#tom holland royal au

[shellshocklove]

blurb: i want to forget | tom holland

pairing/AU: university AU - modern king!tom holland x female!reader

summary: reunions are always sweet, aren’t they?

warnings: swearing, infertility, smut (+18 mdni!!), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie

word count: 3.1k

a/n: this one’s interesting that’s for sure! very curious to hear people’s thoughts on this tbh! 😳 also this is barely edited. i only read through this once!

series masterlist

“Your Majesty! His Majesty gave orders that he did not want to be disturbed!”,

The muffled voice travelled through the door to Tom’s office. He found himself spending more and more time in here. It was the only place where he could get some peace and quiet, and not be bothered by all the vultures at court clawing for a piece of him.

The door flew open, and his Queen, Genevieve, burst into his office. Quickly, and as discreetly as he could, Tom folded the paper he’d been reading, tucking it away under a notebook.

“Leave us!” she ordered the guards; anger coated her words.

She looked pretty, he noted. Her summer dress ruffled with every stomp towards him. Daisies ruffling in the wind. The sweetness of her outfit, dimming the impact of her scrunched face. With a hard stop in front of his desk she slammed her hand down.

“What’s going on?” Tom queried calmly.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Gen huffed, gesturing toward his desk where a pregnancy test was left in her wake.

Tom’s stomach turned at the sight. Like a crystal ball the small plastic stick would tell him his future. With a shaky hand he picked up the test, feeling the sting of Genevieve’s eyes. Holding his breath, he turned the stick around.

One line. Not pregnant.

Relieved he huffed out a breath, “It didn’t work”.

“Are you seriously happy right now?” Gen spat. “After all the treatments I’ve had to go through, all the hormones and a fucking egg retrieval– you’re fucking happy!?”.

“What­– No,” he lied.

And then Genevieve did something he wished she didn’t. She started crying.

“No, you are!” she sobbed, “Why do you do this to me? Do you know how much pressure I’m under, huh? Do you?”.

“Gen,” Tom tried.

“Don’t ‘Gen’ me” she pointed an angry finger at him, “Nobody cares about me– do you know that? I’m not important like you are, I’m just your wife! All they want from me is a baby. Every time I’m photographed the gossip train starts: ‘She’s gained weight, hasn’t she?’, “That must be a baby bump’” her shoulders shook with exhaustion as she spoke.

Carefully Tom got up from his office chair, taking soft steps around his desk, before he wrapped his arms around her shoulder.

“Ge–“ he cut himself off.

“I’m twenty-six years old, Tom, I should have no problem getting pregnant! I don’t understand why we have to do it like this” Gen cried into his shoulder.

Tom didn’t say anything, he only rubbed her back in soothing circles, trying his best to calm her down. She’d been extra emotional these last couple of months. And he didn’t blame her. He knew the hormone treatment took a toll on her body. He felt ashamed that it had come to this. IVF. In vitro fertilisation. Nothing was wrong with them – the tests said so – but he just couldn’t do it. He was married to Genevieve, and still he couldn’t have sex with her without feeling like he was cheating.

“We still have more embryos,” he started, trying to comfort her, “we can try again next month”.

With a huff she pushed him away, “What’s the point, Tom? You don’t even love me! You’ve never loved me”. A tear hung in a thread from her left eye, waiting to spill.

His silence said it all. He just stared at her in disbelief. She’d never been so straightforward with him before.

“Are you even capable of loving anyone?” she asked him, her words tasted bitter. “You avoid me like the plague, you stay in this room every chance you get… When was the last time you spoke to your brothers? Or Harrison? Or Tuwaine?”.

Tom didn’t know if she was concerned about him, or if she was just accusing him of being heartless. And maybe he was. His heart had been taken a long time ago, and he had yet to get it back.

Staring at her, his wife, he had a hard time forming words. He felt his throat constrict around the words,

“I…”.

“What?” Gen spat.

I didn’t want to get hurt again, he thought. But he couldn’t utter the words. When he, again, said nothing, Genevieve scoffed.

“That’s what I thought!”.

She quickly wiped her tears before she grabbed the pregnancy test off his desk. Turning on her heels, she let his office doors slam behind her.

Sitting back in his chair, Tom wanted to cry. How had his life come to this? With a groan he fell back against the leather, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose to hold back his tears. When colours started to swim before him, he sat back up again. Scanning his desk, his eyes landed on the paper he’d snuck under his notebook earlier.

Pulling it out again his eyes skimmed the words.

“Dear His Majesty the King

On the 23rd of July we invite all prominent alumni to attend our 200th anniversary as a university. The gala will start at 7pm and be held on campus grounds. There will be dinner, drinks, and entertainment. Attire: Formal.”

“No Queen Genevieve tonight, Your Majesty?” The Vice-Chancellor asked Tom as she guided him towards the gala. He’d been ceremoniously met at the entrance by the whole senior cabinet of chancellors, where pictures had been taken and interviews had been held by the press.

“No, unfortunately Her Majesty wasn’t feeling well” he apologised knowing that was far from the truth.

After their fight and the failed IVF attempt, Gen had barely spoken to him. Having her accompanying him to an event like this after weeks of silence sounded awful. He didn’t think he could put on a smile and pretend everything was fine when he knew she hated him. He also didn’t want to push his luck with her. She’d agreed to another round of insemination – and as much as he wished he didn’t – he needed her to get pregnant.

But that wasn’t the only reason he didn’t want her to attend.

“That’s unfortunate… Please send Her Majesty our well wishes!”

“Thank you– I will” Tom promised.

Passing through the doors of the ballroom, Tom noticed he was the last one to arrive. Round tables, heavily decorated with flowers, filled up the room before a stage. A steady hum of conversation filled up the room as penguin dressed waiters circled the tables, pouring wine.

“We really appreciate The King taking the time to attend tonight and holding the opening speech! And as a thank you, we did our best to grant His Majesty’s wishes for the seating arrangements– it’s so important to reconnect with old classmates!” The Vice-Chancellor said, guiding him through a door to the backstage.

The speech Tom held was as basic as they could come, and Tom wouldn’t have had it any other way. What was there really to say except for some semi-sincere words about his time at the university, and how important education is. He was happy his speech writer had kept it short because he couldn’t wait to get it over with.

After a round of applause he eagerly he got off stage. The reason for his eagerness sitting right in front of him with an empty seat beside her.

“Your Majesty,” you said, a timid smile on your face as he found his seat. The table cards placed him a chair away from you, noticing that they’d assigned a seat for Gen beside you.

“Miss. y/l/n” he said ceremoniously, trying his hardest to fight back his smile and revealing how happy he was to see you again. A waiter quickly stepped forward after he’d taken his seat, nervously asking if he preferred red or white wine for the appetisers. With a quick glance at the menu placed on his plate before him, revealing seafood, he decided on white wine.

“You can clear all this,” Tom gestured to the seat separating him from you, while the waiter poured his wine, “Her Majesty isn’t coming tonight”.

“How about… uh” Tom heard you speak. Glancing over at you, he watched you shift nervously in your seat. “We just do this?” you quickly grabbed your own table card, switching it with Gen’s.

“Is that okay?” you questioned, biting your lip.

“More than okay!” Tom reassured you quickly.

Grabbing your purse by your feet you got up from your seat. You were clad in a silk dress, one Tom recognized. A memory flashed before his eyes. You in his lap on his birthday. He could still remember the feel of the silk fabric under his hand as he pushed it away to reveal your soft skin underneath.

You sat down beside him, your foot accidentally brushing against his as you got comfortable. You looked beautiful. Even more beautiful than he remembered. He almost couldn’t believe that you were real.

He’d almost not done it – his request. The university had asked him to speak, and he’d countered with his wish of being seated with his former classmates – specifically you. It was a dangerous request – but seeing you smile at him again – he found himself not giving a shit.

“I’m sorry Tom,” you giggled, courtesy of the wine, “I need the loo”.

He’d missed you so much he didn’t understand how he’d been able to go all those years without you. He missed the feeling you gave him. Your conversations. To be understood without saying a word. The fact that he’d barely spoken to anyone else but you the whole night didn’t bother him much. He was like an addict, and you were his drug. An innocent taste was enough for him to never want to leave ever again. His longing for you had not been fed in years, and now it had grown too large. It ached to be relieved.

“Yeah, me too” he was quick to say, getting up from his seat, “I’ll walk you”.

Looking up at him, you tilted your head like a puppy before a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. It hit him right in the heart.

“Escorted by royalty? I must be one lucky girl” you teased.

He’d missed your jokes too, and how they were always at his royal expense. You treated him like just Tom, and no one had treated him like that in years. With a hesitant hand at the small of your back, he led you towards the toilets.

Waiting for you outside the toilets, all Tom’s bad decisions replayed in his head. He was fucking stupid for even entertaining this idea – but he was desperate. He’d denied himself for too long. His stupid head always got in the way. For once in his life, he wanted to follow his heart, if only for one moment.

“You finished?” he looked up from where he’d studied the floor. Your heels clicked as you stepped closer.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “no line in the men’s”.

You hummed, swinging your leg back behind you. “Ready to go back?” you asked, smiling.

“Can we…” he trailed off. Why was he so nervous? He never used to be this nervous around you.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, “You okay?”. He thought his heart was going to stop when your hand came up to rub lovingly over his bicep. He let out a breathy chuckle,

“Yeah… just, can we talk in private?”.

Your rubbing hand stopped at his question before you let it fall. You bit your lip, your eyes dancing over his face. Before you answered, Tom looked around the corridor. With the coast clear he pushed off the wall and opened the door to the accessible toilet. You hesitated for a moment, your front teeth digging deeper into your lip before you quickly stepped inside.

At the sound of the lock clicking, Tom stopped thinking – but he didn’t want to think – not if it wasn’t about you. He crossed the space between you, pulling you closer to him. His hands shook with wanting.

“Tom–” he cut you off with a kiss.

He could finally breathe again. He shed his straitjacket. The weight of his crown fell to the floor. You kissed him back, and he could cry with happiness. He felt your hands around his neck. The silk fabric of your dress bunching in his hands as he pulled you closer.

“I miss you” he mumbled against your lips, “I miss you all the time”.

You whined into his mouth. He’d missed that sound, so sure he’d never hear it again.

With careful steps he walked you both backwards until your bum hit the sink. He was greedy. Hands exploring your body, feeling your familiar bumps and curves, the one’s he’d memorised so many years ago.

A smacking sound bounced off the tiles as you pulled away from his kiss. You were breathing hard under his touch. Your eyes looked at him with longing and sadness, and guilt. He shook his head, cupping your cheek to try and comfort you.

“You’re not doing anything wrong, darling!” his thumb traced circles against your skin, “This is only on me”,

“You have a wife,” you whispered. The look you gave him made his heart break.

“It should’ve never been her– only you!” he pecked your lips.

Your eyes fell shut from his kiss. Your eyelashes kissed the soft skin under your eyes as your face twisted in agony.

“I’ve missed you” you confessed.

Tom couldn’t hold himself back any longer. He kissed you with a feverish touch. Hands sliding over your arse where he gave it a squeeze. With a small jump he helped you to sit on the sink, legs spread for him to slot between. He pressed himself against you. He was rock hard. His cock straining against the front seam of his tuxedo pants. Pushing the silk from your thighs, he collected the fabric around your waist. With a press of a finger to your clit, you mewled against his lips.

Tom didn’t waste any time. He slipped his hand inside your panties, feeling how wet you were for him. When he teased his finger at your entrance, you pulled away from his kiss. You looked at him with eyes blown wide with lust.

With a bite to your kiss-swollen lips you gave him a nod. He pushed his finger all the way inside you, smiling when he felt your walls contract around him. Your head fell back with a sigh when he started thrusting his finger inside you.

Tom couldn’t hold back his smile. He’d missed this more than anything. Being intimate with you. There was this connection between you he couldn’t explain, one he hadn’t even noticed was there before it suddenly was gone. He knew exactly what you wanted, how you wanted it, and when.

Quickly pulling out he pushed back inside with a second finger. Under him you moaned. Eager to coax more moans from you he pressed his thumb to your clit, circling it the way he knew you liked.

“Tom” you gasped.

Tom groaned, feeling how his cock twitched in his pants at your name falling from your lips. He needed to make you come, to watch you fall apart for him. He sped up the thrusts of his fingers, every slap against your wet cunt coinciding with a circling of your clit.

You tipped your head forward, “Please…” you begged, a hand gripping his jacket.

“What– what do you want, baby, tell me” he asked. He curled his fingers inside you and hit your spot, making your eyes widen and a gasp fall from your lips.

“I–I’m close” you let him know. Your eyes were intense. He knew he’d drown in them if he wasn’t careful.

He never let up his pace, “It’s okay, baby, you can come!”

A strangled moan escaped your throat as he felt your clench around his fingers. He slowed his movement down as you rode your euphoric high. He loved the way you looked as you came. You let everything go. Baring your truest self to him. Your chest heaved as you came down. He slowly pulled out, gently dragging his fingers through your folds.

Your hand on his tuxedo jacket pulled him closer. Your lips on him in an instant. The kiss was tender and tasted way too sweet. A quiet thank you without uttering the words.

He withdrew his hand from your panties before he hooked a finger under the waistband to pull them down, just above your knees.

Your own hand palmed him over his pants, making him involuntarily buck into your touch. If he didn’t fuck you soon, he think he’d combust. You fumbled with his button and zipper before dipping your hand inside his pants and taking his cock out.

Taking him in your hand, you wasted no time. He was so hard; the head was dripping with precum. With a finger skating over the head you slicked him up, and gave him an experimental tug. Your hand was so soft. He’d missed your hands too.

Falling forward, he buried his head in your neck. “Can I fuck you?” he asked, pressing kisses up your skin.

“Please” you begged, hands letting go of his cock.

He stood up straighter and stepped even closer to you. With his hands on your waist, he pulled you closer to him. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you lifted your legs, panties constricting you slightly.

Grabbing his cock, he ran the head through your folds before he pushed inside you. Tom savoured the feeling, the soft velvet of your walls swallowing him. He wanted to go slowly, to drag it out, but he was desperate. Desperate for you.

He reeled his hips back, before he slammed back inside you. God, you squeezed him just right. You felt like heave. He was not gonna last.

He picked up his pace. A slick sound muffled by the slapping of his skin against yours, melded with your combined grunts and moans.

He was an awful man. An awful man for loving you. An awful man for being unfaithful to his wife. An awful man for not feeling guilty. Being with you didn’t feel like cheating. Nothing had felt as simple as this. Loving you was the easiest thing in the world. And nothing or no one could make him feel ashamed for loving you.

You mewled under him at a particular hard thrust. He couldn’t control himself – he was so close to ecstasy.

“I’m sorry” he panted, “I’m gonna come”.

“It’s okay” your breath was heavy, “Come for me, Tom, please”.

The coil in his stomach snapped, and he fell off the edge. He didn’t have the sense to pull out, emptying himself inside you with a heavy groan. He pulled you even closer, hugging you to his body – wanting to feel close to you.

“I love you” he said softly, “I love you so much”.

He was so fucked. But in this moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except you.

previous: the wedding | next: the end

tags (tagging the i want to forget taglist and a few other people that have shown interest after it was finished): @justapurrcat​, @lnmp89​, @petrspideyparker​, @hollandweather​, @userholland​, @imawhoreforu​, @onepieceya​, @sparklingsin​, @annathesillyfriend​, @mayal0pez​, @transparentpsychicempathkid​, @fic-rewind​, @peterparkerfilms​, @the-unknown-fan-girl​, @mannien​, @moonlightdotmp3​, @padlockedhearts​, @moniffazictress11​, @all4koo​, @angelayse​, @svechnibrock​, @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx​, @xxtomspideyxx​, @i83andrew​, @clockblobber​, @fangirlinggalore​, @luciwritesstuff​, @spideysimpossiblegirl​, @lol-just-kidding002​, @allywthsr​, @captainsbestgal​, @readheadwriter​, @parkersdahlia​, @cosmicryuz​, @tomxxxhollandxxx, @the-not-so-silent-back-up​, @rebloggingtheficsilove, @peterdarlingg​, @obsessedprincess​, @alltoowelltom​, @hey-im-bored504​, @storybookholland​, @sadisticsongbird​, @prettyjendeukie​,

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #prince!tom holland #uni au #college au #royal au #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland blurb #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction

[vendettaparker]

Bound to You: Chapter Twelve— Little Dove

“Did you get enough love, my little dove Why do you cry? And I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best Though it never felt right [...]

The hospital asked should the body be cast Before I say goodbye, my star in the sky Such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth Do you find it all right, my dragonfly?” — Sufjan Stevens

Summary: Tom quickly realizes how deeply his betrayal stung. However, in his attempts to make it better, he only adds more fuel to a raging fire, leaving a tiny trail of blood in it’s wake. 

Word Count: 15.3k (omg kill me)

Warnings: angst, swearing, typos, mentions of miscarriage, physical violence against a women/domestic abuse, labor/childbirth, mentions of sex, character death, assassination

mini A/N: i literally cried writing some of these parts bc they were so sad. so i am 1000% serious when i say to read with caution. this chapter is not for the faint of heart. if you want to read it, but aren’t sure if you can handle it, pls take breaks or dm me and i can give you the run down of what happens to make it easier to digest or to help you decide if this is something you can handle. in the end, this is the best i can do to help you, but your media consumption is completely on you. so read responsibly!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist    

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Now hush little baby,” Dahlia cooed to her little doll as she tucked it tightly into her bed, “mommy’s right here.” She pressed a quick kiss to its head and smiled brightly at it. 

You rolled your eyes as you watched her, busy tying your doll to your wooden horse to see how fast you could push it down the hall—possibly down the stairs if you could get that far without Lola catching you or Dahlia snitching. 

“What’re you doing?” Dahlia came over to ask once her baby was “asleep”.

“My baby is going to be a horseback rider,” You said simply. 

Dahlia side-eyed you, “She can’t, she’s a baby.” 

“Mhm,” you protested,” she can be whatever she wants.” 

“No, that’s not how the game is played,” Dahlia said, “you’re supposed to take care of the baby, not get it injured.” 

“It’s just a toy.” 

Dahlia crossed her arms, “It’s pretend.” 

“Oh,” You shrugged, “well then we can just pretend that my baby is a horseback rider.” 

Dahlia shook her head, an amused smile danced on her lips, “You’d be a terrible mother,” she giggled. 

You smiled, “Probably.” 

“That’s okay, though,” She added, “I’ll help you be a good mother.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Tom could hear your scream all the way in his office. He wasn’t far from your chambers anyhow, but the horrible, terrified, bloodcurdling scream you let out was piercing—he wouldn’t be surprised if Harrison heard it all the way in Norway. 

He dropped the book he was reading—a boring excerpt he hoped would lull him to sleep, of course, it didn’t do much, and he hardly slept without you by his side as it was—and bolted down the halls, ignoring the concerned looks from servants and guards in the hallways. 

His first thought was treachery. The new guard he had assigned you was a fine young lad, but he was still young and had a lot to learn. Tom should have known better than assigning him the most important job in the whole castle. Giving you a new guard was more for his benefit rather than yours, he knew Ivy was the best and would never harm you, but he couldn’t have you conspiring. He couldn’t have Ivy filling your head with any more falsities, not until he’d eased your mind and you’d learn to love him again, not until he was sure your faith in him was restored. 

But now, all that reasoning seemed ridiculous as he ran through the halls with his sword by his side, bouncing on his hip, bruising it with its weight. How could he be so daft? A young lad rather than a seasoned bull? He should’ve thought that through better. 

Ivy caught up with him somewhere on the run, and together they ran to your room. She spared him a single glance, noticing the fear and determination in his eyes. She almost felt sorry for him, but nevertheless, she pushed the thought away and kept the pace. 

The chamber doors were opened and the new guard Tom had assigned to you, a young bloke named Miller, was at your side, trying to discern what had happened. 

He saw no one else in the room. No signs of forced entry and nothing else of that would concern him more than the fear in your eyes. You were looking down between your legs with shaky breaths as your trembling hand held the covers away. 

You were a blubbering mess. All tears and cries, snot and saliva dripped down your face as you stared at the red on the sheets. Your bottom lip was jutted out and quivering as you sniffled. 

Ivy rushed past Tom, stuck at the door in shock. 

“Get back,” She instructed the young guard, “find the physician, then Ida, that’s her chambermaid. Go on now.” 

The guard nodded and quickly left the room, pushing past Tom. 

You looked at Ivy tearfully, “I-I didn’t—” you shook your head, “my baby,” you cried, “wh-what’s h-happening?” 

“I don’t know,” Ivy frowned, sitting on the bed. You immediately buried your head into her neck, releasing your cries there.

Tom moved into the room, coming towards both of you hesitantly, “Darling?” He croaked, tears brimming in his own eyes. 

His worst fears had materialized in front of him. You, sitting in a pile of blood. However, now, somehow it was worse. Now, it wasn't just you. 

“Does it hurt?” Ivy asked, pushing your hair away from your face.

You shook your head and opened your mouth to say something but she shushed you before you could, “Don’t speak,” she instructed. 

Tom moved to sit on the bed, at the end by your feet. You didn’t pay him any mind, but Ivy’s cold gaze never left him. She was watching, her icy stare daring him to do or say something to worsen this. 

He placed his hand on your leg and she held your head to her chest tighter. “It’ll be okay,” she said softly. 

Ida came rushing in, Arthur on her heels close behind. 

“Your grace?” She asked, rushing to your side as well. 

She took Ivy’s place, inspecting your state while Ivy went to Arthur. 

“Come on,” she placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, leading him out of the room, “this isn’t for your concern.” 

“But what’s going on?” He asked, rubbing his eyes, both from the sleep he was woken from and the tears he could feel brimming. 

“Get some sleep, Arthur,” Ivy said, “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Arthur took one last look at you, burying your cries into Ida’s shoulder, Tom at your feet, rubbing a soothing hand on your leg, trying his best to keep his own tears at bay for your sake. He gave one last look to the boy, offering him a small nod, instructing him to go, and who was Arthur to defy a king? So he did. 

It felt like hours waiting for Miller to come back with the physician. Though it was only minutes—perhaps twenty or so—it felt like an eternity. Hours of torment feeling Tom’s burning stare at you while you were at your weakest. Hours of torment feeling the blood drying and becoming tacky between your legs, unsure if another gush of it would come out, unsure if your baby was okay, unsure if they were even alive. 

But finally, he came. 

He pressed a cold hand to your stomach and hummed, his face set into a hard frown. 

“Do you have any discomfort?” 

“No,” You shook your head, “just—just the bleeding.” 

He didn’t say much else as he pressed into your gut. Ida climbed into the bed beside you and held your hand. 

“Is the baby okay?” Tom asked, speaking up from the doctor’s side. 

“I’m feeling for movement,” He said, “if I give the little guy a shove here or there, maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll shove me back…” 

You all waited on bated breath as he kept pushing around, tapping and pressing wherever. Finally, after you were ready to give up and the tears had come back, accepting the finality of it all, you felt a flutter. 

“There,” the physician said, pressing into the spot again, only to be met with a press against his hand back, “the baby’s okay.” 

You released the breath you’d be holding as tears streamed down your cheeks, “Are you sure?” You asked, pressing a hand to your own bump, “she’s okay?” 

“Yes, your grace,” he gave you a small smile, “I’m sure this was just a little scare, but we can never be too careful. Bed rest for the rest of your condition I think will be best.” 

“Yes,” You agreed, rubbing soft circles over your belly, sniffling, “but the bleeding? Why was—”

“There are many reasons,” the physician said, “I can’t say for sure what it was this time, but the baby still seems strong. Most likely, you will deliver soon.” 

“That’s great,” Tom cut in with a smile, “isn’t it, darling?” His eyes were glistening, “It means our little one will be here soon—”

“Please get out,” You frowned, wiping your eyes from their remaining tears.  

The physician nodded, “Get some rest, your graces.” He said, bowing his head before leaving.

Tom sighed and sat on the bed again after he left, “You shouldn’t have been so short with him, he was only trying to help—”

“I was talking to you.” 

Tom pursed his lips and nodded. He turned to Ida who was removing the sheets from the bed, working around where you were laying, “Ida, could you give us the room please?” 

She looked up at you, waiting for your order. Tom rolled his eyes at the small act of defiance—she never truly listened to him. 

You nodded for her to go, “Go fetch some fresh linen.” You instructed. She nodded and off she went. 

“(Y/N),” Tom placed his hand on your leg, “I know you’re still cross with—”

“Cross doesn’t even begin to cover it,” You said. 

“—But we are still husband and wife. I am still doing the best I can to keep you safe and take care of you—both of you. I love you, even if you’re going to be upset with me. I know you’ll forgive me and that it’ll take time but for that to happen you can’t keep shutting me out. You need to work with me here. You’re right, we’re partners in this and—”

“I won’t forgive you.” You shook your head, “Never in my life, will I ever forgive you for what you did. I hate you for what you did.” 

“You don’t mean that,” Tom said quietly. He’d suffered through your venom before, but never before have you ever aimed for his heart like this. 

“Yes, I fucking do.” You spat, “you and Hawthorne are one in the fucking same. You both usurped me, but at least he didn’t try to claim that it was in the name of love.” 

“It was!” Tom snapped, jumping up from the bed and pointing an angry finger in your face, “I did it to protect you and secure a future for us here, in England! This is our home, (Y/N)! Stop living the fucking fantasy of Scotland! Your father is dead, Dahlia is dead, James is dead, Scotland isn’t ours; you don’t get to go back! This is our life!” 

A single tear fell from your cheek, and though he was heaving with anger, all Tom wanted to do was wipe it away. But he couldn’t, not when you were looking at him like that. Not when he’d once again let his anger get the best of him. 

“Get out,” You cried, shoving him away from yourself the best you could from your bed, “get out!” 

Tom stumbled over his boots, tripping over himself. He decided not to fight it, finding his footing and leaving the room. If he stayed, he knew he’d only make it worse and God forbid he should provoke you enough to make you harm yourself or the baby more by physically trying to fight him. 

He found Ivy, waiting by the door with Miller, a knowing look on her face as he stumbled out of the room. He had no time nor patience for her snide remarks. 

“You,” He pointed to her, “go in there and do whatever it takes to make her content. Take Arthur to her tomorrow, have my mother come with tea, have Lady Maude visit, get her a puppy for all I care, just keep her in good spirits.” 

“Yes, your grace,” Ivy nodded, about to walk into the room, but Tom grabbed her arm, halting her a moment. 

“If anything happens to her or that baby in the next two weeks, I will hold you personally responsible, you hear?” 

“Yes, your grace.” 

Tom nodded and let her go. He looked at Miller and nodded him off, “To the wall with you for watch now, go on.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

This was the worst dinner Tom had ever had to sit through. Not only was his mother glaring at him the entire time, disdain and disappointment in her eyes, but so was Harry. Although, his eyes held something darker—hatred perhaps. 

And then there was Lola and your mother, gossiping like little hens about how lovely and calm everything will be once the two countries are united. 

“Tom, dear,” Lola smiled at him. He planted a small smile on his face in return, trying to make it seem like his mind wasn’t drifting back to you every chance it got, “Guinevere and I had this wonderful idea this afternoon over tea.” 

Tom nodded for her to continue. 

“If you and (Y/N) have a girl, we should arrange for her and my son to be wed!” Lola clapped her hands together, “Not only will we be unioned in treaties, but also in marriage. It’s a lovely thought, isn’t it?” 

Tom’s smile fell and he bit his cheek harshly, holding his tongue the best he could, “I’m not sure,” he looked down at his plate, “our baby isn’t even born yet, it seems too soon to dictate their life like this.” 

“Oh, it’s just planning, dear,” Your mother cooed, “nothing’s formal. But it’s a great opportunity. And the sooner you figure this out the less you’ll have to worry about it in the future. I mean, oh Lord, the stress of getting Dahlia and (Y/N) married off. Dahlia was easy, you liked her, didn’t you Nikki?” 

Nikki pursed her lips, “She was a lovely girl; they both are.” 

“Yes, but of course, (Y/N) is nobody’s first choice. That was a harder task. And if you two should have a daughter that’s anything like her—well, you should just be thinking about it soon, I’d say.” 

“I don’t think this is a conversation we should have without (Y/N),” Tom said, attempting to end the topic of discussion. 

“Perhaps not,” Lola agreed, “but it’s not as if (Y/N) is the most agreeable person. She’d never listen to these plans, Tom. But you’re such a good listener, and you are king, so in the end, it’s truly only your opinion that matters.”  

Tom nodded along, “Yes, I suppose so—”

Nikki stood from her seat abruptly, knocking her chalice of wine over as she did so. 

“Mother?” Tom asked, looking up to her. 

“I’ve lost my appetite,” She huffed, frowning at Tom, before walking off. 

“So have I,” Harry stood as well, taking his wine with him, along with a pitcher to refill. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Nikki visited you frequently. She was there every morning to wake you, though most times she’d just let you sleep in, and her and Ida’s conversing would be the cause of your stirring. She’d come with teas and cookies and lots of books to read. She was a glowing light in these dark times for you.

As was Arthur, who’d been getting increasingly better at chess. 

“When will Hawthorne be arriving?” You asked as Nikki poured you a cup of tea. 

“They’re all out there waiting for him right now,” She sighed, “selfish bastards.” 

Your eyes widened at her choice of words, “Nikki?” 

“Thomas and the whole lot of them,” She huffed, “all out there waiting to let traitors into our court. While you’re in here, confined to this room. It’s maddening, the way this is playing out.” 

Nikki’s ramblings, though not intended to, stung. She always did ramble when something truly got to her, and her calm nature dissipated the minute something truly wrong was afoot. And now, her ramblings served as a constant reminder of how wrong this all was. 

Your lip quivered as you rubbed a hand on your large, protruding stomach, “Yes, it’s… not fair,” you frowned. 

Nikki looked up and saw the distress on your face, “Oh, but worry not my love,” she put her hand atop of yours, “it’ll all work itself out I’m sure. And this baby,” she gave your hand a squeeze, “well, they're gonna make it all okay. I promise.” 

You gave her a small smile, before looking out the window at the Spring sun, desperately trying to fight through the clouds. Nikki’s smile fell the moment your gaze was torn from her. How could she ever tell you about the conversation had at dinner just the night prior? 

“I hear the horses,” You said, “it sounds like a lot.” 

Nikki rubbed your arm soothingly, “Nothing we can’t handle.” She smiled softly. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

There were four carriages bounded for the castle from what Tom could tell. Harry and Paddy stood on either side of him while Lola and your mother stood just slightly behind. Ivy stood off to the side, a permanent scowl on her face, hidden by her helmet. 

When the first carriage stopped in front of them, Lola clasped her hands with excitement. Tom could hear her behind him, whispering to your mother about how long it had been since she’d seen her family. 

Hawthorne was not the man Tom expected him to be. He didn’t ooze authority or drip intimation. He came out of the carriage in his fanciful clothes, but to Tom, he looked like a man playing dress-up. But still, he curbed his tongue and offered him a smile. 

“Lord Hawthorne,” Tom greeted him kindly, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

“King soon, no doubt,” Hawthorne laughed, taking Tom’s hand in his thin, pale, lanky one. 

Now that he was closer, Tom could study his features a bit more. His eyes were sunken in it seemed, and his cheeks were hallowed. He was a small man—if Tom truly wanted to he could probably break his ribs with a good punch or two, placed just right. It picked Tom’s brain to think that this was the man that caused so much grievance for your family. 

He was shorter than Tom, though he’d be a bit taller if he stood at his full height, but he crouched a bit or cowered more like. His hair was dark and parted down the middle and his voice had a shaky lilt to it. 

“Yes, no doubt,” Tom agreed, “I hope your journey was not too terrible?”

“No not at all, your grace,” Hawthorne shook his head, “the weather was a bit of a pain but nobody controls that as you know,” he chuckled. 

“Yes, well, I hope your stay in England should prove fruitful to both our reigns,” Tom nodded curtly, stepping aside, standing alongside Hawthorne as they faced towards his wife, who was smiling brightly, giving him a small wave, “it took a bit of difficulty getting these arrangements together, so I hope you can understand my hesitancy during some negotiations. My wife will need far more convincing than I, I presume.” 

“Ah, (Y/N),” Hawthorne pressed his lips into a tight smile, “I understand completely. No one knows her temperament quite like I, your grace.” 

“Really?” 

“Oh, yes,” Hawthorne nodded, “we used to be quite close. Her father and I were good friends.” 

Tom frowned at the statement. Folly, he thought, no one would do such a thing to a friend. Liar was his next assumption. Though he knew these negotiations must go through, he refused to be persuaded otherwise. Hawthorne was a liar and a snake. He should never forget that.

The next carriage was a tougher pill for Tom to swallow—a much more bitter poison. Harry’s the one who caught it first. When he first saw Farley getting out of the carriage, as it shook and rocked with his movement, his immediate reaction was putrid disgust. Somehow, he’d gotten ghastlier than the last time he had seen him, hooting and hollering, swearing on the Holland name. On your name as well. Harry wouldn’t stand for that. 

“Woah,” Harry and two guards walked over, Tom stopping his conversation with Hawthorne to divert his attention to his younger brother’s woes, “what the fuck is this twat doing here?” Harry pointed to Farley. 

“You will address Scotland’s head advisor with respect, little boy.” Farley scoffed. 

“I’d treat shit on my boot with more respect, you fucking slug—”

“Harry!” Tom scolded his brother, standing between the two. One look and the guards were standing down, “I discussed this already with Hawthrone. Farley and Lizzie will be welcomed back with open arms for the time being.” 

Harry’s mouth opened, closed again, and then opened once more to let out a bitter, dry chuckle, “You discussed it with Hawthorne, did you, mate?” He asked, before motioning back to the castle, “and what of (Y/N)? Did you discuss it with her?”

Tom scoffed and shook his head, but Harry pressed on, “No, of course, you didn’t.” He chuckled humorlessly, “And what of the child? You said yourself that the child would never set foot on the royal grounds—”

“There is no child,” Lizzie interrupted, her vice tiny and raw. A contrast from the powerful, shrillness Harry was accustomed to, “I lied.” 

Harry shook his head when he saw her. She was dressed in lovely pink silk. Her shoes were shined and her jewels were heavy around her neck. Her entire outfit was more elaborate and ornate than what she wore when she was a lady in court. But her face was another matter entirely. 

Her bottom lip was busted and scabbed over and her eyes both held bruises directly under them, purple in the center, yellow on the edges. There were two small, yet deep cuts on her cheek, both would surely scar. She already had small scabbed-over cuts littered across her neck. Her stance was wobbly and her breath hitched when Tom’s gaze met hers. She looked scared. Completely unlike the girl he once knew. 

Tom’s frown, already etched onto his face, deepened at the sight of her. 

She had a child in her arms, pulling at her golden locks, tangling them in its fingers.

“I am deeply sorry, your grace,” She said softly to Tom, “my lies and treachery were most foul—” 

“As you can see, your grace,” Farley placed his large hand on his daughter's shoulder and she tensed up, “we’ve already punished her for her disobedience. Of course, I understand if you’d like to question her further or institute your own form of discipline.” 

“I see,” Tom nodded, “well I don’t see why any further actions should be required. Let us simply put the matter behind us.” 

“Thank you, your grace,” Lizzie looked down at her shoes, curtsying with a hiss due to the ache in her bones, before running off to give Lola her son. 

“Go on,” Tom motioned Farley off towards the castle, “I’d like a word with my brother. We will be swiftly behind. Welcome back, Lord Farley.” 

Farley smiled widely, his multiple chins popping out and his yellow teeth glowing, “Thank you, your grace.”

The fat man waddled off to catch up with Hawthorne and his daughter while Tom and Harry strolled leisurely behind. 

“You’ve gone mad,” Harry shook his head, watching as Hawthorne kissed his wife in greeting and held her in his arms, “surely, this won’t go right. You saw what that did to her as well as I.” 

“I did,” Tom nodded, looking at Lizzie, staring blankly at the castle, more specifically to the windows that looked into your chambers, “they harmed her far more than we would have.” 

“You must send them off.” 

“It’s too late for that,” Tom shook his head, “I’ve already welcomed them here. I’ve already let them into our home. I can not start a conflict now, not with (Y/N) in the condition she is, not with a new baby coming, and more certainly not when they are here, in the same castle as my most precious treasures.”

Harry clenched his jaw, “This is wrong and you know it. Something bad is bound to happen.” 

“Stop it,” Tom scolded, “nothing’s going to happen. We’ll abdicate Scotland to Hawthorne and that will be that. We’ll still have England—our home.” 

“Home is not merely a place, Tom,” Harry said, “it’s the one thing you and (Y/N) both don’t seem to understand. Land, places—that’s all meaningless. It’s the people you love, that’s your home, that’s your legacy. What is this all for, if not for (Y/N)?” 

“This is for (Y/N)—” Tom tried.

“No, it isn’t,” Harry argued, “because in the end, she doesn't want this and she won’t love you for it.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“You lied,” Farley looked at the humiliation on his daughter's face, “you lying, adulterous harlot!” He bellowed, striking her harshly across the mouth. 

He had come home to the outskirts of England, to the chateau where his family was permitted to live. His journey had taken months, so by now the child should be well developed and his daughter should have been showing completely. But when he arrived, her baggy clothes did little to hide the fact that there was nothing underneath them. 

“I did not lie!” She cried, holding her face in her hand, “I swear I was with child, I swear I am!”

“I have already given my loyalty to the new king of Scotland and in return all he asked for is this baby that you claimed to be with, and now…now you’ve gone and screwed your entire family over!” Farley pushed her to the ground before quickly grabbing her by the hair and yanking her back up again. 

“W-What—what are you doing?” She cried as he marched her to the carriage outside, “W-Where are we going?” 

“You will explain this to the king yourself.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

In a way, Hawthorne’s non-threatening appearance was a bit of a blessing to himself. Because deep down, the truth of his character was darkness and a constant need for more. More power, more gold, more riches, more loyalty—he was a man not easily satiated. 

Of course, he loved his wife and son more than most other things in the world, but they only served as shitty reasoning for why he needed more. He rationalized that he needed more so that he may provide for them. But really, he needed more because he was empty inside, and no matter how much he had, the emptiness was never quite filled. 

That’s why Hawthorne was so despicable, because he looked like a kind, small man. But the reality was much crueler. 

“You swear that you were with King Thomas’ child?” Hawthorne questioned, pouring himself a glass of wine. 

“I-I do, your grace,” Lizzie nodded, her own wine being poured. 

“Hm,” Hawthorne pondered it a moment as he sipped his wine, motioning for Lizzie to do the same. 

She came into this meeting frightened, completely shaking in her seat. But Hawthorne has eased her nerves with his facade of kindness—and cruel ruse. 

She took a sip of the lavish, sweet wine. 

“What do you think happened then?” Hawthorne asked, “Babies do not just disappear, and certainly not from their mother’s wombs.” 

“Well I—” Lizzie frowned, “I’m sure the baby is still there, it's just taking time to grow.”

“Did you lose the baby?” Hawthorne asked, “Was there lots of blood one morning when you woke up?”

“No, your grace,” Lizzie pressed a hand to her stomach, “I didn’t lose my baby.” 

“Then there must not have been one to begin with.” 

“I—”

“From what your father tells me,” Hawthorne began, “you were scorned when King Thomas did not return your affections. Is that true?” 

“I was hurt, yes,” Lizzie nodded, “because we were going to have a baby and he was leaving it all to me.” 

“There was no baby,” Hawthorne shook his head, “let‘s start by getting that into your dumb little head, yes?” 

Lizzie’s small smile fell, “Your grace—”

“You lied.” Hawthorne stated simply, “Do you want to hear my theory?”

Lizzie shook her head, “Well, listen anyway,” Hawthorne instructed sharply, “I think you knew that Thomas was done with you. He had a queen now, so why would he need the dumb whore that he used to fill his needs with? I think that you fooled yourself and him and all those around you because you couldn’t handle the rejection. I think that there never was a baby, but by the time we all figured that out, you were hoping Thomas would have already picked you. Am I missing anything?” 

Lizzie began to protest, “Your grace, it’s not like that. I—”

“I have the facts, dear Lizzie,” Hawthorne motioned for his guards to come over and restrain her, “and the fact is, you lied. I don’t care for liars in my court. Take her to the dungeon.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The past few months had not been kind to Lizzie—not that she had done much to deserve any such kindness—but her father assured her that now that her punishment with Hawthorne was complete and they were set to travel back to England, things would be looking up for her. 

“Chin up, dear,” Farley said to his daughter after they were seated at the dinner table. A long table with a feast Tom had had the cooks prepare to welcome the Scottish visitors and welcome back the returning Lord and his family. Though one would expect these words to be spoken with softness, Farley said them lowly, almost as an order, “we are finally in England once more dear. This is what you wanted, is it not?” 

Lizzie looked around at the faces of her old friends across the room. Girls who whispered about her, but turned away the minute their gazes met her. She was a disgrace. She then looked back up to her father, “I don’t think this is what I had in mind.” She said quietly, “I wanted my old life back, father. This is not my life.” 

Farley rolled his eyes as he cut into his meat, “I thought you wanted Thomas back? Well there he is now,” he motioned with his knife to the king at the head of the table, looking off into the distance with a frown on his face, “so close you can almost touch him.” 

“He won’t want me now,” Lizzie said, “not now that—”

“Hush up about that,” Farley grumbled, “we'll never find a proper husband for you if you keep going on about that horrid—”

“I’ve been disgraced, father—”

“You have disgraced us all. You’ve got your punishment. Now be glad you’re even allowed to sit here with us as equals.”

She may have wanted Tom. Of course, she did, or else she would not have gone through all this trouble that she had. But sitting here now, sore and broken, she didn’t think Tom was worth so much trouble anymore. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“They’ve had a feast without me,” You pursed your lips into a line, when Ida entered your chambers with a tray of food, piled high with all of the goodies the kitchen had to offer that day. 

“I’m sorry, your grace,” Ida set the tray on the table and came to help you sit up, “it was a dull affair I assure you. Nobody was fond of the guests.” 

“Hm,” You hummed when Ida placed the tray in front of you, “no need to lie to spare my feelings, Ida. I’m sure Tom is out there talking all about this union with Scotland and the traitors who usurped my throne, I’m sure he’s making it sound lovely to the people. I’m sure they rejoiced at the welcoming of Hawthorne.” You said bitterly, stabbing your small game hen with your knife. 

“That’s not quite my reference, your grace,” Ida took the knife from your hands and helped you cut the bird, “it’s the Farley’s they’re loathing.” 

“Farley’s?” You looked up from your plate, “What of them?” 

“You haven’t heard?” 

“I don’t hear much cooped up in here.” 

“They ran to Scotland after being asked to leave the English court,” Ida explained, “and Hawthorne gladly took them in.” 

“I’m sure he did once he heard of Lizzie’s condition,” Your heart sank as you spoke, remembering the child that was now in your court. The child that Tom had once denounced, but now welcomed back with open arms. Was this a replacement for the insolence of his wife? No, you mustn’t think like that. Those intrusive thoughts will have you crawling back to him, feeling sorry for yourself. 

“That’s another thing, your grace,” Ida continued as you ate, “Lizzie has no condition. It was a ruse.” 

“A ruse?”

“Yes,” Ida nodded, “a falsity in hopes of winning his grace’s affections.”

“And he’s welcomed her back?” 

Ida pressed her lips tightly together before frowning. She hesitated a moment, placing a hand on your arm, “Quite willingly,” she said dejectedly. 

“I see,” You set your utensils down and pushed the tray away slightly, “I’m done. Thank you, Ida.”

“(Y/N),” Ida said softly, “you’ve hardly had any. The baby will be here soon, you need your strength.” 

You rubbed your large stomach and sighed, “I’ve lost my appetite.” 

Ida frowned, “I know things have been hard lately. I know you’re tired and angry and stressed, all rightfully so, but please, just take it one step at a time.” Ida begged, taking your hand in hers, “Just a few more bites?” 

Ida had been with you through all of it. During this entirety of the past year, she has held your hand and wiped your tears. She cradled your head and brushed your hair and listened as you ranted and raved about all the injustices you’ve been met with. And it wasn’t without any reward of course. Because in return she got you as her friend. She also got to listen to your stories and your praises. She got opportunities she never thought imaginable. And she got security within your loyalty. 

You nodded finally, giving in because you knew it was for the best. 

“Your grace,” Ivy opened your chamber doors, “you have a visitor, shall I let them in?” 

“Who is it?” You asked. 

Typically if it were Nikki or Arthur, Ivy wouldn’t hesitate to open the door for them. If it were Tom though, there’d be a long, loud quarrel outside, one where he’d finally cave and leave you be. You’d always wait on bated breath as you heard Ivy refuse him entrance into his own chambers. He was annoyed; you could tell by his tone, but he knew he had to give you something. So he gave you Ivy. 

Ivy cleared her throat, “It’s Lizzie, your grace.” 

You scoffed, “What could she possibly want? To gloat, perhaps? I have no interest in hearing what she has to say.” 

“No, your grace,” Ivy shook her head, “I think you should hear her out. Just for a moment at least.” 

“Fine,” you conceded “let her in.”

The minute you laid eyes on her, the anger and hatred you could feel clenching your heart began to soften its grip, though only minutely. She looked fragile now. So unsure and unconfident in herself. When she glanced at Ivy and Ivy started her back down again, it was a stark contrast between the two characteristics. Lizzie used to be the girl that did the staring down, but now she cowered. 

And when she looked at you, she felt a similar sense of pity. Though you had the life she had once dreamed of having, you looked more trapped than she. You looked tired too, but more than that you look… shattered. It was something in your eyes, she thought. The fiery glint that used to captivate Tom—and completely piss her—off was no longer there. 

Ivy nudged Lizzie’s shoulder before she made it very far into the room, a small reminder. Lizzie gasped quietly and quickly scrambled into a bow, “Your grace,” she said, “thank you for agreeing to see me.” 

“Well,” You shrugged, “I don’t have much else to do.” 

“They’ve clipped your wings too,” Lizzie said without much thought, forgetting herself for a moment. The irony of it was just too good. Two women who used to vie after the same man—and sure she may have had to truly vie for Tom while he was always somewhat in the palm of your hand—now ruined, at least somewhat on his accord. It was nearly laughable. 

The other girls in the room didn’t think so. Ivy and Ida both waited on bated breath for your response. Ivy was already ready to escort her out on your command. 

Instead, you laughed. It was a small, light chuckle, but any laughter from you had been unheard of these past two weeks or so, so anything was a step up from the brooding depths of despair you’d enclosed yourself in. “Yes,” you smiled, “I suppose they did.” 

“I apologize,” Lizzie shook her head when Ivy shot her an unamused look, “that was unkind of me. I’m in no position to make such thoughtless comments.” 

“No,” you shook your head, “you’re not. But still, it’s true enough. Come sit,” you motioned to the chair next to your bed, “tell me what it is you came here to say because I know you didn’t just come to point out the truth.”

Lizzie sat while Ivy and Ida stood side by side, watching the two of you. 

“You two may go,” You said to them, “Ivy, you’ll wait just outside the door, yes?”

“Of course, your grace.” Ivy nodded, holding the door for Ida before walking out herself. 

“So,” You continued to poke at your meal as you spoke, “why did you come to see me?” 

Lizzie picked at her nails and studied them closely, avoiding your curious eyes as she answered you, “I’m not even fully sure if I’m being honest,” she sighed, “I just didn’t have anyone else to go talk to. I have a lot of wrongs to right. I figured I’d start here.” 

You nodded, “An apology is quite insignificant compared to want you’ve done in this court.” 

“I know,” Lizzie agreed, “but it’s all I can give you. It’s…” Lizzie’s voice cracked, “it’s the best I can do to make things right.” 

“What happened to you?” You asked, “When they found out you lied.” 

Lizzie’s frown deepened and her face twisted into discomfort at the question. But you just patiently waited for a response. 

“They locked me up…kept me in the dungeons of the castle. There was a man who would come in, almost daily on Hawthorne’s orders. He’d chain me up and…” Lizzie began to try to explain it, but it was a painful memory, weeks of pain, maybe months, “I’ve learned my lesson.” She said instead, “I was wrong to lie. It was cruel and horrible of me.” 

“Why are you here now?” You asked, “Not just in my chambers, but in England as a whole? Did your father still win favor with Hawthorne?” 

“He did, your grace. We are both here as guests along with Hawthorne.” 

“And now what?” You asked, “You return to my court and pretend as though nothing happened? Do you think you can go back to being a proper lady after all of this? 

“No,” Lizzie shook her head and swallowed thickly, “my friends won’t even look at me, let alone speak to me. Though, I know they whisper about me. I’m sure of it.”

“It doesn’t feel so good, does it?” 

“No, your grace,” Lizzie sniffled, guilt bubbled in her gut as she remembered the harsh way she and her friends used to speak about you. She’d felt a lot of guilt surrounding the way her situation with you played out. This small meeting with you, getting to truly see how much her actions had impacted you, only made the guilt seem justified. 

“Nothing will ever be the same,” She said softly. You sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again, “But my father does plan to marry me off while we are here.” 

You let out a dry chuckle, “Surely, that’s a jest.” You shook your head, “What lord in this court would marry you? This is assuming the entire castle now knows your truth.” 

Lizzie laughed as well, “I know, it’s presumptuous of him to think I could be married off so quickly.” She agreed, “But I don’t think money is the main factor for him anymore. Finances seem to be quite well since he is Hawthorne’s right-hand man. I suspect he just wants somebody to take me off his hands, and perhaps if he is lucky, it’ll be at least a somewhat beneficial financial match.” 

“I see,” You nodded, “but what do you want?” 

“Pardon?” 

“For your future, I mean.” 

“I don’t think I have much say in that anymore.” 

You took a deep breath and rubbed a soothing hand over your baby bump, “Can I tell you something? A secret of sorts, I suppose?” 

“Of course,” Lizzie agreed, “it’s not like I have anyone to tell now anyhow.” 

“It should have been you,” You said, “all of it. The baby, the marriage, the crown. You wanted it, you should have had it. I certainly don’t want it anymore. I know it’s a terrible thing to say,” you sighed, “and I love my baby, I truly do. I just—I can’t help but wish somewhere along the way I had done something different. You know?” 

Lizzie nodded, unsure of what to say. 

“They think that I’m down for the count now. They think that since I’m so busy creating this life, here confined to my bed, I have forgotten how they have betrayed me.” You glared at the chamber doors, “but I swear, the minute my child is born and I am well again, I’ll get them back. Even just Tom. I’ll get him back for this.” 

“I thought you loved him?” Lizzie said quietly. 

“I thought so too, but love doesn’t make you hurt people the way he hurt me.” You looked at Lizzie again, “And you—if you truly wish to go, then you can. The things that keep me here are not the same that keep you. There is a ship leaving tomorrow morning, headed for the new world, I’d get on that one if I were you.” 

“I don’t know—”

“You will never be free here,” You said bluntly, “you know just as well as I. Ivy can get you out of here by dawn. I have jewels and gold you can have to finance you on your journey. The choice is yours,” You assured her, “but if you’re any better than the Lizzie I once knew, then you’d take this out I am giving you. Another will not come.” 

Lizzie left your chambers with a bag of gold and pearl necklaces tucked into her skirts along with a letter, written from you directly to the captain of the ship, granting her safe passage. Ivy escorted her back to her room to gather her belongings, only a few things that she could carry on her back. 

She was gone by dawn. 

Farley caused an uproar in the castle attempting to look for her, but his devotion to her was truly shown when he gave up the search after only a day. 

“Foolish girl will get herself killed,” he grumbled at dinner that night when everyone looked at him with pity and sympathy, “and it’d serve her right. That harlot of a girl.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

  It was two days later, during tea with Nikki when the slight discomfort in your back and abdomen began to morph into sharp jolts of pain. 

“(Y/N)?” Nikki paused telling her story and looked up from her book at you when you abruptly set your teacup down, causing a bit of it to spill out the sides, “Are you alright, dear?” 

You placed your hand on your protruding belly and breathed out a shaky, slow breath, “Mhm,” you nodded finally, “yes, just a—” you let out a yelp and gripped your stomach harder, “Ah!” You hissed, breathing through your clenched teeth. 

“Oh, dear,” Nikki got up and rushed to your side, “I think it’s time we get the midwives in here.”

“What?” You looked up at her, “No, no, it’s way too soon. I just need to lie down and rest some more—” You were cut off by another strong, sharp pain in your abdomen. 

“Okay, okay,” Nikki gently pushed you back into a laying down position, “I’m going to get Ida and the midwives, okay?”

“No,” you shook your head adamantly, “it’s t-too soon—”

“Just in case,” Nikki assured you, “right? We just want to be sure you’re okay, right?” 

You nodded, tears faintly glistening in your eyes, “Okay,” you agreed. 

Three midwives came in and within the next half hour, you were standing bent over the end of the bed, sharp pains coming and going every so often. Ida had fresh, cold water and a rag as she sat on the bed and kept running the cool water over your face to soothe you. One midwife rubbed your back soothingly and talked you through your breathing while the other got towels on the bed and medical supplies set up. 

“A-Are you sure it’s time?” You asked as they led you back to the bed to lie down. 

“Yes, your grace,” One of them said soothingly, “the pain is giving you breaks, so it’s time to start pushing.” 

You began to cry as the pain coursed through your pelvis and gut, “But I’m not ready,” you cried, gripping Ida’s hand. 

“Yes, you are,” Ida assured you, “you can do this.” 

Tom could hear every cry and scream that left your lips as he and Harry waited outside your door for any news. Nikki came out with her hands clasped together to give the boys another update. 

Tom immediately suspected the worst when he saw the look on his mother’s face. 

“She’s losing a lot of blood and the baby is still a long way in coming,” Nikki said, “the best you boys can do is go get some rest.” 

“What about you, mother?” Harry asked, “Don’t you need some rest too?” 

“No,” Nikki shook her head, “I’m going to stay with (Y/N). I need to get back in there.” 

Nikki went back into the room and Tom stood from his seat on the floor, “I’m going in there too,” he declared, determination set in his eyes, “she needs me.” 

“No, mate,” Harry shook his head, “you’re the last person she’ll want in there—” He was cut off by another blood-curdling scream from you. 

Tom shook his head and went into the room anyway. 

You were perched up on the bed with your legs spread apart and Ida behind you, keeping you cool by running a rag over your sweaty forehead. The towels beneath you were red with blood and the midwives were breathing in sync with you to keep you on track. 

“Thomas,” Nikki’s tone was scolding when she saw her son at the door, “you can't be in here.” 

“I—I need to be with her,” Tom pushed past his mother to get to your side, “Darling?” Tom placed his hand on your shoulder. 

You shrugged him off, tears streaming down your cheeks, and another wave of pain coursing through your body, “N-No,” you cried, “get out. Get him out!” 

“It’s time to push again, your grace.” One of the midwives said. 

“No,” You shook your head, “I won’t, not till he leaves.” 

Nikki grabbed her son by the shoulders and pulled him away from your bedside, “You need to leave, Thomas. I’m sorry, but you can’t be in here.” 

“No,” Tom shook his head, “she needs me. My baby is being born, a-and she’s in pain and she’s just s-scared that’s all,” tears began to pool in his eyes, “she needs me, mother. Please, I—just let me help her. I-I just want to hold her.” 

“Come on, your grace, you’ve got to push,” The midwife said, “you don’t have a choice.” 

You screamed and gripped Ida’s hand as you pushed as hard as you could. 

“You have to go,” Nikki urged her son, “I’m sorry, but—” she looked back at you, “you can’t hold her now, Thomas.” 

Nikki finally got Tom out of the room and barred the door with a chair in front of the handle. 

Tom stared at the door as tears fell from his eyes into his cheeks. He sniffled and wiped them, but kept his spot right in front of the door. 

“Tom?” Harry placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “are you okay?” 

Tom shook his head and wiped the oncoming tears with the back of his hand, “She hates me,” he said defeatedly, “you were right. She’ll never forgive me.” 

Harry squeezed his brother’s shoulder. A small comfort, more than he’d shown Tom in weeks, “Maybe one day—”

“No,” Tom shook his head, “no, she won’t forgive me. You said so yourself.” 

“I know what I said,” Harry nodded, “and I still stand by part of that. But, even though you hurt her so much, when you were good, you two were really good.” Harry said honestly, “maybe one day you could be good again.” 

“She won’t even let me hold her…s-she’d rather die than let me hold her. She’d rather die than let me love her…” Tom cried, remembering how you turned away from his touch, even in the throes of unbelievable pain. Even when your life and your child’s life were on the line. 

“Tom,” Harry tried his best to soothe his older brother, “she’s scared and in so much pain. T-This just—this isn’t something you can help her with.” 

Tom nodded, “I have to do whatever it takes to make this better,” he said, determination set in his eyes. 

“What do you—” 

“I messed up,” Tom admitted, “there’s no more denying it or dancing around that. I’ve hurt her so harshly,” Tom shook his head, “I just have to hope that it is not beyond repair. Whatever it takes from here on out, I’ll do it. Because I can’t live like this, Harry. I love her, and I can’t keep doing this.” 

Harry nodded understandingly, “What about these dealings? You still expect (Y/N) to give up her claim to the Scottish throne?” 

“No,” Tom sighed, “but Hawthorne is already here, there’s nothing I can do about that now. Perhaps there are some compromises that can still be made.” 

Harry nodded and patted his brother’s back, “We’ll see.” 

Nikki came back out again after another hour or so. Tom was on the floor with his head in his hands and Harry had retired back to his chambers. He was about to fall asleep with tears drying on his rosy cheeks and drool falling from his lips. 

“Tom?” Nikki spoke softly to her son, placing a hand on his head and running her fingers through his hair, “Honey?” 

“Mother?” Tom looked up at her with tired, droopy eyes. 

“You have a little girl,” Nikki smiled down at him, “why don’t you go in and meet her?” 

Tom nodded and stood up before beginning to follow Nikki back into your chambers. But he stopped at the door before he could go in, “What about (Y/N)?” He asked, “S-She won’t want me in there.” 

“She’s asleep,” Nikki assured him, “it takes a lot of energy to have a baby.” 

Tom nodded and went into the room. The midwives were cleaning around the room while Ida fawned over the baby in her arms, cooing at it and swaying gently. You were sleeping peacefully in the bed. So soundly, you almost looked dead. 

Nikki could see the gears in Tom’s head turning, “Don’t worry,” she placed a hand on her son’s shoulder, “she was up earlier, holding the baby and laughing. She’s okay, just exhausted.” 

Tom nodded and wiped a tear from his eye. 

“Ida, dear,” Nikki whispered to her, motioning for her to bring the baby over. 

Ida brought the baby, wrapped and swaddled in white linen, over to Tom and placed her in his arms. The baby cooed and fussed a little before settling down and looking up at him with big brown eyes. She spit a little, sticking her tongue out at him. Tom smiled, holding her close to his chest. He brought a hand up and gave her a finger to hold. She instinctively grabbed it. 

“(Y/N) named her Dahlia,” Nikki said, “isn’t that lovely?” 

“Yes,” Tom sniffled, “it’s—she’s beautiful.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

All you could think of was your little girl. She took up every ounce of space in your head. From the minute you woke up to her little cries to the minute you fell asleep listening to her soft little coos. All you could think of was her and how perfect she was. 

It was hard to have any hate in your soul when you had that little angel in your arms nearly every second of the day. 

And then Tom would come in. And the little bubble of bliss you surrounded yourself in popped.

 In the weeks that followed, Tom had completely shifted his attention from dealings with Hawthorne and Scotland to spending time with his daughter and trying to keep you happy and healthy. 

He’d come in the minute he woke up, a slight skip in his step because he knew he got to spend some time with Dahlia. She was the light of his life. 

The peace was mostly kept by him coming in and taking his time with her while you rested. You were so exhausted, getting up every three hours or so with her, that you hardly cared who took over while you slept. But Tom always tried to make sure it was him. 

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Tom said quietly, after taking a selfish moment to watch from the doorway as you fed your daughter. 

The small smile of contentment fell from your face when you heard him. “Yes, she is. She’s perfect,” you ran your thumb over her cheeks as she suckled. 

“How are you feeling?” Tom asked, stepping fully into the room. The tension was thick, but he was willing to wade in the thick of it for you. He knew it would take a lot of time and care for the two of you to get back to where you once were. 

“Fine,” Your reply was short and courteous. 

“Have you been in the nursery yet?” Tom walked around the room, trying to busy himself to avoid simply awkwardly standing, waiting for your responses. 

“No.” 

Tom nodded, setting the empty teacup he was studying intently down, before moving to a book, the next subject of his divided and facaded interest. “I made a few changes in there,” he said as he flipped through the pages, “nothing too grand. I just know that there were some more things you wanted to be done before the baby came, so I made sure it got done for you.” 

Dahlia unlatched from your nipple and began to fuss, spitting the little milk she still had in her mouth out onto her chin. 

“Oh, you silly girl,” you cooed, ignoring Tom’s comments. You wiped her mouth with your handkerchief and pressed a kiss to her puffy cheeks, “you’re making such a mess,” you cooed. 

Tom smiled as he watched you. You held her close to your breasts and rocked her gently after patting her back until a quiet little belch came out. 

“I’m surprised Ivy let you in here,” You said quietly, looking out the window after you felt Dahlia relax and fall asleep in your arms.

Tom chuckled softly, “I am too,” he said, “but she’s been going easy on me this week.” 

You simply nodded and continued with your silence. 

It was maddening for Tom. Part of him didn’t even care if you lashed out anymore—he could take it, but he needed something from you. 

He swore weeks ago that he’d do anything to win back your affections, and if that meant taking a lashing, then he would take it lying down. He’d take it right now. Because in the end, nothing else hurt more than your apathy towards him. Even when you were little and you would taunt him and rile him up, that was better than this. At least you acknowledged his presence in your life. Because this—nothing was worse than this. This silence would kill him softly. 

“(Y/N),” Tom sighed, “please, just—say something?” he finally caved, “Talk to me. I know you're mad, I know. But I just want to make it better. I swear, I’d do anything—I’d take any retribution you give, but please, my darling. I-I love you and I can’t go on like this—“

“What do you want me to say?” You asked quietly, “That I forgive you? That I love you too? You want my lies?” 

Tom bit his tongue and hung his head. He wiped his eyes, knowing tears would soon come with the way this conversation was going. It always ended like this somehow. 

“No,” He choked out, shaking his head, “I just want you. Anything from you.” 

You scoffed, scooting to the edge of the bed and getting up to place your sleeping girl comfortably in her bassinet next to your bed. 

“(Y/N), please—“ 

“Shh,” you hushed him gently with your finger pressed to your lip. You rocked the cradle tenderly, as you spoke softly, almost a whisper. Partially to keep Dahlia asleep and partially because the words were so hard to find, so hard to say. 

“I have nothing left to give you, Tom.” You sighed, “I gave you my body, my soul, and my heart and you have proven quite clearly that you can’t be trusted with such precious things. Why would I give you any more of me? I don’t even want you to have her,” You stroked Dahlia’s cheek, “but by fate's cruel design, you are her father, and it doesn’t seem fair to deny her your love, if you should have any in your blackened heart.” 

“How could you say that?” Tom asked incredulously, “You know the makings of my heart, (Y/N)—you own it. Don’t you dare insinuate that I do not have love for her or for you—”

“For me?” You whipped your head up to him, “How could you say that?” You threw the words back at him harshly, “Do you not see with your eyes as I do, Tom? Are you so blinded by your own idiocy?” 

“Do not insult me when I come to make peace with you—”

“You struck me,” You said sharply, “and even when you had once said you would never strike a lady. You used to hate me once. You used to look at me with disgust and cruelty. And then somehow you fell in love, or so you claim. And so did I, though it was never a claim because I am not a liar and I could never fake that type of love. And then you—you go and hurt me? You have your whore and you have your secrets and then finally you just do the worst you can do—you be the worst you can be—and you-you struck me.” Your voice began to crack as you continued, “You play my head and my heart like your own personal instruments—I can hardly keep up. I feel—I feel dizzy with anger just thinking about all of the things you’ve done—all of the mistakes—all of the lies—”

“I never lied,” Tom tried, “I love you with my entire being. (Y/N), my love, I’m so sorry—”

Tom was cut off by your raised hand as Dahlia began to stir, the voices over her bed becoming too loud for her sound sleep. 

“You should go,” You wiped your eyes, “she needs rest, as do I.” 

Tom let out a sigh and nodded, making his way to the door. He turned back to you before he could leave, “Once these meetings are over and Hawthorne is gone, I want us to start again, (Y/N). I’ll never stop loving you or fighting to win back your affections. You’re my wife and that means the world to me. That can not be undone. You can not hand my heart back, it’s yours.” 

“I won’t give up my claim, Tom,” You stated.

Tom shook his head, “(Y/N), you must be reasonable—”

“I know you think Scotland is not important—that’s it’s just land—but it’s more than that. That was my home. All the memories I have there with my father, with Dahlia, with James, I can’t just give that up. And even more than that, I can’t just give Hawthorne what he wants. He killed my father, Tom. It was treason in the highest degree. It was murder. I will not stand back and let him take my home after he has already taken everything from me. And I thought you of all people would understand that. But instead, you—you let him into our home? You bring him close and welcome him as though we are friends? That’s not fair. So, no, I will not abdicate my claim.”

Dahlia began to cry as the tensions rose in the room. Tom was about to respond, but your attention was pulled from him to focus on her. So he simply nodded and left. 

He walked down the hall with your words in his mind. That's not fair. And in the end, he realized, you were right. It wasn’t fair. He had screwed up and he had to fix it. It was time for Hawthorne to go home. Dealings be damned. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Hawthorne was a sickeningly patient person. One may wonder how patience could be taken as a fault, and Hawthorne would be a prime example. He was a smart man and he knew rushing the process of matters only meant that most likely plans would not be fully thought through. At least with any extra time given, he could plot and scheme longer than intended, hence why he didn't mind Tom's lack of effort when it came to negotiations after Dahlia was born.  

His wife did mind, as England was a muddy, grimy place in the Spring. She was ready to pack everything up and head back home to Scotland where her roots were planted strong. 

“I’ve been here for months now,” She complained to her husband as they lounged in their chambers, “I want to go home. I miss our castle. William missed home too,” she looked over to their sleeping son, completely drained from the day's activities, passed out on the bed, “he can’t find his way around here at all.” 

“He’s hardly one,” Hawthorne reminded her, “he can’t find his way around our castle either. You must have patience, dear.” 

“I fear I have far too much,” Lola sighed, taking her brush from the vanity and running it through her red locks.

“They’ve just had a baby,” Hawthorne said, “of course, Thomas would want his time away from politics, it’s only reasonable. You certainly must understand that.” 

“I do, I do,” Lola assured him, “I’m just tired. Lord knows this weather is no help at all.” 

“Hm,” Hawthorne hummed, refocusing most of his attention back onto his book.

A knock on the door pulled the two from their own thoughts. Their guard opened it and poked his head in. “Excuse me, your graces,” he said, “but the King would like an audience if you don’t mind.” 

“Of course,” Hawthorne set his book down and stood from his chair, “let him in.” 

Tom thanked the guard as he entered and the door closed behind him. Hawthorne and Lola stood before him and bowed in his presence. 

“Ah, there’s no need for that,” Tom smiled, “thank you both so much for your patience. I apologize for my intrusion.” 

Hawthorne shook his head, “Nonsense, it is your castle after all.” 

“Yes, well, I figured since I’ve kept you waiting so long for an audience with me, I’d come to you right away with what I’ve decided.” 

“Decided?” Lola asked. 

“(Y/N) will not be giving up her claim to the Scottish throne,” Tom informed them, “in fact, as unfortunate as it is, I do not think it’s wise for the two of you to stay here any longer.”

“Thomas,” Lola shook her head, “you can’t mean this. You have worked so hard on these dealings. You must think this through more. We’ve come all this way—”

“Darling,” Hawthorne held his hand up to silence her, “you must address him properly,” he scolded her, “he is still King. That is far more than I can say for myself.” He turned to Tom and nodded, “I understand your hesitancy with these negotiations, but we’ve hardly discussed the possibilities for the future and truly mapped out how this transition of power would proceed. I do think you must think this through more. You’re young, and this is a huge decision, it can’t be made so swiftly.” 

“I assure you we haven’t made it too swiftly,” Tom said, “(Y/N) has thought about it for a while now and I agree with her. I must do what’s best for my family. I’ve just had a daughter and I must also think of my wife. Scotland is her land—only mine by marriage—and then it will be my daughter’s. I shouldn't be the one to give it away. Besides, the church already recognizes this claim. In the eyes of the Lord, this is right and just.”

“Well, perhaps we could discuss this with (Y/N)? You’ve already given your claim away. The documents are signed on your part. We should discuss this with (Y/N).” Lola suggested, tugging her husband’s arm, noticing his newfound silence. 

“I think not,” Tom shook his head, “she’s just had a baby and is quite done with these dealings as is. I doubt any discussions with her would prove fruitful.” 

Lola looked at her husband, her eyebrows furrowed and a frown plastered on her face. But he merely shrugged her off and looked to Tom, “This matter can be resolved swiftly, your grace,” He said, “I don’t mean to be rude or to offend in any way, but are we sure that (Y/N) is in the right mental state to rule land as vast and populated as Scotland?” 

“My wife is more than capable of ruling,” Tom defended, crossing his arms, “besides, it is her birthright. It is in her blood. That quality is not one that is merely taught—it is a gift. She did not have to steal, lie, or cheat her way to the throne.” He spoke with venom at Hawthorne’s insinuations. 

“As I said,” Hawthorne offered a small smile, “I mean no offense. I just know of her temperamental nature. Women can be temperamental creatures. As her husband, you must know this—”

“I know of my wife’s passion and love for her duty and subjects,” Tom snapped, “that is what I know.” 

“Of course, your grace,” Hawthorne nodded, “I would just hate for something… harsh and drastic to happen because you failed to report your wife’s unruly temperament and inability to rule to the court.” 

“Is that a threat?” Tom asked, running his hand over the sword strapped to his side,“Are you threatening me in my own home?” 

“No,” Hawthorne shook his head and avoided eye contact, “I-I just was—voicing my concern.” 

“Well my wife’s temperament is none of your concern.” 

“Of course, your grace,” Hawthorne nodded, “if you'd just give us a few days to gather our belongings and we’ll be out of your hair.”

“Of course,” Tom agreed, eyeing Hawthorne suspiciously before leaving the room. 

The second he stepped out of the room he released a breath of relief. He immediately began to walk to your chambers to tell you the news. 

“Send word to Norway,” He instructed Ivy as she walked alongside him, “Hawthorne is heading back to Scotland, I want Harrison and Sam sent there soon to oversee that power is taken from him immediately. Tell them to return home first, to see my daughter and (Y/N) before they are sent off.”

“Yes, your grace,” Ivy smiled, nodding before walking off. 

“That doe-eyed, idiotic bastard!” Hawthorne threw the book in his hands at the wall, knocking over a painting mounted there, “He’s a fucking child, trying to play king. What a jest—How dare he—“ 

“Darling—” Lola reached for her fuming husband, touching his cheek in an attempt to soothe him. He swatted her away, slapping her wrists harshly. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he spat. The raucousness caused their son to stir and whine in the bed, “and fucking shut him up!” Hawthorne yelled, pointing at the crying toddler. 

Lola rushed to her son's side and held him close to her chest as he cried.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

You first gave into the hand on your cheek, stroking it gently. You hummed softly in your slumber as you felt the warmth of it on your face. It reminded you of when you were little and you had a fever, so Dahlia would be up all hours of the night soothing you by holding you in her arms and stroking your hot cheeks. 

It also reminded you of Tom, and how he’d admire you in the morning when he woke before you. He’d watch you as you continued to sleep, but his excitement to love on you would always get the better of him and soon he’d be stroking your cheeks and touching your soft lips with his thumb. Then, just as you were stirring awake, he’d be showering you with a barrage of kisses. You’d always wake with giggles and tired pleads of ‘stop’ and ‘it tickles’. But you loved it. Soon you were kissing him back. And there would go your first hour of the day, wasted in the sheets. 

The memory made you frown and turn away from the hand on your face. You blinked your eyes open and groaned when you saw Tom’s hopeful face in front of you. A small smile painted on his lips, that wavered when you rolled away from him. 

“Wait,” Tom placed his hand on your shoulder, “darling, I’m so sorry to wake you—”

“How did you even get in here?” You complained, “Where’s Ivy?” 

“She’s sending a letter for me,” Tom squeezed your shoulder in an attempt to soothe you, but you merely shrugged him off. 

“What do you want?” You sighed, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You looked over at the bassinet by your bed and noticed Dahlia sleeping peacefully, blissfully ignorant of the pest that disturbed your slumber, “Dahlia’s still sleeping, you can come back later but—”

“No,” Tom shook his head, “I want to talk to you,” he offered you a small smile, taking your hand in his. 

“I—” You pulled your hand away, noticing the way Tom's face fell in the candlelight, “I’m tired.” You tried. 

“Please, just listen then,” Tom pleaded. You hesitated for a moment, but eventually conceded and laid back down, getting comfortably nestled into the covers while Tom sat above them. 

He took your hand back into his as he spoke and began rubbing small circles over it with his thumb, “I’ve sent Hawthorne home.” He informed you, a big grin making its way onto his face. 

“What?” You asked, sitting up slightly, “Tom…have you? Are you sure? What did you say?” 

“Of course I’m sure,” Tom smiled, “you were right, darling. I was ignorant and stupid and I let other people think for me. But never again,” Tom placed his hand on your cheek, “you and her,” he nodded over to the baby sleeping soundly in her bed, “are the only two that matter to me. You are the only two that should advise me so much, especially when it comes to something that will alter our futures in such a drastic way. I told him he needed to leave court and that you would not be signing your claim away.”

You turned your cheek away, “Tom,” you frowned, “I’m not sure it’s as simple as sending him away from court. We’d still have to take the power back—”

“I’ve already got it planned out, my love,” Tom assured you, “but I won’t make any final decisions without you. Come to the next council meeting. Harrison and Sam will be back from Norway soon and the minute they return, we will start planning. I know now that it’s not just land and I’m sorry I made it seem like it was.” Tom pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I know it’ll take more time for us to be okay again, and I’ll wait for you, but I’m trying to do what’s right and take the steps I need to take. Is—is this okay?” Tom asked hesitantly. 

Deep down you knew what he meant. You could see it in his eyes and the way they shone with uncertainty. Did I do okay? Am I forgiven? Do you still love me? Unanswered questions that plagued his mind the minute he began talking to you. He could hardly read the look on your face. All he could hope was that he fixed his mistakes and did right by you.

You nodded and wiggled your hand into Tom’s, “It’s more than okay, Tom,” you whispered, taking your other hand and placing it on his cheek, “thank you.” 

Tom sniffled and smiled, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand that was on his cheek, before getting up, “I’ll, uh—” he cleared his throat, “I’ll be back in the morning to see Dahlia.”

“Wait,” You grasped his hand again, “w-why don’t you just stay?” You offered. 

“Are you sure?” 

You nodded and opened the covers up for Tom to crawl into, “I just want to talk some more. Is that okay?” You asked. 

“More than,” Tom smiled, crawling into the bed beside you. 

You laid next to each other without touching. Every so often your fingers would brush over each other and you’d feel that spark you hadn't felt in weeks, maybe months, it’d been so long since you shared your bed with Tom. 

“Was he angry?” You asked, looking over at Tom. 

“Not quite,” Tom said, “he tried to convince me otherwise, but I would not be persuaded. He was docile afterward. He said they’d need a few days to gather their things.” 

“We must hold them to that,” You said, “I don’t trust them.” 

“Neither do I,” Tom sighed, “but if we’re lucky, the worst of it has passed.” 

“I’ve never been quite so lucky.” 

“I have been,” Tom said quietly, “I got you as a wife,” he took your hand in his, “I count that as pretty lucky.” 

You smiled and squeezed his hand in yours, “Oh hush,” you chuckled, intertwining your fingers. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“You know the plan then,” Hawthorne said to Farley as they conversed over a glass of wine, “you know what you must do and all of the consequences if you shall fail?” 

“I do, your grace,” Farley nodded, and took a sip of his wine, “but I fear that this is too drastic. We have lost—should we not simply accept that and take our leave back to Scotland?” 

“And do what?!” Hawthorne yelled, slamming his fist on the table, starling the man sitting across from him, “I refuse to go back to Scotland with anything less than what I am owed. I came for a crown and I intend to leave with one. If we go back now, who knows how long it will take before Scotland is filled with Englishmen, coming to take over the land in the name of their spineless king. As for him, God, the fool himself. He sends us home as if there is no ill will. As if we can still keep our lands and wealth. But I know the truth. I know the shackles he plans to put on us.” 

“Thomas is a fool,” Farley agreed, “he listens to his wife rather than to reason. But to assassinate—”

“Do you want to see your son again?” Hawthorne asked, shutting the fat man up, “Because if so I suggest you shut the fuck up right now and get to work. That young boy is in Scotland waiting for your return. He’s all you have left now, Farley. You know as well as I that any promises this weak-willed king makes are not truly promised at all.” 

“When do you want this done?” Farley looked down into his wine glass, staring intently at the red liquid. 

“Tomorrow would be best,” Hawthorne said, “They expect us to be gone within the next few days. My guards tell me (Y/N) spends most of her time alone in her chambers, food and drink being brought to her by her chambermaid. That’s where the interception must happen. She’ll have tasters on her sustenance before then, whilst it’s still in the kitchen.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

The next part of the story, you’d never get right in knowing the truth of—not that you ever wanted to—but the only comfort you could find was in understanding what had happened and why. 

In the end, the pieces you gathered you had to string together the best you could for cohesion, and even so, you still couldn’t understand how the world could be so unfair. To make matters worse, the only person who could truly tell why he did what he did was gone. And the only person who could soothe this hurt was also gone.

“Did you see his grace leave her grace’s chamber this morning?” One of the maids grabbed Ida’s arm as she whispered, “I heard he stayed the night with her.” 

“That’s just gossip,” Ida rolled her eyes as she got your tray set up with lemon tarts and tea. She was setting the teacups down when the maid shook her arm again, causing her to spill a bit, “and even so, that’s hardly a tale, they are married after all.” 

“I know,” the maid sighed, “but they despise each other, don’t they? He never sleeps in her chambers—”

“They have a baby,” Ida scoffed, “surely he has laid with her before.” 

“Oh, well, you can get the truth of it, can’t you?” She asked excitedly, “You’re her most trusted chambermaid.” 

“I won’t sully myself to tales,” Ida shook her head, taking the tray into her hands and placing it on a cart to push to your room. She began walking away from the maid, who simply shrugged and found another servant to spread her story to. 

The cart also had trays for other stops she had to make, one being Harry’s room since he had requested breakfast in his chambers. 

“Morning, your grace,” Ida greeted him when he opened the door for her. She placed his plate on the table in his room and uncovered it to reveal the ham, eggs, sausage, and beans he frequently had. 

“Morning, Ida,” Harry smiled warmly at her, but received none back, “why the sour look?” 

“Oh, just some silly gossip I heard this morning. The maids here are horrendous with the wild tales they’ll spin to keep themselves entertained.” 

“What was the tale? Was it about me?” Harry raised his eyebrows, “Because if so, my dear Ida, I’m afraid it’s true. I’m a bit of a rambunctious scamp, some say.” He joked, taking a sip of his tea. 

“Very funny,” Ida cracked a smile, “but no. It bothered me so because it was about (Y/N). I assume it’d bother you as well.” 

“Rightfully so,” Harry’s smile fell, “what’re people saying?” 

“It’s just gossip,” Ida shrugged off, “besides, I have to go, (Y/N)’s breakfast in on that tray,” she motioned to the cart she left in the hallway. 

She was halfway out the door with Harry on her heels, “Wait, well, now you’ve got me curious—” 

“Oh, just some rumors about Tom in (Y/N)’s chambers last night. I doubt they hold any truth given how she feels about him, but even so, they are married and what happens in their chambers isn’t of anyone’s concern.” Ida brushed it off, though it left a foul taste in her mouth to think that you had welcomed Tom back so swiftly when you had just been cursing him out the day prior. 

Harry was about to say something but stopped in his tracks when he saw someone sniffing around the cart that held your food, “Hey! What the hell are you doing?” 

Your grace.” Ida chided his hostile behavior, before turning her attention to Lord Farley, “These are for the queen, m’lord.” She said kindly, “but I’m sure the kitchen has some, and if not I can have an order sent in for you?” 

“Oh, no, no,” Farley chuckled, “that’s quite alright, I should be watching my figure anyhow.” He ran his hands over the large, pudgy belly that shook when he patted it. 

“Okay, well, have a lovely day,” Ida gave him a kind smile before walking off. 

She continued her walk, passing by Tom, who was on his way to Harry’s room to tell him of the new plans regarding Scotland. 

“Morning Ida,” Tom nodded to her, “is that for (Y/N)?” he pointed to the lemon tarts.

“Yes, your grace,” Ida nodded, “she’s moving Dahlia to the nursery today, so I thought it’d be a nice treat.” 

“That was very kind of you,” Tom smiled. 

“Yes, well, I do try,” Ida mentioned to the pastries, “would you like one?” 

“Oh, no thank you,” Tom shook his head, “is Harry awake, do you know?” 

“He is, I just dropped off his breakfast,” Ida informed him. Tom nodded and thanked her before walking off. 

“Good morning Har—” Tom walked in with a huge smile on his face, but it was quickly wiped off when he felt a warm glob of beans coat his left cheek, “What the fuck?!” 

“Did you fuck (Y/N)?” Harry asked, face red and fuming. 

“What?” Tom scoffed, wiping the beans off of his face with the back of his hand, “What are you on about?” 

“Ida said that the maids are whispering about you staying the night with her,” Harry explained, “did you fuck her? After all that you put her through?” 

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Tom said, “but no, I didn’t make love to my wife. We just talked.” 

“Why would she want to talk to you?” 

“I thought you'd be happy?” Tom dodged his hurtful question, “I know you liked her and all, but you said so yourself, her and I are good together.” 

Harry shook his head, “You were sad,” he said, “I was just trying to make you feel better. And I don’t just like her, I love her, not that you care—”

“She’s my wife, Harry,” Tom argued, “what do you want me to say to that? That you can have her? Well, you can’t. Not ever. Not even if I stopped loving her. Our marriage is binding, and I do love her so very much—”

“I fucking know that!” Harry snapped, “It’s all you ever talk about.” 

Tom shook his head and let out a humorless chuckle, “Grow up,” he scoffed, “you need to court someone soon because this can’t keep happening.” 

Harry just rubbed his eyes and sat on the bed, “What did you come in here for?” he asked, changing the subject. 

Tom sighed and took a napkin from the tray that held Harry’s breakfast and began to wipe his face off from the remnants of beans, “I’ve sent Hawthorne and his people back to Scotland, I came to inform you and I want you to go there as well.” 

“When?” Harry asked. 

“In time,” Tom said, “I’m still working it out with (Y/N). But I fear there will be a power struggle and I need my most trusted advisors to make sure power is taken from Hawthorne. That’s you, Sam, Barrett, and Harrison, perhaps Ivy as well. I know I’ll need trusted guards there.” 

“Wait,” Harry looked up to Tom, “that doesn’t make sense, I just saw Farley in the hallway. Will he be sent back as well?” 

“Yes, of course,” Tom nodded, “Lord knows I don’t want him here,” He cracked a smile. 

“Do you think Hawthorne told him of their journey back to Scotland?” Harry wondered. 

“Most likely,” Tom said, “I’ve given them a few days to get their things together, but I expect them to be gone fairly soon.” 

Harry grew quiet for a moment, deep in thought as he held his chin in his hand, “That’s strange,” he finally said quietly. 

“What?” Tom asked. 

“Farley didn’t seem to mind at all when I saw him earlier,” Harry recalled, “he seemed… calm even. Not like someone that just got news of a failed political negotiation.” 

“Perhaps he’s ready to head home,” Tom suggested. 

“I don’t know,” Harry shook his head, “you remember how he acted when he was asked to leave court the first time. Why would now be any different? Because he has Hawthorne looking out for him? If (Y/N) never abdicated her claim, then Hawthorne’s power is no greater than Farley’s, making him weak security if any.” 

Tom thought about it for a moment before shaking his head and burying the thought aside, “I’m sure it’s nothing,” He said, “for all we know, he might not know yet. He’ll know in time, and then perhaps we’ll have a problem as we did before, but until then, can I count on you to be a trusted advisor in Scotland and push my political agenda there?” 

“Of course,” Harry nodded. 

“Good,” Tom patted his brother on the back, “we'll talk more about this later. When Sam and Harrison return we’ll have a council meeting to make sure this all goes smoothly.” 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Good morning, your grace,” Ida greeted you as she brought your tray in, “and good morning to you,” she cooed at Dahlia, who was bundled up cozily in Arthur’s arms. 

Arthur was sitting on your bed next to you as you watched him hold the baby, making sure he was supporting her neck properly. 

“Good morning,” You smiled at her, “thank you for breakfast.” 

“Of course,” Ida nodded, before turning her attention to Arthur, “and would you like anything Arthur? I could go get you something from the kitchen and bring it back up.” she offered. 

“No, thank you,” Arthur shook his head. He had a deep frown on his face and he spoke glumly in response to Ida’s offer. 

“What’s wrong, kid?” Ida asked. 

“He’s upset because I won’t let him go riding today,” You ruffled his hair, tangling your fingers in the mop of curls.

“Oh,” Ida nodded, “well that’s a very wise choice. It’s going to rain today, something terrible. We wouldn't want you getting sick or falling from your horse.” 

“Surely Nikki isn’t letting Paddy out in this weather,” You said, tilting Arthur’s head up so he’d look at you. 

“No,” he said sadly, “Paddy has a lesson today.” 

“Why don’t you sit in on that?” 

“‘M not allowed,” Arthur mumbled. 

“Why?” You questioned. 

“The teacher says he only teaches noble-born children. I tried to sit in on the lesson last week and he kicked me out of the room,” Arthur complained, “it was completely embarrassing.” 

“That’s not right,” You frowned. You wrapped your arm around Arthur and kissed the top of his head, “you’re better than any noble-born kid out there, okay? I’ll have someone deal with that teacher. For now, you can just spend the day with me. How does that sound?” 

“A little boring,” Arthur cracked a small smile, “but okay.” 

“Boring?” You gasped, holding a hand to your chest in faux offense, “I’ll have you know that today is a very special day actually.” 

“Really?” Arthur asked. 

“Yes, really,” You nodded, “today we are going to get Dahlia set up in her nursery. And then we are going to sign documents and go for tea with the ladies, it will be quite fun I think.” 

“Tea with the ladies?” Arthur scrunched his face up. 

“Yes,” You pinched his cheeks, “and we’ll gossip too, that’s the best part.” 

“Well, if I must,” Arthur sighed, but you could see a smile slowly making its way onto his face. 

“Good, now hush and have some lemon tarts,” You offered, taking Dahlia from his arms and motioning for Ida to place the tray in Arthur’s lap. 

Arthur began eating while you and Ida talked. 

“Do you need anything else, your grace?” Ida asked. 

“No,” You said, “but if you could begin preparations for tea at noon that would be lovely.” 

“Of course,” Ida nodded, “I’ll get right on that.” 

Ida was just about to leave when you both heard it. A sound that you’d never be able to get out of your mind.

Arthur began coughing on the bed, gasping for breath as he scratched at his throat. At first, you assumed he’d swallowed something the wrong way, or perhaps even worse, he was choking. 

You quickly handed the baby to Ida and rushed to Arthur’s side, “Are you choking?” You asked though it seemed redundant, seeing as he couldn’t speak. 

Arthur shook his head rapidly before the coughing became more violent and the began to claw at his neck rather than scratch. 

“Get the physician!” You yelled to Ida, and you tried to hold Arthur’s hands away from his throat and tilt his head up so you could see what was wrong. Ida just stood there in shock as Dahlia began to cry in her arms, “Are you stupid?” You screamed, “Now!” 

Ida placed Dahlia into her bassinet and quickly left the room. 

“Breathe, Arthur,” You tried to instruct, taking slow and deep breaths for him to follow, but it was pointless. The struggle was only increasing as his airway closed until finally, you began to hear a gurgling in his throat. You laid his head into your lap and stroked his hair as he struggled, but soon bile and blood began to come up with each heaving cough, yet no breath could be had. 

“No,” you cried, tears falling from your eyes immediately onto the boy's cheeks, “no, come on,” you tried to soothe him the best you could, but the more red you saw the more your gut clenched and the sense of dread you felt within you increased tenfold. 

“Help!” You cried, screaming out to the hall, hoping somebody could hear, “Somebody help! Please!” 

Ida was taking so long, and you knew that you didn’t have time anymore. Arthur had been without breath for so long and the light in his eyes was dying. His strength was leaving and you could feel him fading. 

You took his hand in yours and he immediately squeezed it, before sputtering out another splatter of blood. 

Dahlia was screaming now, shrieking from the chaos of the moment. You weren’t much better. Because soon, the struggle from the boy in your arms stopped, and all that was left was his limp, lifeless body, frozen in time.

The grip of the hand in yours went lax and no matter how tightly you squeezed or tried to hold on, it was no use. 

Blood and bile coated his chin and ran down the front of him. It ran down his nose and out of the corner of his eyes. His poor terrified eyes. 

“No,” you shook him gently, “no, A-Arthur.” 

You let out the most painful wail—if God heard it, he wept as well. 

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

A/N: i don’t think anything i say rn will make this better, so i’m just gonna shut up :/

(banner from @lauras-collection)

want to join my taglist?

✧tags & moots✧ PERM

@ptergwen @princessofguineapigs​ @peterbenjiparker​ @cherrytholland​ @itsapeterthing​ @justapurrcat​ @kelieah​ @iovebug​ @celestialholland  @hollandcrush​ @scarletspideyy​ @blissfulparker​ @spidernerdsblog​ @spideyspeaches​ @andilovetowrite​ @sinisterspidey​ @annathesillyfriend​ @lovelybarnes @white-wolf1940 @wierdteenagenerd @arvinsescape​ @super-not-naturall @allthisfortommy @selfcarecap @misshale21 @morganwilliams-blog-blog @loveaffaire @tomfknholland @pogueslandia​ @tomshufflepuff @aayaissaa @hallecarey1 @a-daydreamers-day @holland-styles @cloudyfeel @peni5parker @slut-for-steve-rogers @kitkatt18-blog @kitkat2015-blog @bookfrog242 @slutforfics @wildxwidow @kayasholland @prancerrparkerr @petesrparker @arlo-sanders @sxuxgarplxum @peter-parkers-gf @namoreno @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @peter-parkers-cullen-nerd @xoxokiaraaxoxo @hollandsvogue-blog @marvelobsessed10031917 @z3ndaya-blog @sunflowerfive @yunho-leeknow @xxxstormyninixxx @marvelhasmyheart235 @lowkey-holland @blahblahblah-boo @nocturnalms @happyt0exist @kpostedsum @noemiix1 @spideymix @mischieftom @sophi54 @allazay101 @spideybrina @rqmanoff @rory-cakes @parkerdarling @samaraaaaa-blog @freds-slut @gingerbreadgodofhyperdeath @blue-4-55-readinglist @brown-eyed-doe @misslady246 @tonystarksfavoritedaughter @adayasgeorgia @mn-jun @spider-man-stiles-gubler @wildholland @demirunner @quackquackbi @marvelobsessedteen @lolooo22 @moniffazictress11 @sleepybesson @evermoresstuff @sweetpeterparker @bradtomlovesya @teenwishes08 @hogwartsmarvelmommy @dracoswhore007 @elishi03 @beth-gallagher22 @hunnybunimdun @badbatch-simp24 @raajali3 @vibezayn91 @heyyitsreign @iamsherloki-wholocked @itscaminow @blankspaceblankday @denkisclown @spideysloverera @minejungwoo @dirtytissuebox @whoeveniskendall @princessnnylzays @katie-navarro @hollandscherry @demirunner @lucypevensie111-blog @dottirose @tiaamberxx @wh0re4zaynmalik @luvwanda @kinlie-l @cevans-winchester @502spidey @wondergal2001 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @belovedholland @randomstufflol29 @t-lostinworlds @kaitieskidmore1 @milkiane @alisslahey @pandaxnienke @onceuponameli @ju1cyang3l @maximoffbarnesprotectionsquad

✧tags & moots✧ TOM HOLLAND

@harryhollandsgirlfriend @hollandlover19 | @worldoftom @hollandsrecs @theonly1outof-a-billion @thevelvetseries @moonchild-s-blog @lmaotshollandd @tomhollandlol @outshineallthestars @masonslovie @summer-paris-lights

BTY: @frogsbelike1 @bobo-bush @allthisfortommy @t-hollanderr @tomsirishgirlx @marishaslove @enjoymyloves @hidejeon @username2002 @honestly-who-even-is-this @myshaahmad77 @webslinger-holland

#tom holland #tom holland au #royal au #prince au #prince!tom #prince!tom holland #princess!reader #King!Tom Holland #queen!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland smut #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland blurb #tom holland series #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction

[xtom-darling-x17]

The Prince - part 1

Paring - Prince Tom Holland x Maiden Reader

Summary - Prince Tom Holland goes into a secret relationship with a Maiden, getting caught up in between his love rather than his duties as a Prince.

Warnings - mentions of sexual, seductive content. But other than that, it’s fluff.

A/N - This is the first chapter of my series, called The Prince. I improved it to make it better! First time, I’ve tempted to write it and post it was not that good. But I am more please after the changes of this series. (Adding and changing parts of the story) hope you enjoy!

Word count - 1.4K

High expectations as being a Prince is all they ever say. They do not discuss details such as love or having a personal life, other than your status.

Being from the royal family, especially a Prince is a high graceful place to be but it’s tiring and hard too. Especially, having a particular maid you are in love with.

Tom wrapped around his bed sheets as a random maid comes in to run him a bath, and get his clothes ready. His eyes wonder a bit to far on this maid. Smiling at himself because of your beauty.

He watches Your small, soft hands pour the jug full of warm water into the fairly, large tube. Pouring until the bath is full. His body only being covered with boxers and thin sheets.

He got up, walking towards you. You didn’t notice as you was filling up the bath. He hasn’t notice you before so you must be a new staff member. Wrapping arms around your waist, startles you.

“Careful, love, you may trip on the wet surface.” Tom tells, smirking at your flustered face. He puts a towel on the floor to dry the area.

“Your grace, you should not be touching me like that, that could be seen as inappropriate.” You collected yourself, standing up straight speaking up firmly.

Tom don’t listen to your ‘silly’ words as he takes your hand and kisses it. “My, my, your so sweet but I think a little flirt isn’t hurting anyone.” Winking at you.

“You are seeming to be cocky and impatient my Prince, will you please get in your bath.” You answer back, tapping your foot on the hard wooden floor.

“Feisty I like it, for a maid that is.” Tom steps into the bath with no clothes on now, you turned around when he took them off. “Are you going to stay?” Tom smirks.

“What? Do I have to wash you now?” You sort of scoffed. Showing shock that he actually is taking a liking or an interest in you. “Do you tell this to all your maids?” You asked, curiously.

“No, Darling, but for you yes because you feel different. The other maids are not like you, they are not you.” Tom continues “As for the first question, you can company me if you like,” Tom asks, generally wanting you to stay and join him.

“Are you sure? I’m a maid, I shouldn’t be bathing with a Prince.” You questioned once more, nervous at being caught. Even worse being punished for your sinful acts.

Tom nods, grabbing your hand gently into his own. He stands up turning you around, pressing your back into his naked, wet chest. “Darling, I’m sure please join your Prince,” he whispers, seductively. Hands trailing on your neck, shoulders and jaw line. Kissing your neck and cheek with such passion.

You get shivers as he gives you close contact. Your breathe hitches as he touches you in all the right places. You feel him kiss your cheek once more, slightly biting your neck. “Yes, I will bath with you but we will not do anything too crazy.” You agreed with on your conditions.

He smiles, “can I take off your clothes, sweetheart.” He asked, of your consent. “Yes, please.” You reply, smiling.

He un-buttons your maid outfit, then pulls the strings undone on your corset. Making them fall down on the floor. You step out of them, getting into the bath with Tom’s help making sure you don’t slip. Tom guides you to sit down against his toned, ripped chest. Wrapping his arms around your waist. Nozzle his face into your shoulder.

“comfy,” Tom whispers into your shoulder. “Mmhm,” you nod. The waters warm and relaxing, especially that the young Prince is cuddling you against him.

“Your so absolutely gorgeous, sweetheart!” He kisses you more, making you feel butterflies.

“You like this don’t you Darling?” Tom chuckles, you nodded, too shy to actually use words.

“Don’t worry, me too love,” Tom reply’s.

That’s how it started, you didn’t intend to constantly give in to him. His characteristics and naturally, his nature drew you in!

Making you sort of vulnerable, at his calling. You did like him, in-fluctuated with him even. You could tell that Tom was giving the same feelings back towards you. He didn’t care about your status because it was obvious that he was in love!

Tom made it his priority to make time with and for you. secretly, being such a sweetheart to you, even though to everyone else your just a poor, helpless, ragged maid. He’s a handsome, powerful, royal prince. To Tom, you eventually became his everything over time.

Dusting the window ledges in one of the spiral towers, looking outside to the beautiful view. You felt arms snaking around you “Your more beautiful, My love,” Tom insisted to you smiling. “Tom, shh, your handsome too, but what are you doing here?” You giggle, turning around to face him.

“I am suppose to be at my practice with my brothers but I snuck off to get a kiss from my favourite and only lady.” He winks at you, kissing you on the lips passionately. You kiss him back giggling more. “You have to be quiet love, I know they are looking for me.” Tom whispers into your ear. Cupping your cheeks and chin with his large, soft hands to go back at Kissing your lips gently, again. Closing your eyes to enjoy it more, kissing back just as passionately as he is.

He secretly, loves making out with you when he has duties to For Fill. Gladly, he always mange’s to sneak off somewhere without them knowing where he has gone. 

Loving the taste of cherries and berries on his soft, tender lips even the hint of that sweet summer blue lagoon wine he loves so much to drink with you. He pulls you closer, grabbing on your bum pulling himself more on you.

Tongues clashing, swirling around until you can no longer breathe air, just each other.

Finally pulling apart, hugging one another. “I think you should go back now,” you smile, sadly.

Both wrapped up around each other, feeling content into each other’s embrace.

Tom nods, “yes, me too, but I really don’t want to leave.” Kissing you again.

You both hear guards running along the hallways, sighing. Knowing that it didn’t last long.

“Well, love my time to leave before they catch us or me.” Tom gives a sorrow look, holding your hands kissing your cheek. You nod, “bye, Tommy.” You kiss him. “Bye, sweetheart.” He kisses you. Going back down the stairs.

You go up the stairs to wash more windows, smiling as you do so.

Other times are much quicker or longer than the last.

You sneak into his chambers together, laying on his soft, silk sheets. He trips not so gracefully landing on the bed, you giggle.

“Shh” Tom makes grabby hands towards you. Walking over to go into the bed. Much bigger and comforter than yours. Sometimes having to remind yourself that your only a maid, you are always grateful for experiencing love and these opportunities with him.

Cuddling up to him, stroking his head full of brown, soft, curly locks. He tilts his head back groaning at the sensation of how your touch feels on the most simple part of him. He always thinks he’s so grateful and lucky to his gods to have you in his life. Not those wanna be princesses. But someone, who is collected and got amazing personality. Someone, who wants REALLY him for him too.

He does the same for you, stroking at your strands of hair. Running like silk through his finger tips, he massages your scalp in his palms. You sigh in pleasure. Tom slowly kisses you, savouring the sweet taste of your tongue. holding your head close to his. Making out on his bed is so wonderful.

“Are you tired Darling?” Tom asked, kissing your forehead. You nodded, closing your eyes a bit.

“Go to sleep, My love,” Tom insists, tucking you in with him under the covers, making sure your comfortable and cuddled enough to fall asleep.

“Goodnight, love you so much My Future Queen,” Tom whispers, in your ear lovingly. Kissing you softly on your delightful lips.

Smiling, Those sweet words made it to your tummy (very quick) giving you butterflies.

“Goodnight, love you so much too My Future King,” you whisper, back into your ear softly. Giving him a gentle kiss on his sweet lips.

Falling into a peaceful slumber together.

#tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fandom #tom holland #princetomholland #princess royal #prince and princess #maidreader #london #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #true love #romantic #romance #love #lovers #sweetness #tom holland x you

[sourholland]

Glamorous || Tom Holland

Part Nine

| Series Masterlist |

Summary → In this Princess Diana retelling, you are working in a nursery school as an aid in London, as well as a part time nanny. With slight aristocratic ties, you choose to live a more normal and mundane life. When the Prince of Wales comes to know you and bring you into the spotlight, everything changes. Truths coming too late, lies straining your relationship, and the impending future of the country falling on your shoulders. Is this really the stuff of which fairytales are made?

AN → Feedback is appreciated:)

Chapt. References → Hospital Outfit

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → Alcohol, Light Smut, Depression, Pregnancy

Word Count → 2.4k

October, 1983 - Longing for what once was

The remainder of the six week long tour that felt like so long ago was miserable, to you at least. To the public it looked beautiful, like it went swimmingly. Like you were head over heels in love.

It was a triumph either way, Australia adored you to such a degree that any sensitivity from the Prime Minister regarding the continent’s place in the Commonwealth was dismissed. You had enamored the people of both Australia and New Zealand. Tom was sick with jealousy even when you’d arrived home.

He was distant in the months that passed, he was still involved with her, involved with Eleanor. Your relationship was strained most of the time, sex was sparse. You missed the start of the tour, when you’d felt overwhelmed with love. You didn’t care about the public approval, you only wanted your husband’s affection.

Henry’s birthday came and went in September, he was one now. You would celebrate your twenty-second birthday in less than a month. Henry took his first steps, you’d videotaped it on a large bulky black recorder that you used for home videos. Tom was not there to see it.

-

January, 1984 - Lovers’ Quarrel

Switzerland under the constant snow and gorgeous conditions was exactly how you’d loved bringing in the New Year. With Sam and his fiancée, you and Tom took a ski trip to Liechtenstein.

Elizabeth was lovely, she had the prettiest of chestnut hair and brown eyes. You could tell he loved her, and that she was the one. They’d be married in the summer, which was very exciting to you. It was bittersweet to see a couple so in love and enthralled with each other, especially with the turn your marriage had taken as of late.

For the trip, you tried to be civil. Before you’d landed, you begged Tom to just be happy with you for once, to let it all go for awhile and enjoy each other’s company. He seemed to engage in this idea, for awhile at least.

The first day was wonderful, the snow was powdery and fresh. It was normal for you and Tom to sleep in different beds, though he came in and got ready with you that morning. He managed to poke fun at your brightly covered snow pants and jacket, as well as help you get into you boots once you made it to the resort.

Having been skiing your whole life, you didn’t need his help—but instead appreciated the rare gesture. You took the lift up to a double black diamond, teasing all the way up. The press were scattered across the resort, snapping photos and yelling questions all day long.

Sam and Elizabeth were great fun, she was an avid skier like yourself. She made it fun for you, having another girl to talk to. She talked so happily about her relationship, telling you how amazing Sam was. You smiled and nodded, knowing all of it was true.

Sam felt awful for you, for your situation. He stepped back, though. As far as the role of being by your side and calling all the time came. You knew it was because it wasn’t what a respectable fiancé did, especially when he’d previously felt so strongly about you. It was admirable of him, you never had any hard feelings.

Tom’s cheeks were pink from the cold, flakes of snow in his lashes every time he removed his goggles. His curls stuck to his forehead, lips red and a bit dry. He was handsome, so handsome you remembered why you were so encapsulated by him at the beginning.

Late into the afternoon, you were both stopped at the bottom of one of the mountains, parallel to each other and stationary. You couldn’t help leaning over and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips, he smiled a little, touching your jaw briefly and chuckling.

That night was fun, you and Tom cooped up in your bedroom, wine drunk and giggling. It reminded you of the good times. He was always happier with you after a few drinks. And that’s the thing, if a man is only able to tolerate you after a drink, he’s not worth the trouble.

Perched on his lap, you felt his hardness underneath you. It had been such a time since you’d been intimate. He kissed your neck, and you touched his chest. Somehow he had lifted you and placed you on the bed in one quick motion, clothes came off and he was thrusting into you.

It was nice to feel that spark between you again, to be so close. It was an amazing night, one of laughter and sex. It didn’t last, though.

It never lasts.

Further into the week, press was reporting hearing you and Tom arguing from inside of the house off the resort your were staying in. Newspapers recalled some yelling from both the Prince and Princess, calling it a lovers’ quarrel.

Tom went back to sleeping in a different room for the remainder of the trip.

-

February, 1984 - A chance at happiness

The doctor told you that you were expecting, you’d have another baby around the end of September.

Tom took the news happily, with a close lipped smile and a loose embrace. There was no doubt in your mind that he loved Henry, you knew his reaction was because of you, because of the strain in your relationship.

He resumed his obvious calls and writing to Eleanor, you wondered how long he’d go on before he resumed his sexual relationship with her. You felt bad for her husband and children. They’d also suffered in this situation.

The Queen told Tom to let this pregnancy be the glue that keeps your marriage lively. She said to embrace it, make things right. The King had written to you several times, expressing concern about yourself and Tom. He said he understood how hard it must be, which offered you some peace, knowing he at least didn’t think you were crazy.

Sometimes you felt crazy.

The sinking feeling of wishing things were different came back slow, then all at once. You tried to ignore it, but couldn’t escape the pain that came with getting out of bed some days. It was weighing you down mentally, and nobody seemed to care. It was utterly exhausting to be made out as an attention seeking, whiny wife.

-

Mid-Spring, 1984 - Why is nothing ever good enough?

Tom went on and on about how he wished for a girl, he wanted a daughter. It was all you heard about at the start of your pregnancy, how he wanted one son and one daughter. At first it was endearing, how he’d become involved in family planning and thinking about your future with your children. Then it became incessant, why did he want a girl so badly? Couldn’t he settle for a happy, healthy baby

It didn’t matter after you’d seen it on the scan during an appointment, you’d have another boy. And you were nothing but thrilled about it, about another son. Debating whether or not to tell Tom, you decided to keep it to yourself. He would know soon enough. To preserve any last bit of happiness between you during this long duration of nine months, you left him to find out when you delivered.

He spoke candidly about the names he liked, they were all so dreary and not fit for a baby to you. Henry was quite cute, you loved it while you were pregnant and knew it was the right choice when you saw him. The King and Queen had to approve every name, especially with your children being so close in line to the throne.

It was a constant reminder of who was in charge of all decisions regarding your child.

-

Late into May, you visited a children’s hospital while doing a brief tour in America. It was the hope that after you gave birth, you’d be able to come back for a longer, more thorough tour. It was a tasking thing, hurting you to see such small souls in so much pain.

In a long checkered skirt and cream turtleneck, you walked the staticky, desolate white halls. It was pouring out, the breeze making it feel much more like March. Your bump was large, swollen with life. You, nearly six months pregnant, miserable most of the time and struggling everyday.

Though, here you were—appearing at your best.

The large group following you, consisting of press and hospital staff, guided you in and out of rooms. Soon you found yourself in a little girl’s room, laid in her hospital bed. She couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven. She had big round eyes, dark skin, and a bright smile. She had no hair, but a bright blue bow still sat idly on her head.

“Stacey, age ten. Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia,” the female doctor said as you approached her bed.

On the wall behind the bed was all sorts of decorations, pictures she’d colored, magazine cutouts, photographs of the young and popular actors and actresses appearing in big movies right now. There was Molly Ringwald, Ralph Macchio, Sylvester Stallone, etc. To the far side of the wall was a newspaper cutout of you in your wedding dress in 1981.

“Hello, love,” you greeted her, seeing her lift her hand and wave bashfully.

“Hi,” she smiled, her American accent standing out against your own.

The bulky cameras clicked incessantly as you went to sit on the edge of her bed, motioning as if to ask permission and receiving a nod. You smiled at her and sat, looking around her space once more and complimenting her decor.

“I adore all of this,” you complimented. “When I was small, I had my walls covered just like this in my bedroom.”

“Where did you grow up?” She asked, knowing it was somewhere in England, but still curious.

“English countryside, with my mum and dad, as well as my brother and sister. Do you have any siblings?” You asked, letting her take your hand and look at your wedding ring.

“I have five sisters and two brothers,” she told you.

If there weren’t so many reporters, you would ask what that was like, how it was to have a large family. It was too crowded, though. They were too close. She seemed enamored by you, it was sweet.

“I watched your wedding on TV,” she said. “I thought you looked so pretty like one of the princesses from a Disney movie, like Aurora or Snow White. Since they all married a Prince too, and you wore a tiara.”

You talked for awhile, much longer than advised. It was in your favor, though. Nobody could outwardly tell you to stop talking to her, and you didn’t want to. She told you all about her friends and school life, how she wanted to visit Buckingham Palace one day, her childhood crush on Prince Tom. She made sure to add that she was ‘way over it now’, and ‘not to worry’.

Departure was hard, she felt your belly and told you how much she couldn’t wait for you to have the baby. Kissing you on the cheek, you swept her into a tight embrace and told her to keep fighting, and that you were on her side. When the cameras got too close, you scolded the men holding them, telling them to back up or exit respectfully. That she needed space as well as anyone else.

Leaving for the washroom as soon as you stepped out of her room, a few tears escaped and you requested for her mailing information before you left. You hoped to hear from Stacey again, to offer her some more personal words of encouragement.

-

September, 1984 - The Spare

Henry began to notice your profound sadness with the progression of your pregnancy. Though, you felt happier in your marriage towards the last months of the third trimester. Tom was involved, he was helping, he was talking to the baby.

He loved his children, you knew that much. Henry often kissed your belly, telling the baby things in his babbling baby talk. Tom seemed genuinely happy for a short time, though the constant switches were growing exhausting to you. One moment he was all over you, in love and ready to be a family man, the next he was isolated and distant.

With your constant charitable acts, the public only became more and more thrilled with you. They loved what you stood for, and they got a fairytale out of it. One of a Prince who meets and girl, who then becomes a Princess. What they don’t understand is how cruel the Prince can be when out of the limelight.

He was nurturing for some time, both of you growing quite a bit closer in the weeks before the birth of your second child. He gave back massages, and brought meals up, tended to Henry while you were bedridden. He never complained either, this made you feel quite a bit better about the pain that came with your second pregnancy.

You felt that this was the closest you had every been, and the closest you would ever be.

When James was born, you felt a sinking feeling that your marriage was slowly but surely dissipating before your eyes. The moment he was out, the first thing Tom said was ‘god, another boy’.

He chose his middle names, but you settled on James for his first. After approval of course. Tom was disappointed to say the least, later that night when you were still sore and just beginning to try and get him to latch, Tom told you he was going out. When you asked where, he nonchalantly told you he was going to play polo.

You couldn’t help but cry. Feeling as if you’d done what was needed of you, you’d produced an heir, and now you’ve produced a spare.

taglist - @ninacotte @justapurrcat @allthisfortommy @spideyspeaches @norietorie @veryholland @teenagedisxster @itsallyscorner @tomsirishgirl @runawayolives @devcarlsons @thecodyexpress @kassey @casualprincess77 @outshineallthestars @readheadwriter @cleverzonkwombatsludge

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #elle’s fics #tom holland #prince!tom #royal!tom #prince tom holland #prince!tom x reader #tom holland series #tom holland x y/n #tom holland blurbs #tom holland blurb #tom holland au #prince!tom x princess!reader #glamourous

[justapurrcat]

Fanarts Masterlist

General Masterlist

"A Royal Convenience" Series – @sourholland

A Good Man

Moodboards

Victorian!au w/Tom

#tom holland #prince!tom holland #prince!tom holland x fem!reader #tom holland fanart #royal!au #victorian!au

[sweetpeterparker]

tom holland - fics recommendation ✯

the (y/n) lively-reynolds (series) (@liberty-barnes )

→tom holland x famous!reader this is so amazing and funny PLS-

instead of you (series) (@wazzupmrstark )

→tom holland x reader (sam's best friend) (i need updates i need to know what's gonna happen)

bound to you series (@vendettaparker )

→tom holland x reader (royal AU) this is so so good (be ready to get mad at tom though)could talk about it for hours and make lots of parallels with taylor swift songs

miss americana & the heartbreak prince (series) @alltoowelltom

→tom holland x famous!reader/ fake dating/ a lot of taylor swift references... SO GOOD

slow dancing (@saturnpeter )

→tom holland x reader i'm a sucker for a slow dance, this is so cute

painted picture (@tom-holland-parker )

→single dad!tom holland x reader love the single parent trope and his daughter is the cutest ever

the worst best man (@takenbyheartstrings )

→tom holland x reader. reader and tom' s wedding, harrison being the best best man ever

the lakes (where all the poets went do die) (@indouloureux )

→tom holland x reader inspired by the lakes (ts), so good!!

getaway car (@alltoowelltom )

→tom holland x reader THIS! THIS IS ALL I NEED

cold hands, soft love (@togrowoldinv )

→tom holland x reader this feels personal as my hands are always cold

between the lines (@userholland )

→frat!tom holland x reader tw: mentions of divorce, trust issues

people i don't like part one (@totheblood )

→frat!tom holland x reader (college!au, richkid!au)

painful back, fairy fingers (@thollandsdarling )

→tom holland x reader dedicate this one to my constant need of a back massage

shaking (@spideysbae )

→tom holland x reader tw: blood, mentions of anxiety, somehow hurt/comfort

sun kissed (@mirrorwxlls -can't tag them for some reason?)

→tom holland x reader kinda of childhood friends to lovers

lucky i can't say no (@t-lostinworlds )

→tom holland x reader in the history of finding a cat and tom warming up to him SO CUTE ONE OF MY FAVS

secret (@whatevsholland )

→college!tom holland x reader. secret relationship, accidental revelation, "enemies" to lovers

traditions with a twist (@wazzupmrstark )

→tom holland x reader christmas au! meeting tom's parents, gingerbread house contest

he dies in the end (@allfandomxreader )

→tom holland x reader angst with no fluff, hurt/no comfort, what the title says

cabin confessions (@t-lostinworlds )

→tom holland x reader halloween themed, enemies to lovers, forced proximity? SO GREAT

(if you are not comfortable being tagged here, please message me so i can edit this<3)

[allywthsr]

what are your planned projects? Writing wise

Uhhhh so many!!

Reader playing Lando a song from her new album (singer!reader)

Lando taking reader on a hotlap

Lando Insta AUs

Lando advent calendar

Lando and you trying a TikTok trend

Royal!Charles series masterlist!

Harry and Y/N meeting

Harry and Y/N on a wedding

Angsty Tom Holland

a Mason Mount one I have in my inbox

They all have at least 50 words and some are almost finished! Let me know what you wanna read first

#askally #lando norris imagine #harry wroetoshaw #tom holland imagine #mason mount imagines #charles leclerc

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

It’s back!! That’s right I’ll be doing the Summer of Love again this year! It will be running from the first day of summer to the last and just like last year I’d love to see other participate/use my prompts, just make sure you tag and credit me if you do! Anyways I hope you guys are all as excited as I am, I’ll also be running a small series this summer but I’ll talk more about that when I get closer to releasing it! 

June 21st - September 22nd

Quick Rules:

Any au’s are allowed, the ones suggested below are just that, suggestions. I know a lot of people also love mob aus and royal aus, so do I, you can totally send those too, I just wanted to give some summery suggestions

In addition to aus you can totally request tropes too, so say you wanted specifically enemies to lovers or fwb just let me know

You can also request send in requests for previous series I’ve done. For example, I’ve had a few people ask if I would write anymore for That Which Binds You, so if you wanted me to do that you could just send your requests and specify that you want it written for those characters

This is open for smutty and NSFW content, but please just let me know if that’s what you want. You can simply add NSFW, smutty, or something like that to the end of your request so I get the message lol

Regular requests are still open so if you have something not on the prompt list or just something specific you want you can still send that in too!

Regular Masterlist

Summer of Love Masterlist

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Characters:

Tom Holland

Peter Parker

Nathan Drake

Arvin Russell

Harrison Osterfield

Summertime AU Suggestions:

Surfer

Lifeguard

Rich Kid

Country Club

Camp Counselor 

Summer School

Band

Water/Amusement Park

100 Prompts

Skinny dipping

Making the backyard/rooftop into a movie theater

Having a party on a boat

Attending a wine tasting

Going to the aquarium/zoo

Watching a firework display together

Waking up early to watch the sunrise

Picking strawberries

Sneaking into a concert

Napping on a hammock together

Playing beach volleyball

Drinking too much at a street fair

Going to a farmer’s market

Going to a drive in movie

Putting together patio furniture

Taking a road trip together

Getting stung by a jellyfish

Getting stuck at the top of a ferris wheel

A summer thunderstorm

 Buying a snow cone machine

 Body painting

 Purposely spilling a drink 

 One person goes to a party without the other

 Having a picnic

 Eating fruit off of each other

 Going to a party in an abandoned pool

 A date at a museum or botanical garden

 Searching for an inflatable pool 

 A sudden heatwave

 One gets heatstroke and the other takes care of them

 Running into your summer fling for the second summer in a row  (V1. Tom Holland, V2. Nathen Drake)

 Jumping off a rope swing

 Going to a house concert

 Getting caught fooling around

 Meeting the parents for the first time 

 Throwing a pool party

 Going to a bonfire

 Making smores 

 Setting up a slip and slide

 Making each other charm bracelets

Carving watermelons like they’re pumpkins

 Getting scared while camping

 Lemonade stand

 Sending handwritten letters 

 A baseball game

 Bumper cars

 Trying to make your own ice cream

 First time at a party/club

 Swimsuit shopping

 Going on a double date

 “Kiss me, please.”

 “Help me, my leg is asleep.”

 “But I don’t wanna just be friends, I never wanted that.”

 “I’m melting!” 

 “Shh, we’re gonna get caught!”

 “I’m sorry, I’m just really hot.”

 “I miss you, I still think about you every day.”

 “What are you doing here?”

 “Keep that thing away from me!”

 “I’m happy just to be here with you.”

 “I meant it, I love you.”

 “You taste like coconuts.”

 “We’re in the middle of a heat wave and you’re drinking hot coffee?”

 “This line is so long, we’ll be dead by the time we reach the end of it.”

 “You know I’d do anything for you.”

 “Of course you look great, but you’d look even better if you took it off.”

 “They’re hitting on you.” 

 “You are the center of my universe, as in everything revolves around you.”

 “I wanna be wherever you are."

  "Let's just stay in bed all day, I don't feel like getting up."

 "Can you help me with my sunblock?" 

  "I’m sorry, you bought what?”

  “I need you to let me in.”

  "Please tell me we'll be there soon."

  "What happened to you?"

  "I'm being eaten alive!"

  "Ew, you're sweating."

  "Have you ever made a fire before?"

  "What the hell is that noise?!"

  "Not everything has to be a contest."

 "I rented a metal detector."

 “Keep your hands to yourself for the rest of the day.”

  "Did you steal that?"

  "Why are you sticky?"

  "How would you feel about a strip tease?”

  "How come you never just stay home?"

  "Oh! The pavement is hot!"

  "Let's rent a treehouse."

  "Don't fall asleep on me alright?"

 "Will you help me wash my car?"

  "You know he didn't mean it like that."

  "I like the sound of your voice."

  "Leave."

  "Please be careful, you're stressing me out."

 "What kind of surprise is this?"

 "I can’t, I don't know how to swim."

 "Okay, now make a wish.”

 “You can’t be serious right now!”

 “Where were you?”

 “I hate you.”

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Taglist + Mutuals:

@niallsvirgosun @roseke @collywobbl @akalilexanna @spideyssunshine @spideyspeaches @namoreno @rednights @belovedholland @farfromharry @minjix @thevery-firstpage @zspideyy @emistrash @andreagf956 @tomsirishgirlx @peachyafshawn @sleepybesson @nj01 @agbspidey @misshale21 @prancerrparkerr @raajali3 @ellabellabus07 @mayal0pez @xoxomaterialgirl @blankspaceblankday @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @holyhumorliteraturelight @edgycatx @graciexmarvel @secretsthathauntus @kbakery @lnmp89 @negasonic-teenage-asshole @vendettaparker​

#tom holland #peter parker #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader smut #peter parker x reader smut #tom holland smut #peter parker smut #arvin russel smut #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel #arvin russell #nathan drake x reader #nathan drake #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield imagine #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader fluff #peter parker x reader angst #peter parker x reader fluff #spiderman x reader #spiderman fanfiction #nathan drake smut #tom holland x reader angst #summer of love #marvel fanfiction

[sadisticsongbird]

WIP GAME

okay so an anon asked me to do this and I accidentally deleted the ask!!! so sorry to whoever you are, but here is the list of too much...

Divided By The Crown - Part 3 (peter parker royal au)

Dreams Do Come True (peter parker)

Next part of Trust is a Fragile Thing (tyler galpin)

Opposites Attract Fic (arvin russell)

Undercover Love Fic (tom holland mob au)

Before Time Runs Out Series (tom holland soulmate au)

Untitled Fic (peter parker x starks daughter au)

Untitled Fic (peter parker x black cat au)

Untitled Fic (peter parker x maximoff au)

3 Nathan Drake blurbs

1 Arvin Russell blurb

3 Tyler Galpin blurbs

1 Wednesday Addams blurb

#peter parker #tom holland #tyler galpin #arvin russell #nathan drake #peter parker x reader #tom holland x reader #tyler galpin x reader #wednesday addams x reader #arvin russell x reader #nathan drake x reader #wednesday addams

[potaetopic]

naeun's reading update —April 2022

Tags : a - angst, c - crack, d - dark, f - fluff, s - smut, y - yandere ☁️ - fav

a/n: hello! for authors that seen me before, im sorry for tagging yall again as im in a process of renewing(?) my page atm, but i promise this is gonna be the real one. no more take backs :]

ONE SHOT

lost (myself) & found (you) @taephilia —jjk f (soulmate!au) ☁️ i love You @moonlightchildz —jjk f (established relationship!au)

The Price We Pay @shadowofahope —bts a (mafia!au)

lover @jeonfrvr —jjk c f (established relationship!au) Written in the Stars @ —jjk a f (soulmate/werewolf!au) ☁️ Let’s get married as a joke @burningupp —ksj f (marriage!au) twice upon a christmas catastrophe. @artaefact —myg a f (office!au) como la flor @dragunjk —myg a f (hanahaki!au) A Royal Engagement @cloverwritessometimes —pjm a f (royal!au) I Have Questions @cutaepatootie —jjk a (break up/exes!au) ☁️ Vow @vin-taege —ksj a (wedding!au) ☁️ brother’s best friend!jungkook —jjk s (secret relationship!au) Lack of Apathy @threeletterslife —jhs a (break up!au)

SERIES

Invisible Strings @likeastarstar —jjk a f s (soulmate!au) (4) Salvage @btssaysstudy kth,jjk a f (college/athlete!au) (6) exposed @lysjeon (idol/social media!au) (24) You Broke Me First @minbbyy —pjm,jjk a f (fake dating!au) (68) ☁️

Cut Me Open @hayjeon —myg a f s (marriage!au)

DRABBLE

Don’t Look Back @threeletterslife —ksj a (mafia!au) ☁️ “You two were literally biting each other’s heads off yesterday, why are you so smitten now?” @taeshobipop —jjk f (established relationship!au) Rise and Fall @illneverrecover —myg a (demigod!au) Boys With Luv @ewwboys —pjm,kth

SCENARIO

protecting you from another man @leefics

NON-BTS

You'll Save All Your Dirtiest Jokes For Me @waitimcomingtoo —tom holland c f

#masterlist #bts recs masterlist #seokjin recs masterlist #namjoon recs masterlist #yoongi recs masterlist #hoseok recs masterlist #jimin recs masterlist #taehyung recs masterlist #jungkook recs masterlist #bts fics recs #seokjin fics recs #yoongi fics recs #namjoon fics recs #hoseok fics recs #jimin fics recs #taehyung fics recs #jungkook fics recs #fics recs #bts x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #bts #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok

[shellshocklove]

blurb: i want to forget | tom holland

pairing/AU: university AU - modern king!tom holland x female!reader

summary: it’s a nice day for a white royal wedding.

warnings: swearing, no smut but a make-out session and some groping so mdni!

word count: 2.3k

a/n: this was semi requested by @prettyjendeukie​. i hope you like this little blurb (it’s a little different)! <3 just like last time i wrote a blurb i don’t know if people are interested in blurbs for this series but here’s another one 🤲

series masterlist

“Your Majesty?”

It was John. With a sigh Tom spun his chair around. For just a second his royal office melded with the blurry feeling inside his head. His desk was a mess. His red box opened in front of him, governmental papers spilling out like guts.

“Yes?” Tom sighed again.

John stood awkwardly in front of his king’s desk, one hand hovered over the back of one of the chairs turned towards the big teak table, while he carried a black leather briefcase in the other. Leaning back in his chair, Tom gestured for John to sit.

“If it’s alright with you sir, I would like to go over the security for the wedding?” John said while placing the briefcase on his desk.

“Yeah, sure” Tom said indifferently. Something scratched at the back of his neck. Under him the leather of his chair squeaked as he shifted in his seat. With a quiet drum the locks on John’s briefcase burst open.

Pulling out blueprints and documents, lists and directories, John started talking, “As His Majesty knows we’re expecting somewhere between three thousand and thirty-five hundred guests. We got the Royal Military Police, Scotland Yard–“

Tom cut John off, “Cut to the chase, will you? I’m sure you’ve got everything under control John. Just hand me the papers­– I’m sure there’s something you want me to sign”.

Tom almost felt bad when he watched John’s face fall. If he’d asked anybody else, they’d probably say John’s face was as stony as a statue. But Tom, he knew John inside out. Getting to know every little micro expression in his hard face over the years.

Shifting through his briefcase John pulled out his papers to slide them across the polished teak. Every paper needing the king’s signature marked with a small yellow post-it. Grabbing his Parker pen, Tom got to signing. As he flicked through the papers, he felt John’s stare.

“Was there something else?” Tom asked, “I can feel you staring”.

His words made John shift in his seat before he cleared his throat, “I was just informed that Lady Genevieve is on her way to the palace and will be arriving in about an hour”.

Tom’s pen stopped for a beat at the sound of her name. This was the first he’d heard of this. He clenched his jaw in annoyance.

“I might’ve been told by a little bird, aka Lady Evelyn,” Tom rolled his eyes as he finished signing the last paper, Lady Evelyn was Gen’s mother, “that Lady Genevieve is planning to stay past dinner”.

Tom fell back in his chair again, toying with his pen as the springs rocked him back and forth.

Maybe he was the worst person in the world, Tom thought. Being with Lady Genevieve, his bride to be, made him feel awful. She was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, she was always kind and understanding, she was good with the people, always knew what to say and when to say it – she was arguably the perfect woman for him. But…

… she wasn’t you.

He hadn’t seen you in over a year. The last time being right after his grandmother passed and his whole life turned upside down. He still remembered that day so clearly. The feel of your body under his touch, how you’d held him so tenderly as he’d let all his worries pour out, the kiss. He could become a hundred years old and senile, and he’d never forget that last kiss. You’d made him feel like everything wrong in the world was suddenly right.

After he’d watched you leave that day, a hole had started to grow inside him. You’d left, and with you you’d taken the sun, and his hopes, and his heart.

“If she’s supposed to be arriving in an hour it’s too late to tell her to turn around” Tom sighed.

“You can’t avoid her forever, sir” John said, “Soon you’ll be husband and wife”.

Husband and wife. The thought made his skin crawl. He was way too young to get married– he wasn’t ready to be someone’s husband. Well… he wasn’t ready to be Lady Genevieve’s husband.

“Husband and wife” Tom tasted the words in his mouth. Then, with a lazy throw, Tom threw the Parker pen haphazardly. It made a sharp sound as it hit the teak before it rolled towards the middle of his desk.

“John?” Tom queried, “do you know, like maybe somewhere in the histories, if a king has been married and his wife hasn’t been queen? Like she’s just his wife, and they’re just together”.

John gave him a look only he could interpret. “I’m sorry, sir, I have not. To the best of my knowledge: when a king marries, his new wife always becomes Queen Consort. You’d have to abdicate…”.

Tom only hummed at John’s unspoken words. He’d have to abdicate to marry you.

“Listen,” John started, “I know it’s not my place–”.

“You’re right! It’s not your place” Tom cut him off, the words coming out stricter than he wanted.

Silenced, but not angry, John was never angry, he gave Tom a sad but knowing face. Tom’s mood told him to leave it be. To not infect his still opened wound. Instead, John gathered his papers, stacked them neatly into his briefcase and locked it with a satisfying click! Before he could get up from his chair his king asked him,

“Could you please make sure she gets an invitation? To make sure she’s there?”.

His king didn’t need to utter your name for John to know he was talking about you.

“Of course, Your Majesty!”.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming” Gen apologized, turning to the side facing Tom where he laid flat on his back against his silk sheets, “You’re not terribly mad, are you?”.

“No, Gen– it’s fine, I’m not mad”.

She’d arrived when John had told him she would, and she’d been escorted straight to his office first thing (per her command). Companioning her was their wedding planner and her ring binders thicker than A la recherche du temps perdu.

He wanted to be supportive. He wanted to be as excited as Lady Genevieve. But he just couldn’t. Every mention of the wedding made him feel like someone was tightening a buckle in his metaphorical straitjacket.

“Okay, great” she giggled and shuffled closer to his body, “I don’t think I could bear it if you were”.

“Me neither” he mumbled, lifting his arm for him to wrap around her body. With a satisfied hum she settled into him, her painted nails scraping seductive circles over his naked chest.

“I’ve missed you” he heard her confess before he felt a soft kiss to his shoulder.

One kiss became two, then three, before he stopped counting. They all climbed up his shoulder to his neck and jaw.

“I’ve missed you too” he heard himself say before Genevieve brushed her lips over his.

Against his better judgement he kissed her back. Her kisses were always a little rougher than yours. She pressed her lips too hard against his, and sometimes she’d nip at them in a way he didn’t enjoy. But a kiss was a kiss. And sometimes he needed to be kissed.

She stuck her tongue in his mouth when it started to get a little heated. Whines left her lips between the smacking of their lips. She got a little more eager, swinging her leg over his torso to hover over him, hands cupping his cheeks as she licked into his mouth.

He knew what she wanted even before she started rutting against him. His hands automatically came up to rest on her waist, following her movements above him.

“I’m so wet Tommy– please, need you to fuck me” she pleaded into his mouth between kisses.

Her hand travelled from his cheeks and down his body to slip between her legs. Dipping her finger under the elastic waistband of his boxers she cupped his cock. She pulled away from his lips with furrowed brows.

“You okay?” she asked, her hand running over his soft cock.

Squeezing his eyes together he let his hands fall from her waist, hitting the mattress with a bounce.

“I’m just tired” he excused, “I’ve had a long day”.

He grabbed her wrist to pull her hand off his cock before he’s shifting her off him. Bewildered, she looks at him.

“I’m sorry…” Tom doesn’t know why he’s apologizing.

“No…” she trailed off, grabbing the duvet to wrap around herself, “Don’t worry”.

She turned her back to him as she laid down, and Tom doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do. So, he doesn’t do anything. It’s not like he can tell his fiancé that he can’t have sex with her without thinking about somebody else to get hard. He doesn’t think that’s a good way to start a marriage.

“G’night” he uttered.

“G’night” she answered.

The St. Paul's Cathedral was filled to the brim, and Tom felt like his cup was about to spill. Walking towards the altar, with his brothers’ supportive steps behind him, he’d wondered if he was gonna pass out.

His uniform felt too tight. The church lights somehow too bright. The volume of the guest drowning out any and every thought in his head. Everything was just wrong.

He wasn’t just nervous – he was making a mistake. He’d known it from the day he’d first laid his eyes on you in that auditorium, and he knew it now. You’d done your stupidly cute curtsy and he’d fallen in love with you right then and there. It was his biggest regret, and also the best thing that had ever happened to him. It should be you in that beautiful white dress walking towards him. But it’s not, and he doesn’t know if he can bear it.

He’d searched for you in the crowd. Desperate to meet your eyes. To drown in the safety of them. To calm his heart in the familiarity of you. John had told him he’d personally delivered your invitation, practically begged you to be here for him.

He knew it was cruel of him. Tom was being cruel to you, the love of his life. How could he be so cruel, inviting you to watch him get married to another woman. He’d dug your doomed relationship a grave, and now invited you to bury it. He didn’t blame you if you didn’t come. He can’t even think about the fact that someday you’ll do the same to him – you’ll marry someone else.

He tore his eyes from the endless rows of guests, forcing himself to watch Lady Genevieve, soon to be Queen Genevieve, walk down the aisle. The walk felt endless, but he doesn’t dare look away, very aware of the cameras broadcasting this worldwide. He had to look happy, not like he’s about to shit his pants.

With a forced smile he watched as Lady Genevieve ascended the stairs to the altar. The train on her dress covered the whole staircase and her veil looked heavy, held in place by a diadem. She’s clutched her father’s hand, leaning on him for reassurance. Beside him, he felt Harry’s hand briefly on his shoulder to give it a squeeze.

“Dearly beloved,” the Dean of the Cathedral started, “we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the face of this congregation to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony; which is an honourable estate, instituted of God himself signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church into which holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined. Therefore, if any man can show any just cause why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter forever hold his peace...”.

The church is quiet.

A dream Tom’s had every night this week pushed forward from the back of his brain. It’s like déjà vu. In his dream he’s standing at the altar, just like he is now, the Dean of the Cathedral say those exact words, but in his dream the church isn’t quiet. In his dream he hears your voice. You tell him you love him, and that he can’t get married if it’s not to you, and his knees almost buckle. He can’t do anything other than run to you. To hug you tight. To kiss you silly.

But the church is quiet. He doesn’t hear your voice.

The Archbishop step forward, “I require and charge you both, as you will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment, why you may not be lawfully joined together in Matrimony, you do now confess it”.

The words burn at the back of Tom’s throat. Now’s his chance. He’s the King for god’s sake. He’s supposed to be able to do whatever he wants. But he can’t. He’s imprisoned by his legacy, and by his duty.

Tom doesn’t say anything. He’s quiet and he’ll regret it for the rest of his life – Tom knows it in his bones.

The Archbishop continued, “Thomas Stanley of House Holland wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together according to God's law in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour and keep her in sickness and in health and forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

A knife twists in his stomach as he says it, gouging the hole inside him,

“I will”.

With his back turned he misses the way you get up from your seat. Inconveniencing everyone on the church pew, you slip past them and flee the church. You’re clutching a handkerchief to your cheeks, drying what can be mistaken for happy tears.

previous: three years later | next: the reunion

tags (tagging the i want to forget taglist and a few other people that have shown interest after it was finished): @justapurrcat, @lnmp89, @petrspideyparker, @hollandweather, @userholland, @imawhoreforu, @onepieceya, @sparklingsin, @annathesillyfriend, @mayal0pez, @transparentpsychicempathkid, @fic-rewind, @peterparkerfilms, @the-unknown-fan-girl, @mannien, @moonlightdotmp3, @padlockedhearts, @moniffazictress11, @all4koo, @angelayse, @svechnibrock, @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx, @xxtomspideyxx, @i83andrew, @clockblobber, @fangirlinggalore, @luciwritesstuff, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @lol-just-kidding002, @allywthsr, @captainsbestgal, @readheadwriter, @parkersdahlia, @cosmicryuz​, @tomxxxhollandxxx, @the-not-so-silent-back-up​, @rebloggingtheficsilove, @peterdarlingg​, @obsessedprincess​,

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #prince!tom holland #uni au #college au #royal au #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fic #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland blurb #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader

[xtom-darling-x17]

Hello i just saw your mood board event and the name is Kathrine😉 (please forgive me, I just suck at matching pics😂)

The lovely @hommyy-tommy mood board ❤️

Hi kathrine

Thank you so much!!!

for sending me these wonderful pictures of Tom. Don’t worry, you are not bad at matching pictures at all, I actually made it work for you :) I found a way they link together. 🥳 I really appreciate you taking part of my event, it means a lot to me. I’ve enjoyed creating this mood board for you so much, it has been delightful. I hope you will love your mood board as much as I do, but if you don’t please let me know. I don’t want you feeling sad about not liking it. Best of wishes 🥰

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland au #tom holland fandom #tom holland x you #tomhollandfan #tom holland fluff #moodboard #answered #passion #sweetness #delightful #princess royal #royals #prince and princess #princetomholland #flowers

[dcrkalpha]

𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖈𝖊𝖘 & 𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖘

— CURRENT SHIPS —

sam (chord overstreet) / quinn (austin butler) — glee au chris evans / kit connor — father & son kellan lutz / henry — royal abo alexander (henry cavil) / kevin (tom holland) — sugardaddy max thieriot / nikolai — brothers, supernatural sydney mcclair (zane phillips) / anthony dixon (froy gutierrez) — mortal meets aphrodite jason stackhouse (ryan kwanten) / eric rosza (leo howard) — mortal meets witch, true blood

— PENDING SHIPS —

wonho / beau — vampire & human chris hemsworth / declan — father & son tom holland / kevin — twin brothers wolfgang novogratz / billy — twin brothers nick jonas / theodore — brothers thomas doherty / river — brothers shawn mendes / jack frost — brothers charles melton / kevin or peter — ? kj apa / ? — ? noah centineo / ? — ? gavin leatherwood / ? — ?

[ao3feed-stony]

Královský život

by kratula

MJ považuje monarchii za přežitek, ale uznává, že v Novoanglickém království mají lepší a levnější vysoké školy než v USA. To ovšem neznamená, že začne obratem baštit tamnější královskou rodinu, vůbec ne! Beztak jsou to všechmo rozmazlení, zpovykaní zmetci!

Words: 6753, Chapters: 2/?, Language: Čeština

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Michelle Jones, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Happy Hogan, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Yelena Belova, Pepper Potts, Harley Keener, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Flash Thompson, Betty Brant

Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Past-Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov

Additional Tags: royal au, Slow Romance, Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Family Dynamics, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/44876401

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #iron man #captain america #fan fiction #ao3 stony feed #stony fan

[stony-ao3-feed]

Královský život

Read it on AO3

by kratula

MJ považuje monarchii za přežitek, ale uznává, že v Novoanglickém království mají lepší a levnější vysoké školy než v USA. To ovšem neznamená, že začne obratem baštit tamnější královskou rodinu, vůbec ne! Beztak jsou to všechmo rozmazlení, zpovykaní zmetci!

Words: 6753, Chapters: 2/?, Language: Čeština

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, M/M

Characters: Michelle Jones, Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Happy Hogan, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Yelena Belova, Pepper Potts, Harley Keener, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Flash Thompson, Betty Brant

Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Past-Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Yelena Belova & Natasha Romanov

Additional Tags: royal au, Slow Romance, Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Family Dynamics, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Read it on AO3

#stony #fanfiction #ao3feed #superhusbands #stevetony

[beatlesonline-blog]