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writers-hes · 9 months

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All Things End

You always knew Tommy as the cheerful boy who took care of you. He always knew you as the smart girl that he visited by the docks. The daughter of a prostitute, the son of a deadbeat father; a soldier who protected his country; a whore who protected him; a gangster who controlled Brimingham; and now, a wife. War changes people, you just didn’t realize that war could change you both. (angst, depictions of abuse, poverty, prostitution, canon-typical themes, death, war, time jumps, depictions of mental illness, and a toxic marriage)

A/N: This whole fic was inspired by Hozier’s latest releases; Nth/Unknown, All Things End, Francesca, and Eat Your Young. I recommend listening to the album before or after you read this. This dedicated to everyone who reblogged the last chapter. Thank you for the love; it means the world.

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PART ONE: Toy Horses Outside the Brothel

BIRMINGHAM, 1914

You’ve been inconsolable since the Shelby brothers left. Everyone can see how different you were ever since they left. The Shelby’s reached out to you—but you didn’t like going to Watery Lane. You begged Polly to remove the Blinders that were supposed to watch you and she agreed after a while. It wasn’t the same without Tommy protecting you. You didn’t have the strength to face them, to go to their house and pretend like it was all okay.

“Angel, I’ve missed you,” he sighed into your hair. “Did you miss me?”

“Of course, I do, Simon,” you told him. “How are you? It’s been a while since you last saw me. You don’t like me anymore?”

“You know that I could never forget about you, darling,” he said. “I have a gift for you,”

“Really?” you asked, eyes hopeful. “What is it?”

Simon smiled, fishing a velvet jewellery box out of his pocket. He opens it and you gasp. A pair of sapphire earrings.

“I have to start dressing you up when I take you to London,” he says. “You’ll wear it for me?”

“I’ll wear it,” you confirm. You fixed your hair up in a faux bun. “Will you put it on me, Simon?”

“Of course,” he says, doing what you asked. “I’m fixing everything for us,”

“For us?” you asked, brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I told you that I’ll show you the world, didn’t I?” he asked, grasping your jaw softly to make you look up at him. “I’m taking you away from this shit hole.”

“We’ll stay in Birmingham?” you asked, voice wavering. Fuck. What do you do now?

“No, we won’t,” he shook his head. “I have a mansion in London waiting for us. Why would I want to live here?”

“But…”

“But what? Are you not thankful that I’m showing the whole world? I thought I was your hero?” he asked, his hand over yours.

“You are!” you said, inching closer. “You are. But I have friends here,”

“We can visit them,” he says dismissively. “Anytime you want. Or they can visit us, you know? Once you’re mine, you’ll have everything you want on your fingertips,”

“Why are you so nice to me?” you asked.

“Because you’re my Angel. The most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. You make me want to take care of you,” he says. “I love you. You love me too, right?”

“Of course,” you lied. “Of course, I do.”

Polly and Ada liked to visit your house every now and then. They said that it makes them forget all about Watery Lane. Over the times you’ve spent here, the house was fully in bloom. You’d buy plants and some fresh flowers to keep in a vase. There was always a pot of water ready to be heated for tea. You hated your job but this freedom, your own house…it sometimes made everything worth it.

“Shit, love. Your rich bastard must be buttering you up,” Polly says, helping herself on some tea. “Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you wore those sapphire earrings. You like him?”

“No,” you shook your head. “He has some of his men guard me…I’m afraid that he’ll stop showing if I stop wearing these heavy earrings.”

“Waiting for…”

“It’s hard,” you said. “I don’t go to the brothel anymore. Simon forbade me to work there after he gave me this. He said he’s fixing up things in London.”

“Do you want to leave?” Ada asked, looking at you.

“No,” you swallowed. “I’m thankful for…for being here. Not having to work anymore and just living comfortably but the price that I’m paying for it…”

You wanted to be there when Tommy comes back. You wanted to be the one to kiss him the first time you see him out of that train. But if you left…if you didn’t wait like you promised, what good would that be on the end of things? You wanted to see how life with Tommy plays out but what would you in the meantime? Where would you go?

“You have to choose what you’re willing to sell, then. You can’t live like this if you won’t string that rich bastard along. You won’t have to leave if you still work at the brothel.” Polly said. “Did you at least…think about it?”

“He said I could visit…or you could visit,” you replied, looking at anywhere but them. “But…but…I want to be here,”

“What if he doesn’t come back? This war…war changes people. Would you really toss your entire life away for a man in the war? I’m supposed to be on Tommy’s side, but I don’t want you missing out on life just because you're waiting for him,” Polly said. She’s always been practical, and she was…right. But you desperately wanted to see him before anything else. Still, Tommy and his brothers might never come back. If you turned down Simon’s proposal, you’ll be the town pariah. You could be wasting a good life away for Tommy Shelby.

“Pol,” Ada hissed but her aunt only smoked her cigarettes.

“All things end, darling. Maybe whatever you have with Tommy has run its course,” she exhaled, clouds of smoke entering your lungs, closing in on you. All things end. All things end.

LONDON, 1915

“I can’t believe I’m going to be married today,” you whispered. Your voice betrayed you, wavering slightly. “Fuck,”

“Hey, you can still stop the wedding,” Ada replied, stopping the work that she was doing on your veil. It was an expensive one, it cost more than your home in Birmingham. You never let that go, asking Ada to take care of it while you were gone. “We can run away,”

“I’m already here,” you nodded. “I want to…I want to see Tommy.” Your face was crestfallen, heart drumming in your chest because you never imagined your wedding to be like this. You were picking on your nailbeds again, nevermind the lacquer that coloured your nails. You were getting married in the most expensive place in London. Flowers hung from the ceiling; pearls lined your wedding dress. The sapphire earrings hung from your ears like albatrosses. The diamond ring on your finger demanded attention, a big rock on a silver band embedded with smaller diamonds. You never imagined being married like this. You always thought that you’d marry in the countryside, a nice flowy gown that you borrowed, wildflowers, and dancing. Not like this…surrounded by other businessmen, rich families who never gave a shit about you until you married Simon.

“You’re getting married but you’re unhappy. This should be your day,” Ada said, ensuring that nothing was out of place. “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You smiled tightly. You should be thankful—ecstatic. You should be happy. So many girls dreamed of this. A fairytale wedding. The war was getting worse but not for you, not for Simon. In any case, Simon relished in the war, it brought him more money. You hated yourself for marrying him today when Tommy was most probably out there, fighting for his life.

Were you to blame for marrying Simon, though? It’s been a year and Tommy has never sent you a letter. All the letters you’ve sent were never replied to. It saddened you at first because his family would have something to look for, but you were left in the dust. You never brought that matter to light, maybe Tommy didn’t want to talk to you.

It hurts to be forgotten by the person you loved most. The only person who ever truly knew you. It hurt you to realise that for him, you were forgettable, replaceable. It’s like all the years you spent together were nothing. Maybe it was spite mixed with sadness and desperation that made you accept Simon’s proposal last year. Polly was right,—all things end.

Walking to the altar with Johnny to give you away was something else. Simon was kind enough to let the Shelby’s come to the wedding. He provided them with rooms to stay at a hotel. You should have been happy but the dryness in your mouth says otherwise. His family were there, judging you for being a prostitute; judging him for marrying someone so penniless.

Simon’s smile was genuine, at least. He was waiting for you, a bundle of nerves. When you reach him, he thanks Polly. Taking your hand, he brings you to the ordainer and the wedding starts.

The reception of the wedding was in your new mansion in London. A real estate treasure with a little bit of plush green land. Your husband had a professional come in to decorate the garden—you never knew that a job like that existed.

“This house is so big!” Finn said, after he ran to you. He was playing with the other kids. “You’d let me visit you?”

“Of course, Finn.” you said, a smile on your face. “But you have to be with Ada or Polly,”

“Okay,” he says, a toothy grin. “Maybe I can bring Tommy too when he comes back.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Maybe…” Tommy. Tommy. Tommy. Would he appear if you called him in front of a mirror thrice? You just wanted to see him.

Simon comes to you and Finn.

“Hi, Finn,” he greets. “How are you?”

“Hi,” he says sheepishly, hiding behind your gown. “I’m good. Thanks for letting me come,”

“My wife really wanted you guys here and I really needed to see who’s the famous Finn Shelby,” he said.

“I was telling Y/N about how my brother, Tommy and I can visit sometime,” he said. You visibly tense at the mention of Tommy, Simon notices. You’ve talked about Tommy before. Tommy Shelby…

That night, after consummating your marriage, Simon asked.

“Who’s Tommy? I know who he is but what did he do?” Caressing your naked back, he pressed again. “Finn was telling me about his brother, and it made you uncomfortable.”

“He’s no one,” you lied, looking up at him through your lashes. “You shouldn’t worry about him,”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable…if he’s making you uncomfortable, I’ll have him dealt with.”

“No!” you cleared your throat. “You don’t have to, Simon. Thank you for caring,” you smiled, kissing his lips softly to forget about Tommy Shelby—the man who broke your heart.

NEW YORK, 1915

You were staying in one of your husband’s properties in America, a penthouse in New York when he came barging in, throwing you an envelope. He was angry, you could tell that clearly. He never got angry except now.

“Simon,” you said, smiling up at him.

“Who’s Tommy Shelby?” he asked, demanding you to answer. He knew who Tommy Shelby was. He knew of the Shelbys in Birmingham. But who was he to you? “Don’t even fucking lie to me,”

“What’s wrong…?”

“Who is he?” he asked, his tone more forceful now. “Don’t tell me that he’s no one! Who is he?”

“He’s a friend. A childhood friend. What is this about?” you asked. “Simon…”

“You told me during our wedding night that he was no one but I had him investigated,” he said. You furrowed your brows. “Guess what? I found out that you grew up together. You were seeing him while I was seeing you. You told me you love me!”

“I do love you,” you lied, trying to soothe his worries. “You don’t have to worry about him, you know? We didn’t see each other like that, Simon,”

“Fuck…I gave you my everything and you hang onto this Tommy Shelby cunt. Like, like…I had to buy your love and you gave it to him,” he said, stalking towards you. “I gave you everything! What could he give? He’s poor and he’s in the war. I’m here. I am!” he roared.

“Simon—“

“You are to cut off any ties and communications that you have with the Shelbys, understood?” he spat, pointing a finger at you.

“Simon, they’re my friends! They took care of me,” you pleaded, putting your hands on his waist to appease him but she just shrugs you off.

“I said ‘Understood’?” he seethed. “I gave the Shelby’s and Johnny a hefty sum of money so you won’t have to think of them ever again but you have to promise to never fucking think of them—of him—of-of your life in Birmingham. Do you understand me?”

“Simon, you—“

“I know where Tommy Shelby is in France. Tunnelling. You’ll know better than to defy me. Trust me, I have my ways of getting him and his brothers killed. I know people. Do you understand me?” he spits.

You couldn’t cry in front of him, so you just gulped, nodding.

“I understand,” you whispered, a frown set upon your face. Relief washes over your husband and he pulls you closer.

“You know that I only want what’s best for you. What’s best for us,” he whispered. “You’re my little bird. My beautiful flower, I won’t let anyone else have you. Okay? I’m sorry for making you sad but this is for the best. For us and for the family that we’re going to build,”

“I know, Simon,”

“I love you,” he says but it felt like a threat.

“I love you too,”

BIRMINGHAM, 1915

Tommy,

I hope you’re well. We all pray for your safe return home. Have I told you that Y/N got married this year in London? His name is Simon Coventry, I’m sure you know him as ‘Rich Bastard.’

He truly loves her and has taken care of her so well. We’ve been to their mansion in London multiple times. Finn loves to visit because he gets him everything he wants. Did you know that he gifted Finn his own horse for Christmas? Please, don’t worry about her anymore. She’s in safe hands, in a loving marriage, with a husband that could give her the world.

Pol

(This letter was never sent.)

BIRMINGHAM, 1911

“What do you think will happen to us?” you asked Tommy once. Twenty-one, and you allowed yourself to make bad decisions when it came to him. You were sitting close together in the balcony of your home; it was the morning, and you had the day off because it was your birthday. No serving customers today; Tommy didn’t go to work because you were free.

“We’ll stay together,” he says, like it was a no-brainer. He had stolen a bottle of whiskey in the place where he worked out and you both decided to drink today. Twenty-one and you’d make all bad decisions for Tommy. There was a crinkle in his eyes when he looked at you. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” you replied, taking a sip of the whiskey.

“I got you something,” he says, tossing his cigarette butt away. “It’s not as…expensive as what that rich bastard got you, but I was thinking that…well, here,” he says, showing you something wrapped in a handkerchief. “Don’t know how to wrap gifts.”

You took it from him and undid the knot of the handkerchief.

“Tommy…”

“I asked Polly and Ada,” he says. “So, that’s not all me.”

A picture frame of pressed flowers. It was more than that for him. For Tommy, it was a declaration of his love; a life-long commitment to you.

“I’ve been picking flowers that remind me of you for the past year,” he tells you. “Do you like it?”

“I love it, Tom.” you told him, tackling him in a hug. “This is the best thing anyone has ever given me. Thank you so much,”

LONDON, 1916

Simon hardly allowed you to go anywhere without him or at least the presence of a bodyguard since last year. It was understandable, since he was a wealthy man—the world was too dangerous for him. But you couldn’t grasp why you needed his permission to go to the shops, why you needed to ask him if you could do something. Your wardrobe was chosen by him and you hardly had any control over that. The jewellery he bought were things he thought would look the best on you too.

You had to ask him for approval to meet your friends—if you had any. None of them really stayed longer than a year. It was fine, they were never him anyways. They all had ulterior motives when it came to seeking a friendship with you. They were all parties and dinners and events. One time, there was a party in his house. Some charity gathering that you couldn't care less about. You were outside in the garden when one of your employees walked by. You called him to where you were sitting.

“Can you please get me some water?” you asked. “I don’t really want to go back there right now,” you said. You spent the whole night portraying the happy wife; the younger wife and you were sick of it. To them, you were Simon Coventry’s wife. To him, you were somebody he owned. To yourself, you were a prostitute. He basically bought you from that brothel anyway. You sat there silently, allowing yourself to shed the tears that you’ve been keeping.

You were sobbing, trying to comfort your body from the loss of personhood that you’ve experienced. You were a glorified doll for Simon to look at—a pet to protect. He’s never treated you like an equal and you will never be.

Your hands were shaky, makeup staining your face. If only Simon could see you now. He’d lose it. You clutched the locket that Tommy gave you. You told Simon that you needed it, that it was a picture of your mother and that you didn’t want to forget what she looked like. It was shabby; he asked if you wanted a better one, but you declined. When Tommy gave you that locket, he helped you put a picture of your mother right beside his. You still needed to give it back to him.

In the quietness of the garden, you remembered Polly’s advice before your wedding. She was helping you fit into the gown when she started to talk quietly.

“Remember, this,” she started, zipping up your dress. “Take advantage of the world you’re in now. Even if you do not love him, take advantage of what he’s willing to give. Take advantage of everything.”

The employee comes back to you with a glass of water.

“Thanks,” you whispered. “You may go now,”

Simon loved your newfound interest in participating in his business. He always sought you in the brothel for advice. It didn’t matter if you never studied, what mattered was that you were correct. They were small matters in his company. Like, you told him that maybe he wanted to increase the bond to a partnership. Or that he had to host charity events to make his company more appealing; ensure that it was widely publicised.

You were perched on his lap, looking through the documents, while he played with your hair. He was kissing your shoulder as you flipped through the pages.

“Some of my investments have been transferred to your account,” he says and you look at him, surprised.

“Simon—?”

“You deserve it,” he says, continuing his kisses on your shoulder. “You’re my wife. You should have your own money,”

“But that’s…that’s too much,”

“Just enough for you to go on those shopping sprees, if you ever wanted anything,” he says.

“Why—“

“You’ve proven to me that I could trust you after our…disagreement about Tommy Shelby,” he declared. “I’m sorry for cutting you off from your friends in Birmingham, darling but I promise, that they’re being taken care of. Especially Johnny. He doesn’t work in the brothel anymore after I bought him his house in Watery Lane,”

“It’s okay,” relishing in the newfound power that you had over your husband. You turned to him, your knees on either side of his thighs. You straddled him and grasped his chin with your hands. “I know that you only want what’s best for me, right?” you preened, dropping your lips to nibble on his ear. “Tell me,”

He sighs, clutching your body closer to his as you trailed your lips down his neck.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he moans. “So, so good. I’ll give you everything.”

FRANCE, 1917

Tommy had been injured and was sent to the wards immediately. There was a gaping wound on his chest when one of the tunnel rats shot him. His comrades were quick enough to retaliate; to put him above ground and call for help. He was on the hard bed, wondering if it would be easier to just give up and let the world take him.

“Y/N…” he mumbles, reaching for you. He could see you, see your arms beckoning him to come closer.”Y/N…where…Y/N…”

He mumbles your name over and over for what seemed like an eternity. He couldn’t say anything else, pleading with anyone.

“Just fucking kill me!” he shouts. “Fucking kill me, please…” he sobs, body shaking from the emotions that dwell inside. “Y/N! Y/N! Fucking kill me!” In…in-in the bleak midwinter…Y/N. Y/N.

AMERICA, 1917

“How is it being married to Simon?” one of the guests in some event asked. She was supposed to be the wife of a big oil conglomerate. Simon’s father invested in their business awhile back and had been business partners since.

“He’s kind,” you said. He is…you just can’t love him like that. “It’s amazing being married to him,”

“I see,” she replied. “May I ask where you met again?”

“We met in Birmingham,” was your meek answer, looking for your husband. You hated events like these. The heir and his younger wife. You hated everything about it. Where is he?

“What family are you from?” she asked, oblivious to the fact. Everyone was oblivious to that fact. Simon made sure to never let anyone know that you were a prostitute. ‘For your safety’ he said and you understood. She said that she’ll never forgive you for tainting her wonderful son but Simon said that it was okay. You both didn’t need anyone else.

“Sorry—do you happen to know where Simon is?” you asked, trying to change the topic.

“Can’t stay away from him too long, huh? You must really love him,” she gushed. “I hope I’m the same with my husband but our union was basically something that was already agreed upon,”

“Yeah, I do,” you half-lied. You loved Simon as a friend, as a companion. He tries his best to understand. He’s loving and as far as you were aware, hadn’t kept any mistresses. That came with a price, though. Simon never liked it when a man looks at you too long. He doesn’t like seeing you with the opposite sex. He didn’t like you exchanging pleasantries with them. “He’s the best. He allows me to help him out in the business, you know?”

“You’re involved in his business?” she asked.

“Small things,” you replied. “Arranging charity balls and the like,”

“Your governess must have been a good one,” she replied.

“I suppose so.” You lied, knowing that you could never have been able to afford one. You were living day to day when you were a kid.

The girl only smiled tightly before walking away. You watched her talk to other girls. How beautiful it is to be included in a group! You’ve always felt like an outsider. This room was filled with billionaires and millionaires. This room made up most of the world’s economy and you were a prostitute. You were in the nicest clothes that money could afford but it still felt like the same, cheap lace that you used to wear. You turned to look for your husband but he was already wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Simon,” you greeted, kissing his cheek. You were relieved to see him, somehow.

“Hello, darling. Do you wish to meet my friends?” he asked, kissing the side of your head affectionately.

“Of course,” you nodded, seeing the girl you were talking to with her own husband now. Simon took you to them, never letting your waist go.

“Simon!” the husband greeted, regarding you with a swift look before shaking your husband’s hand. “Is she the wife or a mistress?” he asked, and you frowned.

“The wife,” Simon replied honestly. “Don’t have a mistress,”

“What about that bird you were seeing in…Small Heath? Is it Small Heath?” he asked.

“Haven’t been there since I got married,” he replied. It was true. “By the way, Eric, I do hope your wife watches what she talks about with her other…friends,” he said, and you tilted your head in confusion. The girl looks down in shame.

“What do you mean?” Eric asked. “Surely, Natalia only wished to make an acquaintance. Is that right, Nat?”

“Yes, of course. Whatever Y/N was saying must be untrue,” she said, feigning innocence.

“I see. I must have been delirious when I heard your wife call Y/N boring,” he shrugged. “Anyways, if I see or hear you disrespect my wife one more time, there will be repercussions. Seeing as you’re financially unwell, I would hate to take out my shares in your company. Isn’t that right?”

“Of course, Simon,” Eric coughed, glaring at Natalia. “I apologise, Mrs. Coventry,”

You could only nod before Simon whisked you away.

“Let’s go home. No one’s worth talking to in this shit hole anyway,”

When you got in the car, Simon was already all over you. He was tugging on your sleeves, kissing your neck. You were used to this; the driver was used to this.

“Did I ever tell you that you looked absolutely ravishing in this dress?” he growled, fisting the silk fabric. “The things you do to me, pet,”

“I dressed up just for you,” you whimper. “Do you like it?” You may not love him but he was good. Maybe it’s because you’ve known each other for years…or maybe, you’re more comfortable but Simon was good at what he does. He puts your needs first. In any case, that’s how he likes it. This is what you’ve been doing for about two years. Giving everything that Simon ever wanted from you and taking double back from him. You were wealthy on your own now. If you divorced Simon, you’d never have to worry about life anymore. He had put trusts, investments, and properties in your name that he promised he’d never take away. It was sealed in a document. You were his closest kin. You own everything.

Except your freedom.

“Of course I do,” he confirms, rutting his hips on your exposed thigh. He groans at the contact. “Fuck, are we close?” he asked the driver.

“Twenty minutes, sir,” he replied.

“I’ll triple your salary for the month if you could take us there in ten,” he proposes and the driver speeds up, never minding the laws of the road.

LONDON, 1918

The war has ended and you were close to collapsing. There could only be two things—the brothers made it or they did not. You didn’t have any form of communication with them and you were nervous. What if they didn’t make it?

BIRMINGHAM, 1918

The boys were deployed in Birmingham. Cramped in vehicles, Tommy held the strap of his satchel tightly. He was anxious to see his family. He was so anxious to see you. He never received letters from you even though he wrote every week. He was too afraid that he'd turn his back on his country to come to you but he didn’t care. What kind of man would that make of him?

There were a million things that he wanted to tell you—how he left without ever telling you that he loved you. How your face was the only thing that kept him alive in those tunnels. Would you still love him now that he’s not the same? Would you still soothe him until he falls asleep?

His brothers could see his nervousness. So, Arthur offered him a tight smile. John was looking forward to seeing his kids again.

“She’ll be there, Tom,” Arthur offered. “If anyone’s going to be there, it’s her,”

“Yeah, of course,” Tommy replied. They were nearing Birmingham. They were nearing the place you both grew up in and he felt bad because he should have been thinking about his family but instead, he was thinking about you. The vehicle stops and he takes a deep breath. Will he see you? Will you run to him and finally kiss him like he’s been thinking of for four years? He braced himself as soldiers spilled out into the road. He could see Polly and Charlie with Finn on his shoulders. He smiled, telling his brothers that he saw everyone.

“You boys are back!” Polly gushed, taking the three of them in an embrace. She blinks away the tears. Tommy was searching the crowd for you and Polly could see that. “She couldn’t make it, Tom. She’s in London,”

His heart drops. Why would you miss this reunion? Why were you in London? He nodded wordlessly, keeping to himself while John answered all of the questions. The day after that, he went to your house but saw that nobody was there. He went to the brothel but there were new girls who didn't know who you were. Johnny wasn’t there either.

He went there every day for less than two weeks until one day, he saw a scrap of newspaper sitting in the kitchen.

SIMON AND Y/N COVENTRY PURCHASE NEW HOME IN PARIS AFTER THE WAR.

He furrowed his brows, turning the pages until sure enough, there you were. It was a portrait of you and Simon. He barged into Polly’s room, opening the drawer where she kept memorabilia. There were multiple pictures of you and your wedding with Simon. There was a picture of you and the whole Shelby clan along with Johnny. There was an envelope with a cheque worth a few thousand pounds from Simon. He shook, his heart beating loudly as he let go of everything. You were married. You married Simon Coventry. You didn't wait for him.

“Tommy,” Ada whispers from the door, seeing her older brother crouch in defeat.

“When were you planning to tell me?” he spat. “When?”

“Tommy, we didn’t know how to tell you—“

“Tell me when the fuck were you planning to tell me, Ada or I swear, I will blow this fucking house down,” he threatened, running his fingers through his hair. It’s not the same when you do it. Ada walked towards her brother, seeing her brother so defeated was something new.

“I…” his voice breaks into a sob. “I was under the tunnels and all I could ever think—all I could—I’m smoking fucking opium because I’m so fucking worried and she’s—she’s,” Tommy couldn’t breathe, hyperventilating. “She’s gone, she’s gone…”

There was a ringing in his ears, and he couldn’t hear Ada call for help. He was panicking, tears flowing freely from his eyes. He waited for you. He counted the days until he saw you again, but you were not here. He felt like he was underground again. It was Arthur who calmed him down, slapping Tommy across the face to wake him up. It works, it always works.

“Leave us,” Polly ordered everyone. “Drink some water, Tommy, we have to talk,”

“Pol—“

“Leave us,”

“Polly, it’s not right!” Ada said. “I should’ve listened to her when she told me she didn’t want it,”

“He has to know, Ada. I’ll tell him now,”

“It’s alright, Ada,” he croaked. “Leave us,” His brother dragged his furious sister away. He was embarrassed to have been seen like that—weak. But what else could he do? He crossed the vastness of a sea of fire just to go home to you. Polly sighed.

“It’s my fault,” she said once everyone was out. He exhales, a staggered breath as if he’s been carrying all the weight of love that he has for you.

“It’s all I ever wanted, Pol,” he said, looking down on his lap. A life with you in your home. There’d be a big garden for you to run on. You’ll have so many horses and you'll teach your kids how to ride them. “You know that it’s all I ever wanted,”

“I know, Tom but you can’t blame her,” she said. “She didn’t want to leave and I saw that but what else could she be if she didn’t leave Birmingham? I prayed for your safety everyday, I did. But…but what if you didn’t come back? Would she work at that brothel until she fades? There was an opportunity for her to have a better life outside of Birmingham. I told her to take advantage of it,” she explained, trying to reach Tommy but he flinched away. Polly puts down her hand, clearing her throat.

“She’s all I ever wanted, Polly and you took that from me. You took her-you took her away from me!” he sobbed, cradling his head in his hands. “You took her away. You took her away…”

“She sent you letters while you were away,” Polly said, placing a stack of envelopes beside Tommy. “I’m sorry, Tom but I wanted her to have a good life. Birmingham isn't good for her. You were only going to keep her from making a name for herself,”

Polly nodded to herself before leaving Tommy and a stack of letters that he never received.

He opens the one on top just to check—just today.

Dear Tommy,

Every day passes by without you and I still can’t bear it. I hope you’re well, I hope my letters become a sense of comfort for you.

It’s getting harder for me to spend time with your family. All I could think about was how the two of us would run freely in Polly’s house because you were chasing after me. I couldn’t spend time at home either because my bed reminds me of how much I liked sleeping beside you. It’s so peaceful. I sleep in your clothes sometimes and Ada gave me some of the shirts that you left. I’ll return them to you when you’re back but right now, it’s the only way for me to feel like I could breathe…that someday, you’ll come back to me. I’ll wait. I’ll always wait for you, like I promised.

I haven’t told you everything yet, but I hope I can tell you soon.

Tommy opens another one. What’s another stab to the heart anyway?

Dear Tommy,

It’s been years and you haven't written back. Are you mad at me? I’ll stop writing to you for the meantime but just know that I’ll wait for you.

LONDON, 1919

Dearest,

I’m so sorry to tell you but Johnny has died. Please come to Birmingham soon.

The letter from Johnny’s wife shook in your hands. Big Johnny was dead, and you had to go to Birmingham to the funeral. You ran to your husband’s office. Upon seeing your tear-stained face, his face falls in concern.

“What the matter, love? Did someone hurt you?” he asked, patting his lap, telling you to sit on it. You complied, hiccuping. You were heartbroken but you knew that if you wanted to go, you had to play smart. You had to play the broken doll that he loved to take care of.

“Johnny’s dead,” you whispered, burying your face in his chest. You allowed him the privilege to soothe you. His hand inching their way underneath your shirt for unbridled contact. “Johnny’s dead, Simon,” you cried. “I—I got this…letter,” you said, showing him the crumpled piece of paper on your hand. He had to fire whoever gave you this letter—it was a strict rule that he was supposed to read all the letters sent to you. It was a rule that no letter from Birmingham must arrive in your hands.

“Oh, darling,” he said, kissing your temple.

“I know…I know that I can’t go,” you said. “But…can I please go, Simon?” you asked. “He was like my father,” you whispered. It was true and Simon knew that. Johnny took care of you to the best of his abilities. You told Simon of the stories when you were younger. Him teaching you arithmetic, teaching you how to throw a punch to defend yourself…he helped you move into the house you bought. You’ve never been there for years, and you wondered if Ada continued to take care of it after abandoning them. “I understand if you won’t allow me,” you nodded, removing yourself away from him but he held you closer.

“You can go,” he whispered. He’d have you guarded so that no one could even come to you. No Tommy Shelby. “Do you want me to come?”

“No,” you shook your head, regaining your composure. “I know that the partnership with Alfie Solomons will require your full attention. Do you promise to be home once I arrive? I need you,” You stilled on his chest.

You didn’t know what a lie was anymore.

“Of course, I’ll be here,” he said.

“I can take some of the guards with me for my safety,” you compromised. You weren’t lying, though. The business he had with Alfie Solomons kind of scared you. What if he sent men to take you as ransom?

“Of course,” he said. “Where will you stay? Are there hotels there?”

“I can stay at my old home.” you said. “We can send in some cleaners before I arrive to make it nice,”

“Alright, darling. Are you leaving tomorrow? I’ll send some people now. Will that be okay with you?” he asked. You looked up to him, doe-eyed.

“Yes,” you replied. “Thank you, Simon. I love you,” you said, kissing his cheek. “Thank you.”

BIRMINGHAM, 1919

The Blinders mentioned to Arthur that the old house that Ada takes care of had the lights on. There were multiple servants coming in and out of the run-down house and they asked who was coming. It was the owner of the house. That could only mean…

“Tommy!” Arthur called, nodding at Harry before barging in the special room at the Garrison. “Stop fucking the barmaid and listen to me, mate,”

Grace looks at him sheepishly before excusing herself.

“Fuck, what is it Arthur?” Tommy asked, lighting a cigarette.

“Y/N’s coming back,” he said. Tommy halts, looking at Arthur.

“Arthur—“

“The Blinders saw the lights at her old house open with a fuck ton of servants cleaning up. They asked…told her that the owner of the house is coming back to go to a fucking funeral,” Arthur explained. “She’s coming back, mate. Your Y/N’s coming back.”

Tommy leans on the couch, running a hand through his face. He wordlessly leaves Arthur, not sparing a glance to Grace, before leaving the Garrison entirely. It was midnight, you could be home soon. In the shadows, Tommy waited, his peaky cap making him incognito.

He waited the whole night, smoking his cigarette and looking at the spot where your house could be seen clearly. At around six in the morning, he sees a convoy of high end cars line up. A black Bentley stopped right in front of the house and there you were. Tommy’s breath is knocked out of his lungs. You were dressed in something simple and comfortable for your travel but you’ve never looked so ethereal. The driver gives you his hand to help you and you smile at him. Looking around the place, peace settles in your features.

He doesn’t realise it but his face relaxes too. It’s like he hasn’t breathed in all the years he spent without you. He gulps, not allowing himself to cry. He’s stronger now and he couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him.

He looked on, noticing that Simon Coventry was not with you. It was then he realised that guards dressed formally surrounded your house. It didn’t matter to him. Fuck your husband’s security system. He’ll make a way. Just because there was a change of plans doesn’t mean that you can begin again. He doesn’t care.

You were here. You were finally home, and he wonders if the frame he gave you on your 21st birthday was still there.

PART 3

A/N: Grace will not be romantically involved with Tommy in the story for obvious reasons. There will be mentions of her but they will be minimal. Thank you so much for reading and for giving my story love and support. I hope to see you in the next one!

BTW, we need a face for Simon. Who do you think will be a perfect Simon?

Don’t forget to reblog / leave a comment if you liked it! TAGLIST: @shelbydelrey @runnning-outof-time @duckybird101 @thenattitude @swordofawriter @litteltourtius @trixie23 @everythingelseisextra @majesticcmey @liveat1am @dumb-wh @denabp16 @yvonna-chan @goldensunflowe-r @therosabel @hunnibearrr @dazecrea @daddyslittleattentionwhore @the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @dang-shawty-okay

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders #fafic #fanfiction #angst #fluff #tommy shelby fluff #protection!tommy #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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rhoorl · 1 month

Text

Strike a Pose

Pairing: Benny Miller x OFC Vanessa (Delta Landscaping Universe)

Word Count: 3.3k | AO3 Link

Delta Landscaping | Benny Miller Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Summary: Benny and Vanessa go on their first date.

Warning: Benny Miller. That’s it. That’s the warning. No, but seriously, I think this is pretty fluffy. Vanessa has some insecurities about her body and a previous bad relationship.

A/N: This is an extended version of a scene from Chapter 15 of Delta Landscaping, but I think it could be read as a standalone. Big thank you to @trulybetty for answering a series of random questions mad libs style - I’ll share more at the end! Also to those reading Delta Landscaping, this does count towards our little bingo board…I hope you enjoy the latest Easter egg 😉

The drive over to the bowling alley was pleasant. Chatting with Benny was so easy and he constantly made me laugh. When I wasn’t laughing I was trying hard to not just stare at the guy – he looked so good. At one point, we stopped at a red light and he casually turned his hat backward and my breath hitched. I coughed to try and play it off.

Saturday night at a popular bowling alley made for a packed parking lot and an even busier lobby. We walked up to check in and the woman at the counter told me that I didn’t have a reservation. I could have sworn I set it up, but I couldn’t find a confirmation email anywhere in my inbox. To make matters worse, she was giving me a pretty snotty attitude saying it would be at least a two-hour wait.

I was so annoyed with myself, I’m usually better about stuff like this. Lord knows I love a plan. But Benny didn’t even bat an eye, he just told me to “Stay here darlin’” as he waltzed back over to the attendant who so rudely turned me away a few moments ago. He leaned against the counter and flashed a smile and some puppy dog eyes. It’s no wonder she folded and gave him whatever he wanted – shit, I would too.

He motioned for me to come over, “What size you got doll?”

“Ah, um….8 and a half if you have it?” I asked the woman, confused as to how they miraculously found us a lane.

The attendant gave me an up-and-down and looked at Benny before she turned around and plopped two pairs of shoes onto the counter. “Lane 22.” She said with a deadpan expression.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Benny winked. “C’mon, darlin’ let’s go,” Benny lightly laid his hand on the small of my back which sent goosebumps up my spine.

“How’d you manage to find us a lane?”

“Well, you always catch more bees with honey,” he looked over with a smirk.

“So a nice smile is honey now huh?” I quipped, the words coming out before I could think it through.

“Oh I have a nice smile don’t I?” Benny chuckled. I averted my eyes, hoping that the warmth I was feeling in my cheeks wasn’t too apparent. “Here we go, lane 22. After you.”

We went to pick our bowling balls. I opted for a bright pink one pretty quickly, while Benny had to test several out. There’s a method to my madness he told me as he picked up ball after ball. I don’t know what came over me but watching his fingers slot into each…nevermind, I can’t think about that.

He eventually found one he liked and we started our game. It’s been years since I’ve done this but it was fun, even though I was playing with a ringer. I had more gutterballs than pins I knocked down, but Benny didn’t make me feel bad. It was sweet, actually. He tried to help me a couple of times, standing behind me, one hand lightly on my hip as he directed me where to aim. I honestly had no idea what he was saying, feeling his breath close to my ear it was a miracle I was still standing.

We finished the first game just as our food arrived. Not only was it impressive that he bowled a perfect game, he did it with mostly trick shots. It was cute how he seemed to get excited trying to impress me.

“Are you serious?” I shook my head. It was unfair, he wasn’t even looking at his last shot. His back was to the lane and he just let the ball fly behind him. He sauntered over to me with a big grin and a swagger that made me take an extra few sips of my water.

“Ooo yay, the food is here,” he rubbed his hands together, looking at the spread. I was a little self-conscious about ordering so much food, but he mentioned how training was making him hungry.

“Wait wait!” I needed to take advantage and grab some photos. “Sorry, I um…one sec,” I bit my bottom lip as I pulled out my phone and started to rearrange the plates. I could see Benny out of the corner of my eye looking confused as I started taking photos. “Sorry…I am one of those people, annoying I know, but I figured tonight was a good excuse to start up my account again,” I finished my little impromptu photoshoot with a couple of quick videos to use for my stories. “Phone eats first,” I winked motioning that the coast was clear.

“What kind of account you have?”

“Oh, it’s just on Instagram…I started it a few years back…it’s a fun way to explore the food scene and…sorry this is all boring I’ll stop,” I laughed to myself.

“No, no, it’s not boring, I like it. I like food, clearly,” he motioned to the four plates in front of him which made me snort. “Lemme see, I wanna follow.” He motioned toward my phone with his chin.

I reluctantly handed him the phone and watched as he scrolled my account. My heart was racing wondering if he was going to think this was a stupid little hobby like Luce did. I saw his forehead scrunch and I felt a pit in my stomach, ready for the impending snide comment.

“What? I know I don’t always have the best lighting, I’ve been meaning to buy myself a little light thing and - “

“No, hey,” he put his hand on my forearm, which sent an electric pulse up my body. I suddenly realized my sister was right and it was probably too warm for me to be wearing this flannel after all. “No this is great, these photos are beautiful…I just was wondering where you were.”

“What?”

“I don’t see you in any of these photos. Maybe your hands every once in a while, but how come you’re not in these?” He shook the phone as he turned it back to me.

There was a reason for that. It started off innocently enough, with one random troll making a comment about how I should spend less time going out to eat and more time on the treadmill. I could shake it off, one comment wasn’t going to bring me down. But as my account grew, the more of these I got – mostly from blank profiles. They didn’t even have the decency to show themselves, just letting their keyboards sling harmful words. So, I deleted every photo I was in, but eventually, that wasn’t enough so I just put a pause on the account.

“Oh…I…um…I dunno I guess I’d rather have the focus be on the food,” I looked down, playing with the straw of her water.

“Hmm…” Benny nodded, handing back my phone. He pulled his out and started typing. My eyes narrowed trying to figure out what he was up to. “There, you have a new follower,” he winked.

I saw the notification pop up and I had to steady my breath as I saw his profile picture because he looked so hot. It was a black and white photo of him in a white tank top and the same black hat he had on tonight. I clicked on his profile and almost choked seeing how many followers he had. “Holy shit, are you like an influencer or something?!”

He looked a bit sheepish, “I started the account when I got into fighting…a way to promote them…and then I just kept posting gym stuff and it grew from there.”

“Well, you have a lot of very loyal fans it seems,” I smirked, scrolling past some very thirsty comments.

I’ve been down this road before. A pretty boy who has women throwing themselves at him. I nearly wrote men off completely after Lucien, but thanks to Vic and Marcus I realized that he was a very unique breed. I hadn’t known him long at all but I knew Benny was different. He obviously knew he was a good-looking guy, but there was something sweet and endearing about him. And no, this isn’t just me being mesmerized by his eyes…which also was happening.

“Pope used to date a girl who did social media stuff for her job so she set it up for me. I don’t post a ton, but it’s there. I’m mostly on there to help keep an eye on my niece, lord knows her dad is a lost cause when it comes to anything on his phone that’s more than making a call,” he chuckled to himself. “But now I’m excited to see your food stuff on my feed,” he smiled.

“Well thanks…I started the account when I lived in Charlotte…gave me an excuse to get around and explore,” I gave a tight smile as I bit into a slider.

“Maybe we can explore some stuff…together?” his hopeful eyes made me slow down my chewing.

“Um…ok, yeah sure, that’d be fun,” I smiled back, trying to hide how giddy I was. “Although you may regret what you’re signing yourself up for,” I winked.

He looked at me with a lopsided grin and leaned in. “Oh, I don’t think I’m gonna regret it at all, boss lady.”

We snacked on the rest of the food as we bowled another game. I managed to knock down a few more pins this time and Benny, again, bowled a perfect game. As the time expired on our lane, a bittersweet feeling came over me. I had a lot of fun tonight, laughing and getting a chance to forget about things for a while. I honestly didn’t want it to end.

________________________

As he opened the passenger side door for me he stopped, biting his lip and digging his hand into his pocket. “I…uh…d’you wanna go somewhere else? Or if you need to get home that’s ok too, I just figured maybe we can-”

“No, that's fine. I don’t have a curfew.” That comment made him laugh, which was like music to my ears. It was so pure.

“Nice. Uh, wanna go get a drink somewhere? Is there a place you want to check out for your account?”

“Umm yeah, maybe here let me scroll through some stuff I saved.”

“Get in, we can figure it out,” he opened the door for me.

Within a few minutes, we settled on a new bar that was pretty close by. It was a casual place, which I was thankful for considering how both of us were dressed.

Walking in, I noticed Benny scan the room. Now that I thought of it, he did the same thing earlier when we walked into the bowling alley. If I didn't know any better it seemed like he was trying to get a handle on where all the exits were or something.

We found a booth tucked in the back and I was surprised when he followed to sit on the same side of the booth as me. He sat close, our legs touching as we shared a menu.

“So…what're you thinking?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Hmm…I'm not sure, everything looks so good. Kinda thinking of this espresso martini. What about you?”

“Espresso this late?” He chuckled.

“I'm Cuban, Bun. I've been drinking espresso since I was like four. You build up a tolerance,” I winked.

He licked his bottom lip as he looked down and laughed. “Ah makes sense. Is there a drink you think would make for a good picture? I can order that.”

I could have melted right there. In just a couple of hours he'd shown more support for this account than my ex had shown in years.

“Aww that's sweet, but seriously, order whatever you want. Everything here looks awesome.”

He twisted his mouth to the side as he read through the menu again. “Hmm ok, I'm thinking this smoked Old Fashioned then.”

I had to laugh at myself when the drinks arrived. I could hear Marcus in my head making some comment about how they both looked “Insta-worthy.” The Old Fashioned Benny ordered came with a beautiful presentation. I was able to capture the smoke billowing out of the glass container as they unveiled the drink. My creative juices were flowing and I couldn't wait to edit and post some of these photos.

“Hey, can I try and take some photos?” Benny asked with a lopsided grin.

My eyes narrowed wondering what he was up to, but I was intrigued so I handed over my phone. He started off innocently enough taking some photos of the drinks and the bar, but the next thing I knew he flipped the camera around and wrapped his arm around me to snap a few photos of the two of us. I brought my hand to my mouth as I laughed, turning into his neck to hide. Being this close to him made my brain short-circuit a bit.

“There, some for your personal collection,” he said softly. He still kept his arm around me and I swear it felt like he was rubbing his thumb up and down my shoulder.

I turned to look at him and the hustle and bustle of the bar faded away and it was just the two of us sitting on a bench. His eyes looked even more blue up close and the smell of his cologne filled my nostrils. If he kissed me right there I would have been more than ok with it.

The waitress coming back to check on us pulled us both back to the present. It was getting late so Benny asked for the check and paid, even though I was more than willing to. He'd taken care of everything this evening. I wanted to split things but he would tsk and say “no ma'am” and pull out his card instead.

___________________

He walked close to me as we made our way back to his car side-by-side. It felt like his hand brushed against mine a few times, but I thought maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me. The drive home was a bit quieter. I was running through different ways I thought the night may end…trying to not get my hopes up for how I wanted it to end.

“Right, well Mari will be happy to know I got you home safe,” Benny said with a tight smile as he parked the car.

“Yeah, don’t want to get on her bad side. Although I don’t think you could do anything to get on her bad side, she’s pretty taken with you,” I laughed as I undid my seatbelt and grabbed my crossbody.

“Here, ah…let me walk you to the door.” He quickly turned off the car and unbuckled his seatbelt, getting out before I could object. He waited for me to come around the front of the car, again lightly placing his hand on the small of my back as we walked up the walkway to the porch.

“Thanks for tonight, I had a lot of fun,” I smiled as I started looking for my keys.

Benny put a hand in each of his pockets and rocked slightly forwards and backward. “I…ah…I had a lot of fun too…even if I kicked your ass in bowling,” he chuckled.

I feigned offense, “Hey now! I didn’t know I was up against a professional.”

“It’s not my fault I’m good at that stuff,” he said with a sheepish grin.

“What other stuff are you good at?” I asked, not realizing I was biting my lip.

The energy changed and I think Benny must have felt it too with the way he sucked in a breath. His eyes didn’t leave mine as he closed the distance between us. Everything felt like it was simultaneously happening at warped speed but also in slow motion. As he got closer to me, the front door opened. Marcus. Marcus stood there with a garbage bag in his hand.

“Oh…ah…shoot, sorry,” he winced. “I was cleaning up a bit and I um…’scuse me,” he walked in between us giving me an apologetic look.

Benny rubbed the back of his neck, “Right well, I’ll get going. Maybe we could do this again sometime?”

I nodded, trying to catch my breath since my heart felt like it was beating in my throat. “Um, yeah. That’d be n-nice. I’d like that.”

Marcus walked back up, wringing his hands together as he approached us. “Hey, I ah…I don’t want to impose or anything, but um…Vic and I are celebrating our anniversary on Friday…10 years…we were planning on taking the day off together. I have a few things planned. But, we were talking and Benny if you want to help Vandy you guys can take the kids to the zoo or aquarium or something.”

“Marcus, you can’t just ask him to spend the day with two little kids…” I shook my head.

“N-no, it’s ok. Congrats by the way. I…uh…I like kids. The guys say it’s because I’m just a big kid myself,” Benny chuckled to himself.

“You really don’t have to Benny….Marcus,” I gave him a look that said we’re talking about this later.

“I really don’t mind. Besides, you’re going to tell Mariella that she could have spent a whole day with me and you said no,” he waggled his eyebrows at me with a grin.

“She’s the boss around here you know,” Marcus added.

“We can talk about it…don’t feel like you have to make a commitment or anything tonight. I’ll um…I’ll see you later Benny. Thanks again.” I reached up, wrapping my arms around his neck for a hug.

He wrapped both arms around me, squeezing me tight. “I had a lot of fun tonight,” he whispered in my ear, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. “Have a good night Marcus.” He said with a small wave as he backed his way off the porch and walked back to his car.

“I can’t believe you,” I hissed at Marcus as we walked through the door.

“Shoot I’m sorry Vandy,” he scratched his head. “I was listening to music as I was cleaning up, I didn’t hear you all pull up. I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”

I inhaled through my nose, counting to five so I didn’t freak out on him. “It’s fine, Buck.”

“So…how’d it go?” He followed me into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I poured myself a glass of water.

“Good. Really good. He’s a nice guy and we had a lot of fun.”

He pushed himself off the counter and came over wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “That makes me happy, you deserve it.” He kissed my forehead and I hugged him back.

_______________________

As I lay in bed, I started going through my photos from the night, trying to decide which ones I would post. I came across the photos Benny took. I hadn’t looked at them at the time but now I was able to see the way he looked at me in those photos. I didn’t even spend time picking apart how I looked. My eyes were zoned in on him – on the way his eyes crinkled or the big smile across his face. It gave me butterflies.

I had enough photos to split things up over a few posts, so I decided to go with a photo of Benny’s Old Fashioned from tonight. I was pretty pleased with myself at how I was able to capture the smoke. I didn’t know what to put for the caption but landed on “Great drinks. Better company.” and posted it. Within 30 seconds I heard my phone buzz. And then a few seconds later it buzzed again.

I had two Instagram notifications – both from Benny – a like on the post and a comment.

thatbmiller: Better company indeed.

The biggest grin came across my face and I had to cover my mouth to stop from squealing. I liked the comment and then felt another buzz, this time it was a text.

Benny: I had fun tonight.

Vanessa: Me too. Thanks for liking my photo

Benny: Of course.

Benny: So, I was thinking….aquarium?

Vanessa: Yeah, I’d like that.

A/N: That meddling Marcus 😆 for as much as he’s helped these two get together he’s also inadvertently cockblocked them too. Ok, so earlier I mentioned how @trulybetty answered some random questions I threw in her inbox one day… here’s what I asked, what her answer was, and how I used it in the story.

Pick a color: Pink (the bowling ball Vanessa chose)

Pick a number between 18-25; 22 (the lane they got)

Yes or No This was going to be whether or not they sat on the same side at the booth at the bar, so because she said yes, that’s why Benny went ahead and tucked himself into the same side of the booth.

A drink: Espresso martini (the drink Vanessa ordered at the bar)

Phrase: “You catch more bees with honey” (what Benny says after he sweet-talked his way to getting them a lane after Vanessa was initially turned away).

I hope you enjoyed this. I’m excited to share more about Benny and Vanessa in DL and beyond. Some of it may or may not already be written…. 😉

#miller monday #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x ofc #benny miller #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #garrett hedlund fanfiction

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stargazing15 · 1 year

Text

Now that we meet again

Bradley Bradshaw x you

Summary: For five summers you were Bradley’s summer love (aka each others first love), until he joined the Navy. What would happen when you two stumble unto each other at the Hard Deck 15 years later?

Warning: no use of y/n, mention of alcohol consumption, teasing, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, protected sex, adult banter. Minors DNI 18+

A/N: saw this post from @roostersforevergirl and got the idea. This is long, whoops, I am not sorry at all

Enjoy! ❤️

You had to blink twice, after your initial thoughts got confirmed by hearing the name.

“Bradshaw, you gonna take the shot or what?” Bradley had noticed you too and started to make his way over, after shoving the pool cue in the blond haired man’s hands.

“It is really you. Wow, long has it been? You look good, no, you look fucking great Bubbles.”

“About 15 years I guess. B, you aged well too. Where did that cute babyface go?” The hug was more than welcome. “God I missed you.” As you were about to tickle him, you weren’t feeling the soft belly under your fingers that you were used to feel, but rock hard yummy abs.

“Liking what you feel?” Oh Jesus that smirk combined with those puppy eyes, he still knew how to get to you. Definitely no alcohol tonight as you wanted to make sure to remember every single second clearly.

“Hell yeah, the scruff too. These muscles and the fact you didn't coming back during the next summers, does that mean you did it?”

“Yup, Lieutenant Bradshaw at your service.” He said after taking a sip of his beer, of course letting a droplet beer escape and drip down his lip, to his chin, down his neck, okay, you were a goner already.

“Hmm, you know I like men in a uniform, care to introduce me to those hunks over there? Seems my colleagues already ditched me.” He smirked at your first remark.

“One sec Bubbles, just so I know I wouldn’t cross a line. Since I don’t see a ring, any boyfriend I need to watch out for?” He actually was right to ask that as you were about to flirt shamelessly with each other for the rest of the evening.

“Nope, still waiting for you B,” you teased. “And on your side? So my eyes wouldn’t get scratched out.”

“Same, I was searching for you. Let me introduce to that bunch of idiots I call friends.”

“Bradshaw, since you brought the lovely lady over, apology accepted. Hangman is the name, but you can call me Jake.” The blonde one winked.

“Hangman, stuck in kindergarten?” He had never expected that answer from you while displaying your cutest face.

“Callsign darling. Please don’t tell me you’re his sister or something?”

“Ew no.”

“Bagman shut it.” Bradley introduced you to the group and vice versa.

“B, you have a callsign too?” Everyone told you theirs, but Bradley stayed awfully quiet next to you.

“He hasn’t told you yet? It’s one close to his father’s, to honor him and he's always the first one up, Rooster.” You choked on the water you were trying to drink. They all knew now with certainty, that was not the complete story behind his callsign.

“You’ve got to be shitting me B.”

“Darlin, you know the real story?” The blonde one asked you. You looked with a little mischievous smile at Bradley. Trying to warn you, Bradley signalled you with his eyes.

“Oh come on B, don’t give me that look, don’t they deserve to know?”

“Bubbles, pretty please?” And like that puppy eyes appeared again, but you were enjoying this way too much knowing his mind and dick were about take a little trip down memory lane.

“Wait, you’re THE Bubbles?” Natasha, the only girl in the group you learned, asked you/ screamed for the whole group. “Tell me ALL the juice. But you can start with his callsign.”

“I’m gonna get a drink before I die from embarrassment.” Bradley excused himself from the group. Just to stand at the bar a couple of feet further, still able to hear everything.

“Okay, one evening, we had a couple of drinks, he was telling me about his father’s job and about callsigns. I knew about his desire to become an aviator. So we were trying to find one fitting for him. And Bradley with his big dick energy, do I need to tell more?”

“Oh my god, you two fucked?” Mickey as you remembered right, shouted.

“Bubbles, it was your favourite hobby during the summers as I remember right?” If he wasn’t shameless anymore, you were definitely not going to hold back anymore.

“Oh B, you know I love your massive dick.” The group was in awe on your reaction.

“S-so, how did you get your nickname, Bubbles?” The most innocent one of the group asked you, trying to chance the subject. He did not know, you were about to corrupt him further.

“Lost a bet and got Bubbles tatted on my butt, I always liked her.” You immediately noticed Jake eying your butt, as if he could see through your jeans. “Wanna see cowboy?”

“Hell yeah darlin.”

“Oh hell no, over my dead dick, uh body.” Bradley took a sip of his glass from embarrassment. You went closer to Bradley and stood in front of him, blocking the view from the others.

“Don’t tell me you already jerked off in the bathroom?” You whispered in Bradley’s ear while slowly letting your fingers trace down from his abs to your favourite merchandise in his pants and of course giving it a soft squeeze, making Bradley grunt.

“Well, your fault for looking this good.” After your little stunt he placed one leg between yours, letting his thigh touch with your clothed core, making you wanted to grind on him already. The moment your pelvis shifted a little to feel some friction, he removed his leg and joined Bob and Micky on the other side of the pool table, leaving you behind already hot and bothered. "Dickhead." You growled

“So, tell me more about younger Bradley, sorry, but we are in desperate need of blackmail material.” You were joined by Natasha and Rueben, after Bradley ditched you.

“Ooooh, I still have pictures on my phone, I think they’re somewhere in my cloud. One sec.” You kept your pictures together always close, let’s be honest, because he was and still is the love of your life. Only for five summers you got to call him yours.

Your face lit up the moment you found the pictures you were looking for. “Here, this was I think 16 years ago. And here, this one, from our last summer. This babyface is the same Bradley as the one standing over there.”

“I never imagined him being a little, chubby? But good chubby. You know he talked about you when we were deployed? When we are deployed, we all get sappy.”

“He was the cutest, too sad we lived so far away from each other during the rest of the year back then. What did he say about me?”

“It was always, back then Bubbles this and Bubbles that. And I don’t know if I should say this, but he referred to you as the one who got away. You were not just his first love, also the love of his life.”

“Nat is right. He was never able to keep a girlfriend, there was clearly always someone else on his mind.”

“Guys, I just met you and you two seriously trying to make me cry?”

***

“Rooster, man, you two are too obvious.” Mickey patted on his back.

“She’s ... really hot, I knoooow.” Bradley slurred.

“How many did you have already? You’re drunk and dumb. You two are so in love with each other. You realize that right?”

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“Come on, Rooster, this was your chance, why did you fuck it up by getting drunk?” Bob tried to make him aware of his mistake. Bob signalled you to come over with a sad expression.

“I’m so sorry your reunion night has to end like this, but he’s too drunk to keep him here, it’s been years since he’s been this drunk. I'm so sorry he's like that."

“You don’t have to apologize for his actions Bob, you are too kind. Can you help me with his address, I’ll drive his car, I came by cab.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, no one else but him can drive his Bronco.”

“He still has that thing? Don’t worry, I’ve driven it before. Ain’t that right B? I helped a bit with fixing it back in the days.”

“What? My Bronco gets to touch you first, I’m mad at her.” Bradley drunkenly grumbled.

“Jesus B, shut up before you’re about to embarrass yourself further.”

“Can you handle him on your own darlin?”Jake asked, coming out of nowhere.

“Not my first ride with drunken Bradley. It was nice meeting you all. Probably till a next time!”

After they helped you with loading Bradley in his Bronco and typing in the address, you were finally alone with him. Alone, with drunk Bradley, or so you thought.

“This was not how I imagined our reunion would end B.” You mumbled quietly. Not wanting a quiet ride, you put on one of cassettes you found on the dashboard. “Still the same music? Not much has changed apart from your appearance B.” Bradley hummed in response.

“Almost there, just don’t get sick and puke in your own car.”

“Never.” He sat up, stretched himself and suddenly did not look and sounded drunk at all.

“What the fucking hell! Dipshit, we left your friends because of you, they were all so nice.” You smacked the back of his head, making Bradley hiss in return.

“Eyes on the road Bubbles.”

“But what the fuck B, why this stunt? What were you drinking all night? You’re an idiot!” You were done raging by now.

“Feeling better?” You nodded as you parked his Bronco. “Penny, the nice bartender, she’s a good friend of us, she asked about you. And then noticed that you were having a nice time with the group. I might have said something about how always took care of me when I had a little too much to drink and she might have helped me with giving me apple juice.”

“Oh my god, you want me all for yourself. You didn't hear this but I love selfish Bradley. Come on, lead the way.”

Bradley’s house was unexpectedly … cute and cosy. “B, I love this place.” Oh god, he sneaked up behind you, just like the old days. His scent has changed, this was better, more manly, even more intoxicating than it ever was. His hands now on you waist, re-exploring the form of your body, his lips already planting kisses on your neck. The outline of his hardened dick already noticeable on your back.

Bradley hurriedly turned you around and pressed your back against the wall, taking your face in his big hands. His nose was touching yours as he was staring in your eyes.

“I missed you so much.” Before you got the chance to say anything back, his lips were on yours, his tongue immediately demanding entrance. Your arms sneaked around his head, occasionally gripping on his locks. You both got flashback to those hot summer nights, making out in one of your bedrooms. Those memories and your bodies being pressed together made you moan, loud.

Bradley heard you and let go of the kiss, only to start attacking your jaw and neck with needy, wet kisses while hurriedly trying to discard your blouse, but he was stuck somewhere. You placed your small hands on his big ones to make him stop destroying your clothes.

“B, stop, take a breath.” He looked so lost at your words, eyes still blown with lust. He was doubting himself on the inside. Was he wrong to think you wanted this too? You two were flirting non stop with each other the whole evening. And when he kissed you, you definitely kissed back, he was sure you were enjoying it a lot.

You placed your finger on his lips and let your other hand that was still on top of his, slide in his hand. Slowly you guided him to his sofa while walking backwards, not breaking eye contact. Once Bradley was seated, your finger let go of his lips. “You really look cute confused B.”

“But I am Bubbles, I thought that you l-”

“Stop thinking and start feeling.” You seated yourself on his lap facing him and placed his hand on your heart and so did you with your hand on his heart. “Let’s do this again.” This kiss was not hurried, it was slow and tender. You and Bradley had kissed a lot in the past, and was passionate many times, but never like this. Every kiss, every touch, every time you and Bradley fucked were burned in your memory. Your heart had never be able to let go of him and tonight you were going to let him know. When you broke off the kiss to catch your breath, you noticed how wet you got from just kissing him. Yes, you wanted him to take you here and now, but you had waited so many years for this, so this moment had to be the most memorable one.

“But I don’t want you to leave after tonight Bubbles, I’ve been so dumb for not coming back or searching harder for you after not coming back-“

“You really only think with that big dick of yours? Have you not listened tonight?” Bradley shot you the same confused look as earlier, but with a slight smirk at the mention of his dick. “I” kiss “was” kiss “at” kiss “the” kiss “bar” kiss “with” kiss “colleagues” kiss, you tried to deepen the kiss, but Bradley backed his head and kept looking at you confused.

“Colleagues? Work?” You hoped those words would start to make sense.

“I really am not getting it Bubbles.”

“Jesus B, you are stationed here right?”

“Yes, permanently.”

“I work in the city. I live here too B, since 10 months and I am staying here, permanenly.”

“Oh”

“I’m not going anywhere B.”

“Never going to let go of you again.” He lifted you up with him and walked with you clinging onto him to his bedroom. “You are not allowed to leave this house for the next two days.”

“Uh, underwear?”

“If I remember right, you look good in mine, but I doubt you will wear anything during those two days. Because we,” he threw you on his bed, “are going to make up for all the time we lost.”

Bradley still being the big tease he is, slowly got out of his shirt and tossed it somewhere on the ground. Your mouth fell open at the sight in front of you, you had already felt it, but seeing him being this ripped, looking at you with his sinful eyes and sweet jesus that massive stick visible in his jeans, you were officially done for any other man.

Bradley crawled on top of you, opening your blouse button by button and kissing the newly exposed skin before opening the next button. When the last one was opened you helped him get rid of your blouse. Next he opened the button and zipper of your pants, letting it slowly lower on your legs. “Have you got any idea how beautiful you are? You’re so fucking perfect.”

Bradley returned to pepper kisses all over your body while his hands roamed over the rest of your body. He made this moment feel so intimate and perfect. When he was satisfied with his kisses on you, he turned his attention to your boobs, letting his fingers trace over the lace covering them. “As much as I like it, I think I might like more what’s underneath it, can I?”

“Please B, your lips feel so good on me.” He didn’t need to be told twice to remove your bra and toss on the other side of the room. He started to kiss each boob first before turning his attention to your nipples. He skilfully took one bud in his mouth and let his tongue make love to it, the sensation going straight to your already dripping core. He had only just begun and you were already a moaning mess under him.

Bradley sat up after taking care of your other nipple too, admiring your needy look under him. You never used to like this quiet moments, but with Bradley, he made you feel like a goddess.

After contemplating for a minute what to do first, Bradley decided something was missing on you and he went back to kissing your neck and collarbone again. His kisses weren’t going to give him the result he wanted so he started sucking your skin in between kisses right under your collarbone to leave a mark he will be able to admire the rest of the weekend.

“B, please … something.” you moaned under his touch and kisses.

“Enlighten me Bubbles.”

“Your mouth, on me, lower, ooh.” He yanked your panties off, your sweet moans were now making it impossible for him to keep up the slower pace he was trying to maintain.

“Fuck you’re so wet for me babe. So, so perfect, all for me.” He settled himself comfortably between your thighs, letting his hot breath ghost over your wetness. After a needy whine escaped over your lips, he stopped admiring you and kitten licked your slit first and your clit a couple of times. He let his tongue explore what you liked and found a good rhythm softly circling your clit, making the heat inside your body rise more and more, getting you closer to your pending orgasm. Deciding not to let wait any longer for your high, Bradley gently inserted two fingers in your needy core. He moaned when your walls already started to clench around his fingers. You were so lost in the trance Bradley had put you in, that you couldn’t hold anything back anymore. You started to buck your hips a little to make his fingers hit the spot that made you see stars immediately. The little movement of your hips added more pressure from Bradley’s tongue on your clit, what made you scream out his name. As soon as he increased the speed of his fingers in combination with the circling motion of his tongue on your clit, you felt the heat building up in your belly reach its high and the muscles in your butt and abdomen tense. And then, it all exploded, your insides squeezed the hell out of Bradley’s fingers, a firework went off in your belly and your mind was on the fluffiest cloud possible.

Bradley pricked your wonderful bubble open by starting to kiss the Bubbles tattoo on your butt. "Missed you beautiful girl. Only you." Good thing his obnoxious smirk betrayed his intentions.

“You dick.”

“Hear that buddy, she loves you.” He said to his proudly erected dick.

You put up your biggest eyes and a pouty face "You want me to lick your lollipop B?" You licked your lips in the process.

"Oh yes please."

Your expression changed to an apologetic one "Too bad I'm not in the mood for a lollipop, I think you only look good between my thighs." You took his dick in your hands and teased him by pumping in an extreme slow motion. He threw his head back when he felt your hands on him and groaning at your slow speed. "You only get to enjoy when you're inside me" you winked, "punishment for not searching for me harder."

"Fuck Bubbles, come here." He closed the gap between you with a sloppy kiss. His hands back on your boobs as soon as you laid on your back. Maybe your heads hitting each other for a second when you landed on the bed. You couldn't hold back a little laugh as Bradley was still clumsy when he wanted to hurry something.

"Remember we have time B, no hurry or one of us might get injured." You joked with a little mischievous smile. "But I've got to admit can't wait to have you inside me."

"Fuck Bubbles. Got mouthy over the years. I like that." He moaned in between kisses. He started to lower his kisses to your neck, to your boobs and eventually to your stomach while gripping your thighs with his wonderful hand throughout his kissing-spree.

"God, B. The scruff feels wonderful, thought the Navy wouldn't allow that." It did tickle your stomach lightly.

"Unfortunately not, thought to try it on my time off. Will keep my stache. That will never disappear. Do you want me to grab a-" He said while signalling to his top drawer of his night stand.

"Maybe, yeah, I think I'm clean, I always have been careful, but I don't want to risk, you know for the Navy. Sorry for being a little party pooper. Going to make an appointment first thing in the morning." During your sudden rambling Bradley had already taken a condom and torn the package open with his teeth. He rolled it over his very erected dick and started to position himself in front of your entrance, until he noticed you suddenly changing attitude.

"Don't go all shy on me now Bubbles."

"It's not that, might sound weird, but I just got this nostalgic feeling. I wanted to cherish it for a moment."

"Good, but we're going to make it better." He positioned himself in front of your entrance and slowly pushed his cock inside you.

"F-fuck B, so big, easy p-please." You panted, trying to adjust to his size, a small tear appeared on the brim of the eyes.

"Had any decent dick after me?" He started to play with your boobs again to make the adjustment somewhat easier.

"Fuck no, your lovestick is the best." One thing your learned during the years you and Bradley fucked: praise his big dick, the more you fuel his ego, the lovelier it gets for you.

Your remark unleashed his ego and he accidentally bucked his hips, making you moan loud in the process. "Shit sorry Bubbles."

"Keep going, fuck it feels so wonderful. Oh." You didn't mean to, but the sounds escaping your mouth sounded like a needy little bitch. That was the effect Bradley had on you, make you loose complete control.

Bradley started to thrust, deep and slow thrusts. Only grunts and moans were escaping your mouths, even Bradley managed to keep his dirty mouth shut. All because you were both enjoying this way too much. For the first time in your history with Bradley, he was making love to you. If he had done it like this the last time 15 years ago, he would have probably snuck you into his bag when joining the Navy.

His thrusts were still slow and deep, but he managed to go a little harder the second he managed to hit your spot. You were getting close again, very close. You moaning his name over and over again as you were meeting his thrusts while bucking your hips slightly.

"Close too Bubbles, fuck, you're so, ah, so good. Let go." And you did exactly as he asked, he sped up lightly and made your orgasm hit you like a truck. Just like that, your body fell limp due to to intense contraction of all of your muscles. It felt weird this intense, yet so wonderful. Seconds after you Bradley came too, screaming your name, not Bubbles. Hearing your name roll over his lips like that, damn. You were still in a haze from your own orgasm, but hearing was as icing on the cake. Life was perfect now.

Two minutes had passed and you were both still laying knocked fucked out on the bed, your hands had found each other and intertwined. "Wow, I always thought they exaggerated in movies after the mind blowing sex that we never get to see. But now I understand. I'll be right back." Bradley took the condom he had removed after collapsing on the bed and came back a bit later with a warm washcloth to take care of you.

"Thanks B, I don't think I am able to walk for a bit." You smiled shyly.

"That good huh?" He joined you again on the bed, giving you your panties and one of his his large shirts after getting in his boxers. He kissed you softly before laying down in front of you, so you could stare at another.

"Hmm, let me think, did I have better? Oh maybe that one ... nah, oh bit a couple years ago, he was good .. but nah. Oooh fifteen years ago, that guy was something. Oh wait. Just kidding B, you have always been the best for me and this was the best yet. No one has made me cum with his dick only."

"I love you." Bradley blurted out, he was shocked at his own words. He was planning on telling them, just not yet. He wanted to bring up some good memories first, talk a bit, cuddle, spoil you, maybe make you confess first. But the words were out before he knew it.

You moved closer to Bradley and laid one hand on his cheek while planting your lips on his. "I love you too B, always have."

A little tear appeared in his the corner of his eyes. "B, are you crying? Is something wrong?"

He quickly wiped away the tear and smiled. "Fuck no, everything is alright, even more than alright. Hearing those words, I can get used to hearing them .

"Bradley, I love you too. I love you. I love you. I love you." And you ended your mantra with a peck on his lips.

"Hmm, in for a treat sweetheart? Spoiling me like that." Bradley already disappeared under the sheets, holding your hips down, ready to go down on you again. This was going to be the most memorable weekend of your life and finally the start of Bradley and you.

Taglist: @mrsjaderogers @mavrellover91 @cycbaby @bradleybeachbabe @iamdannyday @rhirhikingston @luckyladycreator2 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfic #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw fanfic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster imagine #rooster fanfic #rooster smut #top gun: maverick #tgm #top gun fanfic

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xiaq · 7 months

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It’s giveaway time!

I have 2 signed/personalized copies of All Hail the Underdogs up for grabs (shipped to you for free if you’re in the US). You have 2 ways to enter:

1. Like + Reblog this post 2. Make your own post rec'ing one of my books (or fic, if you'd rather) and tag me in it.

Or do both for 2 entries. The contest closes and I'll announce winners on Friday the 6th. There's another contest happening on Instagram as well if you want to improve your chances of getting one!

Also! I ended up having to order more author copies of AHTU since I oversold the first 100 I offered. If you just want to pay ($20 w/shipping) for a signed/personalized one, you can email me at [email protected].

Ok, ok. Here’s the blurb so any unfamiliar folks can be enticed into buying it:

When seventeen-year-old Patrick Roman is offered a scholarship to a top hockey preparatory school, he thinks maybe his notorious bad luck has finally ended. With a hearing for his legal emancipation on the horizon, he dreams of getting scouted and securing a place on a D1 college team. There’s only one problem: Roman has serious beef with his new winger on the team, Damien Bordeaux. They’re supposed to be perfectly in sync on the ice. But Roman, with his buzzcut and tattoos, has nothing in common with trust-fund-kid Damien, his floral scrunchies, and designer T-shirts that cost more than all of Roman’s secondhand hockey gear combined.

When eighteen-year-old Damien Bordeaux starts his senior year, he tells himself he’s going to focus on hockey and school. No more making out in the stacks, no more dorm parties. He needs to decide what his future will look like. Does he pursue his long-held dream of becoming an author? Or stay in his lane and do what he’s good at: hockey. Regardless, he’s not going to let any pretty boys distract him from figuring his shit out. Except his new center, Roman, is possibly the most beautiful boy Damien has ever seen. And his hockey—the way he moves on the ice—might be even more beautiful. Too bad he’s also probably a homophobic, racist asshole.

But their antagonistic beginning turns into an unlikely friendship and then turns into something much scarier for them both. Navigating relationships is hard enough for normal teenagers. It’s a lot harder when contending with lawyers, NHL scouts, and mutual past trauma. Roman and Damien have to decide: What do they really want in life? Are they willing to fight for each other—including fighting against their own pasts and prejudices—so they can have a happy ending?

#mylife #myface #author things #all hail the underdogs #ahtu #lrpd adjacent #ya fiction #queer reads #diversity reads

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xoxo-sarah · 8 months

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Deserved it

↝a/n: I need a better title for this. Also this has been in my notes app for so long and I've been too scared to post it.

↝pairing:Steve Harrington x fem!Hargrove!reader

↝ Warning: Billy, Reader is Billy's twin sister, angst , fighting, blood, arguing, slight smut, making out, not proofread

↝⎙ 9.9.23

"I have a hard time believing that." Oh- your smile. How could you look so much like Billy, yet so different? In a good way, of course. One thing that you didn't physically have that was the same was your smile. Yours was, well, nicer. More friendly. Less intimidating.

"I'm serious! Look- ask Nance." If you didn't know any better, you'd probably say he was practically begging you to believe him.

"I dunno, I just can't picture a guy like you being a ladies man."

"Okay, ouch."

Laughing, you couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of playfully picking on this poor soul.

"I was literally known as King Steve-"

"Bull."

That's how it all started. Playful banter between a kid who peaked in highschool and a new girl who had everyone's eyes on her and her own brother. Apparently, your family moving to Hawkins was a huge favor for everyone. You're welcome. You'd probably tell everybody, given the chance.

•••••

"Stay away from that Harrington boy." Billy puffed at his cigarette, before flicking it absentmindedly onto the dry ground.

"Steve-"

"Oh, first name basis now?" He scoffed, drumming his fingers on the car roof.

"He-"

"-Is trouble. He's looking for some dumb broad to pick up and have a good time."

"Billy, I don't really care what you think. And even if I was into him, that isn't any of your business." He slammed his hands down on the roof of the car, making you jump.

"Y/n," Billy tsked, "you are a lot of things, but a dumb slut isn't one of 'em. Now get in the car." Before you could respond, he sat down in the driver's seat, starting the engine.

Slamming the door, you slung your backpack over your shoulder and turned around.

Billy threw his arms up and huffed as he watched you walk away. Grabbing another cigarette, he lit it, letting you walk a bit ahead before he started driving. If you were going to act like a brat, he was going to treat you like one. He wasn't one to give in to anyone, but you had moments that made his cold heart ache for you, he was always going to be there for you, but only for you. You literally shared a womb together. There's obviously a connection that no amount of sibling back-and-forth could wilt, right?

Hearing an engine roaring, you didn't need to glance back to know who it was. Billy slowed, looking at your side profile, noting your sour expression. "C'mon, Cookie. The weather isn't looking too promising for you to be acting like this." Cookie. The nickname he had made up when he caught you stealing a cookie out of the cookie jar that was on top of the fridge. You were lucky he was the one who caught you. If it had been Neil, you wouldn't have gotten the cookie and a new nickname out of it.

"Fuck off, William."

That, right there, pissed him off to no end.

He sped past you, kicking rocks and dirt behind as he went, swerving in and out of the lane to taunt you.

You scoffed, "Fuckin' dick."

"Watch the floor!" Stopped in your tracks, it took everything in your being to not spin around and smack the shit out of Neil. Here you stood, soaked head to toe, along with your backpack and everything in it, and he was worried about the floor.

"I'll try to keep the water from falling until I get to my room." Giving him a fake smile, you marched to your room, slamming the door.

Almost as soon as the door shut, it opened again and Billy came in. He had to of just came out of the shower, steam rolling off his skin. Walking over to your desk, he picked up your deodorant.

"What do you want now?" You practically barked.

He held his free hand up, "Relax. I ran out." He harshly applied the stick with his other hand.

Yanking the stick from his hand, you scowled. "Buy your own. Get out."

"I don't have any money." He yanked it back, lathering his other armpit."

"Get. A. Job." You now harshly yanked it.

"I have a job, I just haven't gotten paid yet."

"That sucks for you. Get out, now."

"I don't think I will." Billy pulled out your desk chair, running his fingers through his wet curls.

"I will scream at the top of my lungs if you don't get your ass out now."

"Fine, whatever. Don't forget to clean the water up." Looking down, you watched as more water continued to drip from your soaked clothes to the hardwood flooring.

The deodorant went hurling against the door and clanked against the floor as he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Stop slamming the doors!"

The feelings of wanting to claw at your skin was intensifying each time your father opened his mouth.

You were in deep need of a relaxer.

•••••

"Billy would kill me- mmph~" As soon as Steve's lips pulled away, yours were chasing them.

"Shut up."

"M'kay." His hands tightened on your thighs as he felt your hips wiggle and closing against his own. Moaning as your pulled at his hair, he didn't have time to be embarrassed. He wanted you. Needed you. Right now.

You had gotten dried off and practically ran to the Harrington's. At first, it was just to blow off some steam, vent, if you will. But Steve had gotten some weed off of a friend and who were you to say no? A relaxer is a relaxer. Things got a little out of hand and you ended up saying a few things no sober person should ever admit. It didn't take much green for you to end up like you were. You were going to blame the plant either way.

Your other hand slid under his shirt, feeling the skin and hair under it. You groaned against his lips, feeling him unbutton your jeans.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, helping you pull his shirt over his head and throw it somewhere on the floor. His hands went back to your thighs as your lips went down his neck, starting at his jaw and going behind his ear and down. You kissed his body as if you were praising it. Every touch of your soft hands left a fire-hot trail, begging for your lips to follow with a cooling effect.

This is surely heaven, he thought.

Steve made a sound, causing you to quickly pull back just as quickly as you had put your hand in his pants and moved lower down his body. Be slowly shook his head, shifting in the seat. "Mmm, no. I want to touch you." Your unsure expression quickly vanished, replaced with a wicked smirk.

"Yeah? How?"

Steve was so glad he has matured from his King Steve days. Younger him would never take the time to worship a woman's body. But yours, oh God, yours deserved every bit of praise and everyone should worship your perfectly imperfect body. Every stretch mark, every crevice, every indent that society deemed 'ugly'. Hell no. He was set on showing you just how much he adored you and your body.

•••••

Steve chased after you, having trouble keeping up. "I didn't - I didn't mean for this to-"

"Stop following me."

"Cookie, please."

You spun around, a look of fury in your eyes. He stopped dead in his tracks.

"Stop following me." You repeated, "I never want to see you ever again."

"This wasn't supposed to happen- not like this."

"Oh please, stop with this bullshit." Steve had to stop himself from wincing at the choice of words. Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. "Imagine how humiliating this is for me."

"It was stupid! Carol and Tommy-they made some stupid bet and I was drunk and I just couldn't say no for some stupid fucking reason. Please,"

It was true, they were all plastered when the bet was made. You had just shown up, a fresh face and already the talk of the town. Every boy in their grade had said something about you and your body. At first, Steve ignored the cruel, disgusting words and acted like your arrival didn't affect him. You two hadn't talked much, but he had heard the way you talked to Billy, someone you had literally known since birth, your sweet voice yet snippy remarks.

Carol had made some jab, and Tommy had found it weird when Steve didnt laugh. Sure, they had grown apart, but it wasn't that long ago when Steve would make those same remarks. The liquid courage had Steve argue with Tommy on how you would totally not date Steve or anyone like him. The next morning, the terrible hangover has Steve promising himself to never drink again. The horrid memories haunted him until he got to school. Tommy had a group of preppy kids huddles around Steves locker. Apparently, Tommy had opened his mouth and spilled out all of what Steve had said. Multiple guys clapped and went to high-five. "King Steve is back!" What was he supposed to do? Almost everyone knew about what he had said, well, not you or Billy. God. Billy would kill me, he thought.

He was surprised no one had told you when you walked though the school doors. Everyone kept quiet, until 3 weeks later. To be honest, Steve had forgotten about it. Or tricked himself into thinking so. At the beginning, you guys getting closer was purely for the bet, but you were so quick witted, so smart, so pretty, so easy to talk to.

Carol didn't keep quiet for long. Just as you and Steve got so close, skin to skin, breath to breath, heart to heart, Carol had gushed about how Steve actually won some bet. Confused, you listened as both Carol and Tommy told you all about it and about what Steve had said. It didn't help that so many people were standing around, watching everything go down. Steve was lucky Billy wasn't there at that moment either.

He tried to reach for your hands, sighing in defeat when you yanked them away. "Please. I can't- we have something good."

"Do we? You embarrassed- humiliated me. You let it happen. No matter what we have done, it never meant as much to you as it did to me."

"It did. It does. Everything we did meant everything to me. Y/n, please."

"She warned me about you, ya know. Everyone did."

"What?"

"Nancy. She warned me about you. You only ever want one thing."

He was at a loss of words, flabbergasted. "What?"

"You got it. So you can leave me alone now."

Steve watched as you walked away, mouth hung open. He didn't know whether to go after you, or marinate in what you had said.

What did Nancy say and why?

Turning a corner in the supermarket, you didn't expect to almost run into something, or someone. "Shit-sorry."

The girl waved you off, fixing her hair. She looked up, watching as you picked up the loaf of bread you had dropped.

"Y/n, right? Billy and Max's sister."

You looked at her curiosity. "Yeah, you?"

"Nance. Nancy."

"Nancy Wheeler?" Her cheeks became red. You had heard of her.

"Steve has told me alot about you."

Oh.

Her face fell a little. "What has he said?"

Alarm showed on your face. He hadn't specifically talked about her, just about how they used to be together and how she could vouch for him being a total took a year or two back.

"Oh, just about how you were together."

Well, this is awkward.

"Yeah." Yeah.

"Ya know, he told me to ask you about his King Steve days." Her own face didn't have the same playful smile yours did. It was unsettling.

"Did he now?"

You looked at her confused, what had you just unleashed?

Apparently it was a lot.

•••••

Steve tried everything to get you to talk to him. He called, never getting an answer, or when someone did pick up, it was either your dad, the clueless mom of Max, or Billy. He brought you flowers that stayed on your porch and rotted. He tried talked to you in school. He never got a response out of you. It was as if you didn't see him.

He deserved it.

One night, he thought it would be a good idea to try one more time when the parents left for date. You were surely home, he didn't know about Max and Billy, but he didn't really care.

He knocked on the door, 1, 2, 3 times.

"Y/, come on, please! I'm sorry!" His head dropped against the door. He was desperate at this point. Even if you opened the door and told him you hated his guts, he would be beyond grateful to just hear your voice on last time. He'd understand you.

Hearing someone making their way to the door, he fixed his posture, waiting.

Right after the door opened, a blow was delivered straight to Steve's left cheek. He staggered back, his back hitting a pole keeping the screening up around the porch.

"You gonna make another bet about my sister, Harrington? You just can't leave her alone, can you?"

Billy's hands continued to pushed at Steve, pushing him further off the porch and into the yard. Insult after insult was thrown at Steve, he could only take it, keeping his mouth shut. He deserved it.

"William!"

Was he hearing things? Had Billy hit him one too many times? Your sweet voice rang through his head, bouncing around, wrapped his throbbing brain in a silk bandage, kissing it better as if it was a simple scratch. "Get off of him! Damn it!" The blows at Steve's side stopped. This time, Billy went staggering back after you had pushed him off of the hunched over boy.

You were too nice.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Billy bellowed. He threw his bloody hands up towards Steve. "You're gonna let him get away with humiliating you?"

"You're gonna kill him!" You made a point to look at the blood dripping from his knuckles and then to Steve's bleeding nose and swelling eye.

"He deserves it!"

"That is not your place!" Billy closed his mouth, looking at you in pure disbelief. You had just yelled at him, truly raised your voice, not one ounce of familiarity behind those eyes that burned in hatred. Your eyes softened, biting your lip before going to apologize. "Billy," before you could continue, he stomped towards the house, bumping into Max, who watched the whole thing.

After looking at the door, contiplating what to do next. You would deal with Billy later. Steve had to be gone by the time your father got back.

"What we had-"

" ‘what we had’? We fucked, Steve. That's it." You sounded tired, exhausted.

Steve stood hunched over, at a loss of words. It wasn't just a simple fuck. There was something there. He felt it, surely you did too. Your bodies fit together too perfect for a simple fling. His hands wouldn't remember every curve of your body for a simple fuck that didn't mean anything what so ever. He refused to take that for an answer. Even if it took a while to show you that you did mean more, he'd do just that.

"Alright."

He turned, walking towards his car.

"Steve," you called out, "you're hurt-"

"I got it."

He didn't waste any time getting in his car and leaving.

If you wanted space, he'd give you space. He'd find a way to make it up to you, even if it took a lot of time and a lot of different ideas and apologies. You both needed time to heal, emotionally and physically.

-----------

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

#🕶️#steve Harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader angst #steve harrington x you #steve Harrington x hargrove!reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things angst #stranger things fanfic #xoxo-sarah 🩷

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piratefishmama · 1 year

Text

Crossing the Line | Part 2

For Eddie Munson, it started with a tweet. A random little tweet in his mentions that ignited his incredibly hard to control impulsive curiosity. One of his long-time followers and his best friends little brother, a boy with a love of DnD who only begrudgingly followed him after he recorded one of his campaign sessions and posted it to YouTube, pinged him a mention with a single link in it to Instagram captioned “roast him he’s ruined Crazy Train!”

Michael Wheeler you little shit. He’d get Nancy on that one, Mike’s obsession with roasting people was getting mildly out of hand.

But Eddie was a curious soul and someone had apparently ruined an Ozzy masterpiece, so of course he followed that link, he didn’t even hesitate, even let out a cute little “boop” out loud as he clicked it.

Now. Eddie Munson, could have probably been classed as a bit of a music snob. He wouldn’t go too far with his snobbery, but for some people... it was just an unwritten rule that some people deserved the snobbery to the max. They deserved the shit storm that came with Eddie’s brutal honesty and lack of verbal filter.

And Nepo-babies with nothing better to do than *fix* legendary metal tracks with their top 10 bubblegum bitch bullshittery were 100% deserving of the roasting his bitchiest of little sheep had called for.

Did he go a little overboard over the following week while bored shitless in between customers at his shitty non-chain coffee shop gig? Absolutely. Did he feel bad? Absolutely not. It’d taken him all of five minutes to decide Steve Harrington was the worst.

Even if the nepo baby thing wasn’t enough, he was spotted with a different piece of arm candy every month, he had girls and guys falling all over themselves to get a glimpse from him in their general direction, like, there were articles about fights breaking out in the audience of his shows because fans couldn’t decide which one of them he looked at. He lived in some fancy ass house if his insta photos were anything to go by which no doubt his parents bought for him, he did way too many PR stunts to make it seem like he was a good guy, and while his voice was… okay, it wasn’t bad… passable, it was passable…

It sure as fuck needed to stay in its own goddamn lane.

So, the boredom in between the rare rush thanks to the Starbucks down the street was filled with what could only be described as obsessive online bullying, his ADHD hyper fixated so hard, but no way was he even going to notice it, so Eddie didn’t even feel bad about it. The guy had so many people falling all over themselves in hopes he’d notice them that his measly little insults would probably wind up just buried in the sea of hormones and the occasional desperate “COME TO BRAZIL” hashtag Brazilian flag and several thousand heart emojis.

And just as a fun little topper on the ice cream sundae that was his weeklong bitchfit into the void, a lovely little cherry on top, he covered Crazy Train on his channel. Not just the guitar bits, but he made chords and tabs for the lyrics too, letting his sweetheart sing for him, he never sang on his channel, vocals were just for the band gigs, his channel was primarily game music covers but this one, this one he declared “This is what it’s supposed to sound like” in the intro then rocked it.

Eddie was all about freedom of musical expression, but Steve Harrington could go suck a fat one if he thought he was getting away with ruining a masterpiece with his croony bullshit.

“So” The week after he’d finally put his one sided feud to rest, found one Nancy Wheeler, the instigators older sister sidling up to the counter mid-way through the most boring Sunday shift Eddie had ever worked in his life.

“Wheeleeerr, my sister from the most boring of misters, what can I get you babydoll?” He didn’t even need to ask, and she didn’t actually need to say it, he was already halfway through making her fancy little favourite, a cinnamon hazelnut latte with soy milk knowing she probably only had five minutes before she’d have to bolt again.

“Eddie… why have you spent the better part of a week harassing a celebrity on Instagram?”

“I think you mean an entire week, your little brother released the dogs of war. Aaaand the ADHD told me to do it.” He grabbed one of the little honey buns from the treats display and popped it onto a plate for her “forgive me honey bun?” A pet name AND a treat combined. She rolled her eyes fondly before accepting the free treat. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” There was absolutely a reason, but… honestly he brought whatever was coming to him upon himself. Sort of. She'd stand in his corner if shit got real. “I’ll handle Mike, don’t harass celebrities until you’re actually a celebrity, and even then, don’t harass celebrities.”

“It’s not like he’d notice, let’s be honest he has more fans than there are stars in the sky, all of them, and I do mean all of them, fully up for bearing his children.” Seahorse dads in the house! But also, mpreg too, ass babies unite. “It’s not like some rando having a questionably obsessive and lowkey aggressive meltdown over his ‘I’m bored as shit’ experiment would ever grace his radar.”

“I’m just saying Eddie, you never know who you’re going to reach with your online nonsense, if you ever want to get out of this place, you’re going to have to play nice with people from all walks of life, including nepotism babies.” The bark of laughter that erupted from Eddie Munson would have probably insulted most people, but Nancy had known him for years. He was listening, he was, there were just layers upon layers of automatic reactions to get through before he’d visibly take in what you were saying. “He could be nice, you never know.”

“Oh yeah, his royal highness seems lovely. Did you know people used to call him King Steve?” Seemed like the worst person on the planet masquerading as a semi-decent guy. Eddie wasn’t fooled in the slightest. “Your drink, mademoiselle!” He presented her with a large to-go cup filled with her favourite beverage.

“Don’t you have some odd little moniker on your youtube channel?” She asked behind the lip of her cup, before taking a sip and humming in appreciation. Even if he was a little shit, Eddie could make a mean latte.

“That’s a persona, it’s an online personality! People calling me Kas is different, people just called him that cause of how much ass he got. It’s weird, I bet he started it himself and paid his cronies to use it until it caught on.” That was good, maybe he’d pick his feud back up just to lay that one on him. “Seems very nepo baby of him, y’know? Can’t get a good nickname circling so he’s gotta buy one.”

“Wouldn’t his parents have bought it for him?”

“Ohhhh Wheeler good one! Nice nickname, did your daddy buy it for you? Babe, sugar plum, I love you. Imma write that one down for later.”

“Please don’t.” He was already off, and she caught sight of her smartwatch beeping about some meeting she was close to being late for. “Shoot! Gotta run, no more harassing celebrities!”

“I promise nothing!” Ah well, it probably wasn’t that big of a deal that Steve Harrington’s best friend had DM’d her, probably not a big deal at all, probably meant nothing... probably.

Part 4

#PirateWrites #Ficlet #Steddie #Crossing the Line #Stranger Things AU #WE HAVE A TITLE NOW #best friends Eddie and Nancy whee #i tried doing a tag list it didn't work sorry :(#hope it reaches you those who wanted to be tagged!!

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anotherblinder · 10 months

Text

My Sunshine

Summary || A trip down memory lane

Word Count || 1,004

Pairing || Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings || Angst, Reader Death, Mention of blood, Mention of sex and nudity

Note || Hello, it had been awhile! It has been a rough week, and i had found myself singing you are my sunshine. I realized i tend to do it as a comfort thing when things get really rough. Even if it tends to make me kinda cry. It seems that day was today. But don’t worry, it was just built up stress and I’m okay! Only I sing my own little one with a couple words changed, as i like how it sounds to me. This time as i softly sang it to myself this popped into my head and thought I would share it. I hope you all enjoy it! Also please, i don’t own the song. It would just make a good fic. I claim nothing man. Please don't steal my work

You are my sunshine

Bright, beautiful, warm, that’s how Tommy felt as he looked at you. The woman who loved him without hesitation. The mess he is, the ugly parts of him, the one he didn’t really want. It was a wonder to him how you could, but he didn’t think about it much. Not when he held the sun in his heart. Nothing could compare to the warmth you made him feel. The fullness he felt and never wanted to let go. The shine in your eyes every time your radiant smile graced your face.

My only sunshine

Nothing made him happier, brightened his world like you could. His family made him feel happy, but not like you. It's like a weight is always lifted off his shoulders when he’s around you. Just being next to you. It had always been that way. For as long as Thomas has known you. Deep down, he wanted to be selfish and keep you all to himself. Trap that shine and have it as only his, and you let him. Where he was somber like the moon, you were mellow like the sun.

You make me happy when skies are grey

It seemed to always go like this. He would come home late, beat the shit out of him. Looking and feeling like death; but you never faltered. Gently wiping away the blood and tending his wound with a touch he felt he didn’t deserve in that moment. The small, soft, loving smile as you did it. Or when his head got the better of him and the demons came blazing in. Tearing everything apart and making it hard to breathe. Thomas would feel your arms around him, humming a soft tune, and everything would melt away. Silence would enter his head and make it feel as though he could breathe again.

You’ll never know dear how much I love you

How could he properly express how much he loves you? Thomas felt as though he never would be able too. Sometimes, he felt as though you knew, that’s what he told himself. But there are moments he hesitates that you do. Thomas knows he would do anything for you, take a bullet for you, a beating, hell even death and the devil himself. He tried to show that as well in the actions he did. Buy you things he thought would make you happy or look even more beautiful in. When he takes you to bed and makes love to you, hoping you can feel the love he pours into it. But he feels it’s never enough, you’ll never know the extent of his love.

Please don’t take my sunshine away

There wasn’t anything that could take you from him. It was a thought Thomas never let cross his mind. Least that’s what he told himself. To move through that fear of losing you. It was suffocating, never can Thomas stay on that image. Even when he banishes, it lingers in the back of his mind.

The other night dear, while I was sleeping

It was a long day and Thomas didn’t hesitate to fall into bed and fall asleep. A rest his body needed after the day he had. Long and tiring. Nearly getting in a fight, shots being fired, new deals needing to be made. Anything to keep him going.

I dreamt I held you in my arms

Sunlight shined though the window and he felt warm. The dip in the bed beside him, making a smile come to his lips. Turning over, he slung an arm over your waist, looking down at you. Sleeping like the world had already woken up. Shifting, he laid back down on the bed and pulled you into his arms. Close to his chest and heart. Feeling the warmth radiating off of you. Making the cold air around him disappear and he kissed the top of your head and fell back asleep.

When I awoke dear, I was mistaken

Slowly Thomas opened his eyes and felt that warmth slowly vanish. Sunlight streamed through the blinds and a heavy feeling came over him. Empty, hollow, cold. Slowly he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The cold air pricked his skin, but he paid it no mind. Taking a deep breath, he looked over his shoulder. To the spot you used to sleep, the warmth that would come from that side of the bed in the mornings. Who would put that warmth there.

And I held my head and cried

Turning his head away, Thomas felt the familiar tightening of his throat. The heaviness on his chest, the stinging sensation in his eyes. Taking a shaky breath, he placed his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. A broken sob escaped him as he recalled the dream that felt so real. How he secretly hoped it was. The scene played in his head, you lying there in his arms. Blood staining his shirt, his heart, his soul, his sun. If only he had been faster. If only.

You are my sunshine

"Are you sure? There are other woman far better to be on your arm than me Tommy.”

“No, there is only you, please, marry me. Give me the honor of calling you (Y/n) Shelby. My wife.”

“Yes, I love you, Thomas. My husband.”

My only sunshine

“There is no place I’d rather be than here with you.”

“Oh? Is that because I'm here naked next to you Tommy?”

“That does help.”

You make me happy when skies are grey

“You shouldn’t be getting your hands dirty over me (Y/n).”

“I’ll dirty my hands over you until they fall off Thomas. It’s my job to care for you.”

You’ll never know dear how much I love you

“I love you so much, I don’t say it enough but I do.”

“I love you too Tommy. As the sun falls and the moon rises.”

“Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

#thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby imagine #angst #i had to do it #youre welcome

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isa-ghost · 3 months

Note

you have eggza headcanons perhaps? 👉👈

I will take any headcanons of course, I love your headcanon posts

Previous Sets:

Set 1

Set 2

Set 3

Set 4

Set 5

Set 6

MORE: Eggza Edition

Starting with two I made in previous sets:

When left to his own devices & off-duty as dad + not needed by any of the islanders for something serious, he let's loose. No more wise bad bitch crow man who's palpably emotionally damaged yet won't admit it. He's off the shits. You've seen Eggza. That's him de-stressing by fully indulging his favorite things: preparing necessities for survival & being an absolute wildcard.

When he heard someone on the island made up a rumor that Eggza is legit because Phil taste-tested a cookie out of curiosity, he took that and RAN. Yeah. He's egg sometimes. Who's his parent you ask? Well that's a secret (it's Rose).

Remember how I said he commits to bits super hard? Yeah. Eggza is his second biggest bit after the 4th Wall existentialism but it's quickly surpassing it to his biggest one

Genuinely he enjoys his Eggza time. Everyone knows they'll get nothing but task help out of him more or less, so they more or less leave him alone unless it's to say hi or a chance encounter.

Everyone finds him speaking with signs funny and endearing. Except Tubbo. But that's understandable, dyslexia go brr. Even though the fool sometimes forgets he can tts the signs. It's fine, he's most likely to derail Eggza's cookie grinding so it's better if Tubbo stays away doing Tubbo things

He's torn between the kids witnessing Eggza & never witnessing Eggza. He can't tell what's funnier or if he'd be embarrassed. They've heard stories from other eggs though

He has no interest in making himself Look like an egg. The sign usage is all he needs. And its funnier when you approach your grown ass man best friend Philza Minecraft only for him to look as wild as he did during Purgatory but without the Looks Like He's Dying Slowly part & refuse to talk to you verbally. The "what the fuck is happening here" is the best part of Eggza, if he starts LOOKING like an egg everyone will understand what's going on and that's lame

He bounces off everyone's energy. The more unhinged they are, the more unhinged he is. Unless he's harassing the baker. Then he fuels his own fuckery

The funny thing is he makes sure everyone thinks he's constantly this wild gremlin that only knows one thing: Grind. But really if no one's around while he's grinding, he's actually just straight up vibing. Got headphones in, blasting his jams, doin his work. In his lane, unbothered, flourishing.

I would sell my soul to see Eggza beat the ever-loving shit out of Purgatory workers it'd be so fucking funny holy shit

One of his favorite parts of going Eggza Mode is amusing his friends with the way he's just a nonverbal weirdo. Especially when he answers something they say by just dancing

If He's An Extra Silly Gremlin They'll Give Him Avocado Toast As A Treat

No one knows where he shoos his crows off to when he's Eggza. Or if it's some unspoken "ok time to scatter" rule as soon as he puts the gas mask on by the bakery. But they disperse and for a while, the other islanders can't shake the feeling of Phil seeming strangely bare for some reason. It's bc the murder is away

Tbh I bet even without the Hardcore dreams, he'd sleep a long time with how hard he works as Eggza

"Hard work," I say, as if most of the time Phil isn't just making mobs insatiable amounts of horny so everyone can give the baker what they're asking for (the awareness of this is half of why he's so unhinged as Eggza, it's too absurd & funny to him)

Calling back to another prev non-Eggza hc I made, he has less of a filter when he's not parenting or in peril. He has said some absolutely wild out of pocket shit on signs

If given the right kind of motivation, an islander could probably get Eggza to go feral and kill something or someone. Fit tosses him a stack of whatever arbitrary item Phil might find enticing enough atm & Phil is suddenly on a spree like he was with those bunnies that one time

#qsmp #qsmp philza #q!philza #philza #qphil headcanons #eggza

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samstclair · 11 months

Text

Kendall Roy’s Princess

Kendall Roy X Reader

Anonymous Request -

"Sam Saint Clair! Yes! Hello! Listen, I'll be quick and easy about this - Reader x Kendall Roy. That's it. Alright? Maybe she works at Waystar? Who knows. Create a lil power dynamic with it? Rags to riches? I don't know you do you like always! I know it's not completely morally right given it's the workplace but since when is Succession focused on morals?!"

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

Of all the possible careers in the world, with literally every single possible line of work, there was one you never thought you'd step into - and that one was corporate...

Corporate.

Like ew honestly. The word might as well carry radiation, because every time you heard it in passing it was as if you were a victim in the Chernobyl disaster and old radioactive wounds had just been split open again to fill you with a pretty bad fear and dread. Like who the fuck wants to work in a cubicle? Be real for a second.

But nonetheless, here you were - Waystar Royco in the Big Apple, New York City. Some say it's the biggest apple of them all. You personally felt that honey crisp apples were bigger than the average apple, but, New York was just no ordinary apple - it was a city. And a big, busy city at that.

You really thought about that saying, "don't knock it 'til you try it!" and how based the person who ever came up with that was. There was something so sophisticated when you put on those black heels, that white buttoned up shirt and little slutty plaid (or gingham, whichever you prefer!) skirt. You've never seen the show Mad Men but imagined that was the vibe.

"I'm just a woman in the workplace", you'd recite to yourself as you dressed up in the morning, hyping your self-esteem UP. "Just a woman doing some serious business."

You also had no fucking idea as to what that 'business' was, and in all seriousness you weren't really sure what Waystar was all about. You would Google it at work, but something in your eye receptors or whatever blocked your brain from processing the information. Needless to say, you're a bimbo.

As you fixed your hair into a messy bun, but not too messy because that's not work appropriate, you reminisced on your little rags to riches story. You were just a girl who dropped out of theater school for reasons not important. Some say you were expelled but honestly tomayto tomahto. Everyone will always have their own opinions.

It wasn't all that hard, now that you were knee-deep into the company. It had first seemed overwhelming and intimidating, but honestly, it was really just running around and giving people papers, coffee, other mumbo jumbo like that. What you learned pretty quickly, was that if you walked fast and made it look like you had something on your mind, then no one would bother you because you looked busy. Your leg muscles went CRAZY so there was no need for some stair master bullshit.

You were just an ordinary assistant, mainly for the Logan Roy himself. There was a sense of importance and untouchability with every step your heels took in that fat building, you were literally Logan's number one bitch, (that's what he liked to call you in confidence!). And no one could tell you shit and that's that. You were basically hands off and free from any critique by your peers, even if you sucked donkey ass at your job.

Honestly the only reason he hired you because he liked how kinda oblivious (and a bit dumb) you were, since you never really pestered him with questions about what he was doing and you just do what you're told. "You're not annoying as fuck like my goddamned kids," he'd say. He thought you always stayed in your own lane because you were being respectful and minded your own business, but in actuality it was because you had no fucking clue what they were talking about the great majority of the time. If they weren't speaking in weird riddles and metaphors and similes, they were talking something about numbers. And math wasn't your forte. You literally just found out that "pi" actually meant 3.14 and wasn't actually slang for pumpkin/apple pie.

No one knew how you got the job or what qualifications you even had, but it didn't matter. No, it was all just between you and Lowgie Bear <3 (that was you liked to call him in confidence and was also the name for his contact on your phone). Even if you were on your work laptop playing games like Papa's Pizzeria, no one would even dare to ask if you were actually working. You were so focused on those games it looked as though you were popping some fun big numbers on Excel.

That morning when you got to the office, you did your usual - said hello to the people at front desk, hoped inside the elevator, listened to the click and clack of your heels, got to your office, prepared some coffee, and while that was brewing you signed into your computer and printed out the daily report. While that printed, you lit up your TJ Maxx candle, played some ambient mukbang ASMR on full blast (you're low-key deaf) and looked out the window into that concrete jungle Alicia Keys called New York. You always got to work bright and early, and that was mainly because you lived in an extra mailroom on the last floor in the basement. Logan said it was because he always wanted to keep you close.

It was a beautiful, clear morning, free of any suspicious airplanes. One of your favorite things to do was recite to yourself "I built this." Even though you didn't have literally one thing to do with the construction and knew nothing about scaffolding, it was a good affirmation that helped give you the confidence for the day. You felt like a mother holding her coffee watching her children rip those gifts to shreds like gross little rabid gremlins.

You loved having your new office. It originally belonged to Roman, Logan's son, who you swore was the youngest of all his children but that was actually Shiv. Despite birth records, you still didn't believe he wasn't the youngest. It arguably caused some premature strife between you and Roman when you acquired his office, but you didn't really care. Even after you insulted him the first time you met him, saying he "looked like that Home Alone kid", ��from that moment forward he had such a distaste and hatred for you, finding the comment extremely offensive. But like I said you didn't really care tbh. It was the truth and you wanted nothing to do with him, something Logan was also keen on. He always protected you. He was ride or die <3 Some might stay he was a stan <3

A knock came at your door. You whipped around in your rolling chair to see your girl - Gerri.

"Good morning, Gerri!" you said.

She smiled. She was so mother. "Y/N, remember - you can't light candles. It's a fire hazard." She smirked at your forgetfulness. She reminded you of a cute Littlest Pet Shop mouse.

You blew it out. "Yeah, I know, it just always stinks of an office in here. So what if a little a Vanilla Bean causes a little fire? A little fire never hurt anyone."

"I guess, Y/N. Until it does."

"Until it does what?"

"Never mind. Listen, Logan's in a meeting right now. Give him about a quarter to nine before you bring him his daily report or whatever."

"Sure," you said. Like what was previously said, math was not your forte. You only thought a quarter was for two things - a genre of coin and the quarter pounder, which was what you ordered when you resorted to McDonalds when Burger King wasn't available. Since when is a quarter involved in time?

"What are those daily reports about, anyway? I've always wondered," Gerri asked curiously before closing the door.

"Oh, Gerri, I would tell you. But Logan said he'll knock me off the side of a cruise ship like those women if I spilled."

Gerri didn't seem that content about what you said, giving what you know was a fake smile, and closed the door behind her as she left to the meeting. As you struggled to find out what a quarter meant, it just so happened you saw through the glass a tall ass man child limp by your room.

You got up and ran to the door. "Greg!" you called in a harsh whisper, but wasn't successful as a whisper since you saw everyone's head clocked towards you from their desks. "Greg!"

He turned and lit up when he saw you, literally like the child he is. He limped to your door. "Y/N, hey, good morning. What's up?"

"Why are you limping?" you asked, confused as to why he was limping.

"Oh, well, uh," he hesitated and looked around. "Tom and I were sitting at this like, ATN meeting, like across from each other? We started playing - well, are you familiar with the game 'footsies'? Well, we were getting pretty, I guess, into it? I mean, Tom a little more-so than me? And he I guess started to get upset because I was winning? But I'm not completely sure how to win footsies? So he got a little carried away, I guess? He started hitting me quite violently with his foot, like no longer in the playful manner? Anyway, my leg's all bruised -"

"- Greg I have a question. What's a quarter to nine mean?"

He thought for a moment. He needed to lean down a bit for your short ass to hear the whisper. "A quarter? You mean like the coin? Or the burger -"

"No dumbass bitch, a quarter to nine."

"Ohhhh," he said, "sorry, my, or - our separation, like our distance in height prevented me from hearing like, the rest of your sentence. I believe a quarter to nine is, if my knowledge doesn't precede me, eight forty-five."

"Okay great thanks!" you closed the door behind him soon after. You liked Greg, but was sure not to be around him for too long, as anywhere Greg was, so was Tom. And Tom was not your favorite to be around when you were sober. Greg was like a cub and Tom was the mama bear. Wherever there's a cub, the mama was always near. Cocaine bear proved that. #ripRayLiotta

Once that quarter to eight came, you grabbed Logan's favorite cup of coffee, (it was a mug that read "I'm Grumpy Without My Coffee" with Grumpy Cat's face on it #ripGrumpyCat) and the daily report that was freshly printed. You began to walk down the hall towards his office. He had his blinds down, so upon entering you literally didn't expect every fucking person and their mother to be there.

You barged in, "Lowgie Bear! I have you daily repor -" and you were shell shocked. Logan was sat at his desk, hands together like a villain, surrounded by literally everyone. Gerri, Frank, Karl, Stewy, Hugo, Karolina, Roman, Shiv, Greg (and next to him mama bear Tom) and - Kendall.

Kendall. Ken. Kenny.

What was there to say? You froze staring at his fine Mickey Mouse personified face.

You and Kendall - well, you two had history. Actually, it was barely history but there was some pretext. Basically, ever since the first time you met, there was tension. And the good tension, not that Roman type of tension...................................................................

You remembered where you were the day before you met Kendall - the day before you met any of the Roys - boxes in your arms filled with all your stuff from your dorm, standing on some New York street, something like a corner and third, lost like a rat who was kicked out from his borough. All you had to eat that day was a hot dog from the floor that you wrestled a rat for to get. You stood there embarrassingly as cars flew by you, splashing puddles of water all over your Juicy tracksuit. You hated being helpless on the street - the last time that happened a taxi screeecccchheeeddddd on the side of the corner. You didn't want that to happen again.

Then, you felt your phone buzz against your fat butt. You put one of the boxes down, but it actually slipped and some of your shit fell down the sewer drain.

"Motherfucker!" you yelled, ready to cry. Things were definitely not going your way. "What's a girl to fucking do?! Who the fuck is this?"

You reached to your pocket and pulled out your iPhone 4s. It was a number you didn't recognize, but you weren't about to just hang up. No, you were going to see who the fuck decided to give you a little ring and caused your fake Puka shell necklace, Medellín snow globe, pink Barbie Benadryl pills, and extra large tampons to fall into the sewers. Tampons were expensive in today's economy, after all that inflation business or whatever.

"What, bitch?" you snapped.

"Y/N! Hey, it's Willa!"

"Oh my God, Willa, girl, hey!" you smiled, your voice flipping into your true friendly self. Thank god it was her, because being a Karen wasn't your style. That lifestyle was for the Karen's. "Where've you been?"

"Y/N, what a couple of months it's been, you won't believe. I'm calling from my boyfriend's phone, I lost mine."

"Your boyfriend?" you thought, "oh yeah, Zachary, right?"

"No, Connor, actually. Listen, I wanna hang out with you! Connor's going to be out of town for a couple days, you know, work and stuff, but his family is having this little getty at his dad's house. Come with me!"

"Willa I would so love to! When is it?"

"Tomorrow night. I can pick you up at your dorm!"

"Actually Willa," you said, "that can't happen. I got kicked out. Long story. I'm actually homeless as we speak."

"Oh, really? Look it's okay, I can get you a hotel room until you find a place to stay. I would let you stay at me and Connor's, but he gets paranoid someone's gonna take his Napoleonic memorabilia."

"Yeah totally that makes sense. Thanks a bunch!"

Willa, being your girl, got you that hotel room. And that shit was nice as fuck like Scarface when Tony Montana was in that bathtub smoking that cigar. It made you so happy to know your girl Willa got her sugar daddy. You both met in a theater production you were forced to go to for school, but the experience was a lot less boring when you met her. From that day on, you two were destined to be just a couple of girlies. She was like a breath of fresh shy white girl that you couldn't find anywhere else.

You were sitting in the bathtub that resembles Tony Montana's and had accidentally knocked out the fuck out when your phone rang. Thank god it woke you up cause you were about three more minutes before you were completely submerged and could've drowned :/ . You jumped up and scrambled for your phone on the bathroom counter, suds of soap all over your head that blocked your vision. It was Willa.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Y/N, you ready? I'm downstairs in the car."

"Uh, yeah I am! Just give me like five, girlie!" you hung up, catapulted your phone across the room, jumped out of the scorching hot tub butt ass naked and ran for your dress that laid out on the bed. You dried yourself of all the suds with the towel before catapulting that out too.

"We'll just have to go braless and pantiless. No bras, no panties! No bras, no panties!" you repeated in an effort to justify the lack of bras and panties. You then threw your dress over you, shoved your heels on, and picked up your hair in a clip. "No bras, no panties!"

Just as you were out for the door, you saw yourself in the mirror and wanted to throw up - the anxiety had built in you and you felt your butt clench. You needed to shit but there was literally no time for this.

"Move, bitch!" you yelled at a guest as you bolted down the hallway towards the elevator, slamming them against the wall. Guests must've thought you planted a bomb or something in your room with how manic you looked and how fast your legs were taking you.

"STOMP! STOMP! SPLAT SPLAT SPLAT!", your feet said as you ran. It was the best thing you knew how to do.

Water was still dripping down your leg, and once you got outside the cold New York wind intensified the coolness of it so much so that it was basically stinging. It stung. You jumped over all five steps and landed on the ground, banging your hand on the tinted window.

"Let me in! Let me in! LET ME INNNNNNN!!!!!!" you yelled. The window rolled down, revealing your girl, Willa.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N, what's wrong? Hop in!"

You jumped through the window feet first despite the door being opened moments prior.

You two were in the backseat, now off to the gala! "This is a nice car," you said. "Presidential type. Like, JFK would've loved this."

"JFK?"

"John Fitzgerald Kennedy? Like, it's so secretive. He would've liked it because it could've prevented his death, you know. No one can see inside."

Willa's stares lingered on you for several moments before she finally said something. You couldn't talk much after because you were too winded.

"Y/N, are you okay?"

You turned away from the window and looked to her. You tried to smile, but you were too tired too. It looked like a part of your face was melting. "Yeah girl I'm fine. You look great! Why do you ask?"

"Just, cause, uh," she looked you up and down, "you're dripping wet."

"Yeah it was raining."

"Raining? But it's been clear all day -"

"In the room. I mean my hotel room," you chuckled, "it was raining in my hotel room."

She was definitely confused.

"You know, leaks and all," you finished. You thought it best to move on. "Do you have any makeup on you? I thought I should go all natural, you know, no makeup. But now I'm regretting my decision."

"Yeah, I think I have mascara," she opened her purse and pulled it out, giving it to you.

"Better than Sex, oh my god that's like vintage. Like 2016 vintage," you said and used your phone as a reflection to put it on. Some bumps in the road caused the wand to jam into your eye causing it to go red but nonetheless your lashes were coated. You gave it back. You checked how you now looked in the reflection of the car - but it just seemed you had pink eyes in both eyes. Uh oh.

"That's all I have, Y/N, I'm sorry," Willa said, still shuffling through her ludicrously capacious bag.

"No, it's okay. Sometimes mascara is all you need! But sometimes it's not. How come you invited me? Not that I wouldn't have wanted to come, but like, what happened with Connor?"

"Oh you know, he's on this campaign tour thing and all that. I just didn't want to go alone," she chuckled, embarrassed.

"Sounds fun," you said. "Who's this family?"

"The Roys. They're a bit crazy."

You laughed. "What do you mean, crazy? I've seen crazy, heck - you've seen crazy. We were literally in theater together. I bet they aren't even that bad."

"No, they're pretty bad. They can all be pretty mean. And judgey. They're like, blood related but not actually a family, you know? So, like, don't engage with them too much. They don't like when you look in their eyes for too long. So where'd you get your dress? It's so pretty."

"Goodwill," you said confidently. "Isn't it pretty? It makes my ass look fat bro."

You shifted over to show her, struggling as you were still wet and inadvertently created a slip and slide on the leather seats.

She agreed it was fat. "Wow, that's from Goodwill? I wouldn't have thought."

You sat back down. "Of course, what, you think I was gonna buy a dress? I'm broke, remember."

"Well, wait, didn't you have that money from Colombia?"

"Well who says I bought it," you said, biting your tongue with a smile, "also don't bring up Colombia."

You two had finally made it to Logan's penthouse and pulled up outside. You both stepped out and entered, going into the elevator.

"Willa, this is like, rich rich," you whispered.

"I told you," she whispered back.

Once inside the penthouse, you knew you had to unlock your inner theater girl - not the annoying one, but the ACTING one. You had to unlock the Y/N self that belonged here - with the upper echelon of society. This was your debut.

You quickly lost Willa. One minute she was with you in the mess of all these people, and the next moment she was gone. But you couldn't let it throw you off - sometimes in theater, you know since it's live, mistakes happen! The show must go on!

You grabbed a glass of champagne off the tray of a waiter and stood up straighter. You sipped, and despite it tasting like expired sparkling water, you sipped and sipped. You then downed three others - that liquid courage had now been activated and in full effect.

"Man this tastes like dick," you thought. Rich people really did have shitty taste.

The air smelled of expensive cologne and perfume, you wondered if their noses built a tolerance to how strong it was because it was extremely overwhelming and frankly nauseating. Maybe all the coke they do blocks sensory receptors? Who knows, but Jesus Christ it was as if there was an oil spill that actually smelled good but not too good when it's all mixed together. So yeah basically an oil spill in the water but there's no Dawn to save it.

You felt your tummy rumble.

Mama's getting hungry...mama needs to eat so the monster doesn't come out....

But it didn't take long for you to realize that it wasn't cause you were hungry. After all, you more than helped yourself to the snack bar, basically chilling there for like fifteen minutes fucking up everything they had to offer. Rich people didn't seem to like eating, because all the food was barely touched. How ungrateful. The last thing you had to eat was that hot dog you had to roundhouse kick that rat to the ground.

No, it was that very familiar feeling - the feeling when your bowels are incontrollable and on fire. Your body tensed and your heart began to race - you needed to shit. But when didn't you?

You darted (and farted) in every direction, looking for a door that appeared to resemble a bathroom. You felt that anxiety amp up as you failed to find one. You then began to walk around, essentially crop-dusting, still searching but keeping the composure of your rich socialite character you were playing tonight. Never mind the beads of sweat that ran down your face and the shortness of your breath that resembled an asthma attack.

"Y/N! There you are, I thought I lost you!" you turned and saw your girl, Willa. "I was looking for you, I even went to the food bar looking for you -"

"Willa where the fuck is the bathroom in this bitch? I'm hurting," you ordered. "I'm hurting bad."

"Oh, it's literally right behind you. Go in, I'll wait out here. I wanna introduce you to some people -"

You turned to find a door and pushed that shit open, revealing a beautiful porcelain toilet. You entered and shut the door behind you before Willa could even finish.

You hit that toilet and everything, and I mean everything, came out. You desecrated that once beautiful porcelain toilet. The formation was solid, meaning you were healthy! You smiled, you loved solid ones. It made you feel so healthy. Anyway you looked around the bathroom for any refreshers or sprays - you didn't wanna exactly leave your scent in here. But honestly you weren't scared if you did, their colognes and perfumes could overpower it.

Once you finished, you wiped front to back cause you're not a degenerate and flushed, then flushed again to rid any remaining skid marks to cover any evidence. After all, girl's don't shit. You washed your hands on the beautiful porcelain sink and took yourself in in the mirror - you always looked and felt renewed after emptying yourself. Who needs coke when you have your natural bodily processes?

You noticed some q-tips that were scattered around, snapped in two, and some pieces of magazines ripped all over the floor. You looked below to the trash bin, and saw all sorts of broken decor, more q-tips and magazine pieces stuffed inside. There was also a broken hairdryer and smears of black on the cabinets. It appeared a lot of violence had went down.

"They must've had a crazy number two," you thought. You laughed to yourself, "Oh, how I've been there."

Once you washed up and after taking some grainy selfies on your iPhone 4s, you went back outside and saw your girl Willa waiting.

"Relieved?"

"Oh, girl, always. It's like spiritual meditation, you know," you said. "Anyway, Willa, you told me this was a getty - but this is like an actual party." You couldn't help but feel yourself smirk at all the possibilities - the champagne was hitting. Willa seemed to read you like a book.

"Y/N, no, I know what you're thinking. Yeah it's more of a party than a getty, but it's not a party party. You can't get 'faded' or 'off da juice' or whatever you like to say. Just don't embarrass me, please. These people are not fans of plus ones," Willa explained, sure to make sure that you got the vibe. You did and assured her. After all, getting fucked up wasn't a part of your character in tonight's script!

"It's okay, Willa, I won't. I thought these rich people would have good alcohol, but after having some to calm the nerves, you know, it's really not that good. Honestly I think I shit most of it out. Liquidated, you know?" you bit your tongue like a mom, but you didn't realize when you did since it was ingrained in who you were, "See? I'm fitting in just fine with these business people!"

Willa began to introduce to you to a bunch of the people there, but you honestly started to get overwhelmed. There was no differentiating between them, they were all old white people and you forgot their names the moment after Willa said them, so you just opted to referring to everyone as "girlie". Some didn't like it but some people don't like seeing a woman succeed.

"Hey, Willa, I'm gonna take a break. It's just a lot of people to take in right now, you know? It's a lot at once," you said. Willa understood and was going to talk to some others, leaving you back to yourself.

You got bored pretty quick. You weren't talking to anyone but the character you were playing was also getting bored. If you couldn't drink, then what fun was there to do? No one was dancing, no one was getting 'lit'. But there was one thing you knew - and that was that someone here had drugs. Like, rich people drugs. You weren't just about to do ketamine or bath salts, but maybe weed? You handled yourself well when you were high and maybe it could help this experience altogether?

You began to scope around for someone who resembled a stoner. It was pretty difficult because everyone was wearing nice outfits like suits and dresses, so picking out who in the building that looked like they skated and listened to Odd Future was proving difficult.

"My god, what's a girl gotta do to smoke around here?" you thought.

And then - you found him. He was abnormally tall and definitely looked like he might be a pothead. He was standing outside on the balcony, looking clueless like a puppy or some shit. Man definitely didn't belong here.

"These nepo babies", you thought to yourself as you b-lined towards him.

"Hey, can I smoke with you?" you asked. He turned and looked down at you. You didn't feel you were that short but brother in Christ this man was tall.

"Uh, I'm sorry? I don't think we've met," he extended his hand out for a shake. You shook it, but didn't like it, "I'm Greg, I'm, uh, I'm Logan's nephew. Well, great nephew, technically. But we've like, fostered a relationship, where I'm more of a nephew than a great nephew -"

"- Yeah that's great I'm sure you're great. I'm Y/N. Do you have weed? Mama - I mean, I could use some."

The tall dude named Greg the great nephew smiled like a little boy, "Yeah I do. I get you, it's a lot of people around. That's how I felt when I first got here, you know. Perhaps we should go to the other side of the terrace, perhaps a more secluded area?"

"Yeah whatever," you said. You followed him a little farther down the balcony, behind some shrubbery that blocked you from the sight of all the other rich old people. He stuck his hand inside his pocket and pulled out a small baggie of weed. He continued to shuffle through, but seemed to have lost something. "Oh shit, I forgot the wrappers at home."

There was no way you were going to miss out cause this dodo bird forgot wrappers. "That's okay," you spat. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

You walked back out into the balcony, then back to inside to the food bar. You grabbed some slimy slices of cheese and salami, then went back out to meet Greg.

"Here, use these," you presented him the slices of salami and cheese, but there was no thought behind his blue Miley eyes.

"Uh, what?"

"Roll with these. I've done it before, here, give me," you grabbed the baggie from his hands and began to scatter the bud in a straight little line across the salami and cheese. You then rolled it up tightly, licking the ends shut and presenting it to Greg, who was safe to stay, astonished.

"You really just crafted a doobie out of salami and cheese?" he said, in awe.

"It sucks being poor. You learn your way around things. I also saw this on a clip on YouTube from that show Extreme Cheapskates. Here," you gave him the deli spliff and began to roll another.

"Does this thing really work?" Greg asked you, inspecting it.

"Okay, Grav3yardgirl," you said. "It does. It's basically a life hack."

Greg pulled out a lighter and lit the end, taking in a drag successfully. He was still in awe.

"This is like, inventive. I mean, there is a hint of, uh, dairy and meat, but it's not actually that bad. It's like a true bodega joint. It's just missing the bagel and the salami would have to be bacon instead."

You lit up your joint and you were set - this was it. You looked over the balcony and taking in the city and those hits. You felt like Remy from Ratatouille eating the strawberry and cheese, all the flavors were coming together. It was disgusting at first, but tolerable after a while. Desperate times called for desperate measures, after all.

You two sat in silence for some minutes, enjoying one another's company.

"So, would you rather be trapped in a pool with a shark, or with a tiger in a cage?" he asked. You looked over to him, his eyes blood red and glossy.

"Uh, honestly," it took you a moment to process what he was saying. You felt so slow and a little stupid. "Well, how about this instead - gay son or thot daughter?"

Greg took a moment before answering. You frankly forgot what you asked by the time he answered. "Well, uh, in terms of which I'd rather have, I honestly don't know exactly. Maybe like, whatever would come first, you know, if I had a son or daughter first, maybe the logistics of the situation would play a factor," he took another moment. "Honestly this question is kinda stressing me out. Is it supposed to do that?"

"Uh, heyyyyy Gregggguuhh! What are you doing out here, buddy? I've been missing my Sporus!"

You both turned your heads pretty slowly to your left, seeing a head pop out on the side of the shrubbery. It looked as if he was floating and your inebriated self thought it actually was. He resembled Horton from Horton Hears a Who.

"Oh, uh, hey Tom," said Greg. "Tom, this is Y/N."

You waved. He came out from behind and revealed his entire body. You were relived that he wasn't floating after all.

"Y/N, huh? And from where do you sprout from, huh? From what depths have you appeared to land a spot on this balcony?"

You stared at him blankly. You saw his eyes dart from yours to both of your joints. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Are those, are you eating the food bar's deli as if it was a cigarette? Why is it all rolled in that fashion, huh Greg?"

"It's, uh, it's weed. Do you want some?" Greg offered.

"Weed? What do you mean 'weed', Greg?" he inspected Greg's salami and cheese, also in awe. He scoffed, stumped. "Well aren't you just a little brainiac scientist? What are you going to do next, Greg, are you going to make a nuke out of the potato salad?"

"It was actually, it was actually Y/N that made these."

Tom looked to you. "Really?"

Though it didn't appear as so, you were getting overwhelmed as you had gotten used to just Greg's presence, and it didn't help you were still getting over the fact Tom wasn't actually floating. All you could muster up to do was a very lazy, slightly paralyzed-looking biting tongue in your white mom way. It was really your default response.

"Uh, what was that?" Tom asked.

"What was what?" you asked back.

"That tongue thing - right there, when you bit your tongue. Wait there - you just did it again!" he said, pointing at you. You didn't realize it but you did do it again. "How'd you do that?"

"Um, I don't know you said. You just do it," you repeated it again. He seemed to really enjoy it as he began to laugh in disbelief.

"That seems fun!" he said, and he began to do the same, "it's quite fun, isn't it?" He then continued, one after the other until he got the bite right, enjoying himself. You and Greg watched with dead faces. You weren't sure for how long that lasted (it was an hour).

"Uh, the fuck is going on here? What kind of orgy is this?" another voice boomed.

A small man came out from behind. You felt your anxiety grow more now that another person was added behind the shrubbery.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked you. His squeaky voice was one that you found extremely irritating.

"I'm me," you said, more sass in your tone to match his.

He looked to your salami cheese roll up. "The fuck is that? Wait, are you smoking weed out of what the fuck is even that," he looked closer at it, "fucking havarti cheese? I mean, how poor are you? Aren't my tax dollars for you fucking welfare checks to afford wrappers?"

Greg rose up. "It's actually, uh, pretty innovative. It just proves, I think, personally, that anything can be a wrapper if you want it to be. Like, if you set your mind to it."

"Yeah, how about that? Say can my dick be a wrapper if you 'set your mind to it'? And what about you," he turned to your direction, "what're you a fucking - a fucking mute? Who are you fucking, Helen Keller?"

You continued to stare him down. You didn't know what it was but his little presence was really starting to make you angry. A part of you had the strong urge to stand and use all your strength to knock this elf on the shelf motherfucker over the ledge. He seemed to be reading your face.

"Her name is actually Y/N," said Greg.

"Y/N, huh?" he looked to Tom, who this entire time had been practicing his mom tonguing. "The fuck is wrong with you? Why does it look like you're having a stroke?"

"Can you leave us alone," you finally said.

He whipped his head back to you, a daring look on his face. "Oh yeah, and what are you gonna do? Run to Twitter and cancel me? I'm Roman Roy, motherfucker. You can't cancel this," he motioned his entire petite body.

"You look like the kid from Home Alone," you shot back. "The one that got left alone."

Roman's face froze. He could not believe what the fuck you just said. Greg giggled but soon stopped once he realizes just how quickly and deeply Roman was made insecure.

You didn't want to linger for any longer in the awkward silence, so you quickly rose and bolted.

"That was the weirdest blunt rotation I've ever had", you thought. And you once smoked with Pablo Escobar's mom.

Fortunately, parallel to the other side the terrace was another corner covered on shrubbery. It was a perfect spot to finish off your joint, now in complete peace but not complete silence, as the party was still going on like ten feet away.

It was now nearing nighttime. The sun began to set over Alicia Key's concrete jungle.

"Hey, mind if I join?"

"Jesus Christ how many are there of you?!" you screamed, turning to your right to see who the fuck was it now disturbing your silence now.

And that was him. Kendall. You didn't know it at the time but that was Kendall Roy.

"Oh, sorry, I, uh, didn't mean to bother you -"

"No it's okay," you quickly switched up, sure to smile. "Come sit. I'm sorry, I just, I got stressed out." You giggled in embarrassment, sounding a little like Trisha Paytas.

He took the seat beside you. "No, I get it," he smiled, revealing his goofy fine ass smile, "it can get pretty annoying, all these fuckers here put in one place. Kendall."

"Y/N," you said. You then offered your roll up, "you wanna kill it?"

He took it. "Sure. I don't even know what the fuck this is, but fuck it," he placed the entire roll up into his mouth, the tip of it barely out from his lips as he took a hit. You watched, transfixed and taken aback. He began to blow out rings and laughed as he coughed. "Jesus, that's some strong fucking shit there."

You tried not to look too much at him, instead facing back forward. But you couldn't help it. Man was fine as fuck in the goofiest way. The way he blew those rings - I mean what that mouth do I don't know.

You remembered a quote you saw on a Pinterest board once - "Compliments are just the absolute best ❤️ ". Now was your time to shine and put that quote to WORK.

"Your eyebrows."

He looked over to you. "Sorry? My eyebrows?"

"They're like, thin. Like Y2K vibes. I have to use a Men's shaver to get mine like yours - but you just have them all natural."

He nodded. He didn't get what the fuck you were on about. "Thanks. So who are you?" he asked. "Who do you know here?"

"I'm Willa's friend," you replied. From then on, you two spoke the rest of the night, free from any disturbance as you two were hidden in the shrubbery. As time went on, you felt a strong connection with him, and despite him being attractive, there was somewhat of a sad presence around him, in his self-deprecating way. There was something helpless, something loser about him that you felt immensely relatable. You could tell that he lacked a mother (and honestly father) figure, something you felt immediately attached to. Not to say that just because you're a girl means you're going to have motherly instincts all the time, but it was extremely intense with this one. A part of you wanted to pick up your hair in a ponytail and let everything do the rest, but another part of you wanted to cradle this man and pop a boob out to breastfeed his ass like the mother from Barbarian did to Justin Long's character.

Later that night, he'd introduce you to his father, Logan, and that was it. You won him over as assistant when he asked you a simple question, "Y/N. What would you do with a million dollars?" he was trying to prove something to his kids but you didn't realize it then. Your answer was quick, simple, and to the point: "If I had a million dollars I would buy so many cheeseburgers and Big Macs in McDonald's. I would also go to sweet tomatoes during lunch hour and I would tell the manager I want to co-own the business. And then I would fly myself to meet harry styles and offer him some money (not like he needs it) and ask him if he can be my boyfriend. And he can't deny my proposal cause I own sweet tomatoes. And I can offer him McDonald's food and he'll love me for that."

He loved that answer. "Smart. Very smart."

From that point on, you pretty much secured your position that family.

Working at the office, you and Kendall flirted here and there, but it never became anything too serious, to your own dismay. You loved the adrenaline that came through you when you saw him at work, and weren't at all opposed to the little office romance you two had going on. A little Jim and Pam hurt no one. You'd even post on your Instagram stories a screenshot of the two and type out "me and who". Kendall hearted it every time <3

One of your favorite parts of the day was getting ready for work, where you woke up two hours earlier to do your makeup and hair, and mentally prepare yourself for when you saw him at work. You looked cute asf every time, so the days he wouldn't show - let's just say it was very difficult for you to go on. Those days always ended up being the worst and resulted in you going to an extra storage room by yourself and going absolutely ape shit and trashing the entire place to let go some of that unwanted tension from the lack of the wanted tension from Kendall.

Okay so back to the office. Again, EVERYONE was there.

You snapped out of your trance. "Oh, uh, I'll come back later!" You were about to turn around, as you were not mentally prepared for all of that, let alone Kendall. He hadn't been in the office for several days and it just so happened that you got self-diagnosed with depression at that same time. See the coincidence?

"The fuck do you want?" Roman asked. "Don't you see the adults are talking?"

"Watch it, Roman," Kendall said. He always came to your rescue and it made you all hot down there.

"Shut up," Roman said to his brother. Oh no. That was a no-no in your book, no-no.

"Shut up Home Alone bitch!" you shot back.

He glared at you. It was like a slur for that man. You saw the flashbacks from the party replay behind his eyes, it filled you with such satisfaction. "You don't tell me to shut up! What do you want? Why are you even here, huh? Wanna crack my dad's back again, huh?"

"Romulus, enough," Logan said. His voice had such power it made the room fall silent again. Roman, annoyed and upset with his father's picking of sides, gave up. He crossed his arms and turned to face the window, away from you. "I'm sorry, Y/N."

"No, it's totally okay!" you said to your boss, "I love a little office rapport!"

Logan smiled softly, his little white mustache moving upwards. He turned to Roman. "For the record, Y/N cracks backs better than any one of you morons in here can." He turned to you again. "What is it, Y/N?"

"I have the, you know," you motioned to the papers, "you know. The documents."

Logan's face lit up. "Oh yes, yes. Alright everyone, fuck off!"

Everyone looked to one another, clueless.

"Well, wait. Logan. What do we do? We need to have a decision for tonight, for the markets, before the stock closes," said Frank.

The moment the words "markets" and "stocks" came out of Frank's mouth, they were as if they were the secret code to turn your brain off. You zoned out the moment they began to blabber on, incapable of deciphering whatever the fuck they were talking about. All the big words were difficult for you to understand. In fact, you didn't understand literally anyone in this office but you did a pretty good job at pretending you did. Your usual rotation of responses were as follows:

"Oh my god yes we have to think about the numbers!" or

"Yeah, the shareholders won't be big fans of that!" or

"The stock! We need to think about how it'll affect he stock!" or

"Yes! Investors are investing!"

There were more and even though sometimes saying any of these would result you in getting pretty confused looks, playing the office bimbo was just, well, YOUR forte. Not math.

You knew they were finished talking when they all began to leave. You snapped out of your disassociation and opened the door for them as they all left. Kendall gave you a small nod (you blushed), Gerri said thank you, Tom did his little white mom tongue that he now completely mastered, and Stewy winked at you. All the others just left, except Roman, who left last. He stopped at the door, and in a whisper said, "Keep up your attitude and I'll personally hire a tech fucker to wipe all your Sims 3 files from your PC."

You ignored him and shut the door behind him, pushing and forcing him out. He couldn't do that. Do you know how hard it was to log into your computer? No one would guess your password was ImJohnnyKnoxvillesLittleTenesseeWhiskeyCowgirl123.

You walked over to Logan as he put his glasses on and inspected the papers you put in front of him. "The fuck is it today?" he looked at the papers carefully, then closely, but ultimately threw it down. "Can you read it, Y/N, the print is so fucking small!"

"Of course, Logan!" you smiled, you cleared your throat. "Okay, today's date October 13th! Today's horoscope for Libras are, (insert here an entire usual horoscope bullshit here that really doesn't mean or say anything despite having a shit ton of words and sentences that sound like they make sense but they don't)."

Logan took a second after you finished. He began to nod. "Sounds about fucking right. I'm surrounded by MORONS!" he looked to you, "Not you, Y/N, you're just a bimbo."

"Aw, thanks, of course! Do you need anything else?"

"Yes, actually. I don't know how to get that goddamned Alexa to fucking work! Can you turn it on for me, Y/N, or fix it. Whatever the fuck, just do something about it!"

You walked over to it, initially not believing you could even try to attack the root of the problem. But, it wasn't hard. It was plugged out of its socket. No biggie. "Fixed it!"

"Thank you, Y/N, can you play that uh," he sat, thinking in his old man brain, "that woman."

"What woman?" you asked.

"Erm, that woman you know the one. You played it last time."

"Oh!" you remembered, "Lana! Yeah sure, what song?"

"The one I liked."

"Alexa, play Brooklyn Baby by Lana Del Rey."

The Alexa lit up blue and began to play. Logan nodded. "Nothing better than a woman who's proud to be an American woman." Logan put his glasses back on and began to look at other mumbo jumbo documents at his desk. "Thank you, Y/N. You may go now."

You walked over to the door, "anything else, Logan?"

"Actually yes, one more thing," he looked above his papers to you, "Go get your nails done. You need refills, 'girlie'."

You looked down to your hands. It was true. You really did need refills bad. It's literally been five fucking weeks and those acrylics were barely hanging on.

You were now at the nail salon, admiring your new set - they were a French set - Logan's favorite. You sat in the chair waiting for your nail lady to get a seat to do your feet. It was packed in there, but you weren't leaving until your patas were done.

"Well, well, look who's here."

You turned around at the bell on the door ringing. Stewy had just entered.

"Hey Stewy," you said, surprised, "what are you doing here? Picking up your girlfriend?"

He showed his well groomed hands. His nails were short and smooth - no cuticle in SIGHT.

"I always knew you were a well-manicured man." He took his own seat with his lady and began to create some rapport with her.

"Hey so listen, there's like no chairs that are going to be available soon, is it okay if we put you in the backrooms chair?" you nail lady asked.

"Yeah sure! Let's go!"

She took you to the back which resembled a photo from that liminal spaces Twitter account and sat you down on a lawn chair with an Orbeez Soothing Spa at the bottom. You put your patas in those rubber boba-esque balls, enjoying the weird sensation on your feet. She didn't realize, but as she was getting things to prepare, you kept popping some of those balls in with your feet. They were delicious. She then began to get to work, taking a little longer than usual taking off all your dead skin. It looked like parmesan cheese had been coated all over those rubber balls.

Mid-way in, with the first coat, your phone began to ring. It was no longer an iPhone 4s, you were able to upgrade now to an iPhone 7 rose gold! Though your nails were still wet, you struggled to grab it from your side with just the palms of your hands.

You gasped, wide-eyed at the contact name. It was Kendall.

"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!" you worried. Your nail lady gave you a giant side eye. "Can you answer it? I can't, my nails -"

You passed it over to her, but before she could grab it your phone thought it would be funny to do a little slippy slip slip from your hands and fell into the Orbeez bath. "Oh fuck!"

Your nail lady grabbed the iPhone, drying it with a towel, answered the phone and passed it over to you. You scrambled to answer.

"Hello, Kendall? Oh my God," you called. His voice was cracky and static. You looked to the lady, pointing at it, "it's Kendall!"

"No, it's wet. There's water in your phone, it's broken."

"Oh no!" you cried, "Ken, can you hear me?"

"He- lo- Y/N - cn an - you - ear - meeee"

The line then dropped, and your phone screen went black. "He sounds like shit. Man. I missed my fucking chance. FUCK!" you catapulted your now broken phone across the salon, accidentally and effectively hitting Stewy in the face. He was not happy. It was a habit you really needed to break.

After you finished both your mani and pedi, you went back to Waystar ready to present to Logan just where his money had gone. It was night time by now, so the building was bordering on empty.

You went up the elevator and went straight for his office - but oh no he's not there.

"Aw, man," you said, saddened. You turned back around, back for the exit, with lack of pep in your step...

"Hey, Y/N," you turned over - oh fuck it's Kendall. "Hey, I called you earlier."

"Oh, hey Kendall. Yeah sorry, I was doing my nails and my phone slipped into the Orbeez Soothing Spa thing. Look at them," you presented your hands. He touched them softly, looking at them in the light. His touch made you SHIT.

"Wow," he said, admiring them, "why are they so long?"

"Uh, cause the longer the better, duh!"

"What's this white powder, under your nail? That white shit? Is that why they're long, you're snorting?" he began to giggle.

"Uh no," you took your hands away from his gently and inspected it for yourself, "it's baby powder. I chafe bad. Some must've gotten stuck. Anyway, you going to Logan's birthday dinner tomorrow night?"

"Yeah, that's actually why I called you. Will you go with me?"

"Of course! I mean, I was going anyway!"

"Uh, yeah, I know, but, I meant to go with me?"

"No yeah I know what you mean. But, technically, me going is like, me going with everyone. But of course Kendall!"

He smiled his goofy smile, it filled you with butterflies (euphemism for anxiety) that made you all warm inside. It filled you with such satisfaction to know that you had that affect on him. But of course you did, you are you and that's just what you do!

The following morning, you had your usual routine - you left the basement, elevator, your office, coffee, sign in, print horoscopes, looked out to the city, "I built this", lit your candle before Gerri told you to put it out, whatever. You made sure to look EXTRA cute today cause girl this was going to be a very important night. Kendall literally asked you out. This is no fucking joke. It's like the D-Day of this World War II thing y'all got going on if no one was dying.

After reading Logan his horoscopes, he asked to look at your nails.

"They're perfect, Y/N," he smiled. When he wasn't scary he was just a chill old man. "French. My favorite genre of nail."

"Of course, Logan! It is your birthday today after all! I actually have a gift for you. Do you mind if I give it to you now, I just can't wait," you said. It was true, you couldn't wait. You handed him an envelope before he could say yes.

He began to open it, taking out your gift - a sticker of bagpipes you got from Redbubble. You waited excitedly for his reaction like a weirdo.

"They're bagpipes! Since, you know, you're Scottish, so they're like naturally your favorite instrument! You can put it anywhere, it's waterproof!"

Logan looked up to you, a dead-serious face he only sported during his seemingly important meetings. A part of you didn't read this Logan expression well - you didn't know what he was about to say next...

"Y/N," he began in a serious, low tone, "this is the most thoughtful fucking gift I've ever received that none of these moronic imbeciles have ever gotten close to giving me. Better than anything my own fucking kids have given me. Thank you. I'll put it on the side of my helicopter."

Your wholesome moment was then ruined by an all too familiar annoying voice. It was Greg.

"The fuck do you want, Greg?" Logan boomed.

"Well, uh, happy birthday Uncle Log, first off. But anyway, uh," he struggled.

"Spit it out!"

"Well, uh, Tom's asking for Y/N. Like, summoning her down to ATN. We're uh actually short of an assistant today, you know, for the debate."

"Debate? Oh yeah, yeah, Y/N, go on."

As you were leaving, you heard the faint and muffled start of what you recognized as "Million Dollar Man" by Lana Del Rey come from Logan's office. You began to walk down the hallway down to ATN, a place you rarely ever found yourself going to. If there was anything worse than numbers, it was politics. It just honestly sounded like a whole lotta nothing to you. But you weren't just about to say no to Logan, especially today - that would be illegal. Greg continued talking about potential gifts for Logan, but you had a knack for drowning people out.

"Hey buddyyyyyyy," another all too familiar voice called. You turned to see Tom's Horton ass face catch up with you and Greg.

"What, Tom?" you asked.

"Well, I'm sure my assistant briefed you," he looked over to Greg, with a little gay twinkle in his eye, "but we do have a guest today for ATN. A little debate, you might say. A little clinking and clashing of fine weaponry, perhaps, shiny swords of red and blue -"

"- Don't you think that's like, embarrassing?" you asked. You three reached the newsroom, where one of the anchors was getting her makeup retouched but looking extremely annoyed as if she was going to bite the makeup artist's finger Abby Lee Miller style.

Tom seem insulted. "Why? What do you mean embarrassing, Y/N?"

"Well, like, lowkey," you said in a whisper as to not get bitten by the woman, Tom leaned in, "anyone from the outside can debate anyone in here and like, win. I don't think it's that hard."

Tom backed up. He took a moment, and looked to the anchor for the day's debate, then back to you. "Well, I take great offense to that, Y/N."

"Yeah, whatever. What do I know, though? Anyway what do I have to do what the fuck am I actually doing down here?"

"The guest should be arriving soon, through the back, where the shredded papers are thrown away. By the dumpster, you know, where you seemed to appear from like a fairy. As if Tinker Bell was a homeless fairy and a slut. Go on, go, escort him up," Tom turned, arms now crossed like a child and refused to talk to you anymore. That was just Tom, though. You shrugged it off and went towards the back.

Once you opened the door, you saw that fat ass SUV of an Escalade pull up and out came the guest. But it wasn't just any guest - no no it can't be. It's not just any ordinary guest, not just your regular Joe - oh no, oh no oh fuck fuck fuck - it's your ex Hasan! Fuck!

His 6'4'' ass stepped out in his signature blue suit - the same he always wore for debates that you ironed (and burned multiple holes through that you blamed on overly-grown moths) yourself - and you both caught one another's stare.

Let's just say - you were stunned. Like, no fucking way. There's no way. But there is a way and this was the way exactly. You were pretty much at a loss for words. All that confidence from "I built this" had seeped out of your body like body oil and it fucking REEKED. Like it was impossible for this to happen. But at the same time it wasn't? Cause he's literally a political commentator. Oh shit this is real.

He laughed in disbelief. You were both in awe. You stood there, blank and still like your ass fucking froze like you computer sometimes when you signed in because of how overloaded and backed up it was from those Sims 3 files. You looked high key stupid.

"Really?" he said as he walked towards you.

"Bro what the fuck," was all you could say.

"Wow. So ATN, Y/N? Really. That's fucking low, dude. I never thought you were THAT familiar with the political climate of America, but I also didn't see you stooping down to work for literal Nazi sympathizers."

You turned and began walking back, not caring if he followed or not. You needed a moment to take it in. Okay. Okay....Okay cool now you took it in.

"Um, actually, Hasan, I work for Logan. And he's actually Scottish. How can a Scottish person be a Nazi?" you snapped, basking in your sudden femme fatale attitude, oh how you loved being a woman in the workplace!, "Anyway, mind your business just like I did yours."

"Fair enough," you two now stepped into the elevator. He leaned down to whisper, "Do you think Logan likes Zootopia just like you?"

The motherfucker was a rocket up your ass. Too bad he was still fine as fuck. But alas not all good things last forever...

You didn't give him the satisfaction of replying to him. You tried to make it seem like you were being the bigger, professional person, but in reality you had nothing to hit him back with. He was just too perfect honestly.

Now at the panel, Hasan took a seat by the anchor and the two began to fix themselves. They didn't speak one word to another - not even a hello. You cringed. This is awkward asf.

You hid behind the cameras in the corner, to yourself like a kid in timeout. Safe to say you were startled.

"Y/N, what is wrong with you?" Tom asked, now at your side.

You swallowed a pretty substantial wad of saliva, gulping pretty substantially. You said lowly, "Yeah. I am. That's my ex."

"I'm sorry, wait. Hasan Piker, the Twitch streamer, the little fingers dancing on a keyboard while his buttocks gets sores from sitting all day until time calls for his little occasional wee in his two million dollar home, whore-for-Bernie, communist masquerading as a socialist, Hasan Piker?" he seemed to enjoy this sudden news, relishing in its irony. You were not finding it as amusing as him. In fact, you started to see red at his apparent enjoyment. You felt that rosacea take over.

"Your wife cuck-holds you, Tom."

His face immediately fell. He walked away. It really did seem easy to make anyone in this fucking family insecure. Either that or it was another forte to add to your albeit short yet expansive list.

The moment they went live, you knew you didn't have that strength to stick around. It looks like your work was done. You ran out and felt tears well and stream down your face. Thank god you stole that Milk Hydro Grip Primer from Sephora, because this makeup was NOT coming off.

Everyone seemed to avoid you, and you liked it that way. There was nothing worse than this!

Oh god, everyone's gonna see me crying! Fuck! They're not gonna take me, a woman, seriously! you thought. You felt the early symptoms of a psychotic break linger. This was definitely not the time and place.

But there was no doubt about it - girl you were spiraling. Flashbacks that you thought your little brain worked to forget started to appear. You remembered the beyblade. You remembered his love for beyblades. You remembered being HIS beyblade...

You felt your breathing quicken. Your chest was tight. You knew you had to retreat somewhere - there was no stopping the rain after the lightning or whatever Lightning McQueen said.

"Hey, Y/N!"

You turn to see who grabbed your arm, ever so gently at that. Oh my god it's Kendall! He couldn't see you like this!

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Oh my god Kendall I can't no it's that I can't bro what even is that?!" you said through muffled mucus.

"Come here, let's get you out of the hallway," he pulled you into the women's bathroom and locked the door. You admired he didn't care for gender norms. He began to rub your shoulders in a soothing way trying to calm you down. There was something wrong with him being the one to console you, because typically you'd think it would be the other way around. But whatever another time.

"What's wrong, Y/N?"

You started to regulate your breathing. "Okay, so like," never mind you started hyperventilating again, "my ex, that Hasan guy. He's my ex! I just wasn't expecting him, you know?"

"Wow, okay," now he started to process the situation, "wow, he must've really fucking hurt you."

"Yeah, I have a permanent bump on my parietal lobe just to prove it!"

You then began to cry in his arms, he held you in that bathroom and you felt all your problems not go away exactly but for the moment it felt good. There was no way a MAN could fix your ass.

"Hey, listen," he had you face him, "fuck that guy. Okay? I can fucking, like, ruin his life for what he did. Why don't we, like, fucking bail? Okay? Let's go to lunch, we can fucking, I don't know, we can fucking eat açaí bowls or some shit. Whatever."

"Really? Like right now?"

"Yeah. I'm dead fucking serious."

"Oh my god Kendall you're like the best!"

A toilet then flushed. You both thought it best to bolt out of there before you came face to face with whoever was just minding their business to take a shit. No need to call HR here!

You both stepped into the JFK dream car, the chauffeur turned to ask Kendall where they were off to. You licked some of the fallen tears on your face. There was nothing that hit better than the salty brine of those tears on your weather-beaten face.

He turned to you, "What do you want to eat? It's up to you. Anything you want."

You turned to the window to think, watching the droplets beginning to slam at high speeds onto the glass. You then turned to him, feeling flirty and sensual all of a sudden, "I'd honestly really fuck up Oui yogurt -"

"Actually, buddy, can you drive us to Texas de Brazil?" Kendall said to the chauffeur. He nodded and began driving, occasionally going on the sidewalks to avoid that rush hour traffic. Evidently there was no fine that Kendall couldn't afford.

At the restaurant, it was literally just your regular Texas de Brazil. You personally weren't a fan, but you weren't going to tell Kendall no. Telling him no would send him into a spiral, an two spirals together are not good. You know what two people spiraling is? Yeah. Exactly that. It's two people spiraling.

Basically Texas de Brazil is where people go when they have too much money to spend on scraps of fucking meat. Like a vulture would absolutely go berserk. (Authors Note! If you've never been to Texas de Brazil, it's okay! It doesn't mean you're poor, it just means you're smart with your money!)

Kendall landed you two a sweet secluded spot directly in the middle of everything. Men with skewers stacked with meat were running away and offering it to every table. Frankly, it gave you anxiety like why are we running? The meat is not gonna go that cold fast like chill out. You're not getting paid enough for all that.

You and Kendall weren't able to speak too much as every time you tried to the men with skewers with unreadable faces were speed walking towards your table at full force, one after the other after the other.

Mama's getting overwhelmed...

They kept coming at all angles, not giving you a moment to breathe. In your peripheral, you saw them coming at you like fucking crazy. You wondered when it was the best time to let Kendall know you didn't eat red meat. It wasn't for religious reasons exactly, but it was because it made it difficult for you to shit. And since clearing your intestines was something of a spiritual practice, it could arguably be for those religious reasons.

"Ribeye?"

"Pork?"

"Sirloin?"

It's getting worse...

"Chicken Breast Wrapped in Bacon?"

"Filet Mignon Wrapped in Bacon?"

"Bacon?"

Mama's getting stressed....

"Ox tail?"

"Brazilian Sausage?"

"Lamb Chops?"

Mama's gonna blow.....

"Parmesan-Crusted Pork Loin?"

"Braised Beef Rib -"

"ENOUGH!" you finally shouted, hands on the sides of your head covering your ears, shaking, "STOP! NO MEANS NO! I KEEP TELLING YOU NO!!!!!".

The restaurant fell silent.

You opened your eyes as they were shut tight like gorilla glue. You peeked through, everyone stared at you blankly - you weren't just in the center of the restaurant but now the center of their world...

You and Kendall ended up leaving directly after that. He was pretty quick to get out of there. Now carless, you both walked the streets of New York. It was nighttime already. Neither of you had spoken yet to break the silence.

"I'm sorry about that, back there," you said, faintly smiling in embarrassment, "I just get overstimmied easily."

"It's okay," he chuckled, "actually I - I found it kind of hot. You know, like, telling them off?"

You felt yourself blush. He was for real a man who grew up without a mother figure.

"So where do you wanna eat now?" you asked. Your fat ass was still hungry.

"How about," he stopped on the sidewalk and you faced him. He had that delusional look in his eye. "How about we eat in like, real fucking America?"

"What do you mean Kenny Ken?"

"Like, I'm talking, you know, fucking, oily fries, injected hormone burgers, fucking - disgusting Sprite? Right, like? Type 2 diabetes on a fucking tray?"

"It sounds like you're talking about McDonald's."

"Yeah, sure whatever. Like, how about Outback? Huh? The fuck is that?" he started to chuckle a little manically with his goofy smile, it made you happy, "or like, P.F. Cheng's?"

"Well, if you want real America, we should go to a buffet!" Oh how you loved buffets. There was no rules, you could eat and eat as much as you want until you were bloated and backed up for days.

"So what like a fucking, uh, Golden Corral?"

"Jesus no," you gagged. The fuck was wrong with this man? He really needs guidance and you didn't mind being that for him. "Good heavens, no. Let's just stick to McDonald's, okay? If we were going to a buffet, I'd take you to Sweet Tomatoes."

"Well, why not? Let's go."

"We can't, cause an annoying fucking bitch named 'Covid' took her away. It wasn't just the lives of people that were lost."

"'Covid'?" Kendall asked, "I don't think that happened in Succession universe."

"What's 'Succession'?"

"I don't know. I guess I made it up. So McDonald's, then? Let's go!" He suddenly grabbed your hand and yanked you as he started running, you nearly tripped and tore your ACL. The last time you did that you busted your ass on a city bike in Miami Beach.

You two made your way to the nearest McDonald's using the directions on your new iPhone 8 Plus. You ordered your food, and unlike Texas de Brazil, at your own fucking pace. This was the only red meat you could eat and it went clean through. That oil and grease works magic!

You both had sat in the corner of the restaurant and had been deep on conversation. The ambience of McDonald's was very homey and nostalgic for you. The random beeping in the background was the best.

You were on your round 3 already, not your fault the burgers were small and didn't fill you up. You're still a growing girlie. Your favorite part were those little ketchup packets. They were so cute and small and red. It was your favorite thing that was red next to a tampon when you could afford them. Anyway dipping those skinny soggy fries in it was just the best! It was definitely your favorite activity, next to trimming your nails with scissor's, and after putting Kendall on, he agreed. You rarely shared that secret combo with anyone, so Kendall now knowing it meant that he was worth to know about the ketchup and fry crossover.

"Okay, so how about this," you took a great chomp outta your fry, "who's your problematic fave?"

"Hmm I don't know," he said, "Maybe my dad. What about yours?"

"Great answer! I think," you thought, but you really didn't need to think cause you already knew who, "Nicki."

"Khrushchev?"

"No, that's Nikita! Very close, though. I'm talking about Minaj. You know, Lewinsky. The Barbz. I don't blame you I get them confused too."

"I actually, uh, I actually really fucking like Nicki. No one else knows, but my favorite song from hers is Only, with her, Drake and Lil Wayne," he said as he munched on his own fries. It filled you with such joy to know he didn't credit the woman-beater in that sentence.

"Same! I love that song!"

"My favorite part is when Drake says, 'but I'm still staring at the titties though!'" he smiled after delivering the line. Had this been a frat bro, you would've (TW//purging) tried to voluntarily throw up your entire meal at his face because what the actual fuck was that. Your toes curled at the ick. But since it's Kendall, he always got a pass. He could kill a teenager and it'd be okay!

"Okay, what about your favorite song of ALL time?"

"Rich Girl by Gwen," he said, a little too quick. "But keep that between us, please. I put the Private Session option on my Spotify when I listen to it. It just empowers me before I make deals, you know? I just, like, blast her whole fucking discography in my huge bulky headphones. The JBL ones? Yeah, those. Her and Fergie. When I need a good like, fucking cry, I put Big Girls Don't Cry. It helps, my therapist says it's, like, a good way to let all the shit out, you know?"

"You know what you are Kendall?" you said, low but extremely flirtatious, "you're kinda cunt. Like, cunty. Like, you're Princess Diana was reincarnated." You bit your tongue like a white mom - now was a perfect time for it.

Kendall smiled softly but you knew he wanted to smile BIG. If he had rosacea like you he'd be beet fucking red. You loved seeing this loser flustered. "Well, Y/N, no. You're like, fucking my princess."

Your phone buzzed. It was a notification from Twitter. You clicked to open it and the link took you to a highlight from the debate with Hasan. It began playing loud, and thanks to Elon, the app began glitching and didn't allow you to get out of it.

"- and everything I do and say for my viewers is for the betterment of America." Hasan said.

"Well, didn't you wish for 9/11 to happen again?" said the anchor.

"Hey," Kendall placed his hand over your phone. You felt those tears well up again. "Turn it off, it's not worth it, okay? Hey, let's like - do you wanna, like, fucking hotbox or something?"

You shut your phone off. "Of course, Kendall. I'd love to hotbox with you. Let's go!"

You two left the McDonald's and Kendall was able to call his chauffeur. He told him that he needed to stand outside and wait for you and him to finish the hotboxing session in the car. The chauffeur simply said 'okay' and sat on a bench while the SUV was in park on the side of the busy New Yorkan road.

You and Kendall sat in the front seat, he pulled out his pen (the weed one) and began to take big ass, very long hits. He passed it over to you and you did the same, the smoke filling up the car and making it reek.

"So when are we going to hotbox?" you asked, voice barely hanging on from it's effects.

"Well, uh, what do you mean? We're hotboxing right now?"

You were confused. "I mean, usually when I hotbox it gets pretty smelly. Stinky maybe." He still didn't seem to understand what you were saying. He looked concerned as his eyes were swollen red and he honestly probably forgot who you were for a second.

"Huh?"

"My farts? I've been told it gives the same high. For the brief period I was homeless, before my girl Willa picked me off the streets, I got paid to hotbox cars. There's no real way of escaping it now. It's gonna come. Usually I don't eat red meat, so when I do I get pretty gassy."

He continued to look at you blankly. You were getting kinda uncomfortable for a minute as you were taking your own hits.

"Do you wanna go to the back?" he finally said, immediately regretting it. "Sorry for being, uh forward as fuck. But, like, I like walking when I'm high, I actually like going to the beach or any body of water when I'm fucked up, but -"

You put your finger to his lips, a little harder than either of you anticipated. "It's okay Kendall, you don't have to explain. Let's hit that back." You began to climb over to the backseat, accidentally flashing New York you pantiless bottom and kneeing Kendall in the face. You forgot you were wearing a business-themed skirt cause it's work appropriate, but your laced Victoria's Secret thong that you stole during your homeless era.

He climbed after you. You two sat and stared at one another for several moments, having temporary amnesia as you forgot why you went to the back in the first place.

"Y/N, can you be, like, my fucking assistant? I need help, uh, assisting."

"Oh my god, yes Kendall! That's like, my forte!" You jumped to hug him, he hugged tightly back, he then threw you on the hard leather seats and you feel his member pressed against your leg. He began kissing you, his tongue licking your lips for entrance. You let him in. Your tongues fought for dominance but you let him win. He eventually started going down on you, taking your business skirt clean off, and started kissing your labia.

"This...this is a fucking, uh, labia," he says.

You lifted your legs as he began to eat you out, his wet breath on your cooter. He held your foot up and raised himself, ready to press his member into your entrance. Your eyes were closed, ready to take the boy from Manhattan Financial District in. This is it. No Excel spreadsheet, no Texas de Brazil waiters, no Elf on the Shelf, no annoying Jordan Belfort sympathizers/incels, nothing - just you and Kendall.

Thank god for illegally tinted windows!

Hope you enjoyed!

xoxo,

~Sam St. Clair

#kendall roy #succession #xreader #fanfiction #kendall roy x reader #smut #jeremy strong #imagine

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hey-kae · 2 years

Text

Already So Perfect

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader

Request: hi! if you take requests could u maybe write about best friend!charles turned into boyfriend!charles and before the next gp, pierre goes to your hometown to help u with a surprise for charles and after the surprise you make the relationship official?

Warnings: Language, Monaco GP 2022.

Sidenote: I rewrote this about 4 times before i ended up with this version, what explains how long it took for me to post it, but i ended really liking how it turned out so i hope you do too! Strongly recommend listening to Dandelions by Ruth B. while reading cause it came on while i was writing it and my heart went 💥

Monaco Grand Prix 2022:

After that one awful pitstop and the expletives that spilled out of Charles' mouth in pure anger and frustration as he got back on track, it all seemed unsalvageable in the monégasque's eyes. It was set in stone in his mind that this weekend would be nothing but a disappointing memory that he would have learn from only to store it away and ignore it for the rest of his life after that.

For now, he didn't really know how he'd end up dealing with the painfully fresh memory, but he knew one thing for sure: he didn't expect to look back on the weekend with a satisfied smile.

You had been watching the race from the pit lanes, switching between the Alpha Tauri garage and the Ferrari one so you would be able to listen to your two best friends' team radios. Your eyes furiously came back to the grid positions every few seconds as the race neared its end, anxiously watching for any changes in the positions.

You were in the Ferrari garage, red headphones on your ears so you could listen to Charles' radio when he was asked to box. That's when shit hit the fan and a rather good race turned into a disaster. Your body acted on its own, ripping the headphones off you ears, simply not bearing to hear Charles' angry, pained voice screaming curse words like he had nothing else to say. Because, let's be real, he probably didn't.

Your eyes closed as you realized how bad this was. It was almost painful, the silence that took over the room as Charles' name dropped down to P4. The thought of how much disappointment Charles was dealing with right now squeezed at your heart and made your throat dry.

You just let your legs carry you out of the Ferrari garage and you walked in silence towards the Alpha Tauri one, knowing that the atmosphere there wouldn't be much better but still desperately wanting to escape the heavy aura of the red-dominated room.

You stayed there until all the cars passed the checkered flag and Pierre appeared amongst his team members. He shook everyone's hands, a consoling attempt from both sides, then he finally reached you giving you a quick friendly hug that showed how much he appreciated your presence there.

You never knew what to say in these situations, so you just settled for a small "Hard luck." and a sympathetic smile. Pierre responded with a small nod and a half-hearted smile.

Seconds of silence dragged on as you and Pierre stood there.

"Vas à lui. Il a besoin de toi maintenant." Go to him. He needs you right now.

It was slightly selfish, but your heart wouldn't bear being around a disappointed Charles. You just knew you'd end up blurting out anything that would make him feel better, even if that meant spilling things you wanted to keep to yourself.

"He has Arthur and his mother with him. You're alone here, Pierre."

"No, y/n. He needs you by his side after today." He emphasized the 'you' in his statement. Even after the bad race he had, a glimmer of mischief sparkled in the French driver's eyes, twisting the meaning of his words in many confusing ways.

The questioning looks you gave Pierre made him give you a little push and a small, encouraging "Go!"

For some reason, Pierre's insistence made you hurl to the bright red garage, only to find it mostly empty except for some team members. Enough time had passed since the race. Charles had probably already passed by here and was probably even done with the media and press duties he had post-race.

Your shoulders slouched in a short-lived moment of surrender before you started sprinting to the motorhome, knowing that would be where you'd find Charles.

Thankfully, you were right. Charles was in his driver's room. He seemed to be picking up a few things and packing them in a duffel bag so he could head home.

"Charles..." You started but quickly found that your words were crushed under the weight of the situation.

He turned to look at you the second his name rolled off your lips. It might sound dramatic, but you could almost see his guard being let down, the unreadable look on his face quickly getting replaced by an honest, vulnerable one. He finally allowed his body to relax and he sat on the massage table behind him.

"I'm so sorry about today." You managed, taking a cautious step towards him.

Charles, when upset, usually kept to himself and bottled up all his feelings, so it was safe to say that you didn't expect his hand to wrap around your wrist nor for him to pull you in to stand between his parted legs.

"J'en ai marre de ça, y/n." I'm sick of this, y/n. He mumbled, pulling you close and hugging you around the stomach.

"Je sais." I know. You didn't have the right words to say so you just rubbed circles on his back with one hand and ran your fingers through his tangled hair with other, not caring that it was still slightly damp with sweat.

You hoped it helped him feel a little better, but you highly doubted that so you just let him stay wrapped around you for as long as he needed. You didn't mind staying that way until he decided he okay to pull away.

The staff, on the other hand, had other plans.

"Charles, i'm really sorry but they need to start deconstructing the motorhome." Someone spoke from outside the room. Charles pulled away, his expression scarily impatient, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath in attempt to calm himself down.

"C'mon." He disguised the urge to ask you to come home with him with the small word but you understood him and you didn't find one reason to why you shouldn't accompany him. If he needed you by his side, even if it was just as a friend, that is where you were gonna be. At least for today, you were willing to ignore your feelings for the guy that was currently guiding you out of the Ferrari motorhome towards the outdoors.

Once you were outside, you felt his hand wrap around yours. It shocked you enough that your gaze immediately shifted down to look at your hands. Charles, apparently just as surprised by his gesture, studied your face, trying so hard to read you expression and understand how you felt towards that. You didn't really know what reaction he wanted so you concealed all the feelings this gave you, keeping your expression neutral.

His lips pursed and he started making his way towards his black Ferrari. You followed him with a head swirling with a million thoughts.

The drive to his apartment was overruled by a comfortable but confused silence. Fans had stopped him on his way out of the parking space, waving at him but keeping a distance, clearly aware of the race results.

Once you reached your destination, Charles told you to make yourself at home before he disappeared into his bedroom.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower." He appeared in the doorframe, shirtless with a towel draped over his arm.

You nodded, looking away as you felt your cheeks blush. You saw him disappear again out of the corner of your eye.

Letting out a breath you were holding, you rid yourself of your light jacket and headed towards his kitchen to make him something to eat.

It was shocking how fast Charles' quick shower was. You didn't expect him to walk into the kitchen so soon, but there he was, hair still wet, watching you from one of the chairs by the kitchen table.

"You don't have to make food."

"Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

He nodded and thanked you before the room fell back into silence.

You were reaching to grab a plate when you heard Charles' voice again.

"I don't know why i feel like this is the right time to say this but I can't see you as a friend anymore."

His words immobilized you momentarily but you quickly recovered and spun around to face him.

"I'm sorry, what?" You didn't know if you were confused or hurt. Whatever it was that you were feeling, it wasn't good.

Here you were, keeping him company in his apartment after a bad race and making him food, trying to make up for his bad day and he still had the audacity to tell you he didn't see you as a friend anymore.

"I just can't be friends with you anymore," you didn't wait for him to finish. You dropped everything you had in your hands onto the counter and quickly started making your way back to his living room so you could grab your phone and get going.

However, his damn fast reactions kicked in and his arm wrapped around your waist just as you were gonna pass him.

He stood up before he continued his previously interrupted sentence.

"... i like you too much to be okay with being your friend. Je veux être beaucoup plus que cela." I want to be way more than that.

At this point, he didn't need to hold you back from walking away. That thought was long gone and instead, you quickly turned to face him. Your mind didn't register it fast enough because it just sounded too good to be true.

Pierre's insistence that you go to Charles after the race instead of staying with him suddenly started making sense.

You stared at your best friend in disbelief, you mind still processing the fact that he just said the words you thought you'd never hear from him. It seemed like you brain was too busy memorizing this moment instead of busying itself with coming up with a response.

You just stood there admiring the guy you've liked for so long, since both of you were children begging your parents to sleep over at each others' houses, and the look on his face as he expressed feelings you could've only dreamt he felt.

"Now would be the time to say something." He grimaced awkwardly, his mind already running over the list of ways this weekend could tumble even lower down the scale of catastrophe. He was desperately trying to get insight on wether or not this was a good idea.

Without even realizing what you were doing nor thinking the action through, your arms reached up and wrapped around his neck, inhaling the comforting scent of his shampoo and basking in the the comfort of being so close to him. At that moment, you literally felt him relax and exhale in relief, his own arms wrapping around your waist in a delicate embrace while he hid his face in your neck.

The fact that you could feel his heart beat against your own body gave you goosebumps all over. However, it seemed like for now the only thing you cared about was how amazingly safe you felt in his toned arms. It felt like that's where you belonged in the first place. It felt like home.

After that, Charles decided that eating on the table would put too much distance between the two of you so you ended up on his couch, your legs draped over one of his and two plates of food in your laps as he ranted about his day before he made sure to ask you about yours.

As it neared midnight, you started getting anxious about leaving alone this late, especially since you were getting sleepy.

"Charles, i really need to leave." You started getting up, but he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer.

"Leaving? Why? Just stay here."

Previously, there were moments in your friendship with Charles where the limit lines blurred and you ended up cuddling in bed until both you fell asleep. You never thought it was weird since you had grown up around Charles and the both of you grew up thinking it was normal. Therefore, it didn't really make sense to him that you were planning to leave tonight after all that happened.

It barely took any convincing from his side before you were dressed in his sweats and cuddled up with him in his bed.

The night passed in a blur of confessions and sloppy kisses and before you knew it, sunlight came into the room uninvited, reminding you that even if you felt like the two of you were the only ones to exist in this world, reality still says otherwise.

You woke up to two text messages from pierre.

"I haven't heard from both u and Charles since yesterday so i guess last night went like i thought it would." The first text read, the other one being a string of winking emojis.

You didn't have time to respond since Charles, still mostly asleep, grabbed your phone out of your hand, dropped it onto the mattress and pulled you back into him as you giggled.

Silverstone Race week 2022:

A full month since monaco. A full month since you and Charles started dating.

Precisely, on the Wednesday before the british race, the 29th, a full month would've passed.

It was the Monday just before that. Charles was flying to you tomorrow, planning to spend the day here before the both of you head to Britain. Pierre, on the other hand flew in on Sunday just like you asked him to.

Throughout the past month, Charles had gone out of his way to spend as much time with you as was possible. The amount of dates he had managed to sneak into his schedule was absurd, especially since the dates involved one of you flying to the other. You wanted to do something nice for him. That's where Pierre, who was ecstatic when he found out the two of you were dating, came into play.

While watching a movie with Charles once, there was a scene where the two main characters went on a date on the beach right as sunset started. He had said that he's always wanted to try that so, naturally, you were planning to recreate that for him.

You saved up some money and rented out a section of a beachside restaurant, spilling some additional cash so they would give you full privacy and control over the space for a few hours. You insisted on the privacy part of the deal since your relationship with Charles was still a secret. No one other than Pierre and your families knew.

Along with your french best friend, you went shopping and got all the things you needed, from cooking ingredients down to small candles to decorate with.

Pierre stared complaining once he realized he was going to have to help you with all the cooking, but he still did it nonetheless, telling you that he expects any future Leclerc children to hold his name due to his big contribution in making the relationship happen.

"Dude, what the hell? We've been dating for a month! Easy on us, please." You had replied.

Tuesday noon, you climbed into your car and headed straight to the airport to pick up Charles. He met you in the parking lot and gave you the biggest kiss once he settled in your passenger seat.

As was planned, Pierre was nowhere to be found when Charles and you returned to your apartment. He was probably already finishing up the preparations of the things you had bought yesterday.

As sunset neared, you started bugging Charles that he should get up and get dressed because you wanted to show him a spot you discovered. After some bickering about that, he ended up putting on some white shorts and a loose beige button down. You couldn't help but smile as you realized he had unknowingly picked out the perfect outfit for what you had planned and that the color of his shirt was almost identical to the color of your sundress.

Halfway through the drive, you stopped on the side of the road to blindfold Charles with a bandana you brought with you. You also sent Pierre a quick message telling him he should disappear from the restaurant in about 5 minutes, then you resumed the journey.

"I don't like this, y/n. I'm getting nauseous." Charles had complained many times, even after you had parked your car and started helping him out of it.

"5 more seconds, i swear." You assured him as you guided him down the beach. Luckily, there was a pavement that gilded through the sand so he hadn't picked up on where you two were yet.

Once you reached the spot you and Pierre prepared, you turned around to make sure everything looked good before telling Charles to take off the blindfold.

It looked golden, in a way.

The sun was just about to start setting, its light harmonizing perfectly with the one coming from the littered candles and the lanterns paving the way to the dinner set up. Instead of setting up a table, you had used a big white tablecloth directly on the sand and placed many pillows and cushions on its edges. Right in the middle was the food Pierre had helped you prepare, distributed neatly on white plates. In a big bucket of ice on the side, there was a bottle of white wine ready to be served and just beside that, there was a bouquet of red tulips and white baby's breaths, the only pop of color that meets the eye.

You had chosen the tulips because they meant 'thank you' and you were thankful for Charles. The baby's breath, on the other hand, was a different story. The florist told you it symbolized everlasting love, and even though you have not said it before, but you loved Charles in a way that felt like it would most-literally define the meaning of the word "everlasting".

"You can open your eyes." You spoke after intertwining your fingers with his.

You watched Charles as he ripped the bandana off with his free hand, his expression completely changing as his eyes met the sight in front of him. His lips were parted and his eyes were glistening, his hold on your arm tightening.

"Oh mon dieu, y/n." Oh my god, y/n. He gasped.

"I don't know if you remember when you told me you wanted to go on a beach date, but i wanted to surprise you with one. Plus, tomorrow is the 29th, so it's been a month since Monaco, what means that we've-" he cut off your rambling with a passionate kiss, his lips feeling perfect against yours, an amazing combination of sweet and firm.

"Je n'comprend pas comment tu es si parfaite. Ça- Ça c'est magnifique, et toi... Mon dieu, tu es tout ce que j'ai toujours voulu." I don't understand how you're so perfect. This- this is amazing, and you... My god, you're all i've ever wanted. He said after breaking the kiss, pulling you as close to him as was possible, planting small kisses on your forehead between his words.

"Tu merite bien plus que ça, Charles." You deserve way more than this, Charles. You kissed his cheek and snuggled into his chest while he continued staring in disbelief.

Seeing him smiling like that was all you wanted out of life. Seeing his eyes glimmer with so much happiness made you want to spend forever making him happy. You were never superstitious nor religious but, standing right there with him made you want to beg every higher power and wish on every shooting star, passing airplane and dandelion that you'd get to spend the rest of your life with this man.

He looked over at you, his gaze making it hard to breathe while also setting your soul free and making your heart dance with utmost joy.

If the kind of love that comes once in a lifetime and sticks around until your very last breath actually existed, this was definitely it for you.

"I love you, Charles. I think i was already starting to in Monaco, but now i feel it so strongly and i just can't hold it in anymore." The words spilled out of your mouth once your body felt like it was overflowing with the love you felt for the man stood beside you.

To your relief, the words made Charles' smile grow.

"I love you too, mon ange." My angel. He kissed the top of your head. "Je t'aime tellement beaucoup plus que je ne le pensais possible." I love you way more than I thought was possible.

His words had such a strong effect on you. They made your heart want to escape its cage and leap towards his. You've just never felt happier.

After that, you both sat and ate.

Charles literally blushed when you gave him the flowers and explained their meanings to him. It nearly made your heart burst, seeing him so flustered over something you did.

You were sat between his legs, his arms wrapped around your shoulders in a loving embrace when he propped his phone up on one of the cushions beside him without you noticing, immortalizing the moment perfectly in a photo. You had your head tilted back slightly, your eyes closed and one your hands wrapped around his arm while the other reached behind you to cup his face as he kissed your cheek, your surroundings illuminated softly with the glow of lanterns and small candles.

The moment he showed you the picture, you fell in love with it, making him smile.

"How about we use it to let the world know? I just want post it in my story and brag about having you in my arms." He suggested in a tone that made it clear that he was just testing the waters. He wasn't going to pressure you into anything but he just wanted you to know he was ready to share this with everyone.

You quickly turned to look at him. You found him waiting for a response with full seriousness.

"You actually want to do that?"

He nodded, "As long as you want it too. We don't have to do it yet but I'll probably end up using this picture no matter when." He chuckled, looking back down at his phone screen.

You admired his smiling face and his blushed cheeks and asked yourself why you were hiding the fact that you get to call him yours from the world anyway. Looking at him alone made you grin like a lovesick idiot, for God's sake.

"Post it." You smiled and he looked up at you with so much love it nearly made you squirm.

"Tu es certaine?" Are you sure?

You nodded and kissed him.

Less than a minute later, he put his phone away, signifying that your relationship was now as public as it can get. You heart beat faster as both excitement and nervousness coursed through you, but Charles touch on your skin was quick to dispose of any negative thoughts.

When you were back home, you logged into instagram and hundreds of notifications rolled in.

You ignored them and just clicked on Charles' story to see what he had posted. Sure enough, the picture from earlier appeared on your screen, the only addition being very few words Charles added on the bottom corner.

"I don't think it gets better than this." The small text box read and right below it was your username, signifying that Charles had mentioned you.

You heart swelled at the little sentence he had chosen to add and you found yourself replaying the story over and over again before finally sharing in onto your own profile, the grin never leaving your face.

After that, you sent Pierre a quick message, inviting him over for breakfast tomorrow, thanking him repeatedly for his help and letting him know that everything went well.

"I know."

"I just liked his story." He replied, shamelessly referencing the many internet memes about him liking posts on instagram. It was funny, you couldn't deny that.

You sat and thought about the upcoming race weekend while Charles' singing voice sounding from the shower filled the apartment, grounding you and assuring you that this was in fact your reality, even if it felt too good to be true.

This weekend, you'd finally get to walk around the paddock with Charles without going out of your way to look like platonic friends like you had done the previous race. This weekend, you'd finally get to walk around with his hand in yours and with the whole world knowing that he was your boyfriend. The thought alone made your stomach fill with butterflies,

It seems like Charles was right after all. It doesn't get much better than this, does it?

How can it get better when this is already so perfect?

#charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc oneshots #f1 x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fic #f1 oneshots #f1 one shot #f1 x you #f1 imagine

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