#world on fire angst

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Not Yours, Never Was

Pairing: Tom Bennett x nameless female character (third person perspective) Warnings: Angst. Jealousy. Violence. Eventual smut. Word count: ~4k

Summary: She's been friends with Tom since childhood. When he returns to Manchester, following his escape from France, they become something more. The problem with Tom is that he's never quite willing to define what "more" actually is. Based on this request.

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

Tom rolls off of her, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, as he gasps for breath. One arm snakes around her shoulders as she cuddles against his chest, while the other reaches for his cigarettes on the bedside table.

She basks in the closeness, a satisfying ache between her thighs, knowing the moment is almost at its end. She listens to the click of the lighter, inhaling softly through her nose as a waft of smoke fills her nostrils with its familiar scent.

Then come the words she's been dreading.

"You should probably push off home, love, Lois will be back soon." 

She nods, rising from the bed and beginning to dress. It's been this way ever since he came home.

Her and Tom had grown up living opposite each other on the same street. He'd teased her mercilessly, as boys will do to girls, but they'd always been friends. She'd felt sick with worry when he'd joined the navy, and her heart had broken when his father, Douglas, had told her he'd been reported as MIA in Dunkirk.

The day he'd returned to Castlefield had felt like a dream. He'd ducked in through the open back door while she was in the kitchen making tea and she'd dropped the teapot in shock when she caught sight of him. It had shattered upon the tiled floor, but it didn't seem to matter, not when he stood there with that lopsided smirk of his plastered across his gorgeous face.

Wordlessly they'd closed the gap, kissing each other hungrily, silent outpourings of I missed you expressed with every tender touch and caress.

From that point onwards they had seized every opportunity to be together. On the nights that her dad was on late shifts at the factory, she'd leave the lamp on for Tom in her bedroom window, a signal that it was safe for him to come up; her mum had always been a sound sleeper. In turn, she'd go to his house whenever Douglas and Lois weren't home.

She understood the need for privacy. Tom shared a room with his sister and she still lived with her parents, none of whom would appreciate them fornicating under the same roof. However, as the months had slipped by, it occurred to her that she and Tom had never actually been on a proper date, let alone been seen in public together.

"You know, Tommy," She says, as she finishes buttoning her blouse. "There's a dance at the Wharf on Saturday, to celebrate the rest of the troops coming home."

"Yeah, I saw," He replies, rubbing his brow and taking another drag of his cigarette. "My old man brought a leaflet home from his rounds the other day."

"Thought it might be nice if we went together?" She offers with a bright smile.

Tom's eyebrows raise as his eyes widen, and he exhales smoke through his nose. "Oh, I dunno about that, love. Probably not a good idea."

She feels her heart lurch and quickly looks away, not wanting him to see how badly his words have affected her. "Right. Well, I'll see you around."

She rises from the bed, walking towards the door, and he calls after her.

"Oi! No goodbye kiss then?"

Her hand pauses on the doorknob and she responds without turning to look back at him. "Probably not a good idea."

Once safely back in her own room, she swipes angrily at the tears she’s been fighting to hold back since she left Tom’s room.

They’d never established what their relationship was, the transition from friends to more than that had happened too suddenly for such a discussion to ever occur, but it hurt to know she was nothing more than an easy fuck to him. She’d known him all her life, so it wasn’t unreasonable for her to assume she meant something to him. But with a simple refusal of her offer to go to the dance together he’d proven she didn’t, perhaps she never had.

She wonders if it’s a case of him being ashamed to be seen with her, or that he simply doesn’t care for her enough to entertain her company outside of the bedroom. She isn’t sure which upsets her more, thinking about either causes a dull throb in her chest and a lump in her throat.

Pushing the thoughts away, she readies herself for her evening shift at The Oxnoble. The pub is surprisingly busy for a Wednesday evening when she arrives, but it’s been that way most evenings since the war ended, the mood is jubilant. She wishes she shared the sentiment. 

She deposits her coat and bag in the back room before moving between tables to collect the empties. After an hour or so of pulling pints and chatting to punters, she finds her spirits lifting. Work serves as a welcome distraction to thinking about Tom Bennett.

“Was wondering when you’d finally crack a smile.”

She looks up as she closes the till to see Joe Broughton leaning over the bar, his soft brown eyes focused on her.

“Sorry, my mind’s been elsewhere this evening.” She says apologetically. “What can I get you?”

He holds up his half finished lager. “I’m alright, actually. Just wanted to say hello. You going to the Wharf on Saturday?”

The smile fades from her face. “No, giving that a miss.”

Joe frowns. “Why? Ted won’t let you have the night off?”

She shakes her head. “No one to go with.”

“Go with me!” He says a little too enthusiastically, his face flushing with embarrassment when he realises how eager he sounds. “I mean…if you want to, that is. Seems a shame for a pretty girl like you to miss out.”

She’s not surprised by Joe’s offer. She has always suspected he’s sweet on her, but until now has been too wrapped up in Tom to pay any mind to him. Tom’s no longer in the picture though. Joe’s kind hearted, tall, dark and handsome, and clearly has no qualms about them being seen together. He is everything Tom’s not. She'd be foolish to turn him down, so she doesn’t.

“I’d love to.” She tells him.

Joe beams with happiness, draining his glass and sliding the empty across to her. “See you on Saturday then.” He grins. “Pick you up at seven?”

She nods, collecting his glass and returning his wave as he pushes through the crowd and out through the pub door.

When she gets home that night her mum is already asleep, and her dad’s at the factory working the late shift. Automatically, her hand moves to the lamp to switch it on and she has to stop herself. She deflates when she realises what she’s about to do, sinking heavily onto the edge of the bed. There’d be no more secret signals for Tom to climb in through the window, not anymore.

The next few days pass quietly, though she has to make a conscious effort not to think of Tom. She does her best not to look through the window to watch for when Lois and Douglas leave. That would usually be when she’d slip across the road and knock at the front door, giggling as he opens it and leans against the doorframe with a smirk. His blue eyes would rake over her, before beckoning her inside. Not anymore. She doesn’t see Tom at all, and her lamp stays firmly off for the rest of the week too.

She stands in front of the full length mirror in the hallway on Saturday evening, taking in her appearance. She’s applied a layer of rouge to her lips, carefully curled her lashes and set her hair into a style that doesn’t disrupt the work of the rollers that she’s been wearing for most of the day. Her blush pink dress accentuates her curves, nipping in at the waist, with an a-line skirt that stops at her mid thigh. The red of her heels matches the colour of her lips.

As she smooths her hands over her outfit, she can’t help but wonder what Tom would make of it. She has to remind herself that it’s another man that will appreciate the effort she’s made for this evening, and not him. She hates the way her heart sinks at the thought.

Joe’s eyes widen when he takes in the sight of her as she opens the door to him. “You look…wow…you look fantastic.”

She grins, grabbing her coat and stepping out onto the street beside him. “You don’t scrub up too badly yourself.” She says appreciatively, noticing his slicked back hair and starched shirt collar. 

The dance hall at the Wharf is packed by the time they arrive. Red, white and blue bunting hangs from the ceiling and a live band is in the middle of a Glenn Miller cover, with most people already paired off and dancing. Joe gets them both a drink, before leading her out to the centre of the floor.

As Joe spins and twirls her she can’t help but think about how wrong it all feels. The sensation of her hand in his, his palm at the dip of her waist, it’s so different to the way Tom touches her. Her skin doesn’t tingle in the wake of Joe’s fingertips brushing against it, her heart doesn’t flutter when she looks into his eyes. When he pulls her close his scent is unfamiliar, not the heady mixture of tobacco and spearmint that she’s come to know, to love.

Her breath hitches when she looks over and sees Tom through the crowd. The intensity of his stare is palpable even in the dimly lit hall, and fixed upon her and Joe. She doesn’t miss the way his jaw ticks as he looks at them. He’s made no effort, wearing the same jumper and slacks he always has on, yet still managing to look effortlessly handsome. It irritates her. She wonders who he’s here with and has to force herself to look away, not wanting to know, grimacing at the jealousy that blooms hot and acrid within her.

Focusing her attention back on the man she’s here with, she gazes up at him as the band switches to an instrumental cover of a Vera Lynn song. The atmosphere shifts considerably as the couples around them begin to slow dance.

Panic races through her, her mouth running dry and her heart thundering wildly as Joe starts to lean in. For a moment she is tempted to give in, a bid to forget about Tom once and for all, but at the last moment she decides she can’t. She doesn’t want to. She turns her head and Joe’s lips graze her cheek instead. As her eyes flicker upwards she notices that Tom has gone.

“Joe…do you think you could take me home? I’m not feeling well.” She says, not missing the disappointment that washes over his features.

The walk home is awkwardly silent and she’d feel bad for giving Joe false hope were it not for the fact that she can’t stop thinking about Tom, who he’s with and what he’s doing.

Her curiosity is sated when they reach her front door and she sees Tom burst out of his, moving across the road towards them with purpose.

It happens too quickly for her to comprehend fully, as Tom’s fist makes brutal impact with Joe’s face, knocking him backwards. “You kissed her! You fucking kissed her!” He shouts at him, and she feels fury well up inside of her.

Stepping between them, she shoves Tom away. “Stop it!”

“Why?!” He spits back angrily. “You shagging him too?!”

Her eyes well up as Tom’s words bite into her. She spares a glance at Joe, before speaking to him. “Would you mind leaving us, please? I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

“Don’t bother.” He says stiffly, glaring at the pair of them before stalking off back down the street.

When she looks back at Tom, he appears sheepish, almost regretful, but she can’t find it in herself to forgive him. “I shouldn’t have said that. I was out of order…”

“No, you shouldn’t have!” She shouts back, her tears finally spilling over and rolling down her cheeks. “You had no right to do that. I’m not yours, I never was!”

His face softens, hurt flashing in his blue eyes, as he tries to speak. “Listen-”

“No, you listen!” She seethes tearfully. “Do you have any idea how much it hurts to be in love with someone that’s ashamed of you?! I can’t keep wasting my life, hoping one day I’ll be more than just a means for you to get your leg over. I don’t want to see you anymore, Tom. Leave me alone.”

She leaves him standing in the street as she goes inside, slamming the door behind her. She’s grateful that her parents aren’t home yet, otherwise she’d have copped an earful for the scene she’s just made in the middle of the road. Crying herself to sleep that night she curses her luck that she has to live opposite the man that’s broken her heart.

Her shift the next evening at The Oxnoble is quiet, most people have clearly opted for a night in after the dance the previous day. She’s grateful for it, feeling the furthest thing from being in the mood to smile at customers while she serves them drinks. She’s the only person behind the bar. The landlord, Ted, has taken advantage of the opportunity for a night off and left her with the keys, asking her to lock up come closing time. Save for a couple of older gentlemen nursing pints of bitter in the corner, the pub is empty.

She’s switching out the optic on a gin bottle when she hears the door swing open. Looking over her shoulder, she sighs, her mood instantly darkening when she sees Tom stroll in.

Propping himself on the bar, he eyes her nervously as she finishes what she’s doing and walks over to him.

“What d’you want?” She asks moodily.

“Need to speak to ya.” Comes his quiet response, long fingers flexing against the wooden surface.

“I’m working.”

“Can’t take a break?”

“Ted’s left me in charge. If you’re not here to drink then you need to leave.”

“Alright then.” He says with a shrug. “Pint of Guinness, please.”

She narrows her eyes in annoyance. “Tom, you don’t like Guinness, and it takes bloody ages to pour!”

“I know. Figured you’d spare me a few words while I wait.”

She rolls her eyes, taking a pint glass from the shelf above her head and placing it beneath the pump.

“Went to see Joe today, wanted to apologise and that, ya know, for smacking him…”

She looks up from the dark liquid that’s currently filling the glass. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, he’s got a right shiner.” He says with a grin. It disappears as quickly as it appears when he sees the angry look on her face. “Anyway, he told me nothing happened between you two. I know you said you never wanted to speak to me again, but I was hoping you’d hear me out, just this once?”

She purses her lips, topping off his pint as it settles and passing it to him. “Told you, I’m working.”

“I can wait.” He says, sliding coins across the bar to her and taking the glass.

She has to bite back a laugh as she watches him take a sip and wrinkle his nose. “Tastes like blood.” He mutters to himself, wandering off and taking a seat at a table directly opposite the bar.

Tom has never been a man of patience and she fully expects him to get bored after an hour and leave. She’s surprised when he continues to sit there, periodically lighting up cigarettes and wincing at every sip of the stout he’s nursing.

Three hours later she rings the bell for last orders and the few customers that had occupied the pub slowly shuffle their way out, leaving her and Tom alone. He’s only half way through his drink, having spent the entire evening pulling a face at every tiny mouthful.

She takes pity on him, bolting the doors and then leaning against the billiards table. “Go on then, I’m listening.”

He rises from his seat, walking slowly towards her, almost like he’s afraid that if he moves too quickly she’ll change her mind.

“Did you mean what you said? You’re in love with me?”

She feels heat rush to her cheeks and looks away. “Doesn’t matter now, does it? You don’t feel the same way.”

“Are you fucking joking?” He says, a tinge of irritation in his tone. “Would I have just sat for four hours choking down a pint of that shit, waiting for you to give me the time of day, if I wasn’t crazy about you? Give your head a wobble!”

She attempts to swallow around the lump that’s forming in her throat, her voice strained as she speaks. “We only meet up in secret and when I asked about the dance you said no. It feels like-”

“I’m ashamed of you?” He stands in front of her, brushing her hair away from her face. “Never. You mean everything to me. Thinking about coming home to you was all that got me through when I was laying in that hospital bed in Paris. Couldn’t bear the thought of you not knowing that you’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

“Then why?” Her voice cracks, her eyes are glassy as she stares up at him.

Tom draws in a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “I’ve never been worthy of you, love. I might have come back from France a hero, but what about when all that dies down and I go back to just being Tom Bennett, the lad that’s always in trouble with the coppers? What will people say about you, if they know I’m your fella? You don’t deserve that.”

“Shouldn’t that be for me to decide?”

“I know that now.” He says, leaning his forehead against hers “Last night, I knocked to ask you to go to the dance with me and when no one answered I figured you’d already be there. Wasn’t expecting to see you there with Joe and it pissed me off. I know that’s selfish, but you’re mine.”

He presses his lips to hers and she melts into it, her resolve crumbling with embarrassing rapidity as her mouth moves with his. Her fingers work their way into the softness of his dirty blonde hair as his tongue slips into her mouth, working against her own as his large hands cup her face.

“Mine.” He whispers as he pulls away, making her gasp as he presses hot, open mouthed kisses to her neck. “Does Joe make you feel this good?” He asks, working open the buttons of her blouse, slipping a hand inside to squeeze at her through her brassiere.

“No.” She whines. “Just you, Tommy, just you.”

“That’s what I thought.” He smirks, lifting her by the backs of legs to sit on the billiards table.

He captures her lips in another searing kiss, pushing her skirt up to her hips.

“N-not here, we can’t.” She whimpers, pulling back.

“Door’s locked, isn’t it?” He coos at her, pulling the gusset of her underwear to the side. “Christ, you’re soaking. Is all this for me?”

She bites her lip, feeling dizzy with arousal. “Yeah, just you.”

“You gonna let me have a taste?” His eyes lock with hers, the blue barely visible with how dilated his pupils are.

Before she has a chance to respond, he’s dropped to his knees in front of her, licking a wide stripe against her folds with the flat of his tongue.

She emits a strangled cry, her hands flying to the back of his head as he groans against her, the vibration of it causing her to clench around nothing.

“Sweetest little pussy I’ve ever had.” He whispers between kitten licks to her bud.

She bucks her hips against his face as he feasts upon her like a man starved, the cadence of her moans growing unsteady as a familiar tightness coils within her lower belly.

“You close, darlin’?” He smirks up at her.

She’s only able to respond with a nod of her head, too far gone to trust herself to speak.

“That’s too bad.” He says, pulling away. “Wanna be buried inside of ya when that happens.”

She feels like she could cry at the loss, and her fingers fumble in their hurry to get Tom’s belt and trousers open, as he works to open the wrapper of a sheath that he’s fished out of his pocket.

Tom’s jaw goes slack, his eyes screwing shut as he pushes inside of her and she swears he’s never looked more beautiful than he does right now. He stills against her once he’s bottomed out, composing himself.

“So fuckin’ tight. Whose are you?” He rasps against the shell of her ear.

“Yours.” She breathes, without hesitation.

“That’s fuckin’ right.” He snarls, grasping her hips and setting a punishing pace.

She leans back, bracing herself against the table with the palms of her hands. The green felt is coarse against her skin, and she knows she’ll have friction burn from it, but she can’t find it in herself to care.

The hold he has on her is iron clad, pulling her flush against him with every jerk of his pelvis, his face buried in the crook of her neck as his belt buckle knocks against the wood with every thrust. This forceful, commanding side of him is one she’s never seen before, but she loves every second.

The slap of Tom’s skin against hers echoes through the empty pub, his grunts of exertion mingling with her breathy moans. His hand leaves her hip to palm at her breast and she can tell he’s nearing his end when as he pace begins to falter, his jaw clenching.

“Play with yourself.” He grits out. “Need you to finish with me.”

Doing as she’s told, she places her hand between her legs, circling her pearl. The added sensation serves to intensify Tom’s movements inside of her and after a few hurried strokes she finds herself tensing around him as her climax builds.

“Oh, fuck, Tommy, I’m gonna-”

Her sentence is cut off as her peak crashes over her in white hot waves of intensity, barely registering it as Tom lets go with a groan, spilling inside of the condom.

They stay like that for a few moments, leaning heavily against each other. When he eventually pulls out, and they begin to redress, there’s a part of her that worries that this is the part where he’ll make an excuse and leave, and it’ll go back to how it’s always been.

He surprises her when he begins to move around the pub, collecting up the empty glasses.

“What else needs doing before I walk you home?” He asks.

She can’t help the warm smile that spreads across her face at the gesture. “Just the ash trays.” Comes her response.

His fingers interlock with hers as they walk home in comfortable silence, the darkness lit by the cherry red ember of the end of Tom’s cigarette.

“Leave the lamp on for you tomorrow?” She says softly, once they reach her front door.

“No.” He shakes his head. “Tomorrow I’m knocking the door and taking you on a proper date.”

She grins. “Oh really?”

“Oh yeah. Bag of chips and a bottle of pop, only the best for my girl.” He says with a wink, beginning to head off across the street.

“Oi!” She calls after him. “No kiss goodbye then?”

He chuckles, hurrying back to her and spinning her around in his arms as he kisses her, before setting her back down.

“I love you.” She whispers.

“And I love you, always have.” He tells her, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

[grnherbs]

I don't want to set the world on fire.

eighteen plus, mdni.

this is a corrupt cop!leon story which will have dark themes such as abduction, yandere, smut (noncon, dubcon), stockholm syndrome, violence & manipulation but content warnings will be on every chapter. i plan for this to be a multi part story but we'll see how it goes !!

wc: 1.2k

cw: kidnapping, corrupt cop, yandere, violence (hitting), spitting, crying, personality change?, concussion, talk of minor injuries, handcuffs, pet names, delusional leon, fear, dacryphilia (kinda?),

you begin to learn new things about your best friend that you never thought would conceivably be true as you try to navigate his personality when he returns as a cop from raccoon city.

“stop wriggling, you're not getting out of those cuffs” he eyes you up in the rearview mirror, his ashy blonde hair falling in front of his eyes before running a leather gloved hand to push it back into place as you continue to move around, the cold metal gripping your wrists as you bite your lip in frustration and he takes a right at the traffic lights, the old tyre's of the cop car screeching slightly as he pulls away.

“please officer kennedy… leon, you know me, i don’t usually do these things, my record is clean, my parents can’t know about this please” you plead with him but he just turns his head back to the road, gripping the steering wheel, pulling out into the junction turning left, shaking his head at your whining.

“you know better than this, i’m really ashamed of you sweetheart, i really thought you were a nice girl, and nice girls don’t do what you’ve done this evening” he berates you and a blush of humiliation settles on your cheeks, looking down at your lap as your childhood friend and neighbour scolds you, a tear falling from your eye.

“please, c’mon i’ll do anything, you can’t tell my parents. you know they’ll kill me” you start to sob and he tuts at you, you continue to stare at your legs, tears still falling as he drives along the rough unfamiliar terrain and pulls into a… driveway? It was dark and you couldn’t even see any street lights, regardless of the blurry tears in your eyes.

“leon, w-where are we? weren’t we going to the station?” you question as he pulls up and turns off the engine, hands settling still on the steering wheel, the leather squeaking as he grips it, ignoring your questioning. the silence was deafening, before getting out the car, slamming the door behind him, causing you to jump and leaving you alone in the vehicle, shaking slightly, where were you?

a few moments go by as he opens the car door by your side, hand reaches in to grip your arm roughly causing you to gasp out and screech quietly “ouch!! leon” you squeal before he places his free arm around your mouth, no chance of allowing sound to leave it.

you begin to panic and scratch at his arms as he dragged you along by your waist, kicking out, what was he doing? whose house was this? It looked abandoned, the plants growing up the walls, yellowed panels lined the outside and the little grass you could see was even overgrown or dead.

he grips you tighter now, as you try to escape his solid, non moving grasp, barely audible squeaks leaving your lips and he practically growls “shut. up. you're only going to make this worse” he says sharply at you and your eyes widen at this, the soft cop who’d been your neighbour for the last decade, the soft blonde boy you’d grown up with, disappearing immediately and the panic truly settles in as a cold shiver whips through your body.

the last thing you remember before the hit to the head had been the bruising grip he had on you and the world fades to black.

drip.

drip..

drip…

the cold hit of water on your cheek had your eyes open quickly, taking in a gasp as you looked around yourself, hugging your arms immediately to your chest, breathing heavily. the cold stone floor was a shock to your system and the damp mouldy puddle growing by your head was still being dripped into from a wet patch on the ceiling. the room around you was dusty, a singular dirty and yellowed light fixture and hardly lit bulb hanging from the flimsy looking, almost makeshift ceiling, barely worth having as it dimly lit the room.

you rub your eyes, touch the shallow forming bump which had begun to grow on your forehead, before hearing the jingle of a cold chain attached to your wrist and that's exactly when you notice the other one on your ankle on the opposing side, another sharp breath leaving your body when reality begins to settle in. looking up and scanning your surroundings once more, you see nothing save for a window at the very top of the room, with bars across it, a stairway that was entirely out of reach. and a metal fold up chair in the middle of the room.

thats when you saw the feet perched either side of it, the individual leaning over the back of it where he was sat the wrong way round. “there you are darling, been waiting for you to open your pretty eyes, you know.. you make the most adorable noises when you’re sleeping” he chuckles dryly to himself, the silver in his hand catching the light, which you came to realise was a knife, he was twisting quietly in his hand, watching your eyes adjust.

you gulped and his dark eyes met yours through messy hair, looking through you “what’s the matter baby? cat got your tongue?” he tilts his head to take you in fully. you refuse to break eye contact with him until the throbbing in your head returns once more, rubbing it and breathing through the nausea it was making you feel.

“afraid you might have a minor concussion sweetheart, you just wouldn’t… stop wriggling away from me, so i had to put you to sleep” he gets up, pushing the chair away, knife in hand, and he kneels before you, hand coming out to stroke your cheek and you move your head back but he grips your jaw roughly making you look at him. “silly girl, huh? it’s just me baby, just your lee…” you felt sick to your stomach as he repeats the nickname and a single tear fell from your face as he said this.

he pulls you in for a tight hug which you settle into for a second, his hand gently stroking your hair and you feel the wave of confidence as your free leg comes up to kick his shin, but he’s quicker than you are, gripping your leg as his fist comes into contact with your cheek almost instinctively, causing you to fall to the side and he stands.

“you fucking stupid bitch!” he shouts at you through gritted teeth, leaning over to spit on your face, backing up and holding the knife out to you. “fine, you wanna act like a stupid bitch, we’ll see how pliant you are after a few cold lonely nights down here”. He tuts as he moves away, foot on the bottom step, taking one last look at the sight and shaking his head “keep crying all you want, it only makes me hard.”

and you pout out at him, a shallow gasp at his cruelty, his footsteps disappearing up the stairs and the light turning off, bolting the door shut and your breath picks up in the darkness surrounding you, a sting settling on your wounded cheek, wiping off the spit he had laid on you. the cold picked up in the barren of the basement, you rock yourself gently as you settle in for a night alone. the sound of his familiar car engine pulling out of the drive meant you were truly alone and you fell into sleep once more, trying to ignore the nausea settling into your stomach.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Promise Woven in Silk

18/12: Letters & Lingerie Kink - Tom Bennett Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: suggestive letters, masturbation (m), p in v sex A/N: thanks to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for checking my Tom Bennett was cunty enough 🤭

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

Tom couldn't wait to be off this fucking boat.

It was a sort of slum in motion, but with the threat of being killed or drowned.

He made his own fun, practically forcing people's hands into betting on the day his canary laid an egg, pissing off the commanding officer and choosing rather colourful language when he was speaking to people of a higher rank than him. Not like he gave a shit.

But he only did those things because he was Tom.

It didn't make him really happy.

The only thing that managed to pull a smile to his face were letters with her handwriting on the front.

It felt wrong to call her a sweetheart so to speak. After all, at first there was no expectation of anything deeper, not wanting to get involved in something so trivial before he decided to disappear abroad. But it was exactly that expectation that drew him to her.

She wasn't desperate and needy. And yes, he'd tease her for it, but she was so fiercely independent, she turned her nose up at how a woman should conventionally act towards someone she liked.

He loved her for that.

He leapt onto the top bunk, checking the room was clear before pulling the sealed letter from his pocket, the paper slightly crumpled with her swirly feminine handwriting decorating the front.

Dearest Tom,

I hope you are settling into navy life well and are not causing too much trouble for the people who have the displeasure of being around you all day and night. 

He smirked. She knew him too well.

As I write this, my stomach flutters at the thought of your upcoming shore leave. I have been entirely too impatient to not tell you that I have concealed a great secret from you, one I should hope you will be pleased to uncover upon your return to me.

Picture me, with delicate lace trimming framing the curves of my body, meant for your eyes only of course. The fabric, as smooth as a moonlit ocean, holds promises of stolen moments where you are once again by my side.

I must confess, once you are back I scarcely think I could ever let you go again. The mere thought of you being here with me has a pleasant, exciting effect on my inhibitions. An effect, I dare say, you are keen to replicate.

I anticipate the shared warmth of our reunion, one I have no doubt you have sorely missed.

Yours in fervent longing…

He swore his mouth was agape, before a sly grin slipped onto his face.

Jesus Christ.

Tom's baby blues flitted over her handwriting, as if needing to commit the words to memory over and over to make certain he was reading the same thing.

His fingers gripped the delicate paper noticeably tighter as his mouth went dry.

Cheeky fucking minx.

Completely naturally, he brought the paper to his face, sighing longingly at the familiar scent of her perfume. She'd no doubt spritzed it a few times before sealing it, intent on torturing him even further as if the words alone had not done so.

Her scent flooded his mind, making way in his brain and pushing all the blood there south, his manhood pulsing almost uncomfortably at the memory of her.

The way he'd left her lingered there.

She had his white shirt around her shoulders and completely nothing else, her breasts peeking teasingly against the thin fabric as if to tempt him to stay when she knew he couldn't.

He'd almost jumped right back on her when she rose to her knees and plucked the post-coital cigarette from his lips to have a sweet, shallow drag of her own, her eyes aglimmer with mischief and sparkled with lust. 

And he's not ashamed to say that the image of her lips around the cigarette had him wishing they were around him instead. Looking up at him through her eyelashes, massaging the length that would not fit in her perfect mouth.

And so here, miles and miles from her, but unable to think of anyone or anything but her, he slipped his hand into his trousers, keeping her letter close to his face and pumped himself needily, imagining it was her grinding her hips atop him, her moist lips parted with those sounds he loved so much slipping forth.

He spilled himself over his knuckles in no time with a choked moan that he had to keep quiet.

It was sweet, sweet torture.

“Cheeky. Fucking. Minx.”

Tom practically skipped through off the train onto the platform, resisting the urge to break into a run as he played the route to her flat in his mind and how to get there the fastest.

It felt like he'd had a perpetual need for her ever since he read her words, which was more akin to pornography than an innocent love letter, having the desired effect of keeping him rock hard, fists clenched and jaw tightened.

God, she'd pay for that.

His boots thumped as he made his way up the back stairs to her flat, fists rapping on the door rapidly and excitedly, his chest feeling all tight and fluttery.

Every second there was no answer, his leg bobbed with anticipation.

Tom's tongue poked his cheek as the door slowly cracked open, a smile working its way to his face.

Her hair was waved over her shoulders, a satin dressing gown around her and tied at the middle, accentuating her waist, with her legs all bare and poking tantalisingly out beneath the rich fabric.

She herself gave a smirk, pulling the cigarette from her lips with two of her manicured fingers.

“Hello, sailor.”

Fuck, her voice.

She squeaked in surprise as Tom's tall form had to twist to force his way in, his bag forgotten to the floor with a thud, finding better purchase on her body as he surged down to meet her lips halfway. She smelled and tasted just as he remembered.

Bodies touching and smirking between fervent kisses, he mumbles between them, “Hello, beautiful.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, and equally sank to that spot between her thighs that grew moist, aided by the endless weeks without his presence.

“I can't believe you sent me such racy letters. You just want to get me in trouble, don't you... and believe me you're doing a fantastic job at it.”

She hummed, pulling away to look up at him, smirking as he plucked the cigarette from her to take a drag for himself.

“You've got to have something to look forward to on shore leave, Bennett.”

He grinned with all his perfect teeth, stubbing it out once he was done with it and running his tongue over his lips.

She scrunched her nose, her hands around his shoulders as she craned up to meet his misty gaze, “in any case, I don't know what you mean. My letters were perfectly well-meaning and innocent.”

He scoffed, the smoke leaving between his pink lips, blonde eyebrows raised, “innocent? Those letters could be classified as a war crime.”

Her lips part involuntarily, warmth gathering in her gut as his hands lay flat either side of her waist.

"Now, where's my promised prize? To celebrate my return.”

She bit back a grin, her hands sliding down his chest to the tie at her front, fingers pulling it loosely unbearably slowly.

Tom swore he ascended to heaven once the silk parted to reveal what she'd promised beneath, a delicate lacy number that seemed to drift over every curve and left very little to the imagination.

 “Now that's what I call a greeting and my reward.”

His hands assisted in pushing the silk off her shoulders, leaving her standing in her silk sleepwear, the front dipping right where the shadow of her breasts appeared.

He grinned like a schoolboy, raking in every piece of her he'd been unable to see for weeks. God, maybe even months.

“You know, I almost thought you were lying in your letter and you didn't actually have this... but you surprised me.”

Her eyelashes fluttered as they both leaned in, dragging his nose over her cheekbone and placing several kisses, too chaste for his nature, along her jawline.

“I couldn't possibly do that to you, Tom.”

She giggled girlishly as his hands were now unable to stop their journey around her body, squeezing and moulding the flesh to his palm as he guided her to her bed. He stood, looking down as she lay there waiting for him with that honey-like gaze, biting her lip when she saw him work on his own clothes.

Once he got to his belt, she lifted her hands to the straps of her brassiere, to pull them down, until Tom tutted at her, kneeing her legs apart in reprimand, earning a confused expression.

He loved it when she looked all dumb like that.

He smirked, “Maybe I want you to keep it on. You look good in it.”

At this she lowered her hands, eyes glimmering with mischief as she watched him struggle with his belt.

She smiled smugly, “have you gone soft on me, Tom Bennett?”

“Soft is the opposite of what I am right now, love.”

A soft giggle slides past her lips as Tom looms above her, shoving his trousers past his hips as they snag on nothing, his eyes hardening  the more frustrated he gets. But it quickly dissipates, core clenching around nothing once he pulls himself from his underwear, hardly having to stroke himself to full attention.

His fingers creep along the side of her thigh beneath the delicate lace, swiping the pads of his fingers against her, grinning widely when he finds his words and actions have had the desired effect, her hips twitching upwards at his touch. 

“Oh, love. You’re fucking soaked for me.”

His ministrations become rough almost instantly, tugging the silk to the side and running the fat head of his cock, red and weeping against her womanhood. She watches the way his chest inflates and deflates with heavy breathing, at how the dog tag there glimmering in the low light around his neck, looking down between them, the air feeling hot and only the sounds of pure carnal desire rumbling in their throats. 

“Tom - please -”, she mewled longingly, trying to move her hips to gain friction as he teases her bud with the tip of his length. 

A dark chuckle rumbles in his chest, “God I fucking love it when you beg. What do you think, should I make you do it again?”

She shakes her head quickly, closing her eyes and turning away with a warm face at the intensity of his gaze down at her. 

He huffs another laugh and lays atop her, pushing her leg apart with his knee and pressing a kiss to her temple, “It’s alright, love, too fucking impatient for that.”

Her mouth falls open, warmth flooding her as he pushes into her agonisingly slowly, splitting her apart on his length to slide into her slick walls. Tom can’t help but screw his eyes shut, burying his face in her neck and inhaling her perfume as her warmth squeezes him and her fingernails leave crescent-moon shaped marks on his back.

He barely waits to reach the end of her before he moves, his hips meeting hers softly at first, but increasing in vigour once he hears her tiny little whimpers, and the way she presses her lips together to try and be quiet. 

Ever stubborn. 

Skin meets skin with quiet smacks, neither needing to say anything (except for the occasional ‘fuck’ encompassed by a low moan from Tom) but just basking in this closeness they’d been deprived of in all the time they’d been away. He is sure he could stay between her legs all fucking day, squeezing the flesh of her thighs and tasting her lips on his. 

“Fuck - ‘m gonna-”, he moans lowly, his hand running up the nape of her neck and pulling the strands of her hair through his fingers, not enough to hurt. Her core tightens around him, head thrown back into the mattress, lips parted. 

“oh - fuck, yes-”

With a choked moan, he takes her over the edge with him, holding her so tightly that had he been in his right mind, he’d think he was hurting her. But she doesn’t protest. She only loosens her grip on him when his thrusts falter to a stop, but his length remains tucked inside her, shuddering when he feels her core clenching around him in the aftermath of her peak.

His normal attitude clouded by the haziness sex, he rests on his forearms above her, giving an exhausted smile that she returns. 

“That the greeting you were hoping for?” she asks, her breath coming in short, hot pants.

And just like that, the Tom Bennett grin returns, leaning down to capture her lips again, “Yes, but I’m not done with you yet.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

[selineram3421]

I love true crime, call it an obsession or a hyper fixation. But may I request a one-shot Ft Modern-day Human! Alastor x Reader, where the couple have lived happily together for a while ( is even engaged), and the two are on the couch, snuggled up, and their favorite show is interrupted by the news late one night. Like a breaking news broadcast of a string of multiple murders of criminals, drug dealers, and rapists that have occurred in the city comes on.

Maybe the reader notices Al gets really tense and they ask whats wrong and he passes them off gets up and just goes to bed without a word. Meanwhile days pass and the reader notices Alastor is on edge, maybe not showing up to his job, calling out constantly, not planning their wedding, coming home super late, maybe she finds some bloody clothing in the laundry- just weird things yknow (just a lot of off putting things they've just started to notice)?

They confront him when he comes home at a stupidly late hour of the night demanding answers of why he's acting so strange, if he doesn't tell them they're basically going to take off their ring and leave him then and there.. and he just breaks down emotionally to the reader?

I dunno /) . (\ throw all the Angst and Fluff you'd like to. I just love this idea lol.

Pssst! What does Ft mean?

As The World Caves In

Human Alastor X Human Reader Oneshot

Warning! ⚠

⚠ using she/they for reader, food, tw mentions of rape, murder, dismemberment, fluff/angst, hurt/comfort, blood, all caps for really angry shouting dialogue ⚠

~

You met Alastor during college.

He was majoring in communications and journalism for radio/television broadcasting. The building was right next to the one you had your classes in.

One day you both happened to bump into each other and just clicked. Not a day after was it boring, both of you causing slight chaos by telling cringey jokes and being weird.

It was nice though, having someone to be weird with you.

He liked your weirdness and you liked his.

Then one day he asked you a strange question.

"What would you say to someone who asked for your hand?"

"It depends on who's asking.", you reply. "Oh, and if you like it put a ring on it.", you finish, holding your left hand out as if waiting for someone to do just that.

"Hmm..", he hummed and held your hand as if examining it. "Ok."

Bringing a ring out of nowhere, he places it on your finger and nods with a look of satisfaction. Meanwhile you look at him with your jaw dropped.

Alastor just smiles at you.

"I put a ring on it."

"Geez, take me on a date first!"

❇

"We did it!", you cheer after both of you cleaned most of the apartment and did laundry.

"Finally!", Alastor said and dramatically sat down on the couch, acting faint. "Now we rest."

"Want to order take-out?", you asked sitting down next to him.

"Don't we still have yesterday's leftovers?", he says and pulls you close by the waist, placing a kiss on your cheek. "I could heat it up."

"That sounds divine.", you smile, also giving him a peck on the cheek. "I'll get things set up here while you get our food?"

"Sounds like a perfectly good plan.", he agrees with a nod and gives you one more peck before standing up. "Don't miss me too much darling~!"

He jokes while walking to the kitchen.

"Too late.", you respond and turn on the t.v. with the vox-b remote.

There's a chuckle from behind you as you flick through channels, looking for your show. After what felt like a long scroll down, you finally find the discovery channel. With a grin you click on it and wait for the show to start up with the end of "How Its Done."

"Almost Got Away is going to start after a commercial!", you tell your fiancé.

Its been a few years since that day. You still couldn't believe that it happened but the proof sat on your finger, and it was also archived on your Instu story.

The food doesn't take long to heat up and Alastor returns with two bowls of beans with sausage and rice, with a little bit of spice.

[can be seen as frijoles charros or cajun beans]

Both of you get comfortable on the couch, eating and occasionally talking about wedding plans, remembering to get drinks and taking a quick trip to the kitchen to get them from the fridge.

Just as you got comfortable again and the episode was starting, a flash of red and blue appears on the screen with bold letters.

"Breaking News!"

Two news anchors sit at a big blue table. One holding papers as the camera zooms in on them.

"Katie Prig and Tom Fosse bringing you some breaking news!", the woman, Katie starts. "There have been a number of crimes recently. About a forty-eight percent increase."

Tom chimes in. "A total of three missing persons have been found dead in the forest. Police say that the victims were female. Beaten and raped, before being killed and left in the woods."

"We are waiting to hear from police if any more bodies have been found.", Katie interrupts. "Let's check in with Mike."

Live feed is shown of a police cars parked at the start of the woods that has caution tape wrapped at the trail entrance, with k-9 dogs sniffing around. The camera zooms out, revealing a man in a blue jacket, with a news mic.

"I'm here on the south side of the city and its only been an hour of searching, the police have said there might be more bodies. One of the victim's bodies was found cut open and slightly dismembered.", he sniffs and moves his finger to wipe his nose.

From how close you two are sitting, you can feel Alastor tense up slightly as the corner of the man's lip on the screen turns upwards, its mostly covered by his hand and its gone within a second. The man goes back to a neutral expression.

"As you can tell the temperatures are dropping and since it'll rain tonight the officers are trying to cover as much ground as they can before any evidence is washed away."

A few dogs start to bark and the camera focuses on the k-9s and police officers running.

"Looks like there's a lead.", Mike says. "I'll send it back to you and Tom, Katie. We'll keep you updated."

When the screen switches back to the show, Alastor puts his bowl on the coffee table in front of the couch.

He's really quiet.

You look over at him and notice a frown starting to form on his face.

"Al?", you place a hand on his shoulder, effectively snapping him out of his thoughts as he turns to face you. "You ok? What's wrong?"

"Nothing Love.", he smiles, grabbing your hand off his shoulder and placing a kiss on your knuckles, just above the ring. "I just lost my apatite is all."

You nod in understanding and set down your bowl as well. "Wanna head to bed early then? I'll clean up, don't worry."

"Yes, thank you.", he agrees, letting go of your hand and stands up. "I'll get the bed ready.", he says before placing a kiss on your forehead and walking to the bedroom.

Cleaning up is quick, and you wash the dishes. Leaving the bowls on the drying rack before turning off the kitchen light and making your way to the room.

Alastor is already in bed when you walk in. After changing into comfortable sleep wear, you get in bed and turn off the lamp on your nightstand.

"Good night.", you say but don't hear anything back.

Assuming that he already fell asleep, you lay on your side and doze off.

.

A week passes and Alastor has been acting a little strange, but everytime you ask he just brushes you off with an "I'm fine."

You start to worry when he begins coming home late.

"Does the station really need you till 10 p.m. today?", you ask.

"I'm helping out a coworker with moving boxes and supplies.", he explains while getting his keys. "Don't worry, I'll call you if I leave early."

"Ok.", you say and follow him as he gets to the door. "Drive safe."

He smiles and gives you a peck.

"Don't stay up late for me. Lock the door and windows.", he says and walks out into the hallway. "Can't be too safe."

"I have a shift tomorrow around six in the evening.", you remind him, but see that he pauses.

"Darling..", he says with furrowed brows. "With all the crime going on, can you ask for earlier shifts?"

Now its your turn to smile.

"I can take care of myself. After all, I have Mr. Stabbington.", you say picking up a sharp pair of scissors and he frowns. "But if it makes you feel better knowing that I'm not out at night, then I'll ask for earlier shifts."

He grins.

"Ok now go! Or you'll be late!", you poke at him with your fingers and wave as he leaves.

Its not long till you're washing clothes that you spot what looks like a smeared blood stain on a pair of his pants.

"What the?", you say confused and try to remember if your fiancé got any recent wounds.

You set the pants aside for proper cleaning and continue to put the rest of the load in the washing machine.

A few days later after work, you get a call from the station Alastor works at.

"Hello?", you answer the phone, thinking Al is calling wanting an opinion on dinner or for something he forgot.

"Hi! I'm James, a coworker of Alastor's. I was calling to see if he is sick or something?", the man over the phone says.

"Sick?", you ask confused, walking up to your apartment building and going inside the building.

"Yeah, he didn't come in today and isn't picking up. The boss is kinda pissed. Is he alright?"

"He left early this morning..", you mumble quietly to yourself and wave to the security guard, making your way to the metal door and punching in the code to unlock it.

"Oh! He had a fever this morning but its going down now.", you say a quick lie.

"Ok, thanks for letting me know! Take care!", James says before saying bye.

You hang up and there's a sinking pit forming at the bottom of your stomach.

Why would Alastor skip work?

That feeling didn't go away and you started to have trouble sleeping.

When a scheduled wedding plan day came up, you got excited.

Flowers and colors were already picked out, today was supposed to be food. As you got the laptop open and notebooks set out, Alastor was dressed as if he was heading out.

"Were we going somewhere today?", you ask confused.

"We?", he says also confused.

"Yeah, its planning day Red.", you say smiling and walk over to him. "Remember its the food this time?"

A flash of realization crosses his face as he turns to look at the calendar on the wall nearby the kitchen.

"Oh."

Your smile goes away after noticing that he looks conflicted.

"Let me guess, you forgot and made plans.."

"I'm sorry. I was going to visit my mother.", he says with a slightly guilty tone.

A sigh escapes from your lips.

"Its ok. Go visit her and take some flowers.", you give a small smile. "Need any cleaning rags for the headstone?"

"No. I've got some in the car.", he says and pulls you into a hug. "Thank you darling."

He leaves soon after.

The thing you find odd is that he doesn't send you a picture of the cleaned headstone with fresh flowers like he usually does.

Weeks pass by and Alastor has been leaving work early or not going at all. Then arriving home late, lying to you about "his day at work" and now taking over washing the clothes after you asked about the red stains.

That sinking feeling gets worse, and now there's a burning sensation on your chest to accompany it. An aching in your heart.

One night you decide to wait with coffee.

Its late.

Hours have passed and the coffee has gone cold, both in the cup and in the coffee maker.

Sitting on the couch wrapped in a blanket, staring into the coffee as you waited. The cup is half empty, and over time your gaze shifted over to your ring.

As you put the cup on the coffee table, you hear keys unlocking the door.

Taking a quick look at the time, you see that its three in the morning. Laying down, you pretend to sleep on the couch, pulling the blanket up to hide your mouth.

❇

Alastor was exhausted.

Keeping up with the news, working at the station, doing research, visiting the crime scene areas once they were opened to the public again, and lying to his fiancé.

He felt terrible.

They were so excited about the planning but he had to turn it down every time.

That murdering rapist and other scum were still on the loose in the city. He had got three, but still needed to get the one from the news.

He had to make sure she would be safe. They loved talking walks in those same woods. The smiles that she would show him every time they looked up at the trees, seeing the sunlight kiss their face. Looking like glowing freckles.

He had to.

Opening the door, he walked into the apartment quietly and closed it as soon as he could. Making sure to lock it and put up the door stopper.

After hanging up his jacket, he sees them asleep on the couch. As quietly as possible, he sets his keys down on the entry way table before taking off his shoes and making his way over to them.

He sighs, seeing the cup of coffee on the coffee table. "I told you not to wait for me.", he mumbles, kneeling down and goes to pick her up.

"Its 3 a.m."

Alastor flinches back, surprised that she was awake.

They sit up and look at him with such a sad gaze, the blanket slides off and pools around their lap.

"Why are you out so late?", they ask.

"Work at the station has been hectic-", he tries but she interrupts. "I've been getting calls from your coworkers saying you've been skipping work or asking why you left early."

Shit.

"Try again.", they're glaring at him now.

"I've been visiting-", he tries to come up with another excuse.

"DON'T USE YOUR DEAD MOTHER AS AN EXCUSE!", they snap and stand up from the couch. "Why are you lying to me!?"

"Darling please-", Alastor stands up as well and reaches out for their hand.

"No, don't touch me.", she backs away, crossing her arms.

A look of hurt crosses both of their faces.

"Why are you lying to me?", they ask softly.

The dim lighting in the room helps him see a small glint of light reflecting off of the tears staring to form at the corner of their eyes.

"You've been acting strange for a while now, you're coming home ridiculously late, lying to my face about work, and I know you're not visiting your mother!", their voice rises as they continue, the tears start streaming down their face. "You would have sent me pictures of her headstone like you always do when you're done cleaning it! And then I find red stains on your clothes!", she hiccups.

He calls out their name and tries to reach out to them again but they step back and shake their head side to side as to say no.

It hurts to see them crying.

"We..we had a conversation. If any of us found someone new, we would tell each other before anything happened. So no one got hurt and so we could have time to accept and adjust."

"My love, that's not what's going on. I promise!", he quickly denies what they are implying.

"Then what is going on!?", she shouts. "If its not that then what!?"

Alastor looks down at the floor, wondering if he should tell her or not.

Would they still love me after knowing? Will they leave? Would they hate me? Would they see me a s a monster? I did it for them..

The rooms becomes quiet.

She sighs, causing him to look up at her for the sudden noise.

"If you can't tell me, I'm going to walk out. Right now.", she says and goes to take off the ring.

He freezes.

No. No no no no no!

"Wait, please-!", he rushes up to place his hands over hers to stop her. "Don't do that, please. I love you! I love you!"

They are still trying, pushing his hands away and crying.

In a panic, he tells her. "I've been going after criminals!"

"What?"

He didn't know when he closed his eyes, but they were shut tight and it hurt a little bit. Seeking some sort of comfort, he held their hands closer to his chest.

A feeling that he hasn't felt in a long time settled in his stomach.

Fear.

He was scared.

"Remember the breaking news from a month ago?", he says, but they don't speak, likely waiting for him to continue. "I've been going after the murderers and rapists. A few others as well."

"Is that why you've been out late? And lying about work?", they ask. "What about the red stains? Have you been getting hurt?"

"No. I'm not getting hurt.", he reassures them, resting his forehead against theirs. "Its..not mine."

Finally opening his eyes, he sees that they are slowly putting things together.

"You've been killing?"

In that moment he breaks.

Legs giving out, now kneeling on the floor as he wraps his arms around their waist, hiding his face against their stomach.

"I did it for you!", he sobs. "I couldn't bear the though of losing you!"

The beating of his heart is frantic. It feels as if it'll burst at any minute. He doesn't notice that they've placed their hands on him, one on his shoulder and the other on the back of his head.

"You love taking walks in those woods, what if one of them got you? I'm terrified of getting a call from the police station and they say that you've been the latest victim! I had to do something, those damn pigs barely get the job done.", he rushes out, gasping a bit as he takes in some air.

Their breathing is the only thing they hear from each other.

"We're supposed to get married soon.", he finishes off quietly.

Feeling her start to move away, he begins apologizing. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't leave me, please!"

Instead of leaving, they kneel down with him and hold his face in their hands, shushing him softly to calm him down.

"Alastor. I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving.", they whisper, using their thumbs to wipe away his tears. "Come on, stop crying honey."

It takes a moment for him to calm down and she pulls him into a hug.

"Thank you for telling me."

"You're not scared? Disgusted?", he asks, holding onto them tightly.

"I could never find you disgusting. Yes, its a little scary but you're doing more justice than the system.", they say and pull back slightly, giving him a small smile. "I'll always be on your side, even as the world caves in."

I don't deserve you.

He thinks as he stares at them in awe.

"I love you."

Finding his voice again, he quickly repeats what they've said.

"I love you. I love you, I love you.", he kisses them again and again, holding them closer. "I love you."

Alastor is so happy.

They didn't leave, they still love him, they aren't disgusted.

He's so relieved.

"You still need to make up for making me feel like shit though.", she says, causing him to chuckle.

"I'll make up for it, I promise."

Alastor really would do anything for them.

Even set the world on fire.

~

I heard the song during shuffle play and it was perfect for the title.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@i-heart-fictional-boys @naelys-the-aster @ducky-died-inside @stolas-thebirb @c4rved-pumpk1n @kiraisastay @scary-noodlesblog @willowaudreykeyes

I don't know if there's more 😅. I tried to find all of them.

ML Alastor🎙

[quinsixtridrupled-k]

On top of it all~

Trying to feel invincible~

(Yeah, oh, yeaaah, oh)

Dying on top of the world~

inside the walls of gold, outside of happiness

(it's all been a show, too late to confess)

no room for heart and soul, no room for innocence

i̸̯̚n̷̯͠n̸͓̓o̵̝̎c̵̘̀e̶̛̜n̵̳̆c̶̢͛ȩ̷̒

[myfandomprompts]

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟏)

Synopsis: You are a French girl that had the opportunity to teach in Manchester, and you had been lucky enough to be granted a bed at the Bennett’s place. As Europe is on the brink of war, you start to worry for your family back at home, and you are surprisingly consoled by the one man of the house you would never have thought capable of landing you an ear. It’s not that you like Tom, is it? Masterlist

Tags: fluff, angst, little slow burn, next part will include more tags (wink)

It was late, and you were in the Bennett’s living room, unable to sleep and because you didn’t want to bother Lois who was already sound asleep upstairs with your light, you had chosen to read on the couch, literature distracting you.

It has been three wonderful months in Manchester. The place was lovely, the people welcoming, the school you had begun to teach at everything you hoped for, and the Bennetts were absolutely adorable with you. Douglas was sweet, and had many stories to tell, Lois was kind and funny, and you two had got along pretty quickly. Even Tom, when he was around, was making efforts to be as delightful and troublesome as usual.

You had found the place by your connections, your brother playing in a band with a trumpeter named Eddie, whose wife happened to be Lois’s best friend. And now you were sharing the bedroom upstairs with her, having taken Tom’s bed as he now slept on the couch. He had not complained once about it.

The first time you met him, he had entered the house mere minutes after you had arrived, having just finished introducing yourself to his father and sister. You heard him before seeing him. “So, the reason I have to sleep on the couch from now has arrived, eh?”

His tone was playful, but you still felt guilty nonetheless as you turned around to see the infamous Tom, slightly blushing when you saw the tall blond-haired man in front of you, his blue eyes widening faintly as he met yours.

“Tom, be nice,” Lois had said. “This is Y/N.”

You had greeted him shyly, not sure how to act with him as you jokingly apologised for the loss of his bed, but his grin had just grown wider and he had chuckled.

“Christ, are they all this pretty in France? I should pay them a visit, I would be a very happy lad there.”

Douglas had sighed while Lois rolled her eyes, and you had not known how to react back then watching him laugh again before going upstairs with a wink to his sister, satisfied with the way your cheeks had turned pink.

But now that you had been his flirtatious self for over three months, you had grown used to his witty remarks and knew better than to take them seriously. You got along pretty well in fact. One day you had stumbled upon him in the kitchen as he played with a deck of cards, and had offered to teach you how to play. You had never seen someone as skilled with his hands as he was, and you wondered now if this particular talent had anything to do with the two weeks he had spent in prison lately. Regardless, you had spent a wonderful afternoon with him that day.

It was a stark contrast with your current situation, reading late and laying on the couch with the oil lamp as sole light, finding the activity the only efficient distraction from the thoughts that prevented you from sleeping at night. You were quite the anxious person, and since the news that Poland had surrendered and that Europe was on the brink of war, you had grown concerned for your family back in France. The word out was that Western Europe would be next and your family was living too close to the German border for you not to be concerned. The fact that you had not received any letters from any members of your family in a whole week did nothing to appease that worry. So instead of sleep, reading it was, and you were so focused on your book that you did not hear the front door open softly and you jumped when you saw a figure standing in the threshold of the living room.

“Mon Dieu… You scared me!” you gently scolded as you brought your hand to your chest, steadying your heartbeat.

“Sorry love, didn’t mean to,” came the quick response of Tom, fully dressed with his overcoat, his cheeks slightly pink from the cold he had just escaped from.

“Where do you come from this late?” you inquired, shivering as you felt the draught reach you as he took his coat off.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Are you still scrapping for metal, Tom? Can I finally have that tin man you’re building?” you teased as you echoed Lois, watching him as he made his way to the chair across from you, lazily dropping in it and lighting a cigarette between his lips.

“Lois talks too much,” he answered, smoke coming out of his mouth as he spoke. “And you won’t find me doing that again. Don’t plan on going back in a cell this soon.”

He winked at you, but the only thing now on your mind was what Douglas had announced to you this morning. “I heard… Conscientious objector, uh? Your father must be proud, you already have the genes for pacifism.”

“I doubt that. I’m not really into what he believes in so…” his voice was low, contemplative. “Sooner or later, I’ll still be a disappointment. No surprises there.”

“Don’t say that, I know he is proud of you. At least he is glad you’re not on the mend any more. Or in the army.”

“Yeah…I’m a real hero.”

You frowned, saddened by his words but you found nothing to say as he reached for the ashtray next to him. You hoped that one day the man before you would see his worth.

“So, can’t sleep?” he kept on, putting an end to the topic as you stared at the way the smoke passed his lips. “Why are you in the cold like that?”

“I just… thought I would have some reading done,” you half-lied, raising the book in your hands. “But don’t let me keep you from a good night’s sleep. You look like you need it.”

Tom’s demeanour shifted at that and a grin appeared on his lips, looking you over. “Well, I would, but since you’re sitting where I sleep…”

Your eyes widened as you suddenly remembered that he had taken the couch because of you. And now you robbed him of it as well. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that, I was just enjoying the living room... I’ll leave you be,” you said with slight embarrassment, closing your book and moving to get up.

“No, stay, you're warming up my bed so nicely already, you're not going to abandon me now, are you?" he teased, a sly smile on his lips as his face lit up. "There is enough space for both of us on this couch if we keep close."

The stern look you gave him at his inappropriate proposition amused him for a moment, but soon his anxious and serious expression returned, "No, honest, despite what you think I look like, I'm not tired. So stay. Please."

You hesitated, sensing that like you, he might use the company, but you still did not want to be a bother. He talked again before you could come to a decision.

“I know you read when you’re anxious, so tell me what’s bothering you. Why you can’t sleep.”

You were surprised for a second by the fact that he knew this about your personality, feeling something in your heart tingle as his blue eyes examined yours, waiting for your answer. "It’s nothing, it’s just, passing insomnia.”

He took another puff of smoke, not believing you for a second, “Worrying about your folks, are you?” he said as you lowered your gaze at your hands and nodded. You didn’t know Tom could be this perceptive, or that his eyes could have that softness you've never noticed before. “They’ll be fine. These Nazis won’t be able to do much if we have a say in it,” he stated, looking at how your pretty eyes had suddenly turned morose. 

He didn’t want that. “What if they do anyway? Look at Poland, we weren’t prepared and now here we are. They don’t look like they are gonna stop there. Finland is-”

“You listen to the wireless too much. It’s always bad news nowadays, no point in listening to it if it makes you sad.”

You gave him a sorry smile, internally touched at his simplistic way of seeing things. “Stop listening to the news won’t make Germany stop invading its neighbouring countries Tom,” you replied softly, trying to ignore the way your heart ached at the thought. “What has happened is already so horrifying, I can’t even begin to imagine what it would look like if they really go all the way through with it.”

You felt tears come at the rim of your eyes against your will as you let the words you dreaded to say come out loud. Your lack of sleep was making you prone to strong emotions, and you had kept them hidden for a little too long. “It’s just… so scary. What if I can’t go back, or something happens while I’m here? They feel so far away! What if I end up never seeing them again? What if I have made a mistake coming here?” you went on, voice cracking and barely holding your tears. 

Tom had straightened up on his chair. “Of course you’ll see them again,” he firmly said, but when he saw your teary eyes his voice turned soft, and he stood up at once. “Hey it’s alright. You’re alright love. C’me here.”

You watched him come over and sit beside you before wrapping an arm around your shoulder, pulling you gently against him. You blinked at his sudden display of affection but did nothing against it, leaning into him as he pulled you closer, allowing you to rest your head against his chest. You could hear his heartbeat, and you clung to the sound.

“Nothing will happen to them,” he whispered. “If they are half as smart as you are, nothing will get them. Trust me.”

His breath was tickling the side of your face as he talked. You giggled softly, now finding pathetic the way you had reacted due to your lack of sleep. “Thank you, Tom. You’re sweet when you want to,” you whispered, feeling your eyelids slowly flutter from the fatigue.

“I’m always sweet. You’re just not around often enough to witness it.”

“Then I am clearly missing out...”

Then it went dark, and you fell asleep in Tom’s arms. “Not as much as I am, Y/N.”

Tom watched you as your breathing became even, hand itching to prevent a strand of your hair from falling over your pretty face. Had it been anyone else, he would have woken you up and made you go to bed to be more comfortable, but as the minutes passed, he gradually abandoned the idea of moving even an inch as you felt amazingly warm over him. He gently took your book away from your lap before putting the cover over your form and leaned back against the couch, finding a comfortable position of his own.

Your peaceful expression suited you, he thought.

Sunlight filtered through the windows directly into your eyes, and you blinked yourself awake, the smell of smoke and sandalwood tickling your nose. It was nice, but as you realised from where, or from who it came from. Your face was resting against Tom, his chest rising up and down softly as he breathed and you straightened at once, the motion making him shift and blink in turn beneath you. You stayed still while you forced your memories from the previous night to come back. Tom lazily stretched his arm over him before dozing into sleep again. Oh no no no.

“Réveille-toi espèce de-” you scolded, hitting him on the shoulder to urge him awake. “Why didn’t you wake me up! We would both have been better off in our own beds!”

“Hey, easy!” he protested with a giggle, now fully awake and trying to take a hold of your wrists to stop you from punching him. “You’re the one that fell asleep on me, in my bed, and I’m not the one complaining here, love!”

His amused expression annoyed you more than it should have and you cursed in frustration, realising that you had to get ready for work very soon. You were glad that neither Douglas or Lois had woken up early to see you like that.

“If I’m late for school, it’s on you,” you warned, getting rid of the covers he had apparently put over you during the night and pointing an accusing finger at him, standing up to walk upstairs.

“What, I don’t even get a cup of tea as a reward for being your pillow? I clearly deserve it,” he taunted, taking his jumper off and looking at you expectantly.

You sighed, “Fine. But stop guilt trapping me. You still should have woken me up, I’m sure your muscles are killing you right now. No, I hope they are."

“My muscles are fine, thank you. And I would never have dared to wake you up, you seemed so relaxed in my arms, I didn’t want to ruin it for you.”

His grin was enticing but you escaped it by fleeing into the kitchen and processing to make you and him some tea, taking care in adding milk, a thing you had learned British people liked, and you brought one of the hot cups back to him. He was now comfortably laying under the covers, ready to fall asleep again, but he straightened up to take the beverage from your hands, satisfied with the way your nose flared in frustration. But even though you seemed vexed, it did not reflect your thoughts in the least

“Thank you. For listening to me last night.”

Your words made him arch his brow in surprise but his sweet smile quickly came back as he sipped his drink happily. “Anything, Y/N.”

You gave him a half a grateful smile in response before turning on your heels, heading upstairs to ready yourself for the day. Tom smiled at the way the covers were now infused with your scent, and he was glad to fall back to sleep in it.

It was your turn to buy groceries, and you had taken your time in the market today, strolling through products before heading back to the Bennett’s.

Nearing the back door, you were put face to face with a furious looking Tom, storming out of the kitchen and almost bumping into you as you set down your bike against the wall of the small alley. He barely apologised and disappeared into the street. You stayed stunned by the encounter for a moment before cautiously making your entrance in the house where Douglas was sitting at the table, a dismayed expression on his face while Lois was ironing.

“What was that?” you asked, looking between the two. They looked at each other before Douglas spoke.

“Tom enrolled in the Navy.”

You dropped your bags of groceries on the floor. “The Navy? But… what about civil work?” you asked, stupefied.

“Yeah… He is not doing that any more. He changed his mind.”

You glanced at Lois who gave you a sorry look. No wonder Tom looked so upset and Douglas so sullen. “I’ll… find him.”

It had not been very difficult to find Tom. You had strolled around the neighbourhood before deciding to head to the local pub, almost certain that you would find him there. And it did not fail.

As you entered, immediately noticing his back turned to you, elbows on the counter at the front. You made your way to him across the crowd and settled yourself beside him, looking at his now almost empty glass of beer.

“Can I please have the same thing but smaller?” you called out to the barman, making Tom acknowledge your presence for the first time. 

He examined you briefly before reporting his gaze on his glass. “Did Lois send you?”

You shook your head. “No, I came on my own. You should not be alone.”

He nodded, taking his glass of beer and emptying it in one gulp.

“So… the Navy, uh?” you tried.

He licked his lips and proceeded to play with the edge of his now empty glass, jaw clenching a bit. “What, are you gonna tell me I made the wrong choice too? Didn’t know you were this much into pacifism. With your folks and all.”

“No, it’s not like that Tom, it’s just a little difficult for your father at the moment. I don’t want you to leave, but it does not mean that I don’t understand your choices.”

His eyes shot up at you as you were handed your drink, not noticing how Tom didn’t draw his gaze away from you as you ingested the cold liquid, warming your throat in the process. When you put down your glass, Tom was still looking at you, a triumphant grin on his face.

“My my, are you saying that you’ll miss me or do my ears deceive me tonight?”

You blushed, opening your mouth to try to think of a witty response. You found none. “Just… Be serious for a minute and listen to what I have to say,” you managed, and he groaned in frustration, ordering another drink as you continued. “Your father loves you, that is why he is so upset. He just… doesn’t want his boy to go away. He lived it himself, he knows how it is, he is scared for you.”

He only made an annoyed sound as he took a sip of beer again, a defiant expression on his face. You try not to question why your eyes had been briefly drawn to his Adam's apple as he drank.

“If you leave things as they are with your father, you’ll regret it. I know you will,” you kept on, willing to not let his pride take the better of him. “When do you leave?”

“In a week,” he replied. “First to Liverpool for training and then off to wherever they send me.”

You bit your lips. You had not known Tom for very long, but you knew that it was unfair that he had to go. You were terrified that war would take away all that liveliness and light he carried around. You liked that about him, even though you didn’t show it.

“At least you’ll get to travel,” you shrugged jokingly, but your heart was not in it. Tom however, seemed to find his humour back.

“That’s true. Maybe to France, who knows? Always dreamed to see if they are all like you there, or if you're some miraculous exception. I hope they are not as serious as you, though, I would be very disappointed.”

You let out a fake scandalised sound. “Me, serio-! That’s not very nice of you to say, Mr. Bennett! I have my moments.”

“What, is the demoiselle jealous?” he smiled, leaning closer, and you could smell the same scent you had woken to several mornings ago in the living room, but this time mixed with the smell of beer.

“No, you’re just being rude,” you replied, forgetting to move away from his ever-closing face. “And your charming smile won’t be able to get you out of my wrath if you keep depreciating me like that.”

He arched a brow, and you knew you had made a mistake. “Charming smile? Well, that’s a first. But do go on, what else do you find charming about me?”

You scoffed, unable to stop the blush from creeping onto your cheeks and chose to hide behind your drink as you took a long sip.

“C’mon, I’ll even let you say it in French, if that’s easier for you,” he pleaded, eyes glittering in mischief as he leaned closer to your ear. “I like when you speak French.”

“Tu peux toujours courir, mon beau,” you said, shaking your head with a smile. You can forget about it, handsome.

“Mhh… What does that mean?”

“It means that you, sir, have drank too fast, and that you should stop there,” you replied, ignoring the way he was now looking at your lips as they moved. “I won’t say anything, but please remember what I said. Don’t avoid your father, don’t make that mistake. Oh, and don’t come home too late," you said, dropping a few pounds on the counter.

“You’re leaving me already? It was just starting to get interesting.”

You could not repress a smile as you internally agreed. “I’m hungry, and I am cooking tonight. Maybe if you behave, I will leave some for you.”

And you turned your heels, letting him there with a lost expression as you made your way to the door, satisfied and your body a little bit too warm. Mere metres from the exit, however, you collided with someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, I wasn’t paying attention,” you apologised, even though it was him that had not been paying any attention to his surroundings as he was talking to his group of friends.

The man turned with an annoyed expression on his face at first, but it quickly disappeared to be replaced by a cheeky smile at your sight, “No to worry miss, no harm done,” he reassured you, touching your arm in a playful manner. “Where are you from? Don’t recognise your accent.”

“Oh, I’m from France. I… didn’t know it was that obvious,” you confess, uneasy at his sudden interest and secretly wishing that you were already on your way home.

“Nah, I just have an ear for it. Staying long?”

“I work here actually. School.”

“Wonderful, it means that we will cross paths again, won’t we? I believe in fate you see, not a coincidence we met like this hon’,” he said, leaning in closer and making you take a few steps back.

You knew it had been no coincidence when his arm collided with yours harshly a minute ago, just plain inattention on his part. Your desire to escape him grew wider by the minute. “Uh, I guess we’ll see about that,” you said, trying to give him a genuine smile. “Now I’m sorry but I must go. Maybe next time!”

The tall man nodded, and you now noticed how gruff he looked. “Alrigh’, to next time then, dove.”

You shyly smiled at him before hastily opening the door and exit the pub, the cold attacking your already shivering skin.

“I work here actually. School.”

“Wonderful, it means that we will cross paths again, won’t we? I believe in fate you see, not a coincidence we met like this hon.”

Tom’s gaze had not left you for a second as he watched you leave, seeing you struggle to reach the entrance of the pub across the crowded place, and he did not miss the way you collided with loud guy either.

The man was a regular named Larry, but Tom usually called him ‘the loud guy’ as he never seemed to ever shut up. The fact was, that lad had already challenged Tom's nerves a couple of times, and his legs were now making their way to the two of you on their own. He had only heard the end of your conversation before he could get close and as you left, reassuring him, Tom was about to make his way back to the counter when he heard Larry’s boisterous voice.

“Pretty this one, and a teacher at that. She could teach me whatever she wants any time, eh?” he said to his red-haired friend next to him. “I’ll bet you she touched me on purpose, the naughty thing. She must get laid pretty easily.”

He then proceeded to have the fattest laugh Tom had ever heard, his friend on the other side only giving him an unimpressed glance, and Tom felt his blood boil.

“You want to repeat that, mate?” he defiantly said, staring straight at Larry who froze and turned at his voice.

“Repeat what? Don’t you know it’s rude to listen to other people’s conversations?”

“Well you’re not really whispering there, are ya? You wouldn’t be able to have a private conversation even if you wanted to, with your ugly mouth of yours. Or do you lack the brains to understand that?”

You were right. Maybe he had drank too fast, and maybe although he was as tall as Larry, the fact that he was twice his size did not bode well for him. But he was very crossed right now, and it wasn’t the first time he had got himself into a situation like this one. He could take it.

“Watch it lad, wouldn’t want to damage your pretty face, don’t think your mum would be happy about it, yeah? Now piss off.”

“Big words for someone who talks about women like that. Did your mum forget to teach you some manners?”

Larry’s expression turned dark. “So that’s about the French lass, huh? Frustrated she took interest in a man rather than a boy like you? You wanted a taste, am I right? Well too bad. Let the big men play and piss off.”

Tom didn’t know why this particular sentence had infuriated him that much but it did, and the next moment his fist had landed on Larry’s face, making him reel backward and growl as his nose started to bleed. Rage took him and he punched Tom back in the stomach, making him huff and gasp for air as people started to yell around them, rushing to stop the fight.

“Stop this! Or take it outside!” yelled the barman as someone held Tom back, preventing him from punching loud guy again.

“Gladly,” sneered Tom, but Larry’s friend had another opinion.

“It’s not worth it. C’mon Larry move. I said move,” he insisted, pushing his nose-bleeding mate out of the pub. Tom had tried to follow them, still enraged but the hands retaining him did not let him go until the two men had disappeared into the night.

“You’re alright lad?” asked a man to his right.

“I’m fine,” he growled, shaking the pain from his hand and feeling his torso aflame by the blow he had received.

He didn’t know why he had reacted like that, but as he returned to the counter, he had definitely sobered up.

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

Part 2

[fandomsaligninstories]

Then I Met You

Description: Violet Ellis is about to have her whole life change in ways she never could have predicted. A story of love, loss, anger, and magic. If you had told 10 year old Violet that she was a witch, she would have laughed. And if you told her that her entire life was a lie? Well, she wouldn’t have believed you. But 15 year old Violet? She doesn't know who to trust or who is on her side. Except for him.

Song Rec.: Violet and Draco's Playlist

TW: Angst, Big Emotions™️, death, abandonment (of child), illegitimate child, mentions of war and death eaters. Bullying (from slytherins). Slowburn. I’m not British, so forgive me if I completely butcher this… If I missed anything, let me know.

Other: Slowburn romance, sort of fast-paced story.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x OC

TAG LIST: OPEN

WC:

Alternative Reading: Wattpad , Ao3

Status: On-Going

Chapters:

Year One: The Hogwarts Express

Year One: The Welcome Feast

Year One: Day One

Year One: Day Three

Year One: Halloween

Year One: Lamest Quidditch Match Ever

Year One: The Hufflepuff Entourage

Year One: End of Year

Year Two: Flourish and Botts

Year Two: Return to Hogwarts

Year Two: Boy Trouble

Year Two: Gilderoy Lockhart

Year Two: Slytherins Prank First-Years

Year Two: More Boy Trouble

Year Two: Jealousy, Jealousy

Year Two: The Chamber of Secrets

Year Two: Astronomy

Year Two: Astronomy Part 2

Year Two: Rogue Bludger

Year Two: A Bit of Draco

Year Two: A Touch of Kindness

Year Two: Jade(d)

Year Two: A Friends Breaking Point

Year Two: Sick Day

Year Two: The Dueling Club

Year Two: Parseltongue

Year Two: Polyjuice Potion

Year Two: Valentine's Day

Year Two: Secret Admirer

Year Two: Another Attack

Year Two: Just Another Monday

Year Two:

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Flesh and Blood

Part 1: The final jousts

Pairing: Prince Aemon the Dragonknight x Fem. Reader (Northerner /House Stark | Third Person POV)

Themes: Angst

Warnings: Mentions of prior sexual activity |Emotional neglect | References to canon Targcestuous marriages (Daena and Baelor) | The supposed “relationship” between Aemon and Naerys. 

Word count: 3.5k words

Summary: The marriage between the Dragonknight and his Stark wife was one of duty, despite his wife’s desire for something more. Things come to a head on the last day of the jousts.

Author’s notes: This is an AU version, but within the same timeline. In this story, Baelor is still king, but Aemon is not a member of the Kingsguard. This story takes place after Baelor is crowned king, sometime during 163 AC. Unfortunately I couldn’t find anything pertaining to the season during this time period, so I decided to go ahead and write all of this taking place during the height of summer.

Minors DNI

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

A maid held up the gown for her to see. "Tis a fine thing, m’lady," Melara carefully laid it on the bed. "Perfect for a Targaryen princess."

Y/n sighed. She was not a Targaryen princess. She was a daughter of the North and a Stark, no less. Hers were the colors of the harsh winters that ravaged the land and the direwolves that lived in the forests. She was the blood of the first men, and here, in Kings Landing, she felt like she did not belong.

Still, she could not deny that the dress was exquisite. It was one of several that had been made before she left the North for her wedding. A silky confection of deep crimson with hints of black was sewn onto a bronze collar that sat around her throat, leaving her shoulders and arms bare. A belt of bronze medallions was cinched at the waist. Y/n had risen just before dawn to bathe and fix her hair, as her attendance at the tourney was expected. She did not want to go. To go meant to see her new husband, Aemon Targaryen. He was a prince of the realm, a warrior dubbed the Dragonknight, and her husband for almost half a year. A pious man, he was a faithful husband and nothing more than that. As soon as he did his duty, he would leave for his own chambers without so much as a goodnight. During the day, he would spend his time sparring with the other knights. When he was not sparring, he was in the Sept, praying. On other occasions, he would be in his sister’s company. Y/n considered herself fortunate that her husband came to her at night.

Oh, he was gentle; she was willing to concede that. Aemon was gentle, but his embraces were brief and left her wanting. The one time she talked to him about it and told him it was not enough and that she yearned for more warmth, he looked at her like she had uttered the vilest thing ever.

"Warmth leads to desire, and then lust. And lust is sin," he said, his look so cold it chilled her to the bone. "Never ask such a thing of me, my lady. I will not agree to it."

Y/n did not broach the matter after that and had to be content with his occasional visits at night and his indifference in the morn. And it stung. Oh, how it stung. Being ignored stung. Having to play last fiddle to everything else in the prince’s life stung. Watching him run after his sister while she was left alone, stung. Y/n loathed that most of all, having to watch Aemon willingly seek out his sister’s company and never hers. Y/n was exposed to the pitying looks and gossip of those at court. A Stark wife who cannot satisfy her husband, they said. She is probably as cold as ice, they said. Unworthy for the Dragonknight, they said. She endured still, thinking that if she was a dutiful wife, then her husband was sure to find something about her that appealed to his heart.

"M’lady?" Melara brought out a selection of shoes for her to choose from. "Which ones?"

Y/n gave herself a quick shake of the head and chose. "The black ones," she said, pointing to a pair of doeskin slippers. The shoes were soft and comfortable. Even the headdress, one made by her mother’s hands no less, felt light. Made of stiffened leather and red damask, it sat over her braided and coiled hair like a halo. Black embroidery was its only adornment, but she was grateful for it. Others would come dressed in their finery, and y/n wanted to do the same. Today was the final day of the jousts, and she had to look her best. When a squire came to tell her the carriage was ready, y/n glanced at a silvered-looking glass, and approved of what she saw. She took the squire's hand and walked out.

Y/n looked around while she walked through lofty halls and incense-filled corridors. The Targaryen tapestries were all gone, as were the sculptures. No more Sphynxes. No more depictions of men and women cleaving to each other in various intimate ways. The skulls of long dead Targaryen dragons had been moved to unsused cellars, the candles lit in their honor snuffed out. Even the columns had not been spared. All scenes of Valyria, its conquests and victories, its gods and heroes, had been replaced by vines, flowers, and images of the Seven. Baelor, in his religious zeal, seemed determined to erase many parts of his family’s heritage, thinking they would all lead to sin. It made y/n ill. A king governed by fanatical piety was just as dangerous as an undisciplined king who was all too mercurial, greedy, and cruel.

At least Viserys has some influence over Baelor, unlike his son, she mused. But how long will it last?

It was a thought that kept her occupied until she was seated comfortably inside her carriage. Y/n looked out a window as it made its way through the winding streets of Kings Landing. The world was covered in a sunny haze when she peered through the sheer white curtains. There were plums, oranges, and peaches sold everywhere. Traders sold dried dragon peppers and olives from Dorne, and costly spices from the Summer Isles. The air was rich with the smell of flowers, perfume, and summer wine. In the distance, she watched a group of novice Septons walking single file, their faces concealed by black hoods. In another corner, mummers performed for a group of children while their parents watched over them. Most were hurrying toward the tourney grounds, and y/n could feel the excitement in the air. It was the day of the final tilts, with Aegon and Aemon among the remaining jousters.

There was even more cause for excitement. The queen and her sisters had been released from the Maidenvault. Baelor was told to do his duty or risk Aegon sitting on the Iron Throne. 

"Prince Viserys had painted the most frightful picture one night over supper," Melara had gossiped while helping her dress. "I hear the king went pale as milk after his uncle had finished speaking. Even the High Septon had agreed and urged the king to do his duty. Now the king has no choice but to close his eyes and think of Westeros. Prince Aegon flew into a black rage when they told him. His chambers are a ruined heap. He now has to sleep in his wife's bed. Gretchen said the prince and his wife are both miserable with their new sleeping arrangements."

Y/n tittered, half wishing she could have been there to witness it. She looked out again when the carriage lurched and stopped. They had reached the tourney grounds. There were silk pennants and flags and tents everywhere. She recognized many of the coats of arms, including the Sun and Spear of House Martel. It did not surprise her. The tourney was in honour of a peace treaty with Dorne, after all.

“The Dornish are finally here,” said the page who helped her out of the carraige. “And we have to be ready with the Gold Cloaks and an army of maesters, curse our luck.”

Y/n gave him a measured look. "It will not be that bad."

"That is what they all think," the page sighed, and led her to her seat. "Till some Dornishman loses his temper."

"Spoken like someone who has never traveled to the North." A smile broke across y/n’s face. She reached into a little silk purse hanging around her wrist and pulled out a few copper stars. "Go on. I can find my way from here."

The page eagerly pocketed the stars before flashing a gap-toothed grin and running off. Y/n looked around once more. The Dornish were everywhere, their linen robes distinguishing them from the others. The gold cloaks were everywhere, too. Amongst the crowd, near the lists, moving about the grounds. The Kingsguard was here, as were many guardsmen. Of knights, there were plenty, but only six had progressed to the final tilts.

"Y/n!" a familiar voice called out to her. "Cousin! Over here!"

Her smile grew wider. "Uther!" She went over to her cousin. "What time did you arrive in the city?"

Uther made room for her and grinned. "Last night. I would have called on you had I not had a terrible need for sleep."

"I received your mother’s letter." Y/n smoothed her skirt and sat by him. "Are you really going to take part in the melee?"

"I am." Uther flashed another grin, one that was known to charm even the most stubborn of maidens. At ten and nine, he stood well over six feet tall and towered over many. All lean muscle, Uther was dark-haired and darker-eyed, with skin that reminded her of the tawny stones that made up the city walls. "Mother disapproves. Father told me to do it. He thinks it might be good for me."

Y/n looked around the seats and realized with a start that very few Northerners were there. "Where are your mother and father? Are Lord and Lady Cerwyn here?"

"Father had to stay back to aid your grandfather. Visitors from Skagos." Uther helped himself to the refreshments being served to those in the royal box. He picked up a meat pie and bit into it. "Mother is here. She took the other children to the square to watch a firemage from Qarth. She will come on the morrow to watch the melee."

Y/n made herself comfortable. "And how are you, cousin?" Uther studied her with a critical eye. "How do you find life as the Dragonknight’s wife?"

"He is a good husband," Y/n said quickly enough. Despite his charm and easy smiles, Uther was quick to anger. She could already picture him charging up to Aemon and challenging him. "And life is wonderful here. I have no cause for complaint."

Uther seemed to accept her answer. A round of trumpets sounded, and the Master of Revelries stepped out into the middle of the field. He announced the arrival of the queen and her sisters. A hush fell over the entire gallery, and everyone rose as one. First came Queen Daena, then her sisters, according to their ages. The queen was garbed in black silks, her three-headed dragon pendant sitting prettily on a gold necklace. A tiara of Valyrian steel and a rare dragon’s eye opal, one the size of a robin’s egg, sat amidst silver-gold hair. Daena was just as beautiful as the singers said. Her younger sister, Rhaena, was just as lovely as her but had a timid look in her eye. The last to follow was Elaena. Her short hair gave her an austere beauty, but what caught y/n’s eye was the queen. Daena was escorted to her seat by the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and she smiled up at him. Her smile never reached her eyes. They smoldered with resentment instead.  

She is angry about being confined to the Maidenvault. They all are. Y/n stood with the rest and only sat back down after the queen and her sisters did so. The Lord Commander made his excuses, as he had to equip himself for the lists. After staying away for most of the tourney, Naerys came at last. A frail-looking thing, she made her way to the other end of the royal box and kept to herself. When The Master of Revelries came forward again, it was to announce the knights that would be jousting for the last time. They all rode past the royal box first out of respect for the queen.

First came Lord Commander Hardyng, a giant of a man known to all as "Longshanks." An enameled pin of red and white diamonds added a dash of color against the chilly white of his armor. Next came a hedge knight from the Reach, Jasper of Tumbleton. Then came two knights of the Vale. All of them then turned their attention to the final two contenders. 

Aegon and Aemon Targaryen. Brothers by blood, yet so different from each other. One was disciplined and pious. The other was given to wanton excess, and it showed. Aegon’s handsome looks were slowly fading away. Dark circles had already formed under his eyes. A beard hid the beginnings of a double chin. Still, he had not lost touch with the lance and could still defeat his brother. Wagers had already started. One lord promised a hundred gold dragons if Aegon emerged the victor. A lady threw in her gold and sapphire ring, saying Aemon would win. Another lord, a Dornishman this time, backed Aemon as well and promised his own horse, one of the fabled sand steeds of Dorne. Trumpets sounded again, and all talk ceased. The final tilts were about to commence.

Y/n watched it all unfold before her. Horses tore up the earth as they rode down the lists. Ser Jasper surprised everyone by easily unhorsing Lord Hardyng, hitting him with such force that he fell to the ground with a clangor. When the dust cleared, shocked silence turned into sighs of relief when Lord Hardyng rose to his feet, shaken but unharmed. Relief quickly turned into laughter. Hardyng could not remove his helm, which was now a twisted ruin.

"At least it is just his helm that is a ruin," Uther mumbled when a page ran over to escort the Lord Commander to a smith. "And not his face."

Y/n agreed but applauded Ser Jasper’s victory all the same. The tilts continued. Horses rode down the lists, and lances met steel, only to shatter into tiny pieces. It continued until only four contenders remained: a knight of the Vale, Ser Jasper, Aegon Targaryen, and his brother, Aemon. When the Master of Revelries announced the brothers would ride against each other, everyone watched with bated breath. This was the match they were all waiting for.

Both princes took their positions. Their horses pawed at the earth, and their lances were at the ready. When the trumpets sounded, the entire gallery went silent again. Both rode brilliantly, matching each other blow for blow and edging towards a draw. Aemon proved to be the better jouster, unhorsing his brother and earning himself a hard-won victory. Aegon kicked at the dirt and let out a round of choice epithets. His wife, a daughter of Lord Tyrell, winced. The gallery erupted into roars and cheers. Several people grew a little richer from their wagers, while others grew a little poorer. Aemon rode towards the box, and the y/n fished around her purse for the ribbon to be given as a favor. The tourney had gone on for two days already, and Aemon never asked for her favour. Today was going to be it.

Except, Aemon never asked her. He rode towards the far end of the box, straight to his sister, seemingly ignorant of the stunned looks he received. Y/n felt someone reach over and take her hand, squeezing it gently. It was her cousin. The queen and her sisters turned back to look at her when a lady whispered something to them. There was pity in their eyes. She did not want it. She did not want their sympathy either. She heard the hushed whispers and saw the smirks. Her eyes started to sting.

 Aemon never cared for her, not in the slightest. Her marriage would never amount to anything but a match of political convenience. It was plain as day now. There would be no warmth, no affection. Only duty, a cold bed, and a husband that did not want her. The whispers grew louder. She had to leave, lest her tears come unbidden. "I cannot stay here," she said far too softly.

Uther did not say a word. He rose and took her hand, shooting icy glares at anyone who dared look at her. Y/n fought to keep her composure. She held her head high, even as the tears threatened to fall. Y/n barely felt Uther's hand around her arm, keeping her steady whenever she nearly stumbled more than once in her haste to leave. Someone called out to her. She turned a deaf ear to it and continued walking, not stopping until she felt soil and grass beneath her feet.

Uther called out to her coachman. "Do you want to return to the Red Keep?" he asked. "Or would you like to come with me and stay with us? Our house is outside the city, by the beach."

Outside the city. Away from everyone. A chance away from him, if only for a moment. Y/n took the offer with eager hands. "Take me to your home. Please."

Someone called out to her again. Y/n recognized who it was. Uther did so too. "Keep walking," he urged. "The carriage is not that far away."

Y/n picked up her feet when she heard her name being called out repeatedly. Then came the order. "Stop! Stop in the name of the crown!"

"Damn it," she muttered. Uther let go of her arm and reached for his sword. "No," she said. "Attacking a prince of the realm is treason. Stay your hand."

Uther muttered under his breath but heeded her words. He stood close to his cousin, his lips curling in distaste when Aemon drew near. 

"Leaving so soon?" Aemon walked up to them both and stopped. He was still in his armor, his helm in the crook of one arm. Y/n studied her husband. He was tall. Not as tall as her cousin, but tall all the same. And so handsome. Aemon was what every maiden fantasized about in a knight and a prince of the realm. Today his silver-gold hair hair had been pulled into a single braid. His eyes gleamed like amethysts in the sunlight. "May I ask why?"

"My presence was clearly not wanted." Y/n straightened her spine and looked her husband in the eye. "You made it plain to everyone in there."

Aemon looked shocked. "What?"

"I have been coming to the tourney for two days and not once did you ever ask for my favour. Today you finally do. Only you ask for your sister's favor instead of mine." Y/n spat, anger rippling through her. She had taken on the faith of the Seven and allowed herself to be anointed by the seven oils to please him. She went to the Sept and prayed to his gods, forsaking the gods of her own people to please him. She tried speaking like a Southron lady and acting the way they did, thinking it would grab his attention. It was not enough. Nothing she did was enough. "Why would you do that, except to show everyone in the city that you want her and not me?" 

Aemon did not reply. He looked unsure of what to do or even say. And y/n was not finished. She silently endured it all for half a year, thinking everything would change and her patience would be rewarded. A few moments ago, it became clear that nothing would change. There would be no happy outcome for her, no reward, and she was done keeping silent.  

"And for all your talk of desire leading to lust and sin," She remembered what he said—that first and only time she asked for something more. "Well, you certainly fooled me. You do feel desire, only it is not for me."

"My lady," Aemon reached for her, his entire countenance softening. "You misconstrue my actions. There is nothing untoward between Naerys and myself. I…"

"You flee my presence the moment you have done your duty, like you cannot wait to get away from me." Her words came out in a tumble, but y/n did not care. She had to get it all out while she still had the chance. "During the day, you barely acknowledge me. You always seek Naery’s company while I have to make myself content for those few brief hours you come to me at night. I keep asking myself what it is about me that offends you so. So far, I have found no answer. There are times when I might spend an hour or even more in front of a looking glass, trying to find the corruption that you see, but up to now, I have found nothing. Perhaps you could show me instead?"

A hand—large and warm and callused by years of wielding a sword—reached up and cupped her cheek. Y/n sighed. How long she had ached for her husband to touch her like that, she could not say.

"My lady," Aemon inched closer. His voice was barely above a whisper. "I swear upon the Seven, there is nothing between Naerys and myself. I swear it." Y/n lifted her eyes. Her husband looked deeply troubled. She did not know what to make of it. "As for the other charges you have laid at my door… I… come with me. Come back to the Red Keep with me. We can talk about this."

"No," y/n pulled away from him, not wanting to hear another word of what he said. She had to get away from him before falling apart completely. People were starting to wander about, and y/n did not wish to subject herself to even more humiliation. "I do not want to talk to you, or even see you. Leave me be."

"My lady…" Aemond reached for her again. Uther was quick to stop him.

"Your lady said no." He helped y/n into the carriage first and got in after her. "Good fortune with the rest of the day, my prince." Uther shut the carriage door and gave directions to the coachman.

When the carriage started moving, y/n began to weep. Everything hurt. It hurt to even breathe. She rocked back and forth, her tears coursing down her cheeks unchecked. Uther held her, not knowing how else to comfort her. She wept angrily and bitterly. She wept over shattered dreams and crushed hopes. She wept until her body exhausted itself and went limp. When her cousin looked over, he found she had cried herself to sleep. 

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Not Yours, Never Was

Pairing: Tom Bennett x nameless female character (third person perspective) Warnings: Angst. Jealousy. Eventual smut. Word count: tbc

Summary: She's been friends with Tom since childhood. When he returns to Manchester, following his escape from France, they become something more. The problem with Tom is that he's never quite willing to define what "more" actually is. Based on this request.

Full fic coming later today. Teaser below the cut!

Tom rolls off of her, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, as he gasps for breath. One arm snakes around her shoulders as she cuddles against his chest, while the other reaches for his cigarettes on the bedside table.

She basks in the closeness, a satisfying ache between her thighs, knowing the moment is almost at its end. She listens to the click of the lighter, inhaling softly through her nose as a waft of smoke fills her nostrils with its familiar scent.

Then come the words she's been dreading.

"You should probably push off home, love, Lois will be back soon." Tom tells her, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

She nods, rising from the bed and beginning to dress. It's been this way ever since he came home.

Her and Tom had grown up living opposite each other on the same street. He'd teased her mercilessly, as boys will do to girls, but they'd always been friends. She'd felt sick with worry when he'd joined the navy, and her heart had broken when his father, Douglas, had told her he'd been reported as MIA in Dunkirk.

The day he'd returned to Castlefield had felt like a dream. He'd ducked in through the open back door while she was in the kitchen making tea and she'd dropped the teapot in shock when she caught sight of him. It had shattered on the tiled floor, but it didn't seem to matter, not when he stood there with that lopsided smirk of his plastered across his handsome face.

Wordlessly they'd closed the gap, kissing each other hungrily, silent outpourings of I missed you expressed with every tender touch and caress.

From that point onwards they had seized every opportunity to be together. On the nights that her dad was on late shifts at the factory, she'd leave the lamp on for Tom in her bedroom window, a signal that it was safe for him to come up; her mum had always been a sound sleeper. In turn, she'd go to his whenever Douglas and Lois weren't home.

She understood the need for privacy. Tom shared a room with his sister and she still lived with her parents, none of whom would appreciate them fornicating under the same roof. However, as the months had slipped by it occurred to her that her and Tom had never actually been on a proper date, let alone been seen in public together.

"You know, Tommy," She says, as she finishes buttoning her blouse. "There's a dance at the Wharf on Saturday, to celebrate the rest of the troops coming home."

"Yeah, I saw," He replies, rubbing his brow and taking another drag of his cigarette. "My old man brought a leaflet home from his rounds the other day."

"Thought it might be nice if we went together?" She offers with a bright smile.

Tom's eyebrows raise as his eyes widen, and he exhales smoke through his nose. "Oh, I dunno about that, love. Probably not a good idea."

She feels her heart lurch in her chest and quickly looks away, not wanting him to see how badly his words have affected her. "Right. Well, I'll see you around."

She rises from the bed, walking towards the door, and he calls after her.

"Oi! No goodbye kiss then?"

Her hand pauses on the doorknob and she responds without turning to look back at him. "Probably not a good idea."

[robbietheferal]

You haven’t been allowed to be human in a while, huh?(Part 2)

With the smell of warm soup and the cacti in front of their kitchen window, a very villainous plant might they add, Villain felt home. It was an unfamiliar feeling, one that engulfed them in a tight hug and didn’t let go. It was comfortable, warm and almost sickly sweet. 

It didn’t feel right, but at the same time it did. The feeling was weird, something Villain hadn’t felt in a long time. They supposed while yes, their other friends in crime did offer a great sense of support ; Villain didn’t remember the last time they felt something like this.

What they felt with Hero was simply special. Something their deceased mother would often tell Villain they would find someday. On one special day, they would meet someone who warm up their cold world like the sun. One day, the walls they had created around their heart would break, and the ice cold heart would melt like strawberry ice cream on a hot Summer day.

--------------->

Villain, at this point was in their late twenties, almost thirty. They had given up around the time they had turned twenty. Given up on finding that special someone. They had felt as though they had been created this way, in a way meant for loneliness and despair. Because that was what the world had shaped them into; loss after loss, despair after despair and an un-ending cycle of pain.

Villain had wished they could say that it all changed with Hero coming into their life but that was not the case. Sure; Hero had extended their hand and support to Villain when the pair first fought, but Villain hadn’t taken it then. They had been too deep in the dark thoughts clouding their head, that they had been too blind seen the sun near them. 

It had taken a while of going back and fourth and Hero saving them from many attempts for Villain to start trusting Hero and themselves again. It had taken serious mental help and tons of reassurance, but Hero had been with Villain every stage of the tough and grueling process.

And despite them being on opposing ends, Villain did the same for Hero.

They had their loneliness and a dark past in common. Even though Hero seemed like someone who had tons of friends and support around them, that was far from the truth. Hero was alone. Nobody would come to their aid if they were the one in danger, nobody would lend a shoulder for them to cry on and nobody would truly care if something happened to them.

Hero had grown up as a possession of The Organisation, a tool to be used and then discarded. It had happened to many orphaned children who possessed powerful abilities and Hero was no exception. They lacked a family, all there was of their childhood was countless memories of abuse, pain  and fear. So when they finally debuted as a public figure, Hero knew it would not get any better. They were well aware that things were now worse, because now their actions would have serious consequences. Because now they were in the public eye, their every move being judged and analyzed. And despite all the eyes on them, they lacked close and intimate relationships.

That didn’t change when they met Villain. Despite being a freshly debuted hero at the time , Hero had faced against many villains. And they were certain that Villain would not be any different. 

And at their first encounter, that was in fact the case. A simple chase where Hero had to secure an important file Villain had stolen. Hero had been successful at getting back the file, but they also had a little scuffle with Villain. A scuffle where Hero noticed that Villain was in a similar mental state as them. A state where they were hopeless, lonely. So Hero did the only thing they knew.

They tried to save Villain.

They extended a hand.

A hand that Villain rudely rejected and ran away. But Hero hadn’t missed the shocked look behind Villain’s masked face. They could only see their mouth and the raise of their eyebrows, but Hero knew.

They knew that expression. One of potential hope. They had been wishing to be able to plaster expression on their face for their whole life. For someone to save them.

So when they got to knew Villain more and more, as they were assigned Villain’s case, they felt less ..alone. Less like they were on their own, less like nobody would catch them if they were to fall and less like a trapped bird in a pretty but restrictive cage. 

--------------->

Villain heard a light groan from the couch in the living room. Leaving the warm cup of soap in the kitchen they immediately rushed to where Hero had seemingly awoken from their slumber. Arriving to their side, Villain took Hero in for a minute. One might even say they were admiring them.

Hero really was a sight for sore eyes. Beautiful in a way only Villain would understand, they looked like a painting even whilst in pain. Not that Villain had thought about them blushing in pain or anything, that certainly was not the case.

Just as they pushed that thought aside, Hero opened their closed eyelids and tried to adjust to the light coming from the lamp on the living room table. Seeing Hero’s struggle to open their eyes, Villain went to close the light. Allowing only the street lights and the moon light the otherwise darkened room.

With their eyes now adjusted to the amount of light in the room, Hero blinked a few times before turning their glance to the awkward Villain at their side. For a few seconds it was quiet in the apartment, just two opposites staring at each other in a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

When the gears in their head stopped turning and they reached the conclusion that they were in Villain’s apartment, were in new clothes and that they were not tied up by any means settled in, Hero bolted.

Or at least, attempted to. Hero’s limbs were uncooperative and they had not taken their bandaged stomach, the lack of food and water in their system and how fucking tired they were into consideration when they attempted to run; so they could barely sit up before groaning in pain.

“Easy, easy easy easy... Oh my god, you’re more stupid than I assumed. Lay back down you utter bafoon!”

Taking a few rapid breaths and calming down, Hero decided to coordinate with Villain’s advice/outburst, they laid back down on the couch. They admitted defeat and let out a shaky sigh before glancing at Villain, who had one hand on their forehead and one holding onto Hero’s forearm. They seemed..concerned. 

“Your temperature went down.. but you’re still shaking. Hmm.”

“Uh.. Villain..?”

Villain halted their checkup on Hero and looked them in the eyes. They met a look of confusion. And it dawned on Villain as to why Hero looked so sheepish.

Hero had no clue where they were and how they got there. From Hero’s perspective, Villain had kidnapped them and was going to do god knew what to them. Even though that was the farthest thing from the truth, Villain knew from experience that there was no stop to Hero’s spiraling thoughts.

Letting out a sigh of their own, Villain began to explain.

“Do you remember what happened yesterday? Maybe glimpses of our fight last night?”

Trying to remember what could have happened that led them to the current situation, Hero racked their brain for an answer. Slowly but surely, through their hazy and tired mind, memories of last night flooded in. They remembered how they broke down in Villain’s arms and then.. darkness.

“Uhhh after I told you about..that. I don’t remember what happened after? D-did I pass out?”

“Yes. You told me about your.. thoughts and how The Organization- oh sorry. I-I didn’t know if you wanted me to mention that.”

Villain felt as if they were walking on eggshells. Hero was the only person Villain was so gentle with. The only person Villain would hold until they no longer could. Sure, Villain was dumb as hell when it came to social cues, but even they knew that Hero was in a fragile state right now. One bad word and they would try to bolt once again and considering their ribs, that probably was a bad idea. 

Having sat up properly now, Hero avoided Villain’s gaze. They looked down at their hands that were covered in bandages, some had little cartoon characters on them. Despite having never seen any children’s cartoons growing up, they would see some kids dressed up as those characters when they would visit children’s hospitals. They always thought it was cute.

“No it’s okay. I’ll leave, I bothered you enough.”

“Hero.”

Hero halted, looked up at Villain. A second passed. Instead of the usually assertive gaze Villain gave them when they ordered Hero to do something; Villain’s gaze was pleading. Pleading for Hero to not stand up, to take a rest and to stop. To stop with their self destructive behavior and to take care of themself for once.

Kneeling on Hero’s side even more and getting into their eye-level, Villain spoke.

“Please, for once instead of pushing yourself until you literally pass out in someone’s arms; talk to me. I-I promise I will listen but please stop.. this. You’re going to get yourself killed o-or.. You’ll kill yourself at this rate. You don’t deserve this pain, you’re worth so, so much more than this.”

Hero could only look into Villain’s eyes, near their breaking point. What Villain was saying was the opposite of everything Hero had heard growing up, that little voice in their head telling them that No, Villain was lying. Nobody would say something that nice about you.

Noticing that Hero was drifting away again, Villain attempted to get a hold of Hero’s face in the most gentle way possible. Only for Hero to jerk back violently and putting their arms in front of their face, expecting violence. 

A pause.

Another pause.

Hero dared to look through their arms that shielded them, and saw only the warmth of Villain’s entire being. Their eyes looking at Hero’s shaking figure with only the purest and kindest gaze, their posture relaxed and non-threatening.

Villain looked.. kind.

In a way they never had been. Yeah sure, they had been getting along until that point, but Hero had never seen Villain be so openly vulnerable and sweet. Despite what they had been taught from a young age, it seemed like they deserved to be treated by hands that didn’t mean to harm them.

“I am not going to hurt you.”

“H-How can I believe that.”

Hero had taken their arms away from their face now but were still avoiding Villain’s gaze, opting to stare intently at their hands instead. At Hero’s response, Villain paused. They realized what they were dealing with. Hero’s wounds weren’t just physical, they were also emotional. They had no idea what Hero had been through, they had a rough idea due to the many other hero-turned-criminals they knew. 

“I know people have hurt you. The Organization- they.. put you through so much, haven’t they..?”

“I-I can’t do this anymore Villain. W-what I told you about last night, it’s true. I can’t keep fighting, a-and just being under all this pressure-”

Their voice hitched, unshed tears appearing at their eyes; Hero was shaking like a leaf. Villain put their remaining braincells together and just let Hero vent out their frustrations.

“..a-and I want t-to.. die.”

As if Villain’s heart couldn’t break anymore than it already had been before, the sight of Hero, just being so vulnerable was all it took.

“Okay..”

“W-what..?”

“If you don’t want to do this anymore, let me save you.”

“Villain wh-what are you saying..? You can’t just take me away to some kind of paradise, are you cra-”

“Yes. Yes I might have a few screws loose but I swear to whatever is up there, nothing will hurt you again if you just say the word.”

Hero didn’t even think about it for moment. They didn’t even have the energy to do so.

“Save me.. Villain.”

Villain’s sunken face turned into one of utter glee and proudness. 

“Yes, my love.”

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

~✨Request Rules✨~

Update: Requests OPEN 

Characters I write for:

Tom Bennett (WOF)

Michael Gavey (Saltburn)

Billy Washington (Trigger Point)

Ettore (High Life)

Aemond Targaryen (HOTD)

Daemon Targaryen (HOTD) sparingly

Rules:

Please refrain from sending plot-heavy requests. They’re extremely difficult to write and I just find I can’t put much creativity in them.

No specificities for the reader/female character of the story like disabilities/eye colour etc.

I am at my liberty to change certain details of requests if I feel they gel with the story better. 

If I don’t think the request suits the character, I may not take on the request.

Please be patient! I will be working on other things alongside requests.

Thank you all again 💕

[pluralprompts]

Prompt #1,000

The wind carried smoke – not thick enough to choke on, but thick enough to taste, and their pursuers were closing in fast on either side. It was only the presence of civilians ('Innocents,' System A thought to themselves, barely keeping their lip from curling) that kept them at bay, and even still, they were steadily making their way through the panicked crowd. It was clear that now was do or die. And System A wasn't about to die – not here and not today, at least.

Hero B made eye contact with them, and System A smiled.

(For a moment, they could see the shock in Hero B's eyes, the confusion, the fear, the lack of understanding that gave way to terror, because shouldn't they know System A better than they knew themself? Shouldn't they know why it was a smile and not a smirk? Shouldn't they be confident in their victory, when it was so, so close?

How predictable. How touching. How it tore at System A's heart to know that even when Hero B "knew System A better than they knew themself", they still wouldn't have chosen them, in the end.)

With one last salute to everything they knew, and ignoring the yells, screams, and Hero B sprinting towards them with an outstretched hand, System A stepped backwards off the bridge.

And fell right into the portal they'd been promised.

[helianskies]

For the Ask game! EngPort ~ 8!

why of course :)

8. what they argue about

firstly, we're dealing (at least i feel) with one person whose anger shows more readily than the other's. port is one for silent anger - silent rage. if he's angry with arthur, arthur won't know about it until the last second, when port can't take it (though sometimes his face alone is a dead giveaway about how he's feeling - it depends!). i don't think they argue back and forth often - at least, not often if port is the one who instigates an argument, because arthur is so taken aback, and he knows adding fuel to the fire will only make things worse. meanwhile, if arthur starts anything, port will take it as an open invitation should he have anything to 'contribute'. he tends to be more defensive and willing to retaliate compared to arthur.

that being said, i think arguments are rare. they might have smaller disputes over things like: arthur's poor choice of words meaning port takes offense, thinking he doesn't like the meal he's cooked; arthur confronting port about him not looking after himself and his non-chalance driving him insane; and who could forget the odd little bit of jealousy? it still stands that for port it all builds up. but things can get a bit ugly. for port it comes from insecurity - knowing there have been others in the past, and that it isn't beyond the realm of possibility that there could be others yet to come - but arthur may also tire of having to constantly reassure port he loves him, because he feels he shouldn't need to. so, yes. it can be ugly in that regard. i think their worst arguments would stem from this sort of thing. the only kind of argument that could put their relationship on the line.

with all of that in mind, i think they're relatively decent at conflict resolution in most situations. sometimes they need to get it all off their chests so that they can clear the air, and then try to sort things about between them more constructively. a cuddle wouldn't go amiss. a little cry. neither of them like to go to bed still giving each other the silent treatment, so... it's quite important to them to sort things out properly, neatly, and quickly. neither of them want to spent a night alone. should they have had an argument relating to jealousy, as aforementioned, then they'd need some time apart. and then they'd realise how much being apart hurts. and they'd try to get back on the same page so that they come back stronger.

[ ship ask game here! ]

[no-context-nonsense]

It's Saturday! Time to cry, bitches ❤️

[myfandomprompts]

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟗/𝟏𝟎)

Summary: There is little time left. Very little time. Previous Part - Masterlist

Warnings: angst, anti-Semitism French spoken -> italics

At first, it’s how Albert’s face seems to shut off each time your town’s name is seen on a sign at the side of the road, the mark that you’re getting closer to your destination. Then it’s how Tom looked like he wished for the earth to swallow him whole each time the bus station is mentioned, the place that will take you home.

It just seems so close now.

But there are good moments. At noon, when you find yourselves in the middle of nowhere with only the shade of the trees or a windmill to keep you cool, you all sit joyfully on the grass to eat what Charles and Germaine had generously given you; plenty of bread and ham to be able to walk without to a rumbling belly. It’s during those occasions that Tom never misses an opportunity to be next to you, the fact that you’ve taken to teaching him French seriously giving him a good reason to talk to you at length.

Not that he needed a good reason.

Everyone casually laughs at his attempts at pronunciation, each of them trying to participate and help where they can. But the truth is, he’d rather have you for himself, because he knew he could make you smile like he had never seen anyone else do, like nobody else could.

He wanted to be the only one.

“This isn’t even a word…”

“Yes it is!” you argued as you dropped your hand in defeat. “Poulailler is where the chickens go. Try it.”

He didn’t lose his teasing smile while he tried to pronounce it. “Yeah, still doesn’t sound right.”

“It wasn’t bad. La poule is the chicken, le poulailler is the chicken coop, it’s as simple as that.”

“And how do you say rooster, then?”

You stopped yourself from answering him at the last second, red staining your cheeks slightly. “Mh, that you don’t want to know.”

“Why?”

You contemplated his curious and enticing smile before a voice interrupted you and your thoughts. “Hey, Y/N, can you tell me on the map where the store you slept in was again? Looks like a good hiding place for future travellers, if the owners get on board.”

You nod quietly to Giulia before taking the map from her to examine it while you heard Tom fall back at your side, disappointed. The conversation didn’t stray from the different points Giulia could use for her route, mentioning Raymond, whom Charles had said he would convince, and Albert, who already saw himself as a ‘passeur’ near Poitiers.

Tom was bored again, and you felt guilt at the sight of his glum expression. But it all went away when he suddenly comfortably rested his head on your lap, closing his eyes and proceeded to take a nap there as if it was the most natural thing to do.

There was a brief silence, but the others quickly reconvened around the current subject while indescribable affection and fulfilment flooded through you. You didn’t notice Henriette's discreet smile, Giulia’s indifference or Albert’s flickering eyes as you fell behind the conversation completely, coming to run your fingers through his hair.

He didn’t open his eyes, but his lips stretched into a content smile. The soft satisfying sound he made when you grazed your nails over his scalp cheered you, and only you heard his quiet praises, telling you how nice it felt.

This is what he had been talking about, making every moment count. You would not allow yourself to think of the end.

You didn’t leave his side once as you hit the road again, walking next to each other, hands itching to reach to the other. It felt liberating, confusing, good. However, the more you advanced, the more your feet started to gradually drag on the pathways, reluctant. You wished you could stretch the journey at will, to go back in time or simply think of this journey as a nice trip in the countryside. Not a way to make it home, to send him home.

To put all of this behind you.

But reality struck you like a slap in the face when you approached the next town, quiet streets with bricked walls plastered with the new government’s posters, and below one of them, an old looking graffiti with a single blood-icing sentence.

“Les Juifs sont la cause de la guerre.”

You all glanced at it before lowering your gazes and hastening the pace, taking the direction of the inn you would spend the night in in tensed silence.

Tom lingered a moment longer, trying to decipher the words without success. He trotted behind you, brows furrowed at your sudden sour faces. “What’s written there?”

You rolled your tongue inside of your mouth, ill at ease. “Jews are the reason for the war.”

He stopped, face decomposing after your whispered translation before glancing around in worry. But he quickly caught up with you as you neared the café terrace where both regulars and travellers were enjoying a drink or a well-deserved meal.

You exhaled in relief as you entered, the coolness of the inside air much more bearable after your journey, and by the time you sat around a table and booked rooms at the counter, Tom had found his usual silent countenance again. You could see the irritation in his eyes and within his gestures as he now could not utter a word out loud without earning a dark glance from Giulia, not until you were in a less crowded place again. It saddened you too.

You had to snap your eyes away from the way his tongue wetted his lips before taking a sip of his drink in frustration when Albert dropped a heavy book in front of you. “Phone book. I need your help finding Aunt Marie. It won’t hurt telling the parents we’re on our way.”

You nod, more like a reflex than anything else before opening the pages filled with countless telephone numbers. Tom eyed each time you turned a page with a dark expression, jaw clenching, but you said nothing as you continued. His glass was emptied by the time Henriette had gone to freshen herself in the commons, your own tired gaze fixed on the digits before you.

You didn’t notice the three policemen enter at first, the usualness of their visit blending perfectly with the rest of the customers, until they approached a table that had been awfully quiet since you’d arrived. 

It was the entire room’s turn to fall in a tense silence. “Gutten Haben, Henrren.”

You lifted your head upon hearing the German words, not understanding why two French Policemen had suddenly switched languages. The one that had spoken was giving a sad look at the men seated for dinner, the two other policemen gauging the room warily.

“Uh… Gutten Haben, what can I… do for you?” one of the men asked in awful French, his thick German accent making the policemen smile briefly. Meanwhile, sweat was starting to form over the man’s forehead.

“Unfortunately, you’ll have to come with us. We’ve been told that you’re immigrants, German immigrants.”

The two Germanics exchanged frightened glances before gazing back at the rough-looking policeman. “But… We have papers, we obtained it from your government, months ago!”

The latter clicked his tongue, an uneasy scowl appearing on his features, as if he was trying to convince himself rather than them. “I’m afraid it won’t suffice. Our government has implemented new laws. You’re going home, I’m sorry.”

You heard murmurs around you, catching words like “ran away”, “Jewish” or “persecuted”. The next moment, Giulia was whispering in your ears. “Y/N, take Tom and go through the back entrance. If they are taking refugees, there is no say what they’ll do to a British soldier, and we can’t risk it. I’ll find Henriette.”

There was a strange state of purpose surpassing the brief panic that filled you before you took Tom’s hand softly under the table. He barely resisted when you led him away, heading to the back stairwell as the two Germans were taken out quietly out of the room and the two other policemen lingered around.

Tom didn’t say anything until you had reached a back alley with a slim stream coursing next to it. “What is it, what are we doing?”

You checked that the coast was clear before pulling him to a corner where no one would hear you. “I don’t… I don’t think this town is safe.”

“What are you talking about? I thought we’ve reached a ‘free’ place where they couldn’t chase us. Were they German folks?”

“I think they… I think they were Jewish refugees from Germany, yes,” you thought out loud, digging your teeth in your lower lip in anguish. “The Reich wants them back, for…”

“And what the hell has it gotta do with those French coppers?”

You knew how helpless you looked at that moment, how lost. “Because this is the new regime! Pétain will do anything Hitler asks of him, and there is no say where it’ll stop… You would be taken as a prisoner of war, you have no papers, you have nothing…” You bit your tongue darkly. “Somebody ratted out those Germans, that's how they knew.”

Tom parted his lips in exasperation before clenching his jaw hard. “Oh, that’s bloody brilliant.”

He leaned his head against the darkened wall, right next to a propaganda poster, Pétain looking down at you with high colours as if he could see you, hear you. 

You bit your nails, stressed. “But it won’t happen to you! You’ve got Giulia, you’ve got a safe route to Spain, and there are no Nazis on this side, it’ll be alright.”

“Once again, Y/N, you don’t know that. I’m the first wanker who is making sure that crossing will not get me killed. Not that I’ll care about making it now, anyway…”

Shock at his words made your breath momentarily get stuck in your throat. You lowered your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to keep a straight face.

But you tensed and didn’t even know where to look. 

He immediately realised what he had said, pushing himself off of the wall to make you look at him. “Shit, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean that.”

He wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on the top of your head as he held you close, making you go soft against him. “Why would you say that…”

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry,” he repeated against your hair. “I’m just bloody tired, and it’s like I can’t see past the moment when… when we…” A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Well, at least you won’t have to worry about me then.”

You detached your face from his chest, looking up at him with fierce damped eyes. “I’ll never stop worrying about you, Tom.”

You saw the lump in his throat disappear as he swallowed hard, glistening eyes fixed on you. You cupped his face with your hand, bringing him into a kiss that would make him understand, feel your need for him.

“You don’t get to give up, you hear me, Tom Bennett?”

He all but smiled, a ray of light in the dark. “You should know me by now, nothing can take me down, not even a bullet.”

You smiled in turn, trying not to leave his warmth as you kept your body close. “You know, I can’t help but think that… if you haven’t been shot, we might have never met again.”

You stared at each other while his thumb stroked your shoulders, lowering to your ribs, to your waist.

He took a deep breath. “Some might say it’s God’s plan and all. Either way, considering where I am now… I’d say it was worth it, this damn hell I've been through.”

He was drawing small circles against the curve of your waist, tickling your skin and you chuckled through the bitterness. “Always the charmer, are you?” 

“Well, yeah, that’s what I was known for back at home, wasn’t I? Gotta live up to the name.”

You hummed, coming to wrap your hands around his neck to stroke the soft hair there playfully. “That’s not exactly what I remember your reputation to be.” 

“Hm? Care to tell me, then?” he teased.

You faked hesitation, pressing your forehead against his to whisper. “Trouble maker… Loud-mouthed… Hot blooded?”

He pouted. “That… does not sound like me at all.”

His hidden laughter made you tilt your head to the side in refound glee. “Doesn’t it? I could have sworn it was you. Maybe I should look for another Tom?”

He instantly pressed his body harder against yours, familiar heat meeting your flesh. “Why would you do that when you have what’s best right there? Helpful, good-looking, amazing kisser…”

“Oh, really? I don’t remember hearing anything about that last part.”

“Odd, since you’re the one who told me, love,” he said with a grin as you arched an eyebrow over your forehead. "Through the pretty sounds you make, that look in your eyes when I touch you… I just can tell.”

You shook your head with a sigh to try to hide the blush that adorned your cheeks as he joined his lips with yours again. The touch sent chills down your spine and it suddenly made you feel far away from the inn, from any risks that could come your way.

“Are you Jewish?”

The small tone made you stop and snap your eyes open. A small child stood behind Tom, no more than eight, looking at the two of you with a paper plane in his hands, his expression flat.

You froze in Tom’s arms as you blinked, his head falling backwards in annoyance as you pulled away from him. “I, uhm… No? Why would you ask that, sweetheart?”

The child frowned at your confused tone. “Then, why are you hiding?”

You remained speechless at his question as Tom’s warning tone fanned in your left ear. “Y/N, if I turn around that lad is going to be traumatised. You should really make him go.”

You scowled at his complicit eyes as you tried not to feel his point. You detached yourself from him, making him sigh in frustration as you approached the boy gently. “We’re hiding because… we’re playing a game. Tom here was meant to find me, and he did. We were just discussing… game strategy. Where are your parents?”

The boy sniffed, an untrustworthy look fixed on you. “My father says that Jews are bad, that they’re everywhere and steal everything from us. That’s why the Germans want them.”

You tried not to appear too gobsmacked as you lowered yourself to him, a sour taste in your mouth. “You know… Maybe you shouldn’t listen to everything your father says, I can assure you they-”

Tom’s impatience was palpable behind you and when he called your name, the boy’s frown deepened, clutching his paper plane harder as he glanced between the two of you. “Maybe I should go and ask my father directly, he’ll know.”

“No, wait!” you tried, but he had already scattered toward the house right at the opposite side of the road, disappearing behind a fence.

Tom came to your level, seeing you heave with distress. “What was that?” 

“Not reassuring.”

You took his hand swiftly and dragged him along the stream in haste, wishing to put as much distance between you and the concerning neighbourhood before the boy could find you. Despite Tom’s hissed arguments as you kept walking, you only stopped when you reached the underside of a bridge, considering it far enough and feeling your slightly panicked heart settle.

“Are you giving me a tour?” he chuckled as he took in his surroundings. “It’s very pretty, I’ll give you that.”

It was. The bridge you had stopped under was small but big enough to hide you from anyone above. The evening light shone right on the stream below your feet and cast beams of light on the white stones. On the other side, a lone fisherman was laying his line in the calm waters, a bored eye lifted toward you as you turned to face Tom with a frustrated sigh.

“Darn this country. I’m sorry I dragged you here again, I just didn’t want to face people with problematic ideas. I didn’t want to get angry.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Does my girl get angry, really?”

“When people are stupid, yes!”

He chuckled as he pulled you away from under the bridge in order to walk along the stream, hand in hand. The grin he wore upon his lips was so endearing, as if he had no care in the world. "I’m afraid you’ll have to do an awful lot of fightin’, then.”

You exhaled as you pressed your thumb against the back of his hand, making him grin further. The night was setting quickly and already humidity was falling over your skin, eliciting goosebumps there.

“Do you even know how to get back?” he asked, looking around as you passed a small pier.

“Yeah, it’s somewhere… around there,” you gestured vaguely over your left to the path that led back on the road, hesitant. If truth was to be told, you were not in a hurry to get back, those moments with him seemed so precious to you.

Tom hummed, unconvinced but did not add anything else. As you went up the pathway, smells of dinners being cooked and playful screams of children reached you, and when you neared a small square further down the road, you heard the soft sound of a gramophone starting to play. Tom’s lips slowly curved upwards as he glanced over the high window where the music was coming from.

“What are you doing?” you asked when he turned around to face you, a playful glint in his eyes.

He didn’t answer, only brought you to a stop before taking one of your hands in his and putting the other on your waist. When the voice of Lys Gauty resounded, slow and beautiful along the violins, you felt yourself move in his embrace. 

You laugh softly, feeling silly at each of your steps. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

“I went to a few of Lois’ gigs,” he said with a snidely. “I observed.”

“I’ve never seen you attend one…”

You saw his expression drop as you kept moved in rhythm. “Yeah, well, once I went there, knowing you would be there but when I arrived, you were dancing with some bloke and… I didn’t feel like staying.”

You watched his long eyelashes flutter, the skin under his eyes turning reddish as he fled your gaze. He was beautiful.

But you couldn’t help but tease him. “I remember. He was quite nice, offered me a drink afterwards…”

“Yeah, I don’t want to hear about it, really.”

You smiled tenderly, bringing a hand you wanted apologetic closer to his face. “He was not you, though. You wouldn’t have tried to get me drunk, right?”

Tom’s smile grew sardonic, satisfied. “The git.”

“Yeah,” you whispered as you pressed your lips against his smug ones, grinning through the kiss.

You lost yourselves in the melody, bodies moving languidly along the female soothing voice as he held you close, faces resting against each other.

“It’s nice… What does it say?” he asked after a while, hot breath fanning over your cheek.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the lyrics. The word slowly sank in and unexpectedly made your heart ache, their meaning passing over you like a cold wind. “It’s from a movie, I think. It’s… kind of sad.”

“Tell me.”

You felt some of his hair graze the side of your face as your voice turned a bit broken. “It’s about two young lovers of twenty. They lived very close, but although they loved each other they never had the courage to confess, until they kissed and all became brighter.”

He readjusted his position against you. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

The music turned sombre, trumpets playing in as you continued. “But then hope disappeared, and all took the shade of the night. They grew apart, and their story became part of the past, their shared dreams left behind as if nothing happened between them.”

Tom fell silent, his fingers pressing deeper into your palm and waist as you opened your eyes.

If the words resonated strongly within the two of you, their weight crushing like a hammer, you did your best to not let the other feel it. You couldn't let yourself be controlled by these emotions, not so close to the end.

The song ended on a distorted note and a click as your light steps slowed on the paved stone. When the melody started again, the same melancholic words repeating, you decided that you had enough.

You couldn't bear it. “We should go back.”

You slowly pulled away from him, shivering from the cold air around you from the loss of his embrace but felt his grip over your hand harden, securing you into place. He hadn’t moved, a determined expression displayed over his features, the one he took when he was battling against his emotions.

You looked at him expectantly. “You haven’t changed your mind, have ya? I really can’t convince you to come with me anymore.”

You tried to focus on his touch in order to shut out the now irritable music coming from the window above, to shut out the emotions that threatened to make tears appear at the rim of your eyes. Nothing was as bitter than your heart at that particular moment. 

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded slowly after a long while, his lips curling in bitterness, resignation. When you met his eyes, you could have sworn that the light inside of them had gone, the lively glint inhabiting it. But his hand remained locked with yours, warm and tight.

When you got back to the inn the night had fallen completely.

You often wondered what would have happened if you had listened to your father, if you hadn’t come home from England, stayed away from the war.

Would you still be in your tiny flat, not far from the centre? Would you be worried sick about Tom, as staring at the door he had slammed behind him like he had just left? Would he have even slammed it in anger if he had been the first to leave, and not you? 

By now, the news of his disappearance or potential death must have reached Manchester, and you wondered how you would have felt if you had been on the other side of the mirror. You pictured a devastated Douglas, a lost and helpless Lois listening to the wireless. You couldn't even fathom the state you would have been in, if you weren't here, knowing he was perfectly out of danger, close to being reunited with your parents and having found your brother safe against all odds.

The greatest difference from where you stood was that here, you would have to see him leave, never to come back.

You're taken out of your reveries as you reached a crossroad, one moment Henriette asking you if you were alright, the other the boisterous voice of your brother making your head lift up in a quick motion.

"This is it,"  he announced, examining the sign in front of you. "This way is Châteauroux… where you'd be able to take the train,” he said toward Giulia as he waved somewhere over his right. “And this way is Poitiers. Our path.”

Your feet planted on the ground like they had suddenly grown roots and you felt the oxygen lack in your lungs as you forgot to breathe. You stared at the sign helplessly, trying to comprehend the words written on it, unwilling to.

You barely heard the conversation going vividly around you as the others said goodbye with warm embraces. Your eyes were turned toward Tom, finding him already looking at you and you felt your heart drop in your chest. His blue eyes bright, piercing, his mouth drawn in a tight line. 

Only when the small form of Giulia came to block your vision were you forced to tear your gaze away from him. "Y/N, it was a pleasure meeting you. You really helped."

Your voice seemed to sound far away when you answered clumsily, barely present in the moment with her. 

You felt so empty. "Oh, I, uhm… really?"

"Yes, more than you know."

Her smile managed to snatch one from you, but it didn’t linger as she hugged you kindly. Over her shoulder, you saw your brother shake Tom’s hand and Henriette bid him good luck with a smile, but he barely managed to return it. Instead, silence settled in the air as Giulia let go of you, your gaze fixed on Tom, speechless.

Henriette was the first to speak after a while, clearing her throat awkwardly. "We should give them a minute."

The crunching noise of pebbles on the ground as they stepped away resonated too loudly in your ears. Tom approached you carefully, his fair skin paler than usual against the warm summer air.

You fumbled with your hands, eyes barely able to meet his penetrative ones.

"I guess this is goodbye then," you said, throat achingly dry.

He didn't answer, staring at you relentlessly, making you hyper aware of the scorching heat gradually forming beneath your eyes. "You'll say hi to your father and sister for me, yeah? And to the baby…"

His mouth remained closed as you shifted uncomfortably into place, crushed under his gaze. 

Not having enough of it. 

"Stop looking at me like that…"

His eyes flickered, the softness of his tone surprising you as he parted his lips. "Looking at you like what?"

"Like you're… like you're mad at me."

'I'm not-" he began, shaking his head. "I'm not mad at you, I just… It's just fucking unfair."

You swallowed the sour taste in your mouth. “We’ll see each other again. It doesn’t have to be the end.”

“Then why does it bloody feel like it?”

You couldn't answer, the uncertainty of your lives too much to even think about, rendering promises achingly pointless. You bit the inside of your cheek in a failed attempt to stay composed, but when he lowered his gaze and took your hands in his, you froze.

They were so warm, perfect for you.

"Listen, Y/N, about these three words, these three damn very known words... I really need to say th-"

"No, please Tom, don't," you pleaded, feeling the dampness of your eyes barely holding in. "I can't… I couldn't cope. Please."

His face decomposed, eyes strained sadly upon you, lost. The words burned his tongue, melted his heart. Still, he didn’t say them.

You couldn't bear it, the expression he wore, your own doing. You felt a tear form at the rim of your right eye and you leaned into him, pressing your forehead against his to hide it from him. He sighed against you immediately, eyes closed and hands trailing up your arms.

He felt so good. 

“Don't you dare forget about me, Y/N."

He sought out your lips, his nose digging into your cheek and you caved, melting into his needy kiss. It was slow and painfully sweet, realising that it could be your last. As his hands cupped your face more strongly, calloused fingers burning your numb flesh, you allowed yourself to make it last.

You pulled apart, panting for air as you remained in each other's embrace, your hands pressed against his chest. You found his heart to be beating as fast as yours, as shattered as yours.

After a sharp inhale, you felt it settle gradually as you tried to memorise the feel of him in your mind, to imprint it into your skin. 

"Goodbye, Tom."

You kept your eyes shut as a single tear finally rolled down your cheek, your body aching as you battled against his softening grip. When you pulled away from him sharply, you could only repress a shuddering breath.

You didn't allow yourself to look back until you had reached the others, and when you finally turned, he hadn't moved a muscle, weary eyes strained in you, powerless as he stood in the middle of the path.

It took everything you had not to let more of your tears fall.

Giulia gave you a quick movement of the head before joining him. She had to call his name before he finally followed her. Henriette stroked your back as you watch him reluctantly walk backwards, his eyes not leaving your face.

Maybe it would be easier to just close yours, embrace the darkness, to not witnesses that wretched moment.

But you couldn't, and by the time he had disappeared around a corner, your cheeks had dried and the pain in your stomach had turned dull.

There were still a few more miles until you would reach the bus station, and you couldn't utter a word, barely acknowledging your surroundings as you kept walking.

Only when you were safely seated in the bus did you feel all of the emotion crashing down, true tears being finally released. There was no dull pain anymore, but aching regret clutching at your heart, and you had to press against your chest in an attempt to soothe the pain. 

"Y/N, what's happening?"

You tried to breathe, to remain quiet, but it was too painful. "I should have let him say it… I should have said it back, I should-" you panted in muffled cries as Henriette watched you with worry. "I should have said that I loved him."

You didn't calm down until you arrived at your destination.

Part 10 (and last one.)

Thank you @babyblue711 for you support and amazing beta reading, as always.

Music Tom and reader dance to:

A/N: The installation of antisemitism within the Vichy government occurred much later, the first step with a new Jewish status on October 1940. I fast fowarded it so it can be applied on the story, in July-August 1940. The persecution in Non-Occupied Zone came much later as well, but it didn’t prevent the hate toward the Jews in France. Jew immigrates were, however, arrested during that time, because they weren’t French (who still had some semblance of rights early in the war.) Same goes for the prisoners of war.

@chainsawsangel@mischiefmanaged71@depressedperson88 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan@yentroucnagol@tssf-imagines@nightdiamond8663 @lauraneedstochill @unleashthelion @helaenaluvr @omgkatherine01 @launotfound @r0segard3n @queenofshinigamis @helaelaemond

[atuats-sidechick]

Chapter 3 is up! A very unsure Kyoshi tries to get her point across to a very desperate Zoryu. My pathetic little babies :)

Fic summary: Zoryu was to be married to Su-Jin, from the Ma'aoki clan, were it not for the intervention of a spirit. In an attempt to have the wedding take place as planned, Hei-Ran invites Kyoshi and Rangi to the Imperial City and asks Kyoshi to negotiate with Ka'ba Ma'alu, the hippo-cow spirit. During their stay in the Fire Nation, Hei-Ran attempts to communicate to Rangi that she and Atuat are in a committed relationship. Things don't go as planned.