I'm dreamer

Olivia / 31 years old / Poland / I like to write to stimulate my imagination

[one-shot-plus-size]

Masterlist

Stay

Six weeks

I’m not here to hurt you

Crossbow Love Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6 Ch.7 Ch.8 Ch.9 Ch.10 Ch.11 Ch.12 Ch.13 Ch.14 Ch.15 Ch.16 

I’m sorry

I’m so sorry

Come back, please.

Introducing

True Love Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3

Soulmate part.1

Home part 1 Part 2

You save

Forced new life

Sadness is like rain sometimes it has to come

Home is where the heart is. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Death is Peaceful, Life is Harder Part 2 

Opiekunka

Mom's new neighbor

Woman - v. president Sons of Anarchy part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 - END

Bye Bye

Party cz. 1 cz. 2

My Love

Only You cz. 1 cz. 2 cz. 3

Old Lady

Me

My love

From Sons of Anarchy to Mayans MC Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 - END

I love you, Soldat

New changes part 1, part 2 , part 3

Father of the twins ( Casey Acosta - New Amsterdam)

Brother for brother motherfuckers ( Rick Grimes - The Walking Dead)

My soulmate ( Sebastian Stan)

Hair Stylist Part 1, part 2 ( Sebastian Stan)

You are not alone, you have a family Part 1 , Part 2 ( Kelly Severide - Chicago fire)

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 20 — A New Beginning

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 20/20

Tom and Liv sat on the porch of the “Wolf’s Hollow” ranch, surrounded by the silence of the Texas night, which held something mystical yet soothing. After many months of intense work, ups and downs, and moments of doubt, their shared journey had come full circle, bringing them to the threshold of something new — not just professionally, but personally.

“Do you remember how it all started?” Liv asked, looking at the fire flickering in the nearby fireplace. Her blue hair gently waved in the breeze, and her face was lit by a genuine smile.

Tom smiled tenderly, reaching for a cup of tea.

“I first saw you at Comic Con. You were there among the cables and screens, calm and focused, and I... simply couldn’t take my eyes off you. It was like a magnet.”

Liv chuckled softly.

“At the time, I didn’t even realize someone was watching me. I was working, as always, focused on what I do.”

“But I knew I had to get to know you. Your passion, precision, and the way you treat your work... It captivated me. Not just your appearance, but something more.”

Liv looked at him and took his hand.

“Do you remember when I first took your sketch and started tattooing the bear? That was a special moment. I felt it wasn’t just a design, but a story we were creating together.”

Tom nodded.

“For me too. That tattoo is more than decoration. It’s a symbol of our shared journeys, struggles, and victories. A reminder that we’re not alone.”

They were silent for a moment, listening to the rustling night wind and sounds of nature.

“You know, Liv,” Tom began, “that veterans’ project... It changed me. Not only artistically but spiritually. Because of you, I started noticing things I used to overlook.”

Liv smiled warmly.

“I’m glad I could introduce you to that. Veterans have stories that need to be heard. And although their lives can be tough, through this project, we can give them something that lasts forever.”

Tom looked deeply into her eyes.

“I want us to keep doing this together. For our story and their stories to merge into one. Because with you, everything makes sense.”

Liv felt her heart race.

“I want that too. I want to walk this path with you, no matter what the future brings.”

Tom stood and put his arm around her.

“The future? I think we’re ready for anything. Because together, we can do more.”

They looked at each other, and the stars in the sky twinkled like never before — as if blessing the new path they were beginning together.

It was around that time they made one of their most important decisions — purchasing the ranch in Texas that Tom had long had his eye on. “Wolf’s Hollow” — a place full of history, space, and peace, perfect for a fresh start.

While signing the papers, Liv felt a tremor of emotion and hope. To her, it was more than a piece of land. It was a home they would build together.

Tom laughed, recalling how they both dreamed of a place where they could pursue their passions — Liv as an artist and tattooist, and him as someone seeking peace and meaning beyond the spotlight.

“This house will be our sanctuary,” Tom said, squeezing her hand.

“And a place where we can help others. Not only veterans but anyone seeking comfort,” Liv added.

This ranch was a symbol of their new beginning, a safe haven that allowed them to dream and build a future on their own terms.

The following months were full of new challenges and successes. The tattoo exhibition for veterans attracted thousands, touching hearts and minds. Their work became an inspiration for many — not only in the art world but in everyday life.

Tom and Liv deepened their relationship on many levels — shared passions, dreams, and mutual support became the foundation of their bond. They overcame life’s difficulties, held on to each other, and every experience brought them closer.

One day, on the ranch’s doorstep, Tom knelt before Liv and pulled out a small box.

“Liv, I want to walk through life with you. I want to share every day and every night with you. Will you marry me?”

Tears of emotion welled up in Liv’s eyes.

“Yes, Tom. I want to be with you forever.”

Their kiss was a quiet gesture full of love and promises — the beginning of a new chapter they would write together, step by step.

That evening, sitting by the campfire, Tom and Liv knew their story was more than coincidence. It was a tale of two souls finding each other in a world of chaos, light, and shadows.

And though the future was unknown, one thing was certain — together they were stronger, braver, and ready for whatever life would bring.

Thus ended one story and began another — beautiful, full of love, passion, and shared dreams.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 19 — The First Night

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 19/20

The evening had already fallen over London, and in the heart of the city, amidst the bustle and lights, Liv felt her heart beating faster than usual. She stood in front of Tom’s apartment door, slightly nervous yet filled with warmth and hope. This was the moment she had been waiting for longer than she cared to admit.

When Tom opened the door, a smile lit up his face. He was dressed in a simple but stylish sweater and jeans, and in his eyes was a sincerity and tenderness that immediately calmed her nerves.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said, gently pulling her inside and inviting her into his world.

Tom’s apartment was spacious and cozy, clearly reflecting his taste — the walls were adorned with photos from film sets, and shelves displayed souvenirs from travels and small works of art. The kitchen smelled of freshly prepared food, something Tom had clearly made himself with attention to detail.

“I prepared something simple,” he said, leading her to the table where a light dinner awaited: roasted vegetables, arugula and tomato salad, and fresh bread.

They sat close to each other, and between them was a mixture of scents and a tension that was both exciting and delicate.

“How was your day?” Tom asked, looking at her attentively.

“It was intense,” Liv replied with a slight smile. “Lots of work on the new project, but everything’s slowly coming together. And you?”

Tom talked about his week, about little everyday moments with Leo, and how much he valued his time with his son.

“Leo is amazing,” Liv said, her voice filled with genuine care.

“He is my greatest happiness,” Tom admitted with a smile. “And you? What do you like most about what you do?”

Liv passionately spoke about the veterans’ project, about how important it was for her to help them express their stories through tattoos and art.

“That’s incredible,” Tom said, holding her hand. “I feel like it’s more than just a job for you.”

“Yes,” Liv confirmed. “It’s a way to connect people and share emotions.”

After dinner, they moved to the living room where Tom sat next to her on the couch. Their hands found each other in a clasp, and their gazes never left one another.

“You know, Liv,” Tom began hesitantly, “for a long time, I was afraid to let myself have more, to open up. But with you... I feel like I can be myself.”

Liv smiled softly.

“That’s beautiful, Tom. And I feel that between us there is something special.”

Tom leaned in slowly and whispered, “May I?”

Liv nodded and felt their lips gently meet. The kiss was tender, slow, and full of discovery. His hands rested on her shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

As the kiss deepened, Tom brushed her hair back from her face, and their breaths intertwined as if the world had vanished for a moment.

“You’re incredible,” Tom whispered, looking into her eyes.

“So are you,” Liv replied, feeling warmth spreading through her body.

The kiss turned into a long, intimate dance of tenderness and care. Tom slowly slid her sweatshirt off her shoulders, and Liv felt how every touch awakened new emotions in her. She was surprised by the calmness and certainty with which he treated her.

“I don’t want to rush,” Tom said softly. “I want this to be something special.”

Liv nodded, breathing deeply and allowing herself to fully embrace the moment.

Gradually, their bodies drew closer, discovering each other with every touch and glance. There was no hurry in their movements — only gentleness and mutual respect.

As they moved onto the soft rug by the fireplace, their bodies joined in perfect harmony. Tom kissed her tenderly, and Liv surrendered to the experience with trust and calm.

“I feel safe with you,” Liv said, as their breaths merged into one.

“So do I,” Tom answered, stroking her hair. “This is only the beginning of our story.”

The night passed slowly, filled with conversations, tenderness, and the discovery of each other. As they drifted to sleep, both felt that this evening had opened a new chapter before them — full of hope, closeness, and mutual trust.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 18 — Quietly at Home from his point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 18/20

Tom Hardy closed the door of his penthouse behind him with a quiet but firm click. Outside, the night was cool and calm, and the lights of London flickered like distant stars, softly illuminating the darkness. A slight chill hung in the air but quickly gave way to the warmth inside. Tom took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack, then looked around his apartment.

Everything was in its place — minimalist, orderly, unobtrusive. Yet something had changed. There was an invisible trace lingering in the air, barely noticeable but felt deeply by Tom. It was Liv’s presence — her scent, slightly sweet with a faint hint of ink and wood, still lingering on the clothes he’d left on a chair. That scent seemed to wrap around him, reminding him of everything that had happened that evening.

Tom sat down on the couch, instinctively reaching for his phone but quickly putting it back down. He wasn’t someone who rushed emotions or liked pressure. He knew that between him and Liv there was something that required patience, space, and time. He didn’t want to ruin it with an overly eager reaction. Instead, he closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of reflection.

He remembered how the date had started — simple, almost ordinary, but at the same time filled with something extraordinary. A walk along quiet, cobblestone streets in London, the streetlights reflecting in puddles from the evening rain. Conversations about everything and nothing, about dreams, fears, what mattered in life, and what people tend to hide. He felt comfortable with her, like never before. No need to pretend, no need to act.

— That was a good evening — he thought with a quiet smile.

He wondered what Liv really felt. Did she also sense that subtle change, that invisible thread connecting them? That moment when the gentle kiss at the end of the gala moved them from a safe distance into a new space — full of promises but also uncertainty.

Tom remembered how her eyes sparkled when she talked about her life, her passion for tattoos, how every piece was more than just a drawing to her. That every tattoo carried a story, memories, strength. For the first time, he saw her not just as a talented artist but as a woman who could see what was hidden and bring it out to the world.

He also thought about how different this connection was from anything he had experienced before. In the world of acting, filled with flashing cameras and superficiality, it was rare to meet someone who truly saw his real self. Liv wasn’t just another acquaintance or a chance encounter. She was someone who touched his soul — subtly, carefully, but forever.

— Maybe this is the start of something important — he thought.

Tom got up from the couch and walked to the window. He looked out at the illuminated city spreading below him like a vast mosaic of light and shadow. London at night always held something special — a mix of mystery, history, and modernity. Here, amid that chaos and calm, his life was beginning to take on a new dimension.

For a moment, images of their shared moments flashed through his mind — laughter on their walk, the warmth of her hand in his, conversations about art and life, and above all, that silent kiss that was more of a promise than an ending.

Tom knew it wouldn’t be easy. He was a man who had been through a lot — hurt, cautious, sometimes closed off. But Liv had something that broke through him — not with force, but with gentleness and understanding. Something that made him want to open up, to allow himself to trust.

He returned to the living room, picked up a sketchbook he often carried, and began to draw, not overthinking each move, letting the pencil guide him. The lines formed an image — an outline of Liv’s silhouette, her characteristic mohawk, a delicate shadow on her face. It was his prayer and a way to freeze the moment, to keep what he felt without words.

Hours passed, and Tom remained at the table, lost in his thoughts and sketches. He knew he had a lot of work ahead — not only professionally but emotionally. That a relationship, even one starting with a simple kiss, required courage, patience, and honesty.

When he finally lay down in bed, he glanced once more at his phone. He sent a short message:

“Thank you for tonight. It really was a special evening.”

Then he put the device aside and let sleep slowly take over his mind.

Lying in the dark, Tom felt calm, though still uncertain about what the future held. But one thing he knew for sure — that night was the beginning of a new path. A path he wanted to walk together with Liv.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 17 — Midnight Silence from her point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 17/20

Liv never liked overanalyzing things. Life had taught her to act on instinct — without overthinking, without clinging to the past or building expectations about the future. And yet, when she closed the door behind her that night, she couldn't simply move on. Not this time.

She was still wearing his hoodie. It was warm, slightly oversized, and smelled like something hard to define — ink, wood, calm. Like Tom. Instead of peeling it off like she usually did with the layers of her day, she clutched it tighter to herself. Her fingers slid along the sleeve. She could still feel the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his hand on her back as they sat on the bench near the canal.

It hadn’t been her first date. But it was the first one that carried absolutely no pressure. Nothing performative. No masks. No game.

Pizza. A walk. Silly jokes and a long conversation about a life that had dragged them both through the mud — only to let them meet here and now. Different, a little broken maybe, but real.

Her mind wandered back to the moment Tom had asked if she was afraid of anything. Just like that, between a bite of margherita and a story about a failed audition.

“That this is too good for me. That I’ll ruin it just because I didn’t expect it.” — that’s what she wanted to say, but the words never made it past her lips.

Instead, she let herself feel something she hadn’t in a long time — closeness. That one, barely-there kiss. Gentle, as if both of them were afraid it would vanish if they moved too much. It wasn’t a movie moment. It was real. Subtle. Quiet. And all the more powerful because of it.

She curled up on her couch, pulling her legs underneath her. A part of her felt the familiar fear — that this was too fragile, too good, too unlike her usual life. But another part… for the first time in a long while, she felt like she could breathe more deeply.

Her eyes drifted toward the sketchbook lying on the coffee table. She opened to a blank page, picked up a pencil, and let her hand move freely. Line by line, silently, without a plan. She drew like she was trying to trap a memory without using words.

She started with his profile — the outline of his nose, the angle of his jaw, his hair falling slightly over his forehead. It wasn’t about likeness. It was about presence. About how he looked when he gazed at her from that bench — tender, but with a shadow of doubt. As if he didn’t fully believe it was really happening.

She sighed.

She wasn’t used to being looked at like that. For years, she had surrounded herself with work, designs, ink, paper, and silence. Between one tattoo and the next, she’d listened to dozens of life stories — but rarely let anyone ask about her own. Not because she was hiding anything. Simply because very few people wanted to listen.

But he listened.

Not just to the words, but to the quiet between them. She saw it in his eyes. When she talked about her first tattoo. About sitting for hours in her late father's studio, staring at his sketches. About how each new line helped her find little pieces of herself again.

“I want to leave marks. The quiet kind. Private. Ones someone carries with them forever.” — she had told him then.

Tom had only nodded, like he understood. And that was enough.

She stood from the couch, finally taking off his hoodie and hanging it over the chair in the kitchen. It still smelled like him. She rested her hands on the countertop, staring into space. Trying to make sense of what she felt. But the answer was simple — she was falling for him.

Quietly. Carefully. Like someone learning how to trust again.

She walked over to the window. London at night was quiet and warm. A few lights flickered across the street, and a lone pedestrian moved down the sidewalk. She thought about how everything would return to normal tomorrow — the studio, the clients, the sketches. But nothing would be quite the same.

She closed her eyes. In her mind, she heard his voice. Calm, warm, unhurried.

“Would you want to take another walk with me sometime?”

She smiled to herself.

Tom Hardy — a man who saw more than she was ready to show. And instead of walking away — he stayed.

She shut the window, turned off the lights, and returned to the living room. The sketch was nearly finished. She added the final lines, a shadow on the neck, a small detail on the hand. In the margin, she wrote one word:

“Beginning.”

She didn’t know where this story would lead her. Maybe into something beautiful. Maybe something painful. But for the first time in a long while, she was willing to take the risk.

Because if he — with all his fame, his world, and his history — truly saw her, the real her… then maybe it was worth opening the door.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 16 — Quieter Than Usual from his point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 16/20

Tom Hardy had never been the kind of man to dive headfirst into new beginnings. His life had long revolved around acting, work, family, and the constant balancing act between them. But now, standing in Liv’s small, artfully chaotic tattoo studio, he felt something different—a spark that ignited both curiosity and hope.

Since meeting Liv and working together on the bear tattoo she had designed for his arm, things had shifted. Not just in his appearance, but in how he saw the world. This quiet, confident woman with a blue mohawk who could see more than most had inspired him to start thinking differently.

When he asked her out—simple, no fuss, no script—he felt oddly nervous. Not scared, but aware that he didn’t want to screw it up.

He didn’t plan a fancy dinner. There were no secret celebrity spots or candlelit rooftops overlooking London. He just wanted something real. Honest. Because with Liv, honesty was already more than enough.

He waited for her outside her building, holding a bouquet of wildflowers he had picked himself from a local market. And when she opened the door, for a second, he couldn’t speak.

Her style was so unmistakably hers—she didn’t try to impress, and yet she stunned him. She wore a simple black dress, comfortable and casual, with her mohawk swept higher than usual. Heavy boots and slightly smudged eyeliner completed the look. She looked… breathtaking. Not in a movie-star kind of way. In a way that made him want to get closer.

"These are for you," he said softly, handing her the flowers.

She smiled, and his heart skipped in that strange way it did whenever he was near her.

"They’re perfect." She brought them to her nose. "You really picked these on the way, didn’t you?"

"Maybe I did," he smirked. "You ready?"

"Always."

They walked together through a quiet Notting Hill evening. Shops were closing, the air was warm with dust and the scent of balcony flowers, and the sky glowed a soft navy blue. Tom had no fixed plan. He wanted the evening to unfold like a good conversation—with no clear destination, just too good to interrupt.

Eventually, they found a little pizzeria. A wooden sign, two tables outside, warm light spilling from inside. It looked like it had always been there, quietly waiting for them.

They sat by the window and shared a pizza and homemade lemonade.

"I don’t like too many choices," Liv said, flipping the short menu. "It’s better when things are simple."

Tom nodded. "Like tonight."

He watched her as she spoke. How she moved her hand when explaining something. The little frown she made when she was thinking. And the way she sometimes looked at him—not as an actor, not as a name, not as Venom. But as a man.

"Will you ever tell me why you tattoo?" he asked after a while.

Liv raised her eyebrows slightly. "Because I want to leave marks. Not loud ones. Quiet. Personal. The kind someone always carries with them."

"That’s smart. And beautiful."

"And you? Why do you act?"

He hesitated. Usually, he gave stock answers. This time, he didn’t want to.

"Because acting lets me be myself. Ironically, I guess."

She smiled."Doesn’t sound ironic at all."

The pizza was perfect—crispy crust, gooey cheese, comfort on a plate. Tom hadn’t enjoyed a meal this much in a long time. But it wasn’t about the food. It was about her. Everything felt lighter around her.

After dinner, they strolled farther, ending up in a small park with a fountain. The place was deserted. Empty benches, whispering leaves, long shadows cast by the streetlamps. When he noticed her shiver, he took off his sweatshirt and handed it to her.

"Here. You’ll get cold."

"Thanks. I probably look like someone who broke into your wardrobe."

"It suits you. Like everything else."

They sat on a bench. Silence stretched between them, soft and comfortable. Then, Tom reached for her hand—slowly, unsure. She didn’t pull away.

"Are you scared of something?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. That this might be too good for me. That I’ll ruin something beautiful just because I wasn’t expecting it."

Liv looked at him intently.

"Maybe instead of thinking about what could happen… you just be here. Now."

And then, without planning it, without tension—Tom leaned in and kissed her.

It wasn’t a movie kiss. No soundtrack. No slow motion. But there was something far more powerful in it—silence that suddenly felt like home. A feeling that didn’t need fireworks. Just presence.

When he pulled back, a little disoriented, it wasn’t because he regretted it. It was because he felt… more than he’d expected.

"I’m sorry if—"

"Don’t be," she whispered.

He laced his fingers through hers. She took his hand and rested it on her knee. She didn’t look away. Didn’t run. And for the first time in ages, he felt exactly where he was meant to be.

"Let’s not go back yet," she said softly.

"I wasn’t planning on it."

So they stayed. On that bench. In that gentle quiet. No pressure. No masks. Just two people who had found a moment between the world and each other.

Tom knew this was only the beginning. But he also knew beginnings like this weren’t something you ignored.

Not this time.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 15 — Between Simplicity and the Heart from her point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 15/20

Liv never imagined that the day after such an intense gala could bring something even more personal. And yet—just as she opened her studio and poured her first coffee, she heard a familiar knock on the door. Tom. In jeans, a loose hoodie, slightly tousled hair, and that unhurried smile that only appeared when he didn’t have to be anyone but himself.

“Hey,” he said softly as she met his gaze. “I don’t want to interrupt if you’re working.”

“I haven’t started yet,” she replied, lifting the mug to her lips. “But I admit, it’s hard to focus with you in the doorway.”

He smiled, and for a moment he said nothing, as if searching for the right words. Then he took a deep breath.

“I have a question for you. Maybe even a proposal.”

Liv raised an eyebrow, setting her mug down on the counter.

“Sounds serious.”

“I’d like to... invite you out tonight. Something quiet. No cameras, no crowds, no script. Just... a walk, a slice of pizza, maybe a bench in the park. Something simple. Just you and me.”

She paused. Not because she didn’t want to—quite the opposite. But she wasn’t used to such invitations. Usually, she was the one keeping her distance. This time, something inside her softened.

“Pizza and a bench sound like a pretty good date,” she said with a smile. “And if you’re asking me today, does that mean you’ve been planning it since yesterday?”

“Since yesterday?” he chuckled. “Liv, for weeks.”

She laughed and looked away, feeling a warm flush rise to her cheeks. Tom Hardy could stir emotions in her that she’d kept buried beneath layers of calm and professional distance for years.

Liv stood in front of the mirror longer than usual. Maybe it was silly, maybe even laughable—this wasn’t her first time going out. And yet, what was happening tonight wasn’t just “going out.” It was with him. And that changed everything.

On the hanger hung her hoodie—her standard armor. Beside it, a black, simple dress she had never worn. She’d had it for months, bought on a whim, “for someday,” she had told herself, knowing full well that “someday” might never come. Until now.

Tom had asked her on a date. No glamor. No paparazzi. No crowd. A walk, some food, a park. Ordinary. But there was nothing ordinary about it.

She pulled the dress to her body, studying her reflection. It had a simple cut, reached mid-thigh, with long sleeves and a gently dipping neckline. The fabric was soft and stretchy. No embellishments, no shine—something that suited her, yet nudged her out of routine. She pulled the hoodie over her head and slid the dress on, slowly, as if every movement needed careful thought.

She tied up her hair—the blue mohawk that had been her signature for years—just like always, but this time she smoothed the sides more deliberately. Someone once said she looked like a defiant warrior. Tom had said she looked like someone you couldn’t help but notice.

She walked over to the vanity and opened a small drawer of cosmetics. Most of them she only used for photo shoots or event work. But now she reached for eyeliner and mascara. Just enough to give her eyes some depth.

The mirror remained silent, and she stared at her reflection wordlessly. Was this the same Liv who, just months ago, didn’t believe in any kind of “us”? Could someone like Tom Hardy really see more in her than a professional with ink-stained nails and a sketchbook full of wolves?

Questions pounded in her head. Why her? Was this moving too fast? Did he really want to know her—with all the baggage she carried—trauma, scars covered by tattoos, and a fierce need for independence?

But each doubt melted away when she remembered his eyes. There was no pity in them. Only curiosity, warmth, something unexpected—trust. And respect.

She got up and went to the kitchen. Poured herself a glass of water but barely took a sip. Her stomach tightened—not with fear, but with anticipation. That kind of tension that says, “This could be the start of something important.”

She glanced into the studio. Everything was in order—machines in place, ink sealed, sketches tucked away. Tom had been here just a few days ago. The bear she had drawn for him was still fresh on his shoulder. He hadn’t said what it meant to him. But she knew—she felt it.

She went into the bedroom. Glanced at the old watch that used to belong to her father. 6:27 PM. Tom would be there at seven.

She slipped on her black boots—comfortable, a little worn, but with character. Then reached for a thin graphite-colored coat. No purse. Just her phone and keys in her pocket.

For a moment, she stood in the doorway, as if to make sure everything was in place. Or maybe—to make sure she was in place. In her body. In this moment. In life.

Memories of their moments together flickered in her mind—his gaze through the studio window, the silence among the exhibition lights, the gentle kiss on her forehead by the door, his words: “This is only the beginning.”

She sat down once more on the edge of the bed and closed her eyes. Allowed herself a moment of not being ready. Because maybe, in this very moment—she was more ready than ever.

Soft instrumental music played from the corner speaker. She’d known the piece for years. Calm, steady, with a rhythm like a heartbeat—regular, warm, unhurried.

Her phone vibrated.

Tom: “I’m at your door. No rush. I could wait a lifetime.”

She smiled. It was a message from someone who knew how to break down walls—gently, without force. Who understood that not everything needed to be won—sometimes it just needed presence.

Liv stood up, took one last look in the mirror. Same face. Same eyes. But something in them had shifted.

She was ready. Not for a date. But to be seen.

And when she opened the door, she saw Tom holding a bouquet of wildflowers—as if he knew she didn’t like roses. He wore that same soft hoodie, his hands slightly clenched, as if he were nervous too.

“Hi,” she said calmly.

“Hi, Liv. You look... like you. And that’s the best thing I could’ve hoped to see.”

She closed the door behind her. Took the flowers and let him lead.

Inside her—there wasn’t a trace of doubt anymore.

This was the beginning.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 14 — A New Beginning from his point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 14/20

The gallery, right in the heart of London, came alive that evening with thousands of lights, conversations, and emotions. The spacious interior filled with crowds—people from various backgrounds, each carrying their own story, all gathered for a common purpose. On the white walls hung photographs and tattoo sketches telling tales of courage, pain, loss, and hope. Each image was like a window into someone’s life—a mark worn on the skin as a symbol of struggle and survival.

The air carried the scent of fresh flowers, the subtle aroma of tattoo ink, a mix of paint, and the faint scent of wooden flooring underfoot. Together, these elements created an unforgettable atmosphere—a celebration of art and human resilience.

Liv stood near the entrance, watching as the room slowly filled. Her blue hair, tied in a neat mohawk, contrasted sharply with the elegant simplicity of the space. She was dressed in a black hoodie bearing the event logo—an emblem of her involvement—and practical work pants, ready for whatever the evening might bring.

Inside, she felt a swirl of emotions—pride, excitement, and a gentle anxiety. This was the culmination of months of hard work: conversations with veterans, gathering stories, designing tattoos, and organizing an exhibit meant to impact the public’s consciousness. The project was meant to show that tattoos are more than body art—they’re living stories that demand to be heard.

The evening’s first speaker was Mark—a former soldier who had lost a leg during duty. His presentation overflowed with sincerity and emotion. He spoke of the challenges of returning to normal life, the pain, the loneliness—and how the tattoo Liv had inked for him had become a symbol of his strength and hope.

“When I look at this tattoo,” his voice cracked, “I see more than an image. I see my life story, my family, the support I received, and the people who didn’t abandon me. It’s not just ink on my skin—it’s a part of me.”

The audience sat visibly moved. Some brushed away tears, others held hands as if drawing courage from each other. Liv watched from the sidelines, feeling that every ounce of effort and sacrifice had made sense. This was their shared victory—showing the world that behind these tattoos lie real human lives.

After Mark’s speech, the exhibit transitioned into its artistic phase. Guests began moving freely among the pieces, pausing in front of designs and asking about the meaningful stories behind them. Liv listened to these conversations with pride, knowing their project was achieving its mission: connecting people and giving them a platform to share their Truth.

Among the crowd, Tom made his presence known—not to most, but to Liv, his presence meant everything. He stood to the side, observing with quiet tenderness. His dark eyes followed every movement and glance as if absorbing this atmosphere—and giving it back to both the veterans and Liv.

When the crowd began to thin and conversations became more relaxed, Tom stepped toward her. Their eyes met for the first time since the evening began, and in that moment, the world seemed to pause.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see anything like this,” he said softly, taking her hand warmly in his. “This is more than just an exhibit. This is truly impactful.”

Liv felt her heart start to race. She gazed into his eyes, which were full of sincerity and admiration.

“This is our work,” she replied calmly. “It wouldn’t have had this reach or strength without you.”

Tom leaned in toward her. Their faces slowly drew closer, filled with the tension that had been building between them all evening. A silent moment hovered between them—heavy with unspoken words and emotion.

Then, his lips brushed hers in a brief yet tender kiss—hesitant but heartfelt, carrying all the emotions neither had voiced.

When they parted, they exchanged smiles full of understanding and hope for whatever lay ahead.

“This is only the beginning,” Tom whispered, draping an arm around her shoulders.

At that moment, Liv realized she was no longer alone. Amid the gallery lights, the lingering sounds, and the warmth of others, a new story was being born—their story.

They moved to a quieter corner, leaning against a cool wall while soft lantern light cast gentle shadows around them.

“Do you think we can reach even more people?” Tom asked, looking deeply into her eyes.

“We have to,” Liv replied firmly. “These stories must not be forgotten. Art is the tool that can speak where words fall short.”

Tom nodded, determination shining in his gaze.

“I want this to be lasting—something that changes the world for the better, even if just for a few people.”

Liv smiled, a fresh energy blossoming within.

“Together, we can achieve so much.”

Their eyes locked once more, reflecting the passion and trust that had grown through months of shared work.

The gala was winding down as guests began to leave. Liv and Tom lingered to collect scattered notes and sketches.

“Thanks to you, I realized I can do more than play roles,” Tom said softly.

“And thanks to you, I’ve learned to dream without fear,” Liv replied with a smile.

Outside, the night air was cool, but their hearts were warmed by hope and the shared road they had just begun to walk.

As they stepped out onto the street, they looked at each other with smiles that spoke of promise and the exciting uncertainty of what would come—and they were ready to face it, together.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 13 — A New Beginning from his point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 13/20

Tom Hardy had never been a man to easily throw himself into new ventures. For years, his life had revolved around acting, work, family, and trying to find balance between it all. But now, standing in Liv’s small, artfully cluttered tattoo studio, he felt something different — a spark that ignited curiosity and hope within him.

Since the moment he met Liv and they started working together on the bear design for his arm, much had changed. Not only in his appearance but, more importantly, in his approach to life. This calm, determined woman with her blue mohawk, who could see more than others, had inspired him toward something new.

Now they were sitting together at a wooden table in the studio, colorful sketches, notes, and printed photos of veterans and their families spread out before them. The air smelled faintly of ink and fresh paint. Liv spoke passionately about the project they were beginning — an exhibition of tattoos dedicated to war veterans and their loved ones, showcasing stories of courage, loss, resilience, and hope.

“We want to create something truly authentic,” Liv said, pointing to a drawing of a tree with sprawling roots. “It’s not just about the tattoo itself, but the story it carries. Each of these people has their own tale, and we can help them express it.”

Tom nodded, feeling his heart beat faster.

“This could be something really special,” he said quietly. “Veterans are often overlooked, and their stories go unheard. Art can be their voice.”

Liv smiled and reached for one of the prints.

“I have a list here of people who agreed to share their stories. They’ll also speak live during the exhibition. It’s not just tattoos — it’s meetings, conversations, shared experiences.”

Tom looked at her with admiration.

“I’ve always admired people who can turn pain and hardship into strength and beauty,” he said. “It’s important to give them space for that.”

For a moment, silence settled between them, broken only by the rustling of paper and the sounds of the street outside the window. Tom felt something grow inside him — responsibility, but also excitement.

“We should also think about the venue for the exhibition,” he added. “Somewhere accessible, so anyone can come and see these stories.”

“I was thinking about a gallery in the city center,” Liv said. “We have a contact there, the owner is open to social projects. We want it to be a place that attracts diverse groups, not just those involved with tattoos.”

Tom nodded.

“Perfect, that’s how it should be. Art is meant to unite, not divide.”

Liv looked at him with a smile that said she felt the same energy.

“We also need to consider promotion. Maybe media, social networks, even some accompanying events,” she suggested.

“I can help with contacts,” Tom replied. “I know a few people who could help us get the word out.”

Liv looked at him gratefully.

“That means a lot to me. I felt this was important, but your support gives it more power.”

Tom felt something warm spreading in his chest. This woman was not just an artist; she was a partner in something bigger.

Days passed quickly, and the work on the project gained momentum. Tom and Liv spent more and more time together, planning, organizing, talking with veterans and their families. Each meeting was a lesson in humility and respect.

“Have you heard Mark’s story?” Liv asked one evening, sitting with Tom at a table full of notes and a laptop.

“Yes, the former soldier who lost his leg?” Tom answered. “His story of fighting and coming back to life is really moving.”

“Exactly. I want his tattoo to reflect that journey,” Liv said. “Something that will remind him he survived, that he is strong despite the pain.”

Tom looked at her with admiration.

“This isn’t just art, it’s something that gives people strength. I’m glad to be a part of it.”

Liv smiled softly.

“Me too. And because of that, I feel like I’m doing something meaningful.”

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 12 — The First Real Conversation from her point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 12/20

In a small tattoo studio tucked away in a quiet corner of London, a warm and cozy atmosphere filled the room. Finished designs and sketches hung on the walls, and the air carried the distinctive scent of ink and disinfectant. Liv was finishing her morning preparations — organizing pigments, arranging needles, and checking the client schedule.

Suddenly, a soft chime sounded at the door. She glanced toward the entrance and froze for a moment. Standing in the doorway was Tom — calm, a little shy, with a slight smile on his face.

“Hi, Liv,” he said, stepping inside.

“Hi, Tom,” she replied with a faint smile. “Nice of you to drop by.”

For a moment, they both were silent, as if searching for the right words.

“I wanted to thank you again for that tattoo,” Tom began, pointing to his arm. “It’s more than just a design. I really feel it means something to me.”

Liv nodded, looking at him carefully.

“I’m glad to hear that. Every tattoo I do has to have meaning. I don’t like it any other way.”

Tom looked around the studio.

“You have a great place here. Calm, yet full of energy.”

“It’s my sanctuary,” Liv admitted. “Here I can create and be myself.”

A moment of silence passed, then Tom asked:

“I’ve been thinking about the next design. I want something that continues from the last one but more personal. Maybe... something that tells a different story.”

Liv leaned over her sketchbook.

“Do you have any ideas?”

“I have a few, but I’m not quite sure how to combine them,” Tom started, glancing at Liv’s sketchbook. “I want the next tattoo to be something... more personal, maybe symbolizing something I’ve been through or something important to me.”

Liv raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly.

“That’s a good starting point. What do you have in mind?”

Tom rubbed his hand over the bear tattoo he already wore.

“The bear symbolizes strength and protection, but I want something that shows my softer side too. Something that reminds me of family, of what really matters.”

“Family,” Liv repeated, jotting something down in her sketchbook. “That’s a big, rich field to explore. Are there any symbols that already mean something to you?”

Tom was silent for a moment, thinking.

“I was thinking about the motif of a tree — roots, trunk, branches — like the tree of life. Maybe combined with something more personal, like my son’s initials.”

Liv nodded.

“The tree of life is a beautiful symbol, associated with bonds, growth, and stability. It could really complement the bear nicely.”

“Exactly,” Tom agreed. “But I don’t want it to be too obvious or sentimental. I’d prefer something subtle, with a hidden meaning.”

Liv looked at him with interest.

“Subtlety is the strength of a good tattoo. We can work with lines, shadows, details that only you and your close ones will see.”

“That sounds perfect,” Tom smiled. “I like it when something is more intimate, not immediately obvious to everyone.”

Liv took out a pencil and began sketching on a blank page.

“What do you think about this?” she asked after a moment, showing him a delicate outline of a tree with a subtle bear paw print among the roots.

Tom looked closely.

“That’s something I can wear with pride,” he said quietly.

“So, we’ll keep working on this design,” Liv summed up with a smile. “And when you’re ready, we’ll create something special.”

“I can’t wait,” Tom replied, looking at her gratefully.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 11 – Stillness After the Window from his point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 11/20

The door to his penthouse clicked shut with a softness that belied the weight of Tom’s thoughts. He dropped the keys into the ceramic bowl on the console table by the entrance and exhaled through his nose, slowly. His twelve-year-old son, Leo, kicked off his sneakers and plopped onto the oversized sofa, already half-distracted by whatever game console was blinking to life on the television.

"Dinner in thirty," Tom said absently, pulling off his jacket and hanging it with precision. His fingers lingered on the collar a moment too long. Still cold from outside. Still thinking about the window.

He crossed to the open kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, letting the silence expand around him. The sound of the city filtered in through the glass panels, distant and harmless now.

He hadn't meant to walk that way.

It was supposed to be a casual stroll with Leo—a route without plan, just air and movement and father-son chatter. But as they turned a corner near Shoreditch, something in him shifted. The buildings changed, the pace slowed, and suddenly he saw it.

Her studio.

He hadn’t even known she owned a place. It hadn’t come up. Their entire connection so far had been built on glances, one drawing, and a shared silence thick with tension. But there it was. Her place. Her world.

And she was inside.

Working.

He’d stopped without thinking.

Leo had still been talking, pointing at street art across the road. But Tom’s eyes locked on the window. On her.

Liv stood hunched slightly over a client’s back, tattoo machine in hand, face a mask of total focus. He’d seen that expression before, back at Comic Con. The way she treated her work like a ritual. The way everything else disappeared.

Until she looked up.

He felt it again now, standing in his kitchen, the memory of that gaze. Like static, like thunder muffled behind glass. She had seen him. And hadn’t moved. Neither had he.

Why hadn’t he gone in?

He could have. Leo was right there. It would’ve been natural, casual. A simple, “Hey, remember me?” But no.

Because the moment at the window had said more than words could.

He sipped his water and let the coldness cut through the thought.

Liv.

A name that had taken root in his head like a melody he couldn’t shake. She wasn’t the kind of woman you approached with charm or ease. There was depth in her stillness. Silence with weight. When she looked at you, it wasn’t curiosity. It was assessment. As if she were deciding whether you were real or just another trick of the light.

And he wasn’t sure what she’d seen.

Leo called from the couch. "Dad? What’s that thing on your arm again? The new tattoo?"

Tom smiled softly, walking over. He rolled up the sleeve of his loose sweater and turned his shoulder slightly.

"This?" he asked, even though he knew exactly what the boy meant.

Leo nodded, sitting up to get a better look.

The tattoo was fresh, still faintly raised on his skin. A bear, strong and quiet, emerging from shadowy lines, its expression calm but alert. There was power in the curve of its body, but also solitude. Liv had designed it. Her gift. Her symbol.

"A bear," Tom said, flexing his arm just enough to catch the light. "Got it from someone who sees more than most."

Leo looked intrigued. "Is it from a movie or something?"

Tom laughed. "No. Not this time."

The boy cocked his head. "So, who is she? The tattoo artist?"

Tom hesitated. He wasn't sure how to answer. How did you explain someone you didn’t quite know but couldn’t forget? Someone who existed in the pauses between sentences and in the shapes of shadows?

"She’s... someone I met recently."

Leo grinned knowingly. "Like, a crush?"

Tom chuckled. "Maybe. More like... a mystery."

Leo shrugged and went back to his game, but Tom sat there longer, absentmindedly tracing the lines of the bear on his arm.

He wondered if Liv was still at the studio. If she was still thinking about the moment behind the glass.

He hadn’t said a word.

But maybe, just maybe, she heard him anyway.

The city hummed outside. The flat smelled faintly of cinnamon and laundry. His son was safe, the night still young. But Tom felt something shifting under his skin.

Like the beginning of something real.

And for the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like running from it.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 10 – Behind the Glass from her point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 10/20

The tattoo machine buzzed like a mantra. The sound filled the studio in a steady rhythm Liv knew better than her own thoughts. It lulled her and focused her all at once—a melody she’d played so many times it lived in her bones. Today, the studio smelled as it always did: ink, healing ointment, fresh hibiscus tea steeping on the windowsill. A low hum of trip-hop played softly from the speakers. Unnecessary conversation stayed beyond the door. Here, there was silence and precision.

She was finishing a phoenix on a young man's shoulder blade. The wings spread upward, wrapped in curling smoke. The client—quiet, maybe twenty—had told her he wanted a fresh start. Liv didn’t need more than that. She understood symbolism. A phoenix rises from ashes, just like a person sometimes has to recreate themselves. Her needle moved evenly, without hesitation, carving into his skin what he hadn’t yet found the words to express.

She paused briefly to clean the area, when she felt it—that something. Not a sound. Not a movement. Just presence. A strange, invisible pressure, like static in the air. Subtle, but unmistakable. Not the first time she’d felt it—someone watching, not with curiosity, but with intent.

She lifted her gaze casually. Just a second. Just enough to stretch her neck, to rest her eyes.

And then she saw him.

Tom.

He stood across the street, right in front of the wide window of her studio. His silhouette stood out clearly against the London gray. Jacket, messy hair, hands loosely at his sides. Next to him, a boy—twelve, maybe. The same one she’d seen once before. He pointed to something in the distance, animated.

But Tom wasn’t watching him.

He was watching her.

Through the glass.

Their eyes met. There was no surprise, no alarm—just a pause. A breath caught between one heartbeat and the next. A moment where time felt suspended.

He didn’t wave. Didn’t smile.

But he was there. Fully. Present.

Even with the street and the glass between them, Liv felt the nearness. As if the world had folded slightly to bring them within reach.

She knew that look.

It didn’t belong to the man on posters, or to the actor with millions of fans. It wasn’t polished or self-assured. It said: Are you still there?

She almost stepped toward the door. Almost raised her hand. Did something. Anything.

But she didn’t.

Because he didn’t move either.

And that meant something, too.

He stood. Waited. Watched.

And then the boy tugged gently at his sleeve. Tom nodded, said something back, and they walked on. Calmly. Without drama. As if nothing had happened.

Liv stayed by her machine.

Didn’t flinch.

She turned back to the tattoo. Cleaned the lines. Shaded a curve. Her hands worked on autopilot, but her thoughts stayed with him—with that look.

Did he know he’d find her? Did he plan the walk? Was it chance, or excuse?

She knew that kind of silence—the kind that leaves an echo.

It was the space between words that were never spoken.

And now she felt it under her skin.

When the client stood, thanked her, and left, the studio grew still for a while. Liv sat on the stool by the window and stared out at the street.

From the outside, her studio didn’t look like much. A small sign with simple lettering, a few plants on the sill, lighting that changed with the weather. But it was hers. Her story. Her solitude. Her choice.

She never imagined someone like Tom would stand outside it.

And say nothing.

Yet in that silence—he’d said something.

Not in words. Not yet.

Instead, he left something else—presence. That one moment, where he looked at her like he truly wanted to see.

Like he saw all of her.

Not just the blue hair or the ink on her forearm.

Not just the bear sketch or the CREW patch on her sleeve.

Something more.

Liv wasn’t someone who believed in coincidences.

But she believed in moments.

And this one—the one that came out of nowhere and left quietly—might’ve been one of the most important.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 9 – Read Between the Lines from his point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 9/20

The door to the penthouse clicked shut softly, muting the distant hum of the city. Tom shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto the stand, and walked across the open-plan living space toward the kitchen, where the scent of popcorn still lingered. An open bag of chips lay abandoned on the counter, and at the kitchen table sat a boy with his knees pulled up on the chair, laser-focused on the game console in his hands.

“Oi, you little space pirate,” Tom said with a smirk, stepping closer. “Don’t destroy the galaxy before I’ve had dinner.”

“Too late,” the boy replied without looking up. “The Sith took everything. Again.”

Tom chuckled and slung an arm around the boy’s shoulders in a half-hug. These weekends were his favorite. Quiet, unscheduled, filled with laughter and conversations that didn’t revolve around films, press junkets, or scripts. With his son, he felt human again — real.

“Hey,” Tom said a moment later, pulling something from his back pocket. “Got something to show you.”

Leo — his twelve-year-old — paused the game and looked up, curiosity flickering across his face.

“What is it?”

Tom rolled up his sleeve.

There, still wrapped in a protective film and faintly red from the fresh ink, was a bear. Not a photo-realistic one — it was rough, sketch-like, but powerful. Head lifted, limbs in motion. A bear that stood its ground. That protected.

Leo leaned forward to get a better look.

“That’s new?”

“Mm-hm. Today.” Tom hopped up on the counter opposite, sipping cold coffee left from earlier. “Met someone.”

“A girl?” Leo raised an eyebrow, smirking.

Tom raised his own in mock surprise. “What are you now, my therapist?”

“No,” Leo shrugged. “You just don’t do anything by accident. Not even tattoos. And this one… looks like it means something.”

Tom went quiet for a moment. He looked down at the tattoo, like he was seeing it properly for the first time.

“She left it for me once. The drawing. Didn’t say a word. Just placed it on a table and walked away.” He paused. “And something in me... stopped.”

“Is she an actress?”

Tom shook his head. “No. From a different world. Tattoo artist. Graphic designer. Quiet like a surgeon. Doesn’t talk much, but her eyes say everything.”

Leo was hooked now.

“And did you talk?”

“Today. For the first time. At a tattoo convention. She was there and... guess what? She’s the one who did this.”

Leo’s eyes widened. “She? She gave you that tattoo?”

Tom nodded. “Her hand. Her ink. Her mark.”

“And the bear?” Leo tilted his head. “Why a bear?”

Tom looked at his son. Smiled.

“Because sometimes you need something big inside. Something that protects. That doesn’t roar unless it has to, but when it does, the world listens.”

Leo went quiet for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully.

“Sounds like Mum when she says she’s worried about me.”

Tom laughed out loud.

“Or like me when I see you leave your broccoli untouched.”

Leo snorted but didn’t let up.

“You think you’ll see her again?”

Tom paused, just for a beat.

“I think so. But I don’t know when.” He added, more softly, “This isn’t a story you chase. It’s one that grows quietly, right alongside you.”

Leo nodded, in that way he had — like he understood more than most kids his age.

“I like her already. Your mystery ink lady.”

Tom looked at him with a kind of warmth he rarely showed. Something softer. Truer. Maybe for the first time in a long time, he was letting himself feel something beyond the fleeting.

“So do I, Leo. So do I.”

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 8 – Mark Beneath the Skin from her point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 8/20

A day at the convention had its own rhythm. Buzzing, alive, carrying other people’s emotions through the skin and into her hands. Liv was in that focused state she knew well — quiet flow. Time moved differently there. The tattoo machine in her hand, ink on skin, each movement deliberate and precise. There was no room for hesitation.

Her booth was calm. A client sat still as Liv finished the details on her shoulder — a delicate, geometric feather wrapped in fine lines. Voices carried from afar, laughter burst here and there, and the constant hum of the convention filled the air. But around her, there was silence. A stillness.

And then she felt it.

That subtle tension. A familiar gaze. Not just someone glancing. It was focused — quiet, persistent. The same presence that had once followed her among cables and lights at Comic Con.

She didn’t realize at first. But her body did — before her mind caught up.

She set the machine down, adjusted the light, and looked up.

And there he was.

Just a few steps away from her station. Not lost in the crowd. Not by accident.

Tom.

He held something in his hand. A folded piece of paper.

The bear.

Liv’s heart skipped. But her face remained calm — trained to hide emotion. Yet this wasn’t just another face in the crowd. This wasn’t coincidence. This was someone who had seen her — truly — even before she allowed herself to be seen.

Tom stepped closer. Careful steps, yet certain. She noticed his fingers tighten gently around the paper.

He stopped beside her booth, next to the light. For a moment, he said nothing. Like he was making sure the moment was real.

He didn’t say “Hey.” Or “Remember me?” He just looked at her — and handed her the sketch.

“I thought I’d want to keep it,” he said softly. “But I think… I’d rather wear it.”

Liv looked at the drawing. Clean lines, soft shading. The bear. The one she’d left him — with a heart full of hesitation. Her gesture. Her way of saying “I see you.”

She met his eyes.

“Are you sure?”

Tom nodded.

“If you feel something… it should live under the skin.”

She didn’t smile, but there was a flicker in her gaze. Subtle — but he noticed it. She took the sketch, turned around, disappeared briefly behind the curtain. When she returned, she gave a small nod toward the chair.

“Shoulder?”

Tom nodded again and sat down. Coat off. Sleeve up.

Liv prepared everything in silence. They didn’t need many words. Just movement. Eye contact. Presence.

When she pressed the stencil to his skin, she did so with a kind of gentleness that wasn’t just physical — like she was leaving something there that couldn’t be erased. His breathing was steady. So was hers — maybe deeper than usual.

She began to work.

The black line sliced his skin slowly, surely. The design started to take form — the bear, a symbol of strength, calm… and loneliness no one spoke about. Tom was still. But Liv saw more. She saw it in his eyes, in the quiet way he carried himself. In the absence of rush.

She knew this wasn’t just a tattoo.

This was a reply.

To her sketch. To his gaze. To the silence that had lived between them since.

After about an hour, it was done. She carefully cleaned and wrapped the tattoo, handing him a mirror. Tom looked. Said nothing at first. Just stared. As if searching for the right words.

“This is more than a drawing,” he said finally. “Thank you.”

Liv turned, putting her tools away.

“It wasn’t a dedication,” she replied quietly. “It was a sign. For someone who would see.”

“I saw it,” he said.

Then they just sat — in silence. Him, with fresh ink on his skin. Her, with a hand that knew every line of that symbol.

They didn’t need more.

Not now.

Just a gaze that lingers. And ink that speaks more than words ever could.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 7 – Ink Beneath the Skin from his point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 7/20

London in the morning was noisy but familiar. A light drizzle smudged the sky in hues of gray, and the passing buses left damp streaks in their wake. Tom had no plans today. No film set waiting, no interviews lined up. A day off — rare enough to feel almost surreal.

He left the house in a baseball cap and a long gray coat, coffee cup in hand, driven by a quiet impulse that led him toward Shoreditch. He liked this part of town — its collision of concrete and color, galleries and coffee shops, people who didn’t stare or whisper, who didn’t care if you were somebody. Here, he could just… be.

Near one of the warehouses, a large banner caught his eye: LONDON TATTOO CONVENTION – ENTRY TODAY

He stopped.

He hadn’t been to one of these in years. The last time he stepped into something like this, he’d had longer hair, fewer lines on his face, and a rawer kind of defiance beneath the surface. But now? Now it was just curiosity. A pull.

He went in.

The hall smelled of ink, latex, and adrenaline. The sound of tattoo machines buzzed steadily in the background — a chorus of needles singing on skin. It was nothing like Comic Con — no cosplay, no flashing cameras. Just bodies and stories, etched under the skin. Raw. Honest. Real.

Tom walked slowly between booths, watching the artists work, their focused hands, their calm intensity. One guy was getting his entire chest done in Norse-style wolves, another had fresh ink under his eye — a runic symbol. Everything pulsed with its own rhythm.

And then he saw her.

Not right away. First, a flicker of familiar blue.

Her hair.

That neat mohawk, just like at Comic Con — but today styled slightly differently, tied back with darker tips. She stood at the edge of one of the rows, leaning over a client’s forearm. The hand rested calmly on a padded support. The machine in her grip buzzed steadily, her arm firm, movement precise — surgical. Her left arm was bare now — fully inked. Wolves. Trees. Ravens. A whole story written in shapes and shadows. Her skin was a map.

It was her.

Liv.

And Tom… froze.

Not from shock. From awe. A kind of quiet, inexplicable awe.

He hadn’t known she was a tattoo artist. Had no idea she belonged to this world — one that didn’t need filters, lighting rigs or controlled interviews. But now, watching her work, it made perfect sense. The precision, the silence, the focus she carried — it all fit. And she looked different than she had at the convention. Not better. Just… more herself.

She hadn’t noticed him.

And Tom didn’t move forward.

He stood.

Watched.

Not like someone intruding, but like someone witnessing something rare — and not wanting to disturb it.

At one point, the client shifted slightly. Liv paused, set her machine down, reached for gloves, adjusted the lamp above. Her movements were fluid, like she wasn’t just drawing with ink — but with air. And then — just for a second — she looked up. Not toward him. Just out across the crowd.

And Tom felt it again. That current. That strange tension that hummed in the silence between two glances. Except now, he was the one watching from a distance.

He didn’t go to her. Not today.

It wasn’t the moment for grand entrances, for "Hey, remember me?" It was a moment to be kept just as it was — honest, unplanned, full of quiet weight.

He stepped a few paces away and lingered near a neighboring booth, pretending to scan flash books. But his mind was elsewhere: on her hand, her expression… and the small detail that struck him like a slow, unfolding truth.

On the inside of her forearm — just above the wrist — there was a bear.

Not the sketch. Not the one she had left for him.

But its brother. Same style. Familiar lines. A shadow in ink that, once seen, stays with you forever.

And in that instant, he knew:

This world was hers.

But maybe... He could find a place in it too.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 6 – After the Lights Go Out from her point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 6/20

The hum of the monitors was fading, one by one, as Liv moved down the row of stations, powering everything down. Her fingers moved automatically — from habit, from rhythm she knew by heart: power off, cables coiled, connections double-checked. It was late. The kind of late where the world outside the convention walls ceased to exist. Only shadows, cold concrete beneath her boots, and the heavy silence of exhaustion settling under her skin.

She didn’t speak to anyone. She didn’t have to. The rest of the crew was slowly dispersing — someone exchanged a quick “See you,” someone else wrestled with a cable that wouldn’t coil. But Liv was already alone. Mentally elsewhere. Already stepping off the track.

She slipped her headset from her neck and glanced one last time at the graphic station that had glowed so vividly hours before. Now it was dark. Without light, everything looked different. Starker. Quieter. More real.

She sighed softly — not from fatigue, but from a tension that had been sitting in her chest for hours.

She stepped a few paces away, heading into the side corridor leading to the backstage zone. Almost no one remained here. A few dimmed lights. Echoing footsteps. The scent of cables, dust, and metal. She knew this place — here was where she felt most like herself. In the shadows. Beyond the spotlight. Behind the performance.

It was in that shadow that she’d left something today. A small sketch. A quiet sheet of paper. A drawing of a bear. A symbol that had long made her think of him — of Tom. Not because of his roles or his screen image, but because of the way he was. Strong, but not overpowering. Silent, yet attentive.

She’d left the paper in his dressing room. Slipped it among his things where he’d find it — but without pressure. It wasn’t a gesture seeking attention. It was permission. That he could look deeper, if he chose to. And that she saw him — maybe in a way no one else did.

She didn’t expect anything in return.

And yet, now that the work was finished, now that she sat on the ramp stairs with a cup of cold coffee in her hands, she could feel that tension again. As if a part of her had stayed there — with that sketch. With that bear.

Had he found it yet?

Did he understand?

She wasn’t a romantic. She never had been. She didn’t believe in movie-like moments, in stares that changed lives. But she was sensitive to what wasn’t said. To nuance. To silence that carried meaning. And he — he was just like that. Unhurried. Observant. Different from the rest.

When their eyes had met — earlier, by the monitors — he hadn’t looked away. And neither had she. In that brief moment, there had been no performance. Just something real. Quiet. Like an echo that returns at the most unexpected time.

Liv looked down at her hands. They were cold, despite the warmth inside the hall. They always got that way when she was tense. Everything on the surface under control, but her body betrayed her. But this tension — this was something else. Not stress. Anticipation. An unspoken “what now?”

She curled into herself slightly, resting her elbows on her knees, sipping the bitter coffee. Overhead, someone killed another set of lights. A shadow moved across the floor like a calm wave. It was quiet. Even the radios had gone silent.

Maybe she should go. Grab her bag. Disappear.

But something held her there.

The thought that he might be sitting there right now — maybe holding the paper in his hand. Maybe recognizing it was from her. Maybe seeing more than she’d ever dare say aloud.

She didn’t know him. And that was the strangest part. In the real world, she wouldn’t have dared. Wouldn’t have started. But here — in this world of cables, lights, and tired faces — everything felt different. Truth carried more weight. Gestures mattered. Words less.

If he understood — that would be enough.

She didn’t need grand declarations. She didn’t want an instant response. This wasn’t a test. It was an open window. If you want to — look through it.

Eventually, she stood up from the steps, brushing her hands off on her work pants. Her bag waited by the side door, the weight of equipment tugging slightly at her shoulder. She walked the quiet corridor one last time and stopped near the dressing rooms. His dressing room. The same one she’d slipped into earlier. The one that now held her sketch.

She paused. She had no intention of going in. But she was curious. She wanted to know if the paper was still there. Or if maybe… something more was missing.

The door was closed. A thin slice of light still shone beneath it.

Was he inside?

Had he seen?

Had he felt it?

She smiled faintly — to herself. To this strange moment where the future was one long “maybe.”

Then she turned and walked away.

But something stayed with her.

A warmth. Like a touch that never happened physically, but felt real all the same.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe not. Maybe never.

But sometimes, once in a long while, between cables and silence, something is born that doesn’t need noise to matter.

[one-shot-plus-size]

Chapter 5 – The Bear on Paper from his point of view

✨🐺Working Title: "When His World Quieted"

Main Characters: Tom Hardy x OC

Genre: Slow burn, emotional realism, quiet chemistry, trauma & healing, protective!Tom

Charpter 5/20

It was already evening. Comic Con was winding down. The convention hall, which just hours earlier pulsed with energy and noise, now grew quiet — like a massive organism shutting down after a long day. Echoes of footsteps bounced off concrete walls, and the last technicians moved in silence, coiling cables, turning off lights, packing up equipment.

Tom Hardy walked through one of the side corridors toward his dressing room. He passed empty booths, bits of decorations, abandoned coffee cups. He felt tired — not the kind that came from physical exertion, but the mental weight of constant attention. Smiles, photos, handshakes, the endless chorus of “Tom, here!” and “Tom, look at the camera!” It was part of the job, routine by now. But today... something felt different.

His thoughts kept circling back to her. To Liv.

He didn’t know her. Not really. But he’d been watching her. Or rather — he couldn’t stop watching her. Blue hair tied into a neat mohawk, a “CREW” sweatshirt, steady, calm movements. She didn’t try to be visible — and yet to him, she was more vivid than anyone else in that hall.

He had seen her bent over monitors, adjusting graphics, consulting light angles with the tech crew. In a world full of noise, she was like a silence that mattered. She never looked away when their eyes met. She never sought contact, yet something between them vibrated quietly — tense and real.

He opened the door to his dressing room. Everything inside was just as he had left it. His leather jacket was thrown over a chair, his phone still charging beside the mirror, half a bottle of water on the table. But something was different.

A piece of paper lay there. Folded in half, no envelope, no note. It sat there quietly, shyly, like something personal left behind with purpose — or hesitation.

Tom approached and carefully opened the paper.

He froze.

In the center of the page was a sketch of a bear. Not hyper-realistic, but emotionally rich. Drawn with a fine-tip pen, the lines were precise and soft at once. The bear wasn’t fierce. It wasn’t roaring or attacking. It simply sat, strong and still, its head slightly lifted as if it were observing something — or understanding it. Confident, calm. Not needing to dominate.

Just below the drawing, a handwritten note:

“For someone who sees more than others.”

Tom felt something shift inside him. As if the paper weighed more than it should.

This wasn’t a gift. Not in the usual sense. It wasn’t a fan letter or a note saying, “I love you” or “You're amazing.” This was something else. An intimate gesture. A message without words — yet full of meaning.

He sat down slowly, the paper still in his hand.

He knew it was from Liv. He didn’t need confirmation. No one else looked at him the way she did. No one else had a reason to leave behind something so personal — and yet so restrained.

He stared at the bear again.

A bear. Not a wolf. Not a lion. Not a predator in motion. A symbol.

Strength. Calm. Instinct. Solitude. Protection.

Tom had always felt a kinship with bears. Not just physically, but emotionally. He didn’t need noise, but he could fight if needed. He could be quiet when he wanted to. But when provoked — unstoppable. And yet, under the thick skin, there was a heart few people ever saw.

Had Liv seen that?

Was this sketch a silent “I see you,” written in ink?

He realized he was holding the paper like something precious. He didn’t want to bend it. Didn’t want to lose it. It felt like a key — maybe not to her, but to whatever had started to form between them. Quietly, under the surface of formality, somewhere between cables, lights, and silence.

He ran his finger along one of the drawn lines of fur. Every detail was deliberate. There was no randomness here. This wasn’t a doodle. It was a message. Something that isn’t said aloud.

He couldn’t quite smile, not fully. But something in his expression softened.

He wanted to find her. Say something. Maybe thank her. Maybe just look into her eyes again and let her know — I got it.

But he knew this wasn’t something you rushed. You don’t break silence that has meaning. Some things aren't meant to be shouted. Sometimes silence speaks volumes.

Maybe she would respond again. Maybe not. Maybe he could leave something in return.

He stood slowly, still gazing at the bear. Then he folded the paper carefully, almost reverently, and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

This wasn’t the end.

This was the beginning.

For those who know how to look.