#cig knits
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Tank Top!
My tank top - and not a vest - is complete! And it fits! Behold!:
Knitted flat with a bunch of cotton from Paintbox! It was hard to find a tank top pattern that wasn't in the round, but the Heya tank on Ravelry came through for me! I didn't feel ready to manage the shaping on circular needles, but I'm confident about giving it a go next time. It would be nice to do another summer knit before the season changes, although this small top did take ages due to having limited time. So, I might as well make a start on another jumper. (Or indeed the pumpkin I want to knit for Halloween - I found orangey-brown wool in a charity shop! If all goes well it'll be so cute and I'll improve my 2x2 rib. Hurrah!)
As for this tank top, I found the pattern really easy to follow as a beginner. Issues I had were: 1) Getting my stitches twisted and then being afraid to frog so I carried on, keeping the mistake; 2) Accidentally knitting a purl row when I lost concentration (lol) so I HAD to frog because the mistake was too large, and holy cow was it tense frogging back just one row and trying to get all 88 loops back onto the needle. I managed it but bloody hell; 3) As mentioned above, time. Knitting narrow cotton on 4mm needles took literally a thousand years (six weeks) and at one point it was getting to be quite the snooze. However, once it got to the v-neck and arm hole shaping on the front panel, it became really fun. Overall, it was a good experience and has taught me how to knit a v-neck and shape armholes. If I could go back in time, I'd buy the cotton in just the green shades. Otherwise, I don't think I'd do anything differently - I'd even make the same mistake with the purl row because it taught me how to frog just a small section - and that it would be ok.
I might wear this to work tomorrow with a cardigan on top!
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you'll always know when i actually have a little time to write constantine because that's when the peaky blinders rewatch begins.
#( ooc. ) OUT OF CIGS.#been watching fargo + hannibal back to back for the last three days and now it's home to the blinders#GOD those tight-knit storylines fuck. i love the writing in those shows. westworld too#gotta love darkly humorous tv series about power plays mindgames and mistakes borne of arrogance#anyway the paper deadline is done for and now it's just finals left to handle!! i am nearly fucking free!!
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EDWARD CRUTCHLEY FW24
#edward crutchley#FW24#AW24#2024#shoulders#knit#fashion#london fashion week#fashion show#fashion week#cig#cigarette#indie fashion
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Hang in there baby 🥹
Living my best life despite the pain. Skipped work and lounged in bed last night eating Hawaiian Summer vegan pizza from Virtuous Pie. Went shopping yesterday and got a new purple sculpt knit tank dress from Babaton that perfectly matches this thrifted vintage robe I found years ago at VV.
#fibromyalgia#Vegan pizza#cigs#skipping work#purple#Aritzia#Sculpt knit tank dress#sleepy#Hang in there baby#Babaton#virtuous pie
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Trailer park Steve AU part 11
part 1 | part 10 | ao3
cw: period-typical homophobic language, explicit sexual content (if you are under 18 then kindly GO ON NYOW GIT come back when you grow your first gray pube)
It feels crazy, after all that, to just get up and face the day. Feels like last Fall all over again: he’s concussed in the back of class getting bagel crumbs on a worksheet with his face still pulverized. There’s a gross pang in his chest as he goes about his morning routine, his heart all squishy and bruised like some dickhead smashed a plate over it, but whatever, he guesses. Public education and minimum wage wait for no one.
Robin grills him the whole car ride: “Oh, my god, is he okay?? Is he alive? Is your mom okay? What the hell, Steve?” and he lets her ramble with wide, worried eyes; doesn’t even get to the part about Eddie. When they pull up to the school she gets out of the car and comes around to his side, knocks on his window and leans in when he rolls it down to give him a ridiculously long hug.
"Robinnn," he grumbles; his face is mashed against her boobs. "People are gonna think we're dating."
She bends to hug him tighter still, her bony ass hanging out his window where the whole school can see. "I'd date you in a second."
"You've literally said that you wouldn't."
"Platonically, I would!!"
She gives him one last squeeze, and he watches her waddle off, trumpet case awkwardly smacking her calves.
And then he just... goes to work. He goes to stand around a nearly empty store and pretend like he even has any work to do, restocks the already full displays of candy and buffs the countertops until they shine. Three hours in and he's run out of ways to look busy and Keith is “doing admin stuff” in the back, so he gives his mom a call. Makes sure she's okay; did she eat anything yet; any updates on Ernie?
She’s fine, she's not hungry, he's alive but that's all they know for now, her tone distantly polite like Steve's nothing more than a friendly cold caller.
He shoves his fingers in his eyes ’til he sees stars when they hang up.
He calls the Henderson house next, leaves a message to apologize for skipping out early, promises that he'll be there next Wednesday and he can bring dessert this time. There’s a lunch rush after that, but the day still drags like a bad hangover, a dull throbbing in his bones, and when he finally gets home he collapses onto his bed and passes out on top of the covers with his dumb work vest still on.
—
Eddie's acting weird.
Steve sees him again on Friday, spots him and his uncle having a smoke out on the porch and wanders over to say hello. Wayne seems happy enough to chat; gives him all the news on Ernie — "Bastard's unkillable," he says, almost impressed. He’s stable now, should be home any day.
Eddie, on the other hand, spends the entire interaction behaving like a skittish cat, eyes darting to and from Steve, leg jiggling as he quietly puffs his cig.
Steve half expects him to slink off and come back to drop a dead mouse at his feet.
He feels his brows knit together, agitation creeping in. It's not like he thought they'd be best friends after a single night of ceasefire or anything — as if they'd start braiding each other's hair and trading their deepest, darkest secrets or whatever queer shit — but like…
He thought they might be cool now. At least a little bit.
And Eddie's not being rude to him, exactly, but that's somehow even worse. The polite disinterest. The subtle shift to the left. Back and away.
“Okay, well, uh...” Steve glances at Eddie, who's looking anywhere but him. Fucking fascinated by a loose thread on his ripped jeans, apparently, plucking at it with anxious fingers. “See ya around, I guess?”
Wayne says not be a stranger, and Eddie gives him a quick nod. “See ya.”
Steve grinds his teeth about it for the rest of the afternoon, then decides, like, screw this. It's a Friday night; he's not sitting around sulking all evening because Eddie Munson hurt his feelings.
He calls up a girl — some pretty blonde chick he remembers from the cheer squad — and sets up a date for later that night. Takes her to the drive-in, buys her a vanilla shake. The date's fine; it's good; it's fine. She's pretty enough, and she offers to suck him off when the main feature starts.
It’s not a good blowjob. Arguably one of the worst ones Steve’s had, and he’s had quite a few. She keeps gagging herself with these gross squelching sounds, barely getting even half of his dick in her tiny mouth and not bothering to use her hands to make up the difference. Just leaves them resting on Steve’s thighs while she makes fake whimpering moans like she’s sooo turned on by this; fucking as if; and somewhere in the middle of her repetitive, sloppy bobbing his mind starts to wander off. To the trailer, to the lot fees, the fucking pharmacy bills. Their ever-dwindling savings and what percentage of them he just wasted on this lackluster movie night; surely they’re gonna run out any day now; tick tock, tick tock.
"Um," the girl squeaks as she pulls off with a gross slurp. Steve looks down at his lap, sees he's gone soft. "Am I, like, doing something wrong, or...?"
Her voice is high and quiet, innocent and sweet, and Steve feels like an asshole. He squeezes himself at the base, gives a few quick strokes to get himself up again. "No, you're perfect, honey," he lies. "Stick out your tongue for me?"
She bats her eyes demurely and rolls over onto her side, gives him some kind of sexy pout before opening her mouth so he can jerk off over her. Steve works his wrist; tries not to be rude and look away, but her colors are all wrong. Strawberry hair. Blue irises. He squeezes his eyes shut, moves his hand faster and thinks of dark brown. Dark hair, dark lashes, dark eyes like the deep woods. Endless. Sort of mesmerizing. Nancy? "Oh, fuck," he gasps as he comes.
The girl squeals and jerks away from him, hands flying to her face. "Oh, my god! Oh, my god! You got it in my nose!"
"Sorry,” Steve grunts, shuddering through an aftershock. There’s cum on his hand, on his pants; all over this poor girl’s face. He thinks he got some in her eyelashes. "Shit, sorry, let me, uh—"
He leans over and rifles through the glove box, trying to find a napkin for her. No dice. Best he can do is an old McDonald's wrapper with a grease stain on the side. "Here, does— does this work?"
“Ew!”
“Sorry, I mean it’s that or my shirt, but then I’d have to drive you home shirtless, so-”
“Ugh,” she gives him a bitchy look. Tries to, anyway. One eye is glued shut. “Just give me that, please.”
His limp, spitty cock is still hanging from his pants when he passes her the wrapper. Flaccid and sad, like a white flag of surrender, and a bubble of hysterical laughter slips out. A choked burst of it, a pufferfished pfffft as it explodes past his lips. He’s not sure if it's the orgasm or the ridiculousness of the situation or if he's just plain lost his mind, but the girl glares at him, which...
There's still a glob of jizz on her cheek, so it doesn’t help matters much.
"I think you should take me home."
"Y-yep. Sorry. Yeah."
“Like now.”
Steve tucks himself into his jeans.
—
part 12
tagging whoever commented yesterday if your settings will let me @slutforcoffein @annabanannabeth @rani-mayida @awolfstudio @noodle-shenaniganery @yourmom-isgay @zombiecreatures @anne-bennett-cosplayer @thestarslittleking @evillittleguy @acedorerryn @messrs-weasley @bronwenmarie @lololol-1234 @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff @space-invading-pigeon @violetsteve @ahsokatanoss @slowandsteddie @zoeweee @silver-snaffles @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @thealwithnoname @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @hellion-child @stevesbipanic @trensu @steves-strapcollection @hotluncheddie
#trailer park steve au#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#wayne munson#claudia henderson#st fic#my writing#my fic
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yan!student council president x delinquent!reader
: yandere stuff .. punishment, detention, reader gets pinned by y!studentcp , reader RIZZFUL , reader smokes cigs, nerd 🤓, kinda suggestive? gn reader, .. reader is taller. Also hes the sub here
🩵 : this is going to be short and more of a how he fell for you fic, if you want more of him leave a comment :))
Ring!
Thats the school bell.. You're leaned against the wall, a lit cigarette between your lips. Holding the cig in between your two fingers, puffing out smoke. So boring.
"Hey."
You flinch and drop the cigarette to the ground. What the fuck? Who was that? You look over to see your student council president, angrily scowling straight at you. His arms were crossed.
"What are you doing smoking on school grounds? Not to mention, the bell just rang! You need to get to class." His voice was well.. angry. He sounded like a disappointed dad at some point but you just rolled your eyes and shrug it off. Clearly this pissed him off to some capacity, seeing the smoke release from his ears.
"Whatever— what the fuck are you doing?!" You yelled out as he was pinning you to the wall but you had to look down as he wasn't the tallest of students. His glasses glinted and he glared at you as if saying 'get to class now.'
Hmph. What could this puny thing do anyway?
—————— 🩵 ——————
Well that WAS what you were saying earlier. Now he was scowling even harsher with his eyebrows knitted tightly together. You were sitting in the detention room sitting across eachother. He was entrusted the task of watching and ensuring you don't leave detention too early. Although he was nose deep in some.. coding book.
You were sighing loudly until an idea suddenly plopped itself into your head. Why not.. Why not you flirt with him until he lets you leave? He seems like a nerd who would not be able to handle someone like you.
"Hey." You say to him causing him to look over from his book. He asked what you wanted. He fell for it. "You." Whispered you back in a different tone. That caused his eyebrows to raise and you swear his jaw just unhinged and fell open.
You got up from the seat and approached. The students were long gone. Towering over him, you smiled evilly and placed a finger below his chin and pulled it up to look up at you.
"Dont you wan't to fulfil my wish?"
His face was getting redder.. and redder.. and he passed out. Welp, guess you can leave now!
THIS IS RLLT SHORT BUT IM EXPERIENCING SUPER SUPER SUPER DUPER HARD WRITERS BLOCK
#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere#yandere oc#yan oc#yandere imagines#yandere oc x reader#yandere student council president#yan x reader#soft yandere#delinquent reader
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image description: image is a black and white photograph of fred hampton and a fellow black panther woman standing towards what looks like they are facing an individual or crowd. fred hampton is smokin a cig lookin cool as hell, in a knit vest or sweater... can't really tell. the image has text and it says, "theory's cool, but theory with no practice ain't shit. - fred hampton April 27 1969"
fyi smoking is not cool but rather very cancerous. even when it looks cool.
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I'm on Fire//biker!Eddie x fem!artist!Reader//Part 11
18+Only, pls no minors, jealous!Eddie, biker!Steve, possessiveness, mention of violence, alcohol consumption, mention of sex, rich people being rich, celebrity sighting, reader wears a dress and heels (for the sake of this story, please pretend that designers made dresses for all sizes in the 90's), dirty deeds, mention of an abusive relationship, being in love. Word count: 8.4k
Summary: As Eddie falls for you more and more, his jealousy comes to the surface. You have a scare as something reminds you of a bad relationship from your past, and you go out to dinner with a potential client, forcing Eddie to profess his feelings as he struggles with the fear of losing you. Steve is offered a new job opportunity that sounds almost too good to be true.
Series Masterlist
A/N: It's been a long time coming 🙃 I am worried that writing the next chapter might get me pregnant. Your comments/messages about this story mean everything to me, and this story wouldn't even exist without the love you've shown it. Thank you, I love you.
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I'm on Fire Part 11: No Ordinary Love
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Eddie showed up at the Velvet Hammer while you were working that night to make the non-verbal announcement that you were his girl to anyone who might not know it yet, and you took your break so he could fill you in on some of the drama with Steve. He sucked down two cigarettes in the span of 15 minutes, and you could tell that the stress was getting to him.
“Poor Robin,” your eyes glazed over a bit as you stared at the ground, your heart hurting. “She must be a wreck.”
Eddie nodded as he blew smoke to the side. “This isn’t even about Oliver, that greedy bitch just wants more money.”
You searched his face, trying to understand. “You mean, she doesn’t want Oliver in her life?”
Eddie shot the corners of his mouth down in a frown as he flicked ash to the pavement. “Hell no. Steve basically has to pay her off every now and then just so she will leave them alone,” and then Eddie’s eyes narrowed at the empty space in front of him. “No one is taking Oliver away, I can promise you that.”
Eddie stepped back to look you up and down, licking his lips, bucking his chin. “Has anyone tried to hit on you tonight?”
“Eddie…” you sighed and rolled your eyes a little.
“I’m serious,” he finished his cig and threw it to the ground. “I don’t want any of these fuckers thinking they can touch you.”
“Baby,” you wrapped your arms around him and put your head to his chest. “It’s just a job, and no one gets to touch me but you.”
“That’s fucking right,” he murmured, bending his head to kiss you. You still didn’t know that Charlene was the reason you lost the job you loved as a gallery director, and keeping that from you continued to gnaw at him.
He grabbed your chin to force your gaze up to meet his. “I’m dead serious, babe. It’s a respect thing. If anyone crosses a line with you in here, I’ll find out about it, and I’ll break their fucking hand.”
He wasn’t trying to scare you, personally, but his tone was intense, and a drastic change to how he normally spoke to you.
“I know, baby,” you answered in a whisper, suddenly feeling a damp heat between your thighs at his possessiveness over you.
The outfit you were wearing must’ve been turning him on too, because he groaned against your mouth, pulling your hips against his, not caring that the friction shot a ripple of pain into his stab wound.
“You’re gonna make me go back into work all turned on, babe,” you breathed between kisses. You slipped your hands around his ribs under the warmth of his leather.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, fingers digging into your thighs. “I’m about to take you right here. I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
You pulled back to search his face, your brows knitting together. “Yeah, why have we been waiting?”
Eddie picked up the back of your skirt so that his middle finger could rub your slit over your underwear while he palmed your ass and it made you whimper. “I wanted it to be...special, I guess,” he admitted, brushing your lips with his, his finger teasing the soft skin at your underwear line.
“You just got stabbed, baby. I don’t want you to---”
“Shhhhhhh,” he said, rubbing his nose against yours. “It’s not my first stab wound baby, and it won’t be my last.”
“Wait,” you put your hand on his chest. “Is that supposed to comfort me?”
Just then the door to the bar flew open with a bang, like someone had kicked it, Sex on Wheelz by My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult blasting into the alleyway, and Eddie did quick work of moving in front of you, blocking your raised skirt from view while you adjusted yourself, and he was glaring at whoever it was.
Jackie stepped out with a Pall Mall between her lips, and paused to shoot the two of you a curious look, wiggling her brows. “What’s been going on out here, kids? None of that hanky panky, I hope.”
----------
A day later, there was a very familiar hunter green SUV parked outside of your place when you rolled around the corner to park in the driveway after some grocery shopping. It as a fairly popular model, and so you didn’t think much of it until you saw that the plates were from Michigan---the state you’d lived in until a year ago when you finally accepted Katie’s invitation to move in with her.
A freezing cold flush of blood burst through your veins as you sat in your car, afraid to get out.
The fear that your ex-fiance Craig would find you and come knocking on your door one day never left you, but your defenses had been lowering as you got comfortable in Hawkins; maybe you’d gotten too comfortable. Maybe you hadn’t covered your tracks enough and someone from your past had told him where you were.
Everything you’d been through in the past few weeks, and now this? You were actually too petrified to move, thinking maybe it was better to start your car up and drive away. But, if he knew where you lived, you would never be free of him. You’d have to get another restraining order, which never did any good anyway. You might even have to move again.
Tears threatened behind your eyes, as adrenaline pumped through you, but then you glanced up and saw Katie come around the corner of the house with an older woman in a floral pantsuit and a bob of gray hair.
Katie paused, and bent down to give you a questioning look, wondering why you were still sitting in your car, lurking. You watched the gray haired woman walk over to the SUV and unlock it with her key, as a gust of stale air escaped your chest with a hiss.
The hunter green SUV belonged to another teacher from the school, Ms. Olsen, and later on, once you were in the house, you told Katie about your moment of panic.
“God,” she was perched on the arm of the sofa. “You really think that piece of shit would go through that much trouble to find you? And then drive all the way out here?”
“In a heartbeat,” you said, pressing your dry lips together. “But, as far as Craig knows, I moved to Oregon to live near my mom, so Hawkins would be completely off his radar. I hope so, anyway.”
Katie stood up. “Well, thankfully it was just a scare. Holy shit, by the look on your face I thought you caught Eddie with another girl again or something.”
You huffed a heavy breath as you dropped your bag onto the side table. “Yeah, I still have the photos. Maybe we should have them framed or something. To remember the good ol’ times.”
“I’m taking Robin out for happy hour to try and get her mind off of things,” Katie called to you as she opened the refrigerator and bent in to grab a soda. She was on her lunch break and on her way back to the school. “Do you want to come with? Just us girls? Steve has Ollie at the tattoo shop with him.”
You declined the offer only because you still needed to call John Gregson, and you wanted to catch him during office hours.
It took a while to get beeped through to his personal secretary, but when she finally took your call, she told you that Mr. Gregson was out of the office, but that she would get a message to him for you. Her snobby tone gave you the feeling that she was going to throw your message in the trash the second you hung up, but not five minutes later---he called you back.
“Hey there,” he beamed. You could hear him smiling through the phone. “I’m sorry my secretary made you wait. I told her to patch you through to my personal line next time.”
“I’m surprised you even remembered my name,” you were standing at the counter in front of a pad of paper with a pen in your hand just in case you needed to write anything down.
You’d be lying if you said the first few minutes of the conversation were completely innocent and did not dabble in flirtation. Your loyalty to Eddie was deep, but kindling a bit of a friendship with John was a necessary evil for the time being. A couple thousand dollars for a painting and a chance to let Charlene know you had tricks too? Priceless.
While he was letting you know what size canvas he wanted and some prominent color choices, you drifted off a bit, wondering if John knew about Charlene’s affair. Affairs, plural? You did not get the sense that he was at all lacking in cognitive function, and since he was such a successful business man, you assumed he could read people pretty well.
“Are you free for dinner tonight?”
He had to repeat it because your mind had gone rogue.
“Dinner? Tonight?” He continued. “With me.”
You had zero romantic feelings for John—your heart was very much engaged elsewhere---so you could shrug it off as a platonic business deal. But, you also couldn’t help but wonder how your newly christened boyfriend Eddie would feel about it. Appearances aside, he had to understand that, much like the guys you were nice to at the Velvet Hammer---it was just a job. Plus, John was very openly married, and attempting a blatant affair with you wouldn’t be a bright move.
Still, it felt like he was asking you on date.
“I could come to your office tomorrow? I’m free all day.” You offered.
“I won’t be in the office tomorrow, I’m flying to Boston for the rest of the week, but I could pick you up later today around 7:00?” He sounded humble, but at the same time very sure of himself. “You see, there is this new restaurant on the lake with a collection of artwork I’d think you’d enjoy. We could talk about the commission there in a more relaxed setting.”
You swallowed. He was very persuasive, you’d give him that. You knew the exact restaurant he was talking about; Sakura Black was owned by a movie star who had a vacation home in town. It was strictly reservation only and you’d always wanted to see what it was like on the inside. There was a private airport nearby and helicopter pad on the roof for the wealthy elite to pop over from the city for dinner to enjoy “small town life”.
You gnawed at your bottom lip for a few seconds, doodling frantic circles all over the pad of paper with your pen, and then you accepted.
“Well, you just made my day,” John told you.
After you hung up the phone, your hand stayed on the receiver, and you said, “fuck,” under your breath.
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“What do you mean he asked you out to dinner? You mean, like a date?” Eddie asked gruffly.
Eddie was in his coveralls with an over sized wrench in his hand with grease smeared across his cheek and thighs. You showed up at the garage about an hour after you’d talked to John, feeling like this was a conversation that needed to happen in person.
He frowned as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the desk in the office. His new part time helper Dana had just left and Wayne was away having one of his chemo treatments. He was leaning away from you, teeth grinding, jaw muscles flexing, as he absorbed the news. He had been damn near giddy when he saw you park and walk over; eagerly pulling your mouth to his as a smile stretched his lips. “Damn, I’ve missed my girl,” he’d murmured as he nuzzled your nose, and then the three other mechanics behind him started whistling and shouting, “get a room!” To which Eddie grabbed your hand and flipped them off.
“It’s not a romantic date, baby. He just wants to talk about this commission I’m going to do for him,” you soothed, giving him space as you rested your shoulder against the green metal door.
“Sure he does,” Eddie chided. But then he sucked his teeth and tried to cool the hot emotions that were bubbling up. “What did you say his name was?”
This was the even trickier part.
You sighed and rubbed your fingers across your forehead before you met his gaze again. “His name is John. John Gregson.”
Eddie snorted and turned on his heel, rubbing his hands down his face. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, babe. Please tell me you’re joking?” After keeping his back to you for a bit, shoulders tight, he finally turned around to face you and tapped the desk with his knuckle as he spoke. “You know who he is, right? Who he’s married to?”
You nodded as you gazed at the scuffed toes of his boots and the frayed ends of his coveralls where they sat at his laces.
Eddie gave a few slow blinks, spreading his fingers on the desk to brace himself as he leaned. “I don’t feel good about this, babe. I don’t want you alone with this guy.”
You did your best to explain the situation to him, going all the way back to when John purchased some art from an outdoor festival you participated in a few years ago, to how he recognized you at the Velvet Hammer, and then Steve giving you his card to hopefully bring some money your way.
Eddie waited, but his expression of doubt stayed the same. “Listen,” he ran the tip of his tongue over his top lip and came a bit closer to you, crossing his arms again. “I appreciate that you told me. But you don’t know these people, baby. They are rich and they are mean. They don’t care who they hurt, as long as they get what they want at the end of the day. John might seem like a decent dude, but I’d bet money that he’s no different.”
As Eddie said it, he knew there was a lot of his ego involved in trying to talk you out of it. It was his fault you lost the job as a gallery director—a job that you loved---and he wondered if he was being selfish in trying to keep you from whatever amount of money you could get from what’s his name. The last thing he wanted to do was push you away, and if anything could, it would be his jealousy. He was sure it had pushed people away in the past.
Eddie bowed his head, and you moved into his orbit, tugging his crossed arms down so he would lower them and let you in. “I’m fucking filthy, baby,” he said as you put your head to his chest and wrapped your arms around him. He placed his cheek on the top of your head. You nuzzled him, inhaling the scent of car exhaust and motor oil and the earthy soft undertones of his warm skin.
“Oh, god, don’t I know it,” you teased, pinching a handful of his ass.
He barked a low laugh despite himself and tightened his arms around you. “You make me this way.”
You swayed there together for a bit before he huffed out a heavy breath. “So, what time is your date?” He bit out the word ‘date’ so hard, his jaw clicked.
You pushed off of him, exasperated, and slightly offended. “Baby, it’s not a date. He doesn’t mean anything to me, it’s just like a…business thing. You know how much I love---”
But then the rest of it kind of choked in your throat, and you doubted yourself, and you clamped your mouth shut to keep any more from escaping. You didn’t doubt your feelings for him, but you doubted that blurting it out in that moment was the right thing to do.
Both of you were simultaneously paranoid that you’d scare the other one off by being too blunt about your feelings. Why? Because any time you had confessed your feelings to someone in the past, they either ruined your life or left you; there was no happy medium.
“Yeah? You love what?” Eddie waited, searching your face, interlacing his fingers with yours, anticipation burning in his chest.
You started to fidget under his intense gaze, shifting your attention around the room. “I-I love your stupid face.”
He squeezed your hand, and leaned in to press his lips flush against your ear, his warm breath making you shiver. “Ditto, babe.”
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Eddie was not smiling when you left the garage. You told him all of the details, including what time you were being picked up, the name of the restaurant (he rolled his eyes), and you told him you’d call the second you got home.
“Or, call me from the restaurant if he gets handsy or some stupid shit,” he added with a frown. “It would be my pleasure to go to jail for bouncing that clown into next week.”
You did all you could to comfort him, but at the end of the day, he was a grown man who needed to understand that you were excited for not only the money, but for the opportunity to be doing what you loved again. You felt like you’d lost your spark lately and you were anxious to get it back.
It was around 4 o’clock when you pulled up to the curb at the chocolate brown duplex with white trim that you shared with Katie. From behind the wheel, you spotted what looked like a big, flat white box with a string tied in a bow at the top. As you got closer, with your keys and bag in your hand, you realized there was a fancy note card on it addressed to you.
You put it on the island in the kitchen and started at it while your tongue slid across your teeth in contemplation. The store on the tag was from a French boutique in Chicago that you had never heard of in your life.
The inside of the card said: “I forgot to ask if you had something casual but elegant for tonight. See you at 7:00 -- J.”
Once you opened the lid of the box and pulled the tissue paper back, you let out a small gasp at the Dolce & Gabbana label staring you in the face. It was simple black dress with red lining, knee length but with a high slit up the leg, strapless, and there was a black choker and heels to match.
You hated to admit it, but perhaps Eddie’s read on John had been a tad on-the-nose.
--------
“Whoa there Julia Roberts,” Katie joked as you walked out to the living room at 6:45, trying to steady yourself on your new heels. “Is Richard Gere picking you up or what?”
Robin was there too and she spun around on the couch to whistle at you. “Good god, woman, Eddie should see you now. He’d blow a gasket.”
Under your breath you responded, “maybe, but not for the reason you’d think.”
Katie rested her hip on the back of the couch and combed her fingers through Robin’s hair as she raised her eyebrow at you. “Where are you going looking like a stick of dynamite? You look too nice for the Hammer.”
You opened your clutch to make sure you had the necessities. “I’m going to dinner with a potential client who wants to commission a painting,” you were withholding the bigger truth because you wanted to avoid getting into a discussion about it. “It’s not a big deal, I should be home in a few hours.”
Robin and Katie exchanged a look.
They did make sure to peak through the blinds when your ride arrived, though, and saw that it wasn’t just any old ride: it was a sleek, black Rolls-Royce, complete with chauffeur, and the man who got out to open the door for you was unarguably handsome and dapper. Salt n’ Pepper hair that was thick and a little wavy on top, tan skin, and what appeared to be an expensive, tailored suit. Once you had slipped into your seat behind the dark tinted windows, the man actually glanced up and caught the two girls watching, to which he gave a charming smile and a wave.
“THAT’S the client she’s going to dinner with?” Katie balked, realizing there was a lot you weren’t telling her. “He looks like Robert fucking Redford.”
“Oh, shit,” Robin whispered, her chin on Katie’s shoulder. “I think I know who that is. I can’t remember his name, but his face is always in the paper. Pretty sure he owns most of this town.”
You braced your hands on the smooth leather seat on either side of your hips as John found his place next to you and offered you a glass of champagne. “Or sparkling water, or gin, if you prefer?”
“Champagne sounds great,” you said with a quiver on your lips. You were too intimidated to admit you’d never been in a Rolls-Royce before, or any car worth its value.
He popped the cork and poured you a glass flute, his eyes covertly flashing to your legs as he worked. “I’m happy to see the dress fit. It looks like it was made for you.”
You cleared your throat as he passed your beverage over. “I’m nervous to spill on it. I think it costs more than my car.”
John smiled against the rim of his glass as he spoke. “If anything happens to it, we’ll just buy you another one,” he assured you with a wink.
----------
Around the same time you found the dress on your porch earlier that day, Steve picked up the phone at the shop after three rings, just before the machine was about to get it. He was in the middle of working on matching ankle tattoos for two sisters, and Oliver was at his special kid-sized plastic desk in the corner scrawling with crayons in a coloring book. Molly, the tattoo artist he rented a chair from was deeply absorbed in getting the lines in for a huge back piece on a client and she begged him to get it while Feel the Pain by Dinosaur Jr played in the background over the buzzing of a tattoo gun.
“Cutthroat Tattoo, this’s Steve,” his voice was a bit gruff, but he didn’t mean for it to be. It had been nonstop all day and the phone was ringing off the hook.
“You’re a hard man to track down,” the confident woman on the other end cooed. “Do you have a second? Is this a bad time?”
“Yeah, it is a bad time. Who’s this?” Steve frowned, running his thumb along the edge of the counter.
“I’m the one who bailed you out of jail,” she answered, with a hint of laughter in her voice.
Steve frowned even harder, walking further away from the customers so that he as at the corner of the desk against the wall. His mind was racing because he didn’t recognize the voice. Was it someone he fucked recently and forgot about? In that case, it was the least he could do to remember her name, but nothing was coming to him.
“Sweetheart, I’d love to thank you properly, but I still have no idea who you are,” he braced his hand high on the wall, his back muscles and tattoos visible under his thin wife beater. “Can I have a clue?”
She continued to ignore his question. “If you’re interested I might have a job for you. It pays well, and it will only be a couple hours out of your day.”
He dropped his hand from the wall and slipped it into his arm pit. “How much is ‘well’?”
She told him it would be a couple grand for a few hours, and he almost said yes before he even asked what the job even was.
“What’s the catch, baby?” He was still under the assumption that this was someone he had carnal knowledge of, and not a complete stranger. “Cause my days of being a high paid assassin are behind me.”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” she purred. “It’s just that I’m going to an event in a couple days and I need to hire a body guard to be my escort.”
Steve scoffed at the simplicity of what she was asking. “That’s all? Sweetheart, I’m your man.”
“I knew you were the right man for the job,” she praised.
“Hey,” he turned to give the woman in his chair a silent wink and thumbs up to let her know he’d be right there. “You still haven’t told me your name. I’m good with faces, darlin’, but voices? Not so much.”
“You can call me Char,” she told him, giving him her phone number. He took the cap off a pen with his teeth and ripped out a page from the phone book to write it down. “Give me a call when you’re done and we can work out the details.”
Char...Char...Steve’s mind raced with who that might be. But, damn all he could think of was how nice it would be to get his hands on that money. They’d been living paycheck to paycheck for a while now, and it would be nice to put a little extra in the bank so he could breathe for a fucking second. Body guard gigs were a piece of cake, and hell, if she wanted to pay him to have sex with her he might even agree to that as well, depending on what she was offering. Now, with Tina sniffing around again, he was on edge every second, and not sure if she really wanted to be in Oliver’s life, in which case he’d need to pay out the ass to hire a lawyer, or if she just wanted to squeeze his balls for more dough.
He couldn’t wait to brag to Eddie how mysterious women were stumbling over themselves to pay his bail and his bills.
--------
John made small talk with you as the driver, who was behind a black tinted partition, maneuvered the car up through the woods toward the lake. You passed a few MC members cruising along with the wind in their faces, and your heart stuck in your throat, hoping one of them were Eddie. Even Steve or Thumper would’ve been a welcome sight in that moment.
John was a gentleman, from what you could tell, and he was doing everything he could to make you comfortable, but you still felt terribly out of place; both in body and soul. To make matters worse, you were already missing Eddie. You realized that you could’ve gone to be with him that night instead, and the weight of your choice made your heart heavy. The song No Ordinary Love by Sade dripped softly from the speaker near your leg and it drowned out John’s voice for a few seconds as you thought about the beautiful, loving man you’d left waiting for you at home.
A magic, purple dusk exploded over the lake, between the trees as John came around to open your door and extend his hand for you to take.
“I don’t think I said it yet,” the side of his mouth lifted in a grin. He smelled like spices and expensive, Italian leather. “But you look absolutely stunning tonight.”
You rolled your shoulders and did the best to put all of your weight on the balls of your feet as you adjusted to the heels. He extended the crook of his arm to you and you took it, feeling like you were on some strange prom date.
Ahead of you was a walkway that led through a Japanese-style garden with a large Koi pond, on the way to a long, wide ranch-style building with gold lanterns dangling from the roof.
Sakura Black was known for it’s Japanese and Asian fusion cuisine. You’d only read about it in magazines, of course, and so it was a treat to see it all up close.
There was tight security from the time your chauffeur let you out at the curb to where you entered the building. A handful of muscular guys whose shoulders looked too big for their suit jackets, and whose necks were wider than their heads, talked to each other through ear pieces with dramatically serious faces, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think they were with the FBI or Secret Service. John didn’t even have to acknowledge them; they instantly ushered him through because they clearly recognized him.
You knew it was no secret that John was married, and you wondered what people thought your relationship was with him. Did they think you were one of his mistresses? Or was it a regular occurrence for him to bring young women there for dinner to talk over business deals? You honestly had no idea if you looked like a lucky girl or a fool to them.
Inside, the décor was warm tones and sharp edges; industrial design, with a pristine air of perfection and minimalism. You were a bit shocked when you realized that it made you miss the chaotic, clammy, nicotine saturated air of the Velvet Hammer.
The host with the wire rimmed glasses saw you and John coming, and got a bit flustered, before he stole himself for a proper greeting. “Your table is waiting, Mr. Gregson,” he extended his arm, encouraging you both to follow him down three steps to the main dining floor. There were solid windows along the back wall for a view of the lake at dusk, and the place was dimly lit, almost too dim for you to see if there were any celebrities in the crowd as you tried to scan around without moving your head. Soft murmuring voices heard over metal clinking on ceramic as waiters brought flaming dishes out on rolling carts.
John’s table was down close to one of the windows; there were two tealights burning in glass bubbles, and a bottle of red wine at the ready. You slipped free of John’s arm so that the host could pull your chair out for you, and you just so happened to move back two steps too many and you bumped into someone.
You both turned around at the same time to gush your apologies, and that was when you realized that the person you’d just smacked into was, in fact, the actor Richard Gere himself.
--------
Eddie was restless. He took a shower, and then nearly wore a hole in the floor from pacing.
He should’ve told you he didn’t want you to go. He should’ve told you...how he felt about you. God, was it too late? What if you realized that having an affair with with a rich dude was just what you needed? It would take away all of your stress, and you could stop working your ass off at the Velvet Hammer. It would help your art career, and you’d never have to worry about money. Surely, John Gregson was intelligent, well-spoken, successful—the type of man you deserved to be with. Since you met Eddie, your life had fallen into chaos and damn near poverty. In fact, the more he thought about it, what the hell did you even seen in him anyway?
He fully intended to wait by the phone until you called, but the minutes felt like hours, and he decided to take a ride over to Steve’s house for some company. Steve was still at the shop, but Robin had just arrived home after picking up Oliver, and it was a much needed distraction from his intrusive thoughts.
He read Oliver a bedtime story (it was coincidentally also one of his favorites: Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs) while Robin put away the dishes, and then the two adults had a beer out on the patio under dim yellow light where insects tapped and buzzed.
One sip and Robin sat up in her chair, regarding him with wide eyes. “Hold on, I almost forgot to tell you how hot your woman looked tonight. Wowza!”
Eddie’s beer paused halfway to his mouth and his smile dropped.
Robin licked her bottom teeth as she grinned, bending her knee to put her foot on the chair. “She was gorgeous, but also very sophisticated and elegant. Total show-stopper. You would’ve been on your knees.”
Eddie was gripping his beer can so tight, he crushed it a bit, forcing liquid to spurt out of the top.
“Yeah, how long ago was that?” Eddie asked in a mumble.
“How long was what? When I saw your girl? Um, maybe an hour ago. I left right after to pick Ollie up.”
Robin started talking about the whole mess with Tina, and a few minutes in, Eddie got to his feet. “I gotta go, Rob. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Thanks for the beer.”
“You have to go...right now? Seriously dude?” She balked. But Eddie was already grabbing his leather and taking long strides around the house to where he parked the chopper.
Robin sighed heavily into the mouth of her beer just before taking a few large gulps.
--------
Richard Gere reached out and put his palm on your elbow. “Are you okay? I didn’t meant to bulldoze into you like that.”
You were understandably speechless for a moment, mouth agape, as you looked from his face to the other people at his table. A part of you hoped to see Cindy Crawford there, but then you remembered they’d been divorced for a couple years. There were two other people with him: an older gentleman you did not recognize, and a woman who could’ve very well been a runway model.
You were about to speak when John came up behind you, resting his hand at your lower back. “Richard,” John greeted as they both shook hands. They knew each other? John introduced you. “This is that talented painter I was telling you about. I’m commissioning a piece for our lake house.”
Richard regarded you with invested interested. “A-ha, that’s right. I’d love to see your work. Do you have a card?”
“I don’t have one with me, but I---” you stammered, disbelief clouding your cognitive functions.
John’s hand made circles on your back as he spoke. “I’ll have my secretary send over her information tomorrow,” he told Richard.
Once the two of you were finally scooting into your table, John raised his eyebrow. “Richard’s a good friend, and an avid art collector. He loves finding new talent, that’s why I told him about you.”
Your heart raced as you put your napkin in your lap. Your seat faced the entrance where you’d just come in, and the side of Richard. He turned and winked at you as he put his hand onto the leg of the supermodel next to him.
The menu items didn’t have any prices on them, except for the wine list which had some going for hundreds of dollars. It made you gulp. You could probably live for a month on what these people were paying for one dinner.
“Is it okay if I order for you?” John asked, small, tortoise shell readers as the end of his nose. You were more than grateful for that suggestion, and he didn’t seem at all bothered when you said you were a vegetarian. Your waiter poured the wine, John started with appetizers, and the two of you proceeded to stick to the topic of business, and what he was hoping for in the artwork for his den.
It started to be less and less like a date and more like dinner with a friend, which made you feel a whole lot better about everything. You wondered what the story was between John and Charlene: how they met, how they fell in love, how they grew so far apart. There was probably someone there in the crowd who would see the two of you together and report back to Charlene. Would she even care?
Also, you really missed Eddie. You watched John hold his hands out in front of him, explaining a piece of art he bought while he was in Italy, with the romantic lake as a backdrop, and all you could think about was how you’d rather be kissing Eddie in the alley behind the Velvet Hammer, surrounded by the smell of rotting trash.
John expressly told the waiter to let the chef know which substitutions they required for your dietary needs, and he ordered another bottle of wine. You were watching him pour it when, several tables down, you spotted a waiter who you swore was your previous work colleague, Jeff. Just then, the guy with the golden blonde hair locked eyes with you at the same time and a wild look flashed across his face before he regained his composure and finished taking the order at the table he was at.
“Excuse me for just a moment?” You said to John as you got up from the table and placed your napkin on your seat. “I need to….” what was the phrase again? You couldn’t tell him you needed to use the toilet, that was vulgar. “...to go to the powder room. I’ll be right back.”
You made your way along the main floor and then up the steps, making eye contact with Jeff and motioning covertly for him to follow you. Jeff jerked his head, motioning you in the other direction, down between the bar and the kitchen. You both did good work of keeping your composure until you were hidden and out of ear shot.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Jeff blurted, bouncing on the balls of his feet a bit.
“Um, I was about to ask you the same thing? Hello? You quit the gallery?” You exchanged a hug as you talked.
“Yeah, fuck that place,” Jeff adjusted the front of his shirt. “Besides you would not believe the celebrity sightings here. I’m gonna get swept off my feet soon.”
“Yeah no kidding,” you agreed in a whisper. “Richard Gere is basically sitting at our table.”
You were both speed-talking because neither one had much time.
“Who is that hot daddy you’re with?” Jeff asked.
“You’ll never believe it.”
“Try me?”
“It’s Charlene Gregson’s husband,” you said, exposing your lower teeth in a cringe.
Jeff made his mouth into an exaggerated “O” shape. “Girl, you have a lot of explaining to do. Why didn’t you call me?”
“Why didn’t you call ME?”
One of the other servers walked by and you hugged again, agreeing adamantly to meet up for cocktails as you wiggled fingers at each other to say farewell. You came up into the reception area, about to turn and make your way back down to the restaurant, when a deep voice made you freeze in your tracks.
“Hey.” It was Eddie.
---------
Eddie didn’t have a plan, he was just going. His hair flew in the wind, his hands twisting high up on the ape hanger handlebars, thundering along the winding mountain road like the devil was on his heels.
Sure, the restaurant you were at had tight security, but half of them were buddies of his. Plus, he wouldn’t have given a shit if he had to take them all on. In fact, bashing some heads in would’ve felt pretty fucking good in that moment.
He told Mick and Angus at the gate that he was there to cover for one of the guys, and they let him him right in; engine revving as the chopper crawled up the driveway and found a place right next to a red Ferrari. He ran his hand through his hair, rings clicking together as he swung his leg off the bike, adjusting his Coffin Kings leather cut over his plain white tee, exposing the tattoos from his neck to fingers. The black jeans he had on did not have holes in them but still—he was vastly under dressed for this crowd. God, he secretly hoped someone had the guts to try and throw him out; that would be fun.
He walked up to Rodney—a big dude with most of his dark hair in a buzz cut, but for the 5 inch long rat tail at the back---and offered him a smoke. Rodney had to wear his shirt buttoned at the collar and at his wrists to hide all of his tattoos. There were two other square-head dudes in suits positioned at the door, but Eddie didn’t know them.
He pointed his chin at the two in question, exhaling smoke. “Will I get any trouble from those two if I go in?”
Rodney wiped his nose with his thumb as his cheeks caved in for another drag. “Nah, they don’t mess with the Kings, man. They’re just gym bros. Say ‘boo’ and they’ll piss themselves.”
He made small talk for another minute or two, and then tossed his smoke when it was only halfway finished.
The two at the door moved immediately for Eddie, just as Rodney suggested they would. They even bowed their heads a bit, as if he were some type of mystical royalty.
The guy at the reception desk forgot to blink when he looked up at him, wondering if he should call the police or scream, but Eddie raised his hand with a partial smile, letting him know he didn’t want any trouble. “I’m just checking to see if someone is here,” he let him know. “It’s an emergency.”
“How about I check for you?” The guy in the wire-rimmed glasses asked nervously, shuffling papers. “Can I have a name?”
“No,” Eddie answered bluntly as he kept walking.
He stepped beyond a black partition to where he had a view of the lake windows and the people dining down below.
And then there you were.
Looking like a million bucks and then some. As confident as he’d been entering the building, now butterflies were exploding in his stomach and his face flushed with heat. If he didn’t know you, he’d be too nervous to even speak to you. You had always been way out of his league, but the way you looked that night really solidified the fact.
“Hey,” he said.
----------
“Eddie?” You stopped and looked around, not sure what was happening. “Baby, what are you doing here?”
You grabbed his hand and took him around the other side of the partition so that you weren’t right out in plain sight.
Eddie looked you up and down. “Did he buy you that dress?”
You only swallowed, and your silence said it all.
You took hold of his forearm, trying to meet his shifting gaze. “I promised you I’d call when I got home, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
He’d rehearsed the words over and over on the ride there, but now they might as well have been a foreign language.
Eddie cast his gaze beyond you to all of the people eating their dinner as he shifted his jaw from side to side. “Did you tell him you have a boyfriend? Maybe I should introduce myself.”
“Baby, baby, baby, look at me,” you coaxed; one finger hooked in his belt loop and one guiding his face so that he’d look at you. His skin was hot, like he had a temperature. “I can’t do this with you right now. Please. You’re stressing me out. I’ll come by your place as soon as I’m done here, okay?”
Eddie knew he was blowing it. Internally, he tried that little meditation trick when you count back from ten or whatever the fuck, and he took a deep breath, but it didn’t help.
He kissed your forehead. “I’m sorry,” he sucked his plump bottom lip into his teeth, biting down. “You’re just...so beautiful.”
You rose up to kiss his lips, and then you squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll call you once I’m home, and then I’ll come over okay? I promise.”
Eddie nodded as you got further away from him, so far that you finally had to let go of his hand as your reach stretched to its limit. After you made your way down the couple of steps, you turned around to make eye contact with him again, but he was looking down.
Once you got back to the table, you stretched your neck up to check, and you didn’t see him standing in the same spot anymore, so you let out a relieved sigh. Your meals were on the table, and you apologized for taking so long. “I ran into a friend,” you told John.
After a bit more conversation and a couple bites of food, you glanced over to see that Jeff was shuffling his way over to your table. The smile he had pressed across his face was not reaching his eyes as he came up beside you and John.
He asked your name, as if he didn’t know it. “There is a...telephone call for you. Follow me please?”
You exchanged a look with John as you finished chewing your food and pushed your chair out. You excused yourself, again.
“Take your time,” John called to you as you followed behind Jeff.
Jeff did not take you to a telephone; he motioned for you to follow him around the other side of the bar, to a narrow hallway hidden behind a black velvet curtain. The sounds of the shouts and pans clinking in the kitchen were clear as day.
There was Eddie, waiting with his arms crossed. Jeff patted your hand as he left you there and walked away.
“Baby what...” your shoulders dropped, exasperated.
“Hold up, wait,” Eddie put his hand out. “I have something to say, and then you can go back to doing...whatever.”
You leaned against the door that said EXIT above it in orange letters. You really just wanted to get this dinner over so you could, indeed, be with Eddie again, but he was intent on dragging it out.
Eddie cast his gaze to the floor, hooking his thumbs into his front belt loops. “Listen, I know I don’t deserve you, okay?”
“Eddie---”
“Shhhh,” he whispered. “Let me finish.”
You blinked and nodded, trying to be patient.
“So, I know I don’t have a lot right now, but one day I will. I’ll be comfortable at least. I’m not going to be in that apartment over the garage forever. I’ve made investments, I have some plans,” his eyes flicked to yours only briefly. “I’ve got enough money saved right now, what if I commission a painting from you? I can pay you whatever this dickhead is offering.”
You opened your mouth to speak but then--
He put his hand at your waist, urging you closer. “I wanna be the one you come to, baby. I want to take care of you. I will, if you’ll just let me.”
You couldn’t look at him for some reason, tears pooled at your lash line, and a lump lodged in your throat, your lip quivering. You’d been taking care of yourself for so long, you hadn’t realized how nice it would sound for someone to offer such a thing
The tip of his tongue came out to wet his bottom lip, and he slid his hand up along the side of your face, urging your eyes to meet his. “All I wanna do is make you happy and keep you safe,” his thumb brushed across the side of your mouth. “You’re everything to me, baby. I just wanna know that you’re mine.”
“But I am yours,” your voice squeaked as you sniffed back pending tears.
“Yeah, well, there’s something else,” Eddie’s heart rate quickened. He stepped forward to close the distance between the two of you and touched his forehead to yours briefly.
“I’m sorry about tonight,” he continued, swallowing hard. Your wet eyes were possibly contagious because his chocolate eyes were glistening now too. “But I’m just so fucking in love with you that I don’t know what to do with myself. I feel like I’m---”
But then you smashed your lips to his, blinking tears down your cheeks, tasting the salt as it dripped down your lips and mingled with your shared saliva. Your hands wandered all over each other, begging for purchase, eager moans vibrating in your throats. His words and the sweet eagerness of the kiss threatened to make a mess of your underwear right there in the restaurant.
You blinked and sniffed as you met his eyes again. You were shaking your head, almost in disbelief at the circumstances. “I love you so much,” you admitted, relieved to say the words after they’d been living on your tongue for so long.
Eddie found your mouth again, clutching the back of your neck to pull you closer, speaking in between eager kisses. “You do? Say it again, baby. Tell me you love me.”
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” you murmured against his lips as he wrapped his arms around and crushed you to him. The last I love you made a little laugh hitch in your throat at the absurdity of where this confession was taking place.
Eddie picked you up so that your feet were off the ground for a second, making you squeal, and then he searched your eyes, his pupils blown. “God, I want to be inside of you so bad right now,” he breathed.
You reached down to feel the outline of his cock grow stiff in his jeans, and you thought about telling John that there was an emergency and you had to split.
He rubbed his nose on yours and then took your wrist and flattened your palm over his heart. “You can finish your dinner, baby, I’ll wait for you in the parking lot, I don’t care how long it takes. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
Part 12
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#eddiemunsonseries#eddiemunson#eddiemunsonfic#biker eddie munson#eddie my beloved#older!eddie#steve harrington#older eddie munson#i'm on fire#90s au#boyfriend eddie munson
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A Lumpy Jumper
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i know i like to call him a rat man and harp on about how much of a mess he is, but in reality, constantine is such a nesting doll of fuckery that it's no wonder so many people get fooled into thinking he's safe (even hero-worship him, a few times). like yeah, on the surface and in passing interaction, he's a fun time or the thrill of the unknown or just a more-pleasant-than-not encounter at your nine-to-five customer service job. but once you get in a little closer, you start to see the cracks in the veneer turn into ravines: the anger, the meanness, the lies, the nasty transactional mess of favors. the little spinning saw blades that shred up whatever comes too close. he's a con man, he can look normal when he wants to. he just can't be it.
#( ooc. ) OUT OF CIGS.#nbc constantine Looks a whole rumpled mess bc he's still fresh out of ravenscar. he's barely started putting himself back together#comic constantine? he Acts a mess. but with skin-thin context to work with he can seem fairly respectably put-together#unless he's drunk or you're a supernatural entity who can tell otherwise. both of which Do happen pretty often lmao#of course it's telling that his tightest-knit friendships are with people who Know Him for the mess that he is#the con man's good for a show but the mess is good for an ally. at least until the mess gets you killed.#( headcanons. ) I'M JUST LIKE THE BASTARDS I'VE HATED ALL ME LIFE.
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In the Bleak Mid-Winter
In the Bleak Mid-Winter
Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem reader (Nurse)
Summary: This is a story about two people who become constants in each others lives, and eventually fall for each. While one learns to love again, the other learns the cost of loving a man like him.
Word count: 4.3k
Warnings: Cursing, blood, Slight smut ( hand job), Kissing, angst, hurt/ no comfort Tommy Shelby, ( If I missed anything or you think something should be added please tell me.) ( Also Y/N is on dick, IDKY she acts like this)
A/N: part 1 takes place during season two, part 2/3 season 3 and 4/5/6 season 4. This is a Slow burn there will be smut eventually.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 part 6
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Week 1:
The first 72 hours after surgery were rough; everyone was waiting around to see if he would slip in the night. He made it through. Well, he started breathing on his own, so that was good, but he still hasn't woken up. In the mornings, you would continuously walk past his room, peaking through the window, seeing if he was still alive, seeing who visited him. You always watched, but you never went in. During the day, you worked with other patients, and at night, you would sit by his bed and watch him sleep every night.
Week 2:
Tommy was still in a coma, and every day, your fears worsened. All the what-ifs ran through your head; what if he never woke up? Still, every night, you were by his side waiting, watching.
Week 3:
Two nights ago, Tommy woke up; you were "talking" to him, which you did most nights to help with the silence and pass the time. You were busy ranting about your day and this horrible patient who had come into the ER as you knitted a sweater.
"So then she yelled at me, telling me I'm a stupid bitch who needs to go get a real doctor to check her out. So then, you know what I did? I gave her a piece of my mind," you said, pausing to focus on the sweater for a second.
"You did, eh?"
If it wasn't for the fact that you could see his eyes open, you would've thought you had hallucinated. You rushed over to him, dropping the sweater on the floor.
"Tommy, are you ok? How do you feel? Do you need some water? Hold on, let me go get the Doctor." You were about to rush off when you felt yourself being pulled back slightly
"Let another nurse get the doctor; you didn't finish telling me your story." His words came out rushed, almost as if he was pushing them out so he could take a breath.
"Ok," You laughed as you wiped the tears on your face and held his hand tightly.
Week 4:
Tommy was getting better every day; he wasn't making huge milestones, but he was meeting his goals.
You walked in to check on Tommy during lunch after finishing up with most of your work for the day. You caught him trying to bring his head down to his hands so he could put the cig in his mouth. This might not seem like much, but the fact that he could get the cig out of the box in the first place was huge.
You walked up to him, taking the cig out of his hand before licking your lip and running the cig across them. You held the cig between your lips as you reached down and got a match from the box; you lit up, taking a drag before placing it in Tommy's mouth.
"Thank you"
"You welcome."
You walked towards the end of his bed, picking up the paper for Today and walking back up towards him, pulling a chair with you along the way. You placed the chair next to him, taking a seat as you flipped through the paper.
You stopped flipping to reach up and take the cig from Tommy to ash it before giving it back to him.
"Anything interesting," he asked.
"Nope, the only thing is that it seems your horse came in 3rd place at the derby; congratulations, Mr.Shebly."
Again, you reached up, taking the cig from his mouth, ashing it, and then giving it back. Tommy rested his head back and closed his eyes as he finished his cig.
"What else does it say?" he turned to look at you. "Read it to me," he asked, and you did; for the rest of the afternoon, you sat there reading the paper to Tommy as you lit and ashed his cigs for him.
Week 5:
It didn't take long for you to catch on that Tommy couldn't read. Well, it's not that he couldn't read, but he couldn't see. Tommy was on a load of medication, and you couldn't even remember everyone, let alone the dose of each one. You were getting his medicine ready for him, but you could only remember three out of six of the medications, and you didn't read the doses for them.
You looked around for Tommy's chart and saw it was on the nightstand across the room next to him.
"Tommy read the medicines and doses out loud for me; I can't remember if I'm doing this right, so just read them all, please,"
Tommy grabbed the clipboard and looked at it; you waited a bit, giving him some time to locate the information.
Seconds turn into minutes, and Tommy still hasn't said a word; you turn around to catch him holding the clip close to his face, moving it far away, and then back close up.
"Tommy"
He looked over the papers one more time before handing the clip out to you; you walked up, took it out of his hand, and then walked back over to the medicines; you fished up and brought them all over to Tommy.
"I'm going for lunch with the other nurse. I'll be back." You walked toward the door, opening it before you turned back toward Tommy.
"I'll send for the eye doctor to come about." You gave him a tight smile before closing the door and heading out for lunch with your friends.
Week 6:
Tommy started his physical therapy a couple of days ago, and every day, you accompanied him. You didn't have to be there for his physical therapy, but you wanted to, and you had the feeling Tommy did, too.
You sat at the opposite side of Tommy, who stood at the end of parallel bars; he held himself up as the physical therapist told him what to do.
"Ok. Now, Mr.Shelby, when you are ready, start walking down to her; take your time. Don't rush."
Tommy started to walk towards you. It wasn't the most stable, and it was very slow as he basically dragged himself along the bars as he walked. He only made it a few steps before taking a break to catch his breath. You could tell he was embarrassed if anyone saw him right now….
It's been a few minutes, and Tommy still hasn't moved; you don't know if he's in pain or if his mind is racing with fear of the future.
You pick the newspaper up next to you and quickly glance over.
"Tommy, I knew you had a horse racing this weekend, but you didn't say it won first place." You held the newspaper up, covering your face as you spoke. Your poker face wasn't the best, but you needed to get Tommy out of his head.
"Bring it here."
You knew you had him, seeing as it was early in the morning, and neither John nor Arthur had been by to tell him the actual placing of his horse.
"Wow, won by an Inch, a close call, they say. Hey, what's the type of payout from a win like this?" You Ignored him as you continued to "Skim" through the paper.
You peeked around the paper to see Tommy walking towards you. He was still struggling, but his steps had much more determination behind them.
He reached the end of the bars and leaned on them as he held his hand out.
"Oi, give it here."
"You can't even see the words on the paper, Tommy."
"Don't care"
You handed him the paper, and even though Tommy couldn't see, it didn't really matter; on the cover of the newspaper was a big picture of a gangster who had been killed.
Tommy's horse had raced the other day, and the papers had the result, but it would be on Today's paper, and Tommy was holding yesterday's.
He let out a puff of air as he read over the paper. He looked up at you raising the papers, and he did,
"Where's today's paper?"
"I don't know; I think the mail boy is running late." You glanced over your shoulder as if you were looking for him. "He should be here soon, maybe even by the time you finish your therapy," you gave him a smile with a thumbs up.
"Now, going on, turn around; you still have about an hour to go," you said, cheering him on.
He looked at you briefly before Turning around and walking back towards the Doctor.
You watched Tommy continue on the bars before switching to some weight lifting and more. Today ( Monday) was the start, but by Friday, you could already see the difference in his steps and how confidently he took them; he was getting better and stronger every day.
Later, you learn that his horse did, in fact, win first place.
Week 7:
Tommy has been doing very well in physical therapy to the point where he is off the bars and is now walking around with a cane; he can't go far, but it's a start. You still go to every appointment even though no one asked you to; you still go, just like how you still sit with Tommy through the night even though he's been out of the woods for weeks. You don't know why you are doing this, but you can't stop.
Week 8:
You were exhausted; you had been doing this for eight weeks now, and to be honest, you were surprised you had been able to keep this up; you hadn't spent a night at your apartment in weeks. You were always at the hospital during the day and night; you slept next to Tommy at night but only caught a couple of hours if you were lucky.
And your body ached in places you never knew could hurt; sleeping in that chair every night started to make you have bad posture. You had to stop; you had to start going home, getting a good night's sleep, and taking showers in the comfort of your own home; you need rest and space.
You decide that starting Today, you will go home instead of staying with Tommy for the night; you finish your shift like usual, but instead of heading towards Tommy's room, you head outside to head home. You decide not to tell Tommy that you aren't going to be "staying the nights" anymore; you don't see any reason to. Tommy is usually asleep by the time you come, and you are gone by the time he wakes up, so he wouldn't know the difference anyway, and you feel like if you did say something, he might see you as…… Creepy.
Week 9:
You ended up taking three days off. That first night you got home, you slept the best you have in your whole life, and the following day, you couldn't get up, so you called off; you stayed home relaxed, read, and just spent time with yourself. You didn't realize how bad you need this until day two came, and you called out again because the idea of returning to work makes you sick.
Again, you rested, cleaned, and just spent time with yourself; the quiet is what you enjoyed the most, and the smell of anything other than chemicals and bleach. Again, on the third day, you called out, but you told yourself that this would be the last day; after this, you would head back to work, so you needed to enjoy it while it lasted, and you did. You went to the market and shopped for food, went out to the pictures during the time, so it was empty and quiet, and even went to a boutique in town that you've always seen but never gone to. By the end of your day, you were tired, but in a good way, you felt good enough to head back to work.
The next day, you headed to work with a bit of a skip in your step; you missed Tommy; you would never say that out loud, but you did.
You walked in and said a quick hello to the other nurses before. Heading off to Tommy's room, as soon as you entered the room, you smelled opioids. You looked around the room for the source and found a pipe next to Tommy on the bed. You picked it up and turned it over in your hands as you studied it.
You reached down and pushed Tommy.
"Wake up, Tommy. Wake up." You pushed him again; he was lying on his stomach, and his arms circled his pillow. You pushed his once more as you yelled, "TOMMY!"
He began to stir as he lifted his head up to look at you; you looked at yourself dazed before darting his eyes to what was in your hands and then back to your face.
"What?" his voice was raspy.
"W-what is this, Tommy? This is bad for you, and especially with your injury, you have no business doing this; the damage it could cause is irreversible.” You were upset. You had gone over everything Tommy could and couldn't have, what he could and couldn't do.
"I needed to sleep," he said before laying his head back down.
"You sleep fine; if you didn't, you could've asked for some tablets to help."
You guess he was tired of hearing your voice cause he covered his ears, letting out a groan; he Lay there for a second before turning and sitting up; he looked at you and nodded his head toward the cane, leaning up against the wall.
You walked over, got it for him, handing it to him as you still awaited an answer for why he was smoking this.
"Tommy, you don't make sense; I've been watching over you for weeks; not once have you had trouble sleeping; every night when I'm here with you, you've fallen asleep like a baby full off milk. Smoking this can cause brain-"
You stopped talking as you realized what you just said. He didn't wait for you to continue, and he stood up, putting all his weight on the chain as he pushed himself off the bed. He starts walking, and you let him pass with a word as he heads to the bathroom.
**************
You haven't talked to Tommy all day, you've been avoiding him, and you're unsure what to say.
You've walked past his room a couple of times, and every time you peak in, it's like he can sense you cause he immediately stops what he's doing and turns to catch your eyes. You quickly turn away and rush off to do nothing, nowhere.
Nightfall came, and you couldn't go home; you didn't want to.
You walked towards his room slowly; you were nervous.
You enter the room and is relieved as you see Tommy asleep; you pull up a chair next to the bed. You rest your legs against his bed as you slide down in the chair, trying to get comfortable; you close your eyes as you try to call to sleep.
"The bed would be more comfortable."
If he could see in the dark, he would definitely know that you're awake. Your body practically flinched at his statement; your eyes remained closed, though, too scared of what you might see when you open them.
You lay as still as possible, hoping that he would think you were sleeping.
"You can sleep there if you want, but if you don't," he trailed off as he pulled back the blanket and made space for you.
You remain quiet not because you still want him to think you sleep but because you don't know what to say or what to do. Getting in bed with him would be highly inappropriate; he's your patient, and you're his nurse.
But your body was already starting to hurt from this chair, and the night had barely begun, and besides, it was just sleeping.
You crack your eyes open to get a quick look and find Tommy already lying back down with the covers still thrown over, making a spot for you; you get up slightly before sitting back down; you couldn't do this; there's no way you should just g-
You got up so quick that you didn't even realize that you had started to walk towards the side of the bed where Tommy had made space for you; you slipped your shoes off as you slowly crawled into the bed.
You were glad that Tommy had his back towards you; you couldn't even begin to imagine what might happen if he watched you crawl up next to him.
You lay down, slipping your legs under the covers as you pull the top half over your body. You also decide to lay with your back towards Tommy, leaving plenty of room between the two of you. You snuggled up in the cover and let out a sigh of relief as the aches your body felt started to go away.
You close your eyes and again called out to sleep.
You felt the bed shake, and you froze.
You were already warm, but now you felt hot.
Tommy had pressed up against you and put his arm around your waist, tugging you back closer to him,
"Tommy wh-"
"Shhh," he whipped softly.
He had nuzzled his head in between your neck. He molded his body to fit yours. You just lay there, unsure of what to do, but as soon you realized that his body stilled and his breath evened out, You knew that he was sleeping and that you were stuck. You lay there for what seemed like forever till, eventually, your eyes grew heavy, and you fell asleep.
Week 10:
Things between you and Tommy were…… something. It wasn't awkward, but a lot of things went unsaid. You were grateful for the lack of conversation; nothing ruins the moment more than asking what this was. Though you fought it at first, now you can't imagine a night that doesn't end with you in his arms. To say you're conflicted doesn't even come close; every night, you're one step closer to doing something you can't come back from, something that would be hard to regret.
Week 11:
You were trying to do paperwork at the nurse's station when you heard your name being called by a fellow nurse; you looked up, giving her your full attention.
"Mr.Shelby refuses to let me give him a bath and request that you come see him."
"Ummm, ok, thanks." You slowly get up and head toward Tommy's room
Tommy hurt himself a couple of days ago. Because of his incident, he required help doing things like using the restroom, putting on clothes, and showering. You had helped him with the clothes but had been off shift when help with the other things was requested.
You entered the room and headed to the bathroom, seeing as you didn't see him anywhere; once you entered, you saw him sitting in the tub with his back facing you. As you slowly walked closer to him, you saw that he was smoking; as soon as you were in his peripheral, he turned his head to meet your eyes. He took a long drag as he looked you up and down; you stood there uncertain, hopping from foot to foot; your discomfort was written on your face, clear as day. You couldn't help it; Thomas Shelby was sitting In front of you in a bath, fully naked.
"You asked for me?" He just looked at you, eyes skimming your body repeatedly as he finished his cig.
"Doc says I need help, can't do much, hate to tear my stitches."
"And what was wrong with the other nurse?"
"I don't know her." he struggled his shoulder and put the cig out, looking up at you.
You tried to take a deep breath, but it got cut short once you remembered the situation you were in. Your throat felt as if it was closing with every step you took toward him. Your hand fidgeted by your side, grabbing your dress and trying to ground yourself. You took one final breath as you reached him.
Deciding you couldn't look him in the face, you got behind him on your knees. He sat up straight in the tub, and you reached towards the wall to grab the sponge from the hook. You dipped the sponge in the water and started washing his back.
It was painfully quiet; all you could hear was the water splashing and your shaky breaths.
You finished with his back and put your hand on his shoulder, pulling him towards you.
You're so close that his back rests against your chest; you press your hand to his chest to keep him in place as you continue to wash his chest.
He stares up at you, but you keep your eyes focused,
because your eyes are glued to his chest, you can't help but notice the scars littered across it.
You let go of the sponge and began to trace every scar that you see across his chest,
You know there's a story behind everyone
And you want to hear it.
Suddenly, he reaches up and grabs your hand; your eyes snap up to look at his, and his eyes dart down to your lips before looking back at you.
You were barely breathing before, and you're certainly not breathing now.
He let go of your hand and reached up to grab your face; he brushed his thumb across your cheek before pulling you in.
Your lips brushed against his playfully, almost as if you were hesitant,
But you weren't
You crashed your lips into his
He grabbed your head in between his hands, pulling you closer. His lips were rough against yours, and he tasted slightly of tobacco, but you didn't care.
You were close but felt the need to be closer. You reached your hand down in the water and grabbed him; you gave him a slight squeeze before stroking him.
His cock twitched in your hand, and his breath hitched.
He let go of your face as his head fell against the rim of the tub; his breath quickened as you increased your pace and bent down to kiss his chest and up his neck.
You stop at his jaw, nibbling along it before going back down to the base of his neck and slowly licking up; you lick up till you reach his lips, pausing and hovering above them.
You slow down your pace and stroke him slowly as you kiss him.
Suddenly, Thomas places his hand on top of yours, stopping your movements; he pulls your face back from his and just stares at you.
You're not sure what the look is, but the feeling in your stomach tells you it's not good.
You pull your hand away from him and sit back on your knees.
He gives you a look over once more before clearing his throat and turning away from you.
He grabs a cigs and lights it before putting his head back and closing his eyes.
You just sit there.
You look down at the floor, your eyes shifting back and forth as your eyes begin to fill up with tears.
Your throat starts to burn as you hold back your tears.
You get up almost in a panic; you refuse to cry in front of this man.
You walk out of the bathroom, and you don't run.
He can't know.
The door barely closes behind you before you let the tears fall. You wipe your face fast with your hands.
Your walk slowly turns into a jog before you start running towards the nearest bathroom.
You push open the door, shutting it and locking it behind you.
You take deep breaths to calm yourself down; words can't describe how you feel.
Why
Why
Why.
Millions of reasons and insecurity raced through your head, you felt sick to your stomach.
You've never felt so stupid in your life; of course, ...... of course, he would never.
You kept saying to yourself, but you couldn't even think of a real reason as to why.
You felt someone knock on the door and yell something, but you weren't listening; you were trying to get out of your head.
You pushed yourself off the door and walked towards the mirror. You gripped the side of the sink as you stared yourself down.
You took one last deep breath before standing straight and fixing your hair and clothes.
You grab a couple of paper towels, cleaning your face up.
You stand there looking at yourself in the mirror, making sure you look presentable.
You nodded towards yourself before heading out of the bathroom and back towards your station.
You sit back at your desk and begin some paperwork.
The rest of your day goes smoothly, Thomas never rings, and you never go in there.
You finish up your day and head home.
Once you arrive home, you grab the bottle and take it to bed with you.
You lay in the bed, all bundled up, taking the occasion swing of your drink.
Staring at nothing.
Till you fall asleep
Week 12:
You haven't seen Thomas since that night.
Not because you've been avoiding him, but when you came to work the next day, he was gone.
An overnight nurse said he checked out a little after you left.
You don't know how you felt about that, honestly.
You aren't conflicted between feeling happy or sad about it.
Honestly, you feel sorta relieved,
Now you don't have to decide whether you could be with a man like him.
You felt free,
from him
And from being honest with yourself about how you feel about him.
The only thing that you know for sure is that you'll pray that you never run into Thomas Shelby again.
Because honestly—
Despite everything
You're still hooked.
**************************
Tag List:
@fannibalsrule @mysticalbouquetwolf-posts
#cillian murphy#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby x reader#peaky blinders#tommy shelby fanfic#thomas shelby fanfic#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#arthur shelby#john shelby#michael gray#polly gray#ada shelby#thomas shelby x y/n#tommy shelby x y/n
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So billy is in AA, quit drinking and is working on cutting back on cigs too. He sure as shit ain't in therapy, alright? But his sponsor is pretty cool, pretty smart. He always comes in with his ugly beanies, like truly, torn up and ugly ass beanies on his head, different colors and textures and Billy figures it's just this old guy's style. Til one day they get to talking about smoking and altering an ingrained habit and shit. His sponsor brings up crocheting.
Billy didn't know what the fuck crochet was. Like knitting? But with a single stick with a hook on it? Like grandma's do?
No.
But his sponsor keeps talking about it and talks about his hats. His ugly beanies and how his nephew makes them when he starts biting at the bit for a smoke. How crochet doesn't have to be good and it doesn't have to be shared, it's this single-minded task for one set of hands and that's it. So the next week he brings in yarn and a crochet stick.
Hook. Whatever.
And that's the day billy learned how to crochet. Kinda. He started with rows, a string of ten and then figuring out how to turn it and stack another ten on it, rows on rows. He does it with the yarn his sponsor brought, this weird reddish-brown color with some dried stains on it. Pasta, maybe.
Every time he wanted to smoke, pats down his pockets for a pack and wipes his mouth with his fingers, feels sweat on his brow and he's yelling at nothing, everything, he crochets. In this way, he made a scarf in two days.
Calling it a scarf is pretty generous, really. It's a fucking mess. One end curls in like a toilet roll and the other tapered off into just two stitches. There's a few holes and bunched up knots and the color, fuck. But it's a long thing made of (mostly) ten stitches across and he's calling it a fucking scarf.
This is how Steve finds him. Sitting on the patio of their third story apartment with his legs swinging between the rails, holding this ugly thing in his hands where his cigarettes should be.
"What's that?" Steve asks. Billy barely looks at him over his shoulder, chewing on his thumbnail and kicking his feet.
"What the fucks it look like?" He snaps, then thrusts it out. "It's for you."
Steve takes it and blinks twice. He tilts his head to the side as the thing rolls out to reveal itself. "It's a scarf," he says.
Billy scoffs. Drums his fingers on the rail before he looks up at Steve. He watches in disgusted fascination as Steve wraps the ugly thing twice around his neck. As Steve adjusts the ends to hang at the same length and fluff the thing up. As Steve looks down at it and swishes it side to side and grins. Steve grins with all his teeth and his eyes crinkled up, eyes bright with something billy realizes he hasn't seen in way too long.
It looks horrible. It makes Steve look like trash. Robin will rag on his ugly neckwear all day. All year, probably. And Steve is smiling at billy like he just gave him the sun.
"Whatever," Billy says. Steve's joy doesn't falter. He flips the tiny tapered end of the scarf over his shoulder and goes back inside. Billy hears him humming.
So crochet isn't so bad. Billy might even be able to make another thing, if Steve wants it. The dumbass.
Billy shakes his head. He stands up, stretches his arms over his head and yells into the house, "It looks fucking ugly Steve!"
#harringrove#billy hargrove#steve harrington#crochet#sponsors being wonderful people#his sponsor is probably wayne
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thoughts on matty and his partner reading together? i see dimly lit rooms, candles, and cracked open windows. comfy and soft vibes.
my love u r a genius. this is actually the dream plsss i'd sell my left kidney to have this happen irl xxx
He watched my every move adoringly as I floated barefoot around the dim, candlelit room, searching through his excessive bookshelf for something to read.
My fingers ran over the spines of dog eared books he'd likely owned longer than he'd known me, wistfully mumbling the names of titles I'd never heard before as Matty waited patiently, sprawled out on his unmade bed. Letting out an excited 'ooo', I reached up on my tiptoes, his ill-fitting cotton shirt I'd stolen earlier slipping off my shoulder as I strained to grab a thick book sat high on the shelf.
"What about this?" I span on the balls of my feet, showing him the haggard paperback I'd picked from his collection as I walked closer to the foot of the bed.
He lit his cigarette, taking the book from my hands and inspecting the cover with a pleased hum, a billowing cloud of grey smoke shielding his soft features.
"Sartre?" He asked and I nodded, the mattress dipping slightly as I sat cross legged on the bed, resting my face in my hands. "Yeah, sure. I haven't read him in ages, though."
I smiled warmly, watching as he absentmindedly thumbed through a few pages, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He let out a satisfied grunt, closing the book and attempting to hand it back to me. However, I denied it, pushing it back towards his chest as his brows knitted together in confusion.
"Will you read it to me?" I asked shyly.
Matty chuckled softly, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "I thought we said it's your turn to read tonight?" He chided, smoke streaming from the corner of his upturned lips.
"Yeah, I know it is but...'m tired, and I like your voice better, anyway." He playfully shook his head, sides of his eyes crinkling with laughter when I bashfully averted my gaze. "Please..."
He paused, pretending to think for a moment.
"...Alright, fine" He agreed, tone laced with faux irritation as he stubbed the butt of his cig out in the intricate little ashtray by his bedside. "But only because you asked so nicely. C'mere then."
Giggling, I happily obliged, crawling over mountains of throw pillows and into Matty's open embrace. My head lay settled on his sweater-clad chest, nuzzling into the warm fabric that dripped with his familiar scent as his arm came to wrap around me, warm blankets pooling at my knees.
"Comfy?" He asked, to which I nodded contentedly, feeling my eyelids already begin to grow heavy, the flickering candlelight lulling me softly to sleep as I curled up to him.
"Mhm..."
"Good" He kissed my forehead tenderly before opening the old book to the first page, his hands running through my hair. "Okay...'once upon a time-'"
"Matty!" I cut him off scoldingly, snapping my eyes open to playfully smack his chest as it vibrated beneath me, teasing laughter bubbling in his throat. "Be serious."
"Okay! Sorry, sorry. Couldn't help myself" He chuckled amusedly. "I'll be dead serious now. Promise, Darlin."
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Bullet Train anniversary woop woop!!!
This movie is so incredible, I’m really glad people are still talking about it.
Could I request Tang x reader where they’re always going a million miles a minute competing on the job, so it looks like they’re at each others throats but as soon as everything calms down they’re nerding out about what the other pulled off
I’m aware this is a runon sentence from hell😔
Have a good day! :)
BULLET TRAIN 1 YEAR ANNIVERSARY FIC💺
can’t believe it’s been a year already!? I watched the day it came out and it was honestly one of the best films id seen in a while. will always love it and love writing for tan😌
hii! so the fic is slightly different to this ask, as I messaged the person who sent it, so im basing this off their response, hope that makes sense. basically this fic is slightly different to how it’s was requested in the ask above. I made reader GN, so everyone can read. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌
love to hate
tangerine x reader
wc: 509
link to post
✧.┊MASTERLIST + TAGLIST
Relationships were something out of the realm for your occupation. They were something out of the question, something to avoid. They were a hindrance, used as bait against you, something your enemies could exploit and threaten. So for the safety of you, and everyone else, you chose not to pursue them.
That was until the agency assigned you to a pair of fruit-named Englishmen, which you had taken well to one of the twins, Tangerine. You kept your wits about you, so he was always kept at arm's length, much like how he treated you. It was something you did to protect yourselves and one another, a system put in place that made sense. That's why your dynamic worked so well.
So when you were on missions with Tangerine, you had a strict rule, 'pretend to hate each other.' It may seem harsh, may seem unnecessary, but it wasn't. It was something each of you did time and time again in order to keep one another safe.
...
Lemon was back home in England, so you and Tan were paired to retrieve intel from an infamous cartel in Belfast. You and Tangerine were no strangers to Ireland, you knew it like the back of your hand, but you didn't get cocky.
The job was relatively easy, something you've done a thousand times before, but that didn't stop you from breaking your rule. You kept it, as did Tan. You kept up your 'I hate you act,' and like always, it worked. It kept you both safe.
"Christ, wait up," Tan pants from behind, catching up with you. "Wait a bloody minute."
"Dude, we ain't got time. Chop chop." You look over your shoulder, hurrying him along.
"We lost them. You don't have to be so mean to me now," Tan playfully pouts, stopping in his tracks. "Fuck me." He sighs, pulling a box of cigarettes from his pocket as he rakes through his curly roots.
"What are you doing? We don't have time." You scold, dragging him by the arm.
"Wait, wait, wait," he says breathlessly, holding a cig between his lips as he lights it.
You cross your arms, staring at him with a displeased expression. "Really?"
He doesn't reply. He looks past you as he draws the stick, exhaling the smoke away from you. "Come on. What you waiting for?" he grins.
"Are— you. Are— what?" You stutter, far too stumped to think of anything comprehensive. "Are you serious?" you ask, following after his long strides.
"Yeah, hurry up," he smirks, flicking the ash on the ground. "You're taking forever. We gotta get to the pick-up point by four."
"You're such a dick, y'know that?" you snicker, lightly punching him in the arm.
He chuckles, slipping his hand into yours. "Yeah... I know,"
The action caught you off guard, so you twist to face him, your brows knit in confusion.
"Psh," he shushes you, predetermining your thoughts. He squeezes your hand, his thumb brushing over the dried spots of blood on your skin. "We'll be fine."
— — — — — — — — — — ✿ — — — — — — — — — —
tan taglist: @tangerinesgf @kpopgirlbtssvt @like-a-fine-skylark @earth-elemental18 @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @idontknowwhattohaveasmyuser @thewinterv @navs-bhat @ilovetangerinewithallmyheart @theredvelvetbitch @randomawesomeperson102 @lov3lypeaches7 @princess-pebbles-things @astermath @dynamitehacke @boldlyimportantface @charmedkim @fruitlovertangerine @psiiconic @bubblezuku @sporadiccherryblossomfan @landryslove @daenerys-supremacy @dontknownameauthor
#bullet train 2022#1 year anniversary#tangerine#tangerine bullet train#tangerine x reader#tangerine x you#tangerine fanfiction#tangerine imagine#tangerine blurb#tangerine fic#tangerine fluff
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Hi! My name is gemma, im 22 (mdi)
◇300lbs sw active in 2024◇
My account has gotten deleted so many times and it makes me so sad. Backup @riotgrrrlgemma
Sw: 305
Cw:??? Idk I don't have a scale
Gw:240
Gw2:222
Gw3:199
Gw4: 175
150 is the goal ♡
Or less
Read for stupid rambles, update frequently
If you scolled this far thx!
I'm gonna put some stuff here about me, like my favorite music and sh!t like that
I'm 22, a Gemini. Although I don't believe in astrology, I do think a little of it is true. Like,, my moon and rising are so accurate.
Scorpio moon, sag rising
Anyways, I'm a size 22, isn't that crazy?
I remember when I was size 18 and actually to into actually how my teen body changed from size 12 to 18. This was the lowest in my life, I basically just shoved down the way I felt with food. My parent kicked me out because I told them I was as by their partner.
Long story short they don't believe me and never will... so I kept shoving how I felt with food
Now I live alone, I'm happier
Or. Am I. Because like I don't feel anything but guilt and anxiety. I try not shove my face with food but unfortunately I'm not better than I was before.
I'm still so fucking massive and I've been doing this since November. I fucking hate my self.
Sorry to like trauma dumping
Anyway, I always found my outlit to be creativity. I love knitting, painting, crafting, and making diy clothes. Music is another thing I'm trying to dabble in, I love all music and all genres. How can anyone make a horrible song? At least, that's what I think. So much goes into it. It's just such a beautiful thing. Even in the songs that others find bad or corny, I love.
I love smoking w33d and gaming.
I know that sounds corny asf, but honestly, I could spend all day being a gremlin and not binge. I used to play Cold War so much, and because I have anxiety, I would clench my jaw. The way that felt was enough to make me not want to eat.
I want to start going out, but every time I do I feel so ugly and gross. I start to feel guilty just being there. I guess I'm guilty other people have to see me? I don't know. Anyways sorry for dumping this here. But yeah I might just dump my rambling I have in my head.
April 5
Sometimes I think God isn't real then I pray for strength in order to fast and it works.
April 12
I went out a few days ago. No one worried about how ugly I was because I did my makeup. I am starting a 44h fast. I love the number 4 soooo much. Anyways, I'm almost out of weed and cigs, which is very annoying... just like how my partner wanted to sit down with me and have dinner before he went to work. I tried to just serve him, but he was like almost lecturing me, and I ate. It's okay. Like I said, I'm starting a 44h fast now. I just hope this isn't a problem in the future. Update at 2 pm so my partner made me make breakfast, I'm not upset. I just had eggs, but I was able to make him some eggs and sausage. He went to go pick up his check, and he got me cigs and weed. But he came back with a pizza and was like "oh this is for dinner and maybe tomorrow's breakfast" so glad to have this man in my life but why pizza !
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You've reached water 7 yaay! Would love to hear your thoughts about all the galley la crew! Their dynamic is so interesting and i love their introduction at the start of the arc
I know this ask was about galley la but here's a collection of a few of my thoughts on water 7 in general!
-starting off with galley la. UMMM!!!! I will say that is one of the twists that genuinely shocked me so far in the series. the fact that half the town gathered to watch them work n fangirl over how strong they all are was so funny, and they seemed like such a tight knit group. I can't imagine working with them for five years as close friends and then finding out they were evil government workers
-lucci was a lot more fun when he was a ventriloquist who made his pet pigeon talk for him lmaooo
-the aesthetics of the water 7 amazes me! I love the design so much! i'm optimistically hoping there will be enough live action seasons that they make it here, and i've been thinking about how they'll put it off especially considering practical effects are so important to them. i'm thinking they'll build small parts of town like the shipyard, franky's house, and a main drag. and perhaps a model like they did in lotr for shots of the city ?
-usopp honey boo boo...................I get where his insecurities come from, and why the merry is so important of him (a piece of his home town) but he really brought the drama huh
-sanji is always more tolerable when he didn't have as much time to fawn over women. he did what he did best -- looking Cool smoking cigs and kicking ass. he's always so much cooler when he's on his solo missions and as soon as he's back with the crew the Dumbass gene takes over. I also DID think it was funny when he left the love note for nami in paint on the wall
-luffy getting stuck in a wall TWICE!!!!!!!! and being so in sync with zoro. naps at the same time. breaking into places at the same time. their little tag team move on the train.
-i've already talked about them in another post but franky n iceburg have one of the most interesting dynamics i've seen in the series. they make me ill. shipbuilder and ship demolitioner. mayor and criminal. they can never be friends but they'll always be brothers. etc
-franky!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I was on the fence for like 2 seconds but the blue haired hawaiian shirt wearing freak of nature won me over. he's so silly. he has a cola cooler in his stomach. he runs around in a speedo causing mischief. I love him. new little bug i'm shaking in a jar
-the two train station workers are two of my fave minor characters. they're eavesdroppers who live for gossip. they're making up love triangles and shipping strangers. good for them. good for them.
-nami literally cares for her crew so much. begging luffy to talk to usopp. crying / collapsing with joy when she found out robin didn't hate them. running into the path of a tsunami for luffy.
-luffy always gets this little :o face when he sees someone cry or hears their story. and he uses them as a power up. like yah he was angry but now he's REALLY!!! angry
-sanji's relationship w usopp. this arc revealed sanji ARGUABLY knows him the best
-oh tom :/
-the people of water 7 are v kind and live as a giant community which I think may have come from their struggles before the sea train came to town. the man who gave usopp the lumber and food. franky and co protecting the city. the shipbuilders / paulie helping nami luffy zoro n chopper. the townspeople rallyiing around iceburg and willing to risk their lives for him.
-the going merry :( I knew i'd eventually have to say goodbye to her but when I heard galley la say she was damaged beyond repair I was like no!!!!! NO!!! it's too soon!!!!!!!
-the found family of it all
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