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Like father, like daughter

Felicity is kinda like a Forrest Jr. in this but as always there's room for improvement

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Howard was the first to notice her, having caught the bright red of her dress out of the corner of his eye, he turned his head sidelong and Maggie offered him a small wave that he returned tentatively. Cedar, seeing the movement, ceased her ranting long enough to follow Howard's gaze and quickly removed her hat when she saw Maggie, turning from one of the foul mouthed bootleggers Maggie had grown accustomed to, to the actions befitting a fleeting young man. Maggie smiled and inclined her head to her, she'd only grown up with three men, Cedar could probably benefit from having a more feminine figure in her life, although if she's as stubborn as her father and uncles, then there's not likely much that can be done. “Miss Maggie.” Cedar nodded somewhat jittery. “Your father has offered the spare room to me with everything that's happened.” The waitress explained, Cedar's shoulders sagged slightly with relief and she looked over at Howard expectantly. “Well,” she snapped, not exactly going any easier on him, “be a dear and take the lovely lady's bags upstairs for her.” She ordered. Howard briskly stood with a nod and a grunt of obedience, slapping his hat on his head as he stalked past Maggie to do as he was told. “It's by the door.” She called after him, Howard nodded back appreciatively, and carted the suitcase up the stairs. As soon as he was out of sight, Maggie turned back to see Cedar collapse into her dad's chair and cross her arms with a huff, “What'd he do?” She asked. “He kinda hit Jack in the face,” the fifteen year old sighed, “gave his own brother a bloody nose and I started yelling at him.” She finished explaining. Maggie shook her head, “Well, I'm sure your father will be pleased to know how you handled the situation.” She smiled, the light joking tone pulling a grin from the younger girl. “He knows what Howard's like.” Was all she said.

#tom hardy #hope you enjoy #wip wednesday #forrest bondurant #wip wip wip #lawless

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Moonshine conference

Have some more Cedar for wip Wednesday!!

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A blaze contained within an old barrel, the group of mountain folk that stood inside its warmth, waiting. Only one of them was old enough to get away with all the complaining he was doing, Jimmy, like most of the others, drowned him out. The aforementioned bootlegger scanned the shapes in the shadows, eyes straining trying to make out any familiar outlines. The flame danced as a breeze picked up, Jimmy inhaled, tobacco laced the light gust, making the bootlegger smile to himself for a moment before ordering his features back into something more.. business appropriate. Worn boots walked toward them at a brisk pace, a considerably smaller pair kept pace beside them, two other larger pairs at their heels. Looking up from there, led to corduroys, dark brown in color, higher up still, a gray knit sweater in view. The steps grew closer until they stopped in the light of the flame, sizzling with a puffing sound as the end of a smoked out cigar was chucked into it. “Say your piece Jimmy, I've got a business to run.” A low gruff voice got straight to the point. Jimmy's eyes watched the youngest of the clan that stood before him and the others. The fire reflected in her dark hazel eyes, a cream sweater tucked into dark brown corduroys, she took after her father Jimmy figured, white suspenders holding them in place, standard gray flat cap partially obscuring shaggy dirty blonde hair from sight. “You sure you want Cedar to sit in for this, Forrest?” Jimmy asked evened toned, he wasn't the type to go around telling another man how he ought to raise his children, but the thought of what little was probably left of the girl's innocence weighed heavily on him. “She goes where I go.” Forrest flicked his head toward Cedar as she nodded in agreement. Jimmy bowed his head and signed, but accepted their wishes.

#tom hardy #hope you enjoy #wip wednesday #forrest bondurant #wip wip wip #lawless #fanfiction #Cedar as a character is growing to be very sassy and a lot of fun to write

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Song fic: The devil inside - Daniel Murphy

This is the start of a song inspired Forrest Bondurant fic, I have a Tommy Conlon one in the works as well

And without further ado, enjoy!

Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @hoodeddreams13 @inkwolvesandcoffee @liliac-dreamer @potter-solomons

���And its special deputy!” The newcomer nit-picked. Sheriff Pete Hodges narrowed his eyes, all this so-called “Special Deputy” had done so far was reinforce his distaste for city folk. “I hear these mountain boys have got, uh… oh, what do you hicks call it?” Hodges did everything in his power to suppress a glare, “Cherokee… blood in them, yes, this would explain why they're a little… animalistic in their nature.” Charlie Rakes said, features scrunched together as if the mere thought of it disgusted him. The sheriff sighed silently through his nose, thinking that whoever thought it was a good idea to send Rakes to Franklin wanted to damn his small town to hell. “Well, I don't rightly understand what you mean,” Hodges started out, not looking to stir up things that didn't have no need to be stirred in the first place, “but there's a feeling around these parts,” the newcomer's ears perked up with intrigue. “Forrest bondurant, he's.. different from the other folks, some say..” The sheriff paused to choose his next word carefully, “Indestructible.” He decided. “You mean immortal?” Rakes asked with a smirk, awaiting a laugh from the sheriff to assure himself that his leg was being pulled under the table. Hodges expression remained serious however, the laugh Rakes wanted to hear never came. “Others even say he's got the devil in'em.” Hodges added. Rakes let out a high pitched laugh, making Hodges wonder if his unmentionables were still in his abdomen, “Shit,” he scoffed, “you hicks are a fucking sideshow unto yourselves.” He chuckled. “You know something?” Hodges said before he could stop himself. Rakes looked up at him with a curt and disdainful smile, “I don't much like you.” The sheriff uttered, finally giving himself the satisfaction of speaking his mind. “Oh yeah?” Rakes asked, gesturing to him, “Well, would you believe that not many do.” He added sarcastically.

#tom hardy #hope you enjoy #wip wednesday #forrest bondurant #wip wip wip #lawless #fanfiction #Spotify

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Wip Wednesday

This still doesn't have an official title lol but enjoy more of this cheeky devil...

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Eames closed his eyes as he leaned back in his chair, thinking that attempting to will his problem away was futile. Opening his eyes, Yusuf, Dom Cobb, and Arthur were all still staring back at him, patiently. He wasn't sure he'd use the word ‘friends’, given friends were a risky thing to have in this line of business, but they were as close as he figured he would get to that, especially Arthur. He cleared his throat, “My stomach no longer feels obligated to empty itself, if that's what you're asking Arthur, thank you.” He said. Arthur nodded, his cheeks dempling as a half-suppressed smile appeared on his face. “What do you know about projectionists?” Eames asked quietly, looking at Arthur as if he only wanted him to hear, or maybe he didn't want any of them to hear and hoped his question would be glossed over. However, Arthur shook his head in response. Eames thunked his elbow on the top of the table and scratched at the back of his head with a heavy sigh. “Projectionists?” Cobb questioned, looking between them. “I've heard of them,” Yusuf said, “but I've never worked with one.” He admitted. “Projectionists have a long standing relationship with forgers,” Eames started, lightly rocking in his chair. “Some become so intertwined within dreams that they will refuse jobs that don't allow them to work together.” He explained with serious narrowed eyes. “Are you intertwined with a projectionist, Mr. Eames?” Arthur asked, of course he was the first one to connect the dots, nodding as if Eames ceasing his movement was eloquent enough to count as an answer.

#tom hardy #hope you enjoy #wip wednesday #wip wip wip #ian eames inception #the only problem I'm having with this is trying work details of the projectionists abilities 😅

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Wip Wednesday

I haven't written Eames in a while, so enjoy this blurb 😊

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"Wonderful,” Eames smiled as his forge of Browning lost its shape and dissipated, the smile turned into a bit of a smirk as his mind registered the disgruntled look Author shot Cobb as the latter praised Eames for his forgery. He had paraded around the barroom he'd dreamed up as the godfather of their Inception mark with ease, he briskly walked toward the table Cobb and Arthur occupied, thinking up some witty verbal ammunition to throw Arthur's way. As his mouth opened to speak, he turned considerably pale, leaning one hand on the table closest to him and the other clutched his stomach as a wave of nausea hit him, he considered dreaming up a bowl or bucket as the feeling that he might hurl increased. Cobb, of course, shot up from his chair and grabbed his arm. “Eames, what's wrong?” He asked worried, “are you sick?” He added when Eames didn't even so much as look up at him. “How blind are you, Dominic?” Arthur spat, standing up. The pair attempted to aid Eames to a chair, he recognized this as an attempt to help, but he pulled away from their grasps. “I'm not some nursing case.” He mumbled quietly. “Right,” Arthur drew out, “because appearing as though your next door to passing out is not at all a cause for concern.” His narrowed eyes were fixed on the forger. “I'm not!” Eames persisted, though he swayed a bit as the lightheadedness he was feeling worsened, Arthur grabbed his shoulder to steady him with a resigned sigh, that much Eames was thankful for. Something in his body seemed to settle, even Arthur deemed him steady enough to stand on his own. Eames bolted toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. The last thing he heard before the bar exploded was Cobb calling his name.

#tom hardy #hope you enjoy #wip wednesday #wip wip wip #ian eames inception

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Don't lose sleep over it.

Forrest sleeps on a mattress on the floor, ever wonder how that came to be?

This also got a lot longer than I thought it would lol

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A slow day at the station with fair weather meant sitting out on the front porch, you were sitting in a rocking chair with a towel laid over your lap, peeling potatoes for tonight's supper, stealing glances at Howard, Danny, and Jack. Howard and Danny were passing a jar between themselves, despite having a crate sat at their feet, the pair of old friends were content to share one at a time as if it made it taste better. Jack let out a heavy sigh, resting his hat on his knee as he leaned back against a poll that aided in holding up the roof that covered the porch, brooding over God knows what. A relaxed smile rested on your face, the late afternoon that was slowly turning into an evening was almost perfect, given the absence of one of the brothers.

“I could run them blockades.” Jack said flatly. “You? A blockader? Shit.” Danny scoffed. “Ya know, Forrest don't like hearin’ none of your shit.” Howard said with a smug grin, knowing that no matter how ever many times Jack was told to stop complaining, didn't mean he was going to stop anytime soon. “Forrest ain't got no vision,” Jack griped, and you shook your head. That boy would be rich if he could make a living off of talkin’ about vision this and vision that, you thought. “He still sleeps on the floor, like a goddamn chinaman.” Jack continued as Danny passed the half full jar back to Howard. The eldest glanced at Danny as he took the jar, he sat it on the old oak barrel next to his side of the bench. He leaned his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and smiling at Jack. “I'll bet you don't know the story behind that do you, little brother?” He asked. Jack only stared in response, making Howard snort a laugh, “All started the day somebody broke into the goddamned place…”

“Son of a bitch..” Forrest grumbled quietly, walking up the front steps, glancing back at Howard over his shoulder. The eldest snapped his head up to attention, “You seein’ this shit?” Forrest gestured to the broken window, shards of glass littered almost half of the front part of the wrap around porch. Forrest sighed as he entered through the door, retrieving his revolver from his belt. “You check upstairs.” He said calmly, they've already dealt with their share of less reputable sources, it was the nature of their business and not many in said business had the pleasure of officials who turned a blind eye to them and their doings in broad daylight. Howard nodded and moved past him, marching up the stairs with all the grace of a compact herd of bulls. Forrest sighed heavily, damn it Howard. Thankfully there was only one set of stairs, however he wouldn't put it past some people to fling themselves out of a second story window depending on how desperate they were, he's pulled enough of his own risky getaway stunts to understand this on a personal level, and getting away from Howard was certainly something that could drive someone to such measures. The kitchen and barroom, and more importantly his office appeared untouched as he moved through the rooms. He stood steadfast in the doorway of his office, eyes studying every inch of the room to satisfy himself that there wasn't a single belonging out of place, with as much time as he spent here, of course he would be the one to know. He breathed deeply, a long deep comfortable breath of cigar smoke soaked walls mixing with the leather polish he used on the boots that he kept for nice, not that “nice” counted for much around here. He hung his hat on a crudely fashioned iron hook Howard had put by the door some time ago now, Howard was of course taller, so eye level for him was a bit over Forrest's head but that didn't matter, if it ain't broke, don't fix it. A content sigh left his lips, half a mind to pick up one of his ledgers.

“Forrest!” Howard called, Forrest flinched at the sudden break of his comfortable silence, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh, grumbling incoherently to himself as he took a step backwards out of the doorway, supposing being hollered at by his brother was better than hearing a gunshot. His heavy boots thudded as he moved up the stairs, he'd never exactly gone out of his way to find Howard, didn't have to. Just follow the string of curses, they'd always lead right to him. Howard stood aimless in the middle of the bedroom, Jack's bedroom.. or what was left of it. Clothes were scattered across the floor as if thrown, Forrest knew they were folded and put away in the chest of drawers this morning, he'd been the one to put them there. Mattress and bedding turned over carelessly, they fared better than the frame itself, looking like someone had taken both ends of an ax to it. A splintered pile of broads, like someone had been in desperate need of firewood. Forrest wouldn't really blame them had that been the case, he'd been in that position before, knew a lot of others who had also been there before.

Howard glanced around the room, gaze finally settled on Forrest leaning a shoulder against the door jamb with his arms crossed across his chest. The shorter male flicked his hazel eyes toward the leftovers of their younger brother's bed and back to Howard's face, he hadn't been able to tell if the feeling that spider-walked down his spine was a shiver or a tingle. The eldest settled on a mix of both, deadlocked by what was outwardly the stare of the middle brother, but inwardly, a dead ringer for the stare of a mother. Forrest had always looked the most like her. He'd always had her eyes, greenish hazel with flakes of honeyed brown, he attempted to shrug off the haunting memory. “This is it,” he stated, answering the unsaid question, “nothin’ else.” You learned how to answer without being asked if you spent enough time with Forrest, something the youngest had yet to master. Silence fell among the two men, Forrest readjusted his stance slightly, shifting on his feet, eyes moving around the bedroom. Howard idled, taking his time to stow away his weapon, awaiting his brother's command. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rested his weight on one leg, a hip stuck out to the side, eyes following and tracing the paths the eyes of his younger brother carved out. “Hmm” Forrest finally hummed, stepping over the threshold, one hand settling in the pocket of his patterned sweater vest, “Best find something to fix that window,” he started, “bar it at least, until we get a replacement.” Howard nodded, and Forrest continued, “I'll sort this mess out.” His free hand gestured to the room, Howard nodded again, moving past Forrest without a word, off to do as he was told.

Forrest huffed, recalling how he spent their last trip into town doing all he could to hold Howard back from lounging at a pair of, well he still thought of them as boys, they were grown now. Howard ran with them once, if only because they were his age. They snickered at each other, Howard and Jack were whooped house dogs, according to them, and Forrest was an overly bossy prick apparently. “They don't know us.” Forrest had said out of earshot in an attempt to quell a frenzied Howard. He shook his head as if it would rid his mind of the memory, focusing on the task at hand. He flipped the latch on the window open, grabbing the stick that Jack used to prop it open. He sent the first piece of wood sailing out of the window, hurtling toward the ground. He'd stuff it in the barn later, even if it did end up as firewood later. Wood could always be used for something.

Howard spat on the ground, holding the rusty nails with his mouth may not have been the best idea in hindsight, but it got the job done. He yanked on the similarly rusted rebar, with not a single clue nor care where Forrest and Cricket came up with it, to make sure it held, it was a crude fix, but he still grinned when it stayed in place, he had gotten what he was after. The old screen door wailed on its hinges as he made his way to inspect his work from the inside. His pleased grin only widened. His attention snapped to the stairs when he heard a thunk, wood against wood, followed by a soft string of uttered curses. “Forrest?!” He called, no answer, figures. His feet carried him up the stairs before he really had a say in the matter. Whoever had broken the window was well and gone, but his strong instincts to protect kicked in nonetheless. His heavy boots stomped against the wooden floor as he rushed to his baby brother. The doorway was blocked by a piece of furniture, a bed frame, maybe? he couldn't see around or over it. “Forrest?” He said again, more confused this time. “Well, push the damned thing already.” Forrest responded from inside the room, sounding particularly frustrated. Howard propped a shoulder against the dark colored wood, bracing his legs as he put his weight into wedging the heavy object out of the way. It emitted a manner of creaks and groans, complaining with every inch of movement, a number of groans, grunts, and grumbling came from the two men brute forcing the movement upon it. Forrest would give him an earful later, but Howard ceased his pushing momentarily, adjusting his stance and growling at the stubborn simple bed. Resetting his feet and putting all his weight into ramming his shoulder against the frame, and something gave, it was through the door finally.

Forrest fell backwards with a thunk, he gazed up at the piece of furniture that now towered over him from this point of view on his rear. “Bastard…” he murmured, cursing directed at the inanimate object, not Howard. He huffed before going to get to his feet, a pair of arms snaked under his pits and lifted him, remaining in place until he found his balance. Howard rounded his side and came into vision, blue orbs ran over Forrest multiple times in quick succession. Howard could step up if needed, but without a solid source of direction, he would ultimately be entirely lost. Those concerned eyes came to rest on the middle brother's face. Forrest only softened his gaze like this for his brothers, bunching part of Howard's jacket in his fist, a couple light tugs and a pat on the shoulder made Howard smile at him. With the bedframe no longer stuck, Forrest muscled it into place with ease as Howard's features scrunched into a puzzled expression. “Where'd you get this?” He asked, not thinking about how his body seemed to help move the mattress in place automatically. Forrest paused, staring Howard down from the opposite side of the bed, a soft grunt fell from his lips as he turned to put the rest of the bed back together. Howard once again made to help without much thought on anything except what Forrest wouldn't tell him, he cornered the shorter male as he put a pillow in its proper place, studying Forrest's expression. “Aren't I worth answerin’?” Howard said, placing an arm either side of his younger brother's head, leaning on his hands and the wall. Forrest sighed heavily and audibly through his nose, ducking under Howard's arm and making for his own bedroom door. Howard of course, followed, stopping the door from shutting completely with his foot with very little force, albeit said door was slammed in his face regardless after Forrest smacked his side into it. Howard remained in place for a moment, staring at the door and nodding at nothing in particular, eventually sullenly walking to his door at the end of the hall.

“It's been that way since.” Howard finished telling his tale, “you got back from Cricket's, and didn't know the difference.” He added. The orange, pink, and purple gradient of the sunset was accompanied by the approaching rumble of an engine, the brothers shared truck came to a stop and Forrest lumbered out of the driver's seat, and the aforementioned Cricket Pate appeared from the passenger door, the grin plastered to his face got bigger when he spotted Jack. “Jack! You ain't gon’ believe this.” He chirped happily, showing off his newest jar of hooch. Forrest let out a satisfied groan as he twisted his midsection, making his back crack with an audible pop. He thudded up the steps with no hurry in his pace as Cricket chattered on about how he'd perfected his recipe, “I.. uh, had a little help, of course.” He added, glancing up at Forrest, who shook his head and shrugged, not sharing in the boy’s excitement with how many years he's been runnin’ shine now, wasn't worth fussin’ over. Forrest sauntered to your side, stubble pressed into your cheek as he caressed it with a gentle kiss, “Darl’” he drawled softly in greeting. Cricket had gone quiet, as Jack's focus shifted to his big brother taking his relaxed moments toward the front door, one foot got over the threshold before he stopped and turned back to Jack, who figured he knew he was being stared at, “The hell you watchin’ me for?” The middle brother asked, Jack turned away, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “Hmft.” Forrest grunted at the lack of answering, and then he disappeared inside.

#hope you enjoy #wip wednesday #wip wip wip #tom hardy #forrest bondurant #lawless #fluff #there might be a Bob saginowski piece coming soon 😉 #for now enjoy some fluffy Forrest thinking about his brothers before himself #🖤🖤🖤🖤

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Sunshine (Bob Saginowski x Reader) [Request]

Hi! Could I please request a Bob Saginowski fic where she works at the bar and is always happy and bubbly and just a carefree ray of sunshine? But one day there’s some trouble with a payment or something and a few gang guys show up. And while naturally he tries to protect her and get her out of the way, she surprises him by showing some real teeth and being a badass. He won’t show it but internally he’s like 😍 If that doesn’t inspire you, feel free to discard. Thank you! 🖤—Requested by anon

Warnings: blood, stabbing, violence

Gif Source: rioliv

When Bob first met you, he didn’t know how to interact with you. It was beyond his social capacity, but not in the sense that he could not carry on a conversation or treat you like anyone else. It was your attitude toward life that absolutely confused him.

To be fair, he had seen few happy people. The intoxicated patrons at the bar who turned happy and bubbly did not inherently enter the bar that way, and the lubrication made their happiness a lie. The rest of the regulars attended the bar to drown away their sorrows or wallow further in them still. He was, therefore, infrequently around people who were genuinely happy and content with their lives. It just wasn’t common in the neighborhood.

Keep reading

#Bob Saginowski x Reader #Bob Saginowski #Bob Saginowski imagine #Tom Hardy x Reader #Tom Hardy #Tom Hardy imagine #The Drop

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Has anyone else ever wondered this?

Anyone who's seen the movie knows Forrest just has a mattress on the floor that he calls his bed. Does anyone else wonder why, or is it just me? Well, this is part of what popped up amongst all that wondering

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A slow day at the station with fair weather meant sitting out on the front porch, you were sitting in a rocking chair with a towel laid over your lap, peeling potatoes for tonight's supper, stealing glances at Howard, Danny, and Jack. Howard and Danny were passing a jar between themselves, despite having a crate sat at their feet, the pair of old friends were content to share one at a time. Jack let out a heavy sigh, resting his hat on his knee as he leaned back against a poll that aided in holding up the roof that covered the porch, brooding over God knows what. A relaxed smile rested on your face, the late afternoon that was slowly turning into an evening was almost perfect, given the absence of one of the brothers.

“I could run them blockades.” Jack said flatly. “You? A blockader? Shit.” Danny scoffed. “Ya know Forrest don't like hearin’ none of that.” Howard said with a grin, knowing that no matter how many times Jack was told to stop complaining didn't mean a thing to the youngest. “Forrest ain't got no vision,” Jack griped, you shook your head. That boy would be rich if he could make a living off of talkin’ about vision this and vision that, you thought. “He still sleeps on the floor, like a goddamn chinaman.” Jack continued as Danny passed the half full jar back to Howard. The eldest glanced at Danny as he took the jar, he sat it on the old oak barrel next to his side of the bench. He leaned his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and smiling at Jack. “I'll bet you don't know the story behind that do you, little brother?” He asked. Jack only stared in response, making Howard snort a laugh, “All started the day somebody broke into the goddamned place…”

#tom hardy #hope you enjoy #wip wednesday #forrest bondurant #lawless #wip wip wip #fluff

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Wake up, new lawless AU just dropped

This literally came from the thought of what if there was a fourth Bondurant?

And yes i'm totally normal about this movie what on earth could've given you any other ideas

Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @inkwolvesandcoffee @liliac-dreamer @potter-solomons

The Virginia landscape was a beautiful arty array of autumnal colors this time of year, brown roughly textured tree bark in contrast with the reds, oranges, yellows, and what little greens were still stubbornly hanging on. Fall crops were ripening, which meant it was time for things like pumpkin pies and candy apples in most households. At Blackwater station, it meant more demand for things like apple brandy, pumpkin pie that was fermented and sealed in a Mason jar, the regular stuff never exactly went out of demand, in fact it stayed that way year round. Felicity watched some of that clear liquid disappear down her eldest uncle's throat, he recaped the jar and sat it down by his feet, it fell over almost instantly due to the moving vehicle hitting a rut in the road that the county didn't care enough to fix. Most of the roads outside of the actual town were like that, they were the only ones that mattered, the only ones that made an impression on any newcomers, most of the others were only used by locals, so of course they didn't need any upkeep. Felicity smacked her uncle's hand away from the crate as he reached for another jar. “We're workin’ on sellin’ this stuff.” Was all she said, with an indifferent tone. He shrugged, taking out another jar anyway. Felicity sighed through her nose and she shook her head as he took a large swallow, he tilted the jar towards her, offering. “Dad said, no drinkin’ on the job.” She explained, pushing his arm back toward him. “Your dad is a stickler.” Her uncle said with a grin. “And you're an alcoholic.” Felicity retorted, flattening her light colored brows. “Ha!” He laughed, “Can't argue with that kiddo.” His loud voice obviously carried to the cab when he flinched at the sound of an open handed smack on the outside of the passenger door. However, true to his nature, that lopsided grin was back on his face in a matter of seconds.

#wip wednesday #tom hardy #hope you enjoy #forrest bondurant #lawless #wip wip wip #fluff #fanfiction

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WIP Wednesday

This doesn't really have a title yet, nor do I know if it'll be a snippet or part of a full-on fic, but regardless, enjoy Howard worrying over his baby brother

Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @inkwolvesandcoffee @liliac-dreamer @potter-solomons

Darkness fell hours ago, Howard drummed his fingers on his knee nervously, sweat beaded down his broad forehead as if the sun was beating down on him, he couldn't sleep, there was no use trying. He heaved a heavy sigh out of his chest, “Where in the hell are you Forrest?” He murmured into the darkness of the empty barroom. Crickets, nothing but crickets, and damned old hoot owls reached his ears. The time was irrelevant really, they all came and went at all hours, but the absence of the middle brother was killing him, the not knowing made it worse. Shine would ease his nerves, oddly enough something in him thought better of it, instead settling on the half empty pack of cigarettes abandoned at the bar by a drunk patron to mask his quivering lip. Smoke billowed out from his flared nostrils as quick as he inhaled it. If he was wound up any tighter he'd might as well be a gnats’ ass. Another quick draw off his smoldering smoke did nothing for the unease settling in his gut. Leaning his head back, exhaling sharply and watching the smoke cloud drift away from his face, disappearing before it could really get anywhere. The scent of cigarette smoke was nowhere near as pungent as those big fat cigars Forrest liked so well. Nothing could top that, Howard figured. Sometimes he swore he could smell them in his sleep, he probably could too, given that Forrest was known to indulge in a midnight smoke break or two.

#tom hardy #hope you enjoy #wip wednesday #forrest bondurant #lawless #wip wip wip #fluff #fanfiction

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Stuck on Autopilot - I had a son scene

Hello!!! I'm back with another wip from an original story, life has been a pain in my ass recently but I do have some airplane pilot/undercover spy/secret society stuff going on

Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @inkwolvesandcoffee @liliac-dreamer @potter-solomons

Jack's eyes were cold, miserable, and angry. White knuckling a glass of gin, a heated glare aimed at the floor, "Damn you to hell Oscar Moseley." He snarled through gritted teeth. The oddly placed bar had become a sanctuary of sorts, it was out of the way, not knowing it was there rendered it invisible, and it was as far removed as Moseley officials from the genetic hustle and bustle of the civilian airport could get. Jack didn't bother to look up when he heard the door open, the sound of approaching footsteps came to a sudden stop, followed by a drawn out sigh. When nothing else came, Jack let into temptation, removing his gaze from the floor and aiming his eyes upwards, there he saw Otto staring at him with pity in his eyes. "Go to hell." Jack grumbled, wishing to be left to his self seclusion. "Oh honey, where do you think I just came from?" Otto questioned, gesturing back to the door without freeing his hand from the confines of his jacket pocket. The handsome Britt sauntered a few steps toward the bar and his partner, bowing his head in what Jack wasn't sure was mockery or an attempt to see eye to eye, in a literal sense.

"So, do you want me to ask or.." Otto started in a hushed voice, close to Jack's ear. "Take a guess." Jack grumbled, ice clinking off the sides of his glass as he wiped a sleeve over his nose with sniffle. "How's the gin treating you?" Otto asked with a half smile. Jack cocked his head to cast a downcast side long look at his cohort. Light blue eyes resembling a flawed sapphire with a dull tone. “Ya know, if I was a bird,” Jack started, looking up at Otto, “you'd be the first to get shat on.” He jeered. Otto held his hands up in acquiescence, taking a step back. He laid a hand atop the mahogany bar, and the other rested on his hip. Watching his partner down his drink, wringing his hands and running them over his face. Otto sighed, glancing over at the door, “Right,” he began. “Maybe I can't stop your downpour,” he could see Jack look up at him from the corner of his eye, “but I'll join you for a walk in the rain.” He said, turning back to Jack. Otto had an urge to throw on a “mate” at the end of that sentence but thought better of it, given Jack's current mood.

#hope you enjoy #wip wednesday #wip wip wip #original story #so this isn't finished #but its fine #angst #stuck on autopilot #jack williams soa #otto wittmen soa

[angel-inked]

Absolutely amazing

Emergency call (Tommy Shelby & Alfie Solomons)

This for @peakyltd and her celebration. Congrats, Daisy! I used this prompt: "If I hear the word birthday one more time..."

Summary: Tommy should have known. He went from Birmingham to London because Alfie had called him "urgently". Life or death, he had said. Well, it was urgent. It was Cyril's birthday and no one had gone to his party.

Warnings: None!

Words: 650.

"What happened, Tommy?"

Polly watched her nephew grab his coat, hat and cigarettes before hurrying out the door.

"I don't know, but Alfie Solomons called and I'm going to London. From his tone of voice, he sounded worried. And only one thing can have him like that and that's the Italians. And that involves us." Tommy had already opened the car door and was sitting behind the wheel.

"Are you sure? Solomons is... peculiar."

Tommy nodded.

"Well, give me a call. Maybe you should take Arthur with you."

"I'd rather not. It's better to keep Alfie and Arthur apart. I can do it alone this time."

Perhaps he should have listened to his aunt. Polly knew what she was saying. But now it was too late.

Camden Town looked the same as ever, but there were fewer workers than usual. No one met him, no one told him where his associate was. But he knew the way.

"Tommy!" the loud voice of Alfie, interrupted his thoughts. "Tommy, over 'ere!"

The Camden Town leader was not in his office, but standing in front of a side door.

"You've come! Thank goodness! This, mate, this is fuckin' awful! I can't believe it!"

"Alfie! What's happened?! What's so urgent? Is someone in danger?"

"What's so urgent, Tom? This..."

Alfie opened the door. It was a room not unlike the rest of the distillery, wooden floor and stone walls. Several windows overlooked the back of the distillery.

And there, in the middle of that room was Cyril, Alfie's dog. Lying on the floor with his head resting on his paws and a sad expression. He was wearing a birthday hat on his head.

"It's Cyril's birthday. And nobody came to greet him, nobody. Look at him, he's depressed."

Tommy raised an eyebrow. For God's sake, that wasn't what he was thinking. Hadn't that made that trip just for... that.

"Alfie?"

"Even Ollie! Yeah! He was supposed to bring his dog to play with Cyril, but he didn't bring him. 'Tomorrow,' he said. Fuck off! It's not tomorrow, it's today, right? Today's his fuckin' birthday."

"Did you have me rush all the way to London because Cyril, Alfie?" Tommy asked. He had to know, perhaps he had hoped the answer was no.

"Of course I did! Fuckin' 'ell! Who was I going to call? Sabini? Someone besides me had to be with him! It's his birthday! Poor animal!"

Tommy sighed deeply, sliding one of his hands down his face. Polly, once again, was right.

"Cyril? Look who's here! It's Tommy, boy, Tommy came to celebrate your birthday with you."

"No, of course not."

"Obviously ya did, Tommy." Alfie grabbed his arm as he dragged him into the room. Cyril raised his head, wagging his tail.

"Alfie, I'm not staying here for your dog."

"You'll break his heart, no? On his birthday! Fuck, mate! I know you're cruel, but this is too much! It's only his second birthday, Thomas! Just a baby!"

"If I hear the word birthday one more time..."

Cyril had come over to sniff him. The dog seemed happy to have Tommy there and let him know it by standing on two legs and leaning on him.

"Go ahead, tell him you won't be celebrating with him," Alfie scowled at him close by.

Tommy looked at the dog. Cyril's brown eyes looked at him full of love and though he couldn't believe he had fallen for it, he just couldn't walk away leaving the dog alone there. He was a heartless man, but not that heartless.

Alfie knew he had won. "Ok, then," Alfie patted his hands "we have a party to celebrate."

Thomas Shelby would never confess that he had spent an entire afternoon listening to Alfie Solomons talk about his dog, like a mother talks about her son, while the two most feared gangsters in Britain wore a hat similar to Cyril's. Because, after all, this was a birthday party and they had to be dressed accordingly to it.

#tom hardy #alfie solomons fluff #alfie for sure talks about cyril like mom talking about her kids #this is so cute #tooth rotting fluff

[angel-inked]

there’s truly nothing like seeing people read and enjoy something i wrote.

like…in the midst of all this chaos and turmoil, you chose my writing to help ease the weight of living??? in a world packed full of art and writing and stories, you chose to give mine a shot??? you only have 1440 minutes in your day, and you gave my art a few of them???

honored is a silly, simple word to describe how meaningful that all is.

[angel-inked]

When they keep secrets

We all have secrets, don't we? Some are just bigger than others

A/N: happy new year 💖

Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thequeenofthewinter @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @inkwolvesandcoffee @liliac-dreamer @potter-solomons

What he wanted.

"You ready?" You asked, smiling at Tommy. "Yeah." Tommy replied, quiet and stoic as ever. You kissed his cheek before getting out of the car, taking a deep breath as you stared up at your childhood home. The idea of Tommy meeting your parents didn't make you nearly as nervous as the idea of your parents meeting Tommy, and if Tommy is nervous, he's certainly not letting it show on the surface, not that his flat affect allowed much to seep though anyway. You ran your hand along the railing as you climbed the front steps that seemed significantly smaller and less steep than they did when you were younger, the light sent of your mother's cooking wafting out of the partially open window. The memories of childhood came flooding back to you, your dad chasing you up and down the hallway, mom making your favorite meals, getting a hug and kiss from both of them as they wished you well before you got on the school bus. What more could a kid ask for really. You swallowed your nerves and knocked on the door. It flung open before your arm even had time to retract to your side, "how have you been, honey?" You're dad asked, swiftly pulling you into a hug. You giggled into his shoulder. It was always unclear who was more excited for you to return home, you or your parents.

"Come on in," your dad ushered the two of you inside, "Tommy, right?" He added, Tommy turned to him with narrowed eyes of slight confusion. He nodded. "Phil." Your dad smiled, introducing himself with an outstretched hand. Tommy shook it hesitantly. He wasn't used to being greeted so cheerfully. You grinned as your dad hurried off, to the kitchen to tell your mother of your arrival, no doubt. Shaking your head as you moved that direction yourself, smiling at the sounds of Tommy's heavy combat booted steps following along behind you. Tommy would trail you like a loyal dog whenever he was unsure what to do with himself. Your nose followed the sent of a delicious lunch in the making into the kitchen, where you saw your mother hovering around a skillet on the stove burner. "Hi mom." You smiled with a wave. "Oh, come here dear, I need a hug!" She exclaimed, making you giggle like you did at your dad earlier as she pecked your cheek lovingly. "Who's this nice young man you've brought with you?" Your mother grinned, flicking her eyes toward Tommy with a grin. "This is Tommy." You smiled, gesturing to him. Your mother's face lit up, "I'm Cassandra, we've heard several wonderful things about you dear." Your mom introduced herself. You could tell Tommy was a bit blindsided by her characteristic vigor. He remained silent for a moment before finally settling on, "Likewise." After a moment. "Why don't you kids have a seat in the living room, and I'll call you when lunch is ready." Your mom smiled, waving you off as she went back to the stovetop. You nodded and took Tommy's hand in your own, leading him to the end of the hallway. "You okay?" You asked quietly, walking slowly to keep your boyfriend's lumbering pace. "Yeah," Tommy started, "people are just usually more excited to watch me beat the shit out of somebody than they are to meet me." He added. "Oh, really? Because they've been biting at the bit to meet you. Every phone call lately as somehow involved being asked when they were going to meet you." You grinned. You watched Tommy's eyes shift between your face and the space over your shoulder. Turning around, you saw a picture of your mother with a baby on her lap hung on the wall, both wearing matching smiles to boot. "Well," Tommy said, grabbing your attention. "I can certainly see where that grin comes from." He said, looking between you and the picture, making you smile and nod.

Tommy remained in the doorway of the living room for a moment as you flopped on the couch. He began inspecting the mantel, a wooden box with a glass top that stood up on its side held medals and ribbons, including a pyramid of power and a purple heart. He moved to the side to eye down a picture of a man in a formal dress uniform, recognizing this man as Phil, your father. The inside of his head felt hazy, like when somber clouds became intent on blocking out the sun. The world feels grey, and those who can disappear inside out of the gloomy weather. Some find a dreary rainy day depressing. Others, like Tommy, feel rather at home in the gloom of a downpour. "Tommy." A voice cut through the haze of thoughts. A hand clapped down on his shoulder, "you were in corps?" Tommy asked quietly, turning to face Phil, who nodded. "I swear, this shit follows me everywhere." Tommy mumbled. "You active?" Phil asked. Tommy shook his head, "Not anymore." He murmured, "I have one of these," he started with a gesture to the display box of medals. "The purple heart." He added. Phil smiled, straightening his back and lifting his right hand in salute, Tommy returned the gesture. "I commend you, Tommy." Phil smiled. "I should be telling you that." Tommy said quietly. "I should be asking why this is the first time I'm hearing about any of this." You said from your spot on the couch as you crossed your legs. "Because I don't like to talk about it." Tommy grumbled, hanging his head. Your expression softened, standing and moving toward Tommy. You gently wrapped your hands around his wrists to guide his arms around your midsection, engulfing him in the comfort of a warm hug. Your dad padded him on the back, unintentionally making him pull away from you. Tommy eyed him oddly, you thought, like a half-hearted side-eye. "Lunch is ready!" Your mom called before you could really question this look.

Settling in at the table, you almost felt like a kid again. "How was your day, sweetie?" Your mom asked. You smiled, grabbing a piece of the fried chicken off your plate as you began telling them about your week. Tommy ate in silence, giving himself hell mentally after flinching at your sudden outburst of laughter at one of your dad's jokes. "Is something amiss, Tommy?" Your mom asked. You turned to see alarms going off behind Tommy's eyes. "No, everything's good, I appreciate this." Tommy said quietly, gesturing to the table, trying to redirect the attention away from himself. "You're very welcome, deary." Your mom smiled. Tommy nodded and continued to eat quietly. Watching you joyfully converse with your parents, he wasn't sure he'd ever admit it to you, but this is what he wanted growing up.

First date dilemma.

Eddie has always found getting ready rather stressful after being in front of a camera for the better part of his career. He had always felt the inescapable feeling of having to impress or prove himself to people, but preparing for a date was even worse. "Mmm," a deep rumble reverberated through his skull, making Eddie freeze in place, awaiting further harassment from his inner critic, but it didn't come. "Your heart rate has risen." The dark voice said lowly. "Yeah, no shit." Eddie muttered as he examined himself in the mirror. He sighed heavily and shrugged off the grey plaid long sleeve, "Nope!" He said, shaking his head. Vemon sighed, Eddie narrowed his eyes at the sound as he put the shirt back in his closet, feeling a pair of tendrils extending out of the midsection of his back. The feeling of the symbiote oozing through his skin was like warm water through a strainer. It was odd at first, but now it's hard to go without the warmth of Vemon coursing through his vains or the feeling of security that came from the symbiote forming around his body. Eddie turned away from his closet to see a navy long sleeve button-down and his leather jacket being presented to him, "Put this on." Vemon said. "Are you sure?" Eddie asked, taking the shirt in his hands. "Yes," Vemon exclaimed, "otherwise, we are going to be late." the symbiote added. "Being late is kinda my specialty, ya know?" Eddie deadpaned as he buttoned his shirt. "Idiot!" Vemon exclaimed, "being late on a first date is not a good look." They snapped. Eddie sighed as he picked up his keys and motorcycle helmet, "You watch too many Hallmark movies." He grumbled, locking the door behind him.

He arrived at the restaurant with exactly a minute and a half to spare, thanks to Vemon doing most of the driving. "Now, I need you to be quiet, alright?" Eddie murmured under his breath, glancing around nervously. "Of course, Eddie!" His alien earpiece exclaimed, "You are perfectly capable of messing this up without my input." They added mockingly. "Well, thanks for having faith in me, jackass." Eddie muttered, rolling his eyes. His feet were suddenly glued to the ground once he spotted you sitting on a bench by the door, waiting. You smiled widely when you saw him, "Hi Eddie." You beamed. Eddie remained in stunned silence, eyes traveling up and down your form. "Say something!" Vemon hissed, Eddie could feel them face palming. "You.. look amazing." Eddie managed, with Vemon threatening to force whatever they wanted out of his vocal chords if he didn't. "You're pretty dapper yourself." You smiled, making small adjustments to his windblown shirt collar. You turned and started toward the door, Eddie stood dumbfounded for a moment before he let out a small, breathy, "Oh." At the unseen force going to work once again, making his legs move with an irritated sigh. The restaurant wasn't busy, so you were seated quickly. Eddie's face split into a grin as he watched you smile at a baby that cooed up at you from his mother's arms, "Oh, aren't you just precious!" You awed, giggling as the mom jokingly asked her son if he was being flirty. You went and sat at the table the host led you to, "What an adorable little human spawn." Eddie hoped Vemon's words were not meant to be as sinister as they sounded. "Um, would you excuse me for a moment." Eddie said to you in a nervous haste. You nodded, and Eddie found his way to the restrooms. Once the door shut behind him, he leaned on the sink with a heavy sigh. The sound of almost liquid matter moving made him look up at the mirror, seeing the floating head of his extraterrestrial buddy hovering over his shoulder wasn't nearly as terrifying as it used to be. Eddie shook his head lightly, running his hands over his face. "What?!" Vemon exclaimed, Eddie narrowed his eyes at the symbiote with an audible huff. "You're on a date, and I'm sightseeing!" His alien counterpart insisted. "And I asked you to do it quietly!" Eddie hissed. Vemon tilted their head to one side, a soft hum vibrated through their being. Their pearly eyes and face, despite mostly being made up of an ungodly amount of teeth, held no malice. Eddie let out a defeated sigh, "I just don't wanna mess things up again, like I did with Anne." He admitted, so to speak, wasn't like he could exactly hide anything from the extraterrestrial anyway. Vemon sighed as they bowed their head, "Don't worry, Eddie, we can get through this." They grinned. "And if we don't?" Eddie questioned. "We can say we tried." The symbiote responded. "Well, let's aim to not screw up, then shall we?" The reporter agreed, Vemon nodded and disappeared beneath the surface of his skin to allow Eddie to finish his business in a sort of simi-privacy.

Eddie found Vemon's lack of commentary after their conversation in the loo disconcerting. It was unlike them and made their host anxious. As Eddie sat down at the booth, the anxious feeling seemed to disappear and was replaced by a wave of calm, and from where Vemon and he were connected, a vague sense and means of assistance. "So, how was it?" You asked, placing an elbow on the table and resting the side of your head on a closed fist. Eddie's brows attempted to touch as his features conveyed confusion, "You're meeting." Vemon murmured. "Ah, my meeting! Uh, good, it was good." Eddie exclaimed. "Well, that's... good." You smiled, making Eddie snicker. "Say, did you ever get that promotion?" Eddie asked, making you nod with a face splitting grin. "That's amazing!" Eddie congratulated you. You remained in touch with Eddie after working together, and you couldn't be more glad you did. He was funny, and miles more supportive of your career choices than your last romantic partner, even his quirk of talking to himself was endearing. Your food arrived shortly after ordering, "You put that in the article?!" You gasped. "Why not? It was the truth." Eddie responded with a smile. You shook your head with a laugh, "The ever controversial Eddie Brock." You smirked playfully. Eddie once again found himself stopped dead in his tracks by you, hearing his name on your lips provoked evocative things in the reporter. "We like this one." Vemon purred. "Yes, we do." Eddie whispered lowly into his drink under the guise of clearing his throat.

Crafty Bastard.

"Alright, fine! Just don't work too hard, love." Alfie groaned as you helped him settle into his armchair. A sciatica flair left him doubling over as he tried getting out of bed this morning. "I should be telling you that." You smirked, bending down to kiss the lips of your stubborn husband. After an hour's worth of arguing, he finally reluctantly agreed to let you fill his place for the day and that he would satisfy your insisting that he needed rest. "But now, don't go letting anyone think they can just go slack off just because I'm not fucking there!" He ordered with a stern pointed finger as he layed his cane across his lap. "Wouldn't dream of it." You smiled, pulling on his black coat and wide brimmed hat, earning a whistle from the London gangster. You scoffed at his actions and left the house. Alfie tapped his cane against the floor, idly for a few minutes, to make sure you had left the house. He stood with a start, leaning his cane against the wall by the coat rack. "Finally." He grumbled to himself, Cyril lifted his head with a whine. "What?" Alfie groaned. Cyril replied with another whine, "You're serious? I should've been an actor, pulling off a performance like that." He mused. Cyril's ears perked forward as he tilted his head to the side, "Don't look at me like that, you mutt! A little lie never hurt anyone." Alfie said in retort. "Come on, we've got work to do." Alfie called as he walked out of the room with the mastiff at his heels.

"Where's Mr. Solomons?" Ollie asked, eyes wide with worry, or maybe they were wide from being startled by you slamming the door behind you to announce your presence in the warehouse, Thomas Shelby may have been right when he proclaimed you to be as eccentric as your husband, not that you cared. "Home," you stated, "Sciatica's giving him problems again." Ollie's features lit up knowingly as he nodded with a smile, "Right," the young assistant chirped, "shall we get to work then?". You spent the morning sifting through the messy state, Alfie always left his desk in. Papers strewn here and there, pens discarded wherever they happen to be instead of being put back in their holder, an abandoned glass of what's left of last night's whiskey on the rocks. You picked up the glass and inspected it carefully, shrugging your shoulders and deciding you only lived once. You took a small sip from the glass. Ollie narrowed his eyes as you swallowed the unsavory and heavily deluded room temperature liquid with a grimace. "What?" You asked, noticing the odd look Ollie was giving you. "Why?" Was the only word he could utter. "Why not? I'll have you know Mother didn't raise a milksop." You smiled, leaning forward with your elbows on the desk, a finger pointed right at Ollie. "And I'll have you know, you're just like Alfie." Ollie said, shaking his head with a sigh.

"Hmm," Alfie hummed, making adjustments to his tie in the mirror. "What you'd think?" He asked, turning around to face his oversized lap dog that was rather at home, sprawled out on his dad's bed unapologetically. Cyril lifted his head with a grunt, looking at Alfie with half lidded eyes as he gestured to his black necktie. "Tie or no tie?" He asked. Cyril blinked at him a couple of times before letting out a long, drawn-out groan as he flopped his head back down on the bed and stretched out his legs. "Tie it is then." Alfie said, slipping a light gray wool button vest over his white dress shirt. So far, his plan was going marvelously. Everything downstairs was neat and tidy, just the way you liked it. He had even spent extra time on the showroom that you had become rather proud of, and now he was dressed for the occasion. All that was left was to cook and set the table, and maybe just maybe, he thought to himself, if he had planned this correctly, he would be done by the time you were to return. "Oh," Alfie muttered upon exiting the bedroom, "almost forgot." He added, returning to the dresser. He rummaged for a bit before shutting the drawer with a soft thunk, "Cyril, here boy." he called. The bull mastiff left his comfy spot on the bed, sitting down at Alfie's feet and wagging his tail with a lazy pace, and his large pink tongue hung out of the side of his mouth. "Now there's a handsome lad." Alfie smiled after attaching the clip on bow tie to Cyril's collar, giving his handsome lad some headpats because handsome lads deserve their headpats.

"Have a safe trip home." Ollie waved you off as you sat a bag of paperwork in the backseat. "To you as well." You returned the wave, sliding yourself into the car. "Homeward bound?" Your driver asked. "Indeed." You nodded. You leaned your head back, closing your eyes with a sigh, and finally allowed your tired limbs to go limp and just be for the first time all day. It had been a while since you ran the bakery without your husband on hand. Alfie often asked you to accompany him to his meetings, claiming it was because he wanted your opinions, which was only partially true. You could be just as business savvy as him, but you've also brought a certain air into any space you enter that Alfie decided he'd rather not do without. A smirk lined your lips when you recalled your first face to face meeting with the Shelby clan, Alfie waltzed into the Shelby estate and announced that any and all ill treatment of you would not be tolerated with his pistol on full display as he waved it around. Before you knew it, you were on your doorstep, fumbling with your keys. You sighed in satisfaction when the lock finally clicked open, stepping into the warmth of home and out of the chilly Camden air. "Alfie, I'm home." You called, setting the briefcase of papers by the coat rack and shrugging off your husband's jacket. "In the kitchen, love." You heard Alfie call back. You narrowed your eyes as they landed on his cane, leaning against the wall. Deciding to ignore it, you followed the mouthwatering sent of dinner into the kitchen. Alfie was leaning back on the counter with his arms and legs crossed and a warm grin on his face. You eyed him up and down, and Alfie nodded toward the candle lit table. "Well," Alfie asked, making you turn back to him. "What you'd think?" He asked with a loving smile. "Everything looks wonderful," you murmured, "especially you." Alfie's grin widened, and he moved toward you, his hands readily finding your waist as he leaned in for a kiss. "Did you do all this?" You asked, Alfie nodded, but then a loud deep bark filled the room. You both looked down at the panting mastiff that was staring up at you, awaiting his own kiss. "Cyril helped to." Alfie said. Your face split into a grin, "I'm sure he did." You stated, binding down to place a kiss on Cyril's wet black nose, which he gratefully returned, making you giggle. Alfie returned his hands to your waist, "Happy anniversary, love." Alfie murmured, holding you close. "What about your sciatica?" You asked, a slightly worried look in your eyes. "Well, I had to get you out of the house somehow." Alfie chuckled, making you shake your head with a smile.

"You crafty bastard."

Out of patience.

Prohibition era Franklin County was full of secrets. The Bondurant brothers knew this better than anybody. After all, more than half of the county's supposed law enforcement were paying them, and no one really knew who that new highfalutin deputy thought he was. Eighteen year old Jack Bondurant and his eldest brother, Howard, considered Franklin's greatest mystery to be their brother Forrest, more specifically, wherever he'd been disappearing to after closing time. Howard pushed Jack to follow when they spotted Forrest heading off into the woods. Jack pressed his shoulder firmly against an elm that was just barely wide enough to hide him from sight if he stood sideways. He peered around the tree and was met with a view of his older brother's back. Forrest moved through the fallen leaves with the ease of a predator silently stalking its pray. He came to a stop, turning around suddenly, Jack jerked his head back out of sight so hard he might as well have jerked it clean off his shoulders, he exhaled sharply. Peering around the tree again a moment later, only to see nothing. Jack narrowed his eyes in confusion and relaxed his stance. Suddenly, he was grabbed and roughly shoved back into the tree. "Gah!" He exclaimed, sighing when he found himself eye to eye with Forrest. "What're you doin' Jack?" He asked quietly but sternly. "How the hell did you..", "I asked you a question." Forrest snapped, cutting Jack off. "What are you hiding?" Jack asked. Forrest loosened his grip on his little brother's arms and reeled back slightly, mulling over the question in his head. "Me and Howard's been seein' you take off in this direction for weeks now." Jack added. Forrest glanced off to the side as he removed his hat and held it against his chest, "Now what makes the two of you think what I do is any of your goddamn business?" He grumbled, gesturing between Jack and himself. Jack furrowed his brow, opening his mouth to speak but was ultimately cut off by Forrest once again, "Why don't you go pay your preacher friend a vist, better yet, go help Cricket fix the car. Whatever you do, just let me worry about what I got goin' on, alright?" The older brother explained, stepping aside. Jack stood and stared suspiciously at Forrest for a moment. "Well, go on, get!" Forrest ordered, flicking his head back in the direction of the station. Jack hung his head, glancing up at Forrest as he pasted him, feeling rather disgruntled.

Forrest sighed as he watched Jack until he disappeared into the underbrush. Briefly entertaining the irony of effectively telling Jack to go sneak around with that preacher's daughter, with himself being in the same situation tenfold. If that new common wealth's attorney knew what was going on right under his nose, Forrest was sure he'd be hunted down and sent to the gallows by Wardell himself. He pushed on despite these thoughts. He wrapped calloused fingers around the jar, barely being contained by his sweater pocket, as he treaded the unstable ground. He'd promised a gift last time, and he'd damn himself to all eternity if he didn't keep his word. He allowed a smile to tug at his lips as he saw you at your usual meeting spot, rear end parked on a log, waiting. A twig snapping under one of his heavy boots made you jump with a gasp, "You came." You smiled, standing up to hug his neck. "Yeah, finally." He said quietly, "had to deal with Jack before I could get away from the station." He added. "I wish I could meet your brothers someday." You sighed, sitting back down. "Oh, I'd say you will, with the rate we're going." He replied, taking a seat next to you, his smile becoming more of a smirk. You rolled your eyes with a smile, and he scoffed at your reaction. Forrest reached for his pocket with a deep sigh, retrieving the Mason jar, inspecting the clear liquor before nodding and handing it to you. You cracked the lid and brought the jar to your lips, smiling as the burn of watermelon moonshine engulfed your senses. "I'll never understand how you drink that fruity stuff." Forrest teased. You smirked as you took another gulp, batting your eyes at him innocently over the jar. "Don't you go givin' me that, I've seen you put that stuff away quicker than Howard does, and that's sayin' somethin'." He chuckled, leaning forward. "What's in the box?" He asked, gesturing to the square shaped box with a red ribbon tied around it that you had brought with you. "That's your gift." You smiled, wedging the open jar between your legs. You picked the box up and placed it in his lap, "You didn't." He grumbled, eyeing the logo on the box after removing the ribbon. "You have wire wrapped around one of your boots," you exclaimed, "it's past time you got new ones." You added. Forrest stared at you for a moment, "Do I have to put'em on?" He asked you stubbornly. "Yes, you do." You giggled. Forrest shook his head lightly but moved to replace his old work boots nonetheless. "You know you have every lawman in three counties up your ass right now?" You questioned. "Yeah, but the government of this state ain't the only way that the sheriff gets paid, and I've spent the better part of my years doing this, so I've got a government of my own, and I can run quicker when there is no sun." He responded. A smirk laced your lips as you took another drink. Forrest finished lacing his new boots just as a metallic sound caught his ears, turning his head to the side. He saw you toying with a pair of handcuffs, folding them over in your hands repeatedly. "Where'd you get them from?" He asked. "Well," you said with a half-suppressed laugh, "let's just say Rakes is going to miss the pleasure of seeing you in these." You grinned at him. "You stole'em." He said, his voice wasn't accusatory nor was his statement a question, just a simple matter of stating a fact. "And here I thought I was the criminal in this mess." He mused, standing up to shrug off his sweater, making your eyes light up as you grinned widely, to give you better access to whatever you wanted whilst mentally trying to burn the image of your expression into his brain.

Forrest ascended the front steps of Balckwater station slowly with a heavy sigh, knowing his brothers would leave the side door unlocked to await his return, like always. His body still felt as if it were reeling from its exploits, but he didn't mind. The change of pace was nice once in a while, and at least he knew he would get some good rest once he finally made it to his bed. He shut the door behind him and clicked the lock in place. Another sigh left his lips as he struck a match and lit up a smoke. He was careful not to smoke around you. Less the smell got you in trouble. Not that Mason Wardell was any better a man than Forrest thought himself to be. They were both outside the law in a way, just with different backgrounds and upbringings. However, Wardell was viewed as more approachable to the public eye that Forrest preferred to stay out of. The light of the embers and the staunch smell of tobacco were the only things that seemed to fill the room. Everything appeared still, or so Forrest thought. "Where the hell have you been?!" Howard exclaimed as soon as Forrest entered the barroom. "Nowhere that's any of your goddamn business!" Forrest retorted, sitting the box with the red ribbon out of sight behind the bar, Howard didn't need an invitation to ask more questions. Forrest parked himself on a barstool. In hopes, taking the time to savor his smoke would be enough to wait out Howard. The eldest ran his eyes up and down his baby brother, searching for anything that was amiss. "What're you starin' at your boots for?" Howard asked, leaning back in his chair. Forrest mulled over his words, "Had to get new ones." He finally said. Howard narrowed his eyes. Something still wasn't adding up in his head. Forrest never buys himself anything unless he's forced to. However, the brothers returned to their separate indulgences silently, Howard likely to succumb to a drunken stupor before ever actually making it to bed, and eventually, Forrest smudged out the butt of his cigar and made his own way to bed without a single word of a goodnight.

Forrest stared into his black coffee with a heavy exhale, taking a small break from his ledger to let his thoughts that had been clouding his work consume him. You were back in your world, and he's still stuck in his. He still carried a stinging feeling of guilt over first impressions, "You send your clown with the bowtie 'round here again, I'll make sure you personally pull a clever out of his fuckin' skull." He growled, yanking roughly on the breast pocket of Mason Wardell's shirt. He locked eyes with you as you gave him what appeared to be an approving smile and a small silent wave. He approached you in town a few days later, making sure your daddy was nowhere to be seen. You followed him behind the general goods store for privacy. "I, uh.." He started almost nervously, removing his hat, "I do apologize if I frightened you at the station the other day, I have no qualms with you." He wasn't even sure why he felt the need to apologize to you. You smiled at him again, "Honestly, I dislike that prig of a deputy just as much as you do. Dad is just as bad. That man takes a shit and thinks half of Virginia falls out of his ass." You chuckled. You giggled again as Forrest' brows made an impressive attempt to touch.

"Thank you so much for all the help, dear." You smiled as the elder woman grabbed your arm and shook it lightly. "You're very welcome, Selma." You replied, loading the rest of her groceries into her husband's truck, making sure to help her into the passenger seat when you were done. "Need a ride home?" Glen, her husband, asked. "Do you need help putting the shopping away?" You asked. "No, deary. You've done quite enough already, don't need a youngin spending their whole life worrying over us old folks." She smiled. "In that case, I'll see you at Sunday dinner. I have one more stop to make." You smiled. The older couple nodded, sending you off with a wave. Along the way, you intercepted a runaway ball, stopping it with the side of your foot. You smiled and waved before kicking the ball back to the eagerly awaiting group of kids with a light laugh. "Good afternoon, Mr. Anderson." You grinned. The old man tipped his hat as you gave his two dogs ear scratches. As small a town as Franklin County is, it felt like home. The only place that felt more like home was that little out of the way gas station just before you hit the county line. You kicked the heel of your boots against the edge of the steps to knock off the mud, "Alright, you boys better keep up the good business!" A man exclaimed, letting the door fall shut behind him. His exclamation made you look up at him with a sharp inhale through your nose. "Well, I'll be damned," the stranger said, removing his hat, "last place I'd expect that common wealth's attorney's offspring." He smiled. "I'm here on personal business, sir." You said coldly. "Of course, I didn't mean to pry. The Bondurants are in, and tell your father Floyd Banner says hi." The man said with a smirk, opening the door and holding it for you. "I say hi for no one." You muttered, walking past him. "Well, at least one of the Wardell's has some sense about them." He said jovial, letting the door shut as you turned back to give him a disgruntled look. You sighed, turning your back to the screen door. You were being ogled by two men at the bar. The younger of the two was dressed sharply, and he appeared to have stopped in the middle of wiping down the bar counter at the sight of you, judging by the rag in his hand. "This must be Jack." You thought. The other was atop a barstool, brown curls were in disarray on his head, and a wild look filled his eyes, a jar of hooch in his large hand. "Damn." The wild-eyed man said. "I'm lookin' for Forrest Bondurant, either one of you know where I can find him?" You asked. The man on the stool smiled widely with a nod, "Well, you'd think I'd know where to find'em, seeing how he's my brother and all." He said with a laugh, stumbling drunkenly as he tried to stand, catching himself on the edge of the bar. "Ah, Howard." The realization dawned on you. "He's in the kitchen. You can go on back, good luck gettin' anything out of'em." He added with an amused smirk. "Much appreciated." You smiled, feeling less of need to be formal, considering what you've heard of these two. Howard raised his jar to you with a smile, Jack nodded and gestured to a doorway, and you nodded back.

Sure enough, you found Forrest. Fitting a crust into a pie tin, of all the things you thought you'd never see him do. "What's this then?" You asked, smiling so hard at the sight before you, your cheeks became sore. "Well, somebody's got to do something with these apples, ain't no sense in lettin'em rot." He responded without looking up, starting to fill the crust with said apple slices. You stood quietly, just watching as he placed the slices in a meticulous pattern, admiring him with a smile. Forrest could feel a pair of eyes on him. However, it didn't feel like either of his brothers, and Maggie only came to him with questions or when she needed something. This stare didn't feel unfamiliar, however. So, he looked up and let his closed fists land on the table with a heavy thump. "What the hell are you doin'?" He exclaimed quietly. "Forrest?" A voice called. "Oh," a red-headed woman appeared, covering her mouth with her hand. "I wasn't aware you had company." She smiled apologetically. Forrest glanced between the two of you, hurriedly getting the top layer of crust on his apple pie, cutting vent slits with a knife. "Put this in the oven, would ya Maggie?" He asked, washing his hands. "Sure, Forrest." Maggie replied. "I've got business to attend to." He grumbled, eyeing you as he dried his hands. Forrest led you into his office. He locked the door behind him and shut the blinds. He spun you around and grabbed your wrists in an urgent manner. "Now, I asked you a question. What the hell were you thinkin' showin' up here?!" He spoke hurriedly. "First of all," you started, gently freeing your wrists from his grip. "Calm down." You said. Forrest sighed, rounding the corner of his desk and running his hands through his hair. "Just for the love of God, tell me what your doin' here." He urged again. You began to walk toward him, a smirk on your face. "Uh... what.., what are you doin?" He murmured. Your hands readily found his shirt collar, pushing him back against the wall and capturing his lips with yours. His hands were on your waist in an instant. Both of you were out of breath when you pulled apart, staring into each other's eyes for a moment.

"Couldn't wait." You breathed.

One more second chance.

The Vandals could get rowdy without a doubt. You glanced back as a loud cheer erupted out of the crowd of leather jackets and vests that engulfed over half of the parking lot, only to see Benny whisking a doe-eyed Kathy into their midst. You shook your head lightly, feeling slightly bad for the poor girl. Wasn't that long ago the two of you decided a night out was long overdue. Now you wondered if your sheltered high school best friend would be able to cope in your world, well, used to be yours.

Your sights were set on a lone red bike, parked on the opposite side to the others. Not that there wasn't enough room, even if that was the case, the only thing any onlooker would've seen was a flash and blur of movement, there ain't a Vandal worth their weight in salt that would leave their leader out on a cold curb. Johnny was like that, always had been actually, staring up and down the highway with a cigarette between his fingers. You supposed the trucker in him would always shine through. "She's still running?" You asked, gesturing to his bike. You could tell your voice startled him by the split second wide-eyed look he gave you, "Yeah." He nodded, bringing his smoke up to his lips, evening out his features like nothing happened. Classic Johnny. "No, she's not," you said with a confused look, "she's right here." You exclaimed, pointing at the bike. "Heh, very funny." Johnny quipped.

"The old man wanted some alone time with his smokes, I take it?" You teased. "What old man? Where?" Johnny questioned, narrowing his eyes and making a show of looking in all directions, including up in the air. You laughed lightly as you watched the index finger of his right hand flick the side of the cigarette he held in his left, another quirk that hadn't changed. Your eyes became glued to his ring finger as the smoke once again reached his lips, "You're still married?" You questioned. An amused smirk appeared on Johnny's face, "Heh, not for long." He responded. "Still lasted longer than I ever expected." You smiled. Johnny scoffed and shook his head, "Well, that makes two of us." Comfortably resting a hand on your lower back as you joined him in leaning against his bike.

"How's the ink shop? Haven't been by there in a hot minute." He asked. "Business is good." You said. Johnny nodded, "What'd I'd like to know," Johnny turned back to you, "is where did that pal of yours, Benny, get my design on his shoulder?" You asked, patting the logo on the back of Johnny's jacket with your palm. "Look, if I'd known he was going to get it tattooed, I would've sent him to you." Johnny defended himself. It was readily apparent that Benny didn't know your history when he introduced you to Johnny.

Silence befell the night air for a moment, "How long have we known each other?" You questioned. "You ask me that as if we weren't drunk when we met." Johnny chuckled. You smirked and rested your head on his shoulder, right where you could feel the thump of his heartbeat against your temple, staring up at a star filled sky. Your countless offs and ons with Johnny ran through your mind. You wondered many hows and whys in the span of a couple minutes. "Do you think we gave us too many second chances?" You questioned, out of the blue. "Why would I?" He responded, "we may be bad for each other, but it's not like we're good for anyone else." He added.

The moment was interrupted by the rumble of bikes roaring to life, "Hey," Benny called, coming to a stop next to you and Johnny, Kathy hugging his midsection for dear life. "We ready to go, boss?" Benny asked, gesturing to Johnny. Johnny turned to you, unintentionally bringing emphasis to his knees, bowed to an extent from straddling a hunk of metal for so many years, in the process. This made you smile the same way it did back then. "What'd ya think?" He asked, offering his hand to you.

"One more second chance?"

The gangster.

London, east end. 1965.

Maybe it was the elegant suit. Maybe it was the fact that he was currently strutting down the middle of Ormsby Street with a sleek Ford Galaxy at his back, following along like a loyal dog, saying good morning to everyone he passed. You'd say Reginald Kray was a well distinguished business savvy man, but you'd also had to have been living under a rock for several years to say that. Wasn't a single soul left in London who didn't know who the Kray twins were, Ron Kray was a one-man London mob. Reggie was quite the opposite, really, suave, charming, but proved to be just as volatile. You could walk into any pub to hear a lie or two about them.

The radio played a sort of upbeat tune as you whisked around the kitchen, humming along around the hardboiled sweet in your mouth. The morning had started out ordinarily enough, hurrying around to finish the chores your mother gave you alongside the promise to grant you the rest of the day to do with as you wished, so the quicker you finished the more time you'd have to enjoy yourself, right?. Maybe you'd go to one of the local shops for a bit of browsing, or perhaps pop out for a bite to eat with some friends. These thoughts were disturbed by a pounding at the front door. "I'll get it!" You shouted, with you being the only one downstairs currently, made sense, you figured.

You were met by a pair of piercing blue eyes that narrowed and the man's forehead creased as his clear and bright orbs scanned over your appearance, "Frank about?" The man asked before the twinge of regret of flinging the front door open so eagerly could properly settle in your gut. It would surely rear its ugly head later. "Frank!" You called over your shoulder into the house and up the stairwell. You turned back to face the finely dressed man with faux confidence, leaning against the door frame, determined to make yourself appear unintimidated. The man ran his eyes over your frame once again unashamedly, "Who are you?" He asked, tilting his head to the side with a quizzical look. "Frank's my older brother." You stated. "Hang about, I know you, but you.. you were smaller then. You've all grown up, haven't you?" He said with a half-suppressed smile. "It happens." You said, stepping out of the doorway, relishing in the coolness of the cobblestone underneath your bare feet. You both looked up at the sound of a window rising, and your older brother's head popped out, "Half a minute, Reg. right down." Frank called down, ducking back in.

Thankfully, the man in front of you didn't seem to either notice or much care that you snapped your attention back to him. Reggie Kray, at your doorstep, you marveled silently in your mind. The corners of his lips curled downwards into a frown. He adjusted his tie as he checked his watch. "Is my brother in trouble?" You questioned. Reggie nodded, then tilted his head to the side, away from you. Narrowed eyes still aimed down the street. "Will you go out with me?" He asked seemingly out of the blue, turning back to you suddenly. Your eyes widened in surprise. "I'll take it easy on him if you do." He added, a warm expression spreading across his face accompanied by a half smile. "Yes," you said, rolling your candy around in your mouth with your tongue, making clack off your teeth, "but not for that reason." You added.

"What's that you've got?" Reggie asked, gesturing to you. "A sweet." You explained, pulling the sticky light yellow olive shaped drop out of your mouth, holding it between your thumb and forefinger. "Oh, now that's not just any sweat, is it? That's a lemon sherbet." Reggie said matter of factly. "Mind if I have a crack?" He asked, reaching for the sweet. "Alright." You smiled with a light chuckle. Reggie popped the sweet tasting drop into his mouth, "Mmm, now that's nice." He mused, "Saturday night?" He asked. You nodded with a smile.

Suddenly, Mrs. Shea, your mother, appeared beside you. "What's the matter with you?" She scolded, "You’re half dressed talking to a man in the door. Get back in the kitchen. Finish them dishes." She ordered, pulling at the end of your fuzzy peach colored sweater. Not that you cared, if Reggie Kray would openly ask you out in your lounge wear, bare feet and all, did you really need to dress to the tens twenty-four hours a day. You shrugged, turning to head deeper into the house. "Hold on," Reggie started, making you turn back to him. His eyes shifted to your mother as he took your lemon sherbet out of his mouth, "This is yours, init?" He asked. You nodded, taking the sweet, looking your mother directly in the eye as you popped it back into your mouth before you sauntered off. Much to her displeasure. She growled at Reggie as he licked the sticky candy coating off his fingers before slamming the door in his face.

"Hmm," Reggie hummed as he thought to himself with a smirk, glancing between the cobble and the door, "well, the mum seems lovely."

#when they keep secrets #tommy conlon warrior #eddie brock/venom symbiote #alfie solomons peaky blinders #forrest bondurant fanfiction #johnny vandal the bikeriders #reggie kray legend #tom hardy #hope you enjoy #guess you can consider this WIP Wednesday lol #i might be focusing more on an original piece for a while but we'll see what i get inspiration for

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Transphobes who say their pronouns are beep/boop or something else in their bio underestimate my willingness to adhere to those pronouns

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Scottish Writing Retreat Update #1 (Snippet)

‘Ello my darlings,

I didn’t think I’d have an update so soon regarding the writing retreat I’m currently on, but apparently I do.🧐😅

I finished the first draft for The Midnight Baker, a Modern AU story with our lovely Papa Solomons.

It’s one of those projects which is long overdue and it’s these WIPs I’m trying to tackle during this retreat. Anyway, here’s a wee snippet from the story. I posted it before, but by now that’s so long ago I might as well share it again to refresh everyone’s memory (including my own).😹😉

*plops it on the pile of works to be edited* Right, another one to work on once I’m back. I think you might be in for a treat this December.

Tag list: @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @zablife @vir-tual @liliac-dreamer @hoodeddreams13 @solomons-finest-rum @wandawiccan60 @dreamlandcreations @rose-like-the-phoenix @babaohhhriley @mollybegger-blog @buttercupsandboys

#Alfie Solomons #Alfie Solomons imagine #Peaky Blinders #Peaky Blinders imagine #Alfie Solomons x You #Alfie Solomons x Reader #friends writing #mutuals

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Title Prompt List

I pulled some titles from my title generator in search of something to call this book.

None are useful to me, but perhaps some will be useful to you.

Blood from My Brother

The Snake’s Apple

Within My Scarlet Fingers

The Violin’s Gospel

A Young Emerald

The Wounded Rose

Scarlet Snow

Death, a Snake, and a Wound

Through Glass Water

The Wandering King

Dangerous Bonds

Breaking a Spider

Binding Thread

His Smothered Symphony

A Haunting Cross

Radius of Blood

#writing #writing prompts #titles #title generator