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brummiereader · 6 months

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Hopelessly Devoted (PART SIX)

Summary: Tommy has to reluctantly learn a lesson in boundaries after his heated confrontation with you about his foolish plan to get you to talk with him. Will Tommy finally throw in the towel and back down from his relentless refusal to let things play out at their own pace? Or will his stubbornness get the better of him once again?

Warnings: Language, angst, mutual pining, fluff

"Archie?" Polly said quirking a brow as she looked over the documents in her hand at the young boy stood at the betting shop door. " Finn's at school" she added as she turned in her chair, a tight smile gracing the corner of her lips as she beckoned him forward with her hand. " Does your mum know you're here bunking off?" She said removing his peaked cap as Archie looked down at the plate of shortbread next to the steaming cup of tea on Polly's desk. "Go on" she said nodding to them with a smile as his eyes lit up and he reached out for the biggest one on the small porcelain plate.

" Mum said I didn't have to go school today" he replied, mouth half full, his rosy red cheeks nipped by the bitter winter air ballooned with the entirety of the biscuit he had managed to fit in his mouth. "Doing deliveries for Mr Patterson at the flower shop, need the extra money now dad's been sacked by the rail works" he replied wiping his mouth as he looked down at his muddy boots, one missing a shoe lace, the other with a patched up hole on the side. Archie was one of many Small Heath children that had found themselves having to help provide for their families, forgoing education over the necessity to eat. The great war having taken the lives and jobs of many men of Birmingham had also taken the joys of childhood from their children too. Times were hard and sacrifices had to be made. Polly was not one to judge any parents decision to pull their son or daughter out of school, she only wished Archie and those like him had the chance to be children for a little while longer. For what was a summers days without the sound of kids playing outside in the street?

" Go on, have another" she winked as Archie replied with a grin that only deepened his enviable dimples whilst he picked out a second shortbread." Well I know I don't have any secret admirers Archie..." Polly said rubbing one of the rose petals between her fingers within the bouquet of flowers under the small boys arm."...so who's the lucky lady?"

" Mr Shelby" he replied brushing the crumbs of the newly stitched winter coat his mum had lovingly made for him.

" Tommy?" Polly said furrowing her brow as she looked over his shoulder to her nephew sitting at his desk in his office when Arthur and John walked in, slamming the betting shop door behind them. Five minutes peace, that's all she ever prayed for every Sunday at mass. Was it really too much to ask?

" Archie boy!" Arthur's voice boomed as he strode over, rustling the ten year old hair with his large calloused hands. " What you doing here ay? Skiving?" Arthur chuckled as he sat down on the edge of the desk pinching a biscuit from his Aunt, earning him a sharp glare and a irritated huff.

"Working" he replied standing up straight with his chin up. He was one of them now, a grown man or at least he thought he was, his muddy knees and youthful face begged to differ.

" Working ay, good lad" Arthur winked patting his shoulder as he reached for his Aunt's cup of hot tea, earning him a second glare and this time a smack on the back of his hand. No one was too old for a good hiding in Polly's eyes, something her grown nephews had learnt over the years as they continued to test her patience.

" Schools a bloody waste of time anyway Archie" John said turning his toothpick between his lips.

" Yes, a lot of good it did you and your crooked handwriting" Polly quipped back, a small smirk etched on the corner of her mouth as she returned her gaze to the documents on her desk.

" It's called doctors hand writing, alright?" John replied with a scowl on his face.

" Esme tell you that?" Arthur chuckled watching his brothers frustration at being the brunt of his families teasing.

" No it's, it's how doctors write. You know intellects" he replied pointing to the side of his head.

" Aright John boy whatever let's you sleeps at night" Arthur sniggered as he looked down at the bunch of roses in Archie's hand. " Who are these for then?"

" His Royal Highness" Polly said nodding to Tommy's office door as she picked up her now lukewarm cup of tea.

" Tommy ay? Come on then lad, let's not keep Mr Patterson waiting on any more deliveries" Arthur said as Archie nodded his head following him and John into Tommy's office.

"Arthur, John...Archie?" Tommy said, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he looked up from his desk, surprised to see his Finn's friend standing in the middle of the room with the bouquet he had picked out for you in his hand. And was that the card he had written for you, torn up? " She erh, she wasn't home? Tommy said clearing his throat as he stubbed his cigarette out, his eyes glaring at the handwritten note between the flowers. It was definitely ripped. Shit.

" She told me to..." Archie said as he looked to John and Arthur stood next to him trying to hold back their amusement. Their poor attempts not enough to stop the small snorts and sniggers they hadn't bothered to muffle from escaping.

"Yes?" Tommy said, his jaw tightening at the sight of his brothers clear enjoyment at the whole situation.

" ...to send them back" Archie said as Arthur John burst into a fit of laughs.

" Bloody hell Tommy, what woman sends flowers back? How many did you give her? John laughed as Arthur let out a loud snort.

" Seven" Archie quickly stated on behalf of him, not realising the further embarrassment it would cause the notorious gangster who had now sunk into his chair, his thumb brushing along his brow as the laughs of his brothers resonated through the betting shop.

" Alright, thanks Archie" Tommy said rubbing his hand down his face as the young boy left, leaving the bouquet of red roses with Arthur with a tip of his peaked cap.

" Seven bouquets ay" Arthur said inspecting them as Tommy looked out the window, his grandiose gesture now looking like a pathetic plea for forgiveness.

" She won't fucking talk to me will she" Tommy said lighting another cigarette as John and Arthur hunched over the table puzzling the pieces of card together you had ripped in a clear message directed at Tommy to fuck off.

" Roses are red, violets are blue..." John laughed before Tommy reached over and grabbed the note before his brother could read any more of his feeble attempt to be romantic.

" Sir Edmund Spense" Arthur said nodding to the card as he leaned against the wall, his thumbs resting in the pockets of his waistcoat.

" You what?" John said his face scrunched up as he turned to look at his eldest brother.

" It's a poem, by Sir Edmund Spense" Arthur sniffed as Tommy and John looked at each other, bewildered by the mere idea Arthur did anything other than beat their enemies within an inch of their let alone read or to be more specific read poems. Even Tommy hadn't scaled through a copious amount of books in order to find the romantic passage, the back of yesterday mornings paper had been enough. " I read" Arthur said as his brothers continued to stare at him, perplexed by what they had just heard." In me spare time"

" You're going soft" John said pointing to his brother as Tommy raised his brows shifting in his seat. " Never put Y/N down for a fan of poems"

" She's not, I was running out of things to say weren't I. Tommy replied looking over to the glass decanter of whisky calling to him. Was it too early to drown his sorrows for the billionth time that week?

" Yeh, wouldn't let her hear you say that" John chuckled placing a new tooth pick between his teeth, the other having been chewed to death by the ribbing he received from Polly and Arthur. "Why don't you just say I dunno, sorry. Like normal people do"

" She's avoiding me John, she won't give me a chance" Tommy replied as he looked out the window wishing himself into next week or better yet, next year. Maybe then you'd be more willing to talk to him.

" Well you're in luck Tom, 'cause here she is. With a face on her like thunder" Arthur smirked, nodding to the glass separating his office and the betting shop floor.

" Where is he, where is the rat bastard?!" You shouted storming through the building not stopping for anyone.

" Oh hell, what's he done now?" Polly said looking above her tea cup as you marched over to her, waving your arms erratically in the air, incoherent rambles leaving your mouth about her seconded born nephew as the three brothers watched on from behind the glass.

" I'd say you've got about five seconds" Arthur said as he looked out the window onto the back of the house.

" Jump and roll, don't land on your feet" John added to Arthur's observation as he peered over his brothers shoulder out the window.

" Else you'll do your knees in, but I reckon that's the least of your worries" Arthur said as he looked over to Tommy brushing his hands through his hair, bracing himself for the bollocking coming his way. "Shit, she's clocked you" Arthur announced turning around as your head snapped in the direction of the three of them. This was more than about the flowers, Tommy knew that. He had pried into your life for a second time. The only thing he could hope for was you didn't know about the first. And with the absence of a lethal weapon in your hand his hopes were optimistically high.

" Thomas fucking Shelby!" You shouted marching through his office, grabbing the flowers from his desk and launching them straight at his head, silently hoping Mr Patterson had left the thorns on. "You bastard! You bloody bastard"

" Look, I know you're angry but let me explain" Tommy said with his hand out as he watched yours clasp around the bronze sculpture of a horse sitting on his desk that was sure to knock him out if you threw it. After having a variety of household items thrown at him in in the past week he knew you wasn't bluffing, your face said it all you were pissed off, really pissed off.

" No I'm not angry Tommy I'm fucking furious!" you said, your face scrunched up in anger as you stared him down, waiting for him to admit what he had done.

" Arthur, John can you...can you give us a minute?" Tommy said as he walked forward only to stop when he saw your grasp on the bronze ornament tighten. " Lads, please" Tommy said gesturing to the door as he watched you in the corner of his eye. Sighing heavily Tommy turned to his desk as his brothers walked out leaving you alone together, leaving him to face yet another stupid idea he was responsible for. "Cigarette?" he offered holding his silver case out for you to take which you did, and then threw on the floor beside you. " Right" Tommy said as he sat down in his chair pinching his bottom lip together as he looked back at you, furious as the the night he had drunkenly embarrassed himself in front of the whole of Watery Lane. "You won't talk to me Y/N" he said lighting his third cigarette in the space of fifteen minutes.

" So you decided to force me to talk to you by sabotaging not one but three potential job offers"

" I didn't sabotage them. I merely informed them that you already had a job here, as my secretary" Tommy replied pointing his finger into his desk.

" But I dont do I Tommy? You fired me, remember?" You scoffed, a scoff you hoped would not only distract him but you from the tears welling in your eyes.

" Sweetheart look, can..." Tommy was about to say when your eyes narrowed in on him and he stopped himself before he infuriated you any more than you already was. " Y/N, can we talk as adults? Sit down without, throwing anything?" he said gesturing to your hand still resting on the statue.

" Are you patronising me?" You replied, your voice going up an octave at his suggestion you were being immature when for the past five years he had been far from mature himself.

" No I'm just...fuck sake, I can't win with you" Tommy replied throwing his hand up in the air as he leaned back into his chair shaking his head.

"No you can't, so stop meddling in my life Tommy. Stop ruining every chance I have to move on"

" And that's what you want? To move on?" Tommy reluctantly asked as he looked back to you, the uncomfortable weight now sitting on his chest making him wish he never asked the question at all.

" Yes" you replied turning your head, unable to face him and the truth that you couldn't and wouldn't ever be able to stop loving him, stop wanting him.

" You're lying Y/N, I could always tell when you're lying" Tommy said as he stood up slowly walking over to you like you would a wild horse.

"You need to let me be, let me move on" you sniffed back as your eyes cast down to the floor. " Isn't that what you've been doing, moving on? I gave you space Tommy, I gave you what you wanted for five years even though it was breaking my heart and all I wanted you to do was hold me in your arms" You said wiping your tears, furious at yourself for letting him see you this way.

"Then let me ey, let me hold you" Tommy said moving closer, his hand reaching out for you. " Sweetheart..."

"Stop calling me that!" You cried brushing his attempts away as you walked past him to his office door. You weren't his sweetheart, you weren't his childhood love, you weren't his girl. It was over, all of it over. " Boundaries Tommy, you need to learn some boundaries. Learn to leave me alone" you said opening his door looking back at the defeat on his face as you recomposed yourself. " And Tommy?" You said turning one last time before shutting the door. " If you call me sweetheart one more time I swear to god you'll find the sharp end of that ugly horse ornament aimed straight at your cock, and this time I promise you, I won't miss" and with that you left, shutting the door behind you as Tommy watched you walk past the glass on the opposite of his office, your head held high as you brushed your hair to one side not giving him a second glance. He had been told off look a naughty school boy, and just like a child he was in for the biggest lesson of his life, patience.

"I wasn't really going to throw it" you said sat beside Ada in the Garrison as she rocked Karl back and forth in his pram. "I mean, I was tempted" you added unable to hold back your laugh as Ada giggled into her glass of gin. " Ada I don't know what's gotten into me. I just want to kill him...all the time. And the worse part is I think he was trying to say sorry, and I didn't let him" you sighed bringing your hand up to your face as you closed your eyes, having recounted what had happened in Tommy's office and everything else in the past month to his younger sister at lightening speed. The rapid pace of your account of events clearly fuelled by the anger still lingering within you.

" Hey" Ada said moving your hand away, her face scrunched up with concern. "Nothings gotten into you, more like what's gotten out of you. Five years worth of pent up anger would drive anyone to the point of wanting to wring my idiot brothers neck" she said as she looked at the bags under your eyes, Tommy always did have a knack for making people feel as sleep deprived and knackered as him. "You've been bottling it up for far too long locked away in that flat.." she said as she raised her brow ready to give you a bitter reality check. "...not living"

" What...I've been living" you scoffed leaning back into your chair as you crossed your arms. " I'm breathing aren't I?"

" Right, tell me then. When's the last time you let your hair down and you know, had some fun?" she replied mirroring your actions, crossed armed ready for whatever lie you had convinced yourself of.

" Well, there's..." you said furrowing your brow trying desperately to think back to the last time you actually laughed, did Arthur's endearing jokes count? " Well I can't, can I? Not with him gallivanting about with god knows who stealing the fun from everyone else" you pouted, resolving to the fact you hadn't had a proper nights out in years.

" If you call moping about day and night complaining about you, then sure he's had as much fun as you" Ada replied taking a grizzly baby Karl out his pram as she lifted her blouse to feed him. " If it bothers you that much then kindly bugger off " Ada said turning to the group of workmen shaking their heads seated a few tables away as they took their glasses and moved to the bar. "And before you even say anything, that barmaid was all for show, he was angry. I'm sorry he picked the worse way possible of showing you babe" Ada said reaching her hand out for you giving it a gentle squeeze. " Why don't I set you up with someone, one of Freddie's friends, for a date" she suggested nudging her arm with yours, a mischievous glint in her eye.

" But Tommy...his your brother..I"

" Y/N stop. You're allowed to go out even if it's just for a bit of fun" She cut you off as she brought Karl up to her shoulder, gently patting his back.

" Ada Thorne, why do I get the feeling you just want me to piss him off" you squinted at her as a smile formed on the corner of your mouth. It wouldn't hurt to give him a taste of his own medicine. You thought to yourself knowing he had his henchman still keeping their eye on you.

" Hm, whatever made you think that?" she winked to you as the Garrison doors blew open and the very man who had been the topic of conversation for the past hour walked in. "Speak of the devil. Here he is, tail between his legs" Ada nodded to the door as she placed Karl back into his pram.

" More like a dog with a bone" you huffed as you turned to see him walking straight for you. God, what did he want now?

" Boundaries" Tommy said standing beside you as you sipped on your drink, crossing one leg over the other.

" Yes and? " you replied bluntly as you diverted your eyes elsewhere, the stained-glass of the Garrison windows for one.

"Well, I need some clarifications" he said as he walked around the table, now directly in front of you. Fuck sake.

" Clarifications, what do you want me to do write you a list?" You scoffed as Tommy carefully considered his reply. A list would make his life easier.

" Y/N, you gotta give me something. What do you want me to do?" he replied with a huff, abandoning the idea of a catalogue of what he could and couldn't do as he placed both of his hands on the table looming over you. Fuck you look tired. Was that his fault too?

" Fuck off Tommy, that's what I want you to do" you said scraping your chair back along the wooden floorboards as you got up and left the Garrison, leaving him for a second time that day clueless on what to do next.

"Oh Tommy, you won't be able to bring her around with your charm this time. I'm afraid this is something a quick fuck down by the cut won't fix. You need to try harder" Ada said as she stood up putting her coat on.

" I'm trying Ada, but she'll barely talk to me"

" Yeh I heard about your attempts to win her back. Seven bouquets of flowers, her place looked like a bloody graveyard Tommy, hardly romantic" she said rolling her eyes as she turned the pram to the door.

" How was I supposed to know she didn't like flowers any more?" Tommy huffed as he followed his sister out the Garrison. Maybe Ada knew something he didn't that would win you back...he hoped.

" You know Y/N better than anyone Tommy, you must have known she wouldn't have liked that tacky show of wealth. And don't even get me started on your attempts to get her attention" Ada said struggling to push the pram through the thick mud and dirt of Small Heath. " Do you not remember the flowers you used to pick her and how long you'd spend doing it?" Ada stopped, looking up at her brother as the realisation finally hit him. That over the top plea of forgiveness may have cost him a day's wages but only now did he realise how it must have come across. A cop out. And as Ada so rightfully said, tacky." She didn't fall in love with this Tommy, the Tommy that has to show everyone his worth, his status. She fell in love with this one" she said pulling out the gold pocket watch you had gifted him ten years ago from within his waistcoat that had been back in its rightful place for over a week. " Stop being the worst version of yourself and show her who's she been missing, who she fell in love with. And for the love of god stop being a bloody idiot" she said before turning onto watery lane as a glimmer of a smile played on the corner of Tommy's lips at his sister brutal but well-deserved parting words.

How many more people was it going to take before he let his stubbornness slide and took their advice. It would admittedly be the hardest thing he had ever had to do, no doubt driving him mad in the process. Tommy thought to himself deciding to call of his men from keeping an eye on you or as he corrected anyone who dared to challenge him on the matter, keeping you safe. If he was going to do this he would do it the correct way, without the grand displays or need of theatrics. For the first time in a long time Tommy was going let things play out at their own pace, relenting all control over the situation his was so desperate to resolve.

Tea why did you offer him a tea? You thought to yourself climbing the stairs with the friend of Freddie's Ada had set you up with. The evening had been a disaster. Henry, your date, had spent the entirety of the night talking about his one and only passion politics, something you had little to zero interest in. Opening the door to your place you mentally reminded yourself to have words with Ada about the complete bore she had set you up with and clarification as to what she considered a good night out, because this certainly wasn't it.

" Nice place" he said entering your small bedsit. Was he joking? It was the pokiest flat in Small Heath, nothing worked and you was pretty sure a small family of mice had moved in and made it their life's mission to steal any form of food you left out for more than five minutes.

" Thank you" you said gesturing for him to sit at the small table by your window as you turned to make the tea you was reluctantly going to have to prepare whether you wanted to or not. Desperate to get him to leave and as quick as possible you decided to forgo boiling any water and instead planned on making him the coldest brew of tea known to man. That would do the trick, wouldn't it? " Here" you said placing the small mug in front of him as your mind wandered to what had really been occupying your thoughts all evening. Tommy.

" That was quick" he replied scrunching his brow as he looked into the murky water, a few tea leaves floating on the top. "You not having one?"

" Oh no, not a fan of...that " you said twiddling your thumbs on your lap as you looked at the less than delightful concoction you had created.

" Did you even boil.." he started to say causing your cheeks to turn bright red as your brain scrambled to come up with an excuse when, as if you had been saved by a higher power there was a knock at that door.

" Excuse me" you said walking away, grateful for the opportunity to leave any further interrogations about your tea making skills. "Tommy..."

" Hey" he replied softly, a smile appearing on the corner of his mouth as you opened your front door. " You've company" he said clearing his throat looking over your shoulder to see a man sitting at your kitchen table as he threw the small posy of flowers he had been holding behind his back along the outer wall of your bedsit.

" Tommy, I mean Mr Shelby. I...I thought you two weren't erhh" he stumbled, fumbling to grab his coat, abandoning the cold cup of tea he was sure you didn't boil any water for. "Together" he said swallowing harshly as he stood at the door beside you both.

" We're no.." you replied before Tommy cut your off.

"We are" Tommy said moving out of the way of the exit as he gestured for him to leave, irritated by the mere fact he had taken one extra second to do so. With the biggest scoff you could muster you crossed your arms as you stared him down. We are...is that what the past five years had been then, a bump in the road a bloody break?

"Thanks for ruining my date" you said marching over to the cup and throwing it's contents into the sink as Tommy shut the door behind him.

" What with Henry Coggs? Interesting choice for a date. Did he not bore you to death with his political crap?" Tommy chuckled as he watched you potter around your place trying to avoid any conversation with him.

" No, I found it really interesting actually" you lied and badly. " Tommy what do you want? I thought I told you to..."

" Fuck off?" he said sitting on the edge of your table as you stood in front of him.

" Leave me alone" you rephrased as he cocked a brow at your forgetful or intentional lack of memory as to what your actual parting words were to him in the Garrison a few days ago.

" And I have. I wanted to come here and say that you're right that..."

" Oh so you don't have to be a complete drunk to admit when you're wrong" you cut him off, your guard up ready for an argument you was sure would happen.

" You really want to start?"

" Ok then, let's hear what Tommy Shelby has to say? Actually no, forget it. Please leave" you said turning to the door when he grabbed your arm and span you back around to face him.

"Y/N can you just.." Tommy huffed as he tried to keep you in place. " Will you just hear me out?" he added as he placed his hand on your other arm, holding you in front on him. " Please?" He said as you found yourself nodding, stumped for words, slightly taken aback by his willingness to open up. " I..." Tommy said wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, his mouth suddenly going dry. Could he really do this without drinking a whole bottle of whisky beforehand?

" I've been an idiot" he said pausing as you rolled your eyes. Well that was the biggest understatement of the year. You thought to yourself as you turned to walk away again. "I broke my own heart Y/N, you didn't do anything wrong, you never did anything wrong" he said the words you never expected to hear causing you to stop. " I've..shit, I'm fucking this up" he said looking up at the ceiling, shaking his head as his mind uncomfortably replayed all times he had hurt you.

" No you're not, keep going. Please" you said turning around to face him.

"I made your life miserable Y/N, all because I couldn't stand how miserable I'd made my own. Pathetic aren't I ?" he said placing his hand back on your arm his thumb gently rubbing over the soft fabric of your blouse. " I don't expect you to ever forgive me for the five years of hell I put you through, I'd be a fool to think you would. But I need you to know that I regret everything, everything I've ever done that's hurt you, that's made you cry. It's all been my fault darling, I should have never made you think it was yours " he sighed, the words he had been wanting to say for the past week if not the past five years spilling out of him as if they had been patiently waiting there, waiting for him to break down the iron wall he had built around himself. Speechless you stood there, not knowing what to say, what to do as you let his words sink in. This was possibly the first time you had ever heard Tommy admit to anything let alone his own wrongdoings. And yet he had, and as you stood there staring at eachother in silence you finally came to realise what the other had endured, had regretted. The heartache you had both thought was your own had been a heartache shared, one that was now enveloping you both in a warm hug as you finally understood each others pain. " Its getting late I should probably go" he said breaking the silence and the small bubble you had both momentarily found yourselves in. "Goodnight Y/N " Tommy said as he leaned forward pressing a kiss to your cheek, the small embrace feeling the most natural thing for him to do in the moment as his lips lingered on your soft skin for a few seconds longer in hopes you would say something, do something. But you just stood there, his unexpected confession keeping you frozen in place as a rush of emotions that you had pushed to the side for five years came hurtling towards you.

"...night" you managed to coax from your lip's as you turned your head to watch him leave, listening intently to the sound of his heavy footsteps walking down the stairs as you desperately tried to think of something to say. " Tommy wait" you called out as you ran to your door only to see he had was already left, the gate at the bottom of the stairs swinging open and close as a gust of wind blew a scattering of leaves onto the steps below you. Leaning against the door frame you brought your hand up to your head as you closed your eyes, pushing your thumb into the skin between your brows as you cursed yourself for not saying anything in response to his attempts at making amends. Was that all it took? Had you forgiven him already? You thought to yourself as you opened your eyes and looked down at the rickety wooden stairs to see a posy of flowers with a small card buried within them sitting on the weather beaten wood. Wrapping your arms around your body from the cold you sat down beside the small bouquet held together by twine. One, two, three flowers, you smiled as you counted them within the various leaves and foliage. How long had it taken him to find possibly the only three flowers still alive in Small Heath after the deluge of rain and bitter weather the whole of Birmingham had endured for the past month. You thought to yourself knowing exactly who had abandoned them on the steps in front of your home, the small gesture tugging at your memories of times before when Tommy had gone out of his way to do the very same thing. Pulling out the small card your heart skipped a beat, your eyes welling with tears at the two words staring back at you, the two words you never felt you deserved, that you felt worthy of from the very man who had written them.

"I'm sorry"

NEXT PART

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#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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hi love, can i request shy!reader and eddie having an argument over him forgetting a date or something similar and reader kinda gets snippy with him for it and hes genuinely shocked and also a little proud that reader is standing up to him?

Eddie was late. Like, stupid late. Over an hour late.

You felt silly, waiting on the sidewalk, your hopes of your boyfriend remembering your date night lowering the same way the sun was. The business fronts around you were closing, including the bookstore you worked at, Mr Giannti smiling a little sadly at you as he closed up, confused as to why you’d asked for an early finish, if you were still standing there.

“You okay, kid? Need a ride?” The elderly man asked kindly.

You did. You’d taken the bus to work that morning, knowing Eddie was picking you up at five to go straight to the restaurant. But it was bordering past six o’clock on a Sunday and Eddie was nowhere to be seen. Plus, the buses had slowed to an hourly service, the next one not due for another fifty minutes at least.

But you shook your head, thanking your boss anyway and decided to hold out another five minutes. Rain threatened the sky, evening creeping in with shades of navy and grey, the breeze turning cooler and you frowned at the way your lip threatened to wobble. You wouldn’t cry.

No. You didn’t want to cry. You were mad. A rare emotion for you to feel, something that usually stayed to a simmering annoyance and it was even more uncommon for it to be directed at Eddie. But you’d left him that morning with a soft kiss and a softer smile, telling him through his exuberant bouncing that you hoped he enjoyed the end of his campaign, but he remembered the dinner reservation he’d made for you both, right?

The boy had nodded even though his nose was stuck in the notebook he used for his scripts and plans, stray paper fluttering to the table top, the floor as he ran his eyes over each stage.

“Sure, babe,” he’d said. “Game ends at five, dinner’s at quarter to six. I’ll get you at like, quarter past five tops.” He’d smacked a kiss to your cheek as you passed him and you’d grinned, excited.

Your new dress stuck to your thighs as the drizzle started, a horrible kind of misting rain that soaks you through. Eddie caught up to you half way back to your home, the van rumbling down the street, slow at first as he kept a lookout for you, faster when he spotted you at the end of the block.

The breaks squeaked as he pulled up beside you, zero hesitation from the boy as he jumped out the drivers side and dashed around the hood to meet you. You kept walking.

“Babe!” Eddie sounded frantic, brows pulled together in a stitch, lips parted and ready to apologise until he was blue with it. “Baby, baby, I’m so fuckin’ sorry, wait— wait!”

You spun when his hand curled around your wrist, his skin much warmer than your rain cooled body. You tried to glare, to show the anger you really felt at being left waiting for him, but your face betrayed you and that wobbling lip of yours finally gave in. Tears sprung to your eyes and your lips twitched, corners turned down and you sucked in a gasp.

“Where were you?”

“Baby,” Eddie tried again, “I’m so sorry, I— we, we just got a little caught up—”

“I waited an hour, Eddie! Longer, in fact!” You sniffed, wrenching your hand away from his hold before swiping the back of it over your eyes and tutting when it came away streaked with ruined mascara. “You knew we had a date!”

Eddie didn’t know what to say, but his chest was aching. You looked so sad, so disappointed, because of him. You’d never looked at him like that. He swallowed, throat tight and tried to reach out for you again.

You flinched away from him and the ache doubled.

“Can you get in the van, sweetheart?” He asked you softly, big, brown eyes wider and glassier than ever. You could see the regret in them. “Lemme get you home, huh? And dry, please. And then I swear, you can yell at me all night, I promise.”

You stared at him, jaw clenched and arms folded, your dress getting heavier the more you stood as the rain clung to it. “I don’t wanna yell at you,” you told him mournfully. You hated yelling, Eddie knew that. “I wanted to have a nice night with you, Eddie.”

“I know, I know,” he soothed, stepping forward to unfurl you from yourself. He took one hand and let out a breath when you let him. “But I deserve it, okay? I fucked up, and I’m so sorry, baby. C’mon, get in the van for me, yeah? You’re soaked.”

You relented, letting the boy coax you into the passenger side. “I wouldn’t be soaked if you showed up on time,” you told him surly. It wasn’t your usual tone and the catty comment wasn’t something that you’d usually say but Eddie merely nodded emphatically.

“No, I know,” he agreed, before running around to the driver's side, shaking his own damp hair out like a dog. “I'm an idiot, babe, and I need a watch that works, or somethin’, I have no idea what happened—”

You frowned. “That’s a poor excuse, Teddy.”

Eddie let out a breath. You weren’t usually so upfront with him. Not that he’d ever given you a reason to bite back but he wasn’t going to say the sound of it didn’t make him proud. He liked that you were standing your ground, you were right and he deserved it. And god, at least you were calling him Teddy.

“You’re right,” he nodded, voice soft and barely heard over the patter of rain on the van roof. “I’m an idiot,” he said again.

You sniffed, looked over at him with hurt eyes that he was sure would haunt his worst dreams. “A little bit.” God, you felt so mean but it made you feel a little better, especially when Eddie’s lip quirked up at your words.

“Shit, baby, you’re out for blood, huh?”

Your lips parted in offence, a scoff coming with it but Eddie pulled you in, thighs dragging over the van bench as he manhandled you onto his side. You were pretty sure he’d have you on his lap if you hadn’t poked at his ribs.

You peered up at him, still frowning. You didn’t wanna let him off that easily, you could practically hear Robin’s voice in your head. ‘C’mon dude, you don’t gotta be the nice guy all the time.’

But it was still Eddie who was gazing back at you. Looking extremely forlorn, you might add.

“You hurt my feelings,” you told him, ‘cause it was healthy to communicate such a thing, right? “You made me feel like Hellfire was more important than our date. And I know how much you love it and it is important to you but— it was like you forgot about me.”

Eddie sighed, sad but not annoyed. If he was frustrated, it was certainly at himself and not you. He watched you suck in a shaky breath after you spoke, a reminder of how you sometimes struggled voicing things that could cause a possible confrontation. So he soothed a hand up and down your arm, hating that you were still cold to the touch.

“I’m really sorry I made you feel like that, babe. Really, really sorry,” Eddie leaned in to press a kiss to your temple and he felt his heart kickstart when you let him. “But you’re the most important thing to me, yeah? Like, ever. How could I forget about you, huh?”

You shrugged, sad.

“Time got away from me, baby, it won’t happen again though, I promise.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “But you gotta make it up to me, Munson.”

“Anyway you want,” Eddie promised. “In the kitchen, the bedroom- ow, don’t hit me, woman- I’ll do it.” He was grinning, like he couldn’t help himself, ‘cause you were kinda hot like this; all stern brows and sharp talk, a far cry from his soft and sweet girl he usually got to see.

With twisted lips, you let Eddie soothe away your doubts, his gentle, warm hands sweeping up and down your sides, cupping your jaw with a thumb pressed to your cheek to turn you to him. He reached up to sweep under your eye, tutting as rubbed away a drag of mascara.

“Cutest fuckin’ panda I’ve ever seen,” Eddie confirmed.

….

#Eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie baby blurb

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sidekick-hero · 5 months

Text

we were meant to be (we live happily in my fantasy)

(steddie | explicit | wc: 5672 | written for @steddiemas Smutty Sunday prompt needing to be quiet | tags/cw: public sex in a bathroom, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Escort Steve Harrington, Modern Setting, Multiple Orgasms, Happy Ending

Eddie Munson has it all.

The big mansion with more bathrooms than anyone could ever need, five platinum albums in as many years, countless awards to show the world that the trailer trash from a shithole town in Indiana had made it, and enough money to buy said shithole town if he ever wanted to. Which he certainly didn't, thank you very much. The only good thing about this hellhole is his uncle, who still refuses to live anywhere else.

Eddie Munson also has the most gorgeous date of all the Grammy attendees on his arm, smiling charmingly at the flashing cameras and winning the hearts of everyone he so much as looks at.

God, Eddie wishes Steve Harrington was his, too, in all the ways that really matter. But just like his house and his cars and his wardrobe, which is worth more than his uncle made in a year at the plant, Steve is only as much his as money can make you. Sure, he owns his time and his attention and his devastatingly handsome smile for the agreed upon amount of time, but not his heart. Never his heart.

Eddie Munson has it all, except the love he so desperately wants. That's what you get, he guesses, when you fall in love with your escort.

When Chrissy first suggested it, hiring an escort seemed like a great idea. It would solve most of his problems, especially because it would keep people off his back by making them think Eddie was seeing someone. It stopped most of the stupid questions about his love life in interviews that were supposed to be about his and his band's music. It stopped all the rumors about him dating some random celebrity or one of his friends. It gave him someone to take to all the boring as fuck events he had to attend without getting anyone's hopes up only to have Eddie walk away from them the next day, already bored.

When he opened the door to his hotel room almost a year ago to find the most beautiful man he'd ever seen standing in front of him, he already had a feeling that he might regret ever saying yes to Chrissy's idea. That feeling only got worse when Steve, the name of the apparition in front of him, turned out to not only be kind and caring, but also funny as hell. The more comfortable he got around Eddie, the more Eddie got to know his bitchy side, and it had Eddie in stitches every time Steve unleashed it on some annoying redneck or corporate suit they encountered.

Spending time with Steve soon became something Eddie looked forward to weeks in advance. Because it meant he had a reason to tell Chrissy to book Steve for a few precious hours, he found himself saying yes to more requests than ever before. At first, Eddie told himself it was because it was so rare for him to meet new people he enjoyed being around. All of his friends he's known since high school and the people he hooks up with usually don't stay long enough to have a real conversation. So, Eddie tells himself, it's just the novelty of having someone who hasn't heard (or lived through) all of his stories, and who, in turn, broadens Eddie's horizons with funny anecdotes and surprisingly clever analyses of movies and shows they've both seen.

Eddie knows he's been fooling himself since the first time their lips touched and a kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight in his stomach.

Steve had kissed him for the first time about three months after Eddie had hired him. They had been at a party in the Hollywood Hills after another award show. Eddie's band had won six awards and he wanted to go out and celebrate. Returning from the restroom, he had found someone talking to Steve, hands on his shoulders, slowly sliding them down to his waist and crowding closer to him. The sight had hurt more than Eddie had expected, especially when the guy leaned in to put his mouth on Steve. But the kiss never happened because Steve had pushed him away forcefully.

Eddie didn't even realize he'd gotten close enough to the couple to hear the man's next words.

"Come on, you fucking slut. You spread them for Munson but not for me? Afraid of a real man giving it to you, is that it?" Hargrove spat, and Eddie finally recognized the backup singer from some wanna be rock band that always talked shit about Corroded Coffin, obviously jealous of their success.

"You disgusting pig," Eddie heard himself say from afar, and before either man could say anything, Eddie drew back his fist and connected with Hargrove's sneering face. The sound of it hitting his jaw was extremely satisfying, but Eddie had never hit anyone before and the pain in his hand came as a surprise.

Worst of all, Hargrove didn't go down like Eddie had hoped. Instead, he looked at Eddie with murder in his eyes, the muscles in his body tense, and Eddie knew what was coming next, so he closed his eyes and waited for the pain to come.

Only it never came.

He peeked one eye open to find Steve with his hand fisted in Hargrove's shirt, their faces inches apart as Steve hissed at him. "If you so much as look at him the wrong way, I'll go to the press and tell them all about your charming words to me for not giving you the time of day. Maybe talk a little bit about what a sad and pathetic loser you are, clamoring for my attention because you wish you could be half the man Eddie is."

Eddie has never seen anything hotter than Steve Harrington threatening someone and he doesn't care how wrong that sounds. He dares anyone to look at his blazing eyes and the flexing muscles in his toned forearms and tell him it's not the hottest thing they've ever seen.

"Are we clear?" Steve growled, waiting for Hargrove's answer. For a moment it looked like fists were going to fly anyway, but then Eddie saw Hargrove nod almost imperceptibly and he let out the breath he'd been holding.

They left soon after and Steve insisted on going home with Eddie to look at his hand, which was starting to swell. "I've been there a few times, this is going to hurt like a bitch if you don't treat it right," he told Eddie and that was that. He took Steve home.

As he opened the front door of his house he expected some sort of reaction from Steve but none came. No looking around, no whistling, no remarks about his wealth or choice of decor. Just a warm hand on his shoulder and Steve asking where he keeps his first aid kit. Eddie wished he'd asked Steve over sooner, even though there was never a good reason.

In the master bathroom, Steve sat him down on the closed toilet seat before gracefully sinking to his knees in front of Eddie. Heat rushed to his cheeks at the sight, the movement conjuring up images he usually only indulged in the safety of his bedroom.

There was a thick tension between them as Steve tenderly reached for his swollen hand and began to put ointment on it. Eyes fixed on what he needed to do, Steve broke the silence that had fallen over them and began to speak in a low voice. "I'm not your damsel in distress, Eddie. I can take care of myself and I don't need anybody to save me, okay? This is not Pretty Woman, and if you want to keep asking for my services, you have to accept that."

Despite the calm in his voice, Eddie could tell that Steve was worked up, probably nervous about how Eddie would react to this. He had no idea where this speech was coming from, but the thought of Steve needing Eddie to save him sounded utterly ridiculous. He had only known Steve for a few months, but he was already well aware that Steve Harrington was a certified badass.

When he told Steve this, he was met with hazel eyes looking at him questioningly. "But why did you hit that guy if not because you thought I needed saving?"

Something in Steve's voice tugged at his heart, a vulnerability shining through the confident way he usually held himself, and Eddie responded instinctively, cupping Steve's neck with the hand not currently wrapped in Steve's.

"Because he deserved it? Steve, I know you could kick anyone's ass and probably look hot as hell doing it. Hearing that asshole talk like that about someone who is... I dunno, like you, I just couldn't help myself."

"Like me?"

With anyone else, Eddie would think they were fishing for compliments, but he knows Steve isn't. He really has no idea how maddeningly exceptional he is.

"Yeah, like you. Someone who talks all the time about a bunch of kids that he used to babysit because he's obviously so proud of them and he cares about them so much. Someone who makes our limo stop so he can give a homeless family the contents of our mini-fridge, who always makes himself seem a little smaller than he is around people who are shy and easily intimidated. Someone who gives the best verbal dressing-down I've ever heard, but also makes me feel like I'm funny and interesting every time I spend time with him. Someone who sees the world differently and isn't afraid to ask questions and speak his mind, even if people think they're stupid for it. Because they're not, they just don't fit into their dumb little boxes. You don't fit in those stupid boxes and a disgusting pig like Hargrove doesn't get to talk to you like that."

Eddie has no idea what came over him at that moment, the words pouring out of his mouth like water from a burst pipe, but they seemed to be the right ones. At least judging by the way Steve lunged forward to capture his lips in a surprisingly sweet kiss.

It was then that Eddie realized his grave mistake. He never expected it to happen, so he had left his heart unguarded around Steve, not realizing it had been stolen until it was too late. Running away was no longer an option, so instead he surrendered to the intoxicating feeling of Steve's plush lips against his, giving his body to the man who already owned his heart.

Not surprisingly, they ended the night with Steve buried deep inside of him, his hand still wrapped around Eddie's bandaged one.

Eddie doesn't know how much more sleeping with him would add to Steve's rate, but he doesn't care. He felt a little sleazy at first, paying for sex, but every time he looks at Steve he knows it's worth every penny in his bank account, along with his dignity.

Knowing he was royally screwed the second Steve's lips touched his, Eddie shoveled his grave deeper and deeper, finding more and more reasons to go out with Steve on his arm, only to bring him home and get lost in his body.

Eddie always wakes up alone, though, and it starts to eat away at him, this longing for more. He wants to wake up with Steve's bed hair tickling his nose where it is tucked against Steve's neck, to feel his sleep-warm skin against his own, to hear Steve grumble as he inevitably begins to explore the tantalizing body in his arms, only to have the sound turn into a wanton moan. He wants breakfast in bed and morning showers together, fighting over who gets to read the editorial cartoons first.

When he accepts his first Grammy, he wants to tell the world that as incredible as it is to stand here and see a lifelong dream come true, it's not the most important thing in his life anymore. It's not the award in his hands, but the man sitting in the third row, next to his manager and best friend Chrissy, beaming at him with pride.

But he doesn't, he just thanks their crew, their fans and of course his friends and his uncle before he hands the microphone to Jeff to do the same.

Later, at the reception, he drowns his heartache in the expensive champagne being handed to him left and right. Steve is plastered to his side and when Eddie reaches for the fourth glass, he stops him with his lips against his ear. "I have plans for you and they don't involve you passing out drunk." His deep voice whispers and Eddie feels goosebumps rise all over his body.

He lets the waiter pass and eyes Steve hungrily. "Stevie, you naughty boy. Not in front of the kids," Eddie giggles, waving to his bandmates and Chrissy, who all roll their eyes indulgently. They know he pays Steve, but they never act like it, and Eddie is grateful for that. They're probably aware of his feelings because Eddie has never been subtle and they've known him most of his life. If they feel sorry for him, they don't show it, but Eddie sees their worried looks sometimes.

Steve snorts inelegantly and Eddie thinks they're both a little high on champagne and endorphins.

When he leans in close again and Eddie wraps a possessive arm around his waist, Steve purrs in his ear, low enough that only Eddie can hear him. "Meet me in the restroom in the back. I have a surprise for you, Mr. Big-Shot-Rockstar." With that, Steve plants a wet kiss on his cheek and tells the group he'll be right back.

Eddie counts to 83 before he can't wait any longer and follows Steve, not even bothering with an excuse. They all know what they are up to anyway. He thinks he hears Gareth muttering "Unbelievable" and Chrissy whistling behind him, but he's already on his way to the restroom Steve mentioned at the back of the venue.

When he gets there, however, he can't find any trace of Steve.

"Steve?" he calls, his voice echoing off the tiles. Even his breathing sounds loud, so he holds his breath, listening for any sign of life. Then he hears it, the slick sound of slippery skin sliding against skin and ragged breathing. It comes from somewhere around the corner and Eddie follows it slowly. When he turns the corner he sees another row of stalls and feet peeking out of the last one. The door is open.

The closer he gets, the louder the sounds coming from the stall, and his cock stiffens in his pants at the thought of what he'll find.

He's still not prepared for the sight of Steve standing inside, naked as the day he was born, his clothes neatly folded on the closed toilet lid. His big, veiny hand is wrapped around his hard cock, already gleaming from the pre-cum smeared along its length. He's pumping it almost lazily, his eyes lustful and bright as they blink back at Eddie. His other hand plays with his stiff nipple and Eddie can feel his own cock leaking at the sight.

"Steve," he breathes out in wonder, "fuck, look at you. What are you doing to me?"

"Not enough, so you have to come here and let me get my hands on you." Steve's voice sounds strained, like he's already keyed up from the way he's touching himself, and Eddie has half a mind to just keep watching Steve getting himself off. But then he moans Eddie's name, and it's high and needy, luring Eddie over with its siren call.

Following it, Eddie squeezes into the narrow stall and wraps his own hand around the hard length of Steve's cock. The flesh is hot in his palm, its girth already familiar, and Eddie thinks he'll never touch another dick, not even his own, as long as he can have this. Steve has ruined him, completely and utterly, and it's that thought that finally breaks the tenacious control he's had over his emotions all these months.

His lips crash against Steve's without any finesse, there's just hunger and love and an urgency he can't explain as his arm wraps around Steve's waist while his other hand remains wrapped around his cock. They're pressed together from head to toe, Eddie still fully dressed in his expensive designer pants and burgundy shirt and Steve gloriously naked. He's probably smearing Pre all over his pants, which are rented and which he probably has to pay for now. But what are a few thousand dollars more when he can have Steve moaning brokenly against his already swollen lips at the feel of the smooth material rubbing against the sensitive head of his cock.

"You're killing me, baby. So sexy, knowing exactly what you're doing to me," Eddie pants as he pulls his hungry mouth away from Steve's, kissing along his blushing cheeks and down the sharp line of his jaw to take it between his teeth. Steve's hips keep twitching, desperate to rub against Eddie's hand, Eddie's pants, anything that will give him some friction, shameless and so fucking hot that Eddie can barely think.

He soothes his bite marks with his tongue and picks up the pace of his hand on Steve, reveling in the slick sounds that fill the empty restroom. "This is what you want, huh? For me to get you off in a public restroom, for you to come all over me, for you to mark me with your cum so that everyone can see how gone I am for you?"

Steve moans brokenly at his words, his hips stuttering and Eddie can feel the telltale twitch of his cock so he quickly sinks to his knees, the movement eerily similar to the night of their first kiss all those months ago when their roles had been reversed.

Twisting his fingers in Eddie's hair, their grip painfully tight and arousing at the same time, Steve comes in Eddie's mouth, his hot cum shooting down his throat, making him cough and splutter, but still eagerly drinking down every drop. He keeps milking Steve's cock until the overstimulation becomes painful and only then does he pull off of Steve to look up at him.

What he sees takes his breath away.

The hands in his hair have loosened their death grip and are instead tenderly combing through his messy locks. Steve's eyes are liquid amber, the color high in his cheeks as dark as the red of his lips, and the expression on his face is unbearably soft. One of his hands slides from Eddie's hair to his face, gently cupping his cheek and wiping away a few stray drops from the corner of his mouth. Their eyes lock and Eddie couldn't look away even if he wanted to, lost in Steve, in his smell, the feel of his hairy thighs under his palms, his taste on his tongue and the sight of his beloved face filled with warmth and affection.

He's not sure he'll be able to come back from this.

"Eddie," Steve begins in a soft voice and he knows what Steve is going to say and he just can't bear to hear it right now. Steve will tell him that they need to get dressed, to go back, to continue their charade until Eddie has to go home to his empty house and his empty bed and his empty life.

"Quite a surprise you had there, Stevie. Totally worth paying for those pants," he jokes, trying for some levity.

Steve gives him a crooked smile and says, "That wasn't my surprise, actually. Well, not all of it. But you... I wasn't expecting... um, this," he finishes lamely, shrugging, and Eddie feels his face heat up. Steve did not expect Eddie to lose it so much at the sight of him.

"Oops," Eddie jokes, obviously embarrassed but trying not to show it. "What surprise have I ruined?"

The hand still cupping his cheek pulls Eddie back to his feet and he winces a little as his knees crack. Smiling at him, Steve uses his hand on Eddie to draw him in for a sweet, almost chaste kiss, were it not for the fact that Steve is still naked and can probably taste himself on Eddie's lips and tongue, which he playfully teases with his own.

As they kiss, Steve blindly reaches for Eddie's hand and guides it to his ass and between his cheeks. Following Steve's lead, he teases his fingers along the crack down to his hole and gasps against Steve's mouth when he feels the hard stopper of a plug there. "Fuck," he hisses, "you are trying to kill me."

"I take it you like your surprise?" Steve sounds smug, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction at the wrecked look on Eddie's face.

"Sweetheart, you have no idea. No idea."

Palming Eddie's hard cock straining against the fly of his pants, Steve smirks. "I might have at least some idea. How about we do something about it, huh?" He adds, giving his cock a squeeze that causes his eyes to almost roll back in his head.

"Please," he practically begs, eagerly playing with the plug, pulling it out and pushing it back in before twisting it on the next pull.

Steve's arms wrap around him, pressing against Eddie and suddenly turning them both around so that Steve's back is to the open door. He pulls away from their embrace and Eddie whines at the loss of Steve in his arms. "One second, baby, just lemme close the door real quick," he coos.

Making good on his words, he grabs the door handle and pulls the door shut before locking it. Eddie reaches for him again as soon as it's done, but Steve seems to have a different idea. He turns and rests his forearms against the closed door, his forehead between them. Arching his broad back, covered with moles and beauty marks, he pushes his round ass out at Eddie and shakes it for good measure.

Looking over his shoulder and giving Eddie a cheeky grin, he asks, "What are you waiting for, lover boy? A written invitation?"

Smack.

The sound of Eddie's hand connecting with Steve's cheek is loud, echoing off the tiles and ringing through the empty restroom. A red handprint is already forming on the pale skin and the sight makes something primal inside him purr with satisfaction.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Steve curses and for a moment Eddie is afraid he has really hurt him, but then he sees Steve's hips buck. He moves closer and drapes himself over Steve's back, reaching around to find his cock more than half hard again.

"Every time I think you can't get any hotter," Eddie mutters to himself and Steve chuckles.

"Yeah? Right back at you," he replies with a smile in his voice. Then, more quietly, he asks, "Do it again?"

There's nothing Eddie would like more, but first he wants to see how far this newfound dynamic will go. "Only if you ask real nice, baby. Only good boys get what they want."

The cock he's still holding fills out even more, growing fully hard in his hand, and Eddie has never been in love like this. It's a weird moment to realize, but they didn't call him a freak for nothing, he supposes.

"Fuck, okay, okay. Can you -" Steve begins, already breathing hard, almost panting. "Can you please spank me again?"

Smack.

The moan that bursts from Steve's throat is loud and guttural, and the redness on his cheeks looks perfect. There's only one thing missing, his cum decorating it, the white a beautiful contrast to the angry red.

"Yes, please, Eddie, please, come on me, paint me with your cum, rub it into my skin, anything you want," Steve babbles, his cock as hard as it was just before he shot down Eddie's throat. Eddie must have said his thoughts out loud, too far gone to realize it, but he doesn't care. They clearly want the same thing and he suddenly can't wait any longer.

"Please baby, tell me you brought lube and a condom?"

"Jacket. Right pocket. Hurry, I need you, Eddie."

"You got me, baby," he whispers, taking the time to plant a soft kiss on the back of Steve's neck. Then he fishes what they need out of Steve's jacket and is back on him in seconds. He reaches for the plug that keeps Steve stretched and open and gently pulls it out, watching in rapture as Steve's rim stretches around it, trying to suck it back in, thinking of how it will feel around his cock in a minute.

When it pops free, he sets it on the floor and pushes Steve's legs further apart before coating two of his fingers with lube. "I'm just checking to see if you're ready for me, okay?" Eddie tells Steve as he pushes his fingers inside. They sink in easily, no resistance as Eddie smears the lube around the rim. He can feel Steve's heartbeat against his fingers and thinks he'll never get tired of this.

"I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready, c'mon Eddie, please," Steve begs and Eddie doesn't even think about denying him. Instead, he shushes Steve with another kiss, this time between his shoulder blades, before resting his forehead against the skin there as he pulls down his fly, finally freeing his cock. It's an angry red, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum, and Eddie knows he won't last long.

He rolls the condom down his length and coats it with more lube before guiding the head to Steve's waiting hole and slowly pushing in, wanting to give Steve time to adjust. Steve is having none of it though, just pushing back until Eddie sinks in all the way, making them both groan.

"The. Death. Of. Me," Eddie pants against Steve's back and Steve chuckles. Then, once again showing no mercy, he tightens around Eddie's cock before relaxing again, but before Eddie can catch his breath, Steve slides almost all the way off him before pushing back, effectively fucking himself on Eddie's length.

"Fuck, baby, I won't last long like this," he whimpers, already feeling himself getting closer, his orgasm pulled from him by the tight grip of Steve's ass around him.

"Good."

Steve breathes hard, moans and high-pitched whimpers falling from his lips as he manages to fuck Eddie's cock against his prostate, and Eddie holds on for dear life, his hands wrapping around Steve's and pulling them up to the top of the door, both of them clutching it just to hold on to something.

Just as Eddie feels his balls tighten against his body, he hears the door to the venue creak.

Acting on pure instinct, adrenaline flooding his system, he slaps a hand over Steve's mouth, his other hand grabbing his hip to halt his movements.

Someone enters the restroom, the man's footsteps clearly audible as he walks over to one of the stalls, and Eddie is shocked to find a giggle rising in his throat. Here he is, in a public restroom at the goddamn Grammy Awards, balls deep in the man he's paying to be with him and who he's in love with, while another man is probably about to take a dump. Everything about it is so fucking ridiculous that he has to fight the laughter that is about to burst out of his mouth.

Steve, on the other hand, doesn't seem to suffer from the same fate. Instead, he clamps down on Eddie's cock inside of him, silently urging him to get over himself and let Steve fuck himself on his cock again.

"Steve," Eddie warns in a low voice, nothing more than a breath against the shell of Steve's ear. They can hear the other man's zipper coming down and then the sound of a stream hitting the bowl. Eddie uses the sound to speak as quickly and quietly as he can. "We have to be quiet."

Steve nods against his hand, but doesn't stop clenching rhythmically around him, moving his hips as much as he can with Eddie's hand still wrapped around him.

The flush of the toilet startles them both but only seems to spur Steve on, his movements becoming faster, more erratic and Eddie surrenders to him, no longer trying to hold him still but reaching around him and grasping his hard cock in his hand, thumbing at the slit and smearing the pre-cum around the head. A whimper escapes against his palm and he hastily stuffs Steve's mouth with his fingers to starve out any more sounds. He's glad it happened while the man on the other side of their stall turns on the faucet to wash his hands.

Steve comes all over the door with the sound of the dry blower drowning out his stifled moans around Eddie's fingers, and Eddie has to bite down on Steve's shoulder to muffle his own scream as he follows him over the edge and fills the condom.

They both catch their breath as they hear the restroom door close again.

The giggles finally break free and this time Steve joins in. "Fuck my life, that was hands down one of the weirdest moments that has ever happened to me," he laughs as he pulls out and ties off the condom.

"But also kind of hot," Steve adds, and Eddie isn't sure he agrees. It had been hot to have Steve squirm on his cock, so drunk on pleasure that he didn't care if someone overheard them. The way he had somehow used Eddie for his own pleasure, that had been hot too. But someone taking a piss while he was fucking didn't really do much for him.

He kind of liked the pressure of having to keep quiet, though. Definitely something he'd like to explore.

" Sort of, yeah," he allows, turning Steve over to give him a deep kiss. When they part, he helps Steve get dressed again, aching all the while with how much he wants to take Steve home now, to curl up in bed together and fall asleep in each other's arms. He's suddenly tired, not just physically, but mentally. Emotionally.

He's not sure he can do this anymore.

As they leave the bathroom to find his bandmates and Chrissy, Eddie thinks maybe it's time to accept the facts and try to get over Steve. He can't keep chasing a dream that will never come true. Steve won't do this forever, and when he decides it's time to do something else with his life, Eddie will be left behind, on his own, to put the pieces of his heart back together again.

He'd rather start now, while he still has a chance to maybe find something real someday. Because one thing Steve has shown him is that he wants that. Something real. Someone to stay.

Eddie wants that someone to be Steve, but even if he has it all, he won't have that.

When they say their goodbyes, Steve asks if they're going to Eddie's, and it hurts to see his face fall when Eddie tells him no, but it's for the best. Steve will still get paid handsomely for tonight and Eddie has the memory of their little adventure today stored away for bad days.

The next morning, he calls Chrissy to tell her that they will no longer need Steve's services.

"But why?" Chrissy asks, clearly surprised after having to book Steve at least once a week for the past few months.

"Because I need to find someone who wants to be with me, Chris. Really wants to be with me. Steve's great, but I need to stop living a lie."

"So you're telling me you're not hopelessly in love with him, Munson?" That's his best friend, cutting to the chase and getting right to the point. He loves and hates that about her in equal measure.

"You know I do, or you wouldn't ask, but I don't see what that has to do with me needing to find someone to love me."

Chrissy sighs deeply. "Oh, Eddie." And that's her "You're an idiot, Eddie Munson" voice.

"I don't know why you're 'Oh Eddie'-ing me here, Chris. I'm trying to be -"

"He hasn't accepted payment in five months." Chrissy cuts him off.

What?

"What?"

"He hasn't taken payment for the last five months. He asked me not to tell you, and I figured he'd tell you eventually, but he never did. He always said he would soon, that he was waiting for the right moment, and I promised myself to wait until the new year, and if he didn't tell you by then, I'd tell you. Even someone without eyes could see how much you are gone for him."

"So the last five months, all those hours, all those events, all those nights we had sex, he never got paid for it?" Eddie couldn't believe what he was hearing. They spent so much time together, time he didn't pay for, time Steve could have spent with clients making money.

"Eddie, he never charged you for sleeping with you. That's not part of the services he offered, he told me that when I first hired him. He did it because he wanted to, he's been dating you for almost half a year. Which you'd know if you -"

"I gotta go, Chris."

"Tell Steve I said hi," he hears her say as he ends the call, already throwing on some random clothes before heading down to his car.

He has to talk to Steve, tell him what a fucking idiot he's been before asking him to move in with him, since they've apparently been dating for several months now and it's not too early to ask.

Eddie can't wait to really have it all.

#steddiemas #steddie smut #steddie #eddie x steve #steddie fanfic #nsft #my writing #rockstar eddie munson #modern au

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brewed-pangolin · 3 months

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Salvation at the Shelter

This is my first entry into the Soap It Up Challenge by @glitterypirateduck, and apparently I'm feeling angsty. I don't write angst well, but that doesn't mean I won't try. I only used one prompt for this, and I'll let y'all find it. Sorry for the feels on for this Super Soap Sunday.

cw: mentions of loss. also a few callbacks to mwiii if you look closely

Johnny. Your beloved Johnny.

Gone.

Taken away too soon. Leaving an emptiness in your heart and a hole within your soul.

You grieve for what feels like years, yet only turns out to be days. Time standing still as you continually waist away into a fetal crouched mess alone on your tile floor.

Friends, family, and colleagues all tell you to move on. You have to.

But you can't.

For how can one heal from the pain of losing the other half of your soul?

It takes you a solid six months to even begin to feel anything again. Feeling everything and nothing all at once. Overwhelming. And not enough.

The emptiness both devours you entirely while continually spitting you back out like a relentless living turbine.

You try to hide the pain behind a smile. It's futile, but it works with most nonetheless. Most.

A few take notice. Those with their own scared hearts and broken stitched souls underneath a practiced expression.

And that's when a coworker confides in you what she did when she lost her husband many years ago.

"Go to the shelter," she says plainly over the rim of her glass.

"The shelter?" You question, raising a brow while fumbling with your lunchbox.

"Like, the homeless shelter?"

"No, silly. The animal shelter. Lots of lost souls needing a home. Maybe one there will help fill that hole inside you."

"I'm fine." You bite back. Swallowing your emotions with a gulp of Orange Fanta as you briskly rise from your chair.

"Mhm. Just give it a shot. Might help." She says before turning to walk down the carpeted hall to return to the solitude of her cubicle.

And you're suddenly left alone again with your thoughts, staring aimlessly at the brightly colored face of the vending machine. The color of the Fanta bottle in your hand so reminiscent to the Irn Bru that was consistently stocked in your apartment, you thought you'd break down right then and there. In the middle of your office hallway.

Subtle reminders of him strewn about all through your day you'd nearly become numb to the constant memory of him.

You choked on your emotions once more. Walking as casually as possible back to the devoid walls of your cubicle. Busying yourself in a desperate attempt to rid the tight entanglement of Johnny's echo buried deep within your mind.

You'd take the advice. Go to the shelter. Fill the emotionless void within your soul with at least something. Anything. Hell, even a goldfish would do.

The sound was defeaning.

It made your ears ring and your bones tremble. The constant barrage of barks, howls and wails nearly made you spin on your heals and exit before even entering the double doors.

Yet you stood fast. Pushing forward. Perhaps somewhere in this cacophony of canine chaos, you could find solace from your unrelenting heartache.

"I'm just here to look," you tell the attendent with a stern brow. It's a lie, of course. But you muster the strength of poise and composure as your heart and spine wither to dust with every passing moment.

"That's what they all say," the keeper, Jared by the nameplate and probably no more than 18 replies. A wisdom in his voice as he's seen the world come through those doors a thousand times.

"C'mon. And don't get too close to the cages."

You follow close behind. Eyes scanning back and forth between metal bars, taking in the mirage of fur covered lost souls while somehow searching for one that may pull at your broken heart.

German shepherds. Pit bulls. Weimaraners. Jack Russels. Dachshunds. Every breed you could name and so many others you barely could identify.

And they all seemed to mirror your expression perfectly.

Searching. Waiting.

Waiting for an absolution that would never come.

You felt their pain. Their loneliness. Their betrayal.

Still though, non called to you. Marked you.

You were told not to look into their eyes, but how could you not. It had become so second nature to get lost in his eyes you nearly forgot what it felt like to be without them.

You were rounding the corner to the main exit, only a few cages remaining, and a sickening feeling began to boil within your gut. Choking on the bile in your throat with a fruitless attempt at speech.

"That it?"

It was a total loss. Heart sinking to your knees as Jared, the wayward keeper, opened the doors to escort you out of the wing and down an adjacent hall.

"I can show you one more. He's scheduled to be euthanized tonight. He's young. But he's very high energy. And a stubborn little shit. Which is why no one wants him."

He knitted his brow, opening the door to let you in as the overwhelming sound of aggressive barking and growling filled your ears.

Reluctantly, you stepped into the confined room. The solitude had made the poor animal more ruthless and hostile to anyone who stepped through those heavy doors.

Yet something pulled you in. A feeling. A tug at your heart that swiftly moved to wrap around your spine and move you forward.

And as you shut the door, the barking steadily began to settle. The blur of furr and teeth slowed and gradually transformed into a more discernable figure.

And as you stepped up to the cage, you cautiously crouched down to meet the animal at its level and finally met the eyes of a soul you had thought was lost to you long ago.

Blue. A blue so pure yet somehow so misunderstood. An icy cerulean wrapped around tan fur and sharpened teeth topped with blacked edged ears and darkened socks on his feet.

His, because it was obvious. He hadn't been fixed yet.

"Yeah, he's got a thing with doors. He's fine while they're closed but goes ballistic at the slightest movement."

You take note of the dogs calming demeanor. Keeping a close eye on him, scanning across his back and hindquarters, inspecting his conformation for any obvious or detrimental abnormalities.

"Poor thing seems pretty docile once he's settled down," you remark. "Why'd the last family give him up?"

You slid slowly along your feet, edging closer as the canine's demeanor shifts to become more open and submissive. Ears perked with a gradual pull of its paw to expose its tender underbelly.

"They lived next to a railroad or something. Apparently, he hates trains, too."

"What's his name?" You inquire, unable to break the stare as you gently move your hand between the bars in an attempt to gain a physical connection.

"He doesn't have one. And I wouldn't do that, ma'am. He's got-"

He chokes on his words as the fearful pup inches forward to bring the top of his nose your fingertips. You remain calm, quiet. And so does Jared. More out of sheer terror of the inevitable bite that was surely to come.

With a few curious sniffs of your scent, the dog pulls himself forward and against your hand in a desperate attempt to feel your touch.

He curls his back into your palm, rolling his spine underneath the tips of our fingers while moving to lay on the concrete floor.

It's in that moment you know you've been marked. Two lost souls finding one another in the cold and metal walls of a heartache and rekindling the vigor of life within your devoid souls.

"Damn. Never seen him do that before."

You acknowledge his voice, but the only sound reverberating in your ears is the constant strum of your beating heart. Alive once more as the ancient connection between man's best friend heals the scars of an unending loss.

"How old is he?" You ask, turning to face the man standing next to you. Comfortable enough to trust the newly found bond forged as a feeling of warmth and rejuvenation bellows from within your abdomen.

"About six months, I think. Give or taken a few weeks."

Six months. It's purely coincidence.

"I'll take him."

"Alright then. I'll get the paperwork."

You retract your hand just as Jared opens the door, and the frightened pup bolts to cowar in the safety of the corner once more.

But he remains silent. A searching stare locking into your gaze to gauge how to move forward with this unknown terrain.

Slowly, you extend your hand once more into the cage to coax him back to your touch. Rebuild the bond of trust once more as you wait for the inevitable to blow through the door.

With a solemn yet comforted look in the pups eyes, he gradually crawls over and rests his chin within the palm of your hand. Soul blazing eyes staring up within the confines of furr, having a certain familiarity you hadn't seen since so painfully losing that love so long ago.

"That's it. I'll take care of you," you whsiper in a voice akin to haunting within the walls. Rubbing your thumb along his bristled jaw line, not to dissimilar to the affection you showed once before to another blue eyed angel.

The heavy door swung open once more, yet you both remained entwined within an enamored bond as the attendant gently turned the metal knob.

"Think you've found yourself a dog there, ma'am," he muttered with a smile, extending the pen and paperwork for your newly attained ownership.

"You think of a name yet?"

You remained silent for a moment. Knowing full well his name was bestowed upon him the moment you walked through that door.

With one quick glance into his eyes once more, you fell in love with him all over again. And uttered the name you'd thought was destined to become nothing more than a distant memory.

"Johnny. Gonna call him Johnny."

This is hit me just before going to bed and I had to get it out. Love them furbabies. Boop all the snoots.

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @writeforfandoms @punishmepunisher @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @jynxmirage @obligatoryghoststare @shotmrmiller @astraluminaaa @ghosts-goldendoodle @kkaaaagt @mykneeshurt @simpingoverquestionablemen @queen-ilmaree @thetrashpossum @designateddeadend @luismickydees @foxface013

#soapitup #salvation at the shelter #angst some comfort #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #SoftSoap feels #call of duty #cod #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic

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otdiaftg · 2 months

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The King's Men - Chapter Fourteen

Day: Sunday, March 10th / 11th* Time: 10:05 AM EST

Neil finally risks a look down at his arm. His skin is striped with parallel lines that are black from bloody scabs but not quite deep enough to need stitches. Lola had filled the gaps between them with shallow burns, perfect circles leading from his elbow to an inch shy of his wrist. He'd torn his wrists open on the handcuffs in a way that can't yet scab; the skin is carved out in a shallow line along the scars Riko had given him a few months ago. Dark bruises make a thick band around his wrist and stretches up onto his thumb. His knuckles are burnt so badly Neil has to flex his fingers and make sure they work. For a half-second he is back in that car with Lola's knife on his skin and nowhere to go but six feet under. Neil doesn't know what sound he makes but Andrew's fingers are a sudden and unforgiving weight on the back of his neck. Andrew pushes him forward and holds him down. Neil tries to breathe but his chest is as tight as a rubber band ready to snap. "It's over," Abby says as she gently combs her fingers through his hair. "It's over. You're going to be okay. We've got you." Neil breathes, in-out-in-out, too shallow to reach his lungs, too fast to do him any good. He flexes his fingers again, then clenches them, knowing he is splitting the scabs open, knowing he is pulling at burned flesh trying so hard to heal, but needing to know he still has a grip. He needs to know that his father and Riko have both lost, that he can walk away from this and step back onto the court as Neil Josten. For a moment that single- mindedness is enough to startle a bit of clarity into him, and Neil is desperately grateful he doesn't have the breath to laugh. He knew how panicked it would sound. "Stop it," Andrew says, like it is really that simple. It isn't, but Neil's tangled mix of anger and exasperation is enough to put a hiccup in his gasping. That catch disrupts the frantic pace enough that Neil manages a real breath. He sucks in a second one as deep as he can, then a third as slowly as he can stomach it. His insides are still quaking by the time he gets a sixth, but he is off that ledge and safe in their hands and Neil doesn't care if he feels two seconds from getting violently ill. He goes limp and lets Andrew pull him back upright. Looking at him is safer than facing the damage again, so Neil studies Andrew's profile and lets Abby work.

Art used with permission by Rainbowd00dles. Thank you @rainbowd00dles!

*Due to the Leap Year, I have opted to highlight the day rather than the date to keep the events in occurrence to the 2007 year. I will continue to mark both days accordingly.

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sexynetra · 2 months

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SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY

Me? Procrastinating writing the part where Dame and Marina meet by throwing Tia under the bus? It’s more likely than you think :) (also this is not six sentences but I just wanted to post the excerpt okay deal with it I promise I can count if I wanted to)

~~~~~~

Tia was a pretty girl, objectively. With her sweet face and modelesque body, Dame could see the appeal. At least, as long as she ignored the god-awful fashion sense. She gently took one of the flimsy purple straps between her fingers, making a conscious effort not to grimace at the cheap material under her fingers. This close, she could feel Tia’s heart racing.

“You look ravishing as well, darling,” Dame murmured, letting go of the strap and watching as it slipped off of Tia’s shoulder. Tia’s face flushed a pretty raspberry.

“Thank you, um. It’s vintage Versace, I think.” She readjusted her sleeve, looking down shyly.

It wasn’t. Dame could tell even from a quick glance. The stitching was all wrong, the material too flimsy, the draping falling in the way only unlined fabric did. It was all wrong, from the color to the material to the cut. They worked in the fashion industry. Tia should know that.

#can you tell I know nothing about couture :)#because I don’t #but this was fun to write!!#she will meet Marina soon I PROMISE #but writing her and Tia is so fun #my writing #cunty dame au #sss #six sentence Sunday #La grande dame #tia kofi #grandekofi #dametia #damerina

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newtonsheffield · 7 months

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May we please get a Spicy Sunday 🌶 from Take A Deep Breath? I'm so excited for this one, the Good Girls vibes are just so strong, I already love them. Can we maybe see Kate reassuring Anthony if indeed he has the same self-esteem issues as GG Anthony. (I'm also a sucker for fighting and making up scenes, if that tickles your fancy anymore.)

Anonymous asked: Hi Molly! I hope you are well 🥰 I was wondering if we could have a Take a Deep Breath spicy Sunday today?? 🌝😈🌶️

Well, I got to remember what the Dutch National Anthem sounds like so… exciting.

I think that’s why I like these two so much as well. The Good Girls Vibe. The way I love that Kate and Anthony, and these are the same. Anthony’s kind of brash and he’s never seen out of a muscle tee and ripped jeans and he constantly smells a little bit like sweat and a very spicy cologne and Kate’s just… very attracted to him. Even though she probably shouldn’t be. Because she’s not going to get what she wants from him and she’s only setting herself up for disappointment. And Anthony thinks he’s probably not good for Kate, or not good enough.

But they find their groove eventually

Kate tried not to stare at Anthony through the window of his shop. She didn’t need to stare at him. A person didn’t need to stare at their own boyfriend did they? Not if that boyfriend walked through their flat completely naked, stood in the kitchen with not a stitch of clothing on while he cooked breakfast.

Edwina had been caught out more than once when she’d burst through the front door, ready for their usual trip to the flower market only to let out a squawk of indignation.

“Anthony! Jesus!”

Anthony blinked as he sat on the stool, unembarrassed, “What?”

Edwina sighed, “I can’t be certain but you’re leaving ball prints on Kate’s kitchen stool.”

He shrugged, “Kate likes me naked.”

Kate chuckled, his shirt hanging on her frame as she kissed his cheek, “You could maybe put on some pants when we have company.”

Anthony pointed his spoon at Edwina, “She’s your sister, she’s not company.”

“Kate, can we just go please?!” Edwina snapped. “Anthony’s penis is just… I can feel it staring at me.”

She should have been immune to him by now, surely. The number of times she’d felt his muscles flex under her hands and watched his lips form her name as he fell apart for her, because of her. She shouldn’t feel her cheeks get warm when Anthony winked at her, sat at her parent’s table and she shouldn’t be staring at him now.

His dark hair was caught under a cap and his muscles flexed as he removed his gloves, rolling his eyes at something his brother said, shaking his head. He was so handsome that it made her breath caught in her chest even as she turned to shove more flowers in the van.

“You need to get a grip.” Kate hissed at herself, as she put the arrangements in the van. “You’ve been dating him for six months, and he’s probably going to ask you to move in soon and he’s only… completely fucking, insanely hot.”

“Well, well, well,” Anthony’s voice burst onto the street seconds after the bell jingled and his customer left. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Kate felt her lips curve as she straightened and turned towards him, “I could say the same.”

Anthony grinned, leaping down from the top step and landing right in front of her. His arm shot out around her waist and tugged her against his chest and she felt her cheeks flush. “You are so beautiful.”

She brushed her lips against his, “You look Handsome.”

“Yeah I decided finally to put some clothes on.”

Kate groaned as she pushed back from him, “I have to go on my deliveries.”

Anthony tugged her back and she inhaled the smell of him, slightly sweaty and the spicy smell of him mixed with her shampoo. “Well, luckily for you, my afternoon’s done and I can’t stay in there and listen to Ben thinking he’s in love with Hyacinth’s teacher, Miss Beckett.” He shut the door for her and climbed into the driver’s set. “He can’t let me just have one thing to himself. I’m a wife guy and now he has to be.”

Kate climbed into the passenger seat. “I’m not your wife.”

Anthony rolled his eyes, “You know you’re my girl.”

His hand was warm on her thigh as he pulled into traffic and it stayed there all afternoon. She could hardly pay attention to anything, with his fingers tracing a pattern on her skin. She could hardly get the correct arrangements out at the right address, she might not have were it not for Anthony who grinned at everyone

“Flowers! We’ve got Flowers!”

Kate watched their eyes widen in surprise as they took Anthony in, their fingers intertwined and Kate’s distracted manner. The scent of him hung in the air of the van and he leaned in towards her, brushing his lips against her cheek.

She felt so warm, so drawn to the easy way he laughed and leaned against the car door, plucking a flower from a bouquet and handing it to her.

“Take a left.”

Anthony blinked, “Are we getting a snack?”

“You can have a snack if you want.”

Anthony gasped as he pulled into the alley behind their shops, “Kate, are you offering me… a sexy snack?”

“I am offering you a sexy snack.”

As soon as the car pulled to a stop, Anthony practically leapt on her. Their lips crashed together and the soft fabric of his T-shirt crumpled in her hands as she pulled him closer to her, desperate for the feel of his chest against hers.

It was messy and awkward as she swallowed the sounds that rose in his throat, happy and content. She could feel the heat rising between them as his hand slid further up the skirt of her dress, further and further, the soft skin of his hand warm against her as the other tugged at the neckline of her dress. The fabric of his jeans was rough under her fingers as she tugged at the button.

Anthony let out a chuckle and his teeth nipped at her neck, “That’s awfully eager if I’m getting a snack in first.”

Kate shoved him back into his seat and his hat fell into the back as his head knocked against the headrest. His hands were tight on her hips as he pulled her onto his lap and her chest felt tight as his lips fell to her neck again. “You can eat me out later, Babe.”

“Is that a promise?” He was looking at her with so much love, and excitement and a hundred other things as the windows fogged around them.

“Sure.” She gasped, catching his lips again, tangling her tongue slowly with his and in those moments it was so hard to imagine she’d thought they’d never be together. They seemed so inevitable now.

Anthony groaned as her hips rocked against him, his eyes fluttering closed at the friction, “Okay, I… I don’t have a condom and I know you’re on a break from-”

“Don’t care.” She gasped, “I really really don’t care.”

Anthony’s tongue flicked against her thumb that had somehow made its way to the side of his mouth and he sucked gently forcing heat to course through her body even faster. His hands guided her against him, keeping the slow rhythm building between them and his hips snapped up joining them together.

It was hurried and desperate and Anthony’s lips swallowed the gasp of his name that fell from her lips. One of her hands slid to his hair and she felt his gasp against her skin as her other hand slid up his shirt. He shivered against her touch as they moved together and the van rocked side to side and they were so close she could feel his heart beating right under her hands.

Anthony’s hair was sweaty under her fingers and his cheeks flushed, his eyes screwed shut as his chest heaved, “Fuck, I love you, Kate.”

The sound that fell from her lips was almost a purr as she nodded, tension coiling tightly in the pit of her stomach. Her breaths stuttered in her chest and their rhythm was short and sharp and nearly punishing as they raced to the finish.

It seemed to hang in the air for a moment as though time stood still in the moment before they both fell. As though they were dangling on the edge of a cliff. And finally, they fell apart.

Kate felt Anthony shudder against her ad she forced herself to keep her eyes open to see the content look on his face.

“Holy Fuck.” Anthony laughed, catching her lips again, “I can’t believe I ever thought you were such a good girl.”

Kate patted his cheek, “Obviously you just bring it out in me.”

Thud Thud Thud

They both startled at the sound of someone banging on the windscreen and Kate could barely make Edwina out, her hand covering her eyes.

“KATE STOP FUCKING IN THIS VAN I MEAN IT!”

#take a deep breath and jump (then fall)#kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers

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mercurygray · 1 month

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Okay, I miiiight have a need... how about Rescue for Benny DeMarco and anyone of your choosing? ^^

Killy, I very nearly put one of your other favorite leading ladies in this scene, but I decided it would be more fun to pick on someone else. Apologies - I also made a slight hat-tip to someone else you know very well there at the end.

Of all the guys in the 100th, why was it always his crew in trouble?

Bennie Demarco looked at the low stone wall outside the pub and the small, slight airwoman sitting there with a handkerchief held to her face. "Christ, Maggie. What was it this time?"

Maggie scowled. "He was saying something about our flying!"

"And do you have to take a swing at everyone who takes a shot at our flying!" Madre di Dio, why'd they have to give me you? You, Maggie Paquin, who hasn't yet found a fight she couldn't stay out of. It's one thing picking fights in bars if you're John Egan and you're six-one in your socks but when you're a bare five four and a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet…

"But Niamh and Hannah -"

"Niamh and Hannah were the ones hauling you out of it, Mags!"

Benny put his hands on his hips and turned around once, trying to find a spare ounce of patience somewhere in the depths of his soul. He breathed deeply and turned back around to look at her. "Lemme look at this," he said, reaching out to grab hold of her chin and turn her towards the light. "Look at you, you got a…a..split eyebrow, you got a shiner in the other eye, probably have a tooth loose…" Probably got a couple of bruises I can't see, too.

"I'm sorry, Benny."

And didn't she look it, with that handkerchief over her eye and the biggest, saddest eyes he'd ever seen, a stray kitten begging for scraps. "Yeah, you'd better be," Benny said, trying to maintain his angry demeanor. "How am I supposed to fly tomorrow knowing one of my gunners has a black eye and can't see straight? Eh?" How am I supposed to let you down into that turret if you spent tonight being a target?

"Same as you always do," Maggie offered thinly.

"No! Not same as I always do! Because we're a team, Mags. We're a team, and that means sometimes we gotta do things we don't like for the rest of the team. Like letting people insult our flying, so we're good to fly the next day." Benny looked again at her eyebrow -still bleeding, and sighed. "Doc Stover's gonna have to get you some stitches, you're still bleeding like a stuck pig. Can you stand?"

She took a deep breath and rose to her feet, testing the ground for a moment. "Yeah, I can stand."

Benny sighed - small favors. He shuffled in his pocket for his flashlight. "Come on. Let's get you home. Maybe if Luce is still on duty, she won't say too much." Lieutenant Jones would laugh about it, true enough, and talk you into Sunday, but she'd also make sure her stitches were neat and Stover didn't see anything he didn't have to.

Maggie nodded, following the beam of his flashlight, and Benny thought again of stray kittens with big eyes.

"I won't ask how the other guy looked," he offered, as gamely as he could. "I don't want to encourage you."

Maggie sniffed and he turned sideways just quick enough to catch a hint of smile. "I won't tell you he looked pretty bad."

Benny nodded and sighed. Of all the guys in the 100th, why is always me and mine?

Because you wouldn't have it any other way, Benny. You like scrappy strays, and that's just the way it is.

#asked and answered #basilone #i have written a thing #mercurygraypresents #maggie paquin #tds cinematic universe

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theotherhufflepuff · 7 months

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Six stitch sunday

Thank you so much for the tag @martsonmars 😚

I'm still prepping for the craft fair (I don't do this regularly so I don't keep stock), so I have some more earrings to show you today!

This time it's the skulls 💀

I love these little skulls. I made a cardigan out of them.

For the earrings though I'm making them super tiny. For comparison, the pumpkins I shared last time and the 2.5mm hook I used to make them are also in the photo. The thread and the 1.5mm hook I've used for the skulls is at the bottom of the pic. I love them, but they do make your fingers sore when you've made 10 of them in a row!

These guys don't have all their hardware on yet because they need to be stiffened before I finish them up, they curl up otherwise. Hopefully I'll get that done this week 🤞🏻

Now I just need to figure out my table setup for the fair, that's giving me a headache 😬

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@onepintobean @captain-aralias @backgroundhufflepuff @urban-sith @ileadacharmedlife @gingerethereal @una-voidable @hushed-chorus @sillyunicorn @mostlymaudlin @babethepig @blackberrysummerblog @uselessstardust @rimeswithpurple

#six sentence sunday #six stitch sunday #stitching sunday #crochet #crochet jewelry #handmade jewelry #handmade #skulls

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thisbuildinghasfeelings · 2 days

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Seven Six Sentence Sunday

Thank you for tagging me @ladytessa74 @lemonlyman-dotcom @sznofthesticks @carlos-in-glasses @janto4ev and

@im-overstimulated-and-im-sad 💜

I actually have sentences to share this week!! Here are 6 stitched sentences in which TK calls Carlos babe or baby (5 of which happen during the proposal 🥺):

3 lines done, 17 to go 😂

No pressure tagging @paperstorm @literateowl @vineofroses @alrightbuckaroo @bonheur-cafe

@nancygillianmvp @strandnreyes @reyestrandd @reyesstrand @doublel27 and anyone else who has something to share!!

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ggfj84 · 1 year

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The Gotham Knights hadn’t graced the playoffs for 12 years straight, the longest streak in the league, so when they finally drafted a first-round quarterback and built a team around him, Dick was ecstatic. He watched the games every weekend and even managed to wrangle the family.

What started in Week 2 as, “Why don’t you stop by, Tim? We’ll order pizza, some mozzarella sticks, make a night of it,” became a weekly ritual, and each week, they added a new family member.

“You don’t mind that I invited Jason, do you?” Tim asked the following week. He also brought an extra pizza. “He was hanging around my boathouse like a kicked puppy.”

“Hey! At least make me a kicked Rottweiler or something!” Jason snarled with little heat. “And I just asked you to do like, two stitches.”

“It was ten but whatever.”

Dick shrugged. “Want a beer?”

“Yes,” the two said in tandem, but Dick brought back two beers and one large iced coffee. Tim didn’t seem to mind not drinking then.

Week 4 welcomed Damian, who understood the nature of honorable combat but not quite how football applied. By Week 7, he was yelling that he wanted “to teach the referee how Ra’s al Ghul dealt with incompetence” for ruling an incomplete pass a fumble.

Week 5 brought Duke into their Sunday clique. He picked apart the plays and made suggestions that the Knights clearly could not hear.

“No chance you can blind the Metropolis Meteors’ quarterback for two seconds, right?” Jason asked as he tossed a jalapeño popper into his mouth. “Just so he can’t throw after the two-minute warning.”

Duke leaned back and sipped the large pumpkin latte Tim brought him. “Can I? Yeah, probably. From here? Probably not. But dude, I don’t want to get kicked out of the club.”

“Oh, please. It’s not like they ban you forever. I should know. Besides, as long as you don’t kill anyone, B will probably let you back in by summer.”

“Jason, please don’t try to corrupt the new kid,” Dick called from across the room. A moment passed. “At least not until the playoffs.”

By Week 9, they had moved to the Wayne Brownstone. Bruce came down from upstairs after 1 p.m. to find the boys plus Stephanie and Cass camped out in the living room. The game spread had grown to take up not just the coffee table but also the end and side tables by the couches and chairs.

When the Knights scored, they shot to their feet, roaring with cheers and high-fives.

“…what is going on here?” Bruce asked as he came to stand behind the sofa.

“The Knights are 8 and 1, Father, and are two wins away from a playoff berth,” Damian rattled off without looking away from the screen.

“The new quarterback is on fire,” Cass added, topping her chili cheese dog with extra onions.

“In more ways than one, am I right?” Steph asked, lifting a hand. When Cass shook her head and left her hanging, Steph turned to Tim, who immediately returned her high-five.

Dick smiled up from his position in the middle of the largest couch. “Take a seat, Old Man. We made nachos with queso.”

The great Batman’s kryptonite.

After that, Bruce met Dick at the front door every Sunday at noon – or at six p.m. on Thursday or Monday night – when Dick arrived to set up. On Week 14, Bruce surprised them all with jerseys of their favorite players (including Cass, the traitor, who fell in love with the Meteors’ quarterback).

Week 18, they went to the game at Ferris Aircraft Field – box seats, of course – to send the Knights into the playoffs as the AFC first-round seed.

The family held a quick meeting after the game to strategize.

“Bruce is holding charity events the next three Sundays,” Dick informed, causing Stephanie, Duke, and Jason to boo and Barbara and Damian to throw crumpled-up napkins.

Bruce put up his hands and legitimately looked remorseful. “I didn’t know you would all be taking up my living room for half the year when Lucius asked me to host, and these are all good causes.”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t blame the one-time billionaire for wanting to give back to the community,” Dick interjected with a wave of his hand, “and we’ve got this. Barbara, would you mind hosting us the wildcard week?”

“Only if you promise to clean up afterwards and make breakfast the next morning,” Barbara offered with a suggestive smirk.

“Sold!” Dick winked, even as Damian made gagging noises and Steph whispered to Cass, “We need noise-canceling headphones.”

“I can host the Divisional Week,” Jason offered, raising his voice over the girls. “No way in hell we’re going to Tim’s lame-ass boathouse.”

Tim snorted and crossed his arms. “Next time, stitch your own wounds, Jay.”

“Next time, get a real place to live, Drake.”

“I can do the NFL Conference Championships.” Dick snorted at the chorus of whines and groans that followed. “Hey, hey, hey, my place is less than a half an hour away without traffic, and it’s not like you all go to sleep early anyway. And we’ll be back at the Brownstone for the Super Bowl, all right? Now, let’s work out the menus, so the hosts aren’t the only ones cooking.”

Of course, the Gotham Knights tore through the playoffs, winning the Divisional Round and Conference Championships, which meant they were on their way to Glendale, Arizona, for the Super Bowl.

Dick stayed over in Gotham the night before and was already halfway through cutting up vegetables for the guacamole when Bruce entered the kitchen with a communicator in his hand. “I’ve been called away. League business.”

“On Super Bowl Sunday? Even villains usually take this day off to watch the game.”

“Aliens generally don’t care about our rituals or culture.”

“Don’t let Clark or J’onn hear you say that.” Dick scooped up the tomatoes and placed them in a large mixing bowl. “I’m pretty sure the Super Bowl is Clark’s favorite day of the year.”

Bruce scowled. “They didn’t name the game after him, no matter what he says.”

“Do you really have League business, or did you hear that Damian invited the Lane-Kents over to watch with us?” Dick asked with a teasing smile.

Bruce’s face fell. “If there was anything I could do to postpone an alien invasion, I would.”

“Do you need any help?”

Bruce clasped his shoulder warmly. “Thank you, but you’re needed here. I’ll try my best to be back for the Half-Time show.”

“Hey,” Dick called. Bruce turned halfway around in the doorway. “You’re needed here, too. We missed you the last few weeks. It’s not the same without you.”

“You missed my homemade salsa.”

“Jason makes a second salsa and switches out your sucky salsa, Old Man.”

A small smirk teased the edge of Bruce’s lips. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“You better.”

Bruce left with a quick nod, and Dick sighed. He put on a brave face when Damian, followed by Jason, Tim, and finally Duke wandered into the kitchen. He’d switched gears to make pancakes for breakfast before Jason took over to make his salsa and Tim ran out to pick up the pizza, hotdogs, and jalapeño poppers (Clark’s favorite snack). Duke put the finishing touches on the guacamole before they all worked together to fix the nachos.

The Batgirls arrived just after three, and Lois and Jon showed up after five. The first quarter came and went, followed quickly by the second, and though he enjoyed the night with his family, Dick checked his phone often and even sent off a quick text, Offer still stands if you need help.

As Half-Time came, Dick went out to the stoop to look up at the stars. It wasn’t like he didn’t know the world needed Batman, and it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to Bruce missing their family events. But Bruce had been making an effort lately. He made a point to join them every Sunday after they moved to the Brownstone, and he even asked Barry to run him to Bludhaven two weeks ago, so he could catch the end of the AFC Conference Championship game.

Dick just thought – hoped really – that they could enjoy the Gotham Knights winning the Super Bowl together.

Instead, he stood outside and just hoped his father would come home at all. How Alfred did it all those years, he’d never know.

“Dick! It’s back on!” Tim called from inside.

“Be right there!” Dick gave the sky once last lingering stare before turning to go back in –

“Don’t tell me you finished the jalapeño poppers and nachos yet.”

Dick turned and crossed his arms to hide his relieved sigh as Clark and Bruce appeared – seemingly out of nowhere – at the bottom of the Brownstone stairs.

“I’d check the warming draws,” Dick said with a wink. “There might be some lingering snacks in there for the second half.”

Bruce took the stairs two at a time. “Who’s winning?”

“Meteors, 10 to 7, but I wouldn’t count the Knights out yet.”

“During the Super Bowl?” Clark laughed as he clasped Dick on the shoulder and led him inside. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

“Oh, you never know. Knights – dark and otherwise – sometimes surprise you.”

The Meteors ended up winning 21 to 20, but as Dick sat surrounded by his family and they began making plans for next season, he knew he had, in fact, won.

#Batfamily #Bat Family #BatFam #Dick Grayson #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Nightwing #Red Hood #Robin #Damian Wayne #Bruce Wayne #Batman #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Cain #Batgirls #ggfj84 writes #batfam drabbles

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imeternallylove · 11 months

Text

Secret - S.Holmes; part six

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Genre: purely angst, upcoming age and some smut

Warning: none

Word: 4.8k

main mastetlist | request & ask | prompts | theme song

Chapters index

"Zoe, the movie is about to start!" You yelled through your apartment, popping a handful of popcorn into your mouth as the opening credits of another Disney picture flashed over your TV screen. You spent your Sundays with Zoe being lazy and watching films while the weather outside grew colder. It was undoubtedly colder in London than in your hometown.

Your daughter entered the living room huffing and puffing, her lips pursed into a frown. "We can't watch the movie. I can't find Mr Snuggles," she grumbled, jumping onto the couch to search behind it.

"Have you looked in the bathroom? You were giving Mr Snuggles a bath in the washbasin this morning," you recalled, holding her hand so she could safely jump off the couch and race out of the room.

Zoe's voice echoed from the restroom five seconds later. "I finally found him!"

You laughed to yourself and ate another handful of popcorn as your daughter came back into the room carrying Mr Snuggles and bouncing into the sofa alongside you, cuddling up like a tiny puppy against your side. "Did I miss anything?" She asked innocently, her beautiful wide eyes looking up at you.

"Just the Disney castle," you reassured her, brushing her hair and adjusting the popcorn so that both of you could enjoy it. Then you cuddled up with your little one and delightfully lost yourself in the Hawaiian delights of Lilo and Stitch. It wouldn't be long before she wouldn't even want to be in the same room with you, let alone watch a movie with you. You had to cherish these moments.

You paused the movie halfway through to restock on food and drinks. You entered the kitchen, Zoe following you like a shadowy figure "Mummy, can I ask you a question?" She asked quietly, hugging Mr Snuggles to her bosom as you went to get a bottle of water and a carton of juice out of the fridge.

"Of course, little one," you said, beaming brightly as you headed to the snack cupboard for the sweets you had to keep out of Zoe's touch.

There was a rare moment of silence for your daughter.

When you looked down at her, you noticed her nervously biting on her bottom lips, her grip on Mr Snuggles strong. You frowned deeply, wondering what was going through her gorgeous mind. You dropped the treats and hoisted Zoe up onto the counter to meet your level. "You know you can tell Mummy anything, sweetie? Even if you think Mummy will be angry or upset," you said gently, turning her head up to see your eyes.

Her eyes darted around your face, avoiding direct eye contact. "Where is my father? He didn't come to see me at the parade with you." She questioned softly, almost above a whisper.

It wasn't the first time Zoe brought up her father subject, but it still made your heart slow down. She had been interested since she was a child, perplexed as to why all the other children in the community had a mummy and a daddy but she just had one. You didn't want to lie to your little girl, so you told her as little as you could, just enough to keep her interested until the next wave of question hit.

You swiftly drew your daughter close to your chest, buried your face in the silky locks and sighing into the tropical-scented strands. "Your daddy is off following his aspirations," you said serenely running your fingers down her spine to comfort her.

"But why isn't he here?" The little girl's voice was filled with anguish as she continued.

Hearing her pleading made every fibre of your body throb. It was your fault your daughter was clinging to you, presumably blaming herself for not having a father in her life, believing she was unwanted and unloved by her father, despite the fact you were the one whose fault it was. You were the one who drawn the line with Sherlock. You loved him too much when he couldn't love you back in the way you desired, and in the long run you had to let him go while you handled the situation that you were dealt.

You would not take anything back. Your daughter was your whole world, and you couldn't picture being alive without her.

But perhaps you should have told Sherlock. Perhaps he'd be here now, and your daughter wouldn't be in tears, wondering why she only had half a family.

You leaned back and crouched slightly to look at Zoe properly, noticing her eyes moist as you planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head. "Your daddy was my best friend when I was in school," you stated slowly, carefully picking your words. You didn't want to say something that would make her weep. "And he had to leave one day so he could do what he loved, which Mummy tells you all the time, isn't it?"

She nodded, her bottom lip protruding in a mournful way.

You tenderly cradled her face and rubbed your thumbs across her delicate red cheeks, smiling warmly. "When your daddy left, I was so sad, but then I got you, and you made me happy again," you said, kissing the tip of her nose and making her chuckle slightly. Just hearing her laugh for a few seconds was enough to make your heart sing. "Because of you, I was empowered to do what I loved: I was able to be your mother!" You spoke up, your fingers going through her hair and settling on her shoulders.

Zoe snivelled into Mr Snuggles and stared up at you with the same wide eyes as Sherlock. "Does that mean my daddy doesn't love me?" she asked, tentatively.

"No, no, no, no, no, no一" you rehearsed shook your head harder each time you said 'no'.

"It's complicated, little one; your daddy left before I even realised you were here. But I know if he met you, he'd fall in love with you," you promised, pulling her hair over your fingers to soothe your fears.

"So daddy doesn't know me?" She asked another query, her lips pressed together in a harsh line.

Lifting Zoe up, you wrapped her legs over your hips and hugged her back in a warm embrace. "He doesn't," you admitted, bringing her close to your chest to comfort her. "It's all Mummy's fault. I should have found him as soon as I knew you were coming," you continued. Hot tears were forming in the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You wanted to be strong for Zoe.

"But one day, little one, when you're a little older, Mummy will try to find faddy and introduce you to him," you promised, holding to the secret just a little bit longer. You wanted to tell Zoe everything, but at an age when she could grasp it all and make her own decision. "And until then, you'll have to make do with just mummy's love," you added quietly, clutching her tight and pressing your eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

Zoe wriggled in the grasp of you. "Did I make you sad, mummy?" She questioned innocently.

When you opened your eyes, your daughter was staring at you with light ocean eyes like her father that were on the verge of tears. Your emotions were immediately thrown out the window, and your attention was drawn to Zoe in the blink of an eye. "Mummy isn't sad," you protested, bending your head to dot kisses across her tiny nose bridge. "How can I be sad when I have the best daughter in the world?"

You placed your lips against her cheek and blew a loud raspberry, causing her to burst out laughing. Only then did you begin to relax, appreciating Zoe's brilliant laughter echoing around you like music to your ears. You squeezed her harder, tickling her sides as you pushed her back onto the counter.

"Do you have any more questions for mummy?" You didn't want Zoe to be left with additional nagging questions she didn't want to ask because she was afraid of making you sad.

She tightened her arms around Mr Snuggles and smiled up at you, cheekily. "May I have some sweets?" She murmured this cutely, tipping her head to the side and fluttering her eyelashes at you.

You criticised and laughed, rolling your eyes. "As long as you promise to brush your teeth properly tonight!" You teased, taking a small bowl from the cupboard.

Zoe cheered and flung Mr Snuggles up in the air in excitement, blissfully pleased as if the talk had never happened. She was far tougher than you gave her credit for.

You, on the other hand, felt as if you'd just escaped a bullet that had left you with a terrible headache.

Sherlock was waiting for you in a quiet area of the café, his coat collar pulled up. For a few second, you doubted if it was really him, until then he looked up and caught your gaze, calling you over with a bright smile. When you got to him, you tossed your belongings on the floor and dropped into the chair, immediately tugging your coat off. "I can't believe I'm only halfway through this day," you groaned, hanging your coat off the back of your chair and tossing your hair away from your shoulders.

“Rough day already?” Sherlock responded with a chuckle, pushing a huge mug of coffee in your direction.

You frowned as you clutched the steaming mug in both hands. "I thought I was the one who was taking you out to lunch." You took a little sip, surprised that he remembered your favourite hazelnut latte.

He smothered his chuckle in his coffee. "I only ordered, you can still pay," he instructed you across the table, a cheesy grin on his face. "How are things going at florist shop?"

"Where do I start?" You huffed, slumping back in your chair, exhausted. You had finished your design of sketches of dessert with flowers and sent them off to be converted for the images to be uploaded to your website, you knew you worked with delicate details but it was slowly becoming a source of stress for you because you're a perfectionist.

Sherlock leaned forward, his elbows bracing him. "Why don't you just do what you always do and put on your headphones and blast music?"

You grinned as you remembered. You'd always listen to your old iPod and shut out the rest of the world when you needed to concentrate on school and block off Sherlock. It used to be the only way you could focus.

"I only did that in school because you were so annoying," you smirked into your latte.

"Annoyingly cute," he corrected, a goofy smirk on his face.

You tilted your head with a soft, “duh,” from your lips, making him start laughing.

Before you could disagree with him, the waitress arrived with the toasted paninis Sherlock ordered. While the two of you were eating, Sherlock discussed how it felt to have finished another serial killer case at the underground train. Listening to him talk about deductions and hearing the obvious excitement in his voice, you couldn't help but smile at his satisfaction. It simply reinforced your choice to keep Zoe a secret from him. If you hadn't, he wouldn't be where he was today, and the brightness in his eyes wouldn't exist.

However, keeping Zoe a secret was easier said than done.

Your phone rang loudly during lunch, and you hastily apologies to Sherlock while mentally preparing for the call from the workplace. But when you took your phone from your purse, it wasn't from work. Zoe went to that school.

Your heart rate sank as soon as you saw the caller ID, your thoughts racing through every worst-case scenario. If nothing had happened, why would the school be ringing? “Hello?” You responded swiftly, scrunching up your free hand into a nervous fist to keep it from shaking.

“Hello, is this Zoe’s mother from Class 1B?” The woman on the other end of the line, her voice being shaken, asked.

You were startled, sensing that something horrible had happened.

Spinning in your seat, you turned away from Sherlock and lowered your head so your hair covered your face. "Yes, it's me. 一Is Zoe all right? Has something happened?" You questioned frantically squeezing your eyes shut and secretly hoped that your daughter had just received an award or anything.

"I'm sincerely sorry for calling in such a hurry, but Zoe just collapsed in the lunchroom and had a seizure. It was only a short seizure, but we called an ambulance, and they want to take Zoe to the hospital," the woman explained urgently.

Meanwhile, your entire world collapsed around you. All you could see was your precious daughter lying alone on the floor, out of reach and helpless.

You jumped out of your seat, stumbled back, and gazed blankly in front of you, tears streaming down your cheeks. "Is she awake? Oh my goodness一 Is she speaking?" You stutter aggressively your palms sweating and your brain spinning dizzily. You had to get to her immediately away. Your daughter needed you.

"She is conscious and communicating with the paramedics, but they really want to take her to the hospital. Mrs Harris are you going to be able to meet them there?" The woman soon answered.

You sprung into action right away, pushing yourself from the wall and snatching your coat, attempting to tuck your arms into the sleeves while juggling the phone. "I'm leaving now. Where are they taking her?" As the panic fell in, you questioned, tears welling up in your eyes.

You hung up after the woman from Zoe's school told you which hospital she was being transported to, throwing your phone back into your bag and staring up at Sherlock with hazy eyes. "I'm really sorry, but I need to go," you said rashly, fighting back tears and shaking hands as you put on your coat and pulled your purse from your bag. "I just gotta go now."

"What happened?" He asked quietly, reaching out to place a soft hand on your arm.

"I just need to get to the hospital," you answered blankly, not even reacting to his touch as you tossed down some money for lunch and began to gather your belongings. "I'm sorry, but I have to go. Zoe needs me right now."

When you tried to move away, Sherlock stood beside you and drew you back. He forced you to stare directly at him with both hands on your shoulders, and it shattered your heart because all you could see were the little pieces of him that your daughter had inherited. "There's no way you can drive like this," he said severely as your eyes welled up with tears. This was a waste of time when you should have been with your daughter. “Did the school call Zoe’s parents?”

And then the dam broke.

"I am Zoe's parent," you cursed back, your cheeks flushed with heated tears. Your breathing grew shallow and rapid, and you could feel panic setting in. Everything had taken place at the same time, and you couldn't process anything because all you could think about was getting to Zoe. "She's my little girl, and I need to go to the hospital to be with her," you sobbed, your knees trembling beneath you.

Sherlock stared at you in bewilderment. "Is Z-Zoe your daughter?" He stammered, showing an expression filled with complete and utter disbelief on his face. And you didn't give any thought to anything. You would later, Sherlock, however knowing you had a daughter didn't important right now.

"Yes, she had had a seizure, and I need to get to the hospital," you responded, tugging yourself loose of his grasp and fumbling ahead of the tables towards the entrance.

"Y/N, wait, wait. You can't drive like this," he claimed behind you, and you felt his grasp tighten around yours. His contact made you pause for a second, keeping you in the café's entryway. "Let me drive you to the hospital," he begged softly, his enchanting eyes asking you to listen to him.

Snivelling back more tears, you accepted and let him lead you out of the café and down the street to where your car was parked. You throw the key, and he immediately opens the door and helps you inside before sprinting around to the other side and sliding into the driver's seat.

Without saying anything, he started the car and pulled out onto the road.

You looked out the window, watching the world go about its business, while your heart ached to hold your precious little one in your arms, to see her beautiful face and know she was safe. Fresh hot tears streamed down your cheeks, only to be brushed away by the back of your palm. You needed to gather yourself before going to the hospital.

"Thank you," you say quietly to Sherlock, understanding he was correct when he stated you wouldn't be able to drive. Your hands were trembling uncontrollably from anxiousness.

He didn't say anything in return; he simply reached over and wrapped his long fingers around your hand, reassuringly squeezing to let you know he was there for you.

As soon as you arrived at the hospital, you leapt out of the car and left Sherlock behind, dashing into the large stone building and rushing to the front desk, virtually shouting your daughter's name at the receptionist. "She had a seizure at school and the paramedics said they'd be bringing her here," you stated frantically, watching as the young woman behind the counter began typing on her computer.

Sherlock caught up to you after a couple of seconds. "Have they told you anything?" He asked, concerned, as the receptionist answered the phone and talked gently down the handset. You were fairly certain you heard Zoe's name spoken.

Shaking your head, you took a shaky breath and shifted slightly into Sherlock's body, putting your head on his shoulder to hide the tears that threatened to flow again. You promised yourself that you would be strong for Zoe.

The receptionist hung up and looked up at you. "Your daughter is in A&E waiting to be taken for an MRI scan," she stated calmly as she stood up from her desk. "If you go down that corridor, you'll see signs that will direct you to the department," she continued, bending across her files to gesture in the right direction.

"Let's go," Sherlock encouraged, slipping his arm around your waist and leading you down the corridor, his palms on your back comforting you. You opened your lips to tell him he didn't have to stay, but you forgot he was your closest friend and was frighteningly familiar with you. "And, yes, I'm staying. I want to be there for you."

You wanted to argue, but your want to see Zoe right away, so you didn't.

A nurse led you in the direction of Zoe's cubicle at the A&E department. Sherlock promised to wait outside as you ducked under the curtain and finally saw your daughter.

Zoe’s eyes brightened up as she spotted you, and relief swept over you like a tidal wave. "Mummy!" she exclaimed, breaking down in sobs and sitting up straight, arms reached for you.

You went forward, scooping her up into your arms, putting her little head under your chin and stroking your fingers over her soft hair while she wailed fiercely. "It's all right, little one. Mummy's here now," you said quietly, swaying from side to side and gradually calming her down.

"I don't feel very well, mummy," she wailed, her tiny little arms clinging to your body.

You squeezed her even tighter and sprinkled small kisses on the top of her head. "I know, but you're in the best place. The doctors here will make you feel better," you reassured her, bending back to examine her face and wipe the tears from her puffy eyes.

"That's definitely the plan," someone from behind you said, making you jump. "You must be Zoe's mother, I'm Doctor Jonathan," he said, stretching out his hand for you to shake.

"Is she all right? Can you tell me what caused the seizure?" You burst out hastily, barraging the poor doctor with new questions before he could answer the prior ones.

He smiled at you while holding his hands up. "We don't know what caused her seizure, but we're running tests right now. In a few minutes, some nurses will arrive to take little Zoe up for an MRI scan, and hopefully once we get some results back, we'll know what's wrong and how we can make this brave little girl all better," Doctor stated thoroughly, assuaging your fears and calming Zoe's sobbing.

"Thank you, doctor," you said with a brief bow, glancing down at Zoe and kissing her again in the centre of her forehead.

"Will Mummy be able to stay with me when I go to the MR thingy?" Zoe questioned quietly, her bottom lip sticking out as it often did when she cried.

"She can go into the room with you, but when they turn on the machine, she'll have to wait outside." Zoe, judging by the pout on her lips, didn't like the sound of that.

You pushed back her hair and tucked any stray strands behind her ears. "You'll just have to show mummy what a brave little girl you are, alright, Zozo?"

She hesitantly agreed and pushed herself back into your lap, buried her face in your jumper and clutching you tightly.

The doctor quietly left, and you concentrated on getting Zoe back into bed while you could still convince her of everything. Soon after, the nurses arrived and prepared her to be transported for her scan. You assisted her in changing out of her school uniform and into the hospital gown, holding her hand tightly as they threw back the curtains of her small cubicle.

Sherlock was still outside, leaning awkwardly against the wall, clutching your belongings. "Hi, little Zoe," he whispered quietly as he walked to the other side of the bed and smiled at her.

Zoe just looked up at you, a puzzled expression on her face. "Before your school called, I was having lunch with your Uncle Detective. He drove me here," you said hastily, gesturing to the nurses who then began to move her. You and Sherlock strolled side by side beside the bed, your hand never leaving your daughter's.

"Is Grandpa Johnny here, too?" She asked, her eyes shining with excitement.

"No, but if you're a brave little girl, you can call him after the scan," he said, catching your gaze and smiling at you.

His comments, though, appeared to be effective. Zoe was incredibly brave and walked into the MRI machine without sobbing, despite her obvious fear. You kissed her on the forehead as you saw them fix her head in the small vice that would keep her head in place, then waved farewell, vowing to meet her outside.

When you left the room, Sherlock was already sitting on a pair of plastic chairs outdoors. You slumped into the seat next to him, fatigued and sighed wearily.

"So, you're a mother?" Sherlock whistled impatiently.

“Yes.” You were too exhausted to elaborate, especially given where this line of questions could lead him.

He blew a small breath and stretched his arms out in front of him. "Why didn't you tell me earlier? How come you lied at the mall?" He kept going, and you could feel his gaze on your face.

You buried your face in your hands and rubbed your eyes. "It's complicated, Sherlock," you whispered, standing up in your seat as a nurse approached you with a clipboard.

"We don't have a full medical record for Zoe, so if you could fill this out as best you can and return it to us, that would be most appreciated," the nurse remarked kindly, handing you a clipboard and a pen and leaving you to it.

While you filled out Zoe's full name and date of birth, Sherlock asked the question you had silently hoped he would just skim over.

“Who is Zoe’s father?”

Your stomach stiffened and you immediately felt nauseous, rendering you shut your mouth for a long moment. You didn't know what to say to him. You didn't mean for him to find out that Zoe was your daughter today!

You read over the details they already had on Zoe, ticking the correct information and amending the wrong. You didn't have to look at Sherlock when you told him your darkest secret this way. "It was just a random guy. He's not in the picture," you explained gently, skipping the box on paternal information and leaving it blank.

"Who then?" He persisted, reluctant to let the topic go.

You focused your attention on the form. If you looked up, you'd see his lovely aquamarine eyes and melt beneath his gaze, and you'd probably divulge everything to him. "You won't know him, Sherlock, just leave it alone," you snapped, anxiously chewing on your bottom lip.

"Just give me a name," he said, grabbing the clipboard from under yours and step out of your grasp. You gazed up at him with expectation, only to see him frown. "It's blank."

"I told you to leave it alone," you responded with rage, rising to your feet and reaching for your clipboard.

Sherlock took another step away from you, his hand raised. "Wait a minute," he said, meticulously reviewing the form on the clipboard. "It says Zoe's birthday is September 21st, 2006, so fast forward nine months... Who were you with at the start of that year?"

Oh no…

“Sherlock, it doesn’t matter!”

"You weren't dating anyone that year," he said, plainly thinking aloud.

Oh, no, please… His sharp mind was so close to figuring it correctly. You wanted to say anything, anything to keep him from seeking out the secret, but your thoughts went blank.

"That was the year we..." The clipboard clattered on the floor as he realised what was going on. He moved his eyes between you and the door where Zoe was getting her MRI, his lips slightly open. "I-I-I'm her father?" He stuttered, looking at him gripping the wall for support.

"一I, yeah. I'm so sorry Sherlock. I didn't mean for any of this to happen," you hastily informed him, your gut knotted with guilt and remorse.

Sherlock raked his fingers through his hair as he paced the length of the corridor. “What? You didn't mean to get pregnant or for me to find out! How long were you going to keep fooling me?" He shouted back fiercely, flinging his fist on the wall with the kind of venom that was unusual for your best friend.

"I'm sorry," you said slowly, attempting to keep yourself together when all you wanted to do was break apart.

He shook his head, slowly backing up with his hands in his hair. "I can't do it. 一I can't be here right now," he grumbled, turning on his heels and fleeing up the corridor.

You collapsing as a new batch of tears soiled your cheeks. You didn't want to end things like way, especially because Zoe was about to walk out of her scan and expect him to be waiting for her. He made a promise to your little girl.

“Fuck it.” Wiped your tears away and picked up the clipboard from the floor, not wanting Zoe to come out and see you in a state. While filling out the rest of the form, you fought back tears and tried to suppress your feelings. It was not the time to cope with your grief.

Zoe was pushed out of her bed after five minutes of silence, her face brightening when she spotted you and frowning when she saw you were alone. "Where did Uncle Detective go?" She asked with glittering eyes.

As you returned to your seat at the head of Zoe's bed, you swallowed past the knot in your throat and tried to smile. "He had to leave for something important, but he promised he'd try and visit later if he could," you lied to her, squeezing her tiny hand.

What was one more lie in the midst of the shambles you'd created?

tag: @bunny-skz00 @zen003xx @cemak

#bbc Sherlock #bbc sherlock x you #bbc sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock imagine #Sherlock #sherlock x reader #sherlock x you #sherlock x y/n #sherlock imagine #Sherlock Holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes imagine #sherlock holmes x you

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imagineacoolusername · 7 months

Text

SIX SOMETHING SUNDAY

hi hello!! i hope you're having a wonderful day!

biggest thank you ever to everyone who tagged me in the past like three months even though i had nothing to share, i hope you know i appreciate the fuck out of you and love you forever <3

i've barely written anything lately, just not in the mood for it i guess, but i did do some fun things that i want to share!

please excuse the shitty quality, my phone's camera sucks

1. so first is this cute little candle holder that i made in like mid july. i'm quite proud of how it turned out, to be honest, although i got quite frustrated when making it. also, i accidentally dropped it the other day and now it's cracked :(

2. this i made with the leftover clay i had. i also made a flower shaped incense holder but that turned out ugly so i won't be showing you that lol

3. this was the first time i painted on a canvas, made me feel like an artist lol. though while i was making it, i hated every single thing about it and wanted to just tear it apart. now that it's finished and hanging on my wall, i like it

4. sun and moon!!

5. i was bored the other day and decided to paint my mug. i didn't have anything to seal the paint with though, so now i have to be very careful when i wash it so as not to wash the paint off

6. i randomly got the urge to learn how to knit last week, so after watching a video i decided i was all set and started knitting a scarf. after three failed attempts, i made this first one, but it was really thin so i started making the other one, which is 25 stitches wide, almost three times the first one. it's super soft though

tags and hugs: @artsyunderstudy @blackberrysummerblog @larkral @valeffelees @prettygoododds @captain-aralias @mysterioussheep @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @ileadacharmedlife @thewholelemon @iamamythologicalcreature @martsonmars @hushed-chorus @raenestee @ic3-que3n @bugboyremus @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @nausikaaa @onepintobean @supercutedinosaurs @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @cutestkilla @lesbianmckinnonn @alexalexinii @whogaveyoupermission @enbysiriusblack @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @facewithoutheart @ebbpettier @orange-peony @confused-bi-queer @letraspal @shrekgogurt @ionlydrinkhotwater @stardustasincocaine <33

#six sentence sunday #well kinda

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darklydeliciousdesires · 8 months

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Lost & Found - Chapter Twelve.

Thank you so much to everyone for your reads, reblogs and reviews. I appreciate you hugely :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven

Words - 3,465

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, Minors DNI. Recounts of kidnap, child trafficking, physical/verbal/sexual abuse.

“You okay?”

She took a moment to assess that, pulling the helmet from her head as she looked over at the clubhouse. “I think so.”

Guero slid an arm around her waist, kissing her cheek. “Just remember, everyone here is a friend. Nobody wants to hurt you.”

“It isn’t that,” she quickly corrected, fluffing her hair as she let out a long breath. “It’s just the last time I came here, I was still so scared and bent out of shape. I hate the term triggering, but that’s kind of what it is.”

He could understand that stance. The clubhouse was home from home to him, but for Emma, it symbolised a time she was desperately trying to move forward from, being so distrusting and suspicious of the new place and everybody within it, all bar him. And maybe one other person.

“Tell you what, we gotta head in now, but I know EZ will want you to confirm everything I’ll go in there and tell him. You wait with Lee, and I’ll come get you when we’re done.” It was Monday, Guero calling EZ on Saturday night and informing him he had something to bring to the table, his president telling him he’d schedule something for Monday. It was a lot easier for communications if the guys didn’t all have raging hangovers, as was the norm for a Sunday.

She nodded, receiving a kiss from him before he pointed her in the direction of the workshop, Emma walking over, looking all around as she did. It was much bigger than she’d noticed when there in the darkened early hours of the morning, bits of bikes littering the immediate space around the workshop. It was very in place with the haphazard collection of scrap that walled their surroundings.

“Oil hose, we ain’t buddies. Why’d the fuck do you keep leaking, you’re brand new!” she heard Lee muttering, coming to a stop and clearing her throat. “Emma! How you doin’, how’s it going, you good?”

She smiled at her chirp. “Yeah, yeah I’m good. Or at least better than when you last saw me.”

“I’ll fuckin’ say!” she snorted, clamping off the hose and shaking her head, giving it the double middle finger salute, standing to wipe her dirty hands on a rag. “You look great, sugar. Put on a couple of much needed pounds, I see. You were kinda scary skinny when we met.”

She remembered back to the shocking sight of herself in the bathroom mirror, nodding as she fiddled with her hair. “Yeah, I was. I never want to see a protein bar again, or I’ll barf. It’s what I survived on in the container.”

Lee snorted softly, raising her eyebrows. “I can see why. If nothing else than they taste fuckin’ awful. My old man snacks on ‘em and I can’t bear the damned things. Taste vile, like dried dough, stale cookies, man!” She paused for a second, looking between Emma and the bike she was working on, feeling awkward.

It was entirely mutual.

They had shared a personal experience together, Lee being the person Emma had trusted enough in a state of fear and anxiety to look after her, yet not knowing one another at all. The elephant in the room that was Emma’s arrival in her life also made it difficult, Lee knowing she was tiptoeing around blurting out that very question. She curbed her usual bluntness, though.

“Cut looks like it’s healed nicely,” she finally spoke, Emma approaching the bike she was working on, wondering how anyone kept it on two wheels. It was enormous, reminding her of one her dad had when she was five.

She thumbed her head, nodding. “Yeah, it did. Guero took the stitches out for me last night as they were starting to come undone and push out.” Lee resisted the urge to say that a biker with a cute smile and a steady hand could have still ballsed it up easily, noting it wasn’t a necessary observation when he’d done a good job, Emma continuing. “Do you want a hand with anything?”

“Nah, don’t want you to ruin your dress, sunshine,” she replied, waving her hand casually.

Emma smirked, looking down at the beige, pink and blue flowery dress she had on with her new (to her) cowboy boots she’d bought from a thrift store a few days back. “It only cost a couple a’ five bucks, it’s not irreplicable. I need to get to buying some better clothes, actually. Guero has a limit of twenty minutes with being taken shopping before he gets bored, so I don’t want to torture him.”

A couple a’ five bucks, Lee recognised that syntax instantly. New Jersey, although Emma didn’t have the accent at all. She’d served with troops who hailed from the garden state, and they used the same speech patterns. “He’s just like Obispo.” A slight twitch of her eye confirmed that it was a name she hadn’t heard. “That’s Bishop’s actual name.”

“Ahh.”

“Yeah, so me being somewhat of a loner where girlfriends are concerned, I just go by myself to circumvent the fuckin’ sour face and frowning,” she snorted, once again trying the hose only for oil to come dripping out. “Fuck’s sake! Fuckin’ thing! Complete bastard!” she fumed. “So yeah, if you ever wanna come with me, I’d love the company.”

“I’d really like that. Thanks, Lee,” she smiled, looking down at the oil stopped dripping, Lee clamping the hose off once more. Her eyes took a little tour over the drips, noticing something that perhaps the pretty lady mechanic might’ve missed. “Here, the sealing washer has dropped out. That’s why it’s leaking.”

Lee rolled her eyes. “Well, I’ll be fuckin’ bent over and poked up the butt with a ten-inch cock!” she exclaimed, Emma snort laughing at her expression, remembering back to the afternoon before where she’d received just that. She wasn’t sure Guero’s cock was quite that long, but it couldn’t be too far off. “Thanks, sugar. That’s a good eye you have, especially knowing what it was. Alrighty, let’s get it back on the hose.”

“My dad used to do up old bikes. Some he kept; most he sold on. I’d sit in his garage and help him, so I picked stuff up,” she explained, Lee nodding as she listened, refitting the hose with its sealing washer back in and unclamping it. No drips.

“Yes! Gimme some knucks!” She held her fist out, Emma bumping hers against it with a smile. “I might have to take you up on your offer to help me out. I just got rid of my last guy; he became too preoccupied with the idea of joining the MC.”

“Oh, was it Bottles?” she asked curiously, Lee shaking her head.

“Nah. He was a guy they wouldn’t even consider. Didn’t have the mettle, and you fuckin’ gotta have balls to live in this life.” Emma could well imagine. It was the same as people willingly wanting to join the life she’d left behind. Entrenched in the world of the mafia, only the strong survived. Was she strong, she wondered, or just lucky? She’d gotten out alive but not unscathed, so perhaps a little of both.

“Sounds like what I’m used to,” she replied quietly, picking a crumb of mud from the bike’s exhaust pipe. They fell into an uncomfortable silence, Lee chewing the inside of her cheek as she looked between Emma and the Harley a few times. “You want to ask me about it, don’t you?”

She did. It had been itching at her curiosity, but she didn’t want to be insensitive. “Yeah, but only if that’s cool with you. You can tell me I’m being a nosey ole’ bag if you like, I don’t mind. I mean shit, I dunno if you’ve even fuckin’ said anything to Guero yet. Yeah, yeah ignore me, pay no mind, I’ll shut up.” She made an annoyed noise in her throat, shaking her head of wild, blonde waves. “Poor chick walked up to your fuckin’ workshop all of ten minutes ago and you’re expecting her to spill!”

Emma sensed a very good person within Lee, someone she could perhaps come to call friend. “It’s okay, I’ll tell you. You got a seat?”

Two old beer bottle crates were proffered forth, Lee pulling out her cigarettes and lighting up, offering the pack to Emma as they sat down. “Don’t smoke, but thanks. So yeah, I was in that container because I ran away from Rocco Lombardi, who’d been holding me prisoner for nineteen years.”

She went into her explanation, not quite as detailed as the one she’d given Guero, but all the same, it contained enough details to make Lee’s jaw drop in absolute horror at several points throughout. By the time she was finished, the woman at her side sat with her hands clasped over her mouth, shaking her head.

“Fuck.”

“Sums it up nicely, huh?”

“Fuck!” She dropped her hands in her lap, scoffing in disbelief, her eyes bewildered. “I’m not a hugger, I really ain’t, but Christ, sugar.” Emma felt herself pulled into slender, tattooed arms, Lee stroking her back as she held her. “You’re so brave, enduring all that. Fuckin’ fuck, no wonder you were that way when you first arrived here!”

She shrugged a little, chewing her thumb as they parted. “I don’t know if I’d call it brave entirely. I kind of froze myself to it, accepted my fate. Like I said too, Marie made it better. At least I had her, but it’s still kicking me in the ass, that I abandoned her.”

“I understand,” Lee nodded, shaking herself suddenly. “Well no, I don’t, but I get what you mean. Listen, babe, you couldn’t stay for her. She might’ve been mom to you, but you know you didn’t fuckin’ belong there, and what’s more so did she. I bet she completely understands.”

“Unless she’s worried out of her mind that Rocco offed me and my body got dumped into the sea or similar.”

“Why not reach out to her? I can bet as soon as Marie reads that message, she’ll be smart enough to delete it. But like, don’t let me dictate. If you wanna just vanish it’s up to you, your call, you make the decision.”

Emma continued chewing her thumb for a few moments, weighing it up. “I think I might, you know. Think I might. Her and the kids are literally the only things I miss.”

“At least you’d be able to let her know you’re alright before you move on,” Lee smiled thinly, folding her arms on her thighs and resting her head down. She was tired. Not that she didn’t love her husband to his very bones, but she did wish his horny time wasn’t between one and three in the morning. “About that, though. How will it sit with you, knowing of course that the club deals with the very man you escaped? I mean whatever it is that’s bloomed between you and pretty boy specifically.”

Of course, it had played on her mind, being right there in the midst of Rocco’s drug runners ever since she arrived. Since things had turned up a gear between her and Guero, though, she’d been too dizzy with happiness to think more on it. Lee’s question was valid, though. “I knew exactly who and what Guero was from the first second I saw him, a member of the MC who ran drugs for Rocco. I’m fine with it. I know it happens, I might’ve come here all shaky and wide eyed, but I’m not a naïve woman.

“Living in the world I did for so long; I know the deal. I just have to hope that he never comes to visit unexpectedly, but why would he? As long as the guys continue to keep on running his heroin over the border and up to the docks, he won’t have to move his ass to oversee anything.”

Thinking on her words, Lee had to admit that it made perfect sense, such a standpoint. She’d survived in a world steeped in organised crime; she’d acclimatise perfectly to being involved with an outlaw. With a few layers of her trauma peeled back, it was clear that Emma was intelligent, sensible and strong. Probably a lot stronger than she realised.

“Well, here’s fuckin’ hoping he stays up on his Staten Island throne, huh?” Just then they were disturbed by the approach of the one Lee had referred to as pretty boy, Emma’s face lighting up. Lee side eyed her with a little knowing grin. She remembered that face, back when she’d begun dating Bishop, often catching her reflection and trying to dial it back. Such had never been attainable. She loved him way too much.

“Can I steal my girl?”

Emma thought her heart was about to thump clean out of her chest, hearing him call her that. Lee’s reply was the perfect antidote to her falling too far into enamoured dizziness, though.

“No, she’s mine now, you can’t have her back! I need her, she has good eyes for things I apparently miss, like fuckin’ sealing washers.”

Guero cocked his head, looking entertained. “If you actually wore your glasses on your face rather than your head, you’d miss a lot less.”

“Bah!” she dismissed, standing up and lighting herself another cigarette. “They make me look old!”

“That’s because you are old.”

Oh, his smart mouth. How it’d be his downfall. “You know it’s never, ever wise to anger a woman who can tamper with your brake lines and make it look like a manufacturing fault, don’t you, Ortiz?”

His eyebrows fluttered, his grin widening. “I’ll make sure I never do, then.”

Her lips tightened, her eyes narrowing as he laughed. “Fuckin’ smart ass. Get outta here!”

“I was going anyway.” He received a soft elbow from Emma as they began to walk, calling over her shoulder to Lee that she’d see her later. Walking back over to the clubhouse, he could feel Emma’s body beginning to tense at his side, placing a splayed hand across her lower back. “S’okay, mamas. You’re not gonna have a big audience, just EZ and Bish.”

Those words reassured her, Guero opening the door and gesturing with his hand, Emma entering the clubhouse. The sound of laughing as pool balls clicked and music she recognised as Motorhead (one of Guero’s favourite bands) filtering from the speakers filled the space, the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke just as strong as she’d remembered. God, she could really go to town on cleaning the place, she thought, being steered to her right.

There at a table sat EZ and Bishop, the former standing with a wide smile. “Well, well. You look a hell of a lot better than you did two weeks ago, sweetheart.” He reached to pat her arm gently, gesturing to the couch opposite where he and the president were sitting.

He could see the nervousness flickering in her eyes still, of course knowing she wasn’t out of the woods from her ordeal just yet. It’d take a long time, but the improvement she had made was noticeable. She stood a little taller, looked much less anxious even though it of course was still just under the surface with her.

She moved to take a seat, jumping a little when Gilly loudly celebrated his potting of a ball over at the pool table, her stiffened body relaxing a fraction when Guero took his place at her side.

“Good to see you looking less spooked, Emma,” EZ acknowledged with a nod and a wide smile. “Again, I apologise for my actions when we first met.” She wasn’t convinced that the apology was at all genuine, something about him giving her a feeling of unease. “Alright, tell us what you know about this alleged trafficking you think we’re gonna be propositioned to get involved with.”

As if speaking of Marie earlier to Lee had invoked a little of her courage, Emma’s reply was forthright and crisp. “There’s nothing alleged about it. They’ve been dabbling in it for nearly twenty years, snatching children from the arms of their parents, but in recent times they’ve become much shrewder. Runaways, young kids on the streets, those who won’t be so easily noticed as missing, like I was.”

“And you heard him say in as many words that he planned to begin bringing undocumented kids over?” Bishop asked, his eyes narrowing at the very thought of any other children facing what Emma had suffered. Guero hadn’t gone into huge amounts of detail, but what he had shared with them, it’d been bad enough.

She scoffed a little, cocking her head with a shy smile as she tucked her hair behind her ear. “He was never stupid enough to say it in as many words, but I got to know his lingo, his code phrases. Tiny consignment meant kids, and when he called meetings at his home, usually under the guise of an innocent guy's night playing poker, I’d overhear. It was always his intention to begin running the tiny consignment along with golden brown. You’ll get the reference if you’re familiar with the song by The Stranglers.” Of course, she meant the heroin, the song long thought to either be about a girl of Mediterranean heritage, or the pleasure of the narcotic.

Both men nodded, Emma continuing. “I have no idea when he’s going to put his proposition to you, I’m afraid I can’t be helpful there. At a guess I’d say a while, though. He probably wants to ensure the runs you’re making for him continue to go smoothly before you’ll be expected to begin trafficking children, too. Just know that he will, and if you don’t comply, well.” She paused, gulping. If they didn’t, they’d all be dead, and she’d be back on Staten Island. “I don’t have to spell it out for any of you.”

“I guess we play the waiting game. Moving heroin is one thing, trafficking kids? We aren’t about that,” EZ spoke, exchanging a glance with Bishop.

He began nodding, scratching his beard. This was what he’d been waiting for ever since their first meet with Lombardi up in Vegas. Here it was, the other shoe. “Emma, we appreciate your information. If there’s anything we can do for you, just say the word.”

“There is, actually. I need access to a doctor, but I can’t use my real identity. He’ll be looking for me, and while reason dictates that if he had any clue where I was at all, he’d have found me by now, I want to remain vanished. I don’t know what that’ll look like long term, but I do know that right now I need help from a doctor off the books. Do you guys know of anyone?”

“I do,” EZ confirmed, “I’ll give him a call and get back to you on it. He can be discreet for a price.”

She nodded, feeling relieved. “Thank you. One more thing. Can I borrow a prepay, please? Not one you contact Rocco on?”

Bishop rose from his seat, going behind the bar and shuffling around, coming back with an old Samsung flip phone and handing it over. “Thanks again, baby. Don’t worry about him either, we ain’t gonna advertise that you’re here to nobody. You’re safe with us.”

She thanked him, taking the phone and flipping it open. Taking a few moments, wondering how to word her message, she rested her hand to Guero’s thigh as Bishop and EZ walked away, placing the phone in her lap and beginning to chew her thumb...

Marie was cleaning down the counters in the kitchen of her beautiful mansion when her phone dinged, reaching a well-manicured hand across to grab where she’d placed it out of the way in a large, ornate fruit bowl. Opening the message, her eyes widened.

Safe. Pinky swear. Love you all the world, mom xxx

“Oh, Mother Mary!” she sobbed, a hand flying to her mouth as her knees buckled, taking her to the floor as she cried tears of pure relief. Pinky swear, love you all the world. Only one other person knew it was their thing, and that was the little girl she’d raised into the young woman she thought of as her own. And she was safe. At last.

Love you too, Emsy. Will love you forever. Don’t you ever come back. It’s your time to live. I’m so proud of you xxx

Pressing send, she immediately deleted all evidence of the messages, while over two thousand miles away, her daughter by love rather than blood sobbed in the arms of her boyfriend after reading her reply.

#guero mayans mc #guero mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc fanfiction #guero fanfiction #guero x ofc #guero smut #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic #mayans mc season 5

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