#it’s the fact that tom said that to her while she was crying because he called her unlovable…. he didn’t know her and never could. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dandelionprints · 7 months

Text

Don't Be Late

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Y/N (lil bit of fluff, angst, tormented Tommy and comfort)

Summary: When Tommy makes a promise to his wife he could never imagine that breaking it could potentially cost Y/N her life.

Warnings: bad language, a couple of slur words as used in the show *not words that I myself deem acceptable!*, a lot of violence, mentions of injuries, blood and death. Reader discretion is advised, do not read if you feel uncomfortable with this kind of content

Word Count: This is a long one coming in at 6,800k

A/N: It's been a while since I've written a full blown fic but I was on a roll so I just went with it! I hope you enjoy, please do like, reblog and/or comment your thoughts on it, I really appreciate the feedback x

--------------------------------------------------------

"It's been three days, Pol. Why won't she wake up?"

He leant forwards in his chair, a hand gently grasping Y/N's as she lay motionless on her hospital bed. Her body was battered with violent purple bruises and cuts covering what seemed to be every inch of her body.

The last three days had been hell, with a mixture of so many emotions running through him that he didn't know where to put and the not knowing. Worry, anger, sadness. Guilt. So much guilt, it consumed him.

Tommy wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to forgive himself for not being there to protect her. It could be said that it was a case of "wrong person, wrong time", but that did nothing to subside the sense of dread that filled his stomach whenever he thought about the brutality his wife had been through, all because of him. How scared she must have been on her own waiting for him to come and save her, but he came too late.

"Give her time, Tom. She's been through a lot, her body’s trying to heal, we can't rush these things. Besides, the doctor said this morning that the swelling and bleeding has started to go down so she is getting better. Slowly. We just have to be patient", Aunt Polly delicately placed her hand on his shoulder, softly stroking her thumb back and forth over the newly clean shirt.

Polly had brought a clean set of clothes to the hospital after seeing that Tommy was too terrifed to leave Y/N at the hospital alone for even a second, leaving him wearing blood soaked clothes for the first day. Y/N's blood.

"I should've been there Pol. None of this would've happened if I hadn't gotten too cocky and dragged John and Arthur down to London to Sabini's club. All this for a fucking business expansion"

He lowered his head and brought his free hand to his forehead, pinching at the sides as if to relieve some of the stress growing with tension there.

"Fuck!", he shouted before quickly covering his face with his hand.

Tommy could feel tears springing to his eyes as he glared down between the gaps in his fingers at the speckled hospital floor. He was so tired of crying in the presence of anyone that wasn't Y/N since the night this whole shit show happened, it made him feel weak knowing other people could see that in fact, yes, Tommy Shelby does have emotions. Y/N was the only one he'd been able to willingly show any kind of vulnerable emotion to since he'd returned from the war.

The sound of a lighter flicking open followed by the quick sizzle of a cigarette being lit came from behind him as Polly took a drag, before holding it within Tommy's line of vision.

"Here, take this".

He hesitated for a moment, making sure that no tears would fall, then slowly lifted his head and reached for the now softly glowing cigarette bringing it to his lips and taking a long pull, exhaling the smoke as if it were the stress partially releasing from his body.

Aunt Pol watched him carefully, almost as if she were waiting to see if he was going to explode like a ticking time bomb or finally let his shoulders relax and sink into the chair. She was thankful when he chose the latter, slowly leaning back against the wooden frame, still holding onto Y/N's hand.

"You should go back to the house, Tom. Get some rest. I'll stay with her until you come back", she spoke softly, her own eyes tired from the constant secret worrying she'd been doing as well as sitting with Tommy next to Y/N's bed the last three days.

"No. I won't leave her, Pol. I can't leave her, it's my fault she ended up like this, I can't risk them coming back or the risk of her...", he stopped his words in their tracks as a lump formed in his throat. The tears that had only just subsided now came back, threatening to spill over, "Of her dying. Alone. Without me here letting her know she's safe, that I'm sorry. So fucking sorry"

Polly's face grew empathetic as she saw the pain etched all over Tommy's, the vacant glassiness of his eyes that had only grown darker over the past few days.

"She's not going to die..."

"She might, Pol!", his anger exploded then, the ticking time bomb she'd been waiting for had finally gone off.

The chair scraped on the floor as he stood, letting go of Y/N's hand, before turning to face his aunt who remained seated, not taking her eyes off him.

"How can you be so sure that she's gonna live, eh? How can you be so sure that she's ever going to open her eyes again?"

There was less accusation in his words than it seemed, more like a plead for some kind of reassurance or promise that the love of his life would be okay, that she'd return to the real world again.

Polly stood, then, calm and collected.

"Because I know Y/N Shelby, and so do you. She's a tough girl, it'll take more than Sabini and the fuckers who did this to take her down. Now, go home and get some sleep. I'll stay here with her, give her a wash and read some of your poetry outloud. The nurses say she can still hear what's going on around her, that she may even end up dreaming of things that are being said so we'll be having no more talk of death. John said he'll take the next shift of watching the door so tell him when you get back to come here. You know he won't let those bastards go anywhere near her if they so much as step foot near the hospital"

Polly’s eyes remained on him like a mother scolding her child until they did what they were told. She knew that he was still reluctatant to leave Y/N's bedside but felt relief when he subtly nodded to her, stubbing out his cigarette and picking up his coat before leaning over Y/N to place a kiss on her head, being careful to avoid the purpling bruise that was forming there.

"I'll be back in two hours, Pol, then you can go home and get some sleep", he said simply, making his way over to the door.

"Not two, six. You need a proper sleep"

He narrowed his eyes at her without saying anything, his lips twitching as if ready to disagree with what his aunt had said.

"I'd say eight but I know you won't be able to stay away for that long. What good are you to her if your eyes can't even focus on what the gun is aiming at? Go. Get some sleep"

Three days earlier

They'd agreed that they would meet at 8pm later that evening, after Tommy finished up with business for the day, where the family car was stored in the garage near the Shelby family home.

"Don't keep me waiting too long", she giggled, stroking his face with the palm of her hand.

"Who says you'll be waiting?", he smiled, taking the hand that was on his cheek and bringing it to his mouth, placing a soft kiss to it.

The Garrison hadn't opened for the day yet but the Peaky Boys were starting to gather at the bar, getting in a pint before the days business was about to begin. John and Arthur were already trying to place a bet with Isaiah about who could down the most pints before blacking out with Arthur claiming it to be him.

"Eh, lads! No more drinking until business is finished for the day, and Arthur, I could place twenty pound on it being anyone but you who could drink the most", Tommy interrupted, leading to a cackle of ladish jeers.

Y/N laughed before getting Tommy's attention once again, this time placing a finger beneath his chin and gently pulling his face towards hers.

"I know you, Tommy Shelby. You like to be on time when it's for business but business is also what makes you late to see me"

He felt a pang of guilt hit his stomach at her words, he knew she was right. He'd lost count of how many times he'd come home to find her curled up in front of the fire in his office fast asleep. How many times he'd either carried her up to bed or simply placed a blanket over her while he continued working into the early hours of the morning.

"I promise, love. I'll be at the garage at 8pm sharp"

This time he leant forward and touched his lips to hers, taking in the sweet flavour of her lips that he loved so much.

"Go on, Pol will be waiting for you"

She paused, "Is it bad to say that I don't believe you?"

"I promise, Y/N"

She wanted to believe the sincerity in his eyes but a tiny part of her knew that she'd more than likely be kept waiting out in the cold while he finished up business for the day.

"Okay", she half smiled, "I love you, Mr. Shelby"

Tommy kissed her then, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear.

"I love you too, Mrs. Shelby"

---

It was already dark by the time she'd made her way to their meeting point with only the glow from a firepit in the workshop opposite as the main source of light, rain flooding down onto the pavement outside in typical autumnal British fashion creating the sound of pattering on the old tin roof of the garage.

Y/N sighed as she leant against the black Ford Model T, taking a look at her watch. 8:03pm.

'Well, it's only three minutes late, let's see if he's here before four minutes late', she thought to herself.

There wasn't much to see in the garage other than old petrol can's and some oiled rags that had been dropped lazily on the floor, not that she could see much anyway with only the fire for her source. In fact, it only stretched as far as half the length of the garage, where unbenownsed to her there were men that were lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on the unsuspecting victim.

"Get 'em!"

The sound of a thick London Italian accent echoed through the cold rickety room and all Y/N could think to do was to cower against the car, waiting to be manhandled in some kind of way, the panic instantly settling into her chest.

It was obvious that the men who now had their fists blowing punches to her face didn't have a clue it was in fact a woman they were beating and not a man, probably due to the fact the fire was doing little to show that she'd wrapped her scarf over her head to stop the rain from ruining her curls. They didn't realise until she mustered enough strength through the continuous punches to let out the loudest scream she could.

It was only then that the men took a step back as the same voice from before bellowed out, "Stop!"

She held her hands up to her face and felt a slick warm liquid quickly covering them, the skin beneath it sore to the touch. Her left eye was blurry from the mixture of what she could only assume to be blood and swelling, but she could just about make out the silhoutte of a slim man with a hat standing near the wall.

The adrenaline was already kicking in helping to keep some of the pain from showing it's full potential, but her fight or flight hadn't seemed to of made an appearance yet. All she could do was stand there, frozen to the spot, her hands still holding her bloodied face.

"You must be Tommy Shelby's missus", spoke the man with the hat, taking a step forward confirming in the dim light that it was who she'd feared it would be. Sabini.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?", he smirked, leering towards her only inches from her face, "Apologies for the misunderstanding, we thought you were Mr. Shelby"

Her heart dropped into her stomach at the thought that this beating was meant for Tommy, that she knew they intended to do more than land a few punches to his face. She spat at the ground infront of Sabini's feet.

"You're lucky it was me and not Tommy, he'd have your eyes the minute you laid your hands on him", she was surprised by how even she managed to keep her voice despite the sheer panic coursing through her.

Y/N knew it was a lie, that Tommy would be far too outnumbered to take on five of Sabini's men on his own especially without being able to see much.

Sabini laughed, throwing his head back slightly before stopping abruptly and grabbing onto each of her arms.

"You listen here you little princess, I don't think you quite understand the extent of how pissed off I am at your fella. You see, him and his brothers came to my club in London two nights ago. The Eden Club. A well run establishment, I'm sure you've heard of it. Anyway, they caused such a fucking scene that I've had to take matters into my own hands. I was planning on getting to Tommy, show him how scared he should really be about barging into one of my clubs, but it seems I may now have an even better way of sending that message".

Even with the light uneven across his features she could see a sly snarl creep onto Sabini's face, his breath fanning against her skin as he spoke. It was enough to make her want to wretch.

"Right boys, forget about Tommy. I want you to do what you were going to do to Tommy to her"

Her heart flew straight into her throat, threatening to jump out of her mouth at any moment. She wanted to throw up but the best thing she could do now would be to gain as much attention to passers by as she could. She screamed again only to have her mouth covered by Sabini as two men took over the hold on her arms.

"Listen here you little bitch, whether you like it or not, you're getting a beating. If Tommy's not man enough to face me himself and resorts to showing up to one of my clubs instead then this is what happens, someones pretty little face gets smashed in"

"You're a fucking creep! Tommy will be here any minute and I'm sure his brothers will be with him too, you won't know what fucking hit you!", she spat, the venom spewing from her mouth.

Sabini wasted no time in landing a hard slap against her already throbbing cheek making her splutter out whatever saliva she had left. He didn't leave it there though as his gripped both hands around her throat, squeezing as tight as he could.

"We'll be glad to see Tommy and his brothers, we can have a nice little catch up. Those boys couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery no matter how hard they tried so I'm not too worried. Carry on boys"

He let go of her throat leading her to gasp for air, her lungs felt like they were on fire with every harsh breath.

She didn't even have time to brace herself from the punch that was swiftly administered to her stomach, knocking out every bit of air she had managed to gain back, bringing her to the ground with a hard thump. Her head bounced off the ground sending a shockwave of pain running over her skull and down her neck.

The punches were now followed by the kicks of steel toe capped boots, each kick more painful than the last until she almost felt numb. Where the fuck is Tommy?

She wanted nothing more than to scream out for him, to hear him running towards the men with bullets flying, ready to put an end to this nightmare, but all she could do was sob as the pain coursed through her.

"Boys, hold her up", Sabini's voice cut through the sound of the thumps and thuds, his voice menacing laced with a sneer.

Two men gripped Y/N's arms and yanked her back onto her feet, knees buckling beneath her with one of her ankles too weak to bare any weight. She was pretty sure she had some broken ribs and that her ankle was much the same way but she knew there was nothing she could do about it now. The only thing she could do was let her head loll forwards with sheer exhaustion.

It was hard to keep her eyes open as her head was pulled up by a harsh grab of her hair, weakness taking over her entire body.

"Look at me. I said look at me!"

Another firm yank of the hair had her gaze just about managing to focus on Sabini, his eyes showing a glint of evil.

"I want you to tell your dirty gypsy husband that I'm coming for him next, if he wants to take over my race tracks then he's gonna have to fight for it"

"You're a fucking pig Sabini", her voice was hoarse as she spoke, her head longing to fall fowards again and let her eyes shut.

"Take my fucking name out of your mouth! 'Ere, Franco, take my name out of this scum's mouth"

She wasn't prepared for what came next as a blade was forced inside her mouth, her cheeks slowly being cut as well as a part of her lip. The taste of the metallic blood filled every tastebud, the only noise she was able to make were muffled groans as the cold metal sliced roughly through her skin.

Her body suddenly dropped to the floor once more, the sound of the mens foot steps starting to fade as they made their way towards the back of the garage and through a hole in the wooden panelling.

"Don't forget to give your husband my message, if you survive that is", Sabini's spoke, a chuckle following him as he finally left her and made his way out the same way as the other men.

She had no energy to even cry any more, a numbness enveloping her body and the blood still slowly seeping out of every cut she'd sustained.

She couldn't focus on anything now, the need for sleep becoming too great to keep her eyes open. She didn't even hear Tommy's footsteps quickly approaching the garage a minute later where she lay in a pool of her own blood. All she could do was let her eyelids drop as she slipped into darkness.

—

"Y/N! Oh fuck, Y/N!"

His cries bellowed through the bleak surroundings, the only movement to be seen was the flicker of the flames from the fire in his peripheral.

“John! Arthur! Where the fuck are you?”, he screamed into the night before turning his attention back to Y/N.

"C'mon Y/N you need to wake up now, c'mon sweetheart", his desperate pleas did nothing as he cradled her head, her blood soaking into his trousers. He could see her chest rising and falling but knew that it was getting slower and slower with every moment that passed by.

It'd only been a minute or so since he'd gotten there but he could've sworn it'd been more like an hour, his heart thumping so hard that he thought it would surely pop out of his chest.

"John! Arthur!"

Tears were streaming down his face, dripping onto Y/N's blood soaked cheeks, leaving streaks running through the red liquid.

He knew his brothers were meant to be on their way with the promise of a bed at Arrow House for the night. He just hoped that they would be sober enough to help deal with the chaos that was going on.

There was so much blood that he didn't know what to do. Sure, he could leave Y/N and go get help himself, but he didn't want to leave her alone for even a second. He'd already let her down once this evening and he'd be damned if he was going to let her die here alone on the cold stone floor, or have the people who did this to her come back and finish off the job.

John and Arthur came stumbling through the open door of the garage, an arm wrapped over each others shoulders as they laughed about how many women they'd managed to pull that night. As soon as they saw the scene in front of them though, the laughing soon stopped and they both straightened up, their eyes almost not wanting to look at the state before them.

"Who the fuck did this, Tommy? Where the fuck are they? I'll fuckin’ get 'em Tom I fuckin’ promise you, those bastards won't get away with this!" John's hands had grown into fists with his knuckles turning white, the anger twisting his face into pure hatred.

"It doesn't matter right now, John. Just go and get help, call a fucking ambulance!", Tommy looked to Arthur whose expression had turned more into terror than anything else, "Arthur, I need you to get Pol, tell her Y/N's hurt, badly. Tell her I need her here, I need... just get her Arthur, now"

It took a second longer than Tommy would've liked but both brothers soon turned and ran out towards the Shelby family home, their legs wobbling beneath them as they went.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so fucking sorry", Tommy sobbed as he gently stroked her face, pulling her in closer to him. His mind was racing with all the questions he was dying to know the answer to.

He knew he should be worrying about who it was that had done this to her but he was pretty sure he knew the answer to that already, and he wasn't about to waste what time he might have left with his wife thinking about that. No. All that mattered right now was that Y/N was going to live, that her eyes would open and she'd look up at him with that brilliant smile he loved so much to tell him that she was okay, that she was going to survive this.

Flashing lights appeared outside whilst Tommy had his head rested on Y/N's, whispering over and over again how sorry he was and how much he loved her. The pain he felt was all consuming and he knew he'd give anything to be in her position right now, just like it should have been.

Even when the medics came to retrive Y/N he couldn't bare to let her go, he insisted on carrying her into the back of the ambulance and holding her all the way to the hospital. They knew better than to argue with the Shelby man but managed to convince him to allow for her vitals to be monitored on the journey there, her pulse rate rapidly declining.

Polly hadn't arrived at the garage quick enough so Arthur had driven both Polly and John to the hospital at speed, swerving all over the road as they went, the tires slipping on the slick ground beneath them.

When they finally got there they saw Tommy disappearing through the double doors with Y/N still in his arms, a trail of blood on the floor behind him. This was going to be a long night.

—

The doctors had managed to get her heart rate back up to a reasonable pace by the time she was settled into a private hospital room. Fluids were being administered consistently alongside different medicines flowing through the tubes, her wounds now dressed with bandages and a thin blanket covering her black and blue body.

"Mr. Shelby, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal, it's a miracle she's still alive", a tall man with slicked blonde hair and glasses spoke, a clipboard and pen in his hands.

"When will she wake up?", Tommy tried to shake off his annoyance at the doctors statement of the obvious, of course this was a fucking terrible ordeal! Anyone with eyes could see that. He just wanted the facts that mattered most.

"Mr. Shelby, as I said, your wife has been through a terrible ordeal..."

Tommy grimaced, "I fucking know she has, don't you think I can see what's right in front of me? That and the fact I found my wife lying in a pool of her own blood half dead? Just tell me, when will she wake up?"

He was growing tired of not having answers to the main question he had and knew he wouldn't be able to relax until he had a definitive answer.

"The honest answer Mr. Shelby is that we don't know. To be blunt we're not sure if she's going to"

Tommy's heart dropped into his stomach.

"As you know, she's been through...", the doctor paused, not wanting to use the term 'terrible ordeal' again, "A lot. We've taken some images of her brain and we can see that she has some bleeding and swelling. We're not sure that she can recover from something like that, we can only hope that she will. Her injuries are severe, Mr. Shelby. As well as the damage to the brain she also has some internal bleeding, broken ribs, a collapsed lung, brusing to the esophagus, cuts to the inside of her mouth and a broken ankle. We're doing everything we can to ensure that she'll recover from this but it will take time. I'm sorry"

A ringing sounded in Tommy's ears, a noise so defeaning that he couldn't focus on anything right now other than the fact Y/N might not make it through this. His chest tightened and he found himself struggling to breathe, the sheer weight of the words he'd just heard sitting heavy on his chest.

"Are you okay, Mr. Shelby?"

"Leave. Now, please. Leave!"

The doctor wasted no time in carrying out Tommy's order as he scurried out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Tommy fell to the floor, his knee's weak and unable to hold him upright. He clutched his chest as he gasped for the air that seemed to have become so thin in the room. Tears that had gathered in his eyes began to fall and there was nothing more he could do than kneel there on the cold floor as his world came crashing down around him.

If he'd of been there at the time they'd agreed then this wouldn't have happened, not to Y/N anyway. It would be him laying in the hospital bed in front of him instead of her, or he'd be laying in a ditch somewhere ready for some poor passerby to find when dawn came.

He knew for a fact that the guilt that was growing in strength would never leave him even if she did make it out of this, that he'd always blame himself for not being on time.

A small knock on the door brought him shakily back up onto his feet again as he gripped onto the frame of the bed. Tommy managed to wipe away his tears just in time for Polly, John and Arthur to walk into the room.

He couldn't look at them, only at Y/N laying in the bed. Her lifeless body was slightly sinking into the mattress beneath her, a mess of hair covered in congealed blood surrounded her head.

"Is she going to be okay, Tom?", John's voice quietly cut through the silence like a knife.

Tommy took a moment before letting out a sigh, the lump in his throat wanting to escape and cause tears to come flooding out.

"I don't know. The doctor said that she's got bleeding and swelling on the brain amongst other things. They don't know if she's going to wake up".

The room stayed silent with no one wanting to say a word, both for fear of upsetting Tommy further and also because what else was there to say? There was nothing any of them could do to make the situation better or to make light of any of this.

Tommy took a seat next to Y/N's bed side and held her fragile hand, longing for her to wrap her fingers around his, but of course she didn't. Even that alone was enough to make his heart break.

"John. I need you to arrange for the blinders to be on a rotation of a look out. I don't want anybody coming in or out this hospital without us knowing about it. Arthur, take Isaiah and a couple of the blinders with you to London, I need you to find Sabini", Tommy spoke plainly, not taking his eyes off of Y/N.

"Yes, Tom", Arthur nodded, motioning for John to follow his lead out of the room.

"Oh, and Arthur? When you find him", Tommy turned to look at him now, his eyes cold but somehow a fire lit in them, "Bring him to me. Alive"

—

Three days later

As expected, Tommy arrived back at the hospital within four hours instead of the six Aunt Polly had ordered.

He couldn't sleep. Every time he'd managed to drift off he was soon awoken by nightmares of Y/N's screams as she was repeatedly kicked and punched, the sound each one of the blows made making his stomach churn. He could see her body laying there in a pool of blood with sobs wracking her chest... her calling out his name and him not being able to reach her even though he could see everything that was happening.

Tommy woke up in a cold sweat, his clothes soaked right through and his hair wet. He decided he was better off admitting defeat than to try going back to sleep, the thought of having to see those images of Y/N whenever he closed his eyes was enough to make his blood run cold.

His childhood home was quiet when he made his way downstairs. Ada had taken Finn to Arrow House under her watchful eye with Karl, it was better to be in a house that was stocked with firearms than back in London with nothing but a single pistol and where Sabini could be lurking in the shadows.

John had gone to the hospital to take the next watch and Arthur was somewhere in London seeking out Sabini and his lackeys, waiting to hand him a blow that would make the Italian man wish he'd never come to Birmingham.

Tommy decided on having a bath before putting on clean clothes, taking a look in the mirror before he left. His complexion had almost drained of colour over the past three days with the exception of the dark circles that appeared under his eyes, much darker than usual.

"God I hope she wakes up soon", he muttered to himself, adorning his peaky cap and reaching for the door handle before stepping out onto the bustling streets of Birmingham, lighting a smoke as he made his way to the hospital.

When he walked through the doors of Y/N's room he noticed something different. Aunt Polly was no longer sitting there with sadness in her eyes, instead she was stood next to the bed holding Y/N's hand, a small smile upon her face.

His eyebrows furrowed with confusion and his pace slowed as he approached her.

"What's happened?" he asked, nervous energy rushing through him.

"She moved, Tom. All on her own, she moved!"

Polly was beaming now, fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she had to resist the urge to hug him.

"What do you mean she moved?"

"I mean, I was reading her one of your poems and holding her hand. Her fingers started to move as if she was trying to tell me she could hear me. She's still in there Tommy"

His heart swelled in his chest although he didn't want to get his hopes up too much, there was nothing worse that breaking your own heart with false hope.

"It might've just been the nerves jumping, Pol. She probably doesnt have control of her body right now", he knew he sounded like dismissive bastard but he couldn't bring himself to believe that Y/N could do that but not open her eyes.

"Stop being so bloody negative Thomas. I'm telling you exactly what I saw with my own two eyes. Read to her yourself, you'll see", Polly scolded him, picking up the pages she'd left on her seat and going to hand them to him.

Tommy said nothing but shook his head towards the pages and instead took a step closer towards Y/N's bed.

Polly placed Y/N's hand in his and softly spoke, "Y/N love, if you can hear what we're saying then squeeze Tommy's hand, let us know that you're still there".

He held his breath as he waited to see if she'd respond, his eyes watching her fingers like a hawk.

"She's not moving, Pol. You're seeing things with the lack of sleep, go home and get to bed, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere"

"Don't tell me what you think I may be or may not be seeing and certainly don't tell me what to do. You may be a man now Thomas but I'm still able to lay you across my knee and give you a good hiding", her eyes glared daggers into the side of his head as he continued to stare at Y/N's fingers, unmoving on top of his.

"I'm sorry Pol, I just can't... I just can't stand the thought of having the hope there that she'll show me she's okay if she never actually...", he stopped dead in his tracks.

His mouth dropped open and his gaze widened in shock as Y/N's fingers started to slowly lift upwards before coming back down to rest on top of his fingers, trying to curl themselves around his.

"Y/N? It's okay, I'm here. You're safe", he placed his free hand over hers and leant over to kiss her head, the bruises still prominent, "I'm sorry Y/N, I'm so fucking sorry".

Tommy couldn't hold back the tears that were coming and let them spill out to fall down her cheeks, the overwhelming burst of relief he felt within his soul was like nothing he could explain.

Polly stood with a hand over her mouth, a smile beneath her fingers.

"T-T-Tommy?..."

Did she just speak?

His head shot up, eyes wide in disbelief. When he caught the first glimpse of her face he could see that her eyes were slightly open. Her eyeballs had red spots on them where blood vessels had burst, either from the pressure of being strangled or from the numerous hits to the face she'd sustained. He tried to hide the shock that hit him and gently cradled her face with both hands, careful not to press down on the discoloured blotches that lay beneath them.

"You're awake, you're... I-I can't believe it", he stuttered, scanning her face for any kind of expression.

"Y-you... w-w-were... late", she croaked.

It was almost as if he'd taken a stab to the chest as her words met his ears and the guilt came flooding back.

"I know, I'm so, so sorry Y/N, I really am. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for this, not for as long as I live"

He stifled a sniff as his tears continued, a sob escaping his lips as his face screwed up into pure anguish.

"I-it's... okay", she murmered, taking a deep breath, "do-don't be... s-sorry... I-I'm j-just... glad i-it w-wasn't... you"

"No sweetheart, no. It's not okay, none of this is okay. Because of me, you're lying here in a hospital bed, completely black and blue with internal injuries and broken bones, all because I got too cocky and tried to challenge that fucker. I swear to you, Y/N. I'm gonna put a bullet between his eyes for this, he's not going to get away with it".

He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face and she smiled softly, the memory of him doing to same back in The Garrison just before she'd left him that day, just before all of this happened…

"H-he said t-t-to... g-give you a... m-message..."

"No, shh shh, it's okay. You don't need to tell me anything right now, you need to rest and get better. You can hardly speak. Tell me anything you need to when you start to feel better. All I care about right now is that I have you, here, alive. No amount of money nor business could come close to how happy I am right at this very moment"

Two Days Later

She'd been awake more frequently over the next couple of days with each day being better than the last. Her bruises had now started to turn a lighter shade of blue with greens and browns dotted through them and the bleeding and swelling on her brain had improved significantly.

The doctors were stunned at how well she was doing, they half expected her to die within the first few days she'd arrived at the hospital.

"How are you feeling today?", Tommy asked as he stroked her hair from his position on the edge of the bed.

"A bit be-tter than yesterday", she softly smiled. She couldn't deny that she still felt like absolute shit and that every time she breathed it felt like she was trying to push air through a straw, but she was just relieved that she'd survived this whole ordeal, "Can you h-help me sit up a b-bit please?"

He instantly stood and gently swooped an arm beneath her legs and the other behind her back, carefully lifting her up before sitting her back down on the bed and repositioning her pillows behind her against the headboard. She winced with the motion but tried her best to hide it. She already knew that Tommy had so much guilt eating him up inside, it almost felt like if she showed him that she was in any kind of pain that it was a reminder of how much he'd fucked up.

"Is that okay?"

She nodded slowly, aware of her aching neck with every slight movement.

"Good, it's nice to see you looking a bit more like yourself", he smiled, his eyes studying every inch of her face.

"Sabini t-told me to tell y-you t-that he's coming for y-you next and that I-if you want to take o-over his race tracks then you're gonna h-have to fight for it... I'm s-scared, Tommy"

Tommy moved his chair closer to the bed, so close that his knees were touching the side of the frame, and took her hand in his.

"I promise you Y/N, you have nothing to be scared about. I know that I broke my promise before about being on time and it cost both of us more than I thought possible, but I swear to you, right here, right now in this moment, I won't let that fucker come near you ever again"

A response to that seemed impossible. Of course she wanted to believe her own husband but when he'd already broken one promise, one that had ultimatley almost led to her death, how could she possibly believe that he'd keep this one?

He could see her thoughts running round her mind, her eyebrows furrowing and mouth twitching like she didn't know what to say.

"Look, I know I fucked up massively. I will never be able to explain to you how sorry I am and I'd understand completely if you didn't want to be with me any more, but please believe that I will do everything in power from here on out to make sure that you're safe"

He was almost scared to hear what she was going to say. Did she want to leave him? Was he destined to lose his wife, not by death this time, but from the sheer fact she didn't think he could keep her safe?

"I-I could n-never leave you, T-Tommy Shelby", she smiled, her lips curving up into her bruised cheeks.

Tommy stood up and brushed his lips against hers, laying a tender kiss upon them before pulling back slightly, enough to still feel her breath on his face.

"Just p-promise me one m-more thing", she spoke, looking into his eyes.

"Anything"

"Don't ever be l-late again"

He grinned, the twinkle in his eyes that she hadn't seen since waking up returning once more.

"I promise"

———

To be added to tag list, click here

Tagged: @peakypoet @moral-terpitude @lyarr24 @cillmequick @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @alasya16 @tommystargirl @elenavampire21 @adaydreamaway08 @slaypussypop-21 (unable to tag) @bluesongbird @zablife @cljordan-imperium @look-at-the-soul @rangerelik @helen06dreamer @cyphah (unable to tag) @boobooquicksilver

#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x you #cillian murphy #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

newtonsheffield · 29 days

Note

Kate, honey, winning a match doesn't mean you can't be sad and insecure. You can. And you can talk about this with Anthony. He is there for you, ready to support you, no judgement. And wouldn't you do the same for him? You absolutely would. So do yourself a favour and talk to him. Let him take care of you. 🙏🏽

They are both so used to dealing with everything on their own (despite the fact that they do feel the support of their respective families) that they keep harbouring their true feelings. It is so easy for them to show love and trust and support towards other people. But it's like they don't believe they are worthy of being on the receiving end of such affections.

I think this is the nicest thing about where their relationship grows to. The fact that Kate can be in another country to Anthony and she has a day where she feels overwhelmed, or insecure, or stressed and the first person she calls is Anthony.

Some days she’s already got him on the phone when she leaves practice.

“Hey what’s up, Babe?”

Hearing his voice makes her want to cry sometimes. “I just um… sorry, you’re probably busy.”

“I’m not busy.” Anthony said firmly, “I’m never busy if you need me.”

Kate let out a shuddering breath, relaxing against the cushions of the sofa in her hotel room. “I just really needed to hear your voice today.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Anthony was silent for a moment before he clicked his tongue, “Well, do you want to hear about how I’m now friends with the voice that lives in your fridge?”

Kate let out a watery chuckle, swiping at her tears. “I didn’t know my fridge had a voice.”

“It does! I’ve named her Pam. She’s ordered me a steak from M&S for tonight. Very excited about it.”

Kate took another deep breath, “I love you. I miss you. I fucking hate clay courts and my ankle still feels weird and I hate being photographed with Tom because they always try to start shit.”

She could hear Anthony rustling around before he cleared his throat, “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“You won’t be here for weeks.” It ached in her chest, the distance after being so used to seeing him every day.

“Well I just booked a train because it’s Friday, and I can come and spend the weekend and then come back here.”

Kate’s breath caught in her throat. “What?”

“Babe, France is… so close you can swim there. You want me there so I’m coming. I’ll just have to get Pam to cancel my steak.”

“I’ll buy you one when you get here.” Kate breathed, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Anthony hummed, “Oh! We can go to Disneyland and take cute pictures together!”

Kate but back a smile, “Yeah we can. Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for. Stay in the phone with me while I pack and we can stay on the phone while we’re on the train. I’ve treated myself to business premiere. Very exciting.”

“Are you sure if it’s alright if I hear the conversation between you and your new girlfriend Pam?”

“Of course just cover your ears.”

#pumped up au #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

80 notes · View notes

myfandomprompts · 9 months

Text

𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟓)

Summary: It's time for Tom to go home, but crossing France is no easy task. You are back on the road again but you're not alone. Previous part - Masterlist

Tags: fluff, mention of death, death scenery

A/N: Thank you @babyblue711 for betareading. It's been fun to write for him again.

French spoken -> italics

There was something infuriating about crossing France at such a pace.

In fact, as soon as Tom and Giulia had gotten out of the American Hospital, there had been a lot of hiding and waiting for hours while the Germans settled in Paris like they were at home. When they finally reached the outwards of Paris, dark had fallen again and over the next few days they barely had been able to sleep.

Now, Tom and Giulia were walking across a field, the morning fog sticking to the wheat around them and the warm sun of June already peeking behind the woods they were headed towards. Tom’s hands were cold, so he put them in his pockets where the two cigarette packets rested safely, his fingers grazing them like they were a source of comfort.

“Where are we?”

Giulia didn’t turn around, trotting in front of him with purpose. “Nearing Etampes, we’ve still got a few kilometres to go.”

Tom felt silly for his question, for he had no idea what that meant for them. All he knew was that they would go as south as possible and get transportation once beyond the Demarcation Line, where France was said to be “free”, and that would be the most difficult task according to his guide.

He liked her. She was not really talkative but he didn’t care much, rather satisfied to remain with his own thoughts as they crossed the countryside. It was obvious she was smart from what he could tell, handy, and he was kind of grateful that she was here, leading him and risking her life to help him escape.

She also had figured him out quite quickly, to his greatest discontent. “We would go faster if you’d stop looking over your shoulder all of the time,” she stated as she crossed the hem of the woods they had finally reached.

Tom scowled, fastening his pace to catch up with her. “Maybe you should stop gawking at me and focus on our itinerary, eh? Wouldn't want us to get lost.”

“We won’t be lost as long as you stay close, and don’t flatter yourself,” she scoffed. “It’s like you're expecting something or someone to catch up with us. Trust me, the Germans are already ahead, or too busy north."

Tom found no witty response to retort as he looked at the green of the trees around him. Maybe he was not walking as fast as she was because he was indeed reluctant to gain speed, and maybe he was looking over his shoulder because he expected someone to appear behind him. Just… late to the party, maybe.

He closed his fingers around the packets more tightly as he jumped over a tree trunk.

Several hours later, when the sun was at its zenith, they had left the series of dry fields and forests and had emerged on a green path, where queues of people walked at a slow pace right before them.

Both him and Giulia came to a stop, observing as passed people of all ages and sizes, entire families, sometimes with bags, sometimes bereft of it, sometimes lucky enough to have an animal or a bike to carry it. He watched as a frail and exhausted-looking woman gave water to the infant in her arms, dusty and crying from fatigue as the heat weighed on them. Next to them, a half-burned car was abandoned on the side of the road, slowing down the advancement of the scattered mass. Tom could hear the roar of working automobiles somewhere further down the road and the neigh of horses.

“What… are they doing?” he asked, lips parted as he watched a child crunch a piece of bread between his teeth like it was stone.

“Fleeing,” Giulia answered, “Or going home. One of the two options. Come on.”

They jumped over the ditch that separated them from the road and began merging with the travellers, joining the queue of Belgians and French people that had fled the bombing of their home for months, and were now at a loss about what to do and where to go, Germans at every corner of the road.

You looked at your watch with impatience, seeing the sun filter through the thick curtain of the train window with Henriette seated across from you, anxiously looking around.

You felt the train slow down, and soon the sign of Chartes train station appeared as the wagon came to a full stop. You and Henriette didn’t move, watching as some people stood up to retrieve their bags and get off the train one after the other until a railwayman entered your wagon shouting.

“Terminus messieurs dames, veuillez descendre s’il vous plaît, le train n’ira pas plus loin!”

You exchanged a panicked glance with your friend, feeling the other remaining passengers stand up around you with murmured questions.

“What is happening? Why is the train stopping here? It’s too soon!”

You gave your friend a sharp shake of your head before grabbing your bag from above your head and making your way to exit the train, Henriette hot on your heels. The platform was crowded, so much so that you felt compelled to take the nurses’ hand in order not to lose her. People were coming in and out of the train station, some complaining and some looking around with anguish. You made your way to the billboard where hours of travel were displayed with difficulty, having to use your shoulders with force to do so.

“Excuse me, what is happening?” you approach a man that was already examining the sign with narrowed eyes.

“I’m afraid that there are no trains left in this station going south. Bridges blown up and orders from… above,” he trailed, a disgusted look on his face. “They don’t want people fleeing any more. Made them all stop until they got the system right.”

You felt dread fill you before thanking him and exiting the train station, watching helplessly as groups of people began unpacking food and looking around for cars to rent, rooms to lodge in, or officers to yell at. The rest only walked away to an adjacent street.

“Y/N, what do we do? We are a long way from Poitiers, and we have no transport.”

You tightened your grasp around your bag, looking at the people disappearing at a corner.

“Like everybody else. We walk.”

The walk was tiresome, but it was nothing compared to the many travellers you crossed paths with, those from the Exode who had been on the roads for weeks, months even, and had lost everything, all of this trying to escape a fight that caught up with them in the end.

But generosity was as current as grief in this time of need and you found lodging in a little shop prepared for refugees when night came, its shelves empty from the lack of resupply due to the German advancement. You couldn't say that it was comfortable but at least you could lie down, a luxury some did not have when they came down south, and you and Henriette exhaled in relief when you finally put down your bags and rested.

Food was what came to lack most rapidly, and when you took the road again in the morning under a hot bright sun, your water was running out as well, and several hours later, you were happy to find in the next village a pretty little square with a water pump available. Only, many more had that idea, and the queue to reach the precious liquid was long, so you were left to wait and listen to what was said around you.

“83, she was…slaughtered on the spot. Such a shame…”

You turn to look at the man talking, a tall middle-aged man wearing a hat protecting him from the sun, a thick flask hanging around his shoulder by a leather strap. He was recounting the story of what happened in a nearby village a week ago to a group of travellers, and you approached to listen as well.

“What happened?” asked a woman with a quiet voice.

“Refused to let them occupy her house, that’s all. She lost her husband in the Great War, couldn’t stomach a Boche, kept her head high she did… They dragged her out of her home and shot her. Bloody animals…” he trailed off as everybody looked down, you and Henriette mirroring them. “For me, she was the first resistant, didn’t wait for de Gaulle’s call to start acting.”

The queue moved a little bit more before you and you took a few trembling steps forwards, clutching your bag between your arms. You thought about your brother, somewhere is the north, either dead, made prisoners or lost. You thought about your parents who had travelled far away from the fight that had probably reached them by now, and you hoped they were safe. You thought about Tom, who had survived worse days and you muttered a little prayer between your lips to thank that he was still alive.

All around you it was all tales of how the Germans had cut through the countryside at lightning speed and didn’t even bother killing civilians in the process, dispersing them as much as they could. Each story had you hang on every word that one stranger or another said as you patiently waited your turn to quench your thirst.

Tom looked around, his height enabling him to see above the sea of heads around him, waiting for the same thing they did, and let out a sigh before lowering himself down to level Giulia’s ear.

“You lot have a knack for being slow, I reckon,” he said without making any effort to whisper, and his travelling partner immediately gave him a dark look.

Tom sneered, rolling his shoulders as he raised himself up again while she went back to ignoring him, hands firmly holding the bag on her back and waiting patiently for their turn.

But Tom was not as patient, and most of all, he was bored. He had just finished his first packet of cigarettes, and he found nothing else to do than to look around.

He had to admit, the place was beautiful. Trees bordering the courtyard, the fountain in its middle, the yellow walls of the building around them reflecting the pavements under their feet that shone with the sunlight. But, however pretty it was, all screamed panic around him, something unnatural as families waited for their turn to fill up their bottles with water, asking around for things he could not understand and he wished that Giulia would talk more. Teasing her was the sole thing that amused him lately, but she was reluctant to speak English when they were in public.

So he was left with looking over his shoulder and taking in the scenery, fingers playing inside with the content of his pockets and humming to himself. His smile dropped when he spotted a familiar head of hair and profile standing near a wall next to a man with an impressive moustache.

He narrowed his eyes and pressed the box in his hands harder as he felt his heart leap in his chest. Was this real, or was he just too thirsty to see clearly? The woman was all he saw now, her hair flowing carelessly in the wind and a heavy bag hanging at her side, eyes raised at the man before her and nodding comprehensively.

“Tom!” he heard Giulia hiss under her breath behind him when his feet led him out of the waiting line and straight to the group near the wall. When he approached and heard your voice, he suddenly felt like he was not on the run any more, but back at home.

“Oui, passed the fence and the bridge, and then Germans at every corner. They’re starting to organise themselves, the noose is tightening,” spoke the moustache man.

“What about Poitiers? Is it beyond the line?”

Tom let the man answer you with what sounded like gibberish to him and came to stand right behind you, a bright smile on his face when he smelled the scent of your hair mixed with days of travelling.

“Can’t seem to shake me off, eh?”

You freeze before you turn around, slowly at first and when your eyes examine him your lips parts in mid surprise, making Tom smile more broadly as he sees your eyes soften at the sight of him.

“M. Bennett,” he hears someone say and he notices for the first time the brown-haired woman standing next to you.

“Nurse,” he greets back with a grin as you close your mouth and look between him and Henriette.

Giulia choses this moment to appear right next to Tom’s shoulder, silently observing your little group with suspicious brows and when you turn your head towards her Tom grins wider.

“That’s my guide. She’s not as bad as you, I’d say. Not that it would be really difficult,” he jokes in the direction of the nurse, unable to hide his happiness while you still look speechless.

The nurse gives him an annoyed scowl before turning towards Giulia who wore the same expression, unamused by Tom’s unconcealed glee.

“So it’s you, the woman that started it all. I’m Henriette, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Giulia,” his companion says back while they shake hands before turning to you, still silent.

You seem to awaken at that moment. “Oh, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you. Thank you for everything you’re doing,” you warmly shake her hand, and there is that flick of your eyes on him that he doesn’t miss. “How come you’re here? It’s a… happy coincidence.”

Tom, grateful that you switched to his language while Giulia winces at that choice, answers. “Just walked, not as fast as you did apparently. Were you really this eager to see me off? Could’ve come with me when I asked you, the journey would’ve been more fun.”

His smile is so bright that you can’t help but smile in turn, and he doesn’t look away from it even when Giulia pulls him away by the arm.

“Tom, I was serious when I said not to talk too loudly,” she whispers harshly as she beckons you and Henriette to follow them aside from the crowd. “We never know who can be listening.”

“She is right,” says Henriette wisely as she comes standing next to her. “I’ve heard there are already spies going around, and on top of that people feel abandoned by the military. Better not to test them.”

Tom groans in frustration and puts his hands back in his pockets, biting his tongue.

“I’m glad you made it,” you smile at him after a beat, and he finds his own again quickly while you stare at each other.

There is this shared happiness in the fact that you found each other again after that heartbreaking goodbye at the hospital, when you both thought you would never cross paths again. But now you’re diving into each other’s soul as if nothing had happened, heart content to gaze upon the other and ascertain that you’re both safe and sound.

His heart feels lighter and he reaches into his pocket to draw out one of the packets you’ve given him in what feels like weeks. “Want one? I’m warning you, they taste like shit.”

You smile before taking one.

The story of how you came to leave Paris is quickly told as well as the tale of your short journey south and when your flasks are filled with water to the brim, you all decide to travel together. Giulia knows where she is going, and it reassures both you and Henriette not to travel on your own any more. The plan is to stick together until you crossed the Demarcation Line and reached the Zone Libre. After that, you'll have to part ways again, and you find yourself less and less eager to arrive at your destination.

You had left Tom with such a heavy heart back in Paris that seeing him appear behind you, so radiant with his blue eyes so bright under the sunlight that you could not believe your luck. Maybe a greater design granted you this extra time with him to make up for your mistakes, the ones you had tried to apologise for in your unsent letters, writing it over and over again before throwing each of them away. Maybe you could use this time to “do things properly”, as he had put it. Yes, you would do that, and parting with him again would be easier.

But as you take to the road again, your mind is suddenly drawn elsewhere when you witness the remnants of the exodus and the consequences of war unfold brutally before your eyes. Bodies of dead horses, swollen by the heat and flies swarming around them sometimes appear upon your path as you walk further south, among other dreadful traces of what happened on these roads. The smell of carcasses you are forced to walk by mixed with the strong scent of fuel from cars you cross paths with repulses you, and you tell yourself that you will get used to it as you keep walking. Once or twice, you’re certain that you can discern improvised graves dug on the side of the road, some objects carefully laid upon the mound of dirt and a cross made of twigs planted above it.

All people killed by the enemy, by exhaustion, or by the war that was said to be over.

But nothing feels like it is, and when you look behind your shoulder to glance at Tom, fleeing the country he came to save, you find him already looking at you, and he gives you a small smile as Giulia walks beside him. You return it softly before looking back ahead of you, watching Henriette at your side lower her gaze when you pass a car with bullet holes in it. Tom will be fine, you tell yourself, and England will too.

An hour passes, and you finally have the chance to slow your pace and level with Tom that gladly lets you walk by his side, Henriette and Giulia busy speaking French ahead.

“So, how does it feel to be a dead man walking?” you ask, glancing at his shoulder where you know his wound is hidden under his shirt.

He smirks. “Surprisingly lively. Got my legs hurting like hell and ain’t no way the dead feel that way. But it’s not that bad, considerin’,” he remarks, lips curving upward and a glint in his eyes. “What about you? Happy to be crossing half the country with a Brit on the run? Not what you had in mind, I reckon.”

“It could be worse,” you shrug, “I could be crossing half the country with a sailor with no ship. A good thing you can swim, though, since there might be no more bridges to cross the river when we get there.”

“Who says I can swim?” he asks, raising a quizzical eyebrow he wants teasing.

You tilt your head to the side in false offence. “You’re lying…”

“Yeah, I am,” he grins wider and you chuckle in turn, a warm feeling in your chest. “Me dad taught Lois and me when we were little. Never got over the fact that she swam faster than I did.”

He smiles at the memory before his gaze turns forward and his eyes become hooded. At that moment, you know his mind had drifted back at home, lost in memories of his family and when you see his smile gradually disappear you feel compelled to say something.

“I’m sure they’re alright,” you begin, making your shoulder brush his arm with a nudge. “You’ll see them soon. You could even be an uncle by now!”

Tom smiles anew, the glint in his eyes returned. “Right, fancy that, me, an uncle. Got to live up to the name now.”

You bite your lip, the picture of Tom holding a small baby in his arms and looking down at its curious little face flashing in your mind. The sight melts your heart, to be able to imagine a future where Tom has the happiness he deserves, away from the fight and among his loved ones.

You realise that you’ll never have time to witness that, that you won’t be there.

You won’t be a part of it.

“Maybe you’ll be able to teach them how to swim when they grow up. You and Douglas.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” he kicks a rock away with his foot. “It’ll got Harry and all that posh education maybe. Won’t need me very much.”

“I think the baby will be lucky to have you Tom,” you say, nodding your head firmly, feeling the doubt radiating from him and reaching through your skin. “Anybody would.”

His eyes snap back at you and stay there, and you can feel the burn of it on the side of your face. When you meet them they are soft, unsaid words floating through the silence that settles between you as you stare at each other, the affection tangible and heavy.

The silence is broken by a loud noise, a roar that seems to approach quickly and you raise your eyes at the sky like everybody else around you to search for the source of it. It becomes louder by the second, filling the air and you hear someone yell somewhere ahead before the sound of the engine becomes clear to you.

“Pas des nôtres !” Not ours! Someone shouts again and suddenly people are moving, scattering everywhere they can to find cover, rolling beneath their carts or jumping down the ditches at the side of the road beneath the trees that border it, out of view.

You surge into action, feeling Tom’s hand on your back and Henriette’s pull at your arm before you jump down in a ditch, back pressed against the dirt with the others, eyes directed at the sky in the hope to see the deadly machine that emits that deafening sound. Despite the leaves above you, you feel blinded by the light of the blue sky, the heat of June crushing you and you have no choice but to lower your gaze, blinking as icy panic fills your body, freezing you into place.

When you open your eyes again, it’s Tom they see, crouching next to you instead of lying down, as ready to run, eyes tensed in focus as they rake the sky for something to see. His chest heaves with every breath he takes, his hands tighten into fists, the anguish radiating off his skin as you can see on his face the dreadful memories he is reliving as clearly as words on a page. Memories of chasers coming down on a beach and the sharp pain of his shoulder among the screeching sound of sirens.

You don’t think, you reach for his hand on the grass, resting your palm over his fist and there is that slight flinching of his shoulders before his gaze snaps down where your hands meet. He stares at it, eyes softening before raising his eyes at you, and you smile, like it’s only the two of you in this place, like nothing else exists.

He opens his fingers and lets you take his palm, gently squeezing as you wait for the sound to come over you, passing far too close above and then it’s gone, fading away as quickly as it came.

Nobody moves at first, waiting for the noise to die in the distance and you exhale, watching as people start coming out of their hiding in shock silence.

A thumb caresses the side of your hand and you feel yourself being pulled upward out of the ditch.

A/N:

The ID in order to cross the line (auswei) was established in the course of July 1940. Late June/August, when Tom travels, the Germans were ensuring the correct functioning of the demarcation line, and setting official crossing points. Late June the Germans were still advancing before being called back after the signature of the franco-italian armistice by direct order, and roughly form the demarcation line.

Between the 20th and 26th of June, families are returning home, encouraged by the new government as Tom and Giulia go to the new Free Zone to cross the Spanish border.

The story of the 80 years old woman who got shot is a true one. She died a few hours before the armistice was announced.

Trad: "Terminus, ladies and gentlemen, would you please get off the train, it won't go any further!"

Bold means I could not tag you:

@chainsawsangel @mischiefmanaged71 @depressedperson88 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @yentroucnagol @tssf-imagines @omgkatherine01 @nightdiamond8663 @r0segard3n @lauraneedstochill @lauftivy @unleashthelion

Part 6

#tom bennett #tom bennet x reader #wof #world on fire #tom bennet imagine #smut #tom bennett fanfiction #ewan mitchell #angst #fluff #world on fire 1x03 #gone with regret #usermyfandomprompts

85 notes · View notes

musicalhell · 6 months

Note

So this is a silly question, and you can disregard it, but I was watching your cats video, and you talked about literal visuals in musicals. I was just curious about how you tow the line and navigate with visuals like that.

For instance, if you made a song called How the Tables Have Turned and had it in a fictional space in the characters heads with turntables involved, would that be considered too literal? I’m just curious how that works

That's a good question, and the fact is a lot of it is up to interpretation, but it mainly has to do with understanding that lyrics tell a story while at the same time being, well, lyrical. There are occasions when lyrics indicate specific imagery or actions, for example in "Color and Light:"

More red... And a little more red... Blue blue blue blue Blue blue blue blue Even... even... Good Bumbum bum bumbumbum Bumbum bum... More red... More blue... More beer...

The lyrics are a direct representation to what George is doing--dotting the canvas, changing colors, evaluating the work, grabbing a drink. But more often lyrical imagery tends to be abstract, like in "Till There Was You:"

There were bells On the hill But I never heard them ringing No, I never heard them at all Till there was you

There were birds In the sky But I never saw them winging No, I never saw them at all Till there was you...

Marian is not singing about literal bells and birds, but of the wonderful world she'd been missing out on and that her eyes have been opened to through her relationship with Harold. To have birds suddenly swooping around and twittering in the middle of her song would push the moment from sentimental to absurd.

Literal interpretation can also miss important nuances in the material. Why, for example, does Eponine sing about "A Little Fall of Rain" when nothing else in the setting suggests it's been raining? Because her skin feels wet. Why does her skin feel wet? Because she's been shot and is bleeding out, and also probably because Marius is crying over her. The song works much better as her dying delirium interpreting the blood and tears as a gentle rainfall, rather than having a literal rain shower come through just for the sake of the song (looking at you Tom Hooper). Likewise, Joel Schumacher's interpretation of "Masquerade" doesn't work not because he doesn't mirror the lyrics (neither did Hal Prince) but because he misses the mood they convey, which is one of astonishing variety and hedonistic sensory overload.

All that said, theatrical staging isn't necessarily literal either and you can do fun stuff with it. "Hurricane" in Hamilton makes generous use of the turntable, tying the image of the hurricane that helped launch Alexander's career with the whirlwind of history he's caught up in. You have to decide how the action on the stage or screen complements the lyrics and the story they're telling, and whether it adds to the mood, detracts from it, or is just gilding the lily.

33 notes · View notes

mama-qwerty · 11 months

Note

Hey just a question, will there be bonding between Tom and Tails?

Tails sat on the front steps, fiddling with the ends of his namesakes. Inside he could hear Maddie arguing with Sonic and Knuckles. The older boys had gotten carried away with their sparring out back, and destroyed the shed in spectacular fashion.

He hadn't been involved--not technically, anyway--but he had been measuring their energy output as they fought. Individually, they generated impressive energy when 'powered-up', but when they clashed together, that energy spiked dramatically. Tails had wanted to study it, and had gotten some good readings before things got out of hand.

Although he wasn't personally involved in the incident, he felt somewhat responsible. His brothers had agreed to spar in the first place so he could gather data. He should have known one or the other would take things too far.

"There you are," Tom said, shocking Tails out of his thoughts. "Keeping your head low, I see. Smart." The sheriff took a seat next to the fox. "That's why I'm out here, too."

"She's pretty mad," the kit said, his voice soft.

Tom nodded. "Yeah. But at least she's not mad at us." He nudged the boy in the side, a little smile on his face. "That's a good thing."

Tails responded by flicking his ears back, and flattening them against his head. His fur frizzed noticeably, and he all but shrank into the floof of his tails.

"Hey, easy bud," Tom said softly, running a hand down the boy's back. "What's got ya all fluffed up?"

The kit didn't respond for a long moment, his eyes screwed shut. He could taste tears in the back of his throat and tried to swallow them down. Sonic wouldn't cry. He had to be brave.

"It's my fault."

"What is?"

"The shed. They were only sparring because I wanted to get some energy readings while they were powered up."

"You did?"

Tails nodded, and the first traitorous tears slipped from beneath his lips. "The energy they produce is unique. I've never seen any other creature on our world do that. I wanted to study it. To see what it was and if it could be harnessed or honed or . . ." He squeaked out a whimper. "I didn't know they'd get so carried away. But I guess I should have realized they would. I was stupid to even ask them to do that in the first place."

"Now hold on," Tom said, running a thumb over the boy's cheeks to wipe away his tears. "First off, never call yourself stupid. You, little fox boy, are the absolute smartest one in this house. And yeah, maybe you don't really think things through sometimes--"

"Like the robot vacuum thing?"

Tom nodded. "Like the robot vacuum thing. That doesn't mean you're stupid. You can't predict what those two are going to do. Sometimes they get along and work like a well-oiled machine. And sometimes they can't even be in the same room without starting something. Maddie says that's just the way siblings are."

Tails sat quietly, absorbing what his new dad said. "They don't treat me like that."

"If I had to guess, I'd say it's because your personality isn't as . . . how should I put this, forceful as Sonic's or Knuckles'. They have the perfect personalities to clash with each other--stubborn, strong-willed, and absolutely positive they know better. You seem more interested in flying under the radar." Tom offered the boy a little wink. "Besides, you're the youngest. And whatever beef those two have with each other, they'd bury it in a heartbeat if you were in danger."

"Really?"

"Yep. Remember when that kid was hassling you about your tails?" The kit nodded. "Ever wonder why he so suddenly stopped?"

Tails' eyes went wide. "They stuck up for me?"

Tom nodded. "They did. In fact, I had to step in to make sure they didn't actually do anything to him. Still got a call from the kid's mother, and had to politely explain how her boy was hassling my youngest. That shut her up real quick."

"Wow. I didn't know that."

"Those two would do anything to protect you, Tails," he said, wrapping an arm around the young boy's shoulders to pull him in for a side hug. "So would Maddie and I. Because you're a Wachowski, and we all stick together. No matter what."

Tails gave the man a little smile, his fur settling back down as his anxiety calmed. Then a thought struck, and his brow pinched.

"But the shed's still ruined because I took them out back in the first place. I told them to fight. A-am I in trouble?"

The sheriff pulled his lips tight, as though thinking. "Did you actually tell them to destroy the shed?" The boy shook his head. "Then it's not your fault. Those two can cause trouble without much prompting, honestly. And I haven't heard your name come up once, so they're not trying to pin anything on you. So I think you're in the clear."

A smile spread across the kit's face then, and he reached over to give Tom a hug. "Thanks, Dad."

The man returned the hug, a smile on his own face. "Anytime, bud. Wanna sneak out and see if we can snag a new Lego set without your mom noticing?"

"Yeah!"

"Let's go!"

~~~

Like this? Check out my other shorties. Reblogs are appreciated!

#ask me #ask shortie #tails the fox #tom wachowski #sonic fanfiction #sonic movie 2 #tails wachowski #sonic the hedgehog fanfiction

46 notes · View notes

mrchalamet-mrstyles · 8 months

Note

It's frankly sad to see what's happening with Timmy and Kylie. And your latest anon who wants to leave the fandom because of what some people are saying about him now, just makes it all sadder. Timmy is dating a woman. Maybe she's vapid, maybe she's stupid, none of us know. But it's unbelievable how some people, be it his fans who are jealous, haters who hate just because, and "reporters" looking for clicks, are collectively losing their minds over a relationship that does not, in any way, shape or form, affect any of them. It's upsetting, ridiculous, stupid, deranged. Dissecting someone else's relationship looking for negative things is one of the saddest things I've ever seen. The truth of the facts is that Timmy and Kylie have been dating for months and we have seen them together a grand total of twice. TWICE. And they haven't spoken about their relationship ever. Where's the PR? Where's the fame hunger? There are celebrities who are being papped almost everyday. Actors who are attending events every other day. Actors who have 5,6,7 movies already announced. But Timmy is the fame hungry, PR guy? Even Kylie doesn't really get papped much, nowhere close to many other celebs. It's disheartening to see what's happening. I know coverage of celebrity life mostly sucks because every trade is looking for clicks and the average person loves to trash rich beautiful stars, but we're losing the plot here. The vile things that are being said about Timmy and Kylie are abhorrent. And some "journalists" are partecipating in this awful game. Maybe everyone should remember these are human beings. And no matter how much some people scream and complain and cry about PR and fame, these two people have mostly lived this relationship in a very private way. There have been way more photos of Zendaya and Tom Holland in the past 6 months, but somehow that's real love while Timmy and Kylie, with their two outings, are PR. I don't get it. I knew the Jenners/Kardashians were hated, but this is too much. I can't believe there are people that every single day wake up, get up and go online to trash them and everyone associated to them. Don't people have anything better to do with their lives? Don't they ever think about how hurtful they are? Sorry for the rant, but it's truly upsetting what's been happening. Why are we talking about this woman as if she is the scum of the earth? You don't like her? Fine, ok. But can we remember she is a mother and has two kids who one day soon will have to read some truly awful things about their mom? And can we remember she grew up in that family and that life is all she's ever known? Can we stop trashing her for the plastic surgery when she clearly did it because people have been making fun of her looks since she was a teenager? And why are people calling Timmy a fuck boy and a fame hungry actor when he is regularly out of the spotlight whenever he's not promoting something? Why is his being a college dropout a problem now? He's still well read, talented, smart and successful.

And mind you, this isn't even just about Timmy. There are other celebs that receive the same treatment just because they dare dating someone else in the spotlight. I think we could all use minding our business a little more. It's ok to express some discontent with some things we do not like, but I think people are forgetting human decency entirely.

🙌🙌

22 notes · View notes

what-if-queen-camilla · 9 months

Text

Chapter 30

22nd November, 1995

“Of course you can stay here, for as long as you want to!”, both Annabel and Simon kept promising the poor and completely nerve-wracked Camilla over and over again. She had arrived at her sister and brother-in-law's with Thea at around midday - and while her father, who, following her mother's death last year, had moved in with them as well, had immediately taken the little one under his wings, Camilla had had a good cry in her sister's arms. She wasn't usually one for being hateful but she had to admit that, after everything she had said in that goddamn interview on Monday, she did indeed hate Diana. "Why did she have to do that, Annabel?", she desperately asked her sister. "Wouldn't it have been enough for her to destroy my life? Did she have to go after my daughter as well? And now they want to do these bloody tests with her. I will not allow that, none of those people will touch my child!", she cried. "But maybe it's best to properly clear things up once and for all.", Annabel thought. "It's not like it's going to hurt or something. It's just a PCR test, it will only take a few seconds…" "It's not the test as such, Annabel. It's the humiliation of having to prove it. Being put under general suspicion. As if I was… just another… easy woman who once had an affair with the heir, now trying to foist a child on him. I had thought that, after the tapes, it couldn't possibly get worse but in fact it could.", she sobbed, and suddenly something she had completely forgotten about in between all the worries about Thea: Tom and Laura had most certainly heard the news as well and she owed them an explanation! "God, I need to call the children!", she said and hectically rushed over the phone, grabbed the receiver and dialled Tom's number with trembling hands…

"How dare you???", Charles screamed furiously at both his parents and slammed the door behind him so heavily that the walls of Buckingham Palace rocked and shook. His mother winced in scare and almost spilled some tea, while his father, being just as much of a choleric as Charles himself, immediately screamed back: "How dare WE???", he sneered, looking at his son as if he was some sort of a disgusting insect or parasite. "HOw dare YOU still look your mother in the eyes after you've brought such shame over the family, the monarchy and everything we have been building up over decades?! You're an embarrassment, Charles, you're a loser, you're good for nothing really!", he raged and though Charles had tragically been used to being bullied by him like that ever since he'd been a little boy, it still hurt him to hear these words, but he was determined not to let them get to him this time. His father had broken him too often, he wouldn't allow him to break him again. He had to stay strong this time. For Camilla and, above all, for Thea. "Philip, please, give us a few minutes.", his mother interrupted them, friendly but firmly and to his very surprise, and motioned for his father to leave the room and him to sit down next to her."Mama…", he started, clearing his throat, but The Queen shook her head. "No, Charles. Spare me all of your explanation, I don't want to know. Please just tell me one thing: is it true? Is Theodora your daughter?" She looked at him totally unbiased, only focused on the fact as such which sort of made it easier for him. "Yes, Mama. She is my daughter.", he confirmed, and couldn't help a little smile because it was the first time ever that he could finally, publicly say this. "She is my daughter and I'm so proud of her.", he added and the sparkle in his eyes didn't go unnoticed by his mother, who, however, stayed professionally as ever. "So then the result of paternity test will be positive.", she said. "Y-yes, Mama, it would be, but…" "No, Charles, there's no 'but'. Your country deserves proof. You want them to accept you, don't you? You need their support. And therefore, you need them to believe in you, to trust you. Too many lies have been told. Too many scandals. We cannot afford another one, that'd be the end of the monarchy." "But, Mama, this is not only about the monarchy, this is also about an eight-year-old girl who has just savagely discovered that the man whom she'd considered her father all of her life isn't her father but she's in fact the illegitimate child of the Prince of Wales! Isn't that enough for her to take for the moment? Can't we just leave her alone?" "Charles - I get that you're worried. But the test won't hurt. And if you really love her as much as you've told me, if you want her to be a part of your life, then please listen to your old mother for once in your 48 years and do this test!" Charles sighed. He couldn't remember having heard his mother talking like that ever before. She almost sounded… understanding. As if she really cared and wanted to help. Of course he wanted the public to accept Thea, of course he wanted her in his life… but would a paternity test really help? Then again, what other options did he have?

"So… we have a sister?" William asked, insecurely looking down on the floor, as if he couldn't look his father in the eyes. Charles had driven to Eton to speak to His eldest son right after he'd been to Buckingham Palace and though he was relieved that William had agreed to meet him at all, seeing him so upset felt like a stitch in his heart. He and Diana had their issues without a doubt but the boys had always been his priority and to find his eldest so visibly hurt and disappointed today, made him feel absolutely miserable. Carefully, he reached out and put his arm on William's shoulder, and much to his relief, he didn't jerk away from him. "Yes, William. You have a little sister. Her name is Theodora and she's eight." William nodded, biting his lower lip. "That means you've already cheated on mum… when I was four and Harry two?" It didn’t even sound like an accusation. It sounded as if he was asking completely innocent and peaceful, out of interest and genuine curiosity, but at the same time, heartbreakingly sad. And somehow, Charles thought, he had a right to know the truth. "I'm afraid, that was the case, yes.", he admitted, clearing his throat and pulling William closer. "Wanna go for a little walk?", he suggested, and William nodded in agreement. They put on their winter coats and went outside in the beautiful gardens of Eton College, where William had just started two-and-a-half months ago. "I haven't seen her since the interview.", he told his father, referring to his mother, once they had left the school building, adding: "It's not okay what she did, even if it's true what she said. That sort of stuff doesn't belong in the media." He had said all of this so convinced and confident and had sounded so mature that it almost scared Charles. He was only just 13 and shouldn't have to think of all of this nonsense… God, what had they done to their poor children? "He'd always wanted to make it better than his own father but apparently he'd messed it all up. "And you love Camilla?", William then asked, which took his father by surprise. However, the reply came quick like a shot: "Yes, very much so. She's wonderful." "And Theodora?" William looked at him expectantly. "Do you have a… picture of her? I'd like to see her." "Of course…", Charles murmured, in surprise but deeply touched, pulled a photograph of Thea out of his wallet from about two years ago and gave it to William. "That's about two years old, I'm afraid…" He explained, but William didn't mind. "She looks sweet.", he said thoughtfully, after a few moments. "Do you think I could meet her at some point?"

#king charles #queen camilla #royal family #royal baby #fanfiction #fanfic #queen mother #queen elizabeth ii #prince philip #duke of edinburgh #prince william #duke of cambridge #prince of wales

24 notes · View notes

lnfours · 1 year

Note

yess blurb night so excited! if ur not too busy with other asks is it possible for u to pls make a blurb in which tom holland and the reader are best friends and tom always flirts with her because he’s been in love with her for years but the reader keeps rejecting him (even tho she or they is clearly blushing) because she is scared of love because like insecurity and what if one day he leaves her for someone better or they don’t work out and she loses him as a friend? but tom is patient with her and eventually they end up together?

okay anon. it's FINE. just break my heart :,)

send me tom asks !

things between you and tom have always been... complicated.

it was never easy figuring out what the both of you wanted and when, and the fact that you were too nervous to give you heart to another person always made things difficult. but, that didn't stop tom from trying. he'd always go out of his way to make sure you were special to him, always find a way to make sure just how pretty you really were.

you were the love of his life. and he was yours, but you were just too scared to admit it.

"oh come on, y/n! when are you finally going to admit to him that you love him." your best friend and roommate, maddy, sighed. she meant well, she just wanted what was best for you. she saw the way you lit up when he texted you, the way you blushed whenever he complimented you. she knew everything, and she would die on this hill.

"never," you sighed, "liz said she saw him with brooke stone the other night."

"oh, please. as if brooke has something you don't." maddy rolled her eyes. little did you know she had already confronted tom about it. they hadn't worked out at all, apparently she was doing the same thing with a bunch of other guys behind his back.

it hurt like a bitch, even more knowing that you were too late. someone else had taken their chance. what hurt the worst was that tom hadn't talked to you since brooke waltzed her way into his life and took over.

everything. sucked.

"i don't know, she was all over him."

"and was he all over her?" she asked you and you huffed, pulling the blanket over your head. you had been sulking on the couch watching shitty rom-coms for the past three days, knowing now that the one boy you truly wanted was off the table.

or so you thought, anyway.

"i love that this happened to me right before valentine's day. just my luck, eh?"

maddy looked down at her phone as it buzzed on the counter in the kitchen. she smiled, seeing tom's text to her light up her screen.

tom holland hey, by any chance is y/n home? i was going to ask her to be my valentine and sort of kinda confess my feelings, as vulnerable as that sounds lol

she typed back a response

she's home. just for the love of GOD holland please get y/n to stop watching '13 going on 13' and snotting all over the couch

lol, be there in 15 no promises about the '13 going on 30', though. that's a classic

"i love jennifer garner," you said from the couch, "i want to look like her when i'm older."

maddy let out a laugh, "yesterday it was blake lively, now it's jennifer garner?"

you were silent for a moment, "both. both would be good."

she shook her head and sat down on the couch, lifting your legs up for a place for her to sit.

"can we please watch something other than movies that are going to make you cry?"

"no."

"why? do you wish to be dehydrated?"

"yeah."

she rolled her eyes again, "okay then, don't ask me to pick up pedialite tomorrow."

"i wont."

"alright, sure."

after a while there was a knock on the door. maddy tapped your legs.

"answer the door."

"no," you whined, "this is the best part!"

"y/n, they're literally just sharing razzles as 30 year olds."

"but it's sentimental!" you groaned. she gave you a glare and you groaned as you wrapped yourself in the blanket more, walking towards the front door.

"listen, whatever you're selling i'm not interested in. i'm watching a really great movie and it's at the best part and-"

you cut yourself off as tom stood there smiling with a bouquet of your favorite flowers, "i know, maddy told me to save you from getting swallowed by the couch."

you sniffled, walking out onto the porch and closing the front door behind you, "what are these for?"

"well, they have three meanings," he started, "one for not telling you how i felt sooner, another as an apology and another reason i'll get to in a minute."

"telling me how you felt?" you questioned.

he took a deep breath, "i know how scared you've been about loving someone again, trust me, from experience, i know how scary it is. it swallows you whole and you can't think about anything else. but i just can't stop myself from thinking about you day and night. you're the only thing that's ever on my mind. it's like you're embedded in it and i can't get you out. y/n, i love you. i'm head over heels, if that's what they call it."

you looked at him confused, "but you and brooke...?"

"didn't work out," he sighed, "don't worry about it though, i'm actually kind of glad it didn't."

you smiled softly, "you got me sunflowers."

"your favorite," he smiled, "fresh from the farmers market in town."

"you remembered." you took them gently from his hands.

"'course, couldn't forget it even if i tried."

"and the last meaning for these flowers?" you asked.

"oh, yeah," he cleared his throat, "was wondering, would you be my valentine?"

you smiled, "of course."

he smiled back at you and you pulled him into your body by the strings of his hoodie, "and i love you too, head over heels, as they say."

he smiled, leaning down as his nose bumped yours, "i know."

you smiled, "i like to think i can hold up a front."

"maybe when you're not blushing so hard you look like a tomato."

you smacked his arm playfully, "hush."

"make me."

you rolled your eyes and smiled, leaning in to kiss his lips as he held your waist in his arms. just like you've always been wanting him to do.

"thank fuck! it's about time!" maddy yelled from the doorway. you turned around, smiling as you shot her the middle finger and tom laughed behind you.

"yep, love you too!"

#tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland x reader blurb #blurb #fluff #blurb night #mail time #new moon

101 notes · View notes

faegoddessog · 9 months

Text

Seventy Two Hours of Bliss Ch. 40/41

Chapter 40: Mangoes and English Oak

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, cunnilingus, fingering, sexual mangoes reference, Sex while eating, Unprotected PiV (play safe ya'll) female dominated PiV, Pinky and the Brain reference (lol)

Series Masterlist

Series Summary:

You are neighbors with Austin Butler on the Gold Coast of Australia just prior to shooting Elvis. You become just friends because he is taken. However, after he is single again, you both find out just how attracted you are to one another and things get unrelentingly hot.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, here there be lemons.

Authors Notes: I started writing this while remodeling my kitchen, so that informed the slightly quirky narrative. It starts slow, but once it heats up, it is on fire. I have tried to pull facts from RL as much as I could, but obviously there are some assumptions and flat out dreamy wishes involved here.

Chapter 40: Mangoes and English Oak

Whatever it was that had been built between you seemed to evaporate with the mad fucking, the crying, the confessions and promises. Suddenly it’s like no time passed at all.

You two rummage in the kitchen, half clothed, pulling out what few things were there, clearly you need to hit the market. You nibble on toast with jam and tea with canned pears while leaning on the counter.

You talk about your travels here and how nervous you were feeling to see him again. He talks about how he was anxious to see you too. You both smile at how you felt the same way. It feels comfortable again, finally.

You hop up to sit on the counter kicking your shoes off, closer to his height now. You tell him you have 8-10 weeks, before going to begin the project for Tom and Rita.

“When you go, maybe we can visit on weekends?” he suggests.

“Oooo I like that, or meet in the middle, I do want to spend some time in France and Italy while I’m here,” you say.

“Oh I would love that! We could fuel the French rumors more!” he laughs.

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “We could really keep them guessing! Do we need to address that whole situation soon?"

He shrugs, "It's not really anyone else's business. Let them figure it out for themselves, it'll keep them busy."

You nod.

"Oh! By the way, Marissa called me last week. She wanted me to thank you for setting her up with Kate. She says it’s been a dream come true. I think she may actually be really good at it,” you smile at him.

He moves his body between your legs, sliding his hands to your waist. Your breath catches just a bit.

“It was my pleasure," he says, then hears what he said and who he said it to. He cracks a smile.

You can’t help but crack up, forehead to his chest, suddenly reminded of your inside joke about Chick-fil-A. He laughs too, putting his hand on the back of your head. "Do you suddenly feel like a sexy shower?"

"Pavlov says yes... but the shower here looks tiny," you retort looking up from his chest.

"We could always wait for a rain storm, I've always wanted to fuck in the rain..." he looks outside.

"Mmm, yes please, let's mastermind that" you say, rubbing up his chest to his neck and pulling him down for a slow kiss.

After a long minute. He breaks the kiss, rubbing your thighs.

“Do you know what your schedule will be like?” you ask, trying to handle the mundane in amongst the magical.

“We just finished our mini boot camp yesterday, so we have a couple days off. I am told we should be working only during the week, so weekends should be ours. We’ll see how true that’ll be.”

“It is ok if I stay here, right?” you realize that you hadn’t asked him at all, you just assumed.

“Oh my god Kitten, yes please. I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t. I need you all to myself for a while,” he wraps his arms around you rocking slightly side to side.

It’s amazing to be in his arms again, almost surreal.

“I’m all yours sweetheart, morning, noon and night,” you look up at him.

He smiles down at you. A wave of awe strikes you. This amazing man loves you. Your mind is pulled to the little black box. You dutifully shove it away, ‘everything in perfect timing’, you tell yourself.

“How long do you think Tom and Rita’s will take?” he asks, thinking about more time apart.

“Oh, geeze,” you reply, thoughts pulled back to the now, “I can't even guess until I see it. Honestly it will depend on how fast materials get there and since it’s on an island, that will be an interesting twist!”

“Then you’ll be done, huh, with your 7 continents,” Austin remarks, “then what?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, ”I suppose we will see what life lays at our feet.”

“Our feet?” he says with a smile, “I like the sound of that.”

“Of course baby,” you say snuggling up to him, “this, this right here is my dream now.”

“Oh Kitten,” he lets out a huge breath, his arms tightening around you.

He leans forward to kiss your sweet mouth. The light kiss expands into parted lips, while tips of tongues solicit for entrance. Every other thought melts away as his kiss deepens.

Kissing him feels like the oxygen you can’t live without. It’s like you’d been slowly suffocating for months without realizing it and now you can finally breathe deep.

He pulls back from you, looking into your eyes.

“Is it alright if I take you to the bedroom?” he asks in a slightly cautious, but sultry voice, “I think I’m ready to take my time sweetheart.”

You bite your lip and nod. A smile spreads across his lips, like he was worried you’d say no. Silly boy, like you could say 'no' to him.

He leans down and kisses your mouth. His hands glide down your back, snapping open the clasp on your red bra, almost as an afterthought. He pushes his hands between your ass and the cold tiles of the counter. He bends his knees and your legs wrap around his waist, your skirt bunched up around your hips. He pulls you onto him. Your arms wrap around his neck and shoulders, helping to hold yourself on his lean body. He has gotten stronger, you have too.

He carries you, kissing you gently, to the bedroom.

He lays you down on the side of the bed, your bra sliding off. His still undone jeans, underwear and shoes come off and he stands naked in front of you.

It feels like the beginning again, even though he fucked you silly an hour ago. That was different, full needy desperation and all the difficult emotions that had built up between you. But this: this is tender wanting, laced with love and all the feels.

Your knees fall slightly together as you bite your lip. Your eyes are slowly taking in his Adonis-like form from head to toe and back again. Just the sight of him standing above you makes a little moan escape from your lips. Fuck he is magnificent.

He leans down to the bed, one finger tracing up your leg, the hem of your skirt still up near your hips. Its drape drags lightly along your bare and sensitive pussy lips as he slowly pulls the fabric across and out of the way. The barest of shudders slides down your spine.

Then his knees are on the floor and his fingers are barely stroking your lips. He gently pulls your labia apart, stretching the skin around your clit just enough to make your inner lips contract. You inhale an audible gasp. Pushing them back together, his fingers squeeze gently on the outside, near the root of your clit, massaging back and forth. Wetness seeps from between your lips.

You blow out a little moan, fuck he remembers. He pulls you apart again, blowing on your clit. The cold air makes you whimper.

The tip of his tongue runs up and down the smoothness of your labia, teasing at what is to come.

He is definitely taking his time, lips nibbling and tongue licking slowly, but not touching your clit. Not yet.

Your breath quickens.

“Lord, I missed this,” he says, almost as a prayer.

Then his fingers pull you wider, open and exposed. The tip of his tongue touches your clit. You gasp as a zing jolts you. He blows on it, then touches it again. Pause. And again.

He is watching your reaction. His blue eyes peering over your mons with his tongue out long. Fuck, he is gorgeous.

This please. Yes, this please, forever.

Gradually his touches become tip-of-the-tongue undulations up and over your nub. Deeper, rolling his tongue farther down, down, down and into your entrance.

Your breath is shallow and fast, little moans escaping with each new sensation. Then his tongue ripples up against your inner lips. His mouth closes around your clit with pulsing suction.

“Oh my fucking god,” falls from your lips as you curl towards him, hands in his blonde hair, “did you get better at this?”

His eyes open to yours and you feel the vibrations of chuckle against your labia.

“Mangoes,” is all he says with a cock of his eyebrow and a lick of his lip. Then he dives back to the veneration of your cunt.

Thank fuckin’ mangoes! Is there a god of mangoes? Because you need to deliver upon them all your offerings and praise! All hail mangoes, and Austin's tongue!

He pulls your clit into his mouth, tongue lightly flicking back and forth, then suction again. His fingers slide so slowly inside you. He is moaning into your pussy. Your body is curled tight, flexing against his face. Then his fingers curl against your front wall and like a spring you uncoil, deep moans rumbling from your chest. The back of your hands beating the mattress.

Beautiful, sweet release.

He laps at your slit, drinking in all the juices that leak out as you shake on the bed. Then his comforting weight is on your heaving chest. You stare almost dumbfounded into his eyes. He pets your hair, moving it out of your face.

“Ready for more, my pet?” he asks.

You can only nod still panting from your orgasm.

His lip curls up in a tiny smile, his little dimple appearing over the left corner. His hips rock, his cock rooting gently around your snatch, begging to be let in. You lift ever so slightly, giving him room. Then he is barely in you, just an inch or so.

He freezes. Your hips strain up to his, getting him in you a scant inch further. He lifts back, teasing you. Your hips roll and you wrap your arms around him in an attempt to pull him to you. He refuses to let you.

“Oh my,” his voice deep and penetrating, “what a needy girl you are.”

“Uh huh” you nod.

“Do you need me in you?” he says, “is that what you want?.”

"Want, need,” you moan, “please, please yes.”

Slowly, he pushes himself into you. Every inch in and every inch out has your eyes fluttering and your body shaking. Then he stops, holding himself up on his elbows and toes, letting you rut up to him. Writhing against him, your body begs for more. You do your best to fuck yourself on his cock, but it’s not hitting right.

“Let me…,” you say, pushing him off and rolling him over. You stand between his legs which are bent off the bed, feet on the floor. You plant your right foot on the bed next to his hip, your knee bent almost to your shoulder.

Rising up on the toes of your left foot, you grab the base of his cock and sink down onto him with a groan. He can’t really thrust here more than flex his glutes. He smiles as you take charge.

You place your hands on his hip bones, hunching over him like a big cat getting ready to pounce. Your hips start rolling forward, tilting along his length, then pushing down and back in a slow steady rhythm. Each stroke rubs him along your g-spot.

Oh my god it feels so good to ride him like this, to work yourself back and forth on him, angling right where you want him to hit.

His thumb slides to your clit, giving you something more to rub against, something more to moan about. Your hips move a little faster, your orgasm building deep inside He is watching you grind yourself on his cock and hand.

“Fuck yeah, that’s it,” he spurs you on, "god you are so hot.”

His other hand rises to rub his fingers across your nipples.

“Ohmigod, yes, play with them,” you start to flood his dick as the sensations from your nipple shoot right to your pussy. You are so close to unraveling on him.

“Oh lord, you are so wet, you are dripping down my balls,” he moans.

He pinches your nipple and for a split second it’s too hard.

“Not too…” you begin saying, then it unexpectedly pushes you that last tiny bit, “haaaaaa yes, fuck yes, fuck yes.”

You are exploding onto him, the contractions of your core riding him hard. You curl up over him, shaking with how good he is in you, riding the wave of your orgasm. You shake down to a stop, catching your breath.

“Oh gods, Kitten! Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” he begs. His fingers dig into your hips now, intent on pushing you back and forth on his cock. Fuck. You can’t leave him hanging.

“You like this,” you breath out, moving on him, “me mounting you this way, riding you? Yeah?”

“Yes, I do,” he moans, eyes closed, head tilted back. You had forgotten how sexy his neck was. You realize how dominating this position feels for you, you are in control, you have the power.

“You like it when I claim you?” your words coming out of their own accord in lieu of the moans of pleasure you feel bubbling up.

His head raises, lust shrouded eyes meeting yours. He nods, biting his lip. Fuck, if that’s what he wants… a slow smile sneaks across your face. You grind down on him. Shit it’s good, almost too good.

His eyes flutter closed.

“No, no, look at me Austin,” you tell him, pulling his chin. His eyes open, lost in sensation.

“You are mine. Your mouth is mine, your fingers are mine, your cock is mine, your cum is mine. I want all of you.” You put your hands on his chest, pushing him down, nails heedlessly digging into his skin, snapping your hips back and forth over him, overstimulating yourself in the best way.

“Oh fuck!” his pupils are blown, his heart is racing in his chest, he is close to spilling into you, “I’m yours baby, yours! All fucking youuuuur,” he groans out as his eyes roll back in his head. He is so hot when he cums, it sets you off again.

“Oh god Austin, yes, yes YES! ” your clit grinding on to the tight muscles of his lower abdomen as your internal muscles clamp down onto him. He groans, pleasure surging through you and through him. Your bodies are buzzing, vibrating together in shared bliss.

After you catch your breath, you climb off him and sit, leaning against the headboard. You spy the picture of you in your black dress in a frame on the bedside table. It makes your heart melt.

Austin curls up, head in your lap and his arms around your waist. You watch him breath for several minutes, his eyes closed and a relaxed smile touching his lips. He could be sleeping. Your fingers lightly connect the freckles on his left cheek in a curve then down his neck and arm.

“God I love you, Austin,” you whisper.

His smile broadens, not asleep. He turns his head to look up at you, his baby blues shining.

“I have never loved anyone like I love you, Kitten,” he says softly, finger tracing your jawline.

You stare at one another, lost in the quiet of the moment, lost in each other. You slide down next to him after several heartbeats, wanting to feel all of your body on all of his.

“This feels so good, so right,” you remark, snuggling close against him.

“Oh Kitten,” his palm is tapping his chest, “I didn't realize how much missing you weighed on me, how much it hurt. I’ve been living like that so long, the weight of it became normal.”

You nod, totally understanding what he means.

“I haven’t felt this good in months,” he says, ”and it just dawned on me that I don't hurt anymore.”

“Oh my love…” you move his hand and plant kisses on his heart, “never again.”

You spend the next several hours in the ebb and flow of one anothers embrace. You doze, you talk, you kiss, you slowly make love, you shower, you eat naked in the kitchen, you talk, your passion flares in a fiery kiss, you fuck hard, you eat again. In the wee hours of the night, you are both finally spent and curled up together. Just before you fall asleep, you press his hand between your thighs, cupping your mons. His fingertips lightly press against your labia. It’s oddly comforting. You smile and drift into a deep relaxed sleep.

………

You wake up the next day before he does. You sneak out and go buy groceries at the Sainsbury’s down the street. When you come back in, the house is still silent. You peek in and he is still dead asleep. Apparently, waking up early in distress was an Elvis shoot thing.

You had decided to make french toast when you were at the store. You even bought cream to whip, which you end up doing by hand because there was no mixer.

“Awoken by the whisk, I guess it’s better than the whip,” his deep voice resonates from behind you.

“Hey! Good Morning,” you turn around, whisk and bowl in hand. He is leaning against the door with only pajama bottoms on. He looks divine.

“Hungry?” you ask, rising on your tiptoes to kiss him.

“For you? Always.” his hands come to your waist and pulls you into a passionate good morning kiss.

“I’m sorry if I woke you up,” you say when your lips part.

“No, it was good,” his hands remain around your waist as you turn back to the counter to set down the bowl. “I was waking up already. When I realized you weren’t in bed, I almost had a panic attack thinking it was all a dream. Then I heard your racket in here.”

“My racket is almost done and is going to be delicious,” you smile, dipping your finger in the white creamy fluff and offering it to him over your shoulder, he slowly licks it off your finger. A little involuntary moan whispers from your lips.

“Mmm, that is good Kitten,” he says.

“Is it?” you dip your finger in again. Turning around, you wipe it on his chest, just over his nipple.

You lean forward, tongue out, flicking his nipple lightly as you lick up the slowly dripping vanilla flavored sweet cream. Then you cover his nipple with your mouth, gently sucking and biting.

When you pull away, he is watching you from lowered lashes.

“Mmm, is that how it is this morning?” he asks.

“With you? Always,” you nod, looking up at him, “take your pants off and go sit,” you nod your head towards the table.

A look of bewilderment flashes on his face, then he nods, untying the drawstring. Pulling his pants off right there, you see he is half hard.

“Go, I’ll be there in a minute,” you turn your back to him, un-doing the top several buttons on your blouse and kicking off your shoes.

“Yes ma’am,” he does as he is told, watching you.

You cut up some french toast into bite sized pieces, syrup, butter and whipped cream on them. You grate a little nutmeg and cinnamon on top. You grab one fork and bring a generous cup of tea. You walk over and set them on the table.

“Thank you,” says Austin, reaching for the fork.

You bat his hand away. “No, wait,” holding up a finger.

His look of confusion is priceless.

You pull his chair perpendicular to the table, so he is facing sideways. Stepping back, you slowly unbutton your jeans and make a show of taking them and your underwear off. You slide your hands into your blouse removing your bra in the mysterious way all women know and all men wonder about. You lean over him, giving him a generous view of your dangling breasts. You see he has gotten harder with your little strip tease.

Perfect.

His hands go instinctively to your hips as you lean further to kiss him deeply, passionately. Your hands slide around his neck and your legs open to straddle his lap, trapping his now hard cock against his belly. You pull away from his lips, kissing along his jawline and down his neck. His hand slides into your hair to the back of your head, pressing you to continue. His other is wrapped around the curve of your ass, pulling you closer to him.

“Are you hungry Austin?” you ask quietly, deviously. Your fingers slip the last button of your blouse out of its hole, exposing your front to him.

“Um… yes,” almost more question than statement. He is totally unsure of what is happening here, “but…and.. ”

His words hang in the air as you grab the cup of tea and pass it to your non-dominant hand. You pick up the fork, stabbing a piece of french toast. You offer it to him, letting him take the bite off the fork as you sip the tea. As he is chewing you rise up and sink your pussy over his cock. His eyes close for a second as he stops chewing to inhale through his nose.

You nonchalantly take another sip.

He swallows with a shaky breath.

You slide up and down slowly continuing to offer bites to him. His breath comes little moans as he keeps taking food off the fork.

You put the tea down.

Neither of you say anything, eating and fucking is all your brains can process at the moment.

Words would ruin it.

It’s unexpectedly erotic.

Thinking would break the spell.

He takes the fork from you, turning the tables. He offers, you chew. He flexes and pushes into you. Your eyes go wide, then your tongue rolls the flavors in your mouth, then you swallow as he pulls back.

Your breath comes out wobbly before he offers you a second bite. Again and again this slow fucking and feeding continues.

By the time the plate is empty, syrup, butter and whipped cream has dripped unheeded onto your tits due to his having to use his non-dominant hand. One drop is trailing dangerously close to your vulva. Remembering that you don’t like sugar there, Austin places the mostly empty plate on the chair next to him as you finish off the tea. As one motion he grips your ass, fixing you to him, and stands up, laying you back on the table, stopping the runaway drips of liquid sugar in their tracks. His cock pulls back as he slowly lowers his face to your vulva. He catches the drop and backtracks its pathway with a lapping tongue.

The empty tea cup slips from your fingers unnoticed.

He finds each drop of syrup, each plop of whipped cream and luxuriates in slowly licking each, nibbling his own path between each one. By the time he is done, your heaving chest tells him you want more.

He pulls back, double checking his work. He looks curiously at your breasts, realizing that they had been unsullied by thick, sweet fluid. Then he swirls his finger in the plate of cream and syrup, bringing up a creamy mix reminiscent of sweet cum. The idea of it being cum makes you want to tip the whole plate onto your chest.

You watch as he lets it drop onto a nipple, then offers it to your mouth. Greedily you suck on his finger, eyes closed. The taste makes you want to break your rules and coat yourself in it. When you open your eyes, he is watching you suck his finger, lips slightly pursed and blowing out a breath. You are guessing he’d like it all over his cock too.

He pulls his finger out and wraps his talented tongue around your nipple, holding your breast in his hand. He sucks it into his mouth, brushing the nipple with his tongue, holding it in a gentle bite with his teeth.

You moan, your clit throbbing all of a sudden. He pops it out of his mouth and works his way to your neck. With hands kneading and rubbing your breasts, he sinks his teeth into the meat of your neck. Goosebumps spring up along your arm and down your side. He pulls back, running a finger along the tiny pebbles, evidence of your arousal.

Then he is staring at your eyes, soft and full of desire at the same time. He leans down slowly and gently rubs his lips to yours, side to side. Not hesitant, but sultry. You coax him closer with your tongue darting out to touch his soft, full bottom lip. He slowly gives in to your lingual seduction, diving to deepen the kiss. Lips open, mouths press, tongues explore.

It’s hard to tell who is tempting who.

Before you know it, one hand is gripping the table edge next to your head, the other having trailed down your side, over your hip and under your ass. He lifts you just slightly, enough to give himself a straight route to your core. His mouth never leaves yours as he slowly presses into you.

A long whining moan resonates in your sinuses as he buries himself deep in your wet and wanting pussy. He takes his time to pull out, focusing more on devouring your mouth with his.

Then he thrusts in hard, using the table as leverage.

You gasp through your nose, vocal cords vibrating on the exhale, whimpering against his tongue.

Pulling out, his hand adjusts on your ass, almost massaging the flesh of your glutes. Then another hard thrust and his fingertips dig in.

God it feels so good, he is hitting you in all the right places inside.

He continues his pattern of kissing you while pulling out, and digging in his fingers while thrusting hard.

In this moment, he is beautifully masterful in his authority, his immense self control. His energy is all male, but not noxiously so. By taking his time, going slow, every thrust is slowly luring you, pushing you, enticing you to orgasm. Soon your hips are tilting up to meet his thrusts. His mouth leaves yours as he starts to moan in his own pleasure. He seems almost lost in place and time

He has you balancing on the head of a pin, for long minutes as he builds slowly.

Your breath is panting, despite the slow pace. Your hips are vibrating against him, wanting more, needing more. Just a little and you will fall apart.

He leans back, his other hand sliding under your ass. He stops for a moment, watching you squirm under him, a little decadent smile on his face. Your eyes are begging him, your hands are opening and closing, shaking, fingertips rooting at your teeth, not sure what to do with themselves.

With both hands digging into the muscles of your butt, he unleashes on you. Giving you everything you wanted and more.

Your hands fly to the edge of the table, holding on for dear life. The way his hands are digging, massaging into your ass feels exquisite, adding that much more to your orgasm. His cock is giving no quarter as it pummels into you.

The imagined weight of your eyes rolling back tilts your chin up, your throat vibrating with deep guttural groans. Sharp undulating waves roll up your spine, arching your back further and further up with each pass. Your whole body shakes with force of his hips. You ride the high as he rides you, deep and fast.

His scream comes from his gut; loud, resonant, primal. His hands squeeze deeper, pulling you onto him as he thrusts become hard and jerky, eyes closed and teeth bared. His breath holds as pushes deep with little thrusts, giving all of himself to you.

“Oh gaw,” bursts from him as the vacuum is released from his lungs. He stumbles a little against the table, lightheaded.

You pull him down to you, his torso laying on yours, his hands still trapped under your ass. Your chests heaving together, heavy breaths blow across your breasts.

Eventually he pulls his hands out from under you, standing upright. He helps you off the table, now messy with more than just syrup.

“Wow, sturdy table” he says, pulling you into his arms.

“Probably English Oak” you say without missing a beat.

You both giggle, still euphoric.

“Well, that’s one way to have breakfast,” he says.

“Right! It was freakin’ sexy though, more so than I thought it would be,” you admit.

“Yeah, I would’ve never thought to do that… but it worked. I don’t think anyone but you could pull that off though, further evidence that you are a sex magician, wait no, Enchantress” He smiles, remembering that night on the top floor of the Emporium.

“Fuck yeah!” you respond with a giggle, leaning in to gather a kiss from him.

“I’m actually still hungry,” you say, “shall we clean up the table and just like… eat?”

“Yes please! Can I have my own fork this time?” he asks with sly smile.

......

After second breakfast, Austin cleans the kitchen up while you go and actually unpack your bags. You are humming happily to yourself, hanging things up in the wardrobe, tucking things away. There is an antique vanity on the wall opposite the bed complete with a trifold mirror.

You figure you might as well use it for what it’s for and put your hair brush, makeup and brushes there along with what was left of the little bottle of essential oil Austin sent you. You also decide to be cheeky and artfully arrange your collections of vibrators and butt plugs there too, giving the blue sapphire one center stage. The whole thing makes you giggle out loud.

“What’s so funny,” Austin comes in, drying his hands on a kitchen towel he has slung over his shoulder. He’s, again only in his pajama bottoms.

“Tah Dah!” you say arms stretched out to your sex toy display.

“Oh geeze Kitten,” he chuckles blushing a little, “what if someone comes over?”

“Well, if they are invited to the bedroom, then they should know what they’ve agreed to,” you give him a sly smile.

He nods, deciding not to argue with your logic. “Well, in that case,” he walks over to a drawer in the dresser and pulls out his two hanks of black rope, the lube and his own set of butt plugs you bought for him. He hangs the rope from the corner of the mirror and puts the lube and plugs in amongst the arrangement. “There, no holds barred now!”

He grabs you in a huge hug, kissing your forehead.

“What are we going to do today Brain” you say in your best Pinky voice.

“The same thing we do every day Pinky,” he answers as Brain, without missing a beat, “try to take over the world!” He dramatically clenches his fist.

You both giggle, sharing the weird childhood memory.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” you say, sexily, leaning up to press your lips to his.

“I think so” his voice husky, his lips rubbing against yours, “but burlap chafes me so.”

You completely lose it, like in the absurd way that makes other people look at you like a loon. You are laughing so hard tears run down your face, you can’t breathe and you fall onto the bed.

Your ridiculous laughter makes him laugh too. Soon your bellies are sore and you are in a heap together on the bed, catching your breath.

His arms surround you. It’s the most comfortable you’ve felt in months.

“I do want to play with you later today, if that’s ok,” he asks.

“Yes please, anytime is a good time for playtime. What do you have in mind?” you ask, cuddling up to him.

“I have some ideas taking shape, but I think you’ll have to just wait and see,” he says… kissing your nose.

“Oooo, antici……” you leave the word hanging.

#Austin Butler #Austin Butler smut #Austin Butler x reader #Austin Butler fic #Austin butler fanfic #@purejasmine #@slowsweetlove #@richardslady121

24 notes · View notes

thisandthat-whatever · 3 months

Note

you've been here way longer than I, but weren't Timmy and Zendaya single at the same time when she broke up with Tom? Was he seeing someone? And then again when she broke up with Jacob Elordi? I truly feel like if she were into him, she would have chosen him as a rebound instead of Elordi. The fact that it was Jacob over Timmy says it all. I feel like, unfortunately for Timdayas, Zendaya isn't into him. And I don't mean it as in because she's always been loyal to her partners and wouldn't even allow herself to go there because she's in a relationship... but as in she doesn't find him attractive.

I stopped playing close attention to the smallest details of Tomdaya a few months before Tom and Zendaya broke up. So, my “expert” knowledge is more on the period from 2017 to the beginning of 2019.

But that being said, I do know that Jacob made himself very available by dumping his then-gf while vacationing with said gf in South Africa when the pics of Tom and the blonde middle-aged looking one dropped in tabloids. And a few weeks later his ass was hauled to Greece as a replacement and a public show for petty purposes by Z towards Tom.

Jacob was the more eager puppy to fill the void in the form of a “rebound” than Timmy. I don’t know what Timmy’s relationship status was during that time. But like I said ,Jacob is more thirsty as a climber (whether it is social climbing, status climbing or relationship climbing) than Timmy is.

And Jacob was more familiar and more in her DM’s probably to offer a shoulder to cry on the moment the pics of Tom and the blonde one at the festival dropped because we all know that even though Tom and Z broke up before that day, seeing those PDA-filled pics must have stung Z. So I bet Jacob was immediately in her messages to “make her feel better”. 😬

#Tomdaya #zendaya #jacob elordi #timothée chalamet #tom holland

6 notes · View notes

muddyorbsblr · 11 months

Text

monthly wrap-up :: may 2023

Welcome to smth I’m gonna try this month: a wrap-up! I’ll be giving you all a lil recap of the fics I’ve read & written over the last month and hopefully this will get me to actually chip away at my TBR and get y’all on some non-Loki/Tom stories that I occasionally do read 🫡

Everything under the cut

Loki x Reader

Don't Be Shy by @lokisgoodgirl

The way that shy Loki being nervous about not satisfying Agent Y/N has me running around in circles in my living room I can't 🫠🫡

Hostile F*cks: Public Relations by @lokisgoodgirl

A perfect epilogue to this series that was a masterclass of holding your emotions hostage and giving the best payoff. And the fencing pants got a return cameo?? This had me giggling and squeeing and the second the fencing pants came out to play…running laps once again 🫠

An Interesting Theory by @infinitystoner

Completely obsessed with the dynamic between Loki & Reader in this piece. And the ending with Loki deciding that he needs more "data" to "confirm the hypothesis"? I see you, Mischief 😏🫠

The Prince is Dead by @lokisgoodgirl

The beginning had me all teary eyed and ready to fight; the end had me filled with hope and chortling at the tasteful dick joke. LGG really do be a master at holding our emotions hostage with a satisfying payoff at the end 🥹 I live in fear thinking what she could be capable of if she ups and decides to make a piece of just pure angst 😳👀

A Gentlemen's Agreement by @lokisgoodgirl

This had me having some good reminiscing moments of back when I was a Steve girly for a few months in 2015 and also deciding that Bucky's a second simp subject. Distant second, but a second nonetheless. The fact that there's even a second got me doing the Blinking Man at myself--

She is Beauty, She is Grace, She Will Stab You in the Face by @clandestineloki

The adorable dynamic between them when he caught her and saved her from tripping?? Her singing Hamilton without a care in the world? Their whole exchange in the jet after she offed 3 henchmen for hurting her mans?? I love them, your honor.

A Lesson on Behaving by @multifandom-worlds

Reader edging Loki and "suffering" the consequences? With a brief cameo from besties Nat & Wanda trying (and failing hilariously because Reader tried to go and get a snack) to hide her from said consequences? Sign me up and don't expect to be able to contact me for the next few hours because I need to recover from the smut 🥵🫠

Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Under Your Spell by @holdmytesseract

A Model AU where Reader's a photographer and she's been hired to do an underwear shoot for Calvin Klein…and Tom's tatted and pierced and--and--*melts on the spot* 🫠 Head empty all thots…that is all 😮‍💨

Bucky Barnes x Reader

shouldn't have gone by @imyourbratzdoll

This had me clutching at my heart going "why would he do this to Reader what the hell"…like no joke I needed a good few mins to start breathing right and not in the fun I just read toe curling smut way. I mean in the "If I try now I might start crying" way 🥲

Ari Levinson x Reader

Like a Broken Record by @howdoyousleep3

Ari with a plus size reader making her feel so empowered & beautiful in bed? The “I’m keeping you” vibe?! This had me 100% completely deceased when I read it while I was out doing groceries (bc y’all know me I should know better than to read smut in public but I never do and I might never will lol).

self-conscious ask by @imyourbratzdoll

This one hit me so close to home and honestly where can I get a boyfriend like this I would very much appreciate one 🥺💖

Give Me One More by @saiyanprincessswanie

This character + this trope = Ally dead in the water. Thank you and goodnight I am not available for comment at this time 🫡

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Fall Kiss by @animnerd

Besties becoming lovers after months apart and having some fluffy wholesome fun on a pile of leaves before having their first kiss? Lemme melt in my spot real quick aaaaaa

Clark Kent/Superman x Reader

It Got Worse by @hannibals-favourite-meal

Clark being a soft lil simp for his fiance while her brother Bruce has a hilarious mix of "I'm happy their happy" and "Why did I ever set them up" is such an adorable dynamic and I need more 🥹

Loki x Reader

rules of conduct: the checkout queue

Thomas Sharpe x Reader

the final Lady Sharpe part 2: a risky endeavor

#rec list #monthly wrap-up

29 notes · View notes

pinkcaddyconfessions · 1 year

Text

Anything for You, Darlin

- - -

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader (can be Austin!Elvis if you prefer)

Word count: 1, 767 words

Warnings: Mentions of the Colonel, References & Mentions of the events that occurred in Chp. 7, Elvis crying, Pregnancy, Child birth, Angst(maybe), Fluff in the end

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I know Chapter 7 & parts of Chapter 8 are tough to get through so there will be some lighter chapters up ahead. Thank you again for all the love you continue you to show!!

- - -

Chapter 8

March 1970

Nearly seven months had flown by since that fateful day, but you were being reminded of it almost every day. Elvis was suing the Colonel for emotional damages, theft and fraud among other things. He had called Steve Binder who agreed to be his temporary manager while the trial went on and Elvis found the best attorney for these types of things. Elvis kept you away from the trial because he didn’t want you to get hurt by what they were saying about you. The Colonel’s attorney was one sick one of a bitch. He threw everything against the wall to see what would stick, but so far nothing stuck to the walls. Elvis’ team of attorneys were calm and collected, kept it simple, laid out all of the facts. Then the bombshell was dropped, Elvis decided to testify to keep you off the stand. He knew you were in no condition to testify while being eight months pregnant with his baby. He kept you protected and loved during the whole trial.

April 1, 1970

You only went the one day that he testified and it broke your fucking heart to see him nearly in tears when they asked about you.

“Now Mr. Presley, this man had been your manger since the beginning.” his attorney stated.

“Yes sir, since 1954.” Elvis replied

“What was the final breaking point for you then, Mr. Presley? What caused you to fire him?,” the attorney asked already knowing the answer

“Well some people assume it’s the money. While Mr. Parker stole millions from me, that’s not what broke the camel’s back. What did me in was what that coward did to my family….. he threatened to make…. my wife… my daughter… and my unborn baby disappear,” Elvis barely got out with tears in his eyes, “you don’t mess with my family.”

“Alright thank you Mr. Presley,” his attorney said then walked back over to his side of the court room. No matter the other side threw at Elvis, nothing stuck. Colonel Tom Parker was fucked.

After that day’s court proceedings, Elvis took you home, back to Graceland. He could see the pain in your eyes. On the way home, he kept one hand on the steering wheel and other hand your growing baby bump, which the two of you lovingly called your little bean. When you got home, he took you upstairs and make you comfortable in the king sized bed. Elvis couldn’t help but admire your beauty in that moment as you drifted into sleep. Your long (H/C) hair, your long eyelashes, just everything about you was perfect to this man.

After he made sure you were asleep, he went to check on Mallory. Mallory was sound asleep too, just like her mama. He stood over her little bed to adore her as well. “Lil princess, I swear you look more like your mama every day.” He softly cooed to her while rubbing her little head. He was right: she had your hair, your eyes. Of course she had his lips and attitude. He went back to the bedroom and crawled into bed with you. He got close to you and placed his hands on your stomach to remind you, even in your sleep, that you and little bean were safe. “Good night satnin, good night lil bean.” He softly cooed in your ear and then he drifted off to sleep.

April 7, 1970

A few days went by. Elvis got the phone call he was waiting for: the jury was back with the decision. This was it. You went with him for emotional support. You two left Mallory at home with the nanny, Glenda, whom you both trusted and Mallory affectionately call mamaw.

You two walked into court holding hands, while the lightbulbs of camera flashed off. Elvis being the caring husband he was, made sure you and lil bean were alright after you got inside the court room. He was nervous as hell, not only for the verdict but your due date was fast approaching. He watched you like a hawk. “Now satnin you know what to do if it’s time for bean to come out right? He asked you just to make sure.

“Yes babe, I know. All I gotta do is tell Jerry and he’ll get your attention.” You recited to him. You two had been over this since the trial began due to a few false alarms.

“All rise for the honorable Judge John Matthews,” the bailiff called out. Everyone in the whole room stood up. Judge Matthews walked in. The judge was a honest man, not willing to put up with too much shit. He was brought in from another district to make sure the trial was far since no judge in Memphis or Shelby county could take this case. “Thank you, you may be sitted.”

“The jury has reached a verdict. I want to remind everyone in this room that there is to be no disorder of any kind or else I will throw you in jail for contempt of court.” Judge Matthews stated. “Now I shall read the verdict.” You tell Elvis was nervous by the way he was bouncing his right leg. You wanted to reach to him in order to hug him, but you had to stay next to Jerry in case lil bean decided it was time.

“The jury finds in favor Elvis Aaron Presley in amount of $7 million for theft, $4 million for fraud, and $3.5 million for emotional damages.” The judge stated plain as day. The whole room was in silence. Elvis was shook. Tom Parker was speechless for his game was over and he learned the most valuable lesson of all: don’t fucking mess with Elvis Presley’s family. In the middle of trying to figure out your emotions, it hit you. The sharp pain in your lower back meant one thing: little bean was making their arrival know. You told Jerry that it was time and he gave Elvis the cue. As soon as court was dismissed, Elvis thanked the attorneys and got over to you and Jerry. He knew it was time. You didn’t even have to say a word.

“Come on satnin, let’s get you to the hospital,” Elvis said to you firmly. You gripped on to his arm while walking through all of the paparazzi and news reporters with their cameras. Jerry was driving due to Elvis being a ball of nerves. As soon as Jerry stopped the car, Elvis got you inside. Things went by in a flash and before long you and Elvis were in the delivery room.

“Satnin you’re doing so good baby. You’re almost there. I love you doll,” Elvis said you while holding your sweaty face in his hands. You took his words of encouragement to heart and when the doctor told you to push, you pushed with everything you had. You screamed, cried and nearly broke his hand. After seven pushes and one more scream of agony, the cries of baby Presley number two filled the room.

“Congratulations, it’s a boy!” The doctor called out. Both you and Elvis cried. “I’m so fucking proud of you, doll. You are one of the bravest people I know baby,” Elvis said to you before he choked on his tears. After delivery, you were wheeled back to the private recovery room and there you and him waited while they cleaned off him. Elvis was laying with you in the bed keeping you warm when you felt him get up.

“Satnin, I’ll be right back doll. I gotta call daddy and let him know the good news.” Elvis said to you tenderly. He was only gone for a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity to you. Several minutes later, you heard his signature footsteps down the hallway so you sat up in anticipation of him. When he got closer, you also began to hear him softly talking.

You couldn’t quite make out what he was saying, but you knew it was him. When he finally stepped into your room, you finally figured out who he was talking to: your son wrapped up in a baby blue blanket.

“Shhh… it’s alright baby boy. Your mama is right here son. I’m taking you to her now, here she is,” Elvis cooed to him while walking over to you and placing him in your arms. Tears formed in your eyes again and you began crying once more.

“Hi there little guy. Everything’s alright mama’s got you,” you cooed to him through the tears. You looked down at the newest Presley and then you looked up at Elvis. This baby boy was Elvis’ twin all the way down to his little toes.

“Honey, he looks just like you,” you remarked to your husband while he sat next to you in the bed.

“You really think so?” He asked you with all sincerity.

“Yes babe, he’s you made all over,” you replied to him. Throughout this pregnancy, you had the idea of naming him after Elvis if it was a boy, but you never brought it up to him due to everything going on.

“Elvis… I know what I wanna name him, but only with your approval”

“Okay satnin, what do you wanna name him?

“Elvis Aaron Presley, Jr.” you said to him plain as day. You looked to him to gage his reaction. He looked at you with his icy blue eyes filled up with tears.

“Satnin….. I’ll be honored to give this little baby boy my name. Elvis Jr it is.”

——————

Baby’s Name: Elvis Aaron Presley, Jr.

Date of Birth: April 7, 1970

Time of Birth: 3:25PM

Physicalities: 6 pounds, 14.5 ounces, 21 inches long

——————-

The rest of the evening was spent in that room where Mallory eventually came to meet her new baby brother. She has already in love with him. That night was peaceful in so many ways. To Elvis, the birth of his son was the happy ending to a nightmare that started in Vegas nearly nine months ago. He stayed up for a little while watching his wife and babies sleep soundly through most of night.

“My god, how did I ever get so lucky to have this life,” Elvis muttered to himself, “I have the best wife and the most beautiful babies a man could ever ask for.” And he was right. He fell asleep in the chair next to your bed, hand in your hand in his sleep. His heart was full, and soon, more good things would come his way.

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis x reader #austin elvis x reader #elvis fluff #dad!elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #austin elvis smut #austin!elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley smut #anything for you darlin

112 notes · View notes