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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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shawnxstyles · 11 months

Note

we need a part two when they finish the project please

sweetheart (part 2)

warnings: smut; (f- receiving [fingering, clit stimulation], praise kink, protected sex, slight cock-warming, dirty talk), and tiny fluff

note: i’m soooo sorry i haven’t been as active. once june starts i’ll be able to write more and post more stories, but right now i’m super busy. i have a few fics right now that i’ve started, but haven’t gotten the chance to sit down and finish them. so for now, please accept this blurb 😖 sweetheart part 1

—

you’ve always had a liking for school, in every aspect. unlike most people, you enjoyed doing homework and projects because it helped you understand the material you were learning. specifically, you adored science. you thought that the facts and what-ifs of the universe were fascinating, and you wouldn’t mind spending your whole life experimenting to discover new things. you absolutely loved chemistry and found it fun to analyze different equations to see what substance creates which reaction.

but right now, you’ve never hated science more.

peter is sitting on his computer typing away on the essay portion while you’re trying to focus on writing the poster. in all honesty, he gave you the easier job and you’re grateful, but you can’t seem to focus. not after he had his warm mouth on your pussy only two hours ago. every few moments, you would peek at peter’s fingers typing. you were getting so desperate to the point that each word he typed sent a tingle down your belly. when you two made light conversation, you swear his voice got a little deeper each time, and the rumbly rasp nearly sent you flying onto his lap.

“y/n, did you hear me?” you did not hear him.

“huh?” you blinked a few times, shaking all your dirty thoughts of his fingers from you. but they looked so rough and they moved so quickly, just like they did in you—

“are you okay?” no, you were not okay.

“uh, yeah, i’m fine,” you lied because you just wanted to finish the project, so peter could withhold his promise. that promise was the only thing getting you through this poster. there seemed to be a million facts and a lot of diagrams.

“what’d i say about lying?” peter asked with a head tilt and an octave-lower voice, his fingers halting on the keyboard. your heart skipped an erratic beat and your pencil dropped onto the poster paper.

“d-don’t do it.”

“good, you remembered,” he smirked subtly before typing away again. you take shallow breaths, wondering how he takes away your breath so easily.

the pulsing need of your clit and the burning of your stomach keep you from focusing. after ten minutes of hazily writing and sketching nonsense, you swallow your fear.

“peter, i was wondering if…we could take a break?” you suggested, pencil spinning around your anxious finger.

“sure, that sounds good,” he replies, but not the way you wanted him to. you watch as he saves his progress and closes his computer before walking around the kitchen island. he grabs two cups of water and hands one over to you when you appear at his side.

“oh, i’m not thirsty,” you smile to deny his offer.

“but you will be,” peter says nonchalantly before taking a smooth sip of his water. you feel the all-too familiar blush cascade across your neck as your eyes wander around the floor.

“are you all shy now? you didn’t seem to be when you were checking me out earlier,” peter taunts with a fake-innocent smile and places his glass on the counter. your eyes go wide for a moment, embarrassed that you were caught. “what? you didn’t think i saw you looking at me like you were going to jump on me? i know needy eyes when i see them, baby.”

the overwhelming heat of your skin fogs up your brain, making it impossible to focus on anything but the words leaving his lips. you’re silently begging him to touch you, to mend that ache in your cunt with his rough fingers. and hopefully, his cock. god, you want to see and feel his cock more than anything. you bet it would stretch you out for a whole week.

you swear you’re not normally like this.

“something’s on your mind,” peter observes with squinted eyes and a hand under his chin. “what is it?”

oh, just the idea of you fucking me into oblivion that’s all is what you wanted to say, but of course you didn’t. you mumbled out some gibberish that he couldn’t understand.

“i can’t hear you, sweetheart,” his words were so condescending, and in some twisted way, it turned you on so much.

“your promise,” you finally said, looking at his eyes. with each passing moment they grew from brown to shades darker.

“oh, i see,” peter tsks, “please, remind me what my promise was again? i seem to have forgotten.”

peter just loves games. especially the ones where he can feel your skin radiating fiery heat and watch your body squirm in its place. like he has all night, he’s been able to smell your arousal throughout the two hours you’ve been working. it utterly killed him to sit steady and type some scientific essay that wasn’t nearly as entertaining as your moans or ogasmic face. it was even worse knowing that you were just as desperate, but most likely didn’t want to interrupt your guys’ work time. what an angel you were.

but right now, peter’s never wanted to do more sinful things.

“you said…” how does he say such dirty words with ease? “you said we could continue what we were doing earlier.”

you lean your back against the counter, heart beating erratically in your chest as you try to remain cool. but your entire body was on fire and your clit was throbbing in your soaked underwear, so it was pretty difficult to stay focused.

“and what was that? use your words,” peter softly demands, licking his lips smugly. a never-ending heat cascades through your body, making your heart beat faster than ever. you breathe in, trying to get the courage to be so upfront.

“you said you would…fuck me,” you surprised yourself when you said the words. they sounded even bolder than you would have thought. every little moment he doesn’t say anything makes you think he’s just going to laugh at you. at this point, you think you’ve gone insane because you can no longer feel your heart beating. just the impending silence dangling between you two.

“good girl. now i remember,” peter smiles proudly and inches his way closer to you. his hand snakes up your neck and caresses your jaw. his thumb plays innocently with your bottom lip as your trembling breath huffs out. he could do whatever he wanted to you, and you would let him. “it wouldn’t be very nice if i didn’t keep my promise, would it?”

“no,” you waver out. your legs are stiffened together and your eyes are straining on his every move.

peter solely smirks before leaning down to kiss you. like the movies, his kiss is soft and pleasant. the way your lips molded together caused such an intense chemical reaction, and you would love to experiment on it. multiple times. every day. you would kiss him as many times as you could. you never would forget the magnetic feeling of his lips on yours.

your hands get lost in his brown hair, twisting their way through his ends. you’re so lost within his kiss that you didn’t even comprehend when he said “jump,” but you subconsciously listened and leaped into his hold. peter carried you to his bedroom, which you have been dying to see since you walked through the door. you believed someone’s bedroom said a lot about them.

however, you were too focused on other things to analyze peter’s bedroom. peter delicately lays you onto his black sheets, still kissing you like the world is ending. he slowly makes his way down your warm neck as you hum at the feeling. knowing what’s coming, you don’t wait for peter to ask permission behind discarding your own shirt. you close your eyes and tell yourself to not be self-conscious. he’s already seen you naked, so why be nervous?

seeing this, peter frowns slightly. his rough fingertip taps lightly on your temple. “open. wanna see your pretty eyes.”

your stomach tingles at his words before obeying his request. instead of smirking, peter smiles goofily and then kisses your cheek. a wave of warmth erupts through your skin at his affection. your entire body was covered in flames at this point, and you wondered if you would even be alive to get to the good part.

his tough hands roam your supple skin in hopes of exploring every inch. the rough texture left tingles in its trail.

“jeans?” he asks, looking up at you for approval.

“yes. please, peter,” you rushed and pleaded. your clit was begging for some friction, and you were about to start crying if you didn’t get something.

“gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart,” peter sang, thumbs rubbing the supple skin of your inner thighs teasingly. you wavered out a shaky breath, trying to conjure up the words.

“i need you so bad it hurts,” you whimpered. you were honest with peter, but your words weren’t what he wanted.

“i bet it does, baby. but that’s not what i asked,” peter flicks your clit through your underwear causing you to gasp at this unexpected movement. your thighs twitch and tighten at his teasing. he does it a few more times, just to get your body even more excited, and to get you to finally speak up.

“f-fuck! peter, i need your cock. i-i need you to fuck me,” you shouted, louder than you intended, but that was even better for peter.

“look who’s using her words,” peter says smugly, making your roll your eyes. you both assist in shrugging your panties off, making you completely naked while peter is still fully dressed. you reach for his shirt, but he’s already a step ahead of you and pulls it off himself.

when you see his body, you swear you almost faint. peter had six bulky packs of muscle on his abdomen and lumps of muscle on his arms. his chest was buff and tight, yet looked soft all at the same time. you had to blink a few times to make sure he was real. you even poked a finger at his stomach just to make sure it didn’t go through him like a ghost or a hologram. peter chuckles at your antics before grabbing your hand and kissing it, just like he had done earlier in the evening. and just like earlier, you felt yourself blush profusely and feel tingly all over again.

while you’re smiling like a goof, peter’s hands resume on your body. you instantly stop smiling because you remembered just how much he’s deprived you. but he’s also given you more than anyone else has in the past…

his digits caress your soaking slit between your crossed legs. you gasp because he’s finally touching you bare.

“open,” he demands softly, voice deep and lustful. shakily, you listen and do so. peter doesn’t hesitate to find your lips again with his fingers.

you quietly moan at the delicate pressure, feeling the smallest bit of friction. just as you were about to beg him for more, or to hurry up, his middle finger slips inside of you. it was almost embarrassing how easy it was. the amount of wetness you were leaking could fix the california drought.

“god, you’re so wet. what made you like this?” peter slowly pushed his finger in and out, thumb circling your puffy clit at the same time.

“you, peter! fuck,” you clenched around his digit, needing release already.

“are you thinking about my cock? hmm?” peter questioned, voice gravely as he leans over you. “are you thinking about me inside of you? thinking about how much i’m going to stretch your little pussy out?”

you groan at his foul language, pulsing barbarically. you’re straining to keep your eyes open, trying to obey his earlier request and to intake the moment. peter urges you to come, increasing his thrusts and pace. before you know it, your core is tightening and you’re squeezing peter’s fingers until you do. you thought you cut off his circulation from how hard you were clutching onto him, but when he pulls his fingers away and licks them proudly, you knew he was just fine.

“taste so good, sweetheart,” a smirk dances upon his lips as your taste lingers in his mouth. he’ll never forget that taste, no matter what happens after tonight. he’s hoping there will be more nights like these. more days too.

“can you please fuck me now, peter?–”

he holds up a finger to your lips.

“all of a sudden you know how to use your words and it still sounds so dirty coming from your pretty lips.”

in the blink of an eye, peter is reaching over to his night stand to grab a condom (hopefully). when you see the tinfoil wrapping, he stuffs it between your teeth, making you hold onto it. you then watch as he undresses his pants, clearly taking all the time in the world like he has it.

the smell of your orgasm and your wetness is haunting peter’s senses. the scent of you is never going to rid from his body or his room. he also doesn’t ever want you to leave, so he’s going to drag this out as long as possible.

once his pants are finally off, you get the courage to undo the wrapper while he’s taking his underwear off. holding the condom, you almost drop it once you see his length. he’s big, bigger than you’ve ever had. the tip of cock is bright red and leaking a bit of pre-cum, clearly just as desperate as you.

“fuck,” you mumble when looking at him. all he does is smirk before taking the condom from your hand and putting it over himself. peter leans over you again, face over face.

“ready, sweetheart?” his smirk lingers while you clench around nothing. you can feel the overwhelming sensation of your clit throbbing and you just want him to mend it. “ready to be fucked so hard you can’t leave?”

“yes, peter. fuck me hard.”

with your final words, peter is gently sinking into you. your wet folds encompass his cock snuggly causing you both to groan in delight. after a few moments, he starts to rock his body and you release a string of moans with every thrust. you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, but fail to do so. the sensations are indescribable throughout your body.

peter’s actions get harder, rougher. just like you wanted. he’s flicking his hips into yours with skilled movements while his face is relaxing in the crease of your neck. you feel his warm breath on you as he groans into your ear, lighting your whole body on fire.

“shit, peter, it feels so good. don’t stop,” you whine when he hits a certain part inside of you. your hand creeps down in between you both to rub the ache in your clit, but peter stops you.

“love when you touch yourself,” he grunts, never halting his movements, “but that’s my job right now.”

so, peter begins harshing rubbing your clit to no end. instead, your hands squeeze tightly on his biceps while he pounds into you so hard, you see stars. your never-ending wetness makes it so easy for him to slip in and out.

you feel yourself clutch onto his cock and when he moans, he sounded like the best thing you’ve ever heard.

“i-i love when you moan,” you croaked out, feeling too blissful to speak coherently.

“yeah? what else do you like?” peter huffs out, still smug as ever, even when he’s deep inside of you.

“l-love when you talk dirty, peter.”

“knew you were fucking filthy.”

with his rough words, you’re on the brink of your orgasm. your core tightens like it did earlier and your nails are digging deliciously into his skin. peter hisses in pleasurable pain, loving what you’re doing to him.

as your orgasm flows over you, your heart beats a million miles an hour and your breathing becomes staggered. the moans you elicit were just as filthy and pornographic as…well a porno. as you came, peter was smiling the whole time.

peter twitched inside of you and that’s when you knew he was close. you tangled your hands in his hair one last time and gave a single tug. that simple movement caused him to groan deeply and bring him to his release.

he doesn’t pull out quite yet. he just rests inside of you with his head on your chest. then after a few moments, he goes to get up.

“don’t leave,” you whisper and slide your hand through his locks again.

“it’s my place, baby, i’m not leaving,” he chuckles and slowly pulls out. you whimper at the loss of his cock, and at the feeling of being stretched out to the max.

“peter, i think you ruined me,” your voice cracked because it was hoarse and dry. you definitely needed some water now.

“good. are you thirsty now, sweetheart?”

—

tags: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @raajali3

crossed out= not able to tag

#shawnxstyles #peter parker #peter parker smut #blurb #peter parker fan fics #peter parker au #peter parker fics #peter parker blurbs #requests #peter parker one shot #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tom holland #tom holland smut #tom holland fics #tom holland fan fics #tom holland c you #tom holland x reader

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lunajay33 · 2 months

Text

Blooming🌼

Summary: You’ve been in the group since the start and have always liked Carl but once you see Enid moving into your territory you get jealous

•Masterlist•

You grew close to Carl at the prison, you were both the same age so it was easy to get along, you were there for him when his mom died and when the prison fell you were scared you’d never see him again but when Carol found you and helped you survive she found the other leading to you seeing Carl again when you Tyrese and Judith coming out of the cabin

He hugged Judith tight then came over and squeezed me so tight as I did the same, hearing his quiet cry’s

You were there for eachother on the road and always shared body heat at night to keep warm and now you were all in Alexandria and even though you were all in the same house it felt like Carl was slipping away from you

You were walking to the gardens with Maggie when you saw Carl and this girl Enid kissing, and it felt like your heart was being crushed, you quickly looked away and Maggie noticed

She’d grown to be like a sister to you and she could tell when something was wrong

“You okay?” She asked

“I’m fine” you lied as you finally got to the garden

“I can tell when you’re not…..is it about Carl?” She asked making you look at her shocked

“How did you know?”

“Come on y/n I know you, I’ve seen the way you act around Carl since you both were little at the farm, and now you’re both grown up and you still treat him like the center of your universe, everyone sees it”

You sighed knowing you couldn’t hide it anymore

“It hurts Maggie, I thought he liked me back, I mean maybe he just sees me as a best friend but I was just holding onto hope that maybe he felt something more……and now he’s with her and it just hurts so much” you cried finally feeling everything you’ve been bottling up to yourself

“Oh sweetie I’m sorry” she said as she sat beside you and wrapped her arms around you

“He doesn’t even hang out with me anymore he’s always with her, he’s pushed me away and I feel so lonely” you said into her chest as she held you tight

“It’ll be okay, you have all of us but I know you have a different hurt, it’s your first heartbreak sweetie but you know I’m always here” she said holding you back so she could see you and wiping your tears

“I know I just hate feeling like this, I just miss him so much”

Maggie obviously told Glenn and the others because you were all one big family so when you entered the house later that evening you saw the sad look some people gave you as your face was puffy and red from crying so much

“Ya alright?” Daryl asked from beside you

“I don’t know”

“He’s stupid fer not wanting ya” he said trying to sooth you in his own way

“Thanks Daryl” you smiled at him weakly

“It’ll be alright kid” he said before walking to his spot in the living room where he slept

You went and laid on the book corner ledge by the window, a lot of you slept in the living room still needing that reassurance, you turned and looked out the window seeing Carl walking up the porch

“What are you doing out so late?” Rick asked as he was at the kitchen island

“Just had to finish some things” he said looking over at you as you were all watching the interaction

Everyone went to sleep and you couldn’t close your eyes without seeing them kissing then you felt someone poking you, you rolled over and it was Carl standing above you

“Hey can I talk to you?” He whispered as you nodded and he sat next to you as you also sat up

“I know you saw me and Enid kiss earlier, I’m sorry”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Cause I know how you took it, I didn’t really wanna kiss her, she kinda just kissed me and I didn’t know what to do”

“Do you like her?” You knew some people were listening it wasn’t hard to tell when they kept moving around

“Not like that, not like how I like you” he said as he held your hand, your heart was pumping so hard

“And how do you like me?” You asked nervous

“I don’t like you, I love you, of course I love you”

“Really? You love me”

“I’ve always wanted you, when I first saw you I knew you were it for me, even with all this chaos going on”

“I love you too Carl” you smiled as he pulled you into a hug

He leaned back and looked at you lips

“Can I?”

“Please” you whined having waited for this for so long

He leaned in and it was the sweetest kiss as he held you closer and the kiss deepened

“You’re my everything Carl” you said when he pulled back

“And you’re mine” that night you held eachother close as you fell asleep in his arms

He was finally yours

#carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #twd fanfiction #carl grimes imagine #twd x reader #twd fluff #twd carl #twd #the walking dead #twd imagine #twd fic #twd fandom #carl grimes fic #carl grimes fanfiction

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mrsensitive · 1 year

Text

4 times everyone else caught on before the 1 time you and quinn finally did

a good old 4+1 ft. best friend beau & a couple other cameos, some mutual pining and also reader is a costume designer . kind of an elaboration of a lil blurb i wrote a while ago so if it seems familiar no it doesn't 😋

You’d never been more grateful for Friday to roll around. You’d had what felt like the longest week from hell and just wanted to take your mind off everything, so when your new neighbour turned best friend Beau texted you to meet him and a couple friends at the bar, the thought that you wouldn’t know half the people there wasn’t enough to dissuade you from joining.

When you arrive, you’re quick to spot the group - Beau hadn’t lied when he said it wasn’t just the team, but he might’ve stretched the truth when he said you already knew some of the guys. A quick once over is enough for you to realise the only other person you really know is Brock. Sure, you had heard of the others from Beau’s stories and the fact that you sometimes watched the games, but you were starting to wonder if you should’ve just gone home to your bottle of wine instead.

Beau is quick to welcome you though, flooding you with the names of everyone you’d yet to meet and pushing you into the seat he’d just vacated.

“Wait here, I’m getting the next round,” he beams at you, a good few drinks in already. “Brock come give me a hand, bud.”

You try to get your bearings a little, looking around trying to commit names to faces since the only two people you knew had left, and you realise mostly everyone is in their own conversations save for the guy on your right. You pause, staring at him trying to remember his name as he watches you struggle, clearly bemused.

“It’s Quinn,” he offers after a moment or two. He’s laughing lightly and you relax in your seat a little. “Don’t sweat it.”

You breathe out a smile, “Thanks. I was getting there, y’know.” You pause, taking a moment to get a better look at him. “Hughes, right? I’ve seen you play before. You’re a great skater.”

“Oh uh…thanks.” He shifts a little in his seat. “Beau’s talked about you a couple times actually. So it’s nice to meet you finally.”

You can’t help your eyebrows from shooting up, both of you are equally surprised and amused that you’re even aware of the other. You’re half expecting Quinn to elaborate, scanning his face for any hint that what Beau’s said about you was any level of incriminating, but somehow, you find yourself a bit distracted by the way his hair is curling over his forehead.

Before either of you can say anything, Beau’s dropped a glass in front of you and inserted himself back in the conversation.

“So what was so terrible about work this week? What’s the drama this time?”

You let out a sigh, remembering why you’d dragged yourself here in the first place. “Oh, nothing new. They just decided to reschedule all our fittings so we barely had the right costumes prepared - which is just an embarrassing look for me, you know, even if it literally wasn’t my fault. I was running all over the place trying to make it work - and then on top of that I find out they’ve put our costume truck about three states over from where the set is so I’ve got to hassle someone about that and-”

“Costumes?” Your rambling is cut off by Quinn who looks much more interested than Beau, who, to his credit, has heard some variation of this story just about every other week.

“Oh, yeah. I’m a costume designer,” you explain, “I’m working on a movie at the moment.” For some reason you feel rather embarrassed that you didn’t clarify this to him before and you’re hoping the dim lighting is hiding the way you’ve started blushing.

“I’m going to take this as my cue to leave.” Beau says, already standing up to move across the table, “You tell Quinn the whole back story and I’ll come back when you’re done with that, okay?”

Beau, in fact, does not come back for the rest of the night but you’re so wrapped up in your conversation with Quinn that you don’t particularly notice anyway. Usually you hate talking about yourself, but the drinks have loosened you up and he seems so genuinely curious and intrigued about you. He asks how you met Beau, so you tell him the story of how his 7’s look a little too much like 1’s and you ended up getting so much of his mail that you had to go and confront him about it. You try to ask him about hockey but he seems rather adept at deflecting the conversation back to you every time. You can’t help but bask in the full attention he’s giving you and the more drinks you have, the more you find yourself quietly admiring his bone structure. You’re a little surprised to hear yourself laughing so much and how easily the conversation moves that you can’t quite remember how you ended up discussing how you both think roses are overrated.

You’re so caught up in each other that neither of you catch Brock nudging Beau and nodding his head towards you across the table.

“You reckon?” Brock asks, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Oh, easily. I’ve been watching them all night.”

You pick up Beau’s call almost immediately.

“Hey, what’s up? Do you need something?” There’s a tinge of confusion in your voice.

“What? No, I just- I have an extra ticket to the game tonight and I was going to offer it to you if you weren’t being so snappy.” Beau teases.

“Oh,” you let out a chuckle, “Sorry, you just never call. I do happen to be free tonight though, if the offer’s still on the table...”

“Great, I’ll send you the ticket,” you can hear him smiling through the line. “Don’t drive, I’ll give you a lift if you wait a little after the game. Stick around and say hi to some of the other guys too.”

“Sure,” you reply, “I’ll see you later then. Maybe score or win or something? I dunno, make it worth my night?”

“Yeah ok,” you can hear him laughing now, “Will do, just for you. See you soon.”

And even if you were only joking, the team does deliver on your request. You hang by the exit as you wait for Beau, congratulating some of the other guys on the win as they start to trickle out. When Quinn catches sight of you, he can’t help the way the corners of his mouth quirk upwards and you can’t help the way you mirror it.

“Hey Quinner, congrats on the game,” you greet him, “Big win!”

You’re mildly aware of the way your heart rate has picked up slightly since he stopped in front of you. You want to believe that it’s just because the handful of times you’ve seen him now have always been aided with a bit of liquid courage, even if you’re currently fixating on his slightly damp hair and the way his bag is slung over his shoulder. Quinn, however, is severely aware of the way his heart rate seemed to stop upon hearing the nickname leave your mouth.

He clears his throat, “Yeah, thanks. I didn’t realise you were going to be here?”

“Beau said he had an extra ticket last minute - enticed me with a ride home, so I’m just waiting for him now.”

“Yeah, he should be done with the interviews soon - you know, three point night and all,” he laughs, glancing back at the doorway in search of a sign of his teammate.

“Coming from you, mister record breaker!”

Quinn whips his head back around to you, eyes wide as he starts to mumble something to try and downplay his night. He knows he’s blushing from the way he can feel his cheeks burning but he’s hoping it could be disguised as some sort of postgame flush.

You can’t help but let out a laugh at how off guard your comment seemed to catch him. “Surely you’re going out to celebrate?”

“Oh, I don’t know… we’ve got an early start tomorrow…” He rubs a hand at the back of his neck and your eyes flicker to his bicep briefly.

“Hmmm boring,” you tease, “All work and no play I guess.”

Something in your tone has him grinning now. “No rest for the wicked,” he quips.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, you’ve had an audience for just about all of your conversation.

“Is this what he looks like when he’s trying to flirt?” Petey asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I guess. Or trying to, at least,” Brock answers, still eyeing the scene in front of him. “How long do we think til they do something about it?”

Beau’s appeared next to them at the door now too, smirking as he watches you and Quinn completely oblivious to everyone else.

“Wanna take bets?”

Quinn’s nervous. He’s already texted you to let you know he’s arrived but he’s expecting that you’ll have to turn him away last minute. He’s still in disbelief that he’s even here, despite the fact that you’d offered to have him visit you on set several times already, but he always thought it was just a throw away thing you would say to be nice. He only tells you this about the fourth time you’ve asked, the arrival of the post season working out with one of the quieter days of your schedule, and you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing in his face about it.

“Quinn. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it. Most of our conversations are about movies, so I just thought you might find it cool to see what it’s like,” you shrug. "I've watched you play games before so it feels kind of fair, right?’

As much as he protests that it’s different, you are kind of right, naturally. He thinks it is extremely cool that this is what you do for a living, and even cooler that you’d even considered to bring him along and show him a part of it. At least, cool is what he’s trying to convince himself he’s feeling about it all.

When he sees how excited you look, running out to meet him, he once again can’t help the grin that weasels its way onto his face. He holds out the second coffee cup in his hand to you.

“Hey,” he greets, “I brought you a coffee. I stopped on my way here but I didn’t really know what you usually get or if you prefer, like, hot or iced? So I just got you what I get which is-”

You’re pleasantly surprised and amused, letting him ramble a little before you cut him off, thanking him and groaning when you take a sip. “God, thank you. I’ve already had one today but I truly needed this.”

He’s relieved to hear it, immediately relaxing. “Hectic day then?”

“Kind of, but like… A controlled hectic you know?” You pause, giving him a once over, realising he’s a little less jittery than a minute ago - and also that he looks good. You’ve only ever really seen him in very weak bar lighting, or after a hockey game - but definitely never before lunch. The sun looks good on him you think, and you’re rather charmed by the outfit he’s picked out for the occasion but you’re quick to snap yourself out of your thoughts.

“Let me show you around!”

You give him a tour of the set, proudly pointing out how you managed to convince them to move your trailer closer, talking him through your designs you have pinned up and showing him some of the final costumes.

Quinn’s already wide-eyed, kid in a candy store at all of this, staring and asking if he can touch things. He almost doesn’t believe you when you say he can watch them film a scene or two. He’s amazed by the whole set up of it all, the cameras, the monitors, all the people who seem to be constantly walking places very quickly with a lot of purpose. You lead him to your little costume camp in the corner, letting out a chuckle at how impressed he is.

“Okay, look so I do kind of have to do my job and leave you alone here, but just stay where I tell you to, don’t get in the way and you’ll be fine.” You’ve barely finished your sentence when someone calls your name, so you’re pushing Quinn into an empty chair, wincing a smile at him and scurrying away.

You don’t really get a chance to check back in on him for a good hour or two, but Quinn’s barely noticed the amount of time that’s gone by. He’s shocked at the fact that he’s so close to actors who he actually recognises, but he’s even more in awe simply watching you in your element. He knew you’d downplayed your role to him but even so, he’s mesmerised at the way you’re handling everyone’s questions, how you’re there in between takes to fix collars and ties and things he hadn’t even noticed, at how almost out of nowhere, you suddenly seem to have this commanding yet gracious air of authority around you. He’s never seen or even pictured you like this but he’s completely caught up in it, not realising that one of the makeup artists has been watching his laser focus on you this whole time and sidled up to him.

He doesn’t quite hear her at first.

“I was just asking if you were the boyfriend?”

Quinn’s immediately blushing furiously and he’s only glad that you aren’t there to see it. “No- no, um. Just, uhh, just a friend is all.”

His response appropriately earns a raised eyebrow.

“Ahhh, okay. Gotcha. Sorry, was just asking,” she pauses, entertained by his spluttering, “She’s rather amazing, you know? Really great at her job and just incredible in general.”

“Yeah, I, uh- I know,” he answers, glancing at you briefly. There’s something in this stranger’s tone that has him slightly confused, wondering why he’s being told this.

She only hums in response before walking away, leaving him to try not to overthink the interaction. He quickly pushes it aside when he sees you making your way over.

“Hey,” you grin, coming to a stop in front of him, “Been having fun?”

“Oh yeah,” he perks up immediately, “Heaps.”

“Great, because we’re starting to wrap up. I’ll take you back out to the entrance, save you all the boring stuff, y’know?”

Quinn’s surprised that it’s already heading into the late afternoon when you exit the studio. He turns to look at you, shoving his hands into his pockets and mustering up as much sincerity as he can.

“Thanks again for having me. It was, um, it was really cool watching you do your thing.”

“Well thanks for finally taking me up on my offer,” you counter, “and thanks for the coffee. I’m glad you had fun, really." You pause, cocking your head slightly, “We’ll go watch the movie together when it’s out.”

This, Quinn is sure, is a throw away line, at least he thinks. You’re not completely sure if you meant it either, but you know you only said it because you knew he would take it as one.

A couple days later you get a text out of the blue from Beau, and then Brock.

Beau: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU TOOK QUINN ON SET???? I’VE KNOWN YOU FOR HOW LONG AND YOU’VE NEVER ASKED ME?!!?!?!

Brock: I like movies too :))

For whatever reason, Beau’s apartment had become the designated gathering spot. You’d already found yourself there a couple times already with the rest of the group, so you didn’t really question it when he ropes you into the games night he’s hosting, claiming they need another person to even out the numbers. It doesn’t occur to you to ask why he couldn’t have asked literally any of the other guys instead, so you don’t realise he has a whole catalogue of excuses ready to cover the fact that he’d been orchestrating a reason to get you and Quinn in the same room again.

If anyone were to ask Quinn why he was late, he also had his own list of excuses ready to rattle off before he’d admit the truth. He’d spent an embarrassingly long amount of time switching between three shirts knowing that he’d see you - and so what if you’d done the same, as long as nobody else knew?

Currently, you’re all way too many drinks in, lining up along the couch in preparation for the final tie breaking round of charades. Beau’s couch is definitely not big enough to fit six of you but you all squish in anyway, mostly too drunk or too determined to win to care. You should have expected this level of competition from a group of professional athletes; you've done a good job of keeping up all night, but you’re suddenly very acutely aware of how close Quinn is sitting next to you. You take another hard swallow from your drink before turning your focus onto Beau flailing his arms in front of you.

You manage to keep your cool through several rounds, but eventually you realise Quinn’s thigh has, at some point, ended up pressed firmly against yours. Immediately your whole leg is tingling and your face is flaming up, but Quinn doesn’t seem to show any signs of pulling away, or simply even realising. You blink, trying to refocus, but the only thing your brain seems capable of processing at the moment is the feeling of Quinn’s leg against yours through your jeans. If it weren’t for Beau’s overly dramatic reaction, you probably wouldn’t even have noticed that your team had already lost.

You move to lean back against the couch - which was a mistake, considering now your shoulders are brushing too, and someone might as well have set your entire body on fire. Your head is starting to spin - must just be the shots catching up, you try to convince yourself - and you’ve drawn your lips into a thin line in an effort not to combust.

Brock lets out a laugh, clocking your expression. “Alright, no need to be such a sore loser, princess.”

You can feel Quinn turning to look at you, even if you’re desperately avoiding his eye contact. Beau is looking at you now too, eyes flickering over the way you and Quinn are pressed into each other’s sides. He grins, gears already turning in his head.

You hope your laugh sounds convincing. “Yeah, didn’t realise I’d get so into it, huh?”

“We’ll just have to have a rematch another time,” Beau reassures you, well aware losing wasn’t the reason why you looked so distressed. He fakes a look at the clock as you stand up from the couch, having decided you wouldn’t have survived much longer if you didn’t move.

“Well I guess it’s getting a bit late. I think we’re all pretty far gone at this point so everyone’s welcome to crash for the night if you want," Beau offers.

“Dude,” Quinn pipes up, “There’s no way you have enough space for all of us.”

“Well, lucky a certain someone just so happens to live not so far away!” Beau is already shepherding the two of you out of his apartment, still wearing the biggest grin on his face.

Before you can even begin to protest, you’ve already found yourself standing next to Quinn in the hallway. A beat passes, the two of you staring at the shut door incredulously before you finally catch Quinn’s eye, both unable to help the fit of giggles that escapes when you catch each other’s expressions.

In hindsight, you think this is the exact moment where you lose the ability to deny to yourself that you see him as just one of Beau’s friends. His eyes are a little glazed over from the alcohol, and his lips are flushed the prettiest pink to match his cheeks which are pulled into the widest smile you’ve seen him wear to date, and for the first time you notice exactly just how full his eyelashes are.

“I guess I do have a free couch,” you breathe out once you’ve both calmed down.

“No it’s fine really, I can just get an uber home, don’t worry about it,” Quinn argues, the slight awkwardness of the situation finally hitting him.

“Quinn, don’t be ridiculous. Your car’s still here, isn’t it? I literally live down the hallway,” you pause, “... like Beau said.”

He swallows, blinking at you for a good while. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure then.”

He waits for you to tell him that you’ve changed your mind, that actually the boyfriend you’ve never mentioned before wouldn’t like it if he stayed, or anything along those lines - something that would make the whole thing feel a little more believable, but instead, he just finds you looking at him. He doesn’t think he can handle that much longer without buckling at the knees, the way your eyes are searching his face, so he turns and starts walking down the hallway. He goes to ask what number your apartment is when he suddenly feels your soft hand slip into his.

You don’t know what it is. Maybe how nervous he suddenly seemed, maybe the way his hair looked perfectly dishevelled, or maybe in your intoxicated state you’d just finally decided to throw caution to the wind.

“I’m back this way, idiot,” you laugh at him before tugging him down the other way to your door.

Quinn is sure that his heart is thumping so loudly that you can hear it echoing through the silent hallway, or that you can somehow feel it where your fingers are laced through his but you’re being nice and saving him the embarrassment by not saying anything about it. He’s also hyper aware of how you didn’t drop his hand until you were both inside, even when you were rummaging in your pockets for your keys.

He glances around your apartment, following suit as he watches you kick off your sneakers. He’s overtly aware of the quietness compared to the chaos of just earlier, and the overwhelming sense of domesticity as he trails behind you into your home.

You watch him as he looks around, trying to find something to do in order to not get distracted staring at his nose. “Want some water?”

“Yeah actually, thanks,” he feels like he’s whispering, like if he speaks any louder you might realise that he is, actually, in fact, standing in your apartment and decide to kick him out.

He watches you reach on your toes to grab an extra glass from the cabinet and he finds himself endeared by it all - the way your shoes were lined up in the hallway, the sweater left draped over the couch, the lone mug left on your kitchen counter by your coffee machine.

He gestures at what he’s guessing is an open script left on the table next to an array of pens. “New project?”

“Yeah, I’m almost done reading through it,” you answer, “I won't be working on it for several months still, but I haven’t completely decided yet.”

“Is it shooting here as well?”

“Only bits of it. Looks like it’ll be mostly in LA though. And a couple other locations but it’ll be fun,” you shrug, handing him the glass.

“So you’re gonna do it?”

“Yeah, I think so. Script’s pretty good so far, and it’s an exciting team. Kind of like why not, you know?”

Quinn only manages to mutter out some sort of agreement. He’s surprised by his own disappointment at the idea that you could be moving out to LA, when in the grand scheme of things he’s only known you for about half a year. Thankfully, you interrupt him before he can think about it much more.

“Anyway, I’ll go get some blankets for you. Bathroom’s down that way, there’s extra toothbrushes in the first drawer.”

When he’s back, he almost crumples at the sight of you in your pjs setting up the couch for him. He notices you’ve refilled his glass before you turn around and shove a pile of clothes into his hands.

“Sweats for you, they should fit, I think,” you crinkle your nose. “My room’s down that way, just let me know if you need anything.”

He only manages to get out a small thanks in response. He’s staring at you, he knows that, but he can’t help how soft you look in the dim lighting.

You tilt your head, giving him a small smile. “Night, Quinn.”

“Yeah, goodnight,” he mumbles.

He makes a mental note to both punch Beau and then thank him in the morning.

+ 1

Nothing ever happened after that seemingly eventful night. It’s now well into the next season and you’re thinking that this is just what the dynamic of yours and Quinn’s friendship is like. You’ve gone back to trying to convince yourself that it’s normal - like you also think Beau’s good looking, right? You had a bit of a crush on him too when you first met him, even if that came and went awfully swiftly and you don’t get anything even close to the same kind of head spinning giddiness when he talks to you. Quinn thinks he’s been less subtle about it all, and you think you’ve been dropping hints but apparently your efforts have only been evident to everyone else but each other.

You know that the team has a gala coming up soon. Beau’s mentioned it to you a couple times in his attempt to gauge how you would feel if he forced Quinn to take you as his date. When he tells Quinn his master plan to finally get the two of you together, Quinn almost chokes on his own spit.

“Ask her as my date?! You’re kidding right?” he practically screeches.

“No.”

Quinn stammers, trying to formulate some kind of reply. “I don’t- We’re not- … I’m not doing that.”

Beau groans. “You guys are both such idiots, I’m sick of it. It’s so obvious that you like her and I don’t know how you can’t see that she’s head over heels for you too!”

Quinn only stares at him in response.

“Why won’t you just ask her? The world isn’t going to implode.”

There’s a good minute of silence, the two of them staring at each other waiting for someone to break. Quinn finally sighs, taking a seat on the couch.

“Isn’t she leaving for LA soon?”

“Are you being serious right now? Please tell me you’re not actually this stupid.”

Quinn blinks. “I don’t know. Vancouver and LA are pretty far apart.”

Beau is just about ready to physically knock some sense into him.

“You’re not even in Vancouver half the time anyway. Plus she’s not moving away forever. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

When Quinn doesn’t say anything in response, Beau doubles down.

“If you don’t ask her, I will for you. I’m not lying but you can test that out if you’d like.”

Beau doesn’t believe that Quinn will do anything, but he doesn’t give him much time to prove him wrong anyway. He’s calling you that evening.

“What are you doing Saturday night in two weeks time?”

“What? Nothing, I don’t think.”

“Okay, great. You’re coming to the gala as Quinn’s date then.”

“I’m what?!”

“You heard me.”

There’s a pause.

“Are you home right now?”

“Ye-”

You hang up on him before he can finish the syllable and you’re storming down the hallway until you’re banging on his door. He looks rather calm when he lets you in, but you don’t miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You point an accusing finger at him. “Explain it to me again. You want me to do what now?”

Beau rolls his eyes. “You’re free. Quinn’s free. Why not? It’s painfully obvious that you have this massive crush on him.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “No I don’t. And you’re asking me instead of him because?”

“Because he’s being an idiot, like he has been for almost an entire year now.” Beau looks at you and he can tell you could be convinced. “Just say yes. I’ll be there, the other guys will be there, there’ll be free food and drinks. Plus you’ll get to dress up! You’re always telling me you want to have an excuse to dress up yourself instead of other people!”

You can’t deny his last point. Literally just the other week, you’d sent him a link of this drop dead gorgeous dress you’d found whilst sourcing for your next project and complained to him about how you wanted to get it for yourself but had nowhere to wear it to.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. Just say you’ll come as his date. That’s it.”

You pause. Beau finds himself in his second stalemate of the day, but he knows you’re going to give in more easily. He listens to the tick of the clock in his living room, patiently waiting for you to cave.

“Fine.”

You don’t give him a chance to properly react before you’ve flung open his door, marched back to your own apartment and screamed into your pillow about what you’ve said yes to.

Beau should’ve known you were going to be insufferable leading up to the actual night. You spend the entirety of the next week pestering him about what the dress code is, how you have nothing to wear, what to expect, who else is going to be there. He gives you the same answers every time you ask and he promises to go dress shopping with you on Thursday. You’re only the slightest bit more relieved at this, but as soon as you agree, Beau’s texting Quinn that he has about a week to deliver.

Quinn had called you as soon as he saw Beau’s message, apologising and saying that he wished Beau had given him a little more warning so he could have asked you himself (he knows he wouldn’t have) and telling you that you don’t have to go if you didn’t want to. You were barely done freaking out about it yourself, but the way he sounded so completely flustered about it all through the phone was somewhat reassuring.

When you make your way up the stairs to your apartment on Wednesday evening, you find yourself actually excited to go pick out a dress the next day. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t pulled together some inspiration images, but in your defence, you were just good at your job. Your steps falter a little when you notice a package at your door, but as you get closer, you notice there’s a post-it note over it.

Been a minute since our mail got confused again :)

– Beau

You’re confused because you don’t remember ordering anything, but it’s definitely been addressed to you. You head inside to open it, brows furrowing when you start to recognise the fabric. Needless to say, your jaw is definitely on the floor when you pull out the same dress that you had sent Beau not too long ago. You’re scrambling to grab your phone to yell at him when you remember they’re currently playing a game at the moment, so you settle for a borderline blasphemous string of texts instead.

Hours later, when you’re still reeling, you get one single message in response.

Beau: Wasn’t me. Was all huggy :)

It feels like the last days left until the gala had gone all too quick yet also taken way too long. You felt like you’d been pulling your hair out about it nonstop, and it didn’t help that the guys had gone away on a roadie in between.

You’d started getting ready way too early. You couldn’t do up the clasp of your necklace since you weren’t used to having your nails done, leaving you too much time to start wondering if you’d maybe gone a little overboard with it all. You’d been pacing around your apartment for the past half hour trying to occupy your hands with something else instead, waiting for a more appropriate time to get changed. You think you must look like a deranged housewife, washing your dishes and folding your laundry with a full face of makeup and maybe too much diligence.

You’re so caught up in distracting yourself that the buzzer ringing makes you jump.

“Hey, come on up. I’ll unlock the door, I’ve just got to get changed,” you say over the intercom.

You run back to your room to pull on the dress you’d been fawning over for weeks, still not entirely sure how either Quinn or Beau had managed to work out the right size for you. You hear the door being opened and Quinn calling out your name just as you’re spraying your perfume.

“In my room!” You yell back, “One sec!”

When he rounds the corner and lays eyes on you, Quinn’s certain he’s turned completely into putty. He’s never seen you so dressed up and you look so breathtakingly stunning that he almost drops the bouquet in his hands.

You’re equally breathless when you turn around to face him. You didn’t realise that he’d gotten a tie to match, and you wouldn’t know that he’d dragged Petey to help him pick a new suit in an attempt to impress you. You’re both staring at each other for what feels like forever before either of you can manage a word.

“Um, hi,” he breathes, barely audible, “You look- you look really beautiful.”

You can’t hide the blush that’s creeping up your neck, but you don’t try to anyway considering his cheeks have gone a rosy shade to match.

“Thanks, Quinn. You look really good too.” You don’t notice how he flushes even deeper because you’ve finally noticed the flowers he’s holding, and even more so, how there’s not a single rose in the bunch. “Are those…?”

Quinn suddenly feels embarrassed about the fact he got you flowers. “Yeah, I um, I got- they’re for you.” He feels like a school boy all over again, mentally kicking himself for not being able to get a proper sentence out. He looks down at the stems, rubbing at his stubble. “Did I overdo it?”

You laugh, you’d been fidgeting with your nails the entire time.

“No, I think it’s really sweet.” You take the flowers from him, laying them down on your vanity when you remember your necklace.

“Oh, can you help me with this? I can’t seem to get the clasp.” You hand him the chain and turn, moving your hair out of the way.

You can smell the waft of his cologne and feel his focus on the back of your neck, suddenly incredibly aware of how close you’re standing. Your mouth has dried, you're pretty sure your ears are ringing and you think you’re fully frozen in your spot.

“There,” Quinn mumbles, barely even able to get the word past the lump in his throat. He’s still thinking about how unreal you look and fighting the overwhelming urge to spin you around and kiss you right then and there.

You’re both snapped out of the moment when his phone starts ringing. It’s Beau, asking what time you guys are going to arrive.

“Yeah, we’re just about to leave. See you soon, dude.” Quinn answers, turning his attention back to you. “Ready to go?”

On the way there, you’ve somehow recomposed yourself to manage a somewhat normal conversation. You’re not sure exactly what it is that sent your nerves into haywire in the first place. The fact that you’re so done up, that you’re technically his date, or the fact that he seems just as antsy as you. He tells you he’s a little nervous about the speech he has to make, so you squeeze his hand in reassurance and try to reel your nerves in for both of you.

It’s a lot easier when you get there and see everyone else. You’re reminded that they’re your friends and that this is just another time you get to hang out, even if it’s a lot more fancy and official than what you’re used to. But when you finally go to take your seats after doing your initial rounds of mingling, you still manage to somehow knock your fork to the floor. You bend over to pick it up and you don’t realise Quinn’s covered the edge of the table with his hand until you bump your head into it. Before you can even say anything or just thank him for it, he’s offering to swap forks with you.

“Oh, don’t even worry about it,” you laugh a little breathlessly, “Five second rule, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” he replies, but he’s already replaced the fork next to your plate with his anyway.

Brock and Petey have watched the whole exchange and share knowing smirks from across the table.

Everything else seems to go smoothly. Maybe it’s the soft touches on his arm or on your back, the blushing smiles and longing glances across the room, but something about tonight feels like tomorrow you won’t be able to pretend nothing happened.

Quinn’s speech goes well, and now everyone is up and moving around again. You hang back and let the long line of teammates and attendees go to congratulate him first.

Beau approaches Quinn, interrupting his train of thought.

“Now that the business part is done, you gonna finally make a move or what?”

Quinn’s eyes almost pop out of his head at the idea of this and also the volume at which Beau is speaking.

“Shut up,” he hisses, “She’ll hear you!”

“Doesn’t matter - she’s going to notice anyway with how hard you’ve been staring all night!”

“No I haven’t,” he mutters, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah ok, sure buddy. Just- no time like the present!” Beau claps him on the back and leaves Quinn to shift his gaze back to you. He’s starting to get lost in how at ease you look, talking to some of the other wives, when he realises Beau is right and you’ve caught him staring.

You make your way to him, prodding him gently in the shoulder.

“Told ya you didn’t need to be so worried.”

He’s blushing again. He can’t seem to get a handle on the effect you have on him.

“Yeah, it went alright, I guess. Made it out alive.”

“Well I, for one, think you spoke really well.” There’s a slight teasing in your voice, but you hope he can tell you mean it.

Quinn finds himself lost for words in front of you for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He’s scanning your face and tries not to think too hard before he opens his mouth again.

“Can I kiss y-”

“Please.”

His hands are quick to find your waist and pull you closer as your hands find a place against his chest. The kiss is quick and rushed and almost all teeth from how big you’re both smiling, but you don’t mind it. You feel like the ground’s been pulled out from under you in one fell swoop and you’re free falling but somehow it feels like exactly what you needed.

When you pull away, Quinn’s wearing the goofiest lopsided grin you’ve ever seen and you can only imagine that you look the same.

“I, uh-”

“You’ve got lip gloss on you.”

You’re both giggling as he swipes over his lips with his thumb.

You’re so lost in him that you almost don’t register all the hollering and clapping from your table. Usually you would hate the idea of so many eyes watching you, but it all feels like such a long time coming that you can’t seem to be even remotely embarrassed about any of it.

#a result of the freak behaviour quinn has been displaying as of late... like sorry i am just a Girl #actually he did all that and then i turned around and wrote over 6.5k about him so . whats more freakish im not sure anymore #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes blurb #📝

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satansapostle6 · 5 months

Text

Josh Futturman has always had a crush on his beautiful coworker, the sharp, sexy scientist he thought he could only dream of talking to.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Smut. Oral(F receiving). Fingering. Praise kink. Slight degradation. Slight choking.

(Minors DNI.)

Part Eight: Gift Exchange

“Are you sure you wanna go to my house? Not, like, a Taco Bell parking lot, or Guantanamo Bay, or something?” Josh asked hopefully for the umpteenth time even after they had arrived. “You really don’t have to meet my parents on the first date.”

“I’m sure, Josh,” Brynne laughed as they got out of the car. “Besides. I like meeting people’s parents. Especially when they’re nice.”

“You say that, until they start trying to convince you to move in.”

“If they show me your baby pictures, I’ll rent a U-Haul.”

“Oh, God,” Josh sighed, dreading the interaction as he unlocked the front door.

Josh opened the door for Brynne, as the two of them entered the house to find that the Futturmans were hosting a small get-together, which Josh had completely forgot about until now. Everyone was looking at them; Josh’s parents, the neighbors, and Josh’s Uncle Barry.

“Hey, Joshy!” Diane got up to greet him, as Gabe followed her. “Is this the famous Dr. Brynne?!”

“Mom!” Josh complained, mortified.

“Hi,” Brynne smiled, shaking both of their hands.

“Welcome, Brynne,” Gabe Futturman smiled warmly, “Nice to meet you! You’re always welcome at the Futturman house.”

“Thank you,” she smiled warmly. “It’s so nice to meet you. Josh has told me so much about you,” she teased him.

“All good, I hope?” Gabe chuckled.

“Yeah!” she lied.

“Oh, you’re so beautiful!” Diane exclaimed, “Could I get a picture of the two of you later?”

“Mom!” Josh gasped.

“Yeah, sure!” Brynne nodded.

“Come meet everyone, Brynne,” she led them over to the guests, “I’ve been telling them all about you!”

“I’m so sorry,” Josh whispered to her.

She just laughed as his parents led them into the living room.

“Everyone, this is Josh’s date, Dr. Brynne Johansson,” Gabe introduced her. “She’s the head of the research department at Kronish Labs.”

Josh was horrified at his parents’ lack of subtlety.

“Hi, happy holidays,” Brynne waved to everyone.

“Awooga,” Josh’s newly divorced uncle, Barry, stared at her.

Josh made a face, disgusted by the behavior.

“Just a warning about Uncle Barry,” he whispered, “You’re gonna want to avoid him right about… two whiskeys ago.”

“Duly noted,” Brynne murmured as they sat down, joining the party.

“Brynne, these are our neighbors, Melinda and Julius Seneca,” Gabe introduced the couple as they waved kindly. “And this is Josh’s uncle, my brother, Barry.”

“Well. How you doing?” Barry slurred as he jumped up to shake her hand.

“Uh…” Brynne looked to Josh for help as he mouthed a hasty apology. “I’m good,” she grimaced as she gave him her hand.

Josh watched in horror as his Uncle Barry took her hand, raising it up to his lips to kiss it, mouth still open.

“Oh,” she smiled, trying her hardest to be polite for Josh’s sake. “I take it you had a Philly cheesesteak for lunch?”

The bald man chuckled deeply, eyes still locked on Brynne.

“Barry,” Josh’s father sighed at his brother,

“What?” the drunk man asked defensively.

“Leave Josh’s girlfriend alone,” his mother chimed in.

“Mom! Oh my God!” Josh complained, at a loss for words.

“What?” she questioned.

“Come on, you two. Have a seat,” Gabe smiled invitingly.

Josh tried to cover his look of distress with an attentive smile.

“So, how did you and Josh meet?” the neighbor, Melinda Seneca, asked curiously.

“Oh, it’s not that interesting,” Josh assured her with a chuckle.

He looked to Brynne, gauging her expression off the look on her face to make sure that she was okay, which he had now made a habit of doing.

“We just met at work.”

“Yeah, so Brynne, I hear you’re a doctor?” Julius asked.

“A doctor of science, yes,” Brynne clarified.

“Really? At your age?” his ears practically perked up.

“Julius,” his wife laughed, embarrassed.

“No, it’s okay,” she gestured, “I got my PhD when I was twenty-three.”

“Wow. That’s impressive,” the man nodded. “You just be some kind of genius.”

“Not really,” Brynne laughed.

“No, she is,” Josh insisted with a grin, kindly resting his hand on her back, “She’s the head of the research department at Kronish Labs,” he said proudly.

“Wow,” Melinda smiled.

“Then what’s she doing with a janitor?” Barry asked from the corner with a mouth full.

Everyone slowly looked at him in horror, as Josh swallowed awkwardly.

“Barry!” Gabe said, aghast.

Josh’s parents looked at one another awkwardly, unsure of how to handle the situation. The Senecas seemed equally uncomfortable.

“You apologize to Josh right now!” his father yelled.

“No, Dad, it’s okay,” Josh avoided his gaze.

“No, it’s not. You don’t talk to family like that,” his father insisted.

Brynne looked at Josh sadly, seeing the way the comment affected him.

“Hey,” she whispered, taking his hand.

Josh looked up at her in surprise, touched by the gesture.

“We don’t have to stay down here if you don’t want to,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Josh said quietly, clearing his throat as they stood. “Mom. Dad. We’re going upstairs.”

“Joshy,” his mother said as she stood, feeling sorry for him.

“It’s okay, Mom. We’ll come down in a little bit,” Josh told them, turning to the neighbors, “See you guys later.”

He took Brynne’s hand as the two of them walked up the stairs together, heading up to Josh’s room as he closed the door, sighing as he flopped onto his bed, sitting with his face in his hands.

“Hey. You okay?” Brynne asked, sitting beside him.

“Yeah,” he sighed, stopping to look at her, “I’m fine. I just… needed a break.”

“I guess we’re both having the same kinda night,” she pointed out, earning a small smile.

“Brynne?” Josh said finally.

“Yeah?”

He sat up straight, just staring right at her.

“I think you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Stop,” she chuckled, only half meaning it.

“No, really. I just had one of those… moments. You know?” he asked.

“What kind of moments?”

“I don’t know,” he thought, “Just one of those kind of things where you’re just feeling like shit, and then you stop, and you look at something… Like a butterfly outside, or a kid laughing, and you just… You realize the beauty in things. I saw it. In you.”

She smiled as she caressed his face with her thumb. “You’re very, very adorable,” she told him. “And I like you. More than I’ve ever liked anyone after knowing them only this long.”

“That… That makes me really happy,” he allowed himself a smile. “Are you happy?”

“Yeah, I think I am,” Brynne chuckled softly.

“Good. I like making people happy,” Josh nodded.

“I’ll make you happy,” she told him, resting a hand on his thigh as she leaned in, pausing for a moment.

Josh froze, looking her in the eye, too afraid to move. He thought he might spook her, like a deer in headlights. But her resolve seemed to be strengthening. Taking the bewildered expression on his face for an enthusiastic ‘yes’, she pressed a kiss to his lips, the two of them existing purely in the moment.

Brynne threw her arms around his neck, losing her hands in Josh’s hair as he sighed with contentment. He tentatively pulled her closer to him, gaining confidence as she allowed him to hold above her waist.

It was a beautiful kiss, exactly what Josh had imagined. The kiss was deep, but not inherently making out. It was sweet, but not one-dimensional, and charged, but not dirty. Josh knew it was the kind of kiss that only existed in books and movies. He felt as if this right here could’ve been his happily ever after.

Regretfully, he pulled away, looking her in the eyes just to double check that she was enjoying it.

“I like you so much,” he breathed, looking at her in the most precious manner.

He was adorable like a puppy, looking up at its master for approval. Brynne realized he truly did just look happy to be there.

“Joshy!”

Josh nearly jumped up at the interruption, his mom opening the door with a plate made up of charcuterie items.

“Mom! What the hell!” Josh exclaimed, as Brynne just sat there awkwardly, offering her a smile.

“I just came up to bring you guys some snacks,” Diane Futturman said, politely leaving the plate on Josh’s desk. “I thought you might be hungry, after that fancy party, you know how they always just serve finger food...”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mom! What the fuck! Please knock next time!” Josh cried in embarrassment. “We’re trying to talk!”

Brynne studied him, trying to determine whether or not he was okay.

“Okay, okay, honey, I’m sorry,” she apologized, hurrying out of the room to leave them be.

Josh looked incredibly guilty after realizing what he’d done.

“Oh, God,” he sighed, returning to his sulking on the bed. “Fuck… I shouldn’t have reacted like that. Fuck!”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Brynne agreed. “But you can just tell her that. I’m sure she’d understand.”

“I guess,” Josh murmured, not seeming comforted. “I just… Never thought I’d be one of those assholes that yells at their mom.”

“So why did you become one of those assholes?” Brynne Johansson asked helpfully.

“I don’t know, I just panicked,” he groaned. “I just… We were having such a nice moment, and I was afraid that ruined it. Like you thought me living with my parents was weird, and you never wanted to see me again.”

“I’d be a pretty shitty date if I did,” she pointed out. “I definitely am not the kind of person who’d be bothered by that.”

“No, I know you’re not,” Josh sighed. “I just… Fuck, I just wanted everything to be perfect.”

“I know,” she nodded, “But did you ever stop to think that maybe, at the moment, everything is?”

That was more than enough for Josh to allow himself to enjoy the rest of the night.

“Why don’t we start over?” Brynne suggested, trying to put him at ease.

“Yeah, starting over… That’s a good idea,” Josh nodded. “What, what do you wanna talk about?” he asked.

“Why don’t you give me a tour of your room?” she asked him, standing up to look around. “I’ve always wondered what it looks like.”

“Really?” Josh nearly shouted in excitement, quickly realizing he sounded like an excited eleven year-old boy as he cleared his throat. “…Really?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, slowly tracing the shelves with her finger. “What’s this stuff? It looks cool.”

This, naturally, launched into a ten minute spiel by Josh about all the different collectibles and other valuable items he owned. As he spoke, his eyes would light up and his mouth would curl upwards in an endearing smile. Brynne could see just how adorably passionate Josh was, and how truly excited he was to actually have someone who genuinely wanted to listen to what he had to say. It only made her want him more.

Brynne gladly allowed Josh to show her every nook and cranny of his room, and explain every item that inhabited it, taking it all in with pleasure. It must’ve been thirty minutes before he came to a conclusion, but she definitely didn’t mind. As Josh took a moment to rearrange the things displayed on his desk, Brynne observed the way he fearfully kept his eyes on the desk as he bent down, trying his best not to stare up at her.

Observing him, Brynne thought it would be best if she took the initiative herself.

“This is where I keep all the old stuff,” Jost explained as he organized the drawer under his desk.

“What’s that?” Brynne asked, easily maneuvering her zipper.

“What’s what?” Josh asked distractedly, still concentrated on his desk.

“What’s that? On the floor, behind you?” she asked him.

Josh frowned, not sure off the top of his head what she was referring to as he turned around, kneeling on the ground and looking at what had been behind him. He didn’t recognize the object at first.

“Wait, what is that?” he asked himself out loud, picking it up, “Is that…?”

He very slowly looked petrified with eyes wide like saucers when he saw her.

“Oh. It’s… It’s your dress,” he said in a panic, his heart beating faster than ever before.

He looked up at her from where he was kneeling on the floor, unable to speak.

“Is this okay?” she asked calmly.

“More than okay,” Josh looked her up and down hungrily, “Hachi…”

“If you say ‘machi’…” she warned.

“Sorry,” he apologized hastily, “Sorry. It’s just… you’re not wearing a bra. Or underwear,” he thought out loud.

Josh was stunned, to say the least. Not only was this beyond what he would’ve imagined, it was also like something right out of his imagination. A small part of him still thought he might be dreaming, or hallucinating from inhaling too many cleaning products at work.

“Wow,” he stared, barely able to process. “You… You’re a goddess,” he spoke softly as his eyes savored every inch of her body.

“When does the worship part come in?” she wondered with a grin.

“Right fucking now,” he gasped, desperately grabbing at her thighs.

His hands squeezed her thighs as he knelt in front of her, face buried between them as he silently wished for this to never end. Josh happily nipped at her thighs with eager, scattered kisses, sighing into her soft skin as he indulged in her. Even where he was, her skin smelled like the heaven he’d first experienced when she got into his car.

He pressed excited little kisses all over her skin, never tiring of it at all.

“I could die right now,” Josh sighed, voice breathy with ecstasy.

“Maybe we don’t have to die to know what paradise is like,” she remarked.

“Maybe not. But just in case, I know exactly what I want my last meal to be.”

Josh looked up at her, eyes wide with a strange innocence as he silently begged and pleaded with her to take control. Brynne sat down on the bed behind her, leaning back as she crossed one of her legs over the other. Before he could stop himself, Josh threw himself on the ground in front of her black high heels, which were still on her feet. This, he thought, made everything even better.

Josh whined impatiently as he sloppily placed his kisses all the way up her body, from her ankles, to her calves, to her thighs, to right above her navel. Everywhere but the one place he really wanted to be.

Observing him happily, Brynne softly brushed her hand over his hair, watching him look up at her as he moaned impatiently.

“Please, Brynne, please, please, please,” he begged her.

“What?” she asked somewhat teasingly. “What do you want?”

“Please, can I, please… I really wanna eat your pussy,” he pleaded, his voice thick with an irresistible whiny quality, “Can I, please?”

Brynne raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“That’s what you want?”

“Oh, more than anything!” he begged her with his hands resting on her thighs. “I’ll do anything! Please, Brynne, please… I wanna make you feel good.”

He looked like a starved man, hungry for anything at all.

“You really want to?” she asked him.

“Yes, please, I’ve never done this before,” he confided, “I mean… I’ve done this, but not that,” he explained himself.

“Go ahead,” Brynne murmured, amused as she played with his hair.

He couldn’t believe what was happening. He was really about to eat Brynne Johansson’s pussy. Beyond pleased with her approval, Josh excitedly parted her legs, kissing the sensitive skin on her inner thighs as he closed his eyes, savoring every moment of it. She sat back, watching him as he teased, caressing and squeezing her thick, pillowy thighs as his kisses slowly became more wet and more aggressive.

Finding it made things even easier, Josh rested her knees on his shoulders as he dove in, liking the feeling of her thighs closing in around his head in pleasure.

“Please,” Josh begged her, “Just fucking suffocate me.”

Brynne felt she could only oblige as he got tantalizingly close to where he needed to be, suckling on her lower stomach right before he pressed a hard kiss right against her clit, locating it with impressive ease. The feeling was surprising and tingly as he made contact with the bundle of nerves for the first time. Brynne roughly grabbed a handful of his brown hair, signaling to him that he’d done a good job as he groaned.

“That feels so nice, Josh,” she cooed, her voice alone enough to make him finish as he instinctively rutted into the bed.

“Fuck,” he gasped, looking her right in the eyes.

“You wanna do a good job for me?” she asked him.

“Yes, please,” he moaned, “Please… Let me be a good boy for you, I’ll do anything. Whatever you want,” nodded vigorously.

She closed her legs around him as he sloppily licked up and down the sensitive area, maximizing her pleasure as he began to gently tease the opening with his middle finger. Brynne sighed with relief as he finally closed his mouth around her clit again, sucking relentlessly as he stared up at her, his eyelids heavy with pleasure. He was about as pussy drunk as he could get.

She pulled him in by the hair, forcibly holding him there as he sucked on her clit with sleepy eyes.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Joshy,” she gasped in excitement.

Josh could’ve passed away from how lucky he felt. He’d never even been able to imagine himself in this position, or imagine her in this position, come to think of it.

“You’re a fucking goddess,” he hummed against her center. “I’d do anything for you. You’re a princess. Fuck, please come on my face,” he insisted.

“You’re so desperate for me, it’s so fucking hot.”

Brynne held him close to her as she threw her head back, gasping aloud as he inserted his finger. The way he dragged his finger downward as he entered her made her feel even more full. She laughed softly as he instinctively continued doing the same thing, dragging his fingers downward as he shamelessly ate her out.

“Fuck, you’re such a good boy,” she hissed.

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m your good boy!” he nodded, tongue flicking against her clit as he desperately played with her g-spot. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet, I don’t deserve this! I’ll be your good boy! I’m your good little boy!”

Josh continued to stare up at her as he licked up and down in slow, torturous stripes, curling his fingers inside of her.

“You’re mine,” she sighed, beginning to choke him with her thighs.

“That’s right, I’m your good boy!” he whined into her. “You can do whatever you want to me! I’ll love it!” he promised.

“Such a good little boy, fuck,” she murmured, feeling herself getting close to a climax as her hand moved from his hair to around his throat, “You’re my good little slut.”

“Yes! Fuck! Yes,” Josh moaned loudly as he sucked, ecstatic at the feeling of her hand wrapped around his throat, “I’m your slut! I’m your little slut, all yours!”

Brynne tightened her grip on his throat, watching him as his eyes practically rolled to the back of his head.

“Fuck,” he lapped his tongue against her hungrily, “Come on my face! Please come on my face! Come all over my tongue!” he whined.

“You’re such a dirty little slut. Such a good little slut,” she breathed.

Slowly, she came to a finish, watching him grow excited as she grew even wetter.

“Good boy,” Brynne laughed, watching him in disbelief as he lapped it all up, enjoying every second of it.

He was high on her praise, forgetting the idea of shame entirely as he cleaned her up completely, not leaving a single drop. He looked up at her, eyes widened. He sighed exhaustedly, his eyes growing heavy as he was finally satisfied with himself.

“Did I do a good job?” Josh asked hopefully.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Nine

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adventuringblind · 10 months

Text

Toxic Reappearance

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Request: no this is pure self indulgence. However, they are open for Max, Charles, Lando, Oscar, Daniel, and I’ve now added George to the list.

Summary: an old friend reappears into your life, one that left you traumatized. Having thought you’d never see them again you didn’t ever say anything. When Charles figures out what’s been going on he may just be to late to save you from your past.

Warnings: toxic friendships, abusive behavior,

Notes: written in second person. I feel like abusive friendships aren’t talked about enough. It still hurts and still leaves you with trauma. I’m basing the reader’s feeling off my own from when I went through it. George is actually my stand-in for someone else involved.

Masterlist

Charles always tried his to appear calm and collected. However, when you started acting different then what he’d used to, calm and reasonable went out the window.

You’d always struggled with friends. Mainly because the one you had was incredibly possessive. She managed to cut you off from a good chunk of the people you once were close with. Using guilt and lies to confuse everyone involved.

You knew her home life wasn’t the greatest and mentally she wasn’t in a good spot, so you tried to be her rock.

It started out great in grade school. The two of you were fast friends and could hardly ever be seen without the other in two. Then it started to become a toxic loop. One you couldn’t get out of due to the guilt every time you tried to set boundaries.

You were so young. You wanted to help. Not that her home life is an excuse for what she did, but it puts it into perspective. Helps you understand why she did what she did.

Playful punches when she was annoyed with you. Blaming not knowing her own strength on why it was so hard. Never being allowed to have your own interests. Always overshadowed by what she was feeling.

You shrunk into yourself. Not able to talk to anyone because you believed her. You thought she left bruises on accident, your boyfriends kissed her first, she really just wanted those revealing pictures of you to bless you with compliments only to turn around and compare your bodies.

In your sophomore year of high school she had to move. Her mom had received a job farther away. You were able to cut contact after that. The weight slowly lifting off your shoulders. The bruises that once littered your skin now clearing without fear of them coming back later.

You’d talked about it, understood that what happened was not okay in the slightest. Your family was floored when you opened up about it to them a couple years later. Then you decided it was in the past, determined ti put everything behind you and move on.

Unfortunately the past has a way of catching up with you.

It was around this time that Charles sped into your life. Quite literally.

You’d been walking through the town. Busy with people in town for the grand-prix weekend. You’d wanted to go but it was more expensive then you could afford. Settling for enjoying it from afar.

You were not at fault for what happened next, having looked both ways before crossing the street. Only to be met with a nice looking car whipping around the corner. It was so fast your only reaction was to protect your head and brace for impact. Surprise flooding your system when nothing happened.

You slowly looked up. Thanking your guardian angel for saving you from what could have been disastrous.

The man in the driver seat frantically got out of the car. Rushing over to you to make sure you were okay. His frantic apoligizing almost went unheard as you began laughing.

You blamed the adrenaline. "I can't believe I almost got hit by a really nice care and now a good looking man is trying to make sure I'm ok."

The man had no words to respond with. Finding himself oddly flattered. The woman he could've killed is completing him? It feels like a corny romance movie.

He offered you a ride to your destination, which you accepted. Joking about how he could be a serial killer.

He assured you he wasn't. Explaining how he was racing this weekend. Killing someone was definitely not on the agenda.

You two exchanged numbers that day. Getting to meet up with him a few times before he left. Then having to resign to text and video call.

You two became good friends. The first truly good friendship you'd had in a while. You were grateful for Charles and his never-ending patience. And he was grateful you were there to listen in good times and in bad.

You were ecstatic when he invited you to a race Monaco. He got to show you around his world and his home. Your eyes lighting up at every little piece of himself he shared with you.

It was then that he asked you out on an official date. Letting the feelings that he'd developed for you spill out.

Obviously you'd reciprocated.

Now, you two have been in a relationship for two years. Learning and growing with each other. First over long distance before Charles had enough and asked you to travel with him.

You were thankful that remote studies had become increasingly popular since quarantine. Giving you the opportunity to follow Charles all around the world.

It was exciting for both of you. Sharing experiences together brought you closer together.

You'd also become friends with others around the paddock. You got along with most everyone. George has become a good friend through your travels.

So it only made sense when he was excited to introduce you to his girlfriend.

You and Charles were walking to the Ferrari garage when he came running up to you.

"Charles! Y/N! I want you to meet someone!" He shouts to you. Joy clearly evident in his voice.

Charles immediately noticed your entire demeanor change when you turned around. The woman he didn't know embracing you in a tight hug. You looked like you wanted to throw up but tried to put a smile on for George.

"You two already know eachother?" Charles asked quizzically.

"We were best friends growing up! I'm surprised she hasn't talked about me." She was referring to you and you knew you should respond but the shock of seeing her wouldn't let you.

She looked different, but you'd still recognize her anywhere. She'd started modeling after high-school. Turns out she met George at a show and they hit it off.

The whole time they talked, you were silent. Trying to choke down the need to tell George to leave her before he gets stuck. But maybe she'd changed and has been able to heal some.

When you and Charles continued walking, he immediately was trying to figure you out. Asking questions you couldn't hear. Your breathing labored.

He got you into his driver's room as fast as possible. "You don't have to tell me everything right now, mon amour. But I do need to know if this is a security issue and if you're okay."

You shake your head and play with his fingers. "I don't think so. She just wasn't the greatest friend." You confessed, hoping it would be enough for now.

Charles pulls you into him. He's unsure what to do, having never been in this situation. Seeing you respond to someone like this makes him more nervous than he wants to admit.

Through the next few months, you opened up little by little. Though with the girl constantly with you, it was starting to send you backwards.

It felt like your body just reacted to her. Your conversations with anyone were distant. You started flinching away from sudden hand gestures.

Charles tried his best to keep you separated from her. It never worked, though. She always found you, and you are too nice to tell her to go away.

It's was even more concerning when he noticed George exhibiting similar behaviors.

The group had gone out to the bar to celebrate the end of the race weekend. George seemed closed off to everyone. Responding almost exclusively to his girlfriend. Her hand on his bicep made him flinch away.

You also were very quiet. She was sitting in between you and George, giving the benefit of control.

Charles was ready to kick her out. You'd finished telling a story only to immediately be shut down and made to feel inferior.

When the two of you arrived back at the hotel, you broke. Falling into Charles and letting the tears flow freely.

"I can't do it anymore." You wailed. Taking comfort in Charles embrace and his hand smoothing your hair.

"We'll figure this out mon amour. I won't let her hurt you."

Things only got worse from there.

She'd managed to get into your phone while you weren't paying attention. You curse yourself for using the same pincode since high school.

When you went to check it, you noticed things were missing and out of place.

You stared at her, pondering if you should say something. And letting the anger win, you did so.

"Did you go through my phone?" You kept your voice as if you were just curious. Hopefully, to deter her from getting angry.

It didn't happen that way. She was furious you'd evernask such a thing. Ranting about how she's been so loyal to you even after you started ignoring her when she moved.

She'd gripped your shoulder far too aggressively. Telling you she only wants to see you happy.

The missing contacts on your phone were frustrating. Even Charles' number was missing. All your pictures with friends had been deleted. Including those on your socials.

You curled farther into yourself after that.

Charles struggled to help you open up. Having to treat you like glass that might shatter.

You'd started wearing sleeves regularly. Barley letting him touch you in the simplest of ways. Changing in the bathroom when you once didn't care because he'd seen it all.

It hurt him seeing you like this, and he became determined to fix it once and for all.

On the other side, George had been exhibiting similar behaviors. It felt that nobody could get in contact with him. His girlfriend practically held his phone hostage.

The shirtless pics had suddenly stopped, and he'd started wearing sleeves daily. It made everyone concerned for his well-being.

His teammate needed answers. So Lewis made his way to find them.

Two men on a mission, practically the same one, run into each other.

"Lewis! How are things?" Charles tried to put a smile on his face.

"Could be better at the moment, I'm actually really concerned about George." Lewis' honesty never failed to throw Charles off.

"I'm worried about him as well. Y/N has also been worrying lately."

"Maybe we should talk somewhere more private."

The two ended up back in Charles' driver room. Knowing that the female in question would most likely be around the Mercedes garage.

"Maybe we should talk to George and explain our concerns?" Suggested Lewis. His boy sprawled out across the floor.

Charles shakes his head in response. "I've done that already with my girlfriend." He sighs in pained defeat. "She doesn't want to be around her, but for some reason, it always ends up happening. She barely lets me hug her now."

"I think George is too nice to tell her to get lost." Confesses the Brit. "I don't know what we can do then. Unless it becomes a security thing." He shrugs.

"Have we ever actually caught her being aggresive?"

It dawned on them both that they'd never caught her in the act.

And so the two males formed a plan.

It took three mire race weekends to catch her. She had you gripped by the shoulders and backed into the wall. Oddly enough it was George who had arrived on scene first. His race suit tied around his waist.

He’d made an attempt to reason with the irrationality angry woman in front of him. The situation only becoming more escalated.

It wasn’t long that the staff and drivers around the area were alerted by the commotion. Charles and Lewis caught each others eyes before the two were jogging to the center of the scene.

Charles stepped defensively in front of you. Lewis managing to putt George farther away. Now that three drivers are involved, it didn’t take long for security to step in.

“I think we need to talk about what happened.” Sighs Charles. Grateful that she’s gone but feeling that this won’t be the end of situation.

You find yourselves back in yours and Charles hotel room. Accompanied by Max and Lando who though you were going to the bar as usual. Charles explained why that would probably not be happening tonight, the two deciding they would help the mood by bringing alcohol with them to the room for a mini party of sorts.

George was constantly looking over his shoulder and you checked the room multiple times over to be sure everything is locked.

You immediately sank into Charles the moment you felt safe. George is pacing back and fourth mumbling to himself, attempting to get words out that seemed to be difficult to say.

“Do you think we can help with the anxiety?” Asks Lewis. He found his home on the couch. George pauses for a moment fumbling around with his words.

Lando and Max are completely clueless and find themselves seated at the table. Trying to be supportive but not knowing how.

“She’s crazy.” George finally manages. You shake your head in agreement, to exhausted for words. “I’ve tried breaking up with her multiple times but she keeps coming back.” He slumps against the wall. His body curling in on itself. “She knows where I live, she’s messaged me with multiple phone numbers, she somehow manages to get a key to my hotel rooms, she’s even broken into my car.” He’s crying now, all the boys shooting him and you looks of sympathy.

“She was the same way when we were younger. It seems to have escalated more now.” You drawl, eyes closed from feeling safe in Charles arms. He pulls you closer, his fingers playing with your hair. It was the first time he’d had you those close in months. Determined to embrace every second of the contact.

“No wonder you two look paranoid.” Lando places his head in his hands. Max shot him a look, saying that was probably a poor choice of words.

This time around, though, you knew things were going to be different. You had people around that could help.

After everyone left for the night, George having gone with Lando so he didn't have to stay in his room, Charles didn't let you go.

Things were going to get better for you. Finally getting the help you needed all these years. Almost an element of closure.

When you put on comfy clothes in front of him, he wasn't sure what to do. His eyes couldn't leave your body. It looked like you had been at war.

The tears slide down your cheeks as Charles places gentle kisses on each painful mark.

"My kisses are magic, I assure you."

You smile at him through the tears. Overwhelmed by all the emotions you'd gone through in one day.

"Good thing I have you around to make it better then."

448 notes · View notes

https-yeonjun · 3 months

Text

awkward (c.yj)

summary. you let your best friend see your body, and now it's awkward

wc. 5251

genre. angst

tags. minors DNI!! yeonjun x fem!reader, college!au, best friends to lovers to ???, mentions of sex and alcohol, suggestive,

a/n. repost; if you're from my other account, you would know this is just a compilation of all three parts of awkward, though i edited it again.

more of my work

of all the friends you have at college, you’ve known yeonjun the longest. your mothers grew up together and were those best friends that dreamed of raising their kids together. you saw each other through snotty noses and scraped knees in elementary school and through first heartbreaks and senior prom dates. he was even the one who convinced your parents to let you move from your small suburban town to the big city for college.

tonight, you’re sitting on the couch in one of his friend’s apartment, nursing another red solo cup, watching him suck the face off of some random girl.

you feel a pit in your stomach.

anyone would think that because you had known each other for so long, seen each other at your absolute worst, there would be no way your relationship would ever cross that platonic-romantic line. but as you watched yeonjun become the confident man that he was today, the image of that bratty little kid who always tried to get you into trouble faded away, and you just couldn’t help but develop these weird feelings about your best friend.

there have been many times where you have actually brought up the idea of you guys getting together. jokingly, of course. because lord knows that you would never seriously tell him how much you wanted his soft lips against yours. especially not after he laughs whenever you bring it up.

so now, you just watch him, as he leaves you in a corner at the house parties he drags you along to, flight with other people.

you chug the remainder of the drink in your hand, wincing at the warm taste. you hate the taste of beer but it’s the only thing they have at these stupid parties. you get up a little too fast, and the wind almost knocks you back down. you didn't think you were that drunk, but then again this was your third drink in the last hour.

you walk over to the kitchen and tap the black haired boy on the shoulder. he moans against her lips, not even acknowledging the fact that you were right next to him. you feel the blood rush up to your cheeks as you tap him again. this time, the girl pulls away from him. “can i help you?” she asks.

you don’t even look at her, just at your best friend, who looked annoyed at the fact that you just interrupted him. his arm was still wrapped around her waist.

“jun, i want to go home.” he looked between the two of you, hesitant in his response.

“right now?”

“yeah, i’m kind of tired.” you looked at the rest of the party. “i don’t really want to be here right now.”

“do you want me to call you a car?” he ran his fingers through his hair. are you really trying to cockblock him right now?

“i think i’m going to throw up.” you lied.

“fuck,” he mumbled, “seriously?” you slowly nodded in response. “okay, shit,” he turned to the girl, his arm still around her waist. “i’ve gotta go.”

“you’re seriously leaving me right now?”

“i need to take her home.” his voice sounded sad. “but, uh… i’ll see you around?” it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself that he would ever speak to this girl again. she pushed him away from her and walked out of the kitchen.

his arm supports your back as he walks you to your apartment. his friend’s place was already small, but the fact that it was packed like a can of sardines made you feel a little claustrophobic. the night air definitely sobered you up. but you still feel a little woozy as you make your way into your apartment. yeonjun carefully walks you over to your room and lays you on the bed.

“do you want to stay the night?” you ask him in a small voice.

“no,” he is already halfway to the bedroom door now. “i have to work in the morning.”

“i’m sorry.”

“for what?” he walks back to your bed.

“for making you leave early.”

“it’s all good. you should go to bed though.”

“can you please stay?” you ask again, a little more desperately this time.

“i’ll see you later, y/n.” he bends down to kiss your forehead. “good night.”

it was the last day of finals and you and yeonjun were celebrating together in his apartment. “i can’t believe we’re finally done. this semester was rough.” he was double majoring in music business and dance and he had a lot of final projects to complete in those last few weeks of school and this was the first time you had seen each other since last month. “how should we celebrate?” he asks you with a smile on his face. you missed him.

“i think,” you begin, an evil grin appearing on your face. “we should play truth or truth.”

“that’s not a real game.” he interjects.

“yes, it is. and we are going to play it, but every time you do a truth, you have to take a shot of this.” you pull out a bottle of fireball from your bag.

“that sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“true.” you shrug. “but c’mon. it will be fun.”

and he agrees.

you are both three rounds into the game now and your throat is already starting to burn. the questions started out easy and light but now your head is starting to feel a little fuzzy and the air is starting to get a little tense. you sit cross-legged on the couch opposite yeonjun, the bottle of fireball between your two bodies. maybe it was the way he was looking at you or the fact that you had been drinking knowing that the last meal you ate was a nutella sandwich before your last exam five hours ago. whatever it was, it was making your stomach do flips.

“it’s your turn now.” you giggle.

“ok… when was the last time you made out with anyone?” he asks you.

fuck. why did he have to ask you that? you were a little embarrassed that it had been a minute since you had been remotely intimate with anyone. “i don’t know…” your voice trails off sheepishly, you try to hide your face with one of the cushions on the couch.

“what do you mean “you don’t know?”” he is surprised. he always had friends asking him to set them up with you. “what about that guy from that party we went to?”

“what guy at what party?”

“the one guy who you were talking to all night. i thought you guys hooked up.”

“well, we didn’t.” you pour your shot and immediately drink it. “can we move on? please?”

“well, would you make out with me?”

“it’s my turn to ask the question, yeonjun.” you feel the blood rush up to your face.

“okay, but would you?” he moves the bottle to the coffee table, and inches closer to you. he was right; this game was a recipe for disaster.

“i can’t believe you had sex with yeonjun.”

“yell it out for the whole world to know.” it is a week later and you are having lunch with one of your friends. you told her what happened with yeonjun and she cheered, gleefully, saying that she was happy it finally happened. it seemed like all your other friends had an ongoing bet about your relationship with your best friend, and she just made twenty dollars.

“so are you guys finally together now?” she leans forward, her palms supporting her chin, invested in your love life.

“god, no.” you sigh. “i haven’t talked to him since then. i actually left when he went to the bathroom and he’s been texting me but i don’t know what to say.”

“you left when he was in the bathroom?” she exclaims, causing you to groan.

“i made things so awkward now. i don’t even know what to do.”

“so you’re ghosting him? and i thought he was the fuckboy.”

“i’m not ghosting him. i just don’t know what to say to him.”

“so you’re ignoring his text. y/n, that is literally the textbook definition of ghosting.”

“what do you want me to say to him? “i’m sorry i’ve been ignoring you after i snuck out of your place after we fucked?” and through text? i sound like such a fucking asshole.” a woman passing with her child glares at you. you groan again.

“you kind of are an asshole, y/n.” her phone vibrates on the table and she looks at it, a smile forming on her face. “looks like you don’t have to say that through text?”

“what?”

“yeonjun is throwing a party to mark the end of the school year. his friend just invited me and you’re my plus one.”

“he didn’t tell me about that.”

“well, how do you expect him to tell you that when you’re ghosting him?”

“i’m not ghosting him!” you try to defend yourself. “and i don’t think i’m going to go. what if he doesn’t want to see me?”

“if he didn’t want to see you, i would not have been invited. and besides, i don’t want to go by myself.”

with one final groan, you put your head against the cold diner table.

you and your friend arrive at the party and thank goodness, you hadn’t seen yeonjun yet. she promised that she would stay by your side all night and you’re very grateful that so far she has kept her promise. the two of you walk into the kitchen.

you’re making small talk with some mutual friends when someone comes in and asks if you know where yeonjun is. right then, he comes into the kitchen laughing with his friend. his smile drops when he sees you. you wave at him, with a small smile. he turns the other way to answer the person who asked if he wants to play beer pong.

“well, that was embarrassing.” you say to your friend, trying to push your tears back.

“y/n we can leave if you want to.” she tells you, rubbing my arm.

“no it’s fine. i’m fine. besides, we just got here and you promised me we would have fun.”

“okay, but if you want to leave, let me know.”

you couldn’t even try to have fun that evening because you spent the entire party trying to avoid yeonjun. when he was in the living room, you were in the kitchen. when he was in the kitchen, you were on the balcony. when you were sure he was on the balcony, you escaped to the bathroom.

this is so ridiculous. you think, staring at your face in the mirror. you sit on the toilet scrolling through your phone until you hear faint voices outside the door.

“did you know y/n was going to be here?” you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“no, but she’s always at these things. aren’t you guys best friends?”

“uh… yeah, i mean.” you can hear him groan. “something happened and she ghosted me and now she’s at my fucking party.”

why does everyone think i ghosted him?

“what is “something”?”

“if i tell you this, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“damn, did you guys fuck or something?” there is a pregnant pause on the other end of this conversation. “fuck!”

“and she fucking ghosts me. complete fucking radio silence for a whole fucking week and then she shows up at my place again.”

“maybe she’s just scared. i mean, your relationship changed overnight.”

“then send an emoji or something. don’t just ghost your best friend.” he stops for a second, sighing. “and, our relationship wasn’t supposed to change. we know each other. we don’t judge each other.”

“do you regret it?”

“regret having sex with y/n? no. i just wish we were still friends now.”

me too.

you clear your throat and take a look in the mirror. he’s still outside the door but it is starting to dawn on you that camping out in his bathroom all night is neither sustainable nor serious. also, why are you trying to avoid him? it’s better to talk it out once and for all than have him hate you forever. you walk out of the bathroom and see him standing there with his friend. when they hear the door click, they both turn to look at you and his friend makes a face at him. yeonjun grimaces back and they begin walking back to the living room to join the rest of the party.

fuck, okay maybe that’s why you were avoiding him?

your heart is racing now and something in the back of your mind is telling you to just walk back into the bathroom and save yourself from further embarrassment that evening. but then you remember that this is your best friend. he couldn’t really be that mad at you, could he?

“hey, yeonjun.” you call after him and he turns around with a groan. “can we talk, please?” his friend pats his back in encouragement and yeonjun walks towards you.

“now you want to talk to me?” he spits at you.

you feel a chill down your spine at his tone. only he could make you feel so small with such a simple comment. “i was never ignoring you.” you reply. your voice is quieter and more strained than you wanted it to be. you clear your throat and repeat yourself.

he laughs at your attempt to gain confidence. “really, because i was this close to sending a carrier pigeon to your house to get you to talk to me.”

“i’ve just been busy.”

“busy?” he raises his eyebrows in disbelief, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

“yeah, i was busy. i have a life, you know?” you cringe internally at how defensive you sounded. why are you getting so riled up?

“you don’t have to try and convince me. i believe you.” you are standing against the bathroom door and he is still at the end of the hallway. silence fills the gap between the two of you, until he clears his throat and begins to speak again. “so, what did you want to talk about?”

“seriously?” you scoff. “there’s a massive elephant in the room, jun.”

“i mean, what exactly do you want to say y/n?” he looks behind him to the rest of the party. you feel like you were wasting his time.

“i wanted to say i’m sorry for leaving, but–” you begin but you couldn’t get far because he chuckles. “is something funny?” you ask.

“you know when people apologize, like give a sincere apology, there are usually no buts.”

you run your hands through your hair in frustration. you’re trying to clear the air and he’s interrupting you. seriously? “i am apologizing, but–”

“you’re doing it again.” he smirk. he always did enjoy getting you flustered.

“it was awkward.” you blurt out, not giving him a chance to interrupt you again.

“not to me,” he says under his breath, quiet enough for you to almost miss it. but you don’t.

“c’mon jun, we’re friends.” you reply, plainly.

“you and i both know that we aren’t just friends.” he moves closer to you and your breath hitches in your throat.

“yes, we are,” your voice cracks. “ you’re my best friend.” you’re lying through your teeth, trying harder to convince yourself that your feelings for him were made up and he most definitely did not reciprocate them.

“so, why did you leave?” he asks, arms crossed, completely unmoved by the fact that you were about to burst into tears.

“because,” you push back your tears. “because, we’re friends and friends don’t fuck. but we did and i felt so awkward. i made it awkward.” you’d humiliated yourself in front of him too many times in the past week and you were determined to not cry in front of him and have him pity you.

“now what?” he asks, his arms folded in front of his chest.

“what?” you look up at his face, really examining his eyes. the eyes that looked at you fondly and made your stomach do flips were gone.

“you left my house right after we had sex and then you ignored me for a week. you show up to my party uninvited with your “apology” so what now? what do you want from me?” he never raises his voice at you, but he can still manage to make you feel stupid and small.

“i want us to go back to normal.”

“you want us to go back to normal?” he chuckles, not so much in a mean way but more in a confused way. like you just told him that the sky is actually green and grass is blue.

“is that so much to ask for?”

“y/n, you left.”

“but i’m here now.” your voice cracks again.

“and that’s supposed to mean something.”

“yes, yeonjun. it means that i’m here and i’m trying. i want us to be friends again, okay?” you plead. “i’m sorry for leaving and i’m sorry for ghosting you after but i’m here now. i’m trying.”

he sighs and massages his forehead before looking at you. he’s never had a great poker face, but right now his face is blank and you can’t read him at all. “i don’t think we can be friends anymore. not the way we used to.”

“we can try, please.”

“no, we can’t. you were right. it’s awkward now. you made it awkward now.” he starts leaving but turns around. “you shouldn’t have come.” and with that he disappears back into the party.

you sit on the floor for a minute before you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket.

where did you go????

you look at the time. it had been almost thirty minutes since you told your friend that you needed to go to the bathroom.

im by the bathroom can we leave now

you took a week to mourn the end of your longest friendship and then you spent the rest of the summer pretending that you had accepted it and distracted yourself with work. you didn’t see a lot of people over break because many of your friends were actually yeonjun’s friends and he got them in the quasi custody battle. now you weren’t getting invites to all the parties you once did, you had to find a distraction in being a straight-a student.

you’re working on a homework assignment when your parents call, asking what your plans for the holidays are.

“i’ve just been really busy, mom.” you tell her when she asks why they haven’t seen you in months. the truth is, you knew yeonjun was going home for summer break and as much as you tried to convince yourself that you were completely over everything that happened between the two of you, you really weren’t. and the last thing you wanted to do was see him everyday for two months.

“you always say that honey.” you roll your eyes at your mom’s passive aggressive comment. “but we will see you in a few weeks, right?”

“you will?” you rack your brain to see if you forgot whether or not you invited your parents to come visit you at your university or something.

“it’s winter break honey.” you had been stuck in a routine of going to work, going to class, and doing your homework in your room. you had completely forgotten that the semester was coming to an end and you couldn’t avoid going home anymore.

“oh, right.” you reply before your mom proceeds to drone on about the annual dinner your family has with your neighbors, which you absentmindedly listen to. “i don’t think i will be able to make that.”

“what? why not? we do it every year!”

she gives you half a second to come up with an excuse. you couldn’t just outright tell her that you didn’t want to see yeonjun and that’s why you haven’t come home since last winter and why you did not want to come home. because that would just be absurd. “i probably have to work on christmas eve. i’m not sure i can make it back home.” not very effective but you’re internally praying to the universe that she believes you and doesn’t push it any further.

but, alas, the universe has not been on your side lately.

“it’s the holidays! i’m sure you can call out.”

“mom, i still have a lot of work to do for school so i still might not make it even if i can get out of work.”

“honey, you know we have this christmas eve dinner every year. and your dad and i have already started planning this year. you can’t say you just can’t make it.”

you sigh. she’s so annoying when she’s trying to persuade you. “i know mom but it’s just that i hate being the youngest person at these things. it’s so boring for me.”

“that won’t be a problem this year. you won’t be the youngest because a new family moved in over the summer, i think in june. they have kids around your age.” she perks up. “and yeonjun is going to be there too.”

“oh, right.” as if you could forget about that.

“we were wondering why you didn’t come home because he was home for a month over the summer.” your mom broke you away from your train of thought.

“i had to work mom.” you respond, dryly. since you told her that you weren’t coming home at the end of last summer. she’s been bringing it up everytime she talks to you. “and i still have to work so i’ll let you know if i can come home for the dinner.”

“oh, you’re coming home.”

“i’ll see, mom.” you’re trying to quickly get off the phone. “i have a lot of homework to catch up on so i’ll call you later. love you! bye!” you hang up.

you know she’s right and you are going to go home.

from being your mother’s daughter you have learnt two fundamental truths: the salad fork goes on the outside of a plate setting and you need to learn how to lie. you have been at your childhood home since nine in the morning, trailing behind your mom as she prepares for the annual dinner. she made you stay with her the entire day, save for the two hours she allowed you to get ready before the guests arrived. even afterwards, she stayed by your side, forcing you to mingle with guests.

right now, you are in the kitchen with your mom as she gives you a quick rundown on what had been going on in the neighborhood since the last time you were there. other than your family and yeonjun’s, there was a new family at this dinner. according to your mom, they had moved in over the summer and they had a daughter your age who was going to the local university in your town. “it would be nice to have another friend in the neighborhood.” she says, prompting you to talk to her.

rolling your eyes at your mom, you move over to where the girl was with her little brother in the living room. before you could get to her, the front door opens and yeonjun and his mother step into the house. your mom rushes to greet her old friend, as if they didn’t see each other just the other day. you greet her too before escaping to the bathroom under the guise of freshening up before dinner actually begins. you had made plans to avoid yeonjun by any means necessary.

by the time you return downstairs and dinner actually starts, you realize once again that fate (or your mom) had other plans for you. when you get to the table, you see that the only empty seat at the table was between yeonjun and the girl your mother so desperately wanted you to be friends with.

this is just perfect.

you try not to make eye contact with him as you engage in small talk with the girl beside you. you find out that she’s a freshman at the local university and she’s majoring in english literature. you tell her about your major and your classes.

“what about you?” she speaks over you, to ask yeonjun. “do you also go to the same school?”

you turn to face him for the first time that evening. “yeah, i do.” he answers, coolly.

“are the two of you studying the same thing?”

“no.” you answer quickly, trying to keep him out of this conversation.

“i can speak for myself.” his tone shifts when he talks to you. “i’m doing a double major in music business and dance,” he replies to her.

“whatever,” you scoff.

“is there a problem, y/n?” he asks you, snarkily. the girl beside you turned away to play with the food on her plate. it seemed to her that she might have pulled a little too hard on a sensitive trigger.

“oh, you’re talking to me now?” you parrot the words he said to you that night outside his bathroom. the last time you saw him.

“i never said that i wasn’t taking you.”

“then what exactly did you say?” even though the two of you are not having the loudest conversation at the table, you are sure that the other people at the table can feel the tension rising.

“i said that i didn’t know if we could be friends the same as before.”

“so stop trying to act like everything is fine.” you say a little too loudly. the other conversations at the table stop.

“i’m not–” yeonjun begins but someone clears their throat and you both look up to see your mothers glaring at the two of you.

“maybe you two should have this conversation on your own time?” his mother suggests. you feel him shrink in his seat beside you, quietly apologizing.

after dinner, your mom drags you into your childhood bedroom. your room was adorned with discount furniture, an old bookcase you took from your grandparent’s house in high school, and lots of fairy lights.

“i don’t know what’s going on with you but your behavior tonight is completely unacceptable.” your mother scolds you. you are sitting on the edge of the bed and she is standing across from you with her hands on her hips.

“my behavior?” you respond.

“you’re being rude to your friend and the rest of my guests, arguing at the dinner table, embarrassing yourself. what is wrong with you?”

“i wasn’t arguing with anyone.” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“so what exactly was going on then?”

“god, mom! this is like the last thing i want to talk about right now.”

“suit yourself.” she gives you one more look. “but i need you to calm down before you come back out there.” and with that she walks out of the room. you flop on the bed and groan.

how did everything turn to shit? you are so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice that yeonjun walked into the room until he spoke. “can we talk?”

you quickly sit up on the bed, adjusting your dress, and looking at him before scoffing. “you want to talk now?”

“why are you being weird?” he is leaning against the door frame, not knowing whether or not he was welcome to walk in.

“i’m not being weird.”

“why didn’t you come home this summer?”

you look him in the eyes for what felt like five minutes. “why are you pretending like nothing happened between us?”

he takes your response as an invitation to enter your room. he moves to sit on the bed next to you. “i know that i was really mean to you the last time we saw each other but i don’t hate you and i don’t want you to hate me.” you scoff. “what?”

“i don’t think i could hate you even if i tried.” you reply, quietly. the two of you fall into a silence. you took in your room and the man sitting beside you. you two had spent many nights in this room, but tonight you both felt out of place. the fairy lights that surrounded your bed and windows highlight how aged he looks. the once comfortable silence between you two was now a gap, a liminal space. not quite what it used to be before, but not quite awkward.

“i’m–”

“i think–”

you both begin talking at the same time but stop. “you can go first,” you concede.

“i’m sorry for that night at my party.” he begins, not making eye contact with you while you are eyeing him intently. “i think i was more embarrassed than angry and i shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“i’m sorry too. for showing up unannounced.”

“what were you going to say?” he quickly changes the subject, feeling that the silence was threatening to return.

“i was saying, i think you were right.”

“right about what?”

“about us not being able to be friends again.”

“i didn’t say that exactly.” he reminds you.

“yeah, whatever, i know.” you roll your eyes. “but i’ve been thinking about it a lot – our friendship. and i don’t think we were ever really friends.”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean our moms are friends and they kind of shoved us together. i feel like we never got to know each other outside of growing up together.” you feel blood rush to your face when you notice how attentively he is listening to you, taking in all your words. you look down at your hands, like a child being scolded by their parents. “i guess i don’t want to go back to what our friendship was. i want to get to know you as you are now. i also had a massive crush on you.”

“wait, had? like past tense?” he jokes.

“yeah, past tense.” you lightly punch his shoulder. “i think when we moved for college, i was really insecure about our friendship, because we had no true bond, you know? i think i convinced myself that i had a crush on you, when in reality, i just knew you were slipping away from me.”

“or maybe you were swept away by my good looks and charming personality?”

“actually, i think it was the former.”

“i mean it’s just a possibility.”

“now i’m definitely sure it was the former.” you smile, thinking about how you were falling back into your old banter.

“okay, ouch.” the silence came again, but this time it was comfortable – something you hadn’t felt in a long time. “i wish you told me sooner.” he says after a while.

“why does it matter?”

“i would have never let us get to this point if i knew how you felt before. i felt us drifting apart and after you left i was really embarrassed. it was easier to blame you and push you away. i really miss you and i want us to be friends.” you look into his eyes and you can tell that he was being genuine; not just saying what you wanted to hear. “truly friends; not just childhood friends.”

"i want that too."

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andvys · 11 months

Text

We'll burn the sky | part thirteen

Warnings: angst, mentions of unrequited love, reader feeling used, lots of depressive thoughts, insecurities, reader talking about being groped by fans, fluff

Pairings: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Rockstar!fem!reader | slight Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: An unexpected person might help you realize Eddie's feelings for you.

Word count: 7k+

Series masterlist

What just happened?

You take deep breaths, letting the cold air fill your lungs as you look up into the dark sky.

You try not to overthink again, you try to hold onto the Eddie from the night before, the one that held you, the one that came back for you, the one that was possessive of you. You place your hands on your knees and close your eyes for a moment.

They didn’t answer when you asked them if it was all just some sick joke. They just stared at you in shock and confusion.

Idiots.

You can’t help but wonder if this was all just some sick fantasy that they wanted to fulfill, one that neither Chrissy nor Nancy wanted to be a part of.

What were they talking about before you interrupted them?

‘Fuck this, don’t even think about it, don’t think about anything,’ you tell yourself.

It’s okay, you are okay.

You liked it, you enjoyed yourself and you don’t regret it for a single second but the thought of why they did it, lies heavy on your chest. What are you to them?

You straighten your back and bring your hands up to your hair, running your fingers through it, you take another deep breath.

Whatever, fuck this, fuck everything.

You wanted to go back to the beginning and that’s what you will do so you push the pain away and tell yourself that you were just overwhelmed by everything else, just not by this or them.

You knock on his door again and it opens instantly, you are met by concerned eyes, you almost want to laugh at their states. Messy hair, smudged lipstick stains on their lips.

You plaster a smile on your face, looking between them for a moment before your eyes settle on Steve.

“Are you coming?”

They both furrow their brows in confusion, eying you up and down. Both men could swear that you were just on the verge of breaking down as you looked at them– at him with a heartbroken look in your eyes.

“W-What–”

“You wanted to drive me to the motel, remember?” you ask, smiling sweetly.

It throws them off, they feel unsettled, both not convinced that you are as okay as you pretend to be.

“Or do you want me to walk home? I could run into the crazy Henry Creel,” you joke, laughing a little.

Steve shakes his head, frown still sitting deeply in his features, “I’ll drive you of course.”

He grabs his jacket and quickly puts it on, checking for his keys in the pockets, he pulls them out and steps out.

You walk down the steps and make your way towards his car, not seeing the concerned glances both men share. Eddie follows you, rushing towards you before you even manage to open the car door. He grabs your hand and pulls you back so he can see your face.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, squeezing your hand gently.

“Yeah?”

He can see the conflict in your eyes as you stare at him.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, trying to act the same as you did before.

“Yeah, I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugs, brown eyes flickering with sadness when he thinks about the words that just left your lips a few moments ago.

Please tell me this wasn’t some sick joke.

“You didn’t seem okay before you left. Did we– was it too much?”

His concern softens your heart and your gaze a little. You shake your head, squeezing his hand back.

You chuckle at his words only confusing both him and Steve even further with your behavior, you seem amused, you didn’t seem like that before, at all. It makes them nervous.

“No, it’s not the first time I’ve been with two people,” you shrug, not seeing the frown on Steve’s face, you only see the one on Eddie’s face, “you just surprised me, that’s all.”

What?

Eddie’s eyes flash with anger and jealousy. You have been with two people before?

“Anyways,” you sigh, stepping closer to him, you grab his chin and pull him closer, pecking his lips, “good night, Eddie.”

He hesitates for a moment, eyes still filled with irritation but he is also pleading, begging you to stay without saying it out loud.

“Good night, Sweetheart,” he whispers sadly as he watches you get into Steve’s car. Both men share another look before saying their goodbyes as well.

He stands in the driveway for what feels like hours, even after you already left.

You were so happy to see him earlier, you smiled at him and took his hand with a glint of happiness in your eyes, you walked into the trailer excitedly and then he ruined it, they both did.

When you pulled away from Steve’s kiss, you turned around and looked at him with tears in your eyes, fear and panic. You didn’t want him to kiss you, you just wanted him. You wanted him to pull you away from Steve, you wanted him to take your hand and pull you into his arms, you wanted him to show Steve that you are his but he let him touch you, he let him kiss you, he let him because he wanted to see how you’d respond to his touch, if you were different with Steve than you were with him, if you enjoyed his touch more. He didn’t realize the damage that he was causing.

He can guess what went on inside your head after the bliss began to fade. He made you feel used, he made you feel like you are nothing special, he made you feel like it means nothing to him to push you into another man’s arms.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, cupping the back of his neck, he looks up into the dark sky, “you fucking idiot.”

Tears threaten to spill as he realizes what a mistake he made, it even hurts himself, thinking about the way you must feel now. He knows how he would feel if this was done to him, unloveable. He knows what it’s like to feel used.

You pretended to be okay, you pretended to be unbothered before you got into the car but your mask has already slipped before. You are not okay.

There is no way that he will walk into his trailer and go on about his night like before. You need space, he knows you do but he can’t let you go, especially not like this.

The drive back to the motel is mostly filled with silence between the two of you, neither of you speak up, letting the music fill the white noise. You play with the loose strings on your skirt, staring out the window.

Steve runs his fingers through his hair nervously, glancing at you every few seconds or so.

He is worried that he overstepped, that he made you uncomfortable. You didn’t seem uncomfortable before, you seemed fine, you enjoyed yourself, he knows you did and yet, he feels like something is off now. Do you regret it? Did he hurt you? Do you think that they used you?

“Hey,” he whispers, “uhh.. y/n?”

You turn to look at him, tilting your head, you draw your brows together, “yes?”

Please don’t bring him up, please don’t bring him up.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, why would you think that?”

He shrugs, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“It wasn’t some sick joke, you know?”

“Huh?”

“Before you left, you asked if this was some sick joke to us,” he explains, not looking at you just yet, “it wasn’t.”

You raise your brows, “no? You didn’t use me to prove something to each other?” you chuckle as though it’s funny.

He shakes his head, eyes flashing with something unreadable, “no,” he says honestly, “I would never do this to you and neither would he, I hope you know that.”

You shrug, putting on a stone cold expression as you lean back in your seat, “it’s whatever, even if you did, at least I felt good.”

He frowns, your words cause a weird feeling inside of him.

“We didn’t,” he frowns, “we didn’t use you and it wasn’t some sick joke, okay?” he says almost angrily as he tries to convince you.

“Okay.”

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, you look forward to a long and hot shower and get under the covers and sleep the day away.

The red lights from the big Motel sign illuminate the car, allowing you to see his face more clearly. The soft and caring look in his eyes makes you feel a little less bad.

He is telling the truth, right? They didn’t use you.

“Thanks for the ride,” you whisper and turn away from him, reaching for the door handle but Steve stops you with a gentle touch on your thigh.

“Please wait.”

“Why?”

“Talk to me,” he whispers, waiting for you to turn back to look at him, “please.”

You sigh nervously. You are not ready to talk to him about his apparent feelings for you or your dad, he has yet to confront you about the things that Chrissy said while he was there.

“What about, Steve?”

You finally turn around and meet his eyes.

You are so overwhelmed by everything, at this point, you feel like you’re drowning in all these thoughts and worries. It’s all too much.

“I just– are we okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t we be?”

He smiles sadly, glancing down at your hand, he reaches for it, placing his on top of yours, “you don’t have to lie to me, you know?”

“But I’m not lying–”

“You thought that we were using you and left with tears streaming down your face and now you act like everything is fine. I know we haven’t known each other for long but every time you’re hurt, you hide it and pretend to be alright when you’re clearly not.”

You part your lips to say something but find yourself feeling unable to.

“When I first met you, you acted like everything was fine between you and Eddie when it wasn’t, you were hurt and heartbroken but for my sake and everyone else’s, you lied and put this act on.”

Your mask slips a little, you blink as you stare at him. He figured you out so quickly, just like Eddie did and you hate it, you hate that you are an open book to them.

“I’m fine, Steve,” you mumble, ignoring everything else he just said, “I was just overwhelmed earlier.”

“Because we touched you?” he asks.

You shake your head, “no, just by other things,” you shrug, “the whole thing with Chrissy and the things she said and then I upset Eddie last night,” you pause, eyes shifting away from him as they fill with sadness, “also, christmas eve is in two days.”

He knows what that means.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” you mutter under your breath, “then it all got too much and I felt like shit for a second but it’s got nothing to do with you,” you lie.

Nancy’s words keep replaying in your mind and it worries you to no end. You don’t want to hurt him.

“If it does then you can tell me and I-I will fix it, okay?”

You turn back to him, nodding at his words, “okay,” you whisper, “I’ll get going.”

“Alright.” He wishes you didn’t, he wishes that he could take you back to his house.

“Good night, Steve.”

“Good night, honey.”

You give him a small smile, leaning closer to him, you kiss his cheek before you pull away and let go of his hand and get out of the car.

He waits until the lights in your room are on before he leaves.

You feel a little lost when you are back inside your lonely and dark motel room. The urge to leave and run back to him is so strong. You wish you could turn back the time and repeat the previous night, despite the pain you were feeling in your heart but he was here, he was holding you, making you feel safe and cared for but now, it’s all different again.

You take your clothes off and throw the ripped tights into the little trash can in the bathroom, taking a long and hot shower, you let the water wash away the day.

Eddie has feelings for you, he made that very clear a few times already.

But does he love you? Surely not.

You love him so much and you feel it so deep within your soul, your heart belongs to him, you gave it to him so willingly but you wonder what he feels for you.

‘He is my friend and I love him but every time he touches you, I want to rip his hands off! You are mine.’

His words are like an echo in your mind, only worsening the pain as they repeat themselves over and over again.

What changed?

Your ears are ringing, your heart is pounding in your chest, how? You don’t know, you can’t help but wish that it would just slow down and stop.

You don’t let the tears fall, not this time. You don’t want to cry anymore.

You walk back into the room with a big Corroded Coffin shirt, the hem reaching your mid thighs, fluffy socks warming your cold feet. Your hair is wet, staining the thin material of your shirt but you don’t bother to blow dry them right now, you just want to fall asleep and forget this night.

You turn the TV on, flipping through the channels until you find something other than a romantic christmas movie to watch. You stop searching when you hear the familiar soundtrack of Halloween. Thank god.

“I’d rather deal with you than love,” you mumble bitterly as you stare at Michael Myers on the TV. Quickly regretting those words when someone startles you by pounding on your door. Maybe you shouldn’t have wished to deal with a serial killer.

You stare at the door nervously.

“Sweetheart?”

You sigh in relief but still roll your eyes in annoyance as you turn to look at the TV screen again.

“Open the door.”

Don’t open…. Don’t open it.

“Please.”

You cave in, you always do.

Eddie Munson will be the death of you.

You open the door and find him standing there with an apologetic look in his eyes.

“You’re not Michael Myers.”

You snort at the confused look on his face, easily pushing back all the emotions and showing him a side of you that isn’t damaged.

“What?”

“I thought I was about to get murdered, was about time that something weird happened in this motel,” you mumble, confusing him yet again when you pretend to be completely fine.

How is he supposed to act around you when you pretend that nothing happened? Should he voice his concerns? Should he apologize? Or should he just do what you do, pretend like nothing happened.

“Don’t say that,” he frowns.

You chuckle, leaning against the wall, you eye him up and down, “what are you doing here?”

“I miss you.”

Your heart softens the way it always does, his words and the look in his eyes are able to make you forget for a moment.

“I miss you too.”

You don’t know it but your words mean everything to him. His previous love was a one sided one. She never showed him genuine affection, care or love. Maybe she did before they started dating but never once did Chrissy show him love. Her ‘I love you’ or ‘I miss you’ never truly had a meaning but yours does.

Eddie shouldn’t be here, you need some time to yourself, you need to be alone but not tonight.

“Do you wanna come in?” you ask, stepping aside already. You watch the way he relaxes, the way he breathes a sigh of relief and smiles at you with appreciation in his eyes. He steps inside, closing the door and locking it, he takes his shoes and his jacket off, glancing at the TV.

“I actually have his mask at home,” Eddie says, giving you a small smile, “the Micheal Myers mask, I mean.”

You raise your brows at him, smiling, “for kinky times.. or?”

He snorts, shaking his head, “no, I stole it from red for Halloween, one time and I never gave it back,” he chuckles.

“Oh, Max is a Halloween fan too?” you ask, pointing to the TV screen as you sit down on the bed.

His eyes widen, nodding at your words, “big fan.”

“See, this is why she’s my favorite.”

“I’m not your favorite?”

You scoff with a smirk on your face, “nope.”

Eddie watches as you get under the covers, opening the blanket for him and you invite him into the bed. His eyes light up with excitement.

You lean your head against your hand and watch him strip out of his clothes. For someone so chaotic, you always expected Eddie to discard his clothes somewhere, not caring about folding them but he does the opposite. Folding his jeans and the flannel, he places it on the chair. Wearing nothing but boxers and his favorite black Metallica shirt, he joins you. Grunting a little as he adjusts the pillows behind him, glancing at you with a sheepish smile on his pretty face.

“Lights on or off?” he asks.

“I’m more of a lights on kinda girl, I wanna see–”

“Y/n,” he mumbles, shaking his head.

“What– don’t tell me that you’re a lights off kinda–” before you even get to finish the sentence, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you softly. He cups your cheek, pulling you closer.

You freeze a little, eyes wide open as you stare at him. His eyes are closed, brows drawn together, his lips are moving almost too softly against yours, as though he is scared of hurting you.

He can feel the tension in your body, the way your lips aren’t moving against his, the way you aren’t melting into his touch. He can feel your eyes on him. You aren’t kissing him back and that’s how he knows that you aren’t as okay as you pretend to be.

You wrap your arms around his neck and finally kiss him back, the tension leaves your body and you melt into his touch but he still knows you aren’t okay.

He missed you, he missed this.

Holding you, lying in bed with you and kissing your soft lips.

He regrets what he did before, what was he thinking?

This kiss is nothing like the one from before, it isn’t rough or needy, just soft and one of love. He runs his fingers through your hair and pushes it back, tucking it behind your ear. His hand slides down to your waist, lying back, he pulls you on top of him, holding you against him.

His heart is fluttering and he feels like crying when he thinks about all the pain he had already put you through.

You are the best thing that ever happened to him and he hurt you so many times already.

You cup his cheeks and deepen the kiss a little. There is nothing sexual or desperate about this kiss, nothing at all. You just want to feel each other.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers after you pull away from each other and lay your head on his chest. He holds you tightly and plays with your hair, pressing soft kisses on the top of your head.

“What are you sorry for?” you mumble into his chest.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he whispers, “I’m sorry for not telling you about her, for making you feel like I was leading you on or that I was using you,” he pauses, blinking as he stares at the white ceiling, the TV is quiet in the background, “and for earlier, we– I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It was nice though.”

You aren’t lying about that, it was nice. You like Steve and you love Eddie, they didn’t do anything you didn’t want to do, you felt good in that moment, it’s just about what happened afterwards.

“You asked us if it was some sick joke to us, babe,” he whispers, beating himself up for not answering the question. He was too shocked and confused about why you would even think such a thing, “it wasn’t, I hope you know that.”

“Steve told me the same thing.”

“It’s the truth.”

It better be.

“Okay,” you whisper, “you wouldn’t lie to me again, would you?” you ask, lifting your head to look at Eddie to find him staring at you already. The look in his eyes is genuine, soft and filled with… love? It can’t be, right? Does he love you?

He cups your cheeks, admiring you for a moment before he opens his mouth to speak, “no, I will never lie to you again.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart.”

“Good,” you whisper, you reach for the guitar pick necklace around his neck, using it to pull him closer, you press your lips against his and kiss him again. You can feel him smiling into the kiss as you close your eyes, he pulls you in deeper and flips you both over until you are underneath his body. He lets his hand wander down your body and under your shirt, caressing your stomach.

He kisses you like he used to do, before it all went downhill. Only now, there’s something more behind it, something deeper. There’s more passion and desperation in the way he kisses you, like it’s the last time, like he is scared that you might disappear if he parts from your lips. Unbeknownst to you, this is exactly what he fears, for you to disappear, for you to push him away, for you to only kiss him this once and then he will lose you again.

This is his biggest fear, losing you.

“I missed you so much,” he mumbles against your lips, “I missed this, kissing you, sleeping with you, just being with you.”

Your heart flutters at his words, your gaze softens and you give him a small smile.

“I missed you and this too, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” he whispers with hope in his eyes.

He feels like this is just a dream, everything moved so quickly. Two nights ago, you didn’t even want to be around him and now you are here, in his arms again, kissing and cuddling him. This is too good to be true.

“Yeah,” you whisper with hesitation in your voice and in your eyes.

He frowns a little, heart already beginning to beat quicker than before, “but?”

“B-But maybe we shouldn’t move too quickly, maybe we still need time to ourselves. I think we both need to heal.”

He nods but he isn’t shy to show the sadness in his eyes.

“Do you wanna see other people?”

The insecurity in his voice is so deep. He is still damaged from his relationship with Chrissy, from the things she had done to him while she was with him.

You shake your head, “no,” you say with honesty, “I don’t want to see other people.”

He sighs in relief.

“Do you?” you ask quietly with a dreadful feeling.

His eyes widen and his brows furrow as he shakes his head, “no! I only want you.”

He watches you smile, relief written all over your face.

“But there’s some hot girls that want you.”

He scoffs, “I don’t want any of them,” he mumbles, leaning in to kiss your neck, “and there’s no one hotter than you, my pretty girl.”

You smile as you wrap your arms around him.

“What about Steve?”

“What about him?” He snorts.

“You seemed to enjoy kissing him.”

“Are you jealous?” He smirks as he continues to kiss your neck.

You close your eyes with a sigh, tilting your head to give him more access.

“No, it was hot,” you giggle, “didn’t think you were into him, you always hated when he touched me.”

“I do,” he grunts.

“Then why did you let him touch me today?” You ask in confusion.

“I thought that you wanted it,” he whispers, “y-you liked the way he kissed you and I didn’t want to make you mad.”

“Why would I get mad?”

“When I called you mine, you didn’t like it so I thought that I had no right to pull you away from him, that it would make you angry if I got so possessive again,” he explains, “I wouldn’t have let anyone else touch you that way though, I trust him and you do too. I know that I should have pulled you away though… and I know that you are full of shit.”

“Huh?”

He leans back, parting away from your neck, he finally looks at you again, possessiveness and anger in his eyes, “you haven’t done that before.”

“Done what?” You frown.

“Threesomes.”

Oh.

A smirk tugs on your lips, he is jealous.

“Oh but I have.”

“Bullshit,” he mumbles.

You can’t even help it, you chuckle at his anger, “I fucked two guys at once, one was a guitarist and the other was a drummer, they looked so good and their di–” he cuts you off by smashing his lips against yours, kissing you possessively again.

“Tell me the truth,” he mumbles against your lips.

“I told you the truth.”

“No, you haven’t,” he rolls his eyes when he sees the smug look on your face.

“But I have.”

He shakes his head, “I know when you’re lying. You are an open book to me, sweetheart.”

You wish you weren't. You know that you can’t hide your true feelings from him, no matter how much you try, he can see right through you and your act, every single time. You know that he knows you aren’t as okay as you pretend to be, still you keep smiling at him as though nothing ever happened.

“Are you jealous?”

He scoffs, “of course I am.”

Your mask slips for a moment.

“Then why weren’t you jealous before?”

He can see the insecurity in your eyes and it makes him feel awful.

He whispers your name softly, he is about to comfort you when you shut him out again, putting the mask back on and changing the topic as you lay your head on his chest.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

He doesn’t want to change the topic, he wants to talk about your feelings so he can reassure you but he also doesn’t want to push you.

“I’m taking Henderson to the mall, he wants to buy some last minute christmas presents,” he chuckles, “do you wanna come with us?”

You shake your head.

“No, I think I’m gonna work on some songs and I’m meeting up with Robin.”

“I’m glad you made new friends.”

“Me too.”

Eddie is quiet for a moment, stroking your back and playing with your hair, he looks at the TV screen but he isn’t watching the movie, too deep in thought about other things. You fall asleep quickly, you always do when you are in his arms.

As he looks at you, he notices the soft and content expression on your face, you feel safe with him, despite all the things that happened, you still feel safe and comfortable with him.

You love him.

And he loves you, more than anything else in this world but he knows that saying the three words to you, means nothing if he doesn’t act upon them. He keeps messing up, he keeps making mistakes and throwing obstacles in his way to you, he has to do better and he will.

He will do anything to prove his love for you.

Your day was uneventful so far, after sleeping in with Eddie, you got ready and went out for coffee with him before you parted ways. He went to pick up Dustin, while you decided to check out the old record store and the bookstore in town.

You bought some new cassettes for your walkman and a book to read for when you go back on tour.

As the days draw closer to Christmas, the dreadful and depressing feeling comes back to haunt you, you try your best to distract yourself so you don’t think back to that day or him but it’s not easy, especially when you step inside the cafe, you and Robin met at before, you hear your Dad’s voice through the speakers, a song that used to be your favorite playing in the background.

You want nothing more than to run back out but then you spot Robin at the last booth by the window, a smile appears on your face when she waves at you.

You walk over to her and take a seat on the other bench, scooting closer to the window, you greet her with a big smile.

“Thank god, you’re smiling.”

You tilt your head in confusion, chuckling at her words and the relieved look on her face.

“Why wouldn’t I be smiling?”

“Steve has been sulking all goddamn morning!” She complains, throwing her hands up, “I don’t know what happened to him but he has been complaining and bitching about everything.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” she chuckles nervously, rolling her eyes at her best friend’s behavior. She has been trying to get him to talk but he refuses to say anything and it’s driving her crazy, Steve usually tells her everything.

She continues to complain about him, unaware of the look on your face. You’re quiet, letting her rant and get it all off her chest, it’s not until after you ordered your food that she realized how silent you have been this whole time.

She puts her hand under her chin as she leans her elbow on the table, eying you closely. Recognition flashing in her eyes.

“Okay,” she mumbles, “what happened?”

“What do you mean?” you laugh, nervously.

“You know exactly what I mean,” she mumbles, squinting her eyes at you.

“Do I?”

She nods, “yes, you do.”

Playing dumb will look bad on you so you won’t even do it, you sigh. Looking around the half empty diner before you look back into her curious, blue eyes.

“Something happened.”

“Clearly!” She laughs.

“I mean, with uh.. Steve and me and Eddie,” you mumble as you look away in embarrassment.

She furrows her brows in confusion, “what do you– oh!” Suddenly, her eyes are wide open and she gasps, cupping her hand over her mouth, “no fucking way,” she mumbles as her facial expression twists into a mortified but amused one.

Rolling your eyes, you lean back in your seat.

“You fucked both of them?” She yells in a whisper.

Your eyes widen at her question.

“No, oh my god,” you mumble, “we didn’t go that far.”

“How far did you go?”

Your cheeks feel warm and your eyes are filled with shame, still a smirk tugs on your lips.

“We kissed and uh– Steve he… you know..”

“Wait!” She yelps, waving her hands in front of her face, “I don’t wanna know!” She says in disgust, not wanting to hear that about her best friend.

You laugh at her, shaking your head.

“Wait– why is he such a bitch today then?”

Guilt creeps up in you, you didn’t want to ruin his mood or make him feel bad. You tried to show him that you’re okay but he didn’t believe you, just like Eddie didn’t believe you.

“I-I kinda stormed out on them afterwards, they think I regret it.”

Her eyes widen and she nods, “oh,” she mumbles. She knows there is more behind his behavior than only this.

“Do you regret it?”

You shake your head.

“No,” you say truthfully, “I don’t but I-I thought that they were trying to prove something to each other, like they didn’t want me.”

She looks at you in surprise, staring at you in silence for a moment.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

She scoffs, running her fingers through her short hair, she crosses her arms over her chest as she leans back.

“You are just as much of an idiot as they are. Steve adores you and Eddie is like literally obsessed with you,” Robin says, “it’s almost disgusting how obsessed he is!” She mumbles.

“You think he is obsessed?”

“In the cutest way possible,” she says with a genuine look in her eyes, “listen, I know that he fucked up before but I don’t think that he would ever do anything to ruin things between you two again, he is trying his best, I know he is. Don’t mind his stupidity, he is a man, they can’t help it. But trust me, he would never lie to you or hurt you again. As for Steve, he likes you a lot and he would never use you or do anything with you to prove something to Eddie, he is not like that.”

Your gaze softens at her words.

“They adore you,” she says, smiling, “we all do.”

While your conversation with Robin took some weight off your shoulders, you still had so many questions and thoughts running through your mind, it was difficult to distract yourself from all of it. All those negative thoughts and feelings were piling up, intensifying more and more. Despite what Eddie and Steve or even Robin have said to you, a part of you wasn’t convinced.

Does Eddie have true feelings for you? What if you were only the one that was supposed to save him from a loveless relationship? What if he thinks that he has feelings for you because you made him feel things other than the pain that she put him through? What if he is the one for you but you're not the one for him?

Suddenly, your mind goes back to the state it was in after you came down from the haze last night. You feel like the air is being sucked out of you, again.

What will happen when Eddie decides that you aren’t meant to be together?

The thought makes you feel heartbroken yet numb at the same time.

Sighing, you stare at the blank page in your notebook, the untouched apple pie sitting on a white plate in front of you. The smell of the hot chocolate that you have ordered after you walked into Benny’s diner has probably cooled off already.

You went back to the motel after meeting up with Robin but quickly realized that you wanted to do anything but be by yourself in the too silent room so you grabbed your notebook and went to the diner that you have first met Wayne at.

You came here to write but so far, your page has stayed empty. You were too in your head to think about anything else.

“Did your boy toys get sick of you?”

Oh no.

Just the sound of her voice makes you want to throw your pie into her stupid face after all the things she has said and done.

You put your pen down and look up at her, she is eying you up and down with distaste in her eyes.

“Hello to you too, Chrissy,” you give her a fake smile before you turn back to your notebook, flipping through the pages instead of looking at her.

“You have a lot of nerve sitting here.”

You lean back in your seat, reaching for the mug, you start sipping on your hot chocolate and look out the window, watching the passing cars in the darkened streets.

You don't have energy for her or a fight with her, you also want to avoid speaking about your dad, knowing that she will only bring him up again.

“It’s bad enough that you came to Hawkins and now you’re here, acting like it’s your town.”

Her voice is high pitched and she sounds angrier than she did last time, it’s amusing to you.

“You take Eddie and fuck his friends while you’re at it too! First Steve and now Robin too?”

Nothing happened between you and Robin but it’s funny to you that she even thinks that.

“You just take everything, huh?”

You know that she is irritated by you, irritated that you are ignoring her.

“You take it all and you still don’t have enough.”

You almost laugh at her words, is she not hearing herself? The spoiled rich brat is saying these things about you.

“You’re a greedy bitch! No wonder–”

“Jesus Christ, girl!” You exclaim, rolling your eyes at her as you finally turn to face her. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are wide open, “shut the hell up,” you mumble in annoyance, “anyone ever tell you that your voice is fucking annoying?”

She frowns at your words, opening her mouth to speak, only to get interrupted by you once again.

“Piss off, Chrissy. I’m not in the mood.”

Suddenly she is quiet, you can still feel her eyes on you when you turn away.

She watches you for a moment, eying the look on your face and in your eyes. Rolling her eyes, she sighs and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Are you okay?”

You can’t even help it, the laugh falls from your lips almost instantly, you furrow your brows and look back at her with both confusion and amusement in your eyes.

“Did you just ask me–”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, “I asked you if you are okay!” She says, rolling her eyes again.

You raise your brows in surprise when she sits down on the bench across from you.

What?

“Are you okay?” You smirk, “you’re a little red.”

“That’s because I’m angry.”

“Why?”

She looks into your eyes as she shrugs.

“Are you angry because I told you the truth the other day or because I hit your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head, “or are you angry that things are not going your way anymore? Or because Eddie isn’t your lap dog anymore?”

Suddenly her big eyes fill with guilt and she shifts uncomfortably.

“Or are you angry that you are not getting everything that you want and that you are turning into your horrible mother?”

Her eyes widen even more, lips parting in surprise.

“Or–”

“Okay, I got it, stop it!”

You snort at her, placing the mug back on the table, you lean back.

She looks away from you and huffs, clenching her jaw. For a moment, neither of you speak. You watch her as she looks out the window.

What does she want from you? Her presence makes you feel sick and angry.

Suddenly she turns back to you after taking a deep breath.

“I don’t want to be like my mother.”

Wow.

“You’re right. She is horrible, she is forcing me to do all this shit I never even wanted to do! Don’t get me wrong, I love cheerleading and I love being a trainer now but I don’t want to go to church and I don’t wanna marry Jason and have five kids with him!” She exclaims with a frown on her face, “I don’t want to do book clubs and gossip with other mom’s and be a bitch like mine!”

What the fuck.

You raise your brows at her, lips twitching. Why would you care?

“I just want to be free… like you.”

Oh.

“You don’t have to deal with all of this,” she mumbles, “toxic family and all this bullshit she is forcing me into. I mean, I love my dad but she is… a monster.”

Yeah, you know that feeling.

“My life isn’t all that great, Chrissy.”

She glares at you, running her fingers through her long hair, “well, at least you’re famous.”

That’s what this is about?

“You think that being famous is great? I just want to do music and see the world. You don’t wanna know what it’s like to deal with all these sexist assholes. People make up shit about me all the time, reporters ask fucked up questions that they’d never dare to ask Eddie or the other guys. I get called slut or whore on a daily fucking basis and get groped on the way to my concerts, it’s not all that great, Chrissy.”

Her eyes shift away from you and she squirms in her seat.

“You might have a shitty mom but you can always leave, you don’t have to be like her, you don’t have to live her life. Live your fucking own and stop being a fucking coward.”

She clears her throat, looking down at her perfectly manicured pink nails.

“And stop hurting people because you are unhappy. That makes you a horrible person and so far you’ve been a super horrible person, Chrissy. It's bad enough that you treated Eddie like shit throughout your whole relationship, now you are making up shit about him too and trying to sabotage him, fucking move on and stop being a bitter asshole."

She seems to take your words into consideration as the anger in her eyes dissolves. Her shoulders slump and she sighs, eyes moving back and forth.

For a moment it’s silent between the two of you.

“I lied.”

“About what?” You raise your brows at her.

“Everything,” she pauses, taking a deep breath, “Eddie never told me about you, he never called me,” she admits with shame in her eyes, “he never used you. I only said that because I was mad and yeah, you're right, I treated him like shit and he maybe- he didn't deserve it."

You are stunned, not knowing what to say, you just look at her and wait for her to continue.

“I liked the way he made me feel, he was the only one I could talk to, the only one that never judged me and my mom hated him so it only made me want to be around him even more.”

“So you used him?” You ask her angrily.

She shrugs, “I’m not proud of it but yeah, I guess so.”

Scoffing at her words, you shake your head.

“He never deserved that.”

“I know. W-We should have just stayed friends. I was horrible to him.”

You clench your jaw at her words, knowing how much he was hurting because of her makes you so incredibly angry.

“Why did you stay with him for so long? You were cheating on him the whole time.”

She shrugs.

“I don’t know, it felt nice knowing that he stayed with me even after all of that.”

Oh god.

“That’s fucked up, Chrissy,” you frown. Anger rushes through you, staring into her eyes, you see the shame and the guilt but her words still make you want to slap her.

“Yeah well, he left town because of me and then he found you so I guess something good came out of it,” she mumbles, shrugging.

“Yeah and he picked up your habits and lied to me for months.”

Her lips part as she stares at the stoic look on your face.

“He never actually told you about me?”

“Nope,” you mumble, “he never told me anything. I wouldn’t have been with him if I knew he had someone.”

She blinks, an unreadable expression takes over her face.

“I only found out when you came to surprise him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah oh, imagine my surprise,” you say, chuckling as though it’s funny.

She isn’t laughing though, if anything she almost looks like she feels sorry for you.

“Nothing happened between us that night. I uh– I tried to kiss him but he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to do anything. He also kind of looked like he felt sick when I mentioned marriage and kids before," she snorts, "I-I mean, it's not what I wanted either, I didn't even want him. I never loved Eddie."

This feels like a fever dream. If anyone would’ve told you earlier today that you’d be sitting at a diner with Chrissy Cunningham tonight, you would laugh in their face and call them crazy but here you are, sitting across from the woman that broke Eddie’s heart before.

“But he loves you, everyone does,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes, she looks you up and down once again.

“I don’t think he loves me,” you mumble, chuckling a little.

She scoffs at you, “yes he does, I see the way he looks at you, he never looked at me like that, which is fine cause I never wanted him to."

Jesus Christ.

"He is in love with you."

How much truth is behind her words?

"He was never in love with me," she says, seemingly not having a problem with that.

“But you still hurt him, a lot.”

“He has you now.”

Yeah but you did a number on him, you think to yourself. He let Steve touch you because he wanted to see how you respond to another man’s touch, if you enjoy Steve’s touch more than his, if you make different noises for him, if you are more desperate for him. He wanted to be sure that he is the only one for you, maybe he wanted you to pull away from Steve.

Eddie is insecure because of what she did to him.

Chrissy keeps her eyes on you, watching how you put your notebook into your purse and reach for your wallet. You open it and she catches a glimpse of the small polaroid picture you have in there. She tries to take a closer look without giving herself away. It’s a picture of you and your Dad when you were little. His arms are wrapped around you as you hold his guitar, a happy smile is on your face, the same one she saw on your face when you were on stage with Eddie, his smile mirrored yours.

You make Eddie happy and he makes you happy.

Her eyes flash with guilt and her stomach drops, her eyes flicker back to you. Chrissy doesn’t know you, yet she chose to hate you. It was never about Eddie though, it was about something else.

She envies you, the way you are so free, the way you don’t care about what others think of you, the way you do whatever you want to do.

Chrissy wanted to destroy you because of her anger towards herself. First it was Eddie who had gotten all the punches and now it is you, a clueless girl who was pulled into a mess that she had no fault in, one that loves Eddie the way he is supposed to be loved. You can give him something that she couldn’t give and if she wasn’t so unhappy and angry with herself, maybe she would be happy for him for finding someone who actually loves him.

You place a few dollar bills on the table and begin to put your jacket on. You think about her failed relationships and about the way she reacted when she mentioned Robin earlier.

"Hey," you mumble, "have you ever considered that you might not be into men?" You ask, catching her off guard.

Her wide eyes are even bigger now, her cheeks flush red as she eyes you.

"W-What?"

You shrug, it's in the way she looked at you when she mentioned Robin that made you feel suspicious and also her whole history with relationships and men.

"I have a friend, Jamie," you begin to explain, "she had a boyfriend when she was younger, he was this really cute and nice guy, never did anything wrong but she treated him horribly, was always a bitch to him and would lash out on him. She hated dating him, she hated touching him and being with him, turns out that she wasn't into him or any other man for that matter. She is into girls and back then she had a problem with it because of her parents."

She listens to you intently, watching you with curiosity in her eyes.

"I hated what she did to that poor guy but then she opened up to me about her sexuality and I understood why she was behaving that way. She hated herself and wouldn't accept herself for the longest time, at first she didn't even realize what was actually going on."

"A-Are you saying that I'm into... girls?" She whispers, leaning closer to you.

"I'm not saying anything, I don't know anything about you, I'm just saying. You don't want marriage and kids and yeah, maybe you just don't want that because it isn't the right thing for you. You could go and live your single life right now and do whatever the hell you want without caring about what others think of you, leave relationships behind," you shrug, "or there might be more, maybe you just need to explore."

She nods at your words. Maybe you are right, maybe you just voiced what she was thinking about deep down, for years.

"Why are you telling me all that?"

You shrug, sighing, "cause I know there is more behind that bitchy attitude of yours," you roll your eyes, "or maybe you're just an asshole who thrives of chaos and from what I've seen, it might make more sense but you kind of reminded me of my friend so.." you shrug, looking around the half empty diner.

"Or you just wanna see the good in people," she whispers, regret flashing in her eyes, she looks at you and for a moment she is silent. Her lips part, like she is trying to say something but no words come out, suddenly she jumps to her feet, “I gotta go, I’m sorry,” Chrissy mumbles with a pale look on her face and guilt in her eyes, she walks away, rushing out of the diner, leaving you more confused than ever.

only tagging friends & mutuals!

@prettyboyeddiemunson @littledemondani @wroteclassicaly @corrodedcorpses @mysticmunson @aftermidnightwriting @sherrylyn628 @yearwalker96 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint

#Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #stranger things angst #stranger things imagines

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