#me? refraining from a kneeling innuendo? shocked.

[agntkennedy]

" Judgement draws near. Kneel, and I may yet show mercy. " ---- @lasplaga​

the storm raging the way it does outside only matches the feeling in leon’s heart. anger. frustration. the only thing stopping him is his own determination. failure isn’t an option, it never has been. it’s the one thing that keeps him from stopping. and there the lord is, trying to pry the sensation from the agent as if he ever would. they’re both aware that the blonde is headstrong. that nothing will stop him. the determination he harbors will send him directly into the ground. it’ll be his demise, be it now or much later in his life.

mentally, leon’s counting his bullets. he has ten in play, and blue eyes are just watching carefully. “ pretty sure your definition of mercy and mine are vastly different than each other, “ he points out, eyes narrowing as he just watches the lord -- looking for an opening that might only be a second long.. eye contact is made once again and the frustration that leon harbors is abhorrent. 

“ mercy isn’t using everyone as puppets with parasites, for the record. “ unsure if he has another chance, he shoots two bullets directly behind him into a crippling pillar to at least try to distract so he could make the move to lunge out of the situation. this was a distraction to keep leon even further from wherever they were keeping ashley. 

[ninthcircleofprythian]

Unbound

Part One - They Don't Know About Us

Series Summary - Not having a mating bond didn't stop the love Azriel and Celeste have for each other or their commitment. When an unknown magic lingering from Celeste's past causes her to lose all memories of the last century, will they be able to rebuild their life without a bond tethering them together?

Word Count - 4.2k

Authors Note - This is part one of a continuing series. This first part is establishing background. Fluffy with a pinch of angst.

Warnings - references to past domestic abuse/injury, some sexual innuendo.

“I hope you’re prepared to be annihilated this year Az,” Rhys drawled as he pulled gloves over his slender hands. “And please — let’s refrain from being petty in your concession speech.” 

Azriel flashed a furtive smile. “I’m not even worried. Cassian’s the sore loser – not me.”

“I am not!” Cassian lashed out a sideways punch at Az’s shoulder, which he effortlessly dodged before kicking out and knocking Cassian leg right from under him.

Cas landed in a hard wallop on his back onto the snow covered ground. “Hey! Watch the wings!” With a nimble move he popped straight to standing again and shook the icy crystals from his webbed appendages. “What’s the count up to now anyway?” He directed at Azriel. “Three hundred and thirty something isn’t it?”

“Three hundred and thirty three this year. When I win.” Az adjusted his own winter leathers in preparation to begin. “Feels like a lucky number,” he added, rubbing his siphon clad hands together and blowing into them, his shadows responding to his breath and scattered before him.

“You know what they say Az, good things come in threes.” Cassian punched out again, hitting both Az and Rhys in the shoulders in jest, his boisterous laugh rang out in echo across the empty clearing they stood along the edge of. 

Rhys let the punch land, rocking back slightly and laughing in return. “Alright, we all know the rules here. Let’s get this show started.”

“Well–what’s the verdict?” Feyre exclaimed, popping her head up from the sofa as the three imposing Illyrians filed into the River House foyer. “Do you have a surprise for me?” She narrowed a questioning look at her mate who stood behind the sofa, hands clasped behind him. Rhys’ normally hidden wings were out on full display which she assumed was a sign of the news. 

“My money is on Cassian,” said Mor cooly from where she was painting her nails a shocking red on the coffee table. 

Rhys gave a sly noncommittal nod. “Hmm. I don’t know.” He shrugged his shoulders without releasing his grasp behind him. 

“C’mon! Let me see!” Feyre kneeled on the sofa seat reaching over the back and playfully grabbing at Rhys’ arms to get a look at his hands. He halfheartedly attempted to evade her before bringing up his hands showing empty palms. 

“Sorry darling, maybe next year.” He bent over and planted a wet kiss in the center of her forehead. 

“I knew it!” shouted Mor. “Pay up Nes.” She held her freshly manicured hand out toward Nesta sitting in the chair nearby. Nes slid an icy glance up from the pages of her novel and then immediately went back to reading.

“Wait–you bet against me?!” Cassian wailed, flying up from his slouch in the other armchair. “Your own mate?! Gods spare me!” He promptly flopped back into the seat, adjusting his wings with a loud thump.

Feyre immediately snapped her gaze back and forth between Cassian and Azriel, who had nipped into the dining room to snag one of Elain’s pastries. 

“Alright, fess up you two. I want my present.” Feyre huffed, a dramatic pout and hands on hips like a toddler.

The ridiculous tradition had begun one year when Rhys got the idea to craft a trophy for the winner of the annual Solstice snowball fight, which just happened to be him that particular year. The tiny pewter cup had been plastered with gold foil and wrapped into a lavish package which Rhys had then presented to his mate as her birthday gift. He had tried to pass it off as his only gift before whipping out a lovely necklace to adorn Feyre’s neck instead. Every year since, the tiny cup had been passed off from that year’s winner to Feyre as her first official birthday gift of the year. Feyre, Mor and Nesta however had started their own tradition of betting money on who they predicted would be the winner. 

Sauntering past the sofa arm and settling into the empty half, Azriel balanced his pastry with one hand and reached into his leather’s chest pocket with the other. 

“Happy Birthday Feyre,” he said quietly with a smile and passed off the cup into her waiting hands. The darkened strands of shadow curled excitedly around the small gift as if they were showing it off before quickly returning to his fingers.

“Oh Az! Congrats! You shouldn’t have,” she said with mock humility. “No but really,” her face turned serious. “You shouldn’t have. I’ll never hear the end of it.” Feyre shot her mate a teasing look as Az threw his head back and laughed, mouth still full of pastry.

“And you thought I was the sore loser.” Cassian grumbled playfully.

“Oh Cas,” Feyre started gently, “if it makes you feel any better my money was on you too.”

Rhys choked in surprise on the whiskey he was sipping as he leaned on the mantle. “What the fuck! Seriously Feyre?” 

Az threw his head back further this time, nearly dropping the plate from his lap and let loose a deep belly laugh. 

From the other side of the room Cas pointed his fist at Rhys as if to bump it from a distance. “Solidarity brother.” Turning his attention to his other brother on the sofa, “And I don’t know what you find so funny over there. In case you didn’t notice – that means no one bet on you.”

Nesta had finally closed her book, nestling it next to her in the chair and joined the conversation. “Az was too obvious a choice,” she stated, her hard face showing no sign of a smile. “Betting on the underdogs gives a higher payout.” 

Cassian made a throaty gurgling noise as he mimed stabbing himself in the heart and flexed his wrist. “Twist a little harder, why don’t you Nes.” 

“Underdog huh?” Rhys quipped from over his whiskey glass, his violet eyes flaring a bit.

“I would have won, you know,” Cassian argued. “If it wasn’t for Az’s unfair advantage I would have totally been victorious.”

“And what exactly was my ‘unfair advantage’ Cas?” Snaking lines of shadow writhed down his legs as Azriel lengthened his posture into a relaxed lounge.

“C’mon brother. Don’t play dumb. It’s time to fess up.” Cassian’s eyes twinkled with hints of a secret knowledge. 

“I assure you, I have no idea what you are talking about,” Az answered lazily.

Mor began fanning her hands in the air in order to dry the second coat of her polish. “Let’s hear it then, Cassian. If there was foul play we should know.” 

“I think Az was right, Cassian.” Rhys chuckled to himself. “You are the sore loser.”

“Oh c'mon Rhysie darling,” Cassian teased. “I know a mating bond chafe when I see one. I remember ours well.”

Everything stopped. Any rustling or whispering or shifting of bodies abruptly halted. Mor’s fanning paused in mid-air, hands hanging comically in front of her face. Even breathing seemed to be on pause. At least it was for Azriel, as all eyes in the room fell upon him. He didn’t even notice the shushing whisper of his shadows curled around his face trying to tell him something because all he could hear was the slamming of his heartbeat in his ears. And he wasn’t convinced that everyone else couldn't hear it either.  

“What exactly do you mean by chafe, Cassian?” Nesta broke in.

“Oh, so you can give it but you can’t take it?” Cassian quipped as he stood to cross the room. “I don’t mean anything by it, my love.” Dipping his frame he extended his arms in an attempt to embrace his mate. She very quickly shot out one palm, planting it in the center of his chest and shoved. 

“And what exactly about me having a mating bond would be unfair?” Azriel rumbled darkly, sitting rigidly upright now.

Cassian’s head whipped in Azriel’s direction. “That’s not what I meant,” he said tensely as he made his way back to his chair next to the sofa. Then softening his voice, “You know that’s not what I meant.” Cas reached out and placed a hand to Az’s knee.

“So what did you mean?” Az responded, his tone menacing.

“All I meant was that with Rhys and I, we all knew about our bonds before the annual fight. We all knew what we were walking into. You could have told us in advance,” Cassian’s hand squeezed Az’s knee gently. “Level the playing field a bit.” Cassian winked with a laugh for the benefit of everyone listening, but leaned in with another squeeze. Lowering his voice to a soft pitch he said, “You could have told us.” He smiled sadly before dropping his hand and Azriel’s gaze.

“A mating bond?” Feyre asked astounded. “Az? Is it true?”

“Who is she? Do we know her?” Mor chimed in quick succession.

“A secret lover? How scandalous. How long have you been hiding her away?” Nesta asked dreamily, thinking what a good plot to a romance novel this would make.

The questions erupted in a flurry. 

“There is no bond.” Azriel said flatly, fortifying his face into an unreadable cover.

Feyre sighed out the breath she had been holding and rubbed her hand on Azriel’s forearm. Mor’s fanning resumed at a slower pace, her eyes still fixed on Azriel gauging his mood. Rhys still stood languidly against the mantle wearing a similarly unreadable mask.

“No bond–,” Nesta said lowly. “But there is someone isn’t there?” Her hard stare penetrated into Azriel as he met it. Ever since he had seen her emerge from that bog long ago as a frightful Goddess of Death, he swore she could see things in him that no one else could. 

It was true he had once yearned for a mating bond so badly that he thought he’d rather retreat into his own tortured mind than live without one. But the time after meeting his love had changed that. From the time she had first started entering his circle as an acquaintance to the time they were inseparable as lovers, Azriel had come to find that she was worth more than every mating bond he was never granted.

He held Nesta’s stare just a moment too long. A shiver spread through his wings and he pulled a sharp inhale through his nose. There was no use lying about it. He had indeed kept her a secret for some time now but they had both already agreed to make it public, they just hadn’t exactly decided when yet. 

The length of time it took Azriel to answer Nesta’s question led all the eyes in the room to shift back to him. 

“Yes.” Azriel said and heard Mor gasp, also noticing how Rhys’ whiskey glass remained touching his lips but he wasn’t swallowing. “There is someone.”

“I knew it.” Mor whispered breathlessly.

“No you didn’t, Mor,” Feyre shot. “You always say that.” Turning to Azriel next to her she flashed him a beautifully authentic smile. “We are happy for you Az. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Rhys had broken his frozen stance and moved lithely over to the small bar cart in the corner. He held a glass out to Cassian and then turned to do the same to Azriel. “We are very happy for you Az,” he offered out the heavy crystal whiskey glass matching the one in his own hand. “Cheers brother.”

Azriel accepted the drink, tipping it gently towards the one in Rhys’ hand until they clinked together. 

“May the Cauldron bless you both,” Cassian added genuinely as the motion of tapping glasses was repeated between them.

“You should invite her to Solstice dinner tonight.” Mor uttered from the floor.

“Yes!” squealed Feyre “Az, invite her! If she is free that is.”

Az brought the whiskey to his mouth and drained the glass in one gulp. “We’ll see,” he said through the burn.

“Yes, if she’s free, please do invite her tonight.” Rhys offered. “And let’s hope she is free, or I might never hear the end of it.” He winked a teasing wink at his mate, who then belted out a ringing belly laugh of her own. 

“No. He won’t” Feyre agreed. Azriel couldn’t help but smile to himself at that, knowing it was entirely true.

Celeste sat hugging her knees on the sofa in her apartment listening intently, wide-eyed at Azriel’s recollection of the conversation that had taken place earlier that morning.

“Oh! This is so, so good Az. No really, it’s delicious,” she crooned, bouncing in her seat on the sofa. “We couldn’t have planned it better ourselves! They are going to be so surprised!” 

He listened with amused distraction as she began plotting and planning the whole thing, exacting how they would make their grand reveal. As she jotted down ideas and paced around the small apartment living room, he could only focus on her and not her words. 

In her flurry of excitement she had swept her dark brown curls up atop her head and out of the way, exposing the soft expanse of her neck and the whole of her face. His eyes lingered along the scar that traversed her features, beginning its snaking path in her right eyebrow cleaving it entirely in two. Barely missing the corner of her eye, it continued over the bridge of her nose, through the flesh of her left nostril and slipped down into the plump pillow of her top lip. Although it had been healed for decades now, it was still fiery bright red in color against her lightly tanned skin. 

The scar itself had never bothered Az. It did nothing to detract from Celete’s beauty and charm. It was the origin of the injury that had his blood boiling. The mark was a relic of her former partner. A vile and cruel male who had enacted punishments upon her for any perceived slight. The scar came about after one of the times Celeste had attempted to escape him. Ever since Azriel had first heard her recount a particularly awful recollection to Nesta after walking in on a girls night in the House of Wind, he had attempted to find the man named Tyrik. As spymaster, Azriel might have abused a few of his court powers in order to do so. Every lead for the last three decades ended in a dead end. One day though, Azriel was convinced that Tyrik would be the one dead.

Azriel mentally tugged his thoughts away from that male before the anger began showing in his body language. His hazel eyes continued to trail Celeste across the room, still pacing animatedly. How anyone could hurt this wonderful female before him, he would never understand. He answered the flurry of questions Celeste asked him in quick succession and offered his opinion on how things should be timed for the surprise. 

“Oh. Oh, Cauldron boil me!” Celeste suddenly exclaimed with a squeak. “I have to pick a different outfit!”

Jumping up from the sofa across from where he sat, she wound her way around the coffee table with ease. Grabbing his face between her two hands with more force than she intended she yelped out, “Az–oh! Sorry. But I need your help.” Planting a quick kiss to his lips, she was already scurrying down the hall before she finished. “Don’t go anywhere. You have to help me pick. Wait there!”

“I’d rather watch,” he shouted back. Her sharp laughter rang back down the hallway. 

Az just chuckled to himself as he heard her rummaging around the tiny closet in her bedroom. Alone in the now quiet living room, he began to think about how much she had changed since he first laid eyes on her. The version of Celeste he had met in a dark tavern was a stark difference to the Celeste that had just bounced off frantically.

She had been working in a shabby tavern on the outskirts of the city. It was where he went when he didn’t want to engage in the ravelry of Rita’s with the rest of his friends. Azriel had quickly picked up on the fact that her feisty attitude with the male customers wasn’t an attempt at playing hard to get or to garner increased tips. As spymaster he recognized it immediately for what it was – a defense mechanism. She piqued his interest like a puzzle he wanted to solve. In typical Azriel fashion however, he kept to the shadows, never approaching her or striking up conversation. Only silently observing. 

It wasn’t until Celeste had met Nesta on one of her nights off years ago, drinking alone at Rita’s, that he had even entertained the possibility of knowing her. Their blossoming friendship had carried her into his circle with increasing frequency until it was nearly every other day that they were in each other's presence for one reason or another.

Azriel’s private struggle over a lack of a mating bond and his terrible habit of choosing unavailable love interests kept him at an emotional distance however. He had joined group nights out and laughed shyly at Celeste’s jokes with others without ever attempting to grab her attention. From the fringe of their friend group he had watched as Celeste transformed from the defensive and harshly playful female he first noticed into a confident, easygoing, empathetic and kind friend.

Once she had begun to discover her healing abilities, Rhys had generously offered to send her to Dawn Court for extensive training. As her time away from Velaris turned from weeks into months, Azriel had begun to realize what was missing from his life. Her. 

Every missed opportunity to approach her on his own and every gap in conversation she had purposely left open to him replayed over and over in his mind. He mentally kicked himself over the fact that he wasted so much time pining over others in the past. 

The week of her return from Dawn, Azriel had commandeered the healer rotation schedule from Madja under “official court business”. The first date that he had seen her name penned on the calendar was when he enacted his plan. One well acted slip during training with Cassian and the priestesses that morning left him with a nasty gash along his forearm and a healer was called to the House of Wind. 

The minute she laid her light supple hands along his deep golden skin he had nearly lost all nerve and backed out entirely. Minutes of silence on his part passed as she cleaned and stitched and bandaged, talking all the while to fill the void. When the last wrap of bandage was taped down and she had started to pack up her supplies, he rushed into action before he could lose his nerve again. 

“Celeste?”

“Hmm?” she purred softly, still packing her things.

“Would you join me for dinner tonight? Just the two of us I mean.” He stammered nervously. “Like – like a date.”

Her hands had stilled atop her bag after clasping it shut before she slowly lifted her gaze to him. Those dark tawny eyes meeting his had sent his pulse into palpitations but the smile that spread across her lovely face had threatened to stop his heart entirely.

She released a laughing sigh that was like the calming breeze after a storm. “I thought you would never ask,” she answered. 

The best part of the entire plan, according to Celeste, was that Azriel’s someone had already been invited to Solstice dinner well before Rhys and Feyre had extended their invitation through Az. Being a part of Nesta’s circle of girlfriends had left Celeste with a standing invitation for the last few years. 

“Are you sure no one has any idea?” Celeste questioned as she stood by the bed toweling her still wet hair.

“I’m sure about everyone,” he answered, calculating mentally. “Except Nesta. You really don’t think she would tell Cassian first if she thought it was you?”

“Absolutely not,” Celeste insisted. “She would have approached me about it before ever mentioning it to him. I’m positive.”

“And what makes you so sure about that?” He peered at her quizzically.

“Have you ever taken a peek at the books she’s always lending me?” Celeste raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes. The scar that spanned the entirety of her face tightened with her animated expression. “She would have come running to me first for all the details. She would have wanted to know all about—” she pulled her hands apart in front of her before throwing her arms out fully “ — your wingspan.” She flashed a wink before ramping herself up into a fit of giggles. 

Az let out a shocked huff of a laugh before pulling his palm down his face, color rising to his cheeks. “Mother above,” he sighed. 

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, Celeste started shooing him off the bed with her towel. “Az, you have to get going. The shop will be closing soon and they said they are holding the rings for us. Go!”

“Alright, alright. I’m going,” he teased with his hands up in playful defense. He pushed himself up to stand and then gracefully swooped his arms around Celeste’s waist, pulling her body against his. “A kiss goodbye at least?”

“You’re coming right back,” Celeste narrowed her gaze in a comical frown but leaned in with sincerity, brushing her mouth gently over his before nipping at his bottom lip. Her eyes darkened with promise, “Hurry.”

The promise of that word hung in the air as Az grabbed his coat and headed out of the apartment. Unfortunately he knew that he wouldn’t be able to join in on that promise, at least not before dinner. He had to stop home for one last thing after the shop and his return would cut it close to when they had timed their departures. 

Kicking off from the cobblestones on the corner in front of the apartment building Az launched into the air. He made quick work of locating the jewelry shop just a short flight away. It wasn’t the one that Rhys often frequented for his mate’s jewels but it was the only one open this late on Solstice night. It didn’t matter to Azriel though, as long as Celeste was happy.

She had gotten this idea in the final hour of their planning, which had forced them to rethink nearly the entire plan. The joy that had radiated from her at the thought of being able to pull it off was well worth the hassle. Azriel had been sent out in search of an open shop that could fulfill their request last minute which luckily didn’t take as long as he thought it would have. A pile of coin and two hours later he was walking out of the shop, the proud owner of two simple and plain gold bands. 

Azriel had insisted that they didn’t have to rush, he would give her the commitment ceremony of her dreams if that’s what she wanted. Celeste had teased him back that he could still do that for her even if their new plan went smoothly. Committing to each other was something they had spoken about before at great length. Their feelings for each other, mating bond or not, were serious and true. 

After arranging the pickup of the rings, she had told him very seriously that this is what she wanted. She didn’t want a huge party or ice sculptures. The fact that this was a surprise to everyone involved was thrilling enough. The only thing she wanted was to declare themselves committed in front of their family and to slip that ring on his finger. Celeste had even proposed the idea to adopt the usual mortal terms of husband and wife. 

“I like the sound of ‘husband’ so much better than ‘partner’,” she had said. “It feels better rolling off the tongue.” 

Azriel’s chin had dipped in a seductive grin. “There are other things I can think of that feel better rolling off the tongue.”

Slipping the newly purchased ring box into his inner coat pocket, Azriel kicked off once more, heading to his townhouse before circling back to meet Celeste one last time. This flight was longer, as he didn’t live in the downtown district like Celeste did, but instead closer to the quieter outskirts of the city. 

He glided smoothly through the drafts above the clouds. The path between the two dwellings was something he knew by muscle memory having flown it so many times over the last many months. Az allowed his mind to wander as it usually did in times of quiet. Spending so much of his life inside his own head had made the habit a hard one to break. 

Celeste’s face alight with excitement was the first thing that popped up. He felt his heart clench as he sifted through all the expressions and laughs she had produced tonight as she plotted out everything. The fact that the reveal of their relationship hadn’t happened until now was not lost on him. It was his hesitancy that had delayed this moment – her moment. The throb of guilt, knowing that he could have allowed Celeste this joy sooner, sent his heart into a squeeze.

[liberty-barnes]

The Swear Jar

Part 1 of The Jar Series

Mob Boss!Tom Holland x Single Mom!Reader

Prompt: “I've never said a single fucking swear word in my whole damn life”

Warnings: swearing obviously, Tom’s a mob boss so there’s that, there’s like, one sexual innuendo but also ??? not really??? idk

Word Count: 4k (i really need to learn to write short things)

Estimated Reading Time: 16 minutes

A/N: It’s the pic guys, I can’t help it.

Edit: Wow, you guys actually liked this! So since many of you asked, a part will be coming out soon, maybe more, we’ll see. So if you wanna be added to my “The Swear Jar” Taglist, just ask me or add yourself directly through the link in my bio!

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

The bell above the door to the diner chimed and you perked up, smiling brightly at the young teenage couple.

“Gracie! Stella! It’s so good to see you again!”

The girls greeted you with the same amount of enthusiasm and proceeded to order their usual meal.

“Your hair’s really pretty Stella! You look like a mermaid now!”

“Thanks, Millie! I took your advice and went with blue instead of purple.”

The young girl smiled and captured the couple’s attention by showcasing her current work in progress.

Millicent Rose (Y/l/n) was your five-year-old daughter. She had brown hair, falling on her shoulders in nice large curls, and big (y/e/c) eyes, a perfect match to yours. She loved drawing (the diner walls were crawling with her masterpieces) and pretty hair, especially if it was soft. 

Her bubbly and fearless personality sometimes frightened you, but you mostly came to terms with the fact that your daughter was a social butterfly and took full advantage of the small diner to interact with as many people as she could.

You watched with a fond smile as Millie explained what she had been drawing to the girls, mentioning every little detail while they praised her good work. The young brunette had a gift to make anyone love her.

Soon enough, their large milkshake to share was finished and Lou, the owner and cook, was all done with the food so the girls sat down at a booth and Millie went back to drawing, little feet dangling off the chair and little brows furrowed in concentration. 

As you were refiling Mr and Mrs Lee’s drinks, the bell chimed once more and four men walked in dressed in stylish suits, much too fancy for this place. They sat down at a booth and started talking while you took a deep calming breath.

Oh, fuck me.

You took your notepad and walked over to them, a much too fake smile on your face.

“Good morning gentlemen, what can I get you?”

The table quieted down and you made eye contact with who you knew to be the leader.

“I’ll have a burger with fries and a strawberry milkshake.”

One of the twins said.

“I’ll have the same but with a chocolate milkshake instead.”

The other one added.

“Vegi burger and a coke, please.”

At least the blonde one had some manners. 

Your eyes lifted from the notepad to the leader once again.

“And for you?”

You did your best to ignore the slight tremble in your voice.

“Bacon cheeseburger, fries and a coke, darling.”

“Right away.”

You got out of there as soon as possible, sparing a glance at your daughter to make sure she was still sitting at the counter before entering the kitchen with a panicked expression on your face.

“Lou…”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“You’ve got an order… for the Hollands…”

“Well, shit.”

The Holland family was the oldest and most successful mob in London, extremely rich, dangerous, and seemingly untouchable.

Harry and Sam Holland, the twins, were rumoured to have been behind the Burtons’ death, another famous family known for drug trafficking and other crimes.

Harrison Osterfield, the second in command, was a close family friend, accused of drug trafficking, illegal weapons selling, and other such crimes, though the charges all dropped before the first hearing even took place.

And finally, Thomas Holland, the leader. Arrested for multiple murders, arson, extortion, and a long list of other felonies, but never convicted.

Everyone was scared of them, and the fact that they were eating here was not good for business. 

You ignored the tightness in your chest in favour of helping Lou prepare their food, hoping to do it as fast as possible so the group could leave.

Meanwhile, at the booth, Tom was rolling his eyes at his brothers and friend’s stupidity. 

“Okay, we get it, she’s hot, but you don’t have to talk about it all the fucking time.”

Millie turned her head in their direction and scowled. She stretched a bit to the other side of the counter to take the transparent jar and got down from her chair, making her way to their booth, stomping a bit, which made her Sketchers light up.

The diner watched with curious (and slightly frightened, for the Lees) eyes as the little girl climbed onto the booth next to Harrison, one leg after the other, and kneeled next to the blonde, setting her elbow on the table and stretching so the transparent jar was now sitting in front of Tom.

He looked at it: a lid-less mason jar with a pink bow and right in the front, in a child’s handwriting and pink glittery letters were the words 'Swear Jar’.

“You owe a pound.”

He lifted his head to look at the girl.

“I beg your pardon?”

“When someone says a bad word they have to put a pound in the jar. You said a bad word so you owe a pound.”

“I’ve never said a single fucking swear word in my whole damn life!”

“That’s two more so you have to put three pounds in.”

“Yeah, Tom, put the money in.”

Harrison had his arms around the girl and a smug smile on his face, evidently taking a liking to the young brunette.

“Shut the fuck up Haz, you curse more than I do!”

“Four.”

“Shit.”

That one was not on purpose.

“Five.”

“Okay, okay, jeez, hold on.”

He took out his wallet and took his only five-dollar bill amid all the hundreds.

“Just gonna put the money in this stupid jar.”

“Six.”

“Wha- stupid’s not a swear word!”

“I’m not allowed to say it so yes, it is.”

Tom rummaged around his wallet for a stray pound, reluctantly putting a hundred in after finding nothing.

“Does that mean I’m allowed to say ninety-nine swear words?”

“No paying in advance, everything that’s not the money you owe is a donation.”

“To what foundation?”

“The ‘get Millie new glitter pens’ foundation”

She answered with a smirk and everyone -bar Tom- was pretty much crying at seeing their boss be told what to do by a five-year-old.

“Man, you are so screwed!”

“That’s one pound for you, Mister!”

“Oh shit, right!”

“Two…”

Harry took out his wallet (still laughing his arse off, mind you) and didn’t even try to look for the two pounds, simply putting in a hundred.

Millie’s eyes were focused solely on Tom’s hair. She climbed on top of Harrison, her pink tulle skirt flying behind her and stood on the seat next to the brunette, her hands immediately flying to his hair.

“You have very pretty hair. It’s really soft.”

“Thank you, darling.”

She hummed and kept playing with the soft strands.

“My name’s Tom, and these are my twin brothers Harry and Sam, and my best friend, Haz.”

She looked around for a while, not answering, seemingly lost in thought until she looked back at him and her sparkling (y/e/c) eyes focused on his brown ones.

“Nice to meet you, Tommy. I’m Millie.”

“T-Tommy?”

Sam stuttered out between peels of laughter.

“I don’t like Tom, Tommy’s better. Why are you so shocked Twin Nice?”

Harry looked appalled.

“Why's he Twin Nice?”

“Because you said a bad word and he didn’t, so he’s Twin Nice and you’re Twin Naughty.”

Sam did a little victory dance, bragging about his new nickname to his twin.

The little girl sat down on Tom’s lap and started to play with the black ring on his finger.

“What am I, then?”

She looked up to Harrison from in between Tom’s fingers, still playing with the thick band.

“You’re Thor cause you have pretty eyes and you look really strong.”

To say that the blonde was pleased would be an understatement.

“You, little lady, are my new best friend. We need to come here more often.”

Millie smiled and went back to observing the ring.

“Does this mean you’re married?”

Tom chuckled and shook his head slightly.

“No, it means that I’m a part of the Holland family, like them.”

Everyone around the table showed theirs, a symbol of their high status in the mob.

“So you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Do you live with your mommy?”

“No, I live with these dumbasses in a big house.”

She pushed the swear jar towards him and gave him what could only be described as the 'Disappointed Mom’ look.

“Do you like it?”

“Kind of, sometimes they get on my nerves and I wish they’d rot in Hell, but yeah, it’s not too bad.”

She slapped his hand in reprimand and he internally cursed himself.

“Don’t you miss your mommy?”

“A little, but I see my parents every Sunday for family dinner.”

He answered after placing yet another bill in the jar.

“Parents?”

“Yeah, my mum and dad.”

She hummed.

“I wish I had a dad.”

The boys all stiffened. 

Well, that escalated quickly.

Tom cleared his throat, measuring his words before speaking, for once in his life.

“Do you know what happened to your dad?”

“Mommy says he left cause he wasn’t good like her. She says it’s okay, though, cause we only need each other but my friend Lilly has a mommy and a daddy and she told me that sometimes when her mommy’s sad or tired he’ll do all the grown-up stuff like cook and read her a story while her mommy rests and she’s happier that way. I want my mommy to be happy like that too.”

For Tom, it felt like his cold, dead heart was starting to beat again. This little angel sitting on his lap was asking for something most children already had, not for herself, but for her mother.

“You’re a really good person, Millie.”

“If you stopped saying so many bad words you’d be one too, Tommy.”

The boys laughed yet again and they continued talking for a little while, refraining from any work-related issues for the sake of their newest addition, choosing instead to discuss sports and fighting over who’d be on cleaning duty that Sunday. Three more bills made their way to the jar during that particular discussion, one from each boy (bar Sam because he was on cooking duty, as always), and for once they allowed themselves to relax and simply be, instead of always worrying.

You got out of the kitchen with the men’s orders ready and looked at the end of the counter, planning to check on Millie before walking over to the mobsters’ table. Your brows furrowed when you didn’t find her and you immediately looked towards the girls’ table or the Lees’, finding she wasn’t there either.

“Mommy, over here!”

You followed your child’s voice and your eyes widened once you saw her sitting on the leader’s lap. The smiling leader’s lap.

You quickly made your way to their booth, placing their orders in front of them without even taking your eyes off your daughter.

“Millicent Rose! What have I told you about bothering people when they’re in their booths?”

She looked guilty for half a second but immediately perked up again, ready to defend herself.

“Not to, but Mommy, he said a bad word so I had to take the swear jar to him.”

“And why, pray tell, are you sitting in the gentleman’s lap?”

“His name’s Tommy and he said he didn’t mind and this way I can talk to Thor, Twin Nice and Twin Naughty better.”

Tommy, Thor, Twin Nice, and Twin Naughty?

“Oh, fuck me.”

Millie’s jaw dropped open. She’d never heard you swear before.

“You owe a pound, Mommy.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

You pulled a pound from your pocket and put it in, eyes widening at the amount of money in the jar.

“How in the world?”

“I didn’t have singles so I just put hundreds in. Apparently, it’s a donation to the 'Get Millie new glitter pens’ foundation.”

You set the jar down and shook your head in disbelief.

“I am never letting Harley babysit you ever again.”

She pouted and slumped down, arms crossed adorably in front of her.

“Now come on, let the gentlemen eat their lunch in peace and come get yours.”

She cuddled up to Tom more than before, burying her head in his chest and fisting his shirt, and shaking her head in protest.

“Millie, come on, let’s go. I’m so sorry for the bother sir.”

“It’s no problem, she’s welcome to say for however long she wants.”

The brunette smiled at your daughter and then at you, before the man on his right interrupted.

“Besides, she’s very entertaining. It’s nice to see someone else call Tom out on his bullshit.”

You and Millie threw the blonde matching glares while Tom just pushed the jar towards him.

“You owe a pound, Haz”

“Excuse you Tommy, my name’s Thor.”

He then turned to you with a smug smile and attitude.

“Cause I have pretty eyes like him and look very strong. Don’t you agree with your daughter… (Y/n)?”

He read your name tag and smiled charmingly while you pursed your lips, looking him up and down. You then looked at your little girl.

“You sure?”

“Well, who else has pretty blue eyes?”

“Captain America.”

She light up right away and straightened herself.

“Right! And he looks like Captain America when he was tiny! Thanks, Mommy!”

She then turned to Harrison with a gigantic smile on her face.

“You’re Tiny America now.”

The whole table -bar Haz- laughed and you had to bite your lip not to laugh too, instead linking your hands and looking at the clock.

“Come on Millie, it’s time to eat.”

“Can I eat here with Tommy, please?”

“If you eat here with Tommy I won’t be able to make sure you eat your veggies.”

The man’s heart stuttered when you used his nickname, a strange sense of happiness overcoming him.

“Tommy can check.”

“Mm… I’m not sure if he can check you ate them. He’s not used to your sneakiness.”

“What if I pinky promise to eat my veggies and eat a banana for dessert instead of ice cream?”

It was a struggle to get her to eat fruits and veggies. You usually had to settle for one or the other, so when she spontaneously decided to eat both, you jumped at the opportunity, mob be damned.

“Deal! But no annoying the boys.”

She smiled and nodded, settling comfortably on Tom’s lap, waiting for her food. You took out her plate of chicken nuggets, fries, and green beans, chocolate milkshake to wash it down.

You tried not to let the butterflies in your stomach distract you from your job but the way Tom smiled at your daughter and praised her when she ate all her veggies in a row, wanting to get it over with, made your heart ache, the longing for someone still very much present.

“Have a nice meal.”

You made eye contact with the brunette and blushed at the smile he sent you before waving goodbye at the Lees. The teenage couple had left a bit earlier so the mobsters were now your last customers of the day.

You wiped the kitchen counters and said goodbye to Lou, assuring him that you’d close up by yourself. As soon as he left, you took a deep breath and sighed, unable to stop your smile when you heard your daughter’s laugh carrying through the wall separating you from the group.

“Mommy, we’re done!”

You straightened up and schooled your features before walking over to them, taking away their plates while asking if Millie behaved and if they wanted dessert. The answer to both questions was a yes and so you came back a little while later with chocolate pudding for the twins, caramel ice cream for Harrison, a banana split for Tom, and a miniature one for Millie.

“Since you behaved so nicely you get a little sweetness with your banana.”

Her eyes sparkled and she smiled brightly at you.

“You’re the best mommy ever! I love you!”

“Love you too, baby.”

You turned around, ready to leave, when a voice stopped you.

“Why don’t you sit down with us for a bit? I’m pretty sure that if you wipe that table down one more time you’ll remove the paint.”

You blushed but complied, sitting down next to Harrison and watching as your daughter ate her dessert quickly and quietly, wincing from time to time because of brain freezes. As soon as she was done, she reached for Tom’s right hand. He switched the hand that held the spoon, eating with his left so that Millie could play with the ring on his finger.

Unfortunately for him, he had a bit of trouble eating with his non-dominant hand while holding a child on his lap, leading to a bit of ice cream falling on his shirt.

“Ah, fu-”

You shot him a glare that made him change courses immediately.

“-dge. Fudge.”

Millie clapped and gave him a big, approving smile.

“See, Mommy? He’s making progress!”

“Indeed he is, darling.”

“Oh, this is fucking hilarious!”

The young girl gasped, mouth open comically wide and utter betrayal swimming in her eyes.

“I thought you were nice.”

Sam realized his mistake as soon as she spoke, covering his mouth with his hand as if to stop any more of the offending words from leaving it.

“You owe five pounds.”

“What? Why? I only said one swear word!”

She shook her head in disapproval, arms crossed in front of her chest, and pushed the jar towards him.

“You made me believe you were nice so your trickster-y will cost you four extra pounds.”

You shook your head, smile firmly plastered on your face as you watched Sam pull out a hundred dollar bill with a pout on his lips. It was quite endearing, really.

“So, (Y/n), tell us about you.”

You locked eyes with the brunette once again, piercing gaze seemingly looking through you.

“I’m afraid there’s not much to tell, Mr Holland. I’m not a very interesting person.”

Your voice was soft, your words calculated. You knew that these men could kill you in the blink of an eye.

“No uninteresting person could have raised such a perfect little angel.”

He smirked and Millie looked at you with a smug smile.

“See, he said I was an angel.”

Life be damned, it’s not worth living if your daughter has an ego the size of Russia. That would most definitely come back to bite you in the ass.

“Yeah, that’s cause he hasn’t had to deal with you in all your nightly glory.”

She put her tongue out and snuggled deeper into Tom’s chest.

“Well, for one, how did you find yourself working here?”

He got the conversation back on you and you felt slightly intimidated with the whole table’s eyes on little old you.

“Customers are nice, I earn enough money for us to get by, owner’s nice, the school’s at the end of the street, and Millie gets to stay with me when she’s not there.”

Even though he was focused on you, you noticed the way he held your daughter close to his chest, his bigger frame completely enveloping her smaller one. She still hadn’t let go of his hand and kept playing with the ring on his finger. Seeing how calm and caring he was being with your daughter calmed you down and the more questions you answered, the more comfortable you became.

“How can you work at a dinner and not like vanilla milkshakes?”

Sam looked horrified at that, and you just shrugged dismissively.

“I never really liked when vanilla was too present. Like, if you used it to just enhance everything else you know, make it taste better, then sure, but just vanilla isn’t really my style.”

Tom took a sharp breath in and tried to stop his mind from wandering at the possible double meaning of your words. Instead, he chose to focus on the little girl on his lap.

Until he noticed she was asleep, that is.

He smiled a little and shifted her so she was resting more comfortably on his lap. Unfortunately for him, that caught your attention.

“Oh my, is she asleep? I’m really sorry.”

“No worries, though we should probably get her to bed so she doesn’t wake up with a stiff neck.”

For the umpteenth time, you pushed down the butterflies upon hearing him say 'we’ and being so careful with your daughter.

You took the remaining dishes and went to the kitchen, putting them in the wash and turning on the machine, leaving it to run so tomorrow morning you’d be able to put everything away. You went back in to clean the booth and Tom practically shoved a hundred dollar bill in your hand, ignoring your protests.

He waited for you by the door while you finished closing up, and you extended your arms towards him when you finished.

“Thank you for everything today, but you must be getting tired, I can take her from here.”

He gently pushed your arms down.

“Let me take you home, please, I don’t like the idea of you having to carry her all on your own.”

You hesitantly nodded and he guided you to his car. It’s only then that you noticed the other three had left. You settled on the passenger side of his black Audi and he handed you Millie, closing the door softly as to not startle her. He then entered the driver’s side and started the car. You gave him directions to your apartment building and within five minutes, he parked the car right out front.

Ever the gentleman, he insisted on carrying the little girl. Knowing by now that there wasn’t much you could do to protest, you agreed and led him up the four flights of stairs to your door.

“Sorry 'bout the mess.”

“It’s no problem, darling, I quite like it.”

You turned your head for a brief second, as if asking him to elaborate while still leading him to your daughter’s room.

“The fact that it’s messy means that someone lives here, that this isn’t just some house, it’s a home. My house is always pristine but that’s because no one’s ever there to actually use it as something other than a glorified B&B.”

He laid Millie down on the bed and you pulled the covers over her. You both stood side to side for a little while, just watching her breathe.

“That sounds really lonely.”

“Yeah…”

Another minute passed by with no words coming from either of you.

“You raised an amazing daughter, (Y/n).”

“You’re a good man, Tom.”

Hearing those unfamiliar words coming out of your mouth almost brought tears to his eyes. He was always used to being called a ruthless mobster, cold-blooded killer, or many other names that all meant the same thing: monster. But you called him a good man, and the sincerity in your voice was almost overwhelming.

He cleared his throat and straightened up, making you turn towards him.

“I should probably go… You should get some rest as well.”

You nodded and walked him to the door. In a split-second decision, you leaned up and kissed his cheek, locking eyes with him afterwards.

“If you ever need an escape, or just wanna hang out somewhere different, our door’s always open.”

That made a smile take over his face and he kissed your forehead.

“Thank you, darling.”

And as you watched him round the corner, only your back visible to you, you couldn’t help but feel like this wouldn’t be the last time you ever saw Tom Holland.

i have mixed feelings concerning this story but at least i have ideas for a part two (if i ever decide to make one)

don’t forget to reblog, comment or like if you feel like it <3

[youreallyshouldtalkmore]

Your Best Nightmare_T’Challa Version

Look, I rarely give disclaimers and such but because of the nature of this fanfic, I will say that if the idea of an of our Wakandan husbands as psycho stalker serial killers bother you then this isn’t the fanfic for you. I have plenty of lighter fanficsor even supernatural related fanfics if you aren’t interested in a walk on the dark side. This is about as dark as I’m gonna get this season…

The T’Challa version of the Your Best Nightmare series….

(Tie-in Prologue, if you missed it....)  

Tags: @chaneajoyyy​

“Ahh, you’re awake....”

You jumped and twisted to see a man who was standing in front your window, one hand behind his back. The other hand had parted your curtain to look out.  He just stood there looking out without even looking at you.  Even from across the room you see that he was wearing all black, blending in with the shadows. You could see all the jewelry that he wore which was the only color in the darkness.

Heartbeats of moments passed….

“How...how’d you get in here? Who are you?” you demanded harshly once the shock wore off.  

Slowly the man turned to face you, this time locking both hands behind his back. The clinging of his jewelry as he moved made you wince as it seemed loud to your ears.

He inclined his head, “My name is T’Challa. T’Challa Udaku.”

You opened your mouth before closing it. Then you opened it again. It was that easy? He was in your house and he was giving you his name that easily? You stared at him incredulously.

“Please, there is no need to be so frightened”, he spoke softly.

Suddenly a sense of anger welled up as you snapped, “Nigga, you in my house. Shouldn’t I be concern?”

You could feel the quirk his lips from across the room, “I can appreciate your concern, Y/N.”

You froze. How did he know your name?

T’Challa took a step towards you, “I’ve come with a purpose, Y/N. I’ve come to give you your best nightmare.”

You blinked, “Don’t you mean my worst nightmare?” you asked.

T’Challa began to walk towards you slowly. You could see the small teasing smile on his face, “No….I’m aware of what I said. I meant your best nightmare.”  

You’d never witness an intruder be so relaxed in an house that he has just intruded on. It threw you for a loop. He almost acted like….he belonged in here and that there was nothing out of the ordinary happening.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” you quipped.

A part of you was aware that that is not the time to get into debates on the usage of the English language with an intruder in your apartment. You eyes shifted your phone that was on the table next to the couch. Your eyes darted to him and suddenly you sprung picking the phone up only to realize that…..the cord was cut.

Your eyes bulged as you half kneeled on the couch, in a turn intending to dart away but the cut cord gave you pause. You snapped out of it when you heard a chuckle. You snapped your gaze towards the sound.

T’Challa was chuckling as he took a few more steps towards you, “Ahh, I guess I should have told you earlier. I cut the cords to the phones in here. They won’t work. Oh, and don’t bother about your cell phone, whereever it is….I’ve blocked your internet as well.”

You dropped the phone on the couch and sprang up.

“And if you run I will have no choice but to do things I have no wish to. Mrs. Ginger seems a sweet lady. I hate to see anything happen to her. I have no wish to disrespect the elderly…..”

Your gave him a slack jawed gaze. He knew about your neighbor? You shuddered to think what this psycho would do do her.  Your shoulders lowered as you faced him. You didn’t want to involve anyone else in this building.

Silence drifted a long moment.

You breathed hoping to keep your composure. You prayed your voice didn’t shake when you finally managed to ask, “What do you want?”

He didn’t respond and for a long moment he only looked at you. Then you saw his lips parted as his eyes become hooded and for the first time you were aware just how little you were wearing. You reached up and crossed your arms over your chest as he spoke lowering his hand.

“Forgive me for not waiting until you were properly attired but I found I could not wait any longer. This night will be special….. for both of us….”

He unlocked his hands from his back and brought them to the front. You gasped and stumbled back when you realize he was holding a large butcher knife, other hand toying with the tip.

At your stumble he darted forward once almost to catch you but caught himself, “Please take care, my Queen. I don’t want you to damage yourself.” A small smirk flitted over his features, “At least not before I have my way with you.”

You swallowed a sense of nausea, your words becoming weaker and weaker with each sentence,”What are you talking about? What’s supposed to happen tonight?”

“T’Challa…”

“Eh?”

Said male gave a genuine smile, “Please let me hear my name from your lips. It’s T’Challa.”

You stared at him. Apparently you stared so long that T’Challa smile was turning into a frown, “Y/N….I know you heard me. Please say my name. Don’t make me ask again.”

You swallowed, “T’Challa…..”

At his name, you saw his eyes fluttered closed briefly. He murmured mostly to himself, “It sounds as sweet as I had hope from your lips, my love. Say it again. My full name. T’Challa Udaku. Say it.”

You shivered but spoke, “T’Challa Udaku….”

You could see the shiver that overcame his body as he shut his eyes, stiling his movements. Your eyes darted to the knife that he froze with his thumb over the tip. You swallowed and took this moment to move back silently.

One step.

Two step...until you saw the door…..

“Please don’t do that, my love.”

You exhaled loudly and jumped, head spinning to the intruder who had yet to open his eyes. He continued, “I hate for us to get off on the wrong foot. It won’t bode well for our relationship.”

You bristled, “Relationship? What relationship? We don’t have a relationship. I don’t know you and you don’t know me.”

T’Challa opened his eyes then as he began toying with the tip of the blade again. He cocked his head, “That isn’t strictly true, my love.  Perhaps you don’t know me but I know you.”

His voice went husky as he looked over your form, “And I hope tonight we will get acquainted with one another.” You saw him breath, his dark eyes locking yours eerily, “Because I’ve known you for weeks….”

You were silent a moment as his words filtered through your brain, “Weeks?”

T’Challa gave a  soft smile and a nod. You had to think about his words a moment longer. Weeks? What did he mean? You’ve never seen him before and he’s acting like he has seen you.

Suddenly a light bulb went on and you turned to him. You straighten your back, lowering your arms to ball your hands into fists, “Wait...were you the one that has been watching me all this time?”

T’Challa only chuckled once and you took that as confirmation.

You growled, “Why?”

“Can you blame me? Look at you. I have clearly chosen well. All that fire.” He took another step closer to your as his voice dipped, “I hope…... you burn me with that tonight.”

You ignored every innuendo that statement could be and allowed your anger to fuel you. It was better than fear. You refused to be cowed in your own apartment. Yes, anger was definitely the better option than the cold fear that threatened to swamp you.

You let out a low growl,  “Nigga, you up here in my house like you own this place and you don’t. I pay rent here. Leave and I might not call the police.”

Your blood boiled as all the intruder did was laugh,  “Your so cute, Y/N. I have clearly chosen my Queen well. You are exceeding all my expectations.”

“And for that I am sorry!” you snapped, “Please tell me how I can lower your expectations. I will do it! I will not have some psycho intruder thinking I’m all that.”

Suddenly you felt a whiz and harsh hair pass by your face. It took you a moment to realize that this psycho, faster than you could have registered, raised his right hand and threw the knife, he was holding making it embed in the wall.

After his action has finally registered you turned and looked at the wall, mouth parted and eyes wide open. It was embedded an inch from your head, so close your lips grazed the hilt.  Had his aim been off an inch and you wouldn’t have registered the silver glint until it was embedded in your eye. You shivered staring at the knife behind you.

You tried to keep your composure so that you could think but the longer you stared at the knife, the more your shivers began to turned into shakes. You knees wobbled and you would have fallen straight down to the floor but before the floor could meet you, you found you were being held up. Your eyes stared at the carpet below as it spun. You looked up to realize that T’Challa had caught you and spun you so that he could reach out and pluck the knife from the wall as if no more than plucking a flower in a garden.

There was no smile on T’Challa’s face as he spoke, “Please refrain from insults such as those. I don’t like being called such things. Would you like it?”

It took you a moment to realize why this happened. You thought back to your words. Being called a psycho intruder apparently made him snap.

He shifted you in his arms to wrap his right on around your waist. You felt the cold length of the blade against your thigh and shivered. With his other hand he brought it to the back of your head, before bringing your head in to lay on his shoulder. He rocked you a moment or two.

Regret seemed to ting his words, “Ahh, my love. Forgive me for frightening you. That was never my intent. I would not have your frightened by this night.”

Yet, already the tendrils of fear was coursing through you. Your mouth shut but still you seemed frozen. You hadn't realized that silent tears were coursing down your cheek until T’Challa had pulled you back. With a small moan of his own, he reached up and tenderly wiped away your tears with his fingers.  

“Can you promise to refrain from such insults? A Queen should not say such thing.” He spoke softly his dark eyes boring into yours.

It took a moment for his words to filter and you found yourself nodding jerkily. You felt the tension leave his body and he exhaled a sigh of relief before he smiled, “Thank you.”

“Please let us get back to the wonderful night ahead of us, my love, okay? Ahh, I almost forgot. I brought something just for you. Would you like to see it?

You stared up at him so long that he frowned and pressed his hand to your cheek, “Y/N….come back to me now. Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

You snapped out of it, blinking up at him.

“Your present?” he prompted.

You found yourself speaking your voice cracking, “What...what is it?”

With a soft smile, T’Challa stepped away from you, allowing his hand to fall down your arm to your wrist were he grabbed it. It was a loose shackle but to you it was just that, a shackle.  Since you were half standing in front of the couch, T’Challa maneuvered you until the back of your knees hit it. The automatic response was that you sat straight down, being perched on the edge.

“Very good….” he murmured.

You stared up at him, watching as he cocked his head.

“Please sit comfortably….” he added after a moment of observing you.

With a swallow you managed to tentative sit back a piece.

T’Challa frowned and crossed his arms. Your eyes darted to the loose grip he had on the knife. Despite the situation, there seemed to be some concern in his voice, “Is that comfortable, my love?”

You shifted a moment before finally sitting so your back was against the couch. You shifted in your seat, trying to unbunch your boy shorts.

T’Challa gave you a brilliant smile, “Ahh, that looks more more comfortable, my love. All I want is your comfort you know.”

You still couldn’t help but to feel stiff in your seat. Ironically, you brought this couch because it was fluffy and gave you a warm comforting feeling when you sat in it….however this night it was anything but that. The couch seemed cold and even it’s usually plush cushions seemed like pin needles.  

You looked up at him and he just smiled gently down at you for a long while. After a moment he took a seat next to you, laying his hand on your knee. You sucked in a breath as the only thing between his hand and your knee was the hilt of the knife. The edge of the knife was facing you and it glinted taunting you in the dark. You sucked in a breath, hoping you wouldn’t make a sound.

T’Challa seemed unaware (or was he, you didn’t know), as he reached over and pulled out a rectangular box that you didn’t even notice was in your house. He must have brought it with him because you didn’t remember having it.  

Turning back to you, he held it out to you and you automatically took it. It was wrapped in gold packaging.

“Please, open it. This is for you. I really hope you like it.” said T’Challa.

You could sense the excitement coursing through him. Gingerly with trembling hands you began to inspect it before figuring out how to open it. You had to consciously breathe as you unwrapped the gold packaging and then was left with a white box. Once you opened the box you looked in it before slowly pulling out the item.

It was a pure white rose.  

You blinked.

A part of you would have laughed at the absurdity of it all. An psycho was in your apartment, You’ve had what was it now a 20 minute conversation with him already. You were sitting on your good couch with said psycho sitting next to you, having offered you a rose, like you was his lover or wife or something…..

All this while in your night clothes which was little more than boy shorts and a crop top at 3am in the morning.

You felt a sense of hysterical well up in you and you wanted to badly to find that anger that seemed to have long since fled. That would have been easier to deal with.

As such you just stared at the rose dumbfounded.

T’Challa beamed seemingly proud of himself, “Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s…..beautiful….” Strangely your voice didn’t crack even as quiet as it was.

And it was. Too bad that the situation you were in marred it’s beauty.

“It’s not finished yet though. It’s missing something to be beautiful……” T’Challa spoke.

“What? A ribbon?” you asked.

T’Challa chuckled and turned his body so it faced you, reaching out with his left hand to stroke it once , “No….unfortunately it’s the wrong color.”

“It’s white….” you stated.

“I know but it’s suppose to be red. But for that….” He looked up at you capturing your gaze, “I need your help….”

He looked so earnestly at you and you felt a sense of hysteria well you.

Your voice climbed a octave, “Then why didn’t you buy a red rose?”

You could have slapped yourself. It just hit you that you were having a conversation with this man again.

T’Challa only laughed, “That is the question, isn’t it? I could have. There were some red ones but they didn’t do your beauty any justice.”

He turned in his seat further facing you, pulling his leg up into the couch. You swallowed and shifted but you couldn’t escape the heat of his leg. With his left hand he reached and ran a finger down your cheek, “No, your beauty requires more….polish…..”

He allowed his left arm to fall down as he raised his right expertly flipping the knife so that the tip was now in your face. You sucked in a breath as he laid the tip on your sternum.

Absently he ran it down your body, his eyes trailing his movements, “No, I need you help me paint it red. Only you can paint it the right shade of red….”

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped you making him look up, “Shush, my love. There is no time for fear. Tonight you will become my Queen. Queen Y/N….”

A slow smile formed on his face tainted with mania. Chills shot down your spine.

“Do you think you can help me make this rose the more gorgeous in the world?”

-----

Three days later….

News anchorwoman:  Breaking news….a young woman was found in her apartment home brutally murdered.  So far we know that there hasn’t been any eyewitness testimony as those that the police have spoken to did not see or hear anything.    

We do know that a white rose dipped in her blood was left at the crime scene along with a knife embedded into a mirror which we can only assume is the murder weapon. As usual no fingerprints or DNA was found….