#everything before the red line is covered in the events of my two fics i've written for this so far

[theradicalace]

i have blocked out a rough series of events for the transfem splendid timeline. details are vague on everything after the red line, but that's at least the order i want those things to happen in :3c

[tomthesoftie]

Hi! I've recently discovered your blog and I love it 😍. I was also wondering, if you could write a fic (obviously if you like the idea, no pressure at all) where the reader is a an assassin, in love with mob!tom. Her last mission was a failure and she came home injuried. Tom was scared to death because she didn't text him or call him (obviously). She was trying to help Tom with his business but she underestimates the other mob. Tom helps her cleaning the wounds, they argued at first but I'm a puddle for happy endings. Thank you for your time, have a nice day 🥰🥰🥰

her blood-stained bodysuit

❧ prompt: all you wanted was to help your mobster boyfriend. you never expected your plan to go all wrong and result in failure. when you return home with blood soaking your suit and drying in your hair, how does Tom react?

❧ pairing: mob!tom x assassin!reader

❧ genre: angst, fluff, action (?)

❧ warnings: mentions of blood, mild gore, fighting, mentions of guns, mentions of hickey, language

❧ a/n: though i should’ve worked on my script for my final, i worked on this instead. i’m not procrastinating, i have everything planned out lmao nah. this fic wasn’t supposed to be as “gore-y” as it came out as, but, like, it’s whatever. hope you enjoyed this fic because i worked on it for like three days lmao. alright bye xx

part 2!

masterlist                     prompt list

Walking into the run-down building, you gripped your gun tightly, eyes open for any sudden attacks. Your ears strained as they listened for any sounds. 

You were suited in an all-black bodysuit, handgun holster around your waist. Your hair had been tightly tied into a bun, no loose hair out to get in your face. A mask had covered half of your face, hiding your identity. 

You barely knew the place you were heading into, but you knew it enough to assassinate your target and escape. You had planned the entire event out. First, you’d rid the place of any cameras and enemy attackers. Then, you’d set a distraction opposite to where you were heading. Finally, once you reached your destination, you’d quickly shoot your target, leaving them a milli-second to breathe before falling cold to the ground. Your escape was easy. You’d climb out of the window and fall right into your vehicle, allowing yourself a fast escape.

As you stepped into the dark, musty building, you saw the first cameras you needed to shoot out. What didn’t occur to you was the loud echo traveling through the entire building: your first mistake.

You continued on, hiding when you saw the first sign of your enemy’s men but continuing once they passed. Unexpectedly, when you began to carry yourself further, you felt a presence watching you. The butt of your gun swung back, hitting someone in the side. They let out a loud groan, alerting everybody nearby. You quickly shot the man dead, rushing to the nearest exit. Unfortunately for you, there was no path for you to escape. There were men in every exit you planned to use when in case of an emergency.

It was like they already knew you were coming.

Deciding to take your chances, you ran, shooting and dodging bullets being shot your way. Luckily, you were a trained assassin with much experience. You found yourself at an exit when someone was able to land a shot in your thigh. Groaning in pain, you perspired on, not letting them take you in. Throwing the broken-down doors shut, you limped your way to the doors out of the building. Thinking you had escaped all the men, you let your guard down for a second to tend to your wounded leg. 

In the midst of your pain, you didn’t notice the man coming up from behind you. He threw a harsh hit to your head, knocking you off balance. With your already injured leg, you fell over easily, head hitting the rugged ground beneath you. You felt a sharp pain spike the side of your head before feeling a warm liquid run down the side of your face. 

Reaching a hand up to feel the warm liquid, you saw red and fired your gun at the grinning man above you. You shot him dead, bullets continuously lodging into his chest. His shirt soaked with his blood.

“Asshole,” you muttered before getting back on your way. 

When you finally reached your car, you took off as fast as you could, knowing that if you didn’t get going, they would be trailing you all the way back.

-

Tom was in his office, reading over some papers when the door abruptly opened. He snapped his head up in anger, knowing that his men knew not to barge in without knocking or they’d face the consequences.

“You better have a good reason as to why-” when he saw Harrison panting and wide-eyed, he paused, worry taking over his thoughts. “What happened?”

“Y/N’s missing,” the blonde said, breathlessly.

“What do you mean missing?” Tom asked, attention fully on Harrison.

“She isn’t in her room or the gym. I’ve tried calling her multiple times, but it keeps going to voicemail,” Haz explained.

“Fuck,” Tom whispered, rushing out of his office to find you.

-

You threw the car door shut, feeling hazy at the loss of blood. Holding your head in pain, you limped before the doors of your home before falling over, vision going black.

-

“Tom, the system says someone’s entered the code into the gate,” Haz said as he saw the notification pop up on the security system.

“That has to be her,” Tom said before running to the home’s main doors.

Pulling open the large door, he was revealed to your limp body laying on the cold floor, with dried blood covering you and fresh blood tangled in your hair. For a moment, Tom assumed the worst and thought you were dead, when he brought himself back to logicality. He placed two fingers to your neck, successfully locating your weak pulse. He let out a happy sigh but remembered that you were still bleeding heavily and needed to be treated right away.

He lifted you up in his arms, carrying you into your shared room. He passed a concerned-looking Harrison, telling him to get the medical supplies.

-

You woke to the feeling of a wet cloth wiping down your cheek. Flinching away from the contact, your eyes weakly shot open to see your brunette boyfriend.

“Tom,” your voice came out weak and hoarse.

“Shh, darling, you need to rest,” he silenced you as he wiped you clean from your blood.

Tom wasn’t mad at you, only a bit frustrated. He wondered why you put yourself at such risk. He knew you to make logical, smart decisions, but here you were, lying in bed severely drained of your blood. He sighed aloud at your recklessness.

His weight lifting off the bed, he stood to put away the bloody towelette, shaking his head as he was consumed by his own thoughts. You watched his back, and you could practically see the disappointment radiating off of him.

“I know I fucked up alright?” You croaked, sighing in shame.

“It’s just so unlike you to be so, so-” a hand reached up to massage his temples, “Just be more careful next time.”

“No,” you bit back, hearing the irritation in his voice, “please, finish your sentence.”

“It doesn’t matter what I was going to say becau-” 

You cut him off, “It does matter. What were you going to say about me?” You suddenly felt a surge of energy run through your veins.

“Why are you trying to pick a fight with me right now? You need to rest,” he tried to tuck you under the covers, only to be pushed away by a weak hand.

“I’m not trying to pick a fight with you. I just want to know what you thought about me,” you snapped.

“Fine, if you want to know so much, I was going to say reckless. It’s so unlike you to be so reckless. There, I said it,” he fired back, annoyed by your consistent nagging. 

You scoffed in disbelief, “I was not being reckless. I had a plan, a well-thought out plan at that, but they somehow intercepted it. I can’t predict things like that happening. At least I had a backup plan or I wouldn’t be here right now.”

You shifted in bed, trying to sit upright, flinching when your head spun at the sudden movement. You grabbed the aching side, trying to subdue the pain.

“Lay down. You’re only going to hurt yourself more, if you sit up,” the accented voice said demandingly. 

You sneered at the demand but listened, regardless. 

“I know what I’m doing, you know? I’m a well-trained assassin, not to mention one of the best ones yet,” you said in a hushed tone.

“I know that. That’s why I’m confused about how you came back so heavily injured. I expected you to know better,” he huffed, turning the light of the room off.

The last comment had hit you harder than you expected. You knew he had high expectations of you, but you never thought he would put you down for messing up once.

Glancing at his silhouette, you never felt as much dislike for a person than you did Tom, at that moment. You liked being critiqued but not insulted. Your line of work was very important, and your pride was big.

He slid into his space beside you, laying flat on his back, arms crossed over the covers. You remained laying on your side beside him, not sparing him a glance.

A wet streak slid down the side of your nose, another following over the bridge of your nose. Reaching a hand up to wipe the liquid away, you realized it was your tears. You tried to quietly sniffle away your tears, but Tom heard them clearly in the radio silent room. 

You weren’t supposed to be weak. You weren’t supposed to shed tears late at night. You were an assassin for fuck’s sake. 

“You know, I was doing it for you,” you whispered. “I was trying to get rid of that stupid asshole that’s been targetting you this entire time,” your tears began to come down harder.

“Darling, why would you do that? As much as I appreciate it, I’d prefer it more if you came home safely and not bleeding out,” he spoke, turning to wrap an arm around your waist.

“I just wanted to help,” you sniffled, cuddling into his warmth.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I was just worried about you,” he murmured as he planted wet kisses on your bare shoulder.

“I know, but it still hurt,” you replied, lifting a hand up to wipe away your excess tears.

“I’m sorry, princess. Can you forgive me?” His lips attacked the supple skin of your neck, gently sucking and leaving a purple mark behind.

You hummed, a hand snaking behind you to push him away, “Yes, I forgive you. Now, leave me alone. I’m tired.”

“Alright, love. Let’s sleep,” he smiled into your neck, arms encasing you in a warm hug, and before you knew it, you fell into a deep sleep.

[professortennant]

After having read a lot of your Lucien/Jean fic last night, I've discovered that I'm a complete slut for your nanny/single parent au. Please tell me you're planning to write at least 100k more words for the 'verse? *bats eyelashes* :D

(1) “i’m a complete slut for...” is now the only way i’m going to say i enjoy something (2) takes place in this verse and (3) 1800 words of FLUFF.  here we go! 

Lucien hadn’t seen the boys for most of the day. They always seemed to be huddled together, throwing nervous glances at Lucien before urgently whispering amongst themselves once more. 

Throwing the kitchen towel over this shoulder, he leaned against the door frame leading to the living room, narrowing his eyes playfully. “What are you two up to?”

Jack and Christopher’s heads shot up and Lucien saw the panicked look in their eyes of boys planning mischief and almost being caught. Jack nudged Christopher in the side. “N-nothing, Lucien! We were wondering, though, can we make dinner tonight?”

The request wasn’t unusual; the boys often helped in the kitchen, loving the way Lucien made every chore in the house a new adventure. But they had never offered to take over the duty themselves. 

Well, Lucien certainly wasn’t going to put an end to their mischief--not yet anyway. With a grin, he nodded. “Right-o. Your mum will be home in an hour or so, that enough time for your grand feast?”

The boys nodded happily and they ran to the kitchen. However, when Lucien turned to follow them and assist, they turned on their heels, pushing at his chest and stomach to stop him from entering the kitchen. “No, Lucien! We want to do it ourselves.”

He hesitated. There were many dangers in the kitchen and although the boys certainly weren’t toddlers, they were quite young to be around sharp knives and fire. 

But looking down into the wide, earnest eyes of Jack and Christopher, he relented. Reaching out to ruffle their hair affectionately, he nodded. “Alright, go on. But if you need help--any at all--you call for me, alright? I’m just going to be outside taking the laundry down off the line.”

Shaking his head with a soft smile, he left the boys to it. Outside, he carefully removed the clothing from the line, folding the sun-warmed clothes and keeping an ear out for any catastrophic sounds that may emanate from the kitchen. 

But all he heard was the typical clangor of pots and pans and the sounds of the boy working together. Perhaps this would all work out for the best...

A short while later, he entered the house through side door, carrying the basket of freshly folded clothing into the house. Just as he turned the corner to head for the boys’ bedroom, he saw the front door open and Jean step inside.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her: cheeks flushed red from the heat of the day and and her skirt and blouse wrinkled from the day’s work. No matter how she looked, he always thought her beautiful.

Jean looked up from slipping her shoes and coat off and smiled at him, soft and warm. Lucien cradled these smiles within his heart and he treasured each one. 

“Something smells good?” She frowned, looking around for the boys who normally rushed to greet her at the door. “Where are Jack and Christopher?”

Hiking the laundry basket up on his hip, he gestured to the kitchen. “Your boys are handling dinner tonight. Don’t worry,” he hastened to add at her alarmed look. “They have everything handled and I kept an ear out for anything too disastrous.” 

They shared a grin, both familiar with the boys’ tendency to get more than a little rowdy and raucous. Lucien, nodded to the laundry in his arms. “I’ll just go put this away and then I’ll leave you all to it.”

It was the worst part of his day: leaving the warmth and happiness of the Beazley home behind and returning to his cold, lifeless flat, alone and wishing he were back at Jean’s side and watching over the boys. 

Jean reached out and squeezed his arm before entering the kitchen to see what her boys had gotten up to. He watched her go, admiring the curve of her back side and the shapely nature of her legs before catching himself in the act. With a shake of his head, he headed for Jack and Christopher’s room. It was no use lingering on the things he could never have, after all.

Lucien entered the kitchen, prepared to say his goodbyes and then drown himself in a bottle of whiskey, willing tomorrow to come sooner rather than later so he could return to this famiy. But the sight in front of him stopped him dead in his tracks.

The kitchen table had been covered in fine linen, two candlesticks had been haphazardly stuck in makeshift candleholders and lit, wine had been placed on the table, and the table had been set for two. Jean was sitting before one setting, hiding a smile behind her hand.

Lucien looked over and saw Jack and Christopher standing together, chests stuck out proudly. Jack stepped forward with a dramatic bow and pulled out the seat opposite Jean, “Your seat, sir.”

Looking to Jean in surprise, she simply nodded, still smiling. Lucien took the offered seat while Christopher stepped forward and slipped a napkin over his lap. 

“Boys, there’s only two settings here. Where will you two scoundrels be dining this evening?”

They grinned at each other, the picture of innocence. “We ate while we were cooking, Lucien. So, it’ll just be you and mum tonight.” The scampered back to the stove and carried over the bowl of steaming hot pasta and tomato sauce. Christopher served while Jack grated cheese over their plates. When they were done they stepped back and folded their hands behind their backs. 

“We’re just--”

“--Going to bed.”

And with that, they fled the kitchen, dimming the kitchen lights so the room was illuminated by the candlelight alone, leaving a bewildered Lucien and a laughing Jean. 

Lifting her fork and digging into the bowl of pasta before her, Jean began to eat. Lucien followed suit. “Not exactly subtle, are they?”

Jean laughed through the mouthful of pasta. “What gave it away? The wine or the candles?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You don’t seem upset by their attempts at matchmaking.”

Jean’s cheeks flushed with color and she swallowed the mouthful of pasta and took a sip of her wine. “If it means my boys are cooking and doing something other than running amuck and causing mischief? They can try and match me with Edward Tyneman, for all I care.”

Lucien’s heart sank and he stabbed his pasta with more vigor than intended. Of course Jean wasn’t affected by the prospect of an evening with him. He was just the help.

Putting on a smile for her, he raised his glass. “Then a toast to your sons and the fact that I am not Edward Tyneman.”

Their glasses clinked softly and from there, the evening seemed to pass in easy conversation, Jean filling him in on her day and Lucien regaling her with tales of the boys’ secretive antics all day. 

The candlesticks burned low, the wax melting over the holders. The evening seemed to be coming to an end and Lucien rose to clear away the dishes, stacking them in the sink while Jean cleared the table, blowing the candles out and corking the wine. 

An awkward silence fell upon them and Lucien shuffled his feet for a moment, hand rubbing nervously at the back of his neck. The tell-tale urge to confess everything to her bubbled up on his wine-loosened tongue. 

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw two familiar figures dashing to the living room and the slow, soft strains of an old waltz filtered into the kitchen. He shook his head, ready to make a quip to Jean and then leave for the evening. 

Better to leave now before he couldn’t make himself leave at all.

But when he turned to face her, Jean had her eyes closed, her arms wrapped around her waist, swaying softly on the spot. Lucien’s heart melted at the picture she presented and he found himself in front of her, offering his hand with a small bow. 

“Oh, I do like that. Yes. Dance with me?”

Jean’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled softly at him, nodding and placing her hand in his. He tugged her close and all propriety seemed to dissolve between them as she slipped easily into his arms, head resting on her chest and arm around his waist. Her soft, stocking-covered feet stepped on his toes a few times and they simply laughed, twirling about the kitchen. 

Their laughter turned into pensive silence and Lucien held her tightly, pretending, just for a moment, that this was real. That this was his home and Jean was his wife and their sons were simply trying to give them an evening alone.

Jean’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt and she pulled away, looking up at him from under thick eyelashes. He looked down at her and he seemed to realize how close their faces were. 

They stopped dancing, simply holding onto the other. Her head tilted up just so, as if offering him the chance to duck down and steal the kiss he so desperately desired. 

“Lucien...”

Her eyes flickered closed and his heart pounded in his chest. Their lips were  millimeters away, his top lip just brushing hers when there was an almighty crash!

Jack and Christopher spilled into the kitchen, red faced and glaring at each other. They had clearly been stacked one on top of the other, eavesdropping, and had gotten overzealous in their quest to catch a glimpse of their mother and caretaker finally kissing: the ultimate proof their plan had worked. 

Jean and Lucien sprung apart, blushing profusely. They avoided the other’s gaze and Lucien stared at the tangled arms and legs of the boys on the floor. With a sigh, he shook his head. 

“I think that’s my cue to leave.” He leaned over and dared to press a kiss to Jean’s cheek. “Good night, Jean.”

He stepped over the boys and squatted down beside them, shaking his head fondly at them and whispered, “Good try, boys. See you tomorrow.”

And with that, he stepped into the hallway and into the cool night air, breathing deeply, his heart racing, the events of the evening immediately replaying in his mind. He grinned to himself.

He had almost kissed Jean Beazley. 

Maybe there was a chance for them after all....

[dknc3]

So, I've just come over from ao3 after reading pretty much everything you've written over there. And i just saw your eclipse family pictures and I thought "I need a fic about the Stark clan watching an eclipse", and since there's no one better to do it than you, I just leave the prompt here. No problem if you take a long time, I know RL can be busy. Keep up the amazing writing!

Here’s your eclipse fic, Nonnie! I put it under the cut because I’m afraid even most of my short fics are kinda long for tumbler dashes! 

Catelyn Stark surveyed her children scattered about the small field. Robb and Jon were standing beneath the shade of a large tree engaged in an animated conversation, probably about either some sporting event or a girl. Robb had been a bit girl-crazy for at least the past two years–likely Theon Greyjoy’s influence–but his cousin’s interest had only developed since the two boys had started high school. Robb liked to gleefully proclaim that a certain red-headed new student from somewhere much further north was responsible for that. Sansa was lying back in a reclining lawn chair, her NASA-approved glasses pushed back on her head, and her eyes fixed on her phone rather than the sky. Arya was also looking down at a phone as she sprawled on her belly in the grass, eclipse glasses lying beside her. Bran was running toward the little farmhouse, having been dispatched by Ned to fetch the colander they’d laid out on the kitchen table, and Rickon was in Ned’s lap in the chair beside hers, his little face turned up toward the sun with his father’s hands on either side of it making certain the glasses stayed firmly in place.

“Mommy! Look! The moon IS eating the sun up like a cookie!” he exclaimed. “It’s got a big bite gone now!” Then he began twisting in Ned’s arms, pulling his father’s hands off his face. He turned his head from side to side rather comically, blind in the dark glasses which still covered his eyes. “Mommy? Where are you?”

“Right beside you, little wolf,” Catelyn laughed, reaching out to pull the glasses from his eyes. “You can’t see anything except the sun when you’re wearing the eclipse glasses, remember? You have to take them off to look around you.”

He grinned at her. “I forgot.” 

“But you must put them back on before looking back toward the sun, Rickon. Do not forget that,” Ned cautioned him rather sternly.

“I won’t,” their youngest replied as solemnly as a four year old boy could manage.

“I’ve got it, Dad!” Bran yelled, reappearing from the house, waving the colander above his head.

“Oh, good!” Ned exclaimed, lifting Rickon off his lap to stand up. “Come here, children.” 

Catelyn saw the slight frown on his face as only Rickon jumped to follow him. To be fair, she didn’t think the older boys heard him. “Girls,” she said, “Put those phones down and go see what your father has.”

“It’s a spaghetti drainer,” Arya said. “I can see it from here.” She looked back down at the phone.

“Whose phone is that, Arya? And did you ask to borrow it?” She and Ned didn’t believe children needed phones until middle school so Sansa was the youngest to have one at the moment.

“It’s Jon’s, and he doesn’t care.”

“Does he know you have it?”

“He doesn’t care,” Arya repeated.

“Jon!” Catelyn called. “Did you give …”

“Hey, Jon! I’ve got your phone, okay?” Arya interrupted loudly.

“Don’t break it!” Jon called back to her, barely turning from his conversation with Robb. 

Catelyn sighed. That boy could never tell Arya no to anything. And considering the things Arya got herself into even at the ripe old age of nine, one of these days that would likely get both of them into trouble.

“Told you he didn’t care,” Arya said smugly.

“That doesn’t mean it was okay for you to take it without his knowledge. Now, put it down and let’s go see what your father is showing the boys.”

“A spaghetti drainer,” her younger daughter repeated. But she did put the phone down in the grass beside her eclipse glasses and stand up. “That reminds me, what are we having for supper?”

Catelyn sighed and rolled her eyes, turning to her older daughter and saying, “You, too. You’re here to watch something very special, not text for hours with Jeyne.”

Sansa sighed and rolled her eyes at that, and Catelyn knew that if Ned had been paying any attention to them he would have commented upon the similarity of their daughter’s exasperated expression to her own. “Come on, Sansa,” she said softly. “This is very important to your father. And if you’d take your nose out of that phone for a bit, you just might enjoy it.”

Sansa still didn’t look very happy, but she slowly raised herself up, pushing the glasses down on her eyes as she did so. “Oh!” she said in genuine surprise as she looked up at the sun. “It’s nearly half gone now!” 

That sent Arya scurrying back to fetch her own glasses from where she’d left them. “Wow!” she said, when she looked up. “It was taking forever before. Seems like it’s going faster now.”

“Arya, come over here and look! This is cool!” Bran yelled.

Both girls pulled their glasses off and walked to join their father and younger brothers, and Catelyn followed behind them. She thought about calling the older boys over as well, but saw that they both now stood side by side in the shade of the tree, glasses on their faces, looking at up at the sun without moving. She smiled at the two of them and turned to hear Ned’s very scientific explanation of why the light from the partially eclipsed sun shining through the holes of the colander produced the little shadow crescents on the ground.

The kids were at least impressed enough that it held their interest for a few moments before Rickon announced he was hungry. Bran, having discovered the snacks Catelyn had put out on the table when he went in for the colander, asked if they could eat some now. Catelyn nodded and the younger three bounded into the house while Sansa returned to her chair and her phone.

Ned sighed. “I thought they’d enjoy this,” he said, sounding rather dejected.

“They are enjoying it, my love! This is a treat!”

“Well, they’re enjoying getting to skip school on a Monday, anyway.” She could still hear the disappointment in his voice.

When he’d heard about the total eclipse crossing the entire country, her normally far too serious husband had gotten as excited as a little kid, and when he realized that Winterfell was only going to get a partial eclipse, he’d gone on line and researched the path of totality, renting this little farmhouse for the weekend because of its perfect location and made travel plans for all of them to experience the total eclipse together. Ned never planned vacations. He didn’t like to spend money frivolously. Yet, this had caught his imagination, and he’d run with it. The man who’d been to countless hockey, football, basketball, and soccer games, fencing matches and track meets, piano and ballet recitals, school plays, beaches, and amusement parks for the sake of the people he loved had now brought them all along to experience something he loved. 

“They’re kids, Ned,” she said softly. “The younger three have the attention spans of gnats most of the time. The older three … well, they’re teenagers–or ALMOST a teenager in Sansa’s case–so they’re behavior isn’t even recognizably human at times. But they all are enjoying this. I can tell. They’re simply out here being themselves, and then they look up at that sun and … just watch their faces, Ned. This is an amazing thing you’ve done for us.”

He looked at her and smiled. “Have I mentioned lately how glad I am that you married me?”

“Lately?” she said teasingly. “No.”

“Well, I am,” he said. “Every day of my life.”

She tiptoed up and kissed him and then grinned. “Remember that when I remind you about your promise to clean out the garden shed next weekend.”

He just laughed and pulled her against him for a longer kiss, knocking her own eclipse goggles off the top of her head as he ran his hands through her hair.

“Hey, Dad! I thought you put down ‘astronomy’ as the academic subject we’d be learning about today when you filled out the papers to take us out of school–not sex ed!” 

“Robb Eddard Stark!” Catelyn scolded her firstborn, but she was laughing too hard to be taken seriously.

“Well, some of us are trying to watch an eclipse here, Mom. Maybe you and Dad should get a room!”

“That’s enough, son,” Ned said mildly, reluctantly releasing her from his arms. “What brings you over here from your hangout under the tree?”

“Oh, I just wondered if it’s really getting colder out here or if Jon and I are imagining things. The sun’s over half gone now.”

Catelyn hadn’t noticed any change in temperature–and she certainly hadn’t been cold in Ned’s arms. It still wasn’t cold, but … “It’s not hot,” she said, realizing the boys were right. It was a very hot August day. She’d actually been surprised Ned hadn’t retreated to the shade with the older boys, but he hadn’t wanted anything obstructing his vision. While it was still very warm, it wasn’t hot at all.

“No,” Ned said, grinning. “It’s actually quite comfortable.”

“This is pretty awesome,” Robb said.

“And we haven’t even gotten to the best part,” Ned assured him. “What’s Jon looking at?”

Catelyn looked over to the tree and saw Jon crouched down on the ground, intently studying something. Before she could call out to him, she heard Arya’s voice shout from the doorway of the house.

“Hey, it’s getting dark out here!”

Catelyn looked at Ned, and he furrowed his brow in puzzlement. It was still a sunny day–not dark at all.

“What are you talking about, Shortstuff?” Robb asked. “It’s bright as day out here.”

“No, she’s right.” Bran came out of the house behind his sister and stood looking around with an odd expression on his face. “I mean … it’s not dark, but it’s darker than it should be. It looks way darker than when we went in.”

Ned stood still for a moment and then took Catelyn by the hand. “Come with me,” he said, pulling her toward the house rather quickly.

“Hey! I don’t think Robb really wanted us to get a room, Ned,” she laughed.

“No, I think we’ve been out here too long. That’s why we can’t see it.”

“What?” she asked as he pulled her into the doorway of the house. The children had all gone outside and she spotted a pair of forgotten eclipse glasses on the table which she grabbed up to take outside, remembering as she did so that her own were lying out in the grass now where Ned had knocked them off. She hoped they didn’t get stepped on.

“It’s probably been getting a just a little bit darker all along, but it’s too subtle to notice because we’ve been there for all of it. I bet if we go back out after staying inside for a few moments, it’ll look darker to us as well.”

“Well, we can’t stay in here too long, Dad. It’s at least 2:15pm and I’m not missing this. Oh, you must have dropped these, Mom. Rickon nearly squished them.” Robb stood there behind them holding out her eclipse glasses. She hadn’t even heard him come in.

“Let’s go then,” Ned said with a grin as Catelyn thanked Robb for the glasses.

“Oh, my!” she said as she stepped outside. The light was indeed dimmer. It looked very odd for the middle of an August afternoon. And it was very definitely cooler.

“Uncle Ned! Aunt Cat! Robb! You’ve gotta see this!” 

Catelyn looked over toward the tree and realized all the children except Robb were now there with Jon, even Sansa.

The three of them hurried over to see what the attraction was. Sansa looked up at their approach and pointed to the ground. “Look, Mama! It’s so pretty.”

Catelyn looked down to see what appeared to be a thousand tiny crescents overlapping each other and shifting through light and shadow as the leaves overhead moved in the light breeze.

“It’s lovely,” she agreed.

Bran was jumping up and down and asking Ned to explain it but Catelyn missed the explanation as a small hand tugged on hers. “Look, Mommy,” a grinning Rickon said to her, holding up a chocolate chip cookie he apparently brought from the kitchen. “I’m the moon and this is the sun.” He then took an enormous bite out of it and grinned at her again, chocolate all over his front teeth. 

She laughed and bent down to hug him, but before she could reply, Ned said, “Kids, I think this is it. Let’s all go back to the chairs and put our glasses on. I’ll tell you when you can take them off.”

“My glasses!” Rickon cried out in dismay. 

“I’ve got them, little wolf,” Catelyn assured him, taking him by the hand and leading him back to the little cluster of lawn chairs. 

When they were seated with their glasses on, all eight of them were silent, even Rickon as the last bright rim of the sun visible through the dark lenses began to fade away. Catelyn realized it was entirely silent. There was no birdsong any more. Then she heard a cricket.

“Ned …” she breathed. 

“I know,” he said. “Night’s falling. In the middle of the afternoon.”

The temperature drop was no longer subtle, and she shivered a bit just as Ned said, “Take your glasses off, everyone.”

She’d seen the bright sliver of sun disappear through her glasses but wasn’t prepared for the sight that met her eyes without them. It was dark as night. She could even see stars. And in the sky above them was a dark circle surrounded by a halo of soft light. She couldn’t remain seated, standing up to look heavenward.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, shivering again.

Ned had stood as well, holding Rickon, and he shifted the little boy into one arm reaching to put the other arm around her.

“Are you cold, Cat?” he asked softly.

She shook her head and leaned into him.

“This is the coolest thing EVER!” Robb exclaimed then, and then all the kids began shouting and laughing and jumping around and generally celebrating the celestial phenomenon that they all were witnessing for the first time.

“Mommy? Did the moon eat the sun all the way gone now?”

She heard the apprehension in her little boy’s voice. “No, baby,” she assured him. We’re only pretending that the moon ate up the sun, remember? The sun’s really only hiding behind it. It’ll be back in just a bit.”

“Good. I like the sun!” he exclaimed. “When does it come back?”

“Oh, I’d say in about a minute and a half now, Rickon. At least the first little bit of it, and you’ll have to put your glasses on again to look then.”

“A minute and a half?” Robb cried. “Jon get that selfie stick!”

Catelyn realized the older three all had their phones out and had been snapping various pictures of each other. Now Jon was rapidly affixing his phone–which Arya had apparently returned to him–to the selfie stick her sister had given the boys two Christmases ago. She hadn’t realized they still had the thing.

“Okay, everybody, get together with the sun behind us!” Robb yelled.

“I don’t know how the sun will turn out in the picture, Robb,” Jon said.

“Yeah, but it’ll be cool in any event. Can you see everybody?”

“Rickon’s head’s in front of Uncle Ned’s face,” Jon said. “Arya, quit making rabbit ears over Bran’s head! We want an actual good picture for a change! This is too amazing to act stupid!” 

Catelyn could barely see what anyone looked like on the little screen of Jon’s phone, but everyone must have moved to his satisfaction because he snapped several pictures, saying, “There. At least one of those should be good.”

Amazingly, after the picture was taken, all the kids quieted down again. Rickon wanted down, and Ned allowed it with an admonishment that he mustn’t run off. Instead, he walked over to his sisters and took each of them by the hand. “The sun will be back,” he promised them.

Sansa smiled and bent to kiss the top of his head while Arya reached over with her free hand and mussed his hair. “Yep,” she said. “Just like magic.” Then the three of them stayed like that, holding hands and watching the sky.

Robb and Jon stood together as they so often did–the son who’d made them parents and the nephew who’d become a son through tragedy. Both of them looked heavenward with almost identical expressions of wonder on their very different faces and it struck Catelyn that she had only a few precious years left until they would truly be grown. 

“Dad?” Bran’s voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she turned to see her second son standing at Ned’s other side, looking up at his father with adoration. “This is the greatest idea you ever had!”

“Thank you, son,” he replied softly, and Catelyn heard the quiet joy in the deep voice she loved so much.

She smiled at him and tiptoed up to kiss his cheek and then stood leaning into him with her head against his shoulder and his arm around her waist as they stood with their family watching the heavens and awaiting the magic of daylight’s return.