#captain james nicholls x reader

[smolvenger]

Miss Narracott and The Captain, Chapter One

Fandom: War Horse

Pairing: Captain James Nicholls x fem! Reader

Summary: It is 1912. You are Y/N Narracott, the older sister of Albert Narracott. You must do what you can so your family can keep their farm. And so your brother can keep his beloved horse. Under financial struggles, you never expect romance to come into your life...until you have a chance encounter with James Nicholls- a Captain with a knack for drawing. But the threat of war lingers in the air...

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Chapter Word Count: 4K

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise

Warnings: A horse ALMOST gets shot but lives. Landlords being landlords. Period Typical Attitudes. But very fluffy with cottagecore vibes and a meet-cute with the captain.

A/N: You can decide if you want to be a member of the family by birth or adoption. I try to make Reader fics as neutral in appearance as I humanly can. I hope you like this! It won't get too super sad or angsty and will have a very happy ending- so enjoy! Comments, asks, reblogs, and messages about my works are always appreciated!

“If the rent’s not paid by October, the farm is foreclosed. And I take the horse, too!” the Landlord had threatened in your kitchen, finishing his tea.

Gritting your teeth, you let your arms fall to the sides. Your mum cleared his cup and saucer. Then she met you where you stood, a frown on her face. You tried to slip your hand in hers. Your younger brother, Albert, was slowly heaving beneath his flannel shirt and overalls.  And your dad only sat at the table, his fingers twitching to get the flask you knew was in his pocket. But even his white whiskers couldn’t hide his own frown.

Those words made stiff and haunted you- all of you.  Just as the Bible verses in embroidery decorated about the house, those words were about you. Staring at you.

Foreclosed. Foreclosed. Foreclosed.

You decided to get a job as a shop girl in the town nearby. Dad and Albert had to work the fields constantly. Too much to mend and do for any other occupation. Mum ran the house with an iron fist. She’d say she’d have to stay at home. She’d say the place needed at least one woman. Not two, you noted-one. You were available. You could do it.

The day you announced you got the job, and that the paychecks would help go to rent, your mum wiped happy tears.  She kissed you.

“All of it’s going to the rent,” you promised her.

“No-keep a little!” she shook her dark head. Strands kept falling form her bun- she was an active woman, always thinking, always working. Even her own hair would not stay still.

“No- all! We all need it!” you refused.

It would be a sacrifice. But a sacrifice that would keep a roof over your heads. Hopefully.

“Whatever you pick- it’s your choice. I’m proud of you, my girl. All of us are…” she said before sweeping you into a hug.

After all, It was what you could do to bring money in. To keep that word from ringing in your head.

Foreclosed. Foreclosed. Foreclosed.

That was the word that motivated you to get up from bed in the morning. You shivered from the chill in your little room. Not that you were unused to getting up early. You lived with your family on a farm after all.

Besides, you loved the farm you lived on. It was a beautiful place. You and your family stayed in a stone house, two stories, thatched with a roof. The rolling green and brown hills could be seen from your bedroom window. You loved watching the sun rise and shine past your lacy white curtains. Stone gates trailed all over the place separating the gardens, shed, laundry area, crop fields, chicken coop, and backyard.

And there was no shame in being farmers, as dad would say. Farmers kept the country going and would for all eternity.

 As you looked up, the morning was shining pink. Peeking down, you could see Dad and Albert, going about distributing hay and making sure the animals were fed. Dad had some hay while Albert was filling his bucket with oats.

After washing yourself with a cloth and hot water, you dressed into socks, corset, shoes, petticoats, skirt, and blouse. You double checked to make sure there were no mud stains on your checked, white and blue blouse and blue skirt. You had to look presentable.

That morning, you sat at the table. Mum ate fast and ran off to begin a mountain of laundry. You were eating breakfast and drinking coffee from a beautiful porcelain cup with a painted flower on it.  Enjoying a moment of peace before your shift began.  There was the sonatas of birds and the rooster outside of a country morning. Accompanied by the clucking of chickens that wandered about the stone pathways on the grass. Albert walked in from outside, wiping off his hands on his pants.

“Y/N! Morning” he cheered. Already his cheeks were ruddy from the exercise and air.

“Albie! Good morning! How’s all the creatures?” you asked.

“All well-all well. Wish us luck- gonna start training Joey today! Gonna put the plow on him. If anyone can, it’s me!” he announced.

He sat down, slabbed a slice of bread with butter, and stuffed it in his face.

It was always dark inside the house. The stone blocked the sunlight except for the windows. Pots were on the ceiling over your head. Your embroidery was decorated over the walls. Over the crackling fireplace was a bookshelf with a book and a tiny clock. You kept peeking at it to make sure you weren’t going to be late for the nine am shift. fireplace. Little potted plants and flowers sat everywhere- inside the house on tables and counters and outside on windowsills. You and mum did you best to make sure the place was cozy. Pretty even. She taught you how to garden and put flowers into little clay pots. You both spent that early spring down on your skirts. Patting the dark dirt over the seeds and watering them.

Albert went to the corner of the kitchen section of the room. On the counter, right before the window overlooking the garden, was a bowl of fresh fruit. He grabbed an apple, shined it on his vest, and bit into it. Then he peeked outside and gasped.

“Y/N-come! Look at the garden! Your flowers!” he cried.

It was a lovely spring day. Looking about, you were glad to see the crocuses you had planted were in bloom. So much beauty even amidst the great stress. You kept only ten percent of the wages and decided to use it on crocus seeds to put in the flower section of the garden. Now it was speckled with the pretty flowers across the grass, nearby the carrots and tomatoes.  

Albert pointed to the window. You got up and your eyes followed his finger.

A little brown rabbit was in the flower garden. It went to one blossom and was chewing away.

“Hmm, should we stop him?” you teased.

Albert shook his brown head. Part of you predicted he would answer this- bless Albert! His soft heart for animals was his best quality!

“No! Don’t!” he cried.

“Well good thing I agree! He looks quite content- cute little fellow!” you commented.

Looking more carefully, it was quite small. Perhaps still a baby. Both you and Albert paused to admire the adorable intruder.

“What should we name should we give him?” you asked.

The rabbit finished the bloom of one crocus. It then hopped forward and began chewing on another. His miniscule mouth nibbling on the leaf of the stem.

“His name should be Peter- just like the old stories!” Albert decided.

“That’s a wonderful name! You always have the best names for the animals, Albie! But… if it’s a girl?” you pointed out.

“Then let’s call her after one of the sisters- let’s call her Mopsy!” Albert said.

“Good idea! That fits the theme!” you laughed in agreement.

Besides,  you were glad the rabbit ate the flowers. Glad it wasn’t one of the crops that would serve as both income and supper. Mum would have had a fit. Dad might have shot it for lunch.

But both of you smiled as you watched the creature breakfast along with the two of you. The little bunny finished his stolen meal and hopped off. It easily squeezed through the wooden gate and escaped.

“I should plant more- give it a whole salad bowl!” you suggested.

“I wouldn’t complain if you did- invite all the rabbit sisters and the mum too!” Albert added on.

It was a lovely day. The air was cool, the sun was out, the sky was blue, and the field was green. All this beauty even amidst such fear. Such stress. Some even whispered of a war. Didn’t the landlord say something about a war? No, that was too much. That must have been your imagination.

“Don’t be late- Y/N! Good luck! Maybe this might be the day you meet a handsome stranger at work!” Albert teased, he wiggled his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes.

“Oh, the only strangers I meet nowadays are customers! And the men aren’t handsome-I’ll tell you that! And Albie-does he like carrots?”

He nodded, handing you a leftover carrot.

“One tip- offer it to him by turning backwards!” he added.

“Put it in my basket-I’ll see you later,” you said.  

After putting a carrot into your lunch basket, Albert returned to the table. He scooped up more of breakfast and ate a second helping. As you walked out to the stone pathway through the ground, there was a sudden honk from below.

The proud goose, more intent on making mischief than productivity, strutted your way. He blocked your path. He raised his head and flapped your wings as if he was the king of England. He ran- flipper before your feet.

“Oh, please! Let me through! Shoo!” you scolded.

He had to chase anyone and everyone on the farm. And that didn’t stop at the residents. Last week, he charged the landlord and his posse as they left. They fled to their motorcar like he was a giant bull and not a little goose. Both you and Albert tightened your lips at the sight and then laughed about it later.

You, however, were used to Goose’s antics. No other name fit him, according to Albert. He was what he was-Goose. You let him take his beak to nip a bit of your skirt and shake it with his flexible, goosey neck. Then you gave a light tug, and he relented and released. He then flapped his wings again around you. He began honking out again as if urging you to work.

“I have five minutes before I need to get walking! But I’m going to say goodbye to Joey first!” you replied to the gander.

As you made your path to the backyard you heard him honk behind you. Intent on nipping more of your petticoats per his own Goose ritual. But as you got closer, there was the sound of a whinny and the clutter of hooves in the back yard.  The goose gave a goodbye honk in surprise and eyeing the much bigger creature in the backyard, fled.

It was the newest addition. Joey. A beautiful young colt. On his way to growing into a magnificent stallion.  Joey was brown as a rich tree trunk with the white diamond on his snout. Every time you went out to see the young horse, he would neigh loudly and break into a run. It made you back off every time, your hands up as if to calm him. Throughout the day, you and your parents often had to jump back to avoid getting run over as Joey dashed through the yard. Albert insisted he was spirited, but good.

Joey was an Irish Hunter- not the usual breed for farms. Your dad noticed his strength and energy at an auction and bought it, claiming he would become a  plow horse. And how did he buy it? With Rent money. And Joey by now had become the apple of Albert’s eye. The house was at stake based on if Joey could be trained to plow. That is if your own shopgirl wages could not save the farm from foreclosure.

  Dad tried to put a plough over Joey and the horse bucked away. You cried when Dad got his gun to kill the beautiful animal. You, Mum, and Albert all yelled at him to keep him from shooting it that day. You tried to physically hold him back by hugging him, tugging the trigger out of target. Mum let out a scream when Albert got between. Thankfully, he gave in when Albert announced he would train the horse. He was the one Joey would listen to the most.

It cheered you to see Joey alive this morning. Galloping about freely. You knew how happy he made Albert. You wondered if such a wild, free creature would even shine to you. From your basket, you got out the carrot. You leaned your arm over the gate and clicked your tongue to get his attention.

“Here, Joey…how about a treat?” you offered.

Joey clopped forward.

“Here, Joey, come on! Come on, love!” you urged.

He went, but then backed off, shaking his head and long, black mane with a brush of his lips. You let out a sigh. Then you turned around, leaning your hand backward.

“Come on, Joey- you’re going to learn to plow today. You’ll need a little extra strength! I’m not dad-I’m your friend!” you urged.

If you made no sudden movements, it wouldn’t scare him to raise his front hooves and kick your head You heard his feet trotting close to you. Then you felt his wet mouth open and accept the carrot. As you turned around to see him eat it, you smiled.

“Oh-you took it for once!  Good boy! Good boy! And keep being a good boy today- I got to work today… and so do you. But between us, we can help keep the farm afloat- can we?” you wondered out loud.

The horse blinked in response. To think there was something in common you shared with the colt. You gently reached out a hand, and he let you pet his nuzzle.

“See-even letting me pet you for once! Every day you’re improving! You better do what Albert says-I’ll see you later, goodbye Joey!” you wished.

As you walked up the tiny slope to leave, you picked up your petticoat and tiptoed around the mud. You had to look as presentable as you could for a farm girl. Opening the wooden gate, you made your way to town.

You walked down into town, keeping to the sidewalks away from the motorcars. People busied about you, ready to begin their own jobs. You walked right to the shop. Even before opening there were already customers waiting to buy things just outside. Their noses touched the front windows. You went inside to the counter, tied an apron around your skirt, and switched the sign on the window to “OPEN.”

So began another day. Today, you made sure there were catalogues displaying a new selection of dresses for women. It was hard not to drool over them from the corner of your eye. Not to envy the daughters of lords of the land who had the surplus allowances to order them here. You sometimes saw them enter the shop with their maids by their sides.

How you wished you could be a lady! They couldn’t come from a farming family. And even more importantly, they didn’t work. You heard all about them. How you daydreamed about it night and day.

You could live in a giant manor house. You’d have a maid to do your hair and drape you in dresses and pretty jewels. So would mum! And how handsome both dad and Albert would look in tuxedoes at dinner! Mum would have to present you at court. You would come out and get to briefly meet the king and queen themselves! Then you’d go to fancy balls. There would be handsome suitors who would wait in lines outside your door to kiss your gloved hand with their unworthy lips. You would have no concerns except for which pair of gloves to wear. And which eligible bachelor to marry. Then he’d ask for your hand and there would be a giant wedding full of pomp and splendor. Then you’d move into another manor and eat breakfast in bed every day! You would relax and not have to do a minute of work!

Perhaps…you would meet someone if you moved out…or if by a miracle, you got a scholarship to a university or lived in another town, far from Devon…

You knew you did not have enough to move out on your own. Besides, even if you did- how could you? How could you abandon your family when they needed you? When they needed help? Especially since dad had a weakness for wasting money on booze until he drunkenly stumbled to bed in the wee morning hours. The landlord would sigh and remind all of you he ran a business, not a charity. Every time.

But sadly, you had to go back to reality.  You could only fantasize in catalogues and magazines showing off the latest overpriced fashions from London. You did grab an issue to look at during your minutes off. You went down for the post-lunch break. You began to sip on tea, look at the catalogue, and rest your weary feet from hours of standing.

But after you returned the shopkeeper, Mrs. Snow, went up to you in a hurry. And the shop was filled with eager people eyeing all the half-off sales.

“Oh, Miss Narracott! Look what I found!” she cried.

She brought forth a little black book.

“A gentleman was just here-I saw him with it! He placed it down on the table and left without it! He should be right outside- And it’s so busy now- could you please run off and get it to him?” she instructed.

“How will I know it’s him?” you asked.

“You’ll see him in a uniform- like a sore thumb! Please return it to him!” she pleaded.

“What kind of uniform?” you asked.

Immediately, a lady was at the counter with five spools of ribbons. She was frowning and tapping her gloved hand on the wooden surface.

“Just go! Go, girl!” Mrs. Snow urged. She pushed the book into your hands.

You nodded and hurried outside. But you looked around and noticed the people outside. Bowler hats and blouses blended in around you. None of the men seemed concerned about anything. They only got out the pocket watches from their waistcoats to check the time.  

What uniform- a university uniform? A police officer uniform? A chef’s uniform, even? You saw none of those as you looked about.

Curiosity hit you- what was in this book? Maybe he would return. And you could steal a little bit of time to rest your mind from work again.

The book was thin, so it couldn’t be a novel. Perhaps it was a short story? A photo album?

You opened it and saw a pencil drawing of a woman at a piano-it was a sketchbook. But her hair, her dress, and the doily over the instrument was perfection in its attention to detail.

They were some of the most realistic drawings you had ever seen. You flipped past one to find another more beautiful than the last. You saw one of a willow tree- it was as if the tree the were drawn merely shrunk in size. When you saw an old man’s face, each wrinkled line was as if he jumped into the drawing or was in frtont of you. They were nearly perfect. Why weren’t these already in a museum?  You flipped another page-the most impressive of all. It was the drawing of a large stallion,  colored to be a rich black. He was on his back hooves, raising his might front legs into the air.  He was like a mythological beast rather than some common horse. And at the bottom, was some writing.

“TOPTHORN- CPN J. N.”

You were so invested in admiring it, a baritone voice had to break you out.

“Excuse me miss-“

Jumping at the sound, your head went up.

You saw a gentleman. A tall gentleman. And yes- an astonishingly handsome gentleman. He took off his hat, perhaps to show respect in the presence of a lady. His eyes were absolutely piercing in their blueness, as if he could see right through you to your guts. But they were soft, like two sapphires on his lovely ivory face. He had a uniform on- a soldier’s uniform.

“Miss…what is your name?” he asked.

“Y/N Naracott. And you are?” you replied.

“Nicholls. Captain James Nicholls.” He answered.

“Is the sketchbook yours? Left in that shop?” you asked, holding up the book.

“Yes, it is,” he answered.

“I’m so sorry- I work for the shop and was intent on returning it. But I got curious and peeked inside,” you blurted.

With his gaze on you, you felt warm. Suddenly aware of every bit of your appearance and movements. It was everything in your to not go into a giddy panic and flee from bashfulness. You forced your feet still.

“Don’t be, you did nothing wrong…” he said.

Turning to the page with the black horse, you lightly traced it’s outline.

 “The drawings they’re…they’re beautiful! Was it a gift?” you questioned.

“It’s mine. My drawings…” he explained.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! I should have guessed!” you babbled out.

“No, don’t be at all!” he replied. He grinned at you.

Smoothing your skirt, tucking in the blouse, you felt the wind knock out of you at his smile.

“I just thought they were…they were beautiful! My favorite’s the horse here! Horses are so hard to draw- but the way you got his shape, his legs, his body-he’s so lifelike! I thought a real artist must have them- not a soldier!” you added on.

“That’s Topthorn. He’s my Major’s horse. An impressive beast- I had to capture him,” he explained.

He took a step closer. Goodness, the uniform really did make him even more attractive! It made you dizzy. Your mouth moved faster than your brain.

“You should meet my brother. He’d love the horse drawing. We have a new horse and he’s obsessed with-“

 The same lady walked out with a bag of her purchased ribbons from the corner of your eye. It shut you up. Captain Nicholl’s turned to glance at her, and then back at you.

“I don’t wish to keep you from working, Miss Narracott, here- I’ll walk you back,” he offered.

It was not a very long distance at all. But you were grateful. There were worse things than being accompanied by a pleasant, gallant, handsome young captain.

“Are you new in town?” you asked him at the door.

“Just stationed. Staying here for the moment.” he explained.

“Then, welcome to Devon! I hope you like it,’ you greeted.

He nodded his head. He opened the door for you to walk inside.

“I already do,” he replied.

There was a whistle. Captain Nicholls turned his head to the outside. There was another group of men in army uniform nearby. One tall gentleman with a mustache called out.

“Hey! Jim! Stop flirting with the girl and get back!”

You flinched and saw his cheeks turn a little pink. You dipped your head down. Would that phrase cause a scandal- even a small one? On one hand, flirting was completely discouraged between men and women. There was no flirting until you were engaged. Then one could be absolutely sure a gentleman had pure intentions. You could be sure a gentleman wasn’t a skirt chaser and seducer.

But on the other hand- you both weren’t a duke and debutante at a ball. Just two village people having a chat. And flirting…maybe…maybe he did already…notice you…liked you…

“Well, I’ll see you around, Captain,” you said.

“And I you, Miss Narracott. Thank you again for returning the book,” he replied.

He dipped his head, put his hat back on, and left.

“Bless you, girl! Took you ages to find him! But you did! Now- it’s time to get back!” Mrs. Snow urged from the shop counter.

The busy crowd kept you on your feet, but you felt ready. The hours flew until closing. You could deal with even the most demanding customers with a smile on your face. As you flipped the sign to close and returned home, you found yourself looking forward to tomorrow.  Besides, maybe the new captain might return for a visit.  

[lulubelle814]

In Every Life

Summary: Two souls destined for each other, but life has other plans. Will they find each other and have their happy ending?

Part 1 - Thomas Sharpe x Josephine Morrow

Part 2 - Capt James Nicholls x Grace Narracott

Part 3 - Robert Laing x Valerie Hutton

Part 4 - Professor Tom Hiddleston x Olivia Lambert

Masterlist

[smolvenger]

Awwww, thanks so much Bestie!!!

My favorite pieces are..:

1. The Twelve Days (Henry V x fem! Reader arranged marriage series. With fluff, smut, and only a wee bit of angst as two blorbos forced to marry each other start to fall for the other)

2. A Court of Mischeif and Purpose (Loki x fem! Reader crossover series. A court of thorns and roses inspired fic with the Tom Hiddles characters as the ACOTAR characters. YN makes a deal with Loki to save herself and goes on a magical adventure with danger and eventual romance. Angst, fluff, and eventually smut…eventually)

3. Stella of Essex, or The Vicar’s Wife Betrayed (fix it fic of The Essex Serpent but from Stella’s POV where canon doesn’t matter and I give her a happy ending and revenge for getting cheated on, because I support women’s wrongs. Lots of angst and eventual fluff)

4. The Battle of Agincourt (Henry V x fem! Reader are a married couple and she follows him to France. Fluff and angst and lots of smut- not one but two scene!)

5. Miss Narracott and the Captain (slow burn ish romance with YN and Captain James Nicholls of War Horse with a period drama miniseries feel)

Tagging anyone who wants to before my next flight takes off!

Writer Self-Rec Fics Ask Game

Rules: writers list your top 5 favorite fics of yours and then send this to 5 writers! :)

@divine-knight-hand thank you for this lovely ask!!! I'm sorry I forgot about it for so long - I think I was a bit embarrassed to answer, since I have such a pathetically short fic list, but I will list the five that I HAVE written in order of my favourites.

1. Devoted (sub!Loki/domme!Reader, established D/s relationship)

This is easily my personal favourite, even though it's much less popular than some of my others. It's rather fluffy (for a highly smutty story!), and I really like the way it came together (no pun intended).

2. Missed connection part 3 (Tom Hiddleston/Reader. Smutty/angsty fic with a hint of fluff and a bit of a sad ending. Total self indulgent nonsense.)

I don't know if it's fair to call these three separate stories, but this part is my favourite. It's long-ish but it was the most fun to write. It's also a bit more recent and tbh my writing is just better than in some of the earlier stuff.

3. Vulnerable (sub!Loki/domme!Reader)

I guess this is kind of my sub!Loki origin story. It was my first ever fanfic and... it shows? When I read it back now I cringe at it pretty horribly. But it's somehow by far my most popular story.

4. & 5. Missed connection parts 1 & 2 (Tom Hiddleston/Reader)

The opening scenes for Missed Connection 3, these are my least favourites. Not because I don't love and appreciate them - I really do - but again, I read back over them now and think how much better I could have written them. Part 1 is a bit thirsty/angsty but smut-free.

Tagging some authors - I would love to know your favourites! What are your self recs??

@acidcasualties @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr @lokischambermaid

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Daily Sweetheart Drabble - Sunday

Prompt From This List

Capt. Nicholls

James runs his fingers over your throat. “Are you going to be good, or am I going to have to tie you up?” He asks firmly. “I’ll be good.” You murmur. A big fat lie, of course. Your heart is beating in anticipation of the punishment he will dish out.  “Very well.” James says softly. He trails his fingers down, from your throat to your chest. You press one of your nipples against his palm. He pinches it firmly. “Stand still.” He hisses. “Yes sir.” You cooe. The mischief is audible in your voice. 

James gives you a whack on the ass. “Need I tie you down?” He hisses. “No sir.” You cooe. He whacks you again. “Don’t sound so insolent.” He nips at the lobe of your ear. You can’t help a moan. “So I thought.” James says.  He binds your hands behind your back and fastens them to a ring on the wall. “One more time and I will also bind your feet.” He hisses. The promise of that makes you incredibly wet. And James knows this. He knows you very well by now. 

He stands before you, his riding crop under your chin. “You are doing this to yourself, you know that.” He murmurs. You look him in the eye, a wicked smirk on your lips. You are challenging him to do his worst. James tsks and brings the whip down on your thigh. You moan loudly. “So wanton.” James hisses. He closes the distance between your body and his and kisses you sensually. You are not the only one who’s desire runs hot.

[kneamet]

James Nicholls gives reader (James locked her in the room) a Christmas present with a cute smile. She doesn't want his gift. James is hurt and tells her that she will be trapped in this room until she is thankful for his present.

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere, forced.

Word Count: 2098

Character: James Nicholls/reader

Summary: James just wanted to give you a Christmas present, not expecting you to dislike it at all.

POV James

"This is going to be a great night," James thought. He was smiling. Today is definitely going to be a great day. A day that will have to do without any problems and quarrels.

Nicholls, being a rather emotional person, always succumbed to any quarrels. But to the extent of his character, he could also be in the first moments a person who would respond to any tense situation with a cold eye.

He always kept his worldview to himself. In a war in which he killed and the horrors of which he could not forget for many months, no one was interested in the opinion of the people. They said to do, so do it. You're a soldier. Follow the order.

In the regiment, he was not allowed to reveal himself as a person. No one but Major Stewart, his friend, who was practically everything to him, knew of his hobbies. That his talent and desires were directed not to war, but to art.

He was always very pleased and flattered by the paintings that great artists created. Their styles, unusual techniques.

However, James was always interested in one question: where do people involved in great art find the personal muses that inspire them? He always wanted to find the person who would inspire him and whom he might even love and cherish.

But the memories of the war all dampened his mood. They were like something that was unlikely to ever be forgotten or should be forgotten.

James closed his eyes. Fragments of memories flew before my eyes. Mud. Wounds. People. Death.

That wasn't what he wanted. That's not why he went to school and got the necessary knowledge. Not to die so easily. Yes, he could have shed blood for his country, but he didn't want to.

He thought this was the end. I thought about it until I saw a nice girl. You. You were so beautiful in his mind. He could do anything for you. You were his main manipulator, his life. He would cherish you for the rest of your life if you would only listen to him and agree to marry him.

But you were too innocent. Your fighting spirit and your moral values that all people are equal have always interested him. This is extremely interesting.

James greatly admired your clear, virginal mind, your kind and pure heart. He liked to compare you to literary heroines. He loved to read and his favorite character was Anna Karenina from the Russian novel by Leo Tolstoy. He often said that their characters were eerily similar.

The ex-soldier never thought about the fact that he wanted to become someone exalted or famous. His spirit was subject to the spirit of calm and evenly defined actions. Maybe after the war, he could work as an artist and sell paintings, or maybe work part-time at a police station. He would have a happy wife and some cute kids who would cheer him back from work.

Oh, he wanted that wish to come true. After the war, he really had a good job, but a wife... Well, as he understood it, she had no particular prospects of becoming his lover.

And that disappointed him. That girl, you, that he's in love with, doesn't love him? But why? You've spent so much time together. Or so it seemed to James. He didn't want to admit that you and he only saw each other twice.

He sighed and turned his gaze to the brown door he had been hovering in front of for some time. James has prepared a great gift for his beloved. She would have to like him.

Nicholls believed that most women were addicted to gifts. And this is quite natural. And before this gift, it is unlikely that anyone can resist.

He pressed the round handle and opened the door with a slight tremor in his legs. This day should be perfect. He smiled at the thought of how happy you'd be with your new Christmas present. A new book of Shakespeare's plays, along with a small pendant that had his picture and yours on it.

He looked around the room. She was just beautiful. This was exactly what he had imagined the room in which he would sleep with his beloved wife.

The walls were sky blue with small patterns. They went well with the gilded furniture he had purchased not so long ago on a former soldier's salary. The room was decorated in pastel colors. The main decoration of the walls were small, almost imperceptible paintings. They weren't distracted. On the white ceiling hung a small lamp that fit into the interior.

Next to the wall opposite James's standing, there was a bookcase filled with a huge number of books, both English classicism and Russian. You could even find American literature on the shelves.

Right in front of the door was the double bed on which his wife was so beautifully arranged.

He sighed slightly, trying not to draw your attention too much and giving you time to finish reading the page. You were so beautiful in that position. And this outfit! He was so pleasing to the soldier's keen eye. Your dress was simply impossibly simple, but no less beautiful. It was summer. The blue fabric that hugged your waist matched nicely with the lacy white sleeves that reached to your elbow.

He bit his lip, trying to stifle the groan he was trying to get out. You gave him an orgasm just by being there.

James was still a virgin. He promised that he would keep it and lose it only with his legal wife, who according to his criteria should also be clean. He didn't really like the fact that the boys from the academy and even Stuart were teasing him about it, but he understood that he didn't need to be provoked and just follow his principles.

He wanted so much to come up to you and interrupt you, to tell you that he was the only one you could pay attention to, but he knew that would be disrespectful to you. He wanted so much to fix that hair that was so carefully climbing on a clean forehead, or to kiss those lovely lips that you were so diligently licking.

***

He thought he had lost all hope. That he was the only survivor of his own regiment and Stewart's. Wounded, in ragged clothes, covered in blood, he walked, trying to reach some settlement.

He crawled, one less injured hand clinging to the muddy and wet grass. His entire uniform was covered in the mud and blood of his countrymen who had fought so desperately for their homeland and for its victory.

The man knew that his strength was running out. He had been crawling like this for a kilometer. His breathing was getting worse. My arm and legs were beginning to prick painfully. The right hand was in need of urgent assistance. He needed to get to the nearest house.

His only thought now was to take a single sip of water. My throat was uncomfortably sore. He hadn't eaten or drunk in about a day since they'd started attacking the Germans.

When he reached the nearest big oak, he leaned against it and put his aching hand on his legs, leaning his head back against the tree, which hurt his head unpleasantly.

He didn't remember how he'd blacked out or what. His forces simply surrendered the position. It was at that moment that he realized that it was not so terrible to die. It's just close your eyes and that's it. He would see his soldiers soon.

But still, he regretted that he could not realize his dream and become a famous artist, find a family by marrying the woman he loved, raise children and die happy in a house full of grandchildren.

War is a tough thing. Sometimes he didn't understand why his homeland had to fight the Germans. Why him? But they were not particularly opposed to the fact that the boy from whom he bought a horse, entered the ranks of the soldiers.

"Mister, wake up. Please, mister, don't die," came a soft and soft voice, with a rough edge to it. The man slightly, through force, opened one eye and looked at the girl sitting in front of him. At you.

Standing before him was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. A girl who looked like an angel. You were incredible. His artist's eye certainly wanted to express you on paper. Your expressively large eyes looked at him with universal tenderness. Your lips were slightly parted and your brows were furrowed.

He felt an extraordinary reaction. The fear, the exultation, the need and admiration? He found you extraordinarily beautiful.

Suddenly, an insignificant thought occurred to his bright head. He felt, heard, felt pain. Is he alive? Or is it just paradise? Paradise with its sweet angel.

The man's thin, pink-pale lips parted slightly and he tried to squeeze out something, but only a soft sigh came out.

He saw his angel flutter. As he opened his eyes. He saw you get up and start looking for something. He owl tried to speak, but could only utter a groan.

"Drink some water, sir," he parted his angel's lips and allowed her to pour him clear and silver water. "Are you feeling better?" he tried to nod. His angel, his savior, smiled at him and he whispered:

"I'm James, my angel."

***

POV You

You saw the way he looked at you. So gentle, so obsessive, so needy. His blue eyes looked at you as if they were seeing you for the first and last time. They studied you.

You shifted involuntarily on the fur-warm bed. Not that you liked the interior of the house, or rather you found it terrible. The walls were blue, battered, and obviously old. But at least the books made you happy. They were really wonderful. But the interior was the last thing that bothered you.

Most of all, it was hard for you to think that this innocent, beautiful man with such charming eyes had become obsessed with you. He believed that you were in love with him, that you were happy to be his wife.

But apparently James didn't understand your rejection. In your opinion, he didn't accept rejection at all, but he followed orders, so he could easily be manipulated. Especially now. But your desire to be free and live with the person you love was simply impossible. He responded to such statements and requests of yours with a strict no, from which your body shivered.

You didn't know how to justify his need for you. Perhaps because you were his hope, the only person who saved him from torment and impending death. But that's all the excuses you've found.

You knew he was waiting for the moment to give you a Christmas present. You saw that distant look he gave you when he remembered something. Most likely, their first meeting.

You coughed, trying to get his attention. He flinched and looked up from the polished floor to look at you. You swallowed and put away the book you'd been reading.

Nicholls moved closer to the bed you were sitting on. You saw his shifty eyes and his bitten lip.

"My angel," he walked closer and sat on the edge of the made-up bed, taking your right hand in his. He ran his thumb over it and squeezed it lightly, looking up. "Merry Christmas," he held up his left hand and you saw a small box. He pursed his lips and handed it to you. You saw him smile. Maybe he thought you were happy with his gift, but you didn't really want to accept it, knowing how it could turn out.

You shook your head a little doubtfully, lowering your chin slightly. You didn't want to upset him, but you knew you couldn't accept a gift from a kidnapper.

Suddenly, the man's back straightened. The gentle gaze turned frowning. The hand clutched the unfortunate Christmas present. His knuckles were white, and the veins in his neck throbbed.

"I don't need your gift, James," her gaze became more intense. He stood up and straightened his shirt, placing a small box on the bedside table.

Taking a deep breath, he turned and headed for the exit. You raised your head, sending a puzzled look at his back. He turned to face you, holding the door open and leaning against the door frame.

"My angel, why are you looking at me like that? You just have to understand that you will stay in our room until you thank me with sincere gratitude for your gift, " he sent you a smile and closed the door. You've heard the deadbolt locked with a key. "I hope you've prepared a gift for me."

[screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms]

So, I just found a song called Travelin’ Solider by The Dixie Chicks and all I could think of was making a James Nicholls fic! Like for real, it is absolutely perfect for him! I think that will be a fic soon.

[amara-scott]

WAR HORSE

BACK TO FULL MASTERLIST

Captain James Nicholls x Reader

Come back to me. summary: Saying goodbye to your love so they can leave for war is hard but having to say goodbye twice is unbearable. Your kids grow up wondering why he isn’t there, making it harder to move on and keep living.

[ladyfloriographist]

Masterlist

Fics

Uncommonly Pretty (Ao3 link): Enola Holmes AU where Sherlock Holmes (Henry Cavill) and Dr John Watson (Tom Hiddleston) both fall for Reader (a seamstress newly arrived in London) - or Part 1 // Part 2 coming soon!

Valentine: Captain James Nicholls writes love letters to Reader from the Western Front

Working Girl: Dr Gregory House M.D. meets a younger, curvy Reader at a bar one night

Number 10: Tensions bubble over one night between Prime Minister Peter Laurence (Roadkill BBC 2020) and one of his aides–you!

Promises: Luca Changretta has kept Reader waiting all day, but he makes it up to you

Descent of Man: Commander Joseph Laurence x Reader in a Handmaid’s Tale AU

x

Prompts

Sherlock Holmes

Mycroft Holmes

Loki

Sir Thomas Sharpe

Jonathan Pine

Dr Robert Laing

Adam (OLLA)

[merakiaes]

WHAT I CURRENTLY WRITE AND DON’T WRITE

PAYMENT - COMMENTS EQUALS NEW CONTENT (PLEASE READ)

(Characters and fandoms for which requests are open are below the cut so if you don’t want to read the guidelines, you can just scroll down there. However, I do recommend you to at least skim through the “I don’t write”-section to make it easier for both of us!)

(IF YOU WANT TO REQUEST ME TO GIVE YOU A SHIP, SEE THIS SEPARATE POST)

MY ONLY RULE:

If you make a request, anonymous or not, you have to leave a comment on your fic. (Read more about why here.) Even better would be if you reblogged it to help get my work out to more readers!, but I will settle with a comment if you, for some reason, don’t want to reblog. 

This means there should always be a minimum of one comment under every requested fic I post - if I see that this isn’t being followed, I’m going to stop writing requests. Simple as that.

With that said, don’t bother requesting if you’re not ready to make this exchange because that’s just unpaid work. 

I DON’T WRITE:

Smut.

Songfics.

Headcanons.

Specified and inappropriate/illegal age gaps. Example, an underage student and an adult teacher.

Specified body types.

Body image issues & ED’s.

Male reader.

POC reader.

Specified physical features. (Hair colors, eye colors, etc.)

I try to stay as neutral to physical appearance as I possibly can so that everyone gets an equal chance at emerging themselves into the role, no matter the reader’s ethnicity, height, build, and so on.

Writing plus size!reader and writing about eating disorders and body immage issues is too triggering for me as I, myself, struggle with body dysmorphia on a daily basis.

TO THINK ABOUT WHEN REQUESTING:

Don’t be too vague with your request. For example, a request asking for a fic where “the reader is a character x’s sister”, or "the reader is shy” or”sassy”, is not enough for me to go on. I need a scenario, a plot, an action, an endgame, or a dialogue prompt.

Contrary to the previous point; don’t make requests with too much detail or too long of a timeline, either. I don’t have the energy nor time to write requests that are spread out over eternity and that would end up being as long as a novel.

When requesting prompts from my prompt-lists, ALWAYS include the number and name of the list, not just the quote. The lists you can request for are the following:

Fluff Angst Smut Kiss Hug Common tropes

Don’t get pissy if you request something and I kindly tell you that I don’t write that kind of thing, whatever it may be. I’ve had to deal with this a lot lately and it’s really annoying. All writers have their own, individual preferences, and that’s their right.

Keep in mind all that is written above, and feel free to send several requests if you want to guarantee that you get at least one of them done - some things are easier to write than others and I always appreciate having requests to pick from depending on my mood and current motivation.

Requests are currently open for the following fandoms and characters. Please send in requests!

CRIMINAL MINDS

Spencer Reid

Aaron Hotchner

Derek Morgan

Luke Alvez

Emily Prentiss

Penelope Garcia

Matt Simmons

Will LaMontagne

Clyde Easter

MARVEL

Tony Stark

Steve Rogers

Peter Parker (Tom Holland & Andrew Garfield)

Loki Laufeyson

Scott Lang

Bucky Barnes

Stephen Strange

Jack Thompson

Bruce Banner

Eddie Brock

Helmut Zemo

Darcy Lewis

Daniel Sousa

Logan Howlett

Natasha Romanoff

Sam Wilson

Nathan Summers

Pietro Maximoff (Aaron Taylor-Johnson)

TWILIGHT

Paul Lahote

Leah Clearwater

Edward Cullen

Charlie Swan

Mike Newton

TEEN WOLF

Derek Hale

Jordan Parrish

Peter Hale

STAR WARS

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Kylo Ren

Ben Solo

Armitage Hux

Anakin Skywalker

Poe Dameron

Padmé Amidala

Young Han Solo

STRANGER THINGS

Steve Harrington

Billy Hargrove

Jim Hopper

REIGN

Sebastian “Bash” de Poitiers

Leith Bayard

Louis Condé

James Stewart

Darnley

Prince Henri

Claude

Mary Stuart

THE WITCHER

Geralt of Rivia

Jaskier

PRISON BREAK

Lincoln Burrows

Alexander Mahone

KONG: SKULL ISLAND

James Conrad

Reg Slivko

Earl Cole

TRANSFORMERS

William Lennox

Sam Witwicky

Robert Epps

DIVERGENT

Eric Coulter

Peter Hayes

Tobias Eaton

HARRY POTTER

Fred Weasley

Draco Malfoy

George Weasley

Cedric Diggory

Remus Lupin (young & adult)

Hermione Granger

Bill Weasley

Ron Weasley

Neville Longbottom

Severus Snape

GAME OF THRONES

Sandor Clegane

Jorah Mormont

Edd Tollett

Jon Snow

Gendry Baratheon

Jaime Lannister

Sansa Stark

TRIPLE FRONTIER

Ben Miller

William “Ironhead” Miller

Francisco “Catfish” Morales

Santiago “Pope” Garcia

Tom “Redfly” Davis

PEAKY BLINDERS

Tommy Shelby

Arthur Shelby

John Shelby

Finn Shelby

Alfie Solomons

Ada Shelby

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN

James Norrington

Will Turner

Jack Sparrow

THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE

Luke Crain

Steve Crain

Theo Crain

MISCELLANEOUS

Dan Torrence (Doctor Sleep)

Detective David Loki (Prisoners)

Floyd Lawton (Arrow)

Smitty Ryker (Hacksaw Ridge)

Captain James Nicholls (War Horse)

Sam Drake (Uncharted)

Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead)

Rick Flag (Suicide Squad)

Nathan Prescott (Life Is Strange)

Sweet Pea (Riverdale - first season only)

Jace Wayland (The Mortal Instruments, 2013)

Murtagh Morzansson (Eragon)

Jason Lee Scott (Power Rangers, 2017)

Jesse Zeklos (Vampire Academy)

Matt Campbell (The Haunting in Connecticut)

Nick Jones (House of Wax)

Ludovica Storti (Baby)

Reid Garwin (The Covenant)

Tyler Simms (The Covenant)

Fezco (Euphoria)

Feel free to reblog this to spread the word!

[burberrybaby]

ʚ 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨 ɞ

rules and guidelines for requesting a fic! please read through it all before sending me a request. anonymous requests are completely okay as well.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭

your request must be sent as an ask! you can choose whether or not to remain anonymous, and even assign yourself an emoji so i can identify who’s sending the requests.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝

in your request, i encourage to send a few things in the ask. one of which is a pairing, or whom you want me to write for (eg. chris evans x actress!reader or johnathon pine x woc!reader.) sending in a prompt or gif is also very helpful for me for while i’m writing the fic for you, as i can add them in.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐧𝐨’𝐬

if your ask includes a topic i am uncomfortable writing for, i will reject your request. a few things i will not write a fic for include non-con, watersports, and anal. a few i am picky about writing include dub-con, dark topics, and certain au’s.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫

chris evans, andy barber, ransom drysdale, steve rogers, johnny storm, (hayden) harvard hottie, ryan (cellular.)

tom hiddleston, loki laufeyson, thomas sharpe, jonathan pine, james conrad, captain james nicholls (war horse,) doctor robert laing.

bucky barnes, charles blackwood, lance tucker, sheriff bodecker, jefferson (once upon a time.)

anthony mackie, sam wilson, bernard garret, king (the hate u give,) captain leo, adrian doorbal (pain & gain.)

henry cavill, clark kent, geralt of rivia (the witcher,) sherlock holmes.

any other mcu character, a few obx characters

if a character or actor you’d like to request for is not on this list, just ask about them!

❀ 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 ❀

[smolvenger]

Miss Narracott and The Captain- Chapter Eight Finale (!)

Fandom: War Horse

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of sex, death, and violence but nothing brutal other than one brief mention that gets a bit vivid. But LOTS of fluff and emotions and crying and hugging. A Happy Ending.

Chapter Word Count: 3K

Series Summary: It is 1914. You are Y/N Narracott, the older sister of Albert Narracott. You must do what you can so your family can keep their farm. And so your brother can keep his beloved horse. Under financial struggles, you never expect romance to come into your life...until you have a chance encounter with James Nicholls- a Captain with a knack for drawing. But the threat of war lingers in the air...

Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five//Part Six//Part Seven

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

A/N: Thank you guys so much for sticking with this story for a character who we saw only briefly but deserved much more <3!! I hope you enjoy the finale!!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract

@eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @infinitystoner @12-pm-510 @meowmeow-motherfucker

November, 1918

It was another long day at the hospital. Not another overnight, but still long. You had an hour to go for your time, as you checked the clock. You headed over to make sure there was a glass of water on each bedside table.

It was simple training. It didn’t take long to get a First Aid and Home Nursing certification. They gave you a uniform of a white cap, a dark dress, and a white apron with a red cross stitched over the chest. Your first days as a VAD were full of fixing cups of tea and changing sheets.

But by now you had sewn flesh together. You had seen men die with their eyes open. You had seen infections that made you feel queasy to look at. Once, you were asked to hold down a man’s leg as it was amputated. You never forgot his screams. They rung in your nightmares for a week. Compared to that, sewing together flesh was easy. Many of the other volunteers were women from families who were not accustomed to hard work. They were in for a large shock and were forced to adaptation. Only a few came from labor or farms, as you did,and could tolerate work for long hours. But it was as if the sight of death had bonded and toughened you all.

With the young men in town away to fight, it was mostly women you ran into. They were glad and grateful friends. Your weekly knitting club for the troops led to much baked goods, playful gossip, released sobs, and vulnerable confessions. You valued the women you met and befriended in your circles, your fellow VAD’s, and neighbors and new in-laws.

But none of them could replace James, of course. James with his occasional visits when he was discharged- visits that ended too soon every time. James with his constant, beautiful letters filled with sketches. Just the last one read.

“My dear Mrs. Nicholls,

Joey is doing well. He’s as fit and stubborn and spirited as can be, no wonder he’s lasted so long. He’s racing alongside Topthorn-not that I’m too surprised about the speed of his gallop. Jaimie sends you his love and good wishes as well.

 I’ve been thinking of you in Somerset. Of the reward to come-to come back to my wife, to come back to you. I hope you recall the Teddy Bear I sent you for your birthday. Yes, it is a children’s toy, but when you miss me, you may embrace him as you would me and kiss him on his head as you would me.  It is a bit of love I send back to you to console you. At least until I can return to your arms and kisses for real.

Do not think of me as less of a man, but I confess, that is what moves me- a future of ours. A house of our own.  Children of our own playing around the living room and getting into trouble. We can play music on the phonograph all we want without the cacophony of guns around us. We will laugh and talk over any silly old thing over every meal. Then we’ll go to bed, and I’ll take you as I did in the grass and we’ll make love without any fear or shame, only how much we adore each other…”

But now it was not only James and Joey you had to worry about. That first year, Albert ran off to join the army. When you found out, you ran to your parents and sobbed as you hugged them. Only sometimes you got a letter from him and you would press your parents for updates.

It only pushed you to work harder as a VAD and take it seriously. Knowing these soldiers groaning in their beds were someone else’s James or Albie. That someone was going to lose their husband or brother or son. And if you hurried and focused on the tasks at hand, you could help save someone’s life. That was what was on your mind when one of the doctors walked into the room.

“Everyone, there is an announcement- all staff must hurry into the lobby,” he declared.

Finishing pouring the last glass of water, you set the pitcher on a table and hurried there. All of you gathered in your uniforms, heads turning with whispers of what it could be. The head of the hospital stood there in the center of the room with a newspaper, he took off his spectacles to face you all. There were tears in his brown eyes.

“Everyone…England is going to sign an armistice this month with Germany and the other countries on the eleventh of this month. It will be the last day of fighting. In short, the war is about to end.”

There was silence. You could hear a few gasps. Every bit of you was vibrating and the breath in your lungs stopped. Finally, there was a cheer and an applause that broke out. Your colleagues wrapped their arms around you and hugged you and you hugged back.

You couldn’t believe it. Had it all been so fast? Yet so slow? It’s over…it’s over…the war is finally over!

But, from that last letter…James sent it just last month. Things could have changed. He still could have been killed! Or Albert too! All you had to do was wait for a final letter or telegram. One last one and it would confirm if James and Albert survived. Or not. In your heart, the war was not yet done. Just a few more days of fear…then it would be settled.

November 11th arrived, and the bells of the church rang louder than any Christmas you had seen. People danced in the streets, threw confetti, and cheered. There was no telegram. But no letter either.  You shook every time the mail was delivered that month. But nothing crucial so far. 

You were enjoying one of your free days eating luncheon with Mr. and Mrs. Nicholls. There was a knock on the door that made you jump.

“This isn’t when the postman arrives- it’s two hours early. Are we expecting visitors?” asked Mr. Nicholls.

“No, Mrs. Hayter isn’t arriving until tomorrow…” Mrs. Nicholls answered.

“I’ll get it,” you offered, getting out of your chair.

As you took a few steps closer to the door, you heard a sound.

A whinny. A horse’s whinny. A very familiar horse’s whinny. A whinny you had not heard since…since…

Your steps to the door became a run. You threw it open and let out a scream at the sight.

It was James in his now dirtied green uniform. He was standing outside leading Joey by the leash and giving you a salute. Without another word, you ran towards him, almost tackling him into a hug.

“James…James…is it you? Please tell me if this is real! Please-please tell me it’s you!” you begged, your voice breaking into tears.

You felt a hand reach your back. You could smell him, feel him, and hear that voice you loved so much.

“Yes, my darling…it’s me…and I’m not leaving anywhere, I’m staying with you for a very long time…” he answered.

There were footsteps and a shout from his parents behind you. You grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss. He smelt of wind and the smoke of travel as well as the horse and could feel his hands wrap around your back. You hugged him again and began to sob into his uniform, not caring anymore if it stained. He wrapped his arms around you and hugged you back so tight. Then he let go and greeted his parents, taking off his cap. Mrs. Nicholls kissed her son’s face a dozen times. Mr. Nicholls was weeping so badly his back shook as he hugged his son, James let him cry and rocked him as he stood. Assuring him, “it’s alright, father-I’m here. I’m back…”

You then turned to Joey and hugged his muzzle. The younger colt in the Narracott farm would have run away the second his leash was freed. But Joey, now a beautiful stallion in his own right, stood still. He accepted you just as he did the last day you saw him.

“I missed you, old boy. I missed you so much! I’m glad you made it- I’m so glad! Albie’s missed you most of all-he’ll be beside himself!”  you whispered to the horse.

You kissed his long snout with its white diamond. He leaned back into you as if to hug you back.

To think, James was back home. Every single neighbor visited to see him all afternoon.  Already at dinner, he was here to eat and compliment the cook. He finished his plate, cupping his wine in his large hand with one palm.

 “Good God, I’ve missed all of you so much…the things I’ve seen…things I’ve heard…I don’t know if I can be in another war after this…” he said.

“This one is over…it’s all bad memories, James…you can rest now…” Mrs. Nicholls said.

“And how is the prettiest volunteer in England? I hope she can rest as well?” James asked, turning to you.

“I was thinking…I do like being a part of the VAD…if they still need help, I’ll volunteer…”

“Oh, of course you can, Mrs. Nicholls,” he replied with a smile.

“You can always tell us what you saw…what was it like-fighting?” your mother-in-law questioned.

James became still and his face was white.

“I saw everything ….my first battle, I saw a man blasted to pieces-his guts flying from the shot of a machine gun…”

He opened up as much as he could. The horrors and violence he had seen. The deaths too many to name. A friend one day was a corpse the next hour. All of you were silent as he recounted.

Both of you planned to return Joey to the Devon farm tomorrow. You both laid in bed after dinner. Too tired for anything more than simply holding each other. You put your fingers through his blonde-red hair. Traced each feature of his to memorize it.

“You didn’t fool around with some French girl, I hope!” you huffed.

His voice was earnest.

“I swear on my grandfather’s grave, there were no girls from any country anywhere near me all that time! Jaimie will tell you likewise…Y/N…may I confide something to you?” he asked.

“Yes…”

“I remembered the promise I made you when I left. When it started…”

“Yes, I recall, my dear…”

He turned over to you. Adjusting himself on the pillow so he lay right in front of you. You retreated your hands.

“I kept it. I talked to my superiors. Told them we needed to consider the German’s weaponry and plan accordingly. At first, they said no. I asked them again. They said no again. Then another major came in. He agreed. Then the more they talked to, the more it was agreed. Like common sense. They got permission. They sent spies. We fought with guns when we knew there’d be guns…no surprise attacks. Nothing without strict preparation and knowledge…”

“Did you ever charge your calvary?” you asked. You shifted to be in the blankets from the cold November night.

“Only a few times. But, Y/N, I remembered…I remembered you. And I did my best to survive without disobeying orders. Somehow…well, to be honest, I never went against major orders and even then, I don’t think I was ever caught to be killed as a traitor! But I survived. I thought of you…of how sad you were and how you told me you didn’t want to spend your life a widow. I wanted to keep my word…”

He swallowed. You saw one tear in the duct of his eye.

“You did, James, you did…”

He took both of your hands. He smiled down, seeing you both still wore your wedding bands. Then he placed a kiss on them.

“I wanted to thank you, Y/N…if it wasn’t for that…for you, your promise-if I never met you, never loved you, never married you…I don’t know if I’d be here…” he confided.

You gave him a kiss on the lips. It was probably your fiftieth of the day. But after four years of deprivation, you were glad to be caught up. You positioned him to rest against your chest, wrapping your arms around him.

“My parent’s will cry when they see you tomorrow…when they see Joey, too. We’ll have to ask them if they heard any word on Albie…I can only pray he’s alive now,” you said.

“He’s a natural soldier. There’s a chance he did…” James mused.

You stared up at the white ceiling. The house creaked with the nighttime settling over it.

“To think, James, we have one part of our lives ending. Now there’s a new one. No guns, no violence. A peacetime-just beginning….”

He got up from how you held him, then pulled the blankets over the both of you.

“As long as that peacetime is with you, then it will be worth it…” he said with a smile.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

April 1920. A year and almost a half later.

A new spring was born to match the new decade. Today, it was the perfect temperature of not too hot and not too cold. The tulips, daisies, and crocuses were in bloom everywhere. The field between Somerset and Devon was stunning. You noticed how it rolled on as James drove the motorcar down to visit your family. The brown rabbits hopped around the fields. The river, Innocent’s grove, was such a bright blue it seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. Soon it turned to the wide, sloping streets of your hometown. You waved hello to your old shop friends- Mary, Ida, and Alice all had found loves, marriages, or occupations of their own and were smiling. Of course, you made a quick stop to admire the painting of your husband in the town hall. On one corner, you could read its inscription.

’Joey’- Cpn. Nicholls, Fall, 1918.

All of you then finished the drive to the Narracott farm for a picnic.

Your family, along with a much alive Albert, welcomed you each. You, your husband, and baby sitting up in your arms. She thankfully didn’t make one cry the whole trip!

Dressed in her little white frock and little tufts of hair that looked just like yours, Little Rose Nicholls was the picture of infant health. Named after her grandmother, your mother.

There was never a happier night than when she arrived.  She was born in October of 1919. She arrived and cried her first cry when the clock struck eleven. James ran up to the room the second he was allowed, and her crying calmed down when he held the small baby in a white bundle. He teared up and kissed her forehead, never letting her go until she needed to be fed.

James told you he was glad he survived the war just for that day. He got to live to have her, to see her, to hold her in his arms, to love her.

The newly crowned Uncle Albert took her in his arms and blew a raspberry on her cheek. She turned with wide eyes.

“Can we introduce her to Joey?! I don’t think they’ve met yet!” he offered.

“Yes, of course we can!” you said.

Out all of you walked to the backyard. Harold still waddled about. The War To End All Wars came and went and Harold was still biting everyone’s legs. He did make a few threatening nips of his beak that made Rosie a little scared and she cried. But she stopped when they passed him, and you approached Joey’s field.

“Oof- she’s already getting’ heavy!” Albert commented. “She’s a big girl now!”

“Here, let me have her,” James offered.

Her father scooped her into his arms. Albert whistled like an owl as Joey trotted closer, swishing his long, black tail.

Would Joey make a sudden noise to frighten her? No. The creature seemed to know that she was young and had to approach her with gentleness. How incredible animals had a sense like that, Albert would say! Joey slowed his steps and moved his nuzzle close. Only his breath tickling her cheek.

“Here-this is a horse. His name is Joey, darling. What do you think?” James asked, holding her up and closer to the animal.

Her eyes went wide, and she made a small coo. Joey leaned forward. She reached out a grubby hand and touched his nose, petting him.

“There…there’s my girl, Rosie, you pet him like that,” James nudged.

She kept reaching for him, petting him again and again. Then Joey got out his large, pink tongue and licked her hand. Rose Nicholls smiled and began squealing in delight. Joey let her pet him with her grubby hands. And once she was done, he turned away. James carried her over to show her the farm and the animals.

“Here’s the garden mummy grew up in. She’d see rabbits eating her flowers, like the naughty rabbit eating the vegetable garden in your storybook! If you look, we might see one!”

You couldn’t help but smile. Your daughter was worth every sleepless night and disgusting diaper. James was always there by your side to help you. He knew your child needed her father as much as she needed her mother. In fact, he was already beginning to spoil her! A room in your new house dedicated to her nursery. It had the teddy bear in her cradle as well as any little cloth dolly and book and dress he would splurge on for her.

James decided to retire from being a soldier. The War to End All Wars had done too much for him to endure another. Sometimes he even awoke from a nightmare or jumped at a loud sound. He did find work as a schoolteacher. His gentle authority and calm voice of reason was one his students adored him for. And it meant you could still volunteer as a VAD on weekends. He would grade his papers next to Rosie’s cradle in the evening.

You turned around to see Albert smoothing the corners of the picnic blanket out on the grass. Your father brought over a picnic basket. He looked healthy and cheery-he told you he was going to quit drinking and was on his second month without a sip.

“Here! Foods ready! While it’s hot everyone!” Your mother announced, bringing out the savory pie, fresh from the oven.

All of you sat on the blanket. James handed you little Rosie as you sat down. You bounced her on your lap. James made you a plate and passed you yours. Savory pie, sliced bread, berries, cheese, and fresh produce and jam cake too.

Then your father lifted a glass of lemonade.

“Here-let’s have a toast, eh?”

 You all lifted a glass with your free hand.

“Here-to us. Our family!” he cried.

“To us!” all of you repeated.

James turned to you and clinked your glass again.

“And our little family as well,” he cheered.

“To the three of us,” you agreed.

You received him with a peck on the lips. Then all of you began to help yourselves. Rosie herself was beginning to enjoy the small bits of bread you gave her. She gave a laugh like music and you, and James beamed at her. You took a deep breath. Enjoying the spring weather and the picnic with both families. The one who raised you and the one you had. A family, a happy life full of peace with a living husband who loved you.  

[lulubelle814]

In Every Life - Part 1

Summary: Two souls destined for each other, but life has other plans. Will they find each other and have their happy ending?

In Every Life

Masterlist

It was late September of 1883 when they met.  Some would call it kismet.  Others destiny.  The miserable ones would call it coincidence. He needed to go into London for a few weeks to work on some business prospects and handle some estate matters with his lawyer.  Lucille stayed back as she did not care to leave home but was not happy to be without her brother for so long. 

Josephine and her mother were on their way to the hospital when she had a sudden dizzy spell, causing her to fall to the street but found herself saved by a beautiful stranger, rescuing her from being hit by a carriage riding too close to the sidewalk.

"Are you alright?" her mother inquired.

"I'm alright mother, thanks to this kind gentleman." She was shy and blushing, unbelieving that she made a fool of herself in front of this handsome man. 

Her mother looked at him, thanking him profusely. "You may have saved her life, mister…."

"Sharpe, Thomas Sharpe, baronet, madame."

"Thank you so very much, Lord Sharpe. I am Victoria Morrow, and this is my daughter, Josephine. How can I ever repay you?"

His words failed him as he locked eyes with Josephine. In that moment, he felt as if there was something linking his heart to hers.  His heart, nay his soul, screamed to not let this beguiling creature to depart from him.  

Unbeknownst to him, Josephine was similarly affected. 

He responded to her mother without looking away from Josephine.  "There is no need, madame. I am more than happy to assist."  Josephine smiled at him causing his heart to skip with joy.  "If it is not too forward, might you be available for dinner this evening Ms. Josephine?" He held his breath, praying she would accept his offer. 

The way her name rolled off his tongue could soothe an angry lion, and she would do anything to hear him say it again.  Looking at her mother for approval before answering, she said, "I would love that." They let him know where they were staying, advising he would pick her up at 7 pm.

That evening, he arrived promptly on time, having arranged a carriage to drive them to a nice restaurant he knew nearby. His breath escaped him as she descended the stairs, thinking her to be an angel descended from the heavens in a beautiful dark blue dress.  “You look breathtaking.”

Josephine found her heart beating so loud thinking he must be able to hear it.  Blushing, she reminded herself to breathe before taking his arm.  “Thank you Lord Sharpe.”

“Thomas, please.”  He wanted nothing more than to run away with her to some far off place or at least back to his home.  

She nodded.  “Thomas.  You look very dapper yourself.”

She scolded herself.  ‘Dapper?  That’s the best you can come up with?’

“Shall we?”  He held out his arm which she took.  He aimed towards the door, and she followed him, a willing captive.  When entering the carriage, it took all his strength to tell the driver to take them to the restaurant rather than what his head and heart were telling him.

At dinner, they exchanged stories. He told her the joke about why his estate is called Crimson Peak.

"That sounds extraordinary."

"It is fascinating but sometimes also a bit macabre when someone walks around and leaves what looks like bloody footprints."

"That must be a sight to behold. Oh how I wish I could see that." She froze. She had not meant to be so bold and admit that last part, but he simply smiled and said, "I would love for you to see it. You are most welcome to come observe the sight any time you wish."

She felt a bit relieved. They continued to talk and walked leisurely back to her hotel as they did not want the night to end. 

"I would very much like to see you again tomorrow, if that is alright?"  He didn't want to let her go, yearning to whisk her back to Allerdale as his. 

"I would like that as well. My mother and I have an appointment, but we should be back by 1."

"1 o'clock it is. I look forward to it." He smiled, taking her hand in his and placed a kiss across her knuckles before departing. 

Arriving at her room, she found her mother was pulling out the metallic syringe and an opaque bottle of liquid. "Did you have fun?"

She smiled and nodded. "He's wonderful and incredibly kind. He has asked to see me again tomorrow when we get back.”

"I see no problem with that at all, my dearest daughter, but it’s time for your medicine."

Josephine was not a fan of needles, but her mother insisted it would help with her deteriorating health.

When she awoke the next day, the front desk brought flowers that had been delivered early that morning. 

My Dearest Josephine,

These flowers pale in comparison to your beauty. I very much look forward to seeing you again today. 

Sir Thomas Sharpe

She placed them by her bedside, smiling like a loon. Her left hand began to shake and held it with her right to help control the tremors.

The visit at the hospital took longer than anticipated as they wanted to run a few tests to get a diagnosis as they felt they were close. By the time they arrived back at their hotel, it was half past 1.

Thomas waited patiently in the lobby. He had not been to the hospital much but knew appointments of any nature could run longer than expected.  When she arrived flustered, he tried to give an air of calm and understanding. 

"I'm so sorry."

"It's quite alright. No need to explain. If you need to take a moment to freshen up, I am happy to wait."

Josephine appreciated his offer and went up to her room to fix herself quickly and was back down ten minutes later. She was sure to wear a dress with a larger skirt to help hide the tremors in her legs that were becoming more frequent.

He took her to a shop that prepared a picnic basket for them which they took to a nearby park. He laid everything out on the blanket, and they spent the afternoon enjoying each other's company, talking about various things such as nature, science, hopes, dreams.  Before they knew it, evening fell upon them, the picnic food gone hours before. 

"Would you like me to escort you back to your hotel?"

She felt a pang of disappointment, not wanting to leave just yet. As if he could read her mind, "or, perhaps, we could get some dinner?"

Thomas wasn't ready to take her back but feared she might be tired of him. He hoped she might accept his second offer, his heart almost refusing to beat.

"Dinner sounds delightful."

Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief, his heart relieved.  As she went to stand up, the tremors began again, causing her to lose her footing; however, Thomas caught her before she fell to the ground.  She tried to brush it off.  “I’m so sorry.  My legs must have fallen asleep.”  She smiled.  “Not to worry.  I’ll help you to the restaurant.  It’s nearby.”  She took his arm, using it to steady herself, trying her best to ignore the looming headache.

They continued to enjoy one another's company through dinner and dessert, not realizing the late hour while looking at the stars in the park until they arrived back at her hotel to her frantic mother who calmed the moment she saw her daughter was with Sir Thomas. 

"Thank you so much for escorting my daughter. It appears she had a lovely time." This caused Josephine to blush profusely. 

"My apologies for keeping her so late. I do so much enjoy spending time with her."  He couldn't help but shyly smile as he spoke.   “If your mother permits, I would love to see you again.”

“That would be lovely,” she said, trying to hide the pain from her headache that seemed to only be getting worse.

“Would tomorrow be too soon?”  He was hopeful she’d agree.  It was too soon, but if he could, he would see her every day; however, he did not want to scare her, unsure if she felt the same.  Little did he know, she did.  As much as she loved her mother, she wanted adventures with him.  She’d run off with him at that very moment if she weren’t worried about leaving her mother alone.  Maybe he’d allow her to come with them?  Or would he disappear when learning of her declining health? ‘No, Josephine.  You mustn’t let your heart get ahead of your mind.  Perhaps he merely wants company while he is in town.’

Taking her hand, he turned it, kissing her palm and felt her hand shaking a bit but brushed it off, believing she was likely as nervous as he.  

Arriving back to her room, her mother was ready to give the next dose of medicine.  “Do we have to, mother?  How many more of these treatments must I endure?”

Her mother approached with caution.  “It is only for your benefit.  Do you not wish to be well?”

She sighed in defeat.  “Yes, mother.  It’s just that the treatments have become more difficult to handle.  I just want to be well and hope the doctors here can find a solution.”

“I am sure they will, but in the meantime, you need to continue this course of treatment.  The doctors have not been opposed to it, and I feel it has slowed down at the least.  I am truly sorry for how difficult this has been for you, but it’s not any easier watching you be forced to endure.  You are a strong, capable woman.  As your mother, I only want to see you succeed.”

Josephine relented and allowed her mother to administer the needle treatment.

“I must also say this.  Sir Thomas seems like a capable young man, but I am not sure he is right for you.  I fear he may take advantage of you due to your health.  I do not believe I can abide his visits much longer.  I want to see you happy, but I also want you to be safe.”  She put the needle away with the future treatments, placing them in the drawer of her nightstand.

She rubbed her arm at the injection site, momentarily forgetting her headache.  “I know, mother, but there is just something about him that I cannot explain.  I feel connected to him on a spiritual level, and if he were to propose tomorrow, I would say yes, but….”

Sitting on her bed, her mother looked nervous.  “But what, Josephine?”

“But I fear leaving you alone.  Father passed so long ago, and I do not want you to feel as if I am attempting to abandon you, but I feel I must follow my heart.  I am hoping, perhaps, that if he does propose, that you may come to live with us.  I know.  I’m getting ahead of myself.  Just wishful thinking.”

Her mother moved over next to her, holding her from the side.  “Darling daughter.  I am in awe of your desire to see me happy, and I feel the same for you.  I just………..want you to be safe.  The thought of you running off with that man scares me.  There is just something about his countenance I cannot trust.  I mean, what do we really know about him?”

She knew her mother was right.  She was always right, but something in the back of her mind said her mother was wrong about this.

As he walked back to his hotel, he could not stop thinking about the feel of her hand, the honeysuckle smell drifting off her hair.  He knew what needed to be done.  Once back in his room, he pulled out a pen and parchment.

My Dearest Sister,

Please forgive my neglect of you. I have been so thoroughly occupied of late, and have so very much to tell you. Foremost, that I send you my love and sincerest well wishes for you in my absence.  All is well here, I have been meeting with Mr. Westridge regarding the estate. He has been kind enough to assist in clarifying the terms of the paperwork so we have nearly concluded our business; however, I must confess that, while I do miss you, I am not eager to return home just yet.

I have had the absolute pleasure of meeting a most outstanding lady.  Her name is Josephine.  She is here in town with her mother.  With her mother’s permission, I escorted her to dinner.  She is such a remarkable woman.  She gazes fondly at the stars as if they were her dearest friends.   I showed her the constellations of Perseus and Andromeda, telling her their tale.  Dear sister, I would slay every beast in the world just to stand in her presence.

She adores reading the poets and makes spirited defenses and criticisms of every page she consumes.  She listens tirelessly to my myriad mechanical ramblings and discusses my ideas with a curious and open mind. Never has a woman taken such an intellectual interest in my work. I must admit that while her face caught my attention, it was her mind that has kept my interest.  

Oh, how I wish you were here to help guide me through this.  The very sight of her makes my heart flutter.   This strange feeling is beyond my comprehension, yet I do not wish for it to dissipate.  What must I do, dear sister?  Please, I beg for your guidance in this matter.

Your loving brother,

Thomas

Sealing the letter, he called upon the front desk to have the letter delivered to his sister, eager for a response as he was eager for his sister’s council.  They ensured him that short of unexpected, disastrous weather, they would have the letter delivered post haste.

While a cold cloth to her forehead helped alleviate her headache, Josephine suffered another night of unrest.  Rather than toss and turn, she quietly took out her diary to write, always addressing her entries to her father as it helped her feel close to him even though she never had the opportunity to meet him as he passed shortly after she was born.

Dear Father,

I must tell you of the noble gentleman who came to my rescue yesterday.  His name is Sir Thomas Sharpe.  I felt faint and began to stumble, but he saved me before I could be injured.  Dearest father, he is an angel, both in action and countenance.  When our eyes met, I knew in that instant he was my soulmate.

I know you never truly believed in soulmates and love at first sight, but I felt whole for the first time in my life.  I thought for so long that the missing piece of my soul occurred when you passed.  I realize now that the missing piece was him.  The cracks running deep to my core now feel as if they are mending each time we meet.

Father, I know you would approve of him.  We share similar interests.  He loves to read, star gaze, dance, and invent.  Yes!  He’s an inventor!  His mind creates these extraordinary ideas for machines.  His latest idea is for one that would make the harvesting of clay easier and more efficient with less likelihood for injury to the workers.  I find myself completely fascinated when he spoke of it

My first hesitation is mother.  I do not wish for her to feel abandoned.  She seemed amenable to come with me to Thomas’ estate, should he propose.  I have only known him for two days, but I would marry him at this very moment should he ask.  I do not care if he has money or not.  If he does not have an estate then the ground where we lay would become our home and the stars our blanket.

My second hesitation is my health.  I have not yet told him of my ailments and am afraid to do so.  My fears tell me he will reject me, not wanting an ill spouse, but my soul tells me he will not care.

I know not else how to describe this feeling, but I cannot deny it.  Mother reminds me that a lady does not openly express her feelings to a gentleman.  I wish you could meet him, see him as I do, but I know you watch over me.  

I also fear that I have created this imaginary scene in my mind, that my heart has overruled my mind to the point where I live in fantasy.

I beg of you for your help, courage, and wisdom to know what to do.  I miss you so much.

Your loving daughter,

Josephine

Putting her journal away, she climbed back into bed.  It was another hour before she was finally able to sleep.  

The following morning, Thomas readied himself, going by the florist first.  Looking for the perfect flowers, he looked for ones that might be worthy of her presence.  Once he found them, he paid the proprietor and left swiftly to her hotel and waited for her patiently in the lobby.

Josephine was lost in a fitful slumber, but her mother was awake and ready, knowing Sir Thomas would be arriving shortly.  Descending the stairs, she saw him holding the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen.

“Good morning Ms. Morrow!  How are you this fine morning?”  The joy in his face was evident to any who saw him.

“Good morning, Lord Sharpe!  I am well, but I’m afraid Josephine is still resting.  Her rest was very troubling last night, which is to be expected.”  

“I am so sorry to hear that, but I do hope she is well.  Do you know when she might awaken?”  He was very eager to see her.

“I could not say, but I do not wish to disturb her as her health has been poor, especially as of late.  I will ensure she receives these.”  

When she put her hands forward, he hesitated.  “I would be happy to wait until she is awake as I would live to give these to her myself.  I must confess.  I am eager to see her again.”  He wanted to see her so much, even if for a moment.  

“I cannot say when she may awaken and feel well enough for a visitor, but I assure you I will take these directly upstairs.”  Reluctantly, he handed her the bouquet.  

“I thank you for doing so.  If there is anything I might do to aid in her recovery, please do let me know.  I am very……..fond of her.”  He could not help but blush.

“You are too kind, Lord Sharpe.  We are fond of you as well.”  He smiled at her response.  

“Please do not hesitate to call upon me should there be anything I can do to assist in her recovery.”

He waited until Ms. Morrow disappeared up the stairs and out of view before taking his leave.

As her mother returned, she found her daughter to be awake and brushing her hair.  Turning at the sound of the door, she saw the flowers her mother held.  “Those are the loveliest flowers I have ever seen!  Where did you find them?”

Her mother walked over to the vase in their room, discarding the old flowers and placing the new ones in there with some water.  “A handsome gentleman gave them to me.  They are pleasing, are they not?”

“They truly are, and you deserve them.  You have been so kind and helpful with my health.  It’s the least you deserve.  I do hope he calls upon you again.”  Josephine turned around and continued to brush her hair.  She was feeling exceptionally unwell this morning but did not want to alarm her mother, keeping her thoughts to herself.  

As her mother went to place the flowers in a vase with some water, she removed the ribbon from the stems, placing it aside as a keepsake.  “I communicated your increasingly poor health to the hospital.  They recommended bed rest and valerian tea until your next appointment in 3 days.”

Disappointed, she returned to her bed, already plotting her escape.  She could not stand to be cooped up, preferring the fresh air and sunshine, or the stars at night.  In the meantime, she placed her head on the pillow, knowing she could use some more rest.

That was two days ago.  Thomas paced back and forth around his rooms wondering what to do, how he could capture even a glimpse of her.  Perhaps he could return back to her hotel in the evening with more flowers?  Or would more flowers be too much?  Maybe a new pair of gloves?

Then it occurred to him.  He knew exactly what she would like, departing for the desired object he had seen just the other day.  When he exited his hotel, he looked around to realize it was later than he thought, not having realized he had been pacing around his room for hours.

Holding himself back from running, he reminded himself of social protocol, trying to keep an acceptable pace as there was no emergency.  Upon arriving at his desired location, he spoke with the shopkeeper, describing the item he was looking for.  The shopkeeper knew exactly what he was describing.  “Would you like me to wrap it for you sir?”

Thomas smiled.  “I would be most grateful.  I am very grateful for your help.”  Pausing for a moment, he had another idea.  “Might you have a piece of parchment and ink I might use?”  

The shopkeeper smiled and retrieved the requested items.  “This must be for someone very special.”  Thomas smiled back at him.  “Yes, for someone very dear and precious.”  It took him a few moments, but the words finally came to him.

My Dearest Josephine,

Words fail me to accurately portray the bewildering spell you have cast upon me with your beauty and intellect.  I hope this may help convey what I am unable to express.  For I am unable to retain a singular thought when simply near you.  I yearn to see you.  To simply breathe the same air as you is a privilege that not even God himself is worthy.

I pray you can accept this humble token from an unworthy man such as myself.

Yours Always,

Thomas

Gently folding the note, he placed it inside before the shopkeeper who then safely wrapped the item, securing it with twine.  Holding it carefully, he departed.  

As he neared her hotel, he noticed a woman become unsteady, falling to the ground and hurriedly made his way to assist her.  

“Madam, are you alrigh………Josephine?”  Her face was contorted in pain.  “What is wrong?  What can I do?”  She could hear his voice off in the distance; however, she was more focused on her prevailing issue as her extremities continued to tremble. Lifting her bridal style, he started towards the hospital.  

She turned to look at him.  “Thomas?”  She sounded weak.  “Dear Josephine!  Do not worry.  I will get you to the hospital posthaste.”

She placed a hand on one of his lapels.  “Please no, not the hospital.”

“But you are unwell.  You must see a doctor!  If nothing else, I should take you back to your hotel to rest.  You cannot be out here in your state.”

“I beg you. Please do not take me back, at least not yet.  Can we delay a little?  Perhaps sit on a bench at the park?  I yearn for fresh air and sunshine.”

He could not deny her request, heading for the park nearby as she leaned her head on his shoulder.  Gently placing her on the bench, he sat next to her.  She held onto his arm.  To provide her better support, he wrapped an arm around her, finding her leaning into him.  They stayed like that for sometime, receiving odd looks from passersby.  Finally, Thomas broke their peaceful quiet.

“Darling Josephine.  If I might implore, what is ailing you?”

This was it.  She was about to be confronted with her fear of his rejection of her due to her health.  “I’m afraid, Thomas.” she turned her face up to look at him.

“What are you afraid of, my dear?”

there was nothing she could do to hide or deny it any longer.  “I have been unwell for sometime.  Mother thought it best to come to London to see if the doctors might know what is affecting my health.  No one has been able to uncover the cause.  They’re only able to treat the symptoms.”

Thomas listened attentively as she looked away and continued.

“The doctors here have hope for a diagnosis and solution.  In the meantime, mother has been administering medicine to help me, but I fear it might not be working well enough.”  

“Why have you not told me of this before?”  His worry increased, not wanting her to suffer.

“I’m afraid you might not want to see me anymore.  No one wants to be saddled with an ill person.”

Placing his finger under her chin, he guided her face back towards his.  “My dearest darling Josephine.  Nothing could change how I feel about you.”

She blushed and attempted to bury her face in his chest, but he would not allow her to do so.  “If God himself told me I had to choose between you and the heavens, I would dwell happy as a dead man in hellfire for having known you.”

She could not help a tear or two from falling.  “Please, Thomas, do not take pity on me.  I could not bear it.”

Using the back of his finger, he wiped them away.  “Please do not cry.  I am not worthy of your tears.”

He brushed some falling hair out of her face, and she leaned her face into his palm as he did so, yearning to stay close to him.  A gust of cold wind fell upon them, and she began to shiver.  Against society propriety, he removed his coat and placed it around her to help keep her warm.  She confided in him her desire to be a dancer.  “I’ve always wanted to dance, but my health never allowed it.”

“One day, you will dance.  We will dance, even if I have to sweep you off your feet and hold you while I carry you around the dance floor.  Come, love.  We must get you back to your hotel for some rest.”  She agreed but found she was still unable to walk.  The tremors were affecting her more and more as time moved on.  Seeing her distress, he picked her up bridal style once again and moved towards her hotel.  As he carried her, she found herself warming between his coat and their close proximity, allowing his calming scent to envelop her.

They arrived at her hotel moments later, finding her mother running frantically down the stairs.  “Where have you been?  Are you alright?”

Josephine nodded, looking up at Thomas.  “I needed some air and fell, but Thomas rescued me.”

“We need to get you back to bed.”  Thomas began towards the stairs but was stopped by her mother.  “It is not appropriate for you to be in her room.  I can help her back to our rooms.”

He looked back at Josephine, not wanting to leave her in such a state, but Josephine knew once again that her mother was right.  He placed her down gently, her mother moving to help support her.

“Thank you again for rescuing me, Thomas.”  She gave him a weak smile, her energy still draining and began to remove and return his coat, but he stopped her. 

“No, my dear Josephine.  Please use it to keep yourself warm.  I can come back and retrieve it tomorrow or the day after when you are feeling better.”

He leaned forward to wrap his coat back around her, using the moment to whisper so that only she could hear.  “There is something in the pocket for you.”

She looked at him and smiled once more.  “Thank you again, Sir Thomas.  You have been most kind.”

He stayed and observed to help ensure her and her mother had no problems ascending the stairs, not leaving until well after they were out of sight.

Arriving back at his hotel, he found there was a letter and small package awaiting him.  Seeing his sister’s hand writing, he swiftly took the items to his room, eager to read her response.

Darling Brother,

I am beyond delighted to receive your letter.  What you describe in your letter is nothing short of love.  I have been worried for so long to find someone worthy of your time and attention, to be a partner, a friend, and a confidante.

She sounds to be the most exquisite creature.  It warms my heart with how you talk of her.  I have never heard you speak of anyone in such a manner, not even your childhood love, Angelica.  

From what you’ve told me of her, it appears she feels the same as you.  The only guidance I can give you is this.  Your heart already knows what to do and will not lead you astray.  All you need now is to listen to it.

I have enclosed mother’s ring.  While it is ghastly, use it to purchase a ring for my future sister.  Go, dear brother, and ask her to be your Andromeda.

Your loving sister,

Lucille

He knew she was right, always providing the truest insight and finest guidance.  In all the times he thought he was falling in love, none compared to his affection for Josephine.

Opening the small package, he found their mother’s ring encased in an intricately carved jewelry box.  While the box was beautiful, he agreed with his sister that the ring was frightful.  Gazing at the ring, he pondered where to go.  Placing the ring on the desk, he decided to begin his search for the perfect ring the next day.  All night, his mind stirred with ideas of how to ask his dear Josephine to be his Andromeda once a worthy ring was found..

Back at her hotel, Josephine placed Thomas’ coat over the back of her chair and bided her time to check the inner pocket until her mother had fallen asleep.  As she climbed into bed, her mother brought her nightly remedy.  Not wanting to anger her mother, she gripped the bedsheet tightly as the needle was administered in her other arm.  

As the needle and bottle were put away, Josephine noticed the flowers again by her mother’s bedside.  Whomever sent those must truly be enamored, and it delighted her heart, giving her hope that her mother would finally find someone.

She gently turned over to see her mother gazing at the flowers once more.  “Mother?  I am so sorry to have worried you like that.  It was not my intention to cause any harm.”

Looking back to her daughter, the smile on her face dropped as she prepared the valerian tea.  “You know, daughter.  I only wish the best for you.  The instructions from the doctors are only for your betterment.”

Although crestfallen, she knew her mother was right, as always.  “I’m just so tired of doctors and hospitals.”

“I know you are, my daughter.  I wish I could make it all go away, but they are necessary.  The physicians here seem to have better ideas on how to help you, and we must let them do it.”

She knew there was nothing else to say.  Taking the tea from her mother, she drank it without complaint, falling asleep soon after.

Waking up to the sound of song birds, Thomas yearned to see his beloved.  Taking the time to bathe and dress, he decided to surprise her at her hotel and take her to breakfast. Taking the ring, he placed it in his breast pocket.  

Swiftly arriving at her hotel, he inquired with the desk clerk if she was awake.  Having one of the staff check, it was only moments before Ms. Morrow arrived downstairs.

“Sir Thomas!  How delightful to see you this morning.”  

“Ms. Morrow, it is a pleasure to see you.  I was hoping to take your daughter to breakfast?  If it’s already with you, that is.”

“I’m so sorry, Sir Thomas.  She is still slumbering and will not be awake for a while, but I would be delighted to join you.  This would be an opportune time to get to know one another.  I feel that we may be spending more time together in the near future.”

He smiled, trying to hide his disappointment in not seeing his darling.  “That would be most wonderful, Ms. Morrow, and a most excellent idea.”

Taking his arm, she led him out of the hotel.  “Please, call me Victoria.  I insist.”  They arrived at a restaurant just minutes later, being seated without hesitation.  They discussed hobbies and interests.  He asked questions about Josephine’s upbringing, wanting to know her better.

“To be honest, she was never a well child.  Her father passed when she was an infant, and I took the burden of being mother, father, and nursemaid.”  She proceeded to tell him how her daughter’s health has been poor since she was little and has steadily declined over the years.  “I’ve had to play nursemaid by myself.”

They chatted away a while longer before Thomas escorted her back to her hotel, taking his leave in search of a prize.

Going from store to store, he felt more and more despondent.  The staff at each store tried to be helpful, but nothing was good enough for his dear Josephine.  Before returning to his rooms for the evening, he tried one last store: Hatton Garden.  The gentleman behind the counter introduced himself as Harold.  Harold was not much to look at, a short balding man in his fifties, but he had an immense talent for helping people find the perfect piece.  He showed him his mother’s ring, hoping he could sell it to purchase a ring fit for a goddess.

“Tell me about your fair lady.”  This was his trick, to use how the person felt about their beloved and match it to a ring.

“She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.  Her eyes are blue like the ocean and sparkle like the finest stars in the sky.  She loves poetry and astronomy.  She is like no other I have ever met before.  I want to find something unique and individual that will compliment her beauty and show that she is nothing short of a queen among peasants.”

Harold smiled.  Never before had he heard such an elegant description of a fine young lady, and he knew exactly the ring for her.  Retrieving it, he placed it delicately on the counter.

This was the ring.  THE ring he had been searching for.  The smile on his face told Harold he had chosen wisely.

“May I see the one you brought in?”  Thomas placed his mother’s old ring on the counter.  “Unfortunately this is all I have, but I cannot give her a ring that does not befit her beauty.”  Harold picked it up to inspect it.  Taking out his jeweler eyepiece, he looked closely at the stone and inspected the silver holding the gem.

“I hope you do not find me impertinent, but this setting does not do justice for such a fine ruby stone.”  He looked at it further before placing it back on the counter. 

“Not at all.  To be honest, I find the ring itself ghastly, but I know it must be worth something.”

While the setting itself was considered junk these days (it was made mostly of cheap aluminum), the stone was worth something; however, the value fell short on the cost of Thomas’ chosen ring.  There was something about him he only rarely saw in others who came to him for help and came to a decision.  This young lady described sounded not only enchanting but also one of the only women worthy of a ring like this.  While the gentleman in front of him would not be able to pay the actual cost of the ring, he wanted to help him.

 “I do believe we can come to an agreeable arrangement.”  Harold described the value of the stone in the ring brought to him.  While he could not use the current setting, he could have a new setting created that would be more appealing and appropriate for the stone.  “You came on a most auspicious day, my boy.  For today is the only day this particular ring is on a special sale.”  He told Thomas that with the sale price of the ring, it would match the amount he would pay for the ring Thomas brought in.  “In fact, I would be most glad to exchange the ring you brought to me for this one.  It is most fortunate you arrived this evening.”

Thomas was elated, finally having found the perfect ring for his (hopefully) future wife.  Harold included a ring box befitting such a ring.  To avoid theft, he placed the ring box in his breast pocket where the previous one resided.

“I cannot thank you enough, sir.  You have been a tremendous help!”  Harold gave him well wishes as he departed.

It was late in the day, perhaps too late to call upon his dear Josephine.  Regardless, he walked to her hotel, stopping in front and peering up to what he believed to be her window.  He had to stop himself from running inside, up the stairs, and to her room.  He didn’t care that her health was poor and would take any time God would grant him, be it years, months, days, or even minutes and would love and take care of her.  

Before the constable could be called, Thomas went back to his own hotel and spent hours working on his proposal.

The following morning, he was ready.  Placing the ring box in his jacket pocket, Tom went to the florist first.  He wanted to have the perfect flowers to give her as he proposed.  The florist was kind and helped pick the right flowers that would show love and affection and created a one of a kind bouquet of peonies and roses.

“Any girl who would turn you down after giving these flowers is not a girl worth having,” the florist told him.

“She’s worth much, much more than these, but I think she’ll find them adequate.”  His smile was big and bright, lighting up the shop.  It wasn’t hard to see how hard he had fallen for Josephine.  Anyone who looked at him knew he was a man in love.

Now armed with the beautiful bouquet, he made his way to her hotel.

Once arrived, he asked for her at the front desk.  “Might Miss Josephine Morrow be available?  I do not wish to disturb…….”

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the grim look on the concierge’s face.  “Normally, I would not share such private information, but I have seen you and her together.  She’d want you to know.”

The smile on his face dropped, his heart racing with fear, the flowers dropping to the floor.  “Know what?”

The concierge took a moment to compose himself.  “It was very late last night, her mother came running, asking for help to get her daughter to the hospital.  I was able to find someone to take her to hospital, but when I saw her?  To say she looked poorly would not do it justice.”

Before the gentleman could finish, Thomas was out the door and running to the hospital.  He had to see her for himself.  If she was that ill, he wanted nothing more than to be by her side.  He’d never run so fast before, but it also seemed to take forever to get there.  The nurse at the desk confirmed she was there and took him to her room.  When he entered, she looked deathly pale.  Tremors were happening at random intervals, and it was obvious she was having breathing issues.

“Her mother stepped out a few minutes ago.  We urged her to get some rest.  You must have just missed her.”

“What is wrong with her?  Will she be alright?”  She had to be alright.  He refused any other outcome.  

“Honestly, we don’t know.  We cannot figure out the source of her ailment.  If we had some idea, we might be able to do something, but I fear it may be too late.”

He was now sitting at her bedside, holding her hand.  “She told me her mother had been administering medicine.  Has that not helped?”

The nurse looked puzzled.  “What medicine?  The doctor has been very hesitant to prescribe her anything except to help her rest.  If we knew what she was being given…..”

He was out the door before she could finish, knowing he needed to find the medicine her mother was administering.  Why had her mother not told them?  Would it not benefit to give the doctors all of the information in order to help her daughter?

Arriving back at the hotel, he told the concierge to call the police as he ran up the stairs to her rooms.  Rather than knocking, he barged right in.  The room was unoccupied.  There were no thoughts as to where her mother might be, but he began searching every bag he could find.  As he neared the desk Josephine regularly used, her mother entered the room.  “I beg your pardon.  What do you think you’re doing here?  Why are you going through our personal things?”

“Where is it?” he demanded.

“Where is what?” She retorted.

“The medicine you’ve been administering to her?  ”  He continued to shuffle through papers.

“I have no idea what you are referring to, sir.  I demand you leave at once!”

He turned to look at her, fury evident in his eyes.  “Your daughter told me you’d been administering medication.  The hospital has no record of it.  Where is it?  What have you been giving her?” 

Ms. Morrow was frozen in place, speechless.  Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the flowers he’d given Ms. Morrow to give her daughter on his behalf.  They were not on Josephine’s bedside table.  Rather, they were by Ms. Morrow’s.  Why were they there?  

He moved swiftly to the flowers.  “Why are these here?  They were for Josephine!”  He started searching through the drawer of the nightstand, finding the items he was looking for.  He pulled out the needle and a bottle of silver liquid.  “What is this?  What in heaven’s name have you been giving her?”

“I’m her mother!  I take care of her.  You have no right to question me.  I demand you leave at once!”  They were both flustered.  Thomas examined the bottle of silver liquid, looking for any sign of a label.  It wasn’t until he turned it upside down that he found a partial label that said “....cury”.

“You’ve been injecting her with mercury?  Why would you do such a thing?”  Ms. Morrow launched herself at him, trying to get the bottle back.  He held it above her head to which she responded by slapping him several times.  Before she could get in the next blow, police blew in through the door.

He directed the police to arrest her.  “She’s been poisoning her daughter.  I must get this vial and the needles to the hospital before it’s too late.”  While two officers arrested Ms. Morrow, another officer gave him a ride to the hospital.  Thomas hoped it wasn’t too late.  He couldn’t bear to live without her.

Rushing to her room, he found the doctor there examining his Josephine.  “This is what her mother has been administering.”  He handed the bottle over to the doctor who examined it, and then sat by Josephine, holding her hand and kissed the back of it.

The doctor turned to his patient.  “Is this true, Ms. Josephine?”  She let out a breathy ‘yes’, unable to speak much more than that.  Even in the short time he’d been at her hotel, she continued to deteriorate.

It didn’t take the doctor more than a moment to recognize the contents: mercury.  Now having the missing piece of the puzzle, the doctor turned them.  “This explains your symptoms, but I’m afraid they’ve progressed too far.”

“What do you mean, too far?”  Thomas was angry.

“If we had known much sooner, the effects could be reversed, but at this point, there’s nothing we can do.  She’s not much longer for this world, I’m afraid.”

The tears poured out of him.  He gazed into his darling’s eyes.  “I’m so sorry, my love.  I’m so, so sorry.”

She gathered what strength she had left, placing her palm on his face.  “It is alright, darling.”

“How is it alright?”

“You’ve given me the greatest gift I’ve ever wanted.  You showed me what it is to love and be loved.”

He held her other hand with both of his, tears continuing to fall.  “We haven’t had enough time.  We need more time!”

“Do not worry, darling.  I will always be with you.”

At that moment, he remembered his original intention that morning, and pulled a small box out of his jacket pocket. She may not be long for this world, but he wanted every moment he could get.

“Dearest Josephine, I love you more than life itself.  I do not care if it is only for a few minutes or a few days.  Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?”  He opened the box to show her the ring.

She smiled and nodded.  “Yes,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could gather.  He removed the ring from the box and placed it on her finger.  What he had not noticed when he purchased the ring was that the jeweler had placed a matching silver ring under the cushion, a ring for him; however, it fell out of the box, creating a clunking sound as it hit the floor.  He picked it up before turning to the doctor.  “Is there a parson here?  I wish to marry my fiance as swiftly as possible.”

The doctor sent the nurse to find the vicar who had been visiting other patients and brought him to Josephine’s bedside.  Thomas expressed his wishes, and Josephine confirmed.  Both her engagement ring and the groom’s ring were placed on the open bible held by the vicar.

While they did not have a license, the vicar did not care.  He quickly understood the situation and gave them a brief ceremony, marrying them in the eyes of God.  At this point, no one in the room cared about the legalities.  Within moments, they were married, the rings placed on their respective fingers.  

From that moment on, they were not parted.  He refused to leave her side for anything, standing vigil day and night, wanting to spend every possible moment with her that she had left.  The only thing she asked of him was to hold her.  He and the nurse moved her carefully so that he could join her in bed.  Giving her a sweet kiss, he held her for the next few hours as she continued to deteriorate.

The doctor came to check on her that night.  When he came back the next morning, he let Thomas know that she did not have much longer.  He continued to hold her, forgetting all else.  In her last moments, she looked at him.  “Thomas….”

“Yes, my love?”

“I…..”  She had to regain her breath for a moment.  He waited patiently for her to continue.  “I will always love you.”

He dared to hold her closer.  “And I will always love you, in this life and the next.”

“And the next,” she repeated.  “I love you.”  And with those three words, she took her last breath.

The funeral was small but nice.  His sister did not have enough time to be there for her brother at the funeral, but she arrived that night in order to help him pack.  At his request, the concierge and staff helped to pack up her belongings so that Thomas may bring them back to Allerdale Hall.  While he could no longer bring his wife, he could have some part of her there with him.

As it got deep into winter, Lucille found him up in his attic more and more to the point where he refused to leave.  He had his favorite gown of Josephine’s on a mannequin in his workshop so she could watch him work.  He’d explain to the mannequin what he was doing and how he was doing it, as if she were truly there with him.  The most he would allow from Lucille was a blanket for warmth and the occasional tea.  

He’d not been home for a month when he caught a cold.  Lucille tried to urge him to take the medicinal tea and treatments to help him recover, but he had lost his will to do anything.  Melancholia and grief had such a tight hold on him that he could think of nothing else but his wife and his desire to be with her again.

Lucille returned about 20 minutes later with the medicinal tea and the determination to force her brother to take it and get better.  Arriving in the attic, she found he had passed, holding on to Josephine’s dress.

Knowing what he would want, she had his body brought to London and had him buried next to his wife.  As there was no proper headstone for Josephine, Lucille had a double headstone fashioned for her brother and his wife, finding it the very least she could do for her dearest brother.

Taglist: @vbecker10

Dividers created by the amazing @jiyascepter

[tom-hiddleston-imagines]

Imagine you are James’s wife and you discover that you are pregnant the moment he is deployed for war.

-CJB

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Daily Sweetheart Drabble - Saturday

Prompt From This List

Capt. James Nicholls

“Darling, what are you doing here?” Asks your husband. You smile widely at him. “I wanted to see you before you leave.” You purr. “You know you are not supposed to be in here.” James turns to you. “I know.” You say in your most innocent tone.  “How did you get in here?” He puts his hands on your hips. “I always get what I want.” You offer as only explanation. “Please tell me you did not threaten anyone.” James does his best to sound strict. “Don’t ask questions like that and I shan’t lie to you.” You curl your arms around his neck.

James leans in to press a kiss to your lips. You happily kiss him back. You will miss him so much. And you are a little scared he will not come back to you.  “I love you.” You whisper. “And I you, darling, I do.” James mutters. He does not quite understand your sudden need to see him off, but thinks he appreciates it. Because he does love you. 

You both startle as Joey whinnies and nicks James’ hat. You laugh in unison. “You will look after my husband, won’t you, Joey.” You pat the bay steed gently on the neck. Joey nickers and shakes his mane. “Show off.” James snorts. But you can’t help a giggle at the horse’s attitude. 

[magicmanias]

I love your work, you are an amazing writer! I was wondering if you could please write a fanfic about Captain James Nicholls?😁 Like one where he survives the war

You know, I actually have a WIP where this happens. I’ll give you the summary for now, since it’s not at the top of the to-do list:

I Will Always Find You 

James Nicholls x Nurse!Reader

Extra! Extra! Great Britain is now at war with Germany! Give us your horses and give us your men! Great Britain is at war with Germany! It’s 1914. And your life had only just begun. Finally, you were accepted into John Hopkins Medical School to continue your nursing education--as a woman no less. And August had come at last. You could pack your bags and buy a plane ticket to America and... Extra! Extra! Great Britain is at war with Germany! Nurses will be needed. It was only a matter of time before you received a draft letter. You would be going to war. 

[screw-real-life-i-pick-fandoms]

I am actually going to be home and able to write, and seeing as I just pasted 400, why not put out for more requests? Send me fluff, angust, smut, whamp, and combinations! Tom, Magnus, Conrad, Loki, Pine, Nicholls, and/or an AU for any of them! I can’t wait to see what you come up with and look forward to getting your requests.