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assortedseaglass · 1 year

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The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Fourteen

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, Smut, World on Fire spoilers

Word Count: 4.3K

Notes: Angst and horniness, coming right up.

June 1940

No matter how hard he kicked, Tom couldn’t get his legs loose of the damn sheet.

“Calm down, calm down!” Tom had come round to find himself crammed into a corridor lined with other injured men, his shoulder bound with gauze strapped to his chest. The accent of the man shouting at him told him everything he needed to know. Still in bloody France. The man, a doctor judging by the white coat he wore, held Tom’s shoulders and pushed him down. Tom hissed as the touch aggravated his wound.

“Get your dirty, grubby hands off me now!” He kicked his leg and caught the man holding down his legs. “Let go of me and I’ll take my chance!”

“Listen! If you leave now, you will die!”

“Oh, so I just stay here and surrender like you lot?” Tom spat in the man’s face as another doctor and nurse arrived. “Paris has fallen. She just told me,” he indicated to the woman. “And not a shot fired. How’s a bunch of cowards going to keep me safe?”

“Pardon?” The doctor holding his shoulders lunged at Tom, who squared up to him from his position on the bed.

“Jacques,” the nurse grabbed him. “Jacques!”

The doctor at the end of the bed spoke. An American. “Before you say another word about French cowardice, just remember it was a French ambulance crew who rescued you.”

Tom relaxed his shoulders and pushed out his chin. “Christ. You think you rescued me?” His temper was rising. “Thanks to you I’m in a city crawling with Nazis. And where are my clothes?”

“Incinerated.” Said the nurse.

“You fucking what?” He panicked. The only thing keeping him sane was gone.

“I assume you are after this?” Jacques, the doctor, picked something up from Tom’s bedside table. Tom snatched the photograph from his grip and rolled onto his good shoulder, Bess safely tucked beneath his pillow.

“Now piss off and let me die in peace.” His voice was final, and the medics left him. Certain that they were gone, Tom took out Bess’ photograph and traced her face with his finger. The letters were surely gone, and there was no way that he could get one to her while Nazis lurked around every corner. He had to get home, and soon.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

Distantly, Bess heard the ring of the telephone in the ground floor hallway. Manchester was warming as sun gleamed off the stone buildings and rose into the smog strewn sky. Every door in Carver Mills was open. Other girls’ laughter fluttered through the stairwell and, occasionally, so too did the warble of a record being played. Bess was lounging on her bed, watching white bed linen flutter on the washing line beyond the window. A rare day off and a chance to relax. She was just closing her eyes when Mrs Russo’s voice called up to her.

“Bess! Phone for you, darling.”

No-one ever telephoned Bess. The only people who would were Cora, Dot and Dadda, and they’d have to borrow Mrs Mason’s telephone or else use the phone box on Plymouth Street. Trying to ease her rapidly rising nerves, Bess swung her legs from the bed and hurried barefoot down the cold stone steps. Mrs Russo was stood by the front door, apron on, phone tucked beneath her ear as she dusted the hallway cabinet. She smiled when she saw Bess coming down the stairs.

“Here she is, love,” she said to whoever was on the other end of the phone and passed the receiver to Bess. “Your sister,” she mouthed, before striding into the bright light of the day armed with a mop and can.

Bess held the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hi honey,” It was Cora, her voice unnaturally bright. “How’s the day off?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Cora never called. “What’s happened?” There was a sniffle on the other end of the line and Bess’ heart lurched.

“Oh, Bess,” Cora’s voice wobbled.

“What’s happened?” No reply. “Cora? Is it Dadda?”

“No, it’s not Dadda-” Her voice was small, defeated.

“Oh darling,” realisation dawned on Bess. “Has something happened to Roger? Do you want me to come ho-”

Cora spoke over her. “It’s not Roger.” Her voice was firming up, and before the words left her sister’s mouth, Bess swayed where she stood. This was the sound of someone readying themself to deliver bad news. Having heard their friend’s raised voice, Helen and Joan appeared on the stairs. Bess looked up at them wide-eyed as she waited for Cora to deliver the devastating blow.

“Bess, it’s Tom.”

“What about him?” Bess’ voice was sharp, steel walls rising to avoid any pain.

“Douglas got a telegram this morning. Darling, Tom’s missing.”

The soft flesh of her knees split as she hit the floor, though she didn’t feel it. A hand groped for the receiver, now dangling from its wire, and Bess vaguely saw that it wasn’t hers.

“Hello? Cora? Yes, it’s Helen-”

Bess’ body was pulled sideways and her arms trapped at her sides. Joan had wrapped her arms about her and was holding her tight. Bess lay there silently, pressed into Joan’s chest as Helen spoke lowly into the telephone. A minute later, she joined them on the floor and covered Bess’ body with her own. Joan whispered gently in her ear, though what she was saying, Bess couldn’t tell. When Helen reached out an arm to grip Bess’ hand, it was then that she realised she was shaking. Quaking with paroxysms of despair.

“Come on, little love,” Joan brushed some hair out of Bess’ face. “Let’s get you upstairs.” Together, Helen and Joan hauled Bess to her room, patched up her knees and laid her own the bed.

“Dry your eyes,” Helen passed Bess a tissue. She’d been crying? All Bess knew was that in the time Cora had telephoned, she had seen nothing but Tom. Tom, trapped in a prisoner of war camp. Tom, lost in the wilderness of battle-scarred Europe. Tom, lying unfound in ditch. Tom, in a shallow grave next to the rotting body of her brother.

She stared at her bedroom wall. The light turned from egg-yolk yellow to bitter plum, the only indication that the day had faded into evening. Helen and Joan left few hours ago. Or was in ten minutes? Bess was beyond the world of noticing. When a knock came at the door, she did nothing, only continued to stare at the cold wall and peeling wallpaper.

“Bess, love?” Mrs Russo stood at the door to Bess’ bedroom. “Some post came for you.” When Bess didn’t move, the older woman stepped into the room and placed the letters on the bedside table in front of where she lay. “You’ll catch your death lying here,” Mrs Russo leant over Bess’ lifeless form and shut the window. “Come down later, if you feel up to it. I’ve made soup.” She kissed Bess’ head and left, the click of the door and her retreating footsteps the only sound.

When all was quiet again, Bess sighed. Before the war, she had been content, and that was all a working-class girl from the north of England could hope for. She would never open her own fashion house. Never marry a rich man. Likely never leave Manchester. But Bess did have her work, her family, her pride. She’d heard Dot speak about her fear of never achieving anything. Looking back at her life when she is an old woman and seeing nothing but duty and boredom. When did greatness and notoriety become the measures of a good life? Bess always told her, is it not enough to be joyful and love and be loved? To be content and happy. What now, then, when contentment and happiness had gone from her life? Albie alone in France, buried God knows where. Tom with him, or soon to join him? An older sister who would never know first love without fear. A younger sister whose remaining years of childhood were defiled by war, and a father wounded by grief.

Bess’ eyes drifted the letters Mrs Russo left. Her name was smudged a little, and for a fleeting moment, she thought it was Tom’s handwriting. The address, however, proved her excitement wrong and she stilled. Who was left to write? She took the letter and ripped open the envelope.

“I know what you’re trying to do. Telling me all about your little date in the hopes it will make me jealous. Would it make you smile, love, if I told you it was working?”

Bess dropped the letter like hot coal. She ran to the bedroom door and slammed it shut. Leant against the doorframe, she clutched her heart and felt it hammer against her chest. Even missing, Tom Bennett could still make her weak. Tentatively, as though it would scold to touch it, Bess padded to the bed and picked up the letter once more.

“Does he know you like I do? Does he know that you collected feathers and eggshells when you were small, or that you write secret letters to a criminal like me?”

With every word, her breath quickened and pulse raced.

“Can he read you like I can? That you only smoke as a means to avoid speaking?”

Her mouth went dry.

“That when your eyes darken and those perfect lips of yours part, when you blush and it spreads right across your nose, it means you desperately want fucking?”

Bess’ head hit the pillow.

“It means you desperately want fucking”

Despite her terror. Despite the grief of the day, Bess laughed. He wanted her. Until the moment he went missing, he wanted her. If he was alive, perhaps he still did. She reached for the photograph of Tom, propped against her lamp, and held it behind the letter. The other hand ran down the buttons of her loose shirt and ruched the hem of her skirt. Over the edge of the letter, Tom’s eyes watched her.

“Can he satisfy you like I can, Bess? Are his fingers long? Have they been inside you yet? I know I could do it, Bess, if you’d let me.”

Heat welled between her legs as she pressed a palm against her sex.

“If I try, I can hear you moaning my name. I can feel your cunt against me. If your family hadn’t come home I’d have ravished you, Bess. I’d have fucked you with my mouth, my fingers, my cock.”

Bess’ fingers dipped into the warmth of her folds, and with half-lidded eyes she committed Tom’s photograph to memory.

“Made love to you until your mind could think of nothing but me. Can this James boy do that for you? Can he satisfy you like I could?”

Over and over she read the letter, over and over her nimble fingers worked her arousal undone.

“I’m mad with wanting you, love. I’ll kill any man that gets in my way to you. You’re mine, Bess.”

With a shudder and moan of his name, Bess unravelled to the image of Tom on her tailor’s stand. Tom beating Walter Watson to a pulp. Tom between her legs. Weak from her release, the letter fluttered to the ground and for a few blissful moments Bess forgot her heartache. Tom Bennett still wanted her. She giggled and reached for the letter, desperate to read his words once more. As she leant over the bed, she saw the mess of paper on the ground. Tom’s photograph, his letter, and the second envelope. She must have knocked it to the ground in her haste to be rid of the first.

She froze. It was him. Again. The smudged scrawl. It was definitely him. Abandoning her attempt to retrieve the first letter, Bess once again ripped open the envelope. Would it be a repeat of the first? In a perverse way, she hoped it was.

“Your letters are the best thing that happens to me at sea, but I couldn’t bear being the cause of more pain.”

In direct opposition to his first letter, the second caused Bess’ heart to stop.

“We’re going into something big, Bess, and I’m scared I won’t come back.”

“Oh, Tom.” Bess stood from the bed and hurried her way through the tiny flat.

“If I don’t, know that I think of you every second of every day.”

She opened the door, eyes never leaving the page.

“I’ll spend the rest of my days regretting what I did to you but know this, I adore you.”

Tears were falling now, and she could feel them. Angry, heartbroken, elated, fearful tears.

“Think of me, as I’m forever thinking of you.”

Her feet brought her to a door on the second floor of the boarding house. She knocked twice and brushed some tears form her red cheeks. The door swung open, and Joan stood before her, cigarette in hand and hair in curlers.

“Bess?”

Bess could do nothing but hold up the letter and laugh sadly.

“He adored me.”

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

Tom watched as Webster’s blood funnelled through the tube and into his veins. What with the pain in his shoulder, the city heat and his growing unease at the Nazis walking the halls of the hospital, the sight did nothing to settle his stomach and he looked to the ceiling.

Webster, while admiring Tom’s spirit, was himself growing annoyed at the man’s impatient recklessness. He understood as much as any other his desperation to be away from Paris with the one he loved, but the reality was not as easy as their imaginations would wish.

“What are you going to do with out help?” Webster whispered quietly. “All these men need my help. You’re prisoners of war now.”

“I’ll head for the coast.” Even agitated, Tom seemed a cocksure and certain man. If not for the war, Webster would have liked a drink with Tom Bennett.

“And which way is that, hm?”

Tom paused. “I’ll think of something.”

“Listen,” Webster sat up a little, careful not to disturb the needle in his arm. “I’ve talked to a couple of French guys who are setting up an escape route. They can help you.” Tom’s eyebrows rose and he waited for Webster to continue. “You can go across the Pyrenees into Spain, Spain to Gibraltar then home from there.”

Tom smirked. “I get lost walking home from Belle-Vue, mate.” Exasperated and having reached the end of his capacity to cope with the Mancunian, Webster rested his head against the bedframe with a sigh. “What? You’ve never heard of Belle-Vue? You don’t know what you’re missing.” Bright lights flashed before his eyes and he could see Bess on the carousel, head tipped back with laughter. Tom smiled.

“First, you need to get registered as an injured prisoner of war,” Webster’s voice was hurried, eager to test out his plan.

“Yeah, then what?”

“Then you die.”

Tom looked at Webster flatly. “Well I hate to be picky-” Webster ignored him.

“Once you’re declared dead it makes it easier for you to escape. They won’t be looking for you.”

Tom spotted a flaw in the plan. “Won’t they want to see a corpse?”

“We’ve got no shortages of corpses, buddy.”

“And this’ll work, will it?”

“You’ll know before I do.” Tom stared at Webster, disbelieving. “We’ve never actually tried it before.”

Tom scoffed nervously. “Great.”

“The sooner you leave, the sooner you’ll be reunited with your girl-”

“She’s not my girl anymore.” Tom snapped, and the two watched in silence as the dark blood ran between them.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

“And Bess, thank you for the clothes. Douglas brought them over on his last visit.”

Despite herself, Bess felt a pang of jealousy. Douglas has clearly made a new friend since her move to the city. She’d have to drop in soon.

“Of course, Albie would’ve been glad to see them go to a good home.”

Robina Chase nodded awkwardly, caught somewhere between giving thanks and condolences. She turned away and began to dress as Bess packed away her tools. Summer meant preparing for autumn fashions. Or, in wartime Britain, autumn tailoring.

The front door opened and shut with a thud, and Robina sighed. “Will you stay for a cup of tea, Bess? What’s one more person, hm?” Bess smiled and followed the woman downstairs, where she saw Harry, Jan and a man that could only be Demba; Mrs Chase had already told Bess all about the Senegalese soldier Harry had brought home.

Harry kissed his mother’s cheek, and then Bess’. “I’m so sorry about Albie, Bess. We’ll miss his face at the dances.”

“And he’d miss the dancing!” Bess smiled to ease the sadness rapidly descending on the entrance hall. “You must be Demba.” She held out a hand to shake the stranger’s. His smile was warm when he shook her hand, and Bess could see why Harry liked him so.

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” He said.

“Miss!” Bess teased with mock offence.

“Pardon,” Demba held is hands to his heart and the three of them laughed. Mrs Chase clicked her tongue and hurried away to fetch the tea.

“Hello, Miss Bess,” A little voice said from behind Harry.

“Hello, Master Jan.” Bess held out a hand to him, which he took, and she led him into the sitting room where Robina was setting out the china. He perched himself on an armchair, and Bess took the seat next to Demba. Harry stood somewhat agitatedly behind them and watched as his mother picked up her newspaper.

PARIS HAS FALLEN

The headline was accompanied by an image of the Luftwaffe flying over Paris. Noticing the silence, Robina lowered the newspaper.

“Harry tells me you saved him.” She addressed Demba. He smiled graciously before replying.

“He saved a lot of men.” A true gentleman. Bess smiled before Robina could ruin the moment.

“How very reassuring,” she gave her son a pointed look.

“Like his mother and father perhaps?” Demba seemed unaware of the bump in the conversation. “His courage?”

“Harry’s father had many qualities, but it transpires that courage wasn’t one of them.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Harry’s tone was terse.

Robina bristled and picked up her newspaper. Bess wanted the plush settee to swallow her whole. She took a sip of her tea.

“The Germans didn’t bomb Paris,” Robina’s voice was hopeful. The three young people opposite stared at her. “That surely is a good sign.”

“Of what exactly?” Bess could hear Harry trying to restrain is frustration.

“That when all is said and done, at least they are a civilised people-”

“Je suis désolée,” Demba and Bess turned to look at Harry as he spoke. “Ma mère ne sait pas de quoi elle parle.”

KNOCK KNOCK KOCK

Thank Christ. Bess and Demba relaxed in their seats. Jan saw and giggled. The same could not be said of Robina, who sighed and threw her newspaper on the couch. “Surely this week can’t get any more surprising.” She strode towards the front door. The four left in the sitting room said nothing, and Bess stuck her tongue out at Jan to make him smile.

When Robina returned with Lois Bennett, Harry jolted forwards and, struck by a similar awkwardness to his mother, abruptly stopped whatever motion his body had been about to enact.

“Lois!”

“Bess?”

“Bess has been tailoring some clothes for me.” Lois sat next to Robina, and Harry plonked himself next to Bess, causing her to shuffle sideways into Demba. Silence reigned once more, until little Jan spoke up.

“Is Douglas coming?”

Robina laughed.

“No, sorry. But he sent you this,” Lois leant over her now enormous bump and picked up a package wrapped in brown paper. “It isn’t brand new. It’s the same one Tom had when he was your age.” She locked eyes with Bess, who suddenly found a loose thread on her trousers to fuss with. “Dad says next time you play, you can wear it.” Jan smiled, unaware of Lois and Bess’ sorrow.

“I feel rather as though I’ve arrived late at the theatre and need someone to explain the plot to me.” Robina look to Bess and Demba for agreement.

“I am sorry,” Lois said sincerely. “I had no idea you had so many people here.” She stood up and Harry did the same so suddenly it nearly caused Bess to spill her tea. He was pleading with Lois.

“Lois, wait. I…”

Sensing that she was intruding on familial politics far more complicated than she first assumed to know, Bess jumped from her seat. “Come on Jan, let’s see if Tom’s shirt improves your aim.” The little boy laughed and followed her into the garden, the red football jersey trailing behind him.

“She’s an odd girl, Demba.” Robina said as the four remaining in the house watched Bess and Jan play. “Would be ever so charming if she only sorted her hair and wore rouge. There’s a spinster in the making.”

“Mother, please.”

From the garden, Bess kept one eye on Jan and one on the people in the sitting room. When Demba was the only person left sitting, she ran inside.

“Harry?” She was a little out of breath. “Do you have a camera? I want to get a photo of Jan in his jersey.”

“Just a minute.” Clearly glad of an excuse to leave, Harry left the room. No-one spoke, and Bess saw Robina’s eyes follow the path of Harry’s footsteps on the ceiling above. He returned a minute later with a camera and handed it to Bess. “Keep it,” Robina opened her mouth to protest but Harry silenced her with a look. “I never used it.”

“Thank you,” Bess squeezed his hand and ran back outside.

“Jan!” The boy stopped kicking the football against the wall and looked at her. She held up the camera. “Give us your best pose.” The little boy placed his arms against his hips and foot atop the ball. Bess laughed and clicked the camera. “Very good!”

Lois put her head into the garden. “Harry is taking me home, Bess. Do you want a lift?”

“No, you’re alright, I’m going to stay with Jan for a bit.” She beamed at the boy and he smiled back, thinking of his older sister as he did. “And if you need help, when the time comes,” Bess nodded to Lois’ bump. “You let me know.”

“Thanks, love.” Bess and Jan watched as she retreated into the house.

“Right then, young man,” Bess clapped the little boy on the shoulder. “Show us what you’ve got.” She ran into the makeshift goal and Jan lined up the football.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

That night, after her dinner with Mrs Russo and the other girls, Bess made her way to her room. Switching on the wireless, she tuned it to some music and covered her windows with the blackouts. From her bedside table, she retrieved the stack of Tom’s letters she had gathered over the nine months since the war began. All but one, which she left tucked beneath her pillow. Rereading it had become a common occurrence in her night-time routine. And morning routine, come to think of it.

Sat at the kitchen table, under the soft lamplight, Bess twiddled a pen between her fingers as she read over his last letter.

“I adore you.”

Tom was right, he knew her better than anyone. All those years of stolen conversations and silent glances. And just as Bess had found her voice, found herself opening her heart to him in her letters he was gone. Tom might never come back, but Bess wasn’t ready to let go of him yet. Contentment and love could still be hers if she tried.

Retrieving a leaf of paper, Bess unscrewed the cap of her pen and began to write.

Tom,

Your letter arrived the same day I found out you are missing, and you broke my heart for the third time. Your letters could never hurt me, and I only wish I could look forward to more.

She stopped to hastily wipe away a tear. Looking at Tom’s letter, she answered each of his admission in turn.

If I never see you again, I hope you are resting now in the knowledge that I too, think of you every single day and will never stop.

If, by some miracle, you come back home to us, know that I will spend the rest of my life regretting the night we fought and that day at the train station. I’ll never stop telling you how much I adore you.

Dream of me, wherever you are, as I am forever dreaming of you.

Yours, as I always have been,

Bess.

She placed the sheet of paper in an envelope, writing Tom’s name and date on the fore. With nowhere to send it, nowhere to send her love, Bess rested her head against the table and wept.

Notes: Jan and Demba deserve the world! I changed the order of some of the TV scenes just to make it flow a little better. We’re with Tom more for the next chapter, which will probably be up sometime mid-next week as I’m heading home for a hen do. Will try to get some writing done on the dismally long journey. Want to really get inside his head and his feelings!

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 '@exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #tom bennett x ofc #ewan mitchell x reader #world on fire #the seamstress & the sailor

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muddyorbsblr · 2 years

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14 days of valentines collection teaser 2

I just realized that we're less than 10 days away from February, which means that 14 Days of Valentine's is inching closer and closer! With that in mind, for this teaser, I'm going to give y'all a lil summary of what to expect from each of my entries for this project.

Story summaries under the cut

not a fever – James Conrad x Reader

You're quarantined in the laboratory with James Conrad as you try to determine what the effects of the pollen he was exposed to are.

hypotheticals & distractions – Magnus Martinsson x Reader

You and Magnus are tasked with the unfortunate duty of manning the phones through a Friday night and he decides you should play some games to pass the time.

all the right answers – Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Tom decides to help you through reviewing for a certification exam by incentivizing each correct answer, making the decision to "ruin the friendship" in the process.

midnight cravings – Loki x Reader

Deciding to take advantage of the fully stocked pantry within the Avengers Compound, you go down there only to realize that Loki has the same idea, and he decides he'd much rather enjoy his little snack with you. And on you.

paris – Jonathan Pine x Reader

After spending the last few hours pretending to be a loving couple while on a mission in Paris, Jonathan decides to lose himself in the fantasy of having you to himself.

eyes on me, darling – Loki x Reader

You knew that sending Loki raunchy pictures as you tried on lingerie was going to have consequences. You just didn't think that they would be coming your way so quickly.

forgive me, father – Will Ransome x Reader

After being plagued with depraved fantasies of Aldwinter's vicar for months on end, you go to confession in a desperate attempt to alleviate yourself of these sinful thoughts. You didn't expect that the man on the other side of the confessional would be none other than Will Ransome himself.

thirty seconds – Loki x Reader

To celebrate a mission gone right, Loki invites you to his hotel room to have a drink with him, and he proposes you two play a little game beforehand.

keep me safe – James Conrad x Reader

You run into a tent for safety after being chased by a massive insect-like creature while collecting flora samples from Skull Island. The tent belongs to James Conrad.

duty of care – Jonathan Pine x Reader

After Pine rescues you from a bloodthirsty mafia leader, he confesses his feelings for you while tending to your wounds.

maintain our cover – Older Magnus Martinsson x Reader

To catch a suspected serial killer, you and Magnus go undercover in the sex club the suspect frequents to choose his victims. You knew you'd have to partake in the activities with an attendee or two. You didn't expect that he'd want you to partake in them with him.

i have never – Tom Hiddleston x Reader

When you reveal to your co-stars that you've never had a positive experience kissing anyone, let alone a good experience doing more than kissing, Tom visits you in your hotel room to rectify that situation.

measurements – Will Ransome x Reader

After Cora's birthday party, your brother Luke, along with Martha, made a few offhanded jokes about Reverend Ransome being "small", you quickly put them both in their place by explaining what you do back in London: using a man's posture, gait, and overall stature to determine certain "measurements" for your clients.

relinquish the crown: obsessions & fantasies – Loki x Reader

The morning after you had Astrid removed from the palace, you had some rather concerning thoughts about Loki. And after he comforts you through the task of sorting through the traitor's belongings, you have some vivid dreams of him later that night.

#loki x reader #james conrad x reader #tom hiddleston x reader #will ransome x reader #magnus martinsson x reader #jonathan pine x reader #14 days of valentines collection #muddyorbs writes

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georgiapeach30513 · 10 months

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I really really love what you said about zendaya and other young women who get articles written about them without a man.

So true.

Like I’m not even a fan of zendaya myself but she does not need anyone to sell. She’s a brand all on her own. She exudes IT girl factor because of her confidence and she’s actually dating one of the most famous young guys right now! Does anyone even say “tom holland’s girlfriend zendaya” when introducing her?? It’s more like “zendaya’s boyfriend” lol

Same with Florence. Florence dated Zach Braff who was also a lot older than her and had been in industry far longer - scrubs anyone? Garden state anyone? But Flo was the one who became the household name and multi Oscar nominated before she even turned 25. She even put everyone’s in place when they roasted her and Zach’s age gap - she was such a boss about it but shame they broke up. She stuck up and defended HIM and their relationship which I thought was so ballsy. But admirable.

Anya Taylor joy - another powerhouse who’s barely 27. She’s married too, Netflix shot her to critical and box office darling (she was acting way before that but queens gambit I believe put her on the global map).

Jenna Ortega. Barely 21 but went viral last year after being in the business like most of her young life.

All of these women are talented, attractive, young, and technically all could have just married or dated up if they wanted to get a quick taste of fame but instead they did it on their own name.

This is my biggest issue with soba. Before ramen she was already showing signs of Leeching with the endearing French baguette from Emily in Paris and I thought it was hugely telling that cup noodles was being a clout chaser when those two were hanging out with each other too. Baguette had a big and up coming career and he was the cute new guy on Netflix, and soba’s friends were QUICK to jump on that train.

You bring up excellent points with women in her age bracket. These women are making moves with talent to spare and are doing it all on their own. They’re also not afraid to further their craft.

The French Baguette actually posed with her multiple times. We got to see candid moments. The baguette seems to be doing great. As far as cup of noodles, he grosses me out completely.

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dream-this-nightmare-over · 2 years

Text

thoughts while watching knightfall

season one

why landry why you damned prat of all the women you had to go for queen

gawain kinda makes sense

oh gawain is the only one one sane here

i stand with gawain in this one

philips hair is paid actor

he is trying to remain soft. you see how he is trying everything with joan he loves that woman so much he is willing to raise the baby as his own

gosh you did him dirty. all of you.

butler from downton abbey was born for this role

why is everyone so forgiving of landry's violation of vows and rules????

is that irene forsyte??

landry you are a bad friend

you can't tell someone with disability their pain is 'god's will' fuck you landry, this man saved your life you ungrateful prat

parsifal!!!!!! no please god i beg for mercy

why is no one looking for parsifal???

mamma joan finally snapped

rashid eyeliner will be missed

tancred??????

these cliffhangers will be death of me

everyone listens to irene. even the pope. what a woman.

'immense heights man might ascend to art, music, culture… And instead, we fuss and fight over an arrestingly ordinary cup' - whoever is writing this script needs rise then tons of awards

the final aerial shot of forest with snow falling is cinematic masterpiece

wait what just happened?? history you just know how to get us hooked

season two

court room reflecting the changes from last season both in story and philip - executed so cleverly

missing philip's hair

de nugaret we see your hair and we know you have crush on gawain

'best swordsman in france' baby i choked.

i knew nugaret is petty but go boy that ash cross will never be topped in history of fine art of pettiness

isn't that scene from vikings?

why is no one mentioning scroll??? did they forget we are bing watching

wait how they all didnt get leprosy? isn't that airborne?

candles scene was supreme

why is irene not in second season???

its hard to be against louis when he looks so good

i knew isabella was bad since they changed the actress

someone give landry break!! can this man have second without being in life threatening situation???

that fire arrow scene was too epic

louis should join templars at this point so they kill philip together

why is no one mentioning scroll??? hello??? the man is dead over there

i would have bet all i have that louis is coming to kill philip and blame landry in midst of battle with no witnesses

why is louis still on his dad's side????

who ever was in charge of aerial shots needs raise

why is everyone lying to louis??? why are they playing him like this?

best scene in whole series when gawain asks "whos child is this?" baby you are the prescious one we need to protect you at all cost aka let's bring baby into family and not tell gawain

how is fire burning so slow now?

knew kelton's story is not ending here

talus you old fucker i was worried already they lost you somewhere in script but then remembered who is playing you

gawain and landry together again!! yes living for this shit

landry and gawain and tancred omg trio is back!!

talus dragging his sword while sparks fly from tip that scene will forever live rent free in my mind and should go down in history books

louis and margaret deserved to live in peace and have what parsifal and marie almost had

when louis snaps paris will burn

daddy philip gives best advice

you are both fault for this equally, so stop arguing and make out already

okay but for real gawain has a point. what is about landry they arent telling him?

i googled louis actor and i am sadden to find out tom looks nothing like character he is playing. great mask. worth couple of emmy nominations.

they are back to plotting. fam is back together. this is great. i love this show.

tancred ship has sailed darling but at least you got the girl

omg no way landry why are you back??

de nugaret??? louis???? SLAY OF CENTURY AND ONES TO COME

THEY ARE FIGHTING IN COURT ROOM WHERE EVERYTHING STARTED I CANT-

AND THE SCROLL???? WHAT ABOUT THE SCROLL?????

IF THAT ENDING DIDNT SET GROUNDS FOR SEQUEL NO INSTANT POPULAR AMERICAN SHOW THAT BLOWS UP IN ONE DAY AND EVERYONE SUDDENLY HAS TO LIKE IT OR THEY ARE ENEMY OF STATE HASNT DESERVED IT EITHER

I miss my babies already.

conclusion: go watch it so we get season 3.

#knightfall #history channel #knightfall history channel #tom cullen #padraic delaney #mark hamill #simon merrells #ed stoppard #king philip iv of france #queen joan i of navarre #olivia ross #landry du lauzon #gawain #tancred #knights templar #middle ages #netflix

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babygirlgeralt · 1 year

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Hi rory i just watched non sequitur and um in every universe harry is the catalyst to make tom’s life better? without harry tom would be a miserable loser man? tom and harry have a connection so strong tom was willing to die for him after barely knowing him? harry kim’s love is life altering????

HI HI HI TORI MR HARRY KIM AND TOM PARIS ITS SO FUCKUFNDBSKSNNEJSJEJRJ

Sorry non sequitur is EVERYTHING to me she's my parents who raised me and my darling son. It's so ... For real harry kim is the catalyst... Of all Tom's growth... Like sorry i only want THIS version of soulmates from now on. It's just so enticing like literally without harry tom is miserable. And then he gets bent over a table once and suddenly he'll die for harry.

And then the fact that harry wakes up in this strange although like, obstentiably Perfect world and he's like I Need To See Tom. Tom can help me. I'm gonna fucking think about it every day until i die

#voyager #star trek #asks #tori #TORI IM SO HAPPY YOU GOT TO THIS EPISODE IM SO .#YOU JUST GET IT YOU UNDERSTAND YOU GET IT

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delta-queerdrant · 2 years

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banjos in space (Caretaker, s1 e1/2)

Prologue

A nice pickle we have landed ourselves into, Mr. Frodo! The internet informs me that there are 172 episodes of Star Trek Voyager. I am, in fact, capable of finishing things; just recently, I reread Middlemarch like an absolute fucking boss. I have written novels and completed thousand-mile road trips. Let us choose to believe that this project that I have quixotically set myself, for an audience of, approximately, no one, will be a successful one.

I will not be summarizing episodes. I expect these reviews to be 80% sentiment and 20% analyzing story mechanics. To crib a line from a podcast I like, this is a feelings blog about starships.

The prose will be more or less silly and stream-of-consciousness as the mood takes me. Despite being a Digital Native(tm), I have literally never figured out the trick of talking like I live on the internet, instead I alternate between sounding like Angela Chase writing in her diary and like a college professor who is prone to multisyllabic words, malapropisms, and deducting points for misplaced commas.

Hmm, I seem to be stalling.

Let’s Talk About Caretaker

I started watching Voyager midway through the series’ original run, so my fondness for these episodes is less weighted down with early adolescent emotion. Nevertheless, I was charmed.

Caretaker is just shy of being a banger pilot episode, and the whole first season is pretty strong if you compare it to, say, season one of TNG. (It’s a low bar.) We meet our two crews, we have a lively science fiction mystery that feels extremely Star Trek with its gentle horror-adjacent tropes and insistence on making the cultural referents of the twentieth-century US central to this multi-species science fiction universe. If nothing else, it’s a romp.

The worst thing about this episode, hands down, is Tom Paris, our bad boy rapscallion who turns a new leaf under duress. As a young person I received each of these characters in exactly the way I was meant to receive them; i.e. I found Tom Paris to be charming comic relief.

Does he become charming? In this episode I want to punch his face, a lot, and the sentiment holds throughout season one. It is, of course, the nineties, and so the only character with an unmarked identity (straight white male, not an alien or a hologram) is centered in the pilot episode of our ensemble show. In the process, he goes through a season’s worth of character growth in ninety minutes, to the detriment of future episodes.

The fandom was right and he and Harry Kim (whose only attribute here is BABY) have hilariously good chemistry. (”Look, I know those guys told you to stay away from me,” he purrs to Kim during the mess hall follow-up to their meet-cute.) Why do the good girls always want the bad boys? Don’t fall for his rakish charms, Harry, you can do so much better, even if you have only been given half a personality.

We meet the Ocampa, who seem to live in a subterranean shopping mall or perhaps an airport terminal, and the Kazon-Ogla, who are bargain-bin Klingons without the cool factor or (so far) cultural nuance. I do not love an SFF property with “good” and “bad” species, and find Janeway’s pivotal decision to destroy the Caretaker’s array a bit suspect as a result, but it is a Star Trek, but here we are.

Other than Robert Duncan McNeill, who has been given an impossible script, it feels like all of the actors know their assignments out of the gate. There are so many cute as shit platonic friendships in this show; I love B’Elanna and Harry’s rapport (”Starfleet”). Also, Neelix. I am going on the record here to confess that I am probably going to be a Neelix apologist for the duration of this rewatch. He is just a darling hot mess of a space hobbit, and I find Ethan Phillip’s performance weirdly compelling and nuanced. I won’t be papering over his sexism, which should have been handled with more care. But so far he is absolutely the most plausible and lived-in character in this whole ridiculous show.

Kate Mulgrew’s Janeway, of course, is a close contender. She is so fucking good from scene one (walking so fast to keep up with McNeill’s long gait) - just absolutely sparkling with charisma, and with a warm, self-assured carriage that makes her effortless at inhabiting this role. “Confirmed, a hot lady,” my notes read (yes I was taking notes about this rewatch for myself like an absolute nerd).

We don’t get much backstory for her in season one, other than here, where we meet her dry-toast fiance, and much more importantly, MOLLIE. I had forgotten about Mollie, and holy crap, never mind the trauma and pining and muted sexual confusion that will accompany this character on her journey through the Delta Quadrant - SHE LEFT HER DOG BEHIND!?

^^^ ICONIC. Mark can’t even get an arm around her shoulder because Mollie is the cockblocker of our hearts. Love this for all concerned

Anyway. Our characters are thrown together and overcome adversity, Janeway blows up the array, and we get a rushed conclusion and a mission-statement speech that all feel terribly unearned. There’s nothing much to say about the Maquis subplot here, because the show just... doesn’t grapple with it, at least not in the first season. The very premise that our intrepid crew can only operate this starship by adopting the political structure of the dominant majority deserves interrogation, but nah.

We were never going to get a politically radical Voyager. Still, we could have gotten a politically conscious one. It’s a shame, because these actors and even, I dare say, writers were obviously up to the task of having a more nuanced conversation about leadership and workplace politics and whether an ostensibly egalitarian society’s professional adventurer/diplomats can only function under a military command structure.

But we’re at the beginning, and we don’t know any of that yet. Anything could happen! We’re lost in the woods, in the middle of our lives, looking for our way home.

#star trek voyager #rewatch #janeway #star trek #dogs of trek

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edsonlnoe · 2 years

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Premios ⬤ 22 | Elegibles

#MG #Eligible Films #Personal #MX Opening Dates #O22 #⬤

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swiftieblyth · 7 months

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Honeymoon: France- Paris

warnings- fluff, talks of future, talks of kids

You were sitting in bed at your hotel in Paris with Lady in your lap while Tom was in the shower.

“We’re going to have to leave you alone again tomorrow, darling,” you explained, stroking her head. She looked up at you with her puppy eyes making you melt. “I know. I’m so sorry my love. We’ll miss you, but it will just be for tomorrow. At least while we’re in France. We’re doing everything that we can’t do with you tomorrow. But I promise we’ll miss you.”

“We will indeed,” Tom agreed walking up and getting in bed next to you. You laid your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist and put his other hand on Lady. “Mummy and I will miss you so much tomorrow. But you both look tired my loves.” He explained seeing as you were yawning and Lady’s eyes kept drooping. “We should get some sleep.”

“M’kay,” you yawned.

Tom turned off the lamp then laid down, pulling you to lay down next to him, head on his chest, Lady in your arms head on your chest as Tom holds you both close to him.

“Good night my loves.”

💜💜💜

“Tommy, I got something I need to tell you,” you let out on the Eiffle Tower, looking down at the city.

“What is it love?”

“I think I am ready to have kids.”

“What?” He asked, shook washing over his face as he looked down at you.

“I mean, if you’re still okay with it of course.” You rambled. “But like maybe on the last night we can try.”

“Love, are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” You nodded. “I want a kid with you.”

“I can’t wait!” Tom exclaimed, hugging his arms around your waist. “I’m going to spoil them so much!” He explained while tickling your stomach.

“Tommy,” you giggled, putting your hands on his. “I’m excited.”

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little-diable · 3 years

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TomH1996 - Tom Holland (smut)

Happy Valentine's babes! 1/3 Imagines for @venomsilk Valentine's Bingo. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Once lovers, now enemies. Once Highschool sweethearts, now full of hate. But maybe - just maybe - it was a good idea for Tom to visit a camming website, maybe - just maybe - it was a good idea to watch her videos.

Warnings: 18+, sex, p in v, oral (f), cam girl reader, masturbation (f,m), teasing, exes to lovers

Pairing: Rich kid!Tom Holland x rich kid!fem!reader

Valentines Bingo fills: Rich kids x Cam Girl x Exes to Lovers (2.7k words)

Header by @hidingsikki

Tom had his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, fingers wrapped around his champagne flute. It was the day of his birthday, a day he hated with a burning passion, wanting to leave his parent’s mansion and the party stacked with people he didn't know behind. The party was yet another show off event where his parents and their friends could flaunt their money, a chance to pay for expensive gifts and alcohol - anything to impress one another.

A few of his friends had been invited and of course she had been as well, the woman he hated as much as he hated the people he found himself surrounded with. But his hate for her reached far deeper than just simple anger flooding through his veins, no, he hated her as much as Demeter has hated Hades, as much as Athena hated Paris.

The two had been the classic couple, Highschool sweethearts that have been with one another for years. Till they had been forced to breakup, due to different colleges and the distance that would keep them apart. But their breakup had been more vile, more angry than both had hoped it would be. Tom's pride had pushed him into waves of anger and hurt, finding reasons to hate her as she had slowly moved on from him. Perhaps it had been a petty move, searching for reasons to hate her - forgetting all about the love he had once fostered.

But it had all changed the night Tom had been browsing through another website filled with cam girls and cam boys, only showing off his toned abs and his cock, pumping himself to the shows he’d watch. And there she was, legs spread, exposing her tight cunt to her viewers. At first he hadn’t recognized her, but the second his eyes had fallen upon the pictures hanging on the wall behind her, (y/n)'s name had spluttered from his lips, sound filling his room.

Perhaps he would tell her about it - at one point - though for now he kept his lips sealed, not wanting to spill her secret just yet. Tom was waiting for the right moment, a moment of weakness he could use in his interest.

The dress (y/n) was currently wearing showed off her legs, legs he wanted to feel wrapped around his waist as he’d bury his cock inside her. A mere memory of the nights they had once spent together. It was a sinful sight, leaving his cock hardening, mind wandering back to her show and the moans that had rumbled through her.

“Tom, darling. Come here,” his mother’s voice ripped him out of his thoughts, forcing him to step inside for a moment. Before Tom could come to a halt next to his parents, his eyes flickered down to his Rolex, wondering how much longer he’d have to stay before he could leave this pathetic party behind.

He caught her eyes from across the room, taking in her frame once again. Fuck, if he could, he’d take her right there and then, for all eyes to see, watching the heir of the Holland enterprise bury his cock in his exe's cunt.

“Why don’t you open some of your gifts?” His mother pushed him towards the stack of neatly wrapped presents, forcing a fake smile onto his thin lips. He didn’t pay any attention to the gifts he unwrapped, mind still hooked up on (y/n) and the wave of anger that would flood through him whenever he’d think of her. Tom’s skin was prickling as if he was skinning himself, leaving his old self behind, engulfed by darkness and lust.

But one gift managed to catch his attention, it was one of the pictures (y/n) had hung up on her wall, a picture of her and Tom, from years back. He heavily swallowed, meeting her smirking features with his glistening eyes. Why would she gift him something like this?

With his heart racing and his palms turning sweaty, Tom drowned the rest of his champagne, murmuring a few thank you's to the people that kept watching him. He pushed himself past his parents, out into the afternoon. It had taken him years to build up his walls, to keep himself distracted from (y/n) and their breakup, every stone had tumbled to the ground the second he had watched her make herself cum. Every minute he had found himself hating her had evaporated into thin air. Only leaving a smoke of pleasure behind.

“I was waiting for a thank you.” (Y/n) was leaning against his Porsche, arms crossed in front of her chest as he stepped closer with his jaw muscles ticking in anger. Spiteful words threatened to claw through him, wanting to taunt the smirking woman. But Tom didn’t get the chance to part his lips, breath knocked out of his lungs as she leaned closer, lips brushing against his ear.

“Next time change your username to something less obvious, TomH1996.” She left him standing with wide eyes, following her frame till she disappeared back inside. The fuck that rumbled through him could be heared from inside, coaxing a chuckle out of (y/n).

The game was on.

—-

That night (y/n) was lying on her bed, with only her bra left on and her soaked through panties exposed to the camera. Her hands danced up and down her thighs, moving closer to her cunt with every moan that bled from her lips. She was still wearing her jewelry, the golden rings Tom had gifted her years ago and the necklace she’d never take off.

“Fuck, I’m so wet. I want to be fucked so badly, wish one of you would be here with me.” Her words echoed through her room, picked up by the microphone of her laptop, bringing joy to her viewers. Deep inside she was hoping that Tom would find his way back to her page, the excitement that had bubbled through her as she had read his username last week had pushed her closer to the edge. She had cum to the thought of Tom with her back arched and eyes rolling into her head.

Something about their relationship kept her on her toes, she reciprocated the hatred Tom felt for her, urged on by the pleasure that would rumble through her whenever he’d spit her name. Nevertheless, she still found herself longing for the man she had once called her own, wanting to feel his hands on her skin again.

(Y/n) pulled her panties aside, her fingertips brushed through her wet slit, finding their way to her pulsing clit. She threw her head back, allowing her moans to fall from her lips like a shooting star darting across the dark sky, missed by the ones that didn’t pay enough attention.

The sound of another viewer joining her stream caught her attention, heart missing out a few beats as she read Tom’s username. He hadn’t changed a single letter - as if he was doing it on purpose. This time she’d put on a show, all for him and the thought of her ex railing her till the sun would rise above the still asleep community. His name burned on her tongue, wanting to bleed from her lips, to tease Tom - but she kept silent, not wanting to stroke the man’s ego. She didn’t stop rubbing her clit, not even as she reached for the toy she had placed next to her, wrapping her lips around it to wet the brightly colored silicone. Slowly, for all viewers to see, she began to fuck herself with it.

Wet sounds were picked up by her microphone, finding Tom with his twitching cock and his hand wrapped around his girth. It had taken him a few drinks, finding his confidence buried beneath a few shots of tequila. He had moved back to (y/n)'s page with trembling hands. Tom imagined her placed on his bed, whines rumbling through her - begging him to fuck her into oblivion.

“I’m already close.” Her eyes flickered down to the comment section, reading through the encouraging words, words to praise the panting woman, wanting to hear her loud moans. Tom had also commented - “moan my name” - written words that were followed by a generous tip. (Y/n)’s fingers picked up their speed, rubbing her clit with his name spluttering from her lips, silently wondering if Tom was currently fucking his hands, while he watched her stream.

“Oh, Tom. Fuck, fuck,” with his name rumbling through her, (y/n) came around the toy. She gave it a few more lazy thrusts, hoping to prolong her orgasm, not wanting to be ripped out of her bubble just yet. But the moment the first wave of exhaustion rolled upon her like an unexpected sandstorm, burying her beneath its heavy blanket, she ended the stream with a "till next time" leaving her.

(Y/n) plopped down on her mattress, eyes fluttering close as she tried to catch her breath. Her thoughts circled around Tom, trying to imagine his sweaty frame pressed against hers, with his muscular arms wrapped around her. She couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if they hadn't broken up, would they live together by now? Would they think about starting a family together? Long lost dreams that were now left behind like a blanket of dust.

Her phone buzzed, forcing her eyes open. Without moving too much, (y/n) reached for her phone, eyes widening as Tom’s name popped up on the screen. It was a simple text, but the pants that left her shot shudders down her spine, buzzing through her like a bolt of lightning.

“Come over. Be quick, I don’t like to wait.”

Perhaps she should have deleted the message, perhaps she should have blocked his number and let him be - but (y/n) slowly rose from her bed and redressed herself with trembling hands. She was out of her house within minutes, feet carrying her down the streets to Tom’s. It had been months since she had last been there, invited to one of his parties, spending time with their mutual friends, only to tease one another with hurtful words.

Tom ripped the door open before she could knock on the expensive wood. He pulled her in as if she was a criminal in desperate need of shelter. She was his dirty secret - at least for this very night.

Their lips clashed together like magnets, tongues getting tangled. Memories of the last kisses they've shared found their way back to the two, reminding them of the endless dates they've been on, the endless nights they've spent together with roaring hearts. (Y/n) tangled her hand in his hair as Tom pressed her against his door. With their chests heavily rising and falling he dragged her towards his bedroom, pulling her in for another kiss as they fell onto his bed.

“I still hate you,” Tom’s words were met with a giggle, eyes finding his as a smile tugged on (y/n)’s lips.

“You know what, Tom. I don’t think you do.” Trembling fingers helped one another out of their clothes, eyes running over their bodies, wanting to burn the upcoming hours into their memories. Curses flooded from their lips as he thrust his hips against hers, rubbing his clothed bulge against her dripping heat.

Tom couldn’t stop staring at her, hands uncovering the parts of her skin he had touched years ago. Her body was a temple he’d worship, he’d burn his kisses into her skin - marks for the darkness to find, nestling in her heart as one orgasm after another would clash upon her like Zeus’ bolt of lightning striking the sky.

“Touch me, please.” (Y/n)’s whispers rumbled through his body like an earthquake, shaking through his body with the silent promise of ripping him apart. While his lips kissed their trail down her upper body, his hands pulled her panties down her legs, gaze flickering to her cunt.

“You’re so wet, fuck, my gorgeous girl.” As if they had never hated one another, their bodies began to mold together, falling back into their old routine. The moment Tom pressed his tongue flat against her arousal covered folds she found herself pushed into another dimension, body hurled into the ocean of pleasure she was drowning in.

He devoured her, kept eating her out with two fingers thrusting into her tightness, spreading her walls with his eyes finding her wide, lust-blown pupils. No words were shared between the two, only their sounds echoed through his room, filling every inch of the bedroom she wanted to stay in till the end of their time.

“I need you to fuck me, Tom." Her rough voice forced him away from her cunt, hand reaching for a condom. (Y/n) watched him roll it down his length, aligning his cock to her heat. Their hands searched for one another, fingers linked together as if somebody could pull them apart any moment now.

With their hearts roaring in their chests, their bodies moved in sync, hips meeting with every ferocious thrust. Their anger was slowly letting go of them, allowing the withered away flowers to be reborn, forming a new bond beneath his sheets.

“You feel so good, so tight.” Tom kissed her throat with his heavy breaths clashing against her throat like a soaring wave of the ocean. He fucked her as if it was his only chance of ever feeling her, hoping to push her over the edge with his name burning on her tongue. She mewled his name, fingers circling her clit as the coil deep inside of her began to tighten.

"Fuck, I've missed you." A tear threatened to roll down her cheek, mind confused by the different sensations that washed upon her like a tidal wave. As if the stars have aligned, their hearts found one another again, begging the two to rekindle their love.

Without another word rolling off his tongue, Tom kissed the tears away, he tightened his grip on her hands, kept her close as he pushed her further towards the edge. He was struggling to sort through the different emotions buzzing through his veins, finding their path to his racing heart.

Fuck, he still loved her, loved her like Orpheus loved Eurydike, would give his life for the one he had pushed away for the past years, "Don't let go of me." The words he spoke sounded pained, just the thought of being ripped from her once again left him crying in agony.

She pulled him in for a kiss, swallowed the other moans and cries rumbling through the two. Tom let go of her hand, he rubbed her clit with his thumb to push her into the open arms of her orgasm. (Y/n) came with his name bleeding from her lips, eyes focused on his, not wanting to miss the expressions tugging on his features.

Tom followed her down the edge, he filled the condom with a string of curses leaving him. For a few more seconds they stayed connected, holding onto one another as the past moments of bliss kept buzzing through them.

With a sigh clawing through Tom he rolled off her, threw away the condom and came back with a hot towel to clean her up. No words were shared as Tom took care of her, only as he found himself placed next to her, he parted his lips, searching for the right words to say.

"I," Tom forced himself to take a deep breath. "I am sorry for the way I've treated you. It wasn't fair. I was hurt that you didn't want to try the long distance thing and just the thought of seeing you with somebody else made me see red. I don't hate you, I don't think I ever did hate you."

"Oh Tom." (Y/n) cupped his cheek, her eyes met his glassy ones. "Deep down I knew why you kept treating me like this and I am sorry for not trying to make things work. You've hurt me, but I don't hate you for it."

Their lips met, slow at first, trying to relish in one another's heat as their hearts kept picking up their beat once again. Tonight they'll linger in their memories with their hands interlaced and their lips pressed together and when morning comes, they'll start a new part of their story, together.

Please like and reblog if you’ve enjoyed reading this, come talk to me about my writing, let’s spill some tea or thirst over our favorite people. xxx

Use this link to join the taglist

#Tom Holland smut #valentinebingo #chi's lemon #Tom Holland imagine

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mrs-hollandstan · 2 years

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Richkid!tom as tue reader'sugar daddy?

👀 decently dirty

"Daddyyyyy!" You call. You watch Tom fight his smile before he's spinning,

"Darling… what is it now? What would you like?" He poses. You hum, moving towards him. He fucking loves the sway of your hips, could get lost in all of you. You shrug as you lean on his knees, sinking to your own between his legs,

"I dunno… there's this really gorgeous dress at Saks. Could be useful for all your galas." You tell him, cocking your head. He chuckles as you cross your arms across his thighs,

"Yeah?" You nod,

"And there's this really nice lingerie set at Honey Birdette. I think you'd like it. It's blue just like you like." He hums,

"I don't exactly get anything out of that baby girl. What's in it for me?" He asks, eyes hooded. You giggle as you stand, sliding into his lap to straddle him,

"Well why would I be buying the lingerie unless I let you peel it off me?" You purr, leaning in to kiss just below his ear and across his neck. He purrs low in his throat,

"Tell you what…" He starts as he stands, dropping you onto his bed and crawling over you, "I'll up your allowance to ten thousand this month. Surprise me with whatever you'd like, and then we'll spend the whole weekend right here in this bed." He reasons. You chew your lip,

"How 'bout Switzerland. It's gorgeous there right now. We can fuck with the windows open, listening to the waterfalls." You try to negotiate. His smirks sinisterly down at you,

"You are so fucking spoiled." He growls, dragging your shirt up to kiss your stomach. You squeal as he leaves wet kisses along your skin,

"You didn't say no though. Can't resist me can you?" You chide. He growls, nipping at the skin of your belly button,

"Yes… we can go to Switzerland. And the Netherlands, and Paris, wherever you want." He confirms. You slide your fingers through his hair as he kisses your lips softly,

"Regardless of how much money you give me… nothing is more important to me than your love and these moments." You tell him. He smiles down at you,

"I know… me too. But… I like having you at my beck and call." He responds. Kissing him again, you roll him onto his back,

"I'll get the most gorgeous red bottoms for you baby." You tell him, caressing his cheek. He chuckles, watching as you start to leave the room, hips swaying again,

"I like the strappy heels too." He murmurs. You giggle, turning to look at him,

"Don't worry… you'll get a decent surprise." You promise. The smile that he carries never leaves his face as he resumes what he was doing.

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland imagine #my writing #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader smut #tom holland x oc #richkid!tom #rich kid!tom #tom holland blurb #tom holland blurbs

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silkylovey · 2 years

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Laws and guns one

serie's masterlist

Y/n

My parents and I were on our way to my graduation. They told me that they were happy for me but by the looks, on their faces, they were worried for an unknown reason.

“And know we call Y/n Richard to come and collect her degree,” my headmaster announced with a big smile on her face. I walked onto the stage with a lot of confidence, I took my degree while my brother was whistling. As I looked at the public, I noticed a group of men all dressed in black suits with sunglasses. They were all looking at me as if I knew them.

My parents brought me back to earth with a hug to congratulate me. I instantly forgot about the mystery men, the only thing I could think about is a long nap.

My brother was leading me towards the car when I saw my parents chat with the mysterious men. Their conversation seemed calm as if they have known each other for God knows how long. They bid their goodbyes with a kiss on the cheek.

How weird!

They came to the car and told the driver a location. I knew that you weren’t going home because it wasn’t your address.

“Maman, where are we going?”

She first looked at my father, he gave her a slight nod. “We are going to meet up with some friends of ours to celebrate your graduation.”

The car stopped at the airport in Paris. My dad was the first to step out of the car, he held the door open for my mother, my brother, and me.

“Why are we at the airport, I thought we were meeting your friends, right?” I asked with a lot of suspicions.

“We are, but they don’t live in France, they are from England,” my dad said as if it was a normal thing.

“But, papa, Je n’ai pas mes habilles avec moi (dad, I don’t have my clothes with me),” I told him with doe eyes. I couldn’t leave without clothes. “Don’t worry my love, your mum packed your clothes. Actually, they are already on our plane.”

How dare they! Mum knows I like to pack my clothes.

On the jet, I sat next to your brother. I closed my eyes, ready to dose off.

---

3 person pov

Arriving in London, 2 black SUVs were waiting for the family. The driver took their bags and put them in the trunk. After 30 minutes of driving, the car stopped in front of a gorgeous house and gigantic too. Before the front door, there stood 4 men; the same men that were at Y/n’s graduation.

The driver opened her door as she followed her dad to the gentlemen. They all shook hands and one man looked at her with a smirk on his face.

They led the Richards inside. Lucas stayed in the living room while her parents and herself went to the office of Dominic Holland.

“Hello Y/n, I am happy to finally meet you. Oh! And congratulation on your degree. Well, let’s talk business now, okay?” she didn’t know what he meant by business, and he could tell by the look on her face.

“What do you mean business?” Y/n asked him with a lot of arrogance. First of all, she just woke up, and then people want to talk business.

“That attitude is not needed. Here is the document that you need to sign,” he handed her a bundle of paper.

“I do not need to sign that document imagine it says something about my organs or something so please enlighten me on what this stupid sheet of paper is about!” her anger was showing.

“Y/n, your parents have signed this contract. This contract says that you will marry Tom after your studies because the mob will be more powerful together.”

“What? Who even is this, Tom? And why did you agree with this?” she looked at her parents with disgust. How could they just arrange a marriage for the profit of the mob?

“Darling I am Tom,” a voice said. She could hear his footsteps and he sat down next to her.

“And you married me to un batard?” she was in shock.

Tom Holland, London’s most famous player. He probably had children he doesn’t even know about.

“Love, I am not really a bastard. I am a romantic who puts a lot of focus on my job,” he told her while looking into her eyes.

She looked at her mother and Amanda had tears in her eyes, but she mouthed at Y/n: “please sign it”

With anger, she put her signature and she took the ring, which was on the table, and put it on her ring finger. Tom already had his ring on. He looked at her, he looked at how she stormed out of the room not knowing where to go. His dad gave him a sign to follow her.

“Show me to my room and leave me alone,” she was on edge of tears. Her whole life just took a turn how would she ever work if she is married to someone in the mob. How would anyone even want to be her client?

Spacious, that was a good word to describe her room but apparently, that was also Tom’s room, she couldn’t be left alone.

“Don’t hate me. I won’t be in your way; you have your own office down the hall but don’t blame our marriage on me.”

She hated him. She just wanted him to go to freaking Antarctica and die there.

opinion??

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