with plot aka this became more in depth than I meant for it to aka a one shot that's now a series. Let me know if I missed anything!

× Author's Notes: ( 1 ) Thank you sooo much for all the support this story has been given. It was never was supposed to be more than a one shot, but after all the excitement behind it, I've decided to make it into a short series! I'm going to try to keep it at four parts, just to show the lore behind the characters and also maybe why it's happening...if I can make my brain create such things. ( 2 ) PLEASE suspend all thoughts of how time works when reading this. Time is pretty much just NOT a thing in Noah's realm. It's nonlinear and I refuse to be tied down by it! Also, hopefully the context clues are obvious enough for people to pick up on what time period the female character is from in each chapter. If not, feel free to hit me with a question.

Happy reading! xoxo

“The Dark Lord will be pleased with this one.”

An unknown voice sounded out around you, immediately sending a chill down your spine. You heard yourself expel a whimper of fear as your hands responded by trembling in their bindings. The man must've noticed this because a sadistic sounding laugh rang out, echoing through wherever you were and reverberating in your ears.

How long had you been tied down to this slab of rock? It easily could've only been hours, though it felt like days. Weeks. An eternity. Nothing felt longer than waiting for your impending death.

“Please…” you pleaded in a soft and broken voice. “Let me go and I will make sure no harm comes of you.”

The men again cackled, the kind that you were sure had them gripping their bellies and arching back. Maybe it was a good thing you couldn't see their dirty faces and broken teeth taunting you. That would never be the last thing you'd want anyone to have to witness before their untimely demise.

“The blade. Now.”

Something cool pressed to your chest and immediately forced a slight gasp out of you. Again, you began to tear up and pull at your restraints, although you had no idea what you would do if you happened to free yourself. The noises you had picked up on told you that there were more than two people there, and after so long without food or water, you'd never be able to take them. You were doomed one way or the other.

As the blade traveled downwards, it was made to puncture and rip the bodice of your dress. Another set of hands tugged the thin fabric to further open it, revealing your bare torso beneath it.

“Please! Don't do this!” You cried, now feeling shame from being so exposed.

How horrible was it that you were briefly only concerned about what your mother and father would say of this? They'd scold you, hissing words of how it wasn't very ‘lady like’ and that ‘no man would want you now’. You would be the ‘shamed whore’ of your village.

Before those thoughts could lead with any traction, the sound of faint chanting snapped you from your own thoughts. It started as a whispering and ever so slowly began working its way higher and higher with every repeated line. Unfortunately, you couldn't make out any of the words. It was possible that it was in another language, though also likely that your sobs took the forefront of the focus.

As the volume grew, so did your fear. Your breathing was rapid and uneven, a cool sweat forming across your chest and along the back of your neck. It was not being able to see what was happening that was also truly terrifying. Your captors had blind folded you after securing you down, this being the last time you saw any of their faces. It had been days of darkness - if not longer.

The chanting had started increasing in pace. Voices roared all around you and you could sense someone probably just within your reach (had your hands been free) but they had yet to do or say anything. You sobbed beneath your blindfold, the ropes holding you down rubbing your poor wrists raw from how you had been desperately trying to pull them free. They burned with every motion, and you were sure blood had been coating them since day one. Not that anyone around cared enough to take note.

“Please!” You yelled again, the single worded plea broken from your constant waterfall of tears. You swore you even heard another chuckle from right beside you.

“Send our love to the Dark Lord.”

A fierce pain punctuated his final statement as the blade ripped through your chest. You screamed in terror, just for the blade to be retrieved and then forced through skin, muscle, bone, again and again until you were nothing but a husk of who you had once been.

× × ×

Piercing eyes stared at you from across the long table, silently watching every move you made, no matter how small. You could feel the weight of his gaze despite having told him before how uncomfortable it made you - this had shocked him into a brief silence - but it obviously hadn't been important enough information for him to retain.

As you reached for your glass of wine, he did the same. His motions mirrored yours when you both took a swallow from the glass, followed by another, then another - the third being a mere test to see if he would or not.

“Stop.”

The demand left you with an irritated sigh, your wine glass then being loudly placed back to the table top. He chose to do the opposite, instead opting to lightly set his own glass down in a more respectable manner.

“Stop what?”

Your eyes narrowed at him, lips pressed tight together to showcase to him just how completely and utterly annoying he was. Ever since your arrival, he had done nothing but get under your skin day after day, night after night, second after second.

Maybe you really were in Hell.

“I'm going back to my quarters.”

You weren't going to do this with him again. It had become an every encounter sort of thing at this point - both of you engaging in an argument until you finally stomped off or he dismissed you before you ‘fell victim to his true nature’. How in the world were you supposed to live like this? For how long? Every time you’d yell this inquiry at him, he would only smile like he knew a secret you didn't.

Dropping your napkin to your plate, you were just about to push away from the table when his voice halted your every movement.

“Sit back down now. I haven't excused you.”

There was a sternness to his demand that you had yet to hear from him prior. It shook you to your core…in a way you hadn't expected.

There was a brief pause as you stared at him. You were silently debating with yourself as to whether or not you should listen, weighing the options. Since you had nowhere to go where he couldn't find you, you did as he requested.

“Maybe I've gone about this the wrong way. Maybe I've been too nice. Too lenient. Too patient. Since those approaches don't appear to be working, we're going to switch up to the way I prefer things.”

The man you knew as Noah slowly stood from his chair. Those eyes of his never broke from yours, not even as he placed his palms on the table top and leaned forward a bit to assert only an ounce of his dominance. You wanted to say it didn't make you want to cower in a corner, but it did.

Or maybe take your clothes off…

“You are here in my domain. Do you know what that means?”

Noah's eyebrows raised when he paused, though you knew he wasn't looking for an answer. He already had one of his own loaded and ready to go.

“It means I'm the fucking King and it would be in your best interest to not disobey me.”

You thought it would end there. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case.

But wait…what was this new sensation you were beginning to feel? It was warm and tingly…quite different from any you had experienced before, both when dead or alive.

“It doesn't matter to me that it's you. You are still required to make sure I remain pleased.”

This caught your curiosity and it showed in the way your own brows pulled together ever so slightly.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you listen to m-”

“No, the first part.”

You could see the way his features softened when he realized what he had said. Was this one of those secrets he always seemed to be keeping from you? Obviously. The issue was that you had no clue what it meant.

“For the love of Go-!” Noah paused before he could get the entire saying out, his jaw clenching and face reddening as if it would truly pain him to say the words. With a deep exhale through his nose, he stood to his full height and raked his fingers roughly through his hair. He was frustrated, though something told you that it wasn't all because of your defiant behavior.

The anger he held was bubbling to the surface and forcing him to lose his composure. He growled as he latched onto the chair and sent it hurling to the ground, followed by the glass of wine he had previously been nursing. Both became shattered pieces that would be impossible to repair.

“Why do you not remember yet?! Is this some cruel joke you're playing on me? Is that it?!”

Before you could even blink he was in front of you. He had forced your chair out a bit, enough for him to wedge himself in front of it to prevent you from escaping. His tattooed hands firmly grasped at the arms of the chair, intense eyes level with your own.

You weren't frightened of him. You had endured the wrath of more vile men many times in the past, your father being one of them, so this temper tantrum of his did not register as a threat.

Plus, you were already dead. What more could he do to you?

“I need you to remember.”

These words were spoken in a much softer tone, almost like he was begging you. Pleading. The pain was clear in his eyes and for some reason this hurt you as well. Why did you care about his feelings? Why did you want to make him feel better? Never during any of your previous altercations had you felt this way.

“I'm sorry…I don't know how…I don't understand…”

Noah appeared crushed. You swore you could hear the sound of his heart breaking; that's how deep his emotions ran along his features. He dropped to his knees in front of you, his head bowed to keep his face hidden. The hands that had once been gripping the arms of the chair fell to your covered knees, now grasping tight to you in any way he could.

“Please…try for me? There's a part of you that would do anything for me, just as I would do for you.”

Although his words continued to confuse you, they didn't disturb you or make you uncomfortable as they previously had. There was even a fraction of you that believed him…which only made you want to try as he was requesting.

Maybe he could sense this, because you felt one of his hands fall and begin lightly tracing along your ankle. The other remained on your knee, still clutching tight.

“Close your eyes…will yourself to remember…I know you can.”

There was a flicker of something behind your closed eyes, almost like a thought. Maybe a memory. You weren't too sure because the scene clip was foreign and not anything you had ever experienced in your living life. All that was familiar within the abrupt flash were his eyes and the way they devoured you.

“That…what was that?”

Noah’s hand cradled your cheek, his touch immediately causing you to open your eyes and connect with his own. There was now a hopeful gleam within them, so much that you swore you even saw his lips threatening to turn up into a smile.

“Did you remember something? Tell me.”

All you could do was slowly shake your head. Even if you wanted to tell him what the brief image had been, you knew you wouldn't be able to put it into words. It was like trying to describe a color to someone that they would never see for themselves. An impossible task to say the least.

Without another word, you quickly pushed him away from you and stood from your chair. Noah was stunned by your actions but made no move to stop you from running away, not like you had expected him to. As you exited the dining room, all you heard behind you was the sound of more glass breaking and Noah’s pained yells.

× × ×

Sleep eventually took over you that night, though it hadn't come easy. To bring forth this needed unconsciousness, you had to think of the images from earlier and imagine what scenario it was attached to.

It took place in an unknown room, though you could assume this room was in the same domain you currently were held in. The decor was the same, the walls and lighting giving this away. It wasn't your current room, though, but somewhere a little more lived in. It was comfortable, if you were being honest. Almost as comfortable as the bed you were laid out over in this flash of images.

There was a warmth that accompanied them, one that you were only barely accustomed to. You had experienced it before during your living existence when you had hiked your dress up to your hips and buried your fingers between your thighs - these moments were fleeting and only happened enough times for you to count on one hand.

Although, it wasn't your hands that brought forth the unfamiliar but welcomed warmth this time, but something - someone - far more enticing.

A pleasure radiated throughout your entire being in a way that had your body trembling and your voice crying out for more. You had managed to open your eyes long enough to see his head between your spread thighs, decorated fingers holding tight to you to make sure you remained fully open for him, all while his mouth worked wonders in ways you didn't know possible.

“Noah!” You moaned and whimpered, his name on your lips only sending him into an excited frenzy. He groaned into you as his mouth secured around your clit, harshly sucking before soothing the nerves with swipes of his tongue that made your hips buck and your cunt clench in a desperate need to be filled.

“You're so perfect…” he breathed as he pulled back just enough to watch his fingers disappear inside of you. The sensation was heavenly, as ironic as that was, even more so when his long digits dipped and curled within your dripping wet warmth. Noah stroked along a spot that immediately had you gasping for air and gripping tight to the already tangled sheets your body had become well acquainted with. The mess of linens told you that you had been at this for a bit now, and it definitely wasn't his first time admiring you from below.

“Don't stop, please…” you begged, soft and gentle between your labored breathing.

Noah happily obliged, not that he had any plans on stopping until he was thoroughly satisfied with your amount of pleasure. His wicked mouth returned to your clit, tongue swirling and flicking in a way only the Devil could know how, while his fingers assisted in bringing you right to the edge.

If this was eternal damnation, then you would willingly devote the rest of your existence to it, to him.

Just a couple more firm strokes of his fingers and your body was tensing, a pressure building so high that it literally felt as if you were going to explode. And almost as soon as the thought passed your mind, your body released - literally and metaphorically. Moans heaved from you and your hips writhed beneath Noah’s form, a sudden wave of pure heat traveling through you and coating his fingers. The bed became soaked, though Noah seemed less than concerned about this. He hadn't even let up on pulling your clit between his lips and forcing his fingers harder within the collapsing and pulsing walls of your cunt.

You awoke from your slumber with a gasp, your body abruptly sitting up in bed. It took a moment for you to gather yourself, but you eventually noticed that you were alone and no longer in the room from your…dream? Memory? It was still so hard to say. As you made a motion to move, you felt a throb between your thighs, a deep pulsing just like the one your subconscious had just been experiencing.

You thought nothing of it at first, not until you stood from the bed only to realize the sheets, as well as your clothing, held a wet spot right where one could assume.

It only took a moment for you to change, though you left yourself bare beneath the sleeping gown with not even the top tied securely. There was no reason for you to waste time with it when there was one thing on your mind now.

After a few wrong turns and having to backtrack more than you'd like to admit, you finally stumbled upon the study where you knew Noah to spend the majority of his time. Sometimes you swore this domain liked to purposely switch up and change on you, just to make finding your intended location all the more difficult.

“Stop lingering,” his voice called out after you had stood outside the cracked door for far too long.

A small jolt in response to his voice being directed to you caused your heart to skip a beat, though you did as he said and gently pushed the study door open enough for you to slip through.

“How did you kno-”

“Nothing happens here without my knowledge of it. No matter how small or…private.”

That's when his eyes lifted to meet with you, they focused in on your hips first before slowly trailing up to your own gaze. Something gleamed within his stare, but it wasn't something you were yet capable of putting your finger on. All you knew was that it further stirred a sensation inside you.

“It's late,” Noah then pointed out as he leaned back in his chair, sights still locked on you.

You nodded in understanding, slow steps being taken closer to the desk he resided behind. Instead of stopping in front of it, you moved around the side and only paused once you were in front of him, just within arm’s reach. You could see Noah's chest inflate with a deep inhale, his eyes further darkening at the close proximity. Had his gaze even flickered down to where your hardened nipples were evident beneath the thin fabric of the dress you wore? You swore they had.

Speaking of your clothing…it was drastically different from what Noah always wore. His black on black suit wasn't like anything you were used to seeing, though your clothes were reminiscent of your time, unchanging from what you knew. How odd, you thought to yourself. This wasn't the time to ponder such things, though. It was just one more mystery added to the collection you were keeping note of.

“I had a dream,” you finally revealed. A hand hesitantly reached out so you could trail a finger slowly beneath his jaw, a simultaneous step closer to him also being taken. “At least…I think it was only a dream.”

“A memory, perhaps.” Noah spoke up, his eyebrows raised.

“Perhaps.” Your hand fell from his face and you swore you noticed a sadness quickly glaze over his eyes, almost as if he missed your touch already. Lucky for him, you had no intention of keeping your hands to yourself right then.

Delicate fingers clutched the fabric that covered your body, now being pulled up just enough so you could freely move while settling into Noah’s lap. Your knees straddled him and his hands moved to lay atop the bare skin of your thighs, almost like a reflex.

“Tell me what you remember.”

A slight shrug of your shoulder caused the gown to fall away, revealing more of your skin to him. His eyes followed the trail of your neck down your shoulder and to your chest, just as he reached up to further tug the fabric away in a gentle manner until the swell of your breasts were shown.

Noah had learned forward so he could slowly kiss along the bared skin of your chest. His hands traveled up the sides of your thighs, purposely pushing the hem of the dress up more, but not fully. He was then gripping your waist, slyly pulling your body even closer to his while his lips dipped between the valley of your breasts.

“It's mainly feelings that I remember, not necessarily specific moments…”

A question lingered at the tip of your tongue, one that you weren't really sure the meaning of. It was merely plaguing the back of your mind, leaving you curious for an answer that could possibly mean absolutely nothing to you.

“How…many times have I been here?”

The inquiry caused Noah to pause, his eyes flickering up to yours before he relayed an answer.

“This makes five. Five lives…five versions of you…and this you by far has been the most stubborn.”

This knowledge didn't frighten you like it would have mere hours ago. No, it actually made a bit of sense now, like the puzzle pieces were all slowly starting to come together.

“And each one is me?”

Noah hummed lightly, his lips returning to their trek along your chest. He was being much softer with you than you would've imagined, especially given the outburst you had witnessed from him earlier.

“Same body, same eyes, same markings…” he punctuated this with a slight bite to a prominent freckle that sat off to the side of your right breast. “Even the same name.”

“So…where are all of the previous versions of me at?”

A heavy sigh followed your question, his jaw clenched in obvious frustration. Having not yet answered, Noah swiftly picked you up and laid you down atop his desk after swiping the unnecessary items aside. There was a darkness in his eyes again, and you noticed that his previous soft caresses were becoming much more defined and needy. Witnessing this had your insides stirring, but in a way that made you thankful for wearing nothing more than your sleep gown.

“You’ve been taken from me.”

Noah’s voice was harsh, the words almost being hissed through gritted teeth. Apparently you had touched on a sore subject without even realizing it. But still, he began undressing himself as you laid beneath him, vulnerable and aching. Not even his growing anger was going to stop him from having you.

With his torso now bared to you, you took a moment to take in all of the permanent etchings that crowded his skin. You had never seen such things before, though you've heard tales of tattoos and these being described as the ‘mark of the Devil’. Clearly your time wasn't too far off, considering who you were currently in the company of.

A hand grabbed your face and forced you to look up at him as his body hovered over your own. Noah’s eyes were as intense as ever as he searched within yours, on a hunt for something.

“You aren't meant for this world but you are mine. I'll see to it that every death brings you to me. They can't stop me.”

They?

There was no chance for you to inquire about this because Noah’s mouth was then on yours, all hot and desperate. He kissed you like his life depended on it - funny enough - like you were the only thing that could breathe oxygen back into his lungs. And much to your own surprise, you kissed him back with just as much ferocity. His taste was addicting and familiar, one that you wanted to hold onto for as long as you could.

Even as he pulled back, you swiped your tongue along your lower lip simply to savor what remained.

One strong pull was all it took for Noah to rip the gown you wore straight down the middle, his eyes immediately drinking you in. He leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth, moaning against your heated skin while flicking his tongue along the hardened bud before sinking his teeth in. You gasped at the slight pain, but the rise of your hips to grind against his let him know that you actually enjoyed it.

Noah smirked as he moved to your opposite nipple, displaying the same loving abuse to it. A warmth was pooling between your thighs and you were suddenly so eager for his touch that you didn't know what to do with yourself. Your hips continued to grind along his, desperate to feel any sort of relief, but the material of his pants were too soft and not at all what you were aching for.

“Not so defiant now, are you?” He taunted, his clothed hips firmly pressing into yours just to further rile you up.

“Look at you…desperate and whining…you must be remembering how good I can make you feel.”

Indeed you were, because never have you felt a need as strong as this before. Something in you knew just how mind blowing a climax at his hands could be and you wanted it now. You were so caught up in your own selfish needs that you hadn't even heard the sound of his belt coming off or the distinct ripple of the zipper being dragged down. When your eyes met with him again, he was fully naked and standing between your legs, slowly stroking along every inch of his hard cock.

“Fuck…the things you do to me,” he murmured to himself, heavily exhaling through his nose. You watched in awe as he continued to touch himself, his hips pushing forward to thrust into his hand, even as he rubbed the head of his cock down between your folds. Noah’s eyes closed and his head tossed back, reveling in the sensation of you being so wet for only him.

“Please…” you whimpered, your legs spreading more as if that would help entice him in. As much as you liked watching him get himself off, surprisingly enough, you were far too needy in that moment to have any bit of his stamina wasted on his hand.

Releasing the hold he had on his cock, he instead grabbed your calf and lifted your leg to his shoulder. His strong hands now held your hips, the tip of his cock pressed right to your entrance since he had produced the perfect angle after maneuvering your body around however he saw fit.

“You have to be a good girl and take it,” he instructed, his voice soothing but still holding an edge to it.

Noah pressed forward, allowing only the swollen head of his cock to stretch through your tight walls that hugged him just as close as he remembered.

“Say it.” He demanded, refusing to go any further until you had.

You shakily breathed out, your heart racing and blood pumping so fast that your cheeks were flushed a deep red already. “I'll be a good girl,” you repeated his words, nodding. “I'll take it, I promise.”

Happy with this, Noah thrusted forward in a swift motion that you had taking every inch he had to offer. Your tight pussy welcomed him into your depths with a constricting pulse that would've made him cum right then had he not had an eternity of practiced self control.

Noah deeply groaned, his jaw set and biceps flexed while holding you in place. Your own moans mixed with his, your body trembling in his grasp from just how intense it was to be fully filled by him. It was like nothing you had ever felt before…quite literally since your living existence had yet to experience the touch of another. You had only known a release at your own hands, which was nothing compared to this.

“That's it…” he cooed the familiar phrase as he began his rapid pace of driving his cock deep into you again and again, forcing moans and profanities never yet spoken from you each time. “You're always so good at taking it.”

Oh, how you wanted nothing more than to take all that he had to offer.

The stretch of your walls were so tight around him that you swore you could feel every engorged vein throbbing when he forced himself as deep as possible. Noah turned his head so he could kiss along your ankle, the grip he had on your calf tightening just before leaning forward a bit. It was a good thing you were pretty limber or else a cramp would've surely ruined the mood by now. Noah didn't seem concerned about this, though. He was far too focused on the shape of your lips as you cried out his name.

This angle had to have been created by this Devil himself though, because you could barely take a breath from how overpowering it was. You looked up at him with furrowed brows and nothing but silence as your breath caught in your throat. Every inch of your body tensed, though this had yet to cease his quickening thrusts. Your cunt felt too good, too warm, too tight, for him to let up now.

“Noah!” His name finally erupted from you again, just as an unexpected orgasm took charge. Your head tossed back and your hips arched up as much as possible, your pussy now gripping his cock like a vice. Your walls were so strong that you noticed he was finally beginning to break a sweat.

As the climax shook through your body, his motions began to slow before coming to a complete halt. He stared down at you, a fire in his eyes.

“Did I say you could cum?” The question was punctuated with a firm spank to the side of your thigh, a sting radiating outwards that you knew you'd be feeling for some time afterwards.

“Hadn't I just told you that you're meant to listen to me? That I'm the King and you do as I say?”

Noah had shifted your leg off his shoulder and pulled his hips back until he was no longer inside of you. The loss of connection made you whine and pout because one orgasm hadn't been enough. You desperately needed more.

“I couldn't stop it,” you explained while he forced you up, around, and then back down so the front of your body was pressed to the desk.

“You promised you were going to be a good girl.”

There was a bit of rustling from behind you, followed by the faint clink of metal that you recognized from his belt when he had been removing it not long ago. Your thighs pressed together in anticipation for whatever he had planned for you now since you knew that fleeting moment of softness from him was long gone.

“But good girls ask before they cum, and you didn't ask.” The sound of something moving quickly through the air garnered your attention, but a mere second later a sharp sting forced a yelp from you when the folded edge of his belt made contact with your ass. The pain shot right to your core, your cunt clenching eagerly around nothing.

Another crack rang out when the belt again collided with your tender ass cheek. You whimpered and writhed, your hands desperately trying to grab onto something to steady yourself but there was nothing within reach on the desk. While it did hurt, and the pain only worsened with each spank, you still couldn't help but to crave more. Maybe it was because Noah was now rubbing his palm soothingly over the red and welted area, or maybe it was because you liked allowing him this power over you.

You held a power of your own over him as well, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Although now may have not been the time to bring that up.

“Look at how fucking wet you're getting from this,” he mused gleefully as his fingers dipped down to brush along your pussy. He gathered the wetness around his fingertips after sinking his digits into you, though he only graced you with a couple of pumps before their retreat.

Noah leaned over your body so his mouth was at your ear, his wet fingers forcing their way between your lips for you to obediently clean. Which you did without hesitation or complaint, even going so far as to moan softly at the taste of yourself.

“Now, are you going to be my good girl or do I need to punish you a bit more?” He whispered into your ear while lightly brushing your hair back from your face.

You could feel his hard cock between your thighs, teasing you with what you so badly wanted again. This assisted in you making up your mind, despite how much you enjoyed the punishment given.

“I'll be your good girl,” you promised once his fingers were pulled from your mouth.

Noah circled his strong hand around your jaw before placing a firm kiss to the side of your head. “That was the correct answer.”

Gently forcing your body back around to face his, he was careful to then set you on the edge of the desk. You winced at the weight being placed on your abused bottom, and it was only intensified when Noah purposely grasped the exact area, fingertips digging into the welts. There was no room for true pain when it was quickly overpowered by the euphoric sensation of him thrusting into you again.

Christ, if you weren't already dead then this man surely would've been the death of you.

Both hands squeezed your hips as he helped drag you along his cock, maneuvering your body in just the right way so he was hitting every spot inside of you that had you gasping for air. Your mind was occupied solely with thoughts of him, especially when taking in how he was gazing at you. It didn't matter that bits of his hair clung to his forehead with sweat or that you could barely take a breath without demanding that he fuck you harder, because Noah was still staring at you like you were the only thing in this entire melancholic universe that mattered.

“You're fucking amazing,” he grunted just as he pushed against your chest to lay you back on the desk again. This allowed him free reign to drive his cock at a maddening pace into your depths, his thrusts relentless to what your mere mortal body could handle.

Did it matter since you were already dead, though? Were you technically a mortal still? So many questions.

Your noises of ecstasy echoed through the study as your cunt throbbed around his twitching cock. The way Noah’s hips began to slow until he was taking long drags out of you, only to roughly thrust forward again, told you that he was close. You weren't sure how you knew, but you did. Just as you somehow knew other things little that would make him tick - both in good and bad ways.

“You look so beautiful like this.”

You couldn't help but to smile through your delightful torment, your body already so sensitive from your previous orgasm and all of the other things Noah had made you feel that night. From his unmatched stamina, so you could assume, to the pain of his belt across your ass that made your cunt clamp tighter around his cock just from thinking about it.

Noah must've noticed because he released a deep growl from his chest, his head now bowed and eyes closed as he continued his unforgiving thrusts.

“Oh!” You gasped the moment his palm pressed against your lower stomach and his thumb made contact with your clit. Your hips jerked and your thighs threatened to close, but his grip on the one only tightened to a harsh squeeze to keep you perfectly spread for him.

“You have to ask.” Noah reminded you, since he was well aware of what your reactions were pointing to.

Your eyes rolled back and your teeth sunk deep into your lower lip, breathless moans escaping one after the other, making it nearly impossible for you to say much of anything.

“Please!” You finally were able to pant out, a faint whine to follow. “Can I cum? Please?”

Noah smirked at your obedience. The sound of your begging only made him drive harder into your core, his thumb still working against your overly sensitive clit.

“Please please please,” the pleading continued in a faint whisper, this being all you could manage out now in a little chant of desperation.

Instead of voicing his approval, he merely gave a single nod just before planting both of his hands on the desk near your head. He was leaning over you now, his hips violently colliding with yours. Dark eyes focused down on your face and you immediately knew he wanted to watch up close as you fell apart for him again.

Your hands ran up his sides and back to clutch his shoulder blades, nails sinking harshly into his inked skin the moment your climax took over. Every inch of your body spasmed beneath his, your knees digging into his hips and nails dragging down his back in a way that made him sharply inhale in an almost hiss.

“Oh my go-!” The cry was nearly completed when his hand covered your mouth, preventing you from voicing the final word. Though this didn't stop you from moaning in a continuous yet muffled fashion as a wave rushed through your body and your cunt hungrily tried dragging in more of his cock.

“Fuck, you're doing so good,” he murmured in a low tone that had your insides melting and your orgasm freely flowing around him. “Fucking hell!”

Noah groaned as his thrusts became a little more sloppy before a final drive forward had him pausing as deep as possible inside of you. The muscles in his arms and shoulders tensed as he erupted, the vein in the side of his neck now more prominent. You couldn't help but to crane your neck forward just a bit in order to sink your teeth into it, bringing forth a moan from him directly into your ear.

Shivers traveled your body from the overly full feeling of him cumming inside of you and filling you to the brim, his arousal mixing with your own and overflowing. Still, your cunt continued to pulse and flutter around his cock, emptying him for all that he was worth. Your hips even rolled up into his again, purposely working yourself along his length simply because you could and because it felt so fucking good to have him stroking your g-spot, no matter how sensitive and spent your body was.

“I told you I could be a good girl,” you breathed against his neck while trailing your lips up in search of his. Noah chuckled into the kiss you eventually indulged him with, his brow finally relaxing now that you had stopped grinding into him and he could properly think.

Lifting his head after you parted from the kiss, he gazed down at you to admire how beautiful you looked with your cheeks flushed and a post-sex glow setting in. It was the first time he had seen you appear genuinely happy since your arrival, and while he of course wanted your body again and again, he also wanted to see that as often as he could.

“Don't think I've forgotten about how you acted at dinner.” His tone was serious only for a fleeting moment. Your eyes widened slightly, the welt on your ass pulsating as if to remind you of the punishments he could make you endure.

Noah cracked a faint grin before dragging his hand along the side of your face and claiming your lips once again. He was then standing to his full height and carefully pulling you to a sitting position along with him, where he slowly pulled himself out from your drenched core. A faint whimper escaped you, though you quickly covered it with a bite to your inner cheek.

“No need to worry about that now. I'll let you know when I'm coming to collect for your defiant behavior.”

Well, that surely made your pussy clench in eager anticipation.

Flexing and rolling his shoulders back, he muttered something about giving him a second and then scurried off, but not before making a quick turn back to kiss you again. As he disappeared, you took this moment to glance around the study. It was one of the many rooms you hadn't really been in before, Noah's bedroom included, because you always felt they were too personal for you to see.

And much to your own shock, Noah never entered your room either. At least you knew he could respect boundaries to a degree. But now? Well, now you weren't so sure what sort of boundaries remained for you two.

Taking in a deep breath, you lifted a hand to gently massage into the back of your neck, just as your eyes swept across the large bookcase that lined one side of the room. Something on one of the shelves immediately acquired your attention: a knife of sorts, a dagger, with rubies embedded in the handle. There was something very familiar about it, so much so that you found yourself slipping from the desk to make your way over to where it was displayed.

“I wasn't sure if you wanted to remain in the clothes you're used to, so I brought that and another option…” his voice grew quieter as it trailed off upon realization that you were no longer on the desk.

Noah's returning presence couldn't pry your eyes away from the dagger, nor could his soft demand for you to tell him what you were doing. Instead, you reached out to lightly trace along the sheath the dagger was housed in before ultimately picking it up and pulling it from the enclosure.

“What is this?”

Noah was by your side within seconds, his hand reaching for the item though you made an abrupt turn to step away from him.

“I need you to give me the dagger now…please. Then, maybe, we can discuss just what it is.”

There was a churning in your stomach and your heart was now beating so loud that you could hear it thumping within your ears. You recognized this dagger despite having only seen it for a few seconds after your captors all but dragged you to your death. A multitude of memories flashed before your sights of this dagger in particular, although in many different scenarios and situations.

Your eyes were pooling with tears as you finally looked up at him, both confusion and hurt written all across your face. It appeared as if Noah wanted to say something but he remained silent, his hand still outstretched like you were actually going to hand the item over to him.

“This was what was used to kill me, Noah. More than once. Why do you have it?”

#bad omens #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fan fiction #noah sebastian fan fiction #bad omens fic #noah sebastian fic #smut #bad omens smut #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian x reader #smut with plot #god of death complex

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rmorde · 2 months ago

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Trigun Manga Reaction

Starting off with Volume 1 - Chapter 1

I will always love Meryl's design. She is one of the most memorable female characters from my childhood. My most distinct image from Trigun 98 is Meryl showing off all her derringers from her coat. I love her and Milly a lot.

So, these two images make me giggle.

Ok. I have to do a double take here.

Is the Note: Staunch Pacifist here a "break the fourth wall" type of situation or an actual info people in the story know? Hmmm... from the animes, it doesn't seem to be common knowledge that Vash doesn't like to fight. People kinda shoot first and never ask later with him. I guess the many zeroes in his bounty just wipes off the "staunch pacifist" info from their minds or they think it's just a twisted joke to ignore.

AAAWWWW BABY!!!!

BABY NOOOO!!!!! He was just happily eating steaks!!! This is far more cruel than a ruined drink or hanging upside down!

Sigh... Really... Vash... Just really?! I guess Badlands!Vash isn't too OOC when he pulled this stunt then he's still weirdly horndoggy there ngl.

That's a nice nightmare face. Did Nightow ever make a serious horror?

Maybe I am just being weird here but this panel is really interesting because of the lack of details on this big guy threatening Vash. From his chest and below, with the exception of his hand holding the gun, there is nothing. He encompasses about three-quarters of this half page panel like a really big wall.

I guess the composition is supposed to show how he is trying to dwarf Vash. It doesn't work obviously since Vash looks so still and detailed in contrast to him. Idk. It's just how it comes across to me.

Pouty Baby.

Classic Vash.

Aah... The faces of people wondering how they shouldn't be alive anymore, but they still do because the scary Humanoid Typhoon decided to use a toy gun to shoot them in their faces twice.

Baby Girl. You should be in Sailor Moon.

Baby Gremlin Girl.

Clever Gremlin Baby Girl Vash The Stampede

Wait... FOUR?! FOUR PIZZAS?!!

Oh poor TriStamp Vash. He got hit by inflation hard. He can only get 2 pizzas with his one bullet!

Ok. So the Plants design from '98 are closer to the manga. TriStamp is new.

Oh my my my...

THE BADASS LADIES ARE HERE IN ALL THEIR GLORY!!!

Peak designs I swear. I mean. TriStamp Meryl's design is cute, but it is nothing compare to this beauty!

Remember this exchange from the '98 anime. Didn't really understand it until I got older and realized on hindsight what these assholes really meant. Ewww.

I wonder if, with how sensitive certain groups of people nowadays, these dirty lines will still get past the radar when localized or be changed altogether.

Oh... This is slightly different. Milly did understand what they meant and reacted to it unlike in '98 where she is just innocently confused.

This will always be iconic for me alongside Meryl's Derringers reveal. When I think of Trigun, these are two of the four images that come to my mind.

Oh... Oh... So, this stuff happens to Vash during the first chapter. I guess the animes are a bit more merciful that they have this happen after a few episodes at least.

Sigh... Whenever I have a bad day, I'll just think Vash has it worse. At least I get to fix my mistakes in peace and with help unlike him... Poor baby girl.

#trigunbookclub #trimax journey #i forgot to say i also watched badlands! as soon as i saw a clip of el woowoo... i just had to #anyway this was fun #i can tell where the animes drew several specific scenes and designs from #i look forward to the next chapter!

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ladysmutwriter · 7 months ago

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Take me one more time

Continuation of Watching her Fade Away! Summary of that fic// after a nasty fight with your boyfriend Simon Henrikkson, you cheat on him with his best friend David, breaking up with him afterwards.

After breaking up with Simon you move from Stockholm to pursue your studies, however, after a year of no contact with him, Sophie calls you to tell you Simon was badly injured in a hit and run, leaving him paralyzed from his waist down, and that perhaps your company could help him in the deep depression he now has.

This was an unfinished fic, i might not finish it, but here are the two chapters i wrote into one.

art credit @/ throat2834 on TikTok

You were walking out of school, hands in your hoodie as the snow fell from the sky, all the other kids chatting with their friends as they got out of their classes.

You were never one to have many friends, usually more kept to yourself, your only friend being David, a guy who was a few years older than you, about to graduate- you two met on detention, after you got sent there for "vandalizing" the bathroom's walls; the teacher there just told you to stay quiet, and then got out of the classroom to go smoke, there, the only other kid was this messy brunnette, his hair falling on his face and a scar under his eye as he mindlessly drawed on his history book.

Getting closer to see his drawings, you began talking, and then he walked you to your home, exchanged numbers and began talking.

You had a bit of a crush in him, after all he had this "bad boy" look plastered all over him, teaching you how to smoke cigarettes behind school, introducing you to Simon and Sophie, which had the same age as you; you four began hanging out daily, until your crush for David faded away and was filled with Simon.

Thankfully, your attraction was mutual, as Sophie once told you Simon had told her he liked you.

It was the beggining of the sour relationship you'd endure for years.

You were driving back to Stockholm, the map on the copilot seat and Deftones sounding in low volume as you entered the colorless town, all of your memories coming back and the guilt rotting deep in your brain once again eating your head.

After your little affair with David you two cut off all relationship you used to had, the years of being there for each other burned into regret from both parts, the only contact you still had being only Sophie; her constantly talking to you and keeping you up with her life. After you confessed what had happened with David, she promised you that Simon would never know about it in your absence.

Stoping the car in front of Sophie's house, you got out and knocked on the door, after a few seconds a happy Sophie oppened the door and hugged you tightly, telling you how much she missed you, her arms giving you that warmth you missed oh-so-much. Breaking the hug she invited you to her house, you sitting on her couch as she went to get you some coffee, after all you drived some good hours to get back, feeling your eyes close by themselves as you took in the warmth of her house and fell asleep on the couch.

Once you woke up, you saw Sophie watching the TV as she sat next to you, the still warm cup of coffe in front of you in the little table; reaching out to drink it, you began some small talk with her, mostly about how she had been, until the topic landed on Simon.

"I really regret what i did" You admitted, suddenly your throat becoming dry, the memories of seeing Simon cry as you broke up with him coming back to your head.

"I know Y/N" she answered after taking some time to think, her eyes scanning your face as she gave you a soft look, never judging you, instead, understanding you.

She knew how Simon was with you, after all she heard always she sides from both of you whenever you had an argument, her support mostly landing on your side as for all she loved Simon and held him as a dear friend, she knew how toxic he could be.

You ended up crashing at Sophie's, spending the night cuddling with her as you watched movies and ordered some chinese food; preparing yourself to go visit Simon the next day.

The sun rised, Sophie waking you up so you'd go shower and get ready- the warm water hitting your skin making you relax, after all, you were supossed to fix things now.

Second Chapter:

Simon was... Empty.

He still remembers your breakup, you asked to meet him in his house, a day after the big fight; you looked... Bad, to say it somehow, your eyes didn't look at him how you used to look at him, with love; no, it was almost disgust now, empty, voidless eyes staring into him as you said the words he feared so much.

"I don't think we have a future together"

Those lips he used to kiss so much, now giving him the worst words he ever heard. You were his first love, his first everything. And you were leaving him like everyone else, he felt his body go cold, his hands trembling, the urge to scream and beg for you to not leave burning his throat, instead, he went silent, his eyes staring at the floor.

You two were sitting on the edge of his bed, your hand over his as silent tears ran down your tired eyes; his face seemed of pure rage, you were just like everyone else-

"Din jävla tikt"

You frowned your face at the insult, letting out a short squeak of fear as Simon pushed you to your back, him straddling your hips as his mouth forced onto yours.

Was this what you wanted? For him to be like your shitty exes? He could be that and way worse- inflict on you the pain you were giving him right now. Teeth against each other as his hands pressed down on your body keeping you still as you tried to squirm, fingers digging painfully into your soft flesh as more tears ran down your face, screams of desesperation muffled against Simon's mouth.

You'd never forget the taste of that last kiss, cigarettes and coffee, a taste you used to love so much turned into one of the worst memories of your life.

It was when one of his hands left your torso to move onto your neck, choking you as you finally got the strength to push him away, him landing on the floor as you got up, face red, hair messy and tears streaming down your cheeks like rivers, your legs shaking as Simon's mother opened the door after she heard the struggle, asking what had happened in a panicked voice, after all, her son was on the floor looking at you as if he was one step from murdering you, and you completely terrified on the other side.

You ran, away from that house, away from the memories.

...

Simon's thoughts were interrupted as his phone buzzed.

It was already 3 PM, him still on his bed, his curtains closed as he took a look at his phone- his chest hurting as he recognized the number.

"Can i visit you? I'll stay at Stockholm for a few days in case you want to talk"

He stared for some seconds at the message, his hands becoming sweaty as he answered with a simple "yes". Shit, he hadn't bathed in days, less brushed his teeth, and his room probably smelled like shit too- but he didn't bother changing any of that, after all, a part of him wanted you to feel pity for him, to feel guilty, to beg to be back with him, somehow those thoughts making sense in his delusional brain.

Probably half an hour passed before he heard the door ring, hearing his mother squeal in happiness at seeing you, now all that was left was for you to cross the door to his room.

On your perspective, going back to that house made you uncomfortable, the feeling of being choked returning to your head as you hugged his mother, she was a nice lady- always worried about Simon, cleaning his mess and working her back off to afford him treatment. As much as she used to be a motherly figure to you, her hugs felt like Simon's; after having a small chat with her, you told her you were here to see her son, she said goodbye as she had to go meet Simon's dad somewhere and left you alone in the house.

Everything was silent there, only your footsteps ringing in your ears as you finally stood in Simon's door.

Knocking, you got in, the harsh smell of bad higiene hitting your nose as you saw his room, a complete mess, magazines on the floor, rotting food in plates and his wheelchair with clothes stacked up on it, the lump on the bed being Simon, who didn't even bother looking away from his phone to greet you.

He was vulnerable now- you had to remind yourself, he was weaker than never before; a small sense of pity forming in your gut as you walked towards his bed, sitting next to him as you placed your hand gently over his, him letting his phone drop to the covers as his eyes went to yours.

Deep eyebags, unkept facial hair and reddened eyes from sleeping all day- he looked like shit.

No words needed to be spoken, and neither of you wanted to anyways, anxiety filling up both your chests as your eyes met.

Your hand went to his face, caressing it softly, fingers then tangling on his greasy hair, sighing as you realized he was living as bad as he looked, his breath stank too- you trying your best to not make any face of disgust.

"Let's go wash you" You said to his surprise, but he didn't say anything, he was locking his feelings, afraid that if he showed any emotion he'd break into a million pieces, letting out his feelings for you in the proccess.

Getting up, you cleaned up his wheelchair, grabbing him up by his armpits as you dragged him to sit down on it, moving the chair towards his bathroom- thankfully his bathroom was big enough for you two, you going to turn the faucet on as you prepared him the tub, as soon as warm water filled it, you turned to Simon, giving him an awkard smile.

First step was to help him brush his teeth, as soon as he finished you helped him clean any toothpaste left overs from his facial hair.

He didn't even stare at you, his eyes lost on the tub as he thought how long had it been since he properly bathed, layers of sweat stuck to his skin- probably the water would end up black afterwards. Realizing he was a lost case, you kneeled in front of him to take off his black t-shirt, him offering no help nor protest, anxiety bubbling up your skin as you saw he spread his cuts to his torso, some fresh, some older, some already healed; you'd need to disinfect some later. Moving down, you began pulling down his pants, his hands instantly going to grab yours- his face crimson red as he looked away from you.

"It´s nothing i haven´t seen before Simon" You said- his hands leaving yours as he breathed a little more heavily.

Pulling the pants down with his boxers in one fast movement, you avoided looking at his groin- you weren't a perv. Lifting him up and getting him into the bathtub was another whole task, he had gained some weight, making it harder for you to move him in your arms. Once you had him in the tub, you got to work, applying shampoo on his head as you used a cup that was lying around to wet his hair.

You spent a good 15 minutes on his hair, untangling it and massaging his scalp, making him ease into it, letting out little sighs as he relaxed. After his hair looked shiny, you moved some of it from his face, smiling at the tenderness of the situation- the hatred you once had for each other forgotten into the peaceful situation, the only sound being of your fingers softingly cleaning Simon.

Things changed when you went with the sponge, your hand underwated rubbing on Simon's thighs, trying to clean his skin when his hand went to grab your arm, his wet hair pressing down on your shoulder as his fingers digged into your skin. Realizing what was going on, you had a mental debate- where you really gonna go down this path? What if he assumed you were going to go back with him if you "did" this?

However, something lit up inside of you... Seeing him so, vulnerable, desesperate- you were probably the first person to care for him this way in such a long time, wouldn't you extend your kindness just a bit more?

Letting go of the sponge, your hand went up his thigh, feeling his body hair thicken as your hand reached upper and upper, feeling the intense warmth emanating from his crotch, even in the hot water.

He let out a low groan as your hand grasped his hard dick, fingers going to rub his tip before masturbating him, hand moving up and down as he bit your shoulder, his whole body tensing. He finally looked at you- god, were you gorgeous, your brows furrowed as you bit your lip, focused on getting him to cum, now letting out groans and moans for you to hear, your face moving to his direction, finally your lips meeting as he felt his orgasm come closer, since he hadn't done anything in some time, being a bit too sensitive, not really lasting long before feeling the knot on his lower abdomen grow.

Your tongues danced with each other, your hand jerking him off rapidly as his grip on you tightened, letting out little mewls of your name as he broke the kiss, hiding his face on the crook of your neck as he came, his fluids mixing with the water as he came down from his high, breathing heavily.

"Well, we better change the water now"

#cry of fear #cry of fear x reader #cry of fear smut #david leatherhoff x reader #simon henriksson x reader

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cocogum · 2 months ago

Note

C'mon, sugar. Talk about Sadida and why you love him. You know you want to ;)

SJALDLEODODOWOFLFLFKODPE9D8SWIEOODOWOEOEOEIQODOFKSOSOSKKXOSOSLSODOD

GURL

When I say this man is fine, I mean he's FINE FINE LIKE-

Have you SEEN this tree man???

Of all the gods I could've fallen for in an unhealthy way, I really didn't think Sadida would be it.

And omg, I'm so glad I even saw this green guy ❤️❤️❤️❤️

I can actually remember when was the first time I got to know about him.

I was probably 11-12 at the time, and I was scrolling on the Krosmoz wiki. I wanted to know more about the twelve gods because Wakfu didn't tell you much about them, and that was in a time when I didn't know about the Krosmoz timeline and how there were so many other works lined up before Wakfu.

I came to learn about all the gods and how they looked, thanks to the wiki, and that's where I SAW HIM.

At first, I just thought he looked cool and mysterious with his mask, but when I learned about the Krosmoz timeline, my ass watched the Dofus movie, Kerubim's Treasures' show, AND THEN ENDED UP ON THE OGREST MANGA SET (i did all this in another year and i precisely remember that the ogrest manga still has four and thr fifth is getting NEAR!!)

As soon as my hands got the Ogrest volumes, my perspective on Sadida COMPLETELY changed. I didn't expect to find so much lore about one god in the Ogrest manga, but I was so glad it ended up being Sadida!!

Not only did Mig, the writer and illustrator, did such an excellent job working with such a mature style, but Sadida had been the center of some chapters WITH THAT VERY SAME STYLE.

(Yeah, I'm going to be talking a lot about the Ogrest manga specifically cuz Sadida has been seen so much in there)

And now you're telling me the fifth volume, a volume I've been waiting for AGES NOW, has Sadida as its cover!?!?!?

THE DELIBERATE CHOICE OF MAKING SADIDA THE MAIN FOCUS OF THE COVER CANNOT BE A COINCIDENCE ‼️‼️‼️

This only implies that we're going to see more of him in this volume, and I'm already ready for it like I've legit been spamming the Ankama shop's refresh button just to see that damn Ogrest volume 5 in the Dofus section already 😭😭😭😭

PLEASE I'M SO GONNA GET FED WHEN IT COMES OUT ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

I follow Mig on tumblr and insta (cuz duh, why wouldn't I), so when I first saw that damn cover, I swear my ass freaking squealed when I saw his official post.

We even got some small sneak peeks here and there of the volume on insta, but my eye especially caught that one Sadida shot, which I think may have been from Lacrima's pov.

Just look at him 💖💖

Look at my cute little baby and his cute little cat feet I just wanna jxkskdldlldlfdl

Despite knowing and seeing all these sneak peeks and finally seeing what the fifth volume cover looks like, I didn't get to find an official release date....

Until @ol-files mentioned in a reblog how it's probably gonna come out in mid-October lol LET'S GOOOOOO ‼️‼️‼️‼️💖💖💖💖💖

My guy has game, look at him with himselves his women 💕💕

Name one other god who can pull up ten chicks like that all at the same time and keep them in his realm. THAT'S RIGHT, NONE.

Not even Iop can do that lol

The Ogrest manga made me learn so much about him that we even saw how he made the sadida dolls.

DJKSKDOSLSKDLDLDLDLDLDLDPDP

HE WAS LITERALLY A SEED PLEASE I-

He's so independent, my guy didn't even need anyone's help for this.

Like we're talking about the fact that he made his very first doll without any instructions. It's like he subconsciously knew what to do already. No beginner's guide, no anything. Damn.

HE'S SO CUTE WHY IS HE SO CUTE!?!?!?! 💖❤️💖❤️💖❤️💖❤️💖😍💖😍💖❤️💖❤️😍💖😍💖💖😍��💖😍❤️💖😍💖

LOOK AT HIM ❤️❤️❤️ I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW HE COULD BRAID HIS HAIR LIKE THAT 💖😭😭💖😭💖😭 he's such a babygirl omg.

I bet one or two of his dolls did his hair that one time lol

Imagine getting yourself a man who's fine with having cute little braids and doing anything with you no matter how "girly" or "weird" it may look AND STILL HAVE THAT RIZZ.

Iop is such a loser for that lol

I'm really sorry for bringing up Iop twice to criticize him, but I truly want to emphasize the significant distinctions between Sadida and Iop. If we closely examine their behaviors and personalities, it becomes increasingly obvious that these two are complete opposites among all the gods in the Krosmoz. They represent the two extreme ends of manhood, illustrating their polar opposition.

Literally, I'm not even exaggerating.

Sadida: plays with dolls, is sensitive to losing someone dear, isn't afraid to show his delicate side to women, doesn't mind having cute hair, cares for who he loves, plays an instrument, keeps his creations with him and only lets them out when they had to, enjoys plants and taking care of them.

Iop: big macho solid man, hides himself to cry, committed grape, is too prideful, doesn't think much, gets disgusted with anything that doesn't relate to his sexuality (no joke he literally said "ew" when he learned he indirectly procreated with Sadida in the Dofus manga), abandons his wives, put a curse on one of his kids (Goultard), disowned one of them (Goultard) and probably many more.

Like do you see this shit???

These two are so different from each other that it's weird but also ironic, given that they had a kid together lol

Sadida's rizz is superior to any other god, I don't care what you say. Just look at him rizzing up Dathura with his flute bro he's so good that he even ended up making Lacrima, another hottie, jealous of Dathura.

But I know what some might be thinking: he crafted them personally for a particular purpose, which is why his dolls necessitated his attentive handling, WHEN THAT IS COMPLETELY FALSE.

When only six sadida dolls were able to charm the dragons to make the primordial dofus, Sadida did not get angry at the other four who failed. He simply told them they made a great effort.

Translation:

Once they were all reunited, Sadida congratulated the six who had succeeded and the others for their efforts.

And guess what? Even after the four sadida dolls' attempts, Sadida never stopped taking care of them!

He even comforts Lacrima, the only sadida doll of the bunch who truly felt troubled by failing the mission.

Translation:

Sadida comforts her, telling her how unimportant the result was in his eyes...

And in the arms of her beloved, she understood...

Her destiny was elsewhere, linked to the quality that had been entrusted to her.

GET YOURSELF A MAN LIKE SADIDA ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

He's so caring to his little dolls that it's too sweet. He's clearly that one boyfriend who will immediately take care of you when you're on your period or having cravings 😭❤️❤️❤️

I even made some gifs of him cuz I felt cute that one time 💕💕💕

Some were from Waven:

I could only find and make three of him there since Waven is still in construction and the only twelvian god things I could find at the shop were the emotes and each god had three expressions you could use: happy, angry, defeated.

And others were from Krosmaga:

The first is when you win the battle and unlock him, while the second is when you lose, so you don't get him and have to restart the fight 😭😭

However, the surprising part about Sadida was that his design was still being worked on when the Dofus movie was finished.

Can you believe that Ankama almost screwed up when they were still making his design, by the way?

No joke, if you don't know this, they were almost going to make him look like a cabbage or carnivorous plant....

LIKE BROTHER EWWW NO WHY DID THEY THINK HE'D LOOK GOOD LIKE THAT!?!?!?

These two Sadida character designs used to be design sheets from the Dofus movie 2 that the Ankama team still had in their folders. The title for the second Dofus movie was called "The Return of Julith," and we were going to meet all the gods in there, which is why you'd be able to see some very early character designs of them.

(We've still got no news for the second movie, but Tot did say there might be a chance that they'll make the second one, according to this post, which talks about the upcoming releases of Krosmoz media. So if we do get that second movie, WE MIGHT JUST SEE SADIDA !! Unlike how we only saw a destroyed statue of him in season 4 lol)

I'm genuinely grateful (and RELIEVED) that Ankama threw out his old designs because he clearly didn't look good in those. Not to mention that they didn't look clever like his now canonical design ✨️✨️

So yeah, my leafy husband is clearly very hardworking and sentimental 💕💕💕

I NEED HIS FINISHER MOVE (the gif on the right) SO BADLY YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

I also already bought his emotes from Waven lol

Look at him looking all giddy and happy while twirling some plants around!

This man has no excuse to be this cute 😫😫

art by maba-product on facebook

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ladykailitha · 1 year ago

Text

Royal Pain Part 26

Hello, and we have got to the end of the massive arc that culminated the last four chapters.

I also wrote this part before 24 and 25 because I couldn't figure out how to write Eddie having a hard time on tour, but the aftermath flowed from my fingers.

Also as a reminder this story is finished, I'm just posting on a regular schedule. This story is the longest fanfic I've ever written. Topping out at 58165 it's definitely longer than 50K fic I wrote for NaNoWriMo last year (Sandman, never finished or published.)

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23 Pt 24 Pt 25

****

“You’ve been sitting on that sofa for an entire week,” Wayne growled. “Steve has called three times, your bandmates at least a dozen times each. Hell, boy Miranda has been calling concerned. So want to tell me what’s fucking got you so twisted?”

“I was given a choice out there on the road,” Eddie said, twisting his rings around his fingers. “Stay in Indy and play small time gigs for the rest of my adult life or go to LA and get an album and the chance at super stardom.”

Wayne sat down next him. “Sounds like a big decision to make.”

Eddie leapt to his feet. “That’s the problem. That’s what makes me so angry how fucking easy the choice is.”

Wayne cocked his head to the side. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate again, boy. Start talking.”

Eddie started pacing back and forth. “As much as I loved playing for so many people, I didn’t like that I could only connect with a handful of them and not even the good kind.” He rubbed his chin angrily. “I didn’t like how tired we all were. It was set up, sound check, play, break down and move on to the next fucking town. And that wasn’t including all the parties, interviews, and all that other shit.”

“That does sound exhausting, Ed.”

“I didn’t like how easy it was for them to tell me to drop Gareth as drummer just because he had trouble adjusting to the increased volume. The price of fame they said. Like it was so simple to throw away almost two decades of friendship for the sake of adoring crowds and hearing our music on the radio.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Wayne said softly. “They didn’t...”

“Oh they absolutely did,” Eddie raged. “I didn’t like how they thought that because me and Steve’s relationship was new that I would be able to find someone better. Someone who liked metal, someone who would be down for the ride.”

Wayne furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t sound like good advice.”

Eddie grabbed his hair pulled at it frustration. “The last straw was when they offered to let their tattooist to finish my back tattoo, because while my artist was good, theirs was better.”

He stopped abruptly and turned to face Wayne. “I picked Steve to do my tattoo on my back because he was the only one I trusted to make it meaningful. To understand the symbolism of making something of yourself when everyone is rooting against you. I made the decision before I fell in love with him and now that we’re a couple– and for them to just dismiss him like that? It made me so angry.”

“So what’s the problem? What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I’m fucking furious because I always thought that when fame and fortune came knocking I would throw open that door and march right through it. But now? Given the choice? I’m slamming the door in its face and walking away.”

Hot tears ran down his face. “And I don’t know why.”

He dropped to his knees and began to sob.

Wayne stood up and put his arms around his nephew’s shoulders, gently pulling him to his chest.

“Did that band you were traveling with say that?” he whispered into Eddie’s curls. “Because if they did, I swear to god I will burn every record and CD you have of theirs. Don’t think I won’t. I’ll delete them off your phone too.”

Eddie chuckled weakly. “No, no. They were kind. It was everyone else we met. Agents, managers, roadies, groupies, the people around Metallica every day.”

Wayne nodded.

“I was just constantly bombarded with hateful messages and the constant running at one hundred percent...” he whimpered. “I don’t want to do it.”

“Have you told your band that?” Wayne asked.

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t dare to. I was the one that was gung ho about the touring and everything. How do I tell them I don’t want to leave the comfort of Indianapolis and home?”

“Kinda like that,” Jeff said from the doorway. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against the frame. Peaking around him was Miranda with a concerned look on her face.

Eddie scrambled to his feet and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’m sorry I’ve been a brat.”

Jeff took three giant steps forward and hugged him fiercely. “You’re not being a brat. You’re scared and trying to figure it all out on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? We’ve all been worried sick about you. But Steve especially. I’ll call all the boys down for a chat and you call Steve, okay?”

Eddie nodded.

He dialed the number he knew by heart.

“Baby?” he asked, unsure of the reaction he was going to get. He deserved to be yelled at. Cursed at. Broken up with. He’d hurt Steve the most with this little temper tantrum he’d been having.

“Eds?” Steve breathed. “Sunshine, are you okay? Wayne said you hadn’t been eating well or sleeping much. Say the word and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

Eddie’s lip began to quiver and tears spilled out of his eyes. “I need you. More than anything.”

“I’m on my way,” Steve said fiercely.

Eddie looked over at Jeff.

“Tell Steve Brian will swing by and pick him up.”

Eddie nodded and relayed the message back to Steve.

“I’ll be at my apartment,” Steve said. “I’ll have Robin arrange my schedule, don’t you worry about thing, baby.”

“Mm’k.”

“I love you, Eds.”

Eddie closed his eyes and breathed in the warmth of that simple phrase. “Love you, too, pretty boy. Come quick.”

“I promise.”

Steve piled into Brian’s car. It was the newest, having bought it right before they got picked up by Metallica. He had finally saved up enough money to replace his beater.

Gareth and Gethin in the backseat. Gethin had come up to Indy to watch his twin’s apartment while he was gone and just ended up staying. He was currently looking for a job so that he could move in with Gareth full time.

At least that what they said on the trip down. The twins and Brian were intent on filling the air with talk and Steve let them. He let them fill him in on the tour and everything that had been going on since they’d left.

Steve couldn’t be for certain, but it sounded like that touring hadn’t been fun for anyone. Even after a week of rest, he could still make out the circles under their eyes and how hunched over they were with just sheer exhaustion.

A feeling Steve felt all too well.

Gethin was pressed against his twin’s side and was rubbing his neck soothingly.

Steve looked at Brian.

His face was set, hard and unflinching. He was going to make the drive to Hawkins as fast as he could and still avoid the cops.

Steve was grateful Brian was driving because he didn’t think he would have made the distinction to avoid breaking the law. He would have gunned it and flipped off any cop that tried to catch him.

After awhile, Steve was getting the oddest feeling that Brian was used to speeding down this stretch of highway because there were points where he would slow down for a few miles and then speed right back up.

Soon enough they were pulling up to Wayne’s trailer and piling out the car.

Eddie sat on the sofa with Jeff and Miranda on either side of him, just hugging him.

Wayne was busying himself in the kitchen, getting ready to feed the hoard that was about to descend on his home.

The door opened up and Brian, Gareth, and Gethin all stumbled through the entryway. Eddie was on his feet in an instant, Jeff and Miranda not far behind.

And then the trio at the door parted and there stood Steve. Looking just as tired and worn as Eddie felt.

“Stevie?” Eddie asked, taking a step toward him uncertainly.

Steve threw open his arms and Eddie ran straight into them. They wrapped their arms around each other and just sobbed.

“I’m here, Eds,” Steve murmured into Eddie’s neck. “I’m here. I love you so much.”

Eddie lifted his head and kissed him hard. “I love you, too. I regret leaving you behind, sweetheart. It nearly killed me. Every song I wrote was about you. About missing you. I don’t even want to leave you ever again, I can’t.”

The silence that followed that statement was deafening.

Steve led Eddie back over to couch and sat them both down. “Tell us everything, babe.”

And so Eddie did. He told them everything. Everything he had told Wayne, everything that had been weighing on his mind since they started touring. It all just came out in a flood.

They all listened patiently.

“Why didn’t you tell us you felt like that while we were on the road?” Gareth asked. “I knew what they were saying about me, but I also knew you guys wouldn’t drop me. If you had me about that I would have been able to reassure you that I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Eddie flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t know how to bring it up, it was so vile, man.”

Jeff gave his hand a squeeze. “Well, I think that you did a bang up job telling us now and that’s what really matters.”

“Someone offered to ship me out to LA and record an album,” Eddie finally admitted. “Not the band, just me. I told him that I wouldn’t go without you guys and he laughed in my face. Told me to cut the dead weight and be a star.” He dragged his hands over his face.

“But there were other offers. Good ones. Ones that included the band, well most of it, anyway. Always under the proviso that Gareth be replaced either on tour or all together. They didn’t want to make any accommodations for him even though there is a drummer with one god damn arm!”

“So the options are,” Brian said, “stay in Indy doing what we’ve been doing, only better because of the money we got for doing this tour. Go to LA without Gareth. Go to LA with Gareth but only as a studio musician and take some person we don’t know on tour with us. Does that sound about right?”

Just then Gareth’s phone went off. He looked at it with a frown. It wasn’t a number recognized so he let it go to voicemail. He pulled it up after the notification popped up.

He listened to message with wide eyes. “Hey guys, I think we have another option.” And he played the message so everyone could hear.

“Hey, Mr Hughes,” the tinny voice said through the speaker. “This is Murray Bauman, I’m music producer, we spoke in Las Vegas. I think I have the perfect deal for you boys. You were telling me that touring was really hard on you and that if there was an option you wouldn’t do that. I know you weren’t speaking for all your band, but I could tell that they would do anything for you, all four of you being such good friends.

“So the reason for this call is that I own a small music company in Bloomington and boy do I have a deal for you all. You would make a record through us, we would sell and distribute the record, keeping a portion of the sales, of course. But you wouldn’t have to tour. You have a steady gig as I understand it. If your fans want to see you play, they’ll know where to find you.

“But give me a call, we’ll hash out the details. My phone number is 555-555-2080...” and then message beeped, signaling the end of the voicemail.

Eddie looked down at the phone and then back up at Gareth. “Oh.”

Gareth grinned. “We don’t even have to take his offer, but I vote we listen to it. Brian can bring Cecil.”

Brian nodded. “He’s only got a semester left of law school, but I’ll have him brush up on his contract law to be on the safe side.”

Jeff raised his hand. “All in favor of hearing Mr Bauman out raise your hand?”

Eddie, Brian, and Gareth’s hands shot up.

“Sounds good,” Jeff said. “You call him back and set it up and if it doesn’t work out we can vote again.”

Brian shook his head. “Nah. I think if it doesn’t work, we stick to Nightmare Holes. We took a swing at it and if it’s a miss then we tried. I thought I wanted the touring and everything that came with stardom, but like Eddie I learned I wanted the romanticized version of it. I’ll be happy playing in front of our friends for the rest of our lives.”

The rest of the band nodded.

Soon everyone getting up to go back to Indy, but Steve stayed behind, he would go back up with Eddie in the morning. They had things to discuss that went deeper then the band.

****

Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

I told you I would fix it.

Also a little BTS, the reason in my head for why things went wrong on tour but immediately righted itself when Eddie and Steve met up again? Steve still has Eddie's lucky pick. ;)

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee @slowandsteddie @awkwardgravity1 @steaddie-on

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #tattoo artist steve

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adventuringblind · 1 year ago

Text

Drive With You Forever

Chapter 7.5: The one about Daniel

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader

Chapter summary: Daniel is a pervert and the quartet wants to thank him

Warnings: Daniel is kinda gross in this (I'm sorry, I promise I love him), BDSM themes, dom/sub vibes, consent is given, then taken away, use of safe words, choking, PinV, blacking out and dissasociation, hate fuck, anal,

Notes: I've been on A03 far too much in the last three weeks for research purposes. Now we are here, and I have no idea what I'm doing. But! I give this stupid interlude while I try to figure out who on earth to write smut between three and four people. Don't judge me, okay? I'm trying T_T

Previous <-

Masterlist

Originally, the entire group was dumbfounded, knowing the things Daniel openly talked about. Even though Max had been his teammate for years, Daniel said he couldn't get past seeing him as a seventeen year old kid. Then which talking about such things is just gross.

It was day five of Charles and Max staying with the Australian. The two having found that making sure the door is locked behind them is an important detail.

The text conversation that night made it seem as though they would never consider this an option.

Charles: Daniel is never allowed to go near the children

Lando: what children?

Chatles: you and y/n

Lando: just because we're the youngers dosen't mean we're kids -_-

Y/N: Wouldn't the things we do be very illegal if we were?

Lando: Exactly!

Maxy: I think the idea here is that Daniel doesn't deserve to be around you two. I don't trust him either.

Charles looks over to Max after the lack of respons from their younger counterparts.

Lando: *video message* pretty sure children don't do this.

Max: Ha! Charles just played the video so fast he forgot to check his volume and Daniel came running at an inhuman speed and fell into the door!

Charles: serves him right

Charles: also Lando how are you recording with your tongue down her throat?

Lando: skills ;)

Max: so we're all agreed that we're keeping Daniel at arms length right?

Y/N: without a doubt

Charles: further might be better

Lando: *video* nope he dosen't get to experience this

Things escalated when all four were there. Daniel seemed to love putting his ear to the door. Max had not hesitated to put a hand to his face for that one

Only for him to be more frustrated when Daniel started saying filthy things right after.

Daniel was utterly determined, and it was concerning.

The worst attempt was when Daniel said he was going to a party and wouldn't be back until the morning. Opting to stay with his friend instead of driving and wanting to respect that the four were trying to be out as little as possible.

Pent-up sexual tension came to a breaking point after Daniel had been gone for an hour.

Clothes were off far too quickly. Things had escalated way too far that any logical sense was lost to raging hormones.

They left the door unlocked.

Daniel thought he was so clever lying to them. And in his defense, he was. He waited outside the apartment door for an hour. The walls weren't thin, but with four of them, it was easy to tell what was going on.

He snuck back in quietly. And even managed to get the door open without them noticing.

It took Max three minutes to notice him. Five minutes to get his clothes on. Anither five to make sure his partners were okay. Then an hour of chewing out Daniel.

All four had a usual role that they slipped into. Max happened to be the most dominant of the four. His want for control is not just on the race track.

They'd managed to convince him to give up that control when they raced and someone finished higher, but it wasn't to often.

With this, Max was also dubbed the king of consent. He never did or tried anything without discussion. Always asked before continuing. Communication in the bedroom was easier for him than in everyday life.

So when Daniel decided to watch them without their knowledge, Max was all over him.

"I feel like we should get him something as a thank you." The girl brought up one afternoon.

The other three shoot her a look of shock.

"For what? Watching us be intimate?"

"No, but at least for letting us stay with him and for keeping us safe from everyone but him."

Lando couldn't help but agree. "No idea what to get him thought."

Charles rubs his face. More in exasperation than anything. Sometimes, he hates how giving the younger two can be.

"We could ask him? Maybe take him out to dinner or something?" Shrugs Max.

They asked that night while they were seated in the living room. Daniel had kept some space after Max had lectured him, so the thought of him asking for anything to do with sex was not what they thought would happen.

"Absolutely not."

"You said anything."

"I lied."

"You're speaking for all four of you, Max."

Max exchanges a look with Charles. The two are on the same page. The younger, however, are people pleasers.

"We need to talk about it first."

"I feel bad though."

"Y/N, it's your body. If you don't want to, then you say no. Simple as that."

"But I also want to thank him."

It's a difficult decision, to say the least, but Max eventually gives in to the idea of a discussion.

Max is cautious about his words and makes sure Daniel knows exactly what the rules are. Charles is still reminding the younger two that they can back out at any point. Lando is actually turned on by his partners protectivness over them and thinks but wants to show Daniel their appreciation. Then the female, who has managed to be the only one with three partners she trusts.

This is different.

She trusts Max isn't going to let anything bad happen. She trusts Charles to communicate if she's struggling; the Monegasque can read her body like a clock.

Thats what got them here. Specifically, he got Max in his least favorite place. Out of control.

It didn't help that him and Charles still had their clothes on. It didn't help that they were tied to dining room chairs and made to watch the scene unfold.

Everyone was shocked they gave in to it. But Daniel had agreed to every term and condition, so again, Max relented. Though a bit peeved at being called no fun.

Him and Charles keep exchanging glances. Charles didn't take kindly to being called an attention hog. Ultimately landing him next to Max.

The two watch on as Daniel put himself in charge. They had the luxury of not being tied down and the freedom of moving around.

They knew who was really in charge, though. Every time Daniel did something, they would look to Max and Charles for approval. Only continuing after having been given the nod to continue.

Daniel was the most excited. Finally, he had them where he wanted them. His teammate from years ago made to watch him take his lovers just ad Daniel was forced to watch him steal redbulls' priorities.

Charles who stole away his fans with his charming looks and contagious smile made to watch his lovers smile at him instead.

Lando. His current teammate. Now at his complete mercy after having outshown the entire season.

Then, lastly, the female currently underneath him. The one who he knew was a slut for different men. He finally was getting his chance with her.

It's was perfect. Until it wasn't.

Lando had started disassociating. He was exhausted, and Daniel was relentless. Lando had officially left when Daniel litterally slammed into him for the first time. It hurt way too much for how little they worked up to it. He couldn't communicate his needs, and the girl beside them couldn't either.

She was gone when Daniel started name calling. The filthy things that left his mouth similar to things her dad had said growing up. Similar to those of the toxic fans she worked so hard to combat.

Daniel basically threw Lando to the side and took her next. There was no foreplay for her. There was no build-up. Daniel kept hitting her for some reason she couldn't figure out.

Then, his hands were around her throat. She tried to turn away from him. Look at Max and Charles for help, but Daniel forced her gaze to him.

"Don't look at them. Look at me."

Lando was attempting to come back to himself. Daniel was still touching him roughly, and he wanted it to be over, but to get that, he needed to come back.

"God, I've been wanting to use you so bad for so long."

Black spots dance around her vision. It's funny because the things he's doing and saying sometimes we're nice when they came from her lovers. Why was this so different.

His hands were far too tight on her throat. She couldn't get air in. Her body was going limp on the bed as she tried to force oxygen into her system.

The word on the tip of her tongue. But she was gone before she could get it out.

Lando is the first to feel in happen given he's somewhat on top of her. Daniel doesn't stop, and he's now in panic mode.

He wills himself back. He lets out a shrill noise as he comes back to his senses. Though he curses himself for not just saying his word. But his panicked eyes are still able to meet those of Max and Charles who are looking around frantically.

It's Max who says it first. "Red!"

Bu Daniel either doesn't hear it or chooses to ignore it.

Lando is actively fighting the hold now. Daniel's hand on his face feels like it's burning him.

Then it's Max and Charles shouting the word.

The Australian finally halts in his tracks and removes his hands from the two youngers.

Lando is up in an instant, untying the two. Max first as he is going to drag Daniel off the female. The Charles who's soothing Lando. Helping him to cover up.

"What happened to respecting the safe word?" Max is furious. He can feel he anger boiling over as he shoves Daniel away.

The girl who wanted to please now lay unconscious and naked. Max can see her chest rising and falling it rapid breaths. The bruises and red patches had been blossoming across her skin.

Daniel looks ashamed of himself. He knew he shouldn't go into this with the mindset of taking back something. But he couldn't resist the temptation.

Charles tosses Max a blanket. He lays it down gently over the female to cover her body from Daniel's eyes.

Lando was hurting to the touch, and Charles could clearly see every unnecessary mark. Lando was practically passing out in his arms from the sheer mental and physical exhaustion.

Max shoved Daniel out of the room. He'd lecture him later about safe sex practices and how he needs to watch more carefully.

Something in Max told him he wasn't deliberately trying to hurt them. Daniel just wasn't right going in, and Max could see the regret on his face.

Lando was dripping with apologies. Something Max and Charles were quick to soothe. He wanted to please, and they knew that. It hurt then to see the Brit so distressed.

Max left the room to get supplies. Ice, water, food, and some rags to help the two get cleaned up. Daniel had his head in his hands when he came out.

"I'm truly sorry. I got caught up in my own emotions."

"Look, Daniel, I'm pissed at you for not being careful and disrespecting boundaries. However, at the end of the day, you are still my friend. But I swear to you, if you ever try anything like that again, I'll make sure you never drive another car for the rest of your life."

"Valid." Daniel looks around awkwardly. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you have them."

"Yeah, you're lucky you were on the receiving end of their giving. Neither of them finished because they were so focused on you."

"Yeah sexually they're great. But I mean in every way. I guess I'm jealous of what you four have."

"It is pretty amazing."

"I take it I'm in for another lecture?"

"No, and I think you'll like what ne and Charles are planning for you much better."

Everything hurt when she came back to the land of the living. Her throat and neck were stiff. Her lower half ached in a way she didn't know was possible. Then the memories came rushing back.

She's quick to sit up and look around for her partners. Panic settled in that she did something wrong and disappointed them.

Lando is next to her, still asleep. She vaugley remembers the pain on Landos face when Daniel first took him.

She figures they are going to hear about it later from Max and Charles. But to be fair, they had tried multiple times to get it to stop.

Lando is startled awake at the sounds of a shrill shriek from down the hall.

Both shoot out of bed, look at each other, and assess the damage.

The noise can wait. Hugs are neccecary first.

Lando runs his fingers over her throat, and she traces the outline of red hand prints along his waist.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asks her.

"Sore but okay. You?" Her voice is raspy due to the pressure from earlier.

"Same. I didn't think he would go that hard."

"He didn't listen to Max at all I don't think. And even though we all consented and agreed, I don't think he was fully there to do so."

"Do you think their mad at us?"

"No, we tried to stop it. We didn't do anything wrong."

"Charles wants us to talk about how we two need to put ourselves first."

She groans in exasperation. "Speaking if them, where are they?"

Soon, they find themselves sneaking off down the hall. Their lovers are nowhere insight. Anither shriek startles them.

"You don't think..?"

They come up to the door where the noises are coming from and peer inside.

It takes all their willpower not to laugh as Daniel is at the complete mercy of Charles and Max. His limbs tied tightly to the bed.

They're not even touching him, and he looks completely blissed out.

Max spots the two in the door and nods them inside with a smile. "We've agreed that Daniel needs to learn about respect during scenes. Care to join us?"

The two look at each other skeptically. Is this an order? Is Daniel okay with this?

Charles takes his fingers out of Daniel's mouth and comes to greet the two. "Same rules, different set-up. You two are taking not giving. You hear me?"

That one was definitely an order.

They stare at Daniel, whose muscles are twitching. "Does he... want this?"

"The better question is if you two want this? Otherwise me and Charles are going to make sure he knows what he did was wrong." Max winks.

They can't help but be a little excited at the prospect of watching Max and Charles make Daniel squirm.

Next ->

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak @jjsprobablywrong

@chanshintien @graceelive

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storiesbyrhi · 11 months ago

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Witch!Reader x Bat/Vampire!Eddie Munson Series Masterlist The Grimoire The Timeline

Warnings: canon typical violence, horror genre typical violence/some infrequent gore, swearing, animal death, no beta, death in childbirth (mentioned, not described), abusive parents, suicide, spiders/bugs, grief/mourning; warnings updated each chapter.

Synopsis: No witch has stepped foot in Hawkins since 1845, but when Vecna opens the ground and poisons the town, a voice begins to call to you. Have you been brought back to this cursed place to heal the townspeople’s wounds, to save a hexed bat that always finds its way to you, or to redefine your history with a reunion 150 years in the making?

Chapter Summary: It's time to wake up. 2292 words.

1986

Eddie remained still as he watched over your spell-induced sleep. Your eyes were darting back and forth behind your eyelids and your lips parted to allow fast shallow breaths to pull in and out. After twenty minutes, Eddie moved from under you so he could scoop you up and take you to the bed. He laid you upon it like a knight with a princess, then crawled in next to you.

He remained vigilant. Vigilant and hopeful.

Precisely one hour after you drank the rosemary potion, your eyes fluttered open. He didn’t know what he had expected exactly, but it was not nothing. You said nothing. Did nothing. Just stared up at the peeling paint of the trailer’s ceiling.

As softly as he could, Eddie said your name but gained no response. A second attempt, cooing, “My little witch? Are you there?”

You blinked hard a few times. Slowly you pushed yourself into a sitting position, the movements so heavy it looked like it hurt. With some hesitation, your gaze settled on Eddie.

He took one of your hands in his and while it was grounding, it wasn’t enough. He watched as you crumpled, face twisting with sadness and body curling in on itself. You sobbed so hard your body shook as if it was the epicenter of an earthquake.

Between the cries and the hyperventilating, you couldn’t catch your breath. You pushed away from Eddie and tried to stand, but fell to the floor. Eddie was immediately at your side, but you forced him away again and stayed where you were on all fours.

Body convulsing, brain short-circuiting, you were a mess quickly deteriorating into something worse. Once well-trodden neural pathways that had been gated away were suddenly walked. Old emotions were raw and new. Knowledge that felt dangerous when only a hypothesis was now proven and true, and it was like poison in your veins.

You threw up on the carpet, then backed away, scurrying into a corner and hugging your legs to your chest. As you began a self-soothing rock, everything got louder and louder until you could no longer process any of it. The cup was running over. The volume could not be turned higher. There were too many colours and now all you could see and feel was white hot white.

When you went still in the corner, Eddie was relieved for only a moment before the fear set in that you’d not recover from this. He stood and got to work cleaning the puke from the floor as a distraction. You didn’t watch him, your eyes glazed over and unfocused. Dead, almost.

The glass of water Eddie brought to you did nothing to stir you. When he took your hand, trying to get you to at least hold the thing, he found your body was limp and pliable, like a sad ragdoll.

With one of your mixtapes on, Eddie sat by your side and held your hand. A human would have given up earlier, not out of a lack of will, but by the demand of their body. Sitting still for hours on end was not natural. Eddie, though, could play statue well.

…

The day had been long – grieving teens in the morning and spellcasting in the afternoon. Now, a little before midnight, Eddie was swallowing the feeling of panic. You’d been catatonic for a little over five hours.

With no words spilling from your mouth to tell him how you felt, Eddie had to make do with other hints. He could hear your heartbeat. It was steady, calm. At least you were not in the fits of a panic. However, the rhythmic pulse was an uneasy thing – too normal in an entirely abnormal situation.

Your skin did not feel any hotter than usual. No fever setting in. Similarly, you weren’t shaking anymore. No trembling hands.

It was your scent that told him the most. Almost overpowering your baseline of sweetpea and black birch was the smell of fear. It was a sad kind of fear. Nectar from a melancholy flower. Then, the sharp smell of urine. Any power you had over your own body was gone.

Eddie clenched his jaw and swallowed a whining sound of misery. “I’ll run you a bath, my love,” he whispered to you before leaving you alone.

Out in the night, Eddie picked wildflowers and collected leaves from a sassafras tree. He returned in minutes, filling the tub with hot water for you as you once had for him. He brewed a bath of petals and Epsom salt.

Although it came as no surprise, it still hurt to find you exactly how he’d left you. There was no resistance as he began to undress you, but Eddie still asked for permission and told you what was happening. He didn’t know if you were conscious, if you were there behind those unfocused eyes. So, he narrated it all.

“I’m sorry. We are almost done,” he said. “I’m going to take these off then we’ll put you in the bath. Does that sound good?”

Eddie peeled your underwear off with a clinical sort of tenderness. He picked you up like a bride and brought you to the bath. Before lowering you into the water, he checked the temperature again. If it was too hot, you would probably boil before crying out.

He watched your face for micro expressions and checked your skin for heat. When he was sure you were okay, Eddie began to talk.

“I believe you would be proud of me,” he started. “Salt and yarrow to help you heal. You had those stocked in your little apothecary. The flowers are all fresh. Both the woundwort and vervain are healers too. You once told me that plants have many names, but often their use finds its way into the names too. Heal-all is another name for woundwort, and vervain is the holy herb. Lastly, the leaves. I forget the name of the tree, the one that smells nice. You said it was good that it grows easily, for its usefulness is endless.”

Eddie was struck by his ability to remember these details. He felt as though he could hear your voice, your lessons, come through his own as he recalled knowledge of the natural world.

“I left them whole,” he said, picking up one of the sassafras leaves and twirling it by its stem. “They’re a nice shape. And, if they do nothing to help, at the very least they have provided some coverage.” Eddie glanced down at the water where your body was mostly hidden beneath the green.

After some time in silence, Eddie carefully pulled your body back up from where you had slipped into the water a little too much. The water was lukewarm, and he considered what he would do next.

“I wish I was powerful like you. I wish I could recite a spell and bring you back.”

When the water lost its heat, Eddie took you back to the bedroom. He gently dried you with the softest towel he could find, then dressed you in what he had observed you wearing to bed. Under the covers, Eddie pulled you close to him, holding your back to his chest and keeping you safe.

At 3:00 am, the witching hour, your eyes closed and you fell into an exhausted sleep.

…

The light was blinding. You instinctively closed your eyes, raising a hand to shield yourself from the brightness. Someone said your name, but it sounded like all the names you’d ever had. From the first – to Amabel – to the one you wore now. Then, the light was blocked by a figure standing before you.

When you dropped your hand and looked at them, they looked like every witch that had met a fate riding a white horse. The Witches Who Came Before. All of them, all at once.

“You cannot stay here,” they said. It was strange to hear their voice. Voices. A chorus of women singing a singular note.

“It hurts,” you told them.

“Of course it hurts. Still, you cannot stay here.”

You looked around. Where was here? You could focus on any one thing, your gaze fuzzy and the light obscuring your view of your surroundings.

“This changes everything,” you tried to explain. “I didn’t know there could be this kind of… betrayal.” If a witch did something bad it was usually brutal but simple. Black magic. Conspiring. It changed the fabric of your understanding of the world to know a witch could do to their sister what had happened to you.

“Are you to abstain yourself from guilt and agency?”

“I… I never meant…” but your argument trailed off. No, you had not intended to hurt anyone by spending time with Eddie in 1836. Yet, had you been wrong about him, your coven and the humans would have been put at an even greater risk than they were already at. Regardless of your intentions, you did lie to your coven.

“And they only meant to protect, as is a witch’s calling,”

“If I had gone to them from the beginning. If I had told them there was a vampire who was not like the others. That he could love and be loved. That, in the war, he could be an ally… Do you think they would have listened?”

“We are not to know what may have come to pass. It is done. History will not-”

“Repeat itself. I know. You’ve said,” you interrupted them. “And lore will be rewritten,”

“And so, you must leave. You cannot stay here.”

For a moment, you gazed in awe at the ever-changing face. Monstrous and magnificent. Then, it slowed and stilled to a recognisable image. “Penelope?”

“Amabel.”

You genuinely didn’t know what you wanted to do more – throw a punch or a hug.

Like she could see the internal fight written all over you, she smiled and said, “I know, child. We are not to know what may have come to pass. But in our duty to learn from history, we concede error. The Witches were not consulted in 1836. This was an error.”

Before you could say anything, Penelope was just another face in the mix. You figured that was as close to an apology as you were ever going to get.

“I miss you,” you told her. “I miss you all so, so much,”

“You cannot stay here,” they said again. “There are loose ends to thread.”

In a split second, the bright had gone dark and you were left in the cold.

…

The first thing you sensed was a heaviness holding you in place. Eddie. You were in a vampire cage, enclosed in his arms as he held onto you for dear life. Then, the bedroom, as you had left it. Everything seemed normal. As if you had simply woken up on a normal morning with your normal boyfriend in a normal life.

You took a sharp breath in, deliberate and controlled. It propelled Eddie to action. He said your name once, twice, then a third time as he let you go and flipped you to face him. His eyes darted across your features, searching for signs of recognition.

It was an uncanny feeling, laced with malaise. There was a part of you that naturally went to react as you would have before you recovered your memories. You were just a witch who came to Hawkins to help. He was just a lost vampire you saved. The other part of you though, the one who could feel herself becoming whole again, she wanted to react very differently.

You didn’t act on either impulse though. Instead, you let Eddie hold your face and pat your hair and make that big wet eyed look at you. He said your name for the fourth time.

“Are you there?” he asked. “Are you with me?”

You nodded.

His worried expression broke out into a grin then he kissed your forehead. “Yes? Yes. I… You…” He didn’t know where to start. Couldn’t work out what was vital information. What were the easy questions?

Your throat was scratchy, your mouth dry. Although you felt a small headache coming on and some achy muscles, a calmness washed over you.

Finally. Finally, you were where you ought to be.

“My sweet, lonely vampire.”

Eddie whimpered and pulled you into another tight embrace. “Little witch? My little witch? Are you-”

“I’m here,”

“You’re here?”

“I’m here.”

It happened so differently from how you would have guessed. How you would have written it, if your life had been a story in a book about witches and vampires. There would have been a deep and passionate kiss. You would find yourself in the taste of Eddie’s lips. Maybe, he’d bite down and speak the binding words, blood of my blood, into your red mouth. And, if the story was for adults rather than children, which you certainly hoped it would be, you would curl naked limbs around each other. You would find equilibrium in the space between fucking and making love.

But it wasn’t like that.

With your foreheads pressed together, you both closed your eyes. Eddie had one arm wrapped under you. His free hand found yours, threaded fingers together, and held them between the two of you. That’s how you stayed for a long time, nuzzling against each other, quiet and happy.

There would be time for words and sex and action. Supernaturally sweeping lifespans and eons to spend together. In the wake of the newly understood 1836, all you wanted to do was simply exist with him. With Eddie, your uncursed creature of the night. Your soulful vampire. Your star-crossed lover. Your blood. Your heart. Your home.

End Note: Thank you to @jo-harrington and @munson-blurbs for helping with this chapter. So.... THOUGHTS? FEELINGS? What do you think she wants to say to her coven now? What would you want to do, if you were in her position?

Fic Taglist: @paranoidmunson @idkidknemore @paprikaquinn @stardustworlds @loz-brooke @wyverntatty @vintagehellfire @dark-academia-slut @scarletwitchwhore @becks1002 @mrsdollardog @heyndrix @luceneraium @rosaline-black @devilinthepalemoonlite @goldencherriess @iamwhisperingstars @wiltedwonderland @blueywrites @breezybeesposts @jadehowlettthewolf @spikesvamp79 @foreveranexpatsposts @tortoiseshellspells @wingedpeachjudgegiant @stardustmunson @live-love-be-unique @fangirling-4-ever @reanimated-alice @b-irock @gh0stlybunnie @myown-worstenemy-2003 @woozzz @cyberxlust @hiscrimsonangel @buckysbarne @m00nlight101 @word-wytch @spicysix @briasnow-blog @goth-cowgirl-03

All Eddie Taglist: @solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16

#Burning Yarrow #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson Reader Insert #Eddie Munson/Reader #Eddie Munson/You #Eddie Munson x Reader #Eddie Munson x You #Vampire!Eddie Munson #Witch!Reader

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eclecticprincecollector · 9 months ago

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Mayaaranyam ( part: 1)

‘…Baul Zigvolt, Lilia Vanrouge, and Yuu of the Mayaaranyam were a triad; one none-not even the most seasoned politicians- foresaw bonding, but bond they did, and through doing so, they saved Briar Valley from the pain of war. They protected our tranquil Valley from facing the indignities of war with humankind, and while many notables figures of the time were dissatisfied with the triad (with the lady Yuu being of mixed descent), the three of them, however, could not be separated due to the almost remarkably instantaneous bonding they had….

Excerpt from:

The History of the Briar Valley: Volume 212

Chapter: Love is the death of duty’

(Yuu still argues to this day that 'that book is a gross oversimplification of what I had to go through to snag these two idiots—Baul, don’t look at me like that; you know it’s true!’)

Her general was leading them through the Mayaranyam when they first met.

Yuu was miffed to have been on guard duty that day, but hey, what can a girl do? 'Every elf must serve to protect our motherlands-blah blah’ as quoted by her mentor, and then the token ‘you must drop some of those pounds’ from her dear aunt basically pressured her into putting on her armor that night as she fought of tears of anger, while yes, Yuu was strong and capable ( no one could deny her that); she didn’t look anything like most other nobel girls her age; they were willowy, ethereal and pure blooded elves.

While Yuu, oh,Yuu was mixed, she was tainted , or so her aunt liked to constantly say whenever Yuu had the misfortune of crossing paths with her.Yuu tried not to let it get to her, but some days it was hard not to. On days like today she has a mantra:

‘ I will never be the reason the shieldwall breaks; I train too hard for that.’

Her mantra looped in her mind as she made her way towards her post and it only grew louder as she moved towards a suspicious rustling in the leaves a few hours into her shift.

‘ I will never be the reason the shieldwall breaks; I train too hard for that.’

His Elven Lady nearly killed half his party and himself the first time they met.

Although, to be fair to her, they did attempt to trespass (unintentionally), Lilia had no choice but to take a more hidden path toward the heart of the famed Mayaaranyam. Those pesky human troops were snooping too close to the main path, it seemed that even they, incompetent as they were, found out that the forest of illusions had certain paths that allowed those clever few into it’s heart. It seemed to him then, that the reports of humans trying to secure the Elven King's support were true which only made him hurry his people faster into the woods and to the heart of the place to secure the alliance with the king first. Baul would be most disappointed if he were the reason Malenor removed him from serving as her future hand after all. Lilia himself would be most disappointed in himself if he were bested by the humans in this race.

In his hurry, Lilia forgot to take into account that the path he had chosen to take (while it was indeed the shortest of the hidden routes) led straight to the back entrance of the heartland.

He managed to save his idiot general and the troops from the wrath of his darling Elven Lady in the nick of time that night.

Baul was reviewing the proposal made by Briar Valleys Senate to the Elven king of Mayaaranyam, the largest Elven kingdom that holds up to three quarters of all elves, or so he hears. This alliance could shift the odds of the Faes of Briar Valley winning against the allied human kingdoms. So lost was he in thoughts of victory and the political intrigue of his homeland that he almost missed the figure stalking up to them. Alarm bells rang in his mind when he saw her armor.

A Lady of the guard-an angry lady of the guard.

"Halt! My lady, We come in peace! We come from-”

By the end of that night one of the soldiers had unfortunately already lost a finger and another four were bruised and bleeding before they made it into the heartlands-Lady Yuu apologized of course, but only after scorching his pride with the kind words of advice she gave to him and his party.

(Baul argues to this day that Lilia should've known better, but Lilia simply says all's well that ends well).

So…what are your thoughts? ( all mistakes are mine)

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst x oc #lilia vanrouge #baul zigvolt x oc #baul zigvolt #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia x yuu x baul #lilia x mc #lilia x yuu #twst diasomnia

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lucascecil · 5 months ago

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Doctor Who - Eighth Doctor Guide

This incarnation first appeared in the 1996 movie ‘Doctor Who’ in which was, at the time, an attempt to bring the show back while trying to bring in American viewers. It was a total failure and the show would only come back on TV in 2005 with the new series. However, these were exciting news to the expanded universe: the Eighth Doctor opened a door to explore new and imaginative ideas in this second half of the wilderness years (as we call the show hiatus from 1989 to 2005).

Virgin Books would lose their license to Doctor Who and therefore their publication of the Seventh Doctor books, at the time the only continuation to the show we had, stopped. Instead, the Eighth Doctor Adventures were released, a book series focusing on the adventures of the Eighth Doctor with new, original companions. And, five years later, Paul McGann would once again step into the role in Big Finish.

These guides include only tv, books and audio stories, but this time only I will make an exception: we’ll include the Doctor Who Magazine Comics too. You totally should give these comics a chance for other Doctors too, but Eight is getting special treatment because the Magazine did its own thing with him just as the other media. It has four well defined narrative arcs/”seasons” and introduces their own original companion. So let’s start!

INTO THE COMICS

‘Season one’ – Adventures with Izzy

[ ] Endgame

[ ] The Keep

[ ] A Life of Matter and Death

[ ] Fire and Brimstone

[ ] By Hook or by Crook

[ ] Tooth and Claw

[ ] The Final Chapter

[ ] Wormwood

[ ] Happy Deathday

This season picks up a plot point from the Seventh Doctor DWM’s comics regarding a recurring villain, but you’ll understand it fine enough even if haven’t read what came before. This is collected as The Eighth Doctor Comics Strips volume 01, as that edition has a summary of what you need to know. Otherwise, it’s a perfect jumping point. The Doctor meets Izzy Sinclair, a young girl from Stockbridge that helps him fight the Toymaker when the elder god takes control of the town, quickstating a long road of self-discovery for Izzy.

‘Season two’ – Continued adventures with Izzy, plus Kroton

[ ] The Fallen

[ ] Unnatural Born Killers

[ ] The Road to Hell

[ ] TV Action!

[ ] The Company of Thieves

[ ] The Glorious Dead

[ ] The Autonomy Bug

This season is collected as The Eighth Doctor Comics Strips volume 02 and introduces a temporary companion I love: Kroton, the good Cybermen. It also has one of the best Master stories ever. It also features the only other proper Grace story ever since I think they just ignored the copyright issue and used her anyway.

‘Season three’ – Continued adventures with Izzy

[ ] Ophidius

[ ] Beautiful Freak

[ ] The Way of All Flesh

[ ] Children of the Revolution

[ ] Me and My Shadow

[ ] Uroboros

[ ] Oblivion

This season is collected as the Eighth Doctor Comics Strips volume 03. This season finishes Izzy’s story while also introducing the next companion, Destrii. It also has one of my favorite Daleks stories.

‘Season four’ – Solo adventures, then joined by Destrii

[ ] Where Nobody Know Your Name

[ ] The Nightmare Game

[ ] The Power of Thoueris!

[ ] The Curious Tale of Spring-Heeled Jack

[ ] The Land of Happy Endings

[ ] Bad Blood

[ ] Sins of the Father

[ ] The Flood

This season is collected as the Eighth Doctor Comics Strips volume 04. For the most part it shows the Doctor rebounding from his goodbye to Izzy (platonically, I see their relationship as paternal), kinda trying to find a new companion (he is pathetic in The Nightmare Game) and dealing with solitude. Then the story picks up when he is reunited with Destrii and they begin travelling together. It has a great Cybermen story.

INTO THE BOOKS

‘Season 01’ – Adventures with Sam

[ ] The Eight Doctors

[ ] Vampire Science

[ ] The Bodysnatchers

[ ] Genocide

[ ] War of the Daleks

[ ] Alien Bodies

The Eight Doctors is a terrible first book, just skip it and start with Vampire Science – which is much better. There is a certain character there who was supposed to be Grace but then they couldn’t use her because of copyright and I do think knowing that gives an interesting perspective to the book. Alien Bodies (great, too) starts a story arc about the War in Heaven. Or, simply put, a much more engaging time war done in the books years before the TV series ever thought about it.

‘Season 02’ – Continued adventures with Sam

[ ] Kursaal

[ ] Option Lock

[ ] Longest Day

[ ] Legacy of the Daleks

[ ] Dreamstone Moon

[ ] Seeing I

‘Season 03’ – Continued adventures with Sam

[ ] Placebo Effect

[ ] Vanderdeken’s Children

[ ] The Scarlet Empress

[ ] The Janus Conjuction

[ ] Beltempest

[ ] The Face-Eater

‘Season 04’ – Adventures with Sam and Fitz

[ ] The Taint

[ ] Demontage

[ ] Revolution Man

[ ] Dominion

[ ] Unnatural History

[ ] Autumn Mist

[ ] Interference – Book One: Shock Tactic

[ ] Interference – Book Two: The Hour of the Geek

‘Season 04’ – Adventures with Fitz and Compassion

[ ] The Blue Angel

[ ] The Taking of Planet 5

[ ] Frontier Worlds

[ ] Parallel 59

[ ] The Shadows of Avalon

[ ] The Fall of Yquatine

[ ] Coldheart

[ ] The Space Age

[ ] The Banquo Legacy

[ ] The Ancestor Cell

‘Season 05’ – Exiled on Earth

[ ] The Burning

[ ] Casualties of War

[ ] The Turing Test

[ ] Endgame

[ ] Father Time

[ ] Escape Velocity

Following the ending of The Ancestor Cell, there is this smaller story arc with the Doctor stuck on Earth for plot reasons I will not elaborate because I don’t want spoil it too much.

‘Season 06’ – Adventures with Fitz and Anji

[ ] EarthWorld

[ ] Fear Itself

[ ] Vanishing Point

[ ] Eater of Wasps

[ ] The Year of Intelligent Tigers

[ ] Dark Progeny

[ ] The City of the Dead

[ ] Griim Reality

[ ] The Adventuress of Henrietta Street

‘Season 07’ – Continued adventures with Fitz and Anji

[ ] Mad Dogs and Englishmen

[ ] Hope

[ ] Anachrophobia

[ ] Trading Futures

[ ] The Book of the Still

[ ] The Crooked World

[ ] History 101

[ ] Camera Obscura

[ ] Time Zero

‘Season 08’ – Continued adventures with Fitz and Anji, joined by Trix

[ ] The Infinity Race

[ ] The Domino Effect

[ ] Reckless Engineering

[ ] The Last Resort

[ ] Timeless

[ ] Emotional Chemistry

[ ] Sometime Never…

‘Season 09’ – Adventures with Fitz and Trix

[ ] Halflife

[ ] The Tomorrow Windows

[ ] The Sleep of Reason

[ ] The Deadstone Memorial

[ ] To the Slaughter

[ ] The Gallifrey Chronicles

INTO THE AUDIOS – THE MAIN RANGE ERA

‘Season 01’ – Adventures with Charley

[ ] Storm Warning

[ ] The Sword of Orion

[ ] The Stones of Venice

[ ] Minuet in Hell

[ ] Solitaire

[ ] If I Should Die Before I Wake

The Eighth Doctor joined Big Finish a little bit after Doctors Five to Seven, but it was still quite early when their main releases were ‘just’ a monthly two-hour long story in the style of the classic series. We call this range of releases the Main Range. As the current Doctor at that point, having McGann back in the role was obviously a novelty and he was instantly joined by India Fisher as Charlotte Pollard, Edwardian adventurer.

Solitaire and If I Should Die Before I Wake are not main range releases but I do think they fit tonally well enough with theses stories and therefore I don’t think there is any problem listening to them here.

‘Season 02’ – Continued adventures with Charley

[ ] Invaders from Mars

[ ] The Chimes of Midnight

[ ] Seasons of Fear

[ ] Embrace the Darkness

[ ] The Time of the Daleks

[ ] Neverland

[ ] Zagreus

This finish the story arc of Charley’s life as was set up in Storm Warning. It all culminates in Zagreus, which is also a 40 years anniversary story of the series. Romana and Leela, former companions of the Fourth Doctor, reappear at the end of this arc and their interaction starts a spin-off just about them in Gallifrey – a series also called Gallifrey. I will not elaborate on it in this post, but let it be noted it happens.

‘Season 03’ – Adventures with Charley and C’rizz

[ ] Scherzo

[ ] The Creed of the Kromon

[ ] The Natural History of Fear

[ ] The Twilight Kingdom

[ ] Faith Stealer

[ ] The Last

[ ] Caerdroia

[ ] The Next Life

Also known as the Divergent Universe arc. It continues at the point Zagreus ended, with Doctor exploring a brand new universe – but there is something disturbingly wrong there. He and Charley are joined by a new companion from this universe, C’rizz.

‘Season 04’ – Adventures with Charley and C’rizz

[ ] Terror Firma

[ ] Scaredy Cat

[ ] Other Lives

[ ] Time Works

[ ] Something Inside

[ ] Memo Lane

[ ] Absolution

[ ] The Girl Who Never Was

The end of this era of Eighth Doctor audios. A goodbye to C’rizz, but a see you soon for Charley. There is a huge cliffhanger at The Girl Who Never Was that is continued on later releases – look at ‘beyond the Eighth Doctor’ if you wanna know about that, but ONLY if you are fine with being SPOILED. Again: THERE ARE SPOILERS THERE.

More from Charley and Eight

‘Season 01’ – The Further Adventures of Charlotte Pollard

[ ] The Mummy Speaks

[ ] Eclipse

[ ] The Slaying of the Writhing Mass

[ ] Heart of Orion

Specifically, this was one single released of four one-hour long stories that are set during the first story arc of Charley in the Main Range. So, certainly before Neverland but you could argue about the when specifically. I like to put it between Minuet in Hell and Invaders from Mars. But why didn’t I put it there, then? To be honest, it’s because I don’t think they fit tonally with the Main Range adventures and therefore it will break immersion if listened then. They are much, much closer to the new who style and just don’t capture the era, for me. So, listen to them as an extra to Charley story, when you miss her.

‘Season 02’ – Adventures with Charley and Audacity

[ ] The Devouring

[ ] The Great Cyber-War

[ ] Twenty-Four Doors in December

[ ] The Empty Man

[ ] Winter of the Demon

2023 saw the Doctor being joined by a new companion, lady Audacity. The first release, which included the first stories in this season, had a cliffhanger that placed them as the Doctor was still travelling with Charley, in their earlier days. So this is also a season that happens during the first story arc on the Main Range, but I wouldn’t place it there because not only it’s still happening, being published, but also because it’s better if you listen to it as its own thing already having the knowledge of how Charley’s story originally developed.

Beyond the Eighth Doctor

‘Season 01’ – Adventures with Charley

[ ] The Condemned

[ ] The Doomwood Curse

[ ] Brotherhood of the Daleks

[ ] Return of the Krotons

[ ] The Raincloud Man

[ ] Patient Zero

[ ] Paper Cuts

[ ] Blue Forgotten Planet

I already WARNED you of the SPOILERS. So, at the end of The Girl Who Never Was, the Eighth Doctor and Charley are separated. He thinks she chose of leave him, and she thinks that he is dead. She is isolated in a terrible situation and sends a distress signal, hoping that someone will rescue her. A TARDIS arrives and she thinks Eight is alive and came for her, but when she enters, she finds an unexpected face – the Sixth Doctor. And they would have a handful of adventures together, as listed here.

‘Season 02’

[ ] The Lamentation Cipher

[ ] The Shadow at the Edge of the World

[ ] The Fall of the House of Pollard

[ ] The Viryan Solution

But Charley story doesn’t end with Six. They do eventually part ways, as told in Blue Forgotten Planet, but Charley got her own spin-off that continues from there. There have been two seasons since then, but the story is unfinished: there is a third series that should be released at some point to wrap the story but we haven’t gotten any news from it for a long, long time.

‘Season 03’

[ ] Embankment Station

[ ] Ruffling

[ ] Seed of Chaos

[ ] The Destructive Quality of Life

THE CLASSICALS

‘Season 00’ – Adventures with Mary Shelley

[ ] The Company of Friends

[ ] The Silver Turk

[ ] The Witch from the Well

[ ] Army of Death

The Company of Friends is a ‘special’ Main Range release as it’s the only audio story that features the Eighth Doctor exclusive companions from other medias. It’s four half-a-hour story: the first with Benny, former companion of the Seventh Doctor. The second have Fitz and the third have Izzy. And then there is the fourth one, that shows the Eight Doctor meeting Mary Shelley. She wasn’t a companion, but would soon become one as a trilogy featuring their travels together would be released in the Main Range.

These stories happened before Eight meets Charley and honestly could be listened at any point, but I put them here, after Charley, because I do think it’s a better experience to enjoy the Eighth Doctor main range era in the order the stories were published.

INTO THE AUDIOS – THE LUCIE MILLER ERA

Beginning 2006, it all changed for Eight. His stories were probably the most popular of the Main Range – much because of the novelty of exploring the Doctor that never had anything on TV – and so he got his own range. The Main Range was now only for Doctors Five, Six and Seven, and ‘The Eighth Doctor Adventures’ began. But it was also 2006, Doctor Who was back on TV. And much because of that, this era is structured more alike to a new who season than classic.

You can jump into this era without any prior knowledge of the Eighth Doctor if you want to.

‘Season 01’ – Adventures with Lucie

[ ] Blood of the Daleks [two-parter]

[ ] Horror of Fang Rock

[ ] Immortal Beloved

[ ] Phobos

[ ] No More Lies

[ ] Human Resources [two-parter]

Notably, Horror of Glam Rock starts a ongoing arc through the seasons about Lucie’s aunt Pat.

'Extras Season’ – Continued adventures with Lucie

[ ] The Dalek Trap

[ ] The Revolution Game

[ ] The House on the Edge of Chaos

[ ] Island of the Fendahl

This was actually a release called The Further Adventures of Lucie Miller, four one-hour stories that makes a small season. It fits the tone of the era very well and it happens relatively early in her timeline, so if you want to listen to it between seasons 1 and 2, you can. The finally feature the Fendahl, a villain from Classic Who, so it’s a good idea to check out Image of the Fendahl from the Fourth Doctor era if you want more context.

‘Season 02’ – Continued adventures with Lucie

[ ] Dead London

[ ] Max Warp

[ ] Brave New Town

[ ] The Skull of Sobek

[ ] Grand Theft Cosmos

[ ] The Zygon Who Fell to Earth

[ ] Sisters of the Flame/The Vengeance of Morbius

The Zygon Who Fell to Earth is part of the aunt Pat story arc. The finale features Morbius, a villain from Classic Who, and it’s a good idea to check the Fourth Doctor story The Brain of Morbius if you want more context.

‘Season 03’ – Continued adventures with Lucie

[ ] Orbis

[ ] Hothouse

[ ] The Beast of Orlok

[ ] Wirnn Dawn

[ ] The Scapegoat

[ ] The Cannibalists

[ ] The Eight Truths/Worldwide Web

There are plenty of villains from Classic Who this season. You don’t need to watch any of their original stories to understand theses audios, and this is valid for the previous seasons too, but as I said if you want more context… You can watch The Seeds of Doom, The Ark in Space and Planet of Spiders.

‘Season 04’ – Adventures with Lucie and Tamsin

[ ] Death in Blackpool

[ ] An Earthly Child

[ ] Situation Vacant

[ ] Nervermore

[ ] The Book of Kelis

[ ] Deimos/The Resurrection of Mars

[ ] Relative Dimensions

[ ] Prisoner of the Sun

[ ] Lucie Miller/To the Death

Lucie’s era ends with a bang. Death in Blackpool is a Christmas special that wraps up the aunt Pat storyline. In An Earthly Child, the Doctor is reunited with someone from his past. Then, the rest of the season deals with Lucie and Eight’s friendship and how they are dealing with everything that happening recently, while also introducing new companion Tamsin Drew.

INTO THE AUDIOS – THE BOXSETS ERA

With the end of Lucie’s era, the publishing format shifted again. Now, the stories were released four at a time, as a boxset. These stories also build up bigger arcs, in sixteen parts, and therefore should be listened sequentially: Dark Eyes, Doom Coalition, Ravenous and Stranded. You can jump into the Eighth Doctor audios with Dark Eyes, but it’s better appreciated after listening to Lucie’s era.

‘Dark Eyes’ – Adventures with Molly and Liv

[ ] The Great War

[ ] Fugitives

[ ] Tangled Web

[ ] X and the Daleks

[ ] The Traitor

[ ] The White Room

[ ] Time’s Horizon

[ ] Eyes of the Master

[ ] The Death of Hope

[ ] The Reviled

[ ] Masterplan

[ ] Rule of the Eminence

[ ] A Life in the Day

[ ] The Monster of Montmartre

[ ] Master of the Daleks/Eye of Darkness

Liv Chenka is a character introduced in Robophobia, a Seventh Doctor story that you can listen to if you want more from her, but isn’t necessarily needed here. It’s good, though. She didn’t become a companion until reuniting with the Doctor, this time Eight, here in Dark Eyes. This season explores a temporal conflict between the Daleks, some Time Lords and an enemy from the future, the Eminence. It’s not part of the Time War, tho.

‘Doom Coalition’ – Adventures with Liv and Helen

[ ] The Eleven

[ ] The Red Lady

[ ] The Galileo Trap

[ ] The Satanic Mill

[ ] Beachhead

[ ] Scenes from her Life

[ ] The Gift

[ ] The Sonomancer

[ ] Absent Friends

[ ] The Eighth Piece/The Doomsday Chronometer

[ ] The Crucible of Souls

[ ] Ship in a Bottle

[ ] Songs of Love

[ ] The Side of Angels

[ ] Stop the Clock

Molly’s story wraps up during Dark Eyes, but Liv goes on a companion. She is then joined by Helen, introduced here in The Red Lady. This season is full of time lord political conflicts and if you have watched New Who you’ll notice River Song is a recurring character.

‘Ravenous’ – Continued adventures with Liv and Helen

[ ] Their Finest Hour

[ ] How to Make a Killing in Time Travel

[ ] World of Damnation/Sweet Salvation

[ ] Escape from Kaldor

[ ] Better Watch Out/The Fairytale of Salzburg

[ ] Seizure

[ ] Deeptime Frontier

[ ] Companion Piece

[ ] L.E.G.E.N.D.

[ ] The Odds Against

[ ] Whisper

[ ] Planet of Dust

[ ] Day of the Master

This season deals with a terrible fairy tale from the Time Lord’s past that seems to be real. Liv reunites with her sister Tula in Escape from Kaldor, and then spends one year with her before the Doctor and Helen pick her back. This is que start point to a spin-off, The Robots, which explores focusing on her and Tula during that one year. I will elaborate on it later on.

‘Stranded’ – Continued adventures with Liv and Helen, joined by Tania and Andy

[ ] Lost Property

[ ] Wild Animals

[ ] Must-See TV

[ ] Divine Intervation

[ ] Dead Time

[ ] UNIT Dating

[ ] Baker Street Irregulars

[ ] The Long Way Round

[ ] Patience

[ ] Twisted Folklore

[ ] Snow

[ ] What Just Happened

[ ] Crossed Lines

[ ] Get Andy

[ ] The Keys of Baker Street

[ ] Best Year Ever

Stranded picks up where Ravenous ended: the TARDIS have been damaged and now the Doctor, Liv and Helen are stuck for one year on Earth while it heals. And so, they start their lives in a house the Doctor used to own in Baker Street, but are met by unexpected neighbors. This season starts very slice-of-live/sitcom-like, kinda, but then evolves in a temporal conflict.

‘Season 05’ – Continued adventures with Liv and Helen

[ ] Paradox of the Daleks

[ ] The Dalby Spook

[ ] Here Lies Drax

[ ] The Love Vampires

[ ] Albie’s Angels

[ ] Birdsong

[ ] Lost Hearts

[ ] Slow Beasts

It’s the current era. Big Finish is still releasing Liv and Helen stories, but they are not the only ongoing story arc for Eight (see: Audacity; and the Time War). However, things changed a bit. They are still released in boxsets – with three one-hour stories rather than four -, but there is no sixteen-parts epic anymore. They are just standalone stories that starts where Stranded ends.

Spin-off – The Robots

[ ] The Robots of Life

[ ] The Sentient

[ ] Love Me Not

[ ] The Robots of War

[ ] Toos and Paul

[ ] Do No Harm

[ ] The Mystery of Sector 13

[ ] Circuit Breaker

[ ] A Matter of Conscience

[ ] Closed Loop

[ ] Off Grid

[ ] The Janus Deception

[ ] The Enhancement

[ ] Machines Like Us

[ ] Kaldor Nights

[ ] Force of Nature

[ ] Face to Face

[ ] The Final Hour

As I said in the Ravenous section, there is a spin-off about Liv reuniting with her sister Tula that is set during Escape form Kaldor. They are both from Kaldor, a planet from the Classic series, and to better appreciate what this spin-off is doing I recommend watching the Fourth Doctor story The Robots of Death. And, why not, listen to Robophobia, which itself is a sequel to The Robots of Death.

INTO THE AUDIOS – THE TIME WAR

And of course, we have stories with Eight set during the Time War. We can divide it into eras: the first four boxsets, when he is travelling with the new companion Bliss; and the current releases, with him travelling with Alex – listen to Lucie Miller season 4 for more context – and Cass. Yes, Cass from the Night of the Doctor. How that’s possible given the circumstances of that story have not yet been fully explained, but of course it’s safe to assume it’s the War’s fault.

‘Season 01’ – Adventures with Bliss

[ ] The Starship of Theseus

[ ] Echoes of War

[ ] The Conscript

[ ] One Life

[ ] The Lords of Terror

[ ] Planet of the Ogrons

[ ] In the Garden of Death

[ ] Jonah

‘Season 02’ – Continued adventures with Bliss

[ ] State of Bliss

[ ] The Famished Lands

[ ] Fugitive in Time

[ ] The War Valeyard

[ ] Palindrome

[ ] Dreadshade

[ ] Restoration of the Daleks [two-parter]

The Valeyard is a villain from Classic Who. You’ll get more out of The War Valeyard with more context – so watch season 23, Trial of a Time Lord, or simply know that he is a “version” of the Doctor from the future that encapsulates everything bad and evil that exists in the Doctor.

‘Season 02’ – Adventures with Alex and Cass

[ ] Meanwhile, Elsewhere

[ ] Verpertine

[ ] Previously, Next Time [two-parter]

[ ] Nowhere, Never

[ ] The Road Untravelled

[ ] Cass-cade

[ ] Borrow or Rob

OTHERS

The stories ‘Day of the Vashta Nerada’, ‘The Sontaran Ordeal’ and ‘The Silent Priest’, all of them featuring monsters from New Who, are set during the Time War. However, the Doctor is travelling alone and they are all standalone stories.

There are plenty of ‘short trips’, short stories set in the Doctor Who universe, featuring the Eight Doctor. Both in prose and in audio. I did not include them in this guide, and they are not really essential, but they can be good. So, listen or read them if you ever miss a companion or the Eighth Doctor.

ABOUT THIS GUIDE

I will be updating the guide as new stories are released. I will also do one for each classic Doctor, at least, at some point.

#Eight Doctor #Doctor Who #Doctor Who Expanded Universe #Big Finish #Doctor Who Books

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assortedseaglass · 1 year ago

Text

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Twenty Two

Tom Bennett x Bess Vaughn (OFC)

[Masterlist]

Volume II Summary: Tom escapes occupied Europe to find home irreversibly changed. How will Tom and Bess cope when what was once familiar has changed forever?

Warnings: Strong Language, Angst, Smut, Violence (fairly mild), Depictions of War, Mentions of Death, Depictions of PTSD, Injury Detail, Era typical Sexism, Era typical Homophobia, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mentions of Domestic Abuse (very brief), Depictions of Reproductive Health, Suicidal Thoughts, World on Fire Spoilers.

A/N: Characters we haven’t seen for a while? Trauma from way back in volume one? You betcha. Posted in haste, will fix mistakes later.

Fucking war.

Tom ripped open the cardboard packet of his Marlboro’s just in case. Nothing. No Rita Hayworth. No Betty Grable. Not even Vera fucking Lynn. He lit a cigarette and sighed.

A pint of pale was put on the table before him. Through a haze of cigarette fog and beer-blurred eyes he looked at the barkeeper.

“We’ve had men in here trading their old cigarette cards. Anything for something new,” he scoffed and picked up Tom’s three empty glasses. “’Waste of resources’, ‘s’what they say on the wireless. You’d think a bit of leg would do everyone good. Keep morale high.”

Tom took a long gulp of the beer and wiped his mouth on the back of his jacket sleeve. “Well, if you ever run for office, you’ve got my vote. Bring back the tart card.” He raised the half-drunk glass but the man had already walked away. “To Winston fucking Churchill!”

From their position at the bar, a few patrons looked over their shoulders at him. None could have been younger than fifty. “What?” Tom said to them, his volume a touch too loud, eyes dark over the rim of the glass. They ignored him.

“Dunkierka!”

Tom screwed his eyes shut. It had been hours, but still Grzegroz’s voice rattled around his mind.

“Dunkierka!”

How strange, incredible really, that he could be transported so quickly to the battlefield once more. One moment he was playing football with Jan in Mrs Chase’s garden, the next he was watching the man with the terrified eyes screaming at him on the beach.

“Shoot me!”

“Fuck.” Tom downed the rest of the beer. Eight o’clock. The pub was busying now. He’d arrived not an hour before, having walked from Mrs Chase’s back into town. Now, the shift’s had changed at the dockyard and the factory, and the weekend was free for these men to take.

The table wobbled as Tom used all of his weight to stand. He blinked hard. A rush of blood drained from his head and he faltered. A lifetime’s worth of bad memories did not mix with four pints and an empty stomach.

Tom wasn’t drunk. Not by his standards at least. Instead, he was balanced on a precipice. A precipice that could turn the night into one of infinite wonder or have him fear the world by 8 o’clock next morning. Would it send him down the Palais with Bess? Hadn’t she said there was a dance on? Or would it be a night in the pub, taking on any Tom, Dick or Harry that dared, and sleeping under a bench? Tom found he didn’t care which. One drink more would do him right. Let Lady Luck decide.

Tom wasn’t drunk. However, he did not slide onto the bar stool with as much grace as he would’ve liked and a few men tittered. “Another pint please.”

“Right you are, Tom.” The barkeep gave him a wary look but poured the pint all the same. He’d seen enough soldiers and marines to know that if they weren’t drinking in his pub, they were out drinking and making a nuisance. God knows he remembered the last war well enough.

Another pint appeared before him, and Tom watched the foam settle. He leant forward, caressing the cool glass, and took a long, pleasured sip.

“How’s the navy treating you anyway, Tom?”

“The navy? The bloody navy? Can’t even steer a pedalo.”

Tom jolted and looked over his shoulder. It had happened the night before too, and that morning. Drifting off, he’d heard his father’s voice. “My brave, brave boy.” Only to wake up and have reality hit him hard, all air leaving his chest before he’d taken his first waking breath. His dad was gone.

A glass smashed in the corner of the pub and a roar of laughter rang up.

“Watch it! You lot break anymore, and you’ll be paying.” The barkeeper sighed. “Tom?”

“You what?”

The barkeeper watched him. “Ah, don’t worry about it, son.” He patted Tom’s arm and made his way to the end of the bar. Tom’s eyes followed as the man collected a sweeping brush and gathered the broken shards into a pile. One of the men in the party was gesturing wildly around, trying in vain to help. It was Fergal Vaughn.

“Sit down, man,” the barkeep said good-naturedly. “You’re a hindrance, not a help.”

Fergal flopped into his seat, the beer he held spraying everywhere. The friends surrounding him laughed. Sweat gleamed on the old man’s brow, his face red and shining. When he spoke, flecks of spittle flew from his mouth, and he laughed so hard Tom feared he might keel over for lack of breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Tom muttered into his pint. Well, at least the old bastard isn’t at home, bothering the girls.

There was a great commotion and Tom looked back to the party. Fergal had stood abruptly, his round belly pushing the table and knocking yet more glasses. He raised his near empty pint of Guinness in the air. “To my Cora, and to her Roger!”

The men cheered, raising their glasses and swigging their beers. “To her roger!” The two men nearest Tom cried and fell about laughing. Fergal swiped at them pathetically but giggled at their joke.

Tom should have laughed too. Should have joined in their merriment. But sat there, five pints deep, listening to Fergal Vaughn’s witterings while the ghost of his own father lingered just beyond reach, Tom felt his blood curdle. On the step of the stool, his leg began to bounce. The din of the pub’s patrons gave way to the swirling of blood and breath in his ears.

“Dunkierka!”

Tom slammed his fists into his eyes and tried to rub away the sound. Fergal guffawed behind him.

“You don’t think I’m genuine?”

“Are you, son?”

Bess’ voice joined the fray.

“You’ve never committed to anything or anyone. It’s not because you’re a womaniser, or because you don’t believe in the war. It’s because you’re a coward.”

“Just fuck off!” Tom shouted. He didn’t hear the way the pub stilled. Didn’t notice the way the man beside him got off his stool and shuffled away. Slowly, the noise around him picked up as everyone ignored the screwball at the bar.

He tried to calm himself and, naturally, thought of Bess. Almost half-past eight. She’d be at the dance by now. Hair rollered for once, a brush of lipstick. Tom’s body hummed with a warmth that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Who would she dance with, without himself or Albie there? Roger? From Fergal’s exclamations, it sounded like a night for celebration. Would Lois be there, singing with Connie? He hadn’t thought to ask Lois about her shift on the ambulance.

“You made his life hell when he was alive and now you can never make it up to him.”

The last words Lois hissed at him before he crumpled and made his way back to Bess. She’d spat them at him like a weapon. She’d meant to hurt him, and hurt him it did. The moment she’d uttered them Tom saw every disheartened, disapproving and disappointed look that had shadowed his father’s prematurely aged face. Each one, directed at him.

Yet another glass was placed next to him. An amber tot of whisky. “From Fergal,” said the barkeeper. Tom glanced over his shoulder to where Fergal had another pint raised in his direction.

“To Tom,” he slurred. “No doubt he’ll be stealing another of my girls away from me.” Fergal smiled at him and the other men silently raised their glasses.

Tom pushed the whisky away. “No thanks.”

“Right you are,” The barkeeper said after a moment, taking the glass away while eyeing something over Tom’s shoulder. With a hard smack, a meaty hand landed on Tom’s back and he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The heavy breath and stench of ale told him everything.

“Rude to refuse a drink from your father-in-law-”

“You’re not my father-in-law.” Tom continued to stare straight ahead at the optics behind the bar.

“I’m as good as!” Fergal chortled. “And don’t you tell me I won’t be one day,” he tried to lean on the bar beside Tom but stumbled. Despite himself, Tom reached out a hand to steady him. “With Cora engaged, everyone will be looking to you and Bess.”

“Let them look.”

Fergal wobbled, leaning forward slightly to observe Tom. Fed up, Tom stared back at him, watching the man struggle to stand straight.

“God, you look like your Dad.” Fergal said after an unnaturally long pause. Tom snorted.

“You made his life hell when he was alive and now you can never make it up to him.”

“We all miss him terribly, me and Bess especially,” Fergal continued. Did Tom miss him? He supposed he did not. He hadn’t been given enough time to comprehend the fact he was dead, let alone miss him. “My favourite drinking partner.” Fergal finally found the bar and leant upon it.

“You’re doing alright, to me.” Tom watched the men in the corner watching him.

“Ah, but none were like your Da-A drink!” Fergal cut himself off. “Another whisky for me and Tom.” They appeared before them in an instant. Seemingly, the barkeeper hadn’t thrown them away. Fucking rationing.

“I don’t want it,” Tom pushed it back and Fergal made to sip his own.

“To Douglas!” The Irishman roared.

“Stop!” Tom grabbed Fergal’s hand before the drink could reach his lips. “Stop.”

“What’s gotten into you, boy? Used to love a drink with me and Albie and your Da-”

Tom stood from the bar and Fergal staggered backwards. “I’ll not share a drink with you, you fat old bastard. Not in my dad’s memory. Not when you’re like this.”

“Now just a minu-”

“You’re a drunk!” Tom spat in Fergal’s face. He was towering over the man now, and for a flicker of time, Fergal looked like a scared child. “I’ll not drink to my dad’s memory, when it should have been you in his place.”

Fergal looked like he had been struck. Tom didn’t care. A year’s worth of war, the immediacy of his grief, the way it awoke the longing he held for his mother, years of watching Fergal ruin his daughters. Tom felt every bruising blow life had dealt him, and was presented with the perfect outlet for his rage. The man before him.

“My dad fought for what he believed in. Did I agree with him? No, but I damn well do now!” Tom was shouting and the barkeeper laid a hand on his arm. He wrenched it from his grip but lowered his voice to a menacing hiss. “He didn’t have much, but he did enough to make himself proud. To make me proud. Gave everyone the time of day. Grafted. Put up with me,” his voice wobbled. “And then there’s you. What have you ever done?”

Fergal opened his mouth but Tom cut him off. “Who do you think’s gonna look after you now Cora’s engaged? Do you know what?” He grabbed the whisky and raised it in the air. “Here’s to Roger. If it weren’t for him, Cora would be left to a life looking after you with not one bit of thanks.” He downed the drink with a wince. “And Dot! You’ve spoiled her beyond reason. Five minutes in the real world will ruin her, Fergal! Don’t you remember the last time!? All them battered men coming back, what they did to the women waiting for them at home? And Bess!” Tom’s voice cracked and he jabbed a finger into Fergal’s fleshy shoulder. “Do you know how many nights she’s spent crying because you said she wasn’t woman enough, like Cora and Dot? Or how you never stood up for her at school? It was Etta marching down there every day to set Frank Smith and Walter Watson right. Etta giving the teachers a bollocking because you didn’t have the guts. What did you do? Fucking nothing. Only thing you’re good for is fucking fertiliser-”

It happened quick as a flash. Fergal grabbed Tom by the scruff of his collar and hoisted him over the bar. Glasses clattered around them and the murmuring of the pub crescendoed to an excited clamour. The edge of the bar was rammed into Tom’s ribs as Fergal held him there, leaning over and growling in his face. Any trace of drunkenness was gone.

“You’re one to talk, my boy.” He shoved Tom again, and Tom felt his head hit one of the pumps. “Fucking off to join the navy was the best thing you ever did. Brought nothing but shame to your father, and now you’re doing the same to my Bess.” At the mention of her name Tom struggled to get up. “You’re only courting my daughter because I see how happy you make her, God knows why, but when you get yourself blown up, well, it’ll be all the better.”

“ENOUGH!” The barkeeper bellowed, reaching between the two of them. Two of Fergal’s friends pulled him backwards off Tom, and he slid off the bar. “ENOUGH!”

Tom straightened his jacket, stared down at Fergal and laughed bitterly. By some miracle, Fergal’s whiskey still sat unbothered amongst the debris of their argument. Tom downed it in one and, with his hands in his pockets, swaggered from the pub and into the night.

“-our Florence tailored her mam’s old dress. I suppose Bess could help you with that. And Roger will have a mourning suit, won’t he? Or will he get married in uniform? Oh, that would be best I think, that beautiful air force blue. It’ll look excellent in your wedding photograph-”

On discovering Cora Vaughn’s engagement to Roger, Queenie Warren had not drawn breath. Her curls bouncing animatedly as she spoke, Queenie quizzed Cora on everything from the colour of her bridesmaids’ dresses to whether the cake would be fruit or Victoria sponge.

Bess had tuned Queenie out ten minutes ago. Instead, she leant against the bar, glass in her hand, cigarette between her lips, and watched couples spin around the dancefloor. She wondered if the Palais would ever be as full as it was before the war.

The red lights of the room hid a multitude of sins. The floor was becoming sticky under foot, and wallpaper was starting to peel from the high ceiling. The darkness did well to hide the few couples, and the fewer men. Indeed, it was mostly full of women from the factories. There were some fellas that Bess recognised from about town, and other uniformed men she did not recognise, no doubt visiting women they had met on the front, or nurses from the infirmary.

Dancing at the centre of circle were Roberta and the teacher from the primary. With so many of the men off fighting, it was the first time Bobby had been able to step into the light with the woman, under the rouse of needing a dance partner. Hiding in plain sight, Bess had never seen her happier. Indeed, when they turned so that Bobby could look upon the bar, she caught Bess’ eye. Bess winked, and Bobby giggled. Tough, feisty Roberta actually giggled.

“-you’ll have your hands full soon I expect, Bess.”

“Pardon?”

Queenie was watching her eagerly. “A wedding dress and bridesmaids’ clothes for yourself and Dot. That’s an awful lot to be doing.”

“She’ll have to ask me first,” with a smile Bess nudged Cora, who looked up from gazing at the modest ring on her finger.

Her betrothed was not far away, sharing a drink with Frank Smith and a few other lads from the air force. He was bright and merry, and though the others congratulated him, Bess noticed the glances they cast the bride-to-be and her sisters. Namely, herself.

Bess knew what she was doing when she’d stepped out that night. Bedecked in a pinstriped suit, she wanted people to look at her. She felt deflated after Tom’s flit from Mrs Chase’s and his inability to confide in her. This did just the job to make her feel powerful again. She’d seen Marlene Dietrich where something similar in a copy of Vogue she’d read years ago at the atelier. It just so happened that they had a pattern there too.

A man cut across Bess’ vision of Bobby on the dancefloor. “Fucking dyke,” he muttered as he passed. Bess stood straight, prepared to defend her friend from the man, when she faltered. As he passed, the man looked over his shoulder at her, eyeing her suit from sharp collar to perfectly-ironed trouser.

“Don’t be jealous she’s a better dresser than you!” Dot piped up, just as Cora took her glass.

“That’s enough sherry, Dot.”

Before Dot could so much as take a breath to retort, the Palais’ double doors burst open. Even over the playing of the band, the noise caused the sisters to jump and cast their eyes towards the doors.

Bess knew that silhouette.

Against the streetlamps outside, the figure staggered sideways before moving forward towards the bar. With his hands in his pockets, he nearly fell over, and a few people rushed to help him. He brushed them off and, ascending the steps to the bar, smirked lopsidedly at the group.

“Bobby,”

“Tom.”

The enmity that lingered between Bobby and Tom had dwindled of late, and Bess tensed at the renewed hostility.

“How’s your friend?” Tom wobbled as he glanced around the old ballroom, his words dripping with intentional sarcasm. Roberta said nothing. “Suits you well, doesn’t it? No men about.” He swaggered towards her, his body a millisecond behind the movement of his feet. Bess prickled with mortification. All evening she’d been worried about him, what he was thinking, what he was doing, and it turned out he was the same as any other man; leaving their problems at the door of the first pub they came to.

He staggered a step towards Roger and Frank. Frank, having experienced Tom’s devastating right-hook in childhood, edged backwards.

“Watch yourselves, lads, she’ll be giving your girls ideas.”

He can embarrass himself all he likes, but leave Bobby out of it. In three high-heeled strides, Bess placed herself between Tom and the others. “Enough,” she said warningly. Tom eyed her. There was a hint of pride in the dark blue of his eyes. Then he glanced at her suit.

“If I didn’t know you better,” Bess could smell the beer on him. The stale cigarettes. “I’d say you were going the same way as your Roberta.” He looked her up and down, amusement evident on his features.

At this closeness, Bess’ worry returned. When he’d returned, the first thing she noticed about him was the hollowness of his cheeks. The way the skin clung his cheekbones like wax. In the red light of the Palais, his pale skin looked near translucent, and his eyes…

His brow bone jutted forward, casting them into shadow. Below, the soft skin beneath his lower lashes sagged, as though gravity was working harder to root him in one place. She’d seen this dogged look before. On her father. What a sinister concoction; grief and grain.

Gently, as though calming a wounded animal, Bess whispered in Tom’s ear. “Go home, my love-”

“I haven’t got one,” Tom slurred, blinking slowly, that ridiculous smile still plastered on his face.

“Albie’s bed is always made up, just sle-”

“In a dead man’s bed?” The sisters and their companions each took a sharp breath. “I’ll not be tempting fate, ‘my love’,” Tom tapped Bess on the nose. “Besides, I’m here for a dance.” He held out a hand, the other still firmly in his pocket as he swayed on the spot. “Come on,”

“No,”

There it was. That wrinkled brow and jutted jaw. He knew he was pushing it. Still, as he always did, he carried on.

“Why do you have to go around winding the rest of us up? That’s what you do.” Vic’s voice joined the chorus of ghosts in Tom’s mind. He shook his head.

“Come on,” he waggled the hand he held out to Bess. “Gotta dance with my best girl while I’m back.”

“I said no.”

With speed unexpected of a drunk, Tom made a beeline for Bess. Just as his arms made to grip her close to his body, someone blocked his path.

“Go away, Tom.”

His held jolted backwards before his body, and he stumbled. “Fuck,” he said. In this light, in this state, the Vaughn girls all looked the same. Steely, dark eyes were boring into his. It was only the smaller stature of the girl before him that gave it away.

“Dotty-”

“Go away-”

“Oh shut up, Dot. You’ll never get a fella with a mouth like that,” Roger and Cora straightened at the bar. Bess came to stand at her sister’s side. Frank gripped Queenie by the arm and steered her away. This was it. The showdown. The two cockiest kids in Longsight. Dot Vaughn and Tom Bennett. “Shut up and use your mouth for something useful-”

SMACK

The force with which Dot walloped Tom near gave him whiplash. Like a felled tree, he hit the ground hard. No sooner was he looking up at the three red-headed furies, was someone dragging him along the ground. For the second time that night, someone had Tom by the scruff of his collar. His feet struggled to find footing as whoever had hold of him pulled him towards the door. He looked up.

“Fuck me. Didn’t think you had it in you Rog.”

The pilot said nothing, only continued to drag Tom from the Palais. The clacking of high heels followed the pair, and as Roger hurled Tom onto the damp road outside the dancehall, Cora came into view.

Tom lay there for a few seconds, looking up at the dark sky as drizzle speckled his face.

“Get up.”

“You gonna fight me, Rog?” He received no reply and, with great difficulty, stood up. His head was beginning to pound, as though his brain was fight to break free from his skull.

Roger’s arms were folded against his chest. Tom had never realised, despite Roger’s lanky height, how imposing he was. In his uniform, he looked like the perfect poster boy for the British military. Beside him, Cora glared.

“Where the hell have you been?” Her voice was quiet, challenging him to dare to fight back. Tom rolled his shoulders and squared his jaw.

“Pub.”

Cora tutted. “I might have guessed.”

“Saw your dad there,”

“I’m sure.” Cora’s eyes hadn’t left Tom’s. Her feet hadn’t faltered. All that distinguished her from a statue were the few strands of hair waving in the cold night air.

“Gave him a piece of my mind-”

“A very small piece then.”

Tom snorted. “Was there celebrating your happy news. Congratulations, by the way.” He added as an aside. “Never seen him at the pub so happy, usually there to forget his own fuck ups. Wouldn’t catch me in that state-”

“You’ve got a nerve.” Cora snapped. “Dadda’s got his faults but don’t think for a second that you don’t have your own, Thomas Bennett.”

Cora walked towards him, her steps so slow and purpose that for the first time in his life, Tom was scared of her. She folded her arms and looked at him with disgust.

“You’re not the only one that’s suffered-”

“Tell you about this afternoon, did she?” Tom shouted. Cora raised her eyebrows and he silenced like a petulant child.

“No, Bess didn’t,” Behind her, Roger watched on. He didn’t move, flanking her like a sentinel solider. “But I’ve known you long enough to know you’re a jumped-up little shit who never put much store by other people’s feelings, BE QUIET!” she shoutedwhen Tom opened his mouth to argue. “You’re not the only one that’s fighting. That’s lost someone. Roger flies over Germany every other night, looking at the destruction we’re wreaking. Coming home to discover who he lost along the way. You know Vernon was the last to go down? Disappeared over the Channel. I don’t suppose you’ve thought for one second that Lois lost her father and her fiancé?”

Tom shifted uncomfortably.

“That we loved your father too? That we lost our Albie?” Cora’s voiced wobbled and a few tears fell from her eyes. Her gaze, however, did not waver. “I can’t imagine what horrors you’ve seen, Tom, but it isn’t plain sailing here. The fear of getting bombed every night, worrying if we’ll ever see you all again? Pretending it’s all smiles when you come home in case you see the cracks and crumble. Because what’s the point of fighting for a world that doesn’t exist anymore?”

Finally, she brushed her tears from her eyes. With a shaky breath, as if to set herself right, Cora straightened.

“It’s not the world against Tom Bennett. I know it feels like it-”

“No you don’t.” Tom said bitterly. “You don’t have a fucking clue.” And with the little pride he had left, he turned on weak legs, stumbled down the nearest ginnel, and vanished from sight.

Next morning, Bess rose as the sun crept over the brick red houses of Longsight.

Beside her, Dot and Cora were sleeping soundly, their arms cast over each other’s waists. Slowly, so as not to wake them, Bess drew back the quilt and crept onto the landing. The floorboards creaked and she stilled. No-one stirred.

Tentatively, she opened the door to her father’s bedroom.

He was slumped, half sat against the cold wall, atop his bed. Albie’ remained empty, his folded jumper and photograph sat neatly on top of the covers.

A swell of dread rushed over Bess and she felt sick. So it had been dadda stumbling around the house, not Tom.

Fergal’s misuse of alcohol was no secret about the street, and every neighbour knew his routine. His daughters knew it better. Six o’clock. If Fergal wasn’t working as an air raid warden, he would arrive home from the dockyard, ready for his supper. After reading the newspaper and listening to the girls talk about their days, he would depart for the pub at approximately twenty past seven. If drinking at The Crown, he would be allowed room under one of the tables and arrive home next morning with the milk float or the postman. If The Red Lion took his fancy, Old Arthur, for that was what the girls had always called the publican, gave him board in the small flat he kept above the pub. Only if Fergal drank at The Swan did he stagger home, for Mrs Mallory always cast him out at eleven o’clock.

On tiptoe, Bess hurried down the stairs. The hammering of her heart doubled. Tom was not slumped on the piano stool, nor was he at the table or in Fergal’s armchair.

This was it. His years of aggravating, pestering, hiding, skiving and shirking had finally caught up with him. Or, someone had caught up with him.

Terrified, worried and entirely unsure of what to do, Bess busied her hands by rummaging through the Welsh dresser drawers. Flicking through dressmaker’s patterns, ones belonging to herself, her mother and her sisters too, she pulled out a set for women’s slacks.

For Kasia¸ she thought. Well, that was that job done.

Curled up in her father’s armchair, Bess watched the world beyond the window wake up. Mrs Mason collected the milk bottles from her front step. Dennis Warley, the miserable postman, began his rounds. A few men Fergal’s age cycled to work. She looked at the clock. Half past six. At seven, she would wake Cora, and together they would hunt from Tom. What good was it now, when most of the city was still sleeping? Who could help?

A sudden wailing caused Bess to startle. She jumped up from the armchair, clutching the trouser pattern to her chest. Dot looked lazily up from the table. Cora placed a plate of bacon and eggs upon it, and hurried to the window where baby Vera, in her Moses basket, continued to cry.

“Got used to living alone and don’t want to share the bed?” Dot poured herself a cup of tea.

“Probably fed up of your snoring,” said Cora good-naturedly, the delight of Roger’s proposal radiating from her. “But Bess, love, why were you sleeping in the armchair?”

“I must have just drifted off,” Bess brushed the frizzy hair from her face. “Went to check in on dadda’s room. Tom didn’t stay last night, Cora.” Much to her surprise, Cora did not seem worried. Instead, she raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. Bess felt the temper she inherited from their mother spark into life. “Cora?”

“Connie said she saw him last night, on her way to her shift on the ambulance. Was with Frank and some other lads.” Dot said through a mouthful of food. Cora tutted.

“He-oh. Ok,” Bess deflated, relief Tom was alright and embarrassment at her assumptions fighting for pitiable dominance. “Connie was here?” She moved forward to take the now whinging Vera from Cora.

“Mhmm,”

“Dorothy Vaughn. Don’t eat with your mouthful.”

Dot swallowed pointedly at Cora and turned back to Bess. “She brought Vera over.”

“Why?”

Dot faced her sister fully and grasped her cup of tea eagerly in her hands. After new dresses, Dot’s favourite thing was gossip. “Lois had to go to the infirmary. Was helping a family out of a house that got hit in the raids last night over in Fallowfield, and the house came down around her. She’s fine,” Bess had gasped. “Cut her head but just fine. That’s why Connie brought Cora. Lois is resting.” Dot punctuated her news with a long slurp of tea.

Bess sat at the table beside her sister, Vera now settled back to sleep. “Tom won’t know, about Lois, he’ll have no idea-”

“Doubt she wants him to know.” Dot said matter-of-factly. Again, Cora tutted.

“Dot, stop being cryptic and-”

“Well,” Dot launched herself into hurried speech. “Connie told us that Lois told her that her and Tom had an argument the day he got back-something about Douglas dying and him not knowing-anyway he got all angry with Lois saying that if she’d been there then he-Douglas that is-might not have died-”

“Breathe, Dot.”

“-and of course Lois didn’t like that and gave him a piece of her mind about working on the ambulance and doing her bit for the war effort, and then Tom-get this Bess-Tom turned round and said her job was to look after Douglas and Vera!” She took a deep breath and another sip of tea.

The anger caused by Cora’s apathy was nothing compared to the flame roaring into life now. Bess’ cheeks reddened, her eyes darkened, and a rigidity settled in her bones that God himself could not have shaken.

“Oh he did, did he?”

Three miles away, in a terraced house that edged Cringle Park, Tom Bennett woke. The bedsprings beneath his back were hard, a few pressing into his bony side, and the frame wobbled as he struggled to get up.

Bile rose to his throat and he lay down again. Above him, the ceiling spun. At its centre, the ceiling light had been draped in a rose silk scarf. Turning his head slowly so that it lolled on the pillow, Tom looked over the vanity table. Make up covered its counter, and few dresses in reds, pinks and purples were crumpled on the stool.

Beside him, the clock read just after eight o’clock. Its ticking was so loud inside his head it sounded like machine gun fire, and he groaned. The knock that came at the door was thunderous and Tom thought the sound alone would make him vomit.

“Morning, pet,” A high voice said. “Brought you a cuppa. Poor thing,” a soft hand touched his forehead, as though testing his temperature, and brushed the hair from his eyes. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

Tom rubbed his bleary eyes and took the tea from the person above him. Perfectly manicured nails, ringlets, red lipstick and the overpowering smell of lavender.

“Cheers, Queenie.”

Notes: Cigarette cards (sometimes called tart cards, if they had women on) were banned in Britain at the start of 1940 because the government indeed declared them a “waste of raw material”. I don’t know about elsewhere, but in Britain “to roger” someone is to have sex, usually in a bit of a rough manner. In research, I also read a study about the increase in domestic violence post-WWI, in households with soldiers returning to civilian life. Fuck war and fuck the men that start them.

Thank you to @arcielee, who helped me unfuck this chapter more than she realises! There’s a line direct for one of our chats in here. And thanks again to @theoneeyedprince for help with the Polish. Below is the inspo for Bess’ outfit. Saw it and knew she’d wear it.

Tags: @aemonds-wifey@multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234@babyblue711 @heimtathurs @exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandompromptsside @allthefandomtherapy @reblogedworks @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol@beiigegalx@skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools@aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring @fangirlninja67 @evita-shelby @cherievictore @shmexie @ewanmitchellcrumbs @blairfox04

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #the seamstress & the sailor #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x ofc x oc #world on fire #ewan mitchell fandom #hotd #bess vaughn #tom bennett x bess vaughn

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