#sure jan dot gif

[fookinstevienicks]

if you had a coworker who was insanely racist to you would you forgive them just because they came out and then be happy with them dating your friend.

"insanely racist" 😆

[assortedseaglass]

The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Eighteen

Tom Bennett x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Minor smuttiness (smutty thoughts? is that a warning?)

Word Count: 3.9K

Note: Thank you so much to amazing @myfandomprompts for creating the banner for this chapter! Not only do they keep us fed with amazing EM gifs, they make beautiful things like this. Such an honour to have it begin this chapter, thank you!

Every now and then, Tom kicked the football beyond the reach of Mrs Mason’s children and their friends. Watching as they hurried up the street after it, calling and laughing, Tom took a minute’s pause to admire the two women sat in the doorway of his father’s house.

His sister, Lois, sat in the sun on a chair that Vernon had brought out from the kitchen. The dark hair she inherited from their mother was pulled back away from her face and the glow of new-motherhood shone about her bonny cheeks. Vernon stood stoically behind her, laughing freely if a little awkwardly; he had been raised by private schools and the air force. Hovering on doorsteps with babies as the world and their wife cooed over the little one was as far away from the world he knew as could be. Still, he was a damn sight better than Harry, with his brooding and joyless honour. Both Lois and Vernon’s faces were turned towards the woman on the doorstep, and the little bundle she cradled in her lap.

Bess’s hair, darker now that the summer sun had faded, was loose and uncurled, a simple scarf keeping the bulk of it away from the baby. A few strands fell forward from her shoulders, and Tom chuckled as a fat little hand reached up from its blanket to grasp at it. Whatever Bess was babbling to his niece, Tom didn’t know, but Lois and Vernon chortled. She seemed not to notice, completely caught up in the little life she had helped bring into the world. Her pale fingers curled around the little one’s, and Tom found himself momentarily jealous as she ran her thumb across the little knuckles.

A strange stillness came over him then, quite different to that which he had experienced since coming home to Bess. Where his arrival into Bess’ arms felt at once electric and sure, this new-found contentedness seemed to well deep from the spot between his naval and his heart. He tried to trace the feeling, watching Bess play with his niece and mulling over how it could feel old and new at the same time. The first signs of an answer dawned on him and he felt a brief swell of mortification, as though he had failed at a basic sum, when something else entirely hit his chest.

“You little tyke!” Jan hurried away from Tom, shrieking with glee and muttering apologies about sending the football flying into the man. Tom caught up to the little boy with ease and heaved him off the ground. Tucking him under one arm, Tom darted between Mrs Mason’s children as they ran after him, their game of football now a rugby match with Jan as the ball.

“Mam used to say that girls become women, and boys become bigger boys,” Lois said to Bess as they both watched Tom deposit Jan by Mrs Chase and run away in mock celebration.

“She’s not wrong,”

“But we wouldn’t change them, would we?” Lois nudged Bess’ shoulder with her foot.

“That we wouldn’t.” Bess tore her eyes away from Tom and back to the babe in her arms. It was at this moment that Fergal shouted from across the street.

“Tom! Vernon! Give us a hand!” Along with Douglas and Roger, Bess’ father strained to push the old upright out onto the street. Bess handed baby Bennett back to her mother and took out a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of her slacks. She offered one to Cora, who had joined from across the road, but she declined and the three of them watched as Tom, Roger and Vernon helped their fathers with the piano.

“The state of you three,” Dot said as she appeared at Cora’s side. “I’ve never known three such headstrong women forget their principles the moment a fella flexes his muscles.”

“You will one day, Dot.” said Cora distractedly.

“If you keep your mouth shut,” added Bess and Dot gave her a shove. Bess smiled at her sister then, with cigarette jauntily perched at the edge of her mouth, made her way to the piano. She patted Douglas on the back with a whispered thank you, and kissed her father on the cheek. All but one man dispersed as she sat at the stool and began to play the first few notes of In a Mellow Tone.

Tom perched next to her and watched Bess’ fingers skitter over the keys a moment before whispering in her ear. “Are you ok?”

She nodded, eyes focused on her fingers as they navigated the particularly hard movement of the pre-chorus. “Don’t worry about me, go and have fun” she whispered, before adding with a shout as he made to leave. “And save me a slice of cake.”

“I���ll save two,” Tom kissed her cheek quickly and made his lazy way towards his father, who stood chatting to Robina Chase.

The Vaughns were determined that today should be a happy one. If their mother were here, it’s what she would have done. The day would have been Albie’s 22nd birthday. In life he was bright, kind and mischievous. The sort to sweep all the ladies into a dance, regardless of their age, play with the children and charm the gentlemen. In death, why should they remember him by just their sadness? No, instead there would be bread and cheese, and a homemade cake, the inhabitants of the street sharing their ration books to make the day a happy one.

“Have a dance, Mrs Chase?” Bess watched from the piano as Tom held out his hand with a wry smile. The austere woman stuttered a little and looked to Douglas for help, but he simply smiled. “I won’t take no for an answer, Mrs.” Robina took him in, the curved lips, the sweep of dirty blond hair and the cocksure confidence that oozed from every pore. Somewhere, in the boyish youth of his face, she could make out Douglas. When Tom held his hand a little closer, his smile growing to dimple his cheeks, Mrs Chase relented.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about the Bennetts, it’s that they’re nothing if stubborn. Each and every one of you.”

“Aye, and my old man’s the worst so you best watch yourself.” Before Robina could retort, Tom took her in his arms and gently waltzed her around the street, between the other couples of Cora and Roger, Jude, Hattie and their farmers, even Queenie and Frank. Vernon had left Lois, while she fed the baby, to twirl around one of Mrs Mason’s little girls as she stood on his toes. Bess watched them over the lid of the piano with barely supressed happiness. Everyone she loved, and was growing to love, assembled in one place and one piece to help them through the day. Tom swayed with Mrs Chase near the piano and Bess spoke through and exhale of smoke.

“He’s not bad, is he, Mrs Chase?”

“I’ll tell you, Mrs Chase,” Tom spoke to her instead of Bess. “It’s nice getting to lead for once. You know what these Longsight lasses are like.” A charmed laugh, not dissimilar to a startled sparrow, escaped Robina’s lips and Tom winked at Bess over her shoulder. She watched him admiringly through her dark lashes and Tom drew his bottom lip between his teeth. Oh, the things that crossed his mind when she looked at him like that.

By four o’clock, only stragglers were left at the little street party. Mrs Mason’s children had long since vanished inside, exhausted from keeping up with Tom and Jan, who was saying his goodbyes as Mrs Chase attempted to hurry him into the car. Cora appeared from the house with a slice of cake wrapped in tissue for the little boy, and a box of Albie’s old toys. Hattie and Jude were dragging their fellas away, off to meet Roberta for dinner before they all went to the Palais, whispering crude suggestions in Bess’ ear about her new relationship with Tom. He stood with his father and Douglas, a bottle of ale in each of their hands, as Frank Smith made his goodbyes. Queenie Warren held onto his arm, giggling girlishly and no doubt thrilled at her position between the two men. Bess watched as she placed a manicured hand on Tom’s bicep and, as she laughed at something he said, he placed his hands into the pockets of his slacks. Bess smiled to herself and made her way to the group. Sensing Bess nearby, Tom turned towards her. Frank, expecting Bess’ derision and, fearful of the woman she had become, began pulling Queenie but she wrestled from his grip and tottered to Bess.

“Earlier on, I could just hear your Albie laughing at Tom dancing with Mrs Chase.”

Bess laughed as Queenie took her by the hand. “I can hear what he would have said and all,”

“You’re in, Bennett.” Bess, Queenie and Tom said in unison. Douglas laughed, as did Fergal through a stifled sniffle.

“Ta-ra, Bess,” Queenie kissed her on the cheek. “Tom.” Tom placed his arm around Bess and watched as Frank led Queenie away. When the couple rounded the corner, Tom snaked his arms around Bess waist and brought her to him. She gripped Tom’s arms in surprise and a deep blush crept across her nose and cheeks. Tom leant forward, but before his lips could meet hers, Bess whispered in his ear.

“I still feel like we should sneak into the kitchen.”

Tom laughed and pulled back to look at her, arms still steadfastly holding her to him. “So you want to hide me now, hm?” Bess pecked the corner of his mouth, if only to wipe away the growing smirk that lingered there.

“You admit it then?”

“I just wanted you for myself,”

“Mm,” Bess relented, smiling into Tom’s mouth as he kissed her at last. Her arms made to move around his neck as he pulled her somehow closer and she sighed.

“Use your arms for something useful, boy, and help us get the upright inside.” Bess leapt back from Tom at her father’s harsh voice. “I can take back my permission you know.” Fergal stood from his chair and placed the empty ale bottle in Bess’ hands.

“Sorry, dadda.” She said meekly.

“Sorry, Fergal,” Tom said, though his boyish grin remained as he looked at his father. Much to Bess’ surprise, Douglas returned it with an amused smile of his own. Fergal clapped Tom on the back and the pair of them walked to the upright, Vernon and Roger already there and Douglas ambling towards them. Cora and Dot hurried from the front door as the men pushed the upright toward it and came to stand with Bess as she eyed the men, making sure they didn’t scratch Aunt Ida’s piano.

“Mrs Flaherty gave me a bottle of port to take to Mam,” Cora produced it from the pocket of her apron.

“And Mrs Mason’s little girl gave me these,” Dot held up a ragtag poesy of daisies and dandelions. Bess laughed as Dot raised her eyebrows at the flowers.

“I have ribbon left from Mrs Chase’s last order, in powder blue.”

“Mam’s favourite,” Dot sighed and Cora wrapped her arm around her.

“Will Tom come?” Cora said matter-of-factly. “Roger is.”

“I hadn’t ask-”

“He could see his mam too then,” Dot followed Bess’ eyes as she watched Tom push the piano from behind as the others guided it through the door.

“Come on, Bess. Tell him to come along. The Bennetts have always been family, it’s just official now.”

Bess nodded in surrender and crossed the pavement in a rouse to watch over the beloved piano, but in reality to speak with Tom. Pushing the upright over the threshold, he wiped his forehead and Bess took his hand, heart momentarily stopping as he looked at her with his sweat-coated brow and heaving chest.

✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼　 　✼

The graveyard, despite being in the centre of the town, was overgrown with grasses, climbing clematis and the last of the summer’s foxgloves. In the haze of the evening, insects scattered their wayward dances above the tombstones and Father Michael moved amongst the sleeping dead, removing dead flowers from the graves. He nodded to the approaching family and made his way towards the rectory. Led by Fergal, the Vaughns walked to the centre of graveyard. A tombstone, visibly younger than its friends, stood beneath an old yew tree.

Etta Frances Vaughn

Beloved wife of Fergal

Devoted mother to Cora, Elizabeth, Albert and Dorothy.

Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireann na daoine

A small, carved stone sat beneath it.

Albert Colm Vaughn

Their glory shall not be blotted out

Each of Etta’s daughters placed their gifts at her tombstone. Dot sat on the luscious grass that held Etta in its embrace and arranged the Mason’s flowers. Fergal popped the top off the bottle of port and took a swig before passing it around the gathered party. When it reached Bess, she drank from it deeply and handed it to Tom.

“What does that mean?” he whispered, indicating the writing on the grave and passing the port to Roger.

“‘In the shelter of each other, people survive.’ Mam through and through.”   

It was true. Tom looked around at the family. Even with Albie gone, each of them shone in each other’s company, loyally defending and raising each other up. Even Roger, with his kind face and stoic heart, holding Cora as she began to cry, seemed to fit in. Tom watched as Fergal bent double with grief as Bess rubbed his back, keeping her own grief at bay to allow space for her father’s. The familiar feeling from earlier in the day took hold behind his naval and, swallowing thickly, he made his quiet way from them and towards the church. Father Michael opened the door of the rectory and saw Tom hovering by the church door.

“Hello Tom,” Tom merely nodded, his eyes cast down at the stone a few paces ahead of him. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you here.”

“There’s a war on.” Tom said flatly. Father Michael considered him before continuing.

“Years, I’d say.”

Tom looked up at that, somewhat annoyed. “Well Father, I don’t know if I believe in anything these days. War, Him,” he pointed towards the sky.

“I don’t know, Tom,” Father Michael unlatched the oak door of the church and before moving into the cool dark said, “I think there’s something for everyone to believe in.”

The church door shut behind the priest and Tom waited a minute before speaking. “Priests are nosey bastards, aren’t they?” He looked down at the stone, as though expecting it to reply. He sighed and brushed some leaves from its top.

In loving memory of Mary “Marie” Bennett

Wife to Douglas

Mother to Lois and Thomas

In the Lord’s house for evermore

“How are you doing? I could almost hear you and Etta tutting at me from beyond the grave. Well, what do you expect? You’d say dad’s a lonely soul and could do with God, but once you were gone he stopped taking us to church. The Vaughn girls only go because it makes them feel close to their mam.”

Tom looked over his shoulder. The Vaughns were still gathered around Etta’s grave, Bess stood separately, stroking the bark of the yew.

“I’m glad you have a friend now, wherever you are. Dad and Fergal still keep each other company, I think they sit there pretending you’re both at their side. Somehow, the family is growing. I’m an uncle now, though I’m sure Lois has already been down to see you. She wants to name the baby after you. Dad’s worried she might take after us three and not him. He could do with someone on his side.” He laughed sadly. How often Douglas had compared Tom to his mother. He wondered if it made him happy, to see his wife in the eyes of his son.

“Whether Etta has told you, Lois, or you’re watching over me, I’m sure you already know about Bess, too. What do you think? God mam, I wish you were here. Since I went away, I’ve had this feeling right here,” he placed a hand beneath his heart. “It hurts so much, worse than when they shot me, but I can’t help but enjoy it. I know you’re laughing at me now, because we both know what’s causing it, but I wanted to tell you all the same. I want you to tell me what it is, to tell me that I’m right. Christ,” He hadn’t spoken to his mum for years. A twig snapped behind him and he looked round. Bess stood a few metres away, gazing softly at him, not intruding but making sure he wasn’t alone just like she had done all those years ago when she spotted him here before.

“I miss you, mam.” He held his hand on the stone above where she lay and closed his eyes. If he tried hard enough, he could smell her perfume and the shampoo she used. “Speak soon,” Tom trailed his way through the thick grass towards Bess. She wrapped her hand tightly around his and brought it to her lips. Her family were already passing through the graveyard gates, and Tom realised that she had given him time to spend with his mother. Walking alongside her, Tom watched the hue of her hair catch fire in the setting sun and his stomach flipped.

“Tom?” Bess looked up at him, her eyebrows a hard line, lips slightly parted in a smile and he realised he had been caught staring at her. When he said nothing but raised a quizzical eyebrow, she laughed. “Dancing at the Palais. Tonight. The girls are going and now Dot wants in.”

“And I suppose you do to?” he swung her hand in his.

“Well, you’re all warmed up after your dance with Mrs Chase. Please?”

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically but smiled. Bess kissed his hand once again and led him slowly after her family. They ambled the short mile back to Longsight, laughing gaily despite the melancholy of the day. At some point not far from home, conversation turned to the dance at the Palais, Dot complaining that she was without a permanent partner.

“Don’t you worry Dot, I’ve got a fella for you.” Tom laughed as she whinged to her father.

“Is he handsome?”

“Let me keep you at my side a little while longer,” Fergal patted Dot’s hand. “Bess and Cora will be gone soon.” He looked pointedly between Tom and Roger, and the two young men grinned.

“I’d say so, Dot. Norman’s his name.” Tom stopped abruptly, causing Bess to stumble at his side. “Norman! That’s who sent the letter!”

“What letter?” Cora and Dot said simultaneously.

“Nothing,” Bess and Tom’s answer was quick. Cora eyed them suspiciously but Dot seemed not to notice, skipping ahead of the group to unlatch the ginnel gate for Fergal and going with him into their house. Cora and Roger followed arm in arm and when Cora’s navy skirt fluttered through the gate, Tom pushed Bess against the brick wall. She laughed as his hand pulled at the collar of her jumper and began to pepper hot kisses to her neck.

“What’s come over you, Mr Bennett?”

“The dance,” he placed his leg between her and widened her legs. “Thinking about you all dolled up,” Bess sighed when his teeth grazed the junction between her jaw and ear. “The men watching you and knowing you’re mine.”

“It’s the girls that’ll have to watch themselves,” Bess fisted Tom’s shirt and pulled him closer, grinding her hips scandalously against his leg. “Now I’ve got you, I’m not sharing you.”

A sentence like that from Bess’ lips would have sent blood rushing to his cock, but today, that cavity behind his naval twisted once more. Tom scrunched his nose, inhaled sharply and looked down at her. Her eyebrows were pulled together in calm curiosity, stating “I know something happened there, but I won’t push you to tell me”. Free from makeup, Tom could see every blemish on her face, from the scar she got on her sixth birthday jumping off a swing convinced she could fly, to the mottled pink of her cheeks from their kissing. Through her lashes, her brown eyes looked up at him with grace and openness, and his body hummed beneath her knowing gaze. The feeling in his stomach tugged him towards her and, if he had been a sentimental man, he could have sworn the scent of his mother’s perfume blew through the ginnel, urging his courage. He pressed his forehead to Bess’ own and closed his eyes.

“Bess?” His voice was a whisper.

“Mm?” Her own eyes fluttered shut and her lips quirked into a contented smile. Tom inhaled again and all around him, the world was Bess.

“I love you.”

The air stilled. The war was worlds away. They might not have been standing in the back alley of a Manchester suburb, but on the moon. When Bess opened her eyes, her heart hammering tenfold beneath her breast, she saw Tom’s icy blue ones wide-eyed and fearful staring back at her. Had he ever told anyone he loved them before? Smiling wide, Bess placed a hand to his chiselled jaw, caressing the skin there.

“I’ve always loved you, Tom.”

Tom watched as Bess’ eyes glazed with tears, and the nerves tumbling about his stomach fizzled away, replaced by sparks of electricity. Something of the smug sailor roared into life at her words, and he smirked.

“Hard not to-”

Bess tutted and tried to smack him but he was too fast, cupping her neck with large hands and bringing her into a heady kiss. “Wear that red dress tonight,” he whispered as her tongue languidly brushed against his lips. “I need some fuel to take back aboard-”

Bess tugged at his hair and he moaned. “Tom Bennett, you scoundrel.”

He broke their kiss. “And tell your family you’ll be back at the flat tonight.”

“Is that so?”

With a smack to her bottom and a wink over his shoulder, Tom swaggered down the ginnel. “You’ll need your energy tonight, my love. Not just for the dancing.”

Note: So. That was the last chapter of Volume One! With the BBC showing World on Fire in the summer (I think July), it won’t be too long until we’re back with Tom and Bess again. Expect them to go back to their snarky, sassy selves, just this time they’ll be doing it side by side!

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @heimtathurs @exitpursuedbyavulcan @myfandomprompts @allthefandomtherapy @reblogedworks @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring @fangirlninja67

[typhoidmeri]

light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle

It’s warm, downright cozy, when she finally stirs awake, dragging herself from dreams of ice and blood. She plastered across Johnny’s bare chest. Coarse hair tickling her nose and lips, the faint scent of ash and musk filling her lungs. His heavy arm is curled around her back pinning her in place.

“I’ve had dreams start like this,” Johnny laughs, the words rumbling through his chest. For a moment, just a moment, Darcy wants to kiss him.

“Half frozen to death after being vomited up by the demon of slushies?” Darcy says. She subtly scrubs a hand over her mouth, wiping away a string of drool.

“I thought it was Dippin’ Dots?”

“That too,” she murmurs. “You’re okay?”

He lifts a hand from the covers, fingers spreading wide. A white hot glow starts at the center of his palm and radiates out to the tips of his fingers. Flames burts from his hand lighting the room. “All good. Did you have something in mind?” Johnny says.

“How about going home?”

“I dunno, I kinda like it here. Cozy little shack, a naked girl in my arms, could be worse.”

“Cute as you are, Storm, and as Home, Sweet, Home as all this is, I want coffee, a cheeseburger, and whatever Midwestern monstrosity of a salad my dad’s obsessed with this week.”

“You choose salad over me?”

“No, I choose coffee first,” Darcy says, patting Johnny’s chest. “Don’t sulk.”

“The Human Torch does not sulk.”

“Sure, Jan.”

…

This little snippet is in the same universe as you’re closing the door, you leave the world behind. Just a few hours later. There is more in my head but the last few weeks have been a little unkind so I’m taking what words I can write and calling it a night.

@darcylewisbingohq

Prompt: Home, Sweet, Home

[texasbama]

Hoops cause she'll still throw hands...sure jan dot gif

Literally me seeing her story.

[wrenhavenriver]

[fookinstevienicks]

'This couple will 100% give us every bit of representation you claimed to be fighting for.' 'main meets new character who they get together with very quickly thus realising their sexuality' is a trope that's been around for like 25 years, the only difference being that willow/tara and kerry/kim didn't act as a replacement for something genuinely revolutionary (a queer slowburn relationship) and didn't involve forcing characters to forgive a racist misogynist lesbophobic bully.