#today on cut lines: i will gut you before god and every king here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 || helmut zemo, bucky barnes and sam wilson x reader

(this is a sequel to 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭-𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞, I recommend reading that first although it’s not 100% necessary... it would make this make a lot more sense though)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : it was just a matter of time before he upped the ante, all four of you knew that, but taking you all on a vacation specifically for this was a bit over-the-top.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 7.9k (hoo boy)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : smut (foursome/group sex + a scene that’s just zemo/reader, cockwarming, d/s dynamics, brief oral f receiving, a touch of dubcon/cnc but it’s very subtle and the reader is 100% consenting), established zemo x reader, sugar daddy relationship, ‘sir’ kink (with zemo), ‘daddy’ kink (with sam), orgasm control/denial, overstimulation, creampie, praise with light degradation, possessiveness (but also sharing, lol), exhibitionism/voyeurism, choking, brief anal mention, once again technically cuckolding but not in the typical sense, slight corruption kink?, too many robes, latin sokovian (or as I like to call it, serbukromanian), also assume that whenever the reader and zemo are alone they are speaking sokovian even though I write the convos in english for the sake of simplicity

thank you for being my beta @nsfwsebbie !!

When your Baron told you he wanted to take you on a vacation, you immediately assumed it would be to the mountains or some European city full of history and culture. Instead, you were a bit surprised to hear he was interested in a beach resort, a private villa he had purchased in French Polynesia.

And then you found out he wanted to bring Sam and Bucky along too… and you were simultaneously more and less surprised. More, because who brings tentative coworkers one barely gets along with on a romantic vacation? Less, because of course he would do this. Of course he had plans to dress you up in the tiniest bikinis he could find and show you off to the men who had already become pawns in his perverted game of social chess.

Not that you minded; you were the Queen of the board and it didn’t bother you if it was what the King wanted.

You spent the first night in the villa alone with him, which you appreciated. It had been a while since you two had some real quality time together, and you were craving him more than ever, in every way.

After a beautiful day spent swimming in the crystal blue ocean and enjoying the sights your new temporary home had to offer, you took a shower and tried not to get too excited about how you might be spending the evening with him. But, of course, you were only a few minutes into washing the saltwater off your body when you began to imagine his tongue on you, god that man could use his tongue to destroy you any way he wanted: with his words, with his kisses, or perhaps best of all with it tasting every inch of your cunt. It was amazing how he could get on his knees for you and still have all the power. He liked to make you keep eye contact with him while he did it, make you beg him to let you come, whatever it took to remind you that you were thoroughly and properly owned.

And you loved every second of it, you loved being helpless to him. He made you feel so safe that being vulnerable with him by now felt like no risk at all. You could remember early on when your fears and insecurities made you more hesitant to submit to him, and it was only with gentle patience that he coaxed you into it, never pressure or anger. You weren’t a virgin when you met him but, sometimes it felt like you might as well have been since you were so inexperienced and undersexed then. In fact, he was the first man, the first person other than yourself to make you come… and he made you come more ways than you had known possible.

Okay, so maybe the plan to not get your hopes up wasn’t going so well… you were already struggling to keep your hands from between your legs. Frankly, you would’ve already done it if you didn’t know that touching yourself was against the rules.

You’d gotten so used to taking care of yourself while he was in prison, at which point he obviously suspended that rule, and it was a hard habit to break at times.

You emerged from the bathroom in the fluffy robe you found on the door, smiling when you saw him lounging on the bed in a matching one, reading Анна Каренина (known by the West as Anna Karenina). He looked contemplative, as always, and you always thought he looked especially sexy in his reading glasses. You slipped into the bed beside him, resting your head on his chest as he found a position where he could read comfortably with his arm around your shoulders.

“You must’ve already read that book a thousand times, Helmut,” you sighed.

“And it gets better every time,” he mumbled back, turning the page.

You pouted slightly, nuzzling into his shoulder, and he chuckled. “Is my little lutka in need of some attention?”

You nodded, and he kissed the top of your head softly.

“Why don’t you keep me warm while I finish this chapter, hm?” he offered, and you involuntarily clenched your thighs together at his words. He phrased it like a question, but it felt more like a gentle demand, and you were happy to agree either way.

“Yes, sir,” you hummed as you sat up and straddled his legs, undoing your robe and opening his to wrap your hand around his half-hard cock.

He reached his full potential with only a few slow strokes, and you found yourself absent-mindedly licking your lips as you saw the way your fingers just barely met with your thumb and imagined how your body would be pushed to its limits to take him. Good thing you were already dripping wet even though you’d just been in the shower.

You indulged in rubbing your pussy over his shaft for a moment, enough to coat him in your wetness, before you lined up his tip to your entrance and sunk down onto him with a sigh, feeling like you could never tire of being stretched open by his thick cock.

When your hips met his, and the tip of his cock brushed against the deepest parts of you, you had to bite your lip to suppress a whimper. After so long apart, you were still readjusting to taking him and being on top didn’t make it much easier.

Honestly, you really weren’t trying to move; you just found your hips rocking slightly, seemingly of their own accord. You moaned under your breath as your clit rubbed against his body, but you were pulled from your trance with a whine as he slapped your thigh.

“No moving, draga, I think I made myself clear,” he reminded you sternly.

“Yes, sir,” you breathed.

You were pretty sure that at some point, you were a patient person. But you couldn’t imagine that now, not when all you could think about was how amazing it would be to just ride him right there, memories running through your mind and making your inner walls ripple unintentionally. He either couldn’t feel it or didn’t care, stoically continuing to read even as you were struggling to stay still.

Your plan was to be good for a while and then hope that you could convince him later… but you know what they say about best-laid plans, so you ended up cutting straight to the convincing pretty fast.

“Can I move yet, sir?”

“It’s hardly been a minute,” he frowned.

“Please,” you sighed, just barely moving your hips without even meaning to.

“Not yet,” he asserted, sounding a bit annoyed, but you needed this more than anything.

"Please let me move, please; I just wanna ride you so bad,” you begged.

He sighed, clearly irritated, and just when you thought you’d made a grave error, he finally put his book aside and looked up at you with a grin. "If I had known you would be so whiny, I would have had you keep me warm with your mouth.”

You opened your mouth to respond but let out only whimpery moans when he ran his hands up your body, toying briefly with your nipples before wrapping a hand around your neck and pulling you down into a rough kiss. Moaning into it, you couldn’t hold back any longer and started to rock your body atop his, savoring that perfect drag of his length along your walls that you’d missed so much.

Before you got a chance to really set your pace, he grabbed you tight and rolled the both of you over, pinning you under his weight as he fucked you in that way that was somehow rough and slow at the same time, moving his kiss to your neck and holding you down by your wrists.

“Fuck, th-thank you, sir,” you sighed, your cheeks warming when he chuckled against your skin.

“You really are too sweet, draga,” he whispered.

Your arms wrapped around his neck while your legs did the same to his hips, keeping him deep inside you while his lips and tongue teased your collarbones, his fingers interlacing with yours.

He spent the entire night somewhere between making love to you and fucking you within an inch of your life, making you come more times than you could count, only taking breaks from fucking you to eat you out like a starving man (and one time for a quick drink sometime around 3 a.m.). It was no wonder, then, that you passed out just a few moments after he finally came inside you, sleeping soundly in his arms until well into the morning, nearly noon in fact, when the sun was streaming in through the massive window.

After a relaxed breakfast of champagne and fruit (the native pamplemousse was unlike anything you’d ever eaten before), Helmut encouraged you to shower again and meet him at the pool, which was a bit surprising since he normally liked to have you keep his come in you as long as possible. “Our guests should be here this afternoon,” was his only explanation, and you had a few ideas about what that meant, all of which made your gut sink in an oddly pleasurable way as you were filled with anticipation.

“Wear that bathing suit I bought for you, the new one,” he added finally as he stepped out onto the back patio.

It might seem silly to have a pool on a property right by the beach, but on days like today, where the ocean water was just a bit too chilly, you were thankful to have the heated pool to take a dip in. Honestly, you were a little surprised that Helmut didn’t make you swim in the ocean to see your nipples get hard through the tight black bikini, but then again, they were already getting there just from sharing a pool chair with him.

He was lying against the cushioned chair; your body sat between his spread legs as the back of your head rested on his chest. And, this is entirely unrelated, but you really liked how he looked in the round sunglasses he had on.

You hummed contentedly as you reached up behind you to touch him, rubbing his shoulders and pecs. You wiggled a bit, slowly, and imagined how it would feel if he got hard right against the small of your back.

"Mm, what's gotten into you, lutka?" he purred, rubbing your arms.

You rolled your eyes playfully. "You know the effect you have on me, don't act surprised."

Just before anything exciting could happen, Sam and James entered through the fence, apparently already having changed into their swimsuits; you wished you had thought to wear sunglasses so they couldn’t catch you ogling their muscular bodies, but instead, you just tried to keep your cool as you waved hello.

“Welcome!” Helmut called out, both of you getting up to greet them properly. “I hope your flight was alright…?”

“Yeah, it was great,” Sam nodded, “thanks.”

“You really own this whole place?” James added, glancing around.

“Yes, would you like to have a swim? I hear it should be warm enough tomorrow for the ocean, but until then…” Helmut trailed off.

Sam went right ahead, diving in and smiling wide when he popped back up. That man had such an infectious smile, you thought he should charge people to see it or something because you felt spoiled seeing it for free.

James jumped in behind him but seemed a little surprised when he returned to the surface to see you back in your chair with Helmut. “Care to join us?” he asked you.

“Um, no, I already swam a bit this morning,” you remembered, suddenly shy, “I think I’ll stay by the pool a while longer.”

“Aw, I was looking forward to getting to know you better,” he pouted, and everyone else raised an eyebrow at that statement. “Um, verbally, I mean,” he added, cheeks flushing slightly.

“What would you want to know?” you asked, sighing as you relaxed against Helmut’s chest.

“Well, what’s your story?” he shrugged, swimming up the edge of the pool to hang his arms over the edge.

“I… suppose it’s a rather short story,” you realized, “I was born in Sokovia, but my parents were immigrants. I was a bit of an ugly duckling as a child, I think.”

“You look like quite the swan now,” James winked, and you hoped Helmut wouldn’t notice how much that affected you.

“Oh, thank you,” you mumbled.

“Which reminds me, that’s a cute bikini you have on,” he complimented.

“Do you like it?” you hummed coyly. “Helmut picked it out.”

“Why don’t you give them a better look, darling?” Helmut prompted, and Sam swam up to hang over the edge too as you stood up and fought the urge to cover yourself with your arms. The Baron motioned his finger in a circle, silently instructing you to twirl so they could see the back, and you did though you felt a bit self-conscious about it. Finally, once you were sure they’d had an eyeful, he let you sit back down in his lap.

“Cute, isn’t it?” he cooed as his fingers travelled slowly up your sides. “It’s Chanel.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Sam dismissed, unlatching himself from the edge of the pool and falling into a backstroke. “This is weird. I just wanna swim.”

“You didn’t think this was seriously a free vacation, no strings attached, did you?” James shot back, getting up out of the pool and shaking some of the water off of himself before sitting down in the chair beside you two and letting his eyes wander over you. “So, Chanel, huh?” he prompted, and you nodded.

“Helmut says I should only wear the nicest things,” you explained, sitting up slightly.

“Why does it matter? You’d look beautiful in anything,” James cooed, and you felt a little dirty for how much you liked his attention. Good thing you liked feeling dirty.

“And a rare wagyu steak would taste just as good served any way, but you wouldn’t put it on a paper plate, now would you?” Helmut countered. “Well, maybe you would…”

James rolled his eyes but brushed off Helmut’s insult, returning his attention to you. “I guess I’m just… hungry enough that it doesn’t make much of a difference.”

You reached up to trace your fingertip over the silver chain dangling off of his neck, biting your lip as you hooked your finger around it and pulled him closer. “Are you hungry enough that you don’t mind that it’s another man’s meal?”

His blue eyes went wide for a moment before glancing down to your lips and back up to your unwavering gaze, your brow raised as if a challenge while his furrowed as if he were considering accepting it.

“If he’s willing to share…” James whispered back.

“Then kiss me,” you requested softly, pulling him closer by his dog tags one more time until your lips met.

The way James kissed you was… difficult to describe. Gentle, but with this edge of intensity— like he was restraining himself, like there was so much more passion teeming beneath the surface. You wanted to bring that out if you could; you wanted to see how far you could push him until he lost it.

As James carefully ventured his tongue into your mouth, only to pull back and nip your bottom lip with his teeth, Helmut kissed you too— on the back of your neck, that spot that always made you wet and desperate right away. You moaned, and you couldn’t be sure exactly who it was for, but James sure decided to respond to it either way, tilting his head more to let his kiss explore you deeper.

Helmut’s teeth dug into your shoulder right as James nipped at your bottom lip like they had somehow explicitly coordinated to make you desperate; your right hand reached up to weave into James’ hair, your left squeezing Helmut’s wrist at your side.

The kiss ended just a moment too soon, and there was a delay before you blinked your eyes open to look back at James, who seemed quite proud of himself.

“Touch me,” you pleaded in a whimper.

“Where?” he asked, somewhat innocently.

“Y-you know where…” you mumbled.

He grinned wide, all trance of innocence gone. “I know, but I want you to say it.”

“My cunt,” you whispered, and he snarled just a bit at the word. “Please?”

“Of course, which one do you want?” James prompted with a grin, showing you his hands as your eyes instantly gravitated to the metal one.

“I think you know which I’m going to choose,” you mumbled shyly, and he smirked as he reached forward with the vibranium arm to brush his fingertips over your stomach, moving down to the top hemline of your bikini bottom.

You just barely gasped when the metal digits swiped over your clit and began to rub gentle circles, almost too slow as if he wanted to tease you… which, of course, he did.

"Do you like the way he touches you, draga?" Helmut whispered. His voice in your ear was like honey on your tongue, like honey everywhere.

"Yes, sir," you nodded, looking down at James' hand buried into your bikini.

"Hey, tell me you like it, too," James protested, "I'm the one doing it after all."

"I like it, James," you repeated, looking up at him. "I… don't have a title for you. Should I call you something when you touch me like this?"

"You can just call me Bucky from now on, okay? I think we're well past close enough now for that."

"Okay, Bucky," you sighed, watching the way his jaw clenched when you called him by name, "please put your fingers inside me."

"Both?"

"Yes, please," you breathed.

"But my fingers are thick, they're hard metal, and you're so small and delicate…"

"I want them to stretch me out, just please—"

A loud moan of shock jumped out of your mouth when he pushed the fingers in all at once, and though it reawakened some of the soreness from when Helmut had fucked you the night before, it felt wonderful enough to make your back arch up from the strong body behind you, his erection now digging into your hip.

It was certainly loud enough to get Sam's attention, who suddenly appeared beside the chair while he towelled off his chiselled chest.

"Damn, what are y'all doing to her over here?" he wondered aloud as if he were concerned for your health.

"Just playing with Zemo's little doll," Bucky answered. "She's really fucking tight, can barely fit two fingers."

"Wait, move over, let me see," Sam insisted, making Bucky pull his fingers out and Helmut holding you more firmly as Sam slipped his hand into your bikini as well, poking his fingers at your entrance before pushing them in.

His fingers were even thicker and longer than Bucky's, just by a slight margin yet enough to make you mewl and arch your back as your eyes fluttered shut.

"Fuck, yeah, you were right," Sam breathed, and you felt more hands running over your body but you couldn't even tell anymore whose they were; you knew one that reached to pull up your bikini top and expose your breasts was Helmut's, because only he would be so bold, but the fingers teasing your nipples, the rough palm running up your legs… they could've belonged to anyone, and that realization made your clit throb.

"Okay, okay, that's enough. I was here first," Bucky mumbled as you felt Sam's fingers slip out and the metal ones push back in— not to mention the thumb reaching up to circle your clit slowly.

He wasn't just exploring you this time; you could tell he had a mission. The way he instantly curled into your spot, the way he moved quickly yet deliberately, all made your thighs begin to quiver.

Helmut kissed your ear, gently tilting your head to access your neck better where he began to suck hard enough to leave a mark, mumbling something in Sokovian about how good you were being for him and his guests.

You loved being good, and the praise made your hips lift a little so you could rock yourself onto Bucky's fingers; the three men chuckled proudly.

"Feels that good?" Bucky pressed, and you nodded quickly.

He fingered you even faster, harder, and you cried out.

"Ohhh fuck, Bucky!" you gasped. "Bucky, I'm gonna come!"

"Oh no, you're not," Helmut groaned, giving you a quick spank on the inner thigh as you whined and jolted. "James, take your fingers out."

"Do I have to?"

"You do if you want a chance to fill her with more than just your fingers…"

That worked right away, Bucky pulling back as you pouted at being empty again.

“Let’s take her inside, and we can continue this there,” Helmut suggested, and Bucky lifted you up into his arms as the Baron led the group back to the master suite.

The convenient thing about bathing suits is that it takes so little time to get naked, which is why the second the patio door was shut, Bucky and Sam were stripping as their hard cocks bobbed up against their stomachs. As if that weren’t overwhelming enough, Helmut stepped away for a moment (which left you feeling more alone than usual) just as the men began to help you strip; Sam untied the back of your bikini while Bucky knelt and pulled down the bottoms, leaving you feeling exposed as you were totally bare before them. Bucky smiled up at you and kissed along your thighs while Sam grabbed a handful of your ass and growled a bit under his breath.

When you looked over at Helmut, you saw he had actually dressed in his robe rather than stripping, nearly making you whine with disappointment. But you couldn’t focus on that long as hands moved all over your skin, both of them still just slightly wet from the pool, and you shivered for both of those reasons.

You gasped when Bucky suddenly licked a thick stripe right over your folds, and if it weren’t for Sam’s arms holding you up, you might not have been able to stay standing.

Looking down at where Bucky was devouring you, he looked back up at you with a lot less dominating intensity in his eyes than you were used to seeing. Not that you minded; after all, no one could do what Helmut did as well as he could, but maybe Bucky could do something different, and it would be just as enjoyable. His tongue lapping at your clit was certainly wonderful so far.

Sam guided one of your hands back behind you to stroke his cock, your mouth falling slack, which he took advantage of by turning your face and capturing you in an open-mouthed kiss. You heard your moans stifle against his tongue, felt his cock flex a bit as you smeared the precum you found at his tip.

“I think that’s enough for now,” Helmut interrupted, and everyone turned to look at him. “Darling, come here,” he instructed with a curled finger that pointed to the bed, “hands and knees.”

You nodded and pushed the other men away, taking your place on the bed and looking up at him as he held your jaw gently.

"How long has it been since you had another man inside you, lutka?" he asked lowly.

"I can't even remember,” you admitted, “it's been so long…"

“Are you willing to try it?” he asked gently, no hint of domination or pressure in his tone, and you found yourself searching his eyes for the right answer.

“What do you want?” you asked him instead of answering.

“Draga, I’m asking what you want,” he reminded you, but you were afraid he would be hurt if you showed interest in the other men. Sure, previous evidence indicated that wasn’t an issue for him, but your gut instinct was to deny your attraction. So, you compromised.

“All I want is you,” you answered first, “but…”

“But?”

“But is it awful if… if I want them to fuck me, too?”

He smiled, kissing your forehead. “No, I don’t think so. Only as awful as it is that I want to watch them fuck you.”

You looked up at him and smiled back, brimming with gratitude that he was so gentle with you. It was fascinating how he wielded complete control over you and yet never used it against you.

“I have one rule, draga,” he added firmly, “you cannot come for them. You only come for me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And stay on your hands and knees, so I can always get a good look at you, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

He kissed you one more time before pulling away and sitting back in the chair in the corner with his ankle over his knee, looking at Sam and Bucky expectantly. Every chair he sat in seemed to look like a throne as soon as he was in it.

“Well, get on with it, then,” he instructed, motioning to you. The men looked at you and looked at each other before some kind of silent agreement took place and Bucky stepped up first. Sam sat down to watch you as you felt Bucky stand near the bed behind you, flesh and metal fingers running over your back until you shivered.

Then he pressed his cock against you, coating himself in your wetness, and that made you shiver, too.

You braced yourself as he lined himself up, whimpering slightly as he pushed his cock into you as well as hearing him moan lowly. The hand at your waist tightened as he hissed in a breath through his teeth.

"Fuck," he breathed, holding you still so he could fill you completely. “S’tight…” he slurred.

“How does it feel for you?” Helmut asked you, raising an eyebrow as he examined your expression, your mouth fallen slack, yet your brow furrowed.

“It feels… different,” you stammered your answer. You gasped loudly as Bucky started to move, and yes, this was very different. His cock was curved differently and though it didn’t exactly reach any new parts of you (you were sure Helmut had already touched every part of you physically accessible), it did stroke them in new ways.

He gained speed rather quickly, clearly too on edge himself to stay patient, and you didn’t blame him although it sent you moving faster toward the edge than you would’ve liked. At first you wondered if it would even be a challenge to keep from coming like Helmut had demanded… you chided yourself internally for ever being so hubristic.

His legs pushed yours apart, spreading them wider, and he began to really fuck you in earnest, fast and needy and each slam of his hips against your ass harder than ever. “O-oh fuck,” you choked, forcing your eyes shut and scrunching up your nose for a second when he slammed the tip of his cock right into the deepest spots inside you. This position left you with nowhere to go, put your whole body on display for him along with giving you no escape from his onslaught of pleasure. Worst of all was that you were pretty sure he wasn’t even trying that hard to make you feel good, and yet feeling used like that only turned you on more.

"Bucky, please, slow down," you whimpered.

"Absolutely do not do that," Helmut interjected sternly. "Don't let her tell you what to do."

And, possibly just to spite you, he actually fucked you faster. You sobbed and bit down on your lip, fighting everything building up inside you.

“You’d better not come,” Helmut warned through his teeth, “you’d better not fucking come. You know how bad it would be for you if you came for another man.”

“Y-yes, sir,” you nodded.

But Bucky was slamming right into your spot, and he knew it, too. He knew how desperate you were becoming, and apparently, he didn’t mind at all that you’d be punished for it. He leaned down to growl against your ear, “I know how close you are. Don’t you think it’d feel so good to just let go and come on my cock?”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as the force it took to hold back your orgasm became painful. “No, it would only feel good to come for Helmut…”

“C’mon baby, just stop fighting it and come for me,” Bucky taunted, “squeeze me tight with that sweet little pussy; I know you need to so bad.”

He wasn’t wrong, but you blinked with teary eyes up at Helmut and wanted nothing more than to please him and make him proud of you. “Please, m-make him stop,” you begged, “I won’t be able to hold back anymore…”

“He’s not going to stop until he comes, lutka, and you need to stay strong,” he explained, his voice soothing you slightly. “You need to be my good girl. Can you do that?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered.

Bucky held your hips tight as he pulled your body back onto his cock, and you forced your eyes shut to try to focus on not coming. No other man had made you come in your life but Helmut, and you had no intentions of breaking that streak.

“Think you can make me come before I make you come?” Bucky challenged.

“I have to,” you answered breathlessly. “And I want you to come… I wanna make you come so bad, Bucky, please…”

“Mhmm?” he encouraged.

“Please, I want it, please come for me,” you whimpered.

“Fuck, I will,” he promised darkly, fucking you even harder.

Helmut interjected a brief instruction: “Pull out.”

Bucky nodded a little, breathing heavily as you felt his cock throb slightly, especially at the base where each movement stretched you out even more. It was so beautifully erotic and you were tensing every muscle inside you to try not to come, which helped speed him up quite a bit since you were gripping him so tight.

“Fuck,” Bucky grunted, “fuck!”

He pulled out and instantly painted your back with a roar, sliding his cock over your ass as he pumped stream after stream of come onto you. You sighed happily, satisfied that you had managed to stave off orgasm with perhaps only a few seconds to spare— you’d never been so happy to make someone come before because this time it brought relief that you had done well for your Baron.

Then again, you always felt that way when you made the man himself come, but this was different because you had been moments away from failing him.

Speaking of the Baron, he stared down at you proudly the whole time, kneeling down slightly to swipe his finger through the cooling spend on your back and bring it to your open lips. “Mm, you really are my perfect little girl,” he mumbled as you sucked his finger diligently. But he turned his attention away from you to call out across the room, “Sam! It’s your turn.”

Your eyes went wide. “W-wait, Helmut, I’ll come!”

“No, you won’t,” he hissed, eyes darkening again, “because I told you not to.”

And Sam was already behind you, taking Bucky’s place who had already cleaned himself up a bit and returned to his seat, letting the Baron pour him a drink which he gulped down in one go.

When Sam pushed into the end of you, your natural instinct was to arch your back up to try to keep him from going too deep, but he growled and pushed your back down again with a strong hand that made you feel so small for a moment. “No, baby, no running away… you’re gonna take it all.”

“Yes, daddy,” you breathed, yelping a little when he roughly shoved in that last inch.

From then on, he went much harder on you than Bucky had, spanking you and gripping your ass while he fucked you, and the most embarrassing part was how much harder it made it to keep from coming. It was clear that he realized making you come would give him power over everyone else in the room for different reasons, and he was determined to gain that power.

“Does he fuck you this good, huh?” he groaned.

“He fucks me better,” you shot back right away, making Helmut chuckle slightly.

“If your plan is to make her switch allegiances, you’ll have to do better than that,” Helmut taunted, and Sam doubled his efforts as one hand pinched your clit and the other groped your breast. You almost lost it right there but managed to pull yourself together, your whole body shaking with the effort to keep the pleasure at bay.

“Well, if he can fuck you better then why doesn’t he?” Sam continued his leading questions, even though you could barely keep up a conversation at this point. “Why does he keep pimping you out to us if he’s fucking you right all on his own?”

“Don’t you understand?” you breathed, your head falling down onto the bed as you were almost able to look back enough to see his face. “This is my punishment. He knows I don’t want anyone else; that’s why you’re here.”

Sam smiled, perhaps in pity, and yet you honestly had to close your eyes because his smile was so lovely that it could’ve brought an end to your restraint. “Poor thing, he’s really got you whipped. I… still can’t believe I’m doing this, but you feel too good to stop now.”

He yanked your head back by your hair for emphasis, making you yelp as he fucked you brutally. Your toes curled and your fingers dug into the sheets, and you had to close your eyes because the way Helmut was staring at you made this all much too difficult. Maybe it was just that he didn’t seem jealous at all, or angry; but he didn’t seem like he was getting any excess pleasure out of this, either. It was… almost neutral, but something burned behind his eyes brighter than maybe you’d ever seen it, his legs crossed and his fingers interlaced as he waited for you to either hold or break.

With the top half of your body fallen limply onto the bed, you reached out above your head and felt Helmut’s hand grab yours, squeezing slightly, and it helped keep you grounded as you held his fingers.

“Oh fuck, ‘m gonna come,” Sam groaned out his warning, “gonna cover this pretty ass in my come, you want that?”

“Yes, please,” you shuddered.

“Keep begging for it,” he demanded, rushing his words as you felt his cock start to throb against your walls with his impending orgasm.

“Please come, please come, please come on me, Sam, please,” you chanted, over and over, struggling not to come and hoping that if you could speed him up, then you could make it.

He grunted through his teeth as hot ropes of seed covered your ass; though your body was left wanting, dangling on the edge so close to your release, your mind was satisfied that you had managed to follow your Baron’s rules.

Sam stepped back to admire his work, finding another spare robe to cover himself with as he rejoined the other men across the room.

“Would you like a drink as well?” Helmut offered to Sam, unfortunately letting go of your hand in the process. Sam was still catching his breath, running his hands over his short hair as if he was processing everything.

“No, but are those cigars up for grabs?” Sam replied, pointing to the ornate box propped open, and Helmut nodded.

“Of course; what’s mine is yours,” he answered, presenting the box and lighter to him.

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Sam added flatly, the three of them all looking at where you were sitting, covered in come and waiting patiently for your next command.

Just as you feared they’d all have their cigars and whiskey and ignore you completely, your Baron knelt down to look at you face-to-face, smiling proudly.

“You did so good for me, darling,” he cooed, and your insides clenched as if you could come just from hearing that. “You don't think I'm horribly cruel, do you?"

"No, sir," you smiled weakly.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised with a kiss to the tip of your nose as he stepped away to the master bathroom.

You glanced at the other men— Bucky with his crystal glass of whiskey, Sam puffing at the cigar stoically— and wondered what, if anything, you could possibly say.

“So, how’s your weekend been so far?” Sam asked you plainly, breaking the silence.

“It’s only Friday night,” you realized, sighing as you tried not to imagine how much debauchery the Baron had in store for you. Right now you were so exhausted that it sounded like too much work; and you were so desperate only for Helmut that the idea of anybody else being involved intimidated you.

Helmut returned quickly with a washcloth, sitting beside you on the bed and placing it gently on your back.

“As pretty as you look covered in come, I’d rather not make too much of a mess,” Helmut explained as he wiped you down with the damp cloth, your skin tingling and your body crying out for more of his touch.

“Will you fuck me, sir?” you mumbled, somewhere between an honest question and a desperate plea.

“Yes, I will,” he answered, making you hum happily, “and I’m finally going to let you come.”

You bit down on your lip, trying not to moan just from hearing that.

“But I’m not going to let you stop.”

The lump in your throat was impossible to swallow, but you tried anyway as he tossed the rag away and circled the bed, standing behind where you were laying limply. He grabbed you by your ankles and pulled you down to where he needed you, covering your body with his as he kissed the back of your neck slowly.

“I bet you’ll come the moment I’m inside you, draga,” he whispered. You nodded in agreement, gasping a bit as you felt his cock teasing your swollen, sore pussy. Just the tip bumping into your clit was enough to make you think you could come right there, you’d been on the edge so long.

But then he pushed into you in one stroke, not rough yet enough to reignite the soreness of being filled by two men already, and your walls started to pulse around him. A million words swirled in your mind, words about how perfect he felt and how you’d missed him so much and how no one could fuck you like he could, but none of them made it to your mouth where you could only moan loudly.

He wrapped his arms around you, he kissed everywhere he could reach, and waves of pleasure washed over you until tears filled your eyes. You lost count immediately, coming on his cock over and over as you became a limp, whimpering mess right away.

“You two really did miss out,” Helmut taunted the other men between his own moans, “it feels so fucking amazing to be inside her when she comes. She gets tighter every time… blyat, so tight I can hardly control myself.”

It was already hot to hear him speak to you like that in these moments, but for him to speak to someone else, to keep you from forgetting that you weren’t alone and that these men had just fucked you and were watching you come right now? You hadn’t even imagined before what that would be like.

“Please, please, sir, please,” you chanted, your voice breaking until you could barely whisper.

“What is it that you want, lutka? Do you even know what you’re begging for anymore?”

“I want whatever you want, sir, please,” you cried. He reached around your body to rub your throbbing clit, and you all but screamed.

“I know you do, beautiful, I know,” he breathed, kissing your back and shoulder tenderly to calm you. “I love you so much, draga, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I love you too, Helmut,” you whispered, “more than anything. I love being yours.”

“Aw,” you heard Bucky briefly sigh.

“Dude, shut up,” Sam corrected him harshly.

“It’s sweet!” Bucky defended.

“It’s weird; this is all so weird,” Sam frowned.

“You didn’t seem to mind before…” Bucky trailed off.

Two of Helmut’s fingers swiped over your open lips and you immediately sucked them into your mouth with a satisfied hum, the taste of his skin always comforting you. When he rolled you onto your side, it was so much easier for him to touch you wherever he wanted and it only did more to keep you overwhelmed with pleasure until you worried you couldn’t take much more. But you kept sucking his fingers, tears still falling which he occasionally kissed away, until he took his hand away to wrap around your neck instead. You nodded a little to let him know it was okay to choke you, and your loud moans fell to sudden silence when he tightened his grip.

It made your eyes roll back, it made your walls flutter and your toes start to go numb, it made you wonder if you were going to pass out whether or not he let you breathe again because your body was already ready to give in.

You sucked in a gasp when he let go, sobbing his name as a particularly deep thrust knocked you right into your peak again. He kept one hand on your neck as the other reached between your legs to play with your abused pussy as he fucked it harder than ever.

“I can’t come anymore,” you assured, shaking your head and trying to push his hand away from your sore clit. “I— I can’t…”

“Yes, you can, draga, I know you can. Just relax and let me keep making you feel good,” he instructed, somehow both gentle and demanding all at once.

“I… I can’t…” you breathed, nearly incomprehensible between thick sobs, but you were already coming again in spite of your words, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body from the inside out. He choked you out into silence again, praising you all the way through it.

“There you go, shh, it’s all right,” he soothed, “you’re so beautiful, darling, so good for me, just keep going…”

You reached back to lace your fingers into his hair and tug, which did nothing to deter him from kissing your neck just beneath where his thumb gripped it, same as your hand wrapped tightly around his wrist didn’t stop him from quickly rubbing your clit.

Breath filled your lungs when he let go, and you were so desperate for relief that you felt like you weren’t even in control of your words anymore.

"Please come inside me," you begged mindlessly, "please, I need you so bad, please…"

“Is that what you need?” he groaned. “You need to be full of my seed?”

“Yes, please, want it deep in me— fuck, Helmut, please!”

He growled and bit your ear lightly, mumbling his promise to fill you up in Sokovian— sometimes you thought he spoke Sokovian when he was about to come because he was so distracted that he forgot English, but you didn’t think that at the moment because you were currently too cockdrunk to think about anything.

His low moan echoed right through your body as you felt his cock flex and throb with each pump of come, just as deep as you’d wanted, and you sighed happily at the familiar feeling, finally relaxing into the mattress.

But perhaps you relaxed a little too soon because he made you come one more time after he’d filled you, whispering something about he wanted to use your pussy to milk every drop from his cock, but after that finally he pulled out, and you collapsed face-down onto the bed, ready to pass out even though the sun was only just beginning to set and you’d slept until noon earlier.

“Well, I think we sufficiently knocked her out,” Sam chuckled.

“‘We’?” Helmut repeated, sounding a bit offended yet bemused as he redressed.

“Okay fine, you did most of the heavy lifting, but only cause you wouldn’t let her come for us,” Sam relented with a frown.

“I swear, I was this close to getting her to break,” Bucky interjected, sighing before taking another slow sip of his (third) drink.

“Yeah, what would’ve happened if one of us made her come, anyway?” Sam wondered aloud. “She seemed pretty worried about whatever punishment you had in store for her.”

“Nothing too terrible,” Helmut shrugged, “I just would’ve fucked her in the ass.”

Bucky choked on his whiskey as Sam tried and failed to suppress a smirk.

“She lets you do that?!” Bucky blurted out between fits of coughing.

“She lets me do whatever I want,” Helmut replied, “I’m surprised that hasn’t become abundantly clear to you by now.”

“I guess we’re still adjusting to it, that’s all,” Sam explained. “I don’t know about you,” he looked at Bucky, “but this is new for me.”

“I was born in 1917; everything is new for me,” Bucky frowned.

“Well, this is new for us too,” Helmut assured, “especially her, she was so inexperienced when she met me…”

He paused for a moment to reminisce before glancing at you lying prone on the bed and looked totally fucked-out.

“But look at her now!” he finished. “She takes it all in stride.”

“Yeah, she’s a trooper alright,” Sam agreed. “Be careful with her, Zemo, ‘cause I think if you hurt her too bad, Bucky here is gonna be waiting in the wings to steal her.”

“I— what?!” Bucky snorted defensively.

“Don’t think we can’t see you giving her googly eyes, not that I blame you or anything… getting deepthroated for the first time will definitely make you catch feelings,” Sam smirked before taking a puff of the cigar again.

“It’s not like that, I’m just… listen, I guess I’m just a bit more conventional than you perverts,” he frowned. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or anything, I just can’t imagine having a girl like that all to myself and letting anybody else lay a finger on her.”

“Not everyone is as insecure as you, James,” Helmut shrugged. “Women can’t be stolen. They can only go where they want to. And she wants to be with me.”

He turned back to ask you if you agreed, but you were already fast asleep. Smiling slightly, he grabbed a blanket from the foot of the bed and unfolded it to drape over you; you instinctively cuddled up under it without waking up, letting out a quiet sigh.

“Goodnight, draga,” he whispered with a kiss to your forehead. “Rest well, you’ll need it for the morning.”

#baron zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #helmut zemo smut #bucky barnes smut #sam wilson smut

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atinybitofau · 4 years ago

Text

S E O N G H W A ⥈ mafia au series

RECAP: training with the boys begins and frustrations between you all get heated. Seonghwa offers you a kind gesture of motivation to get you to learn how to fight.

word count: 1600+ , tags: angst fluff

characters: ateez (ensemble), reader

⤩ CHAPTER 3 ⤩

character list . one shot

“So what DO you know how to do?”

Yunho has never recalled seeing such a pathetic attempt at shooting in his entire life. Up until today when he saw the way your hand trembles around a gun. San, on the other hand, was elated to watch you suck at every single thing you tried to do. You were downright frustrated knowing: learning how to shoot, physically defend yourself, and fighting back wasn’t something you sought to learn.

He kept his hopes high though, Yunho, wanting to see you prosper at the side of his ruthless boss. And even if San thinks otherwise of the circumstances, Yunho assumed your place beside Seonghwa would do the heartless southside king justice. Being with him for so long, Yunho knew of Seonghwa’s shortcomings. Love was undoubtedly one of the assets Seonghwa never had. Seeing as he’s at least trying, Yunho wanted to help out the fact.

He had become frustrated too whilst teaching you and decided maybe you needed a breather.

You were quiet despite San’s failed efforts to get into your head with his rambunctious insults. You only stared at the ground while the other two pondered over new ideas. You weren’t trying at all. You’d like to think it’s because you refuse to take part in justifying yourself for a self proclaimed husband. Honestly, you just had little motivation to try let alone exert any unnecessary efforts.

“Your husband’s arrived early.” A meddling voice fills your empty mind. “He‘s on his way to pick your ass up so look alive.”

Your lips curt a faint affirmation before taking your things and beelining for the building’s locker room. There was soft excitement that frenzied deep down in your stomach as you changed. Not that being around a bunch of buffoons bothered you much but you’d much more prefer the company of a senile swine like your husband than them any day. As pathetic as they sounds to you...

San’s picking at his nails cooly on the outside patio while Yunho leans against a pillar. You’re sat cozy in a chair with your bag over your lap as you all await the said mob boss’ arrival.

“Fashionably fucking late, as always.” San seethes through gritted teeth. “Does that asshole not know I have better things to do than babysit his sorry excuse for a wife?”

San was getting sick and tired of it already. Of course, unbeknownst to you, San absolutely adored his precious leader. It doesn’t excuse the fact that your obnoxiously attractive self gets to settle down with his own first love. To add to it, Seonghwa was effortlessly throwing you around like a treasure that must be watched at all times. Somehow, San realizes the time Seonghwa claimed he had when bargaining his new gift did not exist. So here San was doing Seonghwa’s bidding yet again.

Yunho notices the clench in San’s tight look and glares into his own. “Sannie. Let’s not get careless.”

“Bastard better think twice if he thinks I’m gonna still be sleeping in his house after this.”

San glances at you with no momentary comfort before sticking a cigarette into his lips. You note the face of shock that masks on Yunho’s face but says nothing at all.

“He’s here.” Yunho coughs out while glaring at the cancer stuck between San’s lips. “Kill that stupid thing.”

“With pleasure.” San growls back eyes groveling at you.

“San.”

You stand up upon seeing Seonghwa’s knowing glare from the cracked window of his sleek black SUV. The tables turned on the fellows around you when your heels flick on an opposite direction. Being unwanted never bothered you. Being unwanted forced into a situation has not once bothered you. Being victim to it and having the choice to walk out? Now that’s an additional option you’ve never always have and will always willingly take. You don’t do unnecessary efforts. And you know when you aren’t wanted.

“Y/n!”

You ignore them with heavy feet trudging in no resolute destination in mind. Your fingers play with the earphones in your bag before placing them in your deafening ears. You’re joined by a slow moving car at your side while you walk in no particular direction away from your fiancé.

“Honey, get in.”

You ignore him with a long press of your volume up button.

“Stop being stubborn, y/n.” His voice gets harder. “If I have to get out of this car so help me god I’ll—“

You snatch an earphone out of your ear. “You’ll have San deal with me?”

He abruptly brakes when you do. You let out a grunt of vexation before placing an earbud back in your ear.

Seonghwa decides to park his car right then and there to throw you over his shoulder like a sack of rice. Your face flushes in the hottest color of pink as you try to break free.

“S-SEONGHWA WHAT THE HELL?”

“This’ll be what stubborn gets you from now on.”

You resort to sulking in the front seat as your husband possesively holds his hand on the surface of your thigh. You don’t bother even looking back at where the both of you left San and Yunho, irritated eyes strewn on the outside of the moving vehicle.

“I’m assuming your training didn’t go too well.” He comments while driving faster this time.

You don’t reply making Seonghwa’s fingers twitch on your lap. So much for convincing yourself you aren’t wanted.

“Y/n, I’m no psychic. You need to tell me if something bothers you.”

You scoff. “And what, Seonghwa? You’re gonna fix it?”

“I most definitely will try if that’s what you entail me to do.”

You don’t move from your position as your husband drives you to what you know is back home. The eerie silence that fills the both of you in the car makes your gut clench. His fingers on your thigh aren’t helping the entire car ride either.

Seonghwa’s presence to you reminded you of air. He wasn’t a nuisance to have around and for an appraising relationship to move forth with lesser issues, that’s a good thing. Actually, to add to the fact, Seonghwa was much more meaningful company than anyone else. He never crossed any unnecessary lines and if he did, he did so with grace. It was hardly something you can’t sleep on.

He escorts you, with a distance between you two, towards your shared room and it feels domestic. There’s little need for words. Needn’t questions either. Seonghwa was far from an open book, but he’s not the type of novel that pegged your fancy anyway.

Seonghwa’s back was to you as he stripped out of his dark suit, shoulders bared with torturous temptation. Your mind was clouded no thoughts head empty when he brings you out of your trance with a slight quirk of his chin around his shoulder.

“I can at least draw to a conclusion,” He just keeps pushing the subject of matter you refuse to shed light on. “that the basics of living with a man like me weren’t taught to you properly then.”

Your face becomes shaded with amusement. “Living with a man like you requires basic training?”

“You always think so little of me, my precious wife.”

You feel like you’re in some fanatical love story— how fast he is to getting to your place, finger upon the tip of your chin. He lifts your gaze up onto his eyes with certainty and slight amusement too.

“I may not be of some threat to you but some people will think of you to them. I’m an expensive man and I don’t spend my money and the likes of it on just anybody.”

A twitched smile screws your expression. “And that’s supposed to impress me?”

“Scare you a better word for it.” He slips on a low cut long sleeve and a pair of casual pants before dropping you onto his lap. “I need to know. That at all times I’m never with you.. you’re prepared to take down the worst.”

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat as his fingers grace the exposed skin on your neck. His lips take upon the deed of pressing a sweet kiss, the feel of pain besting you. You don’t realize in the blur of the pleasure how a throbbing pain lingers where his lips lift.

“I know I promised not to take things too far but if you have no reason to fight, I’ll have to offer you one.”

It’s not a mark of lust nor was it a bite of love. It was a mark for people to see. It was a caligraphy of his own sort, making itvlegible for anyone to read. His lips relieves the vibrating pain and you’re curious. You turn to face him and his breath meets yours. You get caught up in something that isn’t there but you can taste. It was like something you need. A lot like air.

“It was meant for your skin.” He reassures you taking an inch of space back. “It’s not inclined for you to believe it’s also for your lips sake.”

You chuckle softly no blush apparent to his notion. “What a romanticist.”

He boredly hums. “Seems so.”

You wear a shirt that reveals the mark as if you’re proud to bear it. No, it’s not pride you feel entitled to, it’s the meaning. It gives you reason to fight.

Seonghwa stands beside you while you throw punches; in front of you when you kick and swing so he can teach you how it’s done.

It’s then you realize why he’s Southside’s king and why he deserves his title.

“Yunho informed me that your lack of skill was overbearing this afternoon.” Seonghwa speaks highly, eyes dawned with amusement and amazement. “That or I’m just one hell of a good teacher.”

You lean over to help him up. “I didn’t have a reason to defend myself. I think I do now.”

“While fighting me?”

“Something like that..”

@atinybitofau

a/n: ROUGH EDIT

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cornacopicimagines · 5 years ago

Text

best of friends │t.h

pairing: single dad!mob!tom holland x single mum!reader

words: 9k (oh god, i’m so sorry)

warnings: SMUT, swearing, praise kink, oral (female recieving), slight violence, mentions of verbal abuse/ degration & rough sex if you squint

summary: Theo y/l/n and James Holland are the best friends that only 8-year-olds can get, their parents though are a little less happy with their lives. For James' dad; Mob-King Tom, he can't seem to catch cupid's arrow. Better yet, he refused to even let the stupid cherub let it fly free. For Theo's mum; y/n, it's her confidence that shakes her love life until there's nothing there. So it was meant to be.

a/n: at first i hated this fic (i still sort of hate the first part) but i think it’s really grown on me :)

masterlist

part 2

━━★✼☆｡

y/n smiled as she waved off the last group of kids, the small children giving her tight hugs before running off to their parents. She truly loved her job; she couldn't ask for anything other than the life she has right now but something has always been devoid. Alas, being a primary school teacher with an 8-year-old son can keep you busy enough to forget about your past problems.

"Muuum," Theo dragged on as he danced around one desk lazily, "when are we going home, I've got some cartoons to watch," he said snappily, y/n debated on whether she should call her son out on his attitude.

"Soon, you little devil," y/n replied, still happily dismissing her students. Seeing as most of the kids had gone or having a chat with their parents, y/n took that as a sign to pack up her classroom.

"I think Molly has a crush on me," Theo told y/n with a wide grin on his face. She stared up at him with a matching smile.

"Really, how do you know that?" y/n asked cheekily, she waited for her son's answer but only got a shrug and a sigh. She chestily laughed as she started to pack up her bag. "That's not an answer little man!"

"Ask James, he agrees with me," Theo defended.

"You two have really been making a ruckus in my classroom, I should probably split you two up," y/n falsely threatened as she slipped on a small touch up of her pale red lip gloss.

Theo immediately ran to the front of her desk with sad eyes, "please don't mum, we'll be extra good," Theo lifted his pinky finger to wave in her face, "I pinky promise."

y/n stared down and captured his tiny finger with hers, sealing the deal. As she grabbed the rest of her things from underneath her desk, she heard the small pitter patter of an extra pair of feet.

"Hi, Ms.y/l/n" a soft worried voice called out, y/n lifted her head to see James Holland with his bottom lip trembling and his eyes filling with hot tears not daring to spill over. y/n almost jumped over the desk to comfort the young boy.

"Oh James, what's the matter?" she asked gently as she gently wiped the liquid from his cheeks.

"I was supposed to-to be picked up-p a long t-t-time ago," James told her through stifled sobs. y/n felt her heart shatter with absolute sadness for this little boy. It had been an hour since school ended, his parents must be late. "I was wondering if I could go home with you until my dad or his assistant can come and get me."

y/n knew that James's dad did some shady business. She wasn't dumb; she picked up on everything. Whenever his so-called assistant would come to get James she would always ask what he did to dress so sharply and the blonde would constantly have a different answer or sometimes he would deflect the question altogether. She also noticed the gun that lay hidden underneath his jacket and the small pocket knives around his waist. She never thought too much about it because James was the sweetest kid on the planet and he made Theo thrilled, she would not take that away from him by alerting the police to a threat that she had nothing but a hunch about.

Theo burst into a roar of excited cheers as soon as the sentence fell off James's lips. y/n shushed her son before turning back to James. "As much as both of us would love that, you can't come home with us without your dad's permission."

"Can't you just call him?" James exclaimed as he corked an eyebrow at her, as small blush arose on her cheeks; sometimes she felt dumber than the kids. As school policy goes, y/n must have a small binder with all the parents' contacts in case of emergencies.

"Great idea," she complimented as she quickly went to make the phone call. Her finger skimmed around the book, finding the last name Holland and the first name Tom underneath James's page. She had heard that name before she just can identify where. Either way, she rang and someone answered after a few rings.

"Hello?" a male voice called out.

"Hi, this is Ms. y/l/n," y/n told him sweetly. "I have James here saying that nobody has picked him up yet," she told him.

"Fuck, I knew I forgot something!" the voice shouted, y/n was 99% sure the boys could hear it, "shit, Tom will gut me like a fish," the man sounded worried and flustered with panic and fear.

"Wait, who am I exactly talking to?" she pondered.

"Harrison, I'm Tom's assistant." Harrison rolled the assistant slowly. An obvious diversion that she wasn't idiotic enough to fall for.

"Well, if it makes any difference, Theo and James have just made plans for James to come home with myself and Theo," she spoke quietly. "Would that be okay?"

The line was silent for a second or two before Harrison quickly responded, "Yes that will be fine, someone will pick him up around 6," he snapped at her before cutting off the line abruptly.

y/n stared at her phone for a moment before she stared at the boys with a wide gleam. "You're coming home with us James and its homemade pizza for dinner tonight!"

With that, the pair of boys rejoiced and the three of them walked out of the classroom and towards the exit.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom sat in his impressively large chair, his eyes never leaving the clock that lay between photos of his family and his son James. He had been in meetings all day with people that pissed him the fuck off. All Tom had been looking forward to is seeing his son and spending his time playing with James. But yet, it had been an hour since he should have been out of school, meaning he should have been home 20 minutes ago. There as a few harsh knocks, Tom instantly knew who it was.

"Got some news mate," Harrison told him before he had even entered the room.

Tom let his head lean back and a hoarse groan slips out, "it better be good otherwise, I don't want to fucking hear it," Tom spat, "I've been in meetings all day, just wanna see my son."

"About that." Harrison trailed off. Tom felt his heart stop. He instantly rushed over to Harrison's side. "I forgot to pick James up from school today and-"

"You absolute dumbass!" Tom roared. "Other Mob bosses know who he is. I can't have him walking the school ground by himself he'll get bloody kidnapped!" Tom started to ramble, he hardly ever did such an infantile act. He hadn't rambled since James was left on his doorstep with a note saying he was Tom's son and that was eight years ago!

Tom couldn't help but feel guilt rack his body, a million thoughts ran through his mind and he felt as if he was on the verge of tears, but he refuses to let even one go. Suddenly, he snapped out of it and almost sprinted towards Harrison. His hands clasped around Harrison's collar and brought him in so fast, Harrison's knees buckled at the force and skidded across the hard floor. "If you didn't pick him up, where the fuck is he?"

Tom watched as Harrison gulped loudly. Tom hated getting violent with Harrison, but with the safety of his son. Tom would mow downfield of people if it meant James was alive.

"He is with his teacher and her son. She said that I have to pick him up later," Harrison told him weepily. Tom didn't know if it relieved him to know that his son was with good hands with his teacher, who Tom had only heard good things about from Harrison or that his right-hand man let his son go off with a woman Tom has never met. "Listen, she said they are making homemade pizza and that we are welcome to join her when I go pick James up."

"Hm, pick him up when it is necessary," Tom grunted as he walked off, suddenly much calmer than he was before. Harrison regained his composure and ran to Tom's side.

"No, I think you should go pick him up," Harrison told him. Coming from anyone else, Tom would have their tongue cut out, but Tom felt obliged to let it slide after his recent outburst at Harrison. "I think it would be good for James to see his own father come pick him up for once and it wouldn't hurt to meet Ms. y/l/n," Harrison spoke the last part with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"Before you scheme and manipulate your way into making me do something, you know I don't want any woman taking advantage of me- again," Tom hated saying that sentence, he hated giving James's mother the satisfaction that she broke the heart of the world's hardest mobster. That a dancer from a strip club he owned broke the one heart that was never meant to; his. Tom took it as a sign that love wasn't in his card, only single parenthood. Though deep down, Tom wanted someone else, he didn't want to sleep around with expensive strippers and high-end prostitutes for the rest of his life, he would not die with that being his greatest achievement in the sex department. He'd never admit that to a single soul.

"Come on, get back on the horse," Harrison told him gleefully, "She's a nice woman and you've always complained that all the girlfriends you've had since James have hated children, well she works with your son almost every day. There's a fucking jackpot right in front of you, mate."

Tom groaned in disapproval, "How do you even know she's single, she got an 8-year-old son, she's married" he sighed

"You have an eight-year-old and you aren't fucking married you twat," Harrison scoffed, "plus I've never seen a ring on that finger," he held up his ringer finger and swirling it in his face.

"I don't want to do this anymore, Harrison," Tom complained as he smacked Harrison hand away, "I think it's time to give up, my schedule is too busy, I can barely see my own fucking son!" Tom called out as he rested his hands on his hair, "How can I sustain an actual relationship?"

Harrison said nothing but stared at his best friend. To Harrison, Tom looked flustered, angry and tense. Harrison knew that Tom blamed only himself for the misfortunes in his life, even though all the shit that was happening to him wasn't his fault at all.

Tom could see Harrison was pondering at him. He hated it. "If I do this, will you give it a fucking rest," Tom compromised. Harrison looked at him smugly.

━━★✼☆｡

y/n stood at the messy benches of her kitchen, shredded cheese fell everywhere and a three quarterly cut pepperoni stick was about to fall off. A warm and delicious smell over the house from the full oven; it was her favourite thing. Currently, y/n was finely chopping basil and rosemary while the two boys sat at the island table, flour and sauce almost covered the entire table and the power creates a ring around the boys.

"Now, Theo do you want to tell James how to lay the pepperoni to make sure it doesn't get all soggy," y/n asked him sweetly, trusting him enough to not have to turn around completely.

"Yesmum!" Theo called out as if she wasn't in the same room. She chuckled to herself before she dumped the herbs into a bowl and came over to the table, sitting on one of the free chairs.

y/n watched as Theo taught James the perfect placing of pepperoni on the spare pizza. It was if y/n intrigue of James's father had hit an all-time high as she stared at the young boy. Before she taught James, she remembers hearing a lot of rumours about James's father from the other teachers and even other mothers about how he was mysterious and them handsome. She used to giggle at the rumours; she supposed that some lonely suburban housewives concocted the rumours, that they had nothing better to do than lust after the young bachelor because their husbands can find the g-spot.

But now that she is teaching James, the rumours seem to come alive the longer she knows the boy. She can't help but fall into the trap of her primal curiosity because of a stranger she's never even met and that very stranger could deal with a shady past or worse a shady present.

"So, James, how your dad?" y/n asked innocently. James stopped placing the toppings to talk to her (much to Theo's disapproval).

"Oh, he's awesome, I don't get to see him a lot but when I do it's amazing," James squealed happily. y/n cocked her eyebrow at the boy.

"What do you mean, you don't get to see him a lot', doesn't your dad pick you up from school every day," y/n pressed, she knew she shouldn't be asking him these types of questions but she couldn't help it and James seemed happy enough to answer.

"My dad partner picks me up, his name's Harrison, and he's the best," James smiled widely as Theo tried to get him to pay attention.

"So, what does your dad do?" y/n queered again, genuinely interested in James' answer. The little boy scratched his head a bit before shrugging his shoulders in confusion, y/n laughed sweetly. "You know how I work as your teacher-"

"And you're the best!" James cut her off suddenly.

"Thank you, but what does your dad do during the day," she spoke quietly but it appeared James got the memo.

"My dad does deals with people where he shouts at them and sometimes, I see this icky dark red stuff on him, but dad just tells me it's just paint," James replied sweetly unaware of y/n shocked face. Sure, she had her doubts and suspicions, but she never expected them to be true. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. She has the son of Tom fucking Holland in her house, likely without his knowledge. She'd be lucky if Tom leaves her bloody and bruised. y/n didn't want to believe that this angelic and adorable boy has the world's most feared mobster has a father. How the fuck did she not notice the queue with all the bodyguards that come along to pickup time, the expensive stuff that he brings to class and why Harrison is always wearing a very expensive suit just to bring an eight-year-old back home.

"We're done, ma," Theo called her out of her anxiety-driven haze. She smiled sheepishly as she took the pizzas from the boys and put them in the oven. "Are you okay, mum?" Theo asked again as he crawled off the chair and went to throw the scraps in the bin.

"Yes sweetheart," y/n replied shakily. What was she going to say to him, how was she going to explain, how is she going to keep her son safe, what if she-

Ding!

The doorbell rang, the sound almost deafened her. y/n steadied her nerves and walked over to open the door. Outside stood two bulky 6'4" men and a nicely dressed one in the middle. For some odd reason, y/n felt her cheeks heat and her heart rate pick up. The messily pushed back brown curls seemed to fall perfectly in place and frame his face. Massive diamond rings laced his fingers as he slightly tapped at his wrist, that she might add was decorated stunningly with pronounced veins that made her weak.

"Um, welcome," y/n spoke quietly, the man in the middle (who she assumed was Tom) stared at her darkly before stepping inside. The warm lighting of her hallway seemed to illuminate Tom's features y/n noticed the sharp jaw, and she was just able to make out his dark brown eyes underneath the Versace sunglasses. "Hi, you m-must be James's dad, I'm Theo's mum; y/n," she extended her hand to meet his.

Since she opened the door, entrancement seemed to flow through him. Sure, it wasn't romantically at first, but the woman surely intrigued him. She had her hair tucked behind her slightly sauced ears and behind a flour-covered apron seemed to be a tight-fitting red pin-up dress, which he compliments shows off her curves nicely. Tom felt like he had to smile at her, not in a joking way but in a way that he couldn't explain. In a way that he had to smile when he saw Tessa trip over her own feet. It was adorable; she was adorable.

When he heard her speak, it felt like a breath of fresh air had hit him. He felt as if he was in his childhood home again and she was the beautiful nanny Tom would have had a crush on. Tom felt instantly out of place when he walked in. He was so used to the dark setting and furniture of his massive mansion. He was so used to walking the long empty halls and going to bed in a vacantly giant room. Now though, her home felt so cosy. The walls were tight enough to feel warm but wide enough to not squeeze you. The rooms seemed busy with colours and clothes and her kitchen was small but still seemed homey.

In an act of complete defiance to himself, Tom thought he could live here if he wanted, and he wanted to. It was so different from his regularly scheduled life, her home, her arrangement and even y/n herself made Tom feel so out of place that he had to give her all his undying attention as if she was a magnet of everything Tom needed to balance his life. What the fuck is going on with him? So he snapped himself out of it.

"Where's my son," Tom asked her. He tried not to sound like a total dick, but it was hard not to. Tom felt worse when he saw y/n flinch slightly after he snapped, "I'm sorry," Tom has never apologised to anyone other than his son, he has to get his shit together quickly.

"Oh no, it's okay," y/n smiled warmly, the apology from the mobster made her feel a little better about her situation. "James is hanging out with Theo, you're welcome to stay if you'd like," she invited. Tom felt like he had to stay, and it didn't help that when James saw him in the hallway, he started to cry and whine.

Tom immediately ran to his side, but James pushed him away and hugged Theo, which he happily reciprocated.

"No, I'm not going, you can't make me!" James yelled furiously as he turned his back to his father. Tom sighed loudly. He bent down and placed his hand against James's back.

"Come on, little man, I don't want to intrude," Tom explained sweetly, his hand rubbing small circles. y/n didn't know a man such as Tom Holland could speak that softly and sweetly; it made her want to swoon.

"He's not in-intruding Mr Holland," Theo told her quietly. Tom noticed the boy had stumbled over the hard word. He couldn't help but admit defeat and regained his composure.

"Harrison told me you were making pizzas, it's been a while since I've had some well at least homemade ones," Tom announced loudly, "so I guess we are staying."

The two boys rejoice before they made their way back to the TV and left Tom and y/n by themselves. y/n awkwardly made her way to the kitchen, and Tom dismissed the two bodyguards behind him and happily followed her.

As he walked down the hallway, he took slight notice of the different photos that hung on the walls. Most of them were of Theo, one had him in a karate uniform holding a trophy and a toothy smile while another had a photo of y/n and Theo at the park. Tom couldn't help but smile at them. Once more did he have the feeling of need for all of this to be in his life, he wanted more, correction he needed more. He squeezed through her slim doorway and stumbled into y/n's endearingly kitchen.

He had never seen a mess like her kitchen; he saw flour on the floor and sauce on the cupboards. Tom couldn't help but let a small chuckle escape his lips as he sat opposite her.

Tom wasn't an idiot. He could see how scared he was making her just by sitting closer to her. y/n on the other end of the table was almost shitting herself, she could feel her throat becoming dry and tried her best to avoid connecting their eyes even if she desperately wanted another peek at his warm brown eyes.

Tom stared at her with guilt racking his body, "I will not hurt you," Tom told her gently and for some odd reason, he fought back the urge to hold her trembling hand as he spoke. y/n didn't believe him, she knew deep down that this is what he says to his victims before he blows their fucking brains out, until "I promise." Tom had even surprised himself with his words. He has promised nothing other than when he promised his son he could ice-cream for dinner one night, Tom wasn't sure what was washing over him but worse he didn't know if he liked the feeling or not.

Tom waited for her response. He waited for y/n to give him any cue to tell him she felt safe around him. Finally, y/n lifted her eyes to meet his. Tom hadn't really gotten a good look at the door. Her eyes matched her whole persona, it almost entranced him. They were young but filled with such wisdom and knowledge; he didn't know what to do. It was an obvious y/ec, but it was like he was experiencing the colour for the first time in his 27 year life.

y/n slowly lifted her eyes to meet his and Tom's heart jumped into his throat. Never has a woman had this effect on him; it addicted him. Tom spotted a faint smile on her sauce, dusted lips and couldn't help but return the favour. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be this cold towards you," she spoke softly.

"Oh, it's fine. I get it all the time," Tom responded with a small giggle.

"That's awful," y/n immediately protested, her full attention on him.

"What I do is awful sweetheart, it comes with the job," he told her as he leaned back in his chair. y/n pulled back, how could she be so dumb?

Tom noticed her sudden shift in mood and cleared the air, "I don't mean to pry but is Theo's father around, I didn't notice him in any of the photos," Tom asked awkwardly, he genuinely wanted to know but immediately realised his mistake, "or is that not a talking topic?"

"No, it's okay," y/n responded with a light chuckle, something Tom desperately wanted to hear more of, "Theo's dad and I split badly and I haven't spoken to him in years," the memory still haunts y/n but she could only let fragmented pieces out at a time, "Theo has never met his father and I intend on keeping it that way."

Tom's brain started to concoct a sadly romantic fairy tale with both of them but he quickly scolded himself. Suddenly, y/n perked up. She jumped from the table, took one pizza out of the oven, and started to cut it.

"What about you?" y/n asked with her back turned.

"What about me?" Tom responded, nobody has ever asked him that.

"A good-looking man like you with a son has to be married," y/n exclaimed before placing a pizza in front of them both and calling for the boys, giving them their pizza.

"Sadly, no, I'm not married," Tom chuckled as he picked up a piece. "I had James with his mother on a whim I guess." Tom saw y/n cocked her eyebrow in confusion. "That's all I'm letting out." Tom crossed his arms and leaned away.

y/n though leaned in and batted her eyelashes, "No, you got me intrigued," y/n whined. "If you tell me, I will tell you my backstory the next time we meet."

"We're going to meet again?" Tom smirked widely, suddenly pulled into her spell. Tom saw the heat rise to her cheeks and her face scrunch up as she tried to rack her brain for a proper answer. She was gorgeous; he wanted to stare at her face for all eternity.

"O-of course," she stuttered, tripping over her own tongue suddenly. She doesn't know why she's acting like this. Sure he's a godly handsome man that is ticking all of her boxes in a matter of moments but her brain seems to keep forgetting that she's sitting just a few feet away from the King of the English Mafia. A man who could kill her in a second, still she couldn't help the primal attraction that was cursing through her.

Tom held his hand out to her. "All right darling, it's a deal," he spoke lowly. Any logical person would have kept their hand to themselves. Any reasonable educated person would not raise their hand and shake Tom's. y/n was a logical and educated woman, but not with Tom around. So she took his hand in hers and shook slowly.

"Jame's was- how do I say this? Not planned." Tom sighed as he played with the pizza in front of him. "When I first got control over the Mafia. I bought this strip club just down the street. I used to go in there almost every night. I thought if I went in it would make me feel like a true Mafia King. The Mafia King who sleeps with whoever he wants whenever he wants, but I guess I am more of a romantic than I thought. There was this girl, she was interesting, and I found her mesmerising from the second I saw her. So like an idiot I started to see her only, I bought her things, I gave her safety and let her decide in the Mob. I guess one night I forgot to put on a condom and she left me the very next night. Nine months later, James was wailing on my doorstep with a small note saying 'I am so sorry, he's yours and I can't look after him', I still remember the words on that stupid fucking note," Tom felt his voice crack, he peered over to James who was eating his pizza and pretending to fight the bad guys on the T.V, "I adore my son with every fibre in my being but I just wish things were a little different."

Tom swivelled around and saw y/n almost in tears, "I'm sorry," y/n snapped out of her emotional haze and started to wipe away some tears, "I don't know what came over me."

"That's all right, my mum was in tears for days after James arrived." Tom stared down, remembering the feelings of the room on that day, "happy tears."

y/n felt an overwhelming surge of emotion hit her like a truck. She has heard no one talk with such passion. "Wow, that's um-" she blushed, "quite a story."

Tom gave her a weak smile. He noticed the blush that bubbled to the surface of his cheeks. Tom noticed a lot of other things while she sat opposite him. He noticed the small dimples that would peak out if she smiled. He noticed the freckles that perfectly sprinkled her skin. He was sure that if he sat here for long enough, he could count every one of them.

"Is there something on my face?" y/n's concerned voice snapped him out of his lovesick haze. Tom shook his head slightly before y/n took the back of her hand to wipe the non-existing grime off her cheek only to smear sauce all over her.

"Well, now there is," Tom laughed before he leaned over and wiped the sauce with his napkin. y/n came closer to help him reach her but in the process only pushed her cleavage up, causing Tom's chair to slide out from under him. Their faces were so close, y/n felt the warmth from Tom's body wafting and swirling around her as if he was entrancing her. Problem was, she was fully under his spell now.

"Are you going to kiss my dad?" James ecstatic voice called out abruptly. y/n almost fell off her chair just from the pair eyes. Theo was standing just behind James with a smile that matched his friend as they watched their parents compose themselves.

Tom tried to piece an answer to give his son while still leaving his options open with y/n. "None of your business little man," Tom faked growled as he tickled James and Theo's bellies, causing them to run off squealing with excitement.

Tom turned around to face her, the faint glow of the kitchen made y/n look like an angel. He felt overwhelming an urge to fall to his knees and pray to her, but he slid it to back of his mind. Hoping that maybe he could do it soon.

They talked for what seemed like a second but in reality; they had been talking for an hour. Tom would give every cent away just to keep hearing her sweet-like honey voice. y/n as well couldn't get enough of him, the more she allowed herself to open up to him the more she seemed to love his company. He was intelligent, well-spoken and off the record; he was so goddamn attractive. y/n believes she was to go to the nearest church just for having him near her. Still, he made her feel safe. He made her feel something that she hasn't felt since Theo's father left her. It scared her. Her heart picked up and her brain started to overwork itself. He was just humouring her; he would leave her in a heartbeat; he's got rows of women begging to sleep with him, why would he want her?

"Oh god, w-would you look at the t-time," y/n stuttered as she rushed to get him out of the house before she broke down in tears. y/n jumped out of her chair and almost threw the plates into the sink.

Tom stood up in a panic. He was having a wonderful time with her, why was she so eager to get herself alone?

"It's only a quarter to ten," Tom chuckled as he checked the watch on his wrist. y/n didn't want to make him leave. If it were up to her, she would let the kids' sleepover and pull him into her sheets as fast as possible but her subconscious had other plans.

"I'm sure the King of The Mafia has a busy schedule," she replied as she ran to get the boys' plates and get them back to the kitchen. She was right, Tom did have a lot happening tomorrow. He was most likely going to get his hands dirty. He kept his mouth shut on that remembrance.

"Well, how about you come over to mine tomorrow night," Tom suggested. y/n stood dead in her tracks. "I need to repay you for this wonderful night." A blush formed on her cheeks.

She sighed and before she could even let a single syllable out-, "We would love to Mr. Holland!" Theo's voice shot up. His head appeared just behind her with a straight smile. Tom immediately matched Theo's, knowing y/n couldn't refuse the two of them.

"Yes, we would love to and we will-" y/n head dropped, "and we will be there."

Tom let himself fist bump the air as he went to get James off the couch. "How's 9:30 sound, I have some stuff to deal with beforehand?"

"Sounds g-great," y/n sighed. Tom quickly pecked her cheek as he went for the door. y/n turned to him in disbelief.

"Can't wait angel," Tom whispered just before he closed the door. Jesus Christ, he would be the death of her.

"He seems like a nice guy," Theo blank voice rang out. He leaned up against the back of the couch as he raised his eyebrows at y/n suggestively. she gave him a light smack on his arm.

━━★✼☆｡

Tom sat in his chair. The cloud of smoke and the sounds of ragged panting wafted over the room. Percy's head drooped low as he waited.

"Where's your fucking brother Percy?" Tom asked non-nonchalantly. His eyes never wavered off the man.

"Like I told you buffoons before," Percy lifted his head weakly, "I have no clue where my crackhead brother is," Tom glimpsed his prize. Percy's sweaty hair stuck to his head, the crusted blood started to fall from the gash on eyebrow onto his bound feet. Percy stared at him with one eye open; all he could achieve. Tom smiled gleefully.

"Don't you fucking lie to me, you little shithead!" Tom roared. His hands slammed down on the desk. Everyone to jump. Tom paced around to lean on the front of his marble desk. "I have some very important people coming in about-" Tom glanced at his watch, "10 minutes."

"I will not rat my own fucking brother out," Percy responded defiantly. Tom's patience was thinning with every tick of the clock.

"I don't want to hurt you, Percy," Tom faked a smile, "not tonight at least. So you better make this quicker than me taking a fucking piss." One of his men pulled Percy's hair back, "Where is you goddamn brother."

Percy felt the barrel of Tom's gun roughly shoved up against his temple. He fought back a tear. "Columbia, trying to smuggle your drugs into Ecuador," Percy revealed.

The door swung open to reveal a completely un-phased Harrison. "They're here."

Tom immediately straightened up. "Perfect Timing!" Tom started to his men, "get rid of him." As his men dragged Percy out of his office. Tom straightened his coat as wiped off the dried blood on his chin. Harrison chuckled lightly before Tom ran out.

"They're in the upstairs hallway," Harrison called out, but Tom was already too far gone.

The massive painting loomed over y/n. She had completely forgotten how powerful Tom was, the matter that Tom commanded respect had slipped her mind. He stood in a black suit. Like something straight out a mobster movie. she giggled to herself at that thought.

"I begged my mother not to have me painted, but she insisted," Tom called out to her. y/n jumped at his voice but softened when she saw him approaching in the same outfit as the portrait.

"Well I think you look devilishly handsome," y/n responded with a wide smile, a smile that made Tom's heart flutter. As he got closer, he noticed the absence of a certain 8-year-old.

"Where's the munchkin?" he asked as he searched around her.

"He's upstairs with James. He took Theo's hand and ran off as soon as we stepped into the door," she laughed. Tom couldn't help but smile along with her. He wondered if she let this side of her out often. Genuinely giddy and joyous. "Do you look at most women like this?" She broke his concentration. y/n stood there with her eyebrow quirked and a smirk plastered on her face. Tom begged whatever god was up there to allow him just a single kiss.

"Only to you, angel," Tom responded, his pearly white teeth shining through a wide smile. y/n's cheeks flustered and her whole face glowed red. He was pushing all of her buttons, wasn't he?

"Come upstairs, I want to show you something," Tom exclaimed as he captured y/n's hand within his. Tom led her up a small flight of stairs and into a large room. The dim bedroom had red plastered everywhere. The carpet was a soft red velvet and the sheet; a luxurious red and black silk. Hell even the walls were painted with a deep maroon. y/n looked over to him with shock. "Dont worry sweetheart, the surprise is outside," Tom chuckled before his calloused hand landed on the small of her back nudging her softly. y/n's breath hitched into the back of her throat.

y/n pushed the glass doors. The dense forest of trees sparkled in the bright moonlight. The faint glow of London's lights dimmed in the background. She knew this might not have been the most aesthetically pleasing view, but it felt more than it looked. The safety and security of the view made her swoon. "Is this a date, Mr. Holland?" y/n smirked as she sat down in the glass chair.

Tom had never heard his last name sound so sweet.

"Only if you want it to be Ms. y/l/n," he responded, quickly trying to conceal his blush.

She stared out for a moment. y/n didn't know why, but she felt like a shy teenager again. A girl sitting next to a hot guy who has no real interest in her. It was nostalgic in some sick way.

They talked for hours. Tom couldn't get enough of her. It was like she was some beautiful drug. A drug so addictive, he's hooked after one night. Every time a laugh surpassed her soft lips, Tom can't help but let his heart flutter. She, too, was quite enjoying herself. y/n let her walls down slowly but surely. The more he talked, the more she leaned. The more she felt as though this was fate. That though was a juvenile thing to even fathom. So y/n wondered what her life would have been if she met Tom before her ex. Would she be happy or would she still be silently crying to herself to make sure Theo didn't hear even a peep.

A curt knock at the door interrupted them. A middle age woman peeked her head in.

"They're both in bed," she spoke happily. "It took a while to get Theo off to sleep though."

y/n giggled, "I'm not surprised."

Tom stared at her for a moment, imagining that Theo and James were their sons, and she was his wife who always seemed to amaze him. Maybe in the near future, he thought to himself.

"Thank you Ms Smith," Tom smiled warmly at her, y/n looked over to him in childlike shock.

"You have a nanny!" y/n poked Tom in his bicep. He gently swatted her finger away.

"Less about me, angel," Tom sighed. "Now, we had a deal," Tom's eyebrow cocked, and a smirk filled his face.

y/n smiled weakly at him. I will need a shit ton of booze, she thought. She grabbed the bottle of expensive wine and poured herself a glass. She gulped it down. Then she poured another one, drinking it down quicker than the first one. Finally, one more glass of wine went down, and she was ready to open her mouth.

"Mind saving a little for me, angel." Tom chuckled lightly, y/n made work getting him a glass (and more for herself wouldn't hurt.)

"Okay, so it was my last year of high school. I had been fawning over this guy since I was twelve. Then, out of nowhere, he's pulling me into empty stalls and telling me he can't be without me and he's in love with me," y/n started, she was cut off by the man next to her.

"How could he not?" Tom quipped as he took a small gulp of his wine. y/n gave him a hard glare as she tried to steal his attention away from the flush of her cheeks.

"Anyway, it took a bit of time but like the idiot I am, I gave in. We went on a few dates; we were happy for a good while. Until those two stupid fucking lines," she felt her voice break. Her head started to feel dizzy. Like it would roll off her neck will the snap of a finger. "Maybe, I was feeling all maternal, and I told him I was pregnant. To my surprise, he stayed with me for my first trimester. He refused to tell his parents, I of course, had to confess to mine. Sometimes I think that was the first red flag. It wasn't until the middle of my third trimester things went downhill. It's normal for women to put on a little weight when they're pregnant. Obviously, he didn't have a fucking clue." y/n felt herself, get more furious and more upset with every word that rolled off her tongue. "He started telling me 'You look enormous', 'I have a fat whale for a girlfriend, 'I wish you had aborted that thing, so I wouldn't have to look at you like this'," She was in tears now, the salty liquid dripped from her cheeks onto her dress. Tom knelt in front of her, his hands rubbing small circles on her knees. "He abandoned me, right when it counted." She started him. Tom felt his heart shatter. "Everyone leaves me Tom."

"I'll never leave you, y/n" Tom reassured her, he took her shaking hands in his. y/n peered down, she shook her head.

"Tom, you don't want me," y/n sobbed, "No one does, it's okay."

"y/n," Tom hovered above her, his palms rested on her warm cheeks. "I want you, more than I have ever wanted something in my life." Their eyes met. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on."

y/n was in disbelief, her hands rested on his wrist. Her cries stopped as soon as she felt his thumb stroking soft circles on her cheek.

Tom still saw that look in her eyes. The look of a woman so broken by a man who never loved her, who took advantage of her admiration. Something Tom needed more than air to breathe. He was making it his mission, that y/n would not leave his home until she finally knew that not only did her son appreciate her, but he did just as much.

So, he took a chance. He bent down and encaptured her lips with his. She tasted like everything, he dreamt of. She tasted like the cakes his mother would make for him on his birthday. She was the breath of sweet excitement when he smelled homemade pancakes. It surprised him he hadn't completely dissolved at this simple touch.

y/n sat in shock for a moment. Her brain tried to catch up to his movements. He didn't move against at first. She pressed into it. Her hands gripping slightly at his wrists as she reciprocated the tender kiss. She, too, felt the satisfaction of knowing what he too tasted like. She took notes of all the little details; the taste of freshly smoked nicotine, the smell of his cologne wafted around her; the pronounced viens in his hands. She was in heaven.

Their lips moved against each other. It wasn't needy or rushed. It was steady and passionate. y/n has experienced a kiss like this in her 24-year-old life. "Take me to the bedroom," she spoke through mousey breathless moans. Tom pulled away completely at this.

"I don't want you to feel like I'm taking advantage of you," Tom told her sweetly, y/n hands caress his cheek gently as she gave him a warm smile.

"You're not taking advantage of me Tom," she stood from her chair, never letting her eyes tear from his, "I want this."

Tom beamed. His hands snaked their way to the underside of her bum, pinching softly. Instructing her to jump, which she happily obliged. y/n could feel him, grasp at her bare thighs. Every time he touched her skin, it burned with sinful passion.

Perhaps it was the one too many wines she had downed in less than a minute or that this was the first man she's really been intimate with since Theo's father left. Either way, her skin felt so susceptible to each kiss her laid on her. Hyper sensitive to every pull at her skin. So responsive to his touches.

Tom took his time laying her on the sheets. He took his time to look at her flushed skin in the dim lighting at how she looked like something sent from God. Why God was sending him something in the first place was a question for later. As he sauntered away from her to lock the door, y/n noticed the decor until the feeling dawned on her. Was she really about to sleep with Mafia King; Tom Holland. She had only one answer- obso-fucking-lutely.

Tom tenderly pushed her onto her back, his face now level to hers. y/n thought she looked as red as a tomato, Tom would agree but wouldn't protest at all. He laid a soft kiss to her lips, then a slightly harder one to her neck, then to her collarbone. His hands snaked up her dress. His fingers clutched her hips, pulling her clothed heat closer to his already painful hard groin.

y/n watched every move he made, every attempt to bruise her skin. Tom whined quietly when his lips met the fabric instead of her flesh. y/n giggled and lifted her dress over head and onto the floor next to her.

Tom couldn't help but pull away to take a glimpse of her. Her flushed breasts hidden behind a plain black bra. Most wouldn't think too much of it, but he couldn't help himself. Tom could see her hardened nipples peeking through the material. He pulled the cup down slightly. Tom heard her hiss quietly at the sudden exposure. His lips came down to the bud gently. His teeth pulling at the erect skin ever so lightly only to flick the nub quickly. Hearing her quiet moans and praises spurred him on. He needed more.

"T-tom please," y/n whimpered quietly, her fingers tangling themselves in his messed brown curls. Tom smirked up at her.

"What are you begging for angel face," Tom asked her innocently.

y/n couldn't get a single word out with Tom's fingers dancing at the skin near her soaked panties. Even dipping underneath them for split seconds.

"Do something, with y-your," she struggled. Tom was enjoying every moment. "f-fingers."

"Your wish is my command," Tom rasped out as he pulled her panties down her legs and got between them. He let his pointer finger paint a long strip up her slit. y/n's hips buckled. "You're so wet doll, being such a good girl."

y/n could only let out a hum. Tom wanted to hear that divine voice of hers, so he blew a wisp of air against her clit making her cry out. He was lucking the boys' rooms where so far from here. "Look at me, I want to see those gorgeous eyes gloss over when I make you cum," he promised as he laid a chaste kiss to her inner left thigh. y/n couldn't wait another moment, she might explode. Slowly her eyes met his. His face was mere centimeters from her cunt.

Tom didn't take a second longer. As soon as her eyes were on him, he went in hard. His tongue latched onto her throbbing clit, pulling and sucking so hard it was audible for the both of them to fawn over. He couldn't forget about the promise he made, so his digits circled her hole delicately before he slipped two of his fingers into her.

y/n felt her whole body go numb. It was a feeling so exotic to her. Yet, here she was. Barely able to make a sentence as she tried to bite back constant moans that begged to be let out. Her toes curled even picking up some sheets beneath her.

Tom could feel her fingers pulled at the roots of his hair. He couldn't but moan against her pussy, causing vibrations in every nerve in her already sensitive body.

"Oh my god, y-yes," She let slip. y/n swears she's starting to see stars now. "F-fucking hell, you're a-amazing."

Tom allowed his fingers to hit deeper inside her with that comment. He was making her cum now, or he will blow without even feeling her yet. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if that happens. He pulled his mouth away from her clit with a loud pop, letting his digits do all the work. He watched her writhe and pull at anything she could grasp. God, she was so fucking perfect.

"Christ, j-just like that," y/n encouraged him, "I'm going to c-cum."

"Do it angel face, cum all around my fingers." Tom whispered to her, "let me taste your sweetness."

y/n felt her first orgasm wash over her like a tsunami. She needed to scream her heart out but quickly smothered her moan in the pillows beside her. Tom peered at her intently. To him, he was watching an angel. Seeing her cum is now his new favourite thing. Being the one to cause such pleasure within her makes him feel as though he's on top of the world. His fingers rode her through her orgasm until she hit the end. Her hair sprawled out as she tried to catch any breath left in her lungs. Hell, she was trying to regain some of her sight. Tom brought his fingers to his mouth. His tongue licked them clean. Her juices tasted like nothing he's ever had before and he immediately knows, there is no way he's letting this go.

Tom stripped himself bare now. He crawled above her once more. His curls falling slightly in his face. y/n opened her eyes to see him on top of her. y/n took this moment to run her hand down his torso. Each time her fingers lapped over a muscle, she felt herself recapture her arousal. Her fingers found the base of his dick.

He was bigger than what she thought, bigger than her ex. It started her a tad when she felt his hard length. She started pumping his slowly. Tom's arms almost buckled at the feeling.

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to cum into your hand," his pulled her wrist away from him to above her head, "and I just want to pound this sweet little cunt into oblivion." The words cause y/n to whimper, eager for him to fulfill his promise.

"Then do it," she leaned up to whisper in his ear. As she pulled back, he locked eyes with her. Utter shock and an animalistic urge filled his every thought. He didn't even give her a warning before he slammed right into her. y/n cried out and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Tom couldn't believe the feeling. She was hugging every vein, every mark, every inch of his cock and yet so was still so fucking tight. He pulled out of her, only to ram back into her. "Fucking hell, you're divine," Tom growled, still deep inside of her. Slowly, he picked up a rhythm.

Every part of y/n's post was filled the brim by him. He hit her g-spot almost instantly. His name became a chant to her as it never ceased to spill from her lips. Each time he pounded back into her, y/n's voice became horse and rougher. Her nails dug into his bag as she clawed for support. Any support she could get from him.

Tom's been with countless women. Now he's finding it hard to sustain a sentence. He can hardly make out anything other than y/n's name. He wasn't complaining though, her tight walls constricting around with every movement. Tom wondered for a moment if he died and went to heaven and was fucking the dirtiest angel he could find.

"You look so goddamn beautiful taking my cock," he praised. He let his head fall into the crook of her neck, smelling her perfume made him almost lose his shit right there. "You feel so good squeezing around me."

Every word was threatening to her. Every word was pushing her closer to her limit. Every word was forcing more moans out of her mouth. "I'm going to cum, Tommy," she warned him.

The nickname only helped Tom lodge himself deeper and harder into her, "I am too, don't hold back angel face," he pressed a kiss underneath her ear.

y/n's second orgasm rolled over more intense the second time than the first. She pulled her head into his skin, biting and pulling to contain herself. Her legs gave out on her and flopped from his waist and quivered beside him. Tom was quick to follow her. How could he not, with how firmly she was gripping his cock. He pulled out quickly and spurted out streams across her belly. The white liquid dripping over her skin made him see stars.

He collapsed next to her, heaving and panting. y/n turned to him. She placed a long kiss on his lips, bringing his face closer. Tom happily hummed against her skin.

He pulled her into a tight hug. Her fingers traced the outline of his pec. "I'm infatuated with you," he told her plainly. y/n didn't move nor did she flinch. She just stared up at him with a wide smile.

"As am I," she responded quietly. He wanted her to stay here forever, he had admitted to himself that he wanted to be near her for the rest his life. It was like she had cast some spell over him. He, though, had happily fallen for it.

In his eyes, she was a goddess among women.

━━★✼☆｡

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zackcollins · 4 years ago

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i like it, i love it || jack campbell

masterlist

Author’s Note: Hi, hi! I’m back with another fic! I know it’s been a while and I’m sorry for that. I’ve just had a lot on my mental plate recently and that’s made it hard to focus on writing. I finally felt well enough today to finish something, so... you get this! Yay! GIF credit to mitchmarner!

Warnings: There is a mention of Jack and the reader being in quarantine because this fic takes place just after the season paused last year. If you need to avoid that, that’s understandable and have a nice day! Stay safe, lovelies!

Word Count: 1.5k+

Title: I Like It, I Love It by Tim McGraw

Additional: The reader is masculine this time! They are mentioned to be on the Maple Leafs and there is a scenario or two (you’ll understand when you get there) where masculine pronouns are used in reference to the reader. Hope that’s okay! And I hope you enjoy this! Constructive criticism is always welcome!

You huffed as you plopped down on the couch in your living room. You had just woken up from your third nap in the last 36 hours and you were bored. Switching on the television, you skimmed through the channels; you were looking for something, anything to watch. You huffed again when you found nothing. Not having hockey to play was going to be the death of you.

You exhaled and pushed off the couch. You plodded to the kitchen. Rummaging through the cupboards and the refrigerator, you found some leftover chicken and orange juice. You poured a glass of the orange juice and grabbed a fork for the chicken. Not wanting to waste the energy to walk to the dining room, you ate the food right where you were standing. You winced a couple of times at the strange flavour combination of the orange juice and the pesto sauce on the chicken, but he managed to finish both without incident. You placed the dishes in the sink and told yourself that you would wash them later; Lord knew that you had time.

Pacing around the kitchen for fifteen minutes left you no closer to an idea of what to do than when you started. You huffed and sat on the floor in front of the oven. You rested your head against the door with a soft thunk. You brought your knees to your chest and rested your elbows on top of your knees. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and scrolled through the team group chat. Everyone was sharing pictures of what they were doing around the house. Mo had fixed a leaky faucet by himself, which had earned him a few chirps for waiting so long. You chuckled and sent a thumbs up to congratulate him on his efforts.

You were about to put your phone away when you got a personal text message from Jack Campbell, the goaltender the team had acquired just before the trade deadline. You cocked your head as you opened the message.

To: (Y/L/N)

From: Soupy

I know we’re supposed to be quarantined, but could you come to hang out with me? Buddy and Fettuccine were supposed to arrive today... now they’re not coming for god knows how long because of everything that’s happening.

A few strings tugged away at your heart. You knew how much Soupy loved his cats. Soupy talked about their adventures together all the time and talked about how much he missed them nearly as often.

To: Soupy

From: (Y/L/N)

Of course, man! I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. :D

As you slipped into a pair of shoes to head up to Soupy’s apartment, you were struck with a sudden thought. Soupy could’ve picked any of the players that lived in the building. He could’ve picked any of the players that lived on the same floor as him. He had chosen you. Something warm and soft bubbled in your gut at that thought. Swallowing nervously, you made your way up to Soupy’s apartment.

When you knocked on the door, Soupy answered in a faded LA Kings shirt and loose blue sweatpants. His hair was tousled and sticking out in various directions. You nervously swallowed as Soupy stepped aside to let you enter.

“Thank you for coming,” Soupy said. His voice sounded strained as if he’d been crying. “I’m not exactly doing the best since receiving word my cats weren’t coming anymore.” He motioned to his face. It was then that you noticed the puffy circles around Soupy’s eyes and the red tint to the corneas.

You nodded sympathetically. “Anything for a friend, man.” Soupy smiled, but you thought you saw something contradictory flash ever so briefly in his eyes.

Before you had a chance to question Soupy about that, he guided you to the living room. You noticed that he had set up a game of NHL20 on the PlayStation; it was cued to the team selection menu. You smiled and jumped over the back of the couch to grab the player one controller. Soupy chuckled and calmly walked over to sit beside you

“I thought we could play tonight’s game on here instead,” Soupy said. He made his point by selecting the Predators as the away team.

“Yeah, I like that idea,” You beamed as you selected your team--the Maple Leafs--as the home team.

You were fiddling with the lines, trying to match them to what you thought they would’ve been that night. When you got to the goalie screen, you turned to Soupy. “Who should I make the goalie? You or Fred?”

Soupy shrugged without looking over to you. “That depends on who you think Keefe would’ve put in tonight.” He was flipping through Nashville’s lines, leaving them relatively untouched. “I’m going with Saros because Rinne didn’t play well against you guys last time.”

Nodding, you turned back to the game and switched Freddie out for Soupy. You quickly glanced at Soupy and noticed a small blush rising on his face. You grinned and turned back to the game.

At the start of the official game, Soupy won the faceoff. He passed the puck around a few times before virtual-Josi received it at the point. Soupy pressed the button to wind up for a slapshot, but you sneaked in with the virtual version of yourself and bolted down the ice with him and the puck. Soupy cursed and made virtual-Josi and virtual-Ellis chase after your virtual self.. Having a clear-cut breakaway, You made your virtual version delay and then shoot blocker side on virtual-Saros. The net lit up green and the spotlight found your personal avatar as he skated to the corner to celebrate with the rest of his virtual-Maple Leafs linemates. You smiled and did a thrusting motion with your arm. Soupy chuckled and gave you a fist bump.

“Nice goal, dude,” Soupy brushed his knuckles across yours. Whether that action was intentional or not, something warm blossomed inside your abdomen at the feeling.

“Thanks, Soupy,” you croaked. You tried to hide the distortion in your voice with a cough, but Soupy looked at you with a tilted head and sideways smile. Thankfully, he said nothing on the matter.

As the game progressed, you were winning 2-0 by the end of the second period; virtual-Nylander had scored on a powerplay toward the middle of the second period. Even though he was losing, Soupy looked like he was having the time of his life. You caught Soupy glancing at you a few times; each time, you smiled warmly at him. Soupy would always duck his head as if he was embarrassed about being caught. There was something inside you that found that endearing and adorable.

Near the end of the third period, Soupy decided to pull virtual-Saros to give Nashville a 6-on-5 advantage. With the score still being 2-0, the move made sense to you. As the play continued, virtual-Barrie passed the puck to virtual-Campbell. You glanced briefly at the Campbell sitting beside you. Exhaling softly, you pressed the button to make virtual-Campbell shoot the puck towards the empty net. When the puck went in the net, you looked at Soupy. He had frozen in place, finger hovering over the body checking button. Soupy slowly turned to face you. The look he had on his face made your heart melt.

Soupy’s face was plastered with an elation you couldn’t even begin to describe. Soupy paused the game before leaning over and wrapping you in a giant hug. You smiled into Soupy’s shoulder as you hugged him back.

“Thank you,” Soupy said. “That made me feel better about the cats.” You ran a hand through Soupy’s hair. When it made it more tousled, you swallowed a lump that was now in your throat.

You didn’t trust yourself to talk and not give away how you were feeling; you nodded instead and hoped Soupy found that sufficient. Soupy tilted his head and gave you a lopsided smile. Fondly, you looked at Soupy. Soupy’s expression shifted to something you couldn’t decipher. He moved closer, dropping his controller between you on the couch.

“If I’m reading this wrong, let me know.”

Soupy leaned in and briefly brushed his lips across yours. He darted his glance to your eyes. When you nodded, Soupy firmly pressed his lips against yours. You dropped your controller and grabbed Soupy’s face. Soupy grinned into the kiss, grabbing your shoulders. You felt electric as you kissed Soupy. The electricity coursed through your veins and pulsed in your ears. It was the best kiss you’d ever had. Said kiss lasted for a solid two minutes before you pulled apart. Soupy’s hair was a mess and his lips were red. You felt your chest tighten at that.

Running a hand through his hair, Soupy smiled softly. “Since we’ve already broken protocol, do you just want to spend the entire quarantine with me?”

“On one condition,” you replied.

“That being?”

“You kiss me again.”

Soupy chuckled before he kissed you again. You felt a thousand fireworks going off inside of you. If every kiss with Soupy felt like this, you couldn’t wait to spend these two weeks with him.

Quarantine for two weeks definitely wasn’t going to be as bad as you’d originally thought.

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suckishima · 4 years ago

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what are the top 3 chapters!!

alakjdajd tbh they fluctuate bc i’m REALLY bad at picking favorites, but the ones that come to mind and that I actually like Know the chapter numbers and what happens in each etc, are 298 (guide), 364 (if i wasn’t alone...), 365 (endings and beginnings part 2), 369 (food becomes muscle), 371 (on the other side of the world), and 387 (the greatest opponent)

I know that’s a lot more than three lmao. 298 and 369 are probably actually my top two, but it’s hard to choose lol.

(i started writing WHY i like each one and it got super long lmao, so if you wanna know my general thoughts on each of these it’s under the cut)

298 i love bc the character development is seemingly so simple but it makes me CRAZY. Tsukki is a character I relate to a ton and reading this one for the first time was really cathartic for me. The way there’s only a few lines of dialogue to help emphasize the impact of the flashback panels from Tsukki’s perspective and to actually get to see the respect he has for Yamaguchi, but also how he’s learned from him in how to go for the things he wants. Like, we’ve spent the WHOLE series knowing for a fact that Yamaguchi looks up to and admires Tsukki, but haven’t seen much about how Tsukki sees Yamaguchi other than the confrontation at the Tokyo Training camp, and it’s so rare to see Tsukki feel like he can open up - even to us as the audience we rarely see it. So to see him say “he’s always been one step ahead of me” and then the panels that actually SHOW Yamaguchi taking those steps past him??? fuck, like that’s just such good storytelling. We get to see Yamaguchi’s journey through Tsukki’s eyes and feel the respect there that previously we had only assumed probably existed, and then it doubles to let us see how Yamaguchi’s journey impacted Tsukki too. It’s about how they’ve grown separately and together and then the final “sometimes it’s actually kind of fun” like, aaah!!!

364, oooo tbh this MIGHT be the best written chapter in the series imo. structurally, it’s SO good - i made a post about it when i reread it a few months ago too, so I won’t ramble forever here. but as a standalone single narrative of just this chapter, it’s stunningly done. heartbreaking of course, but the writing tbh is practically awe inspiring. it takes hinata’s original, ultimate goal of just staying on the court, builds it up to it’s highest point, and then it punches us in the gut with it. absolutely fantastic stuff. and i will NEVER get over the little tagline at the end of the chapter that says “the sun rises and - “ while hinata (our sun) is hunched over on the floor. like DAMN. i know this is one of the few things furudate said they had planned from basically the beginning and ugh wow did they deliver.

and then 365 is of course, the fall out. these two go hand in hand and work off each other beautifully. we see all the evidence that had been in our face before, silly fun hinata things right? NOPE turns out it’s a major, life changing lesson!! and god takeda’s entire speech is SO good. i’ve talked about this one a lot bc his “this is still volleyball” speech is basically every single one of my favorite hq!! themes wrapped up into one. how hinata’s hunger is what caused him to fall bc he was too hungry and did’t stop to take care of himself along the way, and that every moment is connected and is all still volleyball,,, yeah. and then just ooof the very last page where there’s all this noise from the court and hinata looks at the doors as the close and then it’s this silent shot of them being closed. the IMPACT of that is so goooooood. catch me crying when this gets animated and i can actually hear those sounds out loud and instead of in my head loll

369 is kind of another sister chapter to those last two, it’s the final high school chapter where we finally get some of the last bits of character development for some of them. the third years bow and say goodbye, NO one on the team apologies for doing something wrong, tsukki wants to watch kamomedai’s blocking (!!) and kageyama wanted to take this team further (!!!), daichi thanks takeda. takeda says “nothing is over! nothing! not one thing for any of you has ended today!” and the ukai says “let’s go eat” !!! and then theres the shot of them all eating, ukai bring hinata his food while he cries into his bowl and ukai’s “food becomes muscle” lines aaah, so good. so so good, and a GREAT continuation of takeda’s speech from 365. they’ve all come so far and learned so much, but there’s still more food to eat, more experiences to share and more ways to grow stronger

371 mostly, i just love the brazil arc and there’s just this feeling of sadness and loneliness that carries throughout the chapter that’s almost kind of haunting, but it also has this feeling of purpose too. this one is harder for me to explain lol, but it’s like a test for hinata to see if he can learn to be okay, to prove to himself that he has what it takes to make the right choices to make sure he’s okay as much as possible. it’s something i really relate to on a personal level - “being okay” in a lot of ways is a choice, and i love how this chapter is the beginnings of us seeing that for him. and then!! oikawa showing up at the end as like hinata’s reminder of home is just so good lol. things are weird and different and he’s in a different country, but volleyball is still fun - and hinata isn’t alone, he isn’t the only guy who traveled the world for his dream

and then 387, ah what can i say about chapter 387 that hasn’t been said before lmao. i love how it both recontexutalizes AND emphasized every single kageyama moment from the entire series. it’s such a great use of flashbacks, it doesn’t give kageyama more depth, it shows how that depth has been there the entire time. and it just really solidifies the importance of his relationship with hinata and how integral their bond was for BOTH of them to get better. the second to last page where it’s showing kageyama’s middle school years and we’ve just read the “somebody even better will come” dialogue a few pages back, and then we see kageyama alone, and alone again, and alone to become the great king, and rejected from shiratorizawa, and then the bottom left cell is just the karasuno gym, a volleyball in the air and a big “I’M HERE” that we know from context is hinata, and he’s unknowingly fulfilling kageyama’s grandpa’s words. like aaaa!! THE PANELLING, THE WRITING, THE IMPACT!! i’ll be saying this until i die lmao, but haikyuu is a masterpiece and furudate is a genius at panelling.

#hello i once again rambled for a million years #manga spoilers under the cut!#ask #anonymous #connect #coach what should i eat #this is still volleyball #somebody even better #yeah its all the tags lmao #i shouldnt be surprised #hq meta

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no-whump-on-main · 4 years ago

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Apartment 307 (Elora Series)-3

Finally picked out a title! I was told “Apartment 307) sounded very Stephen King horror-esque and honestly that’s the dream so I’m going for it!

The hurt starts here so be warned.

TWs: Blood, fear of death, cutting/stabbing, graphic descriptions of a knife wound, mentions of stalking, mentions of vomiting

Special thanks to @sableflynn for being my cheerleader and letting me bounce ideas while I wrote this and @quirkykayleetam and @greatandquestionablecontent for title help!

also long chapter today yay

Elora didn’t stop screaming until she ran out of breath and couldn’t go on a single second longer. The man lingering in the doorway looked incredibly irritated by that point.

“It’s real early to be hollering like that,” he said, in that same deep, gravelly voice. Elora looked horrified, but he didn’t seem to care.

“It’s only four in the morning.”

Tears were starting to form in the corners of Elora’s eyes. She blinked them out just to get them away, despite the shame she felt for letting them flow.

Clyde caught a glimpse of the fallen droplets, and felt a strange, warm feeling emanating in his gut.

Elora swallowed and spoke next, her voice wobbly despite her best efforts to stay calm. “I have-I have money. That’s what you want, right? I have money. Plenty. My mom got a big insurance policy when my Dad passed and she put it all in a savings account for me to go to college, but I decided not to go, you can have it, it’s probably a few hundred thous-”

The man suddenly screamed at her, and she flinched, her shoulders rising up and hugging her ears.

“SHUT UP!” He shouted, his face going slightly red. Elora immediately shut her mouth, her entire body shaking. She was afraid to die. She couldn’t die yet, she wasn’t ready. She-

“I don’t want your money,” he seethed. He seemed to be calming down from his initial outburst, which Elora was grateful for.

“I don’t want your money, I don’t give a shit about it. I’m not gonna kill you either, okay? Just fucking listen. How about some ground rules, yeah?”

He stepped forward, shutting the bathroom door behind himself. Elora looked on in terror, not wanting him to get any closer to her. A pit quickly formed in her stomach; if he didn’t want money, what did he want? If it was just money, she could be home by the end of the day. But it wasn’t that easy. Of course it wasn’t.

Elora sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, terrified as the man walked up until he was right in front of her.

“Stop,” he warned. She re-opened her eyes and watched him carefully as he sat down on the closed toilet lid.

“Rule number one,” he started. “Don’t talk back to me. You can speak when you’re spoken to. And I want you to shut the fuck up and listen while I explain this.”

Elora’s eyes widened. She wanted to scream, to protest, but she knew in her head that she had to be smart. Getting him angry wouldn’t help her. She stayed quiet, chewing on her lip.

“Rule two. You stay where I put you and keep out of shit that doesn’t belong to you. I’ll give you a hint-nothing here belongs to you. So keep your hands to yourself.”

He paused, taking a long breath. In the silence, Elora noted that he smelled heavily of cigarettes.

“Rule three. You can call me sir, if you have to refer to me at all. I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

The mere thought of that made Elora feel sick to her stomach.

“And finally, rule four. You belong to me now, Elora, and the sooner you accept that, the easier this transition is gonna be on you.”

Elora lost her handle on her emotions entirely. She knew she needed to be rational and level-headed to get out of this, but that last rule made her explode. She didn’t even know how he knew her name.

“YOU’RE FUCKING CRAZY!” She shouted, bucking wildly against the chains keeping her locked in place in the bathtub. “YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME! YOU’RE INSANE!”

Her heart hammered rapidly in her chest. She was fighting the chains so hard she was already getting out of breath. “LET ME GO YOU CRAZY FUCK!”

She was so distracted with useless attempts to free herself that she didn’t notice the man had stood up until his hand came down and slapped her roughly across the face.

“I told you to shut up,” he seethed. “You will respect me. Understand?”

Her brow furrowed, filled with rage. “NO! YOU’RE CRAZY, YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM! LET ME GO!”

He silenced Elora with nothing but a look.

“I do know you, actually. You just don’t know me.”

Elora’s expression twisted and fell.

“You’re lying,” she said through her teeth.

“Am I? Are you not Elora Lucille Larkin of 673 Seabrook Lane? Born February 18th, 1999? Daughter of Judith and Parker Larkin? Shame what happened to your dad, really. Cancer is a monster. And you were hardly 12, huh? Must have been rough. My condolences.”

Elora’s jaw fell wide open. How did he-?

“You like cats, too, don’t you? I have one here. Maybe she’ll help you adjust. And I know you like to work Tuesdays, because you haven’t had one off in months. God knows how long that pattern had been going on before I started watching, too.” He paused. “Are you really that stupid, Elora? I’d think you’d at least recognize my car by now. It’s been looming around practically everywhere you’ve gone since July.”

Elora wanted to scream, but no noise would come out. Realization hit her like a train and she was completely mortified, frozen in shock. The sedan. Had he been following her? Was she stupid? If it had been following that long, she would’ve recognized it, right? Since July. That was five months ago.

But she didn’t recognize it. She could swear the first time she ever saw it was just before he kidnapped her.

He stood. “But I’m just lying. You know, I must have made all that up.”

Without another word, he turned and left the bathroom.

“Don’t hold your breath. I’ll be back in a minute,” he called through the closed door.

Elora had to force herself not to cry. She sucked in a breath, her chest so tight it was hard to breathe.

The man was back within what felt like far less than a minute. She barely had time to process what she’d been told before he returned, holding a small potted aloe plant.

He walked over to her and she flinched back again, pressing her body against the farthest wall of the bathtub. He ignored her fearful cower, placing the plant down on the edge of the tub.

“Grow it,” he commanded. His voice boomed through the small room.

Elora’s brow furrowed with confusion, for a moment, before that emotion turned into realization, and then finally, strong-willed defiance.

“What?” Her tone sounded genuinely puzzled, though it was just a ruse.

“Grow the plant,” he repeated, his voice slightly angrier.

Elora inhaled, having to clench her fists to keep her voice from wavering.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t just-”

“Shut up,” he growled. “I know who you are and what you can do. Or have you forgotten?

Shit.

She abandoned the act, but didn’t give up on her adamant refusal.

“No,” she told him. “You don’t tell me what to do, you sick fuck!”

The man laughed again, breathy chuckles that made the hair on her arms stick up. “Oh, but I do. Don’t make me ask you again. Grow the goddamn aloe. I know you can.”

This time, Elora didn’t reply. Instead, she spat at him. She was forced to sit in the bathtub while he stood, so she couldn’t get him in the face, but she did successfully aim for his hand. While not as bad as a face shot, it was still gross.

He cursed and wiped his hand off on his pants, storming out of the bathroom. Elora almost smiled, pleased with herself.

He was so angry that he didn’t bother closing the bathroom door. He turned on the lights in another room, and it was just bright enough for her to make out a kitchen and living room. And the front door, all the way back. If she could just get there-

Soon. She would. It was a when, not an if. Soon.

He ducked out of her sight for a good thirty seconds, leaving Elora to look around the small frame of view she had. She could tell it was an apartment, as everything was so compact, it had to be. It looked like a college kid’s apartment at that; it was sparsely decorated and filthy, with random trash on the floor and a thick coat of dust covering everything she could see.

When he reappeared, the first thing she noticed was that he was holding a knife. It was huge-it looked like a butcher knife. Just the blade itself was easily the size of her forearm and looked sharpened. She swallowed. He didn’t say anything, just stormed towards her. He’s going to use it. He’s going to-

“Okay, okay, I’ll grow the fucking p-”

The man was deaf to her offer. It quickly devolved into a desperate plea.

“Please, I’ll grow the fucking plant, stop-STOPSTOPSTOP YOU’RE CRAZY!”

She started to scream before he even hurt her, dread and anticipation and knowingness filling her as he ignored her begging.

She couldn’t have anticipated the pain that came next. She knew it would hurt, but nothing in her life had ever been so painful. She felt every moment of her skin splitting apart as the blade slammed down against her right thigh, layers of her body just separating all at once. Her vision whitened for several seconds as her screams pierced even her own ears, the sharp sound agonizing as it reverberated in the room. Even Clyde winced at the noise, wondering if he had done too much too soon.

No, she deserved it. I told her to follow instructions.

Elora didn’t stop screaming for almost a full minute. Her chest heaved once she finished, gasping for air. The pain in her thigh was both sharp and throbbing, and constant. She realized she had wrenched her eyes shut in anticipation of receiving the wound, and part of her was scared to open them again and look at the damage.

She opened just one eye at first, but the other quickly followed as she stared on in shock. The blade had easily slit her work khakis open, hardly phased by the barrier of the material.

The cut looked at least an inch wide, with little yellow bubbles lining the sides and making way for something that was smooth and reddish purple to be just barely visible in the bottom. Blood was gushing from it steadily, making it hard to tell too much about the true extent of it. She began to panic as the gravity of the situation hit her. Tears poured down her face as she turned her head and looked up at the man, fear constricting her chest. He was holding the now-bloodied knife by his side.

“I- it-it’s bleeding,” she stammered out, stating the obvious. “It’s bleeding, I-please! Please, I-that’s a lot of b-blood, that’s bad, I need h-help! Please, I don’t want to-I don’t want to um-”

Die. She doesn’t want to die. She’s scared.

A choked sob tore from her throat as she found herself staring down at the wound again.

“You’re fine,” the man said flatly.

“NO! No, please, I need-”

He sighed and left the bathroom like a petulant child.

Elora sobbed in fear, looking at the puddle of blood that was already forming beneath her leg.

The man came back holding a small box and a hand towel. He tossed them both at Elora, careless of her inability to catch them. The corner of the box landed directly on top of the cut and she groaned, her teeth clenched as tears spilled from her eyes.

He approached again, holding a small key. She looked on in horror as he undid the handcuffs, letting her right hand free but leaving her left still in one cuff, with just a small amount of give on the chain.

Elora looked terrified. “What? I-”

“I know you sew for fun,” he said casually, shrugging. “You make all sorts of stuffed animals, right, and donate ‘em? What a Mother Theresa you are. Anywho, this can’t be much different than patching up a tear in a teddy.”

Her mouth dropped open in shock. She was acutely aware of the feeling of warmth steadily dripping down her thigh.

He gave her an angry look.

“Fix it,” he growled, and left.

As soon as the door closed, Elora let out a loud sob, covering her mouth with her free hand. No. She can’t. Needles and threads for stitching people are different than ones for sewing, she can’t just do a stitch like she’s sewing fabric. She doesn’t know what to do.

She interrupted her racing thoughts by looking down at the bloody gash. She had to. It was bleeding badly and she needed it to stop.

Shakily, she took the towel he threw her and placed it over the wound, trying to soak up some blood so she could at least see what she was working with. The towel was originally tan, but a spot that was a deep shade of reddish brown formed in the middle of it within seconds of her laying over the wound.

Inhaling deeply, she opened the sewing kit next. It was nothing fancy, just some needles, a seam ripper, some tiny scissors, and small spools of thread. She plucked the spool of white thread and the smallest needle in the box.

Her hands were so shaky it was difficult to thread the needle. Come on. Come on, just-just-thread, come on-

She finally got the thread through the eye of the needle. This is bad. It’s probably old, she’s going to get an infection, she could die.

But there wasn’t another choice. She tied a tiny knot in the two loose ends of the thread and took a deep breath. She held the two sides of the wound together with her left hand, which hardly had enough chain to reach, and gripped the needle with her right.

She desperately wanted for there to be a way out, but there wasn’t. She was too shaken and too terrified to try any sort of magical healing or painkiller. God knew she would fuck it up and make things worse for herself in the frazzled state she was in.

Biting her tongue, she moved the blood-soaked rag back and stuck the needle through her skin on the far end of her cut.

She wailed as soon as it punctured through, the original pain from the wound just amplifying with the sharp prick of the needle piercing through and the uncomfortable tugging of the thread pulling across her skin. She still needed to go back through the other side.

She bit back her scream this time. He didn’t need to hear it. She saw that glint in his eye when he stabbed her; she knew he liked that she was hurt. She wouldn’t give him any more satisfaction.

In, and out.

It hurt so badly, she didn’t know if she could keep herself quiet.

In, and out.

She was hardly making any progress. She kept the stitches close together, desperate to keep it closed tightly so she wouldn’t have to do this again.

In, and out.

Tears spilled down her cheeks so quickly she could feel little pools forming on her chest.

In, and out.

She wondered if anyone even knew she was gone yet. Probably not; this was only the first night. Only the first night, and she got fucking stabbed. What else was going to happen to her?

In, and out.

Mom will figure out something is wrong by Sunday at the latest.

In, and out.

The agony started to get so bad that her vision spotted.

Dima will help Mom find her. They’ll find her, right? The police will find her soon. All she needed to do right now was make sure she doesn’t bleed out and then someone will find her soon. They have to.

In, and out.

This stuff only ever happened in movies. Maybe it was just a nightmare. Maybe she was going to wake up nice and warm in bed in the morning with her thigh perfectly intact.

In, and out.

Maybe it was all a nightmare.

In, and out.

It hurt.

In, and out.

It hurt a lot.

In, and out.

She wanted to puke. The pain was so bad it was hard to breathe.

She went on and on until the wound was completely stitched. It was hard to count, but she was pretty sure it was thirty seven. Thirty seven tiny stitches. She could have done half of that and still closed it up, but she was terrified of her handiwork not being tight enough or coming apart. Once she did a full row up, she did another back down, forcing herself to double up to keep it secure despite the pain. Relief flooded her as she finally got back to where she started and tied off the remaining thread with a knot.

She wanted to try to pick the lock on the handcuffs with the sewing tools, but the thought was distant in her mind. Pain danced around and ignited her nerves constantly now that there was thread in her leg that wasn’t meant to be there. It looked bad already; her skin was red with irritation and every point where the needle had gone through her skin was throbbing. The pain was dizzying.

She couldn’t hold on any longer. With a shudder, she fell back against the wall of the bathtub, her world going black.

Tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas

17 notes · View notes

libralita · 4 years ago

Text

Way of Kings Reread

This is my post Rhythm of War reread so if you don’t want spoilers for Rhythm of War then come back later. These are essentially just the notes I took during this read through so things like “Szeth is darkeyed” isn’t really stellar commentary but there are a few interesting things in here. Also this reread was like…very sporadic so I probably missed things.

“A man with a long grey and black beard slumped in the doorway, smiling foolishly—though whether from wine or a weak mind, Szeth could not tell.

‘Have you seen me?’ the man asked with slurred speech. He laughed then began to speak in gibberish, reaching for a wineskin.”—Page 23

Oh god, it’s Jezrien. Nooooo.

I’m curious to see how Humans being voidbringers plays into Szeth’s punishment.

“Occasionally, light would flash without the thunder. The slaves would groan in terror at this, thinking about the Stormfather, the shades of the Lost Radiants, or the Voidbringers—all of which were said to haunt the most violent highstorms.”

Interesting that they’re called the “shades”, perhaps referring to cognitive shadows?

“Talenelat’Elin, bearer of all agonies.”

Wait…do people know about Taln?

“This room is called the Veil…That which comes before the Palanaeum itself. Both were here when the city was founded. Some think these chambers might have been cut by the Dawnsingers themselves.”

First of all, Veil, haha. Second, interesting bit of lore.

“Thaylens had their own systems of rank.”

I’d like to know what it is.

It’s very interesting that philosophy and history are feminine arts and yet the merchant is still trying to sell Shallan on a romance novel

I wonder if Yalb still has his drawing. It was probably ruined so that sucks.

“There, she used all her remaining sphere to fill of all nine colors and all three sizes.”

Hmmmmmmmm. Nine and three. Interesting

“Then he’d have someone to talk to in Damnation. They could reminisce about how terrible Bridge Four had been, and agree that eternal fires were much more pleasant.”

K…Kaladin please don’t joke about that.

“His ways were odd—though Lirin made certain that his son didn’t mix up the Heralds and the Lost Radiants, Kal had heard his father say that he thought the Voidbringers weren’t real. Ridiculous.”

RIP

“He reached the base of the slop, wind-driven rain pelting his face as if trying to shove him back toward the camp.”

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

“She looked exhausted. ‘These things are heavy!’ She lifted the leaf. ‘I brought it for you!’”

I love her so much I could cry.

Szeth is a dark eyed.

We need to get the void sphere back.

“It was fairly ordinary, a simple piece of rock with a few quartz crystals set into it and a rusty vein of iron on one side.”

Iron.

“‘Today,’ King Elhokar announced, riding beneath the bright open sky, ‘is an excellent day to slay a god. Wouldn’t you say’”

Owwwwwwwwww my heart

“One might say that gods, as a rule, should fear the Althei nobility. Most of us at least.”

Y’know…Sadeas has a point

Actually they should probably fear Taravangian.

Sadeas wears red plate. I always imagine him in green.

Shardplate is naturally slate gray. I wonder if it’s the same color as what your limbs go if they’re cut by a shardblade. Hmmmm.

“Adolin found himself wishing, passionately, that his father would do a little more these days to live up to that reputation.”

Adolin, sweet pie, NO

I miss Elhokar so much

Also the Thrill of Contest, that’s interesting.

“I felt like a youth again, chasing after your father on some ridiculous challenge.”

Dalinar, we all know that it was Gavilar chasing you

“There was someone watching me in the darkness that night.”

My poor baby…

“‘I defy you, creature!’ Elhokar screamed. ‘I claim your life! They will see their gods crushed, just as they will see their king dead at my feet! I defy you!’”

Elhokar…

“Adolin—stalwart as always—had dismounted beside the king. He tried to stop the claws, striking at them as they fell. Unfortunately, there were four claws and only one of Adolin.”

Hmmmm, Adolin v 4 is becoming a pattern.

“Dalinar should have been there to defend him. Only two things remained of his beloved brother, two things that Dalinar could protect in a hope to earn some form of redemption: Gavilar’s kingdom and Gavilar’s son.”

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

“Let me first assure you that the element is quite safe. I have found a good home for it. I protect its safety like I protect my own skin, you might say.”

It has been ten years and I still have no idea what this means.

“Kaladin punched Moash right in the gut, where he knew it would wind him. Moash gasped in shock, doubling over, and Kaladin stepped forward to grab him by the legs, slinging Moash over his shoulder.”

Ahhhhh I could read this paragraph over and over again.

“He worked himself ragged. In fact, he felt close to collapsing several times, but every time he did, he found a reserve of strength from somewhere.”

I wonder where.

“Rockbuds had opened nearby, their vines reaching out to lap up the beast’s blood.”

Gross.

Insult his son and the Blackthorn will peek through

“I had…things to be about.”

I don’t like the way Wit said that.

“You going to do Alethkar a favor and rid it of both of us?”

That is a very interesting line for Wit to say…Also concerning. Wit what are you up to?

It’s very interesting that without Sadeas and Gavilar, Dalinar has to learn how to be a politician. It’s clear that both men maneuver others while Dalinar is blunt force. Good character development, I really love it as a political scientist.

“Brother, follow the Codes tonight. There is something strange upon the winds.”

Hmmmmmmmmm, I think Gavilar was planning his death.

“We’d protect Gavilar’s son. No matter what the cost, no matter what other things came between us, we would protect Elhokar.”

…Would…Elhokar have died if Sadeas was still alive?

“The book was used by the Radiants as a kind of guidebook, a book of counsel on how to live their lives.”

That…something that I forgot. Dalinar maybe you should have some required reading in your Radiant generation.

It’s interesting that Shardplate and Rsyhadium have no problem with humans using them but shardblades do.

“Dalinar was shocked that he could remember the story word for word,”

Hmmmmmm

“Could he train himself out of freezing in battle like that?”

End me.

“You sure he’s not decayspren wearing a man’s skin?”

S…Syl…is that a problem we have to deal with?

“They break the land itself! They want it, but in their rage they will destroy it. Like the jealous man burns his rich things rather than let them be taken by his enemies! They come!”

The…humans?

“‘Hm,’ he said. ‘Yes. We’ll be getting right to that soon. It’ll be grand. Lots of prancing, sauntering, and er…’

‘Promenading?’ Yis the leatherworker offered.

‘Isn’t that a type of drink?’ Adolin asked.

‘Er, no, Brightlord. I’m fairly certain it’s another word for walking.’

‘Well, then,’ Adolin said. ‘We’ll do plenty of it too. Promenading. I always love a good promenading.’”

He and Shallan are truly made for each other.

“Highprince Aladar has begun to talk of taking a short vacation back to Althekar. I want to know if he’s serious.”

Oh?

It’s very interesting how Gavilar after death is portrayed as having grown weak and yet there’s so much reverence for him.

Three gods, huh?

It’s interesting that Dalinar can feel the thrill in these visions.

“It was a topaz entwined with a heliodor, both set into a fine metal framework, each stone as big as a man’s hand.”

Is that some kind of fabrial? Is she an edgedancer/truthwatcher? She seemed to have Stoneward shardplate. How confusing. I guess she could have borrowed Shardplate.

DABBID MY SON!

“‘Next time it could be you!’ he called. ‘What will you do if you’re the one that needs healing?’

‘I’ll die.’ Moash said, not even bothering to look back. ‘Out on the field, quickly, rather than back here over a week’s time.’”

Oh that would be so unfortunate.

REREADING THIS BOOK WITH THE TEFT SECTIONS OH OHHHHHHHHH BOY SUFFERING. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE

“I was under the impression that you were going to aid the queen in protecting the king’s interests in Alethkar.”

That is interesting to think about. What would have happened in Navani had stayed in Alethkar? Did the Unmade compel Navani to go? Or would she have been under the influence of the Unmade?

“I have determined that the queen is sufficiently endowed with the requisite skills needed to hold Alethkar.”

Uhhhhhhhhhh

“‘Well, I suppose that’s all right,’ she said. ‘I kind of trust Sadeas.’”

Interesting. Also my son, my love, Elhokar...you are so dumb.

“‘You still argue he isn’t a bad king?’ Navani whispered. ‘My poor, distracted, oblivious boy.’”

HE COULD HAVE BEEN GREAT

Ishar is the herald of luck?

WAIT ROION! TURTLE MAN! My baby!

My god I sometimes forget that Dalinar has no fucking chill and no impulse control.

“The Almighty himself depended on the Alethi to train themselves in honorable battle so that when they died, they could join the Heralds’ army and win back the Tranquiline Halls.”

Is that…Honor’s influence or Odium’s? Or has Odium corrupted this idea? Because judging by Rhythm of War, Odium’s end goal was to raise an army from Roshar and then send them across the Cosmere.

“My sense of honor makes me easy to manipulate.”

Whaaaaaat? You Dalinar. Pffttttt Noooooo. Pfffftttttt.

“‘He is well, though you presence here is sorely missed. I’m certain he could use your counsel. He is relying heavily on Brightness Lalai to act as clerk.’

Perhaps that would make Jasnah return. There was little love lost between herself and Sadeas’s cousin, who was the king’s head scribe in he queen’s absence.”

First, there’s another Sadeas we must deal with besides Sadeas’s nephew that I’m sure will be around in arc 2. Second, interesting wonder where that drama stems from.

“They may be a little too stable. The world is changing outside, but the Shin seem determined to remain the same.”

Hmmmmmmmmmm

“Gavarah hadn’t reached her twentieth Weeping when she proposed the theory of the three realms.”

WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA. Lemme hear this theory, my dude.

“He reminds me of my uncle Dalinar. Earnest, sincere, concerned.” “We could do with more men like Taravangian,”

I…mmm….aw man…I…that’ll be a yikes for me.

“He found a half-finished bridge. It had eventually grown out of that one plank Kaladin had used.”

ASODFKJSLDFJSLDF JUST LIKE THE FOURTH BRIDGE

“Had something moved in the darkness?”

His spren?

“‘Roshone lets them know he finds them contemptible. And so they scramble to please him.

‘That makes no sense,’ Kal said.

‘It is the way of things,’ Lirin said, playing with one of the spheres on the table, rolling it beneath his fingers. ‘You’ll have to learn this, Kal. When men perceive the world as being right, we are content. But if we see a hole—a deficiency—we scramble to fill it.”

This feels like how Lirin is acting in Rhythm of War.

Y’know it really makes sense why Kabsal would be working for Thaidakar.

Is…Kabsal attempting to get Shallan to join the Ghostbloods? Rhythm of War makes me wonder how honest Kabsal was towards Shallan. Yeah, Jasnah thought Kabsal was just manipulating her but she didn’t say how she knew this.

“He smiled, then drew the bow across the edge of the metal plate, making it vibrate. The sand hopped and bounced, like tiny insects dropped onto something hot.

‘This,’ he said, ‘is called cymatics. The study of pattern that sounds make when interactive with a physical medium.’

As he drew the bow again, the plate made a sound, almost a pure note. It was actually enough to draw a single music spren, which spun for a moment in the air above him, then vanished. Kabsal finished, then gestured to the plate with a flourish.”

Well, Rhythm of War certainly made this more interesting.

“Bridgemen aren’t supposed to survive. There’s something about that. He wouldn’t be able to ask Lamaril. That man had gotten what he deserved, though. If Kaladin had the ability to choose, such would be the end of all lighteyes, the king included.

Your inner Moash is showing.

“I want you to go back into the barrack and tell the men to come out after the storm. Tell them to look up at me tied here. Tell them I’ll open my eyes and look back at them, and they’ll know that I survived.”

No wonder a religion might be forming around Kaladin.

“Teft lingered too, as if thinking to spend the storm with Kaladin. He eventually shook his head, muttering and joined the others. Kaladin thought he heard the man calling himself a coward.”—Page 517

Brandon Sanderson, leave me the fuck alone.

“‘Taking the Dawnsahrds, known to bind any creature voidish or mortal, he crawled up the steps crafted for Heralds, ten strides tall apiece, toward the grand temple above.’—From The Poem of Ista. I have found no modern explanation of what these ‘Dawnshards’ are. They seem ignored by scholars, though talk of them was obviously prevalent among those recording the early mythologies.”—Page 524

Wait…who’s he? And aw man this becomes more relevant in a few years.

“‘Then you’re not a murderer,’ Kaladin said.

‘Not for want of trying.’ Sigzil eyes grew distant. ‘I thought for certain I succeeded. It was not the wisest choice I made. My master…’

‘Is he the one you tried to kill?’

‘No.’”

We need some backstory.

Marabethia sounds similar to Twitter.

“It claimed that humming of all things, could make a Soulcasting more effective.”

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

“That isn’t the kind of thing the Dawnsingers did. They were healers, kindly spren by the Almighty to care for humans once were forced out of the Tranquiline Halls.”

Is…that right?

“‘We believe that the Voidbringers were real, Shallan. A scourge and plague.. A hundred times they came upon mankind. First casting us from the Tanquiline Halls, then trying to destroy us here on Roshar. They weren’t just spren that hid under rocks, then came out to steal someone’s laundry. They were creatures of terrible destructive power, forged in Damnation creature from hate.’

‘By whom?’ Shallan asked.

‘What?’

‘Who made them? I mean, the Almighty wasn’t likely to have ‘created something from hate.’ So what made them?’

‘Everything has its opposite, Shallan. The Almighty is a force of good. To balance his goodness, the cosmere needed the Voidbringers as his opposite.’”—Pages 634-635

Thaidakar’s reveal really makes Kabsal a more…suspicious character. Like how much does he actually know? How much does Thaidakar actually know? Also, I don’t know if Odium is the opposite of Honor. I guess we’d need all 16 shards names to compare.

“A city where people lived in gigantic, hollowed out stalactites hanging beneath a titanic sheltered ridge.”

EXCUSE ME WHAT

“‘I doubt many would disagree. But I mention these horrors for a purpose. You see, it has been my experience that no matter where you go, you will find some who abuse their power.’ He shrugged. ‘Eye color is not so odd a method, compared to many others I have seen. If you were to overthrow the lighteyes and place yourselves in power, Moash, I doubt that the world would be a very different place. The abuses would still happen. Simply to other people.’

Kaladin nodded slowly, but Moash shook his head. ‘No I’d change the world, Sigzil. And I mean to.’”

Hmmm, yeah that didn’t exactly work out.

“‘That makes you wiser, presumably?’

‘Damnation no,’ Teft said. ‘The only thing it proves is that I’ve more experience staying alive than you.’”

Brandon. Leave. Me. Alone.

“Cenn stopped wheezing. He convulsed once, eyes still open. ‘He watches!’ the boy hissed. ‘The black piper in the night. He holds us in his palm…playing a tune that no man can hear!’”—Page 671

Is…is that a reference to El?

“I’m sorry I drove you to suicide. Here’s some bread.”

How people on this website think Moash’s redemption arch is gonna go.

“‘…why Thaidakar would risk this?’ Amaram was saying, speaking in a soft voice. ‘But who else would it be? The Ghostbloos grow more bold.’”—Page 701

Jasnah was complaining last chapter how she hates being wrong but she was wrong about Shallan’s intentions and that Amaram is not as smart as he seems. Yeah, he’s wrong about who sent the shardbearer to kill him but if I was in the cosmere and someone tried to kill me, I would assume it was Thaidakar. On that note, holy fuck, I need to know what conversation prompted both Gavilar and Amaram to assume that someone trying to kill them had to be Thaidakar. I really hope that Gavilar’s pov is next for KOWT for his death so maybe we could get a conversation where they talk to Thaidakar through cube skype or maybe this avatar (whatever the hell that means.) God Rhythm of War makes this scene so much funnier.

“You’d have changed your mind. In a day or two, you’d have wanted the wealth and prestige—otehrs would have convinced you of it. You’d have demanded that I return them to you. It took hours to decide, but Restares is right—this is what must be done. For the good of Alethkar.”—Page 703

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—this is why we reread—aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Kaladin is going to have some words with Restares.

What happened to Baxil and Av?

?????????????????????????? Why do these two Ardents know about the Physical/Cognitive/Spiritual realm?

“Eight weeks? Forty days of winter at once? That war rare.”—Page 728

Did the weather used to be more consistent on Roshar?

Oh god Rhythm of War has made the Recreance so hard to read.

“If I abandon my principles, then I become something far worse than they. A hypocrite.”—Page 741

A hypocrite is a just a man changing or something. I forget the quote.

“Have you been paying much attention to the conflict between the Tukari and the Emuli?”—Page 753

“And the Tukari are led by that god-priest of theirs, Tezim.”—Page 754

Look at the foreshadowing.

“‘Just as Hatham wishes his partner in negotiations to know of his goodwill, I wish you to know of our goodwill toward you, Brightlord.’

Dalinar frowned. He’d never had much to do with the ardents—his devotary was simple and straightforward. Dalinar got his fill of politics with the court; he had little desire to find more religion. ‘Why? What should it matter if I have goodwill toward you?’

The ardent smiled. ‘We will speak with you again.’ He bowed low and withdrew.”—Pages 756-757

OKAY AT FIRST I THOUGHT THIS WAS FUNNY BECAUSE THE ARDENTS GET VERY MIFFED AT DALINAR IN OATHBRINGER BUT “we” HOLY SHIT THAT’S ONE OF BUG PEOPLE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I can imagine why this bug man wants his goodwill because they’re pretty sure he’ll destroy them.

“‘This thing will not happen,’ Rock said. ‘Is impossible to get sphere out of the chasms.’

‘We could swallow them,’ Moash said.

‘You would choke. Spheres are too big, eh?’

‘I’ll better I could do it,’ Moash said. His eyes glittering, reflecting the verdant Stormlight. ‘That’s more money than I’ve ever seen. It’s worth the risk.’”—Page 766

I swear to god, one of these days Moash is going to swallow a sphere.

“You call him the Stormfather, here in Alethkar.”

So people in Alethkar think that Jezerin and the Stormfather are the same person?

“Light grows so distant. The storm never stops. I am broken, and all around me have died. I weep for the end of all things. He has won. Oh, he has beaten us.”

O…Oh man, I hope this isn’t foreshadowing for KOWT.

“We should have expected this, Dalinar thought. We started bringing two armies to a plateau, so they have done the same.”—Page 781

Interesting that Kaladin thought about this when fighting the Fused by Dalinar didn’t fighting the Listeners

“When other men failed, a field of crops got worms in them. When a surgeon failed someone died.”

Well…if your crops fail then you could very much cause a town to starve to death.

“Though there was one thing he clung to. An excuse, perhaps, like the dead emperor. It was the soul of the wretch. Apathy. The belief that nothing was his fault, the belief that he couldn’t change anything. If a man was cursed, or believe he didn’t have to care, then he didn’t need to hurt when he failed. Those failures couldn’t have been prevented. Someone or something else had ordained them.”

Those are some fucking foils right there.

“They watch me. Always. Waiting. I see their face in mirrors. Symbols, twisted, inhuman…”

Babbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbby

“I wish to sleep. I know now why you do what you do, and I hate you for it. I will not speak of the truths I see.”

The sibling?

“I’d surrendered my plans, but you’ve returned them to me. I’ll guard you with my life, Kaladin. I swear it to you, by the blood of my fathers.”—Page 881

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

LISTEN I KNOW ELHOKAR IS AN IDIOT BUT HE’S MY IDIOT

“The further you look, the more pieces that wind breaks into.”—Page 995

That’s interesting

“A champion could work well for you, but it is not certain. And…without the Dawnshards…”—Page 997

Well, we’ll see how Rysn plays into this.

#Brandon Sanderson #way of kings #Stormlight Archive #cosmere #TaylorRereadsSA

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years ago

Text

Dawn (2)

Loki x fem!Reader

ONE/TWO/THREE SHOT

Warnings: mention of past trauma and fluff.

Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.

Word Count: sleep is nice. Water is super nice. music is dope nice. weather is siren-like nice. not being able to meet my dogs? not nice.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"Is it really necessary to do this? All of this?"

"It's a custom created by the Allfather, your grace," answers the handmaiden that helps you into the soft gold of a dress that seems to be way too over the top for something as simple as breakfast.

"Your Allfather needs to get laid," you whisper loud enough for her to hear and turn red.

"I beg your pardon, your grace?"

You whine as you watch yourself in the gigantic mirror in the bathroom. "Nothing. Come on, let's go."

She picks up your clothes from last night and the bags that have your belongings from the earth. "Where are you going with those?"

She turns around and bows a little. "To clean them all up, your grace. The Prince said that they might have been sullied with the party they arrived."

"Loki?"

"No, your grace. Prince Thor."

"...okay? Anyway, where do you guys have lunch?"

"In the kitchen, your grace."

"Cool. I'll join you guys there."

"B-but your grace!"

"You don't have to end every sentence with your grace, Sybll. Okay?"

"...y-yes, your-"

"What?"

"...yes."

"Okay. See you later, Sybll."

You shut the door behind you, leaving the poor young handmaiden's heart pumping as she tries to make sense of what has happened.

"See you...your grace," she whispers in the empty room.

"Oh, no, thank you, dear," you blurt, bringing your hand up to avoid the servant from serving an entire lobster- at least that's what it looks like- to you, "no...no meat for me, please."

Odin seems to be taken aback a little by that request. And a smile is the only thing you can conjure up.

Where. The fuck. Is everyone else?

The large table feels a tad much for the two of you. Not mention the nausea you are feeling from overthinking about Odin's internal judgements about you.

"Is everything all right, Y/N?" Odin finally asks, the half-eaten berry resting in between his fingers and thumb.

"Yes, sir, I mean, your majesty," you stutter, feeling yourself punching in the gut for screwing the first words coming out of you in front of him.

"Do you not like to eat meat, then?"

No father-in-law, it's just that all meat comes out as vomit when I am nervous.

"I...have a sensitive stomach."

"Huh," is all he bothers to state before going back to his berry.

So all you have on your plate now is leaves and fruits sitting as the subject for an art session.

"The gardens of the palace are beautiful, s-your majesty," you mention, remembering the flowers in full bloom you saw this morning.

"Ah, yes," he exclaims with a delight, "Frigga used to take great care of them. It is all of her hard work that blooms in those soils. Like it does in my sons."

You nod, taking a piece of watermelon and filling your mouth with it. "Mmhmm."

"You must think of me as some foolish old bastard for my way of doing things, like...like joining two worlds in a peace treaty through marriage, don't you, young lady?"

All you can do is gulp down the melon sitting unchewed in your mouth as you look at him with a blank expression.

"For an inexperienced mind like yours does not understand how crucial it is to stand united in the face of adversity."

You nod with your mouth full. "You're right. I don't. So, if you don't mind me asking, what was Frigga like?"

The lines on Odin's forehead change and he is back in time to some fond memory while he moves his food around his fingers. "Frigga was gentle as the first cool breeze that soothes you at the crack of the dawn, my dear. She was my rock. She kept Asgard running even when I was not there. That too while she had two young notorious sons to take care of." He chuckles silently and looks into some distant void, letting the sun reflect on the moisture at the edge of his eye. "She loved Loki like her own son. When the world saw a monster in him, she saw an innocent soul that needed the love and care of a mother. She taught him all the magic she knew. She had a way with him, with his mind that was always in a different direction than the rest of us. Whether she knew him or not, she did her best to make him a better version of himself."

"Would she have agreed to this truce?"

The words are out sooner than you realise and Odin is out of the trance he was a while back, the eye losing its hues.

"My sons will do what I say, woman. They are the pride of Asgard. The reflection of what expanded my kingdom and its peace stands for. And Frigga would have agreed with me. With whatever decision I took."

The words crawl over your shoulders like ants. Your nails are scraping the edges of the pie crust as silence seems to erode any feelings of respect between the two of you.

"I bet he is your reflection as well, Loki-" you stress on his name with a tilt of his head- "I bet he was your reflection that day too when he was a child and you told him he was no good as a warrior and he'd rather go hide in his mother's skirt."

The clatter of fork and knives stops. So does the breath of every servant present in the vicinity, discreetly looking at their Allfather for any reaction.

"He was your reflection when the boys from the streets teased him for being so weak for a Prince. And when he could not take the insult anymore, he used his magic to teach them proper manners. Hm?"

You pick up the chalice of wine kept for you, squeezing an orange into it before taking a generous sip. "He was also your reflection the day Thor was to be crowned king-" you smacked your lips, keeping the chalice down with a thud- "and the day he let the wormhole swallow him?"

The air is heavy. Heavier than any third person can take.

"You might be sitting in a seat of privilege, woman, but do not forget you are speaking to your king." His tone is soft but the intended weight with which they flow is not.

"Yes. I do realise my place, my king. I am but a mere human tied to a son you deem unworthy of serving any purpose to you. But here's the thing, your highness-" you look Odin in the eye, your face losing every feeling- "I am not Frigga, Gods rest her soul."

The napkin resting on your lap is crumpled in your hand before being left on the plate as you get up, dragging your chair back and turning around to collide with the servant coming with a pitcher of wine.

His apologies are cut short by you, assuring him it's no big deal before turning back to the Allfather. "It was a good talk, your majesty," you state with a full-blown bow.

"Oh and one more thing! Loki does not have some different brains that you cannot figure out. He just thinks seven steps ahead of everyone else. I found out through observation. And the one time we both had to escape being killed. You should try it sometimes too."

And with that declaration, you walk out of the hall, leaving a stunned silence with an audience and a King sitting with heartburn.

FUCK!

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DOOOOO!!!!!

Your steps cannot match your heart rate at this point as you try to make your way back to Loki's room. And the constant flashbacks to the conversation you just had do not help. At all. If only the ground would crack open and swallow you right now.

You really need to keep your issues with controlling fathers in check, woman!

Well, TOO LATE! you yell back at your inner voice.

The corridors are a blur. So are the voices of people asking you if you're okay.

You didn't have to defend him like that.

You try to shove your inner voice away.

What do you even know about him?

You can finally see the door to your sanctuary, and your steps get faster than they already are.

What is Odin going to do to you now?

Opening the door, you throw yourself inside before shutting it back and letting the whimpers of weakened shallow breaths become audible.

"Okay, breathe. Breathe breathe breathe-" you take in a lungful- "yes, breathe."

Five times more and your heart finally finds a rhythm for your brain to function a bit better, bringing your attention to the wetness you feel on your stomach and realise you're still in the soiled dress with a huge blotch of wine stain colouring it in an ugly tone.

Undoing the knots around you, you walk to the bathroom to change into clean clothes and realise only when you are standing naked in there that all your clothes have been taken for a wash.

Perfect.

Your palms are rubbed hard against your face with frustrated groans before you catch a glimpse of the black fabric lying on top of one of Loki’s drawers; the one he wore last night.

Oh, screw it.

The cotton shirt slides over you with ease, flowing till your thighs, though the thin fabric barely covers much. With that taken care of, you walk over to the other drawers and cabinets to find anything else you can wear for the moment.

“Where were you two?!”

“Good to see you too, Sif,” Thor comments with a tone of sarcasm as a fuming Sif walks over to the brothers getting down from their horses.

“We went to inspect the new territories under Vanaheim. There was a little disturbance there last night,” Loki mentions as he twists and adjusts his shoulder with a muted grunt. No one notices for there are other pressing matters at hand.

“The Allfather is fuming because of your absence at breakfast today. Especially since-” she pauses to look at Loki and point out at him in general, which reasonably confuses both the brothers- “and on top of that things went downhill from here thanks to that woman.”

Now, this leads to the brothers to furrow their brows at Sif.

“Downhill how?” Thor asks.

“Spare no details,” Loki adds.

“This...is...hilarious.” Loki guffaws as he ends the sentence and this time Thor is the one to roll his eyes.

“It is still hard to believe Y/N would do something like this,” the blond states.

“Oh, Thor,” Loki purrs with a jump in his step, making his brother automatically uncomfortable, “it’s not that hard to believe once you realise she has lived the better part of her life with Stark. She has learned the snark from the best.”

“How do you even know what that word means?” Thor gasps in frustration. He opens his mouth to follow it up with a contradiction before pausing to run Loki’s words in his mind, hating the smirk building over his brother’s lips as realisation dawns on him.

“I need to talk to her about this-”

“WOAH! Woah! Easy brother,” Loki exclaims, stopping him with a hand on his chest, pausing the steps just outside the younger one’s room, “are you sure you want to do that?”

“What do you mean? Of course-”

“Thor-” Loki pats his brother’s chest as a gesture of patience- “first, talk to her only if you yourself have never defied your father.”

Thor looks at Loki with judgment-filled eyes, getting his brother’s index finger to wait and listen for more. “Second, talk to her with the thought that she barely has been here for a day and she has to spend the rest of her life here. Away from everything she knows.”

This, somehow, dilutes the smoke rising from the embers inside Thor. Loki isn’t wrong after all. “And third, don’t follow me inside. I am going to take a long shower.”

“Wha-”

“What? Sybll said Y/N told her she’ll join her for lunch in the kitchen. Now off you go,” he shoos his brother away with his hands before shutting his bedroom door behind him.

A chuckle leaves him involuntarily as he recalls Sif’s word by word description of how it all went down in the dining hall.

Good for her , he wonders, taking his armour off, there will be something to keep Odin and Thor occupied.

The arm plate stops short from landing on the table with a thud as a thought stirs in Loki’s mind, slowly invading his heart through the tiniest of veins. Letting the arm plate softly rest on the table, he lets his fingers grab the back of his doublet to remove it.

Why did she defend me in front of Odin?

The summer breeze from outside takes the first chance it gets to rub itself all over the naked chest and back of the God lost in a puzzle which isn’t that hard to solve once he has all the pieces.

Right. Forgot she had a mad father too. What was it that Stark said we were? Two kids with daddy issues.

Shaking his head, his fingers undo the first button on his pants when he hears a soft clunk from somewhere within the room. And the relaxed cat becomes the predator within a flash.

Why does he have so many greens and blacks?

The drawers and closets in front of all have nothing but those hues. Wait, is he colourblind?

Grunting and stomping your feet for not finding anything you could borrow from your ‘husband’s’ clothing, you close all that is opened and start to move towards the bedroom to call for Sybll for a change of clothes when faint voices are heard outside followed by a door being shut.

It takes a lot for your heart to jump in your mouth; and right now, that lot is Loki walking in the room with a smile, undoing his armour while looking at some invisible void in the distance.

Fuck!

You could not go out in front of him like this. In his nightshirt that was barely covering your assets.

Hiding behind the archway next to an Oakwood drawer, you take a peek at the God lost in some thought. There is a faint smile on his unexpectedly pink lips. What is he thinking? That thought runs away and hides in a corner as soon as it sees long pale fingers are pulling away the doublet from above his head to reveal a bod sculpted in some mountains of divine beauty not meant for the naked eye.

Your breath gets caught in the moment of revelation. Wasn't he supposed to be...frail? At least that's what you thought when you first saw him. But now that you think about it, anyone and everyone looks frail in front of Thor. But never in your life would you have thought that all that layer of clothing hid a figure like this.

You won a lottery, woman , your inner voice nudges and winks at you before it is pushed into a dark corner. Though I feel bad for him for getting stuck with you , it shouts as it fades into the darkness. The muscles on his back shift when he rolls his shoulders and you feel your insides shudder. Does Asgard realise what they're missing under all that leather? Is what you question till you see marks and bruises that seem old- healed but not so thoroughly. Hmm, everything with him has a reason, doesn't it?

Your daylight musing seems to crack as you realise- with his back to you- he is about to open his pants.

No matter how enticing it seems to the dark corners of your brain, you draw yourself back from the archway, colliding straight into a drawer. You IDIOT!!

Moving on your toes, silent as a cat, your steps go backwards, past the drawers and lux bathtubs towards the balcony while your eyes stay on the archway, waiting for your heart to stop any moment that Loki showed his face through it.

One step back and you are in the balcony, your feet feeling the cold stone under them while your back collides into something equally cold and rigid. And it does not raise all those tiny hairs on your body till you can feel that cold rise and fall rise in your back.

MOTHERF-

The siren voice of the night sings right into your ear.

"Looking for someone?"

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windstormwielding · 4 years ago

Text

Drabble: New Orders

The wounded officer assumed the Sternritter who shot him would give chase to stop his attempted escape, but his heart dropped when he felt their attention shift to the reiatsu of nearby shinigami in his stead. It sank further when he then felt his kind’s presences getting wiped out as fast as he could blink while he flash-stepped from the scene, as more innocents have paid the price of their predecessors’ hubris in wiping out the Quincy in centuries past.

Grim thoughts supposed any target in a shihakushō would’ve done if it meant culling more of their number, and though ensured he was no longer being followed, cruel terror continued to overwhelm his being with the harrowing realization that he could’ve just as easily joined the fallen mere moments ago.

Still mid-stride, he felt the frosty reiatsu of the Bankai-less 10th Division Captain and the shinigami spiritual pressure of who he assumed to be his second-in-command cutting off that Quincy’s warpath. There was relief in that the Sternritter of fire definitely would not be pursuing him anymore, but how for long could Captain Hitsugaya and Lieutenant Matsumoto put up an actual fight against these honest-to-god monsters?

If there was any opportunity to seek respite and escape from the pending horror of his own mortality getting snuffed, now was the time to do it. With the last of his shunpō and feeling no Quincy spiritual pressure in the immediate vicinity, his hand still firmly pressed against his gut to quell bleeding over seared open wounds, the soul reaper left luck to fate as he spotted an open window six stories up.

He guided his flash steps up the smaller two-story building next to it, then launched himself from its roof through the open window he spotted. Unfortunately, it was then his strength gave out to the heat of his pierced liver and torso as he staggered mid-step at last. The silver-haired shinigami crashed shoulder-first onto the floor with a pained groan as momentum caused him to slide until his back harshly met the wood of a crate.

Despite the noise his intrusion made, there were no signs of nearby Quincy encroaching on his position to finish the job. Held breath turned strained yet relieved as the 13th Division’s 4th Seat found sanctuary amidst the chaos of the Wandenreich’s second invasion. Kōtarō Ryōhei finally had time to think.

He rolled onto his back with teeth grit as he tried to keep his thoughts off of his injury. The hand against his abdomen began to glow with the relieving light of Kaidō to mend the partially cauterized perforation through his body – though he’s no expert, Kōta was glad that he thought to take up the healing arts in hindsight, but lamented that this will be a slow recovery for him. It would be one thing if he ran into somebody from the 4th Division, with two wells of reiatsu to pull from to facilitate the healing process, but having to use his own energy alone to fix up his body will take him some time.

It would only amount to a patch job, but right now that was better than nothing. Once done, it should be enough to last him until he returns to the barracks... or where the barracks last stood.

His emerald gaze sharpened to scrutinize this unfamiliar room, walls a perfect marble white with hints of ice clinging to their surface. Head turned from one side to the other as he took note of old boxes and sealed barrels. Kōta reasoned he was in a storage room of some kind – supplies gathered from the Wandenreich empire’s thousand years of hiding in the Seireitei’s shadows, perhaps.

Before he could think on his surroundings more, Kōtarō found his thoughts drifting to his superiors. What he would do for their counsel right now...

Captain Ukitake was outside of the Seireitei when the Quincy got the drop on them all yet again. Ryōhei knew his Captain had begun his own ritual to prepare for the conflict, far outside of the Sekkiseki walls and deep into the Rukon districts, but that brought no comfort when it mattered most. There was no Captain at the helm to come to their defence thanks to the Sternritter’s surprise attack. Not even Kotsubaki and Kotetsu were around right now, shadowing Ukitake as they often do to best tend to his good health and safety.

Lieutenant Kuchiki was also indisposed. Suffering mortal wounds from the first invasion that already decimated the Gotei 13, Rukia’s frail form frightened him all the more when there was nothing more the 4th Division could do. She was taken to the Soul King Palace to make a full recovery not long ago, and Ukitake assured him she would be alright, but how long would it take for her to heal up and come back? Would he really die down here before he could reunite with her again? Was back at the 4th Division the last he would ever see his friend?

Without them, there was no one else left who could come to the 13th Division’s rescue. With no Captain, Lieutenant, or 3rd Seats standing by to lead and give out orders, there was no other guidance for him to lean on.

He was alone. Marooned. Without direction... and so were the rest of his men.

“...I’m still here.”

All it took to tether the storm of panic that overtook his composure earlier was those three little words of dawning realization. They may be gone, but the 4th Seat still remained as the highest-in-command officer of their Division within the Seireitei’s walls. Captain Ukitake, Rukia, Sentarō, and Kiyone – he’s still here for his superiors, to act in their stead until they return.

“I’m... still breathing... for fuck’s sake...!”

Pushing one foot after another to crawl against the ground, he fought against the body-wracking bouts of pain streaking up his nerves urging him to lie back down and relax, all while a streak of red followed his path. He’s still here to look after his juniors, who need some direction if they have any shot of surviving this war – that’s what he’s here for, isn’t he?

“I’m... still... ALIVE!”

With spiteful determination flooding his being, and a hand pressed against the floor for support, he shuffled back some more until he managed to sit upright against one of the crates. He’s still here to protect as many from his squadron as possible, to ensure they’re not abandoned and alone.

They needed orders. That much was clear. As he wracked in his mind to strategize, he figured there was one way to reach out to them in immediacy, but he could not think of a method to execute it.

What Kōtarō would do for some powder right about now. He didn’t even have it in him to open and inspect every odd container on the off-chance the Quincy stored something he could use here. Time was of the essence, but if not ink, then...

...the 4th Seat’s eyes trailed down to his crimson-stained hands.

“That’ll work,” he huffed, nodding to no one in particular. He can finish healing himself when he’s done. His colleagues and subordinates—whoever was still standing—need him.

“Black and white net.”

Arms shot up so that his sleeves may fall. Bloody palms then clapped together to share in makeshift red ink, and his arms became his canvas to draw lines and symbols along their length, as well as runes on the floor—careful not to draw where his life force had already been smeared.

“Twenty-two bridges... sixty-six crowns and belts.”

Beads of sweat dripped from his brow as his mind focused with renewed resolve to generate the white rectangle coming aglow before his eyes.

“Footprints, distant thunder... sharp peak, engulfing land, hidden in the night... sea of clouds, blue line.”

Though stilted, his hands moved like a conductor’s guiding baton, channeling his power into roots of spirit energy encroaching from the box of white light. His mind reached out to every one of his squad who he knew survived the first wave as he mentally reached out in the direction of the 13th Division grounds.

“Form a circle... and fly through the heavens."

Before their numbers could dwindle more and more, until there wouldn’t be a division left to save, he can still try and make a difference among those who remain.

“Bakudō #77... Tenteikūra.”

Relief flooded Kōtarō’s soul as he could now clearly sense the familiar auras of the handful of seated officers lingering in the area. Among the unseated, less than half their total number from before this sickening war started still stood.

Time to do his job.

–

Attention, officers of the 13th Division. This is your 4th Seat, Kōtarō Ryōhei, speaking.

Today... is no doubt the darkest time any of us have ever faced as shinigami. War has come to our doorstep with retribution and violence the likes of which we have never seen. The Quincy intend to wipe us all out, for our forefathers attempting to do the same to them a long time ago.

This battle, though we in the present never noticed the shadow of its approach... was a long time coming for all of us.

I... I know things look bleak right now. They have the advantage in information. They have the advantage in number. They have the advantage in military tactics, in home territory, and in sheer power. There... really is no easy way to say this, but we may very well be staring down our last days... not just as individuals, but as a collective. I won’t fault any of you for feeling helpless and outmatched, or having lost the will to fight, because for a minute there... I did too-

—

A harsh grunt cut him off as pain flared in his gut. It was tempting to bring a hand back down to resume self-treatment, but he could not end the transmission now. Not yet!

—

-but... our Captain—our Division—lives by a creed, in that there are two types of fights: fights where we protect honour, and fights where we protect life. We may not fight for the honour of the Gotei 13 or the division right now... hell, I don’t know if either will still exist when this battle is over, yet... we can still—and absolutely must—fight to protect life.

We have lost too many among us already. Close allies. Loved ones. Lifelong friends in the 13th and out. But though there is no bringing htem back from the dead... they still live on through you. Their hopes, their dreams, their memories... their hearts. You die here... then that’s it, they will all die for good, along with you. If the Quincy take that from you, then there really will be no Gotei 13 left to return to-!

—

Breathing turned laboured as he felt his mouth go dry. He needed to lie down and rest. No, he needed to be seen to. But that hardly mattered to him now. He couldn’t count on the 4th Division this minute. He had to stick to what he can do and see it through to the bitter end, if that is what it will come to!

—

So... it comes down to this, in what could be our final hour: the fight to protect life—your own... and that of the soul reaper standing next to you. Until further notice... until Captain Ukitake or Lieutenant Kuchiki return to issue new orders, then follow this one single command... by any means necessary: survive.

Whether you regroup, run fast, watch your surroundings, hide, or even strike them from behind... just survive. If all else fails... then stand your ground, give the Quincy hell, and make sure their job is not an easy one.

I... I will try my hardest to return to you all, but... in the event that... this is the last you hear from me... just know that...

—

“...it’s been a privilege... and an honour... for me to have served and fought alongside you all these many years. Ryōhei out.”

The moment connection terminated, his bloodied arms slackened, but he made sure his palm fell back over his wound to pick up where he left off. In his self-imposed strain, some of the work he already put in towards healing came undone, so it was back to doing it all again from scratch. Fantastic.

As his body slid so he may lie down fully once again, bleary sights looked up to the dimly lit ceiling in worry for the immediate future. Eyelids grew heavy, and the urge to sleep grew ever tempting, but Kōtarō feared that the time he closed his eyes again would be his last if he drifted off right away. He did not want to die yet. This war had only just begun in earnest, and he would be damned if he allowed himself to be done in by a single attack.

Once he finished patching himself up, rested, and got back on his feet, then it would be time to face the Quincy properly. For now, however...

“Captain Ukitake... I... hope I did the right thing.”

#{ rock you like a hurricane ☁ verse ☁ }#{ drabble tbt. }#{ cut for length }#{ ooc: ohhhh yeah I started writing this several months ago- }#{ =u=;;a so I uh... finished it up on a whim today- }#{ god this feels incredibly self-indulgent lmfao bUT HEY PUTTING IT OUT THERE AND YA CAN'T STOP ME }

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imagine-that-one-thing · 4 years ago

Text

Her Majesty || 8

All Aboard.

The countryside was a wonderful time and a refreshing getaway, but I have been drawn back to reality and it has been nothing short of horrible from the moment I stepped foot back on the grounds of the palace. I’m starting to resent Buckingham, I can’t wait to move to Windsor or one of the other palaces; I’d be more than pleased to travel to the private palaces, we all know my love for Hillsborough Castle. I’m at the point where I want to get away from my father. I would like to have more space between us. Buckingham, although has 775 rooms, isn’t large enough for his temper and narcissism. My father doesn’t appear like my father, he is furious, all of the time. Nobody wants to be around him, and I am not quite sure how my mother deals with him. I don’t know whether or not she sees what the rest of us see, she is silent and using her time to do her duties.

I heavily sigh as my ladies maid opens my bedroom door and steps inside my room, a small indication I have overstayed my welcome in my bed. I sit up as I gaze over at her, surprised that I have managed to stay this long in bed without being interrupted. “It is quiet,” I point out, cocking my head to the side while she steps closer and begins to adjust the covers of my bed.

Since I got home a few weeks ago, the Palace has been far from placid, from my father firing and yelling at people to him throwing things around, today is the first morning I haven’t woken up to him on some sort of rampage. “Where’s my father? He is still alive, right?” I half chuckle.

“He is in town, Anastasia, I’m not meant to talk to you.”

I roll my eyes as I get out of bed and I shuffle closer to her, “That is nonsense, I don’t care what my father says, he is being a prick right now. You can talk to me, Eleanor.” I assure Eleanor, a little bothered that my father has decided to take his wrath out on the staff, they shouldn’t be frightened to speak to anyone, no matter the status. “What happened?” I prompt Eleanor, beginning to help her with making the bed.

At first, she is hesitant, but I continue to probe her, eager to get an understanding of what is happening with the staff. “He doesn’t want anybody speaking… May I speak out of term?”

“Go ahead.”

As I have gotten older, I have been the one to listen to what the staff have to say, I don’t take much offence to their opinions or even their advice. I may be in line for a crown, but I am no better than they are, I still see them as equals. Sometimes, they are a better companion and support than my parents’. Don’t get me wrong, my parents’ have been excellent with raising me and shaping me into who I am. I have never had much of an issue with them, but when my parents’ were gone, it was the staff who also contributed to who I am, they helped me when I was at my whits ends, they encouraged me when I felt down, and they have stepped up as a friend when I have had nobody to turn to. There are somethings outside the castle that can’t be understood to most people. I haven’t had the privilege to have numerous friends’, they have all twisted into snakes, therefore, my circle is extremely small. To be honest, my circle consists essentially of Harry and the staff assigned to me who I have formed relationships with. My father doesn’t get to tell them they aren’t allowed to talk to me when they have done nothing wrong.

“Princess,” Eleanor whispers, “I think-, I think he is scared the palace staff will rat him out.”

“Rat him out?” I immediately question, my mind driving to race with the possible things that could be happening behind the scenes.

Eleanor looks around my room, scared that someone may overhear us, “I’m not sure, but nobody is allowed to speak and we aren’t allowed to clean his office, it is now off-limits.”

I frown for a moment, unsure of what is going on, but I can’t help but remember what Harry told me over the weekend about how there are theories that all the staff have. I can only assume he knows a little something about what is going on. He has to know things, he is constantly watching and kept in the loop of things.

“Where is Mr Styles?” I challenge, noticing how I have yet to see him this morning. He usually makes it a routine to at least stop by if he has other things to do. Usually, Harry steps in the room, kisses me goodbye and leaves or he will send me a text, but today, not a word.

“He is escorting your father, he insisted on having the best of the best. I was told I need to have your suitcases packed, is there anything specific you would like to wear?”

“Anything is fine, Eleanor, I have a few meetings and things to attend to, I trust your judgment of clothes.” … “The best of the best?” I raise a brow.

Eleanor nods her head, “Mr Styles is the best, the entire palace knows it. Always on the move, assertive and knows what’s happening. His looks are also a bonus,” Eleanor chuckles.

“Is it common knowledge that he is good at his job? Is this what the ladies maids do? Swoon over him?” I question with a laugh, rather intrigued. I have heard a few sly comments about Harry that the ladies have made before.

“I don’t think he is aware of how good he is at his job, quite humble.”

“Mhm, let’s keep it that way. Too many compliments and he might gain an ego,” I playfully wink and Eleanor nods her head. “Does he have a girlfriend?”

Eleanor shrugs her shoulders, “Nobody knows, he doesn’t talk much on personal matters when we are off the clock… He’s never really around. We have our speculations that he has a lady. We joke that he meets her in the underground tunnels around town.”

“Everyone loves a mystery man,” I respond, “I will leave you alone now, I have to prepare for Greece.” I politely excuse myself from Eleanor and I’s conversation, discreetly moving to my closet to get dressed.

When I was rambling to Harry about running away to Greece or something, I did not mean I wanted to go to Greece because of royal duties. I guess the universe got my requests confused. I’m not sure why my father has decided a prompt royal visit is to happen. I am sure we will find out what the reason is. We don’t do significant business with Greece, in fact, I don’t remember my father ever having much collaboration with Greece. We have been to several countries on official state visits, but not Greece. There isn’t diplomatic sensitivity, at least, not in my opinion, so I can only assume it’s mainly because there is no monarchy in Greece.

♔♔♔

I pace the aisle of the private plane, my nails tapping against my phone screen anxiously. I haven’t heard from Harry all day, no text or call, and here I am on a plane with no clue what’s happening. I have no clue why I am even on the plane, I don’t foresee there is any logical reason for us to be going to Greece. There are no foreign affairs for Greece that need our attention. If I had my way, I would be using this time and the taxpayers’ money to be going somewhere beneficial to the monarch, I would be doing a small trip to bring light to the monarch since Henry has created a turmoil of issues and slammed me with the press. But, I am not Queen, I do not have the say, it all lays in my father’s hands-on where we go as royals.

I’m not entirely certain what the itinerary has me doing, I have a gut feeling that it will change one-hundred times before I get to the hotel, but with the way Eleanor packed my suitcase I can only assume this is going to entail five outfit changes in a day and consists of lunches or formal dinners’ with diplomats or god knows who.

I gasp as I hear the plane door open and I immediately settle when I see Harry with his suitcase right behind him, “I’m sorry, just know I’m sorry,” Harry immediately begins as he gives me a quick kiss to the cheek before walking to place his suitcase at the back of the aircraft. “It has been a long and rough day, my phone is dead in one of my pockets and Matthew is probably going to strangle me for being late but it wasn’t my fault. Your Father almost missed his flight with British Airways and I don’t know why we can’t all just fly together and save me some time. Had to run to opposite ends of Heathrow.” Harry mutters, not too amused with his journey for the day.

My parents are flying British Airways, meanwhile, I have the privilege of the private plane, mainly because my meetings ended later than my parents’ flight. “Yes, I know heirs can’t fly together, I’m just tired. Did Matthew already check the plane?” Harry glances over towards me before he shakes his head, not giving me a chance to respond, “Nevermind, I’ll check it myself. Before you ask one hundred questions, we have a full team of security, I’m on your service, there’s a new kid I have to train but that’s beside the point, high security, which means Matthew is concerned there’s a threat, so don’t stray.” Harry begins informing me of what he knows without me having to ask.

I guess he’s used to the questions by now.

Harry settles his hands between each seat, tugging at seatbelts and eyeing every inch of the plane he possibly can, “We should be taking off in a few minutes, it’s a clear flight plan. Matthew will sweep the hotel first. It’s a three and a half hour flight, we should be arriving at four in the morning since they’re two hours ahead of us.”

“Harry,” I step in front of him as he’s manoeuvring his way around the plane, “You can relax. You’re like spitting out information.”

Harry pauses for a moment and takes a breath, “Been a long day, I’m ready for bed, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,

“Why is the royal family going to Greece? Do they even have a king?” Harry questions.

I shake my head, “The Constitution of Greece, which describes Greece as a "presidential-parliamentary republic"-“ I begin but I’m promptly cut off.

“Darling, I’m tired, can you dumb it down or say it in English, please?” Harry offers me a petite smile, stopping me from rambling and explaining things thoroughly to him.

“There’s no monarchy. In July 1973 the Greek military called a 'referendum', which abolished the Monarchy for the second time in Greek history.”

“It failed, twice?” Harry curiously inquires.

I nod my head, “The Greek monarchy existed from 1832 to 1924, and again from 1935 to 1974.”

Harry grows withdrawn for a moment. “So, tell me again why we are being dragged to Greece?”

“Well, I was hoping you’d have the answer to that.”

“Why would I?”

“You were with the king all day.”

Harry heavily sighs and nods his head, “And it was a long day. But he didn’t tell me why we are all going to Greece, in fact, he barely spoke to me. Which, I’m fine with, I’ve heard he has been an ass to everybody.”

“He didn’t mention anything?”

Harry shakes his head, “No, nothing that could point to why we are going to Greece. Are they bringing back their monarchy?”

It appears as though we are both at a loss as to why this trip is happening. There has to be someone who knows the exact reasons. The itinerary doesn’t reveal much. For the most part, it is my father doing most of the obligations solo and at unusual hours.

“I highly doubt it. Maybe we have finally been invited by the Greek president to make a state visit? Maybe he wants to boost ties in the region? I don’t know. Nobody wants to be around him, nobody knows what the hell he is doing. I think he’s going to end up turning the monarch to shit.” I inform Hary of my opinions. Up until recently, he has done a standup job with handling things and with keeping the monarch up to high standards, but for some reason, he has flipped a switch.

He wants me to get married and to take over for no real reason. There is no reason for him to abdicate and I don’t see why he would want me to stand in for him. This isn’t a situation where he is handing me his legacy because he thinks I am fit for the job because let’s be real, he doesn’t think I am ready yet. I’m not ready for the responsibility, but everyone wants to bestow it upon me. It is all anybody talks about since it was announced.

“I don’t think he’ll ruin the monarchy, I’m sure he knows what he’s doing.”

“Yeah, burning it to the ground,” I grumble.

Harry grows reserved for a moment before clearing his throat and speaking, “Would that be such a bad thing?” …. “I mean, I’m just asking as a future king, ya know?” Harry immediately adjusts his tone, regarding my glare and the fact I’m not amused by the concept of the monarchy burning to the ground.

I hum, “Mhm, I’m sure the future king is very concerned about the monarchy.”

“Of course, I am. I mean, the people’s lives are in my hands.”

“Steady there, don’t get too far ahead,” I chuckle, “There’s no way my people's lives are in your hands.”

“Wouldn't they be our people?” Harry emphasises ‘our.’

I roll my eyes playfully, a chuckle escaping between my lips. This is why I love this man. “Uhm, do you know how the monarch works, darling? You’re lucky if they honour you as king consort, and at this rate, you aren’t being honoured at all, did you forget? Nobody knows we are engaged because everything will fall apart.”

“I don’t care if I don’t have an honour title as long as I’m your husband.”

“You can claim that title when we get married.”

Harry nods his head before slumping down in a seat, his hands rubbing his eyes while his elbows rest on his knees.

While Harry takes a minute to decompress and relax, I begin to rethink everything that has been packed, the feeling of forgetting something sinking into my thoughts.

I mentally check off the things that I’m aware have been handled, passport, black outfit (mourning attire), skincare, makeup, jewellery. “I feel like I’m forgetting something,” I murmur, watching as Harry leans back and closes his eyes, “The luggage has all been counted for, right?” I ask Harry, aware that he has probably double-checked everything as well.

“It is hard to ignore the colour-coded luggage system. It’s all perfect, monograms and all,” Harry responds with a petite grin, “I know you’re staring at me, stop,” Harry chuckles.

“Harry, I’m forgetting something… luggage, passport..” I begin to think out loud.

I can’t wholly think of what it is, but there is a deep-rooted sense in the pit of my stomach that I can’t shake. It is either my gut telling me I have forgotten something or my intuition is screaming at me for some reason. I can’t assume it is a bad feeling, but whatever it is, I can’t seem to shake it. Whatever it is, it worries me.

“Did you forget your ring?” Harry opens an eye and glances at me with droopy, grey eyes.

I shake my head, drawing my necklace out and showing him my ring on the chain, “It’s here… oh no… Harry…”

“What?” He softly challenges, still wanting to doze off.

“My briefcase, it has all my documents and work in it, correspondents and—“ I begin to fret.

“I got it.” Harry cuts me off with a heavy sigh, “I saw it when I had to grab your father’s luggage because he fired his damn valets.”

I let out a breath of relief and smile at him while I carefully decide to rest in his lap, straddling his hips.

He opens his eyes, blinking at me. I don’t say a word, instead, I lean down and leave a trail of sugary kisses on his neck and jawline. His hands move and rest to the small of my back as he lets out a heavy breath. “Anna,” Harry whispers. “Darling, I can’t, I’m tired. I love you, but the next four hours are the only hours I get to sleep, as soon as we land I have to work, can we finish this later?”

“Later? We won’t have time, I have my duties.” I huff, a little irritated that he is turning me down. We have been too busy and constantly surrounded by people that we have not had many moments to be intimate.

“I promise there will be time, I’ll make sure of it.”

“What do you even have to do when we land? Can’t you come to the hotel with me?” I ask Harry, batting my eyes at him in an attempt to get my way.

“I have to make sure the itinerary is being kept secret by the palace. I have to do my job, Anna, so many things to do before your family meets with the public officials, or the world leaders, I don’t know what the hell your Dad has fully planned. What I know is that I have a lot to do. I have a new guy to train, I’ll be jumping from your service to the kings—“ Harry begins to somewhat ramble about things, his thoughts running at one-hundred different things. “You need to do your SAS training, you have a refresher course to do.”

“Just go to sleep, you need to turn your thoughts off. Turned down again.” I mutter unhappily, getting off of him and sitting in the seat beside his.

Harry sighs heavily and places his hand on my thigh, trying to inch towards my hand, “Come on, don’t be like this.”

“No,” I shift his hand away.

“Anna—”

“Don’t ‘Anna’ me.”

“Princess.” Harry is purposely attempting to irritate me now.

I glare at him and huff. “Don’t, you know how I feel about being called a princess by you.”

“Darling,” Harry sighs, “I’m tired, I am. I love you and I’m not turning you down. I know it has been a while but I promise we will find the time.”

I understand he is exhausted, he has been working without much sleep for the last few weeks. I am not solely sure what he has been working on. Harry hasn’t had to watch over me; I have kept to myself at the palace and been in the office doing paperwork, responding to letters and over the phone conferences. “Go to sleep.”

“Tell me you love me, too,” Harry sleepily requests.

I rest my head on his shoulder, allowing my fingers to slip between his, “I love you, too.” I respond.

♔♔♔

Harry's pov

Since landing at four this morning, I haven’t slept or stopped working, I feel as though it has been one thing after another that has necessitated my direct attention.

It’s times like this that I wonder why I agreed to become a royal bodyguard, life would be more peaceful if I had stayed in the countryside with my mother, but then I wouldn’t have met Anna.

I’m on the Kings service for most of the day, and I already despise it. He’s not the most straightforward man to look after at the moment. He can’t give me a full list of the men and women he desires to meet today, therefore not permitting me to do a fitting background check to ensure the safety of the family. He won’t cooperate at all, and I’ve already had to play hide and seek with him twice. By the time I’m off his service, I’m going to require a stiff drink, perhaps even the bottle. I’m not sure what has shifted with the king, but he is not acting like himself. Well, he’s acting shadier than usual, and it doesn’t settle well with me. Matthew has noticed a few red flags but not enough to take too much action, not that he can do anything, he is hired by the king, who is Matthew to confront the king?

I take a sip of my third coffee of the morning and stroll down the hallway of the hotel room, checking each door handle in the corner of my eye, making sure they all still have the do-not-disturb sign on them. We’ve managed to clear the floor so only the royals and the staff are on it. If any sign is disrupted, I know we aren’t the only ones using certain rooms. I reach the end of the hallway where I meet the trainee, Oliver.

I give him a nod and he clears his throat, “The princess hasn’t come out.”

“Mhm, I was requested to go over protocol for today with her. While I explain it to her, I expect you’re already aware of the procedures and the itinerary?” I challenge, taking another sip of my coffee— I need something stronger. If it wasn’t immoral I would add a shot of liquor to this coffee.

Oliver nods his head, “Yes. Do I ride in the car with her?”

“Yes, and you never let her open or close her car door. Don’t let anyone touch her, today isn’t about hugs.” I inform Oliver. “Do you know where the nearest A&E in case of a medical emergency?” I question, making sure he has the basics covered.

I don’t assume a trip to A&E is on the cards but there is no telling what will happen.

Oliver nods his head, “Twelve minutes from where we will be at. And twenty-five minutes from this hotel.”

“Correct.” I swipe the key to her room. “Put your tie on before you leave for the event,” I instruct firmly. I know wearing a tie is irritating and an insignificant thing, but we have to fit in with everyone else, which means dressing the part as well. If photos are taken, we don’t want to look like the odd ones out in the background. Also, it is part of our attire when diplomats and possible other royals are around.

I walk into Anastasia’s room and close the door behind me. I step closer towards her as she remains at the edge of the bed in her coat-dress, “Good morning, sweetheart.” I softly beam, leaning down and kissing her cheek.

She looks beautiful. I am one lucky man.

“Good morning. You never came to bed last night.” Anastasia gazes up at me while I take a step back.

“Your father has had me working since we landed. Already done two meetings and I’m on my third? Cup of coffee. Could it be my fourth?” I challenge myself, unsure of what number I am on.

Anastasia beams up at me, “I’m sorry, will you be on my service today?”

She’s hopeful, I can recognise it in her eyes, but we both know the answer. “I’m leaving you in the hands of my trainee, but I’ll keep a close eye on him and you. Your father wants me. Not sure why.” I inform Anastasia, placing my cup of coffee down before I kneel before her, “Maybe tonight I’ll make it to bed,” I smile up at her, taking one of her heeled shoes and sliding it on her foot.

Anastasia sighs, “I hope so, I’m tired of sleeping alone.”

I fiddle with the clasp of her shoe, struggling to clip the damn thing securely around her ankle, “At least you’re sleeping,” I mutter under my breath, not meaning to sound like a prick. Once the words slip from my mouth, I know she didn’t deserve the comment. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

Anastasia shakes her head as she leans back on her elbows, waiting for me to clasp her other shoe for her, “I’d be irritated too if I was you.”

“Well, doesn’t mean I’m entitled to snarky comments with you.” I point out my own mistake.

“I’ll remind you the next time we argue and you throw me snarky comments.” Anastasia chuckles.

I roll my eyes before I stand to my feet. I tower over her before I place a hand on either side of her on the bed, gingerly lowering myself closer to her. “That doesn’t count,” I whisper, kissing her lips slowly and sweetly.

My lips proceed to brush themselves against the delicacy of hers, teasing her for a brief moment. I take possession of her mouth, my lips syncing with hers, tongues colliding while her shameless hands investigate my body, one hand pressed to the back of my neck, the other travelling up and down my body, cunningly, undecided on what part she wants to devour more.

I can’t help myself as I drag my lips from hers and begin to leave kisses down her neck, loving the sensation of her fevered skin and her breaths accelerating. Amid audacious hands striving to seize every inch she concedes, my own hands working their way to the hem of her dress, delicately gliding my warm hand gradually up the side of her leg, my fingers resting when I touch the lace hidden under her dress. I leisurely creep my agile fingers to fondle the lace line, delicately dipping my fingers around them, the bold caress of her tongue becoming further filled with passion, my fingers mildly teasing her with every graze over the lace.

I move them to the side and before I can do anything, a knock at the door sounds. “Fuck,” I murmur with a heavy breath.

“Harry,” she breathes, “Please.”

“I can’t explain this to the King on why I am late, I need my job.”

Anastasia huffs and sits up, adjusting her dress as I move away from her, “You can afford racehorses, I think you’d be fine.”

“Without a job, I could never afford your lifestyle,” I respond.

I might be able to afford racehorses and a few other things; I am not grappling for money, but it doesn’t mean I can leave my job. I make great money with what I do, I know it won’t ever be enough to buy some of the things Anastasia has, but I can afford to look after both of us with what I have… As long as I have a job.

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

I roll my eyes with a sigh, “I have to go, start looking for a wedding dress.”

“I spent most of the flight over here looking while you were asleep. You know, we aren’t too far from Skopelos.” Anastasia points out, reminding me of her comment in my mother’s garden when she wanted to elope and move to Skopelos.

“We are very far,” I chuckle.

“So we aren’t eloping to Skopelos?” Anastasia grins while I adjust my shirt and tie.

I shake my head, “Sorry, can’t make it happen.”

I can’t make it happen, it did cross my mind to endeavour to take a few hours to go elope, but the itinerary doesn’t give us enough time.

“Can we talk about our wedding?”

“We aren’t eloping in Skopelos, but yes, when I’m not on your father’s service, goodbye before he kills me.” I step to where I left my coffee, cupping it in my hand as I wander towards the hotel door. I need to walk out before I end up hovering over her again.

I step out of Anna’s room where Oliver and Matthew stare at me with their pockets in their hands, “She is well aware of the protocol,” I inform them both, keeping up the charade. Matthew hides his smirk as he clears his throat and nods. I should probably be more careful about how I handle things with the new guy, I’m not sure whether he can be trusted or not, and since he’s on my service, I need to have excuses for why I’m around Anna when I technically don’t need to be. I’ll be glad when we aren’t having to hide and tiptoe around everybody, but I have this feeling that things won’t change soon.

“Harry, the King is ready for you to escort him to the car. Oliver, you’re with the Princess. I’ll be watching you both and scouring the boat.” Matthew informs Oliver and me, keeping a stern glare towards Oliver. It’s not the easiest to train someone when I’m having to be on someone else’s service, but I’ll do my best to watch him from afar and keep an eye on him. Surely, he can manage a few hours while we are all together.

I nod my head and begin to wander down the carpeted hallway, enjoying my last few moments of silence and coffee before I’m thrown into the hectic world of watching over the King.

♔♔♔

I stand beside the King, examining each person who shakes his hand, one immediately catching my attention. I take note as his eyes shift from the king to me, following my suit jacket and resting at my waistband. He can be gazing at one of two things, and I sure as hope he’s looking at, or for, the pistol that I have hidden in my waistband but not where it can be seen. I stare the man down and he pretends to stare innocently in another direction. I continue to stare him down until the King decides to move forward, moving to another area of the boat with one of the few men he has been talking to.

I accompany the king around on the tour of this navy boat, not impressed with the boat itself, more so interested in why there’s a meeting with leaders on a retired navy boat. This has to be the most pointless and uninteresting reveal that I have had to attend. I don’t understand why this was on the itinerary or even why Anastasia came but the Queen was able to stay at the hotel.

The King’s conversations have been kept very hushed, not even I can listen in too much, for some reason, the King doesn’t want me hearing and he is doing everything possible to keep me in the dark when it comes to the conversations taking place. At least he isn’t running off on me like he has a few times. I am surprised he hasn’t forced me to stay in a corner while he discusses affairs with these men. I chew on the corner of my mouth, noticing that Anna and Oliver are nowhere around me. I side-eye towards Matthew, looking towards him for instructions or some sort of update. He knows my look when I want an update on Anastasia. It takes Matthew a moment to catch my stare before I hear him come through my earpiece.

“You have a relentless stare. She is fine, Oliver is downstairs with her. Watch the man in front of you, he’s pacing,” Matthew instructs, forcing my attention to go towards the man who already has an eye on me. I mentally sigh, reminding myself that deep down, I love my job.

With a swift moment to spare, I glance at my phone— no signal. It hits me. This meeting is happening off the grid, there’s nothing to track us besides the tender boats that we took out here and it also means no unwanted people can listen in on conversations.

“Harry.” The king grasps my attention, pulling me to the side once one of his conversations is dismissed. “This isn’t the unveiling of an old boat like I thought, get Anna out. Leave my service and take her to the hotel.” The King instructs, catching me off guard for a moment.

Just a little ago, Matthew informed me Anastasia was fine. I am not sure what has altered, I can only imagine that the King has picked up on how these men he is engaging with don’t appear to have great intentions. No government officials or royals have ever looked me up and down in search of any weapon I may have on my person. I have never been watched by multiple people as I have today. Things don’t add up, things haven’t added up from the start.

I waste no time following my orders. I discreetly leave the king and radio into Matthew, attempting to explain the orders in code in case anyone is listening to me and observing me.

I weave in and out of areas of the boat, thanking god for my photographic memory, this ship is a maze in itself.

I discover Oliver who is guarding Anastasia. I stand beside him, “Go to Matthew, don’t speak to anyone, understand?” I mutter loud enough for the two of us to hear. He glances over at me with furrowed brows, confused and wanting to question me. I don’t blame him, he’s new and has no clue what’s happening, he needs an explanation but not right now. “Go,” I instruct firmly. I trump him, and if he can’t listen to me and take my instructions in situations, he doesn’t need to be apart of our travel team. I don’t need anyone to question my authority or my instructions when on duty. I despise travelling as it is, I don’t need others to make it more difficult. Matthew and I have a system, we know what to do in situations and we know how to communicate; Matthew trusts me and knows me. I require Oliver to listen and learn.

Oliver steps away and walks off, leaving me with Anna who has three officials talking with her. I heavily sigh as I think for a moment, needing a way to lure her away from her conversation. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” I begin with half a smile as the men stare me down like I have interrupted a presidential speech. “But I was asked to check on you, your father knows how you are on boats.”

“Uh— not the best.”

“Princess, would you like to get some air?” I suggest, trying my best not to tip anyone off that she’s getting off the boat. I don’t trust anyone on this damn thing and her father shouldn’t have put any of us in this position.

Anastasia nods and excuses herself from the three men.

Without a word, I begin to escort Anna through the boat. I don’t say a word and she continues to walk beside me, allowing me to lead the way. This will be the last time I work on a damn boat that has too many areas to keep track of. I can’t watch my back and lead her to an exit at the same time. I need a damn map. We are stopped by two men, one of them being the one that was searching for my pistol. “Princess Anastasia, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you,” he grins ear to ear, “I hear you’ll be taking over the monarchy soon, or is it all rumour?”

Anastasia politely smiles and shakes her head, “That’s not up to me to decide. It was nice seeing you.”

“Where are you going?” He questions, blocking us from walking further.

Nosy. I see. I don’t like him. There’s something about him that is far from charming. Before Anastasia can answer, I begin to speak. “She needs some air.”

“I’ll join you.”

“No need to join, just a bit of motion sickness.”

The man stares at for a moment, testing my patients. “You can barely feel the boat move.”

I clench my jaw with icy content, taking a breath and stopping myself from escalating matters and shoving him against the wall. One step closer and I might just have to put my hands on him. “She’s sensitive,” I respond, placing an arm around her, forcing my way between the two men and leading her away.

I finally make it to the outside and onto the deck of the boat, relieved more than ever.

I tenderly tug on Anastasia, stopping her from walking. I can’t turn around to see if we are being watched, it would be too obvious. Anna turns to gaze at me, “Anna, look discreetly over to my left, is anyone watching?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck,” I mutter before letting out a heavy sigh. “One person?”

“Yes.”

I tilt my head to my left, “Eagle, I’m being watched. Be Careful. Send me Eaglet.” I radio into Matthew in code. If we are being watched, we are being listened to as well. It’s a no brainer.

Getting Anastasia out of here without issues is proving harder than I had anticipated, the slightest tip-off to anyone that we know something is happening could potentially make things worse. We need to get Anastasia and her father off this boat promptly and subtly.

“Harry, what’s happening?”

I shake my head, not wanting to answer her question, signalling for her to stay quiet for a moment as I listen to what Matthew is striving to tell me.

“I can’t hear you, I have interference,” I respond, carefully peering over my shoulder to see where the watchers are. “Eagle, come in?”

Matthew responds but I can’t understand him, it’s like static on an old radio, and pierces my ears. It’s the sickening screech of an AM radio where it gives you a headache for a split second and makes you reconsider ever wanting to listen to the radio again. Matthew attempts again to get through to me, but the screeching pitch causes me to take my earpiece out.

Something's not right.

I check my pockets and subtly pet myself down, looking to feel for any sort of difference within my suit jacket, although highly unlikely I’m to discover anything.

Anastasia stares at me, her hand pressed to the railing of the boat while I take my jacket off and shake it out. Nothing.

I take notice of her for a moment, taking my attention away from my search, “You okay? Motion sickness isn’t kicking in is it?”

Anastasia shakes her head, “I’m fine, you’re making me anxious here.”

I slide my jacket back up my arm and I step forward, closing the space between Anastasia and I. “Don’t say a word, I’m just checking something,” I whisper in her ear as softly as I possibly can, gently pressing my hands behind her, feeling every inch of her back— nothing. There’s nothing on her back. I carefully slip my hand into her jacket pocket, grasping the small circular device between my fingers.

I discreetly remove the small device from her pocket and I lean over her to drop it into the water. “You were bugged,” I inform her, not too pleased with how the events of the day are taking place. Oliver shouldn’t have let anyone close enough to her for her to be bugged. “I’m trying to get you off the boat, this was meant to be some unveiling of an old ship, but it has turned into… how do I put this…” I begin, unsure of how to explain to her that some shady things are happening, “Just... just know I need to get you off the boat, okay?” I mutter, glancing around in an attempt to find something to help me figure out what the hell I’m meant to do.

There’s a reason why I sought to tell the King being on a boat with foreign leaders and God knows who, was a dangerous idea, but he refused to listen to me.

Sometimes I wonder why I stay in my position of job, life would be simpler if I quit my job. I could find something less bothersome. Special intelligence is only riveting when the king listens or when Anastasia isn’t in harm's way.

“Protocol?” She whispers, her voice breaking as her eyes grow wide, the sensation of danger settling in.

I nod my head, “Don’t panic, I’ll think of something.”

“How? We’re stuck on a boat and—“ She’s spiralling, I can see it in her eyes that she’s beginning to panic and mentally think of scenarios that could occur.

This is the part I loathe.

“Anna, darling,” I kindly cut off her, “Let me do my job and worry, just trust me. I’m trained for this.” I remind her of my duty, at the moment I’m not her fiancée, I’m her bodyguard that has her life in his hands. I’m the one who is trained to take a bullet for her, I do it because it’s my job, but also because I’m madly in love with her.

“Trained to get me off a boat in the middle of a volcano?” Anastasia questions, pointing out the location of the boat.

“Actually, a water-filled caldera is what it’s called.” I correct her, not knowing how to handle the situation besides using a sense of humour.

“Harry.”

I heavily sigh and my eyes catch a glimpse of the distance between the boat and the shoreline, “You can swim, right?”

“Yes?”

“You might have to.” I flick my head towards the water, causing Anastasia to stare at me.

“This isn’t funny.”

She’s going to kill me. But if it comes down to it, I need to know that she understands that she might have to take the plunge.

“It’s the last resort, but uh… it might have to happen,” I respond, “I’ll get you off, one way or another.”

“Why can’t we just keep the peace and stay until we’re meant to get off?”

“Because this doesn’t seem like a peaceful ending, just stay with me, okay?”

“What do these people want?”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know. I don’t have many answers. Come with me.” I mutter, beginning to get frustrated, but not with her. I’m frustrated that we are put in this situation, I’m frustrated that the king ignored the red flags that Matthew and I expressed, I’m frustrated that because of the King's ignorance and determination, we are in a mess that I’m not sure we can get everyone out of.

The people on this boat are not here for a grand tour of an old navy boat that has come back to life, this isn’t a celebration or a coming of a union, this is a nightmare, a nightmare that could have been prevented.

I should have listened to my instincts and told Anna to stay at the hotel, I should have done the thorough background check on each member, but the King had me occupied running errands with him and meeting with other leaders. He managed to direct my attention away from where it needed to be, he created his destiny with this mess and he’ll have to reap what he has sowed.

I follow the edge of the railing and Oliver finally comes into view, stepping out of one of the doors. Anna and I make our way towards him and I waste no time with barking orders.

“Get her off the boat,” I instruct, gesturing towards Anna.

Oliver shakes his head, “I can’t, there is no way off, we are all being watched. The next Tender isn’t for another hour.” Oliver responds, looking at me for answers that I don’t have. Part of me feels bad for him, his first trip and attempt at being a part of our team and he has been thrown into this monstrosity.

“Get her off the boat or keep her safe for an hour.”

“How?”

“Get creative, I don’t care if you go through the galley, keep her safe.”

“What’s the galley?” Oliver questions.

“For christ sake,” I shake my head, surely he isn’t this dense. “Either get her off the boat or keep her safe for an hour. Keep her safe. If anything happens to her, I will personally kill you, got it?”

Oliver nods his head, his eyes wide as he nervously peers around. I can’t believe I am leaving her with him, but I have no choice, I know I need to get back to the King, he is my priority at the moment, I am on his service, I have Anna somewhat safe, I have to do this.

I turn towards Anastasia and I lean closer to her, “I love you, take my jacket, there’s a spare in the inside breast pocket.” I whisper in her ear before I slide my jacket down my arms. Anastasia takes her jacket off and I take her jacket and give her a small smile before I throw it overboard.

She stares at me with the eyes of daggers, and as much as I wish I could laugh, now is not the time to let my guard down. There was already one bug in her jacket, there could be more. I slide my jacket up her arms while she huffs, a clear indication that she is far from pleased with me. Right now, pleasing her isn’t a part of my job description, she will have to get over it.

I kiss her on the cheek before I look towards Oliver, “I’m serious, if anything happens to her—“

“I get it, you’ll kill me,” Oliver nods his head.

I don’t want to leave her with him, but I know I’ve given her enough hints and tips over the years for her to figure out ways to keep safe if Oliver fails. All I can do is pray that nothing happens to her.

I march away from the two of them and I begin to make my way to the men who have been watching. I climb the stairs and disregard them as I walk past them. I feel their eyes burn into my back but I don’t dare turn around. I keep moving forward. I have bigger fish to fry.

I walk the different passageways of the ship, striving to locate Matthew and the King. I can’t get any response from the radio and there’s no cell service for me to track any phones, all I can do is rely on memory for how the ship is built.

“Where’s the princess?” I’m distracted from my search and I stop in my tracks. I turn around to face the same man who was trying to look for my concealed pistol.

“Why?”

“She’s meant to be in a meeting.”

“She’s unwell and won’t be attending the meeting,” I respond.

“Where is she?” He’s determined to get his hands on her from the sounds of things, and I’m not okay with it.

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, “Don’t know, but do you know where the King is? I assume his meeting is where hers is meant to be as well?” I’m somewhat being a smartass. There’s no way in hell anyone is going to tell me where the king is, everyone is shady. The man stares at me in an attempt to assert dominance.

I heavily sigh and reach behind my hip where my pistol is. I use my left arm to push the man against the wall before my right-hand holds the barrel of my pistol to his neck. “Tell me where the king is and don’t cat and mouse me. I’m not in the mood.”

The man gulps, his life perhaps flashing before his eyes as he begins to stutter, “I-I—“

“Spit it out. Where are they?” I demand.

“Upper deck near the upper deck escape hatch, there’s a room, they’re there.”

With my pistol in position against his skin, I use my other hand to promptly search him, finding his pistol and shoving it where I keep mine when it isn’t in my hand.

“Lead the way.” I instruct, pulling him away from the side of the wall and pushing him in front of me, keeping the gun to his back, “Don’t try any funny business.” I forewarn, pushing him to start leading to where I need to go.

♔♔♔

I cough out the portion of seawater I managed to inhale as I eventually manage to get to the shore, pushing myself to get a little further before I give myself a break, collapsing to the sand. I glance to my side and Matthew and the King are doing the same, all of us coughing out salty water. My lungs burn from the salty intake and my body aches from the long-drawn swim and the bitter coldness of the Aegean sea.

I take a few deep breaths, “Everyone okay?” I cough while the King assists me to my feet.

“Ye’ a fuckin’ asshole,” The King murmurs.

I glance at him, moving my arm into an L formation and holding it with my other hand, “I guess that is code for thankyou,” I respond, trying not to lean on the King as we both move away from the water but I can’t help it.

All three of us sit on the sand and take the moment to fully catch our breath back and rest what little strength we have left from fighting the currents. We sit in silence, nothing but the crashing of the waves echoing between us. I stare out into the water, keeping an eye on the navy ship we left behind, all we can see of it is the lights of the boat. We left the vessel at dusk and at nightfall, we have made it.

With heavy breaths, I think about the events that have transpired.

I stared at the king as he scowled at me, not wanting to take my instructions for the hundredth time since we landed here in Greece. “Sir, if you do not jump, they will kill all three of us, jump.” I raised my voice towards the King who was contemplating whether jumping was the best option. At that point, it was the only option.

When I was lead to the king and Matthew, I encountered Matthew being held at gunpoint and the King tied up. I don’t know what lead the two of them to that point, but I do know that everyone on this boat is against us. No amount of training can prepare you for the moment you have to fire your pistol to save not just the King but also the head of security. No amount of training prepares you for the sight I walked into and created. Untying the king was easy, getting all of us out and away from the other members on the boat, not so much. I heard a gunshot and my eyes widened, but none of us was hit, the shot came from another area of the boat. I held my breath for a moment, hoping and praying that Anastasia managed to get off the boat. “Get up, let’s go!” I commanded, hauling the King to his feet and shooting a glare towards Matthew, requiring his direction. From that moment, it is mostly a blur. Everything happened quickly.

I glanced around, taking note that nobody had yet to follow us to the point in the boat where we were at, but it was only a matter of time before we were discovered. “Sir, you have to jump, we need to get off,” I commanded again, driving him closer to the edge.

A gunshot fired and for a split second, my world froze, my breath hitched in my throat and I looked behind me. I disregarded the King and pushed him into the water, giving him no option. It was and still is my job to take a bullet for him and keep him safe, no matter what it takes.

“They were going to kill us, weren’t they?” The King questions, taking me from my thoughts and breaking the silence between us, the realisation of what happened finally settling in with him.

I nod my head, “Anna,” I breathe out, suddenly becoming alert with the fact I have no earthly idea on where she is.

The King punches my shoulder, causing extreme pain to shoot through me so severely that it makes me want to throw up. “You were in charge of her, don’t you dare tell me you don’t know where the fuck she is.”

I wince, slamming my eyes shut and I bow my head, trying to catch my breath back as it feels like I have had the wind knocked out of me, “Matthew,” I cough, “Where’s Anna?”

“Fuck mate, I didn’t put a full swing behind the punch.” The King positions himself in front of me, Matthew inching closer. The king wastes no time with unbuttoning my button-down, trying to move the material to get a look at my shoulder.

I look past him and glance towards Matthew, “Find, Anna,” I instruct.

“Harry, how the fuck did you swim?” The King questions with wide eyes.

I shake my head, not concerned about myself, I did my job, I got us all to safety. “Find your daughter, I left her with Oliver.” She wasn’t on my service, I did my job as security but I failed as her fiancee. “Everything is wet, we can’t call,” I mutter, using my good hand in an attempt to reach into my pocket, unfortunately realising that there is no way my phone or radio will work.

“Harry, she is fine. She got off,” Matthew informs me while the King runs his finger over my collarbone, causing me to flinch once he reaches the corner of my shoulder.

Thank God she is okay. I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself if I had of left a dangerous situation meanwhile she was still on the boat. I should have stopped to think before following Matthew and the King with swimming to shore. I should have double-checked. I a notorious for double-checking but this time, I failed. I failed on many levels.

“What did you do?” I look at the King, wanting answers in an attempt to ignore the throbbing pain I am feeling and have been feeling since the boat.

The King stares at me for a moment, his lips curling into icy contempt. He wants to lie to me, but he can’t think of anything plausible. “Don’t lie to me,” I continue with a heavy breath, my eyes and body burning. I know I am overstepping my job description, but if I can dodge bullets and swim for my life, I can ask for an explanation for what the hell is happening.

The King nods his head, bowing it in defeat, “Ever love someone so much you’d do anything for them?”

I nod my head, knowing all too well what it is like to love someone so much you would do anything for them. I would walk to the ends of the earth for Anastasia, I would wholeheartedly do anything for her, no matter the cost. Of course, I cannot tell the King that that ‘someone’ is his daughter, although, I wish I could.

“They saved my wife. When I first married my wife, a terrible accident happened, Harry, she was dying in my arms. They saved her, I vowed to do anything in return, and from that night, I have had a debt to pay.”

“Who is they?” Matthew quickly questions.

“The Ace’s,” The King whispers the name, almost too scared to speak of the name too loudly.

I grow withdrawn for a moment, trying to figure out who he is talking about, then it hits me. “No,” I breathe out, putting the pieces together.

“Henry’s family saved my wife. When Henry was born, they forced my hand and made me promise he would one day be King and have a higher royal title than what he was born with. I paid them for years but the money isn’t enough. They want his title, they want the estates, everything, they want it all to cover their debts. I can’t give them what they want if Anastasia doesn’t marry him.”

“So, they orchestrated all of this?” I ask, needing to understand things.

The King nods his head, “A life for a life. They saved my wife and I haven’t kept up to my end of the deal so they want my life in return. The Ace’s have to be behind what happened, they are a big influence with who was on the boat, turned them against me.”

“All of this for a fucking crown?” I mutter.

“Harry!” Matthew scolds.

“It’s fine,” The King sighs, “Things were fine until that family started their ‘life for a life’, I didn’t want to include Anna in any of this but they forced it. It was either try and force their relationship or they…” The king trails off.

“Or they what?” I quickly ask. I don’t think I want to know the rest of the sentence. I can read between the lines, but I need to hear things first hand.

“They threatened to kill her.”

I shake my head, not wanting to hear anything further, I have had enough for one day, “I’m ready to go to the hotel, it is fucking cold,” I mutter, forcing myself to my feet.

“Mate, we need to get you to a hospital.”

“I’m not going to a hospital, I want to go to the hotel. We need to get the fuck out of this place. It is safest for all of us to be back home.”

“Let me take care of that, Harry, we need to—” Matthew begins but I cut him off.

“I’m not going to a hospital here. If they catch any of us at the hospital, it is game over, that will be the first place the look expecting the King to have been shot.”

♔♔♔ ♔♔♔

Matthew and I stand in the elevator, watching the golden numbers increase slowly.

“Matthew, I want Anna on a plane back home.”

“Harry—“

“Matthew,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear anything about the fact that it isn’t my decision since it is a royal duty, “We may not be married just yet but for the sake of this conversation, I want my wife on a plane back home, now.”

“I’ll have the jet ready for her as soon as we wake her, we’re all getting out of here. The palace will be in lockdown, we will take them in through the tunnels before deciding where to keep them. I don’t think Buckingham is the safest.”

I nod my head as the elevator doors open and we step out, discussing a few things as we walk down the hallway.

I stand in front of Oliver and he looks me up and down, “Please don’t kill me.”

I glare at him, unsure of why I’d kill him if he got Anna here safely, “She tripped, but she’s fine, barely even a scratch.”

“It’s your lucky night, even if I wanted to kill you right now, I probably couldn’t,” I half chuckle, “Good job, Eaglet.”

“Thank you. She has been asking for you every thirty-minutes… are you two a couple?”

“No, I just do my job very well.” I dismiss his question about the relationship. I can’t tell him about the relationship. I don’t tell anyone about us, mainly because Anna doesn’t want everything to be exposed and right now, I don’t need everything to be exposed. With what’s happening with Henry and the intent of them murdering the king or Anna, I don’t think it would be a good idea for our relationship to be outted. I can only imagine the turmoil it’ll cause. Fuck.

Matthew and I both step into Anastasia’s room. The light is on and she’s wrapped up in a blanket on the bed with the television on low. “Harry!” She’s quick to her feet.

Matthew lets go of me and I open my arm for her, welcoming her with a partial hug. I kiss the top of her head, “Hey, darling.”

Anastasia steps away from my half-hug, instantly looking me up and down, “You’re wet, and look like hell. What happened? Are you okay? Matthew, what happened?”

“Princess, pack your things,” Matthew instructs and Anna looks towards me.

“Sweetheart, just listen. Do you need help packing?” I offer, not wanting to have to explain everything to her right now.

If I’m being quite honest, all I want to do right now is to lay down.

“No, you’re not lifting a finger. You’re off duty until further notice.”

“Helping my fiancée isn’t a duty,” I respond, nudging Matthew away from me as he attempts to help me to sit on the bed.

I rest on the edge of the bed, disregarding my wet clothes for a moment. Matthew and Anna go withdrawn as I lay down, my eyes following them around the room while they gather all of Anastasia’s things.

“Harry, do you need anything?” Anastasia softly challenges, looking over at me.

“Morphine.”

“Why are you not at A&E?”

She’s not going to give up, she means well, I know, but I am the one that needs to worry, not her. “Anna, I’m fine. I’ll survive until we get home.”

“That’s not for a few hours.”

“My priority is getting you out of here.”

I can’t say that I don’t care about the pain or myself, I do, the pain is excruciating, but either way, her safety is my priority. None of us are safe at the moment if we stay here, getting her and her family back home is the safest and most logical plan.

“Harry, you need to be checked. Did you break something? Did you dislocate something? If we don’t pop it back in, you could need surgery and—“

“Anna,” I softly cut her off, “I am fine.”

“You just asked for morphine.”

“You’d want morphine too if you felt this pain. I’m alive, I’m not dying, I can wait for a better moment to go to a hospital where we won’t be watched. Jus’ pack your things, or do you need my help?” I question, slowly sitting up to face Anna.

Anastasia shakes her head, “No, just lay there.” Anastasia instructs, beginning to help Matthew pack her items, leaving me to lay on the bed, resting my eyes in an attempt to relieve the pain.

#harry styles imagines #imagine harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurbs #harry styles prompts #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles fic #harry styles one shots #harry styles preferences

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thecleverdame · 5 years ago

Text

Gods of Twilight - 14

Alpha!Werewolf!Sam x Human!Reader

Master List (posting schedule is there as well)

Summary: You marry Sam, The King of Lebanon, as part of an alliance between two lands. You soon discover that nothing is as it appears and that your husband is hiding a secret that may end your relationship before it can begin.

Warnings: smut, dub-con, canon-level violence, domestic discipline, spanking

Beta: @ilikaicalie

*This story is complete. All 27 chapters are available on Patreon. To get access to this and many other stories, subscribe for a pledge of 2.50 per month. CLICK HERE

Golda told you about the ruins of a Cathedral near the southern border of Lebanon. The immense structure is now little more than the skeleton of a church that was ravaged by fire a lifetime ago. The natural explorer in you hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

The past couple of months had brought snow for weeks on end, but there’s a break in the weather. The sun is shining through your window for the first time in forever and you’re interest is renewed. You plead with Sam to allow you to venture out. He was skeptical at first, he’s getting ready to lead a party out to the borderlands and he’s been hesitant for you to venture outside the castle without him.

In the end, he agrees, but with terms. While he can’t go himself he’s entrusted you to the always faithful Philip. But he wasn’t satisfied with just one knight.

That’s how Dean ended up riding beside you, one hand gripping the reins as he looks off into the distance.

Each breath puffs out in a hot little cloud, the air is icy but you’re plenty warm, wrapped in a thick fur cloak.

“Thank you for accompanying me,” you look to Dean who remains stoic.

“I wasn’t given much of a choice,” he grumbles, pursing his lips in indignation.

“Still,” you press, refusing to let him sour your mood. “The fresh air is invigorating, even if it’s a bit nippy.”

“I’ve had enough fresh air for a lifetime.” He shifts in his saddle.

He’s a handsome man, there’s no denying that, but his awful disposition has made him less and less appealing as time goes by.

“And how are you this afternoon, Philip?” You turn the one person you’re always able to depend on for a kind word, even if half of what he tells you is designed to placate you.

“Very well, my queen,” he nods, his eyes darting from Dean to you. “Always a pleasure to be out of the castle.”

“It’s some solace knowing that not everyone is tortured with my presence.”

Dean groans, rolling his eyes and giving his horse a kick as he rides ahead.

“We’re close,” Philip explains, remaining at your side. “The ruins are just through that tree line.”

He points off into the distance and through the naked branches of the dead forest, you can see a crumbling spire reaching upward toward the sky.

“It must have been enormous if that’s the leftover.”

Philip nods. “It was. People came from hundreds of miles to worship here. The place still feels sacred, even what’s left of it. Come on, there’s a path just head.”

You follow Philip through the forest and out into the clearing. As the trees open up there are the ruins of the mighty cathedral. Half of it still stands perfectly erect, as if God himself reached down and sliced the stone in two. What still stands is long charred from fire and smoke, still black from the flames all those years ago. The other half of the structure is nothing more than a low stone outline, showing where the outer wall of the far side of the church used to be.

Dean is milling around, gathering kindling to make a fire. He doesn’t even look up as you dismount and hand the reins of your horse off to Philip. The knight throws your saddlebag over his shoulder, following as you make your way around the ruins. It’s easy to imagine what this looked like before, grand and opulent, especially for a cathedral tucked into the countryside.

You find a spot with the best view and then take the bag from Philip, pulling out parchment and coal for drawing. You’re a terrible artist but enjoy it nonetheless. Trying to put the image on paper somehow sears the details into your brain.

For several hours you draw, then read a bit before feeling true cold set in. The afternoon must be fading as foretold by the severe drop in temperature. Dean’s fire is still smoldering and he warms you a cup of pine tea before the journey home. It’s warm in your hands and even warmer down your throat.

“Thank you,” you nod, savoring every bit of heat you can.

Dean shrugs, taking a nip from his flask. “I can’t have you freezing to death. Sam would kill me.”

“I’m still grateful-”

“Don’t do that.” He cuts you off, looking you dead-on for the time first today. “There’s no need for your polite production when it’s just us.”

“It’s not a production,” you respond calmly. “I’d hoped that perhaps some time together would help to foster our relationship, but I can see I was wrong.”

“You can’t help yourself can you?” Dean snickers, holding his hands out to heat them by the fire.

“Help myself from what? I’m simply trying to suss out exactly why it is you hate me so,” you spit back, feeling your hackles rise.

“Everything you do is a dance, carefully choreographed to fit into whatever the situation brings. My brother is blinded by his lust for you but I’m not as easily fooled. I haven’t yet figured out what it is that you want, but I will. I see you for what you are.” He’s agitated, cheeks blooming redder in the fading light.

You’re dumbfounded, staring at him in genuine confusion.

“And what exactly is it that you think I am?”

“I’m not sure. But you set yourself up quite nicely to appear as some sort of saint, defending the poor and unvalued. The way you came here, the way you’ve wormed your way into Sam’s head by getting into his bed. I see it all. And I’m not the only one.”

“Excuse me,” you gasp, taken aback. “I’ll not have the intimate details of my marriage made a topic of conversation.”

“It’s far too late for that. Besides, you don’t think Sam told me straight away the first time he fucked you? Knotted you? You’ve got him spinning, he’s so enamored he can’t see the forest through the trees.”

“You will not speak to me like this.” You sputter, trying to stand but slipping on the hardening snow only to sit back down, anger building inside you. “You are out of line.”

“Please,” Dean’s on a roll now, unable to temper his disdain as he glares at you. “The worst part of all this that you don’t even understand what it is that you’re playing at. After Ruby, I thought he’d learned his lesson. But I should have known he’ll always be deceived by a beautiful face. He’s supposed to be the one with the level head but not with you whispering to him in the night like some kind of siren.”

“Stop!” You cry, clutching your fists. Tears spill over the edge of your eyes, utterly gutted by his unwarranted hostility. He hates you. No, this is more than hate.

Somewhere along the way you’ve become the enemy.

“You’re brave though, I’ll give you that.” He laughs dryly, waving his finger. “Telling him to stay in your bed during his rut-”

“He can’t!” It’s Philip who pipes up, the exclamation leaving his lips before he can stop himself, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind his reaction.

“Aye,” Dean nods, looking from Philip to you. “She’s convinced him that it’s the only way.”

“He’s my husband!” you spit back, leaning forward to counter. “A wife wanting to keep her husband from another woman is certainly not out of the ordinary.”

“And if you survive it, he’ll be even more bewitched, won’t he? Wrapped around your finger out of loyalty and obligation. My God,” Dean hisses, unrestrained disgust seeping from his veins. “It must be worth it, whatever it is that you have planned. And if it doesn’t work out you won’t be around to reap the consequences. He’ll never be able to forgive himself if he hurts you, and if all goes well you’ll give him a child by this time next year. No would be able to touch you after that.”

“You sir, are out of line,” you whisper, vibrating with anger and shock, hardly able to believe what you’re hearing.

“Sam always said I was the one who was out of control but there’s something between your legs that melts his reason-”

“Enough,” Philip is beside you now. Your eyes widen as he stands tall and Dean rises in opposition. He shouldn’t speak, certainly not challenge the brother of the king. “You don’t hear the things I hear. He hurts her, she calls out when he’s-”

Philip realizes his insolence mid sentence, stopping short and looking in horror to Dean.

“I’m so sorry, my lord.” He bows his head, clasping his hands together.

“Watch your tongue,” Dean snorts, turning at you. “You think you have everyone fooled, but not me, little witch. I’m watching.”

He kicks a load of snow onto the fire and heads toward his horse.

“We should go, the sun will be setting soon and you need to back inside the walls before dark.” Philip walks off as well, leaving you by the dying fire in shock and confusion.

You’re seated in front of the fire in a self-made nest of blankets, trying to get warm. Your mother always told people you have thin blood, every time there was a breeze you asked for a cloak and in the winter you were never able to stay warm. It’s worse here, Lebanon has brutal winters and once you get cold it’s nearly impossible to warm up.

Watching the flame you replay Dean’s words over and over in your brain. You’ve rarely been on the receiving end of such contempt, even your mother was far more uninterested than spiteful, but Dean hates you with a vengeance, that much is clear.

You’ve just fallen asleep when Sam returns, inching into the room trying to stay quiet. He spots you asleep on the floor and smiles, untying his cloak and toeing off his boots.

Hearing the rustle you sit up, spying him in the shadows.

“Hello,” you mumble, wiping at your cheeks. “You’re late, I was starting to worry.”

“We got caught up…” he cocks his head, reaching into the basin of water on the side table, splashing water on his face and rinsing his hands off. “Have you been crying?”

“No,” you sniffle, rolling your eyes at your inability to remain composed. “Perhaps a bit.”

“Why?” He slinks toward you, illuminated by the firelight. Watching you carefully he sinks down, reaching out to cup your jaw. “Did someone hurt you?”

“Your brother is an absolute ass.” You shake your head. Dean’s awful words come back into memory, spurring more tears. “And I am a child for letting his words bother me so.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Sam rumbles, reaching out and scooting forward in tandem until you're between his legs. Big, strong arms engulf you as you rest your cheek against his shoulder. “You’re shivering, did you just return?”

“No, the midwife thinks I have poor veins.” Feeling the warmth and strength you felt against his chest, happy to have at least one person who wants you in his life. “Please, don’t tell Dean I was like this. I shouldn’t like to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had such an effect on me.”

“What did he say?” Sam strokes your hair softly, his chin resting on top of your head.

“Nothing that I wish I repeat.”

Above all else, you’re stubborn. You always have been. Telling you not to do something only sparks the need for you to prove your aforementioned detractor wrong. And you’re going to prove Dean wrong.

“Let’s go to bed,” Sam presses a kiss into your hair. “Take your nightdress off, it’ll be easier to warm up that way.”

You both disrobe, crawling into the cold bed only to be surrounded by Sam’s raw, animal heat. His body radiates warmth, his skin on yours does the trick as you sink into this safe place.

“Sam, you’ll stay with me when your rut comes, won’t you?” you whisper, wiggling your backside into the softness of his belly. “You promised me you would try. I need to know you won’t go to her.”

“This is what you’re worried about?” His lips are at your shoulder, hot breath curling like smoke that sends a shiver down your spine. “What did my brother say to you?”

“This isn’t about him. I need to hear you say the words, promise me.”

Sam hums at the shell of your ear before nuzzling his nose into your hair. “I promise you.”

#alpha sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester smut

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thehobbycollector · 4 years ago

Text

The Seer & The Wolf

Scene 4

Fenrys adjusted the lapel on his jacket as he headed down to dinner. Kestra had managed to avoid him all day, had jumped off her balcony to do so, taking Aelin and Lysandra with her. Rowan had returned from the city after lunch to report that they had gone into a dress shop and, knowing Aelin, wouldn’t be back until dinner. Then he and Aedion had pulled him into the training ring and let him work off his frustration.

He had spent the evening in the Queen’s suite with Aedion and Rowan, explaining his history with Kestra and trying to wrap his head around the fact that she was now his mate. His mate. His mate. She didn’t deserve to be shackled to someone like him. Had said as much to his brothers-in-arms last night. And they had quietly shredded through every reason he could come up with to support what they called bullshit. Friends, indeed.

Late in the night he had finally asked what the hell he was supposed to do with a mate he thought of as a sister.

Aedion had pointed out that maybe he should get to know her before worrying about that, and Fenrys had realized he didn’t know her. Didn’t know anything about her life after she had left Doranelle. He didn’t even know where she had learned to fight. His mother had been training her in self-defense when he and Connall had left, but that wouldn’t have allowed her to get the jump on him so easily yesterday. Or to fight with the Bane. Gods, she had spent the last ten years fighting against Morath. Had been in the thick of it on the city walls during the siege last winter.

It stopped his heart every time he thought about all the ways things could have gone so terribly wrong. Made him want to roar in fury when he thought of her getting cut down during the battle.

He was fighting against that urge, approaching the staircase leading down to the great hall, when he saw her at the bottom. She was no longer in those leather pants she’d had on yesterday. No, tonight she was in a simple teal dress, the color of Skulls Bay under a cloudy sky. Matching lace wrapped around her upper arms and chest, leaving her collar bones and shoulders bare. Details on the bodice were picked out in beads that glinted and sparkled in the torchlight.

He pulled on his magic and jumped, disappearing from the top of the stairs and stepping out of thin air next to her. “Good evening.”

He watched her eyes slide to him, then dip, surveying him from head to toe. He could almost feel that look, like early morning dew drifting against him. Her scent reached him as her gaze travelled back up to his: moonflowers and mist and a hint of freshly oiled leather. Something dark and tight inside him loosened and as she finally met his gaze again, he blurted, “I’m sorry.”

She blinked.

“For yesterday. What I should have said was I missed you, and I worried about you every day. But I was so relieved to see you alive that I lost my fucking mind.”

A small smile tugged at her lips, and he found himself looking at her mouth. Her teeth tugged on her bottom lip, and she hummed softly. “I suppose,” his eyes snapped back to hers, “you can escort me to dinner then.”

Relief flooded him so thoroughly as he offered her his arm that he didn’t noticed the faintly amused triumph flicker in her eyes. “Did you have a good day?”

“Mmhmm,” she hummed again. “We went shopping.”

“Your dress is lovely,” he murmured. “Did you buy it today?”

“Thank you.” His eyes snagged on her hand as she ran it down her bodice. “No. We were looking for lingerie.” She turned her head to greet someone and he took the opportunity to closely study the lines of her dress. He knew what kind of lingerie Aelin liked to wear.

He was almost afraid to ask, “Did you find anything you liked?”

“No.” Something like disappointment bloomed in his gut. Then died of shock as she added, “I prefer not to wear any.”

Every thought drained from his head. She stepped up onto the dais and he numbly followed, pulling a chair out for her on instinct. Fenrys took the seat to her left, Aelin on his other side, and reached for his already full wine glass. He emptied it in one gulp. Two very different parts of him were roaring about her being bare under her gown. When he set his glass back on the table Kestra was greeting Lord Darrow as he slipped into his chair.

“Good evening, Lord Darrow.”

“Kestra,” he nodded to her. “I’m glad you’re here. I have documents that need to go to Perranth tomorrow.”

Fenrys bristled at the order. He was about to tell him to find another messenger, when Aelin leaned across him to address the Lord. “Lady Kestra is currently unavailable as a runner. I need her here,” she said simply.

Darrow’s brows furrowed as he glanced at the Queen. “Handing out titles again, Your Majesty?”

“Actually,” Kestra interjected smoothly, before Aelin could retort, “my title comes from Doranelle. Where my family have been nobles for millennia.” Fenrys pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at the look on the Lord’s face. “Apologies for any inconvenience, Lord Darrow, but as a loyal citizen of Terrasen I am at Her Majesty’s disposal.” She turned and bowed her head to Aelin.

“Of course,” Darrow practically grumbled, turning away himself.

She and Aelin smiled conspiratorially at each other across him. “You’re training with us, starting tomorrow morning,” Aelin said to Kestra.

Kestra shrugged. “I could use a good work out.”

Fenrys pounced. “Where did you originally learn to fight? After you left Doranelle?” he clarified.

Kestra eyed him for a moment, and he wondered if she wouldn’t tell him. “Varesh. I trained in the temple for fifteen years before I started travelling.”

The food was served and any questions he had were set aside while they ate. The Vareshi Warrior Priestesses were legendary among humans. He had heard their training was lifelong and brutal, but he’d never had the opportunity to test himself against them. Life in the temple would not have been luxurious for her, nor easy. What other hardships had she suffered while she was gone? And why, he wondered, had she considered that better than returning to Doranelle?

“Tell me one story of your time away,” he requested when she pushed her plate away.

She pursed her lips, considering, and he found himself watching her mouth again. When he looked back at her eyes, he could have sworn she was laughing at him, but she just asked, “Have you ever been to Meersk?”

A tiny kingdom on the other side of the world. “Once,” he answered. “They make this liquor there that is truly awful.”

“Oh, it’s disgusting,” she agreed.

“You’ve had it?”

“I drank the King of Meersk under the table once. We went through three bottles before he passed out.”

“What?” he goggled at her. Her eyes were twinkling, and she was smirking at him. “Why?”

She shrugged a single bare shoulder and leaned back into her chair. “He proposed and I wasn’t interested.”

A small part of his mind reminded him that in Meersk women weren’t allowed to deny a proposal. Their fathers and brothers could deny it for them, but if they had no one to speak for them they were bound, by law, to accept the proposal. There was a loophole to that law, but he couldn’t remember what it was. Something about a blood rite, to declare themselves men so they could make their own decisions. Kestra, travelling alone, would have had no one to speak for her.

“The King of Meersk wanted you to marry him?” he asked slowly. She plucked a tart off a platter on the table and licked the cream out of the center, setting the pastry on her plate.

“He was a horrible kisser,” she muttered.

Fenrys needed to hit something. Badly. He clenched his jaw.

She glanced up at him, that tiny smile tugging on her mouth again as she watched the muscles of his jaw feather. “I made him pay for it.”

“Explain,” he said through his teeth. She was baiting him he realized. And if he un-clenched his jaw, he might bite her for it. She selected another tart, her tongue flicking out to scoop the cream from the center.

“I drank him under the table to prove myself more of a man than he was, so that I could turn him down. And once he passed out, I looted his bedroom, took his crown and walked out the front door. I went back to the palace the next day and let him buy his crown back from me. For a king’s ransom.” Her lips curved up in a wicked grin. He had seen that same grin on Aelin’s face. A thrill shot through his blood like lightning. A fizzing sound came from his other side, but he just stared at Kestra.

“You stole his crown and then made him buy it back from you?”

“Like I said, he was a horrible kisser,” she said, as if that explained it.

“Good thing I’m not.” The words popped out of his mouth before he knew he was thinking them. More fizzing sounded from where Aelin was sitting.

Kestra brazenly studied his mouth for a long moment, then flicked her eyes up to meet his. “I certainly hope not.”

#sjm fandom #fenrys moonbeam #Fenrys #fanfic

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writhingcreature · 5 years ago

Text

Prompt 8 - Stenbrough

“I don’t know if you are still doing drabbles or not, but can you do one with stenbrough? Maybe one using the quote “With you, I am safe?” Please? I’m in the mood for softness.” - @a-false-king

Stan was really chill, for the most part. He liked the quiet and the stillness. Or, the slow, lowkey things about the world that often went unnoticed. He liked sitting outside on a sunny day with eyes closed, listening to the very distant sound of traffic and feeling the breeze and light on his skin. He basked in it, far away from chaos and therefore safe from danger.

Life was kind of terrifying for Stan. He was a gut driven man, often leaning towards things that felt good and taking off at full speed away from things that even remotely made him feel uncomfortable. He liked things neat and in order. He liked them to make sense. He liked making people happy and doing what he was supposed to.

Bill was kind of a mess. He wasn’t as bad as Richie, but when Richie needed a midnight friend to go and create havoc with, it was always Bill he called. He liked having fun and going out and driving a little faster than he should. He liked 2am ice cream and thriller movies and horror novels and drama plays that had lots of fighting and ridiculousness in it. He liked getting into trouble, and that never went away- even when he got older.

Things still scared Bill, but he was the kind of man that usually ignored those feelings in favor of doing what was right, or doing what he wanted to do. On top of that, not only was he good at getting into trouble, he was good at dragging people along with him. Usually, Richie would drag him and sometimes Bev, and Bill would be left with the job of getting those of the Losers who were hesitant.

Even after years of eventually winning over each and every one of the Losers, Stan remained stubborn. It was a fight every time. A promise. A swear. A guarantee. Every time it Stan who hesitated each time, ending up enjoying it the most when it was all over. It was Stan who got them out of trouble, talking or reasoning their way out of getting caught like he was mind controlling them. And every time, it was always only ever Bill who could get him to agree to come along.

As they got older, they got into less pranks and sneaking out became less for the Losers and much more often just the two of them. Bill was talking Stan into dates rather than early morning mischief. They were falling asleep at each other’s houses and holding hands under the table and kissing int he back of the movie theater and flirting with each other when they were sure no one could hear. Soon, it was less “let’s go get food” and more “let’s go make out”.

Suddenly Bill and Stan were in a full fledged secret relationship and Stan was utterly terrified every second of it. On top of the sneaking around, Bill was very obvious and endlessly insatiable. He always wanted to stay a little bit longer. He always wanted one more kiss. Five more minutes cuddling. He flirted with Stan in public for pete’s sake! Thank god for Stan’s cleverness, otherwise everyone would have found out a long time ago.

Two boys being together? In Derry, Maine? I think not.

Yet here Stan and Bill were. Being very much together and most definitely falling in love.

They never did tell the others about them, though their friends weren’t stupid and seemed to know. It was just that no one ever said anything about it. When Stan got into a more serious business, after college, he invited Bill to go with him. To leave Derry. Bill, who fancied being a writer, was all too eager.

Bill was a little dangerous. A little wild. A little crazy. Despite everything, he never lost his touch of youth and drive for excitement. He never fully grew up, cracking jokes and rolling his eyes and winking and teasing and flirting like they were still sixteen and not-so-secretly crushing on each other.

Stan was still terrified. Life still scared him. He still had a tendency to hide behind Bill when people got a little nasty or too curious or Bill was being a tad too obvious. He still had nightmares that woke him up or kept him from sleeping all together. He still jumped when people even said the word gay or looked between Bill and Stan with That Look that hinted at them maybe knowing everything.

At the end of the day though, Bill was there to soothe him. No matter how scared he was. How unsure he was. Bill understood his fear. Hell, Bill was no less afraid than Stan was. Bill understood the clown that haunted his nightmares, and the people that haunted him every waking second of life in general as they hesitated to hold hands in public despite how much Bill wanted to kiss Stan, no matter who was around.

Bill never judged him or teased him. And Bill wasn’t afraid of everything. He was strong and unbreakable, easy to lean on and never hesitant to support Stan if Stan so needed it.

Then they got the call. The phone rang and Bill picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hey Bill. It’s Mike Hanlon.”

Bill’s eyebrows came together. “Who?”

“From Derry.” Bill was quiet. “Look Bill. Uh, IT’s back.”

The phone dropped. “Bill?” Stan called from the other room. There was no response. He shot up and to where Bill was, instantly a lot more nervous upon seeing Bill’s blank eyes and pale face. “Bill what’s wrong?” He heard a distant voice and looked down, eyes landing on the phone. He picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is Mike. Hanlon. Uh, is Bill there?”

“This is his-” he cut off then set his face. “This is his husband.” They’d been working on being more open about that one. Debated on it for a long time. It had gotten easier, especially as people got more and more accepting. Today, it wasn’t too big of a deal. Nothing compared to what it was when they were kids. It was even legal now. They’d gotten married a few months ago, after being together for the last thirty years or so. Give or take. Having shame about it now was just dumb.

The man on the other line was quiet for a second. Maybe a little surprised. “Uh, Stan?”

Stan froze. How did this man know who he was? “I’m sorry, who did you say you were again?”

The man sighed. “Mike Hanlon.” He seemed irritated. “Derry, Stan. I know it’s hard, but you have to remember. IT’s back. We promised, back then. You have to come back. We have to defeat it this time. For real.”

Stan’s brain was having a hard time connecting the pieces of a puzzle he didn’t know he was trying to solve. “It? What is...” And then it clicked. He felt his whole body go numb. His brain went fuzzy. His heart seemed to be beating so fast it couldn’t be felt at all. Or maybe it had just stopped beating.

No. Not this. Anything but this.

“Stan?”

“Yes.” Stan was in full business mode, surprising himself with how calm he sounded. “When should I come?”

“Immediately,” Mike answered, seeming relieved. Maybe he’d had a rough time with the others too. Others? What others? Stan’s brain was having a hard time thinking through the utter panic consuming. He looked to Bill for comfort and was even more horrified to realize this is why Bill was currently bent over, hands on the table in front of him and head dangling limply between his shoulders. Stan wouldn’t be able to look for safety this time.

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

“Perfect.” Then he gave Stan some information about some restaurant. An address, time, and date. “See you there?”

“For sure.” Stan hung up, a little piece of paper with all the information on it in his hand. He looked at the paper. Then he placed the phone down very calmly, the piece of paper next to it. Bill might go.

Stan wouldn’t.

But it was Bill. Surely he’d find a way to talk Stan into going. Bill always did. What if Bill couldn’t talk him into it? What if he couldn’t be talked into doing... anything?

“I’m going to take a bath.” He looked at Bill, but the blonde man was still panicking.

Bill did look up just as Stan was about to settle for no response. “Y-yeah. That’s f...” He blinked, both of them becoming pale. Bill hadn’t stuttered in a very, very long time. Probably about ten years. Give o take. “That’s f-fine,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Stan went to the bathroom, getting undressed as the tub filled up with water. He climbed in, letting the warm water soothe the guilt that came with his decision. Just a little. He closed his eyes for a second, taking an even breath before opening them again. “I’m sorry, Bill.” The light reflected off of something in his hand. He moved the shiny thing toward his other wrist...

Bill suddenly got a terrible feeling in his gut. He’d been remembering a small boy with a red balloon and a yellow jacket. A little boy that used to mean everything to him. Someone he’d taken for granted before he’d lost him, and with him, nearly everything else. He was so trapped in those memories, he hadn’t even thought of Stan. Everything else had been too overwhelming.

Stanley never took baths. He always took showers.

Bill was running before he could even form another coherent thought. The door flung open and Stan jumped, splashing water on the floor causing him to grip the thing he was holding a little tighter. They locked eyes.

Instantly Stan started crying. Bill tripped closer, reaching over to turn the faucet off before scooping Stan into his arms, pulling them closer despite the water and how it soaked Bill, who was fully dressed. “I’ sorry, Bill,” Stan sobbed, shaking in his arms.

“I-it’s okay,” Bill stuttered weakly, trying not to think about what would have happened if he’d been even a second later. He failed. He thought about that thing, hovering just over the skin of Stan’s wrist. He thought about what this room would have looked like covered in Stan’s blood. “P-please d-d-d-” he cut off, gasping. “I can’t lo-I can’t- you can’t-” He blinked, trying to calm down. “You have to go with me. I c- I can’t lose you too. P-pl-pluh-” He grunted softly. “Please Sta- Stan.”

“I swear, Bill.” As always, Bill could talk Stan into anything.

Even staying alive.

Later, as they were packing, Stan came over and touched Bill on the shoulder. The blonde man looked over, still frowning. Eyes haunted. Stan wondered if his eyes looked the same. “I’m sorry Bill. I... I can’t imagine how it would have been for you, finding me... like that. On top of everything.”

Bill shook his head. “I d-don’t blame you.” He coughed, looking away as his eyes glazed over with tears.

For the first time, Stan pulled Bill into his arms. Bill buried his face in Stan’s chest. He hid behind Stan for the first time in their relationship. Stan had to be the one to comfort. He’d calmed down a lot. Seeing Bill had cleared his mind a little. Thinking about the consequences to his actions had made him think a little more. He was still terrified. He wasn’t shaking anymore, but he’d faced plenty of scary things. He cold handle anything with Bill by his side.

Unfortunately, Bill hadn’t reached the same conclusion. He was finally facing a fear that had toppled him completely over, and he couldn’t pull himself back up. He was beginning to worry no one could. “You know, wuh-once you asked me how nothing scared me. How I was so untouched by what people thought a-about-about us.” Bill clung to Stan. “Th-That wasn’t true, Stan. S...So much scares me. When I send a book in to a p-p-publisher. When I’m starting a new muh-movie and I’m not sure how the actors will be or h...how it’s all going to work when it comes to uh-applying the script. When someone new finds out I’m married to a muh-man.” He shook his head and Stan rubbed his back, letting him talk. Being patient through the stuttering. “Before I... always felt like nothing could touch me when I was with you, Stan.” He finally managed to not stutter, relaxing him a little more. “With you, I felt safe.” His face contorted. “I-I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same with you.”

Stan felt like he’d been slapped. He leaned close to Bill, making sure his husband could hear him. “You are enough, Bill. That was never the problem. I was an idiot to think that nothing scared you. That nothing bothered you. And it makes me so happy to know that I can help you handle this, in any way. I just...” His eyes watered as well and his grip on Bill tightened. “I’m such a coward.”

Bill sighed, then sniffed. “Let’s be cowards together, huh? Please?”

Stan smiled. “Yeah okay. This time I really do promise.”

“Forever?” Bill whispered.

“Absolutely,” Stan agreed. And suddenly he was a lot more at ease. Because he and Bill had something none of the others did. He had someone who would be by his side as long as he was allowed to be. Someone who not only loved him but understood him. Stan didn’t have to make up some lame excuse to go to Derry to Bill, because Bill would be right there with him.

And damn it all, Stan would make sure he really would always be able to, because Bill made him feel safe too. From then on, they’d have each other’s backs. IT or no.

#william denbrough #bill denbrough #stanley uris #stan uris #stan x bill #stan uris x bill denbrough #losers club #it #stephen king #stenbrough

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vinylhazza · 5 years ago

Note

can u do like a fluff story of ethan finding this cute french girl and spending most of his time in france with her

JERSEY BOY (E.D)

Trésor Inattendu

jersey boy masterlist

he’s walking past the ferris wheel, grayson following close on his tale.

fuck.

there she is, hair flowing in wavy tendrils down her back. she stands pretty, legs long and soft, little black dress falling right down to the middle of her thighs. she has this soft luminous glow, the paris sunlight making her skin shine. he’s never seen someone so beautiful. so breathtaking. he actually stops in his tracks to stare at her, hands in his pockets, mouth parted, eyes locked on her long eyelashes and rosy lips.

she stands near her friend that looks a little too excited to jump on the spinning wheel, but her…not so much. he can just tell by the nervous look on her face that she doesn’t want anything to do with the ride. he doesn’t blame her.

“you good bro?” grayson knocks him out of his trance, nudging him in the arm. people walk around them in every which direction, but his eyes never stray from that beautiful face.

“uh yeah, just saw someone that’s all,” he mumbles, walking forward but looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

they had decided today was the day they would ride the ferris wheel and make grayson get over his stupid ass fear because they are in paris and they have to experience the ride at least once. it had taken some serious convincing and lots of room service before he finally agreed - but naturally ethan got his way.

they head over to the line, about four people away from her. but he just can’t stop staring. she’s almost addicting to look at. he could get used to the adrenaline pumping through his system at this very moment. if he thought he had a chance in heaven or hell he would go for it but dear jesus she was crafted by the hands of the king himself and he wouldn’t dare shoot his shot with someone as ravenous as this angel before him.

“okay either you move your ass up in line and talk to her instead of being a little bitch, or i’m gonna,” grayson chuckles, giving him a pointed look with his eyebrow raised.

when he turns back to look at her, she’s near green in the face with nerves, looking similar to grayson at this very moment. making fun of ethan calmed him down some - but not nearly enough.

“why don’t you focus on not barfing and leave me alone?” ethan shoots back at him with a sneer.

“okayyy guess we are sticking to being a little bitch,” little bastard.

“can you fuck off for five seconds and maybe give me some brotherly encouragement?”

“I would start with bonjour,” and grayson looks serious, but a laugh is bubbling just below the surface.

“go to hell bitchass,” he smirks, taking a moment to decide, and then he’s shyly walking to the front of the line, earning a couple glares from the four people waiting in front of him. he mumbles a quick sorry with a little smile.

he stands beside her timidly, rocking on his heels before he decides on a good conversation starter.

“um...hey how are you?” good right? not too weird? too formal? oh shit this is pathetic.

she stops her nervous fidgeting, both her and her friend turning to look at him with a confused smile. no one has ever really approached them out of the blue.

“je vais bien et toi?” God she even sounds like a goddess, voice smooth as butter.

that means good right? jesus fuck please mean good. wait does that mean she speaks English or just understands it enough to respond? he is so out of his element here. he turns to look over his shoulder at grayson who is hiding a laugh behind his hand, but he nods at him to keep going.

with a sigh he carries on, “so you excited for the ride?”

“un peu nerveux,” she admits with a shy smile, cheeks blushing a rosy pink. it looks adorable on her and he gets the sudden urge to plant a kiss right on her heated cheeks.

he’s lost on that one and she can tell, giggling along with her friend. she does in fact know how to speak English, just loved seeing him squirm a little.

“I can speak English you know,” she cuts him some slack, seeing his body relax right before her eyes and his nervous pout breaking into a joyous smile.

“oh good...so you..come here often?” Jesus Christ ethan can you be any more of a loser?

at that she throws her head back with louder laugh, shaking her head.

“no this is a first, you?” her accent might be the best sound he’s ever heard. he’s so hooked on that silky sound. she has only ever been to paris when she has free time, living in a small town right outside of the city, caught up in her own life to wander through the busy streets. but when she doesn’t end up in the alleyways of the beautiful city, she’s entranced once more.

“this is a first for me too, listen um if you want we could ride together?” he shoots his shot with a hopeful smirk, really trying to lay on the charm.

she thinks for a moment, cheeks darkening before she turns to her friend with a hopeful smile - maybe she would get the hint and let her ride with this devilishly attractive American boy?

she takes the hint with a playful eyeroll, ethan catches the teasing look, waving grayson over. he walks over with a questioning look, seeming quite nervous when he catches a glimpse of the girls friend, completely frozen when she lays her green eyes on him, never seeing someone as handsome as the younger twin. there must be something in the water in the states.

the smile that comes onto his face is nothing but fond, muttering a shy “hello.” she waves back with a matching smile. ethan continues talking.

“do you think you could join..?”

“Adélaïde,” she introduces herself. a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

“so that I can ride with?”

“Chloé” dear God he might die.

“uh yeah sure,” he holds out a hand, taking a step forward and grabbing onto Adélaïde, pulling her up to the next awaiting cart. they sit down and pull the bar in front to lock themselves in - grayson much more nervous now that he has a beautiful girl sitting next to him. when the cart turns and they raise highly into the air, they hear graysons cursing and Adélaïdes flowing laughter.

ethan and chloé are next, walking side by side and sitting down on the cold metal seat. the seats are enclosed in a cage of some sort, making it feel much more safe and also making him feel much closer to her. although it seems like a smart idea to even out the weight and sit on the opposite side - he scooches his large body to plop right beside the beautiful girl, catching a whiff of her vanilla perfume.

he’s never been hooked this fast.

it’s been three days since the ferris wheel, and he’s seen chloé near every minute, date after date, café after café. she’s addicting to talk to - her accent something he wants to hear forever. of course grayson isn’t lonely, having Adélaïde to keep him company enough. now those two...dear God it’s almost gag worthy when they are together. always looking like they’d get married tomorrow if they could. they both are so caught up in the city of love with two beautiful women they almost forget the Louis Vuitton event and are nearly late, rushing around while the girls laugh at them both, teasing them for being typical boys. at least some things are the same in each continent.

she doesn’t mind that she is spending most of her time on double dates with grayson and Adélaïde. she doesn’t mind that she’s head over heels, showing ethan around the city every night, observing him with curious eyes while the moon shines on him just right. she doesn’t mind how much he actually freaks out when he buys something and they speak nothing but french and the cute little nervous face he does comes out. she always steps in to save the day. fuck she doesn’t mind it one bit. she doesn’t mind how much laughter and joy has entered her life once ethan decided to take a chance on her at the ferris wheel.

they talk about everything from the future to the past, exchanging where they grew up, how many siblings they have, favorite memories, favorite places to travel, favorite food, favorite movie, anything you can think of, they spilled their guts. so comfortable and wrapped up in the warmth of each other’s company. it’s quite endearing how he has a little accent himself pronouncing a lot of words with a hard “d” which makes her heart flutter every damn time. jersey really must have some magical power.

...there’s one night where ethan decides to make his move and take a risk, kissing her right when she least expects it. they are standing on his balcony just mere minutes after the walks into the hotel room, and he’s pulling her small face to his with rushed movements, pressing her close to him. it knocks the breath from her lungs, shocked at how deep he’s kissing her...like he means it with his whole person. and he does. he knows it’s crazy to feel this way after only a week and a half. he knows it’s out of this world what his heart feels when he’s with her. he knows it’s going to tear him apart when he has to leave her...but he continues to kiss her hard.

of course she’s kissing him back with the same urgency, suddenly very sad that he does in fact, live in LA. this boy, this wonderful jersey boy, has taken her completely by surprise, stealing her heart in a matter of days. how can she ever let him go? how can she ever forget him?...and he feels just the same. that’s why he kisses her harder, backing them into the bedroom and onto the plush white comforter, kissing her harder.

grayson is doing just the same at a bench near the eiffel tower, looking at adélaïde like she holds the stars at her fingertips. these twins are so fucked.

when they break apart for air, she cups his cheek, tears welling in her eyes, and admits something that’s far too deep, far too soon. but it’s now or never. he’s leaving anyhow, so why not feel this way in this moment, while he’s still here, still kissing her, still with a pounding heart, looking at her softly with his hazel eyes like he is now? why not be that spontaneous girl that she always dreamt of being? why not be young and reckless? why not kiss the american boy like she truly feels she should?

“tu es l'homme de mes rêves,” she whispers, looking at every strong feature of his face. she knows he can’t understand, but she still lets it fall from her lips with one shaky breath, rubbing a thumb over his bottom lip. she’s never felt this way about anyone. ever.

even if he doesn’t understand, he smiles this fucking smile, one he’s never had before, and kisses her once more.

“you’re fucking beautiful,” kiss, “out of this world,” kiss, “breathtaking,” kiss, “perfect,”...lingering kiss left on her lips. it feels like fire, like fireflies, like butterflies, like lightning. exactly how it should feel.

she’s never meant anything more than this sentence in this very moment. she knows he’ll leave, she knows he’ll get on that plain and go back to his busy life in the city that never sleeps, she knows her lips will grow cold in his absense, she knows her heart will ache for him long after he leaves...but a part of her hopes he’ll come back.

a part of her hopes he’ll understand her sentence one day...that he’ll translate it. that he’ll remember it. and she hopes when he does, that he’ll hop on a plain to come right back here. right back to her with eager lips and those same entrancing eyes. she hopes he feels the same about her. she hopes he’ll join in her recklessness. she hopes he’ll kiss her just like this one day.

she hopes her sweet jersey boy will come back for her.

#asks #e!concepts #jersey boy ethan #ethan!concepts #im gonna cry tbh #that really...damn

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