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thebunnyslibrary · 7 months

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In The Woods Somewhere

summary. You go into the woods to take some photos...but find him instead

characters. Vampire!Bucky x Reader

word count. 4.8k

warnings. Dub!Con, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Stockholm-ish, mentions of violence/blood.

BunBun's Spoop-tober Collection Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Finally, your big break. You were finally getting the chance to publish a collection of your photos of haunted locations around New England with a real publishing company. Your final location was an abandoned church in the woods; thought to have been used by an early group of colonizers until it and the nearby settlement had been abandoned. No one knew for sure what had happened. Perhaps the colonizers had moved on? Maybe they were wiped out by plague? There was even a dark story of a minister who had started murdering villagers that were “unclean;” allegedly filling the church pews with corpses with slashed and bloody necks. Doing research on places before you took photos was one of your favorite parts; gathering information for the captions and essays you wrote to go with the photos.

After your parents had died while you were in college, it had left you feeling empty and directionless for some time. Then, after finally finishing your degree, you decided to use the money your parents had left you to buy a van and photograph the world.

You’d been working as a traveling photographer for a while now, doing gigs like weddings and events. You’d also managed to self-publish a few books and tried to sell your photos and art where you could. It wasn’t much but it kept you in gas money and beef jerky. You’d been all over North America and a few parts of South America. You were hoping to go international for a follow up book if this one was a success.

You pulled up to the walking trail that led into the forest. You had about an hour’s hike into the woods; knowing getting the shots at sunset would create perfect photos. You shrugged on your backpack with your supplies and with your camera case hand, headed off. The trees were washed in the golden hue of fall, starting to shed their leaves in preparation for their long winter sleep. A slight chill hung in the air but after 3 months of heat and humidity you were ready to be cold for a little bit.

Sometimes you listened to music when you hiked but today you’d decided to relish in the sounds of the forest.. Bird calls echoing off the trees, the rustling of the trail as you walked, squirrels and other small critters gathering their own winter supplies. A flock of geese calling out as they flew in v formation overhead and you quickly snapped a picture. Traveling and photography had given you an entirely deeper appreciation for nature and it’s beauty. An hour later, you stepped into the clearing where the church was set.

It was a small chapel, probably only fit to hold 10 or 15 people. Most of the eastern wall had crumbled while the others were still partially there. Only one or two (maybe one and a half) benches were left; but you weren’t too sure about actually sitting on them. Still completely intact though, was the Archway that must’ve bene the entrance. Above it, was a bell; likely used to let the nearby colonizers know that church was starting. But on the bell was an inscription that could no longer be read. The language appeared to be Latin, but the words had been lost to time. You were raising your camera to take a picture, when a soft voice startled you

“Hi.” You turned suddenly and you were staring into crystal blue eyes. You jumped back but kept your eyes fixated on his. A man, maybe a little older than you had been standing right behind you.

“Oh! Uh…hi!” you said, blinking and taking more of him in now. Dressed in a black jacket over a fitting gray tee-shirt, dark jeans clinging to his legs, and silver rings adorned most of his fingers on his right hand. His left hand was hidden by a leather glove. His hair was pulled back in a man bun and a single ruby on a black chain hung from his left ear.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I was just coming up the trail and I called out to you.” His voice was soft, with a hint of an eastern European accent, making a slight shiver go through you.

“Sorry, I suppose I didn’t hear you.”

“No worries, I’m James. But my friends call me Bucky” He reached out his hand for yours, taking it and telling him your own name. “I’m surprised to see someone else this far out in the woods.

“I’m here to take pictures.” You explained. “It’s a beautiful structure…what’s left of it anyways.”

“How interesting.” He said. “Are you a professional?”

“Well, sort of. I’m actually just finishing my first collection to be published. ‘New England’s Haunts and Its Future.’ I’m including the church with a piece on New England puritanism and its effects on today’s bigotries.”

He smirked. “I like it. I’ll have to make sure I order a copy of your book.” You both laughed. “You know the old England had some haunts too. All of Europe, in fact. Plenty of old spooky castles. You should definitely see them.”

“If my book goes well maybe.”

“Have you ever had your work in a gallery?” he asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I’ve had my art displayed in some cafes here and there, but not much else.”

“Pity, you seem passionate about your work, it must be nice.”

“I’d call it nice, maybe good.” You beamed. “I’d actually like to get a few shots in, if you don’t mind. I can talk a little while I work though.” There was something about him. He unnerved you, if only slightly. But you also didn’t want him to leave. You wanted him to stay with you.

The two of you walked through the archway to stand on the overgrown stone floor, flowers and dandelions peeking through the cracks. As you walked up what used to be aisle and could almost make out where the other pews had been. Maybe it was the sunset, maybe It was your imagination, but along the floor, the stones seemed eerily stained red.

Again, Bucky’s closeness startled you, but this time, you seemed frozen to the floor.

“You know, darling. There’s one thing I’d love. Could you take a picture of me under the archway? It would make for a great dating profile picture.” He winked at you. And you felt your face warm up.

“Sure, why not.” You focused your camera on him and his eyes seemed to flash red at you. You gasped before snapping the button, but only cursed and brushed it off as red eye-syndrome. You took one more picture and this time, it seemed normal. You pulled it away and waited as the picture loaded. Your book would hopefully lead to some newer equipment. Bucky stood behind you suddenly, but again you were frozen to place; only this time with his chest firmly against his back.

As the picture loaded on the screen, your stomach dropped. The picture was empty. the archway was still in there. But Bucky wasn’t.

You turned around and his smile was downright predatory. Revealing two pearly white fangs. But his eyes, they were bright crimson red.

“That’s…. those can’t be real…your eyes, your teeth…” you said, feeling your heart drop into your stomach

“Oh, my darling. They are ALL too real…little girls like you should know better than to go out after sunset.” You should be running, fighting back, anything. But you can’t. You’re staring into his deep red eyes and you can’t move. “No, printsessa. I can’t have you running away. Not when you smell so delightful.” His arms wrapped slowly around your waist, pulling you closer to you. “Not to mention how beautiful you are. You are exactly what I’ve been searching for.” He whispered in your ear. Before you could blink, you felt a sharp pain in your neck and the world went dark.

You awoke in a soft bed, softer than anything you’d felt before. A bed, but you’d been… Oh fuck… You shot upright quickly as you remembered what happened. What greeted you was a dimly lit room. A wall of immense windows letting the moonlight stream in while a fire roared in the fireplace. Low lamp light gave let you see to see immense bookshelves lining the rest of walls. You started to panic. That freak had knocked you out, now you were in some cabin somewhere. You were still wearing the same clothes, but you had no clue where you were.

“My my, finally awake. I suppose I did drink a bit more than necessary. But I just couldn’t help myself. You were just absolutely delicious.” You looked and saw Bucky. He’d been sitting by the fire until he stood up and moved towards the bed. You could see he was wearing black t-shirt and sweatpants, but what you hadn’t seen before…was his metal arm. His hand had been covered by the glove, but now you could see the moonlight glinting off it. You caught yourself staring and remembered what had happened last time you’d stared at him.

“What did you do to me you sicko?” You lowered your eyes to the floor, trying to move out of the bed without tripping. You heard him chuckle.

“What’s wrong baby doll, you don’t wanna to look at me? “

“No! I just wanna go home. Please.” You tried to be strong but you were trembling as you tried to keep your eyes low enough. You desperately searched for anything sharp or heavy, settling on the lamp and reaching to pick it up, but before you could, you found yourself pinned face down on the bed, your arms trapped behind you. You struggled against him, but he hardly moved. His voice in your ear.

“Poor little bunny. You know what really happened. Or do you need a reminder?” You felt something scrape against your neck. Fangs.

“That’s…. you’re not…”

“Oh, but I am doll. And I don’t think I’ve found anything I’ve ever wanted more in my centuries of living.” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Your trembling is so adorable baby girl. It makes me want to ravage you until you cry for me.” His hand wandered down to your jeans and your breathing turned shallow. There was an ache deep between your thighs that wanted to call out for him, but you were still scared of what he’d done.

“No, I won’t have my beloved scared of my touch.” He said, gently pressing a kiss to your neck before moving to help you stand up. Your legs were much wobblier and you found yourself leaning against him. You stared at his chest and quietly spoke. “Bucky, please. Where are we?”

“We’re at my cabin. I’d like to show you around; as this is to be your home too. If you promise to behave.” Deep down, you still felt petrified. But an inner voice said that if he had already wanted you dead, you would be. Besides, you hadn’t noticed before, but something about his smell was so enticing to you. Cinnamon and smoke, with a slight…metallic underlay.

“If…If I go with you willingly…will YOU keep it that way?” you asked, trying to sound firm. You could hear the amusement in his voice.

“I see my little bunny can stand her ground. No, I will not control you that way like before.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. Taking a deep breath, you lifted your head to look at him. His hair was still pulled back into a loose bun, moonlight casting shadows on his sharp cheekbones led down into full lips. And those eyes. You would never forget the deep red color before he drank from you. Now instead they were crystal pools. As unending as the sky. Like you could stare forever. But you blinked away, acknowledging he had kept his promise. You moved away from him and instead toward the windows.

“If you are…a vampire…why the windows? I thought you were supposed to avoid natural light.” He chuckled. And walked a normal pace now to stand next to you as you both stared out into the forest.

“Any creature can be exposed to too much sun. We just have much a lower tolerance limit. I have heavy black out curtains for the day…but I cannot find it in myself to give up this view.” He pointed up towards the stars. You didn’t think you’d ever seen so many. But a rumble of thunder off in the distance caught your attention you saw flashes of lightning. A storm was moving in soon, and you could feel your resolve to escape crumble slightly. Where could you go in a storm?

“How exactly…did you become…?” you asked, hesitantly, not wanting to upset him and trying to focus on anything other than his closeness. You’d always thought trying to…humanize…your enemy so to speak was supposed to help keep you safe. He smiled.

“A vampire…Well, I would imagine you know how.” He chuckled and you found yourself chucking as well. “Where Romania is now, I was a simple farmer. Goats mostly. Then one night, a creature attacked our village.” He paused. “Killed my sister. I tried to fight back, and something about that… He changed me instead of killing me. Figured it was some cruel punishment, killing everyone I knew and loved and leaving me alone.” You felt your heart tug. As if sensing your sadness, he turned and shook his head.

“Don’t worry too much about it, I got my revenge. Afterwards I stayed low, kept to myself for a few centuries. Until the world erupted into war. I refused to keep to myself. That’s how I lost my arm. When the Germans found out what I was; they tried to use my powers to make more. They took my arm to see if they could clone me. Then they gave me this one and tried to turn us into a weapon of war. Only their plans backfired. They couldn’t control them. They eventually all killed each other…at least the ones I didn’t kill first.” He was quiet for a moment and you almost started to panic. But he let out a sigh.

“After the war, I settled here. Made my home, invested some wise money, now I have a little peace.” He turned to you. You felt your heart ache for him. “But I have waited so long for something so enticing as you.” He started to move closer, but you still were nervous, taking a step back.

“Wait uhm... I thought you wanted to show me around.” You reminded him, trying to distract him. He smiled and let out a deep sigh.

“I suppose I did. Well, you’ve seen the bedroom and its extensive library. But there’s an even bigger one downstairs. Come.” He took your hand with his metal one and led you towards the door. You felt less scared following him now; you still could feel yourself wanting to resist and struggle. But he was holding your hand too tightly.

As the two of you toured through the large Tudor cabin (mansion, it seemed), you took note of the art on the walls. Beautiful photographs of places around the world; paintings you wanted to stare at for hours; Bucky having to pull you away from a particularly intriguing work from the Harlem Renaissance. The two of you talked. Bucky had been to many of the places you hoped to go. And some of the ones you’d already been to. It was nice to find someone like yourself, a wanderer.

“I suppose after my parents died; I just felt a little lost.” You told him “I didn’t have a big family, no siblings, so I just decided to be free. It’d at least be nice to have a home base someday though.” You mused.

“I can understand. I’ve actually lived on this land for some years, even before what happened to me. It’s actually owned by an Indigenous tribe. I bought it outright around the 1800s when the government tried to push them out, then gave it back to them. I only asked they let me build a small cabin on the outer edges.” Your jaw dropped. “But…do they know…?” You asked, still having trouble believing it for yourself. He paused and smiled.

“In my lengthy time, you meet many people who believe many different things. I’ve learned to appreciate many human cultures, and to always show respect where it is deserved. And not to tolerate those who would degrade it.” He said, then kept leading you on, with you following a little bit closer. You two walked into a room you definitely didn’t expect to find. A Kitchen.

“It was easier to build than to ever explain why there wasn’t one. Plus, I have a supplier who steals blood from some hoity toity government hospital and I need somewhere to keep it cold. You’d be surprised at the amount of blood they keep on reserve for those rich old bastards.” He rolled his eyes and you managed a genuine laugh. “I don’t know I would.” He smiled at you before continuing out of the room, with you following almost eagerly behind. The tour led down one last hallway to a set of double doors.

“Now my favorite room. My private study.” He opened the doors. A library that could’ve easily fit 10 of your vans with celling high bookshelves stretched before your eyes. A cozy looking couch sat across from either one of the 2 fire places on opposite walls, and a huge bay window revealed the storm had truly arrived. Gone was the moon, here were flashes of lightening and roars of thunder. In front of the windows sat a big mahogany desk. You strode over to the desk, to see out the window and there on his desk was a stack of all of your books. As you looked back towards him you could see on the walls, one of your photographs.

It was one you’d camped out and waited all night for in the woods. But you’d caught them, a pack of wolves running through the woods under a moonlit sky.

“I saw it in a little café in Boston and had to have it. I’ve been following you for quite some time. Literally.” He chuckled. “I became enraptured with you. Your pictures moved me. How you always seemed to capture both the joyful and the macabre sides of humanity. That’s why I had to get your book published. So, I bought the publishing company to make it happen” You turned to him in disbelief.

“Bucky, you…you didn’t…you couldn’t have…”

“Oh, but yes I did, doll. It’s what you’ve wanted, what you’ve desired.” His voice dropped. He licked his lips and moved closer to you. “And now, my little bunny rabbit. It’s time to take what I have desired for so long.” He grabbed your hand and tugged you back towards the desk, using his strength to lift you up and pin you down on your back, minding your head.

His confession, his obsession, even with his charming personality, you felt fear flaring up inside you anyways. “Wait please…” you pleaded, pressing your hand against his chest.

“No more waiting printsessa. It’s time. I need to satisfy my thirst. And my lust. And I cannot resist the sound of your pulse screaming out for me.” He paused, pressing his hips more against yours. You wanted to resist, wanted to push harder against him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you wanted to bring him closer.

“No…you gave your word…” you begged, desperately.

“I did. And I’ve kept that word. I did nothing to control you. I just failed to mention that my natural state is to lure you in. Until you’re caught like a fly in my web and you don’t even realize it.” He purred, trailing kisses down your cheek. “You’re in my home, surrounded by me, breathing me in until slowly and slowly your defenses have lowered, until you don’t even have the strength to push me away.”

He was right. You had wanted to resist him but you’d felt it crumbling more and more. Like the walls of that stone church. You were gripping his shirt not to push him away, but wanting to pull him close. Handsome, intelligent, alluring. Your thighs clenched with want.

“When I first drank your blood, there was a taste of fear that was indescribable. But now I know, lust will make it even sweeter.” He grabbed your hips and lifted you onto the desk. “So beautiful, but so…fragile.” His fleshed hand wrapped around your throat; you could feel the bitemarks as his thumb ran over them. “You know all I’d have to do is squeeze, right? And I’d crush this fragile beautiful throat. You’re so delicate.” His voice was low. You were still afraid, but that fear was streaked with desire. You wanted to give yourself to him, no matter what the cost.

“Please…Bucky…” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Please what, baby? Tell me. Tell me you want me to ravage you like the beast that I am. I can smell your pussy; you must be absolutely dripping by now.” You were drowning. And he was oxygen.

“Yes.” You barely breathed the word out before his lips were on yours. He slowly pushed you to lay down on the desk. You could hear rumbling in your ears. You couldn’t tell if it was the storm, or your heartbeat. But judging by how Bucky was staring down at you, you assumed the latter.

“You’re so excited aren’t you, doll? You want me to fuck you, make you my slut. And I will, you are never leaving me.” He pulling away, making you whine in desperation, but his only response was to growl as he ripped your jeans down, your shoes falling away and leaving only your panties covering your pussy. He knelt between them, putting your legs over his shoulder, and inhaled deeply.

“Fuck.” He groaned. “You are soaking wet. How long have you been hiding this, huh? Since I first drank your blood, or from when I told you that I am absolutely obsessed with you? What a shameless slut.” His words, that voice, you would listen to him forever if he wanted, anything to get him to touch you. His fingers moved slowly, stroking you over your panties.

“I’ve dreamed about eating this pussy for so long, and now I’m going to savor every moment.” You tried to buck your hips as he nipped at your thigh, but his silver arm held you firm. In the bright light of the fire, you could see how each of the platelets moved as he gripped you tighter. You looked back down at him between your legs and knew he’d seen you staring.

“Someday I’ll show you everything it can do baby. But for now...” He pulled your panties aside and started with soft licks to your clit while two fingers gently worked inside you. His touch was so gentile compared to the monster you’d feared him as. Your soft moan turned into a shriek as the edge of his fang nipped you.

“I told you, love. Desire will make the blood so much sweeter. I know you want me. Want to be my little snack for all eternity.” His fingers sped up, rubbing that special spot inside you that make you cry out with reckless abandon.

“Bucky…Bucky…don’t stop…oooh…” you moaned. Your hands clasping for structure and finding none. His tongue resumed its ministrations on your clit, never even giving his words a chance to wash over you as your knees began to shake. You could feel the erratic patterns his tongue was laving on your clit, driving your climax further to its breaking point.

“Cum for me, darling. Give yourself to me.” His words were your undoing as you screamed his name. Cumming harder than you could have ever imagined possible. And true to his word, his tongue lapped up every drop it could, sucking his fingers clean. You lay against the cool desk, your body burning with desire and you locked eyes with him, not caring to look away. He smiled, showing off his fangs. “Oh, baby girl, between your blood and your pussy, I’ll never go hungry again.”

Standing up and leaning over to kiss you, you found yourself tugging at his shirt, trying to get his skin on yours again.

“Bucky please…need you…” you begged.

“How can I deny such a sweet bunny like you?” He rid himself of his shirt and sweatpants as you followed suit, dropping your panties to the floor. Your eyes widened at the size of his cock. You’d had your fun with toys but he was something else. You could see pre-cum dribbling down the side and you wanted to close your legs, but Bucky stood between them

“Don’t look so afraid, doll. I know a good slut like you can take my cock in that pretty pussy.” He rubbed the head of his cock against your slit and you tried to push your hips up. He pinched your thigh, making you squeak. With his spare hand, he gathered your hands in his strong metal one, pinning them above you to the surface of the desk. His cock teased your entrance and you both moaned.

“You’re mine now, understand. Heart, body, mind.” He kissed from your temple to your ear. “I own you down to your very soul. Forever.” You nodded. He was a vampire. He was obsessed with you. He’d likely hunted you down for weeks. But none of that mattered now. You needed him.

“Yes, Bucky. I’m yours. You’re mine.” Bucky smiled and pushed his cock into you, slowly; letting you feel the stretch of him filling you up.

“Yes, darling. I’m yours. Yours to keep satisfied. Yours to use you as a little fuck toy when I need it.” His pace became rougher, fucking you; squeezing your wrists tighter until you yelped. Then he slowed his hips, letting you now revel in the pleasure you felt. He started rubbing at your still sensitive clit, making you clench around him. He growled deeply and you gasped as his eyes flashed crimson.

“Oh, baby doll, don’t play with fire if you don’t want to end up burnt.” He said, his voice lower and huskier. You knew he was getting closer to his own release when his pace picked up again. Not as punishing as before, but you felt his lust, his carnality in every thrust. And it only drove you crazier.

“When you cum, I’m going to drink from you again and you will be bound to me, my mate, my slut, little morsel.

“Yes…Bucky yes…please…” closer and closer you edged until he let out a low growl.

“If you don’t cum right now, I have no problem chaining you in my basement and edging you until the next full moon. Now. Cum.” The idea alone sent you over the edge, screaming out as he bit down fiercely on your neck, drinking from you again. He kept fucking you through his own orgasm, but did not drink as much as he did last time. Only just enough to make you light headed. When he finished, you two lay there a few moments, you breathing heavily as Bucky seemed to still above you. As you floated back down, your body seemed to go even more limp.

“Such a good girl.” Bucky released your wrists, but you didn’t have the strength to move your arms. Instead, he cupped your chin in his hand and kissed you with your blood streaked across his lips. He kissed passionately and deeply, until your toes curled and you knew he meant what he said.

Not bothering to remove himself, Bucky helped you wrapped your arms around him and he carried you over to one of the enormous couches by the fire. Grabbing a blanket off the back and swaddling you both. “You’ll have to sleep for a little while now. But when you wake up, you’ll live forever.” His words seeped into your brain, but there was nothing you could do now. You heard him speak again.

“You wanna know the real story behind those people?” Bucky asked and you made a noise of half-committal. “Well, those colonizers weren’t hard to pick off.” In that moment, you were reminded that though he seemed to have a soft spot for you, there were also very, very dark spots. You shuddered, but it was quickly washed away by the feeling of his metal arm, holding you tighter.

“Don’t worry darling,” he purred. “Think of all the beautiful photos you can take in the moonlight.

#bunbun's spooptober collection #vampire!bucky #Vampire!Bucky x reader #Bucky barnes #Bucky barnes x reader #halloween #vampires #darkish!Bucky

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dreamescapeswriting · 2 years

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Stray Kids Reaction || You Randomly Buy Him Flowers [Request]

Skz x GN!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - October 2022

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

They'd just had a comeback and finally, their schedules were - mostly - free. So you'd decided it was a chance to surprise your boyfriend with a gift, now that everyone else would have stopped sending them things,

"Hey...What's this?" He chuckled as you walked into the studio carrying a box of flowers just for him, his name written on a small card.

"I bought flowers for you," You smiled as you gently set them down on his desk, his cheeks instantly began to turn red as he realised they were for him.

"You bought me flowers?" His voice was a little whiney and you laughed softly at the sound of it, was it that surprising you would surprise him like this?

"I decided to treat you, my hard-working boyfriend." You cooed before kissing his cheeks softly as he began to gush about how you didn't have to get him anything before telling you how much he loved them.

MINHO:

When the boys walked into the dorms and saw vases of flowers spotted all over the place they started to chuckle softly,

"Hyung, I didn't know you were into flowers." Felix teases before Minho shot him a death glare in his direction,

"So pretty and cute," Jeongin chuckled looking over at the newest edition of the flowers you had bought for Minho. They were sitting in a glass vase on the kitchen table and even though Minho wasn't the biggest lover of flowers he adored them. Because they were from you.

"Yn got them for me, I like them." He says sternly, getting up from the sofa and walking over to the bouquet of roses that were beside the bathroom door. It appeared as though there were flowers dotted around everywhere you looked.

"Isn't it your job to buy the flowers?" Felix smirked but Minho shook his head at him,

"I don't care," Minho whined, reaching for his phone and messaging you about how much he adored the flowers that you had spoiled him with.

CHANGBIN:

As soon as you walked toward Changbin with the flowers in your hands he couldn't help but smile at them.

"Do I have someone else sending my number one flowers? Do I have competition now?" He chuckled looking at the flowers and frowning when he saw his name written on the small envelope that was attached to the flowers,

"They're for you," You told him, gently laying the flowers in his hands as his mouth fell open in complete shock that you would do something like this for him.

"You got me flowers?"

"Yeah, I thought it would be a nice chance of pace since you're usually buying them for me," You shrugged before he put them down and hugged you tightly in his arms, thanking you over and over again.

HYUNJIN:

It wasn't often that you would buy Hyunjin something like flowers but when you did he did everything that he possibly could with them. From painting them, drawing them and photographing them he would get as much use as he could out of them. He would even put them on bubble for everyone to see since he was so happy with them.

The only issue was, that he would get sad whenever they would die and he couldn't wait until you bought him some new ones,

"More flowers?" Chan asked when he watched you stepping toward Hyunjin's art studio carrying a bouquet,

"Only the best for my man," You laughed before placing them down in the centre of Hyunjin's art room and looking around at the walls. Every inch of them was covered in paintings or photos of the different flowers you had gotten for him.

JISUNG:

"Ever since you got him those flowers he hasn't stopped talking about them," Jeongin mentioned when he noticed you walking into the dorms, you frowned at the sentence.

"What?"

"The flowers you got for Jisung. Ever since he got them he just brags about it in the group chat...It makes me feel lonely." The maknae pouted before looking down at his phone to show you an example. It appeared that ever since Jisung had gotten the flowers on the weekend he had been non-stop talking about them and it made your whole body heat up. You'd done it as a surprise, wanting to give your boyfriend something while you'd been away.

"Maybe I should do it more often," You smiled to yourself looking over at Jisung who was taking more photos of the flowers on his desk.

FELIX:

When your relationship with Felix used to be a secret you would constantly send him flowers to remind him how much you loved him but once you were out, you stopped. It wasn't because you didn't want to anymore but more because you didn't feel the need to which was why it was so surprising to him when he came to work to see you holding flowers for him.

"I bought you something," You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek before handing over the small bouquet. It was filled with red roses and sunflowers, you'd been passing by them and couldn't resist the chance to get them for your little ball of sunshine.

"You didn't have to," He gushed, feeling so special that you'd decided to do it randomly and out of the blue. The whole thing made him feel as though he was floating on cloud nine.

SEUNGMIN:

"I have a delivery for Mr Kim?" A voice said from the doorway making Seungmin stare over at it, there was a man carrying a large bouquet and he frowned.

"Do you have the right room?" He questioned thinking that maybe it was for one of the other idols but the man looked down at his notes and shook his head,

"Flowers for Mr Kim Seungmin, from Yn." Seungmin slowly and shyly got up to take them from the man. You were back home visiting family and you could resist sending him flowers to let him know how much you loved him.

"Cute!" Chan cooed from the other side of the room making Seungmin blush a deep shade of red and whine a little. He was in complete shock, no one had ever given him flowers before unless it was to celebrate something and he couldn't wait to message you all about it.

JEONGIN:

Jeongin and you had, had a fight the night before and you decided to apologise to him with flowers.

"Is Innie here?" You questioned as you walked into the dorms to see Minho staring over at you,

"Yeah, he's in his room but-" You didn't listen to anything else as you quietly knocked on the door and walked inside to see Jeongin holding a bouquet of flowers and saying sorry to himself.

"Yn?"

"Innie?" You laughed looking at the sight in front of you and frowning,

"I was practicing the way to say sorry,"

"But you have nothing to be sorry about," You pouted, holding out the bouquet that you had bought for him and smiling weakly.

"I'm sorry," You told him before he kissed you softly, handing you the bouquet he had gotten for you,

"I'm sorry too," He laughed looking at you, your whole body heating up as he smiled down at you. Jeongin could hardly believe you'd gotten him flowers and he began to blush and tear up a little,

"I'm going to get something to put them in." He told you before kissing you deeply and heading for the kitchen.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @taestannie @illicee @army24--7 @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @kimahnjung98 @halesandy @aerastus @lost-leopard-beanie @ethereallino @afternoonteabiscuit @itmehc @rubberduckieyourtheone @heeseunger24 @laylasbunbunny @lovelychann @critssq @pearlygraysky @lenfilms @btsiguess-kpop @meowmeowisdaname @joonghands

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vermillionsappho · 8 months

Text

Bathroom | Abby Anderson x Y/N

Bathroom- Model!Reader x Billionaire!Abby Anderson

“She said, ‘Forget all the slow dancing

Baby, I could take it to the bathroom’”

-After being invited to a gala by a famous actor, you run into business mogul and billionaire, Abby Anderson, who after a passionate interaction, you just can’t get her off your mind.

3.5k words | Porn with plot

Content Warning: SMUT, cursing, explicit content, scissoring, strap on sex (r!receiving), Abby's strap is referred to as her cock, fingering (r!receiving), top!Abby, bottom!reader, a hint of dom/sub dynamics, degradation, praise, Abby’s a bit elusive lol, a little bit of weirdness/weird behavior towards the reader from men, a little bit of violence, Abby is serious asf lowkey, lmk if I left anything out!

Kinda proofread but like, not really lol

“Y/N! Y/N, who’re you wearing tonight? You look flawless!” A voice calls out as you step onto the steps, your arm hooked onto Alexander Watson’s, a famous blockbuster movie star. He’s been trying to get into your pants a little over a month now, but you finally gave in after he personally invited you to be his date at the event of the year: a gala hosted by some billionaire. Your publicist, Dina, thought it would look good to be seen at such a high-profile event, so you went ahead and humored both her and Alexander.

“It's vintage, hon. From the archives!” You say with a wink, pushing through more crowds of photographers and journalists to get to the entrance.

“Have you met the guy who hosts the gala’s each year?” Another voice calls out and you look at her politely before smiling.

“No, I have not, in fact this is my first year in attendance; but I do hope I have the chance to chat with him!” You say, before Alexander lightly tugs on your arm, leading you towards the entrance.

“Prepare yourself to be amazed.” Alexander leans in and whispers as the doors open and you can’t help the little sigh of wonder that escapes your lips when you step inside.

Outside, the mansion looks huge, but inside the mansion is enormous. White, gold, and marble line the entire mansion. Framed photos and art impeccably decorate the walls, and the long and dimly lit hallways seem to stretch on for forever.

“This is…unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, Jesus Christ, how much money does this guy have?” You whisper and Alexander chuckles.

“Pfft, wish I knew. No one knows anything about the guy, he somehow manages to stay anonymous, and I don’t know how, and I can’t figure out who he is.” Alexander says, taking a flute of champagne off a tray as a waiter walks by, passing it to you, which you accept gracefully.

You take a sip, savoring the tangy, but bitter flavor. You softly smile at him, a hint of mischief twinkling in your eyes.

“I have a little game…” You say and Alexander shoots you a dazzling smile.

“Sounds dangerous, I’m in.” He says and you slowly take another sip of your champagne before putting it on another tray.

“I bet I can figure out who he is by the end of the night.” You say cheekily and he shakes his head with a scoff.

“No way, I’ve been coming to his galas for three years in a row and I haven’t figured it out yet, there’s no way you can.” He says and you roll your eyes.

“I bet I can though.” You say with a shrug of your shoulders, and he cocks his head like he’s thinking.

“Okay, deal. If you figure out who he is by the end of the night…I’ll personally buy you a first-class ticket to Italy, free of charge. But if I win…you have to come back with me when the night ends.” He says with a smirk, one that slightly makes you uncomfortable, but you shake it off.

“Fine, deal.” You say before strutting off.

You wander the mansion mindlessly, watching the other people with focused eyes. You try to guess based on posture, height, energy, and expressions who the mystery man could possibly be, but you’re stumped.

“Are you lost?” A feminine, but smooth and raspy voice calls out and you whip around, startled out of your concentration.

In front of you stands a tall and gorgeous woman; dressed in a fitting, black, expensive suit. Her muscles somehow ripple even in the suit, and there’s a glimmering watch on her wrist. She’s handsome and beautiful all at once, as her long, beautiful hair falls over the side of her face. Suddenly, you feel shy and subconscious.

“Oh God, you scared me! And no, I’m not lost…I’m looking for someone.” You say quietly and she smiles at you, before chuckling.

The sound sends shivers up your spine a little bit.

“Who are you looking for? I guarantee you I know them.” She says, placing her hands in her pockets and you giggle.

“What makes you so sure that you know who I’m looking for?” You ask, lips curling into a bashful smile.

“Because I know everything.” She says, walking closer, her face confident and your breath hitches.

“What, like you’re God?” You say, teasingly and she snorts.

“I’m better than God.” She says with a shrug of her shoulders, and you look up at her.

“And what’s your name, woman who claims she’s better than God?” You ask with a small grin, and she puts her hand out, veins running up and down her strong hands.

“I’m Abby Anderson.” She says simply, and you wonder who she is outside of her vague introduction.

“So, what do you do, Mrs. Anderson, to put you in the same breathing space as all these rich and famous assholes?” You inquire and she laughs.

“Hmmm, that’s a secret.” She says with a playful smile, and you pout.

“You’re ruining my fun…” You say with a playful whine, and she leans against the wall with a chuckle, crossing her arms.

“How so?” She smiles and you slightly lean over the railing before looking back at her.

“I bet my date that I could figure out who’s the host of the gala; If I win, he’s gonna fly me to Italy…first class trip.” You say with a little smile, bringing your nail to your lips.

Abby flashes a sideways grin, pushing herself off the wall to walk behind you, lips close to your ear, her body hovering over yours.

“First class, where’s his imagination?” She whispers and your breath catches in your throat.

“What would you do, then? If I guessed correctly?” You say, not making eye contact with her.

“Private jet to Italy…then to Paris, and then Spain, and wherever else in the world you haven’t been.” Her voice is lowered, almost seductively and your head subconsciously cocks to the side.

“You could make that happen?” You ask, breathlessly, and her hands move to your waist, slowly turning you to face her, your face only inches apart.

“I can make anything happen…just say the word,” She whispers and your lips slightly part. “So who is it? Who’s your guess? Make me proud and you’ll get your trip and more.” Her nose bumps against yours and you tilt your head up, to look her in her eyes.

“Not a single man had the allure I was looking for.” You confess against her lips, and she chuckles.

“Hmmm, no one?” She hums teasingly and your eyes widen at her tone.

“Because he’s not a man, right? He’s you…” You say in amazement, and she throws her head back in laughter.

“Winner, winner…” She says before finally pressing your lips together.

You gasp into the kiss, and she takes the opportunity to run her tongue against yours, making you whimper softly. Abby presses you against the railing, wrapping your thigh around her waist.

“Abby,” You moan softly at her tight grip, and she kisses down the expanse of your neck before lightly biting and sucking.

“God, you’re exquisite…I should fuck you right here.” She groans into your neck, and you moan out loud at the idea.

“Yeah? Would you like that? If I fucked you in front of all these people? All these people that've been staring at you since you walked in here?” She growls in your ear and you’re about to whimper out a response when a voice calls out from the staircase.

“There’s um…you have an audience.” You’re instantly broken out of your lust-driven haze, turning around as you notice small chatter coming from below you.

There’s a small crowd of mostly men, watching with excited and scandalized expressions and you gasp, horrified.

“Oh, fuck, this is bad. I’m sorry, Abby, I need to go handle something downstairs.” You apologize, quickly running down the steps, embarrassed.

Your face is red as you push past a few people, sighing as you finally make contact with Alexander.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me-” You say, shaking my head and Alexander laughs and scoffs.

“Have you lost your mind? I invite you to this gala out of the kindness of my heart and you go sneak off to make out with a bitch?” He sniffs and You step back, appalled.

“Excuse me? And you didn’t ask, you begged.” You snap, and he cracks his knuckles, chuckling.

“What, like you were begging upstairs to get fucked by that girl? If you wanted someone to fuck you, you could’ve asked nicely, and I would’ve given it to you. You know? ‘Cause I’m a man, and you’re a woman and that’s typically how fucking works.” He says, grabbing your wrist and yanking you towards him, despite you pulling back.

“Back the fuck off, Alexander!” You say, using your other hand to slap him, before stomping away.

Once you’re away from him and calm, you find yourself desperately needing to be in the comfort of Abby’s attentive gaze.

You seek out one of the many waiters and waitresses, smiling sweetly when you finally have the opportunity to pull them aside.

“Hi…would you happen to know who the host of the gala is?” You ask, and the girl meekly looks away.

“I do, but sh-they uh, make us sign NDA’s…so I can’t give out that kind of information.” She says with an awkward grin and you giggle before leaning in.

“I know that the host is a woman named Abby Anderson, it’s fine, we know each other. I just need a favor from you. Would you mind…letting her know that there’s a woman named Y/N waiting for her in the bathroom?” You ask sweetly, brightly smiling when she nods.

You take your time trying to find the bathroom, since there’s so many rooms and hallways, finally deciding on the closest bathroom.

After an excruciating twenty minutes, the door swings open revealing Abby, her sleeves rolled up and a smirk on her face.

“Is there a particular reason for you summoning me to the bathroom?” She asked, a teasing tone in her voice. You laugh, biting your lips as you sweep your hair back behind your bare shoulders.

“Hmmm no reason,” You whisper, approaching her slowly, running your hands up the front of her suit once you’re in front of her. “It’s just…I kept thinking about you leaning me over the stairs.” Your voice low and breathy and she moves her head to the crook of your neck, her breath fanning over it.

“You keep thinking about it? The thought of me bending you over and fucking you got you wet? Are you wet for me, baby?” She whispers and you whimper, eyes closed, head tilted back.

“Yes, I’m so wet, Abby please, I need you to fuck me.” You whimper and she chuckles in your ear.

“You don’t want to go back to the party and dance?” She asks, her voice sarcastic and you shake your head wildly.

“No, fuck the dancing, Abby, need you to fuck me right here, right now.” You whine and she steps back, shrugging her suit jacket off.

“Take your dress off, baby.” She demands, and you feel yourself growing wetter at her serious voice, letting your dress drop to the floor and stepping out of it. You stand in front of her, naked except for your lacy, black panties.

“Show me how wet you are.” She says, and your hand slides down your front, dipping into your underwear as you gather your wetness, groaning at your own touch.

Your wetness drips and glistens on your fingers and she breathes heavily at the sight.

“Fuck, baby, is that all for me?” She asks and you nod your head quickly.

“Yes, all for you, I’m so wet for you, Abby.” You whimper and she steps closer to you and drops to her knees, pulling your panties off.

“Jesus, you’re dripping all over the floor, babe.” She mutters, running her fingers over your soaking cunt. You wince and whimper at the feeling, your breath hitching when you feel puffs of her own breath against your heat.

She licks a stripe over your cunt, parting your folds with her fingers before licking you again.

“You're teasing me…” You gasp, back arching and she chuckles.

“Not teasing you, baby…just wanted a taste.” You can hear the smirk in her voice, and you’re thinking of something smart to say when you feel a wet finger prodding at your entrance.

“Mmph!” You gasp once her finger enters you, your back fully arching as you press yourself against the sink.

She starts off slow, her finger pressing into you slowly but expertly, before she enters another, your knees nearly buckling at the feeling.

“You’re so tight…” She mutters, twisting her fingers into you quicker and harder. You gasp out more moans, your face red with embarrassment and pleasure as your wetness squelches against her fingers.

She spits against your cunt before spreading and scissoring her fingers apart, stretching you out, and you’re so dizzy with desire, you nearly come from the feeling.

“Gotta get you ready for my cock…gonna take you to my room and fuck you so hard, everyone will hear you screaming my name.” She says, voice edging on a growl, and the growing pit in your stomach explodes.

“God, mmph! C-coming…I’m coming!” You whimper, breaths and moans escaping your mouth as you nearly scream at the pressure.

“Come on my face…come on baby.” She demands and you do exactly as she requests, coming all over her mouth, face, your wetness dripping down her neck.

You’re holding on to the sink for dear life, legs shaking as you come down.

Abby licks your orgasm off her lips, before wiping her mouth with her pocket square, gazing up at you.

“Put your dress back on, and head upstairs. My bedroom is the third room on the right…wait for me.” She whispers into your ear, and you nod, stepping back into your dress, and putting your heels on before exiting the bathroom, eagerly searching for her room.

Your legs are still weak as you speed walk down the hallway, nearly falling through the door when you get there. You collapse on the bed, your head cloudy with want as you eagerly await her arrival, stripping out of your dress so you can be ready for her.

The door creaks as it opens, and your head tilts to look over;

And there she is, unbuttoning her suit jacket and undershirt as she steps into the room, the door closing behind her.

She shrugs her jacket and shirt off, before unbuttoning her dress pants and stepping out of them as you watch her undress, her pace slow and excruciating.

She slowly walks over to her drawers, taking out the purple strap and harness before fixing it on her body.

You almost groan at the size of it.

You’re still laying against the bed, slightly sitting up to watch her as she climbs on top of the bed wordlessly, pulling your legs towards her and spreading them apart to reveal your soaking cunt.

“You’re still wet for me, baby? I got you this worked up?” She asks you and you whimper and nod your head before she smirks and shakes her head, reaching a hand up to grip your jaw.

“I need words…want you to tell me how much you need me to fuck you.” Abby demands and you moan at the request, nodding your head eagerly.

“Need you to fuck me…need you so bad, please Abby.” You beg, whimpering out and God, you’ve never been more turned on before in your life.

Abby chuckles at your desperate pleading, using a hand to spread your lips apart, the other holding her cock at your entrance.

“Such a pretty little pussy…” She mutters breathily and your breath hitches.

“Gonna ruin it.” She says finally, sheathing her cock into you, bottoming out immediately.

You instantly wail at the intrusion, your legs coming up against her waist as you hold on to her for dear life. You're whimpering softly, eyes rolling into the back of your head, and she hasn’t even fucked you yet.

She pulls out slowly, looking down at your cunt to see how it clenches and stretches out around her cock.

“Look at that,” She groans, as she slips out of you, and you look down, moaning at the view.

Abby rubs the tip of her cock into your wetness, before slamming into you again, her pace rough and brutal this time.

You scream at the intrusion, her cock pistoning in and out of you with no mercy, and you can’t stop the loud sounds from exiting your mouth as your back arches off the bed.

“AH! O-oh, oh god!” You moan out and she revels in the noises you're making, quickening her pace.

“So fucking tight, swear I can feel you clenching on my fucking cock.” She says through gritted teeth and her words make you clench even harder.

“Feels so good, Abby!” You shout, mouth slack as you throw your head back and she drives in you harder.

“Yeah? Feels good, baby? Bet your little boyfriend couldn’t make this pussy feel this good.” She grits out and you shake your head, whimpering uncontrollably.

“No one fucks you better than me? Tell me.” She says, leaning down next to your ear.

“No one fucks me better than you, Abby! Fuck me so good!” You gasp, babbling incomprehensibly and she laughs in your ear.

“Fucking you stupid, can’t even talk right.” She says meanly, hitting your spot with vigor, her strap rubbing against her clit as she fucks you hardly.

White hot pleasure shoots up your spine, and you can hardly think or talk.

“My stupid, pretty girl…gonna come for me?” She asks you, breath hitting your ear and you groan in response.

“Mmm, gonna come Abby, please don’t stop!” You moan and Abby leans up, pulling out of you, leaving you feeling empty.

“W-wha?” You whimper dumbly, as she removes the strap and harness, before removing her boxers. She lifts your leg over her shoulder, before placing her wet cunt over your own, and you gasp at the feeling.

“Gonna make you come, pretty girl, don’t worry.” She mutters, before rubbing your cunts together roughly and quickly, her skin pressing into your clit.

“Holy shit…” Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head as your wet cunts press into each other hardly, the pressure nearly painful as you edge onto the precipice of your orgasm.

Abby grunts and moans with effort and pleasure, head thrown back as she feels her orgasm coming on, too.

“Gonna come all over this pretty pussy.” She moans out and you can’t hold back the scream of Abby’s name as her words send you over the edge, your orgasm rattling you.

The sight of your face scrunched up in pleasure, and the sound of her name so loud and breathy, coming off your lips brings on her orgasm and she gasps and groans as she comes on your cunt, your wetness mixing with hers.

“Oh, fuck!” She groans, the feeling and sight making her head hazy as she works you both through your orgasms before she collapses next to you on the bed.

Once your head clears, you turn to face her, chest still heaving as you trail a finger over her parted lips.

“So…” You trail off with a soft smile, and she wraps an arm around your waist before pulling your body closer to hers.

“You won your game.” She mutters with a grin, and you giggle, nosing into her neck.

“Right, means I deserve a prize other than two mind-blowing orgasms.” You say and she chuckles.

“I guess you deserve a trip to Italy…” She says, rolling her eyes playfully and you giggle again, leaning up to peck her lips.

Divider by @cafekitsune

Part 2, Y/N joins the mile high club otw to Italy?

Anyways, comment, like, and repost pleassseee if you enjoyed this. This was my first smut ever written or posted so I’m a little nervous about this, and clearly, I got a little unhinged but lmk if you liked this!

#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson angst#abby anderson smut#lesbian#the last of us fanfiction#abby anderson fanfic#abby anderson#abby tlou#abby x reader#abby x you#abigail anderson #wlw fiction#abby x fem!reader #bisexual #vermillionsappho #vermillionsapphoworks

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson angst #abby anderson smut #lesbian #the last of us fanfiction #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby x you #abigail anderson #wlw fiction #abby x fem!reader #bisexual #vermillionsappho #vermillionsapphoworks

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lavenderek · 9 months

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hey guys. so something happened to me last month called "finding this image" where i found this image.

it changed me on a molecular level.

first of all, ever since, i basically want to replace everything in my apartment to adhere to this color palette. (i will not do this. i'm just speaking from the heart and baring my soul.)

second of all, ever since, i want things with zebras on them. not zebra print. i want things with zebraS on them. realistically proportioned, peaceful, expressionless zebras. look at these stupid cabinet pulls.

your eyes do not deceive you. they do have X's for eyes.

but something even weirder happened to me today called "realizing there's a bizarre subgenre of wall art that's just zebras taking baths." instead of explaining what that means, i will just show you.

this made me laugh at first: what were the odds? but they kept showing up in the related items section on amazon dot edu.

a lot of them are photographical in nature. they're photoshopped in there - zebras don't actually take bubble baths.

you'll find that a lot of them straight-up just rip each other off. which seems expected for the platform, but perplexing for the subject. how are pictures of bathing zebras so popular that it's lucrative to have such a product for sale yourself?

you'll also find that when you trace an image of an animal with no actual understanding of the animal's anatomy, you end up with something very off putting. i wouldn't even call it the uncanny valley. it's more like the disturbance gulch.

i decided these were the most creative. i liked the first two's use of color. i liked that the first looked like the cover of a romance novel. and i liked that in the last one, the zebra bought a bathtub that is striped, to match his stripes.

and finally, these are the only ones i'd actually buy, if i were to make this a whole thing i do.

the artist clearly did a good job with the line art and the proportions on the first. in the second, his little feets are hanging out of the tub. in the third, he's got some buds there. number four, i love the colors and i love that he's neither in nor standing next to the bath. he is somehow standing on the water.

and the last one is my favorite of all of them. he's brushing his teeth, not taking a bath, but look at it. i shouldn't have to explain myself.

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cerisesage · 10 months

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bts as your bfs !! sfw !!

these are headcanons!

sfw, bts x reader!

namjoon: museum dates. there's no explanation needed for this one, namjoon just loves art, every form of it. he wouldn't only praise the paintings when you're there, but would definitely make positive comments on you. living with him would be like a dream, every day, you'd wake up to washed dishes and fresh tea, this man would definitely do everything if you're tired. he is the type of dude who wouldn't let you do the chores alone, he'd definitely do as much as you do. he would love cuddling you, especially in a cozy bed at home. would give you cute and creative nicknames.

jin: i think he would love to show you off every chance he's got. worldwide handsome is taken, back off ladies! he would be so proud of himself for pulling a partner like you and would brag about this! i can see him getting matching jewelry, something very noticeable. he would be very very clingy and in need of your attention 24/7, would want you to tell him daily that he looks so good. he needs to hear that from you, it makes his heart flutter. to him, that sentence has a special power when it falls from your mouth. he'd take you on a lot of restaurant dates, getting you expensive food. he wants you to know he has money.

yoongi: he doesn't like to share his private life, but he wouldn't try to hide you guys' relationship. he believes that love is something people shouldn't keep as a secret, but what's personal should stay personal. dates with yoongi would always be at one of your places, painting, making new music or writing lyrics. he would be very affectionate between the four walls, but once he gets outside, he puts on a mask. he'd love having you on his lap while he is working in the studio, and he would take care of you like every day was the last day on earth. he'd love having your head on his chest.

hoseok: just dance. he would make you play that game with him over and over again and when every song gets boring, he'd teach you some easy moves. he would love to share his passions with you and make you become a part of them as well. he would often photograph you, would always find you way prettier than the view. he would take you to fashion shows and would always share his creative ideas with you. he needs a little support through it all, encourage him! he'd become a huge softie when he's tired, he would fall asleep easily.

jimin: oh boy, he would give you his whole heart and expect nothing in return. he would be very sentimental and fragile, and would need you to hold and squeeze his hand a lot as a kind of small support. he would buy you a lot of sweets and would love baking with you! he would lend you his hoodies even before you could ask, if your hands are cold, he would hold them and pull them inside the sleeve of his hoodie he is wearing. he would always doodle on your notes. definitely would write songs about you.

taehyung: he would sing you the most beautiful love songs ever heard. he would pour his heart into every note and would waltz with you. he is the type of guy who would run into the rain with you and dance under the sky, the one who would love you the purest out of all members. his love would always be present. he would take you to jazz clubs and would buy you flowers very often. he would make you visit old castles with him and would treat you like a princess. you'd be his muse.

jungkook: he just wants to treat you right seven days a week. seriously, he would give himself to you so quickly that i could be overwhelming sometimes. other than that? a lot fun. parties, drinking, late night walks, car rides under the city lights: jungkook would do it all. he wouldn't be able to live without you, he would always keep you company, no matter what. maybe, he would make a couple of bad decisions, but he'd do that all for you to stay with him. i feel like he would be slightly possessive, but not overly. a healthy way.

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photographydickherman · 5 months

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#swiss landscapes #photographs #photography #usa #dick herman #nyc #dick herman photographs #wall art #nature photographs of Switzerland #Switzerland nature photographs for sale #buy Switzerland nature photographs #buy switzerland landscape wall art #buy wall art photographs #buy wall art #new york

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humanpurposes · 9 months

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Just for a Moment, part iv

Tom Bennett has a habit of climbing through her bedroom window whenever he's in trouble // Main Masterlist

Tom Bennett x OFC

Warnings: 18+, mentions of war and death, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut, Tom Bennett's daddy issues, death, mourning/grief

Words: 8100

A/n: This acts as a final part and an epilogue. Also available to read on AO3.

In early June, Lois Bennett knocks on the Wheelans’ front door. She has tears in her bright blue eyes and her hands are shaking.

“It’s our Tom,” she says, when Kitty has sat her down at the kitchen table and made her a cup of strong tea. “He’s missing.”

A hole tears itself in her chest.

His ship had been part of the evacuation at Dunkirk– a triumph, so the headlines say. But that’s the way of the world, she thinks, men lay down their lives, others have their lives taken from them by force, and all the while the press and the politicians declare each one a step towards peace.

“You think Churchill and Hitler give a flying fuck about peace?” her father says one night as he nurses a glass of whisky. “They want victory.”

Every night as she lies in bed, she imagines some new possibility. Tom could have run to safety, sought refuge in the town or gone elsewhere. Maybe he’s just biding his time, maybe he’s on his way back to her.

He can’t be dead. He just can’t be.

He promised he would come home to her.

Monday 2nd September, 1940

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the sirens, that blunt, whirring, wailing noise that sparks a primal fear in her chest. Somehow she always wakes up before they go off, like her instincts can alert her of what’s coming just a second before the noise begins.

The baby starts to scream from the space beside her– since Lois has started working as an ambulance driver, she leaves Vera with them most nights. With shaking hands, Kitty takes her into her arms, keeping her close to her chest as she fixes a woolly hat over her head.

“I’m sorry darling, I know,” she says, pulling the hat over Vera’s ears. She keeps meaning to buy some earmuffs for her, but then, it’s not her baby.

It’s pitch black in the house, it has to be. No lights or candles allowed unless you want the Germans to drop a bomb on your house. Kitty keeps one hand on the wall as she finds the stairs, and hurries down to the kitchen. Mam and dad’s footsteps follow behind her.

They have a routine by now. Dad grabs a coleman and a box of matches, mam grabs a photo from the front room and a basket with bread and blackberry jam, and Kitty holds tight to Vera. Then they file out the back door, into the garden, down the ladder into the shelter. Dad shuts the door, lights the lamp, and finally they can all see each other.

Then comes the waiting. Some nights dad sings The Fields of Athenry and Kitty joins in. Vera seems to love singing, her eyes go wide and she lays completely still against Kitty, hypnotised by the humming in her chest.

After a few slices of bread to keep them going, dad lies along the bench and closes his eyes and mam takes Vera into her arms. “Get some rest, love,” she tells Kitty.

How can she? Beyond the shelter the world is nothing but uncertainty, sirens sounding, bombs booming, spotlights and distant fires cutting through the darkness. Only the morning will tell what the true damage is, once the sun starts to rise and the smoke and dust have settled. Houses and livelihoods will be left as rubble. More lives lost, people who didn’t sign up, people who couldn’t, people who thought they might at least be safe in their own homes.

She looks at the photograph mam always brings in from the house. It’s of the four of them, Eddie, Art, Stevie and Kitty, lined up in the front room before the eldest two Wheelans left for the continent, over a year ago now. Eddie and Art look handsome in their uniforms and Stevie is uncharacteristically glum. He hated that he didn’t sign up sooner, he said he didn’t want to look like the one being left behind.

They all came home after Dunkirk, a few precious weeks when the world felt normal again.

Only not quite.

Because she still spent every night alone, and Tom Bennett was still gone.

“Where’s Douglas?”

Kitty snaps her attention to mam, as dad starts to stir on the bench.

“Eh?” he grumbles, “he’ll be along now in a minute, I’m sure.”

They wait.

And keep waiting.

The bombs dropping on Longsight are louder than they’ve ever been before. Closer than they’ve ever been before. Each thunderous crash rocks the ground and the walls of their shelter.

BOOM– the roof trembles.

BOOM– dust and dirt fall from above them.

“We’ll be alright, here,” dad says, beckoning Kitty to sit between the two of them.

They huddle together. Kitty curls her knees into her chest like a child and leans into her father’s embrace. Mam has Vera on her lap and places a hand on Kitty’s knee.

BOOM– mam whimpers and Vera is crying again. Dad holds her tighter.

BOOM– Kitty reaches for one of Vera’s tiny hands, and she clutches tightly onto her finger.

Then a final, earsplitting BOOM. The bench jolts beneath them. Kitty clings to her family and squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for something awful to happen.

Only it doesn’t. The bombs become fainter.

They slowly pull away from each other, looking each other in the eyes and nodding, to make sure they’re all alright– as much as they can be.

When the all clear sounds, they make their way back into the house.

Glass litters the floor of the front room. The windows are shattered, so is the glass cabinet with mam’s best china, photographs are cracked. Anything that isn’t broken has been blown back by the force of a hit.

Through the tatters of the curtains and a haze of smoke, a fire burns out on the street.

Dad calls her name as she runs for the front door and yanks it open, but she can’t bring herself to step past the threshold.

The feels the heat against her face, as number 27 has been reduced to a pile of burning rubble.

The AFS arrives in time to stop dad from digging through the remains in search of Douglas himself.

Everything that belongs to the Bennetts is crushed under brick or goes up in flames.

It’s like losing Tom all over again. The house where he grew up, the kitchen where Josie used to feed the Bennett and Wheelan kids ginger beer and sandwiches, the bedroom that smelled of cigarette smoke, where he told her he loved her, exist only as memories.

She doesn’t go to bed that night– there are only a few hours until daylight anyway. She sweeps up the glass in the front room and the bedrooms while dad boards up the window frames. Hardly any light reaches inside the house, the air is still thick and hazy with lingering smoke, so they keep the back door open. It airs the place out, but lets in the cold too.

When Kitty answers the door in the morning, Lois’ back is facing her. She’s still in her uniform with her hair in a neat bun and a helmet in her hand.

“Lois?”

She turns towards Kitty with her lips slightly parted in a passive expression. “Dad’s gone,” she mutters. And once she says it the vacancy melts into grief. “He’s gone,” she cries, “everything’s gone!”

Kitty leads her into the house, but there’s nowhere comfortable to sit. The front room is in tatters and the kitchen is a mess with everything they’ve managed to salvage piled onto the table and chairs.

“Tea?” Kitty asks quietly, but she feels stupid for asking.

Lois leans against the wall and holds her face in her hand as she cries.

Kitty unsurely places a hand on Lois’ shoulder and tries to think of something to say, but all she can think of is “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

First her mam, then Harry, then Tom, now her dad. She must feel like her life is slipping away.

Mam appears from upstairs, dressed for the factory with Vera in her arms.

Kitty frowns as she hands the baby to her. Lois has lost her father and her home in one night, and her mother hardly looks phased.

“There’s still work to be done, Kitty,” she says, grabbing her coat before she leaves through the front door with her head and shoulders straight.

But this is just war. Men die in trenches and on beaches, bombs fall on cities, tragedy unfolds and they Keep Calm and Carry On.

Kitty carries Vera into the kitchen, but she doesn’t like the sound of her mother crying. Her little face goes red and twists before she makes a sound, then she’s crying too, burying her head into Kitty’s chest and clinging to her arms with those small, pudgy hands.

Lois doesn’t look up, like she can’t hear her daughter crying at all.

Sunday 29th September, 1940

Weeks go by. Douglas is interred with his wife, in the churchyard of St Jospeh’s. Kitty spends her days in the shop and her nights in the shelter, rocking Vera through the air raids, humming lullabies and muttering stories about her brave mam and her fearless uncle Tom.

The Wheelans never used to go to church every week, but mam insists now, anything for their family to be kept safe. As they head home, Kitty looks up the hill, to the gravestone she knows is marked Josie Bennett. She pictures Tom and Lois standing by the graveside at the funeral, twelve years ago now. It doesn’t feel that long ago they were all children.

She walks ahead of her parents– dad’s been having trouble with his knees and it slows him down. Her head is hung, she’s staring at her shoes, the same black pair of shoes she wears everywhere.

What’s she got to walk so fast for anyway? Their house doesn’t feel much like a home anymore. They at least have the windows fixed, but she tends to keep her curtains drawn, because where she used to look out to Tom’s bedroom window, there’s just empty space.

What’s the point in rushing home to a house that isn’t safe? That’s ghostly and quiet? That has a bomb shelter instead of a garden? What’s the point in carrying on when surviving the night is something they have to hope for? When each day brings a possibility that Eddie, Art or Steive could be missing or dead? What’s the point in clinging onto hope if Tom is truly gone? What’s the point? What’s the point? What’s the point?

Someone knocks frantically on one of the doors ahead, their door she realises. Her vision is blurry through tears, but she can make out the shape of a tall man, with dirty blond hair.

She blinks.

“Tom?”

His body collides into hers. He hugs her so tightly he crushes her chest but she doesn’t care. He could squeeze the life from her and she wouldn’t care, as long as she gets to hold him. Her hands find their way to grasp at his neck and his hair, pulling him closer and crying silently into his neck.

He doesn’t smell like cigarettes, which she finds unusual. He smells like dirt and sweat, and when he pulls away from her she realises he’s dressed in a khaki blazer, slacks that are too big for him and a mismatching grey shirt.

“What happened–”

He looks frantic, stroking his hands over her hair and down to cup the sides of her face. “Kitty, I’m sorry, I know it’s been a mad few months but where are they, dad and Lois? Are they safe?”

He doesn’t know. How could he? Lois tried to send a letter. Where would it be now? Collecting dust or sitting at the bottom of a pile of unimportant paperwork in a naval office because there was nowhere for it to go.

Her eyes well with tears all over again. His face is leaner, the lines of his jaw and cheeks more defined, the left side of his face littered with bruises and scars. She traces her fingers over his cheekbone, and down to the coarse, blond stubble along his jaw.

“Kitty,” he says, shortly, taking her hand away from his face. “Kitty, where are they? Tell me they’re okay.”

She glances over her shoulder. Mam and dad are approaching them now. Their faces mirror each other, confused, horrified, sympathetic.

“Come on,” she mutters, taking Tom’s hand and dragging him with her as she walks solemnly up Slade Grove.

They stayed joined at the hip as they walk, Kitty curling slightly into his arm, their legs brushing with every stride, bumping into each other and pulling themselves back in.

His hand is warm and his grip is firm, but she can’t stop herself from shivering. As much as she wants to gaze up at him, melt into his embrace again, kiss every inch of his face, she can’t help but feel guilty. He doesn’t ask any more questions, or so much as speak a word, but the concern is written all over him, the clenched jaw and the stiff shoulders that don’t sway as he walks.

She won’t be the one to tell him, she can’t be.

Lois has been living in a boarding house with Connie since the bomb hit. Mam had offered her a place at their house, but Lois wouldn’t take it. Luckily the house isn’t too far away, and when Lois opens the door, she’s utterly stunned.

Kitty waits outside, with her hands behind her back, leaning against the brick wall. Now her hands and her skin feel cold, so she tugs at her coat, keeping it tight around her body to keep out the autumn chill.

For a few moments she wonders if she hasn’t just made the whole thing up; Tom, waiting outside her door, running into her arms and vanishing again. She rubs her fingertips together. She had felt him as she feels her own skin now, she’s sure of it, the scars, the stubble, the hair on the back of his hand.

Tom Bennett, her Tom Bennett, though not quite the same man he was, before whatever happened at Dunkirk, before the war, when his place in her life was vague but at least it was consistent. She knows things will be different again when he comes out of that house.

She hears raised voices through the door, the unmistakable, raspy bass of Tom’s anger. Lois shouts back. Then it goes quiet again.

Her heart leaps out of her chest when the door swings open. Tom slams it shut and turns his head around, frantically, before his eyes find her.

He opens his arms and falls into her.

He lets out a few short gasps for breath as he leans his forehead against her shoulder and wraps his arms tightly around her waist.

She stays like that for as long as he needs, until he pulls back for breath. His face is red, it only makes his eyes seem brighter.

“Sorry,” he mutters with a sniff, “haven’t even said a proper ‘hello’ to you yet.”

Given the circumstances, she thinks that’s forgivable. She runs her hands over the sides of his face, his ears and his overgrown mop of hair.

“Hello,” she says.

Tom smiles, taking one of her hands in hiss and placing a peck to her knuckles. “Hello.”

They walk slowly back to Slade Grove. Tom is a little more subdued, but not quite settled.

She can only imagine the thoughts racing through his head. He wasn’t here to save his father, he wasn’t at the funeral, there was nothing he could save from his own home. Time has slipped by, the formalities have been carried out and Tom couldn’t have stopped any of it from happening.

Mam opens the door, takes one look at Tom, and purses her lips.

Kitty rolls her eyes and pulls Tom into the hallway.

The house has been cleared up a little better recently. They’ve gotten rid of everything that was broken, mended the curtains and the tears in the sofas, only the front room feels empty and impersonal without the china cabinet and the photographs they couldn’t save.

They walk on through to the kitchen, where dad is sitting by the wireless. He stands to take Tom’s hand. “Sorry for your loss, lad,” he says, giving it a short, firm shake.

“Cheers,” Tom mutters, “good to see you again, Mr Wheelan.”

Kitty makes tea and splits her rations of bacon and eggs between her and Tom.

“We were part of the evacuation effort from Dunkirk,” Tom explains, looking up to Kitty as she sits beside him. “I don’t remember much, but I woke up in a hospital in Paris, bullets and shrapnel in my chest, and the doctors were telling me the Nazis had taken the city.”

“Bloody hell,” dad sighs.

Mam sits stiffly in her chair and sips her tea.

“They were telling me I had to register as a prisoner of war, but there was this American bloke, a doctor, he told me they were trying out an escape route through Gibraltar.”

“We thought you were dead,” Kitty says. “Lois showed us the telegram. We all thought you were dead.”

She can see Tom’s hand flinch as if to reach out to her, but he stops himself and clenches his fist. He turns back to her parents across the table. “I had to die, officially like, they had some spare bodies and put my name to some poor bastard with 80% burns–”

Mam clears her throat.

“Sorry,” Tom says, trying not to smile. “Had to walk to Spain, then hitched a ride with these two blokes to Gibraltar. Onto Plymouth from there, and then…” he trails off. He has a distant look in his eyes that reminds her of Lois.

“Home?” dad says.

Tom shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, ‘spose so.”

“Will you stay with Lois?” Kitty asks.

Tom gives her a pointed look.

The raised voices, the slammed door. Maybe not.

“You could stay with us,” she says.

Mam tilts her head. “Now wait a moment–”

“Of course,” dad says, “we’ve got three empty beds upstairs, I’m sure we’ll be able to spare one.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Tom says, slipping his hand under the table and brushing his fingers over Kitty’s knee. She checks her parents aren’t looking at her and tries not to smile.

Dad holds up his hand in the way that means his decision is final. “Not at all, lad. We’ve known you since you were a childer, I think it’s the least we could do for you now.”

Lois drops Vera off at 5 o’clock, the usual time. She doesn’t ask about Tom, in fact she hardly looks Kitty in the eye as she hands the baby into her arms and places a bag by her feet. She presses a quick kiss to Vera’s head, and then she’s gone.

Tom is in the front room, splayed out on one of the sofas, flicking an unlit cigarette through his fingers– because if he smoked in the house, mam would actually kill him. He sits up when Kitty walks in with the baby on her hip.

She sits beside him and places Vera on her lap.

Tom takes one of her little hands, and his thumb is almost the size of her palm. “Can’t believe she named the kid after my fucking canary,” he grumbles.

“Tom,” Kitty chides.

“Fuck, sorry– fuck.”

Vera lets out a vague gurgling sound and Kitty giggles. “Say it enough, it might be her first word.”

He chuckles, and gently waves Vera’s arm about. “When do babies usually start talking?”

“Give her a chance, she can’t even sit up yet.”

He strokes his finger along the baby’s cheek, and grins when he coaxes a smile out of her. But it’s like he stops himself, pressing his lips together as his eyes darken.

“What happened with you and Lois?” Kitty asks.

Tom heaves a heavy breath and takes his hand away from Vera. “I lashed out.”

“Christ, Tom.”

“She left dad alone,” he says.

If she didn’t have a baby in her lap, she thinks she could throttle him. “It wasn’t her fault,” Kitty snaps. “She couldn’t have saved him. No one could have.

He turns to face her with a devastated look in his eyes, the kind of look he makes when he knows she’s right. “How did it happen?”

She shifts Vera in her lap. “We didn’t see, we were in the shelter. We heard the bombs getting closer, and when we heard the all clear…” she blinks a few tears from her eyes. She doesn’t mean to cry, and she feels ridiculous, crying over Tom’s father when he’s sitting beside her.

Tom shifts closer to her, and wipes her cheeks with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry.”

Tom nods, running his hand over Vera’s head. “He died thinking I was gone. He didn’t know I was alright.” He draws his tongue between his lips. “But he’ll be happy now, with mum and that.”

“I hope so,” she says.

“And I didn’t leave things on a bad note,” he says, keeping his eyes on Vera, “like you told me. I shook his hand before I left.”

“See? When has my advice ever let you down?” she says, trying to sound as lighthearted as possible through the thick feeling in her throat.

Tom keeps his chin tilted down but he looks up to her. He looks more peaceful than he did this morning. His lips are settled in their natural curve, his brow is soft, and there’s a sadness in his eyes that he won’t allow to become more than a glisten.

“Never has,” he says with a smile.

He shuffles closer to her, cautiously cupping the side of her face like he’s forgotten how.

She instantly leans into him, bringing their foreheads together until she can feel his breath echoing over her lips.

It’s been so long since she’s felt him in the way she wants. She’s hardly given herself a moment to even realise that he’s here, that her months of anguish are finally done because he’s safe, he’s alive, and he still didn’t break his promise to her.

“I missed you,” she whispers. If she speaks any louder she worries her voice might falter.

Tom draws his thumb over her cheek and nudges his nose against hers. “Kitty,” he utters. His lips twitch like he can’t quite find the words he wants.

“I know,” she breathes. “I know.”

He angles his head a little before he leans in closer and presses a soft kiss to her lips, and her heart breaks a hundred times over. She feels his sadness in the tentative movements of his mouth, like he’s still scared, like he’s waiting for something bad to happen.

So she pours all her longing and reassurance into him, as far as she can without speaking or pausing for breath. She holds onto his neck and deepens their kiss with firm lips and a deft tongue.

She wants to feel him, long after they’ve parted. She wants to remember how he feels, the warmth he gives her, the way his little hums make her feel weightless and set her skin alight.

Now, in this moment, the world feels perfect.

Until Vera makes a whining noise that means she wants attention.

Kitty pulls away with a short gasp, moving Vera to her hip and she stands and tries to bounce her into content.

“She’s probably hungry,” Kitty says, and nods to the bag Lois dropped off earlier. “Her formula’s in there, bring it into the kitchen.”

Tom does as he’s told and pulls the tub out of the bag. He walks into the corridor first, and as Kitty goes to follow he stops, and turns to her.

“You look good with a baby by the way,” he says with a grin.

She scorns herself for the thrill it sends through her stomach. “Don’t, you’ll give my mam a heart attack.”

At 6 o’clock, they put the lights out for the blackout, with only the fading sunset to light the kitchen as Kitty makes a vegetable stew and spuds for dinner. Thankfully they have some beef stock she can throw in as well, which stops dad from complaining that “just veg doesn’t count as a meal.”

Evenings are tense and uncertain now. They all try to make small talk with each other over dinner, but silences are frequent and imposing.

Once they’ve eaten, Kitty puts Vera to bed and mam and dad head upstairs shortly after, hoping to get as much sleep as they can before the sirens start.

Tom sits in the lounge, on a sofa by the window, keeping the curtains open just an inch, but all there is to see is black.

“It’s cloudy,” he says as Kitty appears in the doorway in her nightie. “Can’t even see the moon.”

She comes to join him, curling up into his lap and placing her head on his shoulder. “That’s good news for us.”

Tom wraps his arms around her and kisses her head.

The sky stays cloudy and quiet all night, no droning of planes, no sirens.

All she hears is the sound of his breathing and his lips against her skin as he nuzzles into her neck, kissing and nipping at her skin.

“Did you miss me?” she finds herself saying.

Tom pauses and pulls his face away from her with a furrowed brow. “Do you really think I thought of anything else?” he says. “It was all that got me through, the thought of coming home to you.”

In the morning she wakes with a sliver of sunlight creeping over her eyes, still in Tom’s arms, still clinging to him.

Lois comes to collect Vera before Kitty leaves for her shift at the shop.

“Is Tom with you?” Lois asks as kitty lowers Vera into the pram.

Kitty hesitates. “Yes,” she says, bracing herself for Lois to storm in and start shouting at him.

He appears in the doorway, with his head down and his hands in his pockets.

“I’m going to the churchyard,” Lois says to him, “if you’d like to see mum and dad.”

Tom looks to Kitty and she sighs, overemphasising the movement of her chest as she breathes. Don’t leave it on a bad note.

He looks back to Lois and forces a small smile. “Yeah.”

Tom stays with the Wheelans, sleeping in the boys’ bedroom, in the bed closest to the door. Each night, once Vera and her parents are asleep, Kitty steals into his bedroom and tucks herself into the space beside him.

“It feels funny like this, doesn’t it?” she whispers to him, brushing her lips over his cheek as she throws her arms around him and presses herself into his back.

“What, you being the one sneaking around?” he says, falling onto his back so she can drape herself over his bare chest.

“It’s exciting,” she says, kissing a path along his jaw and down his neck. “I don’t see why you got to have all the fun.”

“Made it worth your while, didn’t I?” She can hear him grinning as she reaches the hollow of his throat. She swipes her tongue over his skin and delights when he suppresses a grunt and grasps at her hips.

She sits herself up, letting her nightgown hitch up to her hips as she starts to rock against him.

Tom slips a hand between her thighs and smiles when he swipes his thumb over her bare cunt. “Right little whore I’ve turned you into, hmm?”

Kitty braces herself against her chest and nods, as Tom presses into her, dragging from her entrance to her pearl.

“So fucking wet,” he whispers. “All for me?”

“All for you,” she breathes as he starts to circle over her most sensitive spot. “Fuck–”

Tom places a finger to her lips as he keeps working over her. “Shh, you have to be quiet, you know that.”

She nods again, dreamily, moving her hips against him, adding and withdrawing pressure to his movements, treading the line between pleasure and longing. Until she falls apart, shuddering, pressing her lips together tightly and snatching back the one wanton whimper that sounds in her throat.

“Good girl,” Tom snarls. His hips are bucking against her and his jaw is tight. “Good fucking girl.”

She wastes no time slipping his cock free from his briefs and sinks herself down onto his length. He’s done for with only a few rolls of her hips, pulling out before he finishes and spilling himself onto her stomach.

He’s so pretty when he comes, with a silent sigh, his jaw hanging open and his nostrils flaring. Every part of his body tenses, his abs, his neck, his shoulders, as he squeezes his eyes shut tight and throws his head back against the pillows.

Another perfect moment, she thinks, bright and beautiful, and already slipping away.

He registers with the navy again, and in a few weeks he has his next assignment.

Before he leaves, Kitty insists on getting out Eddie’s camera (even though he’d kill her if he knew he went near it), and takes some photos of Vera for Tom to keep while he’s away.

She takes some of him too. They’re hardly high art– he wouldn’t stop laughing at his own snarky comments, but she manages one ‘serious’ one.

His mouth is halfway to a smirk, his smile lines apparent around his mouth, but his eyes are dark and almost sinister. He hates it but there’s nothing he can do to stop her from keeping it in the envelope of one of his letters, under her pillow for safekeeping with the rest of the pieces she has of him.

He has leave in the new year, and then he’s back in October, just over two years since he first left.

By then Lois is gone. She had come into the shop, with a letter for Tom and Kitty in the pram. She had said she was going to leave her with Robina.

“Over my dead body you are,” Kitty said before she could think it through. Mam and dad were slightly horrified when she came home early from work with baby Vera in a pram and all of her belongings in a bag.

Vera is a right little character now, a stubborn but happy girl. When Tom comes back to Longsight, he stays with the Wheelans again, and he’s utterly devoted to his niece. When Kitty’s at work, he walks into the shop with Vera in his arms to buy her a bar of Cadbury’s ration chocolate. It’s awful and bitter, but it’s the only kind Vera has known and she treats it like gold dust.

When Mr Gregory gives Kitty a few days off, she and Tom take her for walks to the park. It’s freezing, but she’s happy enough wrapped up in a coat and a woolly hat, squealing with delight when Tom picks her up and places her on his shoulders.

How remarkable are kids, that they can so easily forget about worries and fears, as long as they have something that keeps them happy.

Even with Douglas and Lois gone, she hopes Tom knows that something still remains.

Time slips away too quickly. Suddenly Tom’s in his uniform again, ditty slung over his shoulder. He takes Vera into his arms and hugs her tightly into his chest. “Be good for your aunty Kitty,” he says, “and take care of her until I get back.”

Vera nods frantically.

He says goodbye to dad like an old friend, and even mam has warmed to him a bit now. Kitty sees the way her mother looks between her and Tom, the knowing nod of her head. It’s acceptance, and she’ll take it.

“Shall we?” Tom says, taking Kitty’s hand and leading her through the door.

It’s a short walk to the bus stop, then a twenty minute ride into the city. She keeps a tight hold of Tom’s hand the entire way.

They settle in seats at the back of the bus. It’s the middle of the day, kids are in school and their parents are at work. Only a few other seats are filled.

“Thank you,” Tom says as the bus pulls away from the stop.

“For what?” Kitty says.

“For being there,” he says, “for looking out for dad when he was around, for taking care of Vera, and me.”

She wants to frown, but can’t bring herself to. “Of course,” she says, stroking her thumb over the back of his hand. “Of course.”

Tom’s been assigned to HMS Prince of Wales, docked at Scapa Flow in Scotland. His train leaves within the hour, and the moment they step off the bus onto the busy streets of Manchester, she feels herself walking slower.

Tom keeps going, letting her fall behind him slightly, but never letting go of her.

No matter how she tries to drag this out, she cannot stop time altogether and they eventually reach the train station.

She could spend an eternity in his arms, cheek to cheek, breathing along with the rise and fall of his chest.

“I want to do right by you,” Tom says.

“What do you mean?” she mutters.

They still hold each other close; she doesn’t think she could bear to look at his face.

“Once the war is over, I’ll save up my wages, get us a place of our own. It’ll just be the two of us.”

“And Vera,” she adds.

“Yeah,” he says, stroking his hand up and down her back. “I’ll get a proper job. You should do that clerical training you’ve always talked about.”

No more sneaking around. No more nights cut short when he has to leave her.

He pulls away from her, keeping his hands on her waist. “I know your parents don’t trust me and your brothers think I’m a no-good-thieving-bastard. But I love you, Kitty, and I don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

“Once the war is over?” she says.

“As soon as.”

“Tom,” she sighs. She doesn’t want to imagine the possibility, or speak it into existence, but it’s still there. “What if you don’t come back?”

Tom smiles with a small hum. “I’ve died once before, didn’t stop me coming back to you, did it?”

Kitty believes him wholeheartedly.

Thursday 11th December, 1941

Vera’s being fussy about her nap again. No matter how much Kitty tries to hush her, rock her, or hum a few lullabies, she just won’t settle.

Eventually she tries just holding Vera close to her chest, letting the side of her little head nestle just over her heart. She stops crying almost immediately.

“How hard could it be to look after a baby?” she asked herself when she refused to let Lois leave her daughter with Robina Chase. Quite hard, as it turns out.

The peace doesn’t last for long. Mam’s shoes come clattering down the stairs, the doorbell rings and Vera starts wailing again.

“Oh come here,” mam coos, taking Vera from Kitty’s arms. “You get the door, I’ll see this one gets her nap, eh?”

Kitty takes a quick breath before she opens the door. Hearing Vera cry makes her want to cry too.

The postman stands below the front step with a telegram in his hands.

“Catherine,” he says with a polite smile, “haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Been… busy,” she says through Vera’s wails.

The postman hands her the telegram and she reads over the address: Lois Bennett, 27 Slade Grove, Longsight, Manchester, only there’s no house for it to be delivered to, and no Lois to take it.

She feels the tears start to prickle in her eyes as she waves him off, and when she shuts the door she can no longer stand. Suddenly she’s on the floor, her back against the door, unable to catch her breath as hot, stinging tears stream down her face and the telegram crumples under her fist.

She thinks maybe Vera keeps crying and mam calls her name, trying to get her to stand but she can’t. She just… can’t. A sinking feeling washes over her and keeps her pinned down, like the waves pummeling against the shore, over and over again.

If there’s a telegram addressed to Lois, it can only mean one thing.

Tom.

Monday 24th December, 1945

The bus to Longsight stops outside the shop. She lifts Vera under the arms of her little red coat, onto the pavement, and takes a mittened hand in hers as they head inside. Mr Gregory sold it a few months ago and she doesn’t know the name of the new owners.

The woman behind the counter smiles down at Vera. “Aren’t you a gorgeous little madam?” she coos.

Vera rolls her eyes. “I’m not a baby, I’m five,” she says.

Kitty smiles to herself. “Bottle of sherry and a bag of Yorkshire mix, please,” she says. She crouches down beside Vera and spots a shelf of Christmas wrapping. “Go and pick out some ribbon for the bottle,” she whispers.

She pays for their items and Vera comes back with a bright red ribbon.

“Perfect,” Kitty says, and ties it into a bow around the neck.

As they walk towards Slade Grove, Kitty picks out some red sweets for Vera and a pear drop for herself. The rest she saves for later, finding she now prefers the sweets she never used to eat.

It’s nice and warm inside number 28. A Chorus of Christmas carols plays through the wireless from the kitchen, a backdrop to the bustle of the house. Mam is in the kitchen, making her final preparations for tomorrow’s dinner. Art helps her, albeit, his version of helping is pouring out gin and tonics. Dad, Eddie, Stevie and Connie are sat around the table, engrossed in a game of cards. But everyone stops when Vera comes bounding into the room, Kitty close behind her.

They each take their turns to smother her, and it feels good. Stevie practically jumps up and down as he hugs her, Art hands her a drink and Eddie hugs her the tightest.

She manages a sip of her drink and places it on the table as she goes to greet her dad, still mulling over his hand of cards as he kisses her cheek. Then she goes to her mam, and hands her the bottle of sherry.

“I chose the bow!” Vera proclaims proudly.

“And a lovely bow it is!” mam beams, placing the bottle amongst their Christmas stash of whisky, gin and dessert wine. “I have something for you, love,” she says.

“Oh?” Kitty asks as mam disappears into the front room. She comes back with a pot of poinsettias in a red pot, thick green leaves with bursts of blood red petals and golden seeds at their hearts.

“I thought we could put them out, tonight,” mam says.

Kitty opens her mouth to thank her, but she can’t. She nods as mam places her hand on her arm.

Even months after the war has ended, meat is still scarce, especially at this time of year, but mam had saved up her rations for a beautiful joint of beef, which she presents in the centre of the table.

It’s a cheerful occasion. The boys are rowdy, dad is quizzing Connie on her latest gig with her new band, mam is fussing over Vera.

Kitty watches them all. It’s hard not to feel like a ghost, an outlier, simply observing. Sometimes she thinks the others are still too scared to talk to her, in case she bursts into tears or shatters completely. She knows she won’t though. It’s Christmas. She’s supposed to be happy, surrounded by family and people she loves.

“We’re going to see her daddy for dinner tomorrow,” Vera says, stabbing at her boiled carrots.

“What’s Christmas dinner with Robina Chase like?” Stevie asks Kitty.

Her face freezes into a terrified smile to the others’ amusement. “No, it’s fine really,” she says. “Your grandma spoils you rotten, doesn’t she missus?”

Vera nods enthusiastically.

She’s such an easy girl to love. She has bright blue eyes, plump, rosy cheeks and dark brown curls, like her mother’s, kept in pigtails. But while her face is deceptively sweet, she has an awful habit for mischief and stubbornness. Kitty doesn’t mind that though. Girls should be stubborn, she thinks.

Stevie and Connie are expecting now. Dad insists it’s going to be a boy because he saw four magpies in the garden last week. They have a modest little house a few streets away and they’ve made it nice and homely. She’s had tea there and helped Stevie set up a crib for the nursery.

After they’ve eaten, dad insists they all go to midnight mass, as he does every year, despite Kitty’s insistence that it’s much too late for Vera. Still, she puts her in a pretty blue dress and shiny black leather shoes, and makes Stevie promise he’ll be the one to carry her home.

The church is mostly shadows at night, a few candles and lamps doing their best to fight off the darkness and the cold. Vera hates it. She pulls her woolly hat over her ears, swings her legs and on three occasions asks “is he done talking yet?” She likes the hymns though, even if she doesn’t know the words, mouthing some kind of nonsense that has them all in fits of giggles.

And once it’s over, they don’t follow the path down to the street. Kitty leads the way, with the pot of poinsettias in her hands. Stevie follows behind her, carrying a sleepy Vera in his arms, curled into his chest.

She stops before the grave she first stood by seventeen years ago.

Josie Bennett

Douglas Bennett

and in loving memory of Thomas Bennett, 1919-1941

Kitty crouches down to lay the poinsettias down when Vera gives a little squeak in protest. “I want to do it!” she cries.

“Come on then, missus,” Kitty says.

Stevie lowers Vera and she rubs her tired eyes as she staggers to Kitty. She tries to take the pot but with her mittens she can’t get a good grip on it.

“Together?” Kitty asks.

“Yes please,” Vera says.

They place the flowers down together, making sure they don’t obstruct the names.

“There,” Vera says with a little huff. She reaches out and puts her hand on the stone, brushing over the names of her granny and granddad Bennett, and then she traces over the letters of Tom’s name.

Even seeing it written in stone, she doesn’t think it will ever truly sink in.

A report said Tom had been in the makeshift aid centre on the main deck of the HMS Prince of Wales, when the final bomb hit. He could have run for the lifeboats. He would have had plenty of time. But he didn’t. He died to save his injured crewmates, men who would have never seen their families again.

For all the times he told her he would come back, for the life he promised they would make together, for all the nights she clung onto hope, she wanted to hate him for throwing it away.

She knows now that she can’t hate him. She could never hate him.

Vera falls back into Kitty’s arms. She catches her and places a gentle kiss to her soft cheek. “They would have loved you, you know,” Kitty says. “They would have loved that you’re brave, and funny, and that you drive everybody round the bend.”

Vera giggles and turns around, flinging her arms around her neck. “I love you, aunty Kitty,” she says.

Kitty hugs her tightly into her chest, with that strange sort of urge to just squeeze her and squeeze her and never let her go. “I love you too,” she whispers, so Vera won’t hear the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Vera manages to walk down to the gate before Stevie has to carry her, and by the time they get back to the house, she’s fast asleep.

Kitty takes her in her arms and carries her up to the little box room. Connie and Stevie have the other big bedroom, and Eddie and Art are roughing it on the sofas in the lounge.

She places Vera down in the bed, as gently as she can, and takes off her shoes and coat so she won’t have to sleep in them.

It’s almost like a ritual now, but every time she finds herself in her old bedroom, she unlocks the window and brushes her fingers over the scuff mark on the windowsill.

Vera stirs slightly when she joins her, curling into Kitty when she places an arm around her. The bed is hardly big enough for the two of them, how she and Tom ever managed to fit seems somewhat miraculous.

Tom Bennett should have been hers to keep. They should have spent all their savings on a little terraced house or a flat in Manchester, squabbling over the things husbands and wives argue about and making up between the bedsheets. In the winters they would have walked home from the pub through the snow, hand in hand, and huddled for warmth at night. In the summers they would have spent their evenings in the park with a punnet of strawberries, taking the train to the coast on the weekends, to Southport or Blackpool. Maybe they would have had kids of their own. She often pictures a little girl with big blue eyes and a bright smile. They might have named her Josie, after Tom’s mother, and Vera would adore her.

There is so little left of him now, the bomb that hit the Bennett’s house ensured that well enough. She would have liked to have kept his lighter, his wristwatch, maybe some of his shirts.

Instead, she finds other ways to remember him. She reads his letters every night tracing over his terrible handwriting, the imprint of the words in the paper and his fingerprint in a smudge of ink. And she has the photo she took of him on Eddie’s camera. She keeps it framed, proudly on display on the mantle in their flat in the city.

She feels him, in the smell of grass, the flick of a lighter, the smoke from a cigarette, whispered secrets between lovers and Vera Bennett’s laugh, the way she squints her eyes and shows her teeth, just like he did.

Two decades of friendship and it wasn’t enough time. They should have known sooner, she should have knocked on his door more often and he should have spent less time getting into trouble. She should have told him to join the pacifists while it was still an option, she should have convinced him not to go away, she should have held him tighter and never, never have let him go.

In the end though, she doesn’t linger on the times they weren’t together. She remembers them being children together. She remembers the first night he climbed through her window. She remembers his warmth and his infuriating smirk. She remembers the first time they kissed and the nights they spent together, when she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. She remembers every time he told her he loved her, and she remembers every time she said it back.

She falls asleep to Vera’s fluttering breaths, the sound of the lads and Connie in the front room and the hymns playing on the radio.

The world is cruel and cold, but through it all she finds moments like these, when the tightness in her chest is replaced by something light and hopeful.

She clings to that feeling because tomorrow she’ll wake up surrounded by her family, and Vera’s little face will light up when she sees the gifts they’ve been saving for her. Dinner with Robina Chase will be worth it for the moments Harry will get with his little girl, and in the evening she’ll come home and laugh herself silly over glasses of whisky with her brothers.

For all the grief she remembers how he loved her. She’ll keep clinging to that feeling because Tom Bennett was hers, if only just for a moment.

Disclaimer: I only skimmed through the episodes that Tom wasn’t in and don’t actually know what Lois’ deal was, so I’m taking some creative liberties here.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

Series taglist: @hanula18 @azxulaa @whoknows333

#my fics #tom bennett #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #world on fire #wof #world on fire bbc #world on fire season 2 #world on fire fanfiction #tom bennett x ofc #tom bennett x female reader #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennet x reader #ewan mitchell #tom bennett smut

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