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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 3 months

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The Danger Zone (Part 18) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.9k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY.

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Military Inaccuracies; Medical Inaccuracies; Crying; Angst; Family Drama; Deployments; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You try to adapt to life without Jake beside you anymore.

Series Master List

Master List

Dear Jake,

You probably haven’t even reached the aircraft carrier yet. You might even still be on the ground in Miramar. But I couldn’t wait. I miss you. You’ve been gone for less than five hours, and I already miss you so much. I'm not saying that to try and make you feel bad, but because it's the only thing on my mind now.

Everyone offered to take me out today to try and distract me, but I declined. I think that I just want some time to myself. I honestly don't even want to get out of bed. Maybe I’ll do some cleaning. Or who knows? Maybe I’m an accomplished knitter who hasn’t discovered her talent yet. Or maybe I’ll bake again. I don’t know.

Also, all of the tee shirts you left behind are now mine. Sorry, it’s just wife rules. You shouldn’t have married me and knocked me up if you didn’t want me to steal your stuff.

I miss you. I love you. And so does our little girl. Come home safe, Lieutenant Commander. That’s an order.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I went back to work today. Everyone tried to talk to me about you and the wedding and everything, but I just wanted to be left alone. Also, my cravings are all over the place now. And half of the stuff seems to make me throw up these days. Luckily, I still have the gum and toothbrush in my desk.

How’s everything? I assumed that you made it to the carrier by now. Or maybe you’re somewhere else entirely.

You know all of those spy movies over romanticize how sexy it is to be waiting at home for your husband to return home from some top secret mission.

It’s not sexy. It’s just annoying.

Here’s a photo of me and my bump. Don’t mind the mess in the background, I’m rearranging the whole apartment. Call it nervous organizing. It'll be cleaned up. Eventually.

She’s been a shy ever since you left. I can still feel her moving around, but even she seems to have realized that you're gone. I think that she just misses you. And I can’t blame her because I miss you too.

I love you, Jake. Come home safely.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I got the package that you bought for me. I hope that you know that if you were here, I would have given you a rerun of that time that we went to that desert concert. The one where you wouldn't remove your hands from my waist for a second. I hope that your big promotion doesn’t change how much you enjoyed it when I tied your hands up back in your truck.

Our daughter’s been moving around like crazy today ever since I played your voice for her. She doesn’t seem to be willing to kick yet, but we’ll get there in time.

I let Emma take me out today. We just took a walk around her neighborhood. Baby girl finally went to bed after that. But knowing her, she’ll wake up just in time for me to go to bed.

Here’s our photo from today. Emma took it. I can’t believe I’m going to get even bigger. You owe me a deep tissue massage on my back when you get home. And I’ll hold you to it.

We love you and miss you, Jake.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I couldn’t take it anymore. I moved in with Mav today. I thought I wanted to be alone, but I was wrong. Being alone with my thoughts just makes me sad and lonely and I don’t want our daughter to bake in that. She needs to inherit your smile and dimples, so I’m making a bigger effort to be happy.

Penny took me to get my nails done today. I got a light pink for our daughter, but now everyone’s assuming that we’re having a girl. I haven’t confirmed it because we didn’t discuss it before you left but don’t be shocked when you come home to a lot of pink.

I also started seriously researching some girl names. I never realized how many people I don’t like until I started trying to name our daughter. And you better speak up if any of the ones that I suggest are ones that have bad meanings to you.

I’m still digging through a whole bunch of lists but there’s such weird ones out there, Jake. And we cannot name our child something that would get us a look from her teachers. Or a stripper name.

I love you. Baby girl is behaving herself, but she misses you.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

To My Beautiful Wife,

I finally got a chance to check my email. We’re settled on the carrier now, but we’ve been doing a lot of drills and long briefings. I'm sorry that I haven't written earlier. Know that the two of you are always on my mind.

I’m glad you got your gift. I tried to record what I could think of for our baby girl. I don’t want her to miss anything. And I don’t want her keeping you up at night. Has she kicked yet? By my count, you’re hitting seven months in a day or two.

Thanks for sending me those photos. I put up one of the two of you from that photo shoot in my plane. Really brightens up the place. But it also reminds me of what I’m missing. Sometimes I have to take it down so I can focus.

I miss you. I miss our little girl. Every day, every hour, every second.

Try to relax. I know that everyone’s probably told you that a thousand times by now, but I don’t want you feeling stressed about me. I’m fine and I'll be home as soon as I can. Please tell me that you didn’t lift anything heavy while you were moving into Mav’s house. Or maybe it's better if you don't tell me.

And you can tell everyone about her. I don’t mind. It’s not like we could keep it a secret for much longer anyways. But make sure to mention that I was right.

And you have to tell me the worst names that you've seen on these lists. I left a list of baby names I liked in my nightstand. I'd research them when I couldn't sleep at night.

I love you and I love our daughter. I’ll try to be home soon.

Your Husband,

Jake

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I had my seven month appointment today. Baby girl is healthy and still measuring a little small. But her heartbeat is strong and I can tell that she’s going to be stubborn coming out. The doctor says that it’s only a matter of time before she starts kicking.

I hope that the ocean isn’t too rough and you can see the stars. I remember when Mav and I spent a month in Hawaii when I was a teenager. We saw the most beautiful stars there. What if we picked a star name for our daughter? Not Stella, though. That was our dog's name growing up and I can't name my daughter after a dog.

I didn’t lift anything. Mav wouldn’t let me. And neither would Bradley. They’re watching me like hawks these days. And no, I didn’t mean that as a bird joke. Also, I can’t name our daughter after a bird. I’m trying to end the family streak of joke names.

Mckeighleigh was the most ridiculous looking name I’ve seen so far. And we’re not naming our daughter Precious either. Or worse, Chastity. I don’t know how those nurses keep a straight face when they hear those names.

And your recording telling her to go to bed has come in handy lately. Though I did warn her that we’ll be discussing the fact that she only seems to listen to you about that when she comes out.

I love you so much Jake. You’ll be home soon, I know it. And we’ll be waiting for you when you do.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I can't fall asleep, so I’m writing to you instead. And no, it wasn’t our baby girl who kept me up. I’ve had the worst heartburn these days. And Tums don’t do shit. They say that means that our daughter will come out with a full head of hair. I say that I'd take a bald baby in exchange for better sleep.

My baby shower is in a few days. Next weekend. Emma and Phoenix said that it was going to be relatively small, and I hope that they stick to it. I’m not really in the mood to see a lot of people anymore.

I yelled at Bradley the other day for making an omelet with three eggs because he left an egg in the carton without a 'friend' because he left an egg alone in its row since there was an odd number of eggs. Apparently, I kept crying about it for a while, but in all honesty, I don’t really remember much of that conversation. I’m pretty sure that Bradley’s keeping his distance now. You probably would have enjoyed seeing his face.

I asked for a little box at my baby shower to put name suggestions in. I’m running out of ideas. I keep worrying that we’re going to name her something stupid.

Baby girl is growing bigger, and I can’t believe that I’m still going to get fatter. I’m struggling to grab things off of the floor now. Maverick got me one of those grabby things that old people use. You would probably find it hilarious.

I love you. I miss you. I’ll write to you tomorrow.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

“Thank you,” you told Emma as she handed you a lemonade.

Emma and Penny took you out for the day to spend some time out of Mav’s house. You were growing increasingly less interested in leaving your 'nest,' as Bradley nicknamed it, and they were trying their best to get you motivated to go out and continue to live your life.

You had done some shopping for a dress to wear to your baby shower and now the three of you were getting a snack before you’d head over to the Hard Deck for the rest of the afternoon. You chatted for a moment before you sighed, slowly got to your feet, and grabbed your purse from your chair.

“Bathroom?” Emma asked you.

“Where else?” you joked, walking off.

A few minutes later, as you were washing your hands at the sink, you looked up when another woman stepped inside the bathroom. You offered her a friendly smile before her familiarity suddenly struck you. Quickly drying your hands, you reached for your bag and turned to leave. But the woman stood directly in your path.

She had stripes of gray cutting through what appeared to be deep auburn hair. She carried herself with a sense of purpose. And an expensive handbag. She reminded you of some of the women you used to see at the country club that you worked at in college. The type who turned a blind eye when their pig husbands made some demeaning comment to the women on staff and were never seen without some kind of drink in their perfectly manicured hands.

“You know who I am?” Georgia Seresin asked softly.

You stared her down, gripping the strap of you bag tightly. Your heart was beating hard in your chest, and you could practically feel the rhythm in your ears. Taking a breath and releasing it, you tilted your chin up and narrowed your eyes at her.

“What are you doing here?” you demanded quietly, looking around the small public bathroom. No one else was in there except for the two of you. “Are you stalking me?”

“I came to California when my son didn’t respond to my letter.”

“I wonder why?” you wondered sarcastically.

“What did he tell you?”

“Everything,” you stated firmly. “Which is why I would appreciate it if you stopped acting like it was just a coincidence that you ran into me here, hundreds of miles from your home, when Jake is conveniently deployed.” You paused for a moment before repeating through gritted teeth, “Why are you here?”

“To talk to you. About my son.”

“What about your son?”

“I know that your child isn’t here yet, but when they’re born, perhaps you can understand how much pain it could cause a mother to miss out on their child’s wedding or the process of them expecting their first child. From a mother to a mother—”

“—I’m going to stop you right there.”

You tried to keep your tears of anger in as you thought about Jake’s expression when he told you about his childhood. When you thought about the pain that you could hear in his tone, that you could feel radiating off of him.

“Because a woman who calls herself a mother would never do the things that you did. You stole him from a poor girl who loved him. You lied to her, promising that you would take care of him and love him. And then you turned around and fed him to the wolves." Nostrils flaring and angry tears threatening to fall, you added, "Did you ever even tell him that you loved him?"

“Of course, we did,” she admonished.

“Did you? Did you tell him that you were proud of him? That you loved him no matter what happened?” you snapped, trying to keep your voice even. “Every night my mom told me that she loved me and that she was proud of me. How many times did you tell Jake that, Georgia? How is a child supposed to just know that if you don’t tell them?” Shaking your head as you let out a shaky breath, you turned back to her. “And just so you know, there won’t be a day where Jake doesn’t tell our child that he loves them. Not one.”

Georgia adjusted her handbag on her shoulder and pursed her lips together. Clearly, she wasn’t used to being spoken to in this manner, but you didn’t give a shit about her feelings.

“Did you come here to convince me to talk Jake into speaking to you again? To buy my baby from me? A combination of the two? Does your husband know that you’re here? Is he waiting outside?”

Georgia took another moment to compose herself from your questions. She glanced down at the rings on your finger before meeting your gaze again.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that Jake selected a woman as . . . outspoken as you,” Georgia stated, adjusting her handbag again. “No, my husband does not know that I’m here. And I’m not here to buy my grandchild. I’m here to try and get through to my son and I’ve realized that the best way to do that would be through you. The woman he married and is having a child of his own with.”

Your eyes flashed with annoyance at Georgia's words.

“I have no interest in having a relationship with you because Jake doesn’t have an interest in it.”

“There’s nothing I can do to persuade you to speak with him about me?” Georgia pressed, an edge of desperation in her tone.

“No, there’s not.”

“You would deny your child a set of grandparents?”

“I will protect my child from people who hurt their father.”

Forcing yourself to take a breath, you stared down Georgia for a moment. She looked far more pathetic than you knew she was comfortable with. Apparently, she thought that she would just waltz in, and you would agree with her without any pushback.

But she couldn't have been more wrong.

“You know, when Jake told me about his upbringing, I honestly felt a bit of sympathy for you, Georgia. Maybe you were convinced that being a rich housewife to a pathetic little man was a better life than being loved by a poor man. And I’m sure that your husband hasn’t been kind to you over the years.”

The rage flashed to the surface again as she turned away from you for a moment.

“But how could you look another woman in the eye and convince her to hand over an innocent baby to a man that you knew would be a horrible father? That you knew would hurt that baby?”

After a moment, you walked past Georgia, who did not move to block your path this time. You opened the door and strode out of there and you didn't dare look back. Trying to gather yourself, you looked up to see Emma and Penny a few steps away from you.

“Are you okay? We were getting worried," Emma questioned with clear concern.

“Fine. Let’s get going to the Hard Deck,” you stated, already turning towards the parking lot.

“What happened?” Penny asked, studying your expression. You didn’t reply and just kept marching towards the parking lot until Penny rested a hand on your shoulder, forcing you to slow down. “You’re shaking. What’s wrong?”

“Jake’s mom walked into the bathroom,” you explained quietly, looking over your shoulder.

“What?"

“She knew where you were?” Penny asked urgently, looking around with a protective stare. Wrapping her arm around your shoulders, she encouraged you forward again. “Come on, let’s get going.”

~~~~~

Maverick’s face darkened after you finished with your explanation about what happened at the mall. Grabbing his phone, he got up from the table with a serious expression.

“I’m going to make a call,” he stated firmly. “They can’t stalk you and your child. I don’t care who the hell that they think they are in Texas. That’s not going to fly out here. That’s not going to continue.”

“Who are you calling?” you asked as Maverick walked off.

“An old contact. I’ll be right back.”

Penny told you to just let Mav make the call as the remaining four of you remained seated at the table. You twisted your engagement ring around your finger nervously, sharing a look with Emma and Bradley, who sat across from you.

“She didn’t try to hurt me—”

“—Doesn’t matter,” Bradley interjected quickly. “It’s creepy and it’s over the line and it’s going to stop. Now. Just let Mav make his call. He'll handle it.”

“I know,” you sighed, holding your head in your hands. “Jake is going to freak out when I tell him.”

“You’re going to tell him right away?”

“I can’t hide it from him. It might take me some time to find the words, but I have to tell him.”

Penny hugged you to her side and rubbed your back with her hand, giving you the maternal support that you really needed in that moment. You sighed and leaned against her, desperately wishing that Jake would be home soon.

“Everything will be alright. We’re going to figure this out.”

~~~~~

Dear Jake,

I hope that everything is running smoothly where you are. And that you read this email sooner rather than later.

Penny and Emma took me to the shops yesterday and when I was trying to leave the bathroom, I ran into your mother. She came up from Texas and she told me that she wanted to talk to me about you. Said something about using me to convince you to talk to her again. I told her that I wasn’t interested in that because you weren’t interested in that. She let me leave after that.

I don’t want to stress you out or make you feel like you have to do anything when you’re so far away, but I wanted to be honest with you. Mav’s made a few calls and he seems to think that he has a solution. Don’t stress about us, just focus on your mission and coming home safely in one piece.

We love you, Jake. And we’re safe, we’re fine. And we miss you.

Love,

Your Wife

~~~~~

Folding some fresh laundry in Maverick's house a few days later, you looked up when you heard your phone buzz. An unknown number was calling you and despite your hesitation, you answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Honey.”

“Jake?” you whispered out shakily, holding a hand to your mouth. Moving to sit, you tried to calm yourself down and not just simply sob. “How are you calling me?”

“I have my ways,” Jake replied teasingly. Growing more serious, he asked, “Are you alright?”

“We’re fine, Jake.”

“I’m so sorry, Honey. She never should have been anywhere near the two of you.”

“We’re fine,” you repeated softly. “She didn’t threaten us. If anyone was threatening anyone, it was me.”

“That’s my wife,” Jake praised, causing you to smile bashfully. “But my father wasn’t there, right? It was just my mother?”

“Yeah. She said that he didn’t know that she was there, and I didn’t see him around.”

“Good. I’ll deal with them when I get home.”

“Okay.” After a moment you asked, “How much longer do you have?”

“Less than a minute. I’m sorry, Honey, I just needed to know that the two of you were okay. They thought that I was having some kind of stroke when I read your email and I managed to convince them to let me call you.”

“At least one good thing came out of the whole shitshow,” you sighed, resting a hand on your bump. “I love—”

You froze when you felt your daughter press her foot against your hand. Jake felt his heart leap into his throat when you cut yourself off and stop talking without a clear reason.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“She’s kicking,” you whispered softly.

“What?”

“Jake, she’s kicking. Our daughter is kicking!”

“She’s kicking?”

“Yes, she’s kicking,” you laughed, before your joy dimmed and tears pooled in your eyelids. Sniffling, you croaked out, “I love you so much, Jake. We love you so much.”

“I love you too. And I miss you so fucking much, Honey. And I’m so sorry that I’m not there.”

“Hangman, time’s up,” Jake heard from behind him, causing him to look over his shoulder.

“I’ve got to go, Honey,” he replied, grinding his jaw to try and stave off the tears. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Bye, Jake.”

The line went dead, and you slowly placed your phone down. Holding your hand to your mouth, you finally let out your sobs. And about a thousand emotions that you'd tried keeping in ever since Jake was forced to leave you.

Your daughter was finally kicking, but her father wasn’t here to feel her. And the thought only made you sob harder.

Back on the carrier, Jake rubbed the tears that leaked from his eyes.

He missed it. He fucking missed it. He missed his daughter kicking for the first time. He wasn’t there when his mother showed up out of nowhere and accosted you in a public bathroom. He wasn’t going to be there for your baby shower.

Jake had anticipated that deploying while you were heavily pregnant was going to be difficult. But he didn’t realize that it was going to be impossible, killing him slowly from the inside out.

“Hangman?”

“I’m coming,” Jake called back, clearing his throat. “I’m coming.”

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storiesforthemoonchild · 5 months

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My Wife | Alexia Putellas x Reader

another Alexia offering cause someone asked for wife fluff and I think Alexia is becoming my fave to write for 😅

Your eyes travel from one thing to the next in the banquet hall lined with tables, white tablecloths and pristine cutlery with name plates resting on top. Men in perfectly tailored suits with their wives standing idly beside them engage in conversations. The podium in the middle of a huge stage looks daunting to you as you imagine what you would say if you had to make a speech.

A gentle squeeze to your hand brings you back to reality. Alexia is smiling at you and suddenly there’s nothing else that exists in the room. Your eyes drop down to where your hands are clasped together, her thumb running across the back of yours removes any anxiety that lingers in you. She knows you hate these events, but you would never make her go alone.

You hate the fake smiles from people who just see her as a price tag to up their sales. You hate the form fitting outfit you wear, much preferring to be wrapped in one of her old Barcelona jerseys. You hate small talk, and even more the blatant dismissal of you from Alexia’s side. It didn’t matter though you would do it a million times over for her.

“I found our table, let’s go sit,” Alexia is composed as always. Tugging on your hand she leads you on the journey to the table that you’re sure will get interrupted.

“Alexia!” You don’t even make it a few steps into the room before she’s called. An American man who looks and sounds like one of those businessmen you see in the TV shows making his way over. You recognize him from another event. “Alexia Putellas as I live and breathe,” he says her name wrong and it makes you roll your eyes.

You feel the gentle squeeze on your hand once again, “Hola, have you been well? This is m-,” Alexia’s cute English accent is cut off by the man.

“I had a thought the other night and you immediately came to mind,” he starts.

Alexia pulls you into her side protectively. “This is my wife, (y/n).” She hated when people didn’t acknowledge you more than you did. It was always full of pride that she showed you off. She would say it like being your wife was the greatest thing in the world and your heart skipped a beat each time she did it.

“Oh, pleasure,” the man greets you with the perfect corporate smile.

You give a smile of your own. Alexia kisses your cheek, “we’re going to head to our seats. We can discuss your thoughts later.” She doesn’t wait for a response, pulling you back along as she whispers a few curses in Catalan. She looks behind at you and the frustration wipes from her face. A smile instead tugging at her lips as you send her a wink.

It happens three more times before you make it to your table. Alexia pulls out your seat, offering you a hand as you sit. Always a gentlewoman, you adored it. “You look beautiful, amor,” she tells you as she slips into her seat next to you.

“Not as beautiful as you, amor,” you give right back as a blush comes up to tint both of your cheeks. It didn't matter you had been married for a year now and together for four, Alexia’s words would always make you bashful.

A moment later you see the way her face twists up in a mix of frustration and anger, “I’m sorry about them and sorry you have to be here.”

She always felt guilty. You cup her cheek, a smile gracing your face to comfort her, “how many times do I have to tell you to stop apologizing for other people’s actions? I can handle it as long as you are by my side.”

“I’m still sorry you have to come.”

“Where else would I want to be? My wife is the player of the year,” you tease rubbing your nose up against hers playfully.

Alexia laughs, a soft kiss is placed on your lips. You loved how the two of you could make it feel like it was only you in a room. Calmness washes over both of you after the shared moment, “Te amo mucho,” she whispers, pulling away.

You hum, overly satisfied with how the moment changed your outlook on the night. Alexia never left your side. A hand always either placed in your lap or around your waist if she was showing you off. She would brag about the little wins you had at your job that was nowhere near as exciting as hers. The people would laugh along with her or send you congratulations, and you knew it was fake. Hers wasn’t though, she loved to see you win even in the smallest of ways.

If it was up to her you would be the one walking across the stage tonight to accept an award. Probably for something cheesy she made up like Wife of the Year, or Best Post-game Cuddler. Those would mean more to her than the awards she got for football. She didn’t do it for the awards, the woman simply just loved playing the game.

The night crawls on and you're served a bland meal that makes Alexia promise to take you for a burger and milkshake after. The conversations never get more enjoyable, but the endless wine does. You start to get giggly and Alexia knows you’re tipsy. She steals glances at you mid-conversations, a grin sprouting up involuntarily every time her eyes meet yours.

It’s close to the time for her award and you feel nervous as if it was you going up there. Leg bouncing impatiently until Alexia firmly grips your thigh, effectively halting your movements. “What is wrong amor?”

“I am nervous for you to go up there,” you admit shyly.

Alexia’s head tilts innocently, “do you want to come with me?”

“God no,” you respond immediately.

She gives you that annoyingly charming smirk that you hate you love so much. “I will be quick hermosa and I’ll be looking at you the whole time.”

It wasn’t a lie. She affectionately kisses your cheek and rubs her thumb across the same spot after they call her name. She reaches the podium and her eyes meet yours and don’t pull away for a moment. Not when she’s addressing all the adversity that she went through and definitely not when she dedicates the award to you. ‘I wouldn’t be the woman or footballer I am without my wife beside me’. It was the first time she got on a stage and thanked you as her wife. It felt different than girlfriend and again maybe it was just the way she says it with so much pride in her voice. You mouth out a ‘te amo’ as she finishes.

“Why are you crying?” Alexia asks with a chuckle when she finally reaches you again.

“The speech was beautiful,” you say, wiping away the few drops of tears before they can ruin your makeup.

“You’re just saying that because it was dedicated to you.”

You shrug unashamed, “probably.”

“You ready to go?” She asks, a sneaky kiss being placed just below your ear. The two of you had a habit of sneaking out of events early. You nod and she whispers, “good. I’m ready to be gifted with the real trophy now.”

You scoff as her eyes rake over your body, “such a flirt.”

“Only for you. My wife,” she beams with pride.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine

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munson-blurbs · 1 year

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eddie/wedding/tequila 🍻

Drunk Eddie is my favorite Eddie to write hehehe 💚

Warnings: alcohol consumption, Eddie is absolutely plastered, allusion to smut

WC: 989

Join my 2k followers celebration!

The band plays the final note of The Police’s “Every Little Thing She Does is Magic” and begins the opening chords of “Truly Madly Deeply.”

“Okay, let’s slow things down for all the lovebirds out there,” the lead singer croons into the mic. “Grab your sweetheart and bring ‘em onto the dance floor.”

You make your way over to your table and extend your hand. “May I have this dance?” you ask sweetly, frowning when the metalhead shakes his head. A lock of his curly brown hair comes loose from the bun at the nape of his neck. “Why not?”

“I’d love to,” Eddie slurs, taking another sip of his drink, “but ‘m married to the love of my life. I only wan’ dance with her.”

Stifling a giggle, you sit in the chair next to him and rub his back. “I know that. Because I’m your wife, Eddie.” You motion to the diamond on your ring finger and the silver band on his. “We’ve been married for two years.”

“No fuckin’ way!” he exclaims. “That’s awesome. ‘Cause you’re, like, s’fucking beautiful.” He gasps. “Holy shit, my wife is beautiful!”

The scent of tequila wafts from his breath, and you crinkle your nose. “Eds, how many shots did you and Robin do?”

Eddie whines and throws his head back. “Don’t make me do math at a party!” He rests his head on your shoulder and grabs your hand, placing it atop his scalp. “Can you give me scratches?”

You oblige, kissing just above his ear. “C’mon, puppy dog,” you tease. “Let’s get you back to the hotel room.” Starting to help him up, you spot Steve making his rounds, bow tie undone and face flushed from dancing. You send up a silent prayer that Eddie won’t attract his attention, but it must get intercepted.

“Harrington!” your husband calls out. Multiple guests turn to face you; it is a Harrington wedding, afterall. “Get over here, big boy!” He stumbles towards the groom and claps a ringed hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, buddy,” Steve says with a chuckle. “Y’havin’ a good time?”

“The best.” Eddie is fully leaning on his friend now, and you mouth Sorry in Steve’s direction. “Dude, my wife is so hot.”

You bury your head in your hands; your cheeks are burning with embarrassment. “Let’s go, Eddie,” you insist, grateful that Steve appears unfazed by the comment.

“Stevie, you ever been in love?” Eddie asks, suddenly serious. His eyes are glassy and half-lidded; it’s only a matter of time before he falls asleep.

Steve looks around at the hotel ballroom, eyebrows raised. “Uh, yeah. I just got married, like, three hours ago. You were a groomsman.”

“Shit, yeah!” Eddie sounds as though he’s receiving brand-new information. “Congrats, man. Anyway,” he presses on, ignoring you tugging on his sleeve, “I jus’ want you to know that I, Eddie Munson, am also in love. With this girl right here.” He flails his free arm around until he finds your waist and pulls you into him.

“Well, I’m, uh, happy to hear that,” Steve manages, and you shoot him another apologetic glance before dragging Eddie to the elevator and into the hotel room. You can’t turn the key fast enough.

Eddie flops onto the bed, still fully dressed in his tuxedo and shoes. You take a moment to appreciate the silence before he pipes up:

“We gotta beat Steve.”

Despite your better judgment, you respond with an incredulous, “what?”

“We gotta beat Steve,” Eddie repeats. “We got married, but now he’s married, too. So we’re not winning anymore.” He pouts for a millisecond before sitting up suddenly, steadying himself on the sheets. “We should have a baby!”

You burst out laughing. “Babe, I love you. But I am not bringing new life into this world just so you can win some imaginary competition against Steve.”

“Fine,” Eddie slumps down, defeated.

You figure that will be the end of the discussion, but you should know better at this point. You’re rifling through your suitcase for a pair of pajamas when you hear the mini fridge door open.

“What are you doing now?” you hiss.

“‘M wooing you so you’ll have my baby,” he hiccups, pulling out a small bottle of Patrón and unscrewing the cap. “I call this one the ‘wraparound.’” Eddie proceeds to drag the bottle around his head, spilling tequila everywhere. “Oopsie daisy!” He cackles like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

You pluck the half-empty bottle from his grasp and set it on the nightstand. “Eddie, get out of those clothes and Go. To. Bed.” you say through gritted teeth.

Eddie snorts. “If you wanna see me naked, you gotta take me out to dinner first.” But he obliges, sleeping as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you snuggle in next to him. He rarely drinks beyond an occasional post-work beer, so you’re glad he let loose tonight. You just wish you didn’t have to babysit him.

Eddie stirs, wrapping a tattooed arm around your waist. “My sexy lil’ wife,” he mumbles. “Prettiest girl ‘ve ever seen.” He nestles into the crook of your neck. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you, too, Eds,” you tell him, brushing the stray hair from his face and kissing his forehead. “Get some rest, okay?”

“Mhm,” he hums. “Big day tomorrow. Gotta make a baby so we can beat Harrington.”

“Yeah, okay,” you reply tersely, rolling your eyes.

But the next morning, after a cup of black coffee and two Advil, Eddie’s ushering you back into bed.

“I was serious about that baby, sweetheart,” he muses. “And not because of a contest with Steve.”

You smile, bringing your lips to his soft, plush ones. “Really?”

“Really,” he affirms, climbing on top of you and peppering your face with kisses. “But if there was a contest, we would totally be the superior couple.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

#bug's 2k celebration #eddie munson fluff #eddie x you #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things

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ohtobeleah · 9 months

Text

California Fornication //

Three — ‘Start Pretending’

Summary: Bob Floyd finds you and Hangman in a compromising position. There’s a lot more than meets the eye as to why Rooster chose his wife over you. He just hasn’t told you.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating. Love Triangle x2. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Jake Seresin xF!reader. Question ing Morality. Angst. Abusive of power in a relationship. Domestic abuse. SMUT!

Word Count: 2.9k

Author Note: First upload after my wedding. Had this idea swimming around in my brain all week.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Siren!”

It was all too much for your brain to comprehend. The man you’d been dating, the man you had begun to see a future with, the man who made you forget about all the boys who came before, was married. Bradley Bradshaw was a married man.

“Y/n—“ Bradley called after you as you made your way back to your car. Of all the days you could have parked closer, today was the day you decided to park all the way in the back row of the lot. “Would you just stop for five seconds so I can explain!”

You couldn’t begin to explain the way you felt. Betrayed, heartbroken, angry, used. Nothing really did the trick when trying to find the right adjective that perfectly described the sick bottomless pit your stomach had become as you scurried back to your car with Rooster hot on your tail. “Y/n! Please just let me explain!” Bradley begged as he caught up to you. His boots were heavy on the ground as he gripped at your wrist—turning you back to face him as he pleaded with you. “Please, just listen.”

“You know when would have been a perfect time to explain your situation, Rooster?” You hissed as you ripped your wrist from his grasp. “At the bar! The night we met!” It was damn near impossible to believe that the fact Bradley was married had never been discussed or even be divulged to you. By anyone. “Right now? I don’t wanna know, because I’m about three seconds away from getting in my car and running you down!” It’s the anger in your voice that frightens Rooster the most before he’s standing there, watching you walk away.

“We’re getting a divorce!” He shouts after you, jogging to catch up to you as you keep putting one foot in front of the other. “I don’t know what she’s doing here baby, you have to believe me.” It sounds as sincere as he can make it sound. “I never wanted you to find out like this, please—“ You pause in your stride, trying your best to keep the tears that had formed in your lower lash line from streaming down your cheeks. It’s to no avail though—they fall freely before the man who’d stolen your heart. “I swear to you, she’s nothing to me anymore.” Bradley’s voice softens as he steps a little closer all the while you step back. Keeping your distance. “I was going to tell you about it all.” He admitted through tears of his own. “About her. But it still hurts to think about it and when I’m with you Siren?” Bradley paused to soak in the way your eyes mimicked his own heartbreak. “It doesn't hurt.”

“I need to get home—“ You needed time to process the earth shattering news. “Please just let me go home, Rooster, before I have an aneurysm.”

“It doesn't hurt when I’m with you!” Bradley needed you to hear him out, so he kept talking as you walked away. He watched you dump your duffel into the backseat of your car as he spoke. “I mean it Siren, I don’t love her, I’m with you now and if I’m being perfectly honest here I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Bradley blocked you from opening your driver's side door. He said not a single word as he pulled you into him for a desperate kiss. Full of passion and love. Your lips melted with his as you tried to will yourself to be strong. But the tears kept falling.

“I need you to hear me out about this alright?” He whispered as he let your forehead rest against yours. “I promise I had every intention of telling you the truth. I told everyone not to so that I could tell you myself—I just didn’t know how and before I knew it we were official and the longer I waited the more scared I got about losing you.”

“You really mean it when you say you were getting a divorce?” You asked through wet lashes. Not sure of what to believe.

“I do.” Bradley confirmed before he was once again pulling you in for a kiss so passion filled it took the breath right out of your lungs. “I don’t settle for women who sleep with my best friend.”

“She cheated on you?” Your heart broke for the man who was currently blocking your driver's door as his arms draped over your shoulders.

“Walked in on them in the middle of it too.” You could see the memory playing out across Roosters eyes before he shook the memory from his mind. “I can’t go back to her, not when I’ve got you. So please, stay, hear me out Siren.” You let Bradley’s plea linger in the atmosphere around you before you reached up to kiss him once more for good measure.

“If you really want me to listen and you really want to lay all this out on the table—I’ll be at the Hard Deck tonight for two for one night at seven o’clock .” You explained. “I’ll book a table on the dining side, and I’ll listen.”

“I’ll be there.” Bradley smiled against your neck as he drew you in for a hug. “I’ll tell Katie to leave, I’ll tell her it’s over, completely, and I’ll be there.” Bradley Bradshaw had said that his marriage was over with enough conviction in his voice that he actually had you believing it. But as it turned out? You ended up sitting alone in a booth at the Hard Deck for two hours. And when Bradley did eventually show? He came hand in hand with his wife.

“She looks so heartbroken.” Phoenix whispered to Bob as they watched you stand from the now empty booth they’d seen you sitting alone at for the past two hours. They’d tried their best to sit with you, but you insisted you were fine.

You’d seen Bradley walk in, and within a millisecond your heart shattered into a million pieces. It was all the explanation you needed, seeing Rooster with his wife. Things were over between you. He’d chosen her. Why? Why her?

“We should—“

“We should really stay out of whatever mess this is Nix.” Bob sighed as he watched you push past the crowd and exit from the same door Rooster and his estranged wife had just come through. “Something tells me this is gonna get messy and I can’t afford to be picking and choosing sides when I entrust my life to you guys for work.”

“He’s an idiot—“ Phoenix shook her head as she took a sip of her beer, eyeing off the woman who’d destroyed her own marriage and a friendship that she once thought was unbreakable. “For going back to her.”

“Love makes you do crazy things—“ Bob replied as he caught Rooster looking around the Hard Deck while Katie spoke with Fanboy. He was looking for you. “Crazy, stupid things.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Oh my god—!” Jake Seresin couldn’t have been buried any deeper inside you if he tried. “Fucking hell you’re so tight.” He moaned into the juncture of your neck as he bucked his hips into you. The two of you had switched positions—you were now the one sitting on the bathroom countertop with your legs wrapped around Jake's waist. “Why’d Bradshaw let you go huh? Tightest little pussy I’ve ever been up in.” It felt so wrong but oh so right at the same time—like you were made for him and only him.

“Did you say that to Rooster's wife too?” You teased as Jake sucked perfect pressure against your pulse point. The two of you could be compromised by anyone at any moment. The unisex bathroom the pair of you were in was one of two.

“Oh you’ve got a mean streak don’t you?” Jake smirked as his hand moved from your hip to your throat. Applying a little pressure. “And no, his dirty little mistress is a better fuck.” It sent shivers down your exposed spine. “Wanna get outta here? Come back to mine?”

“Not until you finish what you started here first.” You could feel it coming, swirling around your core, the build up of pressure so intense it was damn near electric. “I’m so close—“

“Oh don’t you worry a pretty little hair on that head of yours, Siren.” Jake snarled as he picked up and pace and pulled your hair back just enough to expose your neck for him to mark up. “I’m gonna get you exactly where you wanna go.” He was so cocky, so sure of himself it was almost infuriating. “Touch yourself for me.” But yet here you were, doing exactly as you were told as Jake fucked deep into you with everything he had. Throbbing inside your velvet walls. “That’s it Siren, look at you.” He teased as you moaned and whimpered for more. “Tell me what you want—“

“I wanna cum!” You cried as Jake chuckled with a devilish smirk that made your core ignite with lust and need. “Please—“

“I ain’t stopping you darlin.” Jake kissed your lips harshly to stop the drool that was nearly dripping out of you. “You wanna cum all over my dick then go ahead and do it, I’m sure Rooster won’t mind.” Oh but he would mind, that you both knew. Which is what made this all the more exhilarating. “Or maybe he’ll try to kill me.”

“Oh fuck!!” You were so close, your high was right there. “Jake! Fuck yes I’m gonna cum—“ He was right behind you, fucking into your until he was nearly seeing stars. “Don’t stop!”

“Ohhh god I’m right with you—“ Through a mix of moans and grunts and a need to get each other off, neither you nor Jake heard the knob of the bathroom door creek open to reveal an unsuspecting Robert Floyd. He stood there dumbfounded and shocked to no end, watching as your eyes rolled into the back of your head as it hit the mirror behind you. Your chest was perky and exposed. Jake's face was buried in your chest and he hooked his arms around the small of your waist and spilled his load inside you. Stilling with a grunt of pure ecstasy as he came with you. “Fuck.”

“Are you kidding me?” Bob thought he was speechless, but as it turned out he had a thing or two to say. Jake turned his head in the direction of where Bob's voice had come from as he entered the bathroom and locked the door behind himself. “Are you certifiably insane!?”

“What can I say Floyd.” Jake smirked as he pulled out of you and stuffed himself back into his jeans. You hopped down on the counter, leaking with Jake's load, searching for your clothes behind him. Completely mortified that Bob had seen you so exposed. “Bradshaw has an exquisite taste in women.”

“I really did feel bad for you, you know.” Bob did his best to ignore Jake's comment as he turned his attention to where you were getting dressed. “We all did, because we should have told you.” He tried to hold his tongue as he bit the inside of his cheeks. But it was coming out regardless. Bob needed to say it. “But you know what Jake did and yet here you are, so don’t come crawling to anybody for sympathy when Rooster finds out about this.”

“Last time I checked Bob—“ Jake puffed his chest a little as he took a step closer to where Bob stood. “Roosters happily married, so Siren here is free to fuck whoever she damn pleases.” Jake reminded the usually meek WSO. “But if you wanna be the one to tell Bradley about this then by all means, have at it.” Jake paused as the two men came face to face, toe to toe. “But make sure you’re ready to duck the second you taddle, he puts his weight behind those punches, and I don’t think those weak ass glasses would withstand a shot like that.”

“Jake—“ You broke the tension with a gentle hand to the small of Jake's waist. “Let’s just get out of here yeah?” You reminded him softly as Bob held his stare. Disappointed beyond belief that you would go anywhere near Jake Seresin. “Let’s just go.”

“Don’t let Penny hear you disrespect a lady like that.” Jake smirked to himself as he fixed his shirt. “She might just make you pay for a round.” Jake reached for your hand as he opened the Bathroom door. “Good to see you again Bob.” It wasn’t long after Jake had the final word that he was pulling you out of the bathroom, past the rest of the Daggers who didn’t know what to think seeing the two of you rush out of the Hard Deck together and out into the carpark.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me like that, you know.” You broke to silence as Jake opened up the passenger side door of his Ford F150, offering you a hand up that you so graciously accepted. “I can look after myself.”

“It’s nothing—“ Jake insisted as he leaned in to kiss you, soaking up the fact all eyes were on the pair of you through the window. From Phoenix to Coyote who all knew this was going to end as badly as it did the last time. “Us dirty mistresses gotta stick together.”

You hardly knew this man yet he was so endearing. The thought of getting to know Jake made you crave his attention all that much more. But you knew what this was—a fling, a rebound, a wrong turn if you will. Because Jake loved Katie and you were still pretty positive that you loved Bradley.

“To the dirty mistress' clubhouse.” You smiled as Jake beamed at you. “Hope you have a nice bedroom.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“No no no no I don’t think you understand what I’m saying to you Kate.” Bradley hissed as he paced back and forth in his living room. His handles fell to his hips in frustration and he burnt track marks into his carpet. “It’s over, we’re done, I don’t love you enough to want to put the work in!” It was all falling on deaf ears, Bradley’s pleas, his feelings. “I can’t be with someone who broke my heart the way you did.” All Bradley had ever wanted was what his parents had.

“You want to file for divorce Rooster, that’s fine.” Katie Beadshaw had another name before she met Rooster. Her maiden name was Katherine Ferguson. To those in uniform ‘Ferguson’ carried a title like no other and right now, it was Katie’s only okay to keep her husband in a marriage she ruined. “But just take a look at these first.” Katie pulled a handful of papers from her purse. They held a weight like no other. A power Bradley couldn’t fight.

“What are these?” Rooster snatched the slightly crumpled papers from his wife’s hand. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he saw what they were. “You’re kidding right? You can’t be serious! This is insane!!”

“Signed by daddy dearest himself.” Katie smirked as she stepped closer to Bradley, just so she could walk her fingers up his heaving chest. “I’m sure Siren would be thrilled to be presented with dishonorable discharge papers signed by the chief of Navy himself.” Bradley never thought the woman he married could be so cold, so cruel, so dangerous. “But hey, go ahead and divorce me, because I’d love to watch her world burn down to the ground and take you for every cent you’re worth.” Katie snickered all the while Bradley tore the papers up. “S’okay, they weren’t the real ones honey.”

“You vicious little bitch.” Bradley spat as he stepped away and ran his hand frustratedly through his sandy locks. “What do you want from me! You slept with my best friend! You broke my fucking heart Kate and now you’re blackmailing the me!? Threatening the girl who actually gives enough of a shit about me? For what huh?” Rooster felt like he couldn’t breathe, he was meant ro be with you at the Hard Deck, explaining everything—how exactly was he supposed to explain this.

“I want you back.” Katie cooed and all Bradley did was scoff. “You aren’t going to tell her about any of this either.” He followed through. “Because if you do I’ll make sure her career ends before she even knows what it’s like to be loved by you.”

“I DON'T LOVE YOU!” Bradley shouted, he couldn’t have been more clear if he tried to be before Katie’s open palm made a stinging connection against his cheek. He stood there in shock, never once had Bradley ever hit a woman but fuck this would definitely be the closest he’d gotten.

“Well you better start pretending!” Katie hissed. “Because I’m not going anywhere.” Within a second of her fit of rage and need for utter control, Katie was smiling, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to the same cheek she’d just slapped.

“Dinner at the Hard Deck baby, my treat.” Not sure what to do, Bradley nodded silently as he swallowed a heavy lump in his throat. Realising that he’d just found himself in a webb his wife had spun to keep him, and realising soon after that he’d just lost the best thing that has ever happened to him.

You.

Because there wasn’t a chance in hell you’d ever forgive him, or believe him now.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

#california fornication #bradley bradshaw #Jake Seresin #maverick top gun #top gun fanfic #top gun x reader #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradsaw x reader #jake seresin x f!reader #Bradley bradshaw x f!reader #jake seresin smut #bradley bradshaw angst

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ipseitydelrey · 3 months

Note

Could you maybe do a fic about Carmy and the reader where they dated all through high school and carmy asked the reader to marry him and she says no bc she doesn’t want to hold him back from going to NYC ?

THIS TOOK SO LONG IM SORRY

as they go by ☆ c. berzatto

ship carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings angst with an ambiguous ending (sorry babes <3), slight manipulation?, a hell of a lot of arguing, possible break-up (choice is yours), not beta-read

word count 1.5k

summary initially, you were fine with having a long-distance relationship with carmy while he was in new york city. after all, you’re just his girlfriend; you were happy with that, and that’s how you want it to stay when he’s gone.

a/n this took so insanely and unnecessarily long and i am so sorry for postponing this fic. took a while and it was difficult to write, but i felt determined to finish this. disclaimer: not my best work but i legit tried

The proposal came as a shock. You were sure it had been many seconds, maybe even a minute or two since Carmy had uttered the words “Will you marry me?” as if it was a common phrase, thrown out into the open.

To be fair, you both did discuss the possibility of marriage in the future. But you were naïve high schoolers, merely seventeen and blind to the problems you’d have to face in your personal and shared lives.

You weren’t annoyed or angry that Carmy had gotten the opportunity in New York City; on the contrary, you were happy. It’s a great thing for his career in the culinary world, and seeing him be so excited about the prospect made you feel so proud to see how far he had come.

Granted, maintaining your relationship while he was in New York and you stayed in Illinois would be hard. You told him to expect a lot of phone and video calls, as well as a bombardment of messages, but you didn’t know at the time that he would be gone for a year at least. Still, you both agreed to try.

You could handle being a long-distance girlfriend, but being a long-distance wife?

“I don’t know,” you default to as no other words could come to mind.

Carmy looks at you confused. “You don’t know?” he parrots. “What do you mean?”

You open your mouth, but no words come out.; you don’t even know why you couldn’t just say a simple “yes” or “no.” It’s hard to look him in the eyes, especially when an argument is now inevitable, so you keep your eyes glued to your fidgeting hands in your lap.

“Well, um,” you stammer, struggling to find your verbal footing, “I don’t…wanna move to New York.”

Although you only see a blurred version of him through your peripheral vision, Carmy nods slightly and purses his lips. “I know that already.”

You sigh softly, thinking of what to say next. “I’m comfortable here — I like it in Chicago. It’s just…I don’t know if we can make a long distance thing work if we’re married. I’d be busy and I’m sure you would be too, I don’t know how we would be able to see each other in person if our schedules are so full.”

He sighs; you don’t know if this is actually how he feels, but you swear that he’s annoyed that you didn’t say yes. “Is that it? Y’know, I can just stay here if it worries you—”

“No,” you’re quick to cut him off as you snap your head to look at him. “I don’t want you to give up on an amazing opportunity just because of me.”

“There’s other Michelin star restaurants in Chicago,” he reasons. “I can apply to one of them and stay here.”

“But New York!” You didn’t mean to say it that harshly, so you breathe and try to regain your composure. “I don’t know why you would want to give up being a chef in New York just for me.”

Carmy buries his face in his hands, but his mouth is still exposed. “I’m not…giving it up; I’m just relocating, that’s all. Why are you trying to put my career ahead of you?”

You scoff at the notion. “I’m not.”

“But you are,” he counters exasperatingly. “Why?”

Your lips form a line and you look down. The words are hard to conjure, but they come eventually. “You’ve just loved to cook for so long…and now you have a really good offer and I want you to take it.”

“I’ve loved you for longer.” You can’t really argue when it’s kind of the truth. But then again, he’s always had a interest in cooking — and you’re sure that he developed an interest in you after that.

Knowing that you won’t win this portion of the argument, you sigh, and try to change the topic…sort of. “There’s also another thing,” you mention, and he looks at you again. “I don’t think I’m ready for that sort of thing.”

His tone has a tinge of frustration. “You mean marriage?” he asks sarcastically.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” You’re starting to grow annoyed at his stubbornness; of course you knew he could get like this, but he’s really not letting this conversation go for another day. “You know I didn’t mean like that.”

“Well it’s the implication.” The hell does implication have to do with anything right now? “You’re saying it like it isn’t important for our relationship.”

“You couldn’t have waited until you got back from New York to pop the question?”

“I’ve waited and I’m impatient.”

“Carmen.” The nickname is no longer effective. It’s clear to him now that you’re genuinely pissed with him and have had it. “You’re not listening to me; I’m not ready. Please drop it.”

“Last time we talked about this, you were excited,” he says. “What changed?”

“Well, for one, age,” you retort. “We were, what, seventeen? It’s just teenage talk, and we were too young to be thinking about marriage already.”

You tiredly sigh, looking down at your hands again. “There’s more, isn’t there?” He doesn’t ask it like a question, but instead he says it like a statement for you to confirm.

Hesitantly, you nod. “Just— I’m not ready now, but that doesn’t really mean that I don’t want to get married ever,” you try to grasp at any rational explanation you can, struggling to try to explain why. “If you loved me, then you’d wait, y’know.”

Your eyes shoot wide at the realization of what just slipped out of your lips; did you really just say that? It sounds as if Carmy is thinking that exact same question. “I didn’t mean—”

“You think I don’t love you?” His voice carries a sliver of anger and insecurity as he asks that.

“No, Carm—”

Your words force him to look away from you, his brows furrowed and his nose scrunched. He breathes once through his nose deeply before abruptly getting up from the couch and making a beeline towards the bedroom. Worried, you follow his path and find him harshly opening the closet door and pulling out an old suitcase.

You stand there, a few feet away from him, realizing what he’s doing. “Carmy—”

“You want me to drop it, I’m dropping it.” He doesn’t even so much as glance at you as he tosses the suitcase on the bed and starts to grabs his clothes. “You want me to go to New York, I’m taking the fucking offer. I know you don’t want me here anymore; that’s fine.”

“That’s not true.”

The way he packs is haphazard, rushed and angry; much like how he tends to cook when he gets too emotional. He doesn’t even take the time to fold some of the clothes, opting to instead stuff them in and hope they fit well enough to get the zipper closed. “You have all these excuses and you keep delaying it. It’s clear — you’re fine with marriage, but not with marrying me. You keep saying that you’re not ready, but you’re just too scared to say no. And now I have to do it for you.”

He does manage to close the suitcase and he’s fast to collect it and move past you. “Carm, please,” you turn to follow him, the initial annoyance from earlier flowing out of your body and being replaced with some sort of anxiety bubbling up in your stomach. “Let’s talk about this.”

“We did.” He’s white-knuckling the handle of the bag and he looks at you for only a second. You see a flash of anger, disappointment, and something else you can’t quite put your finger on in his eyes. He unlocks the front door.

“Carmen—”

And you’re interrupted by the abrupt slam of the door closing and the absence of him. Just like that, he’s gone; not even giving you a chance to change his mind or even explain what he means to you — what he meant to you.

You’re supposed to cry, but you can’t even try to force any tears out. You’re just numb and bewildered at how fast the situation unfolded.

You consider for a moment about chasing him like the end of an early 2000’s romcom, but you know that this isn’t like a movie. This isn’t fiction, it’s reality; he wouldn’t just accept you back into his arms like nothing happened, he’d be bitter and loathsome, even more so than he usually is.

You’re not sad. You can’t bring yourself to be sad over him, especially when he couldn’t try to understand how you felt. No, you’re…angry? Would that even be the right word for how you feel now that he’s gone?

You don’t need to think about that; you don’t want to right now. Instead, you drag yourself back to the couch where this all started and you fall onto its cushions, tired of him and tired of this.

The next step to take isn’t clear to you at the moment. You could call Carmy, you could wait, or you could not speak to him ever again. The choice is yours to make, but you don’t want to choose right now. Your eyelids grow heavy, and so you let yourself fall into a cold sleep.

would y’all want a part 2 or not? i’d only write it if y’all wanted it.

#✩ ⊹˖ ꒰ carmy ꒱ ୨🎧୧ #the bear #the bear x you #the bear x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #jeremy allen white

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enthusiasticharry · 1 year

Text

the one where YN is a rising star in 1940's Hollywood, and Harry sets his eyes on her even though she's married.

author's note: two posts in two weeks? who am i? so thankful for all of the love on Desire i'm so glad you enjoyed it, and i hope you enjoy Glitz and Glamour just as much. posts are probably going to slow down again (very sorry just have a lot on plate going back to work, ugh) but imma promise that i'm not going to be gone for long, and there may even be a new series in the works ;) love ya lots!

word count: 10k of glitz, glamour, smut, fluff, angst and everything in between. (don't forget harry being a sexy rock star)

let me know what you think of Glitz and Glamour here! mwah <3

Hollywood, 1946

“I told you, Marshall, I’m not doing it.”

YN sat in her husband’s office; the pinstripe pencil skirt suit she had on giving her a sense of confidence to say what she really wants to in front of her husband. It wasn’t that she was usually a pushover in front of her husband – but his power scared her.

YN had met Marshall Miller when she was twenty-one, and she had just moved to Hollywood with nothing but a small suitcase full of all her personal belongings and a dream on her shoulders. It was at a scouting audition that she’d first met him, and YN knew that there were two things that were working on her side. The first was that she had a strive and a power to be the best actress that she could ever be, and the other was that she knew how to have men in the palm of her hand.

From being cast in her first film that day (even if it was only a minor role) she had Marshall Miller in the palm of her hand and she was holding on tight. She was in three more Marshall Miller films across the next three months, and in the fourth month of living in Hollywood she was married to one of the most influential directors in the business.

Obviously, YN had never planned for her marriage to be a business move (it was from her opinion, she didn’t know about Marshall), but she had to roll with the punches that this town gave her. She knew she would never love Marshall, but she couldn’t lie and tell herself that she didn’t appreciate the opportunities that he bestowed upon her.

That included this one – the first time that she was going to be a leading lady in a film that wasn’t just the wife of an important male lead. However, things weren’t exactly working to her plan when she received a revised version of the script which included a slightly more sexual scene (fine, whatever) but that also included her being nude.

This was the one thing that she had discussed with Marshall when she was first scouted – that she would do everything that she asked to, but she wouldn’t get nude in any scene she did. That would change the game for her acting – any last hopes for her to be known as an acting force in this life would be out of the window and she would be renamed as a ‘sex-symbol’ which wasn’t the life that she was looking for.

“I’m sorry, YN but you don’t have a choice.”

“I do have a choice, Marshall,” YN stood her ground, leaning forward in her chair and tapping her red-painted nails on top of his desk, “This is my body, Marshall, and I don’t want it recorded for everyone to see.”

“I think you’re forgetting something, YN,” He leans back in his chair and sparks up a cigarette, a look on his face that scares her and angers her all at the same time, “We’re married, you signed a contract to these studios – I own your body and what we want you to do with it.”

YN didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know whether to scream, cry or laugh her way out of the room. Instead, she stood up and spat, “Fuck you, Marshall,” at him and stormed out of the room.

There was no way in fuck that she was going back to work right now, and there was equally no way that she was going home where she may have to deal with the backlash of her actions towards her husband today – so she went to the next best place.

YN had found out about the bar that she had just walked into through some of the girls at the studio. It was a bar that many of the elite in Hollywood came to, mainly because it was underground and normally anything that happened there was kept under wraps by everybody there. It was an amazing bar, and YN loved it so much. She also knows that Marshall knows nothing about the bar, so she was completely safe.

Walking towards her normal seat at the bar, she sees that her favourite bartender in the entire world wiping a glass behind the bar. Once Bruno saw her, he beamed a smile in her direction and motioned for her to sit down. He immediately started making her a Manhattan, her favourite drink, and giving her an extra cherry because he knows she loves them.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, darling,” Bruno leans against the bar with a smile on his face, watching as she probably took a larger-than-ladylike gulp of her drink, “Rough day?”

“You know it,” She smiled at him as she slipped one of cherries off the stick and placed it into her mouth, “Thanks for this, Bruno.”

“Anytime, darling.”

To the watching eye, it would’ve been a sad sight to see YN sat by herself having multiple drinks, but it was what she needed. She didn’t know what she was going to go home to tonight and in the few months that she had been married to Marshall she knew that she could be walking into anything.

The last time that she had dared stand up in front of Marshall was a few weeks into her marriage to him, and it had ended up with him smacking her across the face. She didn’t know whether it was because he didn’t know what he signed up for when marrying her and thought that she was just going to be this perfect little wife that took everything that he said with a smile. That wasn’t the case, and YN really received the brunt of that.

That was the only singular time that Marshall had laid his hands on YN, but that was mainly because YN was strategic the next times that she said anything and made sure that she had an escape route planned so that she wouldn’t have to deal with anything like that again. Knowing that if she hadn’t left that office when she did, she would probably have had to endure something that scares her to death – but these were the games that she had to play.

YN didn’t know how long that she had been sat at the bar, but she knew that she had downed three Manhattan’s and Bruno was just placing down her fourth. She smiled at him, but he seemed to linger.

“What is it, Bruno?”

“You seem to have an admirer, Mrs. Miller.”

YN was confused by his words, but she knew that he obviously meant something. What YN didn’t expect was for probably the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her life. He was wearing a pinstripe suit, similar to her own but it was white and grey. His hat rested on the table next to him, and he had a drink which she could guess was whiskey in his hands. The second that he lifted up his drink to his lips, never breaking eye contact with her so she had to.

The second she looked away YN felt a heat rising right up her body. She pressed her hand up to the back of her neck, hoping that her hands were cool enough to spread through her body.

YN knew that she could attract men, but the circle that she was now in (especially being married to Marshall) meant that men sort of avoided her at all costs. However, right now Marshall was nowhere to be seen and every though she was in a place where some people she knows would be, there weren’t any here now. Even though that she could have some fun, she still had to remember that she was married.

That was a little bit difficult when she realised that he was no longer across the room from her but actually stood right next to her. Bruno looked at her once with wide eyes before turning to the stranger that had just invited himself to sit next to her.

“Another drink, Mr. Styles?”

“Please,” He nodded his head, placing his now empty glass on the bar in front of them, “And another one for the lady, on me.”

YN hadn’t notice that she had finished her drink, but once she had placed it down and took one fleeting glance in the stranger’s direction, she found herself heating up all over. She had definitely not expected a British accent. Even though she had quite a few drinks, she wasn’t drunk – maybe just a little tipsy.

“That really isn’t necessary, sir,” She placed her glass down, offered him a small smile and shook her head slightly.

“I think it is,” He nodded, “A beautiful girl shouldn’t be sat alone, paying for her own drinks.”

“Well…” YN had no idea what to say, and that wasn’t a state that she found herself in a lot, “Thank you, sir.”

“No problem,” As he leaned on the bar, turning on his side slightly so that he was looking directly at her she couldn’t help but look, even though every rational part of her brain was telling her not to, “It’s the least I can do.”

When both of their drinks were placed down in front of them, YN made it pretty obvious that she was married by picking up her drink that had her rings on it, and they weren’t rings that anyone could miss. It was Marshall’s second marriage, but he wasn’t sparing any expenses on his much younger bride.

YN watched his face as he realised, a light scoff of a laugh escaping his lips as he picked up his own drink.

“That’s a lovely rock you’ve got on your finger there.”

“Oh,” She extended her hand out in front of her, “This old thing?”

He laughed at her attempt at a joke (which seemed to work) and she couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. The way his face lifted when he laughed, and the dimples that he showed, and don’t even get her started on his hair.

“I must say, I am a little surprised to see a married lady in here without her husband to accompany her.”

“What’s to say he isn’t here? Or that I’m not waiting for him to come?”

“If you are waiting for him, he’s an asshole for making you wait forty minutes.”

The stranger had caught her there, but she made sure that her face was set so that he couldn’t see that he had shocked her.

“Oh, so you have been stalking me now, sir?”

“No, I wouldn’t say stalking,” He laughed, running a hand through his bouncy curls, “More so that I can admire beauty when I see it.”

YN couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t enjoying the attention that she was receiving – because she very much was. This were the years that she was supposed to be in her prime, and the second that this handsome stranger took one look at her she should have had him in the palm of her hand. That wasn’t the case, as she always had Marshall lingering in the back of her mind.

Even though she knew that Marshall had been unfaithful to her (He was a director in Hollywood, for Christ’s sake) she didn’t know whether she could stoop to that level. There was also the slight issue of what Marshall would do to her, and the other person that was involved. There were so many moving parts to a marriage that was a business action, YN had quickly noticed.

“Anyway, who is this husband of yours? The one who doesn’t even come out for a drink with his wife?”

YN scoffed, slightly taken aback by audacity of this man to ask such a question when he hadn’t even told her his name, “Why would you like to know?”

“Maybe I know him,” He shrugs, “Know a lot of people around her, and I also wouldn’t be opposed to telling him how he’s supposed to treat a beauty like yourself.”

YN couldn’t believe what she is hearing, “Sir, what makes you think I’m just going to tell you my husband’s name and I don’t even know yours.”

“Harry Styles,” He holds his hand out for her, which she accepts with her ring clad hand.

“YN Miller.”

“Miller, that’s right,” He laughs, “I knew I recognised you. I do know who your husband is, Marshall Miller.”

Well, shit. That didn’t exactly go the way she planned, but at the end of the day everyone knew about her and Marshall. From the first time that they had been spotted outside the studio together, to the day that they made their red-carpet debut as a couple – everyone was reading about them.

There were times that it annoyed YN more than she could explain that every time she read an article about herself, the mentions of her acting came second every time to her marriage to Marshall. The marriage gave her the roles she wanted, but not the attention. The role in the new movie would give her the right attention, but if she followed through with the nudity she would be finished as an actress – that’s for sure.

“Of course, you do,” She smiles, “Thank you for the drink, Mr. Styles, but I think I may be off now.”

She grabs her purse and stand ups. As she turns to walk away, she feels a hand grab her wrist. It wasn’t harsh, but just a soft grip to keep her still.

“Look, I may know who your husband is, but my point still stands,” He offers her a smile, “And if you feel like this in the future, my band’s playing at Ciro next week and I’d love to see you there.”

When YN walked into the house she lived in with Marshall, it was eerily silent. YN knew that he was here, because her car was on the driveway, it was just finding him that would be the main issue. YN knew that she wasn’t up for a fight, and that was why she decided to just kick off her heels and make her way upstairs.

Growing up in a small town, in a flat in New York that was as big as the bathrooms in this house meant that there was a lot for YN to get used to. The fact that sometimes she wasn’t even allowed to make her own food, or just clean if she wanted to really got to her. There were small domestic things that she grew up with that she missed, but it meant that she appreciated the people who did even more and treat them much better than Marshall ever did.

As she made her way upstairs, she beelined through the bedroom and into the closet where she knew that Marshall never went. So, imagine her surprise when he was sat there with his tie a mess and his shirt unbuttoned. To say that her husband was twenty years older than her, she couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t handsome. The problem wasn’t his looks, or even his personality on his good days – but the way he treated people, YN included.

“You’re late,” He muttered into his glass as he lifted it up to his lips, “Where have you been?”

YN didn’t stand and look at him any longer. She started unfastening her necklace and walked over to her dressing table. Unfortunately, the way that the mirror was angled she could still see him staring at her.

“Sorry, I went out,” She placed her jewellery neatly on the side, “I was with Rosie and Sally. You know what it’s like when we get together – the time just runs away with us.”

“Huh,” He scoffs into his glass.

YN felt as though she had been caught, “What?”

“It’s just funny, that’s all,” He leant forward, placing his elbows on his knees, “Because just after you stormed out of my office, I went to find Rosie and Sally to ask where you were, and they hadn’t seen you.”

“I went to the bathroom first, if you really want to know,” She sighed, turning so that she was looking at him, “I went to the bathroom, for a while because I couldn’t believe that my husband was such an asshole and needed to get myself together before I went to find them.”

YN couldn’t believe sometimes that she was such a good bloody actress, on screen and in her daily life. It wasn’t like she couldn’t tell Marshall that she had gone to a bar on her own, but the lingering thought of Harry in the back of her mind and knowing that she didn’t know how well she would have been able to cover that up meant that she had to think on her feet.

Deciding enough was enough, she stood up and started to remove her clothes as she walked into the bathroom ready to take her makeup off.

“Don’t you walk away from me, YN!”

“It wasn’t like you were saying anything, Marshall!”

As she made it into the bathroom, she leant forward on the counter with her hands and sighed. She knew that he wouldn’t be too far behind her, so when he walked in and grabbed her shoulders, tightly and turning her so that she was facing him – she wasn’t that shocked. However, the feeling of his nails pressing into her skin did have her wincing a little bit.

“We didn’t finish our conversation,” He says, and she can smell the alcohol so strong on his breath.

“It sounded like we had, Marshall,” She responded, trying to ignore the feeling of her on his skin.

“I’m not talking about that bullshit in there,” He spits, “I’m talking about the conversation in my office earlier.”

YN prided herself on the fact that not much in this life scared her, but Marshall was the one thing that scared her continuously.

“I told you, Marshall,” Her voice came out a little meeker now, “I’m not doing it.”

“It’s not up for discussion, YN,” He lets out a deep breath, “Think of all the money we’ll get. People want to see you, I mean, who wouldn’t?”

“I’m not doing it Marshall,” She shakes him off her and he stumbles back. He runs a hand over his face and starts to walk in a circle, “I told you; I’m not parading myself just because it’ll get your rocks off seeing me naked on the big screen. I don’t care about the money.”

He stalked closer to her, so that they were almost nose to nose and lifted his hand up and placed his thumb and pointer finger together, “You’re this close, YN. This. Close.”

He was pushing her further and further towards the counter, so that her back was painfully pressed against it, and she couldn’t breathe properly. She knew that there was only one way that was going to be fixed if she didn’t think on her feet.

“Look, Marshall, I’m not going to get fully nude – I won’t,” He let out such a deep breath that his nostrils flared, and she was bracing for impact, she even lifted up her hands, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t do anything.”

He dropped his hands away from her and took a step back, “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you do what the French are doing, eh?” She shrugged her shoulders, watching as he started to pace, “Why don’t you tease it?” He wasn’t saying anything, so she continued, trying to regulate her breathing as she did so, “The scene, yeah? She’s taking her robe off for him in their bedroom, how about the camera isn’t on her front, but it cuts to her back. And it stops, so it’s teasing her without fully showing everything. It can just be the top of my arse, Marshall.”

When he continues to not say anything, she moves towards him slightly so that he’s stood in front of her.

“Think about Marshall, when everybody knows that may get to see me nude, but they’re teased with it,” She places a light hand on his back, and he turns to look at her, “The money will be even better than if we did show my whole body, because people will be wanting more.”

He nods his head and looks at her with a beaming smile on his face. She squealed slightly as he placed a hand under her thighs and lifted her up, so she was sat on the counter.

“Knew there was a reason I married you,” He smiled, leaning to place a kiss to her neck, “Not just a pretty face, are you?��

Even though she should have been enjoying herself in the company of her husband at this point, the fear that she had felt earlier was still there and for some reason, all she could think about was the curly haired man that she had met earlier.

YN had really debated going to Ciro the following week. There were pros and cons to going, but all she could think of was the shit that her husband had put her through during the week and how she could feel like a young woman if she went and saw the man, she had met the prior week.

It didn’t take long for that decision to be made for her when she had been speaking to Rosie and Sally earlier and it had somehow been brought up in conversation that she had received an invitation by Harry Styles himself to watch him in Ciro and the two of them had almost burst in excitement at that revelation.

That’s what lead YN to be stood outside the queue of Ciro, Sally and Rosie in tow as she finally made it towards the front. The was a man stood outside the door with a clipboard, and the largest man that YN had ever seen in her life.

“Name?”

YN had no idea that she was supposed have her name on a list, and she knew it was probably very unlikely that her name was on the list.

“Uh, YN Miller.”

“Oh,” The man with the clipboard seemed shocked when he looked up to see her stood there, “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Miller. Mr. Styles has reserved a table for you. I’ll show you there now.”

Even though YN was a little shocked and surprised, with one fleeting glance and Sally and Rosie she nodded and followed the man into the club. This wasn’t her first time in Ciro’s, but it was the first time she had been, and it was so packed. YN was convinced that they had even put extra tables in.

“This is for you, Mrs. Miller. The best seats in the house,” He smiled and pulled her chair out for her.

“Thank you,” She smiled politely.

“Please let us know if we can get you anything,” He smiled, “Mr. Styles has left a bottle of champagne for you and your guests.”

“Thank you.”

When the man walked away, and a waiter came over to open the champagne she couldn’t believe what was happening around her. Rosie and Sally looked as though they were going to burst (for the second time that day). Once the glasses were poured and the waiter had moved away, YN turned to her friends with wide eyes.

“I had no idea that this was going to happen,” She laughed, picking up the glass in front of her, “But I’m not complaining.”

“How did you even meet this man?” Rosie asks, picking up her own glass.

“I told you!” YN laughs, “I met him at Bruno’s. I was sat on my own and he joined, that’s it.”

“You must have made a lasting impression to receive a reserved table, and a bottle of champagne, YN.”

YN laughed, “I honestly didn’t. I forgot that it had happened until you mentioned him earlier.”

That was a lie, and a big one at that. YN had spent the last week toying with herself. Every time Marshall was nice, she felt guilty for even considering it, but the second he went back to his own ways she wanted to go even more. Today they had filmed the scene that had caused all those arguments and if that hadn’t made her completely sure that she was going, then the conversation with Sally and Rosie earlier surely did.

What YN hadn’t realised from their conversation was that Harry was just as famous as she was in Hollywood, and probably the world. YN even knew some of his songs (Sally and Rosie were big fans), but she had never seen his face or known his name so she couldn’t correlate the two together.

“I think you forget that we know you, YN,” Sally adds, “And we can tell that something has been on your mind.”

“It was nice, okay?” YN shrugs, “That was it. Nice to feel like I wasn’t a twenty-two-year-old married woman for once, and that someone was interested in me. Now shut up so we can watch the show and enjoy.”

YN knew that Harry was talented just by the few songs that she had heard, but nothing could have prepared her for hearing him live. The way that Harry commanded the stage, and how everyone in the room was just mesmerised by him when he opened his mouth was something that nobody could prepare her for.

YN didn’t know how long that he was singing for, but she didn’t look anywhere but him. It was about halfway through when he noticed her, and even had to do a double take just to make sure that she was actually there. It made her laugh, and he couldn’t hide her smile. He didn’t stop though; it was as though he was born to be on that stage, and everybody was eating it up.

Just before the end of his set, he called one of the waiters over to the bottom of the stage and whispered something in his ear. YN couldn’t help but be intrigued at what he had said, but the ending of his and the standing ovation ended that quickly.

“Thank you everyone, and thank you Crio for being lovely hosts,” He smiles, pushing his hair back of his face, “I’m Harry Styles, and we’ll be here for the next few nights if you’re interested in coming again. Thank you!”

As he and his band left the stage, YN couldn’t help the beaming smile that was on her face. All of the worries that she had in the world didn’t matter at this point, because she had one of the best nights of her life.

“Sorry, Mrs. Miller,” YN nodded and leaned closer to the waiter so that she could hear him over the chatter in the room, “Mr. Styles has invited you and your party backstage.”

“Oh,” YN looked at Rosie and Sally to see their opinion on the matter, and their beaming smiles suggested that it was maybe a good idea, “Thank you, yes.”

The girls picked up their purses and followed the waiter through a side door, and down a long corridor until they were stood in front of a door that said ‘H.Styles’ on it. He knocked twice before opening the door, revealing Harry and his band sat on the sofas with drinks in their hands.

“Mr. Styles, your guests.”

As Harry realised that it was YN walking in, he immediately stood up and made his way over to her.

“Mrs. Miller, a pleasure,” He placed a kiss to her hand, which had her biting her lip. He then turned to the waiter and thanked him before turning back to her, “Thank you for joining me, and I’d like to thank your guests for coming too.”

Once introductions had been made throughout the entire group, Rosie and Sally found them conversing with Harry’s guitarist, Mitch, and drummer, Sarah. YN was sat on a sofa with the man himself, a Manhattan in her hand that Harry had ordered without a blink of his eye. YN had almost known Marshall a year and he still couldn’t get her drink right. He had even remembered the extra cherries.

“So,” He smiled, sipping his own drink, “Did you enjoy the show?”

“I did,” She laughed, “Who know there was so much talent hiding behind all that hair?”

He laughed, and YN couldn’t help but joining in. There was an ease about talking to him, as though she didn’t have to worry about anything that she said because she knew that there wouldn’t be a single repercussion.

“But in all seriousness, Mr. Styles,” She smiled, “Thank you. It was an amazing show, and you were ever so generous to us.”

“No need for the Mr. Styles here, Mrs. Miller,” He shook his head, “Please just call me, Harry.”

“Only if you promise to call me, YN,” She smiled, “Mrs. Miller makes me sound so old.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “I don’t think I should comment on that.”

“No, I don’t think you should either.”

The conversation just flowed between them. They discussed their childhoods – when YN realised, she wanted to be an actress, and when Harry realised, he wanted to be singer. There was never a lull in the conversation, and she laughed in a way that she hadn’t for a while. Not only was this man handsome and talented, but he was funny as well? It was as though YN couldn’t catch a break.

“I’m going to go out for a smoke,” He placed his drink down and stood up, “Would you like to join me?”

YN didn’t even hesitate before agreeing. She stood up and followed the man outside, watching as he lit his cigarette and blew it out in such a way that she was almost having to cross her legs. YN wanted to feel guilty, she really did – but she just couldn’t.

“Should you really be doing that?” She asked, accepting the cigarette from him, “Doesn’t it ruin your voice?”

“I probably shouldn’t,” He shrugged, and YN couldn’t help the butterflies in her stomach as she wrapped her lips around the cigarette where his own had just been, “But, as they say, it’s easier to start them then stop them.”

YN laughed and passed it back to Harry. She leant against the wall, moving a rock around lightly with her shoe. There was one question that she had wanted to ask Harry since getting her, but she just hadn’t had the nerve to until now, since he was alone with just her.

“Harry?” She asked, looking up at him as he hummed and nodded in her direction, “Why did you invite me here?”

“What do you mean?” He shrugged, moving closer to YN so that he was stood leant on the wall near where she was stood.

“Well, you could’ve invited anyone to come and watch you. It isn’t as though your limited on options,” YN shrugged, “It isn’t as though there’s a romantic element between us, seeing as though I’m married.”

“There isn’t?”

“Excuse me?” YN couldn’t help the furrow in her eyebrows at his words. She truly had no idea what he was getting at by saying what he did.

“I’m just a little confused by you saying that there isn’t a romantic element between us,” He shrugs, dropping the cigarette on the ground and stubbing it with his shoe, “I’m just a little confused, married or not, why you would come if you didn’t feel anything.”

“There is such thing as a man and woman being friends, Harry.”

“Is that all this is, YN?” He asks, and YN has to ignore the flips in her stomach as he walks towards her, stopping just inches away from her, “Friends?”

“Harry –”

“If friends are all you see this as, then friends are all we’ll be,” He says, not taking his eyes away from hers, “But I can’t lie and say that I don’t really want to kiss you right now.”

Even though YN should be thinking of Marshall right now, her husband, all she can think about is how it would feel to kiss Harry. More specifically, right at this very second. There had never been any attraction (on her part, anyway) between herself and Marshall, but that wasn’t the case between herself and Harry. In all honesty, she doesn’t think she’s ever been attracted to anyone like she is with Harry. It made it so much easier that there wasn’t just an attraction, but an ease when they talked as well – as though she could say anything to him.

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to do, YN, I promise.”

“You still didn’t answer my question, Harry,” She noted, “Why me? Out of everyone you’re seeking out the one thing that you can’t really have.”

“It may be wrong, but I know what I feel YN, and I think you feel the same way.”

Even though YN hesitated before saying the next words, he was right. YN did feel the same way, and even though it was wrong she couldn’t help it. She felt guilty, but maybe if Marshall was nicer to her, she may not have been able to go through with it.

YN nodded her head lightly, whispering, “I do feel the same way.”

Those words were all it took for Harry to lean forward and place his lips on hers. The feeling of Harry kissing her, and his hands on her skin were unlike anything she’d ever felt before in her life. YN couldn’t remember the last time she kissed someone that wasn’t on-screen or her husband, and it felt nice to kiss someone that she wanted to. His hands on her cheek, and she gripped his shirt to pull him closer to her.

YN was the first to pull away, mainly because she was running out of breath, but she couldn’t help the smile that etched across her lips. Harry had one on his too, a boyish smile that she just wanted to kiss off his lips.

She let out a sigh and dropped her head back against the brick of the wall behind her, “Shit.”

The next time YN saw Harry was a week later. Marshall was out at meal with some of his friends, and she had claimed that she wasn’t up for socialising and was just going to go home to bed. What Marshall didn’t know was that she was going over to Harry’s apartment that he rented whilst he was in town.

For about a week after she and Harry kissed against the wall around the back of Ciro’s she had felt ever so guilty. It was only until around halfway through the week that YN walked into his office and his secretary was just leaving and he not only had his tie askew, but he also had lipstick around his face and the entire room smelt of sex. YN decided that the best thing she could do was to ignore it, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t noticed it.

It meant that she was more excited to see Harry and have an intellectual conversation with him and just enjoy herself. It was nice to feel wanting, and that’s what Harry made her feel.

That’s why she was enjoying herself more than she was going to admit, sitting at his dining table as she watched him flounce around the kitchen making sure that everything was made for their dinner to perfection. It wouldn’t have been the best decision for them to go out, seeing as though anyone could have spotted them so Harry had offered to cook, and YN wasn’t going to say no.

“Just you wait,” He smiled at her as he drained out the water from the pasta, “This is going to blow your mind – the best pasta you’ve ever had.”

“Is that so?” She grinned, “Well, we’ll just have to see. I’ve had my fair share of amazing meals if I do say so myself.”

“Nothing like this, darling,” He grinned, shaking the pasta out, “I promise.”

There was something about watching him in the kitchen that YN could get used to. The little apron he had one, and the slightly flustered state that he was in. She was smiling throughout the entire time he was in the kitchen, and also afterwards when they were eating.

In all honesty, it was one of the best meals that YN had every had. He had made pasta in a tomato sauce with chicken and peppers, and she was enjoying every mouthful. She would never tell Harry that was the case, but by the way she finished her entire plate he maybe had a slight suspicion that was the case.

Throughout the entire meal, the tension that was brewing between the two of them was becoming slightly unbearable. It also didn’t help that she had a glass of red wine (which she doesn’t normally drink) and her cheeks were burning throughout the entire thing.

YN had offered to clean up the plates, but Harry shook his head and took them from her. She thought she was going to have to sit and watch him clean up the plates, but he just placed them in the sink and made his way over to her. It didn’t take long for him to be stood right in front of her and lean down to peck her on the lips.

YN lifted her hands up to wrap around his neck and that was all he needed to place his hands under her thighs and scoop her up, ignoring everything around them as he placed her upon his dining room table. As they pulled away, YN couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips. He raised one of his eyebrows at her.

“You laughing at me?” Harry speaks, leaning down to pressed kisses along her exposed neck, “Sure you want to be doing that?”

“I don’t know,” She shrugs, “What are you going to do if I do?”

He tugged her closer to him by her ankles, so that her legs were spread around his waist, “Just you wait and see.”

YN lifts her bum up slightly so that he can pull her trousers and panties down in one swoop. It felt strange to YN to be this bare in front of someone who wasn’t her husband, but the way that Harry was looking at her stopped all of the worries within her head.

Harry knelt down on the floor, so he was exactly face height with her. He placed kisses along her thighs as he made his way towards the part of her that she really needed him at. YN’s chest was rising and falling so quickly that she felt as though she may combust at any moment, but she knew that she had to keep it together. Once he had made it to that delicious spot between her legs, he couldn’t help but lean forward and place a kiss right on her wetness. Even the slightest of touch had YN withering – she honestly couldn’t believe how sensitive she was.

“Please, Harry,” Her back was beginning to arch off the table at how he was teasing her, “Please.”

“Please, what?” He asked, looking up at her with a grin on his face, “What do you want, love?”

“I want you to touch me, please.”

“Your wish is my command,” Without even a single hesitation, Harry leant forward and crashed his mouth right into her.

The feeling of his tongue against her, and his legs pushing her thighs apart, so she was completely exposed to him had her head dropping back in ecstasy. YN felt as though she was flooded down there, and he seemed to lap ever drop up with no complaints. It wasn’t until he started to swirl his tongue around her clit that she truly felt shock-waves throughout her body.

YN physically couldn’t arch her back off the table any further, and her head drops back with quite a heavy thump but all she could think about was the feeling of him along her sensitive nerve. He continues to flick her clit over and over, making sure that no matter how much she wanted to close her legs that she couldn’t. Not knowing what to grab, she reached forward and thread her fingers through his hair. Her mouth parted, and her breathing started to become more and more heavy, and her heart was beating faster than it ever had before.

YN had never felt anything like this before in her life. Obviously, her and Marshall have had sex in the past, but it was all about him and never about her. YN had never had somebody lick her there before, and in all honestly, she could get used to it more often.

“Oh, God, Harry!” He continued to attack her clit, and as he quickened the pace of his tongue, she knew that she wasn’t going to last much longer. YN had never felt so turned on in her life, and this wonderful man in between her legs was who she had to thank for that.

Harry is indicated that YN is close by the way her thighs started to tremble, and he tried his hardest to keep them still with pressure on them. Knowing that she’s so close, he works harder to make sure that she gets there. He switches between licking to sucking to then even flicking her clit quickly with his tongue. YN is fully pushed over the edge when he sneakily pushes one of his fingers into her, not stopping his attack of her clit.

“Harry!”

The sound of his name tumbling from her mouth only spurs him on further. YN’s orgasm ripples through her body, and her back arches so far off the table until she’s fully sat up. Even though she would want nothing more than to be looking at Harry, she physically can’t, and her eyes are firmly clamped shut. YN was gripping his hair so tight that it must have been painful for him, but she was so out of it that she had no idea.

YN’s body jerks as he pulls his mouth off of her, and slowly removes his fingers. Almost automatically, her weak knees buckle, and she’s propelled forward into his chest. He happily catches her and moves some of her damp hair off her face. When she finally opens her eyes, he’s beaming down at her with a smile on his face.

“Hi,” She smiles, trying to push herself deeper into Harry’s chest if that was even possible.

“Hi, darling,” He laughs, placing a kiss to the top of her head, “That good?”

“So good,” She lifts her head up to look at him and accepts a kiss to her lips, “Never felt like that before, Harry.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“Very.”

The very idea of going home right now was the last thing on YN’s mind. In fact, she would rather do anything else that have to go back to Marshall in all of his glory. There was no chance that YN would ever be as comfortable with Marshall as she is with Harry.

The conversation just flowed so easily between them, and YN felt happy. It was such a shame that she couldn’t just stay and that she did have to go home. That didn’t stop Harry from giving her the hardest kiss she’d ever received before she left, so hard that she could feel her lips tingling from it when she stepped through the front door of her house.

A few weeks later when YN was called into Marshall’s office she couldn’t lie and say that there wasn’t a spring in her step.

The night after her first time at Harry’s, YN had been giggling at the memory at the most random times throughout the day. YN had been fast asleep in bed when Marshall had come home, and he had left when she woke up meaning that she hadn’t had to see him. His side of the bed had been obviously slept on last night, meaning that he had at least come home but she had no idea in what state.

Due to the fact that she had been teased by Harry at the experience of being with him, she wanted to be with him at any chance she got. That meant that whenever YN got any chance to sneak away from her real life and go see Harry, she did. YN was enjoying being with Harry so much, that it started to become so difficult to go home to Marshall who she knew would never make her feel the way that Harry did.

YN had no idea why she was being called into Marshall’s office, but when she saw the set look on his face the smile immediately dropped off her face.

“Take a seat, YN,” This certainly didn’t feel as though this was a husband talking to his wife.

“Everything okay?”

The second she sat down; Marshall slapped a newspaper down in front of her. YN reached forward to grab it and her heart immediately dropped to the put of her stomach at the headline across the main page of the newspaper.

Hollywood’s married sweetheart seen leaving rock-star Harry Styles’ apartment multiple times over the last few weeks.

They had been caught. YN couldn’t believe it. It wasn’t even as though they had been caught by Marshall, they had been caught by the media. YN didn’t know at this point if she would have rather been caught by Marshall and not have the whole world find out about it before she was ready for anyone else to.

YN was terrified to look up at Marshall. She didn’t know what to expect when she looked up at him from behind the paper. The second she did feel the confidence to place it down, YN felt as though anything could happen with the look on Marshall’s face.

“Is it true?”

“Marshall I –”

“Is it true?” The next time he asks he shouts at her, and the loud bang of his fist on his table had her jumping in her seat.

There was no way that she could lie. If she did, he was going to see right through her, and she had no idea how he would react to it. So, she decided to just tell the truth, no matter how difficult it may be.

“Yes,” Her voice came out as a whisper, but the look on Marshall’s face saw that he had heard her. She was so thankful that there was a desk between them because she had no idea what would happen if that wasn’t the case.

“Do you know what this means for us, YN?” He spits at her, “Do you know?”

“I’m so sorry, Marshall,” The tears were starting to collect in her eyes, “I really am.”

“You don’t get to be sorry, YN,” He dropped his hand on the table again, “You’re the one that’s been fucking everything you see.”

“It was one time, Marshall!” YN exclaimed and even though she was crying, there was an anger to her words as well, “Not like you. You’re the one who fucks everything you see, Marshall!”

“This isn’t about me, YN!” He stands up, both of his hands upon the desk, “This is about you, and what you’ve been doing.”

“So, you can fuck anybody that you want to for the entire time that we’ve been married, but the second that I find someone who cares about me and wants to be with me, I’m the worse one in this relationship?”

“You belong to me YN!” He exclaims, “Me! Not the fucking rockstar that you’ve been getting your rocks off with.”

“I belong to you?” She asks, unable to believe what she was hearing, “And do you not belong to me, Marshall?”

“We all known that isn’t the case, YN,” He shrugs, “I’m a director in Hollywood. I’m the best of the best. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

“Okay, Marshall,” That was all that it takes for YN to stand up, trying not to let him stop her from what she was about to do. Without any hesitation, YN pulls her wedding and engagement ring off of her hand and places it on the table in front of them. YN could see Marshall’s nostril’s flaring and she tried to ignore it but there was no way that she was going to get out of this unharmed, “We’re done.”

“That’s not your decision to make, YN.”

“It is, Marshall,” She shook her head at him, “I’m not putting up with this anymore, and you’re not going to stop me.”

“I think you’re forgetting that you have a contract with this studio.”

“For five films, Marshall,” YN spits, “And what film did we just finish – number five or did you forget?”

The look on his face that he knew she was right was all that YN needed to make her way towards the door. Just as she threw the door open, she was stopped right in her tracks by a glass breaking just by her head. Even though YN knew that the glass had cut her, and she could feel the sting over her body – she couldn’t stop now.

YN only hesitated for a second and she was out of that door and slamming it behind her.

“Get back here, YN!” Marshall shouted so loudly that the entire studio probably heard them, “We’re not done.”

They were, and YN knew that her life now had changed but she was ready for anything that it flew at her. She knew that even though she was now on her own, she wasn’t.

It didn’t take her long to fly home in her car, probably running every red light as she did. Hopefully she wouldn’t get pulled over by anyone but there was the possibility that she could be. The second she got to the house, she rushed up to her closet and grabbed everything that she could. Everything that could fit in her bag that she cared about, including her jewellery from her mother and all of her personal belongings.

The feeling of fleeing with her bag down the steps and out of her house reminded her of when she left home to come to Hollywood in the first place. It was almost a year ago that she moved, and here she was praying that the next year of her life wasn’t like this one.

It didn’t take her long to leave the house and make her way towards Harry’s house. The entire time she cried. It felt as though a part of her life was over, and not only that but she didn’t know how she was going to continue in her career. Her marriage and possibly her career was over in the space of one decision. She was going to have to work in the future, but all she needed now was to find Harry and make everything right.

The second she was outside Harry’s door, knocking on it and he saw her tattered and upset state, with a bag clutched in her hand he didn’t even hesitate before pulling her into his arms.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, “I’ve got you.”

The second that Harry had seen her, tears streaming down her face and cuts on her arms and legs he was absolutely fuming. He immediately pulled her into his arms and carried her towards the bathroom where he placed her on the counter with such ease so he could start tending to her.

As he was cleaning up the cuts, he kept looking at her with a nervousness, “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

There was a gap between his question and her response, but when he noticed that there were tears rolling down her face, he decided not to question her further until she was ready to answer all of his questions.

“I left him,” She muttered quietly after a while. Harry had anticipated it, but he didn’t want to pry.

“And he did this?” YN didn’t say anything, but the timid nod of her head gave him everything that he needed.

In all of the time that Harry had known YN, he had never known her so timid in all of his life. It was as though the events that had transpired had really knocked her, and she had no idea how to bring herself back from it.

“I’m going to kill him,” Harry shook his head, surprised by how angry he was at the news that she had just told him.

“No,” She shook her head and clawed at his shirt until he was facing her again, “I just need you with me, please don’t leave me.”

“I’m never going to leave you,” He leant down and placed a kiss to her forehead, “I never will.”

Regaining the popularity that YN had before when she worked at Marshall’s wasn’t as difficult as she thought it may have been. It had turned out that even though she was now divorced and had left the studio that the majority of the people in Hollywood saw as failure in this town, she found a studio just around the corner that was happy to take her.

The difference that YN found was that there was that due to the relationships being completely professional, they actually listened to what she had to say. She even had a clause in her contract that stated no nudity, and it was the best thing that YN had ever seen in black and white in front of her.

Every premiere that she had been to before this was, she had been cast in Marshall’s shadow, but this one was all about her and she was going to make sure that it was known. The dress that she had chosen was a beautiful baby pink with a skirt laced with feathers that had so much movement all she wanted to do was twirl around it.

“You look gorgeous,” Harry had said to her when he had seen her come out of the bathroom, fully dressed, and looking like the most beautiful person on this earth, “How did I get so lucky with you?”

“How did you get so lucky with me? I think that it’s I got lucky with you.”

Ever since she divorced Marshall in the previous year, Harry had been by her side. He hadn’t actually left it. For the first few months they had lived in his apartment before deciding that it was time that they actually bought a house. There had been a few moments where Harry had to leave to go to another state for a show, but he always came back to her.

This premiere for her latest film was the first time that the two of them had been seen out in public together, as a proper couple. It was a little nerve-wracking for YN, and for Harry as this was the first red carpet that he had ever walked but he wanted to be there for her and support her.

This was the last time that they were going to be together for a while, as the next day he was going on tour. YN originally had planned to go with him, but she had been given the script for a new film and there was no way that she was missing out on it. It was going to be the film of the century she believed, that was if she had anything to do with it.

It was strange being with someone who had such a real love for watching her succeed. YN was so nervous when she went home after receiving the script but the second, she had showed him the script and explained to him how excited she was about it, he had grabbed her face and kissed all of the worry out of her.

“You ready?” He smiled at her, lifting her hand up to his mouth to press a kiss to her hand.

She laughed and smiled at his antics, “As I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” He leaned forward and placed a small kiss to her lips, wanting to not mess up her lipstick, “Let’s get this done then.”

He climbed out of the car first and YN could hear the screaming from the second that he opened the car. Even though this was a movie premiere, it was obvious that there were some of his fans in the crowd. Her door was the next to open and she stepped out, waving to the people as she did so. Everybody seemed so happy to see her, and she couldn’t lie and say that she wasn’t slightly nervous about the entire thing. The nerves disappeared the second Harry came to stand next to her, and she placed her arm through his and they started to walk together. It just felt so right, and so natural to be doing this with Harry.

“YN!” A reporter called from across the carpet at her, and with Harry in tow she made her way over to him. YN recognised him (probably from a previous red carpet), “How are you tonight?”

“I’m well, thank you for asking,” She smiled, really trying to remember all of her media training that she had been given.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight, and we’re all so excited to see the movie.”

“Thank you so much, I’m very excited for you all to see it. It’s amazing if I do say so myself.”

“It’s your movie, of course you can say that!” The reporter laughed with her, “But I do just have to mention, in the last year you really found yourself in the backend of the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, are you afraid that’s going to shine over the film?”

YN couldn’t believe how cutthroat the reporter was straight away, but she tried to ignore it to the best that she could and answered the question the best way she knew how.

“It has certainly been a difficult past year for me, but I’m so excited to be working and have this beautiful film for you all to see,” She smiled, basically ignoring everything that he said, “I’m happy, and I hope this film makes some other people happy. Thank you.”

“Thank you, YN.”

YN immediately grabbed Harry’s arm again, and they beelined for the entrance. It was the first time that she had ever spoken of the events of last year, and she was praying that she had done okay.

“How was that? Did I answer it? Should I have said anything else?”

The second that they were in the safety of the building, she really let go of all of the questions that were swirling around in her head. Harry laughed and leaned forward to place a kiss on her lips.

“You were amazing darling, don’t even worry about it.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you think so, I was so nervous.”

“I know you were,” He laughed, wrapping his arm around her, “Now how about we get some popcorn and go see this fantastic film that you’re in?”

“That sounds perfect.”

And perfect it really was.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles

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allysunny · 4 months

Text

New Year's Kiss | Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader

ˡ��ᵛᵉˡʸ ⁿᵃⁿᵃᵐᶦ ᵃʳᵗ ᵇʸ ᵈᵒⁿᵍ ᵉʳᶻʰᵃⁿ

Synopsys: You and your husband Nanami were invited to the Jujutsu High New Year party. You love him, and he loves you, and he's sure as hell going to let you know when he kisses you at midnight.

Words: 3.8k

Warnings: Fluff! Good old-fashioned tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, suggestive themes (but nothing explicit), Nanami is an amazing husband as always, cw: Gojo Satoru, not proofread. If I'm missing anything, please let me know.

A/N: Hey everyone!! I realised I hadn't written anything for Christmas or New Years, and I was kind of sad about that. I might still post something Christmas related after this, just not sure which fandom I'll do it for.

Anyways this is something short I decided to write for y'all because I missed writing for Nanami so, so much, and he was the perfect person for this trope. I also had a lot of fun writing Yuji, Megumi and Nobara (you'll spot a few easter eggs from the JJK Official Fanbook!), they're all very fun.

I hope you guys enjoy it! I had a great time writing this!

“Yes, and he also had this weird mop of hair on top of his head – if you added a black streak, I’m pretty sure he could’ve been emo. He used to style it like this –“ Gojo went on making gestures with his hands, pushing his hair aside to form a quick side part. “And it’d be all over his eyes. And he always had this look of utter boredom on his face, quite like the one he has now, and – “

“Satoru, that’s enough.” Nanami sighed next to you, interrupting his coworker.

“Awww, but she deserves to know the total nerd she’s married to! You might be one good-looking hunk of meat right now, but I still remember the days when you were just a scrawny little boy who had never felt the touch of a woman.” Gojo went on with a huge grin, turning to you.

“Alright, that’s it. We’re getting something to drink.” Nanami gently took your hand and led you away from Gojo, who started to chase after you, rambling about your “former emo man”, but eventually gave up and searched for someone else to bother.

You chuckled into your hand and looked up at your husband, whose face was contorted in an expression of annoyance – you were far too familiar with that look, which graced his features whenever he came home from overtime missions, or any of his coworkers were involved. But you were also familiar with that same look fading away as soon as you give him some attention. Your husband is, deep down, first and foremost, a domestic man.

“A side part, Kento?” you smiled, releasing his hand momentarily only to hold onto his arm.

“Must we really discuss my questionable hairstyle choices right now?” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, which only amused you further.

You knew Jujutsu High’s New Year party would be a tough invitation for your husband to accept.

“Darling, I deal with them every day. Why would I willingly be with them on the last day of the year as well?” He said, taking off his glasses, an action he often did when tired. “All I want is to stay at home with my beautiful wife, cook some of her favourite dishes, and watch the fireworks from our backyard.” Unfortunately, no matter how many kisses he gave you, he couldn’t convince you to stay in.

“I want to meet your friends, Kento.”

“They’re hardly my friends,” he grumbled. “And you know them already.”

“Hardly. I want to meet the people you work with. You’ve met mine. What’s so wrong with that? Besides, it’s a party. I know it’s not really your thing, but there’ll be food and drinks, and it’d give us a reason to dress up.” Was your plead.

“We can dress up at home –“

“It’s not the same.” You pouted, placing both of your hands on his cheeks, forcing him to bend down and look you in the eye. “Please? It’ll be fun, I promise. And if anyone’s being too annoying, we can leave and cook up something at home. How does that sound? Please, Kento. Pretty please? It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in a tux. I really like you in tuxes, you know…” Your hand dropped to his shirt and fiddled with its collar as you gave him you best seductive look. You knew your little games stirred him up often – that smart mouth of yours had landed you in trouble quite a few times (although you never complained), and you were counting on it to help you out right now.

Nanami only sighed and dropped his head in defeat.

“Fine.”

“Ah! Yay!”

“But we’ll leave if anyone crosses the line.”

“Deal!”

“And I’m bringing something of my own. Who knows what food they’re going to serve in there.”

“Alright, deal. I’ll help.”

With this said, he quickly bent over, hands coming to hold the back of your thighs and lifting you up. Your legs instinctively locked around his waist, and you laughed loudly, still cupping his cheeks.

“But I deserve compensation. Now, and then.” He murmured against your lips and swallowed your giggles as he kissed you deeply. Nanami would do anything to hear the sound of your laughter.

You held onto him tightly and he led you to the bedroom. The compensation was his, but you can’t say you didn’t enjoy it as well.

Which brings you to the present.

“Come on, cheer up. It’s just Satoru, he’ll get his hands on a cupcake or follow a pretty girl outside and leave us two alone.” You offered him a smile, but instead of returning you one of his own, his eye twitched slightly.

“Satoru. Sounds pretty friendly to me.”

The expression on his face was enough to make you break into a fit of laughter. Nanami was not usually a jealous man. He trusted you immensely and had never doubted your loyalty and love for him. But when it came to Satoru Gojo, he could get almost childish. “I don’t like how he looks at you, as if he could crack you, steal you away from me. He’s far too arrogant for his own good” he had revealed to you once after you’d ran into him at the supermarket. You could only smile and kiss him gently, promising there was nothing to worry about. No cocky white-haired man would ever take you away from him.

“Kento, come on. Don’t tell me you’re jealous.” The word hung off your lips with a tint of amusement to it, and he scoffed, looking away as pink coated his pale cheeks.

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like – “

“How he looks at me. Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard all that before.” Tugging on his arm, you made him turn in your direction, completely facing you. You ran a hand through his jaw and grasped his own, kissing his wedding band with such delicacy, it was almost surreal. “It was friendly, you’re right. Because that’s all Satoru and I will ever be. Friends. Hell – I can’t deal with him for more than 20 minutes straight. I’m not sure that’s very friendly.” This earned a chuckle from him.

“And there’s no need for you to be jealous. I chose you, didn’t I?” you smiled, and Kento’s hand slid from yours to cup your cheek.

“And I still can’t believe it. You’re my dream come true. I love you.” He pulled you towards him, but before your lips could touch, a cheerful voice could be heard calling out your name from across the room.

"Hello! Ah, Nanami-san! Good evening!” Itadori Yuji exclaimed with a smile, fiddling with his dress shirt to make it appear smoother.

You gave your husband an apologetic smile and turned to the young boy. You loved Yuji. You’d met him a few times, and quickly became very fond of the pink haired student. He had no one, no parents, no relatives, no family, so you sort of made it your unofficial job to look after him. He looked up to Kento an awful lot, and clearly saw you as a mother figure. In fact, he’d once even called you “mom” while asking for some salt when he was over for dinner one night. His cheeks had become pink, and he mumbled out a string of apologies before you just chuckled and said it was fine.

The boy wasn’t your own, but you treated him like he was.

Nobara and Megumi followed behind him, so you offered them a polite wave as well. The trio was always together, and although he fought hard to keep up his professional and cold exterior at work, you knew how proud Nanami was of his students. A big ball of mush he was, you knew that for sure.

“Hello there, you two. How are you enjoying the party?” you asked, knowing Nanami would prefer to keep to the sidelines.

“Oh, we’re having a great time!” Yuji replied with a bright smile. He lifted his hands, both holding onto two fried chicken pieces. “Have you tried the fried chicken? It’s to die for, although I’m sure Nanami-san could it better.”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, that’s disgusting,” Nobara chimed in with a sigh. “Nanami-san, your red bean buns are incredible! Inumaki’s had like – what? Five, so far? He’s stopped saying tuna and will only say anpan, it’s incredible.”

The kids laughed and you laughed along with them.

“Thank you, Nobara. I’m glad you and the others liked them.” Nanami replied cordially. He still had trouble finding that balance between being a teacher and talking to his students outside of class – after all, he wasn’t as reckless as Gojo who behaved like an adult instead of a teacher. Discipline was needed in an educational setting. But you’d also taught him he needed to loosen up a bit, and he was sure trying his best.

“If you want to, I can give you the recipe. It’s fairly easy.” Was that a smile?

“Oh, really? Thank you so much, Nanami-san! I can’t wait to try it at home!”

While Nanami and Nobara discussed a few of the dishes being served, Megumi took the opportunity to silently approach you.

“Nanami-san?” he asked, and it took you a while to understand he was referring to you instead of your husband.

“Oh, hello there Megumi. How are you?” you offered him a sweet smile which he shyly reciprocated. Megumi was the quieter of the three, and you could see how much Nanami saw himself in his demeanour. It was fun to see how alike they could be, even if Megumi had been raised by loud and extravagant Satoru Gojo.

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m really enjoying the poetry book you let me borrow.”

“Oh!” you nodded. You knew him to be an avid reader, and since he liked mostly non-fiction, you decided to share some of your books with him. He was currently reading your favourite poetry book.

“I didn’t think it would be my type, but the way the author crafts imagery with his words, it’s just…” Megumi shrugged, trying to find the right words. “It’s fantastic.”

“Which poem are you on?”

“Last one I read was the one about the moon? The moon and the mountain?”

“Ah, yes! That’s Kento’s favourite,” you smiled again, glancing to make sure all was okay with your husband. He seemed to be deep in conversation with both Yuji and Nobara and your heart got all warm and fuzzy. “I like the one about the birds and the sea. I think it’s near the end though, so it might take a while for you to reach it.”

“Birds and sea. Got it.” Megumi nodded. “I’m having a hard time finishing it, actually. I’ve gone back and reread some of the poems I liked so far a few times. They calm me down. I don’t want to finish it and put it down.”

You gave him a quizzical look, then shrugged.

“You can keep it then.”

Megumi looked up, eyes wide in surprise.

“Wait – what?”

“Yeah! I mean, if you’re liking it so much, you can keep it.”

“But – Nanami-san, it’s your book.”

“And it has helped me a lot back when I needed it. Now it seems like you need it more than me.” You replied nonchalantly. It was true. That poetry book had helped you some dark times, but now it was time to pass the torch to someone else. Megumi was a very sweet kid, and very bright too. You knew he’d take good care of it.

“Wow, I… I don’t know what to say.” He mumbled. “That’s very kind of you, Nanami-san, but I can’t take it. It’s yours.”

“And now I’m giving it to you. So, it’s yours. Think of it as a New Year gift. Alright?”

Megumi smiled and nodded.

“Thank you.”

Just as you were about to reply, your husband gently held you by the waist and pulled you close to him. You got the hint, and decided to help him out.

“Well guys, it was great chatting with you three,” you said, smiling at them. “Kento and I are going to grab something to eat and then probably find a place to watch the fireworks.”

They nodded in understanding – they knew how Nanami was when it came to other people and didn’t want to bother him any further. Especially when he seemed to be so at ease with his wife. They thanked you two profusely before walking away, leaving you with your husband.

“They love you,” he said, turning you to face him and taking one of your hands in his.

“Well, I love them too. They’re great kids.”

“Yeah. That, they are.” You could tell Nanami’s eyes were gleaming with pride, and you hid a cheeky smile. You turned on your heels and walked towards the tables full of food, pulling him along with you.

“How about we get something to eat? I’m starving, and really want to try some of that fried chicken!”

The rest of the evening went well. It went excellently, in fact.

You got to meet Jujutsu High’s faculty, Masamichi Yaga and Shoko Ieiri (whom you’d run into a few times already), eat some nice food and exchange pleasantries with people your husband knew.

After a while, you two decided to retire to a calmer corner, since you knew how small his social battery was. And you couldn’t lie – you wanted your husband to yourself for just a few minutes. He looked far too handsome in that sweater of his (for a man who wears suits so often, seeing him so casually did things to you). Your tux idea was quickly discarded once Gojo announced that it was going to be something more casual instead of a formal party, but Nanami made sure to promise you he’d wear one for you soon.

You chatted for a while. About the party, about his coworkers, about his job and yours. When you first started dating Nanami, he was working as a salaryman, but that didn’t quite make him happy. He was all about being efficient and making money, but you could tell he was miserable at that 9-5 job of his. That’s when he quit and became a “high school teacher”. After a few months, he laid out the truth. Told you about cursed spirits, about what he truly did. It was hard to take in at first, and part of you thought he was insane, but it eventually sunk in.

Suddenly, the chattering around you two got louder and louder, and people started walking towards the doors.

“It’s 10 minutes to midnight! Everyone, let’s go outside!” Someone shouted and you took it as your clue to do the same. Nanami held your hand and led you outside, quickly finding a quiet spot among the trees that, while secretive, still allowed you a nice vision of the night sky, and the place where you presumed the fireworks would be in.

“Thank you for coming, Ken.” You told him, enjoying the intimacy the trees provided you two with. “I know you’d much rather be at home.”

“Nonsense. You know all I want is to be with you. I’ll be fine as long as I’m by your side.” He said, dropping his head to kiss your forehead. Your cheeks heat up. Even after all these years, a simple gesture as a forehead kiss could make you melt inside. You loved this man with your whole being, and you felt nothing but lucky and happy in this moment.

“I promise to make it up to you when we get home. Start the New Year on a good note,” you murmured, hands trailing the neckline of his dark blue sweater. Nanami dropped his head lower and whispered into your head.

“Oh, I’ll make sure you will. You might’ve forgotten, but I was promised compensation on two occasions…” His voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you clutched his shirt while letting out a shaky breath. The effect this man on you was crazy – something worth studying, because just his words could make you lightheaded.

A few meters away, you could hear people start to cheer and yell.

“5 minutes to midnight!”

You smiled.

“You know Kento, those kids really do look up to you. I think you’re their favourite teacher.”

“Hm.”

“I’m serious. You’re all cold and distant on the outside, but I know you have a soft spot for them. I see it in the way you look at Yuji.”

Nanami looked away, but not before you could see something like grief briefly flash through his eyes.

“He… He reminds me of Haibara.” He said, voice soft and low.

You knew about Haibara Yu, your husband’s best friend when he was younger. He’d told you about him once. How he was so lively and full of energy, how he could become friends with anyone instantly. How he couldn’t save him in the end. Even if you didn’t know him, it was clear the young pink haired boy would remind Nanami of his best friend.

You placed a reassuring hand on his bicep. “Hey,” you mumbled. “I bet he’s really proud of you.”

Nanami sighed and nodded.

“I just… wish he was here to see it.”

You smiled sadly, and took both of his arms on your hands, forcing him to turn to you. When he refused to meet his gaze, you held his face, forcing him to look into your eyes.

“Hey. He is. Can’t you feel him? He’s right here with us. And he’ll always be here.” You touched his chest, right above where his heart would be. Nanami looked down and wiped a tear that had fallen down his cheek.

“I love you. So much. You’re the light of my life, and I’m so grateful to have you by my side.” He whispered, kissing your hands.

“I love you too, Kento. More than you could know.”

“Thirty seconds to midnight!”

“I’ve really enjoyed this past year,” you smiled, taking his hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Me too.” He replied.

“Ten!” Everyone cheered in unison.

“We truly did make some incredible memories together.”

“Nine!”

“And next year, we’ll make much more.” Nanami assured you. This time, it was him who squeezed your hand.

“Eight!”

You walked, taking Nanami by the hand with you. Your spot was nice, and you were sure you’d have a nice view of the fireworks, but better safe than sorry.

“Seven!”

When you two found another place you were comfortable with, he stood by your side, hand carefully wrapped around your waist. The trees were no longer hiding you two, and you could see just how many people were outside.

“Six!”

You grinned. What an amazing year it’d been.

“Five!”

Nanami squeezed your waist reassuringly. He loved you. So much.

“Four!”

A year had passed.

“Three!”

A year full of memories. Laughter, tears. Good and bad moments. Memorable and forgettable. It had been an incredible year for sure.

“Two!”

You were certain the next one would be too. As long as you had your husband by your side.

“One!”

“Happy New Year!” Everyone exclaimed, and suddenly, the sky burst into a hundred different colours.

Brilliant bursts of deep blues, radiant reds and shimmering golds painted the night sky, each explosion echoing in the distance. The symphony of loud booms was accompanied by the sounds of students and teachers alike cheering, yelling, and talking. The bursts of light illuminated the darkness, casting a fleeting glow on their faces and brightened the figures of those jumping around and expressing their joy.

You could only stare at the beautiful display in front of you. Swirling patterns and vivid colours painted an ever-changing masterpiece in the black canvas of the sky, turning into sparkling glitters before fading away gracefully.

Meanwhile, Nanami turned to look at you, taking you in. The lights contrasted on your face, and your eyes seemed to shine as you looked in wonder at the fireworks before you. How could he get so lucky? A beautiful, intelligent, kind, and caring woman. You were the whole package. And you had decided to love him and only him.

You caught him staring at you and giggled, but before you could open your mouth to speak, he’d done it first.

“I love you.”

You chuckled and furrowed your eyebrows. Still, he wouldn’t allow you to speak just yet.

“I want these to be the first words I tell you this year. I want these to be the first words I tell you every morning when we wake up, and every night before we go to sleep. I want these to be the words I tell you when I get home from a tiring day, or when I’ve achieved something I’m proud of. Thing is – I love you. Darling, I love you so much. And I want to say this as many times as I can. You are the greatest gift I could’ve ever asked for. You’ve saved me. I was empty before I met you. You’ve brought so much joy into my life, and nurtured my heart back to health, something I thought was impossible after I had witnessed so much death and loss.” Nanami took both of your hands, and you could see his eyes were sparkling with tears.

“What I’m trying to say is – I love you. I’m a better man when I’m with you. You make me a better person. I want these to be the first words I tell you this year, tomorrow morning, tomorrow night, and whenever I can. I will tell you how much I love you until the end of time, because you are everything to me.”

You looked at him through tear-filled eyes. After such a heartfelt confession, you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t think any words could ever express just how deeply you loved Nanami Kento. No words would ever be able to capture your feelings, and just how far you would go for this man.

So instead, you let your actions speak for you.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled him down to you, kissing him. He was quick to reciprocate, tongue coming up to trace your lips, which you gladly parted. His hands were resting on your waist and bringing you impossibly closer to him. You poured your heart out in this kiss, letting it tell your husband all you knew words couldn’t.

And by the way he was kissing you back, you knew he understood.

After a while, you two parted for air.

Chuckling, you moved his blonde locks out of his face so you could look into his beautiful hazel eyes.

“I love you, Nanami Kento. I would walk to the end of the world for you. I don’t think any words can describe what you mean to me, but I promise to try. And if words aren’t enough, then I’ll show it to you, every single day, for as long as I live.”

Nanami brushed a strand of hair from your face, and kissed you once again, this time softly, as if you were sealing a secret promise.

Maybe you were.

“Happy New Year, my love.”

“Happy New Year, Kento.”

A/N: And that's it! I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Nanami deserves the absolute best. I wish you all an amazing year, and I hope you have an incredible day!

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento x y/n #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami drabbles #nanami x you #nanami x reader #nanami headcanons #nanami kento fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfiction

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sophswritingthings · 5 months

Note

I'm not the original anon for the 'x apothecary reader' but I've become absolutely invested.

But I was just thinking... About the whole situation with akemi in the brothel house and how that would go down with the reader?

pairing: mizu x fem!apothecary!reader

warning(s): mentions of prostitution/sex work, swearing

a/n: the fact that ya'll are enjoying this series so much….. I’ve gotten three separate asks that are not from the full series. this is my dream as a fic writer, let me tell you!

summary: your wife leaving and going into the brothel without you made you nervous. and the clatter that followed worried you more; so much you spring to your feet to find out what’s happening.

word count: 530 words / 2,823 characters

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

when madam kaji finally approached, your wife got to her feet quickly. you had waited hours on hours for the madam to appear, she was eager to finally get on with this.

you looked up at her with a concerned expression. she gave you a little nod; trying to assure you with her safety.

did you want to believe her? your mind certainly didn’t. but mizu was a skilled samurai who could take down a woman such as madam kaji in mere seconds, if she so needed.

you watched her walk off with the madam, off into the dark corridor of the brothel.

it had been about thirty minutes, and mizu had still not returned. she was just supposed to talk to the madam, right? mizu.. she would never—

—you couldn’t think like that.

a loud crash in the back of the brothel had alerted you, though. if anyone was causing trouble in the brothel; it was definitely your wife.

you were hesitant to get to your feet. you didn’t want to intrude, yet…

you got to your feet, and headed down the hallway. the room you had watched madam kaji lead mizu to had the door closed; worrying your further.

first, you opened the latch to the door. you saw your wife with a woman pinned to the floor, her hands tight around her wrists. you slammed the latch shut, pushing the door open with such force.

when you stepped inside, mizu looked up at you. as did the woman. mizu looked absolutely terrified.

mizu wasn’t scared of much.

but her wife angry? god that was her greatest fear.

you glanced down at the woman, you recognized her in an instant. princess akemi of kyoto. and there you wife was, sitting on top of her.

“first of all, back up,” you hiss, commanding mizu to move. mizu did so, releasing akemi's wrists. akemi sat up, rubbing her wrists in pain.

“don’t tell me your upset with me,” mizu whispers as you step closer to her.

you knew mizu would never cheat on you with how devoted the two of you were. but you had every right to be pissed off at finding your wife with another woman, pinned to the ground.

“I know you would never do that, you wouldn’t dare,” you grumble, sitting beside her. “though I do have to question what in the flames of hell you we’re doing.”

“she attempted to attack me, it was self defense,” mizu glared at akemi.

“a princess running away to a brothel, of all places. than attempting to kill my husband? I think not.” you narrow your eyes, “we'll sit here until the madam returns.”

“husband?” akemi scoffs, her voice posh as ever. “why you would want to marry a demon is beyond me. you are a fine woman.. you would have your pick.”

you roll your eyes, “because love does not rest on physical appearance. or blood, even. I love him, and that is the end of this discussion.”

you stand up, to loom over the princess.

“attempt to hurt my husband again and I will hurt you, understand?”

akemi timidly nodded, genuinely spooked by your demeanor.

“good.”

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

a/n: I’m sorry it’s so short babe, it’s just a lil drabble <3

#mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #blue eyed samurai #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #request #fic request #ask #asked and answered

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shiroikabocha · 3 months

Text

I have new followers so here are some answers to FAQ about the Homestuck wedding:

the homestuck wedding is a gay wedding. wife 1 (me) is she/her, wife A (the one that’s not me) is she/they

We are technically already married! We originally planned to wed on 4/13/2024, but a member of our state legislature flipped parties in April 2023, and suddenly Republicans had a veto-proof majority in both houses of a state whose citizens had already voted to ban our marriage once before. In a fit of minor panic, we grabbed our immediate family and took a trip to the courthouse for a Surprise Emergency Wedding on 4/13/2023. The “wedding” we’re planning is actually a first anniversary party!

I’m not live-streaming/live-blogging/live-anything the event. I’m going to be pretty busy that day

it’s flattering that so many of you want to attend the Homestuck Wedding but please don’t, I don’t have that kind of catering budget

I’ll share pictures here, no need to track down my dad’s facebook page

The wedding website encourages guests to wear “anything that makes you feel comfortable and fancy,” plus an additional “pop of color” based on this curiously specific list of 12 colors assigned to 12 different ranges of birthdates haha it’s not mandatory don’t worry about it

(I don’t know what’s worse: guests reading the suggested dress code and thinking I’m into Homestuck, or guests reading the suggested dress code and thinking I’m into astrology)

(that’s a lie, it would be so much worse if they thought I was into astrology)

The guests, for the most part, do not know homestuck. I intend to keep it that way. I do NOT want my aunts and uncles googling “homestuck,” christ

My brother knows. When we told the family our planned wedding date, he said nothing, but gave me one of those I Know What You Are stares and all I can say is well buddy this is your fault, if you didn’t want to be the best man at the Gay Homestuck Wedding then you shouldn’t have showed your sister “this neat webcomic I found” all those years ago! Reap what you sow, bro!!

We’re not having children, but during a joke discussion of what would happen if my wife’s sister went into labor at our wedding, we said she’d have to name the baby Casey or Billious Slick or Rosemary or Davekat or something… which is how “Rosemary” ended up on my in-laws baby name shortlist

I know I will not see the gates of heaven, it’s fine, I’ve made peace with the consequences of my actions

#homestuck #homestuck wedding #wedding qaplanning

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thebetawolfgirl · 6 months

Text

The Chanel Ribbon: The Wedding

Word count: 1,858

Pairing: Timmy x reader

Summary: Timmy finally marries the woman of his dreams.

Warnings: SMUT! And just pure joy, a bit of laughter and a bit of teary eyed sweetness!

The Chanel Ribbon: The Wedding

Timothée had finally proposed to his beloved y/n and they finally engaged from last month. They were sitting at home discussing wedding plans while laying on the sofa. It was proving to be difficult, because both sides of the respective families all had their opinions and suggestions about what kind of wedding they should have. One of y/n’s cousins thought they should have a big lavish wedding, an old aunt thought they should get married in a church, but although Timmy was half Christian on his dad’s side he didn’t practice.

So they had shut the curtains, switched off the phones and laptops and any other form of communication and shut everyone out.

They were currently talking about their all time favourite movie, as a break from the wedding talk.

‘We should’ve just eloped as soon as we got engaged.’ Timmy suddenly joked from his spot behind her.

Y/n chuckled but her head suddenly began to spin with ideas.

‘You’re hilarious Chalamet, but your mother would kill you.’

‘True. And if Pauline would help bury my body’ he got up asking if she wanted anything from the kitchen he shook her head no going back to her magazine.

But when he disappeared she quickly messaged Mark and asked him to do some things for her. It was a long shot but if anyone could help her with this particular thing it was his father. She sent the message and got a response almost instantly. She wrote down the information given and put it away until she perfected her plan.

Timmy came back in with some snacks and cans of soda and she smiled. ‘I said I didn’t need anything’

‘Yes but if I had just came back with snacks for me you would’ve be eating them all’ she rolled his eyes and grabbed a bag of chips.

‘Listen, I was just thinking, let’s go away for a few days. Just us, you’ll be doing SNL soon then we won’t have time. I think a few days off will be good.’

He nodded as he turned on the tv pulling her against him. ‘That’s actually a good idea, where abouts were you thinking?’

‘Hmm… How about France? Just to get away from all this stress and we can just relax.’ She looked at him nodding while watching tv.

‘We could get our own villa, with a swimming pool and I could wear that new bathing suit I bought.’

His head snapped towards her his entire attention on his fiancée now. ‘I haven’t had the chance to wear it for you with all of this going on.’

‘Uh-huh’ He watched crawl closer to him.

‘I could bring it and I could try it on-‘

‘I’ll book the tickets now’ she smiled as he grabbed his phone and started looking for early flights to France. The snacks were forgotten on the coffee table as he concentrated on his phone.

She went to move off him and he looked up frowning and whined like an injured puppy. ‘Heyyy’ he made to drag her back but she moved away. ‘I need to pack and I’ll let your parents and sister know we’re taking a few days off, then I’m all yours.’ She walked past him kissing him on the head as she did and hopped upstairs quickly texting Pauline telling her everything about her idea and for her and her parents to meet them at the exact location. Nicole called in tears saying it was such a kind and beautiful thing to do for Timmy and that he would love it. Mark called just to say ‘Thank you y/n, for doing this for my son.’

A few days later they arrived in France and it was beautiful weather despite it being August. Timmy was confused as to why y/n asked him to bring a shirt and tie and his good blazer. ‘Because we may go out to a nice restaurant and you can’t go out in your usual jeans and hoodie Timmy’ Timmy agreed reluctantly and reminded himself y/n was rarely wrong about this kind of thing and this would be the first step in obeying everything his wife wanted.

Their time in France was beautiful, they ate amazing food they visited all of the tourist attractions and Timmy even took her to where he spent his summers. They made love in the evening and she did try on that bikini and he ended up taking her right there in the swimming pool.

They ended up staying longer than intended, one day y/n wanted to go to this little village in the French countryside which Timmy found odd because there was hardly anything in it. She had told him to wear his suit and she wore his favourite dress the simple one he had bought her.

They reached the small village and they stopped in front of an old church, Timmy looked at it confused and looked back at y/n who was smiling at him.

‘Y/n, where are we?’

‘I wanted it to be a surprise.’

She spoke softly holding his hand.

‘This is the church your grandmother married your grandfather in.’

Timmy gasped and his eyes widened before filling with tears.

‘I wanted your grandmother to be with us when we got married.’

He looked back at the old church before grabbing y/n by the back of her neck and crashing his lips to hers and kissed her as the tears fell from his eyes. He broke the kiss and whispered ‘Thank you.’

She smiled nodding and took his hand leading him towards the church where his parents and his sister were waiting for them along with y/n’s parents and sister. As soon as Timmy saw his parents he rushed over to them burying his face in his mother’s shoulder sobbing gently. ‘Mama’

Y/n new he missed his grandmother dearly so it felt right to get married in the same church she did.

Timmy moved from his parents embrace and hugged his sister before turning to his future in-laws and hugging them.

After the greetings and preparations Timmy stood at the alter waiting for his bride. This was better than any lavish wedding and the fact y/n did all of this for him, in memory of his beloved grandmother sealed his confidence that this woman, this incredible beautiful woman would be his and only his. He would watch her soar with her music and they would support each other and have that happy ever after.

They exchanged their vows in French and sealed their bond with a kiss and walked up the aisle husband and wife. Equals.

They had a small private meal at their favourite in Paris and then went back to the villa. Timmy asked both families if they wanted to stay with them but they already got somewhere to stay. Y/n’s parents were staying with the Chalamet’s at the family villa.

They all bid their goodbyes and the happy couple went back alone.

Y/n smiled as she knew Timmy just wanted to get her back to the villa to have her to himself.

Her theory was proved right as soon as the front door was locked he shoved her against it and attacked her mouth.

He picked her up in his arms and carried her bridal style upstairs to their bedroom and shut the door with his foot before setting her down.

She reached for him sliding his jacket from his shoulders and letting it fall to the ground, he pulled her against him by her waist and buried his face in her neck and whispered ‘Wife’

Her breath caught in her throat and she whispered back ‘Husband’

A choked gasp escaped his throat and he groaned against her neck nipping her shoulder, they shed their clothes quickly and she pushed him gently to sit on the bed before climbing on to his lap.

The place was in darkness but he could feel her fingers trailing along his chest as she made to push him backwards, but he flipped her over so she was underneath and began kissing and nipping her lips before moving down her throat and all the way down.

She took a deep breath as she felt him at her thigh and heard him gasp and smirked. She had tied around her thigh the Chanel Ribbon instead of the traditional lace garter. She heard him groan and felt the ribbon being pulled off her leg and suddenly see him above her ‘You’re so bad’ he still had the ribbon in his mouth and she took it from between his teeth before wrapping it around his neck and tying it in a bow around his throat

‘Oh’ he breathed out softly at the feel of the satin around his neck and she grinned at his surprise.

‘You can proceed now’

He looked at her through the dark with wide eyes in shock before he dove down and began devouring her holding her legs open as she cried out and gripped his curls.

He began moving his tongue up and down her bundle of nerves before poking his tongue inside of her making her slam her hand against the railing above her head.

She knew she would have bruises where he was holding her hips down as he went down on her and she didn’t care.

She was close to coming and so pulled on his hair to bring him back up and dragged him to her by the ribbon around his throat smirking when he gasped. He groaned as he flipped them onto his back and kissed her hard before letting her sit up and sink down on him, they both groaned and started moving together. She untied the ribbon and pulled on both ends with her hand pulling him slightly and smirked as he grunted in surprise. She leaned down and met his lips and they kissed passionately as they rode each other hard.

Timmy held onto her digging his fingers into the skin of her back leaving scratches and slamming his hips against hers meeting her force before rolling them over and burying his face into her neck. His arms were trapped around her shoulders underneath and he could feel her dragging her nails down his back. He growled out against her neck at the sting of her nails and grabbed the bed railing using it for leverage and slammed into her harder, hearing her small gasps against his shoulder ‘T-Tim- I’m-‘

She cut off and arched into him as he thrust a few more times before coming with her his hand sliding down the headboard as they breathed heavily against each other.

After catching their breathes they lay in bed together and he played with their entwined fingers as she lay her head on his shoulder. He looked at their wedding rings and smiled softly as they glowed in the dim light of the moon shining through the open window.

‘This was just the beginning’ was Timmy’s last thought before he fell asleep in her arms!

@sufferingstarlight

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@gatoenlaciudad

#lil timmy tim #timothèe chalamet #timothée hal chalamet #timmy fanfics #timothée x reader #timothee chalamet smut

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aaronhotchnersworld · 4 months

Text

aaron hotchner x bau wife reader

Sick

We had just boarded the jet, on our way to florida. The unsub had been kidnapping small children from parks when the parents weren’t looking. He would keep them for 10 days before killing them.

Aaron and I talked this morning, he could tell I didn’t feel good when we both woke up this morning. He told me not to push myself and that I could stay back if I needed. I didn’t want to stay back.

I sat next to aaron on the plane, like I always do. Aaron and I have been married for 3 years, we met when I first joined the bau 7 years ago. He is the love of my life.

Aaron discussed the case with the team for the first 30 minutes of the flight. I normally would discuss and throw out ideas but I didn’t feel well and was fighting sleep

After they were done discussing, he put the back of his hand on my forehead. “you feel very warm” he said concerned. “i’ll be okay Aaron” I said as I gave him a smile. “why don’t you rest your eyes sweetie?”

I began to shiver, despite having a headache, I was freezing. Aaron took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around me. I immediately thanked him and leaned my head on his shoulder.

“I love you aaron”

“I love you y/n”

I quickly fell asleep not fighting sleep anymore.

aarons pov

After we landed, I softly shook y/n awake. I know she didn’t feel but she is extremely stubborn and didn’t want to stay back.

“y/n” i whispered. “it’s time to get up we’re here” she slowly sat up, I put my hand to her forehead. “y/n/n you feel really warm do you want to stay at the hotel and rest some more?” I asked her hoping she’d say yes so she doesn’t overwork herself.

“aaron please I want to help”

y/n has always adored children, she absolutely loves jack. I know cases involving children are tough on her and she feels like she needs to help even if she is not feeling well.

“okay, just please let me know if there’s anything you need”

“i will”

“i love you y/n”

“i love you aaron”

We both stood up and walked out of the jet. We all made our way to the hotel to check in. Everyone got their own room but y/n and I always share one. Derek, Emily, and David are all on the 2nd floor while Spencer, jj, y/n and I were all on the 3rd floor.

We quickly checked in to our hotel rooms and put our stuff in our rooms before heading to the station.

It has been a few hours since we arrived and we basically have nothing. I’m frustrated, the whole team is frustrated. It’s 2am so everyone is tired. “I just don’t understand what we’re missing” derek says out of frustration.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. Everyone is going back to the hotel and meeting back here at 10am. Everyone needs there rest” I told them all. Everyone quickly got up and left thanking me for sending them back to the hotel.

y/n and I were the last ones in the room. “are you ready to go sweetheart?” i asked her softly. she just nodded her head, she looked even paler than earlier. I reached my hand out to help her stand up. she took it and mumbled a thank you.

I opened the passenger door for her as she got in and closed it. I walked to the other side and got into the car. The hotel was about 15 minutes away from the station. By the time we got to the hotel, y/n was sleeping.

I felt bad waking her up but I had too. We walked into our hotel room and I could tell she really didn’t feel well. She immediately layed down in bed. “y/n sweetie are you sure you don’t just want to stay here in the morning?” I asked as I layed down next to her.

“I’ll be okay aaron I promise”

morning

y/n and I returned back to the station at around 9:45, we were the first ones there. Everyone else arrived at 10. We all discussed the case for about 2 hours before taking a break. y/n sat in one of the chairs. I kneeled in front of her “y/n sweetheart do you want me to take you back to the hotel?”

she looked up at me and nodded her head. “okay come on” I said as I helped her up. “Derek, can I talk to you?” I asked him as y/n and I walked out of the room.

y/n sat down in one of the chairs outside while I

talked to derek. “Will you guys be okay if I stay back at the hotel with y/n for the stay? I don’t feel comfortable leaving her alone”

“We will be fine. I’ll call you with any new information”

“Thank you Derek”

Derek nodded and turned to y/n, “I hope you feel better”

y/n mumbled a “thank you Derek” Derek just nodded and walked back into the room. I helped y/n to the car

We were back in our hotel room 20 minutes later. “y/n sweetie why don’t you lay down?” I helped her to bed and got her under the covers. “I love you aaron” she mumbled into my chest. “i love you y/n/n and I will always be here to care of you, in sickness and in health.”

#aaron hotchner x fem!reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch x you

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wyn-n-tonic · 8 months

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That's A Real Fucking Legacy: All of You, All of Me

Word Count: 968 Warnings: Uh.... death talk? Author's Note: SHE'S BACK ON HER BULLSHIT, BESTIES.

TARFL Masterlist | Author Blog

It’s been years in the making at this point.

You, Joel. Baby. Except her name isn’t Baby anymore and it’s not Thomasin either.

There was a lot of discussion, a lot of broken hearts and tears from all parties involved. Tommy was touched but he ached. Even when he got over it, found somebody else, he ached so deep in his being that there were nights he thought he’d split himself in two.

Because at the end of the day, he still believes—with all his heart—that your little girl should be his, too. He believes that when you took the last name Miller, it should’ve been gifted over from him.

“I’ll hold onto this hurt for the rest of my life, sweetheart,” he’d said.

Said he’d accepted that he’d caused it but that didn’t make the pain go away. Didn’t soothe that raw, bruised part of his heart—his soul.

There was no begging, Joel was on board from the beginning. Joel was on board before anybody else. Change her name, something more appropriate for who she is to you and Joel and this world. A gift.

A second chance.

Or third. Fourth. Fifth.

One hundredth and many more than you deserve after years and year over this life; this way of living.

Especially for Joel, your strong, broad mountain of a man who believed himself irredeemable in the eyes of everybody but especially yours. He cradled her with such gentleness, even as she grew, that it was hard to believe he was capable of any kind of violence.

So, after a year of late night and early morning talks whispered across the pillows, decisions had been made. A lot of them, actually.

Joel admitted that he felt his humanity pouring back into him with every breath he took beside you; every moment he held your daughter in his arms. He bloomed as father, color darkening his cheeks with emotion every time he looked at her. He felt like before in some sense of the word, like he was being given the gift of fulfilling the only thing he ever felt he was good at.

Beyond a shadow of a doubt, you know where that thought would often go. Silent promises to himself that he wouldn’t fail this time. Or, God help him, he hoped his failure was no longer being in this world to protect her when it came down to it.

In the registry office of town, where all the records of who was who and where they were were kept, you both signed as a new birth certificate was made.

Clara Miriam Miller. No Thomasin, no Baby. No placeholder for who she was or name to carry as if she were some memorial, just Clara.

It means bright. Clear. Joel joked that she was the only light in the darkness he’d ever seen or needed.

It was good, beautiful even. As you finished your signature on the page detailing everything you could remember about her birth—bloody, loud, an early morning surprise that still exhausted you to this day—Joel cleared his throat.

Trying his best to tuck an unruly piece of hair behind your ear and failing, he took a deep breath and finally said, “will you marry me while we’re here?”

That’s the last piece to his puzzle, always has been. The thing he always wanted before—-companionship. Love in such an intimate way. Not that your relationship lacks that as it is but there’s something about being official.

There’s possession to it and there’s this bit of submission as you vow to give all your life and love and hurt and pain and, even, your death to one person.

No. No doubts in your minds about this one either. He loved so fiercely, so deeply, and he’d whispered all his insecurities and broken parts in all the nights you’ve lived together. He didn’t have it before, not when it happened. Selfishly, you’re glad that he didn’t, that his wife had walked away from him years and years before that. If he’d lost her the way he’d lost the others, the way he fears losing you or losing Clara…

But if that had been the case, there would be no you. Not for him. There wouldn’t even be a Clara, there would be somebody else with somebody else.

Or maybe nobody at all.

Your vows are even more selfish as you tell him how grateful you are that you found one another through all this and the more that life tried to throw at you; that you went to him the way Tommy had said to when there was trouble even though it scared you so much to knock on his door.

It scared you to tell him the things you told him, to make the decisions for yourself and decide you were tired of pretending it wasn’t love that you felt for him.

In the end, with Clara’s small face tucked neatly into the crook of his neck, he took your hand, looked at his brother and apologized with gratitude tacked onto the end.

Looking back at you, he smiles and you reach out to touch your thumb into the hidden dimple as it wells deep into his cheek.

“When I go, I hope it’s peaceful,” he says. “I hope it’s beside you, Mrs. Miller, and I hope it’s only after years. And, selfishly, I hope it’s not a pain or absence you have to feel for long because I am going to be mighty pissed off if you make me wait for as long as I did to have you in my bed in the first place.”

Going back to your signature on Clara’s paperwork, you pick up the pen and add -Miller to the end of your name.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tommy miller #tommy miller fanfiction #o writes

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jqnehr · 4 months

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les améthystes du ciel | neuvillette — part 12

two individuals under pressure to marry. one has the hydro archon on his back, and the other has her matchmaking friend pushing her along. when the two meet at a ball, and both in dire need of peace from two meddlesome females, what better arrangement is there than their own betrothal?

pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader warnings : angst, mentions of murder, reader's getting ready have another panic attack (you're ok tho), slightly suggestive, FLUFF, this is sfw. word count : 3.6k note : short, but uh...🤭 and I DID say I'd post this later this week but...SURPRISE!! haha, motivation came at the right time <3

! not proof read

! do not copy, redistribute, translate, or use my work with or without credit in any way. thank you.

part eleven ⋮ masterlist ⋮ part thirteen

ao3 ⋮ playlist

...

“Do you mean to say that all these years…” After a moment of silence of you trying not to collapse or throw up or yell, you finally manage out your next words in an icily calm, quiet voice. “You have been secretly investigating his whereabouts without my knowing?”

“Look, I know how this would sound…” A desperate gleam enters Navia’s eyes—a gleam you recognise to convey that someone has just discovered how much they’ve messed up. The panic in her eyes is practically overflowing. “But I’ve been doing it to gather evidence and get you the justice you deserve. I’ve been tracking him! The Spina di Rosula is a private investigation branch, and this is what I do! And as your best friend—”

“Did I not tell you, very explicitly, that I want no one I know to have anything to do with him?” The trauma has now been triggered, and you’re finding it hard not to curl up into a ball from the memories flooding in. Great. I’m going to have another panic attack if this keeps up. “When he escaped, I knew that it would end as a cold case. You told me that you would respect my wishes, Navia.” Tears well up, but you fight them back. “And why did you choose to tell me now, here? At a tea party when the marriage I never wanted was just announced?!”

The entire garden goes silent, every head turned your way. You blink, your bones freezing to ice, wide eyes surveying the yard. Oh, archons. What have I done?

“As you were, everyone.” Maybe he should be wearing a hero’s cape from the sheer relief you feel upon hearing Neuvillette’s smooth, calm voice filter throughout the area. He nods to the crowd as he makes his way over to you both. His eyes hold no anger or shock at your outburst, only concern. “Is everything alright?”

“We’re fine—”

“[Name], you should tell him.”

“What? No!” Your fists, balled at your sides, tremble with panic and fear. “He doesn’t need to know. Neuvillette, it’s fine, really—everything’s fine.”

Taking the sheer embarrassment in stride, the three of you make your way up the steps, the Baroness leading you to a small room for you to speak privately in, the woman’s kind face lined with concern. You catch the questioning glances from Furina and Wriothesley before the door closes behind you.

“…Let’s take this inside.” His hand is now at your elbow, grip gentle, unobtrusive—but you flinch away before your wits can tell you otherwise. His eyes widen a fraction, hurt flashing within them—before understanding softens the blow. “[Name]. Don’t you think it’d be best to head indoors and discuss this there?”

Even though the guests obeyed the Chief Justice and went back to their conversations, people are still staring; the seemingly fanatic wife of the Iudex and how she just denied her husband’s touch now the topic of their conversation. Sick to your stomach, you inhale a deep breath and nod. “Yes. Let’s.”

“[Name], the only way that I can be of any help is to tell me whatever is troubling you,” are the first gentle words Neuvillette spears you with once the three of you are alone. His eyes are of that soft amaranth hue again; so understanding, and it frustrates you. “You’re under no obligation to do so, however, but I really do want to help you.”

“Neuvillette, this isn’t something someone, such as yourself, who is already burdened with such difficulties which far outweigh mine in terms of struggle—”

“Oh, cut the rot, [Name].” Navia flicks your forehead, and you softly yelp. She only ever does that to you when she believes you’re being particularly stupid. “Stop downplaying and invalidating your own hurt. If you don’t tell him, then I will.”

You gave Neuvillette a brief glance, seeing his lilac eyes trained on you unwaveringly, waiting for you to continue. “Okay, fine. I was engaged to a man five years ago until he tried to kill me. That’s the short version and I am not—” You whip your head around to shoot a narrow-eyed, warning glare at Navia. “—Going into detail at present.”

“That’s all I need to know.” It truly is, if the quick wash of rage drenching him at your clipped words says anything. Rage for whoever the coward was for even daring to harm even a single hair on your head. However, Neuvillette keeps his expression calm and posture as relaxed as he can. He doesn’t want to worry or—even worse—scare you. His right fist clenches into a tight ball at his side, the material of his glove only barely keeping his nails from piercing the skin of his palm. The pain does not ease or bother him. “Were you two discussing this man’s whereabouts?”

“Yes, I just reported to [Name] that the man is dead,” Navia promptly replies before you can butt in. “It’s a true shame we weren’t able to bring him to court and have him locked away forever.”

I can think of a few more things to inflict upon him, other than a sentence. Things that involve a lot of bruises and broken bones. Neuvillette keeps his dark thoughts to himself. “Very much so. But, why are you distressed over such news, [Name]?” Don’t tell me you still love him.

“Because I specifically told the ones who helped me rehabilitate to not bother chasing after him.” Neuvillette observes how shadowed your expression becomes, eyes at your feet. “You’d never catch him. He had too many connections. And it’d put everyone in needless danger.” If you both were closer, maybe he’d have been able to embrace and comfort you, like how his hand is itching to do right now. The haunted look in your eyes mirrors murky skies on a stormy day—like how the clouds are drawing into one another and looming overhead at present. She says five years. She says she rehabilitated. It seems more like five years of continual, lonely torture.

“And although I won’t deny I’m glad he’s finally gone, I don’t appreciate Navia here going back on her word—and, not only that, but leaving me in the dark until the worst possible moment. Didn’t the thought of waiting until later when I wouldn’t be under such stress enter your head?”

“After today, I won’t be able to see you for the next week,” Navia shoots back. “And by then, it’ll be far too late! No time like the present, and I think it’s something you need to know immediately.”

“Agreed.” Neuvillette barely keeps himself from wincing at the scathing look you turn your head to give him. Your mouth is open and ready to pour forth protests, but his hand on your shoulder silences you. “If you’re worried about public opinion, don’t be. Causing a fuss could in fact prove advantageous to this marriage…ending.” He doesn’t know why he suddenly hesitated at the word ‘ending’.

You don’t appear to notice. “Well, if you put it that way…but! The factor still stands, Navia.” Maybe your frayed nerves are making you overreact, but you’re feeling pretty affronted right now. Besides, it’s your past and your emotions. And they are valid. “I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of forty-or-so people and the Iudex.”

You heave a sigh and turn to Neuvillette. “Let’s get out of here, then.”

“You’ve nothing to be ashamed about,” Neuvillette says, voice soft. “It would be a shock to anyone. Would you like to head back to the Palais?”

You mull his suggestion over for a moment, chewing on your lower lip. “Well…what do you think would be best?”

“I think you need to rest and think for a bit,” he replies. “Process the news you just received. Navia?”

“I agree.” She nods, crossing her arms. “Don’t bother with Furina and her antics today. Go on home and chill.”

“I must go, also.” Navia turns to glance at the nearby grandfather clock, the time reading 4:11PM. “André’s death isn’t going to investigate itself, is it? See you!” She rushes out at the look in your face, the door slamming shut behind her, the two of you left alone.

With the main source of energy gone, fatigue embraces you. “Let me take your arm, Neuvillette. I’m about to fall asleep.”

He chuckles, and you feel the vibration against you as he allows you to lean against him. You flood with heat at the sensation, and you don’t know why. Instead of taking your arm, he wraps his right one around you, holding you close. “Shall I carry you bridal-style out of this estate, just to give everyone a show?”

Neuvillette’s cheek is pressed against the left side of your head, warm breath fanning lightly over your ear and sending delightful shivers down your spine. Your own breath hitches; you turn your head to stare up at him. Intense amethyst-hued eyes peer into yours playfully, amusement dancing along his irises. You huff out a laugh, pulse pounding at his proximity, pressing your cheek against his shoulder impishly. “Why not? Maybe it’ll make Furina faint.”

He arched a brow, lips curling up into a small, amused smirk. “Praying on the Hydro Archon’s downfall, now, are we?”

You pat his chest with mock-sympathy. “Such tragic events in the wake of our love are able to be overcome as long as we stick together, yes?”

He smiles widely enough at your joke that you’re flashed with a blinding glimpse of his pearly whites. “I’m glad to hear that you still know how to smile, even after everything that happened and has happened.” Then, completely unexpectedly, he stoops closer and brings his free arm up under your knees, hoisting you up and thus carrying you bridal-style, like he said he would. “Now. Shall we?”

You squeak in surprise, flailing your arms around a little, before finally taking hold of Neuvillette’s neck. “Goodness! You surprised me.” His head is inclined down toward you, a little too close for comfort, and your fingers accidentally get tangled in his moon-hued locks. You tug involuntarily, and he lets out a groan—the sound low and deep and silky. “Oh—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pull on your hair.” His grunts sent flashes of heat straight to your core, and you squirm.

His brow relaxes from the furrow it was in and he gives you a small, reassuring grin. “It’s alright. I just have a sensitive scalp, is all. I won’t drop you, so you’ve no reason to hold on.”

“Aren’t I heavy?” You have put on some weight from all the luxurious food you’ve been served for the past few weeks—if the even tighter fit of your corset and rolling tummy fat is anything to go by. You’ve been having to suck in your stomach a lot more than usual. Although you don’t believe Neuvillette is the sort of man who would be bothered by such a sight, you don’t really want him to be privy to yet another rooted insecurity of yours and have the obviously muscular man struggle under your weight. However, at present, his posture is completely relaxed—he doesn’t seem to be having difficulty with holding you in his arms at all. He must have a lot more muscle under those thick robes than I thought. Which makes you question—where does he get the time to stay in shape?

“Not at all.” He turns towards the door, and you reach to open it for him. “Now, how shall we do this? We must make sure everyone has a nice, big shock.”

“Let’s say I fainted in your arms, and you’ve got to carry me off back to my room.” You smile deviously. “That’ll really get the rumour mill going. I can see it—‘does this mean the Iudex will have an heir?’” You put the back of your hand to your forehead and lean back, as if fainting most theatrically. “‘Is she expecting?’ Oh, but then people will want that.” Maybe you’re taking this a wee bit too far.

Neuvillette laughs lightheartedly again. “Wonderful ideas. Maybe it’ll get Furina off our backs for a while—if we make it appear our relationship is coming along swimmingly.” He nudges the door open with his foot and steps out. “Alright, then, dear wife—that’s your cue.”

Without another word, you go limp in his arms, slumping against his shoulder, eyes shut. His hold tightens but remains gentle, and you can just feel him shift into character. For such an awkward man, he most certainly can act.

You hear the mingling guests’ chatter die down slightly at the emergence of the Chief Justice from the main house, and a set of heels clack over to you both. “My word! What in the Seven happened to the Madame, Monsieur?”

You try not to smirk in amusement at the genuine worry in the Baroness’ tone. You feel Neuvillette draw in a deep breath and exhale it in a fretful sigh. “I sincerely apologise, but my wife and I depart prematurely. You see, she’s fallen ill at some awfully distressing news regarding her family.”

How velvety is the holy Iudex’s tongue when he lies. Abstaining from laughter is getting harder and harder. “Therefore, it is my duty as her husband to escort her back to her chambers to rest.”

Lovely choice of words. You internally applaud his apt emphasising, also. This’ll get Furina going.

“O-Oh! Why, of course. Have a…pleasant trip, Monsieur.” The uncertainty and clear embarrassment in Baroness Aillet’s voice gives clear indication that Neuvillette’s innuendo was successfully communicated.

“Thank you. Have a lovely rest of your afternoon, everyone.” With that, you feel Neuvillette turn and begin to walk back through the main hall of the house and out the front foyer.

“There’s no one else around now, [Name],” he whispers in your ear, and you almost jump with how close he is. Your eyes fly open and you lift your head from his shoulder. “Truly? Alright. You can put me down now—”

“Shh, one moment—there’s the butler.” Goodness, he’s keeping this act up until the very last minute. “My apologies for interrupting you,” his words are a rushed whisper.

“Well, aren’t you the schemer, huh?” You tease, smacking him lightly on his chest. Your hand meets solid, robed muscle, and Neuvillette does not flinch. He just keeps his serpentine-slitted amaranth eyes ahead, a faint smile gracing his features. “You planned for us to leave early.”

So you fall back onto his shoulder, seemingly unconscious, as Neuvillette and the butler greet each briefly before continuing on past. The sun shines into your eyes—strange, it was so cloudy before—and you lift your hand to shade yourself from its glare. “Since we’re out early, won’t we have to hail a carriage from somewhere?”

“I had the coachman stay,” he replies, making no move to put you down. “Let’s just say I had a premonition.”

“I become…emboldened in your presence, ma chérie.” His eyes flit down to meet yours intently. “Even if Miss Navia didn’t give me such an adequate opportunity to bring you aside and convince you to get out of that suffocating place, I would’ve just gone with plan B.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Wriothesley,” you huff out a small laugh, shaking your head in amusement. “You’re becoming slier by the day.”

“If it means coming to the rescue of my dearest wife, then I suppose the pure Chief Justice has to get a little dirt under his nails.” You both finally come to a stop before the carriage, and he gently puts you down. His hold on you does not loosen until your feet are flat on the ground—and even then, he retains a firm but kindly hold on your hand. He opens the carriage door himself, having told the coachman not to worry himself with it, and he lets you up inside first. You slide onto a seat, while he swiftly takes the one opposite you. “Of course, nothing criminally related.”

“I’m sure.” You’re still reeling from his small pet name of ‘ma chérie’ and how the man just admitted he’s not afraid to go to such lengths for you. When did our relationship progress to such a stage? I don’t recall this being a clause in the contract…apart from mutually agreeing towards a more casual, friendly relationship. You’re unsure whether this recent…development within your dynamic is exactly acceptable. What if it grows into something more? What if I fall—or, have I already…?

If so, things are only bound to crumble and shatter down around your ears. I can’t risk it. I’ve diced and argued with myself so many times—this…really can’t go on.

But your current status—how well you both get along, how much you’re beginning to like the buzz of electricity shooting through you at only a mere brush of shoulders from him, and how safe and comfortable you feel around the man…it’s all teetering on the brink; it’s entering hazardous territory. One wrong move, and it all comes tumbling down.

That dark, slithering sensation of fear sets into your veins once more, poisoning your blood with murky pulses of dread and foreboding. However, you find your own natural reaction of shutting down and everyone out to such a feeling delayed—he looks so chipper, and the sun is shining. How could I ruin the moment with my own selfish worries? I would only be burdening the man more.

“She selected our final event to be a ball. It’s already nearing the end of the year. What if the event is put back so far it’ll go over the contract deadline—oh!”

“…I’m sure Furina is quite torn between being outraged and delighted at the turn of events,” he’s saying, snapping you from your shadowed reverie. His soft lilac hues sparkle like a violet-shaded aurora borealis. “Maybe it could be dawning on her that her plans have too many loopholes we keep slipping through. That should stunt her for a bit, no?”

Abruptly, the carriage jolts over something awfully bumpy on the road. You both heard the coachman let out an ‘oops! Sorry about that, Monsieur et Madame!’ before your present predicament dawns on you.

The jostle was so violent it flung you forward, sending you face-first into the warm, expansive chest of the Iudex. Your cry of surprise was lost in the front of his dress shirt, your frame pressed fully up against him—and, you finally realise with horror—you’re now practically straddling him!

“My goodness, [Name], are you alright?” Two large, warm hands come to rest on your upper arms, gently, slowly easing you away from him. You slump down from your position enough so that you sit on his knee, his own legs now spread. You’re quite frazzled—hair frizzy, eyes wide and cheeks flushed beet red; your dress’ left strap loosened and hanging off your shoulder. It’s likely giving him quite a nice view of your collarbones and cleavage.

“I-I…” You quickly adjust your dress strap and make sure your chest is fully covered, never having been so humiliated in all your life. “My apologies—I didn’t—”

A featherlight brush of long, gentle fingers ghosts over your neck—right over your scar. You flinch roughly back, almost toppling over again, if not for your grip on his shoulder; eyes wide and gawking into his own. His are not focused on yours—instead, they are trained right on the scar, his brows upturned into a perturbed frown. Neuvillette’s hand is unmoving in midair, frozen into that caressing motion. Finally, it moves again, coming up to your cheek to brush some hair behind your ear, touch cruelly tender. “Did he do that to you?”

You barely hear him over the blood rushing in your ears. What is he…? His whisper is almost inaudible, and his tone holds an understanding you’ve never heard before. And it only just manages to conceal a masked, but unmistakable, cadence of stoked ire.

“I…yes,” you finally reply, voice just as low. “It’s an old scar.” I should’ve worn a choker. Now look at what's happened! The last person I wanted to see it now has! Damn that coachman for going at such a speed over a bump!

“It looks like it was caused by a rope.” Of course, he’s likely seen lots of murder scenes, so he’d know. You avert your gaze, swallowing. But his hand cradles your cheek again and he turns your head back to him. You feel physically pierced at the compassionate look in his eyes. “…What happened?”

Should I tell him? It’s not like he really needs to know. Another six months and you likely won’t cross paths again. But the man has a knack at making you fold when confronted with those soft eyes of his. Full of innocence, full of tenderness, full of goodwill.

“I’ll tell you…later. Back at the Palais.” You trust him. You trust him with your wounds. The warmth in his eyes, voice and touch makes you feel secure. That tells you why you haven’t pushed away his hand cupping your cheek, thumb caressing the swell of it comfortingly. That tells you why you can’t.

“[Name], forgive me for encroaching on your space.” His other arm suddenly circles itself around your waist, pulling you closer. You’re thus chest-to-chest, hands clutching his strong shoulders. You can’t breathe. “But I think you need this.”

With that, he leans forward, wraps his arms around you, and guides your face into his neck. His hand cradles the back of your head, and you cling to him, hands balling his robe’s material on his back into tight fists.

You bury your face into his neck like a babe would to its mother. He holds you, and you cry.

dun dun DUUUUN guess who's dead 🤭 guess who ISN'T coming back to make your wonderful future happiness with neuvillette a nightmare?? THAT'S RIGHT, I killed off your toxic ex 💕

BUT next chapter will be the LONG AWAITED flashback chapter!! all will be revealed, you and neuv will understand each other more, and the story will continue to progress swimmingly <3

and as for the final quarter of the chapter...I couldn't help myself. like. this man gives the best hugs THAT is my headcanon. it starts raining when others share their pain with him. he's such a sweetheart, so empathetic, you can see why im head over heels for him 💔

ANYWAYYYS I am, again, SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT 🙏 work and life def has favourites, but I am not one of them. so sorry y'all </3

taglist!

@shiroonekoo @just-here-reading @avyakaslana @eternal-dokja @confusedparticle @xitrinez @tanspostsblog @vcatson @sek0ya @loving-august @mxyarylla @ultigoblin @constantlyoverthinking @pvbbyb0y @lynettezzp @esthelily @furblrwurblr @sangoqueenkoko @lacunaanonymoused

I hope you guys enjoyed this one, as much as I enjoyed writing it 💛

#genshin impact #genshin #neuvillette #chief justice neuvillette #fontaine #neuvilette genshin #neuvillette x reader #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #neuvillette x you

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atlafan · 5 months

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1963 - Part 1

a/n: I have been dying to share this with yall and I'm so excited to finally be doing that. As per usual, this is the only part that will be posted here on Tumblr.All other parts will be posted on Patreon. In fact, Part 2 is already up! And Part 3 will be posted Friday.

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Warnings: mentions of infertility

Words: 3.8K

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“Every month I keep hoping I’ll have different news for you two,” Doctor Simmons sighed, “unfortunately, I have the same news. Beverly still isn’t with child.”

“We’ve been trying for five months, we’ve been doing everything you’ve said. Beverly drinks the teas, she lays with her legs up after we’re done, I don’t know what else we can do.” Robert was exasperated at this point. He was squeezing his wife’s hand, desperately trying not to let any tears escape his eye ducts.

“You two have exhausted all natural remedies, so I think it’s time we consider IVF.”

Beverly’s eyes widened, and she squeezed Robert’s hand back. She looked at him, panicked.

“Beverly is terribly afraid of needles.”

“You don’t need to decide on anything right now. Take these pamphlets and look over the information. If you two want to have a baby of your own, then this may be the next step.”

“We’ll look it over and have an answer by our next appointment.”

Robert and Beverly are silent on the drive home from the doctor’s office. They’re silent on their way back into their home. Beverly goes right to the kitchen to get started on dinner. Robert comes up next to her and puts her hand over hers.

“We should read the literature on IVF.” He said.

“I have friends who have done it, and all it has done is make their hormones crazy, and not in a fun way. I really don’t want to, Robert. I’ve done everything else, please don’t make me do this.”

“It feels like sometimes I’m the only one who wants to have a baby.”

“How could you say something like that to me? If I’m infertile-“

“You’re not, though. Doctor Simmons has run every type of blood test on you.”

“I know, I was there when the nurse was drawing it after you accused me of secretly taking birth control pills.”

“Well, with how apprehensive you were about having your diaphragm removed, I had to make sure you weren’t doing any self-sabotage.”

“Maybe I’m not getting pregnant because my body knows you don’t trust me.”

“I do trust you, you just weren’t exactly thrilled to start trying.”

“You sprung it on me, I was surprised. We never really discussed having kids before we got married.”

“Sweetheart, why would two people get married if not to have kids?” He chuckled.

“That’s not why I married you. I married you because I love you and I want to be with you.”

“I love you and want to be with you too. But if I hadn’t wanted kids, we could have just shacked up in an apartment in the city. I bought us a house in the suburbs so you could keep house and raise our kids. You like being a housewife, you’ve told me as much.”

“I do. I like making your meals and keeping things tidy, but I also like my free time. I like to go have brunch with the other ladies, and I like going to the library to check out new film analysis journals, and I like being able to go to the movies in the middle of the day. Having a baby means I can’t do those things anymore. At least, not until it’s old enough to go to school. That’s five solid years I’d be putting on hold. And within that five years, I could have at least two more kids. So, now I’m thirty-one with three kids under the age of five, and oh yeah, I’ll still be expected to keep the house clean and cook all your meals and pleasure you even though everything between my legs will feel like sandpaper.”

Robert eyes his wife, then puckers his lips in thought. “Is that how you’ve really been feeling? You haven’t said a word.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you. You’re not easy to talk to these days. Every time I reach for my clip-belt for my sanitary napkins, I can see you watching with such sadness in your eyes. Motherhood is scary. My friends tell me these horror stories about childbirth. Their husbands barely take a week off from work to be home with them and the baby. So, we’re expected to push these kids out, then get up the next day and get back to our usual routines.”

“Beverly, you’re worried about things women have been doing since the beginning of time. Don’t be such a child. The fear of needles I can understand, but the fear of being a mother makes no sense. I know you and your mother have a strained relationship, but that doesn’t mean history will repeat itself.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “If we’re not pregnant by our next appointment with Doctor Simmons, then I would like us to start IVF. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Good.” He looked at the ingredients on the counter and grimaced. “I don’t want meatloaf tonight, make something else instead.”

“Yes, dear.”

“I’m gonna go to my office, have a beer, and listen to the ball game. Let me know when dinner is on the table.”

“Yes, dear.”

Robert smiled, grabbed a beer out of the fridge, and walked out of the kitchen. Beverly took a deep breath and rummaged through her cabinets to see what else she could possibly whip up for dinner. It needs to be something heavy enough that Robert won’t feel like making love before bed. Beverly doesn’t have it in her to put on a performance tonight.

Most people get married to have kids. Beverly married Robert because she loved him. He wanted to take care of her. But when the honeymoon phase ended, and he stopped saying thank you to her for all of the things she did to take care of him, she grew resentful. She never let on about it. Robert didn’t need to know how she really felt. Opening up the way she did the day prior wasn’t normal. Things had been good between them for a long time. Beverly didn’t mind stepping into the role of a stay-at-home wife. She was college educated, but it wasn’t like she’d ever be able to carry a position in the profession of her desire. And since she didn’t want to be a schoolteacher or a nurse, Robert asked her to stay home to tend to the house he had bought for them.

At twenty-three, she really hadn’t minded. They met in college, as so many young couples do, and it was love at first sight. Their courtship was disgustingly romantic, and their wedding was a dream come true. The honeymoon phase was so sickly sweet. Beverly enjoyed making breakfast for Robert before he left for work. She enjoyed sending him on his way. She had the whole day to herself. She’d tend to her various gardens, and she’d make sure the house was clean. She’d meet up with friends for brunch. She did everything a good wife was supposed to do.

At twenty-six, Beverly feels like she’s on autopilot. She can’t help but wonder if the reason why older couples have designated sex nights is because the wives must need the six days in between to psych themselves up. She also can’t help but wonder if this is why so many older couples opt for twin beds that can be pushed together or pulled apart.

And it’s not that Beverly doesn’t want kids, she thinks it could be fun, but she’s petrified of essentially raising a child by herself. Robert will stroll in from work, bounce the baby on his knee for all of two minutes, and call it a night. She’s scared for all the reasons she tried to explain the day prior. Robert also didn’t give Beverly a choice five months ago…

“I was thinking of maybe enrolling in graduate school.” Beverly brought up one morning over breakfast. Robert had nearly choked on his toast. “I know what you’re thinking, but you wouldn’t have to pay for a thing. They have stipends for students. I could teach while I learn.”

“I thought you didn’t want to teach.”

“I didn’t want to teach children, but something about having high level discussions with college students makes teaching sound like fun. I miss being in school.”

“What’s the point of a graduate degree in film and media? It’s not like you can do anything with it.”

“A graduate degree could lead to a doctorate, and I could keep teaching. I know female professors are few and far between, especially in the world of film, but it is possible.”

“So, you want to be a career woman, is that what you’re saying?”

“Not exactly. Classes wouldn’t take up all my time. I’d still be able to cook and clean and do everything I’m doing now. Except now when I go to the library, I’ll be doing schoolwork instead of reading for leisure.”

“Seems like you have it all figured out already.”

“Well, I wanted to show you I had thought it all through, that I was serious. You got your graduate degree. If you hadn’t, we never would have met.”

“Exactly. What if some older professor comes on to you? You’d have no way to protect yourself.”

“Oh, Robert, I’ve gone this long without something horrible happening to me on a college campus, I think I’d be fine. Besides, all I’d need to do is show off the lovely rings on my finger.” She grinned. “No one would mess with a married woman whose husband can afford a diamond like this.”

“Did you already sign up for a course?”

“Of course not. I wanted to speak with you first.”

“Good.” He finished his breakfast. “Let me think on it.”

“Alright. Anything in particular you want for dinner tonight?”

“Actually, I was thinking we could go out tonight. I wanted to take you somewhere nice.”

“Oh? For what?”

“Does a husband need a reason to treat his wife to a romantic evening?”

“No.” She giggled. “I’m just excited at the prospect of a spontaneous date night. I’ll pick out a dress I haven’t worn in a while, so it feels like new.”

“I think that’s a great idea.” He stood and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll call you before I leave work, so you’ll know when to expect me.”

“Okay, have a good day, dear.”

Beverly was excited. A night out was a positive sign. Robert wouldn’t take her out just to give her bad news. He was going to say yes to her going back to school.

The restaurant Robert took Beverly to was ritzy. He danced with her, ordered an expensive bottle of wine, and kissed on her shoulder and neck while he sat next to her in their booth. That sickly sweet feeling Beverly thought might be gone was sparking again. When the cheesecake came out, they fed each other bites. It was adorable.

“Are you having a good time tonight?” He asked.

“Yes, this has been such a wonderful evening. Thank you for taking me here.”

“You’re welcome, Bev.” He put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things lately, and our conversation this morning was the kick in the pants I needed, so I’m really glad you brought up graduate school.”

“I’m glad it was a positive conversation.” She smiled. “What’s been on your mind?”

“I think it’s time we started trying for a baby.” All of the color drained from Beverly’s face, but her smile never wavered. She couldn’t let on how disappointed she was. “You’re clearly bored with the amount of free time on your hands. I know school seemed like a fun thing to do to pass the time, but I think we’ve waited long enough. We’ll be married almost four years soon, I think we know what we’re doing in the bedroom by now. So, next week, I’m taking you to the doctor to have your diaphragm removed-“

“You called my doctor about something like that?”

“I know it’s a bit awkward, but it’s not a secret that you have one. I went with you when you got it, I should be with you when you have it taken out.”

“Robert…I don’t like that it feels like you’re not giving me a choice. What if I’m not ready?”

“It’s not that you don’t have a choice, I’m just stating that it’s time. You take care of me just fine, you’ll be a great mother. This is what I would rather you do than go back to school. Besides, think of the fun we’ll have while we’re working at it. I got excited at work today thinking about it. I was hoping tonight could be a test run.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I love you so much, Bev, I wanna turn that love into a physical being.”

“Yeah, um, that makes perfect sense. Let’s…let’s make a baby.”

“Really?” He asked, elated.

“Yes, dear.”

Robert kissed his wife. He kissed her in the car. He kissed her on the way into their home, up the stairs, and into their bedroom. He made love to his wife, then called it a night.

After getting her diaphragm removed, they waited until after her next period was done to start trying. This gave Beverly plenty of time to figure out how she could avoid pregnancy. She needed to keep some semblance of control over her own body. Robert wasn’t going to tell her when she was ready. She could decide that on her own.

Lysol douching didn’t work, she knew this. Her sister told her as much. Some of her friends offered her their birth control pills, but she knew they’d show up on a blood test, which Robert made sure she had after the second month of her still not having gotten pregnant. Beverly may have studied film, but she was an excellent student in biology and chemistry as well. She knew how condoms worked. They were coated in spermicides. She just needed to figure out how to coat her vagina with it. She bought condoms and squeezed all of the lubricant and spermicide off them and got a good amount into a bottle. She mixed it with olive oil, what ancient Greeks used to use, and douched with that before having sex with Robert. She knew it would be a long shot if it worked, but she had to try.

When the third month came along, and she still wasn’t pregnant, she took solace is knowing her little concoction was working. And because Robert never went down on her, he’d never smell or taste a thing. When he used his fingers, he just thought she was extra wet, which made him feel proud of himself.

She was perfectly content with her plans until the topic of IVF came up. Even the harshest of solutions couldn’t stand up to IVF injections. She never felt bad for lying to Robert because she didn’t like that he had become so controlling, but she also didn’t think she’d be doing this for so long. The thought of her giving her body up didn’t sound any more appealing five months later.

What was she going to do?

“I really think that one is gonna be a winner.” Robert sighed happily as he relaxed into the bed, looking over at Beverly as she lay with her legs in the air. “I’m glad we waited a couple of days in between, feels like my boys swam stronger.”

“Yes, dear.” Beverly closed her eyes and tried to breathe steadily, counting down the minutes until she could go use the bathroom and cleanse herself.

“I had an idea today. I really want to spare you from having to be injected with needles. I’m a good husband, and good husbands protect their wives. So, since we have about five weeks until our next appointment, I thought we could try one last natural method.”

“I’m listening.” She turned her head to look at him, intrigued.

“I overheard some ladies talking in the break room this morning. It’s the one good thing about having so many female secretaries. Anyways, they happened to be discussing various issues with conceiving. One of them said they had a friend who got pregnant the second she and her husband stopped focusing so much on it. The wife threw herself into different projects, and a month or so later, she was pregnant.”

“Wait.” She sat up on her elbows. “Are you saying I can enroll in a graduate course after all?”

“What, no.” He laughed. “No, I was thinking we could finally redo the patio and have that pool you’ve wanted put in. You’ve been talking about wanting to host more parties for our friends. You always do so well with the workers when we have something done here, and you love gardening. I think you’d really enjoy overseeing a landscaping project.”

“Let me get this straight: you would rather pay thousands of dollars to have our backyard redone, than pay a couple of hundred for me to enroll in a course?”

“I think school would be too stressful. If you’re stressed, then you definitely won’t conceive. Overseeing a project that puts you outside in the sun will be a win-win. Not to mention an old friend of mine is willing to give us a deal on the work.”

“You have a friend that’s a landscaper?”

“Yeah, this guy from my old neighborhood took over his father’s business. He said he could swing by Saturday to take a look at things.”

“It sounds like you’ve already decided that this is what we’re doing.”

“That’s because I have.” He grinned proudly. “Bev, when we got married, I promised to take care of you. This is me taking care of you. Not all husbands would do something like this for their wives. You could at least pretend to be grateful.”

“I am grateful, I’m sorry if my tone suggested otherwise. What time Saturday is he coming over?”

“That I left up to you. I didn’t know if you had any errands or plans with the ladies.”

“Oh.” Well, at least he was trying to be considerate. “Maybe around three? That would give me time to pick up the dry cleaning and stop at the market.”

“Three is perfect. I’ll give him a call tomorrow to let him know.” He looked down at his watch. “You should be good to use the bathroom now.”

“Yes, dear.” Beverly lowers her legs and slings her robe on. Once she’s in the bathroom, she locks the door and flips on the fan. She rummages around in the back of the sink-cabinet until she finds her douching solution. She used some prior to having sex with her husband, but she likes to use it after for good measure. She bites into the heel of her palm as she cleanses herself. It tends to sting from time to time. When she’s done, she looks at herself in the mirror. She knows she can’t keep doing this to herself. She just doesn’t know what else to do.

Beverly loves her weekend clothes. There’s something so freeing about slipping on a pair of high-waist capris, a sleeveless button-up that ties in the front, and a pair of flats. She usually gardens after running her errands, and this is what she typically wears to garden. Robert hates it when Beverly wears pants, or anything form fitting, in public. Why should anyone else be privy to how round her bum is, or how full her thighs are? She’s got a body like Marilyn’s, and that’s something he prefers to keep under wraps.

When the landscaping van pulls up out front, Beverly is in the front yard, planting and mulching. She has the radio going, so she doesn’t pay any mind to the sound of an engine turning off. The man in the landscaping van tilted his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, getting a better glimpse of Beverly. Robert starts walking over, so the man gets out of his van, rounding it to meet his old friend.

“Harry.” Robert smiled and shook the man’s, Harry, hand. “Can you believe it? Got a nice house in a suburb just like the one we grew up in.”

“I never doubted you’d get everything you wanted.” Harry smiled back.

“Seems like the Navy treated you well.”

“Yeah, I can’t complain too much. I didn’t get blown up or lose a limb.”

“And now you own your father’s business. Sorry for your loss, by the way. That’s the drawback of inheritance.”

“Yep. You working for your father?”

“Yes, and proud of it. I’ve got an office with a view, and I can afford to live more than comfortably. Got a beautiful wife, too.” Robert looked around. “Beverly, c’mere!” Beverly stood and dusted off her trousers before making her way over to the two men. “Harry, this is my Beverly.” He put his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Clark.”

“Likewise, Mr…”

“Styles.” He points behind him with his thumb. “Of Styles Landscaping.”

“Right, of course.”

“Your husband told me you were hoping to have some work done in the backyard.”

“Yes, we’d like the patio redone and to have a pool put in, if possible.”

“Let’s show Harry to the back.” Robert said as he led his wife to the back. Harry followed close behind.

As Beverly observes Harry observing her yard, she can’t help but feel confused. How is this man a friend of Robert’s? Harry’s t-shirt is stretched tight over his chest, not to mention how beefy and muscular his biceps are. His arms are also littered with tattoos.

It takes about twenty minutes for Harry to look around, take some measurements, and get a feel for the land.

“Alright, I can come back on Tuesday with some different mockups of what can be done back here. I can bring my portfolio too, so you can look at some of my past projects. Does Tuesday work for you, Mrs. Clark? I’m assuming you’ll be the one home.”

“Yes, the early afternoon works for me, Mr. Styles.”

“Perfect.” Robert clapped his hands. “H, come in for a bit. We can have a couple beers and catch up while Bev does her gardening out front.”

“Sounds good to me.” Harry nodded, and Robert started to make his way inside. For a split second, Harry tilted his sunglasses down to look at Beverly. “It was nice meeting, Mrs. Clark.” He winked and smirked before catching up with Robert.

Beverly felt her cheeks heat up. She turned and watched Harry walk into her home. Why did he wink at her like that? And why did it make her feel like she just got a B-12 shot?

She shook it off and made her way out front. Gardening will help her clear her head. She’s a married woman. A friend of Robert’s wouldn’t flirt with a married woman…would he?

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