#tom bennett fan fic

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Let the Light In

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Fingering, male masturbation, smut. Word count: ~1.6k

Summary: Having stumbled back too late from the pub, Tom finds Lois and Douglas have locked him out for the night. Thankfully, the girl across the road takes pity on him.

Author's note: Day ten of the Smuffmas prompts - "bed sharing and accidental stimulation". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

“Lois! Lois! Come on, let me up, don’t be tight!”

The shouting filters through to her subconscious, and she grumbles, slowly blinking her eyes open, mind foggy with sleep.

“Lois! It’s freezing out here!”

She flicks on the lamp on the bedside table, lifting her watch to look at the time.

Almost 1am. Bloody pillock.

She has lived opposite the Bennett family her entire life, and though she doesn’t know them well, they’re neighbourly, exchanging polite “hellos” when they pass in the street. Though Tom’s is usually accompanied by a wink that makes her skin feel too hot.

Over the last year or so, she’s grown used to being woken up by Tom stumbling back home at some ungodly hour, waking her up as he shouts for his sister, Lois, to open the window and let him up into their shared bedroom. He knows he’ll cop an earful from their dad, Douglas, if he comes in through the front door. It’s usually double locked anyway, so his key wouldn’t work even if he were to try.

Lois has never left him out on the street for this long though, but she can’t blame her, she’s probably sick of it by now.

“Lois!”

Fuck’s sake.

There’s no point in leaving him out there, his shouting will wake up half the street. She considers it a good job that her own dad works nights, and that her mum has taken to wearing earplugs to bed so that he doesn’t wake her when he returns in the early hours of the morning.

She sighs, throwing off the duvet and stepping out of bed. She parts the curtains, lifting the sash window and shivers as the coldness of the air outside chills her skin through her nightdress as she leans out.

Tom stands outside of his house, leaning back with a lit cigarette between his lips as he stares up at his bedroom window. He’s about to shout again, when she interrupts.

“You’re gonna wake the whole bloody street if you keep on!” She hisses.

He turns, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and exhales a tight line of smoke through pursed lips.

“She won’t let me up,” he calls back. “don’t s’pose there’s any room at your inn? It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow, after all.”

“It’s Christmas Eve right now. Have you got any idea what the time is?!”

“Tomorrow doesn’t start ‘til I wake up, sweetheart.”

He flashes a lopsided grin up at her, and she has to fight the urge to smile back as she feels familiar flutters in her stomach.

Cheeky git.

“Wait there,” she sighs, sliding the window closed.

She wraps herself in her dressing gown, picking her way carefully down the stairs, before switching on the hallway light and opening the front door.

Tom is there already, leaning against the doorframe, the crushed butt of his cigarette inches away from his feet.

“You’re a star. Shall I take the sofa then?” He asks, crowding the small space in which her family hangs their coats as she closes the door behind him.

“Absolutely not. Last thing I need is dad coming back from work and seeing you sprawled out in the living room, he’ll throw a fit. Shoes off.”

Tom bends down, unlacing and kicking off his shoes. “Where you putting me?”

“You can kip in my room. Bring those with you.”

“Oh,” he smirks, “if you insist.”

She rolls her eyes, making her way back upstairs, with Tom following close behind.

“You can sleep on the floor,” she tells him, chucking him the knitted blanket from the end of her bed, and the extra pillow she sleeps with.

“Thanks,” he sounds almost disappointed as he catches them, setting them down and busying himself with shrugging out of his jacket and leaving it on a heap on the floor with his shoes.

She had expected him to sleep fully clothed, so she is shocked when she hears the metallic clink of him opening his belt as he lowers his trousers. Feeling her skin prickle with heat, and her heartbeat begin to race, she quickly turns away, shedding her dressing gown and climbing into bed.

She pulls the duvet up around herself, remaining facing away as she listens to the rustle of clothing as he pulls off his jumper, and arranges his bedding.

When it finally grows quiet, she leans over to turn the lamp off and lays back down.

“Night then,” Tom says quietly.

“Night.”

She lays there in the darkness, eyes closed, willing herself to fall asleep and yet it won’t seem to pull her under. It isn’t helped by the relentless shifting around and sighing she can hear coming from the floor beside the bed.

After five minutes of listening to Tom toss and turn, and grumble to himself, she groans and finally switches the lamp back on, leaning down to look at him.

“Can you not just go to sleep?!” She whispers in frustration.

He pulls himself to sit up, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s uncomfortable down here. And I’m cold.”

She presses her lips into a tight line, before exhaling loudly through her nose. “Fine. Come on then.”

Shuffling to the far side of the mattress, she throws the duvet back for Tom and he climbs in eagerly.

“Smashing,” he says with a wink, before turning the lamp off.

They lay back to back and, in her tiny single bed, the angle pushes both of them to the far edges of the mattress, neither one of them comfortably having enough space to stretch out and go to sleep.

“This is awful,” she complains quietly.

“Mmm,” he agrees. “Let me just…”

Tom rolls over and her breath catches in her throat as she feels his chest press against her back, his body slotting itself against hers.

Admittedly, it’s comfier like this, they both have more room, and yet she is certain she won’t sleep a wink with the heat of his body so close to hers. He must be able to feel the way her heart thuds in her ribcage.

He shifts slightly and she feels the press of a bulge against her backside, she knows precisely what it is, and it sets her pulse racing. Instinctively, without thinking, she presses back and his breath shudders hotly against the shell of her ear, his nose pressed into her hair.

Tentatively, his fingertips spread out over her hip, pulling her back against him as he rolls his hips forward, and she feels sticky heat pool between her legs as he hardens against her.

She’s not entirely sure why she’s allowing this, just knows that it feels good and she doesn’t want it to stop as they move rhythmically together, both chasing a friction that neither can quite achieve.

“Have…have you ever…” he whispers, trailing off.

She swallows thickly, afraid to disappoint him, but wanting to be honest. “No.”

“Can I touch you?” 

His hand tightens on her hip and she nods. “Yes.”

Slowly, his fingers trail down her thigh, until he reaches the hem of her nightgown. His hand travels the same path again, only this time upwards and against her bare skin.

She whimpers as he cups her mound through the cotton of her knickers, the pads of his fingers pressing against the dampness of the gusset.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he breathes shakily.

“Sorry,” she whispers back, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

“Not a bad thing, darlin’,” she can hear the smile in his voice, “nothin’ to be sorry for at all.”

His hand slides upwards, pressing flat against her lower abdomen, and then slides down again, creeping beneath the waistband of her underwear.

“Fuck,” Tom grits out, as his index finger slides between her folds, gathering her wetness before circling her pearl.

She buries her face into the pillow, to stifle the moan that leaves her. She has touched herself before, but it has always been hesitant, secretive, just enough to feel nice. This makes her feel as though her body is on fire.

Tom shuffles behind her, and for a moment she wonders what he is up to, until she feels the brush of his knuckles against her back. She doesn’t need to look to know that he’s pulled his cock out and is stroking himself. The idea makes her throat run dry.

His breaths come in hot puffs, the slick sound of him pleasuring himself, coupled with the squelch of his fingers as they slide and circle against her is lewd, and she knows she ought to feel ashamed, but she is desperate to fall from the edge that he’s eagerly pushing her towards.

She screws her eyes shut when his digit slides inside of her, her walls clenching around him as he curls his finger upwards, dragging against her and making her thighs shake.

“So tight,” he groans, before withdrawing, circling faster against her sensitive bundle of nerves with newly applied arousal.

She whines, arching against him and she feels the movement of the hand he has on himself speed up, as quiet grunts escape him.

“You’re close, aren’t ya?”

“Please…”

“Let go. Come for me.”

She bites down on the pillow, muffling the squeal that bursts out of her as her thighs clamp around Tom’s wrist, and her entire body shudders with the force of her peak. She feels like a bottle of pop that someone has shaken too hard, every part of her body coming apart in tiny bubbles.

Tom presses his face harder into her hair, his nose touching her scalp as he groans low in relief, his hips stuttering against hers as he finds his own release.

Slowly she turns to face him. His blue eyes shine in the moonlight, his full lips slightly parted as he breathes raggedly. He leans in, brushing his lips against hers, but not quite kissing her as they lay there together in blissful, tired silence.

“You’ll let me in next time, won’t you?” He rasps.

The double meaning is not lost on her, and yet it does nothing to affect her answer.

“Yes.”

#tom bennett x reader #ewan mitchell #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett smut #tom bennet world on fire #world on fire tom bennett #tom bennett #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fan fic #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fan fic #world on fire fanfic

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

'Til the Sky Burns

21/12: Sunset & Orgasm Control - Tom Bennett Word Count: 1.9k~ | Warnings: p in v sex, edging, fingering, orgasm control, Tom being a bit of a prick (what's new) A/N: sorry this is kinda similar to the last one oops sue me

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

She's quiet, he notes, and fiddling with her hands like she's nervous. Her pumps click rhythmically with each step, the biting, winter cold slipping beneath their clothes. 

Tom is cocky, mean sometimes, but never usually cruel, like he is being now.

But he figures he should make her sweat a bit, wondering why he's acting the twat that he is, while her pretty little head whirs around with possibilities at why he might be angry with her.

Even he can admit to himself, it's a silly reason.

He'd been looking forward to seeing her for weeks. With every letter exchanged, every glance at her photo from the pocket of his uniform, he couldn't wait to touch her again, to breathe in her perfume and feel her warm body against his.

He'd remembered his words to her before left.

"I could stay here, between your pretty thighs, all day love."

She had rolled her eyes, and told him that she was more than willing to let him try.

And after hours of grueling travel, crossing waters and land to see her, the first thing he saw when he stepped off the train to the platform was her talking to someone else.

To the twat down the road no less, who for one couldn't take no for an answer, and secondly, had been discharged from service on bullshit medical grounds, in reality too much of a coward to face real war.

Not that Tom could compare, he'd picked the Navy as a way of distancing himself as much as possible. But he didn't say he was perfect.

He remembered watching her for a good few seconds. It was midday, but she'd made the effort and dressed up all pretty, done her hair, to make herself look good to meet him off the train.

And he had to admit, she did look absolutely gorgeous, just as he'd remembered.

But there was a rancid taste in his mouth left over as he narrowed his eyes at them as they talked. She was clearly uncomfortable, but forced a smile to her face out of sheer politeness. And everytime he reached out to touch her arm, she took a baby step back.

Even that wasn't enough to pull him out of his now foul mood.

She smiled and nodded, grimacing as she stepped away from him and turned suddenly to see Tom, the man she had come to see, a smile lifting to her face in relief.

To be met with Tom's expression, stoic and seething, had her face fall. 

She knew that look well enough.

So he walked with her silently to her flat on the edge of town, the usual few minutes stretching into an eternity. She's stuffed her hands in her pockets, eyes downcast, as if she was wondering what she'd done to upset him but dare not ask yet.

At least until they were in the comfort of her flat.

The warm wall hit Tom as he entered her living room with a deep sigh. Through his annoyance, the familiar smell of her had his chest all tight, but was much too proud to even break his mood.

He shucked his bag onto the floor, bending to sit at the dining table, his hat scrunched tight in one fist.

Tom watched her as she pulled her coat off, able now to see the dress she'd picked. His favourite one of hers. 

It almost made him feel bad, being this much of a twat when he saw how much effort she'd put into looking nice for him so eagerly.

“Tea?” She asks, raising her gaze briefly to him. And when all he gives is a curt nod, she sighs softly and puts the kettle on the stove, lighting the gas and waiting.

Any second now, he thinks, his finger tapping on the wood surface of the table, leg bouncing impatiently.

“Have I done something?” She asks, so quietly and kindly that it nearly, nearly breaks him. Makes him want to rip all her clothes off and let her know who she belongs to, after all his time at sea, the idea is all the more tempting.

His jaw tightens, “Don't know what you mean.”

“I think you do, Tom. You've not said a word to me. Come on, please.”

He sighs. It's a mistake looking at her. She gives him those eyes.

When he stands, she is reminded of his sheer size, his height, the broadness of his shoulders all but accentuated by the boxy uniform he wears. The early afternoon sun pours through the single glazing onto one side of his face, in such an amber glow that one might expect it to be setting already. 

The winter sun looked good on Tom Bennett’s lazy stubble that coated his chiselled jawline.

She swallowed over the lump in her throat as he leaned over her, using his arms either side of her to cage her in against the kitchen counter. His usual mischief in his blue eyes is all but gone, and he bites his lip in annoyance, making the muscle of his jaw twitch.

“You get all nice and dressed up for him, hm?”

Her wide-eyed, terrified expression was too fucking adorable, he nearly let a smirk slip by.

“Who?”

He scoffed quietly, “That prick on the platform you were talking to so eagerly.”

He knew it was a lie, but it was too tempting to tease her. Knowing she’d flounder.

“What on earth are you-”

“Trying to impress him, are ya?” Tom was only human, and at the thought he was flustering her, he grinned.

“Tom, I was just being nice!”

He scoffed, showing his teeth as he smiled, “bit over the top though, wasn't it love?”

“What do you want me to do? Bat away every man who speaks to me?”

“That'd be a start, yeah.”

“See, now you're just being-” she started, but was swiftly interrupted with Tom surging forwards to her, his chest bumping against hers, his lips parting hers with ease and sliding his tongue against hers. 

His motions were quick and calculated, one hand grabbing her waist, while the other worked swiftly to pull the hem of her dress up, his two long, slender fingers stealing between her thighs to feel how aroused she was.

He was pleased at what he found.

“Miss me, did ya?”

He saw her grip on the counter behind her tighten as he teased her through the thin fabric that separated their flesh.

Months and months of separation was pouring out of him into his actions on her.

She shook her head at him with a smile, breathing elevating by the second as his deft fingers slid down the front of her underwear, “you're such a-”

“Hm?” He smirked, sinking two of his fingers into her warm agonisingly slowly, curving upwards towards the top of her walls to massage that spot he knew so well.

He didn't need her to finish the sentence. He knew he was a cheeky bastard.

Tom was never one for soft touches, gentle kisses or words of utter devotion. Usually, anyway. He was much too proud for that. 

He showed his possessiveness over her in many different ways. With a quirk of his lips, the grip of his fingers on her thigh and with incessant and brutal lovemaking.

Time slid by slowly after they'd returned to her flat, all of their actions drunkenly merging into one long moment of heavy breaths and their skin pressing against each other hotly.

Tom was quite impressed he'd managed to stay between her legs for hours, all without giving her the luxury of an orgasm.

It felt cruel doing it. But he was, in his own way, punishing her.

He held his hands against either side of her waist, shallowly pushing his hips against her backside with a lazy, languid pace. Hitting her sweet spot, but at the same time, lacking the intensity for it to really build into anything.

Her curls had fallen into waves with the exertion of the past few hours, and she was tired, her cheeks all flushed both with exhaustion, and all's frustration at being denied what she really wanted.

Her grip was tight on the windowsill in front of her, the winter sun almost touching the horizon.

“Christ, if anyone walked by right now, love.” He smirked, his thumbs sitting in the dimples above her backside, looking down between them at the way his length was slick with her arousal between rapid thrusts.

He nearly lost it when her walls fluttered around him, nearly sending him over the edge as well. The idea of anyone walking by the window, despite being on the first floor, was still exciting.

“Tom, please…” 

“Ah, you'd like that, would ya?” He asked lowly, leaning over her and whispering against the shell of her ear, “who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?”

He heard and felt the telltale signs she was close again. She inadvertently tightened around him, her breaths coming all quick and her voice strained.

“Tommy…” she whimpered, turning slightly to try and capture his lips, groaning in frustration as he pulled away with a smug smile.

“Stop whinging, now. Sun's not set yet.”

She opened her bleary eyes to the horizon. The sun, annoyingly, had only just touched the skyline. And the repeated feeling of Tom stretching and filling her impossibly was beginning to crest without effort.

She moaned as Tom's full lips parted and bit at her neck, “If he could see you now. Fucking soaked and eager for me.”

Humiliation burned in her blood with every word he said, his pace never faltering even once. She wondered, briefly, how Tom was able to go on this long. But he was pent up and enjoying watching her teeter on the precipice of falling apart.

And it was just too tempting for him to even think about stopping.

Tom glanced up though, and saw the sun was slowly beginning to set, agonisingly slow, and a smirk split across his face.

His hand made its way around her face, gently pulling her face up to the amber glow of the sunset, “come on then, love. Let go for me.”

Tom delighted in the reaction he got from her, her whole body wracked with pleasure. All at once, heat flooded her limbs, making them tremble, and the sheer sound she lets out is enough in itself to make Tom fall apart right after her. 

But it's her tightening around him that gets him in the end.

His face contorts as the pleasure burns in his veins, pulling out of her quickly, his dog tag necklace feels cool to the touch against his bare chest as he breathes, fisting his length and letting a shuddered groan slip as he paints the soft skin of her backside with his release.

If it feels like this for him, having been close to orgasm for hours, he can't imagine how it feels for her.

He pulls her up against his chest, his lips leaving lazy, open-mouthed kisses on her neck as their breaths and hearts slowly return to normal.

“You're not angry?...”, she managed between laboured breaths.

Tom chuckled lightly, his breath running hot over her neck, “Don't fret, love. I was only pulling ya leg.”

She smacked his arm playfully, both of them looking out onto the sky as the setting sun set it alight briefly before the darkness chased it away.

“You're a cheeky bastard, Tom Bennett.” She mused softly, in a way which made it clear she was smiling.

He tightened his arms around her, resting his chin on the crown of her head, “tell me something I don't know, darlin’.”

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

#tom bennett world on fire #tom world on fire #world on fire tom bennett #world on fire tom #tom bennett smut #tom bennett x you #tom bennett #tom bennett x ofc #tom bennett x female reader #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett x oc #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett fic #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fluff #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell characters #12 days of smuff

[witchofthevale]

↷ september '23 fave fic recs!⋆☂｡☽˚.

Okay, okay here we go! This nearly killed me to make, so you better read them.

I'm kidding... I think.

Gentle reminder that what I consider 'fave' is by my own personal tastes and preferences, and you might not agree with them and that's okay! These are very lovely authors you can peruse on your own to find the right fic for you, and there are always the tags + algo. Just because your favourite fic isn't here doesn't mean it's not good; it could be potentially for a variety of reasons (I haven't read it yet, I have just not this month, I don't vibe with that character, etc).

That's what I love about the individuality in fandom and writers— there will always be that right fic from that right author that just hits all your good spots.

This is mine. For the month of September. If you find your next favourite fix here— I'm glad! If not, that's still swell! Hope you find it!

To the writers— thank you for writing such brilliant fics! I struggled setting this up because of how many I enjoyed 💝.

Anyways...

More quick reminders!

This is set chronologically; both by character name and by fic title.

If you are familiar with my blog, you will mainly see HOTD, some TLK, then random characters.

There may be smut! There may be dark fiction! I support and consume both! Please read trigger warnings actively! You are responsible for your own person! Community Labels ruin fandom ecosystems, stop snitching! Ignore or block at bloody will!

There are no series parts here. That is in a different display post that is still being processed lol.

If you see repeated author names, it can be numerous things— mostly, they're just that good, okay? Okay.

These are only for September 2023. I've read about 500+ on this account alone, and would die if I tried to go back before then, sorry. You can still check them out through tag navigation here!

I've also added some of my works that I enjoyed writing for the month, because why not.

Now that's fucking over, I hope you enjoy!

ABRAHAM (Grantchester)

*Untitled Piece by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

AEGON TARGARYEN II

Ceilings by @sapphire-writes

Lemon Cake To My Tea by @darlingofvalyria

Merciless or Ruthless? by @lovelykhaleesiii

Moan for Me by @st-eve-barnes

AEMOND TARGARYEN

A Mutual Feeling of Hate by @fan-goddess

Gelato by @oneeyedvisenya

Hell Hath No Fury @fromforeigntofamiliarity

His Love by @valeskafics

I'm A Fire, And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm by @randomdragonfires

Revolution by @valeskafics

The Black Stag by @darlingofvalyria

Til Death Do Us Part by @asumofwords

Unnerved by @dulcewrites

*Untitled by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

*Untitled by @missglaskin

Vulnerability by @valeskafics

ALDHELM

My Heart by @silens-oro

BILLY TAYLOR

The Perfect Send Off by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

BILLY WASHINGTON

Lonely This Christmas by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

DAEMON TARGARYEN

Ask, and You Shall Receive by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

A Thousand Words by @arabellasleopardcoat

Capital by @arabellasleopardcoat

Curse of Womanhood by @just-some-random-blogger

*Untitled by @barbiedragon

Valyrian Bride by @cryingforlife

HARALD SIGURDSSON

A Political Arrangement by @valeskafics

JACAERYS VELARYON

In Bastards of Blue, Wager in War by @darlingofvalyria

MAEGOR TARGARYEN

Little Lights by @dreamsofoldvalyria

OSFERTH

Lacnunga, Or, Remedy by @assortedseaglass

SIGTRYGGR IVARSSON

Little Warrior by @ewanmitchellcrumbs

SIHTRIC KJARTANSSON

Hours by @valeskafics

It's Urgent Darling by @sihtricfedaraaahvicius

Take No Wife by @valeskafics

TOM BENNETT

A Good Wife by @valeskafics

Rest by @fidelias

VISERYS TARGARYEN III

*Untitled by @barbiedragon

MULTIPLE CHARACTERS

Conquerors Reborn by @undertheorangetree | Helaena, Aemond x Reader

El Tango De Roxanne by @valeskafics | Jace, Aemond x Reader

Royalty Fucked by @oorhaellaoo | Baelon, Alyssa x Reader

#fanfiction recommendation #hotd x reader #tlk x reader #vikings x reader #abraham x reader #billy washington x reader #asoiaf x reader #tom bennett x reader #2013 💋 Fic Recs #💋 September 2023 #the witch's fic recs 💋

[writervaul-t]

recommendations

***note: stories linked usually don't have smut or smut is written in later parts***

page two

[ osferth ]

witchling series by @targaryen-realness

"what's going on in that head of yours?" by @bookofbonbon

"i've never heard of such a stupid plan" + "give me your hand" by ↑

i will not fight by @fan-fantasies

you promise by @lazypeachsoul

"you make me question my faith" by @lazypeachsoul

babysitting by @osferth

baby fever by ↑

the river by ↑

all's fair by @mischiefmanaged71

late night idea by @lauwrite1225

tinderbox of a heart by @aphroditesmoon

losing my religion by @kitkatscabinet

your hurts are my hurts by ↑

what good neighbors do by @polkadotsocks1993

because of you by @ultraintrovertedgryffindor

[ sihtric ]

unattainable by @mystic-shadows42

sleepless nights by @lauwrite1225

entertaining royalty by @lady-writes20

[ aemond targaryen ]

i know yours by @bookofbonbon

through the ages by ↑

"just the two of us" by @spideymatcha

to make them love me (and make it seem effortless) by @dango-milk

see no evil, hear no evil by @dilemmaontwolegs

the center of my own existence by @awearywritersworld

little women by @aemonds-war-crime

this fic by ↑

bane of my existence, object of my desire by @jasonsmirrorball

i would die for you in secret by @aemondsbeloved

with him, at all times by @theold-ultraviolence

in a week by @womprat00

she was lovin' me, she was wantin' me by @astrumark

her voice by @targaryenrealnessdarling

dragonstone hollow by @oneeyedvisenya

[ jacaerys velaryon ]

under the weirwood by @targaryen-jpg

unexpected visit by @jacesbeloved

firstborn iii by @archiveofthe-dragon

replaceable by @aphroditesmoon

the day the sun met the sea by @dearsnow

[ aegon ii targaryen ]

early riser by @solacestyles

as you are by @sunnysidelucida

earn it by @piecksbitch16

good grief by @bambimunson

devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes by @syzrina

[ multi ]

living with the greens by @syzrina

playing with fire by @sapphire-writes

[ tom bennett ]

literally everything written from @mischiefmanaged71

this fic by @osferth

[ gaius ]

labyrinth by @bornbetter

border credit: @urdadsfavegirlblogger @firefly-graphics

#fic recommendation #osferth #aemond targaryen #tom bennett #jacaerys velaryon #the last kingdom #house of the dragon #world on fire

[arcielee]

Dancing in the Dark

Tom Bennett x OFC Summary: War is spilling over Europe and a route is being created to help POWs escape occupied France. Sometimes love does not last forever, but lasts long enough. Warnings: Smut/NSFW, 18+ MINOR DNI, some misogyny cause it's the 1940s. Author’s Note: Here is the masterlist to my Tom Bennett fan fic! I did a post for what inspired this. Artwork is by the super talented 4yvle1 ♥ This series is complete!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 - ende

arcie’s masterlist 

#we need more tom bennett fanfic #world on fire #world on fire fanfic #tom bennett #tom bennett x ofc #updated 6/28

[fan-goddess]

Ranking of all of Ewan's characters GO :D

OH MY GOD YES BUT ALSO YOURE SO MEAN I LOVE IT!!!!!

ITS UNDER THE CUT CAUSE ITS LONH AND UNEDITED AND RAW

1) Aemond Targaryen - First character of his I properly saw and cared about. Though I wasn’t a massive fan at the beginning since I was way too in love with his brother, he definitely grew on me a lot

2) Billy Washington - He’s so pathetic and sweet and traumatised what’s not to love? I wanna hug him and softly make out with him on a sofa before making him a nice cup of tea for him. He’s actually the first character I saw of Ewans, as I watched trigger point when it was on gogglebox. Only I didn’t know it was him at the time, so when I rewatched the episode and saw Ewan I had a whole realisation overcome me

3) Michael Gavey - It’s the nerd what’s drawing me in. I love a switch character I can tell is a switch. He has such potential especially with his bitchy yet whiny attitude. I wanna see the movie hopefully next week so let’s fingerscross it so I can see my boy on screen

4) Osferth - He’s a sweetheart, but to be honest it’s a tie between him and Ettore. Both have places in my heart for different reasons. Osferth has this determination and kindness that sets himself out from the others. For his friends, the found family he has made for himself and his faith. It’s an admirable thing and the exploration of his character in different elements are so interesting to read about. I’m watching TLK in small steps and am just waiting patiently for the baby monk to make my day

5) Ettore - He has a darkness that draws me in I ain’t gonna deny it. I don’t condone his actions I say that now, but his mind fascinates me, especially seeing how Ewan portrayed him in the movie. The use of movement was actually so cool looking at it in a bigger picture and his character as a whole. We know nothing about him, and yet we also know everything. I fucking love it

6) Tom Bennett - He’s a cocky shit, but he’s so pretty. His love for his family and his relationships with people are a nice thing to see. He’s got a charm surrounding him and a charisma that refreshing and draws you in. One thing I also like is that there’s a character in the series that has my name and I officially have tons voice saying my name. It’s sort of weird

7) Abraham - He’s so tough and so determined and so addictive to see. He’s got that whole dominating persona, and I wanna see it crimble. I want him to Dom the fuck out of me yet also allow me to hold him if he’s sad. The best of both world. Also, the hair is magnificent. I wanna pull it so bad

8) Billy Taylor - He’s a cinnamon roll, but a forgettable one at that. He’s adorable and I love the idea of domming him, but I have no idea where to go after that. He’s pretty but forgettable. I do love him though, the fics do his character very well

9) Genyen/Shawn - At least there’s works on Billy T. You’re just a scarcity like finding water in a desert. I had a dream once when Genyen and Abraham were the same person. This is as interesting as I can find this character apart from his stealing thing. That makes him fun

10) Will - Listen, he’s pretty yes I will not deny, but I forget he’s here half the time I literally nearly forgot to add him to this list alone so yeah. Interesting character yes I won’t deny, but forgettable in the long run compared to other roles

#ask game #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell character #billy washington #world on fire #Tom bennett #trigger point #will salad days #salad days #billy taylor #the halycon #osferth #the last kingdom #genyen #shawn doctors #Michael Hague #saltburn #abraham grantchester #grantchester #Ettore #high life

[shiningloki]

Hey Bee! Could you recommend some chaptered fan fics for me? I’m in desperate need of reading material and I have already read everything in your masterlist twice 😂

Of course dear!! I’m glad to hear you have enjoyed my fics and I can definitely rec some lengthier ones for you! They’re all Tom Hiddleston-centric (since that’s all that I read) so hopefully that works for you! 

The Night Manager Saga by @caffiend-queen (Jonathan Pine)

Part 1: Everyone Has A Vice, Pine. What Is Yours?

Summary: That pivotal scene in "The Night Manager" where Richard Roper is trying to dig his way into Jonathan Pine's defenses, asking "Everyone has a vice, Pine. What is yours?" From a wonderful thought starter from the diabolical brain of GingerAngelica.

Part 2: She Is My Only Vice

Summary: In which you find that your hard-won new life as Sarah Rogers, linguist and MI6 employee, is about to come crashing down. Even if you're able to outwit the men running a vicious human trafficking ring, can you endure working with the man who broke your heart when he left you 2 years ago?

This is the sequel to: "Everyone has a Vice, Pine. What is Yours?"

The Bottom of the Hourglass by @nildespirandum (Adam)

Summary: Having lost his eternal love - Eve - decades before, Adam has continued his retreat from the world of the human zombies he despises. Then, one night, a woman looking for a different kind of supernatural creature stumbles onto his secret lair.

Sweet Dreams by @bellesque (Incubus Loki)

Summary: It's your first free weekend in what feels like forever and you plan on snoozing through it without any interruptions. Someone has other plans.

You Bring Me Home by @myoxisbroken (Captain James Conrad)

Summary: James Conrad hasn't taken a real vacation in far too long, and when he accepts a large settlement after the fiasco on Skull Island, he treats himself to a stay at a luxury villa on Tenerife. Sabrina Bennett is taking advantage of her office's closure to jet off for a sun-filled week at the same resort. What will happen to their planned solo vacations when the two encounter one another? (Sex. Lots of sex. That's what will happen.)

In Search of Refuge by @villainousshakespeare (Sir Thomas Sharpe)

Summary: A disastrous carriage accident leaves Rose stranded in a snow storm. Desperate to find shelter from the elements, she stumbles upon a run down estate and throws herself on the mercy of its owner, Sir Thomas Sharpe.

I Will Always Test You by @emeraldrosequartz and @latent-thoughts (Loki)

Summary: Loki and Iona Trygvedottir have never gotten along. She is a headstrong lady-in-waiting to Queen Frigga, and Loki is... well, Loki. The simmering animosity between them begins to boil when Frigga chooses her to make regular visits to Loki in the dungeons, bringing him luxury foods and items of interest. She takes the opportunity to give him a piece of her mind. Meanwhile, he's set on paying her back for all the insults and slights she insisted on lobbing at him while he was locked up - in the most vindictive way possible.

Violent Delights by @poeticlokisxn (Tom Hiddleston)

Summary: A mystery attacker pushes the life of Lucy Angel and the unwilling Thomas Williams together for better or for worse. The well-educated theatre director finds himself unable to escape the desires the shy and introverted Lucy brings upon him and when they are more or less forced to be friends, Lucy discovers the real reason behind his apprehension. What she originally shrugged off as a troubled past, or a bad history with women was anything but the case. After following him into what she thinks is a lousy strip club, she discovers that Tom’s desires fall more on the…sadistic side.

All of these authors are absolutely wonderful and I highly encourage you to check out each of their other works because honestly, you will be astounded by their talent! Happy reading!!

#bee answers #fic rec #recommendations #loki #sir thomas sharpe #tom hiddleston #captain james conrad #jonathan pine #adam #crimson peak #kong: skull island #the night manager #only lovers left alive

[omniversalobservations]

The Doctor and the Enterprise (1989)

The Doctor and the Enterprise is a gen Dr Who and Star Trek: TOS crossover novel by Jean Airey.

It is possibly the most reprinted (sometimes without permission, and often quite altered) fan fic. The story was originally printed in the 1981 ST zine "R&R XIII." It was then published as a stand-alone zine by Jean Airey with a cover by Gail Bennett in 1982.

In April 1984, the first part of the story was printed in Enterprise #1.

A second edition was then released in 1989 by the American publisher Pioneer Books (which specialized in unofficial reference books based upon various franchises including Doctor Who and Star Trek) as a trade paperback edition.

It was illustrated by Tom Holtkamp and Mahlon Fawcett and it was edited to remove all references to copyrighted characters and races. Captain Kirk became simply "The Captain", while Spock became "The Scientist". The editing was not perfect and in some cases the characters names can still be found in the second edition. Some fans claim that Paramount threatened to sue the fanzine at which point it was the editor, Jean Airey, who released the second version with "all proper names from the story" removed.

To counteract these unauthorized versions the author released the zine in online format in 1991:

In 1979 I started writing a *fanzine* story in which the Doctor (from the "Doctor Who" universe) met up with the crew of the "original" "Star Trek" series. It was the first thing I'd written since graduating from college fifteen years before, and, with the assistance of an excellent author and very good friend, Jacqueline Lichtenberg, was able to finish it. The result turned out to be an enjoyable reading experience to a number of people. The story was not intended to be a satire, it was intended to be an honest representation of what might happen if these two particular universes met. It was intended as a fanzine in the most classic tradition of that particular genre. Unfortunately that popularity resulted in the ultimate "ripping off" of the story without my permission into a highly priced "book" format (in one version) and to a complete travesty of the original in yet another. For some years now, I had been offering to make copies available at the cost of postage -- and was willing to "post" copies to the electronic networks. However, I did not want to rekey the whole rather lengthy document. After a recent discussion of the 'zine on the network, Marc Barrett offered to scan the original into an ascii file. (Many thanks to him!) With some editing (Proportional Space type resulted in some unique versions of McCoy's name! along with some other anomalies.), the following files are being posted to the net. The following are the rules for use of these files. A) You may read it -- FREE. B) You may print it to a printer -- FREE. C) You may make copies for your friends -- FREE. D) You may redistribute to other electronic networks and databases, including ftp archives FREE. E) The text carries my copyright from the date of original publication and "publication" of these files in this format does not grant anyone anywhere permission to make copies either electronically or in print which carry *any* charge to anyone of any type for that copy. F) Any reproduction of the text (print or electronic) must carry this notice with it. An individual editing for a single copy for their own records is not bound by this requirement and may edit this paragraph out. Paper copies with the original artwork (including the marvelous cover by Gail Bennett) are available from me. SASE for details. Some dealers may also have appropriately priced *authorized* copies available (STARTECH is one of them). Not everyone is on a computer network! With regrets for being so picky -- but I've been burned on this enough. Read and enjoy!

Second Edition The cover of this second edition is by Tom Holtkamp and it was published by Movie Publisher Services. The second edition contains 129 pages. It is the only edition that contains Wizard of Oz references which were not part of the original story:

"Three universes in imaginative collision – with delightfully funny results. An underground classic, this tongue-in-cheek parody is an affectionate tribute by a fan of both Star Trek and Doctor Who who is also a professional writer. This cult favorite has already won thousands of fans in small editions. It is newly illustrated for the current edition. Take a Moebius trip into adventure as The Doctor and the crew of the Enterprise encounter the Wicked Witches and the Tin Woodmen in search of the Ruby Slippers with which to power their starship. Chuckle as the Doctor and the Wizard of Oz join minds with those unforgettable words, 'Hello, anybody home....'"

Source: Fan Lore

(image via Trek Movie)

#unofficial #Doctor Who #Star Trek #Wizard of Oz

[jandjsalmon]

The 92 articles meme

Duuudes. I feel so incredibly loved. I was tagged by @lessoleilscouchants @writing-as-tracey @deathlydelight @bugheadjones-the-third @rileybabe @allskynostars @believe-that-you-can-my-friend @southsideserpentine - Do you SEE these ladies? They are all freaking amazing ladies! I feel so blessed to have you in this wonderful Bughead family with me. Thank you for the tag!

RULES: You must answer these 92 statements and tag 20 people. (I feel like I don’t really need to tag 20 people - firstly because so many of you already did this - but also - there aren’t actually 92 statements here so the rules are a fallacy. Nope.)

THE LAST: 1. Drink: water

2. Phone call: Bennett (about hot dog buns)

3. Text message: Jay (about our seats at Phantom of the Opera)

4. Song you listened to: Carry you Home by James Blunt

5. Time you cried: yesterday - whilst reading fanfiction at my desk.

6. Dated someone twice: nope

7. Kissed someone and regretted it: yes. first guy I ever kissed. Evan. 

8. Been cheated on: nope

9. Lost someone special: yes

10. Been depressed: not really.

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up: never.

LIST 3 FAVOURITE COLOURS: 12.-14. green, pink, and gray

IN THE LAST YEAR, HAVE YOU: 15. Made new friends: yes

16. Fallen out of love: nope

17. Laughed until you cried: yes

18. Found out someone was talking about you: only in positive ways

19. Met someone who changed you: yes

20. Found out who your friends are: not really. I am picky about friends. If I’m questioning them - they’re not friends.

21. Kissed someone on your Facebook list: yes

GENERAL: 22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: Most but not all. Some of my fandom friends have become more than just fandom friends and we are Facebook friends now too.

23. Do you have any pets: Lacie Loo - the sweetest little Cairns Terrier ever.

24. Do you want to change your name: Nope.

25. What did you do for your last birthday: Went out to dinner with my husband.

26. What time did you wake up: today? 6:10am (then I read fanfiction for an hour and a half before getting in the shower)

27. What were you doing at midnight last night: reading fanfiction in bed and watching South Park with Jay.

28. Name something you can’t wait for: The hockey season.

29. When was the last time you saw your mom: She just left from visiting from the States actually. She left July 9th.

31. What are you listening to right now: The super loud air circulation fan in the office and my own fingers typing on my loud keyboard.

32. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: yes.

33. Something that is getting on your nerves: when my coworker calls in sick… like she did twice this week - even though she knows we’re short staffed in the summer - and I come in sick all the time.

34. Most visited website: tumblr, Ao3, and gmail

35.-37. This didn’t have any question next to it! Weird. Someone should make some up. But not me.

38. Hair colour: brown

39. Long or short hair: slightly longer than my chin

40. Do you have a crush on someone: Currently I’m all about the Sprouse Twins. (that’s not really a secret here though, eh?)

41. What do you like about yourself: SO much. I’m so fun and smart and pretty. I’m the whole package. ;)

42. Piercings: just my ears.

43. Blood type: A+

44. Nickname: Jess or Jandy

45. Relationship status: happily married

46. Zodiac: Leo - but I was born on the cusp so I share lots of Virgo traits.

47. Pronouns: she/her

48. Favourite TV show: currently loving Riverdale, Brooklyn 99, Game of Thrones and so many more.

49. Tattoos: none

50. Right or left handed: right

51. Surgery: I had my tonsils out when I was 13 and have had 3 c-sections.

52. Piercing: answered above at #42

53. Sport: hockey

55. Vacation: British Isles and just various countries in Europe.

MORE GENERAL:

57. Eating: nothing right now, pulled pork for dinner.

58. Drinking: nothing right now.

59. I’m about to: I SHOULD be working… but I’m still catching up on fic! At least I’ve moved on to new stories rather than catching up on the updates.

61. Waiting for: School to start again?

62. Want: a Nanaimo Bar or three

63. Get married: I’m already married… for a long long time now.

64. Career: I work in Municipal Government in the finance dept.

WHICH IS BETTER:

65. Hugs or kisses: hugs

66. Lips or eyes: eyes

67. Shorter or taller: taller

68. Older or younger: older

70. Nice arms or nice stomach: arms (shoulders are my WEAKNESS)

there’s no 71

72. Hook up or relationship: relationship

73. Troublemaker or hesitant: hesitant

HAVE YOU EVER:

74. Kissed a stranger: no

75. Drank hard liquor: no

76. Lost glasses/contact lenses: yes (I just dropped my favourite pair in the lake two weeks ago. GRR!)

77. Turned someone down: yes

78. Sex on the first date: no

79. Broken someone’s heart: yes

80. Had your heart broken: yes

81. Been arrested: no

82. Cried when someone died: yes. (and cried when they stubbed their toe - I’m a crier)

83. Fallen for a friend: yes

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

84. Yourself: most days

85. Miracles: yes

86. Love at first sight: not really

87. Santa Claus: no

88. Kiss on the first date: no

89. Angels: yes - but not the sort with halos and wings

OTHER:

90. Current best friend’s name: Jay

91. Eye colour: blue with a yellow circle in the middle.

92. Favourite movie: Stardust, Eurotrip, and Schindler’s List

#thank you all for tagging me

[elrhiarhodan]

2016 - A Year in Fanworks

By the Numbers (2015 numbers in parentheses) Stories: 82 (49) Words: 466,385 (288,525) Monthly Average: 38,865 (24,044) Daily Average: 1,278 (790) Longest: 162,000 for a story that I don't want to announce here (more about that below) Shortest: A variety of Tumblr prompt fills at 100 to 300 words each To compare, my 2015 Review | 2014 Review | 2013 Review | 2012 Review | 2011 Review | 2010 Review Total number of words since 2010: 2,554,295 The rest of this exercise in navel-gazing is under the cuts. 

The List of 2016 Stories January – 7 The Slow Hand of Time The Slow Burn of Anger Beneath the Words The Slow Dance of Madness First Time, Forever Like a Line in the Sand A Knotted Cord Untying February – 6 A transparent house that you and I built Recompense A Sticky Situation Bitter Hearts Well, This Could Have Gone Better You Are Not Alone In This March – 2 The New S.T.A.R. Labs Harrison Wells Eats Snacks April – 5 Early Days of a Better Nation Message From the Dead The Scent of Speed The Silence Between the Birdsong So On We Go May – 34 A Smile in the Darkness Windows To the Soul A Dark and Unwilling Desire Mine In His Pants The Act of Creation Running to a Standstill Sweeter Than Candy on a Stick A Most Improbable Miracle As Brothers We Will Stand It's a Thin Line (Between Love and Hate) Crazy from the Heat In the Winter Newton's Second Law Time On My Hands Still Alive The Braille of a Blind Affection (memories pursue me) And The Storm Watch Brews (a concert of kings) When it Comes to the Bennett Family Legacy, Size Matters The Value of Experimentation Sons of the Silent Age Blood-Stained Hands, Blood-Stained Heroes Whatever You Desire Hour Follows Hour (like water follows water) A Stolen Gift Hour of the Slack and Escape Interlude, With Adults Eternity's Sunrise The Edge of the Coin Join the Club Her Barry, His Barry I Like You, Too Love's As Short as Summer Nights The Race of Their Lives June – 4 In the Silence of the Night (innocence is here) The Best Laid Plans We Stumble, We Falter (but we're no different from anyone) In the Kingdom of the Blind July - 2 Allsorts Ani L'Dodi, v'Dodi Li August – 4 I Never Dreamed That I'd Love Somebody Like You (The Wicked Game Remix) Pleasure and Prerogative A Well-Earned Punishment The Central City Examiner - Society Pages (The Marriage Bargain) September – 3 Show Me What You're Good At (and you're good at everything) Tugging at the Darkness We Two Are One October – 3 You Only Kiss Twice You Don't Know Where Your Interest Lies Dreamers With Empty Hands November – 4 New Tricks Birdsong Before the Dawn I'll Come Running You'll Find Magic Wherever You Look December – 7 We Followed an Unlikely Star Call Out My Name Whatever May Come, Whatever May Go (don't give up) Cast Your Fate To the Wind Don't Let it Bring You Down What's in a Name The Slow Bite of Desire Overview As usual, for 2016, I have included stories published on my journal and AO3 from January 1, 2016 until December 31, 2016. It includes stories that were works in progress/unpublished in 2015 (or earlier) and published in 2016, and doesn’t include any comment fic or other works that were not published as stand-alones on my journal or AO3, or any unpublished works in progress, or any completed but unpublished works. Ruminations 2015 was a low point for word count (my lowest full-year total) and there were a lot of contributing factors. When I did my analysis last year, I attributed much of it to my workload and big writing projects. In retrospect, there was another factor I was not willing to consider. I was, to be honest, burning out on White Collar. Six years, two million words of fan fiction spread over nearly 700 stories - it's not surprising I felt like the story well was running dry. (And yes, I know that 288k is still a very respectable number of words, but it was a low point for me and kind of felt like a failure.) So, what was different for 2016? Well - a bright and shiny new fandom! Last year, during the time I took off for the winter holidays, I discovered The Flash. I'd tried watching The Arrow on Netflix a few times, but couldn't really get into it. The Flash was a completely different kettle of fish and it had something that was like catnip for me: a curious relationship between the young hero and a very shady older mentor. In describing it to my White Collar friends, I said it pulled me in the way the Neal/Alder grabbed me. I got hit by the plot bunnies in early January and started writing. The words poured out of me like water and the faucet still hasn't turned off. Of the eighty-two stories, sixty-five were for The Flash, eleven were for White Collar and five were Flash RPS. And for the first time in three years, I did the full complement of MMOM – 31 stories in 31 days, and unlike prior years, I deliberately didn't try to limit myself to 300-word ficlets. Some of those stories were quite meaty (please pardon the pun!), and my efforts for the Merry Month of Masturbation contributed significantly to my total word-count for the year. Although I only wrote eleven White Collar stories and did not participate in this year's Big Bang, that isn't to say that I'm not writing White Collar anymore - far from it. I'm just a lot more selective about my stories. I'm continuing established 'verses like Wonder(ful) Years and Dragon'verse, and I hope to get bunnied for Gloriana, too. It's a heady thing - having a new fandom. If there's one regret - it's that there's no real presence for The Flash on LJ - it's pretty much all on that shiny shithole known as Tumblr. I don't think I'll ever quite get used to that. The Year End Meme Questions… And now to answer the questions that everyone asks themselves… 1. Favorite. Oh, that's really kind of hard. I recently did an Ask the Author meme, and I'd picked The Slow Dance of Madness as the favorite, but in retrospect, I have to reconsider. I think I'm going to have to say A transparent house that you and I built, which I wrote for the poetry_fiction challenge. But that's not quite right either. I really do want to tout the massive story I wrote and published (in sorta-secret) and I discuss more in a bit, but that's not fair. Maybe the whole Dominance Hierarchy series, which started out as a bit of tumblr prompt fun and became something far too lyrical? 2. Best. Since I can't really keep signal boosting a story that no one can yet read, I'm going to have to say that As Brothers We Will Stand is my best story of the year. It was a long and plotty epic that started out from a simple premise – what if Barry hadn't been able to rescue Harry from Zoom at the end of S2.14 – Escape From Earth-2. It was supposed to be short and smutty but got legs and lots and lots of moving pieces. I'm proud of how everything tied together and nothing was left hanging to explain in a sequel or timestamp. I'm particularly proud of the sex scenes – which is not something I ordinarily tout about my fic. This was (believe it or not), the first time I wrote three men in a bed, and I'm seriously pleased with how it all worked out. 3. Most Fun. Easy to pick - Harrison Wells Eats Snacks. I'd been binge-listening to the M.A.T.E.S. podcast (Mike and Tom Eat Snacks) and that infected my brain. And I should make honorable mention to both The New S.T.A.R. Labs (Harry needs to make some money and decides to invent over-engineered sex toys) and You'll Find Magic Wherever You Look (Cisco invents a new gun, Harry is transfigured, and much angsty cuteness ensues). 4. Most Under-appreciated. One of my early Flash stories got very little love, and I can understand why. A Knotted Cord Untying was a fusion between The Flash and Ed (the light romantic comedy from the late '90s that made Tom Cavanagh a star). I resurrected the original Harrison Wells and his wife, Tess Morgan, and set them in Stuckeyville. I thought I'd done a clever job of integrating the two worlds, but the fandom voted with their silence (and someone I respected made an off-hand comment about not really liking these types of fusions, that they 'never really work anyway' and so my writer's soul kind of died a little at that). 5. Sexiest. Like I said above, I wrote all thirty-one days of MMOM, and that's a lot of smut. And almost all of my Flash fic is shippy and sexy (looking at the list of stories, out of the sixty-two, I think that maybe three are purely gen). So picking the sexiest will be hard. But I think I'm going to have to say that it's a tie between The Slow Dance of Madness, which has the most creative sex scene I've ever written, I Never Dreamed That I'd Love Somebody Like You (the Wicked Game remix), which is a sex pollen story, and the entirety of the Dominance Hierarchy series, which is really all about smut (until you get to the third story, then it's smut and heartbreak). 6. Holy Crap, That’s Wrong Even for You. The past few years, this category has been filled by something in my Transformations genre, something usually unbelievably cracky. But not this year, because this year, I wrote some seriously smutty smut, including a story that involves daddy-kink and fantasy incest. Yeah, VERY VERY wrong. Hour Follows Hour (like water follows water). Read at your own peril. And it's het. 7. Hardest to Write. I don't know if any story was particularly difficult to write this year. Words flowed like water. I was stymied a bit when I was writing my White Collar Pairings story The Best Laid Plans – I couldn't seem to find a focus for it, but when I did – it simply exploded out of me (pun NOT intended). I also had some trouble getting started on one of my Fic-Can-Ukah stories, the long anticipated wedding story for The Wonder(ful) Years - We Followed an Unlikely Star, if just because I'd written the engagement and the honeymoon, as well as so many references to the actual wedding that I struggled to find something fresh to say. 8. Biggest Disappointment. I can't think of a single story I'd want to rewrite. 9. Biggest Surprise. Okay, now I get to talk a little about the epic story that was published in a place that no one will find it. It's called Truth out of a Lie and it wasn't supposed to be 162k words. It wasn't even supposed to be half that length. Or a third. It was, at its inception, supposed to be about 40k and when I started writing it, I wondered if I was overestimating myself. I had one square left on my Gen Bingo card to make a blackout and instead of taking the easy way out, a conversation with my enabler in chief made me flip the script and take an unexpected path. Another surprise was just how easy it was to write – the story simply poured out of me. I started writing on June 22 and finished the story in chief on October 28 – about 154k. There were two scenes I needed to write and in the writing, I realized I wanted to make some significant character changes, which entailed another whole chunk of words. That was also something I've never done – gone back and shifted a major plot point. And so, what's it about? It's the origin story for a series I created during MMOM - EoBarry Revealed - where Eobard and Barry are happily married, immortal speedsters. It's a close canon A/U – which means it tracks with canon events through seasons One and Two, but some important things are different. Basically, Eobard is about eight-five percent less murderous. So, when is this really going to get published in my space (it's already published in a comm not to be named, but is available if you're diligent, but please don't – it's not beta'd and likely full of mistakes and gaping plotholes)? Soon. My beta-reader is faced with a rather Herculean task of editing this monster and that takes time. I'm also very strict about not publishing a story until it's done and if my beta reader has to go back and make recommendations in the early part of the story after reading the end, I'll be screwed if I've already started publishing. When it is ready, it will get two chapters a week and there are 36 or 40 chapters (I really don't remember at this point). But they will come without fail. 10. Riskiest. I am going to have to say my first Flash fanfic, The Slow Hand of Time. It was a big risk because I was writing for a brand new fandom and I hadn't consumed all of the available canon. I just got smacked in the face with EoBarry feels and had to write it. Looking Forward… Any Story You’d Like to Rewrite: Nope. I'm pretty satisfied with my writing in 2016. How Will New Canon Change Your Writing: No more new canon for White Collar, which still makes me very sad. But new canon for The Flash starts arriving at the end of the month. I'm definitely looking forward to it, but I don't know if it will affect my writing. I'm basically EoBarry trash right now, and unless EoWells makes another appearance, I'll be writing A/Us until the end of time. Goals for 2017: None. Just write what I enjoy writing. Avoid challenges that make me anxious. And that’s the 2016 Year in Review. Acknowledgements, most heartfelt As always, I must thank my dearest sinfulslasher, who keeps enabling me in the hopes that someday I'll write that Neal/Satchmo story for her. And also, my bestie, theatregirl7299 who picks me up and dusts me off when I fall down. And I must acknowledge my delightful new friend – @timeforalongstory, who rolls around with me in the EoBarry trashcan like no one else, who enables me to write the wildest headcanon and keeps me going with the most amazing feedback. THANK YOU!!!!!!!!! And to everyone who reads my stories, thank you, thank you and thank you again – my appreciation for you is boundless. I haven't been so good at responding to feedback as I want to be, but please know that I cherish every kind thought and word you leave for me.

#Elr Writes about Writing #2016 Words #A hellalotawords

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Shipping Out

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Drinking, smoking, public sex, smut. Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: Just trust me on this one, and read all the way to the end.

Author's note: A little birthday treat for @bottlesandbarricades. No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The pub is crowded and noisy, the humidity of the air making her carefully coiffed curls cling to the back of her neck with perspiration. It’s not often that she frequents this side of Manchester, but the change of scenery is a refreshing switch of pace to the monotony of everyday life. Laughter, music and the clinking of glasses is preferable to the whir of the factory sewing machines.

She taps her red lacquered nails against the wood of the bar, wrinkling her nose at the stickiness of the wooden surface beneath her palm. If the frequency with which it’s wiped down is any indication of the attentiveness of the barkeep then she’s in for a long wait for a drink.

Sighing, she fishes her cigarette case from her handbag, flipping it open and plucking one out. No sooner has she placed it between her lips than a hand is clicking a flame to life before the end of it, turning it a glowing cherry red. She casts her gaze upwards through the steady plume of smoke, met by twinkling blue eyes and a cocky smirk, as the chivalrous stranger deposits his lighter back into his trouser pocket and regards her with a tip of his head.

“Thanks,” she says with an easy smile, taking the smoke between her fingers and exhaling a tight line of vapour up towards the ceiling.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies with a wink. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this then?”

God, that’s a terrible line.

She bites back a laugh, and decides to humour him. “Trying to get a drink, service in here is awful though.”

He purses his lips, eyes raking over her from head to toe, before nodding. “Can’t be having that.” Slapping a hand against the bartop, he calls out, “Oi! My lady friend and I are dying of thirst over here! Anyone serving?”

She raises her eyebrows in disbelief, but doesn’t have to wait long until a middle aged, irritated looking woman makes her way around the corner to the pair of them and grumpily takes their order. She’s long since finished her cigarette by the time the glasses are placed heavily down in front of them.

He doesn’t even ask what she wants to drink; she ends up with a gin and tonic, while he has a pint. It’s what she would have ordered anyway, but the bold presumption unsettles her regardless.

Sipping her drink, she relishes in the way the fizzy bitterness envelopes her tongue as she takes in what he’s wearing; navy blue slacks and a matching long sleeved smock, with a white striped collar.

“Shouldn’t you be on a boat somewhere, sailor?”

He grins, setting his glass down on a dog eared beer mat. “Just so happens I’ve been given a night of shore leave. I ship out again tomorrow.”

“Lucky me,” she says with a coy smile.

“If you play your cards right you might be.”

There’s that smirk again. She watches as he takes out a packet of Lucky Strike, perching one between his lips before offering one to her. She gratefully accepts, and he’s quick to light it for her, before doing the same to his own.

Every table is full, but she doesn’t mind, she’s content just to prop up the bar with him, ignoring the ache of her feet as they lapse into effortless conversation. He’s handsome, if a little overeager and she pays rapt attention as he entertains her with stories of his time aboard the HMS Exeter.

She’s on her third gin and tonic of the evening when he leans in to whisper to her.

“So, I might not see another woman for months after tonight. You gonna help me make it one to remember?”

Feeling her cheeks heat up, she giggles softly. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way for you to thank me for my loyal service to our country,” he tells her, taking her hand and leading her out of the pub.

Allowing the gin to fuel her confidence, before she can change her mind, she lets him guide her outside. Even met with the sobering chill of the night air, she offers up no protest when he pulls her into the ginnel, the brickwork biting into her back as he pushes her up against the wall and captures her lips with her.

It’s a messy kiss, moist and desperate with need. He tastes of beer and tobacco as she welcomes his tongue against her own with parted lips, her fingertips sliding over the breadth of his shoulders and up into the cropped softness of his sandy coloured hair.

Pressing tighter against her, he groans appreciatively, mouth moving from hers to travel a path across her jaw and down her neck, as his hands find their way up her skirt. One teases the top of her stocking while the other presses against her clothed core, making her gasp.

His touch is hurried, not as thorough as she’d like, yet she feels a growing stickiness between her thighs regardless. The warmth of his fingers and lips against her makes her feel desired, and she is lightheaded, almost giddy, to see the effect she’s having on him.

Instinctively, she parts her legs wider as he dips beneath her knicker elastic, stroking eagerly through her folds.

“Christ, you’re soaked,” he rasps against the shell of her ear, “bet you’d let me fuck you right here, if I wanted, wouldn’t you?”

She bites her bottom lip, stifling her quiet whimper as his strokes against her cause her to throb. “Please…”

“Since you asked nicely…” He pulls back, blue eyes dark with intent as he makes quick work of unbuckling his belt, lowering his trousers and briefs just enough to free his erection.

Even in the darkness of the alleyway she can see that he’s thick and heavy, and he pumps lazily at himself, while his free hand reaches into his pocket.

“Leave that,” she tells him, as she spots the foil of the sheath wrapper.

He raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he stares at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

That’s all the confirmation he needs, slipping the packet away and surging forward. He pulls her underwear to the side, grasping the base of himself and pushes forcefully into her in one motion.

The movement knocks all the air from her lungs. Though she is wet, the public nature of their tryst leaves little time for him to prepare her fully, the luxury of time is not on their side, but in their desperation neither one of them cares. It stings, the fullness of him pushing against her, but it’s a pleasurable hurt.

Her breaths leave her mouth in shallow pants as he pistons his hips into her, lifting one of her legs to hook her thigh around his hip. She wraps her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he rocks into her, his forehead pushed up against hers.

“Filthy slut,” he grits out, “bet you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yeah…” she whines, feeling his fingers press tighter into the meat of her thigh.

His brow furrows, and he grunts, his pace becoming sloppy and erratic. While the ache builds steadily inside of her, she worries he’ll finish before she does. The thought is fleeting, and as though he’s read her mind, the hand not gripping her thigh slips between them, fingers rubbing tight circles against her bud. She clenches around him, the added stimulation serving to intensify the tightening in her lower belly.

“That’s it,” he mutters, “come on.”

He pulsates inside of her, knocking against a spot that makes her tip over the edge suddenly, and she lets out a choked cry, a rolling wave of weightlessness travelling from her head to her toes. Her walls spasm around him and he pushes himself in to the hilt, a groan of relief escaping him as he spills himself inside of her.

They stay like that for a few moments, both catching their breath as their bodies relax. He grins as he pulls back slightly, before leaning in to pepper her face with soft, playful kisses.

“Tommy!” She huffs a laugh, swatting at his shoulder.

He slips out of her, stepping back to tuck himself away and fasten his belt. “Thought we weren’t supposed to be using our names? Part of the fun was pretending we don’t know each other.”

She scoffs, putting her gusset back into place as she feels his spend start to drip out of her, and smooths her skirt back down. “Think you ruined that when you ordered my drink without asking what I wanted. A stranger wouldn’t know I like gin and tonic!”

Tom rolls his eyes and chuckles, offering his arm for her to take. “Right, right. Well, I’ll remember for next time. Whatever you need for me to fulfill your fantasies.”

“Right now, my only fantasy is being at home in bed. That pub is horrible,” she tells him as they begin to walk down the street arm in arm.

“You wanted the uniform. I wasn’t gonna take us somewhere someone we know would see and take the piss.”

She laughs, gripping his arm tighter as she looks up at him. “Was fun though, wasn’t it?”

He gazes down at her with hooded eyes as they continue to walk. “I’ve had worse nights.”

#tom bennett x reader #tom bennett smut #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett #ewan mitchell #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett world on fire #world on fire tom bennett #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Best Intentions - Chapter One

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x femme Warnings: Angst. Smut. Mentions of shell shock and trauma. Word count: ~4.3k

Summary: An overview of how Tom and her came to be friends, and the set up for the story now that he's returned to Longsight. Series masterlist.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

The imposing red brick building of Plymouth Grove Primary School is gigantic and intimidating to her as she enters through the gates to the playground, the thought of being left here for the entire day makes her clutch at her mum’s hand with tight desperation.

Her first day of school is one she’ll never forget, forever imprinted in her mind, owing to a big pair of blue eyes filled with mischief, and a grin with a pair of front teeth that remind her of a rabbit’s.

It’s morning break as she surveys the playground nervously, trying to decide if she feels brave enough to join in on a nearby game of hopscotch. It’s then that she feels a warm puff of air ruffle the back of her hair, and she spins around to see a sandy haired boy running back towards a group of laughing lads.

“I did it! I gobbed in her hair!” He shouts.

Humiliation warms her skin as tears prickle her eyes, and she hurries inside to the girls’ toilets to unsuccessfully try to locate where the offending spittle has landed, all the while sniffling back sobs.

It’s when dinnertime comes and she sits unhappily sipping her milk that she sees him again. He sidles up to her, alone this time, a sheepish look on his face.

“I didn’t really,” he shifts awkwardly from foot to foot, “Gob in your hair, I mean. I was dared to, so I pretended,”

“Oh,” is all she’s able to manage, not sure of what else to say.

“I’m Tom. Mates, yeah?” He says with his bunny toothed grin, and she can’t help but smile back.

He sits himself next to her, opening his own milk and they spend the remainder of the hour getting to know each other.

She’s surprised to learn that it’s his first day too, she had assumed from his confidence that he would be a couple of years above her. He lives with his dad, Douglas, who works as a bus conductor, his mum - Josie, and his sister, Lois, who is a couple of years above them.

He learns all about how she lives with her mum, and it’s just the two of them as her dad had passed away when she was a baby. Her mum runs the shop off of Stamford Road with her uncle, who lives in the flat above it.

Tom’s eyes light up at the mention of this. “The one with the jars of sherbet straws?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “And treacle toffees!”

By half past three that afternoon, as the children file back out of the school gates, her and Tom are firm friends.

Her mum and Josie stand waiting to collect them, and they discover that they live only a few streets apart, so the four of them and Lois walk home together, chattering excitedly about her and Tom’s first day of school.

From that day forward, the thought of being at school for the entire day fills her with excitement. Tom makes it a less scary place to be, and is quick to defend her if ever anyone tries to give her trouble.

Their friendship remains solid as the years pass, as does Tom’s compulsion for finding trouble. He adores showing off and being the centre of attention, but it’s always her he runs to when it’s time to face the consequences. She is a privy to a side of him that nobody else is, she has seen his fear, his sadness and his doubt.

They sit on the wall adjacent to her mum’s shop, a paper bag rustling between them as they help themselves to sherbet straws. Tom and Lois had walked home with her and her mum. Josie hadn’t been there to pick them up, she hadn’t been for a few days now.

“Should probably go home soon,” she slurs around a mouthful of sweets, “Need to do my homework.”

Tom nods slowly, moving his own sweet around in his mouth. “D’you…d’you think you could help me with mine?”

“Why?” She chides, “‘Cause you spent all lesson mucking about?”

“Come on,” he pleads, “Me mam’s not well, last thing she needs is me getting into trouble because I can’t do sums.”

She clicks her tongue and sighs. “Fine,” she says, jumping down from the wall.

“Smashing,” he grins, following after her.

She smiles over her shoulder at him. “What are mates for?”

Josie’s illness worsens and she passes away around the time that they start secondary school.

Tom’s behaviour becomes more uncontrollabe, exacerbated by his mum’s death, but with her and Lois at the all girls school, and him at the all boys, there is little that can be done to stop him.

Things come to a head one day when Douglas opens the door to an angry neighbour, who berates him for Tom having stolen the milk from their doorstep, running away laughing, before dropping and smashing it when they’d chased after him.

He’d come to her after Douglas had given him a stern telling off, head bowed and looking sorry for himself.

“He hates me,” Tom had said sullenly.

“He doesn’t hate you, Tom, you just need to behave yourself. Why’d you do it?”

“Was dared to,” he says with a shrug.

“Like when you spat in my hair?”

He presses his lips together, lowering his eyes. “I dunno why I do it. It’s just hard since mam’s gone, dad doesn’t understand me like she did.”

It’s then that she notices the tears that rim his eyes, and she pulls him into a hug.

When had he gotten so tall? He feels massive compared to how he used to.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “I’m glad we’re mates.”

The next few years follow a similar pattern; Tom gets into trouble and immediately runs to her each time, basking in the safety of her presence and comforting words.

As they grow older, Tom’s misbevaiour evolves into petty crimes which soon attract the attention of the police.

She also begins to notice the smell of cigarette smoke clinging to him each time she pulls him into a hug, a troubling new habit he’s developed, no doubt to impress the older boys. 

He now seems impossibly tall, and with every inch he grows it feels like he pulls a little bit further away from her. It makes her heart ache.

She grows used to seeing him walking home in the mornings looking bedraggled, a cigarette perched between his lips, after having spent the night in the back of a pub to avoid the police, who would no doubt have been knocking at the door of the Bennett household the previous evening.

When news of war having broken out in Europe reaches them and lads Tom’s age begin signing up to the draft, Tom decides he’s having none of it.

“Signing up as a conchie!” He tells her, as they sit on the wall together, waving the green booklet for emphasis.

“Your dad was a conscientious objector,” she says, narrowing her eyes in disbelief, “Your beliefs are suddenly the same as his are they?”

Tom tuts, flicking his lighter absentmindedly. “Just don’t wanna sign my life away for a load of bollocks that’s got naff all to do with me,”

His mind soon changes once the police come knocking again. He enlists in the Navy, action he considers less direct than fighting on the front lines.

The night before he’s due to ship out, he has a rowdy celebration in the local pub, jeering and clinking glasses with those who’ve not yet joined the draft. She watches on with a heavy feeling in her chest, she knows behind all his claims of how many Germans he’s going to kill and how he’ll have a bird in every port that he’s terrified of what’s to come.

That much is proven as he walks her home later that night, unsteady on his feet and reeking of beer. He sways in front of her once they reach her front door, big blue eyes misty and filled with emotion.

“You okay, sailor?” She asks with a soft smile.

“Can I– can I stay the night?” He asks, suddenly seeming like the little boy he was back when they were in primary school and he’d apologised for pretending to spit in her hair. “I don’t wanna be alone.”

She’s never shared a bed with Tom before. They’ve always been just friends. Her throat runs dry at the thought, but in that moment he seems so vulnerable, she can’t deny him anything.

They creep up the rickety wooden stairs to her bedroom, careful not to wake her mum, and squeeze into the single bed that occupies the space. He clings tightly to her, long limbs wrapped around her, like a drowning man grasping onto a lifesaver.

“I’m so scared,” he whispers into the darkness.

“You’ll come back,” she reassures him, “You have to, who else would be my mate?”

She feels him smile against her shoulder. “Yeah, who else would put up with you?”

They giggle, before shushing each other as she elbows him in the ribs, and they fall asleep curled around each other.

Tom’s gone when wakes up.

They write letters back and forth to each other, but each one feels distant and lifeless. He’s writing with the mask he shows to the rest of the world, giving an emotionless recount of each of his days. She supposes he might be afraid or whose hands his words may end up in, and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself, so she clings to every letter, vapid as they are, grateful to still have a connection to him.

She visits the Bennett household once a week, to share the letters they’ve been exchanging - to her disappointment, the ones she receives are much the same as the ones he sends home to Douglas and Lois.

Over time, her mum and uncle join her on her visits. Her mum brings cakes and her uncle gets into the habit of playing cards with Douglas. She is glad for the closeness between their two families, it makes Tom’s absence seem less daunting.

It’s at the Bennetts’ house where she learns the news of the attack on the HMS Exeter, the Naval ship that Tom is stationed aboard. Her blood runs icy cold at the news, though the Exeter was victorious it is not without deaths and casualties.

The weeks spent waiting for news are agonising, and it’s Tom she’s thinking of as she leans against the shop counter, eyes fixed on the large front window, but too lost in her thoughts to see through it.

“Quarter of sherbet straws when you’re not away with the fairies,”

The familiar voice startles her out of her reverie and she looks up wide eyed at Tom’s smiling face.

God, he’s grown into those bunny teeth. Has his smile always been so handsome?

“Tom!” She squeals, rushing from behind the counter and throwing her arms around his neck. “Do your dad and Lois know you’re back?”

He hugs her warmly before pulling back. “Yeah, popped home first to say hello. Left me new bird there, actually, thought you’d wanna meet her?”

She hates the way her heart sinks at this, but nods regardless, flipping the closed sign on the shop door and locking it behind her.

Tom tells her all about the Battle of the River Plate as they walk back to his house. He grows solemn when he’s finished, glancing sideways at her.

“I saw people die,” he says quietly, “I thought I was gonna die. Can’t believe there’s so much of my life I’ve pissed up the wall.”

It’s then that she notices how much more mature he seems, wise beyond his years. He’s seen things that no man his young age should have seen. She reaches for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, a gesture which he returns.

“So, this is Vera,” he gestures towards the kitchen table as they head inside.

She laughs, relief washing over her, when she sees the little canary sitting in her cage.

For a few days it feels like everything is back to normal, until Tom gets a new posting and has to leave again.

“I’ll come back,” he tells her, taking her hands in his, “who else would be your mate?”

She can’t help but smile. “No one else would put up with me,”

He’s away longer this time, his letters are fewer and the worry gnaws at her with more intensity than ever before.

For the second time in her life she cries over Tom Bennett when she hears that he’s been declared as missing in action on the beaches of Dunkirk, a suspected capture by opposing forces.

Lois falls pregnant, and for a time the advancing stages of her pregnancy and eventual birth are a welcome distraction, a reminder that there is life amongst all the death that surrounds them.

Her grief is amplified when bombs fall over Manchester, a bottomless pit opening in her gut when she finds out that there was a direct hit on the Bennett house. Her uncle and Douglas had been inside playing cards at the time, neither had survived.

Her mum moves Lois and her baby into the flat above the shop, with her uncle gone the space is no longer occupied and it makes sense for them to have it, considering they no longer have a roof over their heads.

It’s comforting to have them so close, a little piece of Tom to hold onto until he comes back, if he comes back. She hates herself for thinking it.

When Tom next steps through the shop door, there’s no trace of his grin from last time. He looks skinny, haunted, he’s aged. There’s an anger within his blue eyes that replaces the mischief that used to sparkle there.

He doesn’t need to ask for her to know what he’s after. There will be no hugs of greeting this time.

“She’s upstairs,” she says softly, her stomach tied into knots.

He simply nods and walks towards the back to go up.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to hear the muffled sounds of arguing and not five minutes later he storms back downstairs and out into the street. She follows after him, grabbing the quarter of sherbet straws she’d bagged up for him.

He’s sat smoking on their usual spot on the wall, and she hops up beside him, placing the paper bag between them. He doesn’t touch them. She wonders when the last time he ate anything at all was, he looks so thin.

The silence between them feels painful, she doesn’t know what to say, but she can tell from the way his hands shake and the urgency with which he drags on his cigarette that if she doesn’t say something then he certainly won’t.

“You can’t be angry with Lois, y’know,” she says gently, “it’s not her fault,”

“Then whose is it?!” He snaps angrily, eyes narrowing as he looks at her.

He’s never spoken to her like that before and she shrinks away from it. “It’s not my fault either,” she whispers sadly.

His face softens, a look of shame replacing his anger as he averts his gaze, his lips twitching. “Sorry about your uncle,”

“Sorry about your dad,”

His return is brief, only a couple of days this time. Enough time for him to visit Douglas’ grave, but not enough for them to talk, not properly anyway. He reveals that he was taken to an American hospital in Paris, after being shot in Dunkirk. A woman named Henriette had helped him to escape France and he’d made his way home via Spain. It’s all so matter of fact the way that he recounts it, but she only has to look into his eyes to see the turmoil he’s feeling. It crushes her.

He looks fearful and uncertain when they say goodbye, the urge to cling to him and beg him not to go is overwhelming.

“You’ll still be here when I get back, won’t you?” He asks.

“Course I will, I always am,” she replies with a sad smile.

He cups her cheek, his large palm engulfing her face and leans down to press his lips to hers. She startles at first, they have never kissed before, but she quickly reciprocates, moving her mouth against Tom’s. His lips are so soft and there is a tenderness behind the gesture that brings tears to her eyes.

She’s breathless when they part, his forehead resting against hers, his hand still cupping her cheek.

“Mates, yeah?” He whispers.

The word makes her heart twinge. “Yeah, mates.”

Her fingers trace lightly across her mouth as she watches him walk away, kit bag slung over his shoulder.

Tom sends no letters at all the third time he leaves, so eventually she stops writing to him. She figures it can’t be nice for him to hear about how life is carrying on without him, how his niece has started to walk and talk, a new house built in place of his old one with a new family living inside it.

She can’t bear how the world continues, while she feels stuck in place, waiting for his return. It isn’t fair that there are people getting to laugh and love and live their lives, while he’s sacrificing his so that they may have the privilege.

With the exception of the morning paper sort, her mum has taken a step back from the shop, needing more rest than usual, and without her uncle around to help out, she’s taking on more hours in order to keep things ticking over. The sweet jars sit empty, rationing is difficult to get used to. She’ll never be able to come to terms with sending people away without the food they want and need, simply because the shop either doesn’t have enough stock, or they have already used their allotted portion for the week.

Her mind drifts back to how skeletal Tom had looked when she’d seen him last. She hopes he’s managing to eat.

It’s the beginning of September, the dying embers of summer glow dark orange on the horizon, as the evening battles the day for dominance in the increasingly earlier darkening of the sky.

Lois is on an evening shift, so her mum is round at the flat looking after the little one. She has the house to herself, and has lost count of the amount of times she’s read and re-read the same passage in her book, unable to take the words in.

She frowns when she hears the door knock, unsure of whether she should answer it or not, she’s not expecting anyone. Her hesitation provides enough time for a second knock, more urgent this time, so she relents, going to the front door and opening it.

It feels as though time freezes when she sees Tom standing there, gaunt and tired looking.

He doesn’t give her time to react, dropping his kit bag to the floor as he closes the door behind him and presses a bruising kiss to her lips. His hands pull at her clothes as he backs her towards the living room sofa, and she lets him.

She just needs to feel that he’s real, that he’s really back, so she loses herself in the moment, allowing him to climb on top of her, her own hands moving to strip him as he does the same to her.

Her fingertips stroke down his back and she’s shocked to find she can feel every vertebrae in his spine, and all the ribs that protrude through the skin. She’s never touched him in such an intimate manner before, but she knows he’s never been so emaciated. He feels hollow, yet there is strength to how he manhandles her.

Pulling her thighs apart, he settles between them, pushing her open with the thickness of his cock. She gasps, arching against him, clutching tightly to his shoulders as he pistons his hips in quick succession against hers. This is no gentle lovemaking, it is filled with raw animalistic need, a desire to feel something, anything.

His breaths are ragged against her neck and he finds release quickly, spilling inside of her with a grunt before collapsing and pulling her tight to his chest.

They lay quietly on the sofa together, nothing but the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the space. She has a thousand questions she longs to ask him, yet none of them seem appropriate. Despite the fact that Tom has just brutally had his way with her, she’s still in shock that he’s returned.

“I’m sorry I never wrote,” he says eventually, “was tired of never having any good news to tell you,”

“You’re back now,” she says quietly, fingers tracing over the bullet wound scar in his shoulder, “that’s all that matters,”

“Still mates then?” He asks.

Her heart lurches at the word. Is that all they are after what’s just happened?

“Yeah, still mates,”

He drifts to sleep in her arms and she holds him, until his thrashing pushes her from the sofa. She lands with a heavy thud on the living room carpet, watching in horror as Tom’s sweaty body writhes and cries out in terror in his sleep.

She kneels beside the sofa, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder to still him and coax him awake. He startles, wide eyed, before clutching at her, burying his face in her neck and sobbing until he drifts into unconsciousness again.

As Tom settles back into life in Longsight, he goes right back to wearing a mask for everyone.

“Are you a hero?” Children shout as he walks down the street.

“Always have been, always will be,” he says with a lopsided grin.

Yet each day ends with him muffling his cries into her neck after she’s soothed his night terrors, she knows better than the act he puts on for everyone else’s benefit. She suspects that Tom may be suffering from shell shock, but doesn’t dare to bring it up. Knowing his father had the same, it is likely a sore subject for him.

His return sees a new development in their friendship, them sleeping together the night he came back isn’t a one off occurrence, yet each time he still continues to refer to her as a mate. It’s confusing for her, but not an issue she wishes to push, knowing that Tom is struggling with enough already. He’ll figure it out when he’s ready, she just needs to be there for him.

Tom gets a flat nearby, and finds a job at the local garage. Having served in the Navy has imparted mechanical skills to him, and he can easily work his way around an engine.

She sits perched on the workbench of the garage, admiring the view. Tom’s sandy coloured hair is pushed back from his forehead, his navy overalls tied around his waist, leaving him in just the white vest he wears underneath. His first customer of the day has yet to arrive, so he’s clean for now. She bites her lip at the thought of how dirty he’ll be by the end of the day.

It has become routine for her to spend a few mornings a week watching him work - her mum has never gotten out of the habit of insisting she wants to open the shop and sort the morning papers before heading home, so she is left to her own devices most days until the early afternoon. Tom doesn’t seem to mind having her hang around the garage.

When a car pulls in, a portly gentleman stepping out, Tom walks to greet him.

“It keeps overheating, I can’t understand why,” he explains to Tom.

“I’ll take a look for ya, mate. Come back in an hour, yeah?”

The man looks over at her with slight concern. “Will she…uh…be assisting you?”

Tom grins. “Nah, she’s just a mate, won’t let her near your motor, don’t worry.”

Just a mate.

She thinks back to how he’d knelt behind her not long after they’d woken up, just a couple of hours ago, pulling her hips back to meet each of his thrusts.

Just a mate.

Mates don’t do that.

Tom’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts. “Stupid old sod, just needs to put coolant in the engine. Gonna tell him I replaced the fan belt and charge him extra.”

She giggles, shaking her head. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

He gives an easy shrug. “He’s loaded, he can afford it.”

She sighs, looking at her watch. “I’d better push off, mum’ll be expecting me at the shop. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Probably not,” Tom says. “Booked solid tomorrow, but come round to mine after?”

She nods, waving and walking away. She’s used to Tom letting her know when the garage will be busy, so makes a point to stay away so he’s not distracted.

It’s not until the end of the day, when she fishes around in her pocket for the keys to lock up the shop that she realises she has Tom’s lighter. She’s too tired to pop round and drop it off at his, so decides she’ll swing by the garage in the morning to give it back.

Her fingers wrap around it in her pocket, preparing to take it out to hand back as she approaches the garage the next morning.

She stops in her tracks when she sees a sleek black motor car parked in the vehicle bay, a tall, sophisticated, beautiful woman standing beside it. Her perfectly manicured nails stroke down Tom’s bare arm as her ruby red lips pull back into a smile.

Her heart lurches in her chest as she watches him reach out to tuck a strand of the woman’s long, dark hair behind her ear.

Her throat tightens, nausea bubbles in her stomach as she turns and walks away, the lighter long forgotten. It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away. She angrily swipes at the wetness that rims her eyes.

Just mates.

Fine, if that’s what Tom wanted then that’s all they’d ever be.

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett x you #ewan mitchell #tom bennett smut #tom bennett angst #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett imagine #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Best Intentions

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Angst. Smut (individual warnings applied to each chapter) Word count: ~12k (spread over three parts)

Summary: Tom's landed on his feet since arriving back in Longsight; a steady new job as a mechanic, utilising the engineering skills he learned in the navy, and the companionship of his childhood friend. Life should be idyllic, but nothing is ever that simple when it comes to Tom. And it's always her that bears the brunt of it.

Chapter one Chapter two Chapter three Epilogue Wedding night

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

#tom bennett #tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett x you #ewan mitchell #tom bennett smut #tom bennett angst #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fan fic #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic #tom bennett imagine

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Something Borrowed

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~1.5k Summary: An addition to Best Intentions. Read as a standalone, if you'd like.

Author's note: A birthday gift for @hoosbandewan - husband Tom on your birthday. Happy birthday, Erin! No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

“God’s got bigger things to worry about than me makin’ an honest woman outta ya,” Tom had told her with a wink. “Besides, the money we save we can put towards a bigger do. Would rather everyone have a few beers and sarnies to celebrate, than sit in a stuffy church with their arses going to sleep.”

That had settled it. Her and Tom were to have a registry office wedding, with a reception at The Ducie Arms afterwards. 

Even without money being as tight as it is she knows that this is what they would always have chosen. It’s just irrevocably them. Theirs is not a love born of grand gestures and material possessions. They share a soul connection, a lifetime of scraped knees, shared sweets, building their lives around each other, growing together. They are already two halves of the same whole, this is simply the string that ties it all together.

Despite keeping the ceremony itself modest, she feels like a princess as she stands in front of the mirror, her mum behind her fastening the last few buttons on the back of her wedding dress, as she places the last of the pins in her hair.

They’d gotten a deal at the haberdashery on some end cuts of lace and satin, and her mum had worked her magic with her sewing machine. The dress looks shop bought.

She smiles as she smooths her hands over the skirt, taking in the high neckline and draped sleeves, grateful that she’d woken early enough to clasp herself into the lingerie and slip that lies beneath - a wedding night treat for Tom - before her mum had arrived to help her get ready.

It had been a struggle to get out of bed that morning. Her mum, Lois and Connie had all popped round to the flat the previous evening to make sandwiches for the reception. She’d been half way through spreading margarine on a slice of bread when Connie had produced a bottle of gin from her bag.

“Well, if Tom and the rest of the lads are all at the pub, why shouldn��t we?” Connie had asked with a smile as Lois had rushed to get glasses down from the kitchen cupboard.

The pounding in her head the next day tells her exactly why she shouldn’t have. She wonders if Tom is in as much of a sorry state as she is. Thankfully, her make-up does a good job of hiding it.

Tom has called in a favour with a customer at the garage, so she can travel to the registry office in style. She has to stifle a laugh behind her hand as the sleek black motorcar pulls up outside the shop to pick her up. It’s the exact same one that her and Tom had vigorously made up in the back of.

As she slides onto the seat, gathering her skirt so that it doesn’t catch in the door, the memory of Tom laying between her thighs replays in her mind, causing her skin to heat up.

“Everything alright?” Her mum asks, climbing in next to her. “You look a bit flustered.”

She blinks, swallowing and nodding, startled out of her reverie. “Yeah, Mum, bit nervous is all.”

Tom stops fidgeting with his tie knot the moment he sees her, a grin spreading across his face as she walks towards him and the registrar. He lets out a low whistle as she stops beside him, turning to face him. She bows her head, giggling. She feels like a school girl all over again.

Time seems to stand still for her as she gazes into Tom’s blue eyes, not really registering the words being spoken, or the vows she utters in response, fixated only on Tom’s beaming smile. Once more he is that little boy, face full of sunshine and the sweetest little rabbit teeth she’s ever seen. 

Except now he is hers. Her husband. She is a wife.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Tom mutters, surging forward once they are told they can kiss.

He grasps the back of her neck, pressing his lips to hers in a motion that steals the air from her lungs. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, smiling into it, her heart fluttering just as it had the first time they’d ever kissed. In a way, this is a first too, the first of many things they’ll share as a married couple.

“Hello, Mrs. Bennett,” he whispers against her lips when they finally part for breath.

The words have heat pooling between her legs almost instantly. She is certain she’ll never tire of hearing them.

As everyone heads in the direction of The Ducie Arms, she is confused when Tom pulls her back in the direction of the shop.

“What you doing?” She asks, brow furrowing as she resists his gentle tug on her arm.

“Left something in the flat, need to go back for it,” he tells her, nodding his head in the direction he wants to go.

“Can’t you just quickly go back for it on your own, and meet me at the pub?”

He shakes his head, tugging at her hand again. “Need you to help me, come on.”

She sighs, relenting and allowing him to pull her along. “We’re gonna be late to our own wedding reception.”

Tom smirks, glancing sideways at her. “They’ll wait, they have to.”

As soon as they’re home, he’s upon her, backing her up towards the bedroom as his hands grasp her waist and his lips find hers.

She giggles between hurried kisses, their breaths intermingling. “Is this what you forgot then?”

Tom pushes her back against the mattress, placing hot, opened mouthed kisses against her throat. “You look so good in that dress, darlin’, couldn’t wait any longer.”

She gasps as her hands slide up her skirt, bunching it at her hips. He leans back, arching a brow appreciatively at the white lingerie he finds beneath. His fingers hook beneath the strap that attaches her stocking to her garter belt and pull back slightly before letting go. It snaps against the flesh of her thigh, making her squeal.

“Tommy, we can’t!” She protests. “I’m wearing things that I won’t be able to put back on if you take them off.”

“Why ever would I take ‘em off?” He asks mockingly, cocking his head. “It’d be a waste.”

She whines as, forcefully, he pushes the gusset of her knickers to one side, swiping through her slick folders, grinning at the wetness he finds. “Gonna make us late to our own wedding reception with this. Naughty, naughty.”

Writhing against the bed, she no longer cares for her fancy lingerie, or if she rumples her dress, not when she hears the metallic clink of Tom’s belt buckle opening. The noise travels straight to her core, causing her to clench around nothing, until finally he’s lining himself up against her entrance and pressing inside. No matter how many times her and Tom make love she’ll never get used to the exquisite torture of that first initial stretch. It robs her of all coherent thought every time, only able to focus on the feeling of him pushing her walls apart.

She expects him to be quick and brutal with her, but he stills once he’s fully inside, resting his forehead against hers. It’s comforting to have him this close, just to feel the weight of him.

As she runs her hands down his back, met with the wiry yet solid expanse of muscle, she’s taken back to a time when he first returned from France and was so thin she could feel every vertebrae in his spine. This is testament to how far he’s come, how far they’ve come; not just the weight he’s put back on, but that he’s healed enough to be in a place where can be someone’s husband, and he has chosen to be hers.

Feeling a prickle of tears in her eyes, she blinks them back, feeling embarrassed when one strays its way down her cheek, until she looks back up into Tom’s eyes to see his are similarly wet.

He holds her close, he takes his time with her. It’s gentle, unhurried, and full of love.

“I love you, Mrs. Bennett,” he whispers to her.

They are late to their reception, but met with rapturous applause as they enter through the pub doors nonetheless. They drink lager, and eat spam sandwiches, and Tom treads on her feet when they attempt to slow dance to ‘Sentimental Journey’ by Doris Day. She can’t imagine a more perfect evening, that is until Tom guides her outside.

They walk back towards the wall, their wall and Tom helps her up onto it, before sitting beside her. Her legs don’t dangle as high from the floor as they used to, and it’s odd to look down and see her legs draped in white lace, instead of littered with scrapes and bruises.

She grins when she turns to Tom, watching as he produces a paper bag of sherbet straws from his inside jacket pocket. “Just wanted to say thanks for helping me with my maths homework fifteen years ago,” he says with a cheeky smile, “Mates, yeah?”

Warmth spreads throughout her chest as she leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Always.”

#tom bennett x reader #tom bennett smut #tom bennett fluff #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett x you #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett #tom bennett world on fire #world on fire tom bennett #tom bennett fan fiction #ewan mitchell #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fanfic #tom bennett fan fic #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Body Electric

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader x Billy Taylor (The Halcyon) Warnings: Angst, mentions of PTSD and familial death, (consensual) infidelity, voyeurism, smut. Word count: ~3.9k

Summary: Tom's been sullen since returning from the Navy, and when his sister, Lois, moves from Longsight to London it heralds the end of the honeymoon period of his and his wife's marriage. Deciding a trip to the capital is just what they need to reignite the flame, Tom's wife gets much more than she bargains for when they check into The Halcyon, and she flirts with the handsome young bell boy to make her husband jealous.

Author's note: For @adragonprinceswhore and @mefools. This is not a crack fic. I have warped canon (I mean, I had to get these two to exist in the same AU anyway), so Billy didn't die when he was drafted, and has gone back to his old job at The Halcyon. No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

Dappled sunlight plays upon Tom’s sharp features, the occasional shadow of a tree or building passing across his face as the train speeds through the British countryside. He’d look beautiful, bathed in golden hues, were it not for the pensive expression he wears, and the faintest of dark circles that linger beneath his eyes.

She can’t remember the last time he looked genuinely happy - perhaps it was their wedding day?

Her and Tom had met in secondary school, and she’d thought he was an idiot to begin with; handsome, but always mucking around in lessons, never able to take anything seriously. It wasn’t until they’d both left that they’d become an item. She’d go to the weekly dances at the Pavillion, and every week he would ask her out. The first three times she had said no, not wanting to get mixed up with a known troublemaker. On the fourth occasion she’d relented, simply in the hopes that if she said yes he’d leave her alone. But she’d found she enjoyed his company, he made her laugh effortlessly, and when his blue eyes gazed into hers it made her feel like the only girl in the world that mattered. When he had kissed her it had stolen all the air from her lungs, and from that point on she was smitten with Tom Bennett.

The night before he shipped out for the first time, she had thought he meant to slam the bed’s headboard through the brickwork of the wall with the force with which he took her. However, she had smiled to herself when she’d felt the pleasant ache between her thighs the next day.

“Something to remember me by,” he’d told her with a wink and that trademark smirk of his.

Something to remember indeed.

She’d barely recognised him when he’d returned. He was thin, tired, didn’t laugh as freely, and learning that his father had passed when the Bennett family home was shelled had darkened his mood further. He hadn’t stayed long, enough to argue with his sister, Lois, and enough to find his way between her thighs once more and make her swear to him that she’d marry him when he came back.

Of course she had said yes, there was no one in the world she could imagine wanting to marry more than Tom. But with how things are between them these days she is left wondering if he’d married her because he loved her, or because she was the one thing left in Longsight that he could anchor himself to.

They’d married quickly when Tom was discharged for the final time, the war at its end. It had been an intimate affair, and despite the toll his service to his country had taken on him, Tom still gazed into her eyes on their wedding night and made her feel like the only girl in the world that mattered.

But then Lois had announced she was taking Vera and moving to London - her and Connie had found a place they could share. A fresh start. She had hinted at wanting to move away from Longsight before, and Tom had dismissed it, insisting that the family must stay together. 

He was furious when she’d chosen to go anyway, refusing to be part of the send off party for her at the train station.

“This is where mum and dad are buried, how can she do this?!” He’d raged.

“They’re just headstones, Tommy,” she had tried to reassure him, “memories go everywhere with you.”

“You wouldn’t fucking understand,” he’d seethed back at her, “you’ve still got both your parents, what have I got?!”

“You’ve got me, you’ll always have me,” she’d said quietly.

He’d fallen silent at that, bowing his head and averting his gaze. It made her chest ache to see him that way.

It’s been close to a month since they were last intimate, and she has done her best to be patient and understanding. His time in the Navy has put him through a horrendous ordeal, coupled with losing Douglas, and his sister moving away, so she doesn’t pressure him.

However, she misses her husband. She feels that he is abandoning her each time he retreats into himself, going somewhere she can’t follow. Like two ships in the night, they pass each other by, laying in the same bed physically but emotionally never further apart.

When a letter arrives from Lois, letting them know she’s settled and would love for them to visit, she jumps at the opportunity. She has some money put aside from her job at the factory, and her and Tom never got to have a honeymoon, this would be the perfect way for them to rekindle the romance in their marriage.

She is shocked, yet thrilled, when Tom actually agrees to it, and the pair of them arrange a week’s worth of leave from their respective jobs, arranging to stay in a hotel rather than impose themselves upon Lois’ hospitality. There’d be plenty for them to do while they’re there, and she can’t wait to see the sights of Piccadilly Circus and Carnaby Street, she’s never been to London before.

Tom has stared silently out of the window the entire train ride from Manchester, though she knows better than to believe he’s taking in the scenery. It’s merely so he doesn’t have to make conversation. She can live with that, she is certain that once they’ve had their romantic week away that he’ll be much more talkative on the journey back.

Everything will be fine once we’re checked into The Halcyon.

It is early evening by the time they arrive, and Euston station is a crowded rush of people when they step onto the platform. She is fearful of it for a moment, never having seen so many people all in one place at once, until Tom takes her by the hand, guiding her through the crowds towards the taxi rank. Her heart soars at the gesture, a hopeful smile tugging at her lips over his protectiveness. Perhaps he is not lost to her after all.

She stares in wide eyed wonder out of the window of the black cab as it drives through the streets of London. It is similar to Manchester in its greyness and vastness, they both have all the trappings of big city living, however, the heart of London beats to an entirely different rhythm than that of Manchester’s. The capital seems harsher, more relentless than the northern locale that she calls home. She wonders if perhaps this is the right place to try to rekindle the spark in hers and Tom’s marriage after all.

That is until they step into the foyer of The Halcyon. Her heels click against the black and white tiles of the foyer, her mouth agape as she takes in the opulence of the huge pillars, the palm trees that flank either side of the entrance, and the yellow and orange hues of the stained glass panel in the ceiling. How could they not reignite their passion when they were going to live like royalty for a week?

“Billy!” The dark haired woman manning reception calls around the corner, once they’ve checked in. “Come and help Mr and Mrs. Bennett with their bags.”

A tall, lean young man, who can’t be any older than twenty, rounds the corner. He’s handsome, with bright blue eyes, and mousy hair that’s slicked back beneath the cap of his black and grey bellboy uniform.

He gives her a tight lipped smile, the tips of his ears turning pink as he looks at her and she can’t help the way she preens at his flustered state.

Still got it.

“Second floor, Billy,” the receptionist tells him as he leans down to grab their suitcases, “room twenty six.”

Billy nods. “Right this way, please, Mr and Mrs. Bennett,” he says, directing them towards the lifts.

She can feel the bellboy’s gaze upon her in the tight confines of the elevator and smiles to herself. At least someone was appreciative of her.

He takes his leave, bidding them both a good evening once their luggage is deposited outside of their room door, and her and Tom are left alone once more.

Tom whistles low as they enter, flicking on the lights, and she feels pride swell in her chest that he’s impressed by the lavish surroundings. A shiver of excitement runs through her as her eyes move over the crisp white pillows and crimson duvet that adorn the bed, thinking that this might be where they’ll finally make love for the first time in a month.

It’s a beautiful room; lace curtains hang in the windows, ornate floral wallpaper decorates the walls, there’s a writing desk by the window, and a yellow velvet armchair is placed off to one side by the bed.

Turning back towards Tom, she steps towards him, sliding her hands up his chest, over his jacket. She smiles demurely up at him, her voice a soft purr. “So, Mr. Bennett, what shall we do now?”

“It’s been a long journey, love,” he tells her, taking one of her hands and brushing his lips against her knuckles. “Let’s just get some rest, yeah?”

“Oh…okay,” she nods, stepping back and looking away. She feels like she might cry, as disappointment weighs heavily upon her chest. This is not how she imagined their first night here would go at all.

As she lays in the darkness, listening to the strange sounds of the city, motor cars and loud voices, all seeping in through the closed window, she can’t seem to fall asleep. She turns her face towards Tom, who lays facing away from her, wondering if he’s awake too.

“Tommy?” She whispers.

“Yeah?” He whispers back.

She pauses a moment, and when she speaks again she’s unable to disguise the tremble of emotion in her voice. “Do…do you still love me?”

He rolls to face her then, and the devastation of what she’s implying is evident in the arch of his eyebrows and parting of his lips, illuminated by the light of the streetlamp that pours in through the lace curtains. She feels a lump in her throat, regretting having asked.

“Course I do,” he says earnestly, tugging her towards him, and she buries her face in his chest. He presses his lips to the crown of her head, rubbing her back. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “I’ve been letting you down.”

They stay like that for the rest of the night.

The next morning they sit in the hotel’s dining room for breakfast. Tom idly smokes a cigarette, a full English in front of him, while she butters her toast.

“Gonna go and see Lois today,” he tells her, taking a swig from his tea cup.

“I thought we’d arranged to visit her on Sunday?” She asks, frowning in confusion as she sets her knife down on her plate.

“We are,” Tom says, blowing smoke out through his nostrils - a gesture she has long since learned is a sign of irritation on his part. “But I’m gonna go see her today - alone.”

You’re going to start an argument, and then come back in a bad mood.

She sighs, folding her hands in her lap. “And what am I supposed to do?”

Tom shrugs. “Go to Carnaby Street, or whatever it was you were saying you wanted to do while we’re here.”

“Tommy, we’re supposed to do those things together, and I don’t wanna walk around London on my own!”

He nods, stubbing his cigarette out on the yolk of his fried egg, causing her to wrinkle her nose in disgust. He had barely touched his food, he never does anymore.

“Alright, look, I’m only gonna be gone a couple of hours, then we can do whatever you want. Why don’t you order some drinks for when I get back, and we can start our holiday properly?”

“You promise?” She asks with a small smile.

“Cross my heart,” he says, taking a final swig of his tea. He stands from the table and presses a kiss to her temple.

“And promise you won’t be horrible to Lois?”

“I’m not promising anything for that mardy cow,” he says, giving her a wink, before walking off.

She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

Fuck’s sake, Tommy.

She goes back up to the room once she’s finished her breakfast, and takes a long, hot soak in the bath. Almost two hours have passed by the time she has her make-up finished and her hair curled. Dressed in lingerie and a satin robe, she is still deciding on an outfit when she realises Tom will be back soon and she hasn’t ordered their drinks.

Calling down to the hotel’s switchboard from the phone on the desk, she asks for a glass of white wine and a whisky to be sent up to the room. Ordinarily, Tom is a lager drinker, but she decides he deserves a treat as they’re on holiday.

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock at the door and the bellboy from yesterday stands on the other side, holding a tray with the drinks they’d ordered.

She smiles warmly, watching him blush as he bows his head and enters the room, setting the tray down on a nearby table.

“Thank you…Billy, wasn’t it?” She asks, cocking her head.

He presses his lips together in a tight smile, glancing at her before looking shyly away again. It’s clear her state of undress is having an effect on him. “Yes, Mrs. Bennett,” he says, clearing his throat and straightening, clasping his hands behind his back. “Will that be all?”

Excitement flutters in her lower belly. It’s been a long time since a man has reacted to her so bashfully, and she’s enjoying it. She isn’t ready to let Billy slip away just yet.

“No need to be so formal, sweetheart,” she coos, “you can call me by my first name.”

He shuffles from foot to foot, huffing a nervous laugh. “Sorry, Mrs…sorry…”

“How old are you, Billy?” She asks, stepping towards him.

“I’m twenty-one.”

Seven years my junior. Not as bad as I’d thought.

“Did you serve, Billy?”

“Yes,” he says with a proud smile. “I manned the anti aircraft guns at the barracks for three years.”

The sound of a key in the lock draws both their attention towards the door, as Tom walks through it. Just as she’d anticipated, his expression is sour. He’s argued with Lois. 

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Billy says, with a polite nod of his head.

She knows how this will play out. Billy will leave, and Tom will allow his bad mood to ruin their day, either by refusing to leave their hotel room, or simply sulking his way around London when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Opting to use the current situation to her advantage, she decides to be tactical, and give her husband a reminder of what he’s missing out on. If he sees another man flirting with his wife, perhaps it will snap him out of this.

“No need to be in such a hurry, Billy, we were just getting to know each other. Or do you have somewhere you need to be?”

Billy eyes Tom carefully as he walks past the both of them, taking the whisky from the tray on the desk and sipping from it.

“Well, my shift finishes in ten minutes,” he says distractedly, “so I s’pose I could–”

“Perfect,” she cuts him off, taking his arm and guiding him to sit next to her on the edge of the bed.

Tom remains silent, taking a seat in the armchair and placing his glass on the table next to it. His jaw is set, gaze dark. He only ever looks like this when he’s sparring for a fight, but if this is what it takes, then so be it.

“Do you have a sweetheart, Billy?” She asks softly, fingernails grazing his thigh, causing him to flush bright red.

“Er…well…” he removes his cap, keeping his gaze fixed on it as he turns it round in his hands. “There was a maid that worked here…Kate, her name was. I fancied her…really fancied her, but she moved back to Ireland to be with her family when the worst of the bombing hit.”

“Oh, you poor love,” she soothes, giving his hand a squeeze. “I expect a handsome lad like you has girls queuing up.”

The click of Tom’s lighter pulls their focus back to him, and he exhales a plume of smoke, staring intently at them both. “Do you fancy my wife?” He asks Billy, with a steely gaze.

Billy swallows thickly, eyes widening in panic as he opens and closes his mouth.

“It’s okay, Billy,” she says gently, “you don’t need to be shy.”

“Well…I hope you don’t mind me saying, Mrs…sorry…but I think you’re beautiful.”

This time it’s her turn to feel embarrassed, and she averts her gaze as she feels her skin grow warm.

“Yeah, she is beautiful isn’t she? Would you like to kiss her?” Tom asks, lifting his glass and taking a deep drink from it, his eyes never leaving Billy.

Her head snaps up, looking at her husband with wide eyed shock.

Why is he asking that?!

“Tommy…” she says hesitantly, an edge of warning in her tone.

“It’s fine, love,” he takes another drag of his cigarette, settling further into the armchair, observing the both of them. “Go on, kiss her.”

Returning her attention to Billy, he’s shuffled closer, looking at her questioningly.

“Is…is this okay?” He whispers, leaning in.

She nods, closing the gap and her lips meet his. He is hesitant at first. His kisses are not as forceful as Tom’s, his lips are softer. As she reaches up to cup his cheek, he seems to grow more confident, applying more pressure, a quiet hum of approval rumbling in his throat. It makes her core throb to be desired like this.

When they finally part for air, she is breathless and flustered. She looks straight to Tom. He sits, watching them casually, fingers wrapped around his glass in one hand, propped on the arm of the chair, his cigarette burning low between his forefingers in the other.

“Do you wanna touch her?” He asks Billy, a low, darkened edge to his voice.

“Yeah…yeah, I do,” Billy answers, sounding more poised than he had just moments before.

“Go on then,” Tom instructs, “brush your thumb over her nipple, she likes that.”

She gasps softly as Billy leans in again, capturing her lips with his own once more. A quiet moan escapes her as she feels his hand tentatively slip into the opening of her robe, his thumb swiping gently over the lace of her brassiere.

He is not as self assured as Tom, Billy’s touch is featherlight by comparison, but it’s been so long since someone has paid this kind of attention to her that she responds to it just the same. She arches against Billy, her tongue slipping into his mouth as she hears his cap drop to the carpet with a soft thud.

“You can fuck her, if you want to,” Tom rasps, and she glances over at him, as Billy’s desperate kisses move down her neck. His blue eyes are still dark, she’s no longer able to tell if it’s from anger or arousal, the two states look much the same when he wears them.

There’s a part of her mind that’s screaming at her that this is wrong, that they should stop. However, if this is what it takes to get Tom to notice her again, then she’ll do it, and selfishly she’s enjoying how it feels.

Billy pushes her back, and she goes willingly. “Are you sure this is okay?” He whispers, his voice betraying his nerves.

She nods, untying and opening her robe, to reveal the lacy lingerie set she wears beneath.

Billy draws in a sharp inhale, before hurriedly unfastening his belt and unzipping his trousers with shaky hands.

He freezes, looking at Tom. “I…I don’t have a sheath.”

“Don’t need one,” Tom replies nonchalantly, crushing his cigarette butt out in the ashtray. “Best not keep her waiting.”

She pulls the gusset of her knickers to one side as Billy hovers over her. She can feel she’s soaked already. Billy is not quite as girthy as Tom, but still an impressive size that causes her breath to catch in her throat as he starts to press inside.

Tom chuckles quietly from where he sits. “She’s tight, isn’t she? Tightest little pussy I’ve ever had. Go careful.”

His words cause her to ache with want, and she moans wantonly as Billy bottoms out with a grunt. He’s gentle, much more so than Tom would be, slowly withdrawing before pushing back in, a dusting of pink prominent across his cheekbones.

“You won’t break her,” Tom tells him, “can just imagine how wet and warm she feels. Fuck her harder, and wrap one of her legs around you. She goes mad for that.”

She cries out, white hot sparks of pleasure swirling in her gut as Billy does as he’s told, the shallow pants of his breath puffing hotly against the side of her face.

Turning her head, she looks at her husband and he smirks, eyes raking over the scene before him as Billy continues to rut into her.

“T–Tommy…” she moans.

With each push of Billy’s hips into hers, she can feel her climax building, she’s right on the precipice, but it seems Billy is too. He tenses, a groan escaping him.

“Don’t you dare come inside her,” snaps Tom.

As if on cue, Billy pulls out, making her whine at the loss, coating her thighs in his hot spend as his jaw slackens and his brow furrows.

Before she’s had a chance to recover, Tom is rising from his seat towards the bed. “You can go now,” he tells Billy.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Billy nods, clambering off of her and fastening his trousers and belt back up. He stoops to pick up his cap, before hurrying towards the door, followed by Tom.

She lays there, dumbfounded and breathless, through glassy eyes she watches Tom hand Billy a bank note. “You’ll not tell anyone about this, d’you understand?”

“Y–yes, sir.”

She hears the door click closed, and Tom walks back over to the bed. His pupils are blown wide with lust and it sends a shiver through her.

“Enjoy yourself, love?” He asks, grabbing her thighs and tugging her towards the edge of the mattress, making her squeal.

“Are you angry with me?” She asks quietly, feeling shame bloom heavily within her chest.

“No,” he says distractedly, attention focused on her core. His thumb swipes through the stickiness that’s been left on her thigh, spreading it slowly over her skin. “No, I’m not angry.”

“You’ve been so absent lately,” she says sadly, propping herself up on her elbows. “Just wanted your attention.”

He straightens, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, I get it. I’ve been neglecting you, and that’s my fault. But don’t worry, I won’t anymore. Now–”

She clenches around nothing as his hands move to his belt, and she hears the metallic clink of it opening. “Now you have my full attention, and I’m gonna make sure you get all of it.”

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett x reader #billy taylor x reader #tom bennett smut #billy taylor smut #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #billy taylor imagine #billy taylor x you #billy taylor x y/n #the halcyon #world on fire #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett fanfic #billy taylor fan fiction #billy taylor fanfiction #billy taylor fanfic #billy taylor fan fic

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Easy On Me

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~1k Summary: A little epilogue/add on to Best Intentions, but can also be read as a standalone fic. Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She grumbles quietly, eyes heavy and still closed, her mind groggy with sleep as she feels Tom’s arm wrap around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest.

“Tommy, I’m tired, leave me be,” she mumbles, squirming away.

He wrestles her back against him, hand snaking up her body to paw at her breasts through her nightie. “Jus’ wanna cuddle,” he whispers.

She sighs, screwing her eyes shut tighter in protest, determined to fall back to sleep. “Can’t we cuddle when I haven’t got to be up at five to do the sodding papers?!”

Since they’d gotten engaged it was as though a switch had been flipped in Tom. Seeing the delicate gold band upon her ring finger drove him wild, igniting a possessive streak that she’d never realised he had.

There was no denying she enjoyed the extra attention. His constant need for physical contact made her feel desirable, wanted. It was nice when his hand reached for hers as they walked down the street, nice when he’d walk up behind her and press featherlight kisses to the crook of her neck, nicer still when he’d pull her into his lap on the sofa and fuck up into her with reckless abandon, unable to control his urge to be inside of her.

However, her mum has now retired from the shop entirely and, not making enough of a profit to justify hiring additional help, she’s left to work opening until closing each day by herself. So, when Tom’s neediness interrupts her sleep she feels more than justified in feeling irritated by it.

“C’mon, let me be close to you,” he insists, entangling his legs with hers, making her gasp as a sudden jolt of cold causes her body to tense, her eyes snapping open.

“Your feet are bloody freezing!” She cries out, making him chuckle.

“Maybe you can warm me up?” He says with a grin against her neck, his hand trailing downwards towards the hem of her thin, cotton nightie.

She whines, feeling her resolve begin to crumble, arching into him involuntarily as his touch awakens the fluttering of desire in her lower belly. “I’ve gotta be up early, stop it…”

“It’s nearly five anyway,” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her pulsepoint that causes her to inhale a shaky breath. “I’ll be quick, and I’ll even make you a brew after.”

Grinning, she presses her backside back against his growing hardness. “Thought you just wanted a cuddle?”

“We can cuddle,” Tom says quietly against the shell of her ear, “afterwards.”

His hand pushes her nightdress up over her hips, before dipping between her thighs. Swiping between her folds, his fingers quickly find her pearl, rubbing soft, sure circles of her arousal against it, making her sigh in pleasure. Her head relaxes back onto the pillow as warmth licks at her core, making it throb.

“Better be an amazing cuppa,” she smiles, her breathing growing heavier as she feels him roll his hips against her, his hardness pushing firmly against her.

“Oh, it’ll be good,” he promises, taking his hand away to push down his briefs.

She braces herself against the mattress, feeling him grip her thigh and bring it backwards over his hip, opening her up to him, allowing him easier access.

They groan in unison as he brushes the head of his cock through her slick. Once, twice, three times, before settling at her entrance, slowly pushing forward.

She whines at stretch, the shudder of his breath against her flesh as he bottoms out causing her to clench tightly around him, making him grunt.

“God…” she whispers breathlessly, feeling light headed as he draws back, only to push back in once more. It’s exquisite torture, too much and yet not enough all at once.

“Yeah, I know,” he rasps, his pace quickening as she adjusts to his size, each thrust being met with less resistance as she grows wetter. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

The bed frame creaks beneath their movements, and she is grateful for the fact that they live above the shop. She can’t imagine the sorts of complaints they’d get if they had neighbours beneath them. Tom is insatiable, and too irresistible to her to refuse.

She moans as his fingers dig into her hip, pulling her back against each of his forward thrusts, bullying the spot inside of her that makes her breath hitch and her toes curl.

He pants against her skin, perspiration building upon his brow. He drags his hand from her hip back between her legs, his forefingers rubbing insistently at her. His rhythm becomes sloppy, an indication he’s nearing his end.

The thought makes her tighten, nudging her closer to the edge, and when his rubbing becomes rougher, coupled with the dull pulsating of him inside of her, she topples over it, white hot waves of bliss throwing her body into spasms.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he cries out, hips stuttering, before pressing tightly against her, burying his face in her shoulder as he spills himself inside of her.

He holds her close as they both lay there gasping for breath, their hands absentmindedly stroking over each other’s forearms. It’s only when Tom begins to soften that he pulls away, rolling onto his back and grabbing his cigarettes from the pocket of his trousers, which lay discarded on the floor from when he’d come to bed.

Still deathly tired, but with a satisfied ache between her legs, she supposes there are worse ways to begin the working day.

She runs a hand through her hair as she sits on the edge of the bed, mentally preparing herself to begin getting ready to head downstairs. Reaching for her wrist watch that sits on the bedside table, her eyes narrow as she takes the sight of the placement of the hands.

“Tommy,” she hisses in annoyance, “it’s fucking half one in the morning!”

She turns, seeing him laying back against the headboard, one arm slung behind his head. He plucks the unlit cigarette from the corner of his mouth and smirks at her. “Yeah, guessing you won’t be wanting that brew then?”

“Bloody nuisance!” She scolds him, playfully chucking a pillow at him, before settling back into bed.

She knows it won’t be long until he’s cuddling back up to her, seeking out her warmth once again.

#tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett smut #tom bennett #ewan mitchell #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett fanfic #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic #tom bennett world on fire #world on fire tom bennett