#tom bennett drabble

[almondmilktargaryen]

Dear Birdie

Summary: Tom Bennett visits his girl, Birdie, after returning home from his first leave. He stops by her house, despite never sending her any letters.

Couple: Tom Bennett/Original Female Character

Category: Fluff (with the slightest angst)

Content warnings: One slap, smut

Word count: 5.5k

Also on my Ao3

A/N: This is kinda where season 2 kicks off. Except Tom's dad is not dead and everything's fine there because goddammit we deserve some happiness.

Birdie always made sure she and her brothers took advantage of their father’s out-of-country meetings. Even a world war couldn’t stop a businessman. Still, for Birdie, it meant a break from entertaining his friends with whiskey refreshers while dodging questions about marriage. It meant no sons of those same friends lurking around her at dinner parties, critiquing the meal in between their stories at the country club, unaware it was she who had strained over her mother’s cookbook all morning.

For her brothers, it meant no golf on Saturday and no church on Sunday. They slept late, ate plenty, and played outside while Birdie enjoyed her noon cigarette. She kept their itchy jumpers in the back of their closets while their button-ups and socks stayed a pristine bleach white for another week. And all of it equaled far less laundry for her to deal with before Monday.

That didn’t mean there was absolutely no laundry on the weekends. She already had a load to hang outside and more than enough August sunshine to take advantage of. As she clipped up one damp garment after another on the clothesline, next week’s load tumbled next to her as the boys wrestled in the grass. Charles was all elbows and knees at twelve, but it didn’t stop him from lunging at Robert. His blonde hair flopped into his eyes, giving Robert the time to dodge his tackle. His laughter rang high and clear when Charles landed in the dirt.

They both scooped up more to shove down the other’s polo when a face was out of reach, grunts and giggles blending together even after Birdie tossed her slipper at them. “I’m not doing any more laundry today.”

“Alright,” Robert said, finally getting dirt down Charles’ collar.

Birdie picked up her slipper. “That includes ironing.”

“We know.” Charles pulled Robert down by the ankle as he said it, his face clean until Robert took his shot.

“That includes your school uniforms.”

Then they paused, looking at each other, then up at their sister.

“If you can make it to the door before me, I’ll reconsider that last part.”

Charles hopped up first, this time helping little Robert up before charging to the back door. Birdie followed behind, the distance growing as she walked with a laundry basket at her hip.

Tom was the one who taught her that. “When in doubt, make it a race. Boys will take any easy win.” Sometimes he’d even sweeten the deal by offering actual sweets. Anything chocolate or caramel was an simple win over. And Tom was good at that, winning people over. Because, unlike the boys who only pulled polite laughter from Birdie all night, Tom Bennett was actually charming. And unlike their father coming home from France or Poland, the boys loved seeing him.

Unfortunately, Tom Bennett was also a proper bastard.

She couldn’t say that in front of the boys. It would break their hearts. He was proper when he told them about joining the army (while in jail,) then signing up for the navy (before almost going back to jail.) Everything had been radio silence since he told them about being sent to Spain first. The radio itself was more respondent than Thomas Bloody Bennett, making him the bastard he was.

They constantly heard about the Kriegsmarine. The Admiral Graf Spee had a record of sinking one ship after another across the Atlantic and Indian. Charles counted nine over several months in a little notebook he kept under his pillow. Robert would always ask if Tom was still in Spain or what ship he told Birdie he’d be on. All perfectly reasonable questions she had no answer to.

Eventually came the worst question left to loom in the air: Was Tom dead? The question lingered, unvoiced, in their minds. She wished she knew, even if it meant he was.

But she also wished the boys could forget. Erasing Tom Bennett completely instead of letting the continuous unknown haunt them seemed like a logical, lesser pain. It wasn’t a problem when their mother died. They were one and two when Birdie was ten. Their love for her was not as great as their love for Tom. They never stepped into a room with her in mind and a blanket of memories to follow. No everyday objects held the weight of those memories, like hair brushes and gold jewelry. Their father taught the boys how to play solitaire, but they couldn’t look at a deck without seeing Tom, the one who taught them about poker and how to cheat in the same night.

Even the report of Graf Spee’s sinkage last December felt bittersweet. The boys were cross-legged at the coffee table with the fire warming their backs. Birdie knitted while their father read in his chair. The fuzzily read conclusion of HMS Exeter’s victory sent that heavy blanket over the three of them. It was suffocating until Robert perked his head up, thick brown curls just above his eyes as he said, “Maybe Tom is on the Exeter.”

Birdie glanced over at their father.

“Tom’s dead,” Charles snapped back, his voice cracking with the force of it as his fists clenched in his lap.

“You don’t know that.”

“Boys,” Birdie called. But their father already stood, taking the radio and hiding it again.

Charles pushed Robert. “Good job.”

 “Shut up.” Robert traced the table’s edge, sweeping his curls from his face. “And you still don’t know if Tom is dead.”

“Neither do you.”

“Birdie. Tell him he’s not.”

“Enough,” she ordered.

When their father came back, Charles hid his face as he wiped his cheeks. Birdie soon sent them both to bed.

He never wrote to her. She’d have to accept what that meant, whichever way fate fell. She knew Tom taking a liking to marriage was as hopeful as never seeing war again, but even leaving her like this would be the ultimate coward’s way out. Plenty would see it as a reason not to worry about him and take advantage of her youth while she had it. She never even met his family. They wouldn’t know to look for her if they knew his whereabouts. Time was her only solution. She could only hope that enough of it would pass, and she’d find the strength to laugh at a boy’s jokes from across the table. He’d feel so proud and funny throughout their courting; he’d even crack a joke before proposing to her. Then Birdie would surrender herself, hoping they’d all learn to love him. Just differently.

For now, Birdie opened the back door as the boys waited and soon clamored through the kitchen. “Shoes off!” She ordered as each thunk of non-bare feet trailed up the stairs, then back down, following the reminder. Birdie put the basket on the kitchen floor, debating briefly if she should smoke another cigarette.

They both shouted from the foyer. “Birdie!”

She didn’t move. There wasn’t distress in their voices, and Robert quickly came back into the kitchen to find her where she was standing. Running and shoving dirt into each other’s faces didn’t make them nearly as breathless as they were now. Then she saw the reason, standing in the doorway.

“Tom is here!”

He was here, leaning on his shoulder in a navy uniform with his sandy hair grown out past his ears. Charles hung to one arm as he carried a birdcage with the other. He topped it off with his arrogant grin and wink combination.

“Told you he wasn’t dead,” Robert said. His curls bounced as he vibrated with joy.

“Course I’m not dead.”

Charles continued holding onto his arm, his freckled face split into a wide, toothy grin Birdie hadn’t seen in months. “What are you doing here, then?”

“Hitler sunk me ship. Decided to stop by here.” He placed the cage on the breakfast table. The little canary inside chirped as it swung back and forth on the bar. “Wanted to bring a birdie for my Birdie.” He leaned against the table.

She crossed her arms. Charles finally separated from Tom to look into the cage. He stuck a finger between the golden bars. “Where’d you get it?”

“She was on the ship with me and the lads.” He mimicked her pose, not straying from her eyes. The boys continued with questions.

“Did you kill any Nazis?”

“Loads.”

“Get your uniforms,” she said.

“Are you back for good?” Robert asked, his dark eyes wide with hope.

“Boys. Now.”

“She’s right,” Tom said. “Be good and listen to your sister.” He ruffled their hair before pushing them on the back of their heads. “We’ll talk later.”

Robert disappeared first. Charles second, but he poked his head through the doorway one more time. “We’re glad you’re back, Tom.” And he showed off his toothy smile again before leaving. Their footsteps thump, thump, thumped up the stairs.

“Shoes off! I’m not telling you again.”

“Yeah, shoes off, boys,” he repeated with the same grin and a laugh to boot. He pushed himself off the table with his hip. “Seems like you’ve loosened the reins since last ti—”

The crack across his face bounces off the tiled walls. She thought about doing it plenty of nights when in bed alone, thinking of every way he could’ve left her, but it happened before she realized what she had done. The mark burned pink on his skin. Tom rubbed the spot, but a grin still stained his face just as prominently. Birdie’s face only tightened. “You think this is amusing?”

“A little bit, yeah. Keep that up and we’ll have to take this to your room. As long as your old man’s not here.”

“You think you can just show up whenever it suits you? We thought you were dead.”

“Your faith in me was strong, I see.”

“Because you hadn’t sent a single letter. And you think bringing some bird gets you out of this?”

“Hey, first off, her name’s Vera.”

“Vera!” Robert held his uniform in his arms, gray and wrinkled to hell. Charles opened the laundry room door and placed his matching one on the counter. “She’s a girl?”

“Sure is. Seen her lay an egg and everything. She was on board with me and the lads before Graf Spee took shots at us.”

“Wow!” Robert looked at Vera, Charles at Tom.

Birdie raised a brow. “You were on the HMS Exeter?”

Tom nodded, looking over at the bird.

“I knew you were on the Exeter! I told them you were!” It was Robert’s turn to take Tom’s arm, looping it with his own. “You killed them all, right? They said someone shot the captain.”

“Sounds about right.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat before tightening his arm with Robert’s. He patted his little hand.

“If Hitler sunk that ship, then did the others make it home?”

“Yeah, yeah. One way or another.” He glanced back at Birdie, and his grin simmered down. There was something more she couldn’t piece together. She opened her mouth, but Tom spoke up first. “You two do us a favor, yeah?” He unlooped Robert’s arm as Charles came around the table. Both are standing tall with eager ears. “So, I haven’t had a milkshake in about a year.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s awful, innit? With it being as sweltering as it is, I think we all could go for some.”

They nodded enthusiastically. Birdie bit her lips closed.

“Good. But I’m sure your sister would appreciate you two cleaning up before we head out. Bath and all, alright?”

“But you need a milkshake now.”

“We all need milkshakes now.”

“Which is why you should hurry,” Birdie interjected. “The sooner you’re clean, the sooner we’ll get them.”

“But don’t rush washing up. Don’t want people to think she doesn’t know how to take care of you.”

“Are you going to kiss while we’re gone?” Charles’ nose scrunched as he said it.

“Probably,” Tom said. “You wanna watch?”

And just like that, for the third time, they were off. (Their shoes weren’t, but she couldn’t care to remind them.)

Tom shifted slowly, turning back to face her. “That’ll keep them away for a while.”

“You think I want to kiss you?”

“Oh, absolutely. You’re just too angry to admit it.”

“You brought home a bird and no apologies.”

“Not just Vera.” He delved into one pocket. “I’ve got some seeds she likes. Here’s some rope she climbs on.” He placed them down on the table before fishing around the other pocket.

“Are you so up your own arse that you think I’m going to look past this? You think you’re so bloody perfect because—”

“Because I have these.” In front of them both were papers. Envelopes upon envelopes, stamped and ready to send with torn journal pages sandwiched in between. All of them covered in his fine cursive. Tom held them up and placed them with Vera’s things. “Well, at least you’re finally speechless.”

Birdie touched the top envelope with her full name written out, feeling the indentions of his handwriting.

“Sending letters at sea is harder than you think when Germans are around.”

“You wrote to me.”

“As often as I could. More than me dad or Lois. So if that doesn’t get me out of trouble.”

She couldn’t help the way her vision blurred with tears. Many months of anger and resentment dissolved inside her, melting into salty pools. Then she looked up, remembering the mark on his face. Birdie reached out and brushed his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

Tom blew air through his nose. “It doesn’t hurt. Shows you still love me.”

“That’s not–”

“You wouldn’t have touched me at all if you’d given up.” Tom leaned into her hand, then took her fingers in his to observe. “No ring. So I’m not too late then? You didn’t move on from this poor bloke?”

“Not through lack of trying. They sent all the good ones away, too.”

They both laughed. It fizzled out slowly, leaving Vera to fill the silence with her chirps. Tom’s eyes were a crisp blue, making him extra dashing in his uniform. His damn smirk didn’t help with her decency, but Tom did the honors by pulling her in, guiding one hand to his back like she was the one who was used to being led. He kissed her gently, and his hands drew up into her hair, making her earrings dangle as a tingle bloomed from her scalp to her spine. She slipped her tongue in before bringing Tom closer in response–waist against waist. She felt what she wanted.

Tom hummed at the friction, pulling back first. “Eager to give me a hero’s welcome, I see.”

She nodded, already out of breath.

“Doesn’t help that you taste like cigarettes. Reminding me of old habits.”

“We can go to the laundry room.” She bent her back to press further into his bulge and kissed him again. The deep exhale through his nose was cool, brushing her cheek.

“Let’s go upstairs first.”

“But I want you now.”

“You’ll have me. Come on.” The warmth of his hands left her face as he reached out for Vera’s things. He hooked two fingers to pick up her cage.

Birdie watched him leave. A quick fuck was never something he declined before. It was what he preferred over anything that took a long time. Birdie preferred getting to the point, and Tom barely had the experience to take things slow like her. She sighed and grabbed her letters before following him upstairs.

The peachy walls and green curtains matching her floral bedding were reminders of how little things had changed. Even Tom pointed it out as he looked around. “That’s good.” He walked over to her desk, next to the big window. “Vera would like it here. She’ll get good light, and you can open up the window for some fresh air.”

“Sure.” She put her letters on her nightstand before shutting the door.

“I’ll put a hook in the ceiling and find a chain to hang the cage from. Make it all pretty for ya.” He scaled the height of the wall from top to bottom, hands on his hips and nodding to himself. “Yeah, I can get the boys to help me.”

“Tom.” Birdie stepped closer.

“Well, maybe not with this. Rather make sure she’s secure.”

“Tom.”

He turned with raised brows. Birdie rubbed his arms first, then cupped the part of his face she slapped. “Are you alright?”

His brow creased. “Yeah, course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting differently.”

“You haven’t seen me in a year. A lot happens in a year, Birdie. That’s no one’s fault.” He kissed her knuckles, all gentlemanly. His arms wrapped around her waist as he returned to his signature smirk.

“You can keep Vera at yours. The boys will understand.”

“Nah. We don’t have the room. She’s better off here on your side of the country.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, and I’ll visit her when I want. No matter what your old man says. I’ll just sneak through the window. Like old times.” He smiled at that. “Now, where were we?” He kissed her.

She wanted to say more, but Tom was good at distracting. The tingling sped down to her legs and morphed into numbness as Tom nibbled at her neck. They tangled with his own as he tried taking the lead again. Luckily, they fell onto the bed with little injury, only a bump to the teeth as Tom kissed her deeply into the mattress. His tongue slid through to find hers, and she worked her hands through his hair. Tom pulled down one shoulder of her dress, kissing and nipping his way down like he was reacquainting himself with every inch of her. Her bra went with it. Tom stopped at her waist to give her chest the attention it craved. He massaged one tit while taking the other in his mouth. He suckled gently on her nipple, occasionally taking it between his teeth to make Birdie gasp.

Birdie’s knees hiked up against Tom’s hips. She kept him in place while pulling his hair. Her calves felt the leather of his belt, telling her hands where to go. With their bodies so close, she struggled to find his buckle. Still, she navigated with her goal in mind.

Until Tom took both her wrists and held them over her head. He looked up with a pinkish face. ”Someone’s eager.” His voice was low as he said it, breath cool over her nipple.

“I need to be fucked.”

“I can see that.”

She bucked her hips against his. “Quick.”

“It’s been a year, love. I have to be quick.” And soon, he stepped up, then back. He took fistfuls of her dress and her underwear. Birdie lifted her lower back, and she was naked with one yank. She knew she was glorious. Her appearance clearly pleased Tom. So she reached out for his belt again, but Tom slapped it away. “Not yet.”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. When she looked back up, though, he was already removing his shirt. The sight helped the sting. Before, he had a lightly sculpted physique, with some prominent muscles. But now, his skin was tighter against them, with veins that wrapped around his bare arms. Just like the men on all the sign up posters. A war hero.

Tom nestled back on top of her, keeping her warm as he pushed her hair back. “Is it so bad that I want to enjoy you?”

She shook her head. “You just don’t waste time when it comes to treats.”

“Who said I’m wasting my time?”

Birdie said nothing. For many reasons.

Tom liked his secrets, and he liked to think he was good at hiding them. But he was also right when he mentioned it being a year. Any logical discussion regarding his changed behavior had to be put aside. So for now, she stroked his chest, fingers gliding over his pronounced muscles. His abs jumped at the touch. Tom’s hand then followed down. Further down, actually. And before she could ask what he was doing, electricity sparked up her insides and throughout as Tom explored her wetness.

“Is this wasting time?”

No would be the obvious answer if she hadn’t lost all the air in her lungs. Each harsh intake forced a moan back out. Her chest felt caved in as she jolted under his heavy touch.

“Didn’t think so.”

She would also tell him to shut up if she had the wits, but he never did this. He was never bad at it (decent at most.) He never liked trying new things, fearing he’d embarrass himself. Learning and improvement were beyond his confidence. Being on the sea must have unlocked a more adventurous spirit with no room for improvement because she was so sensitive from enduring no touch at all. (A bloody year!) The only thing he could do was go faster, but his pace was agonizingly slow. With time, her back still arched as she gripped the arm that kept him hovering deliciously above her. “Tom.” She looked him in the eyes as she said it.

He caught his lower lip between his teeth as he picked up the pace, while she grew louder. Eventually, he brought himself down to kiss her, drinking in her moans as she continued to shake. He hummed as her nails dug into his arm and the other hand strangled her bedding. It kept her grounded as she cried out, spasming amidst her little death by Tom Bennett’s hand. He still explored, moving his fingers around and never venturing inside. He kissed her one more time before whispering, “There she is,” as she came back down.

Her legs quivered around Tom, lingered remains of her peak briefly pressing into his hips. And because Tom was feeling proper, he took it as an opportune moment to finally (finally!) remove his pants. Birdie tried watching what she could, but their bodies were too close together to see anything before he completely slipped inside. She stretched against him, but her reaction was to put a palm on his shoulder. She needed a minute, and Tom didn’t move. Birdie released the sharp grip on his arm to cup his face. His eyes were droopy, dazed with the same want she already received. He still kissed her slowly, tenderness still in his heart after everything he might’ve seen, and waited for her say-so.

Soon, Birdie nodded, nearly being lost in the moment again as she enjoyed her own show. Tom was deliberate with every inch, watching her face for any change. Her smile only grew, tightening her arms around his shoulders once he was completely inside her. Her breath hitched as she fully felt it, watching Tom’s eyes flutter shut from the same feeling. Normally, he would anchor her down with hands around her hips, but he stayed close as he thrusted slowly. Knowing he would be quick, he wasn’t animalistic about it. He didn’t pull all the way out to shove himself back in. He just kissed her neck as he kept his pace.

Her nails found his back, scratching down his skin and the small moles on his spine. “Tom,” she said as her mouth started falling open.

“Oh, Birdie.” He kissed her again, like it was a command. Their noses bumped as their hot breaths mingled in the limited space between them. “Oh, my God.”

She could feel the tension building inside. His thrusts became more pointed and faster, making it difficult to keep quiet again. She felt the raised lines she left in his skin as she moaned, “Don’t stop.”

He buried his face in her neck again as he only grew more erratic. And her second release, like Tom’s, was quick (as predicted.) It rushed up and down her legs and no further, topping off her first orgasm as Tom finished hot on her belly. Her toes curled at the lingering feeling as Tom breathed heavily, pulling the bath towel off her floor to clean up his mess. Then he took her hand in his as he fell into her pillows, stark naked and a beautiful sight amongst frilly pink lining. Birdie crawled while still trembling to lie on his chest. His heartbeat was rapid against his ears, and it eventually settled into a healthy rhythm.

Tom’s arms kept her close, keeping their hands together. She looked up at his face, already close to nodding off. One blue eye peeked open, and his lips curled into his signature smirk once more.

“Welcome home.”

“A fantastic welcome, love. Wake me up when you want to welcome me again.”

“You know you can’t fall asleep yet.”

He nodded. “It is tempting, though.”

“The boys should be ready soon.”

Air puffed through Tom’s nose. “A milkshake will have to do, then.”

She knew she should get up, but Tom’s hold around her waist was tighter, as if he had read her mind. It was tempting to sleep. It was more tempting than ever for another cigarette. But Tom’s breath had finally slowed, nearly to a rate that felt like he passed out, anyway. The only thing that assured her he was still awake was his thumb brushing over her knuckles. The simple back-and-forth motion that eventually numbed the skin soothed her mind, despite her questions still being there.

They piled in her head, one after the other, like the letters on her nightstand, addressed to her, for her to read. Even Tom knew he couldn’t avoid it forever.

But footsteps scampered down the hall.

Milkshakes would have to do.

They went to one of the inner city diners. The boys kept to one side of the booth (much to their shared dismay) as Tom stayed next to Birdie. They wanted to be glued to him, to prove to themselves that he was alive and in front of them. Charles even kicked him under the table with a grin plastered on his face. Only once, though, giving Tom rights to kick him back.

Birdie didn’t need the proof. Because something that hadn’t changed about Tom was showing her off in public. He held her hand during the entire walk and kept an arm cascaded over her shoulder in the booth at all times. Word would get back to her father when he returned home. (Someone was always ready to gossip.) And it would make no difference now that Tom was a war hero. No one acknowledged him as such even in the restaurant, despite his uniform.

Even Tom didn’t acknowledge it. He was more concerned with touching the skin on her arm. When their milkshakes arrived, he could barely pull himself away to drink any of it. Birdie crossed her legs , feeling the heat prickle through her as Tom eventually found her knee under the table while giving the boys his full attention the entire time. The way she allowed such public displays of affection would be embarrassing if she didn’t need him so badly again already.

It didn’t help that Tom ended up showing the boys how to hang Vera’s cage, exchanging his uniform for an undershirt and jeans. He installed the hook and showed them how to test its sturdiness, same with the chain holding her up, triple-checking the stability, making sure she’s safe.

They both tested the stability of her bed later in the night. With her hands on the bars of her headboard, Birdie found her familiar motion as she rode Tom into the mattress. His hands gripped into her hips as he moved with her, pushing all he could inside her while staying synchronized. They panted in the dark together. Tom occasionally reached up for her tits, but they made no attempt at meeting in the middle. There was a mutual end they were both desperate to meet.

And eventually, they did. Birdie curled in on herself as she caught her breath, and bent in to Tom’s touch. He guided her to the space between him and the wall. He cleaned them up once more with the same towel and wrapped her in his arms. As her arm snaked around his neck and her thigh drew near, he showered her with tenderness, nuzzling below his chin and rubbing her smooth skin. Vera chirped softly, the golden bars of her cage gleaming in the pale moonlight just above her desk.

Tom’s nails tickled her skin as they traveled up her hip and side before finding her chin, lifting it up to his. She couldn’t see him in the dark, but felt the air leaving his nose with every exhale. She drew circles on his bare chest, high up where his muscles didn’t get in the way. Her eyes were wide open, not even a little tired since this morning. She then wondered if Tom had slept at all since coming home, or if this was his first stop. Would he rest easy, like normal?

“What’re you thinking?”

“What?”

“You’re always quick to sleep. Unless you’re worried about something. So what is it?”

Birdie situated herself to rest on her stomach. She combed her fingers through his hair, reaching his scalp before pulling herself forward to kiss his cheek (she missed) then his lips. “Were you really in the South Atlantic? On The Exeter?”

“I was.” He said it without hesitation. It surprised even her.

“A lot happened.”

“Yeah.”

“What?”

“We were hit. I was cutting up with some lads, pissing off some others.” He cleared his throat. “And they were gone.”

“Gone?”

“The lads. Norman, Vic, others. Only me and Henry survived that one explosion.”

“Oh, Tom.” She reached for his face.

“I wrote about Vic in some of the letters. Hopefully, I did him some justice.”

The silence was thick. No witty jokes to pad the seriousness. He only petted her hair over and over. His touch was rigid and his pulse picked up in his chest. She looked over at the letters on her nightstand, the abstract pile that they were. She reached out, and Tom caught her hand as her finger poked an envelope’s corner.

“Don’t,” he told her. He cradled her hand, bringing it up to his face again, but not letting go.

“What else is there?”

It took so long for him to answer she worried he was pretending to be asleep, making that the end of it until she inevitably brought it up again. His inhale was deep. “I don’t know if I have it yet.” He used her hand to point to his temple. “The Shellshock. You think I’d know with my dad and all. I don’t feel much different. But if… if I get sent out again… I’m…”

“Scared?”

“I might keep changing, Birdie. And I might finally snap like my dad and end up in one of those insane hospitals. With no one.”

“I’d be there.”

“You don’t know that.” He sounded like Robert.

“And neither do you.” She inched closer to kiss his lips again, longer this time, like it was a seal of guarantee. Even with the tensity, Tom softened to it. “What if you don’t go back?”

He huffed. “And be branded a deserter?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Your dad already hates me enough, don’t you think?”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like you want to go back.”

Tom sighed.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, then.”

“It just seems like the easy solution, right? Just don’t go back. I’d be a traitor, but I’d be alive with my dad, Lois, the boys, and you. But like I said, good lads died on that ship. Plenty more are dying elsewhere for the same bloody war. It’s not fair to sit out here when more good lads are getting sent out every day.”

Birdie picked herself up, unwinding herself from his body to look down at the vague silhouette halfway under blankets. “You’re a good lad, too. You know?”

His tongue clicked, brushing it off.

“Bad men don’t think the way you do. That’s why I waited for you. I’ll do it again. I’ll be in the waiting room of any hospital in England if you end up needing to get your head checked.”

“Not beside me?”

“They wouldn’t consider me family.”

“But I would.”

“Well, you’d have to marry me to prove it to them.”

It was a one-off joke. She even topped it off with a chuckle. Still, silence persisted; even Vera couldn’t be heard. Despite his fears, he was still the same Tom Bennett who couldn’t handle the idea of being tied down.

But just when she was about to give up and settle in with nothing spoken further, she felt Tom’s hand move across the side of her face, finding the comfortable, familiar spot just under her ear before pulling her back down. He didn’t make her settle in. He found her lips, kissing her slowly with an open mouth, taking a breath when he could in between.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you.”

  It wasn’t until he stopped that she rested her head on his chest again and his arms found where they wished to settle on her body for the night. He picked up her ring finger and it alone.

“I’ll think about it, alright?”

Birdie buried herself into his chest.

[endless-ineffabilities]

Endless Astro Fic Recs

a/n: had a bit of fun with this ol' site today. not all of my fics are here yet, and this will be updated as we go. also, I cannot speak as to the accuracy of my choices — if thou doth protest, you're welcome to do so!

main masterlist

Aries ♈️

turning red (modern Daemon)

burn them all for you (Aemond)

heart on fire (Aemond)

as I believe in you (Anakin)

if these walls could speak (Daemon/Aemond)

Taurus ♉️

she is my heart (Daemon)

hmm, a christmas drabble (Aemond)

babydoll (Bucky)

blue eyes so green (Ewan)

Gemini ♊️

chemical override (Ewan)

in the shadow of your heart (Daemon)

so high school (Bucky)

serrated edges (Aemond)

Cancer ♋️

the sapphire and his sun (Aemond)

there's hope for us yet (Anakin)

eclipsed (modern Aemond)

Leo ♌️

be young, be dope, be proud (modern Aemond)

fire like yours (Daemon)

but daddy, i love him (Daemon)

my man of the year (Ewan)

sun (Ewan)

do me no good (Ewan)

Virgo ♍️

casual (modern Aemond)

rogue ink (Daemon)

maroon (modern Aemond)

too soon to tell you I love you! (Ewan)

laundry day (Ewan)

Libra ♎️

backhand stroke (modern Aemond)

tongue in cheek (Tom Bennett)

husband for a day (Ewan)

Scorpio ♏️

sapphire-hearted (Aemond)

le marquis et le moineau (Marquis de Gramont)

dollface (Bucky)

revel in my depravity (Aemond au)

Sagittarius ♐️

diet pepsi (modern Aemond)

the other side of the door (Ewan)

the bolter (Steve/Bucky)

Capricorn ♑️

i will never say that i am in love (Aemond)

labyrinth (Aemond)

without you, i would not be (Daemon)

Aquarius ♒️

national anthem (modern Aemond)

in between (Ewan)

House Mitchell takes on Halloween (Ewan)

Pisces ♓️

lavender haze (Aemond)

the only place (Ewan)

technicolour (modern Aemond)

[assortedseaglass]

🌟Wintering | Yuletide🌟

Tom Bennett x fem!Reader

Summary: The war is over and Tom Bennett returns home, seeking comfort in a friend from his past.

Content Warnings: Drabble, Language, Smut (p in v, oral!f receiving).

Yuletide Masterlist

Wintering, verb. To hide, hibernate, seek comfort or rest, especially after turbulent times (in humans).

“Fuck,”

Your back was beginning to ache. You hadn’t given a moment’s thought as to where you were when you’d burst through the door. Just being at home, away from prying eyes, was enough. Now, the dado rail was bruising the base of your spine with every harsh thrust.

“Fuck,” he hissed again in your ear, immediately silencing himself by covering your mouth with his own. The warmth, the wetness, was delicious.

“Tom, please,” you whined into his mouth. Even through the dull pain in your back, your legs hooked around his waist ever tighter. At your plea he looked down at you, his hips still rolling lazily. When he saw the scrunch of your eyebrows, the sheen of sweat above them, and the way your lower lip pillowed as you bit down on it, Tom Bennett grinned.

He continued grinning as his hips began pistoning at an unholy pace into your wet heat. That wolfish smile was the last thing you saw as your eyes finally closed, too overwhelmed by pleasure to stay open, as you threw your head back against the wall. Bastard. He knew he was good.

You’d heard at the dancehall last night that the final battleship into port, the HMS Valiant, was due to arrive the following day at around 3 o’clock. You also knew, from working with Lois on the ambulances, that this was Tom’s ship. When Mrs Beatty and a few other ladies from your mother’s Women's Institute suggested meeting the last of the lads to come home at the dock, the idea spread through your Manchester suburb like wildfire.

No sooner had your mother come home with the news were you being bustled onto the number 54 bus with a hamper laden with fresh clothes, bottles of beer, spam sandwiches and the little change that each family could spare. Old men, and women of all ages, piled into the buses and made their way to the docks. A few families still had bunting from the King’s jubilee and strung it from dockyard cranes.

The furore was extraordinary. The battleship was already looming large on the horizon when you all emptied from the bus, and young and old cheered themselves hoarse until the ship made its way into port. Sailors, forgetting regulations, leant over the ships’ railings and waved to family and friends. When the battleship finally docked, it let out a long blast of its horn and the crowed roared with glee. Mothers and sweethearts were already crying when the gangway was let down, and you saw that even some fathers were wiping their eyes.

You watched with relief as faces you recognised filed off the boat. Mr Martin’s only surviving son, thirty-eight and with three children who each ran into his arms. Frank Smith, the school bully’s rat-faced sidekick. The lad that worked at the corner shop, nineteen now, having received his papers the day he turned eighteen. Each was greeted by their family members and someone with a ‘welcome home’ hamper.

All, except one. Tom Bennett, one of the tallest lads on the boat, walked down the gangway in a few elegant strides and stopped on the dock with a sigh as he hitched his kitbag over his shoulder. He lifted his eyes to the sky, the October afternoon already darkening to a mournful blue.

As with the rest of the young men, the war had not been kind to him. Shadows haunted his slim face, prematurely aged from the horrors of a war none of them should have fought. At home, he was the stuff of legend. Survived the battle of River Plate, Dunkirk and went on the run in Europe, only to be sent back to war the moment he returned. More lives than the luckiest of cats, your mother said. The worst, of course, was the loss of his father and his home. The grief hit the Bennett children hard. Tom Bennett jumped onto the first battleship in dock, and Lois left baby Vera in England to go nursing in Africa. Now, Tom Bennett stood on the dock with no-one to welcome him home after six long years.

You hurried forward.

“Tom-” As though he knew you were there before you even spoke, he looked down from the sky to your flushed face.

Though he said your name quietly, a smile flashed across his boyish face. Your stomach somersaulted. He’d always been the handsomest rogue in Longsight, and still was with his blue eyes and sandy hair. At least there was one thing the war hadn’t taken away from him.

You held out the hamper. “Welcome home, Tom,” and with a sincere smile you stood on tiptoe to kiss his sallow cheek. A faint lipstick smudge lingered there and you smiled all the more.

“I’d be flattered,” Tom teased, gesturing to the hamper. “If every other Tom, Dick and Harry didn’t have one too.” He laughed as he took the hamper from you. His large palm covered your own and you shivered.

There was history there. Only a few pages, but history nonetheless. At once, you were transported back to the parish dance of 1935. Both seventeen, you as green as the grass, he already-world weary and wandering. He danced with no-one the entire night, though many a girl looked hopeful, yet took your hand for the last dance. When you thought about those innocent years before the war, in the darkest hours of the night or after a few too many sherries, you swore you could feel Tom’s hands burning against your waist, and at your neck as he kissed you. Your first.

Tom too, was remembering the first moment you touched him. A maths lesson with Miss Greene. He’d been caught flicking pencil sharpenings into girls’ hair and was sent to sit in the corner at the back of the class. You, as much a sweetheart then as you were now, were tasked with handing out textbooks. Unfortunately for you and luckily for Tom, they were on the shelf above where he sat. A cocky grin on his face, Tom didn’t move. He loved winding the girls up, and you were something different. At sixteen, you were curvier than the rest, and watching you flush pink was his favourite hobby. And so, he didn’t move. With pride, he chortled as you blushed and reached for the textbooks above him. His smug smile faltered however when, in order to reach the books, your legs came to rest on each side of his spread ones. With one of your thighs either side of his, he swallowed. He could feel the heat coming from the apex between them, smell your perfume and feel the way the soft flesh pressed against his. When you finally retrieved the books, it was your turn to smirk at the red flush peppering his cheekbones.

“Where are you staying, Tom, now you're back?” You asked, voice low. Your mother was not far away.

“Bench in the pub, presumably. Most of the lads are heading that way for a party. Then I’ll find meself lodgings above some dodgy back-alley business.” He huffed a humourless laugh. You looked him directly in the eye.

“Stay out ours tonight.”

Tom leant close to you, wetting his lips. “What would mother say?”

“Don’t know, she’ll be down pub with the rest of them. Loves a sherry and a sailor.”

Half an hour later, you were pressed against the wall of your mother’s hallway, Tom Bennett lapping hungrily at your slick centre. Beneath your skirt and petticoat, the lewd sounds of his tongue against your wet sex filled the quiet evening.

Now, buried to the hilt within you, his swollen head bullying your core, Tom forgot the last seven months he’d spent living on the Valiant. Forgot the suffering of the last six years entirely. For between the softness of your thighs, the scent of your neck as he tucked his face against it tenderly, he’d found, if for a moment, the thing he’d been fighting for. Warmth, kindness, rest­. A place to winter.

The usual suspects: @arcielee @targaryenrealnessdarling @theoneeyedprince @ewanmitchellcrumbs @ellrond @cyeco13 @babyblue711 @exitpursuedbyavulcan @humanpurposes @myfandomprompts @barbieaemond @anjelicawrites

[evita-shelby]

am i googling what the weather was in Manchester in the summer of 1939 for a tom bennett x diane drabble?

yes i fucking am

[witchofthevale]

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ the witch's dewey decimal ‧⁺ʚ₊˚✧ ﾟ

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ library is now open. to heed direction, please check the tags below. this is mostly for myself, but you're free to roam around to seek what might entertain you for today. ·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳

+ further curation might mean the use of 'search' instead of 'tagged', i.e. if you're looking for angsty aemond fics, you'll have to search #rainstorms tag + #reading for: aemy.

SEEK FURTHER?

{ TOMES } series collections | in construction { THE A-TO-Z AISLES } faves display | in construction

MAIN ;

#pikībagon 🔥💭. . .house of the dragon fics #elle reads !! . . .fics by other fandoms #elle is authoring . . .works written by the witch

LENGTH ;

#series . . .chapters/parts from a series #pieces . . .oneshots/long fics/full fics #shots . . .drabbles/blurbs/headcanons

GENRE ;

+ some piece that aren't tagged with #rogue tag might still contain nsfw content. I only tag nsfw when it's the primary focus/heavy with nsfw.

+ for #darkened halls tag it might depend more on what i personally consider as potentially dark/triggering. please read the TWs for your own curation, & do not community label. just skip if it's not for you. much easier for everyone involved.

+ there are no tagged genre for series parts to better curate anticipation for a piece.

#fluffernutter tag . . .fluff (comical, lighthearted, ease, sweet). #rainstorms tag . . .angst (tear-worthy, has a lot more hurt in hurt/comfort). #rogue tag . . .smut (mainly fics with smut, a hefty portion of smut). #darkened halls tag . . .dark (dark, potentially triggering). #dead flight tag . . .dead dove (dark fics that have definitive triggering content. please read TWs before reading).

FREQUENTLY TAGGED CHARACTERS ;

#reading for: [insert nickname here]

aemy (aemond targaryen) / rhae (rhaenyra targaryen) / aeg (aegon targaryen ii) / dae (daemon targaryen) / jacey (jacaerys velaryon) / creggy (cregan stark) / oberyn (oberyn martell) / vizzy t (viserys targaryen i) / maegor (maegor targaryen) /vizzy iii (viserys targaryen iii) osferth (osferth) / eddie (eddie munson) / tom benny (tom bennett) / ettore (ettore) / sihtric (sihtric kjartansson) / billy taytay (billy taylor)

[sepherinaspoppies]

𝓦𝓘𝓟 𝓕𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓖𝓪𝓶𝓮📝

RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs

thank you for tagging me @ewanmitchellcrumbs 💖💖

i have so many wips rip me lol but i will upload majority of these this year i hope lol

⟢baila mi corazon (oc x oc) (small drabble to Only If For A Night)

⟢craving (michael gavey x reader) (part 2 of Hunger)

⟢ I only have eyes for you (tom bennett x reader)

⟢la petite fille de la mer (dark pirate! aemond x mermaid! reader)

⟢new girl (modern! aegon x aemond x reader)

⟢only if for a night: chapter 4: fallen through worlds (dark book! aemond x modern reader oc)

⟢starving (michael gavey x reader) (last part)

⟢you’ve got the love (brothel! aemond x princess reader)

⟢the portrait of aemond targaryen (series) (aemond x artist! reader)

⟢the wedding date (series) (modern! escort aemond x reader)

no pressure tagz: @dreaming-for-an-escape @venmondiese @aemondsbabe @troublesomesnitch @thekinslayed @yoursweetheartsrevenge @thought--bubble @zaldritzosrose @kate-mccannon @adragonprinceswhore

[dandylion240]

“Your Opinion wasn’t in the Recipe” drabble requested by @legendofsim

Tom woke up early but not early enough as it turned out. The bed was empty and so was the room. Groaning he rolled out of the warm blankets he’d been nestled in. Shuffling into the kitchen he leaned against the wall watching.

Faye was humming softly something that sounded vaguely familiar. She jumped a little upon seeing Tom standing there watching her. Her hand on her hip she demanded “what the hell are you doing there?”

“I thought we agreed you’d take it easy” he said sauntering towards her, taking the ladle from her hand.

“I’m not an invalid” she protested scowling at him. 

“I never said you were” he smiled down at her. He could see the dangerous sparks in her eyes as she glared at him.

“You act like I am” she pouted turning to the stove. “Cooling relaxes me.”

“It also brings out your competitive edge” he took a spoon from the door to sample the contents of the pot. “Mmm good. I thought you were going to use oregano instead of basil.”

“I was” she shrugged without making eye contact.

“If we’re going to run a restaurant together you’re going to have to let me make suggestions” he said calmly.

“I know but” she sighed irritated “this time your opinion wasn’t in the recipe”

“This time” he raised an eyebrow. “What about next time?”

“Well...maybe” she grinned letting him pull her close.

[vhagarlovebot]

FOLKLORE. send me a prompt/kink/scenario and a character, and i will write you a drabble/blurb.

fake dating with tom bennett? congrats on 3k!!

ONLY ONES WHO KNOW.

pairing: tom bennett x fem!reader.

summary: when you hear news about your mother finding you a husband, you seek comfort in the last person you thought could help you: tom bennett. to your surprise, things take a turn you weren’t expecting.

content warnings: fake dating, flirting, kissing, confessions, just pure fluff.

note: i suck with period dialogues so don’t expect this to have that kind of writing, sorry. if there are any mistakes i apologize but as some of you may know english is not my first language. hope you enjoy! reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated.

JUST HOLD MY HAND.” you say through gritted teeth, smile plastered on your face, trying not to show how stressed you really are,

“that’s exactly what i’m doing!” tom says, rolling his eyes and looking around even more stressed than you.

tom straightens his tie, his sweaty hand holding yours like his life depends on it.

“if you don’t stay still i swear to god i’m go—” you shut up when you see your mother across de room. “she is here, are you ready?”

he smiles, the first honest smile you’ve seen in the entire night. “i was born ready, love.” tom winks at you and you immediately blush.

looking away you try to calm yourself and remember the reason why you’re doing this. it is definitely going to piss off your mother, she’s never liked tom, and you will also get her off your back.

“remember,” you say as you make your way to her. “be polite and don’t make any witty comments, please.”

“don’t worry.” he wears his singular smirk, the one that makes you weak in the knees, and you force yourself to look straight ahead. but he notices and chuckles, leaning a little bit closer to leave a kiss on your cheek, sending shivers down your back. “m goin’ to be the perfect boyfriend.”

“fake boyfriend.” you emphasize, squeezing his hand as you get closer to the woman. she’s talking with a couple of friends, glass of champagne in hand, but her gaze is on you. your mother is smiling but you know her blood is boiling under that facade.

“still the only boyfriend you’ve ever had.” he mocks you.

you know he’s just teasing you and wants you to react; that’s how tom bennett is, and it’s not the place to start arguing with him, even though you like to rile him up.

“your precious daughter is here!” one of your mother’s old time friend says. she’s wearing a big black hat while one of her hand has glass of champagne and the other a cigarette. only when she leans to kiss you on the cheeks, she notices tom. “and who is this handsome man?”

you make eye contact with your mother and you can see clearly in her eyes how she begs you not to say anything. you hesitate for a second but tom clears his throat and offers his hand.

“the boyfriend, ma’am.”

the gasps are way too dramatic but exactly the reaction you were expecting. however, your mother doesn’t react at all, there’s not a single change in her expression.

“oh, yes!” she finally says, leaving her glass at the table behind her. the fake smile she has reserved for this kind of events makes you nauseous. “we thought it would be a great idea to tell the news today… you know how my daughter loves to be the center of attention.”

tom caresses your hand with his thumb. his jaw is tense and you know he’s probably biting his tongue to not say anything.

“yes!” after a few moments you finally react, you will not let her win, it does not matter how much she pushes. “i really wanted to show him off.” you giggle, and tom plays his part too. he lets go of your hand and pulls you close by the waist while you rest your hand on his chest.

“what a beautiful pair you two are!” another woman says and you can’t believe how fake all these people are.

“enjoy the party.” you smile back at them, taking tom’s hand once again.

“i’ll join you.” your mother says, excusing herself with the group of people surrounding her.

you scoff, rolling your eyes when you turn away. you wish she would’ve stayed with them but she follows you to the garden.

“what are you doing?” she whispers, taking your arm with all the strength she has. and it hurts.

“i don’t know what you’re talk—”

“don’t take me for a fool, child.” a couple walks past you and she lets you go, at what tom immediately moves to stand between her and you, making sure she doesn’t put her hands on you again. “you want to embarrass me? is that what you’re trying to accomplish?”

“not everything revolves around you.” you fight back, the way she acts makes you want to cry. and you think tom notices that because he caresses your back without your mother noticing. “you didn’t think about asking me before trying to send me off to marry some old man?”

your mother’s gaze finds tom and the way she rolls her eyes reminds you of a child throwing a tantrum.

“this will not last.” she breathes through gritted teeth, scowling up at him.

“being mad doesn’t suits you,” you smile, scrunching up your nose. “it makes you look older.” rasing your index finger you caress the point between your eyebrows to show her exactly where her lines of expression are more noticeable.

she sighs, like giving up. but you know that’s not your mother, she may forget all about it tonight just for the sake of her perfect party. “we are going to have a long conversation tomorrow.” then, she turns around and walks away with a broken ego.

“that was scary.” tom says after a long period of silence. you sit on a concrete bench and sigh, already tired of the lie. “i like it.” he laughs and sits beside you. but when you look at him you can’t help but laugh too, pushing him by the chest playfully.

“do you think she believed us?” you ask, playing with your dress. tom reaches for your hand, giving it a little squeeze to make you look at him. when you do, he has a reassuring smile dancing on his lips.

“i do.” he looks inside the house and sees your mother right in his line of vision, keeping an eye on you. “but we have the whole night to keep pretending.”

“i’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

you really are sorry for going to him with your problems because you’re not even friends. you are friends with his sister and you know her well, but with tom is different. all your conversations always end with him flirting with you, although that doesn’t surprises you at all because he is like that with every girl in town. all your friends have fallen for him. and, even if you will never say it out loud, you won’t deny you find him quite easy to the eye or that he makes your heart beat faster every time he’s around.

you went to his house to seek advise from his sister but she wasn’t there, and you were so upset that when he asked you what happened you blurted everything out. after he made fun of your meaningless problems, he really felt pity so you started talking, and you talked for hours. so much that you ended up asking him for help. the last man you thought would ever want to help you.

“i had nothing better to do.” he shrugs, leaning against the back of the bench. “besides, i like to piss off moms.”

you bite the inside of your cheek. “well, i’m still sorry.”

tom sits upright, placing his hands inside the pockets of his jacket, and leans towards you. “there’s something you could do,” he speaks softly as if sharing a secret. “a kiss will make it better.”

“you’re disgusting.” you move away, all the blood from your body going straight to your face.

“even if your mother is looking at us right now?” he says, his eyes fixed on the entrance behind you where your mother is nowhere to be seen.

“she is?!” you ask, surprised.

“don’t look! we don’t want to look suspicious, do we?”

for a moment you think about it. you want her to believe that you and tom are in a relationship. and the last thing you want is for her to suspect and start questioning you.

that thought is what drives you to find balance in tom’s shoulders as your lips collide against his.

his lips aren’t as soft as you though they were going to be but they still make your heart beat faster and your body tickle. it’s definitely not the first time you are kissing a boy but it is the first time you feel something.

your friends always told you when you kiss a boy you see fireworks and all the butterflies of the world in your belly, but you don’t feel anything like that. you feel calm—even though your heart beats like crazy in your chest—and little stars behind your eyes. you like what you feel.

tom cups your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks, and the loud music and people chatting become a light thrum in the background.

it flows naturally, like you were supposed to do it in the first place. it’s a slow and gentle kiss, he leaves his hands on your face to make you feel comfortable and it’s not what you were expecting when you dreamed about kissing tom bennett. you expected him to be smug and get carried away, to feel his hands pressing you against his body. you wouldn’t have minded if that was the case but you like how he keeps you close with a softness you didn’t know tom had in him, like you’re going to break if he tries something more.

after a couple of minutes that feel like hours, tom pulls away and you, instinctively, chase after his lips making him laugh lightly at you.

you feel overwhelmed and dizzy, his lips leaving yours with a tickling sensation as you try to breathe properly again and find the words lost in your mind.

tom doesn’t make fun of you or says something witty to ease the tension like he always does, he just looks at you with his bright blue eyes and waits for you to take the next move; it doesn’t matter to him what is going to be, he will take whatever it is.

“is she still… looking at us?” you still feel like flying after what you experienced and it’s really the only thought coming to you.

he chuckles and shakes his head but still looks behind you, there are people looking at you and they’ll surely tell your mother, but she’s nowhere to be seen. it is then that tom decides to be honest for the first time in his life.

“well,” he begins to say, and you immediately notice he is nervous. there are a few things you’ve learned about tom bennett from all the years you’ve been friends with his sister. his hand running though his hair and the tip of his tongue poking out from the corner of his lips when he’s about to either lie or say the truth is one of those things. “she wasn’t looking. i just wanted to kiss you.”

the way your face heats up makes him smile, which only makes you even more flustered. that confession of his is something you weren’t expecting, but at the same time you know the reputation tom bennett has with the ladies around town.

“do you think of me as another one of your conquests?” you ask him, gaze fixed on the patterns of your dress.

“you think so badly of me?” with his thumb he lifts your chin up but you refuse to look him in the eyes, too flustered still and shy of being so open with him. “don’t you think i have other things to do than just sit all the afternoon in the living room listening to you and my sister gossip while drinking tea?”

his words are enough to make you raise your head and, finally, look at him. the moonlight accentuates the sharp features of his face, giving him almost an angelic look.

“i agreed to do this because not only i don’t want you marrying some old french man.” his hand find yours, fingers playing with your own like two kids too nervous to hold hands. “but because i don’t want you to marry someone else at all.”

if his previous confession surprised you, this one makes your heart stop beating. you look at him trying to find the joke, a part of you expecting him to burst out laughing at any time. but one minute passes, and then another, and he keeps looking at you with all the patience in the world, not rushing you, not pushing you into anything; just giving you all the time you need to absorb all the information he threw you in the face.

do you like him? do you feel the same way? you have to admit you find him rather handsome. his blonde hair, puffy lips and blue eyes have appeared in your dreams more times than you can count. you’ve also find yourself daydreaming as you watch him across the room, sitting in the armchair smoking as his sister tells you the new gossips you don’t hear because you are too lost in your mind. you always listen attentively to everything he has to say, mesmerized by the way he expressed his beliefs, how despite showing to everyone that facade of ‘i don’t care about anything’ deep down he really cares. a lot. but he only lets it show with the people he trust the most. and recently you’ve noticed that you are one of those people. you enjoy his company and anecdotes, you make sure to stay at his house way past your curfew so he can walk you home and you can listen to his jokes and laugh at them, and talk and brush your hands and feel your whole body tickling by the proximity neither one of you dares to close.

do you feel the same way about him? in all honesty, you never considered it because you never really thought tom would feel something for you. you thought he just saw you as his sister’s rich and annoying friend who spent way too much time at his house, so he had no other choice but to put up with you and, in the end, he just ended up liking how nice and friendly you really are. you never thought he would see you as something more—as a woman.

you never thought about it until this very moment where he looks at you like you’re the only woman in the world, like you’re the sun and the stars and the most precious of all gems.

and just like that you don’t even have to think about it.

“oh my mother is going to be so pissed off.” that’s all he needs as a confirmation to crash his lips against yours. this time he’s not gentle but it doesn’t matter, because you pour all your feelings into that searing kiss. a kiss that leaves no doubt that you are both finally alive.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Another Poll That Nobody Asked For

I have just finished off two fairly large pieces of writing, so I'm going to start work this week on a longform request.

I've poked around at my schedule and can see that I have time this week, alongside the aforementioned, to fulfil two shorties.

Why, Ange, you certainly seem to be writing a lot at the moment!

What an astute observation! I certainly am, and it's because I'm away from April 17th and not back until the 25th. I won't be writing at all during that time, so I'm trying to put a decent ding in my requests so that I don't have so much to come back to when I return.

Help me decide what to write - the top two selections will be the ones I fulfil this week.

[a-constant-gay-panic]

— — — — — X — — — — —

! REQUESTS ARE CLOSED !

— — — — — X — — — — —

My masterlist!

Genres I'll write:

fluff

angst

smut

I can and will ignore/not write something (even if it is one of the genres listed above) if I see fit. this could be due to me not feeling comfortable writing about it, finding it offensive/insensitive etc. if that is the case, please just accept the fact and move on.

— — — — — X — — — — —

Type of fics I'll write:

one shots

drabbles

imagines

song!fics

multi chapter fics 

AUs

dark!fics

Not sure if I'm missing anything.

— — — — — X — — — — —

Who I'll write for:

HP

— Golden trio era —

Harry Potter

Hermione Granger

Ginny Weasley

George Weasley

Fred Weasley

Luna Lovegood

Cedric Diggory

Pansy Parkinson

Draco Malfoy (depending on the request)

— Marauders era —

James Potter

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Regulus Black

Lily Evans

Peter Pettigrew

— General/non specific era —

Bellatrix Black/Lestrange

Tom Riddle

Narcissa Black/Malfoy 

IT 

— Losers Club —

Beverly Marsh

Bill Denbrough

Richie Tozier

Stanley Uris

Mike Hanlan

Eddie Kaspbrak

Ben Hanscom

— Bowers Gang —

Henry Bowers

Victor Criss 

Patrick Hockstetter

Reginald (Belch) Huggins 

STRANGER THINGS

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

001 / Henry Creel

Max Mayfield

Robin Buckley

Billy Hargrove

Will Byers

OTHER FICTIONAL CHARACTERS 

Peter Parker (tasm & mcu)

Wanda and Pietro Maximoff (mcu)

Elio Perlman (cmbyn)

Hal (The king)

Rue Bennett (Euphoria)

Rodrick Heffley (diary of a wimpy kid)

CELEBRITIES

Either because I write for their fictional character/s or because I just feel like it: 

Jenna Ortega 

Sadie Sink

Sophia Lillis 

Timothée Chalamet 

Finn Wolfhard 

Zendaya 

Other than that, it all depends on said celebrity. If they’re not on the list, ask and I’ll get back to you.

— — — — — X — — — — —

Types of Readers I’ll write for:

In regards to fluff, smut and angst:

fem!reader

gn!reader

male!reader (however I'm not the most experienced in this)

plus sized!reader

In regards to smut, specifically, I will write sub!reader but primarily dom!reader as I have more experience with this.

— — — — — X — — — — —

What I will not write about:

Sexual harassment/abuse

Self Harm

ED's

Con-noncon / noncon

Illegal age gaps (a minor and an adult together)

— — — — — X — — — — —

Things to include when making a request:

who you want to be in it

what kind of fic you want

any specific reader you had in mind

a basic idea / summary of what you want it to be about

any prompts from my prompt list (optional)

— — — — — X — — — — —

That’s all from my side, love ya <3

[marauder-exe]

Masterlist!

hello! this is gonna be my big masterlist for all my fics except the marauders because they have their own masterlist!

Actors

Zendaya Coleman

Public

Sebastian Stan

sidenote: this gif does things to me

Rapid

Roommates

Andrew Garfield

Coming home

Scarlett Johansson

Overdrive

Scarlett Johansson and her fiance that has tattoos...

Scarlett Johansson and her bar fighting girlfriend...

Scarlett Johansson kissing her girlfriend at a premiere...

Tom Hiddleston

Interview

Euphoria

Rue Bennett

Chill

Criminal Minds

Spencer Reid

Intimidation

Aaron Hotchner

Pillow Talk

Oblivious

Sick of it

Penelope Garcia

Movie Night

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

PDA

Natasha Romanoff

Natasha Romanoff with girllfriend with tattoos...

Why do you keep pushing me away? (drabble)

Laying in Nats lap...

Midnight kitchen shenanigans

Jealousy

Cara Mia, Mon Cher

Nat cant stop looking at your lips

Spider-man

Andrew Garfield’s Peter Parker

Wrong Window

Fake Dating

Doctor Who

11

Deep

10

Pretty Boy

That 70s Show

Steven Hyde

Avoid

This will eventually fill up as i write more requests and answer fics! check out who i write for here.

AU list here

Prompt list #2 here

Marauders Masterlist

Golden Era Masterlist

[endless-ineffabilities]

Hi! I am such a big fan of your works and this is my first ask. I had a silly idea inspired by a close friend getting married and wedding reels. This could be for any Ewan character or anyone you enjoy writing for. The trend = during the reception bridesmaids/friends of the bride will sneak nsfw Polaroids into the grooms hand of the bride and they are often so flustered! I’d love to see how you’d interpret the reactions of diff characters like a modern Aemond! - I’ll go with Polaroid anon??

Hi there, Polaroid anon 📸🤍

We could have a glimpse into different reactions... I'm thinking modern Aemond, Tom Bennett, and who else? Ettore? Michael Gavey?

I have a feeling this drabble will be 18+ lol

Thank you so much for sending this in!!!!

[rosie-janeposie]

Little Miss Curse-Breaker

This can be found over on AO3 under my screenname: alleychaton 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24405601

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Summary:            

"I am very well aware of who you are Little Miss Curse-breaker." McNully missed the frustration flash across Ellie's face, "I take it curse-breaking is getting old, so conquering the World of Quidditch is the next-best thing?"

McNully is curious as to why the Curse-breaker is interesting in joining the Ravenclaw team.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  Notes:    

Ellie is a spunky little Ravenclaw who is in search of her brother.

I made McNully, Skye, and Orion a year-older than Ellie to try and give the characters some more depth.

Disclaimer: I do not own McNully. I do not own the Quidditch Plotline.

I do however own Ellie as I develop her as a character.

I am thinking of doing a series of non-chronical drabbles between McNully and Ellie. I think they are just two little beans that deserve some love. The drabbles may range anywhere from canon story curse-breaking to slices of life while they are at school. 

Enjoy! >Rosie

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 "Yo-you were expecting me?" The red-head stammer shock evident on her face.

 The blond boy grinned at her. This was the first time he had gotten to look at her since the whole "Skye incident." She was rather dull in appearance. She had a few freckles dancing across the bridge of her nose. Her cheeks were slightly round. Dark auburn red hair that curled around her shoulders, and what appeared to by blue-green eyes masked by thick black glasses. She seemed to be just a hopeful little second year trying to make the team, "I was 97.2 percent sure of it." His voice was steady, and he turned his wheelchair towards the girl flying in front of him, "I tend to make a strong first impression."

 The red-head crossed her arms to stare at the blond in front of her. The boy didn't look much older than her. The blond was certainly scrawny, but she had Barnaby in her year, so perhaps this was what a normal pre-puberty boy was supposed to look. His blond hair was just as bright as his smile. The more he talked, the more evident it was that his voice was cracking, "A strong impression indeed. Typically polite people say 'hello' before they dump playbooks on someone and leave."

 "That's not what happened," The commentator chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. The bewildered look on the younger girl's face was all the fuel he needed.

 "Yes, …it was," The red-head answered cautiously, "unless I imagined the whole thing."

 "What happened was; first I dumped my playbooks," The blond's hands started to move as he talked. The red-head couldn't help but notice the sparkle that entered his eye, " And then you said, I recognize you, you're the Quidditch commentator." Despite the crack in his voice, he remained animated as he spoke, " And you asked, what is this about?" She felt as though she should stop him, but she couldn't.

 "And then I said, Strategy!" The blond's hands were moving just as fast as he was speaking. The girls watched with amusement. She honestly never met someone who so passionate about recalling events. " And then I said, you're going about getting a Quidditch tryout all wrong…" there was a brief pause, "then I left."

 "I prefer my version better," joked the girl. "You must love hearing yourself talk."

 She noticed comment caused his smile faltered slightly, "Yeah, It's what you get talking to a Quidditch commentator…"

 She felt herself falter at the brief moment of hurt across the boy's face. She may not have known him before this whole thing, but something told her that his talking annoyed others, "Well, I find it charming. It's kinda cute."

 "Mum says it is charming too," He rolled his chair towards the edge of the announcer's box. He extended his hand towards the girl, "Name's Murphy McNully, by the way. World's next-best professional Quidditch commentator."

 The red-head took his hand into her own to shake, "Ellana Bennett, I prefer Ellie. It's nice to meet you, Murphy."

 "Friends call me McNully." He pulled his hand back, pointing his finger at her, the smile never leaving his face, "I am very well aware of who you are Little Miss Curse-breaker." McNully missed the frustration flash across Ellie's face, "I take it curse-breaking is getting old, so conquering the World of Quidditch is the next-best thing?"

 McNully noticed that frown on her face, "Can I be honest with you?"

 This caused McNully to pause, he barely knew this girl, and here she was floating in front of him. "That depends… If it causes you to smile again, sure!" McNully, at this point, leaned his head against his hand, "There is no room on the pitch for sour-faces… the Slytherins already have that covered."

 "All my life, I have been trying to follow my brother's path…" Ellie noted, looking out onto the pitch. She didn't care that she was opening up to a stranger. She just wanted to be heard, "I got drawn into being this Curse-breaker because I wanted to know what happened to him. But, that seems to have put me back into his shadow…" She closed her eyes, "Jacob hated Quidditch, though. He was never good at sports." Her smile cracked across her lips, "Which is why Mum always said she had a better shot of getting a sports star out of her little tom-boy." She decided at that point to turn her broom to the other end of the pitch. "That's why I want to try out for the team. I want to get out of Jacob's shadow do something that I know he would have never done." She sighed, "Not just Jacob's little sister."

 "Still…" Not just the wizard in the wheelchair…"You're greener than a bowtruckle. That and so you have the strategy of a Mountain troll."

 "How nice…"

 "I didn't dump those playbooks on you because you are completely terrible. You have talent." McNully admitted as he moved his wheelchair back to avoid the sun-directly hitting him in the face. "You should feel honored; I don't just give my personal supply of playbooks to anyone."

 Ellie turned to face McNully, "Thank you?"

 "However, that red-head attitude will only get you so far," McNully added abruptly, "You are all might and flight without any insight." Ellis had to stifle a giggle when McNully voice cracked on 'might.'

 "And you're my insight?" She commented, her giggling subsided." I've been working with Skye, as unorthodox as it may be. Admittedly, I should have some advantage in try-outs?"

 "Ah yes, the 'School of Skye', as amusing as it is watching you bat dizzy gnomes," He chuckled, "You're physically ready, Bennett. But, physical strength isn't enough to impress Orion Amari." Ellie was surprised when she saw McNully reach over for his satchel. He placed the bag onto his lap. He was holding his wand in his left hand.

 "Orion Amari, isn't he the third-year?"

 "He is. He is also the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain and my roommate." McNully tied up his bag and looked at the Red-head with a sly smile on his face, "He is also the one to decides who is invited to try out for the beater position." He noticed the shocked expression on Ellie's, "Skye left that part out, huh? I am not surprised. Skye and Orion they tend to get along like asphodel and infusion of wormwood."

 Ellie sighed, "I guess I don't get the easy way." McNully could hear that she was joking.

 "Nope, Skills and drills won't cut it. You are going to need statistic and logistics," He remarked as he muttered an incantation under his breath. Ellie drifted backward at the sight of McNully's wheelchair, rising in the air. She watched as the boy gliding down to the grass below his commentator's box.

 "Neat trick." Ellie complimented, McNullt that she was genuine in the comment. He noticed that she did not seem to pity him.

 "Thanks," He muttered as he began to wheel his way out. "I have to get to Herbology. If I leave now, I have a 67.9 percent chance of making it on time. Meet me at noon, and we can talk about your chances of making the team."

 "Out of curiosity," Ellie landed in front of McNully, causing him to break his wheelchair suddenly, "What are my chances of making the team right now?"

 "Without you really not in Orion's sight… I say about 43.8 percent."

 "And after our possible chat at noon?"

 McNully saw the curiosity peak, "I would say after a chat at noon you have a 72.5 percent increase of being invited."

 "Do you always have a statistic?"

 "Only 75.5 percent of the time. Do you always have a snarky comeback?" He countered when he saw the teasing expression on her face.

 "Only 85.5 percent of the time."

[evita-shelby]

I'm writing a drabble or one shot for Allie and Robbie. Hope it's fine if I include Diane ,👉👈, someone has to witnesses the moment when this girl loses her mind looking at him 😂. Can someone, please, think about poor Alfie?? 😂

si use Diane in it!! omg it would be very funny.

if you want to poke fun at diane/tom bennett, if she kept her og brithday (1925) she'd be 8 years younger than him. you can have her be a hypocrite if you want

[legendofsim]

“Keep your eyes on me.”

Faye rolled away from her comfortable spot on the bed and stood up. “Let’s go swimming.”

“Huh?” Broken from his daze, he looked up to see the smiling girl. She could have asked him to jump out of the window right now and he might have actually done it. She was captivating, and she had known it. 

“You have a bathing suit, right?” She tilted her head to the side, like a puppy. 

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Ok, good. You change out here. I’ll be in there.” She pointed towards the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, Faye was changed and happy with the way she looked. Not eating that extra pizza really payed off. The shy girl from just a few moments was gone. Now, she was feeling flirty and fun. Elated that Tom had felt about her maybe comparably to the way she had felt about him. Suddenly, she changed her mind. She didn’t want to parade herself by the pool. No, she didn’t want to parade Tom by the pool. She had no idea what he looked like shirtless, but...she could imagine. He was probably ripped. Sighing she leaned back to sit on the edge of the tub when she missed and fell inside of it. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” She exclaimed, nursing the elbow that had slammed against the edge of the porcelain tub. It wasn’t bleeding, but it’d definitely be bruised. 

The door opened rather quickly, and she shrunk further down into the tub to avoid being seen as a total fool. “Faye?” Then he realized what he did and tried to back away. “I’m so sorry, I should have knocked. I wasn’t thinking.”

She popped her head out from the tub, getting a better look at Tom's exposed chest. She was not wrong, he was totally ripped! “Tom, keep your eyes on me.” She used her finger and motioned for him to join her. She could see the maddening red blush rise to his cheeks yet again as she had her unwavering gaze on him. “I wasn’t hiding my body from you.” She lifted her elbow to show him. “I kinda fell.”

He let out a small chuckle. “In the tub?”

“Hey! Don’t laugh!” Tom walked over to her and took a seat on the edge of it. She leaned over and looked at him. “It was an accident.”

He gingerly touched her elbow, running his cold fingers across it. “It’s going to bruise.”

“I know,” She huffed. “I don’t even want to go swimming anymore now...”

He grinned. “That’s fine, we can just watch a movie or something.” Though, he was a bit upset that her tantalizing figure wouldn’t be in full view anymore.

She nodded. “Good idea.”

[Drabble 2/3] Tom Bennett was made by @dandylion240.

[thirstaidkitpodcast]

THIRST AID KIT | S3E08 | A WHOLE YEAR, FAM

WE’RE A WHOLE ENTIRE YEAR OLD. 😭

*cue Stevie Wonder*

It’s not everyday Thirst Aid Kit turns ONE YEAR OLD. And so we have an extra special episode here for ya — from southern men to British baes, newbies to Zaddies, french fries to hearty snacks, we tried to show love to all the baes we’ve loved before and we’re thrilled you’ve been along for the ride. We’re talking messages from former guests across the seasons of Thirst Aid Kit, from super-listener thirst-buckets, and from the celebrity world [SPOILER: YES, CHRIS EVANS]. And so many other treats. Grab a chilled drink and a fan and get buckled in! Let’s go!

We began with a real ‘Behind The Candelabra’ Moment where we revealed what goes into our much-misunderstood opening segment, [REDACTED]. We chose some of the most-requested episodes: our very first, starring Andre 3000 (😍), and of course our two patron saints, John Cho, and Keanu Reeves (spoiler: we were drinking cider in that [REDACTED]. Innocent cider!)

Shoutout to every single producer and editor we’ve ever had on Thirst Aid Kit – your flawlessly applied beeps have helped to take our sweet but suggestive little tributes into the realm of filth and joy. Shoutout to Eleanor Kagan, Julia Furlan, Agerenesh Ashagre, Meg Cramer, Megan Detrie, Neena Pathak, TK Dutes, and Camila Salazar. 🤗😘

We moved on to talking about out fave moments from the three seasons of TAK. We all have our faves, but we chose three, one from each season, starting with Oscar Isaac, our Season 2 opening episode. We laughed a lot about just how ridiculous Oscar’s bit in the not-great In Secret? Remember?

Ah, memories!

We also cackled at our over-the-top reaction to that scene in Creed, and how Michael Bae Jordan made us feel like we could tackle our to do lists FOREVER. And then we reminisced about the time Gena-Mour Barrett, The Perv’s Perv, came on the show in our Loony For Toons episode, and went HAM on a) Kovu from The Lion King 2; and b) Winnie the Pooh. Nichole said she enjoyed the way Winnie the Pooh ate honey, and Gena chimed in and said he “gobbles it up.” JESUS CHRIST.

Then of course, we got into one of our listeners’ favorite segments: Fanfic Wars. Between us, we have written more than fifty (50!) short stories over the course of this year, and well, we love writing those drabbles! So we went a little deep on our faves, and what they say about us and and very specific kinks (Bim: men doing housework. Nichole: men doing... housework 👀). We chose from across all the seasons, so! Nichole went back to the John Cho episode. Excerpt below:

He places the bouquet on the bar, and gathers my hand against his cheek. He waits until I return his gaze and says, “maybe we wished on the same star as children. Maybe you’re the princess I died slaying a dragon for in another life. Maybe this is a type of hell where our punishment is knowing we’ll never have another love like this. I don’t know. But whatever I did to deserve you, I’d do it again and again, and again.” The woman behind me lets out a soft, “damn.”

Bim also chose from the first season, picking the drabble she wrote for Andrew Lincoln:

The wave in his hair gets tighter the further back you go, and because he hasn’t had a haircut recently — at my insistence, I have to admit — the curls gather and sit right on his collar, making my hands itch to touch. I must have made a sounds because he turns off the tap before turning to me. His face is a little flushed, from the steam, I presume, and he’s smiling. The smile reaches his eyes but I don’t linger there. Instead I let my eyes rest on one of my favorite features of his: that noble nose.

And there are other drabbles besides!

We also did a very special thing this episode: a MUTUAL WEDDING PROPOSAL. 😭All the best of life and love to Jenny and Henry, who allowed us to be part of their engagement. Thanks for trusting us, and happy married life!

No Fanfic Wars because, well, ISSA BUMPER BIRTHDAY EPISODE ALREADY! From the dirty auntie laughs to the profane gasps of delight, we’ve enjoyed every minute of breaking down pop culture and thirst with you. You can listen to the whole episode RIGHT HERE. (more links to listen are down below).

Guest shoutouts in order of appearance (you can find all the episodes they appear in on our Episodes page):

Bridget Minamore, The Great British Bae Off

Tobin Low and Kathy Tu, Nancy Podcast, The Nancy Fancies

Jen, Glorious Thirst Bucket

Krutika Mallikarjuna, Pow! Bam! Thirst!

Gena-mour Barrett, Loony for Toons

Julia Furlan, Former TAK Producer

Cynthia Harris, Southern Baes

Alanna Bennett, Tom Hiddleston, The Earnest Scarecrow

Bolu Babalola, Back to Baesics

Cookie, Glorious Thirst Bucket

Essence Gant, The Sterling Choice

Brittany Luse, More, More, More

Ayumi, Glorious Thirst Bucket

Daniel M. Ortberg, Literary Baes

Eleanor Kagan, Former TAK Producer

Samantha, Glorious Thirst Bucket

We’re on Twitter at @bimadew and @tnwhiskeywoman; the show is on Twitter at @thirstaidkit. Send us your (short!) drabbles at thirstaidkit@buzzfeed.com. Rate and review us on Apple Podcasts, please, because WE NEED IT LIKE OXYGEN.

TO LISTEN

Subscribe to get new episodes delivered to your device automatically every Thursday. We’re on Apple | Stitcher | Spotify | Google Play | Podbean | Overcast or you can search ‘Thirst Aid Kit’ wherever you get your podcasts.

DRINK UP, THIRST-BUCKETS — IT’S OUR BIRTHDAY! 🥂🍾🎉