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furnitopper · 2 years ago

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Why do you want to be a steel furniture distributor?

Work and home spaces are the most important activity areas for everyone, and furniture is indispensable. Wooden furniture is the earliest, wood is relatively easy to obtain, easy to make a lot of shapes, and now it is loved by many people. Steel furniture began to rise in the United States in the 1920s. After decades of development, steel furniture has the advantages of less harmful substances, environmental protection, durability, and moderate price, and has gradually been favored by many governments and enterprises. The purchase volume of steel furniture is currently in a dominant position in developed countries such as the United States, Europe, and Japan. In modern society, people's philosophy of life has undergone many changes, and they have begun to realize that environmental protection and health are the most important. When it comes to formaldehyde, it has become a health hazard. We can't avoid it, modern furniture will use it. We choose steel furniture because it is zero formaldehyde. Therefore, the steel home furniture series is deeply loved by people and has become a new trend of furniture.

Steel furniture has the characteristics of environmental protection and energy saving. The innovation of manufacturing technology and the combination of various materials have also made more changes in the appearance and function of the furniture. Steel furniture is made of cold-rolled steel plate as the main raw material. It is made of locks, slide rails, handles and other spare parts through processes such as cutting, punching, folding, welding, pre-treatment, spraying, and assembly of accessories. Collectively referred to as steel furniture. According to the combination of cold-rolled steel plates and different materials, it can be divided into steel-wood furniture, steel-plastic furniture, steel-glass furniture, etc.; according to the different uses of furniture, it can be divided into steel office furniture and steel home furniture. Its varieties mainly include several categories: safes, gun safes, safe deposit boxes and other insurance series; filing cabinets, file cabinets, lockers, article storage cabinets, safe cabinets and other cabinet series; Household storage racks and other rack series, bunk beds, single beds, apartment beds and other bed series, desks, computer desks, study chairs and other office chair series, school desks and chairs, row chairs and other school furniture series. The categories of steel furniture are gradually increasing, and the places of application are becoming more and more extensive.

Green environmental protection is a problem faced by people all over the world, and it is also a concept advocated by the international community in the 21st century. As consumers, people's awareness of environmental protection needs to be strengthened, and steel furniture companies also need a greater investment in environmental protection when producing. We know that it is an irreversible trend of the times for steel furniture to replace most wooden furniture. This is because wooden furniture consumes a lot of forest resources and causes damage to the natural environment. With the strengthening of people's awareness of environmental protection, many countries prohibit or restrict the logging of forests, and the main raw materials for wooden furniture are becoming increasingly scarce, forcing people to strengthen research on the utilization of wood raw materials. , wood slag, etc. are made into new wood raw materials through the bonding of various chemicals, but this has increased people's concerns about whether it is environmentally friendly, especially in order to reduce costs, many manufacturers use chemical adhesives that do not meet environmental protection , causing damage to people's respiratory system, does not conform to the concept of people's pursuit of a healthy life.

The concept of green environmental protection is a concept pursued by modern people. Only when the concept of green is integrated into the design and production of furniture, can the products be deeply loved by consumers. How to realize the green production of office furniture? This requires mentioning two aspects: first, in terms of material selection, people used to prefer wood office furniture, which resulted in the deforestation of a large number of forests and damage to the environment. Metal steel perfectly replaces traditional wood. The second is in product design, product accessories give priority to the selection of environmentally friendly, degradable and recyclable materials.

If you're a steel furniture dealer, get to know Furnitopper. Steel furniture is a good project product if you are interested in investing, get to know Furnitopper. Furnitopper can provide you with various technical support and services. You are a traditional wholesaler, or do retail on Amazon, Wal-Mart, eBay, etc., we provide you with products and services at competitive prices. Quick quotation, product design, packaging design, labeling, etc., according to customer requirements Furnitopper provides you with professional services.

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#steel furniture manufacturer #steel office furniture #metal locker supplier #Steel Locker Manufacturers #steel cabinet manufacturer #Steel Cabinet Suppliers #steel furniture china manufacturer #steel furniture factory

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mariasont · 3 days ago

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A Simple Rinse Would've Sufficed - A.H

summary: sweetheart!reader is completely convinced hotch's first aid response is overboard

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader

warnings: dbf aaron hotchner, teeny tiny cut on readers hand, pre-relationship, reader being lil obsessed with hotch

wc: 0.9k

"This really isn't necessary," you murmur, but the words lack conviction, trailing off before they can land.

Hotch doesn't look up. Doesn't hesitate. Just finishes unscrewing the cap on the antiseptic like he didn't hear you—or more likely, he did, and didn't care for the argument.

It was just a scratch. Practically invisible. Nothing to fuss over. But apparently, Hotch is operating under some kind of every minor injury is a security threat policy.

Which felt especially ridiculous considering you'd just walked away from an arrest unscathed. You'd spent the last twenty-four hours proving yourself—running down leads, securing evidence, even keeping up with the rest of the team during the suspect pursuit. You were proud of that.

And then you got back to the precinct, went to grab a file from one of those awful old metal drawers, and bam. A tiny, inconsequential scrape across your palm. You had survived actual violence, only to be bested by office furniture.

So now you were getting a full medical exam over something that wasn't even visible unless you really squinted.

You shift on the edge of the table, legs swinging, mostly because sitting still feels impossible under his touch. His hands are big—bigger than you realized until now. Strong, but you'd say also careful, the pads of his fingers pressing lightly against your skin as he holds you in place. The sensation sends an unsteady type of warmth curling up your spine, landing somewhere behind your ribs.

"It's barely even a cut," you say, attempting to sound exasperated instead of—whatever this was. "Like, I'm pretty sure I've had worse from opening candy wrappers."

That earns you a look, and you instantly shrink under it.

Not a harsh look, not even an annoyed one—just Hotch's look. That's explanation enough. The kind that makes you feel like you should probably quit while you're ahead, but also makes you realize you're probably not capable of quitting while you're ahead.

So, naturally, you keep talking.

"I mean, I really don't think this requires a whole medical response, sir," you add, the nervous energy bubbling under your skin making it impossible to shut up. You clamp down on the urge to chew your lip, shifting slightly under his attention.

The antiseptic meets your skin with a sharp little sting, and you suck in a breath, fingers twitching like you might actually yank your hand away from your boss.

Hotch doesn't even blink. Just presses a little firmer, holding your wrist steady like he already expected you to flinch. "Hold still."

And gods help you, but something about it turns your thoughts into white noise.

It's nothing. Objectively, logically—nothing. Just Hotch being careful, thorough, like he is with everything.

Except his hands are warm. Rough in a way that makes your breath feel a little short, moving over your skin with a level of care that shouldn't make you feel nearly as dizzy as it does.

You blink, zeroing in on the plain, standard-issue bandage he's peeling open—completely unremarkable, completely ordinary. Like forcing your brain to register on the most boring detail in the room will make you stop spiraling.

"It's just funny," you blurt, because the silence is suffocating, and you're panicking a little.

Hotch gives you a look, not quite questioning but not dismissing either.

You clear your throat. "I mean, you do realize you've done more for this than most people would do for, like, a full-on stab wound, right?"

A pause. Just long enough for you to start regretting speaking at all.

And then—to your absolute horror—something shifts. A flicker of amusement. So quick, so barely there, you might've imagined it.

Oh no.

You'd almost prefer it if he just ignored you. If he shut you down with that infamous serious look he always wore. This, the possibility that you might've entertained him for even half of a second, was infinitely worse.

His thumb smooths over the bandaid, pressing it into place, and your body locks up.

Because he doesn’t move away.

For a second—maybe less, maybe nothing at all—his touch lingers, barely there but there, the warmth of his skin bleeding through the thin adhesive. He’s still holding your hand. His thumb still resting against you, light, thoughtless. Like he doesn’t even realize it.

You should move.

You should say something.

You should not be sitting here, waiting to see if he notices.

Then, as quickly as it happened, it’s over. Hotch lets go, caps the antiseptic, and steps back like it never happened.

"There," he says, so even, so unaffected, like none of this was anything. For him it probably wasn't. "You'll live."

You exhale a laugh—too thin, too breathless—like your brain is trying to reset itself, like you weren’t this close to total system failure. “Well, thank God. I was getting worried.”

He doesn’t react, doesn’t even glance up at you as he secures the first-aid kit back in place. “Check in with Prentiss before you go.”

You nod—too fast, too much—and push yourself off the table, legs feeling weirdly unsteady, like you’ve been sitting too long. That’s all this is. You just need to walk it off.

And then he's gone. You stare at your hand, fingers flexing experimentally.

“You do realize that was entirely unnecessary.”

You jolt, turning so fast you almost trip over yourself. Reid is standing there, arms crossed, head tilted slightly like he’s studying something under a microscope.

You blink. "I—what?"

Reid gestures toward your hand. “That wound wasn’t significant enough to require antiseptic or dressing. A simple rinse would have sufficed.”

You stare. Your brain is still buffering—half stuck-on Hotch, half trying to figure out how Reid manages to be the weirdest and most correct person in any given room.

"I—uh." You clear your throat. "Good to know."

Reid nods. "Just thought you might find that interesting."

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taglist is closed for now until i can figure out the best way to include more than 50 mentions :(

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner age gap #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x sweetheart reader #aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader #sweetheart!reader #aaron hotchner #hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds fluff

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wandasaura · 4 months ago

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LET ME CHECK

summary —natasha just wants to make sure you haven't broken any rules since she left, and who better to help her out than maria

warning(s) — established relationship, alludes to existing sexual dynamic with maria, natasha’s your girlfriend maria’s simply there, dom/sub dynamics, inspection kink, semi-public sexual encounter, teasing, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, pussy spank, very slight degradation, humiliation, condescending tones and elements, praise kink, men/minors dni

authors note — a little fic for the sweetest girls birthday! @iwantscarlettandlizzie

kinktober

The hallways were dim as you crept across them in search of Maria’s office where you knew Natasha always sought refuge after meetings with Fury. Pathetic tissue paper pumpkins, that you’d spent nearly an hour constructing from thin pages of muted orange parchment, were held between your clammy fingers ambitiously. The instructions had been unbearably vague, but you knew how easily holidays slipped the minds of those that devoted their lives to saving others, so you attempted to boost the morale of those that you held close, even if it was a measly attempt at crafting that you brought to the table.

Your fingers, clammy and gauntly in appearance from how possessively you gripped the construction paper stems stapled onto the tissue paper pumpkins, itched to relieve a greater issue that turned your insides into butterflies and dull insatiable sparks of unattainable pleasure; an issue that Natasha had single handedly created that very morning when she roused you from sleep with her tongue between your thighs. She’d woken you in such a way countless times before, however today she’d given you the clear ultimatum to be good for her until further notice before she’d pulled away without allowing blissful relief to crash over you in any capacity, and you’d never blatantly gone against that; you’d never go against that. You were her good girl, her precious angel that she enjoyed corrupting in unspeakable ways, and as much as that ache between your legs was growing unbearable as your mind traveled back to those first few moments of pleasure that had started your grueling day, you could hold off on relieving yourself until she gave you permission to do so. You hoped that she gave you permission to do so.

When you reached Maria’s office, the blue-tinted lights reflecting off of your white skirt in a manner that you’d grown accustomed to since the first time you’d taken up space aboard the helicarrier with her, you knew that Natasha was hidden away inside without even opening the door, able to hear the low vibrations of her voice though the metal walls, probably throwing paper balls at Maria with her feet perched up on the desk. The Commander absolutely detested the mistreatment of furniture, especially furniture in her office, but for some reason, Natasha always got her way.

You didn’t bother knocking, balancing both paper pumpkins in one hand as you turned the sterling silver knob with the other, cautious of walking into a conversation you weren’t at liberty to know about. If you had knocked, you would’ve been turned away and assumed to be just another rookie seeking out her favoritism, but Maria never minded when you barged in. She’d been the one to instill that open door policy that you acted under now, and while it always made your belly churn with anxiety for potentially overstepping, she’d never once turned you away; especially not when Natasha was also seeking refuge in her spacious office overlooking eloquent clouds and tempting bodies of deep frigid water.

You smiled timidly as you captured their attention upon entering, bashfully smoothing down your skirt despite the sight beneath it not being anything they hadn’t seen before. A permanent blush had stained your cheeks since Natasha’s cruel teasing had ensued hours earlier, and as you fell victim to Maria’s dominating gaze, you felt the twinges of pink across your features darken as heat rushed to the tips of your ears. Natasha’s smirk of amusement was belittling to put it gently, but persistently you stepped farther into the room, allowing the door to softly close behind you, fully enveloping you in their undivided attention.

“There she is!” Natasha greeted you cheerfully, a stark contrast to the near primal gleam tainting her gentle eyes that had seen horrendous acts of evil and suffering in such a short life. “What do you have, baby?” She quizzed gently, her eyes wandering your frame, taking note of the decorative pumpkins you clutched, but ultimately traveling downward until they settled on the sight of your thighs, glimmering softly with slick beneath the bright lighting that enveloped your frame. It wasn’t noticeable to anyone that wasn’t truly looking, but to her, it was all she could see.

You shifted bashfully beneath her heavy stare, soft eyes filled with innocence darting between the decorations that felt like flames between your palms and the two women practically undressing you from across the room. “Pumpkins. I, um, I needed a distraction, and Masha always forgets about Halloween.”

“You needed a distraction, hm? Why’s that, baby?” Natasha craned her head inquisitively, a faux gleam of confusion crossing her features before it melted away into a that same look of possession that had been written within her eyes that morning. You were hers, entirely hers, she never questioned that, but she did love to prove it, and that always came with humiliation and Maria’s wandering hands.

“Um,” You faltered, your breath hitching as your eyes shifted over toward Maria who sat perched behind her desk with a near sadistic smirk pulling at the corners of her tantalizing lips. You’d done so many things with her since Natasha had introduced you both. You’d allowed her into your relationship during both the softest moments and the most intimate, but you never failed to grow shy beneath her gaze that had been so meticulously refined throughout the years of commanding armies and demanding respect.

Natasha knew firsthand how flustered you became beneath the attention of her best friend, and the sight of you floundering to be good never failed to amuse her. “You can say it, angel. I’m sure Masha would love to know what’s going on in that pretty little head.” She cooed, head tilting to the side in that sickeningly cruel manner that conveyed innocence and genuinity to anyone that didn’t know her personally, but was truly the start of a harsher game. When she looked at you like that, like you were her entire world, it almost always meant that she was going to ruin you unapologetically.

“Oh? What’s your needy girl gotten herself into now?” Maria wasn’t blind to your flustered state either, and as the words fell against your skin, your heart leapt in your chest and that coil in your belly tightened once more. Neither woman said anything about how you pressed your thighs together pathetically, but both of them noticed how you attempted to fight the arousal turning you to putty for them to play with however they pleased.

Your eyes found a coffee table to your left, and softly you laid both pumpkins down on the glass top, no longer interested in finding the perfect spot for them to live until the end of October came. With Natasha’s expectant gaze still set on you, you fiddled with the edge of your skirt and found the will to answer, despite your voice sounding meek and soft as it floated through the office overlooking the world beneath you. “Natty, um, Natty said I’m not allowed to cum until she says so.”

“Yeah, and I edged you this morning, didn’t I, pretty girl?” She hummed, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she watched you unravel without so much as a single hand reaching out to touch your aching body tenderly.

“Yeah.” You mumbled, dropping your gaze to your shoes, unable to keep your eyes on either her or Maria as humiliation crawled up your spine and turned those butterflies in your belly into wild sparks of anticipation.

“Nu uh, we want to hear you say it. Use your big girl words and tell Masha what happened this morning.” Natasha condescended easily, her posture straightening as she narrowed her gaze, challenging you to disobey.

“Um, Natty woke me up with her tongue. And, um, she said I’m not allowed to cum ‘til she says. Didn’t cum this morning. Didn’t cum at all. Promise. I promise, Natty. I was good!” You begged her to believe you, you knew that she did, the way you stood with your legs pressed together desperately was enough indication as any, but she wasn’t feeling kind, and you could see that just as easily as she could see you.

“I don’t know, baby. I think I’m gonna have to check.” She frowned sympathetically, but there was no ounce of sincerity in her wrinkled pout and earnest eyes. It never failed to turn you on when you realized just how easily she could deceive the untrained eye. Luckily for you, you hadn’t been an untrained eye in years, however unluckily, she wasn’t quick to spare you humiliation when she felt the need to be cruel. “Well, I think Maria should check. You wouldn't lie to Masha, would you?”

“No! Wouldn’t lie to Mia, I wouldn’t! Not lying to you!” You pleaded, blubbering with her to believe you, but it was futile. She already knew what she wanted, and unless you called your safe word, she wasn’t backing down. You didn’t want her to back down. Your belly burned with wild humiliation, but sickeningly that only heightened the arousal swimming in your belly like a rogue electrical chord.

“Come here and let’s prove it then, honey.” Maria’s features softened momentarily, a calming reassurance that had you following her voice without hesitation. Her hands fell onto your hips when you were close enough to reach, and tenderly she tugged you closer. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Let me check, let me see how icky those pretty panties are.”

She positioned you over her desk easily, a steady hand placed on the center of your back, guiding you down farther and farther until your chest was flush against her paperwork and your ass was propped out for her to grope and fondle however she pleased. You whined softly when she flipped up the edge of your skirt, her calloused fingertips ghosting along the globes of your ass that were only barely covered by cheeky pink panties printed with delicate frilly bows. You whimpered, body involuntarily twitching when those same fingers that had pulled the trigger of a few hundred guns dragged across the center of your panties, prodding at the damp patch that darkened the fabric and tormented you incessantly.

“Oh, that must be so uncomfortable, sweetheart. Your cunt’s making such a mess on these pretty panties.” Maria cooed, but there was no ounce of sympathy in the tone she’d taken, and your cheeks burned with humiliation as you felt her touch slip away and the telltale sounds of her sucking her fingers clean followed. Your eyes searched for Natasha, your hand reaching out to desperately hold onto hers, and she allowed it easily, her thumb brushing against the back of your hand as she maintained eye contact. “Just as sweet as I remember.” Maria mused softly before her hands found your body again, this time grabbing at the waistband of your pink panties. “Why don’t we take these off, hm?”

“Okay.” Your voice was shaky, but you knew she wanted a verbal response. All of this would stop the second you shut down, and as much as you wanted relief, not more teasing, you didn’t want this to end prematurely, so you mustered up the strength to respond, despite how you wanted to whine and plead and lean into the sensations of pleasure and nothing else.

“Good girl.” She hummed, lowering them down your legs the second you’d given her permission. You stepped out of them when she signaled, tried not to watch as she flung them across the room for anyone to see if they entered. You didn’t have the chance to plead for something more, because the second your panties were out of the way, her fingers were plunging deep into your core, seeking out that spongey spot that neither she nor Natasha had any trouble finding. “So wet, so tight. Ah ah, quiet, angel. We wouldn’t want the rookies next door to hear these pretty sounds, would we?”

You gasped back a moan, bottom lip bitten between your teeth as you dug your forehead into your arms, attempting to muffle the sounds that you couldn’t stop from falling off your lips entirely. For minutes she explored every inch of your cunt, making lewd comments to Natasha that diminished you to nothing but a pet, but just as that pleasure was starting to amount to something worth chasing, she was gone. Your skirt was flipped down, her fingers were licked clean, and her gaze was heavy as it fell upon you after she’d guided you back up onto your feet.

“Well, she wasn’t lying. The little slut’s just as desperate as she was this morning, if not more now.” Maria taunted, her gaze set on Natasha, not paying even the slightest ounce of attention to you as you whined and shook your head pleadingly.

“My good girl.” Natasha smiled softly, nodding for you to come around to her, and when you did, she eased you into her lap sweetly. “You’ll get to cum soon, I promise, angel. Why don’t you be a doll and get Masha and I some water, until then, yeah?”

With your head fuzzy and desperate to please, you could only nod your agreehand, but you faltered when her voice cut through the silence again, stopping you from collecting the panties that laid in a heap on the floor. “No. Leave them there. Desperate girls don’t need panties, you’re only going to ruin them more than you already did.”

Not wanting to fight, not wanting to prolong your pleasure than it already was, you only nodded your head, leaving the office behind on shaky legs, hoping that you’d earn her sympathy before the day came to an end and you were left unsatisfied for any longer.

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vervainandspritz · 3 months ago

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JUST ANOTHER OF YOUR MISTAKES

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Request made by @justsumtuffstuff: Could you do a tommy shelby imagine where you secretly have his kid but don’t tell him until one day aunt polly sees you and is like “holy shit” but that’s not the surprise, the surprise is you have twins. Just a lot of angst and fluff pretty please? ((:

This fic will have two parts!

Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, grieving, a lot of pain, eventual fluff, smut

A/N: It's a.. heavy fic, so beware. Interact for more

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

The land of Birmingham seemed to never change, not one bit. Ever since the first people settled there, the sky hung over them as if by force, never clear enough to see prospects for the future. Robbing the poor kids of dreams, of the loud thumping in their hearts caused by excitement for the good that never came.

It would seem that God has lost his way to Birmingham, not to mention Small Heath. Dirt, smoke and silence that rang too loud when working men would finish their shifts in factories seeking peace in their homes. After all, the human brain can get used to everything.

What was the difference between going to sleep hungry every night, and the relentless churning in the depths of her stomach that Y/N felt? Pain that never let go, waking up along her side like a loyal husband, never ceasing to accompany her throughout the day. Never loosening the hold on her heart.

Oh, how cruel the fate can be, Y/N thought, looking at the white ceiling of her bedroom. One she slept in for many nights too long, carrying the weight of the curse on her shoulders.

Because she was cursed, that one she was sure. Seeing the man she loved more than anything else in the world, losing himself in the grief after another woman.

Because that was the woman whose name Y/N dared not speak or even think. That's who she was, another woman. Embodiment of pain and betrayal of so many promises, taking away the beautiful, blue gaze Y/N yearned for so badly.

God must have been so cruel, putting her through the uncertainty of ever seeing him again throughout the war, and then taking him away.

Taking him away from Y/N, and letting her watch the process. Letting her see the distance growing, the dilated pupils in his eyes after each doze of opium, fruitlessly trying to numb the pain he carried.

Y/N couldn't help but wake up everyday, wondering how different his grief would be if it was her who died. Would he cry? Would he push the other woman away, like he did her? Sometimes the pain felt like too much to handle, but Y/N would never try to pull the trigger. Subconsciously feeling the weight of shame in her chest if she'd ever somehow found out she was right. That he wouldn't care.

So she lived, losing pieces of her heart day by day, warming his bed whenever he saw it convenient.

Until that one day came, that was. Hearing the... Scary, oh so scary news from her doctor she visited in secret. Putting both of her hands on her still flat stomach, she didn't feel anything physically. Yet it was enough to find the strength, buried so deep in her heart.

The love she felt for her unborn children outweighed the love for him.

The tension in Arrow house felt heavier than usual, as Y/N dragged her heavy suitcase down the stairs before slowly making her way to his office. The pain, longing in her heart slowing her down, extending the seconds into forever.

Y/N took a deep breath as her hand pressed down on the metal handle, the loud click echoing throughout the mostly empty room. Wordlessly she slipped inside, walking up to his desk quietly, letting out a shaky breath when she stopped mere inches away from the wooden furniture. His eyes didn't move from the documents he was reading, an empty gaze fixed on black letters despite knowing she was there. Y/N waited for a second, giving him a chance to look at her. Hoping he would.

But he didn't.

”I'm leaving” she said, loud enough to be heard. Silence followed her words, loud like never before as her heart squeezed in anticipation, silently begging him to stop her. To say something. Several moments passed before he finally did, making her heart stop for a mere second.

”Safe travels, Y/N Y/L/N” He responded in a cold, husky voice and for a moment, Y/N wondered who he was, wearing his face but sounding so different.

But the dust settled, just like the weight of his words as soon as she closed the door behind her back for what she thought would be the last time.

Polly's eyes cut through his skin like a blade, her gaze never changing after that one feral day. The look of contempt and disgrace not even a bit different than one she gave him finding out what happened, back then.

”I was hoping you wouldn't be so stupid” She hissed, leaning forward, reaching for a cigarette with a shaky hand. Her eyes were teary, as she inhaled the smoke. ”When you were younger I saw your mother in your eyes. Now, they're full of greed and foolishness. Just like your father's” She spat out with contempt, raising from the chair. Quickly walking up to his own, she kneeled down for a moment, to meet his gaze.

One so empty, that gave her goosebumps.

”I will never forgive you, and... Neither will you.” She whispered. ”But you will have to live with the choice you made.”

Her words echoed loudly in his head several minutes after Polly left... And they never stopped ringing now, thirty eight months later. Thomas counted, every morning to be sure. After sobering up it was difficult to tell days apart. He rarely slept, fearful of the dreams he had at first.

He saw her, she was so close and yet no matter how fast Tommy ran, he couldn't reach her. Out of his reach no matter how hard he screamed or cried. Looking at him with the burning tears he caused.

It took him three months to sober up, give up on opium and... Feel. Thomas wasn't ready for the hellish pain that dawned on him once the drug wore off. The terrifying longing that dawned on him when he felt the remnants of her perfume on his pillow. The lack of relief he hoped for so badly, throwing away every single Grace's belonging he held onto previously, burning the photos and destroying the items, but it never came.

As time stretched, it became more intense. Thomas carried the pain and guilt wherever he went, finding the smallest bit of relief only in his office, searching for Y/N in every piece of England day by day.

Replaying the ways in which he treated her, internally setting himself on fire and forcing himself to feel every bit of it. Because that's what he deserved, to feel and carry the cross he created with his own hands.

Oh how beautiful the pain was, as he'd lean back in his armchair, closing his eyes and remembering her gaze. Her scent and her laugh, echoing so lively in his mind.

...but none of it worked, no matter how many people searched. How much money he spent on the search. Almost like she disappeared into thin air.

Day by day he was dying a little, bleeding through the wounds he so desperately prevented from healing every single time. Keeping the memory of her alive in his mind, not letting the hope die. Because it was all he had. Glimmer of hope. The leader of Peaky blinders became even worse than before. The pain shaped his mind in unknown ways, as the limitless cruelty became visible to anyone who dared to cross his path. Peaky Blinders were unmatched.

Nobody besides Thomas held onto the hope anymore. Knowing Y/N for so long, John and Artur knew she wouldn't come back. Not if her life depended on it. Polly only prayed for her safety.

...and Y/N? She stopped praying once her children were born. After finding out she'd have twins, she prayed every night for them to be born healthy. It was all that mattered.

Not the fact that she had to be using a fake name after moving to Coventry, mere miles away from Birmingham. But she couldn't afford to move further.

It's been.. so fucking hard. Everything. Y/N spent every night crying, begging any God that would listen to take away the pain in her heart. The pain that her babies only managed to lessen. Working as a waitress on nightshifts after accepting the kindness of her older neighbour. Mrs Wilson offered to take care of her boys while she works to help her make ends meet. Y/N had no idea what she would do without a woman she grew to call her only family.

”It's no problem, honey. They're little angels” She said quietly with a kind smile, taking one of the boys into her arms mere days after they were born.

The pain Y/N felt by having to leave her kids every night was stronger than the physical one. Having to work a demanding job after giving birth to keep the roof over their heads.

She cried, cried so much that eventually tears ran out and all she could do was.. keep trying. The two little people by her side were giving her strength. Light that she couldn't see before them, and only existed because they were here. Keeping her own heart beating.

***

”Are you sure? I can take care of them while you go, honey. You know how much I love them, don't you?” The older lady offered eagerly, caressing Nick's cheek with a smile, and a hint of concern while she glanced at Y/N.

”Thank you, but I will take them. The least I can do is spend time with them throughout the day.” Y/N responded, smiling sadly to her neighbour who just nodded along, understanding the allusion.

Letting out a sigh, she put her hands together.

”Be careful, dear.”

Y/N squeezed her hand lightly before pulling away as she held her son's hand, while carrying the other one on her hip.

”Always”

Travelling via train took no longer than forty minutes, and with each passing mile, Y/N's anxiety grew. She hasn't been in Birmingham for a long time now, not looking back.

Yet, because of her official address being still in the Arrow house, she needed to visit the office to complete documentation for boys. She put it off as long as she could, but it was inevitable now.

Despite the negative emotions, Y/N couldn't felt.. better, having her babies with her. The familiar facial expressions or blue orbs were enough to sometimes bring her to tears, but she couldn't love them more. They were a perfect little copy of the man whose name was engraved on her heart. The older they were, the more similar looking they were and now at dashing two and a half years, both boys were troublemakers.

Slowly making their way through Birmingham, Y/N held one little hand, chatting away with Nick, who was more energised than his brother who slept soundly in his mum's arms.

”...and dat?” He asked, pointing towards the building and glancing curiously at his mama. Y/N smiled at his curiosity, seeing how similar personality wise he was to her.

”that's a house” She replied calmly. The little boy cheered loudly, throwing his arms in the air.

"Yaay! Hooose!” He squealed making her chuckle, not caring about the scolding glances from other passengers.

A couple minutes later the other little one woke up, and started fussing because obviously he also wanted to walk now, while Nick wanted to be carried now. Sighing, Y/N put one of the kids down, and as she managed to pick up little Nick, she gasped loudly seeing her son's legs already in motion as he ran towards the crowd.

”Tommy! Thomas, stop!” She yelled after him, chasing him with Nick on her hip who watched the whole thing with his blue eyes wide open. ”Tommy!” She yelled once again, and he finally turned around, stumbling upon someone.

Y/N closed the distance as fast as she could, grabbing little Tommy and pulling him back to his feet, as she checked for any bruises – found none.

”I'm so sorry, i–” She started out, wanting to apologise to the random passenger, but words died on her tongue as soon as her eyes locked with the familiar brown ones.

”Y/N?” Polly stumbled out in shock.

Fuck

Part two upcoming

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avonfurniturefactory · 8 months ago

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Finding the Perfect Office Furniture Near Al Quoz and Downtown Dubai

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thejunkboys1 · 2 years ago

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Dumpster Alternative in GTA: The Junk Boys’ Quick and Convenient Solution

When it comes to junk removal in the Greater Toronto Area (GTA), traditional options like renting a dumpster can be time-consuming and labour-intensive. That's where The Junk Boys come in, offering a quick and convenient dumpster alternative. With their reliable services for appliance removal in GTA and garbage removal in Toronto and the GTA, The Junk Boys are revolutionising the way junk is disposed of. Here's why they are the go-to solution for hassle-free junk removal:

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