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thxliaaa · 2 years

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it changes everything | steve harrington

synopsis - before you and steve divorced, you found out you were pregnant with his baby but didn’t tell him because you didn’t want it to influence his decision about the divorce.

pairing - steve harrington x reader

genre - angst. secret pregnancy trope ;)

warning/s - mentions of pregnancy, blood, miscarriage, divorce, fighting.

author’s note - japril’s divorce broke my heart, they deserved better <3

based on one of the scenes from grey’s anatomy

also i’m so sorry for the steve only content. I've been obsessed with him these past few days. i promise to post about the other characters soon so stay tuned.

ps. in this imagine, the younger group is like 15-16 whereas the older group is like 25-26

part two

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The day you got married to Steve was the happiest day of your life. At first, everything was perfect. Both of you never left the honeymoon phase. Sure, the two of you might have arguments every now and then, but it was nothing major. You always knew that Steve wanted six babies, and the thought of it never fails to bring a smile to your face. However, when the two of you started trying for a baby, that’s when everything started to fall apart.

Test after test, everything would always result in a negative one. You were getting weary of expecting something big, yet get nothing in return. Steve would always comfort you after everything even though he too was getting exhausted of being optimistic thinking that one day two lines might appear on your pregnancy test. That was until one night.

Seeing two lines in the pregnancy test in your hand, you were ecstatic about this. You were finally gonna be a mother. When you told Steve about the good news over dinner, he was overjoyed. A tiny blob was finally growing inside of you.

Steve was protective over you, he would never let you do simple things by yourself, he would always insist on doing it for you. You two were happy. But as they all say, everything good must come to an end.

One night, you had just finished doing the dishes until you started to feel something running down your thighs. You went to the bathroom to check on it, and you saw blood. You started to feel pain on your lower abdomen, and in that moment, you knew something was wrong.

You grabbed the telephone that was on the bathroom counter and quickly dialed Steve. Once he answered, you told him about the predicament that you were in. "Steve, I'm bleeding so much right now"

As you said those words, Steve wasted no second at all and rushed to see his boss and told him about your current situation. Once he was permitted to go, he went to his car then started driving as fast as he could.

When he got home, he saw you lying on the floor with blood surrounding you. He quickly picked you up then started driving to the hospital to get you the help you needed.

Once he got there, he fought with the nurse just to make sure you get the medical attention you needed, and as soon as a doctor got to you, his hands ran through his hair because of worry and sat down. He was worried about you.

As soon as you woke up, you were greeted with bad news. You had lost the baby. The good news didn’t even seem like good news to you, the thought about you losing your baby was the only thing on your mind right now. Why was life so unfair? You’ve done everything right, yet you get this in return? Everything felt like a fever dream.

Weeks had passed and you shut everyone out. You knew Steve was trying hard to cheer you up, but even he had to fight his own battles with his own demons. Trying to conceive a baby was hard enough, but losing the baby you had tried so hard to create was even harder. You felt as if a part of you died that day.

Hours turned into days, days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. The pain was unbearable. Every night, you would cry yourself to sleep with Steve hearing your soft sobs as he tried to console you, but nothing helped.

Steve has had enough one day so he decided to confront you about it. “When are you gonna move one, (Y/N)?”

You turned to look at him in disbelief. Was he really asking you this question right now? Is he that insensitive that even you miscarrying was nothing to him?

“When I’m ready, Steve” You scoffed. “We’ve been trying for months and having the thing we tried so hard to get stripped away from us is hard for me” You added.

He furrowed his eyebrows at you. “I can’t believe you right now. Do you think this isn’t hard for me?”

“I lost a child too, (Y/N)!” He exclaimed. “The best thing you can do right now is at least help yourself accept that it happened.” Steve added.

“I can’t help you all the time, honey. It’s time you accept that our baby is gone.” He stepped closer towards you as he hugged you. “We can try again, (Y/N). We can always try again”

You closed your eyes as you sighed. “I know, it’s just that this is hard for me. I’m sorry, Steve”

“I know, baby. Let’s just stay like this for a while” And that was what you did.

Though that small talk may have worked a little, you still shut everyone around you out. Sure, you and Steve had your little arguments every now and then, but it was nothing major. However, Steve started to drift away from you.

You started to notice this because of the way he acted. He became colder than usual and whenever you would ask him about his day, he would always respond with “It's nothing, just the usual” everyday. The consequences of your actions had finally started to show.

So, you tried to be better, day by day, you picked yourself up piece by piece. You weren’t fully healed, but you were definitely better than before. Realizing that there’s no point in crying over something that happened, you decided to accept what had happened to you and let your baby move on to a better place.

One night, when Steve got home, he went to the master bedroom to rest. You were building up the courage to tell him that you were ready to try again, but you were scared. Sitting down on the cold bathroom floor, tears started rolling down your face. Thoughts started filling your head. “What if this won’t work and we fail trying to conceive a baby again?” “What if it was a success yet you miscarry again?”

Still, you ignored those negative thoughts and wiped the tears off of your face. You finally worked up the courage to tell Steve that you were ready to try again. Walking into the bedroom, you saw Steve laying down on the bed as he was watching TV.

When you entered, he glanced at you for a second then back at the TV again. “Steve” you said softly as he turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised.

“I think I’m ready to try again”

“What?” He asked as you repeated what you had said. “I said, I think I’m ready to try again for a baby” You sat down on the bed beside him as he did the same thing.

“Are you sure? I’m not pressuring you to do so. I’m ready whenever you’ll be ready” He said as he held your hand in his. “I’m ready now, Steve”

“Are you sure?” He looked into your eyes as you nodded in return. His hands were on your face as he pulled you in for a passionate kiss.

And you spent your entire night making love with him for the first time in months.

The predicament did not change, even after trying and trying, you still were getting negative results back. You were getting pessimistic again.

With that, the two of you started drifting away from each other often burying yourselves with work to avoid interacting with each other. If you did talk, it would only be an exchange of 2-3 words. It turns out that you weren’t the only one who noticed this, Steve did too, and he decided to do something about it.

One night, you and Steve were eating dinner in silence after work, only the sound of utensils filled the air. That was until Steve finally spoke.

“I want to get a divorce”

The clattering of your utensils stopped at his remark. You raised your head to look at him only to see him already looking at you. “Why?” you let out softly.

“Because it’s not the same anymore, I miss the old us. But we both know that’s not gonna happen again” He stated. “What would happen if we tried again and again and got the same results every time? Would you still act the same as you did before? Would you let me pick you up over and over again?” He asked.

“I’m getting tired too, (Y/N). I think it’s best if we go our separate ways” He said.

You were stunned and stayed still in your position. You knew that he was right, and you didn’t bother fighting him. Tears just started rolling down your face as you let out a soft “Ok” in agreement with what he said. Steve’s heart broke at the sight of you, but he knew that this decision was for the best.

That was until you started experiencing pregnancy symptoms. Nausea, sensitive to certain smells, and most importantly, your period was late. Other things could’ve been the cause of it too, but you knew that it would be better to know if it was what you think it was.

You bought a pregnancy stick from a store, and as soon as you got home, you peed on it. Two lines appeared on it. You were pregnant. Joy was the only emotion you had right now. But it was soon replaced with sadness.

You wanted to tell Steve so badly, but you knew that if you did, it would change his perspective on the divorce. You didn’t want him to stay with you just because of your baby, you believed that two people should stay together because they love each other, not because of a child. So, you decided not to tell him about it.

The divorce did happen after a few weeks, and Steve let you have the house. Your morning sickness wasn’t getting any better.

When you were walking around the mall to find baby items. You saw Steve and another girl with him. They were holding hands and kissing every now and then. You couldn’t help but feel jealous. That used to be you and him. But, you just ignored them and continued shopping.

This secret was getting too heavy for you to hold on to so you had decided to tell your bestfriend, Robin.

You, Steve, and Robin were close since high school and up till now. Robin was the first one to know about the divorce before you told the others about it. And now, Robin would be the first one to know about your secret pregnancy with yours and Steve’s baby.

Once you told Robin about the news, she was so excited to find out that she was going to be an aunt. She caressed your belly as she started talking to the baby inside of you.

“So how far along are you?” She asked. You sighed, “I haven’t gone to the doctor ever since I found out about this. The only time I went was to find out if I really was pregnant or not” You replied.

“What? That’s nuts! You should go to the doctor to at least find out if the baby is healthy or not!” She exclaimed. “No! I won’t go to the doctor, not until I finish my first trimester. I’m scared that I’m gonna miscarry again. So no, I won’t go and nothing you say will make me change my decision about it” You fought back.

“(Y/N) that’s dumb! You need to go to the doctor!”

“Enough! I will go when I end my first trimester and my decision is final” You replied back as you slumped in your seat. Robin didn’t put up any more fight with you, she knew that she wouldn’t be able to change your mind about it, so she decided to go to the person she knew who could maybe help.

You always had game nights on Fridays at Nancy and Jonathan’s place. They got married a few months after you and Steve did. This would be the first time you'd face Steve after your divorce.

Everyone except you was already there when Steve had arrived. He greeted everyone in the room until Robin pulled him aside into the kitchen to talk with him.

“So, how are you Steve?” Robin asked as Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you asking me that in general or is it about the divorce?” He queried.

“Uhh, both?” Robin smiled awkwardly as Steve raised one of his eyebrows at her. “Well I’m good in general and I’m doing well after the divorce. I’ve been seeing other people now”

“Wow that didn’t take long at all” Robin scoffed as Steve defended himself “Hey, Hey! It’s been a few weeks since the divorce, okay?”

“I waited and did not get right into it unlike other people” He added as she sighed at her friend. “Ok that’s good. I need to go now” She said but Steve pulled her back before she could even go.

“How’s (Y/N) doing?” He asked worried about his ex-wife. “She’s doing good” Robin replied hesitantly before facing Steve.

Robin took a deep breath before telling Steve the truth that her best friend hid from him. Something that haunted her every single night debating whether or not to tell Steve about it. “(Y/N)’s pregnant”

Steve stood there dumbfounded from what Robin had revealed to him. “It's yours, and she’s refusing to go to the doctor and I need you to convince her to go because she won’t. She just won’t go.”

Just as soon as he was about to reply, the front door opened revealing you. “So, I forgot to bring something but I ordered pizza, and I- Ooh is that Nancy’s cupcakes I smell? I need to have a taste of that” you giggle as you remove your shoes.

Steve walked towards you furious that you kept your pregnancy from him. “Oh hi” you smiled at him, but he didn’t return the smile back.

“Since when did you know?” He asked. “What do you mean?” you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “Since when did you know you were pregnant?”

You froze. Robin told him about it. You turned to face Robin who was behind Steve with a worried look on her face. “You told him about this?” you exclaimed at her.

“She did, but that’s not the point. You told Robin and not me?” He asked. “I don’t have time for this right now Steve”

“Then when do you have time? Were you even planning on telling me about this?” He raised his voice at you. Everyone’s eyes were now at the both of you. “Steve, please don’t. Not here, not right now.”

“You had enough time to tell me about this even before the divorce. You don’t think a pregnancy would have affected my decision to go forward with a divorce?” He asked

“I knew it would! But you didn’t want to stay with me!” You exclaimed. “People should stay married because they love each other, not because of a baby!” you added.

“You think I want you to stay for my baby–” “Our baby” “And have you hating me for the rest of my life?” you argued with him.

You and Steve continued to exchange more words until Nancy pulled you two apart from each other. “Hey, stop this now! There are teenagers watching you guys. Settle this some other time." She said.

The two of you were now staring at each other furiously. “This doesn’t change anything, Steve”

Steve scoffed, “You’re right, it changes everything!” He replied as he went out and slammed the door on you.

You stood there by the door, loss of words. The one person you trusted had revealed your secret, your ex-husband practically hates you now, you were embarassed that the others had to witness your fight with Steve.

And then, everything turned black.

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heich0e · 11 months

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leave the light on - miya osamu/f!reader (haikyuu!) part 10 in the bff!osamu series tags: childhood friends to lovers, tw instant coffee mention, miscommunication, confessions, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

Onigiri Miya closes early on Sunday nights.

It’s not for lack of business—the shop would certainly take in enough revenue to justify staying open regular hours an extra day per week, especially on a weekend. But in the early days of Onigiri Miya, when it was just a one-man show, Osamu needed at least one night that he could count on having off. The workweek business—office workers and students going through their routine hustle and bustle—kept him going, enough so that Sunday nights weren’t a make or break for him, and he was able to start shuttering in the early afternoon once per week.

He remembers those early days. Sweet talking vendors to bring down the cost of produce and haggling with the grubby, bleary eyed men at fish market stalls at the crack of dawn for a deal on the catch of the day. Promising suppliers that he’d be able to get them their money in a couple of weeks if they’d just give him some more time. Standing on the road, because Onigiri Miya was just a street stall back then, trying to coax people in and try his food. To convince them to take a chance on him. He remembers burns on his hands and cuts on his fingers and an ache in his bones that ran so marrow-deep he forgot what it felt like to not be so sore. Sunday nights were the only night he had to relax. The only night he had to sit down, to take off his hat, and to have a beer—or, even more frequently, pass out on his couch in his uniform at 8pm and sleep right through to his alarm the next morning.

Closing early on Sundays had been your idea, way back when— suggested to him gently while he rested with his head in your lap in your tiny student apartment after another 16 hour workday. He still remembers the worry in your eyes as you brushed his hair back from his tired face.

Nowadays things aren’t so hectic. Osamu’s got a good team of people around him to help Onigiri Miya run smoothly—a team who he trusts and values. It doesn’t all fall onto his shoulders in the same way that it used to: he doesn’t have to be there for every open and every close, his bills are paid, he’s not fighting to lure people in off the street just in the hope that he can scrape by for another week.

Now when he closes early on Sunday, it’s more for the sake of his staff than anything else. Occasionally Osamu will take the night off, too; he’ll go home and catch up on housework, run an errand or two, or even grab dinner—usually with you, though evidently not so much lately. But most Sundays he stays behind after his last employee heads out for the night; locking up behind them, switching off the sign in the window to tell the world the shop is closed, and then holing himself up in his office to do some admin. He’ll grab a plate of whatever’s leftover from the day’s service and a cold can of beer from the fridge, put on a rerun of Atsumu’s game from the night before, and get to work shuffling through the paperwork that he’s left to pile up over the past seven days.

Osamu hates paperwork.

It’s not that it’s particularly challenging work—the really hard stuff is left to his bookkeeper after all. It’s just tedious, a mindless task in many ways, and he always finds his thoughts drifting as he sorts through invoices and inventory registers: catching himself being inattentive halfway through a spreadsheet, and having to force himself to go back to the beginning just to make sure he hasn’t missed anything in his carelessness.

You used to help him with this kind of work, or at least keep him company while he got through it—sitting on the lumpy couch crammed into one corner of his little office and pretending like you weren’t asleep each time Osamu caught you with your eyes closed. More often than not, he’d throw his jacket over you to keep you warm while you napped and then rush through the last of his work so that he could wake you up and get you home. But just having you there on those late nights was enough for him; your presence was the thing that helped.

Coffee is his only saving grace, these days.

Samu shuffles out to the front of the shop on one such Sunday evening, taking off his baseball cap and ruffling the hair underneath tiredly. He’d finally gotten a trim, and he’s glad that things feel a bit more normal again as he rakes his fingers through it—his mother had been right when she remarked that it was getting too long the week before. He tosses his hat down on the front counter of Onigiri Miya, rounding the end to grab a sachet of instant coffee from behind the bar where he keeps his emergency stash.

The overhead lights in the shop are off, but there’s enough brightness filtering out from the still-lit kitchen that he doesn’t need to struggle to see as he prepares himself some hot water to add to the mug in front of him. He tips the granulated contents of his instant coffee sachet into the bottom after ripping it open with his teeth, tapping the empty plastic packaging against the edge of the cup to make sure it all comes out. The kettle behind him hums quietly as it heats to boiling, and Osamu sighs, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest.

He stares out at the restaurant—his restaurant, as hard as he still finds it to believe some days—his gaze sweeping over the tables with their corresponding chairs resting atop them. One of the staff had mopped the floors at the end of the night, which left them still slightly wet and glistening. There’s light filtering in through the front windows from the streetlights and the other shops that line the Osaka street outside, and their glow catches in the water that hasn’t yet dried from the tile.

Osamu’s eyes suddenly snap up to the glass that lines the front of the restaurant.

There’s a silhouetted figure—so familiar he could trace it even with his eyes closed, from memory alone—standing on the other side of the door.

Osamu blinks, thinking that the paperwork must have finally gotten the best of him, or maybe that the beer he’d had earlier is inexplicably hitting him too hard. But no matter how many times he squeezes his eyes shut, the familiar shape stays where it is on the other side of the glass each time he opens them again.

His heartbeat thumps, loud and wet, in his ears.

Like the shot of a gun, the man stumbles gracelessly into action: loping around the end of the bar and slipping slightly on the wet tile as he heads towards the door. He fiddles with the lock as he struggles to unlatch it, accidentally trying to force it the wrong way in his haste before eventually getting it right. When he finally throws open the door, a gust of cool night air flooding into the restaurant along with it, he takes in a deep, gasping breath.

“Hey.”

His voice is shaky when he greets you—mostly air and very little shape to the word.

You stare at him from a few paces away, your arms crossed firmly over your chest and a frown tugging down the corners of your mouth. Osamu thinks you look pretty when you’re mad. He always has. But it’s worse now because he knows all too well that he shouldn’t—because he knows you’re mad at him.

You seem to have something to say, he can tell as much from the almost spiteful glint in your eyes, but you stay tightlipped as you simply stare at him.

“D’ya… wanna come in?” Osamu asks, still holding the door open. He nods his head back into the shop. “Still got some stuff prepped, I could make ya—“

“You’re a jerk.”

Osamu blinks, taken aback.

“Yeah,” he agrees plainly after a moment, thinking it’s only fair of you to say given then circumstances.

His concurrence only seems to upset you more.

“Like, you’re a real asshole, y’know that?” You’re nearly spitting you’re so angry, your features twisted up in contempt. Your arms uncross and drop down to your sides, and Osamu watches as your hands ball into fists. He’s the one who taught you how to throw a punch, years and years ago now, and he’s wondering if he’s about to experience a practical demonstration of his teaching abilities firsthand.

“I don’t necessarily disagree.” He nods, agreeing with you once more, though this time his response is slower, more hesitant—not because he doesn’t mean it, but because he’s not sure that it’s what you want to hear.

“Ugh!” Your following exclamation is loud, and palpably frustrated, all but confirming his suspicions. “You…!”

Your tone is climbing with every passing second, and Osamu looks furtively up and down the road around the two of you. It’s late in the evening but there are still a few people out, and he sees heads turning in your direction at the commotion.

“Hey,” he says, his own voice dropping in volume but still pleading all the same. “My name’s on the door and we’re gettin’ some weird looks. I wanna hear everythin’ you have to say, but could you please just say it to me inside?”

You look at him blankly, your lips puckering into a petulant, unhappy pout. You seem like you want to say no, to keep causing a scene, and for a second Osamu really thinks you’re about to round in on him again. Instead you trudge forward, stomping past him over the threshold of Onigiri Miya.

Osamu hesitates for a moment after you pass, half in shock and half in relief, and then he lets the door swing closed and locks it behind him for good measure—he’s not sure he wants any unsuspecting people coming in search of onigiri and stumbling upon a brawl.

It’s dim in the restaurant when he turns to face you, but he can still see your fury burning in the dark.

Neither of you say anything.

“You can keep goin’ if you want,” Osamu is eventually the first to speak, and he means what he says. This is the least of the punishment he deserves, after all. And hearing you yell at him is markedly better than the silence.

“Martyrdom doesn’t suit you at all,” you mutter sullenly.

Osamu sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I just wantcha to say whatcha came here to say.”

You begin to pace as you work through your thoughts, slowly walking back and forth in front of the counter, picking at your cuticles. You’d put a fair amount of distance between the two of you, and he’s sure it was intentional. Osamu keeps himself confined to the entryway near the door, while you walk a path back and forth along the length of the service counter. His eyes follow every step you take, like a captivated child watching fish at the aquarium.

“I had a terrible dream last night,—” you finally force the words out, your feet stilling against the shiny tile as your pacing comes to a sudden halt.

Osamu decides to just do the right thing and shut the hell up for once, giving you the floor.

“—I was going to buy 30 kilos of rice from Kita-san’s farm—”

That’s a lot of rice, Osamu wants to note, but his lips part to let the words through and then he decides better of it.

“—and I was there, at the farm, and then Kita-san started telling me that you got married and had a baby. A baby, Samu! Kita-san standing there telling me all these terrible things with that big bag of rice in my hands, and I couldn’t even get mad at him because he’s Kita! So I just had to listen to him go on and on and on about the venue and the flowers and the baby name that you picked out. And the more he’d tell me the worse it was, and the bag of rice just kept getting heavier.” Your teeth bite down so hard into your lip as you suck in a breath that Osamu's amazed he doesn’t see blood. “I was hearing all of these things—terrible things—and all I could think was that I should have been there to see all of that for myself. I shouldn’t have been hearing about it from someone else. And I realized that you were living a whole life apart from me, a life that I didn’t know about or get to be a part of, and it just kept getting worse and worse and I woke up and I felt like I was going to scream.”

You’re out of breath by the time you finish your rambling thought, your chest heaving and your eyes wild and your mouth faintly wet. You look to him, and Osamu doesn’t see that same indignation in your eyes anymore, only hurt. He watches as the expression hardens again, whets itself like a blade—sharpened not in anger, but rather in resolve. In resignation.

“That day. I looked for you first.”

Osamu feels lost now. Are you still talking about that dream?

You understand without him saying it, and explain yourself further. “In high school. The day that I kissed Suna.”

Osamu’s stomach drops, all of the blood rushing to his head so quickly that the shop begins to spin a little around him. He can hear his pulse in his ears. He can feel it in his throat. He can’t help the twist of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, writhing and ugly though it may be, at the mere mention of his friend’s name. He doesn’t have the right to feel the way he feels, but it happens all the same.

“I looked for you,” you keep going, like you’ve broken a seal and have to let it all out. Osamu doesn’t dare try to stop you. He couldn’t even if he wanted to. He watches on like it’s a conversation that’s happening not with him but rather to him. “You were eating lunch with Tsumu in your classroom. I realized he would have had a fit if he knew that I was asking you and not him. I thought about asking him but…”

Osamu can’t feel his fingers from how tightly his hands are balled into fists at his side. His lungs burn in his chest—the breath he’s holding having long since lost the oxygen his body needs, though he can’t seem to draw in another.

“If it wasn’t you, I didn’t care who it was. So I asked Suna.”

The young man processes your words slowly. Incompletely. Like only every third word seems to register.

“Ya wanted me to be yer first kiss?” It’s not the question he ought to ask you but it’s the one his brain chooses to spit out.

Your reply is frustrated, but with an unmistakably melancholic rasp running through it. “Yeah. I did.”

Somewhere distantly, Osamu recognizes a sharp, stinging pain. An ache as part of him realizes that it could have been him. All along. All this time. Him. But the pain is muted, because part of him—most of him—still doesn’t quite understand.

“I think that was the first time I realized it.”

Osamu watches your face, maps the achingly familiar lines and dips and curves of your features as he tries to read meaning in the space between your words. But he still finds nothing.

“I liked you, Samu. More than I should have. Differently than I liked Tsumu, or Suna, or any other guy.” You laugh, but it’s a hollow, watery sound. “I realized it and it was awful.”

You’re waiting for him to say something, but Osamu is at a loss for words. No, that’s not quite it either. It’s not that he has nothing to say, but that he has everything he wants to say to you. To ask you. But he doesn’t know where to start, or how to sort through them, or even how to will his lips, teeth, and tongue to shape any of them.

“You… Y’know ya don’t have to say this,” his voice is tight, like a rope drawn to secure a knot not unlike the one in his throat, when he finally manages to speak. “Ya don’t have to pretend or convince yourself that you… felt the same as me. I care about ya too much to ever ask that.”

You laugh—a single, sharp, distinctly mirthless ha!—as you throw your hands up in exasperation. “There you go again not letting me have any say, Samu!” You punctuate your exclamation with a frustrated little sound. “Stop deciding things all on your own and just listen to me.”

That shuts him up again.

“I thought I was over it,”—you begin to pace once more, your steps slow and measured—“I really did. I told myself it would never happen and moved on because I never ever wanted to fuck things up between us. Between any of us.

“You told me that you’ve loved me your whole life, but you don’t know if or when something changed. I do. I had a singular moment that I could point to where I realized that if I did or said the wrong thing after that, I could fuck up something that meant more to me than anything else in the world. Even if you felt the same way I did, there’s no guarantee that something like that would work out. But if we tried and it didn’t work, we wouldn’t be able to just go back to how things were. So I told myself that no matter what I wouldn’t. No matter how hard it was or how awful it felt. I could get over it if it meant I never had to lose you. And it was fine. For years it was fine. We were fine. Everything was fine. And then I lost you anyway.”

You suddenly stop pacing and crouch down, your arms winding themselves around your knees as if to comfort yourself.

“That night, when you…” You swallow, and risk a glance up at him. “I don’t think I’m over it.”

Osamu feels like he might die. Maybe he did already. Maybe this is his life passing before his eyes, because it’s always been you anyway.

“But it’s scary, Samu,” your voice is so small, so vulnerable, when you speak to him again. You’re trembling as you hold yourself. “Aren’t you scared?”

Osamu is suddenly reminded of that fall day in the woods, so many years ago now. Reminded of two kids who didn’t know what they were doing. Who didn’t know anything. But who knew each other.

Slowly, Osamu crouches too—his joints cracking in protestation as he drops his body down to your level. Your eyes never leave his.

“Yeah,” he says, after a moment. Soft but sure. “‘Course I am.”

You let out a soggy, incredulous laugh, but it somehow doesn’t feel out of place. He watches as you reach up and scrub at your eyes.

“I love you,” Osamu says, because it’s true. Because there’s no other words he can possibly think to say in this situation. Because it’s the only thing that he has in his mind.

You look over at him, sniffling a little, wiping at your running nose with the back of your hand in a way that Osamu absolutely should not find as endearing as he does. “How can you just say it like that? Like it’s so easy?”

Osamu wants to laugh too, like you did earlier, but he worries that the sound might come off as almost hysterical thanks to the misplaced hope he can feel simmering in the pit of his stomach. “Sayin’ it’s the hard part, that’s why it took me so long. But I’ve spent forever lovin’ ya. S’always been the easiest bit.”

You choke back a sob, your head hanging defeatedly as your body slackens. You’re a ghost of the angry little thing that was outside of his door only a few minutes earlier, but more yourself now than Osamu has seen you in weeks.

“What about you?” he poses the question so quietly he might worry you didn’t hear him if not for how silent the dark shop is around you both.

“What do you mean?” You know what he means. He knows you know what he means. You’re stalling, trying to buy yourself time that’s run out now.

“Do you love me?” he asks, praying to anyone who’s listening that he’s been a good enough man up until this point to deserve the answer that he wants to hear more than anything else in the world.

“Of course I do,” you say evasively, refusing to meet his gaze. But it’s not the same. It’s not enough.

“But are you in love with me?” Osamu finally dares to ask.

There’s a stretch of the most painful, profound silence that either of you have ever experienced. It goes on for an eternity, though the clock hands in the corner say differently.

You still refuse to look at him, your gaze fixed instead to a point on the wall on the other side of the restaurant. Osamu watches how the light from the windows catches in the tears that cling to your bottom lashes.

“Yeah, I am,” you say, barely a whisper. You speak the confession like it’s the most terrifying thing imaginable. Like it's wretched.

And it is maybe, but Osamu’s never felt happier to hear anything in all his life—he feels a rush of something so visceral and elated flowing through him, he thinks he might pass out.

“Can I touch ya?” he asks hesitantly, his voice thick and unlike its normal tone. He hardly recognizes it as his own.

You peek over at him for the first time, and Osamu revels in the feeling of having your eyes on him. Delights in watching you watch him and knowing that behind the gaze is the same feeling as the one he holds inside of himself. You consider it for a moment, and he doesn’t dare rush you, but eventually—mercifully—you nod.

Osamu inches forward slowly and wraps you in his arms. Your body relaxes into his hold instantly, and he pulls you into his lap on the tiled floor. He holds you so tightly that he’s scared he might break you, but he still can’t find it in himself to be more delicate. You cling to him anyway.

It’s the first time he’s touched you in months, but every inch of you is still known to him. Still familiar in every way that matters. You smell the same. You feel the same. You’re soft and warm just like always. Osamu buries his face into the crook of your neck, and your fingers eventually lift to play with the hair at his nape. He holds you, and holds you, and holds you more—sating a thirst that’s been building for longer than the time the two of you have been apart.

And you let him.

You hold him too, in the same way.

“If I kiss ya, you gonna cry again?” Osamu asks you quietly after a while, his lips brushing against your throat as he murmurs the words.

You snort, your fingers twisting into the material of his t-shirt at his shoulders. Osamu peels himself away from you and looks up, and finds that your faces are so close. Too close, in any other circumstance.

His palm lifts, cupping your cheek in his hand, running his thumb against the smooth skin underneath.

“Shut up, Samu,” you say, a little smile twisting up the corner of your mouth.

And Osamu happily obliges by pressing his lips to yours.

#osamu miya x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya #miya osamu #hq drabble #hq writing #writing #bff!osamu

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moistmailman · 26 days

Text

Role Swap AU

*Team PRAN (Pyrrha Ren Arc Nora (pronounced as Persian)) is visiting the arc residents during break*

Jaune: Okay, before we meet anyone in my family, just a fair warning. My mother can be……scary, so I’ve been told at least.

Pyrrha: Describe scary.

Jaune: Imagine a grizzly bear with the sentience of a battle tactician and the demeanor of a serial killer.

Pyrrha:……that’s a colorful way to describe your mother.

Jaune: Those are my father’s words.

Pyrrha:….that’s a colorful way to describe your wife.

Jaune: Just don’t let her intimidate you is all. She’ll soften up to you after a while.

Nora: How long is a while?

Jaune: Well, my father told me she first hugged me when I was around 3 so…..

Everyone:……..

Pyrrha: I-is it too late to go back to beacon?

Jaune: Yes. Look, she’s not that bad. I’m pretty sure everyone overexaggerates when they describe her. So let’s calm down.

Pyrrha: O-okay then. If you say so.

*Jaune knocks on the door*

Jaune: Oh, also try not to show weakness in front of her.

Pyrrha: What?!

Jaune: She has a keen sense of sensing weakness in people. Like a 6th sense.

Pyrrha: B-But I have a keen ability look feeble and pathetic though! She’ll single me out immediately! It’ll be like grade school again with Becky!

Jaune: Nonesense, you’ll be fine. Just calm down and relax.

Pyrrha: B-but-

*the door abruptly opens revealing a tall muscular woman that towers over Pyrrha*

Pyrrha: *audibly gulps*

Jaune’s Mother, nodding: Jaune.

Jaune, nodding back: Mother.

Jaune’s mother: Didn’t have any trouble getting here, did you?

Jaune: Nope. It was a breeze.

Jaune’s mother: *grunts*

Everyone:……

Jaune’s mother: So…..which one of you is my son’s partner in Beacon?

Everyone:……..

Jaune, awkwardly coughing: Uh…mother, this is my partner, Pyrr- Pyrrha? *Jaune turns to his right to see his partner’s absent* Pyrrha, where she go?

Ren: She’s kinda koala hugging your back and trying to hide from *looks at Mrs. Arc*….no one in particular.

Jaune, gently scooting Pyrrha towards his mother: T-this is my partner, mother.

Pyrrha, sweating nervously: H-h-hello, Mrs, Arc. I-it’s uhm….it’s nice to meet you.

Jaune’s Mother: *staring intently at Pyrrha*

Pyrrha, awkwardly: M-my name’s Pyrrha…but you already knew that since Jaune just told you it. *awkwardly chuckles*

Jaune’s mother: *still staring*

Pyrrha:……m-my last name is Nikos, by the way. I don’t think Jaune told you- *looks at Jaune* You didnt t-tell her my last name, right? Uhm, just my first name? Or did you tell her my last name too? Am I making a fool of myself ? I-I’ll just be quiet now…..

Jaune’s mother: *stares*

Pyrrha: *sweating nervously*

Jaune’s mother:…..so Jaune, how’s is this……Pyrrha of yours as a leader?

Jaune, smiling: She’s great. An amazing leader. Ozpin even say she’s naturally born to lead.

Jaune’s mother: Really, that’s a lot of praises then. I’m sure Ozpin must’ve had great reasons to choose her as a leader over an Arc then.

*the atmosphere turns abruptly violent*

Jaune, awkwardly: I-I-I’m uhm…I’m sure he did. W-wouldn’t be the headmaster of Beacon Academy if he wasn’t good at his job, right?

Jaune’s mother:….right. So, Pyrrhan-

Pyrrha: I-it’s uhm Pyrrha.

Jaune’s mother: If you and your team have been in the forest for 2 weeks, and everyone is running on 4 hours of sleep, and not having a meal in 16 hours while one of your teammates is incapacitated from an injury as you’re surrounded by Grimm, what will be your first action as a leader to get your team to safety?

Pyrrha, head spinning: Uh……c-could you maybe repeat that?

Jaune’s mom: No.

Pyrrha, awkwardly swallowing: Uh….well, I would need to know what kinda Grimm we’re dealing with firstly.

Jaune’s Mom: Oh?

Pyrrha: Y-yeah, cause different kinds grimms would need different plans on defeating them. I would also need to know who was injured and how. J-just to know who I have to fight at the moment and how severe the injury is.

Jaune’s mom:…….interesting answer.

Pyrrha: I-I answered?

Jaune’s mom: *walks into the house* You guys can come in now.

Pyrrha: D-did….did I do good?

Jaune: She’s…..reluctantly okay with your answer. Glad we managed to meet her during one of your good moods.

Pyrrha: T-this is a good mood for her?!

Jaune: Is it not obviously?

Ren: I thought she was going to turn Pyr-Pyr into a shish kebab at first. From her gaze alone honestly.

Jaune: Well she didn’t though. So this is good news. Let’s meet everyone else in the house then, okay?

*the team walks into the Arc house to be met with a tall blond man with a beard*

Jaune, nodding: Father.

Jaune’s father: Jaune. So, which one of these lucky ladies fell for your arc charm already?

Jaune, blushing madly: WILL YOU QUIT IT ALREADY?!

Jaune’s father: You’re the second eldest in the house! Saphron already gave me a grandson! When will it be your turn!? I have so much extra money to spend on grand babies!

Jaune, blushing even harder: OH MY GODS! SHUT UP ALREADY!

Pyrrha, whispering to Nora: What’s happening?

Nora: I’m not too sure but I think this is a normal occurrence for this house hold. So nothing to worry about.

Pyrrha, nodding: Oh, okay…..exactly why does he think Jaune would go for a girl like me though? Is he trying to make me feel better for the way his wife treated me?

Jaune, in mid rant: EVERYTIME I EVEN LOOK IN THE DIRECTION OF A GIRL YOURE ALWAYS THERE PLAYING MATCHMAKER FOR ME! I CANT STAND IT!

Jaune’s father: Well I’m sorry for trying to help! You should be thanking me honestly! Ungrateful!

Jaune: *groans in anger before continuing ranting*

Nora:……you know what, let’s have this conversation another time maybe. Maybe once you’ll less dense.

Pyrrha: What’s that supposed to mean?

Nora: I’ll answer that question too in the conversation we’ll have in the future when you’re less dense.

Pyrrha: O-okay.

#Rwby #pyrrha nikos #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #lie Ren #arkos #role swap au #pyrrha x jaune

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dreamwritesimagines · 1 year

Text

Garden of Secrets [16] - Ambrosia

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: There are many ways to feel better after nightmares.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of sex, slow burn, nightmares.

Word Count: 5100

Series Masterlist

But of course, after a couple of nights of complete peace, nightmares came back.

Your eyes snapped open as you gasped into your pillow, your heart pacing in your chest, the fear still making you nauseous. You sat up in bed, trying to catch your breath and wiped at the tears with shaky hands, your throat hurting as you tried to swallow the lump in it.

You were alright.

And you were definitely not in that hellhole your parents called home.

Pushing the covers off of you with a sigh, you looked around the room for a moment, your heart still beating too fast. You knew trying to go back to sleep would be futile, there was no way you could calm yourself enough to fall asleep at least until the dawn broke.

And as the clock on the wall told you, the dawn was at least three hours away.

You got up from the bed and walked to the door before pushing it open and peeking your head out. As suspected, all members of staff were in their beds so you went back into the room to light up the oil lamp, then stepped out of the room, holding it carefully so that you could see where you were going. The half open door of Benedict’s room got your attention and you squinted your eyes to see inside but there was no sound or sign of him.

Perhaps he had left to wherever Lady Whistledown said he kept going before you two got married, or perhaps to his mistresses. You tried to ignore the way the mere thought made your stomach drop, that uncomfortable bitter taste spreading over your throat but you shook your head at yourself.

You weren’t going to be that person. This marriage was a sham and he was free to do whatever he wanted.

You made your way down the hallway but before you could so much as a take a step downstairs, the light coming from the room at the end of the hall caught your eye and you tilted your head, confusion furrowing your brows because you remembered what that room was.

His studio.

Oh.

Well, it seemed that you weren’t the only one awake.

You felt almost guilty for thinking he was off to his mistresses when he was right there, apparently working on his art and you nibbled on your lip, fidgeting in your spot. He probably did not want to be disturbed but you were curious to see what exactly he was doing, not to mention you really didn’t want to be alone after your nightmare. Dragging the tip of your tongue over your bottom lip, you looked down at the dancing flame in the oil lamp before shrugging your shoulders.

If he did not want your presence, he could just tell you.

You walked across the hallway to reach the room and as soon as you did and saw him inside, your heart started beating even faster than it was before.

Of course night clothes were supposed to be more relaxed than formal attire but you were beginning to think that at this point, Benedict put on clothes merely to taunt you and send that fire through your veins. The half open shirt let you take a peek at his muscular chest, the rolled up sleeves showing off his strong arms, and the suspenders over his dark trousers was hanging down at his sides, making you gulp loudly. He was perched on the stool, his whole attention on the painting in front of him and he was completely oblivious to your presence which let you run your eyes over his figure, from his handsome face to his strong body—

And you had made innuendos and criticized Benedict’s appetite for nightly activities with his mistresses.

Hypocrisy was not a fun thing.

You rolled your shoulders back, forcing yourself to focus and cleared your throat to signal your presence, making him turn his head.

“Y/N,” he said after a beat, letting out a breath and you smiled slightly.

“Hello.”

“Hello—I didn’t even hear you, you move very quietly.”

You nodded. “Uh… yeah, it’s a childhood habit.”

He tilted his head, that small smile playing on his lips. “You and Josie used to play hide and seek?”

The nightmare flashed before your eyes and you bit inside your cheek.

“Something like that,” you said and lingered by the door, then nodded at the canvas in front of him. “Are you—is that going to be me again?”

Jesus Christ, what kind of a question was that?

Unlike you, Benedict was not fazed by your arrogant question at all, only a bit surprised but he quickly recovered.

“Not this one,” he said and pointed at the other canvas that only had the half of its background with the brush in his hand. “That one will be you.”

Your head shot up in surprise and you stole a look at him to see whether he was serious or just jesting but he looked completely genuine. You took a deep breath, willing yourself to ignore how his answer had caused a fluttering in your stomach.

“I’m only here because I’m too lazy to start a fire in any of the other rooms,” you lied through your teeth and stepped inside. “I’ll stay here a while simply for that reason but that—that means nothing.”

He repressed a smile and motioned at the room. “Of course.”

You made your way into the room to put the oil lamp on the small coffee table, then sat down on the sofa to grab a book off the table so that you could shuffle through it. Your eyes skimmed the lines and you turned the pages, frowning slightly.

“Half of these are just not good.”

Benedict let out a chuckle. “Which book are you looking at?”

“Great Artists in History,” you read the title out loud and made a face. “Debatable.”

“Which painting?”

You held up the book so that he could see the page better and he raised his brows.

“Really?” he asked. “You don’t like that one?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just think your paintings look better,” you pointed out and he looked taken aback for a moment, that soft light glimmering in his eyes even in the dim-lit room.

“You flatter me.”

“I’ve never done that Benedict,” you told him, “I speak the truth.”

His smile was gentle on his lips. “I suppose we will see if the Royal Academy of Arts share your feelings on that.”

“You want to get into the Academy?”

“If I can.”

“I think you can,” you said. “And I think around a century, you will be on one of these books and people will have no idea you doubted you were as good as these artists here— and my spirit will tell your spirit that I told you so.”

He let out a laugh. “Oh is that right?”

“Mm hm—I mean honestly…” you turned the page and held up the book again. “This man was called one of the greatest artists in history and his work looked like that and you worry about the academy?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “That man was also one of the founding members of art academy in Italy.”

You frowned and took a look at the page, then turned to him, holding onto the back of the sofa as you rested your chin on the smooth wood.

“Do you have any idea what I would do if I had half your talent?”

He tilted his head, curiosity etched in his features. “Tell me.”

“I would rule the art world,” you said. “Obviously under a male pseudonym, and I would not give anyone else a second of my time and when the academy contacted me, I would just make them beg me to attend there only to reject them.”

That coaxed out a laughter from him and you bit down a smile, then shrugged your shoulders again.

“It’s a good plan. That’s what I would do if I were you, too bad I cannot paint at all.”

“Have you tried?”

You narrowed your eyes and shook your head. “I cannot even draw anything. One time I tried to describe a certain type of rose to Josie by drawing it, and she thought it was a daisy.”

Benedict pursed his lips to contain his laughter and motioned at you.

“Come on.”

“What?”

“I’ll show you how to paint a rose,” he said and you eyed the canvas in front of him, then shook your head again.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

Your stomach churned painfully. “I’d…I’d mess it up.”

“No you won’t,” he said. “I promise you, you won’t. We’ll just try it and if you don’t like it, we will just stop.”

You bit inside your cheek, your eyes searching his. “And if it ruins your painting?”

“It will not ruin it.”

You shifted your weight before you got up from the sofa and he stood up from the stool.

“You cannot blame me if it ends up looking terrible,” your voice came out as a demand and he shook his head.

“I would never,” he assured you and you gulped down, then approached him. He held out his hand so that you could take it and he helped you to sit down, then placed the brush in your hand and went behind you.

You could feel how stiff your muscles were as your whole body tensed up, that nervousness spreading through you. You held up the brush, trying your hardest to keep your focus on the very intimidating scenery in front of you—it looked to be a house in the middle of a garden in the mountains, a beautiful landscape you would have admired if it were any other time. Benedict’s hand brushed over your wrist to level it with the canvas but your nightmare flashed before your eyes, making your hand twitch. Benedict immediately pulled his hand back.

“Sorry, I figured it’d be easier—”

“No it’s…” you paused for a moment. “It’s fine. You can hold my hand but not my wrist.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you said, your body still tense. “It’s just that uh, I broke it when I was little, it didn’t really heal right.”

Benedict hissed in a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, doesn’t hurt unless it’s really cold,” you said. “So are we going to paint or?”

“We are,” he said and his hand engulfed yours so that he could dip the brush in paint, then took it to the canvas so that he could guide your movements. His other hand rested on your waist, almost burning your flesh beneath the soft nightgown.

“Relax your hand a little,” he murmured, letting out a noise of approval when you did as he asked. “And your wrist.”

Alright, you had not thought this through.

The warmth of his body right behind you was almost pulling you into a haze along with his irresistible scent tickling your nostrils. You closed your eyes for a moment before you opened them again to see him guiding the brush in your hand over the canvas.

“And you don’t have to really press it that hard, just very slowly…” his low murmur caressed your ears and to be honest at this point, you had no idea whether you were painting a rose or a house or a goddamn planet. All you wanted was to turn around and press your lips to his, those tingles between your legs coming back with their full force, making it so hard to even think about anything else other than him but you bit at your tongue, forcing yourself to focus.

“And those are the petals right there.”

You blinked a couple of times as you gawked at the rose in the garden full of green, and let out a breath.

“Wow.”

“See? I’d plan how I’m going to rule the art world if I were you, you certainly have the talent for it.”

A giggle escaped from your lips. “No you painted that, not me.”

“You’re the one holding the brush.”

“You’re holding it with me!” you retorted and he hummed.

“Every great artist starts from somewhere,” he stated. “Do you want another one?”

You nodded fervently and he chuckled, then started guiding your hand again, making your head spin from excitement. Your heart was beating in your ears as you watched the brush strokes on the canvas, then licked at your lips.

“Benedict?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything,” he muttered and you swallowed thickly.

“Why did you…” you trailed off, stealing a look at the other canvas. “Why would you paint me?”

He dipped the brush in the paint again before guiding it back to the canvas.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he answered as if it was the simplest question in the world. “How could I not paint you?”

Your heart beat got even faster as you bit on your lip, not even aware of just how relaxed your body was while you stared at the finished rose. Your back was resting on his chest, his hand over yours and for a moment it felt so good that it almost caused you pain to pull away from him.

“I um…” you cleared your throat and slipped down to get up from the stool before putting the brush back on the table, then you turned around to look up at him. “I should go I think.”

“Alright,” his voice was low as your eyes captured his and for a moment, you could only stand there and admire his handsome face, painfully aware of just how close you two were standing. If you only pushed the stool away, you could—

You could not.

You were not going to do that.

You averted your eyes from his and stepped away from him to grab the oil lamp and he let out a breath as if trying to pull himself together. You walked to the door and offered him a curt smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” he said softly and you left the room, making your way to the end of the hallway and closed your eyes for a moment, leaning back to the wall. Your hand shot up to your chest to feel your heart pacing and you heaved a sigh, biting at your lip.

Then opened your eyes and started walking to your room, fanning yourself with your hand.

“Aw Clover, I’m so glad you decided to visit!”

You gave your aunt a big smile and handed her the lavender bouquet, and she gasped before taking them from you.

“You’re the absolute sweetest.”

“Far from it,” you said as you kissed her cheek and went to your uncle. “And don’t think I forgot bringing you a gift.”

“Oh I get flowers as well?” he asked as you pecked his cheek, then held up the small package.

“A new handkerchief for your glasses,” you said proudly, “The shop owner said these were specifically made for that purpose.”

His jaw dropped as he opened the package and pulled you into a hug.

“Thank you dearest,” he said, putting the handkerchief into his pocket. “I must admit, I’m glad you’re happy in your new home and that you live close by but we do miss you terribly all the same.”

“I miss you too!” you said as your aunt asked the maids to bring some tea and biscuits and you sat down. “Is Teddy here by the way?”

“With Josie,” your aunt said. “Apparently Andrew has bought him a pony.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“When he said he would, I didn’t take him seriously,” your uncle mused. “But apparently he was not jesting.”

You let out a laugh and shook your head.

“Unbelievable.”

“I mean who wouldn’t love Teddy though?” your aunt said. “He’s an angel.”

Your uncle nodded. “He really is,” he said. “So when are you and your husband coming for dinner?”

Your head shot up and you blinked a couple of times.

“Oh we haven’t…are you inviting us?” you asked and they exchanged glances, wearing the same smiles.

“Since when do you need an invite? It’s your house,” your aunt said as your uncle nodded.

“And you’re always welcome, but yes we are officially inviting you and Benedict for dinner sometime.”

You swallowed thickly. “I’ll ask,” you said. “I’m sure he’d love it as well.”

One of the maids came carrying a tray of tea and biscuits and your aunt tilted her head, stealing a look at your uncle who seemed to have gotten the clue because he stood up from the sofa. You thanked the maid and turned to look at him.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to go over some papers in my office,” he said. “Make sure to see me before you leave hm?”

“Of course,” you said and he kissed your aunt’s hand, making her smile before he left the drawing room.

“I really missed you,” you told your aunt and she raised her brows, still smiling.

“Did you?” she teased you. “I would have thought you didn’t have the time to miss anyone.”

A fire spread over your cheeks and you shifted your weight. Your aunt and uncle -just like the rest of Benedict’s family- were convinced that you two were having a quite busy honeymoon. Now it made sense that your uncle had left the room, because of course your aunt wanted to ask questions to make sure you were…

Content.

You made yourself busy with reaching out for your tea cup to take a sip.

“Auntie…” you whined and she let out a laugh.

“We’re both married women and we both know what I am talking about, Y/N.”

Half of you was beginning to wish that you and Benedict had consummated your marriage for the sole purpose of not feeling this uncomfortable while lying to everyone.

And the other half of you was thinking consummating your marriage would not be such a terrible idea after last night, after feeling that fire upon him just standing that close to you, his scent in your lungs, his hand over yours—

“Aw, look at you!” your aunt had apparently taken the abashed look on your face as the result of good nightly activities and you hastily put your cup on the coffee table, then took a deep breath.

“Benedict is…”

Handsome.

While you knew you couldn’t possibly say that, it still made you pause. Benedict was incredibly attractive and you certainly wasn’t the first or only lady in the ton to think that. Judging by how in demand he was among ladies before you got married -and even now, you were guessing- it was no wonder you felt this way.

But this desire was beginning to cloud your judgement.

The good news was that you hadn’t had those nightmares after you had gone to sleep last night, but the bad news was that you had had another dream that made you wake up quite breathless for a completely different reason. Just imagining him like that was enough to send those sparks through you, and you could barely look Benedict in the eye this morning because of that.

“Nice,” you ended up saying. “He’s really nice.”

“Then your first night was not unpleasant as you thought it would be?”

You nibbled on your lip and shook your head.

At least that wasn’t a lie.

“I’m glad to hear it,” she said. “Honestly, the way you two look at each other…It’s so obvious you’re madly in love.”

“No we don’t,” you paused. “We don’t look at each other like that in—in public.”

“Oh you don’t even realize it do you?” she asked. “Honey, you two look at each other like you cannot see anyone else in the room.”

Of course you two weren’t looking at each other like that. While it was true that you often felt like Benedict was the only person in the room whenever he was within your sight even in the crowd, you were certain that your aunt was talking about your pretense, nothing more.

“That’s love,” she insisted. “And it is absolutely the most beautiful feeling in the world.”

You swallowed thickly and took a sip of your tea.

“Right,” you said. “Yeah, love. It really is an interesting feeling.”

You had excused yourself right after the dinner and gone straight to your room. Not only were you so incredibly flustered by how you kept remembering your dream from last night if you so much as looked at Benedict, you were also very sleepless and in need of some rest.

And yet, all that exhaustion was apparently not enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

You jolted awake in bed, gasping for air, your eyes snapping open into moonlit room. You could feel your whole body shaking and a sob escaped from you, making you take a deep breath in hopes of calming yourself down but it was no use. You pressed your palms into your eyes as you sat up in bed, your jaw clenched so hard that it almost hurt your whole head.

That lump in your throat felt like it was growing bigger as your nightmare flashed before your eyes and you lowered your hands, trying to stop the tears by blinking fast. You pushed the covers off of you and swung your legs over the bed but the fear was rushing through your veins so fast that for a second you felt as if your legs would give in if you so much as tried to stand up. You frowned to yourself and slowly got up from bed, then shook your head at yourself.

Jesus Christ, you needed to pull yourself together.

You wiped at your eyes again and walked to fill yourself a glass of water from the jug on the table, then downed it in huge gulps. It didn’t seem to calm you down as much as you hoped you would but it was still better than nothing, so you took another deep breath and checked the clock on the wall.

Midnight.

Of course.

You lingered in your spot for a moment, biting at your lip then walked to the door to open it, then looked outside. There was no sign of any movement or light in the house, and Benedict’s door was closed so it meant he was sleeping. You stepped back into your own room and stole a look at the door connecting your room to Benedict’s, the one you kept locked. You approached it and leaned in, trying to pick up any noise but there was none.

After last night, after having seen Benedict and sharing that moment with him in the studio, you had been able to sleep without any nightmares.

You thought for a moment and cleared your throat, then before you could change your mind, you unlocked the door and knocked on it.

“Benedict?” you whispered but of course there was no answer. You tried to ignore the nervousness bubbling in your stomach and closed your eyes for a moment, let out a breath, then opened your eyes again and half opened the door.

You could make out his sleeping form in the bed under the moonlight so you licked your lips and tried again.

“Benedict!”

That seemed to have woken him up and he rubbed at his eyes.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice coming out as a rasp and he sat up in bed and just like that, your mind stopped working in an instant.

He was naked.

Well, half naked but it barely made any difference. You thought your whole face—your whole body—caught fire as your eyes raked over his muscular torso, that familiar throbbing between your legs coming back in its full force. He looked like a perfectly made sculpture, and for a moment you couldn’t hear anything because of the blood rushing in your ears, desire roaring through you.

“Are you alright?” his voice shot through the haze and you snapped back to your senses, thanking darkness for concealing your hungry gaze.

“Y-yeah, were you-” you stammered, trying to pull yourself together. “Were you sleeping?”

Great. As it turned out, seeing Benedict half naked managed to turn you into a goddamn idiot.

Benedict paused for a moment, then cleared his throat, running a hand over his eyes.

“Yeah but it’s okay,” he assured you. “What happened?”

“I was just wondering…” you gulped down and motioned at the door. “If I um—if I can keep it open for the night? Is that okay?”

“Of course,” he said. “Is everything alright?”

You leaned sideways to the doorframe and nodded. “Uh huh.”

“Did you have a nightmare?”

You paused for a moment and nodded again, biting inside your cheek.

“Yeah but I can handle them,” you said. “Anyway, I just wanted to ask that. Sorry about waking you up, I’ll just…keep it open for the night.”

“Or you could—” he said in a haste as soon as you took a step back into your room and you turned around to look at him better. “You could sleep here.”

Your heart skipped a beat, nervousness and excitement melting into each other until you had no idea what you were feeling and you pulled back slightly, your hesitation making him sit up straighter.

“Just sleep,” he added quickly. “I swear to you. Just… I don’t think you should be alone if you’re having nightmares.”

You stood there in complete silence for a couple of seconds, your thoughts like a storm in your head before you took a deep breath and licked your lips.

“Just sleep?” you asked and he nodded fervently.

“Just sleep, I promise you.”

You shifted your weight, then went back into your room to grab multiple pillows off your bed. You made them into a pile and gathered them into your arms, then made your way back into Benedict’s room, barely able to see where you were going because of the pillows in your line of sight.

“Y/N, I have pillows here,” he said, rushing to help you and you shook your head.

“No I know,” you said, trying your hardest to keep your focus on the bed as he took the pillows from you, then placed them on the bed.

Dear God, he looked so good.

“Then?”

You forced yourself to look up at him. “Huh?”

“Why are you bringing them with you?” he asked as he sat on the bed and you licked your lips, then started putting the pillows right between where you and he would be sleeping. Benedict tilted his head.

“Ah.”

“So that we…” you trailed off, still forcing yourself to keep yourself busy with the pillows and Benedict chuckled.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have the pillow counterpart of Great Wall of China on my bed,” he commented and you shrugged your shoulders, pulling back when all the pillows were placed between you.

“See? So that we don’t accidentally cross into each other’s space.”

He nodded slowly. “Would you like to put a sword there as well?” he asked with a small grin. “Like Tristan and Isolde?”

“I never really liked that story,” you answered, your whole face still on fire while you tried your hardest not to gawk at his naked torso and he hummed.

“Why?”

“I don’t like annoying protagonists.”

“They were in love.”

“Eh, it’s the same thing,” you pointed out. “Everything aside, it’s simply not realistic.”

“Well, myths aren’t exactly known for their accuracy to real life.”

“No one dies of a broken heart,” you insisted and stole a look at his muscular body, then gulped loudly. “Any—anyways, I’m going to sleep now.”

You laid down and casted a glance to the pillows which were so high that you couldn’t even see him if you wanted.

And you really, really wanted it.

You frowned, reprimanding yourself in your head and squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the bed dip on the other side as Benedict laid down as well. You stole another look at the pillow wall to your side and nibbled on your lip.

“Benedict?”

You could almost hear his smile. “Hm?”

“My aunt and uncle want us to attend dinner in their house sometime.”

“That’s nice of them. When?”

“When are you free?”

“Whenever you want me to,” he said and you licked your lips, turning in bed to run your fingernail over one of the many pillows between you.

“Thursday?”

“Of course,” he said and paused. “Oh, my mother invited us as well by the way. Whenever you want.”

“What?”

“Yeah. She reprimanded me for not telling you today.”

You frowned and sat up so that you could see him. “Reprimanded you? When exactly did she invite us?”

He gave you that charming lopsided grin. “Like three days ago—”

“Benedict!”

“We’re technically in our honeymoon,” he said, still grinning and you shot him a look. “Just let them wait before they question us about literally everything, because in case it has escaped your notice, my family tends to be quite chaotic.”

You heaved a dramatic sigh, trying not to melt at that handsome grin.

“You need to tell me these things,” you insisted and he held up his hands.

“My deepest, heartfelt apologies,” he said. “But seriously. They can wait.”

“No they cannot,” you shook your head. “Besides, I quite like your family, chaotic or not.”

A soft light glimmered in his blue gaze and you looked up at the ceiling.

“I just need to make a plan because if we go to their house for dinner, we should invite them within a week,” you said. “Same with my uncle—just clear out your schedule for dinners this week, alright?”

“As my lady wishes,” he said and for a moment it hit you just how married you two sounded but contrary to what you would expect, the thought didn’t fill you with dread. On the contrary, it sent a strange warmth through you and you frowned slightly, then took a deep breath and slipped deeper into covers. You turned a little so that you could face the pillows to your side and bit on your lip, running your fingertips over the silk pillowcase. There was some movement on the other side and for a moment you imagined him doing the same, facing you even if you two couldn’t see each other.

“Good night Y/N,” his voice was soft and a smile curled your lips, that warmth rushing through you again.

“Good night Benedict.”

Chapter 17

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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animeomegas · 1 year

Text

Kakashi and his mate taking care of Team 7, even as they age into adults, makes me soft 🥺

Sasuke turning up in the middle of the night, exhausted and with a crying baby in his arms. His daughter won’t stop crying and her little face is turning red and he doesn’t know what to do because she’s changed and fed and everything and he’s so tired and this is more stressful than any mission he’s ever done!

You dump the baby in Kakashi’s arms and tell him to take a nice relaxing night walk through the village with her (maybe avoid the nearby residential areas so your neighbours don’t start to hate you) so Sasuke can get a break from the crying. Then you wrap Sasuke in blankets, push a mug of warm tea into his shaking hands, and reassure him that he’s still a good dad and that babies do this sometimes and it isn’t his fault, it doesn’t mean he did anything wrong.

By the time Kakashi comes back with a now sleeping baby, her father is sleeping just as peacefully on your shoulder, mug still cradled in his limp hands.

Sakura putting everything she has behind the new mental health ward of the hospital, and when the official opening is in only a few days, you and Kakashi get wind that Sakura has been at the hospital for three days straight. You both go over there (like the concerned parents you technically aren’t) and cajole her into coming home with you both.

Kakashi cooks some food while you run a bath, and when that’s out of the way, you tuck her into the bed in the guest room, you leaving a kiss on her forehead and Kakashi giving her head a pat, before leaving her to sleep.

And when she stumbles out of the room 16 hours later, you have caffeine, a change of clothes and a hearty breakfast waiting for her.

Naruto’s mate ends up getting seriously injured on a mission. Despite his hatred for the role, Kakashi immediately steps up and returns temporarily to the Hokage’s role so Naruto can sit by his mate’s bedside. And you sit by him in the hospital, bringing him new clothes and food, periodically forcing him to shower, and repeating over and over again that he isn’t at fault for his mate’s injuries just because he sanctioned the mission (a discussion you had had many times with Kakashi while he had been Hokage.)

You and Kakashi take shifts with some of Naruto’s friends, organising everything so that he’s never alone, and once his partner is finally awake and on the mend, Kakashi breaks into Naruto’s house three times a week to drop Ichiraku’s and a box of cooked veg and rice, just to take the stress off Naruto as much as possible.

Sai buying a house, and for the first time in his life, it’s not a pre-furnished shinobi flat, and so he has to furnish it himself. You and Kakashi go along with him. Between you both, you manage to guide Sai through the process, advising him on everything from which sofa would be best to how many cleaning cloths he’s likely going to need.

Sai’s taste is unpredictable and seems almost entirely random, but it’s rewarding to hear his voice take on an excitable edge when you both manage to get him into the process.

And while it’s normally up to the owner of the house to throw a house warming party, you and Kakashi decide to throw one for him. It’s really quite remarkable to compare the person he was when you first met him, to the person he is now, surrounded by friends in an eclectic new home.

#kakashi #team 7 #a/b/o #omegaverse #kakashi x reader #naruto #sai #sasuke #sakura #hcs

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jjunhui · 6 months

Text

how you can look past the 2,000-odd children who have been murdered for existing the past 3 weeks, the children who have lost their parents, the 7 year old who now has to act as her siblings’ de facto mother, the little girl with her head blown off by israeli airstrikes, the father who died with his baby in his arms, the dead pregnant woman who had her baby cut out of her to save him, the doctors who are coming face to face with their dead family members as patients, the little boy with his head blown open, the hundreds trapped under rubble and presumed dead, the little girl who texted her sister that she was afraid before she died, the child with his limbs blown off by an israeli attack, the children brushing their hair before they sleep so they can look presentable when they die, the children on life support, the mothers writing their babies’ names on them so they can be identified when they die.

the families whose bloodlines have completely ended, who have ceased to exist because they have all been murdered, the children being pulled from the rubble embracing one another, the unidentified people being put in mass graves, the people being buried on top of others because they are running out of space to bury the dead, the ice cream trucks being used to preserve dead bodies, the amount of funeral prayers conducted for children daily, the father carrying pieces of his children in plastic bags, the amount of people who went to sleep with their families and woke up as the only one left… the fact that anyone could see these people as anything but that, innocent people. the fact that anyone could condemn them to a painful and torturous death, struck by weaponry, trapped under a building with no way to escape.

the fact that anyone can still say ‘israel has a right to defend itself’, and believe with everything in them that that is what is happening here, a defense of themselves against terrorism. the fact that you can see these numbers, you can see these children lying dead for themselves everywhere you look, and you can chalk it all up to ‘collateral damage’ and to ‘well, if hamas hadn’t started it…’ is insane and completely inhuman.

it’s ‘children and civilians are always off limits’ until they’re palestinian. then, somehow, when israel strikes a family home and kills everyone inside, they were just going after the bad guys. a full hospital. they were just going after the bad guys. a mosque. they were just going after the bad guys. a church. they were just going after the bad guys. they’ve spoon fed you a poorly constructed narrative that can be picked apart so easily and you’ve willingly accepted it. you can condemn all of these innocents to death because you thought they were sub human anyway.

collective punishment is fine. it’s self defense. who cares that doctors are amputating limbs without anesthetic because there is none left? who cares about the hundreds of babies who will die in about ~30 hours when the fuel reserves are gone? who cares that post traumatic stress isn’t post traumatic in gaza, it is ever present? who cares about the 50 day old twins who almost died under the rubble? who cares about the family who tried to have children for 16 years, only to succeed but for his quadruplets and wife to be killed before his babies could even take their first steps? it’s just self defense. they have that right.

evacuate every hospital is self defense. destroy ambulances is self defense. no fuel into gaza, leave babies to die is self defense. bombing malls, markets and family homes is self defense. 5,000 dead is self defense. they can admit that they care more about mass destruction than precision and you will still stand by them. it’s not an invasion, it’s not a war crime, it’s not genocide. the bad guys started it.

it’s not genocide. it’s self defense. self defense against the most harmless and the most innocent. it’s not genocide. it’s collateral damage. it’s not genocide. it’s everything but genocide, even though no other word in the dictionary can explain why these people are being meticulously and mercilessly slaughtered.

#n.txt #palestine #gaza #israel #free palestine #i’m fucking pissed #ask to tag

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hearts4hughes · 1 year

Note

prompt 16 with jack hughes pleaseee

wakeboarding - jack hughes

jack hughes x fem! reader

100 followers celly!!

warnings: swearing, light kissing

notes: i don’t know if i like how this ends, but enjoy reading!

✨: “oh yeah? well then make me.” “my pleasure.”

gif is not mine

spending my weeks at the hughes’ lake house is always the highlight of my summer. i get to hang out with my best friends, luke and quinn, and my boyfriend, jack. this is my first year attending as jack’s official girlfriend, so the taunting and teasing from quinn and luke was at an all time high.

currently, i’m outside tanning, while the boys get ready to go wakeboarding. i’ve never been a fan of any type of surfing, especially wakeboarding. i tried it once and completely embarrassed myself. then, i tried it again, and even though i did good, no one let me forget what happened the time before.

“you coming with us, babe?” jack asks, jogging up towards me and sitting down on the chair next to me. i remove my sunglasses to get a good look at him.

god, he’s so cute.

“you’re adorable, but there’s no way i’m going on that boat with you.” i raise my eyebrows, pull a loud laugh out of him.

“c’mon! we won’t make fun of you this time!” he pleads, doing a fake pout. i giggle at his ‘very convincing’ argument, running my hand through his long hair.

“very convincing and i believe you,” i respond, giving him false hope, “but, no thanks.”

he throws his head back and whines ‘y/n’, really dragging out the syllables in my name. i mock him and do the same in return and a smile starts to tug on his lips.

“it’s not going to be fun without you. you have to come.” he mumbles as his big head falls into the crook of my neck. he lays soft kisses along my jaw and finally down to the ticklish spot on my neck. i bark out a laugh, pulling him away from my neck.

“oh yeah? well then make me?” i taunt. just as the words leave my mouth, i regret saying it. jack’s eyes light up like a child’s and i know exactly what he’s going to do next.

“my pleasure.” he grins, rising to his feet. before i can protest, i’m being thrown over jack’s shoulder.

“jack!” i scream, kicking, hitting, and wiggling, doing whatever i could to be released from his hold.

“what? you said make me.” he uses my own words against me and i can hear the cockiness in his voice. jack begins walking towards the dock, where the boat is tied up. i can’t see them, but i hear quinn, luke, and trevor all laughing as jack doesn’t even struggle to carry me.

accepting my fate, i go limp, allowing jack to carefully step onto the boat. once we are fully in, he sets me down. he stares at me with a big smile as i give him nothing, but dirty looks in response. the boat starts to take off and i sit down.

“you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” luke whispers to jack, causing a hardy laugh to come out of both of them. i send them a glare as i flip them the finger and mouth ‘fuck you’.

we’ve been out on the water for about an hour, before everyone convinces me to give wakeboarding another chance.

nervously, i step into the board and steady myself. trevor puts the boat in neutral and we begin to slowly move forward. for a moment, i lose my balance and wobble, but when trevor starts to speed up, i stay perfectly balanced on the board.

“oh my god,” i exclaim, “i’m doing it!” my eyes flick between everyone in the boat, making sure they see how good i’m doing.

quinn has his phone out, recording this for evidence- like i told him to do before. luke giggles, waiting for me to wipe out, and jack watches me proudly.

“you’re doing so well, baby!” jack encourages. he wears a proud and excited smile on his face as he watches me balance on the board.

just as i’m staying completely steady, jack steps onto the boat seat. my eyes go wide, “what are you doing?!”

i don’t hear his response before he jumps off the motorboat, knocking me off the board. my head submerges in the water for a moment as my life jacket brings me to the surface again. i blink the water out of my eyes, trying to get all my senses back. when my eyes fully open, i see jack laughing his ass off.

“you dick!” i yell at him, playfully hitting him in the arm. “i was doing so well.” i pout, trying to make him feel bad.

he giggles, reaching out to grab onto me. we stay in the cold water, wrapped around each other. his cold hands cup my face and he presses our lips together. he tastes like lake water and the mint gum he was just chewing. the kiss is short, but just as i pull back, jack connects our lips once again. we ignore the whistling and cheering from the guys on the boat and continue to enjoy kissing each other.

#hearts4hughes #jack hughes #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes x reader #nhl imagine #hockey blurb #nora's writings 💐

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themultifandomgal · 9 months

Text

Tommy Shelby- Granddaughter Pt2

Pt1 Pt3

"Shhh Eloise please" I sigh bouncing my now 3 week old baby in my arms "what do you want? I've given you food, I've changed you, I've checked to see if your to warm or cold" I can feel tears starting to form, are they from frustration or are they because I'm tired? Probably both. I've barley slept since having her. I guess in normal circumstances the baby would have 2 parents present and their mother wouldn't be a 16 year old girl. I glance at the clock on the wall, it's now 4:35am. I've been awake for 24 hours now but sleep doesn't seem to be in my grasp anytime soon. She woke up crying just as I was falling asleep, not wanting to wake my dad, stepmum, or little brother up I brought Eloise downstairs "Eloise please I'm begging you to sleep" I continue to bounce the baby in my arms

"Miss Shelby?" I hear the quiet voice of one of our maids walking into the living room "is everything ok? Is the baby ok?"

"Francis I don't know what else to do" i can no longer stop the tears from falling "she won't stop crying. I've not slept. I'm a 16 year old with a baby with no husband. My dads still mad at me..."

"No love he's not mad at you. He's mad at the boy who has done this to you, left you in this situation. Why don't I sit with the baby for a couple of hours while you sleep?"

"Oh Francis I can't ask you to do that. Go back to bed"

"Miss Shelby you are not asking, I'm offering and I think you need more sleep that I do tonight" Francis gently takes Eloise from my arms and starts bouncing her

"Are you sure Francis?"

"Positive, now of you go"

"Thank you" I yawn before heading up to my room.

When I wake up, the house is quiet. Slowly I get out of bed and put my robe on then head down the stairs to the living room where I find Grace holding Eloise

"Morning" I groan sitting next to Grace "wheres dad?"

"Out with your uncles" glancing at the clock I sigh knowing I need to feed Eloise soon

"She will need feeding in a bit, she's gone nearly 4 hours without a feed"

"Ok, but while she's asleep, tell me how you are?"

"I'm fine"

"Don't do that. Remember I married your father, I know how stubborn you both are" Grace chuckles quietly

"I guess I'm tired, sore all the times fed up"

"Well you haven't left the house in 3 weeks, since this one was born"

"I'm scared what others will think, or if I see him and his new girlfriend. He will know that Eloise is his, but I know he won't want to be her father and I'm not sure I want him to be"

"Well, you do need to give him that chance, but you don't have to get married to him"

"I think dad would prefer that" just then Eloise starts to stir. I take her from Graces arms and head up to my room to feed the baby.

"Tommy you need to calm down" I hear Grace raise her voice "Charles is watching and YN is only upstairs feeding Eloise"

"He did this to her, he did this to my daughter and he"

"You don't know that he is the father"

"Grace he was bragging about bedding 'Tommy Shelby's daughter' it's got to be him"

"Tom..." Grace sighs. I run down the stairs and the negative atmosphere hits me in the face. Grace sees me and gives me a smile "YN you best come and talk to your father. I'll take Charles outside for a little bit" she picks up my 2 year old brother

"James is Eloise's father. Isn't he?" dad says sitting down with a whisky in his hands. I don't say anything to him, which must have told him everything he needed to know "damn it YN"

"What are you going to do to him?"

"Nothing, at the moment. Im giving him a chance to do the right thing and be a father to Eloise. The moment he fucks up he's dead" he takes a sip of his drink

"I don't want to marry him if that's what your getting at"

"It won't be the first time a 16 year old marries her babies father. Martha married John for fucks sake"

"But..."

"You need to go and speak to him, soon YN"

"Ok, I know I do"

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x daughter!reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine

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sleepingdeath-light · 2 months

Text

yandere hcs + overworked s/o ; poly millie & moxxie

requested by ; arcade anon (16/07/23)

fandom(s) ; helluva boss

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; millie & moxxie

outline ; “YANDERE ASKS ROUND THREE!‼️‼️

Can I ask for Yandere Millie and Moxxie team up/poly with a Stubborn, Overworked reader? Like, the job has been really ragging on em lately, and it shows, but they REFUSE to let up/take a break because "None of these fuckin nimwits know how to do the job right!" ?

-Arcade Anon”

note ; this was actually quite good fun to write as i’ve never gotten the chance to write for these two love birds before — but in that same vein, i hope this isn’t too ooc and is an enjoyable read ^^

warning(s) ; yandere!millie, yandere!moxxie, possessive and protective behaviour, referenced forcible restrainment, references to canon-typical levels of violence

despite their hectic work schedule at i.m.p, millie and moxxie are both quick to pick up on how much you’ve been run ragged by your job — but, being more than familiar with how stubborn you can be, the two resolve to give you some time to sort things out by yourself

though not without making it clear that they’re more than happy to step in on your behalf and will do so if things get bad enough — whether you want them to or not

you can dig your heels in and argue with them as much as you want, but you’re never going to convince them to drop the issue of your work schedule — nor are you ever going to be able to convince them to not use their… professional skills to take care of issues on your behalf

(they’ve killed people for just looking at you in a way that could be interpreted as disrespectful to you and your relationship… so needless to say, they’re a very protective duo)

between themselves, usually whilst dealing with marks for work, they toss around several ideas about how to make you take care of yourself — moxxie is initially much more focused on taking the pacifist of route and just arranging a meeting with your job or sitting you down and explaining their concerns as best they can, whilst millie is plotting all sorts of violent acts that span from torturing your boss into lessening your work load (if not outright killing some of your colleagues to send a message) to tying you up and forcing you to stay at home so you can finally take a fucking break

eventually, with some shockingly sound advice from blitzø (there’s a first time for everything), they settle on something in between the two extremes

(love is all about compromise, after all! just not with you this time)

one day you get home from work and your partners are sat in the living room with matching sober expressions on their face — millie is the one to greet you first, as usual, with a cuddle and a kiss as she asks you about your day, guiding you to sit on the settee whilst moxxie quickly goes and retrieves all of the materials he’d been preparing throughout the day (blitzø had rather generously given him the day off to do so — and as thankful as he is, he still dreads what he’ll be asked to do to make up for it)

they sit you down and talk through their concerns with graphs tracking your work hours and sleep schedule that mox had spent weeks making: millie’s alternating between reassurances that they both understand where you’re coming from, backing up moxxie’s statements with her typical wrath-ring charm, and lovingly telling you to shut up and listen whilst being as physically affectionate as ever, whilst moxxie is walking you through the data and (still polite as always) explaining just how necessary it is for you to take some time off

they refute every argument you have and force you (literally, millie is startlingly strong for her size and refuses to take her hands off of you until she’s sure you’re not going to bolt off) to stay and listen to reason

and they make it as clear as day that they’re not above keeping you at home by force if that’s what it takes to get you to prioritise your well-being

and, once they’ve finished with you and are absolutely certain that you intend to listen to their advice, they go and seek out your boss under the cover of night in order to sort out the problem at the source

if millie had her way they’d have just killed your boss outright and used their death as a clear-cut example about what happens to anyone who fucks with their partner

but, thankfully, she listened to moxxie’s pleas and they instead started out diplomatically (except for the whole breaking into their home and tying them up so they can’t escape thing): clearly stating their concerns, stating alternative solutions (like offering more thorough training so you don’t feel like the only competent person in a workplace full of ‘fuckin nimwits’), and making it clear that they will come back and finish the job if they don’t sort their shit out going forwards

(millie still gets her fill of violence by taking out a few armed bodyguards and wounding your boss badly — but not fatally — when they try to weasel out of giving you some time off like they demanded, so don’t worry about that)

… needless to say, you didn’t get overworked at all after that and were instead free to spend even more time showering your (at times concerningly) adoring partners with love and being smothered by their affection in return

#sleepingdeath #arcade anon #gender neutral reader #yandere x reader #yandere hcs #poly x reader #yandere poly x reader #helluva boss x reader #yandere helluva boss x reader #yandere helluva boss #millie x moxxie x reader #yandere helluva boss millie #yandere helluva boss moxxie #poly helluva boss x reader

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trickphotography2 · 5 months

Text

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 16

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 3.8k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

18+, minors DNI

Chapter 15 | Series Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 16

The thud of your steel-toed boots was loud in the near-empty Bounty Hunter’s hanger as you returned from the flight line to your office on Friday. Since the squadron was deployed, only a skeleton crew and the civilian DOD employees were in residence.

Plus, there was the odd Dagger who dropped in to chat.

Since you’d been back at work, someone had visited every day. Nat brought coffee. Bob poked his head in to chat for a few minutes. Reuben would swing by with snacks. And Javy? Javy showed up at the house with dinner.

As much as you appreciated them checking on you, it was overwhelming. And exhausting. They wanted to ensure you were okay, so you tried showing that. You didn’t want them to worry, and for that to get back to Jake. So, if that meant putting on a brave face and joking with your friends, so be it.

In the week and a half since deploying, Jake had texted you a handful of times. Though the carrier had wifi, it was still difficult to coordinate a time to talk between his long shifts, your work schedule, and the time difference. The ship was still traveling, but you were already steadily moving toward the 17-hour time difference. After waking up the first morning to a missed text, you turned your phone off silent mode and slept with it on your pillow. On Tuesday, you’d been able to trade five messages with Jake before he went to bed and while you waited for the nausea meds to kick in to start your day.

You were hoping to schedule a call with him over the weekend. No matter what time, you would make sure to be awake.

Nudging your office door open, you pressed a hand to your rumbling stomach. You’d been running late to work this morning and hadn’t had a chance to eat anything. The quality assurance guys had asked for you to be on-site with them as they walked some government contractors - including your old coworker Glen - through an inspection to ensure that contract stipulations were being met. The baby was making their dissatisfaction with your empty stomach known, and another anti-nausea pill was in your immediate future. “I know,” you sighed, walking to your desk and kicking off the heavy boots you had to wear while on the flight line. “We’re getting something soon.”

After swapping the boots for flats, you grabbed your purse and cell phone. Phones weren’t authorized on the flight line, and you’d reluctantly left it behind. Which was why seeing a missed call from Jake knocked the breath from your lungs. Tears sprang to your eyes as you clicked on the voicemail.

“Hey, darlin’. I know you’re at work, but I had a couple minutes and thought I’d try to catch you. I…uh… I hate to say this, but we’re going radio silent. I’ll call you as soon as I can. I’m sorry, darlin’. I love you.”

Quickly, you tried to call him back. It went straight to voicemail. On the off chance he could listen to the message, you cleared your throat and forced your tone to be bright. “Hey, babe. Sorry I missed you - I was out on the flight line. You know how the QA guys are about phones, and I didn’t want to get written up for a safety breach. Apple and I miss you, but we’re okay. Tell Rooster and Mav I say hi. Be safe. We love you, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

Jake smiled at you from your home screen after you ended the call, a quick picture you’d snapped of him as he woke up, hair mussed with sleep and pillow lines creasing his face. He disliked that picture but could never convince you to change it. Taking a deep breath, you forced away your tears and grabbed your purse.

Jake turned off his phone and hung his head. He’d known it was a long shot to catch you during the middle of the day, but he’d wanted to hear your voice. It was a harder transition than he’d expected, from talking to you daily to subsisting on a few texts. He missed hearing your music as you got ready in the morning, how you’d mumble in your sleep occasionally, and your commentary on his driving. He even missed finding strands of your hair all over his stuff.

He didn’t want to constantly compare his first and second marriages. Still, this deployment was definitely more brutal than any before. And it wasn’t only because of the baby.

For the first time in a long time, Jake had someone he wanted to be with at home. And who wanted to be with him. He’d never really had an issue with the lack of communication while underway before - an email or two to his sister, a couple-minute call to his mom, and stilted conversations with his first wife had been the norm - and had happily traded away his scheduled call times. But now, going radio silent was killing him. He couldn’t send you a good morning text or check on how you were feeling. There were no updates about how big the baby was getting or the doctor’s appointment he knew was coming up.

Hopefully, it was only for a few days, he thought, pushing to his feet and slowly returning from the Officer’s Lounge to the stateroom he shared with Rooster and Fritz. Mav was billeted with the other captains. Though stationed at the same base, Jake hadn’t interacted with Fritz much after returning to Lemoore, other than nodding at him when passing in the hallway of the Bounty Hunters’ hanger on his way to visit you. He, Rooster, and Mav were the odd men out on the mission. The air wings were tight-knit after training and previous deployments together, so he’d take whatever comradery he could find.

When Jake pushed the door open, Rooster was lying in his bunk, scrolling on his phone. Clocking his stormy expression, the aviator decided against teasing him about how his call went as Jake returned his phone to his assigned safe. “I’m gonna grab a coffee before heading to the ready room. Want to join?” he asked.

“I guess,“ Jake replied. They were due to a briefing on the multinational war games they were to participate in. It was good experience for them to practice flying sorties against potential combatants, especially with the additional steps the US military took to make the engagements harder for their pilots. The US military basically tied one hand behind its back during the games, pushing its aviators and sailors to think creatively when faced with potential barriers.

There is more to gain from losing than winning. The brass could use the information to devise new strategies and tactics, which was the ultimate goal of these international scrimmages. But that didn’t mean that they liked losing. While sailing to the designated site, they would devise a plan to help defeat the enemy. And Jake had been drafted to help teach those tactics.

“Fuck,” you growled, slamming your hand against the cool shower tile. Blindly, you turned the water heat down as the room spun. Over the last few days, you’d started feeling lightheaded again, something you hoped was behind you. But apparently, dizziness was expected in the second trimester of pregnancy as your blood volume increased. Hopefully, you thought, this wouldn’t land you back in the emergency department. You could only imagine how Jake would feel if that happened while he was in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

With that in mind, you slowly lowered yourself to sit in the bathtub and attempted to rest your forehead on your knees. Between your stomach and how the position made your back twinge and breasts ache, you huffed and leaned back against the tub. A stab of pain shot down your right side, and you whimpered, hands going to your belly as you stiffened. Thankfully, it faded quickly. Dr. Shearer confirmed that the pain was normal during your check-up on Thursday.

An unwelcome sob rose in your throat, and you clapped a hand to your mouth to trap it. There was nothing to cry about, you scolded yourself. The shooting pain was an unfortunate side effect of your body changing to accommodate the baby. Yes, it sucked that Jake wasn’t there to dig his thumbs into your lower back and kneed away that tension or hold you when your head spun, but tough shit. It was something you needed to get used to. As much as you wanted your husband there to hold your hand and make you feel better, billions of women got through pregnancy alone. Seventeen weeks down, twenty-three to go. Sunday - tomorrow - would mark the beginning of week 18.

And you were luckier than most. Your husband and parents were supportive, and you had a great group of friends around. Like Nat, who would be there shortly to help you go shopping now that you were officially getting to the very limits of your wardrobe. For all that she was stuck wearing a uniform at work, the aviator enjoyed clothes shopping and had promised to make it a fun day even though you were dreading it. And your coworkers were being phenomenally supportive. Even Jake’s squadron had taken to popping over to check on you. Admiral Tritz’s wife had offered support and connected you to some of the other officers’ wives.

It didn’t matter that it had been a week since hearing anything from Jake. He was busy, and so were you. This was just part of life, loving someone in the military. Hell, growing up, you’d done this. In kindergarten, your dad had been gone so much that you vividly remembered picking him up from the airport, confident that you were dreaming because Dad was home. There were so many weekend mornings that you’d woken up to your mom in front of the computer on a video call, trying to catch a few minutes with one another before he went to bed when assigned to temporary duty in another country. Your sophomore year of high school, Dad had gone on a solo remote tour to Korea for a year in exchange for orders to Florida because that’s where you wanted to go to college.

Mom had encouraged you to stay busy. That would help the time fly by. And it had, to some extent. Work was a good distraction, and you tried to keep in touch with your friends back home. But the loneliness crept in at night. You missed the casual intimacy of getting ready together in the morning, driving into work and commenting on the talk radio conversations, standing beside one another in the bathroom while brushing your teeth, and how he would make sure you were settled before turning off the light and crawling into bed beside you.

Three weeks alone in the house, and you were slowly building a new routine. You were back to cooking dinner on Sunday and making enough leftovers for the week. After forgetting to set the coffee pot the first day - that was Jake’s chore - you did it while getting a glass of water before bed. His truck became your weekend car to make sure the battery didn’t die.

Hot tears trailed down your face, and you slid under the shower spray to rinse the conditioner from your hair. You needed to get ready because Nat would be there soon. Wallowing would get you nowhere.

It took a moment to realize that your music had become a ringtone. You pulled back the curtain to see who was calling, and your heart stopped.

The last picture Jake had sent you - him in his jet, smiling behind his oxygen mask - appeared on the screen.

Quickly, you wiped your hand on the bath mat and reached for the phone, swiping to answer. “Hold on!” you said, letting the curtain fall back and turning off the water. Reluctant to stand too quickly, you ripped back the curtains and sat on the tub's rim, yanking the towel from the rack and drying your hands. Goosebumps erupted on your skin. “Just a second!”

Jake’s laugh echoed through the bathroom as you quickly tapped the speakerphone. “Take your time, darlin’.”

“I’m getting out of the shower.”

“Don’t move too fast, then. Don’t want you to slip.”

“I’m being careful,” you answered, grinning through your tears while swinging your legs out of the tub. Sniffling, you grabbed the phone and held it tightly, wanting to have him closer. “I’m here.”

“Good.” The phone beeped, signaling an incoming video call. Reluctantly, you accepted it, ensuring the camera was pointed at the ceiling. The angle allowed you to see him, hair flattened to his head and dark circles under his eyes but kept you out of frame.

“Hang on, let me put some clothes on.”

“Lemme see you first.” Mistaking the reason for your reluctance, Jake quickly added. “I’m not around anyone now. Everyone else’s already gone to bed.”

“What time is it?” you asked, trying to distract him. It had to be early, given the time difference and the way his accent was stronger with exhaustion.

“Almost 3:00AM. I wanted to call you as soon as we got the okay, but I fell asleep after my shift.” It was on the tip of your tongue to tell him to go to sleep and that you would talk to him later, but you selfishly wanted him to stay on the phone. He yawned, scrubbing a hand through his hair and blinking tiredly into the camera. “C’mon, Mama - lemme see my girls.”

Sighing, you chewed your lower lip while lifting the phone so you were in the frame. Jake’s smile dimmed as he frowned. “Hey, babe.”

“Were you crying?”

“‘M fine,” you said quickly. “How are you? How have you been?”

“Why were you cryin’, darlin’? What’s wrong?”

“‘M fine,” you repeated, blinking away the tears. “I just… I miss you.”

Jake sighed your name, brows furrowing. “I miss you too. How’ve you been? Taking care of yourself?” Nodding, you dried off your legs and slowly stood. “Sloane behaving?”

“Oliver’s been okay. Making me lightheaded and a bit achy, but other than that, we’re good.”

“Lightheaded? Did you fainted ag - ”

“I’ve been fine, Jake. Just taking it slower and making sure that I sit down when I need to. I promise,” you added, wishing he was close enough to smooth the worry lines on his forehead. “Did you get the newest sonogram picture?”

“As soon as I turned on my phone. She’s getting big.”

“As big as a bell pepper tomorrow. And apparently, they’ll start developing their hearing this week.” He smiled tiredly.

“Gonna have to make sure I spend some time talkin’ to her then. Make sure she knows her daddy’s voice.”

“Say the word and I’ll hold my phone to my stomach. He’ll probably have some good acoustics.” Chuckling, he shook his head.

“Maybe next time. Wanna talk to Mama today. And see what you look like - you didn’t send me a picture of you.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked to the vanity. “No one’s around you?”

“Officer’s lounge is empty,” he confirmed. Sighing, you covered the camera with your thumb, ignoring his grumble of discontent, and propped the phone against the mirror. With a deep breath, you dropped your hand and stepped back. Jake let out an appreciative whistle that made you blush. Scoffing, you quickly grabbed your underwear and put them on. “Slow down, gorgeous. I wanna get a look at you.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re sexy as hell.” Moaning, he shifted in his chair, hand disappearing to where you could picture him adjusting himself. “Damn, Mama. We’re gonna have to have another kid so I can enjoy you lookin’ like that in person.”

At that, you laughed and snatched up your leggings, yanking them on. “Again - ridiculous. Let’s survive our first pregnancy before talking about another one.” The stretchy material clung to your stomach, emphasizing the curve.

“Hang on, turn to the side,” Jake said, bringing the phone closer to his face. When you did, placing a hand on top of your stomach, he breathed, “Fuck.” You watched as he tapped the screen, taking a picture. “I’m the unluckiest son of a bitch. Look at you, gettin’ bigger with my baby, an’ I’m not there to take care of you.” The exhaustion on his face was mixed with a different type of hunger, making you think of the nights you woke him up with teasing touches and soft kisses. Nights where words weren’t needed, conscious enough to be lost in the dreamlike pleasure of one another.

The thought made you shift, a familiar ache appearing between your thighs. While it wasn’t the main reason you wanted your husband home, you missed him in your bed. You'd gotten used to his touch in the year you’d been together. At the slightest hint of being turned on, Jake was happy to take charge and make you cum. Your body craved the feel of his calloused fingers, his soft lips on your skin, and his weight holding you down.

And it felt like you were turned on most of the time now.

A devilish smirk crossed Jake’s mouth as he watched your nipples harden. “Cold, darlin’?”

“Not exactly.” Slowly, you dragged your fingers up your chest, lightly running your nail across your bare breast. “Miss you.” He groaned, reaching to adjust his earbud.

“From sad to horny, huh?”

“More like sad and horny,” you corrected.

“Same, darlin’. Wish I was there to take care of you the way you like.”

“Me too. It’s not the same without you. Doesn’t feel as good.” At that, his head dropped back onto the chair, and you saw his Adam’s apple bob as he let out a heavy breath.

“You’re killin’ me, Mama.” At your sharp inhale, his gaze snapped to the camera in time to see you pinching your nipple. “Fuck. Do it again.” With your lower lip between your teeth, you did as he said, whimpering at the rough feeling. Jake shifted, a pretty red flush appearing on his skin. “Tryin’ ta get me in trouble, darlin’?” he rasped.

“Never.”

“Liar.” He watched as your fingers slid into the top of your legging and underwear, tugging them down.

“Tell me to stop,” you challenged. At his silence, you pushed the material down your hips and legs, letting it pool at your feet. Stepping out of it, you picked up the phone and made your way to the bed, settling on his side. “Cat got your tongue, Hangman?”

“Just admiring the view, Mrs. Seresin,” Jake said, tongue darting out to wet his lips as you flipped the camera to show your fingers trailing down your naked body. While your breasts were easily viewable, your stomach hid your lower half. “Gonna give me a show?”

“Tell me what you want to see.”

“Wanna see my pretty - ” Jake’s eyes darted to the side, and he quickly sat up. The seductive, teasing tone was gone when he said, “Girl’s ultrasound.” His gaze tracked someone, and he nodded before looking at the camera. Quickly, you flipped the view so he could see your face.

“Someone’s there?”

“Yup. Would you send me one of the pictures?” Scrubbing a hand down your face, you moaned. Arousal hummed under your skin, and a small part of you was tempted to take care of yourself while on the call, but that would be cruel to your husband. Especially if there was another person around. As much as you loved teasing him, that was a bridge too far.

Huffing, you flipped back the covers and propped the phone on his pillow. You could smell the faintest hint of his shampoo clinging to the fabric. “Are you asking for an actual ultrasound picture or dirty pictures?” you smirked, tugging the blanket up to your chest.

“Both.”

“Anything else you’d like, Lieutenant Seresin?” His eyes darted to the side again.

“So many things, darlin’. But I’d settle for some snacks.”

“Sure. I’m running low on my snacks, too, so it’s good timing.”

“The normal ones, or are you having pregnancy cravings?” he asked, cocking his head. Jake hated that he had to ask, adding it to the running list of things he was missing.

“Well, I don’t usually crave beef jerky or yogurt-covered pretzels, so I’d say pregnancy cravings.”

“Anything else?”

“I mean, there’s been a few nights I’ve gone out for a milkshake and fries.”

“Wish I was there to make the run for you. You go to our anniversary spot?” Laughing, you nodded while sliding a hand under the covers to cradle your stomach.

“I did go to our anniversary spot. Their fries are so salty, and the ice cream machine was actually working. So this one will probably be more than happy to go twice a year for our anniversaries.”

“Once, Mama. We agreed to go to McDonald’s for our dating anniversary, not our wedding one. Wanna at least have one night where I can spoil you.”

“I believe you said you’d think about it. And you can still spoil me, but we can end the night with chicken nuggets and fries.” Jake rolled his eyes before yawning. “Babe, you should go to bed.”

“‘M fine. Wanna talk to you.”

“I need to get ready. Nat’s on her way, and we’re going shopping since I can no longer fit any of my work clothes.” His gaze softened as he frowned, thinking about how upset you’d been about that before he left.

“You okay?”

“Our credit card might not be.”

“Darlin’.” You sighed, looking away to gather your thoughts.

“I’m okay. It’s easier now since I look pregnant, and people know.”

“Good. ‘Cause you’re beautiful, Mama.” Tears pricked at your eyes, and you turned to hide your face in his pillow. Jake groaned, and you peeked to see his thumb brushing the screen as though he could touch you.

“I’m fine,” you sniffled. “I’m fine, babe.”

“Fine, beautiful, and gorgeous,” he agreed, causing you to blush. “Love you, darlin’.”

“I love you too.” You watched as he clenched his jaw to keep from yawning again and sighed. “Go back to bed, honey. Call me when you wake up.”

“Alright. Have fun with Phoenix, and buy whatever you want. Send me pictures.”

“You’re ridiculous. Goodnight.”

“Night, Mama. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

When the call disconnected, you let the phone fall. Lightly stroking your stomach, you heaved a sigh, feeling better that you’d at least spoken to your husband. “I miss Daddy,” you whispered to the baby.

And, though you knew it was your mind playing tricks on you because it was too early to feel movement, you thought you felt the slightest of flutters against your palm.

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Author's Note: This chapter fought me because, though I knew the story was going to be angsty given the premise, it still hurt to write. Definitely brought up a lot of memories of my dad deploying, and what a toll that took on the family. Snuck some personal experience into the chapter, when Darlin' was reflecting on what it's like to love someone in the military. I definitely remember being 5 years old and thinking I was dreaming coming back from the airport with Dad in the car, because he deployed to Saudi A LOT that year. And he and Mom agreed for him to take remote - when the service member gets orders but the family doesn't - to Korea when we were ready to come stateside to make sure we got to Florida. (My older sister was already in college, and Mom put her foot down about living overseas while one of her kids was in the states alone.)

Thanks for your patience with me getting this out. I'm excited for the next chapter! Hopefully I'll be able to get that one out quicker, as I'm also working on a holiday story about Jake.

Read Chapter 17

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#hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #top gun fic #top gun maverick #jake seresin #Hangman top gun #soft!Jake Seresin #hangman smut #hangman fic #D-Day fic #jake hangman seresin

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eddieschains · 7 months

Text

Maximum Security Vol. 1

a/n: this is a repost in case it’s familiar to anyone. just wanted to fix some things up. credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the eddie edit 🫶🏽

Word Count: 1.3k

TW// mentions of murder and drugs

You had one prerequisite when Eddie asked you to marry him. Quit selling. You couldn’t and wouldn’t be known as the town’s drug dealer's wife. He promised, and you believed him. You had to. He was your Eddie and he would do anything for you. He’d kill for you if he had to.

He gave his stash back to Rick the day after proposing, and cut all ties to his old clients. You finally felt like you were on the path to a normal, domestic life.

Everything was perfect for the next couple of years. You and Eddie got married in a small ceremony with your friends and family, and had welcomed a beautiful daughter. It was a dream, it was all you had hoped for ever since the day he kissed you in the woods when you were 16.

Then came the problems. Without Eddie’s side business and having a newborn baby, you were having a hard time making ends meet. Luckily, your friends were willing to watch the baby for free while you went to find small jobs throughout the week to bring in some extra cash. But, it still wasn't enough. You didn’t want to leave your friends with the burden of watching your child constantly, so you never got a full time job. Eddie worked as much as possible, but it was hard to find well paying jobs without a college degree.

Eddie said he was going to find a side job, which rightfully worried you. He assured you it was nothing illegal, and he was just going to be helping with sound and production for shows at The Hideout a few times a week.

The extra money was definitely nice. The only downside being that you now saw him less than you used to. He worked at the mechanic in the mornings, came home for dinner, and immediately left for The Hideout until around two in the morning. It honestly was starting to feel like you were a single mother, but you couldn’t tell him to stop. You still needed to survive and take care of your child, and Eddie did everything in his power to do exactly that.

It was another late night for you. Eddie had already left for a show tonight, as you were stuck dealing with a crying baby for about four hours. It was nearing one in the morning when you were finally able to get little Leila to sleep, allowing you to rest and close your eyes for the first time that night.

You weren't sure how long you had been asleep, but you knew it couldn’t have been longer than an hour before Leila was screeching again. You tried to ignore it, and let her cry herself back to sleep until you heard the rush of footsteps coming down the hallway.

“Eddie?” You question into the darkness.

“Hey, baby. Go back to sleep.” He whispers, keeping his face hidden from you as he rummages through drawers of clothes. You figure he must’ve gotten beer spilt on him again, and wanted to change before stinking up the bed. That was until you heard the hoard of sirens racing down the road as Eddie mumbles shit shit shit, throwing his clothes off as he races to the bathroom.

You stumble out of the bed, eyes still heavy with sleep as you look out the window to see multiple police cars parked in front of your driveway.

“Eddie.” You raise your voice louder. You make your way to the bathroom, banging on the door. “Eddie! What the fuck is going on?” You shout from the other side of the door.

You can hear Eddie breathing heavily, panting before responding. “Nothing! Just- just go back to sleep babe.”

Before you have the chance to question him further, your ears are met with loud banging on your front door.

“HAWKINS PD OPEN THE DOOR!” Your heart sinks to your feet. You knew you should’ve questioned Eddie further about his ‘side job’ before allowing him to continue.

“Edward Munson, I swear to fucking god!” You scream, punching the bathroom door before running to the front of the house.

As soon as you open the door, a group of cops rush inside. Looking around, and quite frankly trashing your home. You hold pressure on your knuckles as they begin to throb from the hard punch you gave the bathroom door earlier. You stand off to the side in silence, allowing the police to do whatever they’re here to do.

“Does an Edward Munson live here, ma’am?” You point them towards the bathroom he’s hiding in, and three of them rush over. You didn’t see a point in lying to them when he knew you wouldn’t allow him to get away with this anymore.

“What did he do this time? Caught selling drugs? Rip someone off? Accidentally sell to a minor?” You ask every possible question that could come to mind, but nothing could’ve prepared you for what actually came out of the officers mouth.

“Ma’am, your husband is the lead suspect in an attempted murder at The Hideout tonight.” The officer responds a bit too calmly for your liking. You clutch your chest in your hand as everything seems to go white.

You fall back into the chair by the door as the world around you seems to stop. Murder? No way. Not your Eddie. Not the man you fell in love with at 16. Not the man who told you he was going to marry you within six months of dating. Not the man who sings to you when you can’t fall asleep at night. Not the man who wakes you up with soft kisses to your cheeks. Not the man who bakes brownies for your family and friends on Sundays. Not the man who stops to help the stranger who’s car is broken down on the side of the road. Not the man who you have a child with. Not the man who flies your baby around the house like an airplane. Not the man who gives silly nicknames to everyone in his life. Not your Eddie.

Your brain goes radio silent when time seems to catch up with you again. Looking up to see him being walked to the door with his hands behind his back, the officers holding each side of his arms.

“Baby… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I didn’t do it. You have to believe me. I love you!” He rambles as you look at him with ice in your eyes. You couldn’t believe he would do this. Put himself in a situation that puts his entire life, your entire life, at risk.

You walk out to the porch as you watch them drag him into the backseat of the cop car. Watching as they drive away, you’re still stood frozen in time. You almost forgot the other officer was still in your house until he speaks up once again.

“He’s going to be placed in custody down at the station overnight until we’re able to do our interrogation. You’re more than welcome to come down and speak with the booking officer on where to go from here.” You nod. “I’m sorry.” He offers a sympathetic face, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Is Chief Hopper there?” You ask, still looking at a now empty driveway.

“He’ll be there tomorrow morning.” The officer responds.

“Can I wait to go until then? I have a baby, and I haven’t slept and-”

The officer grips your shoulder tighter, now interrupting your rambling. “Ma’am. You can come by whenever you feel like it, or not at all. It’s your choice.”

“Okay.” You sigh, feeling the tears start to creep up.

“You should get some sleep.” He cracks a soft smile, as you do the same. You shut the door behind him as he leaves, before falling to the ground and letting your cries take full force over your body.

“Not my Eddie.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #prison!eddie

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