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angel-inked · 4 months

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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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