#Bondurant brothers

[namedforvalor]

Me after watching Lawless: Nothing in this world could make me love Forrest Bondurant more

Me after finishing the book: So that was a fucking lie

[angel-inked]

Don't lose sleep over it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

TH Characters and Crochet

TH Masterlist

This concept was prompted by my new hobby and led to some very interesting (and, in my opinion, good) plot points. Henceforth, I might turn some of these wee ideas into full-fledged one-shots. For now, though, enjoy!

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

Tommy Conlon

The art of crochet is an absolute mystery to him. Nevertheless, though he won’t admit it plainly since he’s been raised and trained to keep his emotions in check, he absolutely loves and adores the husky you made him.

It had been another fretful night, one that leaves you alone in the bed and him either wandering about the beach nearby or leads to a night of training at the boxing school. Either way, Tommy shut you out yet again, refusing to show you even a glimpse of the chaos he carries with him.

Later that day, the short night was followed by an equally as plagued nap. It's that he woke up before it was too late, but otherwise he'd have fallen off of the sofa and face planted into the soft carpet (which you had bought after the one time that actually did happen). Now, it’s his snuggle buddy and you’ve noticed it’s helped with the nightmares caused by his PTSD. So nowadays the silence when you come home after work is laced by soft snoring, an oddly comforting sound that stems from the most heartwarming sight.

Tommy, tightly holding on to his husky as he snuggles it. His ear phones are connected to his laptop, an ASMR video with rain sounds displayed on the screen.

Perfectly content.

At rest.

Alfie Solomons

You were already magical in his eyes, but the fact you can create stuff out of yarn makes you even more so. He still thinks your hooks look uncannily like embalming tools, but he adores the scarf you made him. He wears it whenever he can, loving the texture as well as your scent.

Alfie proudly promotes your stuff wherever he goes and helps you set up at markets. He’d like for you to do only markets in Margate and Camden so he can keep a close eye on you. However, should it be anywhere else, rest assured he’ll hang around the area and make sure you eat and drink properly. He’ll literally pop by a Prêt-A-Manger to buy lunch and deliver it to you or, as is more often the case, pull you away from your stall so you two can sit down in a coffee shop or restaurant together.

He loves it whenever you text him to provide him with photos of a new project you completed. Lastly, Alfie also always asks what you’re working on.

Forrest Bondurant

He’s actually the one who taught you how to crochet (and secretly adored how shyly you asked him to teach you). He’s a stern teacher, but a good one. Forrest is a man of many hidden talents (like baking, he makes a mean apple pie). Then again, so is his brother Howard, who is great at knitting. Jack, on the other hand, has skipped out on the creative gene though he’s been trying to teach himself how to sew.

Forrest and you do markets together. However, he mostly does the general set-up while you busy yourself with the customers. Because even though he’s very business savvy, the quiet force behind Little Moonshiners (specialized in the cutest handmade stuffies) is in fact a social disaster.

He does like talking to you, though.

(And has made you a custom wolf stuffie, which has become your all-time favourite)

Eddie Brock

Eddie and Venom alike love the stuffies you make, but V thinks his host sometimes takes his support of your hobby a bit too far. Recently, he’s asked you to teach him and ever since you’ve been trying to figure it out together. Eddie seems to finally have the basic stitches down while Venom is bordering on giving up. Not even reading the body language of his host makes him understand crochet. So he’s now your ultimate yarn spinner.

Eddie, on the other hand, has become a little competitive. Though he tries to be inconspicuous, you occasionally catch him glancing your way in an attempt to estimate whether your way of crocheting a certain project is more efficient and neater than his. To this extent, he proposes to try a new pattern together (and compare the results).

He does admit, without a second’s doubt, you’re the queen of plushies.

Eddie loves the journaling aspect of it too. He keeps a neat and very minimalist journal. Well, he tries to be minimalist and objective (as his work has taught him to be), but often finds himself writing about you, pondering your opinion on his works.

And Venom loves to tease him about said entries by mentioning them to you.

Farrier

He’s loath to admit it, but he can’t help but think of his Nan whenever he sees you crochet. The confession almost slipped out when you gave him a cream coloured crocheted turtleneck sweater for Christmas, the reason you puzzled him with taking measurements three months earlier. And it’s this turtleneck he wears quite often and takes with him whenever he’s sent abroad.

Because your scent lingers in it, mixed with his.

Because it’s a piece of home.

It’s you when you aren’t there.

And it’s the only thing that’ll prevent him from crying when he's so far from home it feels like his heart is torn apart at the seams.

Reggie Kray

Reggie loves to watch you work. He doesn’t need to understand it, finding perfect contentment in seeing you absolutely absorbed in your projects. He’s simply happy to plop you in his lap and rest his head on your shoulder, though that does little to help you focus on the pattern or the tutorial you’re watching.

He gives the best hand massages too! Whether you asked for one or not, Reggie will give you one regardless after you’ve put the hook down for the time being. Sometimes he even stops you after a certain period of time, knowing how your tight grip can cause your hand to cramp after carefully observing you for a while.

Although he does not say it whenever the topic comes up, he will blatantly admit when riled up enough that part of the reason he wants out of the gangster life is to permanently give you the peace and quiet that surrounds you whenever you crochet.

And stills his inner storm.

Also, have a wee treasure I accidentally found😉

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Car, Confession and a kiss

Cricket Pate x fem!reader

warning : flirting, fluff, kissing

Summary : A sweet mechanic and a young teacher for orphans two humans that needed just one glance at eachother and their hearts were beating the same. So what if they just needed a little push in the right direction to finally talk...or have more?

Info : So I did it finally worte for sweet boy Cricket after watching this amazing movie a few weeks ago with my parents actualy and he was my fav. So everyone have fun reading and maybe we can get the movie and it's character back to life

(gif from @scuddish )

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since the spiritual one had started with the Bondurant brothers, she knew that he was watching her. That the cross that lay on her chest moved with every step she took as she helped Maggie wipe the tables, even if the younger one was more of a teacher of mathematics. Because it had called for a job, why not help out in a pub with a new home?

But this young man was only a year younger than her. The warm smile, the tangled blond-brown hair, the thin yet somehow slightly starchy body peeking out of the car. How did it come about that the sinful noises could no longer be ignored? Her fingers closed around the cross as her own thoughts wandered.

Thoughts that were full of darkness and yet, ,,Oh Lord you have given body and soul not to sin and yet it is hard," she murmured the prayer as she thought back to her time in the convent, sent to this part of America where alcohol still flowed with criminals. But it was all the same because she helped the children, the brothers with the higher wages and helped where she could.

Living in a small town was something she had always wanted. Until she met the mechanic, moonshine brewer and technician Cricket on the ground. The sweet, somewhat shy young man was a good boy, she realized, who would do something to a fly.

,,Good day Ma'm welcome," he had greeted her, shaking her hand gently and making a surprised noise as the oil on his hand wetted hers. ,,Wait, sorry-I'm...wait," he had stammered as he had picked up a rag and soaked her hands. It was a sweet encounter that made the younger brother smile and the rest of the family shake their heads. But she had only taken a liking to this boy, perhaps a little too much.

But at night, when everyone was asleep, she had written assignments for the children for the next morning, made the final calculations for the illegal sale of her home-brewed spirits, slipped out of her dress, the soft fabric of her nightgown clinging to her body, and lay down in bed. When she heard him, she knew that even though he was far away from everyone, she could still hear him near the kettles and the cars.

His breathing slowly quickened, the panting from his lips but sin wra as she imagined it. Imagining his hair only more tangled, his head tucked into the pillow to block out the noise, his hands on his own body. It was a thought that aroused her own body, something she wanted to leave behind. So why not try to convert him into a devotee?

The morning then came across the farm, the saloon, the pub and the cars with the drivers, who were still burning the moonshine. It was the moment she came to him with her book, ,,Hello Cricket, tell me...would you like to look over the children's chores?" she asked him as she stood leaning against the barn.

The dark dress on her hung over the white undergarment, even though it was older and still relatively white, giving her body a certain amount of grace. Saw how he hadn't heard her looking up from the automobile which was old but still worked thanks to him.

The shirt hanging on him looked almost too tight, but the smile and the bright eyes. "Just sweet...like an angel, she thought and felt herself tightening her grip on the tasks. ,,Morning Ma'm, if you like I'd be happy to look over it" he replied, taking a few last steps before he came over to her and the two of them went into the parlor where Maggie was making some pancakes, the redhead a silent observer.

She sat down next to him and saw in the mirror that he was watching her as she took two drinks from Maggie.

His bright eyes wandered over her body with a slight smirk as if he was watching a kiss. ,,A beauty like from a museum in New York or something," she had heard him say once when he came home drunk with Jack.

At first she thought he meant someone else, but the way he described her, it could only be her, couldn't it? ,,Thanks," he mumbled, taking a sip before his eyes turned from her to the paper, recounting the numbers, and even though she knew she hadn't made a mistake, she needed an excuse to be with him.

He mumbled something to himself from time to time as if he were calculating aloud, his fingers playing with the pencil and he smiled at her, she realized it would only take a few minutes. ,,And how is it?" she asked, leaning a little towards him felt how her upper body lay lightly on his arm.

Felt his tension as he pointed to the individual tasks. ,,Well...I think it's good to give the smarty-pants a couple of tasks and the rest should be fine," he replied with a smile as she saw his pretty blue eyes dart from her own to her lips to the cross hanging between her breasts. ,,Thank you Cricket that makes me feel better" she replied giving him a sweet smile that made him blush.

But before silence fell between them, they both flinched as Maggie said from the table, ,,Cricket, take our dear teacher to the children's home in the city so you can see that the car works," she said, placing one of the glasses in the rack with the curtain hanging in the room and Cricket grinned broadly as his companion could barely hide her beating heart.

He rose hastily and reached her the paper, his hand going to hers in a gesture they had only touched a few times before.

But his warmth, that euphoria he had, made her smile, ,,Come on, you'll like it, we're as quick as lightning!" Cricket called and Maggie grinned as she saw the younger one rush out of the parlor, his limp on the wood making different sounds than his footsteps as he said, ,,Wait here, I'll fetch the car" and he disappeared into the barn to fetch the vehicle.

She looked at her hand and saw the light oil stain and felt the warmth, ,,You don't know how cute you are," she murmured and knew that Maggie knew. The two women had met several times at night to drink and talk about the things you couldn't talk about with men.

The sound of the engine pulled her out of her thoughts as he honked and she hurried over to him, sat down in the driver's seat, closed the small door and with a ,,Let's go!" he drove her out of the yard and onto the road leading to the city.

The scenery around her was beautiful, the wide open spaces, the trees hanging in the valley and even though it was a little bumpy, it was smooth as she watched Crickte. The wind that came through the slightly open windows played with his tangled hair.

There was a smile on his lips as he tested his overworking fast run fast ride. ,,That's unbelievable!" she exclaimed as he held her work pressed against him and couldn't help but laugh with him as it almost seemed to become a race. ,,I know we're going so damn fast!" he shouted and she could already see the city at the end of the road, it hadn't even been ten minutes and yet maybe that was the future the world had. Automobiles, fast automobiles.

But what did she know, she had more important things at the moment when Cricket stopped in front of the children's home, ,,Thank you, I'll be right back," and she gratefully put her hand on his and felt the tingling sensation before she got out of the car and went into the house.

She didn't see his cheeks turn pink and he mumbled ,,For you always" as he waited, did some shopping, looked at things in the stores and watched the car. Inside, she gave the children their assignments minutes passed and gave the teachers some more feedback, but her thoughts kept going back to Cricket. When she returned to the children and the others, she took some colorful pictures and went out with a loving look.

,,Seems like it was successful," he said, pointing at the colorful pictures but had turned away from her, ,,Yes All good?" she replied and put the leaves in the car as she walked over to him and saw something colorful behind his back. He turned to her and she suddenly saw a bunch of flowers that he was holding in his hands.

,,Cricket, I-" she began, wanting to say something, but afraid, but why? That he had heard her own sin? That he was lovingly asking her to leave? ,,No I-I would like to say something...or no I" he stammered a little but gently pressed the colorful flowers into her hand this time without oil stains as he usually kept his hands clean as he gently placed one of them on her shoulder.

,,I'd like to take you on a date...well, dinner tonight," he added, pointing to the dinner that was in the small town. She didn't know it was a complete luxury but the meat with the steamed vegetables was incredible. ,,Cricket I don't know-," she started again and smiled when he interrupted her nervously but she let him do it and reached for his hand.

,,Please, I've wanted it all the time and I don't know if you feel the same way," he continued to talk fast before she pulled him close and interrupted his talk with a kiss before he choked on his own breath. ,,I feel the same, believe me...I've felt it since the first time we met," she murmured to him as she broke away and kissed his pink cheeks again to reassure him, which made him nervous.

When wasn't it around her sweet little nervous cricket. He took her hand and led her to the door of the car, bowing playfully as he said, ,,Ma'm please," and held the door open for her. ,,Please accepted my dear" she replied and waited for him to start the car and feel her back.

The way back went all the quicker, her hand resting on his grin and he gave her a little kiss on the finger again and again. ,,Such a chameur," she murmured as they arrived back at the yard and she could see Maggie at the window watching them with a knowing smile. Cricket opened her door, let her out at the parlor and drove the car into the barn.

,,Oh and Cricket tonight...those lovely noises can you play them again?" she asked and gave him a wink he now knew she had heard him before he suddenly walked past her and with a ,,If you play with me" answered her and with a wink disappeared into the sound leaving his darling behind with a proud grin.

My sweet Cricket must have come out of his shell she thought and looked back at the colorful flowers in her hand before she also went back to her room and got ready for an evening no, a date with Cricket Pate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maybe you like it/wanna give it a read or just talk about him ? Is the Fandom even alive?

@somethingbitchyythiswaycomes , @starlightiing , @straysugzhpe

[hecatemoon87]

Mano a Mano: Tom Hardy Characters

Forrest Bondurant vs. Reggie Kray

This is just a fun game. I love all of Tom's characters!

Reggie: So you sell moonshine?

Forrest: Depends on who's askin'.

Reggie: Right...you don't know who I am, do you?

Forrest: Personally, I could give a shit.

Reggie: I'm a gangster, a pretty infamous one. You let me in on a take of your moonshine sales and I can triple your earnings, mate.

Forrest: Ain't no Bondurant gonna work for no limey. Not interested.

Reggie: Maybe you'll change your mind after me and my brother teach you a lesson, yeah?

Forrest: You got a brother? Well, I got two. Let's see who teaches who a lesson.

My personal opinion: I think Reggie and Ronnie would give Forrest a run for his money. Jack wouldn't be too useful, but Howard probably could match Ronnie's aggressiveness. Both Forrest and Reggie like their brass knuckles, don't they?

[mlmxreader]

Unwavering, Unshakeable | Forrest Bondurant x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Forrest Bondurant Hey 🖤!! May I please ask for a work using the following prompts for Forrest Bondurant X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader: "Do not let me die here" Thank you 🖤! 🐍anon

summary: after Forrest gets his throat slit, the only thing you can do is stay with him and make sure he makes it out of the woods.

tws: injury detail, mentions of attempted murder, swearing

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Forrest glared at you through only half open eyes, his jaw clenched and sweat dripping down his brow as he slowly, with great caution, allowed himself to wake up at last; he had been out for so long, but you supposed that losing that amount of blood would render just about anyone in the same state as he was.

You hadn’t moved from his side, even when his brothers tried to pull you away to get you to eat and sleep and bathe, you always refused to budge; they resorted to waiting until you sat down next to Forrest before pressing whatever food they could get into your hands, quietly demanding that you eat. You were going to make yourself sick, but you wouldn’t give up on Forrest so easily, you couldn’t.

When he woke up, looking at you dazed and worried, he let out a spluttering cough, and for once, you moved from his side to avoid the flying droplets of spit that left his lips. But you still smiled, relief flooding your veins more than anything, making your hands shake as you helped him to sit upright, swallowing thickly as you did your best not to immediately kiss him and tell him how amazed and thankful you were that he had made it through and was finally out of the woods.

He was struggling, coughing and wheezing, but the doctor had said that he probably would given the trauma to his throat; you wished you could end it, that you could just grab his hand and take him straight to the time his throat would be alright and the slit across it would be healed. You got him a drink, pressed it into his hands as you frowned and gently wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of your sleeve, a gentle touch for such a violent man. 

“Do not let me die here,” he growled, voice hoarse and raw. Croaky.

You shook your head, licking your lips as you sighed heavily and swallowed thickly. Your hands were still shaky as you ran a hand through his sweat soaked hair, you decided to tug his blanket down a little, exposing his bare chest in hopes that it would help him to cool off even a little bit. 

“You’re not gonna die,” you said softly, quietly. “They fixed up what they could, gave you enough stitches to make a new coat and everything.”

Forrest tried to laugh, but all that came out was a high pitched wheeze. He scowled, sinking back against the plush pillows and the blanket as he sighed, frustrated with how he couldn’t even fucking laugh properly anymore. Or at least, at the moment, he couldn’t. He huffed, staring up at the ceiling; you could tell he wasn’t happy with the circumstances, and if you were honest, neither were you - but he was alive, and that was more important for you than anything else.

He was alive, he was breathing. Your Forrest was out of the woods and would keep on living. That mattered more than anything else in the world; you yawned, catching his attention as he glared at you and frowned. 

“You ain’t slept.”

“I had to make sure you’d make it,” you muttered, shaking your head. “I’ll catch up eventually.”

“No.” He reached over, taking your hand in his and coaxing you onto the bed beside him.

It was cramped, but you managed to wriggle around so that the side of your face was pressed against his shoulder, your hand on his chest and feeling it rise and fall; you didn’t mind that your feet were dangling from the end of the bed. You could live with that. Always a man of action over words, Forrest kept an arm around you, gently stroking your arm up and down with what little strength he had; you knew what he wanted you to do, he didn’t have to tell you or to ask, but it was the one thing you could not bring yourself to obey.

You had to stay awake, had to make sure that there would be no complications now that he was awake; you couldn’t leave him vulnerable and unprotected for even a second because you knew. You knew that he would do the same for you. Your unwavering loyalty to one another and sheer devotion would surely be both of your undoings.

But you were just so tired, and although you were desperate to fight against it, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to do so forever. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to push sleep away forever, especially not when Forrest’s hand was running up and down your arm so softly, so tenderly and his breathing was so stable that you couldn’t help but to match it; you let out another yawn, desperate to disobey what he wanted for his own sake but knowing that you were too weak to keep fighting.

“Sleep,” Forrest told you gruffly. “You need it.”

“I need…” you yawned again. “I need to make… make sure you’re gonna be okay… need to make sure everything… everything went well.”

Forrest clenched his jaw. He would have tied you to the bed and forced you to stay there until you slept if he had the energy and the strength, but he couldn’t muster it in himself; he was worried. He didn’t know how long he had been in that bed, just as he didn’t know how long it had been since you had last slept or eaten; you were destroying yourself in his name, and he hated it.

Even though he knew all too well that he would have done the exact same thing if you were in his position; even if he knew that he would not have hesitated to do the same thing if the roles were reversed. He still worried.

Forrest always worried about things that he never spoke about, but when he listened closely to your breathing and dared to look down at your face from the corner of his eyes, he sighed with quiet relief; although only lightly, you were finally at rest.

[chutzpahhooplah]

Lawless (2012) opening with the Bondurant brothers as children trying to get the youngest to slaughter a hog on the farm, him not being able to do it, the middle brother directing the oldest to do it while he watches was such a good way to set up their dynamic as adults

[rose-like-the-phoenix]

Wolf blood and the stars...

Lawless: Forrest Bondurant (Tom Hardy)

Inspired by my werewolf series of the Bondurant brothers 😁

honestly, Forrest as a werewolf, is just 🤌

Taglist: @vvkingofgaybisciutsvv @thedevilshardy @mollybegger-blog @wandawiccan60 @cameleonhardyfan63 @inkwolvesandcoffee

[andybondurant]

New Post has been published on Andy Bondurant

New Post has been published on https://andybondurant.com/2024/05/03/disappointment-origin-stories/

Disappointment + Origin Stories

This is the second post on dealing with disappointment with God. While this post stands alone, it may help to have some background context. You can find the first post here. Thanks for reading. I’d love to hear your feedback!

In my last post, I promised a point of hope as you deal with your disappointment with God. To work our way toward this hope, we must begin with your origin story.

The best stories have a good backstory. This is known as an origin story that shapes who you are. 

When I was a kid, my mom would tell me the story of my birth. When I came out of the womb, the umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck, and I turned blue. I was rushed from the birthing room to an incubator, where I stayed for a few hours. If I had heard that story once, I would have heard it a hundred times.

The story of my birth shaped me. 

As I recall hearing that story repeatedly, it told me there was a purpose for my life. My life had meaning. I was meant to be alive. As a kid, listening to my mom tell me that story shaped me.

Super Heroes

All superheroes have a good origin story. These origin stories aren’t always clear in the Marvel or DC movies popular today, but they almost always are embedded within the original comic book versions. I only know this because my kids tell me about it (via their YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok research). 

Photo by Jean-Philippe Delberghe on Unsplash

If you are a superhero fan, you probably are familiar with this famous line:

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

Uncle ben

This is, of course, from the origin story of Spider-Man, who is a favorite superhero in our home. A large part of Spider-Man’s appeal is his backstory. This is it in a nutshell.

Peter Parker is a nerdy high school kid who is picked on and struggling to find his place. By chance, He is bitten by a radioactive spider, which gives him supernatural powers. Suddenly, Peter can climb walls, has amazing strength, and can process information rapidly. Initially, he uses this power for personal gain, leading Peter down a dangerous path. But a robbery gone wrong finally gives weight to his story.

Peter’s uncle was the victim of a robbery that turned into murder, for which Peter is partially responsible. At this moment, Uncle Ben utters those famous words to Peter. Sensing that Peter has these new powers and abilities, he challenges Peter to also take the responsibility attached to them. 

This tragedy, wrapped in poignant words, shapes Peter Parker into the Amazing Spiderman.

As followers of Jesus, we have origin stories too. Our stories go beyond our lives to the beginning of time – Genesis. These are the stories that shape you into a true follower of Jesus.

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Noah, Abraham, and Joseph: Origin Stories of Disappointment

When we think of the stories of the men and women in the book of Genesis (and most of the Bible), we think of their amazing faith. Noah trusted God, so he built a Titanic-sized zoo. Abraham believed in God’s word, left his home, and wandered the countryside searching for God’s promises. Joseph heard God in dreams, and he rose to second in power in the known world, saving his family along the way.

They and so many others fill us with faith, but their stories are much deeper and nuanced than that. 

None of those men could display such deep faith without experiencing great pain along the way. Noah saw the world destroyed. All he knew and loved (outside his family) was gone. Abraham was promised not just a family but a nation, yet he waited 25 (long) years to see a legitimate son born to his wife.

But these don’t come close to Joseph’s story of heartache.

Pain was a part of Joseph’s story

Joseph was the next to the youngest of twelve brothers. All twelve brothers shared the same father but had different mothers. This, along with their father’s overt favoritism, caused a deep rift between Joseph and the older brothers (that and Joseph flaunting his dreams of the entire family bowing down to him in the future). 

So, his brothers deal with him in an unbelievably cruel way. They toss Joseph into a pit and only pull him out to sell him to a band of slavers. 

Joseph spends the next 13 years of his life as a slave and prisoner after being unjustly accused of rape. Before rising to power and saving the world, Joseph endures horrific pain.

Pain was a part of Joseph’s story.

I think you see where I’m going with this, but let me give you one more piece of your origin story.

Pain was a part of Jesus’ story

Our backstory is deeper than just the book of Genesis. It encompasses the entire Old Testament—Moses, Deborah, Gideon, Ruth, David, Solomon, Elisha, Esther, and many more. Yet, it’s the New Testament that allows all of these stories to take shape and make sense.

The coming of Jesus changed everything, but Jesus’ life wasn’t easy.

His difficulties began at birth. He was born on the road, in a cave, and his first bed was an empty feeding trough. His earliest years were spent on the run, living in a foreign land, with his parents constantly looking over their shoulders. 

We love the stories of Jesus healing the blind, raising the dead, and casting out demons. We are amazed at the teachings and the insight into life Jesus gave. Everyone applauds Jesus for pushing back against the religious leaders who oppressed the poor in spirit. However, we shy away from Jesus, living on the generosity of others, being threatened by the power brokers, and ultimately assassinated by a ruthless empire.

I hope you see it, but I’ll be blunt if not.

Pain is embedded into your origin story.

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Disappointment will be part of your story, too.

Heartache was in the story of our Old Testament heroes. Pain was weaved in Jesus’ story. The great leaders of the New Testament church knew disappointment in their physical realities, and it shouldn’t have been a surprise. Jesus promised them (and us) that this would be the case:

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”  -John 16:33 NLT

Jesus top follower, Peter, told a faithful group of Jesus followers something similar in his letters:

“In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials.”  -1 Peter 1:6 NLT

The term ‘Christian’ literally means ‘little Christ’. Your goal as a follower of Jesus is to be like Jesus. We should always stretch to transform from corrupt and evil to righteous and holy. This transformation requires heartache, pain, and disappointment.

So, where’s the hope?

I’m sure you are asking, where is the hope? In my last post, I promised this to be a note of hope as we suffer through disappointment with God. God may seem far away, distant, or even hidden to you right now.

You may be dealing with the loss of a loved one, a marriage that is falling apart, or a child who refuses to speak with you. It could be your dreams that seemed so possible and clear just a few years ago are all but lost.

Where is the hope?

Here is the hope…there is purpose in your pain.

Purpose in your disappointment.

In Joseph’s story, he ascended from his jail cell (really the cell of a foreign slave, which might be the lowest of all society). He interpreted the Pharaoh’s dream through the hand of God, so Pharaoh appointed him as the second most powerful man in the nation (and by proxy, the 2nd most powerful man in the known world). Joseph developed a food program preparing for the coming famine, and 20 years after he was sold off into slavery, he met his brothers again. 

Joseph saved his family by moving them to Egypt. Not long after this move, Jacob, their father, died. This caused great anxiety for his brothers. They feared Joseph would finally exact revenge on these brothers. In desperation, they fell on their knees before Joseph, but Joseph’s response shocked them. It should shock you, too.

This is not just for Joseph and his brothers. It is for me and you, too. 

“But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, in order to bring it about as it is this day, to save many people alive.”  -Genesis 50:20 NKJV

In other words, God used Joseph’s heartache for a greater purpose.

Again, this is reason for hope. Pain alone does not shape you; purpose is also part of your origin story.

The heartache, pain, and disappointment you are suffering is for a reason. God is not the author of your pain, but God will use your pain for good.

“And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to his purpose for them.” -Romans 8:28 NLT

This, friend, is the hope you are looking for. 

God’s purpose is your good.

Yes, you may be disappointed with God. He may not be acting as you expected, but God is not unaware. God is preparing to move through you in a way that would not be possible without the pain you are walking through right now.

To be clear, God did not create the heartache you are experiencing. He is the father of light — all good things come from him (James 1). Our fallen nature leads to horrible things (like being thrown into a pit, slavery, murder, divorce, broken relationships, or financial hardships), but God finds a way to use them for good. God’s design is to transform our pain into our good and the good of those around us.

The key is your willingness to move through your pain to find healing and wholeness so that God can do incredible things through you. I’ll share more about this in the next two weeks — being real with God, yourself, and others, and holding onto Jesus.

So prepare yourself to begin walking purposefully through your pain. This will be your guide through your disappointment with God.

Writing Playlist 

I don’t know if we have the same taste in music, but here are some songs to explore. All the links go to Spotify. While writing this post, this is some of what I was listening to:

Jazz-Funk Playlist – Spotify Curated

Worship Music 2024 – Spotify Playlist

Squabble – Miles Minnick + Key’ijah

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[shahananasrin-blog]

[ad_1] ‘Lawless’ (Sept. 30)The director John Hillcoat and the musician-turned-screenwriter Nick Cave reunited after the triumph of “The Proposition” (2005) for this 1930s crime film with a phenomenal cast, including Jason Clarke, Jessica Chastain, Tom Hardy, Shia LaBeouf, Gary Oldman, Guy Pearce and Mia Wasikowska. Cave’s story, adapted from the historical novel “The Wettest County in the World” by Matt Bondurant, concerns the bootlegging Bondurant brothers (Clarke, Hardy and LaBeouf), who find their business interests threatened by a crooked U.S. Marshal (Pearce) and a rival bootlegger (Oldman), among others. The period costumes and settings are stunning, and the sprawling cast meshes nicely; Hardy is especially strong as a man of few words but furious fists.Stream it here.‘A League of Their Own’ (Sept. 30)This 1992 smash, directed by Penny Marshall, is based on the true story of the All American Girls Professional Baseball League, formed in 1943 to help keep the national pastime going while World War II pulled male ballplayers out of the majors. Geena Davis stars as Dottie Hinson, star catcher of the Rockford Peaches, and Tom Hanks as Jimmy Dugan, the former baseball star and current drunk who coaches the team when he’s sober (which is infrequent). With able support from Jon Lovitz, Madonna, Lori Petty, David Straitairn and many more, this one is smoothly assembled, sensitively acted and riotously funny.Stream it here.‘Nanny McPhee’ (Sept. 30)A decade after winning the Oscar for her screenplay adaptation of “Sense and Sensibility,” Emma Thompson returned to the typewriter to pen the film version of a slightly less venerated literary property: the “Nurse Matilda” children’s novels, by the British author Christianna Brand. But it doesn’t feel like slumming; Thompson invests her screenplay with all the winking wit you would expect, and she absolutely goes for broke in her performance of the title role, a kind of warts-and-all Mary Poppins. The director Kirk Jones orchestrates the chaos with a sure hand.Stream it here.‘Rocky I-V’ (Sept. 30)The first five films of the Rocky franchise — starring, written and sometimes directed by Sylvester Stallone — vary wildly in style, quality and critical and commercial reception. But taken together, they create a fascinating portrait of mainstream American moviemaking from the late 1970s to the early ’90s, as the modest, character-driven drama of the 1976 original slowly but surely gave way to the montage-heavy, jingoistic bombast of “Rocky IV” from 1987. But for better or worse, each film offers its own pleasures, from the specificity of Stallone’s dialogue to the richly played supporting characters (particularly Talia Shire’s Adrian and Carl Weathers’s Apollo Creed) to the crowd-pleasing closing bouts.Stream “Rocky” here, “Rocky II” here, “Rocky III” here, “Rocky IV” here and “Rocky V” here.‘Star Trek’ / ‘Star Trek Into Darkness’ (Sept. 30)When J.J. Abrams was announced as the director of a newly rebooted series of “Star Trek” films, he was still best known for his television work. The decision smacked of some desperation; after several “Star Trek” television spinoffs and numerous big-screen resurrections, what could anyone (let alone a not-yet-proven filmmaker) add to the mythos of the original “Enterprise” crew? But Abrams’s inaugural 2009 entry was an absolute treat, a sleek, well-cast popcorn picture that reinvigorated the original characters and story while also playing appropriate tribute. The 2013 follow-up, “Into Darkness,” is less successful but still an entertaining diversion, particularly for Benedict Cumberbatch’s take on Ricardo Montalbán’s villainous “Khan.”Stream “Star Trek” here and “Star Trek: Into Darkness” here. [ad_2]

[tomhardyspinkyfinger]

Masterlist

Here's my masterlist!! I'll update as a post more! My requests are pretty much always open but if I get too many at once it might take me a while to finish. I write for pretty much any Hardy character!

Alfie Solomons:

Series:

Part 1: While she was Sleeping

Part 2: The Dinner Date

Part 3: Moving In

Part 4: A Simple Life

Part 5: Betrayal

Part 6: Margate

The Good Girl and the Gangster:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

One shots:

New Employment

Baby Fever

Work Place Romance

Tommy Conlon:

The Diner Drama

The Gym

Freddie Jackson:

Freddie Gets Caught

Dog Rescue

James Delaney:

The Man I Can't Kill

Reggie/Ronnie Kray:

The Kray Brothers Learn to Share

Forrest Bondurant:

The New Girl

Eddie Brock:

Risky Cases

Office Blues

Ian Eames:

Jealousy

Leo Demidov:

Series:

The Search for Anne's Island (PT. 1)

Drabbles

[angel-inked]

The Wolf Charmer: Chapter 16:

Don't have a name for this yet, but I'm just hoping I've finally got over this annoying bout of writers block

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

After a fleeting explanation to Rose, the brothers were off, running through the woods on all twelve paws. They weren't sure where they were going, but Howard and Jack figured Forrest would know when they got there. Leaves crunched, and twigs snapped under the black wolf's paws and stout legs as he boldly charged forward, in the lead, as always, and gracefully sailed over a dead fall tree that snapped in half and left part of the trunk remaining upright, not pause nor slip up in his stride as he landed. Jack, being thinner and not as burly as his older brothers, threaded his body through the gap between what was left of the top of the tree and its base, that was just barely wide enough for him to fit through with mere inches between his white fur and the wood. Howard, however, was stopped dead in his tracks by not timing his jump right and running his chest straight into the log, causing him to stumble back and cough as an aftershock or maybe a vague attempt to restart his jarred innards and reclaim his breath, He sat down for a moment, shaking his head to clear his senses before opting to tread around the tree and catch up with his younger and admittedly more agile brothers.

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Imagine drinking moonshine with Forrest and (unintentionally) becoming tipsy.

TH Masterlist

- It’s no surprise Forrest knows how to hold his liquor. However, when he gets drunk, he gets absolutely ossified.

- But tonight he drinks even less than he usually does.

- Because he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself.

- He’d seen you leave the office earlier. He just came up the stairs as you left through the front door. You held it open for him, but he didn’t walk on as he usually does when it’s someone else.

- “Where you goin’?”

- “Home. I…,” you breath tapered and you swallowed hard to conceal your hurt as best as possible, “I didn’t make it. We terminated my contract and I’ve handed over my stuff.”

- His eyes flitted across your face, frantically looking for a lie that wasn’t there.

- You mustered your kindest smile. “Goodbye, Forrest.”

- You made to move past him, but he grabbed your arm like he did the night he dropped you off at the central station for the first time.

- You gave him a quizzical look.

- “Can we… during my break… coffee? You. Me.” His breath hitched and he grabbed you a little tighter. “Have a drink? After work?”

- He bit his lip and looked at you through his lashes, blue eyes luminous but shut away behind a thick wall of timidity. “At my place?”

- Knowing him enough to be certain he harbours no ill intentions towards you, you agreed.

- So here you are, seated on a worn leather couch in his apartment. The interior mixes modern luxury with rustic cabin vibes. Various wood tones are worked into decorations and bigger furniture pieces like the coffee table in front of the hearth, one of Forrest’s old weekend projects.

- The scent of cedar mixed with black tea, raspberries, and sandalwood hangs in the air while you two sit in front of the fire. In your hands, you hold the latest invention of the Bondurant brothers; pumpkin spice moonshine.

- If it isn’t the strong alcohol percentage that makes you choke, it’s the very strong presence of cinnamon. All the same, it makes for an easy drink.

- Being a lightweight, one glass is already enough to make you feel lightheaded. But one glass follows another and after the third you’re heavily leaning on the burly bear of a man next to you.

- In the meanwhile, there’s little conversation. In part because you share the language of silence, comfortable with one another without the need for words. But it’s also due to Forrest not knowing what else to talk about and not wanting to pry into what happened earlier that morning.

- Nonetheless, although he won’t admit it outright or even to himself, he’s glad you’re no longer colleagues for a very shallow reason.

- You’re no longer off-limits.

- He hates himself for using your state to push his own agenda a little bit, but he weaves his fingers through yours. You blink in surprise, but hum and snuggle up into him further while looking at your hands.

- “Can’t let you go home in this state.”

- “But I can’t stay here. I don’t wanna…” you frown, at a loss for words. It seems your brain has lost the battle war with the booze in your veins, rendering you unable to form a single coherent sentence. Doesn’t help his body is really warm and his mere presence offers the type of comfort you’ve been needing all day. “You know.”

- And he does, because he doesn’t need words to form a crystal clear explanation. “You won’t be. You sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep here.”

- “Grumpy wolf.” You chuckle at yourself. “Curled up by the fire.”

- The thought that passes through his mind at that moment?

- I’d rather be curled up next to you.

- “C’mon, time for bed.”

- “I’m not sleepy,” you protest, clutching his arm. “Stay here. At least for a little while longer.”

- He groans and then lets out a deep sigh through his nose as a smile slowly spreads on his lips. “You’re starting to talk nonsense. I’ll see if I have a toothbrush lying around too.”

- Gently he frees himself from your grip to prep his bedroom and find you your own toothbrush as well as pyjamas. He catches himself standing in front of his closet, smiling at the shirt and cardigan in his hands.

- Dreaming of how you’d look in them.

- Like you’re his.

- Woken up next to him.

- Back in the living room, he sees you’ve fallen asleep. You’ve toppled over and are basically sprawled over the couch.

- He grumbles about how you just had to fall asleep in the worst possible posture. Forrest picks you up and immediately stops his grumpy rambling when you curl up into his chest, humming contently.

- But it’s not only that which makes his heart stop.

- It’s also the prospect of having to dress you in the pyjamas he’s prepared for you. Now, of course he could put you to bed dressed as you are, but he wants you to be as comfortable as possible. And wearing jeans to bed is anything but that.

- He’s glad you’re sound asleep because you won’t be able to see how red he is while carefully manoeuvring you out of your clothes and into his shirt and cardigan. All the while, he makes sure not to touch you inappropriately, being wary about where his fingers touch you.

- He remains seated on the edge of the bed for a moment after he’s tucked you in. On the one hand, he’s overjoyed you’re with him, in his bed, safe and sound. On the other, he feels guilty since it’s because you lost your job you’re here.

- He runs a hand through your hair before he gets ready for a night on the couch.

- Come morn, you wake up to a glass of water with painkillers next to it as well as a wee note stating: “In case you need it”.

- You smile, take a painkiller, drink the water, and look down at your pyjamas. Had it been anyone else, you would have dreaded the thought at likely having been touched inappropriately. However, when it comes to Forrest, you don’t need that type of reassurance. Instinctively you know he respected you even in your unconscious state.

- In the kitchen, Forrest is busy making pancakes. The table has already been set. A pot of steaming coffee, yogurt with fresh fruits, a big mason jar filled with orange juice, and a reed basket with croissants and pains aux chocolates line the middle of the table.

- “Sleep well?” Forrest asks, briefly looking away from the pan. He’s clad in loose grey sweatpants, a matching cardigan, and a dark blue shirt portraying a dog snout. On his nose balances a pair of thick black glasses.

- “I did.” You stretch and bite your lip, only now aware of the trouble you caused last night. “Thanks for letting me stay. You didn’t have to.”

- “‘Course I did. It would’ve been irresponsible to let you go home when you’re not steady on your feet.” He gestures at the table with his spatula. “Sit. Eat.”

- “You had to sleep on the couch, though,” you mumble as you settle on the chair facing the kitchen. It’s not a bad view to wake up to, messy brown locks and broad shoulders working hard to put proper grub on the table.

- He puts a plate stacked with fluffy pancakes between the mason jar with orange juice and pot of coffee. “Dig in.”

- “Forrest?”

- “Hm?” He looks at you over the rim of his coffee cup. Normally he reads the paper during breakfast, but he gladly makes an exception for his secret favourite person.

- His secret girl.

- “Next time, sleep next to me. I was cold.”

- He almost spits out his coffee and quickly grabs the newspaper to hide his beet red face behind. Under his breath, though still crystal clear, he mumbles: “Next time.”

- And all the times to come.

Let’s end with the wee treasure I found;

Imagine doing this with him after some rounds of very steamy (and very passionate) sex🥰🤤

I went off with this one, but I have so many feels and Forrest is simply still one of my faves to write😅🥰

Tag list: @buttercup32sstuff @hecatemoon87 @potter-solomons @liliac-dreamer @vir-tual @alikaheroes @ilovemanypeople @zablife

[themosleyreview]

The Mosley Review: The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It

Horror films for the past 2 decades have had the chance to delve into different avenues and genres that are really unexpected for them to work. You have your psychological thrillers, political and social dramas and even family driven stories that are full heart and yet are blanketed in the thrills of a Grade A frightfest. The one genre that has taken a dip in quality is the supernatural genre. They have become formulaic and too reliant on their BOO facture that they've become almost equivalent to a action film. The Conjuring films brought the genre back to its roots of being truly spine chilling and haunting in their ability to tell a grounded story that is also real. Sure the spinoffs were more popcorn scares, but the core films were amazing. They tapped into what made films like The Exorcist so scary and I loved them for getting back to basics. Now comes the third entry in the core films and well, it wasn't as great or as terrifying as it could've been. Even though this film is based on real events, I felt that it was more in line with a murder mystery than a supernatural thriller. It felt linear and very paint by numbers as the story progressed. Even after a visually fun introduction, the terrors that befall the people were very plotted out and were on a timer that you could clock a mile away. The past films felt more unpredictable and took their time with the build to the next scare versus this were you're counting the seconds until the next prescribed jumpscare. That's where the film failed in it's execution, but the cast stilled dazzled.

Patrick Wilson and Vera Farmiga return as Ed and Lorraine Warren and they were as outstanding as you expect them to be. Ed sort of takes a back seat this time around and it was fun to see him use his detective skills more so this time. Patrick was still charismatic and factual in every scene. Lorraine takes the lead this time around and through her you get to see the more emotional aspect of their investigations and their relationship. Vera does an excellent job conveying the power behind Lorraine's gift and the amount of empathy she feels. Together their chemistry is still very much the core of the film and I loved it. Ruairi O'Connor was excellent and very humble as Arne Cheyenne Johnson. Ruairi delivers the purity and charm of a brave man that gave his body to save another. You see the inner torment in his eyes more than you see on the exterior. Sarah Catherine Hook was great as his forever supportive girlfriend Debbie Glatzel. You feel the genuine love between them and I liked Sarah's commitment to conveying the strength of Debbie. She was by his side no matter what. John Noble was elegant and wise as the former priest Father Kastner. He brings an extra level of gravitas in a very important scene that mirrors the collection the Warrens have catalogued over the years. Eugenie Bondurant was truly eerie as The Occultist. I liked that we get a more human villain and her connection to the Warrens was fun to explore.

The score by franchise composer Joseph Bishara, had that excellent balance of creepy and elegance. When we are with the Warrens, you hear their love and detective themes in their more quiet moments together. The more intense and suspenseful moments are magnified by Joseph's score and keep that dread and demonic energy throughout. The visuals were excellent as we get a chance to see into Lorraine's ability to recreate and experience a terrible moment in time. There was a moment where some gets their soul ripped out of them and it was the scariest moment in the film for me. The biggest problem I had with the film is that yes, they are paranormal investigators, but at times they felt like super heroes. The first half of the film felt like action film with the very predictable scares and set ups. They made be fun, but it took away from the eerie vibe the second half of the film had. Overall I did like the film, but it really says alot when I'm more unsettled by the actual recordings of the opening exorcism that plays in the end credits more so than what was on screen. The film is currently in theaters and streaming on HBO Max. Let me know what you thought of the film or my review in the comments below. Thanks for reading!

[hecatemoon87]

Dance, Forrest, Dance - Drabble

Forrest is smitten hard on a city girl that's stopped in a few times to get some ol' white lightening.

You: "You’re looking mighty hard at me Forrest, do I have something on my nose?" you tease.

Forrest: "No, I just...uh, was wondering if you'd...you know."

His brothers are watching intently, never seeing Forrest ask out a woman before.

You: "If you're suggesting we go out on the town, I'm only available if you can dance."

His brothers snort with laughter, knowing full well Forrest doesn't know how to dance. Furthermore, they were certain he'd rather get shot in the chest than dance.

Forrest: "Uh, alright..."

His brothers' jaws drop, uncertain if they heard correctly.

You: "So, you do dance?"

Forrest: "I didn't exactly say that..."

You: "I see, how about I come around end of the month? Maybe you'll learn by then? Ciao, darling." You say, wiggling your fingers at him as you leave.

Over the next few weeks, the Bondurant brothers are in for a treat. Each night, after the kitchen and bar closes, Forrest goes to his office and shuts the door. And then they hear the radio turn on and some kind of swing song plays, muffled by the door.

Jack can't resist, so one night he peeks through the keyhole and sees Forrest dancing with an invisible woman. Jack stifles his laugh and Howard pulls him away from the door.

Howard: "You want him to kill you? Leave him be, now. His heart's set on that damn woman."

Jack: "I don't think it's just his heart." He said, grinning ear from ear.

End of the month comes round and you find yourself on the dance floor with Forrest. He's driven into Richmond and he's dressed as best as he can be. Black trousers, white shirt and tie. And of course, his fedora hat.

He takes off his hat and you kiss his cheek. He grunts with approval and you head off to the club.

You: "Don't be nervous, even if you can't dance, we'll have plenty of fun." You say, giving him a wink.

He just nods and takes your hand, guiding you out to the dance floor. And as the music begins, he shocks your socks off. Or would it be your panties? 😈

Once the song is over, you give him a kiss on the lips. His kiss back is chaste and unexplorative. So you push your tongue past his lips, causing him to groan.

You: "That was impressive. Now take me back home and show me what else you can do." You purr in his ear.

He quickly puts his hat on and drags you off the dance floor to go give you some sweet Virginia honey.

[mlmxreader]

Breaking Point | Forrest Bondurant x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Hiya! Hope everything's going as well as it can 🖤.

May I please ask for a work using the following prompts for Forrest Bondurant X non-binary, male, or gn!Reader:

"Do not leave my side"+"I beg your pardon?"+"Jealousy is a good look on you, y'know"

Okay, so we all know Forrest is a pretty quiet and reserved guy but imagine if he and reader need to go conduct business and for some reason the new potential partner seems to take a liking to reader. They end up flirting a little, if only to ensure the deal goes through but Forrest is just **fuming**. Maybe pushes the silent man to finally give voice to how they feel about reader.

(As always, this is just spit balling, all creative liberties to you of course!!)

Thank you 🖤!

🐍anon

summary: Forrest has always been keen on you, but even a man who is usually quite passive and laid back has his limits. 

tws: jealousy, swearing, violence, injury, blood, mentions of alcohol

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Forrest sat nearby, making sure that things went smoothly as he swigged back his coffee slowly, watching you keenly; he had always been keen on you, ever since he met you a few years ago, as a few friends of yours often used his… other services from time to time and had been loyal customers. Forrest liked you from the moment that he had met you, and although he knew that his fondness was more than reciprocated, he mostly stayed away.

He didn’t want to drag you into the unsavoury side of his life, even if you didn’t mind and kept telling him such. But that was years ago, and now you were his right-hand, his partner in more sense than one, and he trusted you as much as anyone else, even if that fondness had still gone largely unsaid; he kept a close eye on you, though, watching as you dealt with the newest prospect.

Some guy from Texas who wanted a part in the bootlegging business; Forrest figured he would let you do most of the negotiations, his brothers counted you as family the same way they would a spouse, so no one saw an issue with it except for the fact that Forrest never actually told you how he felt about you. Until the guy put his hand on you, leaning in closely as he grinned. 

“Y’know, I never thought I’d find someone as good lookin’ as you in these parts,” he chuckled. “Let alone someone with common sense.”

You looked at Forrest, who didn’t seem to react much, so you shrugged and figured that it would benefit the business to encourage him a little. “I could say the same, Sir, y’know, we’ve been looking for someone smart enough to deal with… you seem like a good fit.”

“Yeah?” He hummed, not realising that he had taken it a step too far when he put his arm around your middle, about to pull you close until Forrest got up. He pushed the guy away from you, scowling as he narrowed his eyes and shook his head. 

“Off limits.”

The guy furrowed his brows, tilting his head to the side. “The fuck is your problem?”

Forrest huffed, shoving him outside and locking the door. He quickly pinned the other guy to the ground, straddling his waist as he punched him as hard as he could; Forrest may have been passive for the most part, but when he got violent, he could truly get nasty.

He didn’t stop even when he felt bones break and teeth fall out, even when his knuckles were bleeding and his arms were getting tired. He got up, and started to kick the guy with all he could given that his boots were falling apart and breaking. 

“Off limits. They are off limits.”

He didn’t stop until he was sure that the guy had gotten the message, and only then did he turn away after the guy had run off; quickly, Forrest wiped his knuckles and his face off, wanting to be presentable to you and not wanting you to know what he had done.

He cleared his throat, coming back inside and slamming the door behind him; you didn’t flinch, having seen Forrest lose his temper more than once, you knew he would never hurt you. 

He turned to you, shaking his head as he clenched his jaw. “What was that?”

You shrugged, raising your brows slightly. “He was just being friendly, I figured it’d help if I went along with it - besides, I’m my own person, aren’t I?”

He rolled his eyes. He couldn’t help it, mumbling quietly as he chewed at his lip and tried to hold it back, but it slipped from the back of his throat without him realising. “I wish you weren’t.”

“I beg your pardon?” You scoffed. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Forrest didn’t answer, going back to his chair as he huffed and went to grab the newspaper, but you stopped him, glaring at him. “Don’t.”

“No,” you shook your head, kicking his legs apart so that you could stand between them. “Forrest. What the fuck did you say to me?”

“Said I wished you weren’t your own person,” he mumbled, glaring up at him.

“So what?” You hissed. “You want me to drop everything and be with you, even though you don’t fucking want me?”

“Never said I didn’t…”

“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “You’ve made it pretty fucking clear - you’re always telling me I’m family, I’m just a good friend to you.”

Forrest wasn’t thinking as he grabbed your sides, pulling you down onto his lap and crashing his lips against yours; he felt guilty for it, even when you immediately kissed him back, one hand in his hair and the other on his jaw. He pulled away, avoiding your gaze as he clenched his jaw.

“Mister Bondurant,” you laughed softly. “Jealousy is a good look on you, y’know.”

He dared to look at you, blushing a little as he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I should’a asked.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you told him, shaking your head. “I liked it, and if you’re gonna kiss me like that every time you get jealous… that works for me.”

He couldn’t help it, smiling a little as he nodded. “You sure?”

“Forrest Bondurant,” you hummed. “We have been friends for how long, now? You really think I would say something like that if I wasn’t sure?”

Forrest shook his head slowly. Not really sure what he was supposed to do. “Do not leave my side. Ever.”

“Tell me how you feel,” you told him. “And then I’ll think about it.”

“I love you.”

“I won’t leave you,” you whispered, ghosting your lips across his. “Y’know how many times I’ve done this? Flirted with other men?”

He shook his head, he wasn’t really sure if he wanted to know.

“But every time I have,” you started, “all I can think about is saying that shit to you, and having you touch me the way they do.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you breathed out. “So, if I were you, I’d kiss me again - just to seal the deal.”