#tomreader

TITLE OF STORY: Come Back Home
CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: One shot
AUTHOR:Fandom-And-Feminism&FadingCoast
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Soldier!Tom
GENRE: Romance. Reader Insert. Light Angst.
FIC SUMMARY: Thomas has left for war. There’s nothing for you to do, except wait. When he has failed to send letters for over a month, maybe your wait has been in vain.
RATING: Gen. Mild mentions of war.
PAIRING: Soldier!Tom/Reader
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: Mild references of war. Mostly domestic angst.
FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Inspired by THIS PIC and a Discord chat.

Feedback is always appreciated!

.- 

The faded sepia picture has started to wrinkle in your grasp. But you refuse to part from it.

It has been only 2 months since he parted, and you already are wondering when will he return home? Every day Thomas spends away from you is one day in which he could die. Fear cuts deeper than the cold weather.

You sit on the porch of your little country house everyday, staring at the snow covered fields, at the barely recognizable road and the black iron gates. Your hand holds a cup of tea, while the other rubs your incipient belly.

And you wait.

Day after day, you wait.

There’s nothing else for you to do.

Wait for news.

Wait for letters.

Wait for him to return home. To you. To your sweet embrace and warm bed.

Winter has ended, and the weather starts to warm up. Your growing belly gets in the way of your daily tasks, and you wish Thomas was there with you. Every other week you get a letter, soft and short recounts of life in the battlefield, of traveling, and horses. You treasure every single letter he sends. It is a significant connection to your beloved Thomas. A testimony that all those miles away, he still loves you and misses you as much as you love and miss him.

Summer comes and goes. Autumn finds you all round up and almost ready to give birth.

You get scared when a month has passed and he hasn’t sent anything… You pace around the house, startled by the smallest sound, almost forgetting your usual chores because you’ve been staring at the window. When a new letter finally arrives, you all but yanked it away from the postal service boy. You settle and read it out loud for your little one inside of you.

My Darling (Y/N),

My deepest apologies, for I am certain to have worried you due to the absence of my letters. I am still alive and well, I assure you. We are getting closer to the front, and that is why I won’t be able to write as often - postal service is hard to come by in the proximity of battle. 

Each night I sleep with your photo under my pillow, and I dream of your embrace, the touch of your lips. I know that our little one is due to make an appearance soon, but we have hopes that the war will be over before then. I may very well be able to keep my promise to spend Christmas at home. We shall ring in the new year together with our baby, if luck favors us. 

As much as I could write a book of all that I wish I could tell you, I must go while there is still someone here to take our mail. I hope this reaches you and our baby in good spirits. Never lose hope, my love, for your hope is my beacon to travel home to you. 

All my love, for all of time, I am forever yours. 

Thomas.

You re-read the letter out loud almost everyday now.

It somehow helps you keep calm as you know the time to meet the little one gets closer. You wish with all your heart his father could be there, and the letters keep that illusion going.

It’s ironic and cruel that the same day you go into labor, a soldier happens to come. You heard the bell, but you were busy pushing a new life out of you, so your mother sprints down to get the call. She doesn’t say anything, not until the new born baby is safe in your arms. But the look on her face gives it away.

“Mama?”

“It was a soldier.” She says slowly.

Your heart starts pounding as tears well in your eyes. “It’s not mail day yet…” You choke out, trying to hold on to hope, but it keeps slipping from your grasp. “What does it say?”

You hold your baby boy closer as he happily feeds on your breast. Your mother shakes her head.

“What does it say!?!?” You demand, startling the infant. Your mother slowly unfolds the paper. You can see she’s holding back tears of her own. With a cracked voice she reads. 

“Dear Mrs. Hiddleston. It is my painful duty to inform you…”

.-

“Missing in action. That’s all it says. He could still be alive. I know he is. He has to be.”

Your mother shakes her head at your denial. “They looked for him for days before they had to move on,” she insists. “If there was still a good chance he was out there then they wouldn’t have sent someone here to tell you.“ 

You stare down at the baby nursing at your breast. He has Thomas’ curly blond hair and strong chin. “I can’t give up on him, Mama,” you say with a crack in your voice. “I promised him I wouldn’t ever give up. Not until they bring his body here to be buried.”

You cling to hope. Cling to that “missing in action”. Half of you knows what it really means, the other half refuses to acknowledge it. You go back to your daily routine of waiting.

Winter has returned. It’s been over a year since Thomas left. You’re still clinging to hope.

He promised he’d be home for Christmas.

Christmas’ eve comes, and you spend the whole day sitting on the porch, toes and fingers nearly frozen, waiting for him to appear at the gates. Your mother scolds you: your baby boy needs to be fed. So you settle beside the window until he’s sated and asleep, and you go back outside. The last letter you received is safe in your dress pocket. It is a bit faded, tears have made the ink run, you’ve read it so many times you know it by heart. But you won’t part from it, or the faded picture.

As night falls, your mother calls you for dinner, but you refuse to go inside.

He promised. He will be here.

You feed the baby again before your mother goes to bed, and she covers you up with another quilt when she accepts you won’t come in. Not just yet.

You start to doze after your mantel clock chimes 11 o'clock that night. Every noise wakes you in a rush of hopeful adrenaline.

Just before midnight you start to lose hope. He promised, he promised, you keep repeating in your head. The war is over. He promised. He should be here any minute. He promised. Before you know it, you’re dozing again, and somewhere in the back of your mind you hear the clock chime 12.

In your sleep you feel the touch of cold fingers on your cheek. You hear his voice, taunting you, reminding you of his broken promise. Irritated, you swat the hand away. 

Your eyes snap open when your hand touches living flesh. As if he had stepped out of the photo you kept on you at all times, standing before you is the love of your life, bent down until his face was inches from yours. His cheeks were a little more hollow, and his eyes slightly sunken in and bruised looking from months of sleepless nights, but it was still him. 

Thomas smiles down at you softly. You reach up and caress his cheek, finally letting the tears fall. “You made it,” you whisper, your heart nearly bursting from your chest.

He laughs, that beautiful, gentle laugh you missed so much. “I had to keep my promise, didn’t I?”

You stand up, still not believing you eyes. This must be a dream. But then again, you wouldn’t be freezing if it was. You hug him tight and he winces. Only then you notice the cast on his arm and the way he leans on one leg more than the other. By the short breaths he’s taking, you guess more than one rib is broken. But you don’t care, he’s here. Just in time for Christmas.

Slowly and gently, you lean in, catching his lips with yours. Hands cupping his face and wiping the cold tears away. Your heart is soaring with happiness.

“Would you like to meet your boy?” You say, taking his hand to lead him inside.

That night Thomas sleeps with little Henry on his chest, never mind the broken ribs. Even though he had never heard his father’s voice before in his life, your son sleeps like a log.

Your mother drops the skillet she is holding when the three of you come down for breakfast on Christmas morning. She gives Thomas a gentle hug and starts crying, saying she’s sorry she believed he was dead. Over pancakes he tells you both the story.

It is a dreadful and demanding task for Thomas to tell you everything. You hold his hand the whole time, just to show him you were there, by his side, and would never leave. He cried remembering his fallen friends, he shivered with the vivid images of death and pain, he cried again while telling how they found him and brought him back.

Then, he looks you in the eyes and tells you how you were his only light in that darkness. How the thought of seeing his baby boy just once kept him alive in the frozen swamps. He had promised to come back for Christmas and he had yet to broke a promise. You cannot possibly put into words how much you love him.

“I apologize for not having a Christmas present for you, my love.” He says, kissing you hand. “Especially cause you’ve given me the most perfect present ever!” He adds, stealing little Henry from you and rocking him in his good arm. 

“You being here is the only present I need.”

.-

TITLE OF STORY: Just Like Heaven
CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: One shot
AUTHOR: FadingCoast
WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom
GENRE: Romance. Erotica. Reader Insert.
FIC SUMMARY: You’ve been dating Tom for a while. But what Tom doesn’t know is that you’re a vampire. As in an immortal, blood sucking, creature-of-the-night vampire.
RATING: Explicit || NC-17
PAIRING: Tom/Vampire!Reader
WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: Explicit sexual content. Minor mention of blood.
FEEDBACK/COMMENTS:

Feedback is always appreciated!!

.-

You’ve been dating Tom for a while.

You met him through some mutual friends and clicked rather fast. Probably your extensive knowledge of Shakespeare helped.

What Tom doesn’t know is that you’re a vampire.

As in an immortal, blood sucking, creature-of-the-night vampire. One who actually knew Shakespeare.

Vampires have been around for as long as society exists, and have been accepted as part of society in recent years. Sort of. There’s people who are against your kind, and vampires who think themselves above humans. It has been rough, so you decided to keep your supernatural status to yourself.

At first, it goes pretty well. You always go out together a night, and you’re gone before sunrise. This arrangement works for both of you: no day dates meant no press exposure for him and no UV radiation for you.

But when things inevitably got heated, you were in trouble.

First time it happened was behind the club you were both attending. He had invited you cause he knew of your love for karaoke and one of his friends was celebrating something. Several songs and even more drinks were lowering your inhibitions. You had to go to the bathroom, to get some sense back before you gave away yourself. But Tom was waiting outside for you, with a look that offered so much. You couldn’t help following him outside, and heated kisses turned into wandering hands and dry humping against a wall.

You saw it. Actually, you heard it before you saw it. He was kissing and nipping at your collarbone, displaying it in full glory. That vein on his neck, right on top of his artery. Pulse so fast his skin was moving in sync with his heart beat.

You could feel your fangs growing with desire and hunger. Hunger that nearly clouded your senses.

You pushed him away and basically ran away.

After a few deep breaths you managed to calm down, just in time for Tom to catch up with you. You were able to come up with a cheap excuse: you didn’t want to rush anything, and  got a little bit freaked out. Which was true, but for a whole different reason.

Tom believed you, and apologized profusely in his usual Tom way.

Second time it was during on a ride back home. You couldn’t get your hands off each other, and again, you could hear his pulse. His shirt collar managed to hide part of the vein, but the smell was driving you crazy.
This was your own fault: you shouldn’t be giving him a near handjob on the car!!

Having to divert your attention to something else, you ended up sucking him off right there in the car while he was driving. Tom nearly crashed, but it was worth it. He calmed down considerably after he came in your mouth. The vein was still there, but not as noticeable, and his pulse stopped racing.

After that day, your sexlife flourished. You couldn’t excuse yourself anymore with “this going too fast”. And the result was both pleasure and torture for you.
You loved his body on yours, you loved the way he worshipped your body in every way. Damn, you even loved the way he teased you endlessly when you had the time. But you couldn’t enjoy it completely, knowing you had to keep some form of self control. Otherwise you’d feed off him and blow your cover.

You had to get creative. Foreplay wasn’t an issue, neither was oral sex. Actual intercourse was the problem, so you made him fuck you on all fours most of the times. Tom didn’t like it very much, he craved to stare into your eyes as you came undone, but he obliged anyway.

In that position, his pulse fell right into your ear, but at least you didn’t have to look at him and you could easily hide your fangs, which inevitably popped out when you were near your climax, and didn’t have to explain your lack of heartbeat.

You longed to bite him. Your instincts were telling you to bite him. You knew it would make the whole experience a million times better. But you didn’t want to hurt him, and most of all, you didn’t want him to hurt you.

Tom was everything you wanted. If you ever had to face rejection from his part, you might as well take a nap in the sun. Both of you had touched the subject, and so far it looked like Tom didn’t have any issues with vampires. But many people said they were fine until they were face to face with your kin.

So you kept lying- no, omitting this rather vital piece of information from him, wondering how much longer you could keep the facade.

Things were getting serious, and you were running out of excuses. Sunscreen and UV protection clothes could get you only so far, and an indoors picnic just wasn’t the same.

Once or twice you thought about ending it, but you craved him so bad, it was painful. His smell was engraved in your brain. The rhythm of his heartbeat when he slept was your lullaby. His accelerated pulse when he was fucking you was your drug. The taste of his skin, the warmth of his breath, the soft electric thrum of his touch, the soft texture of his hair… everything about him was perfection. If you had a functioning heart, you were sure it would’ve exploded by now.

You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

Things settled in a comfortable routine when Tom started rehearsing longer hours during the day. But you should’ve known it was just the calm before the storm.

After his opening night party, you arrived to his apartment tangled up into each other, as usual. In no time, you were being pinned against the wall, kisses furious and passionate. Grinding unapologetic. You wanted to get this on the bed, but Tom didn’t let go of you. Instead, he clawed at your clothes desperately, garments falling at your feet and flung away. His arm ended up hooking the back of your knee and you gave up protesting when Tom buried himself deep in your cunt.

Control slipped from your grasp with each thrust. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he fucked you into the wall. You clawed his back, pushed with your legs, anything to keep your focus off his yugular and the pulsing artery beneath. You pulled on his hair, forcing him to kiss you.

The closer you were to you peak, the harder it was to keep control. Tom had the habit of burying his face on your neck right before he came. He was close now, you could feel his cock quivering inside of you. He grunted loudly, reaching in between your bodies and working your engorged clit with his thumb, eager to get you to come with him.

You were losing it. You could smell the blood, right there. That vein on his neck, less than an inch from your lips, seemed to glow. The smell of blood and sex was fogging your senses. Your fangs popped out. You bit your lips in a useless attempt to stop yourself.

You were close, so close to your peak, your brain was shutting off. Everything grew darker, except the glow of that vein on his neck, and the fast rhythm of his carotid.

It was too much. You closed your eyes and gave in.

In a fast move, you sank your teeth on the vein. His blood poured out and you drank greedily, the metallic taste on your tongue pushing you over the edge of the most powerful orgasm you’ve had in the last decade. The buzzing in your ears muffled the howl Tom gave, but you did feel him twitch inside of you as he also came, stuttering and shaking. It was a miracle you didn’t crumble to the ground.

You both panted, still tangled into each other. Your fangs were still in his neck when you blinked back to reality, and withdrew. Tom pulled back and stared at you curiously, noticing the small drop of blood on the corner of your lip.

Your fangs were still out, so you pressed your lips together while you unwrapped your legs from his waist. When Tom slid off you, your still sensitive cunt made you whimper, and your mouth fell open.

His face went from curious to mildly shocked: Tom had seen your fangs.

His hand flew to his neck, feeling the two small punctures and the little blood left.
You covered your mouth with your hand and pushed him away as you felt your eyes water.

“I-I am–” You gulped. “I’m sorry…” You said in a little voice. “I didn’t-”

You couldn’t look at him anymore. You know he’s going to panic. He will call you names. He will yell monster, freak, aberration, abnormal… You’ve seen it before, you know the drill. Tom is going to cower from you, demand you leave his house, and leave his life.

You just can’t take it, not again. Not from him.

As fast as you could you gathered your scattered clothes, avoiding all eye contact.

You were positively sobbing as you struggled with your clothes. You nearly ripped your undershirt in frustration. But two arms wrapped around you and trapped your back against his chest.

“Stop.” Tom said softly.

“I’m sorry.” You sobbed again.

Tom made you turn around and made you look at him. There was shock in his face, yes, but also curiosity and wonder. Where you had expected hate and disgust, there was nothing but amazement.

“This explains so many things.” Tom said, caressing your lips open and grazing his thumb over the point of your fang. The intimacy of the gesture made you gasp. “Why you weren’t available during the day, why you insisted on not spending the night here…” His hand traveled down your neck to your chest. “Why I wouldn’t feel your heart…”

You gulped hard. “You’re– you’re not– afraid?”

“I rather believe you weren’t trying to hurt me.“ He said with a smile, eyes still looking at your fangs. “After all the trouble you went through not to do it.”

You smiled between your tears letting a shaky breath out.

Tom looked straight into your eyes, all serious now. “Do you love me?”

“W-what??!?!”

“Do you love me?” He repeated, holding your hands so you wouldn’t step back.

Did you? What a stupid question! Of course you did! If you didn’t you wouldn’t have done so much to keep from hurting him!!

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Tom smiled. Grabbing the back of your head he pulled you in for a kiss. Soft at first, running his tongue on your lips, asking for entrance. The taste of his blood and the lingering smell of sex in the room were causing your fangs to still be out, so you didn’t want to give in just yet, but his hand softly treading your hair made you melt.

You opened your mouth and his tongue was immediately exploring your fangs.
You nearly forgot how to breathe.
He pulled away just as breathlessly, and smiled.

“I actually like those, a lot..” He said.

You had to roll your eyes. “Well, they won’t go away for a while.” Instinctively, you covered your mouth, but Tom linked your hands with his, and kissed you again.

This second kiss was successful in relaxing you. You curled your arms around his waist, making you suddenly aware of your and his nakedness. It was oddly comforting and intimate.

“I have a few questions.”

“Oh, boy!” You giggled.

“Do you actually need blood to live? I’ve seen you eat regular food.”

“Is not really that necessary. I can get by with really raw meat and smoothies. But blood is obviously better.” You explained. “So no, I won’t accidentally drain you. A few gulps every once in a while are enough, and it doesn’t need to be human. Pork tastes really similar, in some cases…”

Tom nodded, something playful shining in his eyes. “Mirrors?”

“Not modern ones.”

“Pictures?”

“You have selfies of us in your phone!!”

“Garlic?”

“I’m not particularly a fan…”

“Crucifixes?”

“Propaganda.”

Tom giggled and held you close. His scent was enveloping you, you could feel his heart softly thrumming against your ribcage. His hand slowly caressing your hair was soothing and reassuring. Your fangs finally retracted.

“Last question.” He whispered. “What do I taste like?”

You looked up at his smirk. “Just like heaven.”

.-