#my dad doesn’t want to live that long either | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 1 month

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I used to send you lots of requests before, but haven't sent you requests for a long time for exams, really missed it babe:) Can I ask for a Steve x reader kbd where our favourite Bethie catches reader at night staying up to do work, but we know how silent she is, so probably she doesn't tell reader about it? I just really wanna see one where reader overworks herself which not even Steve knows, but Beth finds out, really wanna see how her point of view changes on her mother. Hope this makes sense. Love you lots, Jade, and your pretty little kbd universe:)

love you !!!!!!! kbd — beth and dad!steve catch you working late at night, mom!reader. 1.4k

The day Steve takes the baby gates down is the best day of Bethie’s life. They’ve been up and down and up again, but now Dove is old enough to manage the stairs by herself without danger (just about) and Wren won’t be able to crawl for months, they’re back in the basement.

Bethie can go downstairs whenever she wants. She doesn’t have to wait for Avery’s help on the funny top latch.

She can tell already that Steve is sleeping, your bedroom door open, her father curled on his side with his hand stretched out across the empty side where you’d usually be snoring. The baby bassinet by Steve’s side has its own soft snoring, baby Wren fast asleep too.

Beth has to find you, then. The bathroom door is closed (though she’s now allowed in there at night on account of needing to pee and her promise not to touch the washing machine again). Avery’s door is ajar, but when Bethie peeks inside, you’re not there either. Dove is half hanging off her toddler bed and you’re not there scooping her up, so where are you?

Beth’s getting spooked, until she hears the sound of paper being shuffled downstairs.

She holds the rungs of the stair bannister and sneaks carefully. Through the hallway and into the kitchen, she finds you at the dinner table with a frown on your lips so similar to her own. She loves looking like her mommy, even if the rest of her sisters look more like Steve.

You’re working, she thinks. She’s not sure. It looks like you are. On rare occasions you’ve needed to finish things after dinner and her dad corrals them into the living room for TV, Beth has seen you crowded at the table with a pen and a weary expression. It can’t be much fun, work.

She isn’t sure how long she watches you. A weird feeling gathers in her chest, and she thinks about speaking up. You look upset at times. You bite your bottom lip like Avery does when she’s sad.

It’s one of the first times Bethie's really looked at you and worried you weren’t happy.

She doesn’t know why she goes back upstairs. She’s a bit scared, perhaps, to see you that way, without Steve by your side.

He’s still sleeping, arm still looking for you in the dark. Bethie climbs up into bed with him and pushes her way under his arm, to which she is immediately pulled into his chest, squished and too warm.

“Avery?” he mumbles. Then, a moment later. “No, that’s my Beth.” He peels one eye open, a smile taking slow form on his lips. “What’s wrong, babe?”

“Mommy’s downstairs.”

He peers past her head. “Oh. What for?”

“Don’t know. She looks sad.”

“You think so?” He blinks. Bethie thinks her dad is the most love they can put into one person besides you, and she doesn’t usually look at him and see handsome or tired or anything, she just sees dad. Right now, though, he looks befuzzled. “Should we go see?”

“Um. Well…”

He kisses her forehead. “You tired, baby? You can sleep here if you want. Let me just go see if mommy’s okay. Go to sleep, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.” He kisses her cheek. “It’s okay, baby. Just sleep. It’s so late.”

Steve tucks her in. She doesn’t look very tired, but she closes her eyes obligingly.

Steve doesn’t know what you’re doing out of bed. He hadn’t felt you go. The only times he can remember you getting up in the middle of the night would be with pregnancy cravings, and you definitely aren’t pregnant, Wren’s still too small to support her own head. Plus, Steve’s sure he would’ve guessed. He knows you pretty well by now.

You hear him coming down the stairs but you aren’t quick enough putting your things away to hide that you’re working. “What are you doing?” he asks, his voice rough. “It’s one in the morning.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” you lie, “figured I’d get this done.”

Steve leans on the doorway and crosses his arms over his chest. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.”

You’re still lying.

“I think Beth is upset,” he suggests.

“What for?”

“She’s been down here. You didn’t hear her?”

You flatten your pile of papers unhappily. “No, do I ever? She’s my mouse.”

Steve abandons his interrogative pose to hug you. It hadn’t been working, anyways. He put his arm behind your neck and rests his cheek against your temple, the other arm across your chest, your elbow clutched in his hand. “Do you do this a lot?” he asks quietly.

“Not much.”

“Let me take you to bed,” he says.

“Yeah, I just have to finish this.”

“Wasn’t a question. Bed, now.” He rubs your arm. “Please.”

Steve’s looked out for you since he met you, of course, but you’re the first person who taught him what it was like to be intrinsically taken care of, and he’s tried to pay that back for the last eight years. It’s hard to explain the incredible value of love, because it’s without transaction, completely paradoxical. He can’t pay it back. There’s nothing to be paid. But he can help you up the stairs, and he can worry for your sake about work and why you’re doing it in the middle of the night.

“You need to sleep, babe, I mean it,” he says quietly, not wanting to disturb the other sleeping girls as you crest the last stairs onto the landing.

“I know. I’ll sleep. I’m sleeping.”

He pinches your sides from behind.

“I love you,” he says, stopping you before you can get to the bedroom door. “Please don’t stay up late. We’ll make you more time if you need it in the daytime. I’ll make it for you.”

You accept his promise and his kiss with a gluey smile. “Okay, H. No more staying up. I got it.” You drop your forehead to his shoulder quickly. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. Well, go ahead, there’s a Beth in need of scrunching on your side of the bed.” And he needs to pass out.

Steve crashes into his own side of the bed, and he gives Beth a good kiss, and then suddenly he’s sleeping before you’ve fully settled.

You slide down onto your back. Bethie breathes too softly to be sleeping, her head off of the pillows and the legs of her pyjama pants ridden up her calves where she’s kicked her legs out of the blankets.

“Bethie?” you whisper.

“Mommy.”

“Hey, sweet girl.” You peek at her. She’s peeking at you. “Daddy said you came downstairs. I wish you would’ve said hello.”

“You…” She eyes your sleeve. “Busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you if you need me. Are you okay? You don’t usually stay up this late.”

“You don’t, too.”

You slip your hand under her shoulders and lift her up onto the pillows. Careful, you pull the blanket from under her legs, smooth out her pants, and pull the blankets back over the both of you, enclosing you in a warm bubble. “Wanna cuddle with mommy?” you whisper.

“Will dad be lonely?”

“No, sweetheart. Are you lonely, sometimes, sleeping by yourself?”

“Sometimes.”

You might regret this, but Bethie’s your world. You hate thinking about her having such a horrible feeling and not telling you.

“If you’re ever lonely,” you begin gently, tracing the little remnants of your husband where they glow in the colour of her irises and her shy smile, “that’s what me and daddy are here for. If you’re lonely at bed time, you can come and cuddle with me. It doesn’t have to be all night long, just until the feeling goes away.”

“Are you lonely when you’re in the kitchen?” she asks.

Her whispers are sweet for how much effort she puts into them. Avery can’t whisper, not really, and Dove wouldn’t even try, but Bethie talks so quietly you strain to hear her under Steve’s harsher breathing.

“I’m never lonely when I have you and your sisters and your daddy in the house. Just knowing you’re upstairs makes me feel better.” You kiss the tip of her nose with a whispered ‘mwah’. “But I’m best when you’re right here.”

“I don’t want you to be lonely.” She grins at you, eyes fluttering, “I love you, mom.”

“I love you, too,” you whisper back.

She curls onto her side to lay her arm over you. You bring her in for your cuddle, your knuckles brushing Steve’s arm. “Should we go to sleep now?” she asks.

“Good idea, lovely girl.”

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sugrhigh · 1 month

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RUMORS - ( c.s )

REQUESTED**

summary: you and chris have known each other for a long time, and you’ve always had an inescapable crush on him. when you all go to tara’s party and fans see them together for the first time, speculation begins to circulate, and you begin to pull away in fear that he likes her as more than a friend

warnings: angsty in the beginning, fluffy in the end :) some swearing a kiss and that’s it really

bff!chris x fem!reader

a/n: i loved this concept and i hope i brought it to life well for the anon that requested <3 my inbox is always open for u guys #kisses

@fawnchives @l9vesick @mattinside @sturnioloco @sturniolossss @cupidsword @teapartyprincess4two @princessbetsy123-blog @cookiehaos @sturnlova @junnniiieee07 @vsangel-starbies @chrissystur

doom scrolling online is like a car crash that you can’t look away from; especially when it involves your friend and your long term crush. you’ve been laying in bed scouring the internet for the past hour, pouring over comments about and tara and chris.

ever since her last party, when fans actually saw them publicly interacting for the first time, the gossip has gotten out of control. people want them together, and you hate to admit that it makes you sick to your stomach.

hell, you’d been the one to introduce them, since tara had become your friend first. but you and chris go all the way back to childhood; you were best friends with him and his brothers in your early years of school, and then you moved to another town after your dad accepted a new position.

you kept in touch through social media and occasional texts after that, until you all found yourselves in LA fresh out of high school, alone in an unfamiliar city across the country.

their youtube channel had taken off, and you’d gained a large following after you’d finally been recognized for your photography due to some big-name collabs. you were all in the same vulnerable position, and because of this your friendship with the three of them started right back up where it left off.

the rest is history. it’s been two years now, and you’ve all grown exponentially, fully adjusted to LA and the recognition, comfortable with where you are in your lives professionally and personally.

you spend nearly every week with the triplets, doing anything and everything together. they’ve made the occasional homesickness bearable, been your rock through the hard times, and supported you like no one else.

but things are a little different with you and chris. he’s your best friend, the person you want to tell everything to first. it’s always been that way, really. you had feelings for him at 13, and now at 20 years old you love him even more.

but that doesn’t mean you have to love him being shipped with every female influencer on the planet.

it’s selfish, really, to want chris to yourself, considering his occupation and the fame that comes with it. tara is a good person and an even better friend, and you shouldn’t be angry over the idea of them dating.

still, it’s been consuming your mind ever since you saw the first post about the two of them a few days ago, and you’ve been checking social media every hour since.

you’re about to read through yet another comment section when your phone buzzes, a notification appearing at the top of the screen.

chris

can you pls answer me

i don’t like this silent treatment thing

your stomach flips. he’s been texting you things like this for the past few days, since you started distancing yourself after the party.

the whole night he had acted as if he was into tara; always making conversation, asking to dance, posting her on his story. even when you were right next to him, it still felt like he was miles away.

so of course it’s been upsetting you, and you figured rather than taking it out on either of them you would just remove yourself from the situation.

it seemed like the best option in the moment, but it still sucks. you hate not talking to him, not seeing his face or feeling his arms wrap around you in a familiar hug.

another text pings, snapping you out of your spiral once more.

chris

i don’t know what’s wrong but you’re scaring me

the message makes your eyes burn, and you blink away the tears. you don’t want him worrying about you, especially when it’s your own stupid feelings getting in the way of things being normal.

you sigh, tapping out a response and staring at it, debating back and forth whether you should actually press send. but he beats you to a response, and another string of texts come through.

chris

i can see you typing

i’m coming over

y/n

no don’t do that, everything is fine

chris

i don’t believe you

and i already left my house

it’s only a five minute walk to get from his place to yours, and you know he’s too stubborn to actually turn around, no matter how hard you plead. you’ve already broken out into a nervous sweat just thinking about the confrontation.

but at this point you owe it to him and yourself to be honest. you just hope you don’t get your heart broken in the process.

y/n

fine, doors unlocked

i’m in my room

a few minutes later you hear the front door slam open and closed, just to see chris peek his head around the corner of your room moments later. you’re still curled up in bed, too scared and tired to move, so he takes the liberty of coming to you.

“hey.” he says softly as he sits down.

“hi.” you mumble, wrapping your blanket against your chest tighter.

it’s not cold, but you’re so anxious that you’re shivering. chris notices and puts a hand on your covered knee, rubbing small circles against the joint. he looks so sweet, clad in his blue fresh love hoodie with his hair all curly from showering.

“what’s up? i haven’t heard from you all week, and nick was about ready to call the cops.” he tries to joke with a small grin.

you can’t bring yourself to match his energy, and your face remains grave as you attempt to swallow the lump in your throat.

“i’m alright, just tired.”

his face falls, and a slight frown replaces his smile. you know he’s not believing any of it for a second, and you’ve never been a very convincing liar.

“don’t do that, you’re obviously not alright. and i’m not trying to be pushy or anything, but i feel like you’re shutting me out.” chris replies quietly.

you shift a little bit so you can sit up properly, back resting against the headboard as you gaze at him. his hand remains on your thigh, a source of comfort while you try to pick your words wisely.

“i’m not trying to push you away, chris. i just…wanted to give you space.” you continue to dance around the truth.

he looks even more confused, eyebrows furrowed like you’re speaking another language. “that’s nice and all, but i don’t want it.”

“well maybe i do.” you shrug.

you’re lying through your teeth, but chris’s eyes go wide regardless. you’ve shocked him into silence, which rarely ever happens. he’s just staring at you, the gears in his mind turning as he tries to figure out what could possibly be wrong.

“are you serious? did i do something that i don’t know about?” chris asks, clearly exasperated.

he removes his hand from your leg, dropping it back in his lap. the small act alone makes your heart sink, and you feel the question crawling its way out of your mouth before you can help it.

“do you like tara?”

it hangs in the air, and you’ve stumped him once again. chris shakes his head, clearing his throat while his face reddens slightly.

“i can’t believe you’re even asking me that.” he sounds genuinely astonished.

“what? why?” it’s your turn to be baffled.

“because i feel like all i ever do is flirt with you. i mean seriously, it’s embarrassing for me at this point.” chris reaches to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly.

your jaw drops, which makes you feel silly. throughout this whole relationship you felt like you were the one putting the moves on him, doing too much. you’d never once stopped to think about all of the little comments he would make.

“i, uh, guess i didn’t pick up on that.” you manage to reply.

you immediately wish you hadn’t, that you just kept your mouth shut. but he smiles widely at you, chuckling lightly.

“no shit.”

this makes you laugh too, and it feels good to experience at least a brief moment of normality between the two of you. things have felt tense for so long that you’d almost forgotten why you love being around chris in the first place.

you wait to calm down a bit before you decide to finally lay it all on the table. “i like you a lot, chris. and i don’t want to mess up the dynamic we have, because you mean the world to me. but i’d be lying to myself if i said i didn’t want to be with you.”

he’s still grinning, though you can tell he’s gone a little shy now hearing you admit your feelings. this moment is all he dreamed about for so long, and now it’s finally happening in a realm outside of his own brain.

“i want that too, and i’m a dumbass for taking this long to say it. so no, i’m not interested in tara like that. it’s always been you.” chris confesses, reaching to interlock your fingers.

you’ve held hands before on many occasions, but it’s different now in the best way. butterflies erupt in your stomach as he leans in, and you can smell the fading hints of minty body wash on his skin.

you tilt your head so your mouths finally meet, soft and slow as you both finally enjoy the kiss you’ve been yearning for for so long. he tastes sugary, like the lollipops he’s always got between his teeth, and you’re already addicted.

chris pulls away a minute later, his lips reddened and glistening from the contact. you giggle slightly from the unfamiliarity of the situation, glancing down at your linked hands.

“your lips are so soft.” he praises, still awestruck that he finally got to kiss the girl he’s loved since he was a preteen.

“take a girl out to dinner first, jeez.” you joke playfully.

chris rolls his eyes, but he smiles nonetheless. “i think i will, actually. you got any plans tomorrow?”

you tap your chin with your free hand like you’re contemplating your schedule. “i can probably squeeze you in.”

“you better. everyone else can get in line.”

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo #sturniolo x reader

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xetswan · 10 months

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Youngest Shadow- Chapter One, Two Sisters, Dad

One | two | three | four | five | six |

I was never a people person, not wanting to rely on someone.

Especially family, I didn’t need help.

I am not vulnerable, I couldn’t be. I saw how it affected people on a daily. High schoolers in relationships getting dumped, cheated on, having to many dramas in between them.

It was unnecessary.

I had my small circle and most of them were blood related to me.

My mom, my sister, Bella, and my father who lived across the country.

Oh, and my best friend. But practically family.

I’m content in my lifestyle too. I didn’t need pity from anyone. Either way that’s what I get from everyone. Even my older sister who tried to act like she understands.

My life was consistent. Making sure my mom was happy, helping my sister from losing her mind because of mom needing so much adventure. Other than doing that I played sports, practicing everyday.

Trying my best, not to be the best but to keep up my adrenaline. Running helps the most.

Adrenaline kept me alive, if I could jump off an airplane I would. I would do every crazy thing imaginable just because of the adrenaline that came with it.

Even little things can entice me. My piercings, having to make them a secret from coaches to play sports. Riding my motorcycle anytime was the best feeling after getting it.

I snuck out a few times, not even to do crazy things but to just say I did it.

You would think living in Arizona helped me with keeping my adrenaline up but you’d be wrong. It’s the same thing everyday now. I know what’s around.

And the heat, don’t get me started.

As much as I love my mom, I wanted to be in a forest hiking, see a fucking wild animal that could attack me. Jump off cliffs for the hell of it. Ride my motorcycle on different roads.

Seeing my dad, maybe join him in action. Hunt with him even.

Speaking of which, I stood beside Bella, my older sister by 10 months. She had just said goodbye to some “friends” who seemed like they could care less that she was leaving.

I turn to see our mom walking out of the house, so much energy balled into one person. She had hints of sadness and anxiety pulled on her face, trying to hide it with being happy for us.

She thrusts a phone into the hands of my sister, “It won’t work again, baby.” She frowned, her face always looked like it moved with every feeling she had. Never being able to hide how she felt. “You put it on hold.” Bella points out, the tiniest bit amused.

“I did?”

I smirk, trying to stop myself from laughing.

As much as it is funny it is worrisome, how will we reach her if she doesn’t even know how to work a phone.

“Look, you also called Mexico.” Renée pushes Bella, nudging me as well as the three of us laugh.

“I’ll figure it out. You gotta be able to reach me and Phil on the road.” She exclaims right before she gets excited. “I love saying that,” she grins, “On the road.”

“Very romantic,”

“Very.”

Bella and I both say, silently glancing at each other.

Phil comes up behind our mom, “If you call crappy motels, back water towns and ballpark hot dogs romantic.” He jokes, well partially since he was serious.

He places a Phoenix Desert Dogs baseball hat on Renées head, along with kisses her.

Looking at them partly soothes my nerves about leaving mom. I’m sure Bella feels the same since we practically took care of her for so long. Even though it should’ve been the other way around.

Phil walks away, to finish packing the car with our things. Renée grabs a hold of both of our arms, clinging to us as we walk to the vehicles.

I’m driving my motorcycle, mom wanted to get a trailer for it since it’s a really long drive but I convinced her not to. I couldn’t sit in a car with them for that long.

Plus I have a feeling Charlie is going to force me to anyway.

“Now you know if you two change your minds, I’ll race back here from wherever the game is.” Her face strained trying to hide how even though it would be a sacrifice she would still do it for us.

“You don’t have to worry.” I force a smile, Bella doing the same.

“We won’t change our minds mom.”

“You might, Bella. You’ve always hated Forks.” That’s true, I usually visited more than her. I had a closer relationship to dad, due to my interest of hunting like him.

“It’s not about Forks, it’s about dad. I mean unlike [Name], I went two weeks a year. We barely know each other.” She explains but I think it just worsened our moms worried expression. “Mom, I’m fine. I want to go. I got [Name] there with me.” She looked between us, hugging her eldest, whose face drops once she knew her mom couldn’t see it. It was full of dread and doubt. I also noticed the regret but kept quiet when she wants to bring it up she will.

They let go and Bella climbs into the car, moms attention going to me.

“I want you behind us at all times, you do not pass this vehicle. And no swerving.” She furrows her eyebrows, staring at me. “And don’t be stupid.” I add with a smirk, she rolls her eyes in a humorous way.

“I just want my baby girl safe.” She pouts, pulling me into a tight hug. “You don’t have to worry with me.” I miss her cheek, pushing out of the hug as I knew it would’ve been longer if I didn’t.

“Alright helmet and jacket and let’s go!” She pats my butt, reaching over and getting my helmet to give it to me. She gets into the van and I adjust my wired earbuds so one goes into my ear, stuffing the rest into my jacket and zipping it up.

I pull my helmet on and I press play on my iPod.

Getting to Washington State was a breath of fresh air, not only for my tired hand but the change of view and weather. My sister called it gloomy, never paying attention to the beauty of it all.

Dad surprisingly let me continue driving my bike, it was bittersweet for me. Really it was because he forgot the trailer. I kind of wish he did bring it because slouching like this for hours is not exactly fun. My back will be aching for weeks.

I’m just glad I didn’t have to sit in the awkward atmosphere of them two in that cruiser.

We passed a sign that said “The City Of Forms Welcomes You. Population 3246.”

I smile to myself.

Passing all of the familiar buildings I was missing felt amazing.

We pulled into Charlie’s driveway, I take my helmet off, sitting up straight for the first time in a few hours. Charlie comes over and messes with my hair as I climbed to his torso like a little kid. We laugh and he hugs me back.

I was the first to get into the house, putting my things right in my room. Really throwing them on the ground and rushing back out to see if Bella needs any help. My room was the only one downstairs. Dad had to make add it onto the house when they found out they were having me surprisingly.

I was truly the accident out of the two. Only three months after Bella was born was when I came around.

“I put Grandpas desk in your room. And I cleaned some shelves in the bathroom for you two.” He was mainly speaking to Bella. I watched her grimace. “That’s right, one bathroom.”

I followed her eyes around the house, going straight to a picture of our parents when they were younger and in love. “I’ll put these up in your room.” Charlie motions to her bags.

“I can’t do it.”

I silently stand there as they both reach for the bags, awkwardly bumping into each other causing me to cringe at the scene.

She backs off, letting him do it anyway. Which she should’ve done in the beginning. And I wouldn’t have seen that go down.

After that… experience, I followed my dad to the living room. “That was, nice.” He pauses for a minute before sighing. I place a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll get better. This is just new for both of you.” I smile sweetly and he nods, swinging an arm around my shoulders. But internally I’m just hoping I’m right. It’s going to be a long two years if I’m wrong. “What would I do without you?” He nudges me.

He lets go of me, telling me about how Billy and Jacob should be here soon to drop off surprises they’ve been working on. The one for Bella I knew about.

And right after it was spoken into the air we heard a honk outside.

I stand up straighter and run outside. A boy my age hops out of the red truck, rushing to give me a hug. “Jacob!” I laugh, this was the best friend I was talking about. My absolute best friend.

“Bella, you remember Billy Black.” Charlie speaks up, obviously Bella came outside after hearing the honk as well.

I let go of Jacob, “Glad you two are finally here. Charlie hasn’t shut up about it since you two told him y’all were coming.” He teases our dad, both Jacob and I snicker at the two who have always acted like this.

“Keep exaggerating, I’ll wheel you down the hill.” He tells the man who’s in a wheelchair.

“Right after I ram you in the ankles.” Billy goes after Charlie who dodges. Jacob shakes his head, I take him up to Bella. Poking him to say something.

“I’m Jacob, we made mud pies together when we were little kids.” He exclaims, she squints almost unnoticeably. “Yeah I think I remember.”

“Are they always like this?” She points to the two dads. “It’s getting worse with age.” He jokes.

Jacob always had a crush on Bella, so it was cute watching him finally be able to interact with her and not be a nervous little kid.

Cutting us out of our small silence Charlie pats the hood of the truck. We didn’t even notice they stopped messing around. “So what do you think of your homecoming gift?” He grins proudly. I watched my sisters face contort to confusion to happiness. “No way. The truck is for me?” Turning my focus to my dad who was soaking in her excitement. “Just bought it off Billy here.”

“I rebuilt the engine.” Jacob adds in.

“It’s perfect.” Her smile grew bigger, and more genuine. It was great to see her eager and happy about something. Her and Jacob rush to the truck so he could explain everything to her.

My dad snuck up to me, handing a small box. I look up at him confused. “Open it.” He motions. I stare at it for a minute, glancing over to Billy who puts his hands up as to say he knew as much as I did.

I bit my lip, opening the box carefully.

It had a locket inside, the same locket I would stare at in the window of an abandoned antique store that no one would clean out. The place I begged my dad to go into just to get me that necklace.

“The place finally got cleaned out and I just happened to be on patrol before they got rid of it.” He tells me.

“It doesn’t have a picture in it yet but I thought you could pick one you’d like.” I threw my arms around him, “it’s beautiful.” I pulled away to look at it in my hands again as it was a delicate flower.

#bella swan #carlisle cullen #jacob black #jasper whitlock #twilight #alice cullen #alice cullen x reader #jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #twilight x reader #esme cullen #rosalie hale #rosalie cullen #emmett cullen #twilight imagine

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steddielations · 2 years

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It’s the stupid Garfield mug that does it.

Eddie tries to hide it because he doesn’t want to seem ungrateful to Steve, but he gets lonely sometimes.

He’s still in hiding, mostly healed up from the bats, staying with Steve while they wait for Hopper to sweep it all under the rug. No one would ever expect Eddie Munson to be at Steve Harrington’s house, it’s the perfect cover.

Not only was Steve surprisingly nice enough to let Eddie stay there, he also took care of him through the worst of it. He didn’t seem to mind having to stay home every night and every weekend, definitely not what Eddie was expecting from the party boy he used to hate from afar.

Now Steve’s the nice guy who spoon-fed Eddie soup and gave him orange juice through a damn straw and even helped him to the bathroom when he could barely move.

He’s too nice and sweet and funny sometimes. He even has a beat up copy of Lord of the Rings from Dustin that he squints at until Eddie gets tired of watching him strain, then let’s Eddie read to him. Eddie knows Steve does it more for him than for himself. Hell, Steve even comes home right after work most days, just to keep Eddie company.

Eddie can’t have many visitors, they don’t want to raise suspicion with too much traffic at Steve’s house, so it’s mostly just him and Steve. Eddie doesn’t mind, he’s halfway in love with him and gets closer to falling head over heels every day. He loves being here with Steve but sometimes… Steve reminds him of Wayne.

Every morning, Steve watches the news. Eddie teased him about it, saying he has the soul of a middle aged Dad. It’s stupid, but watching Steve mosey around the living room before work, drinking coffee and getting absorbed in the TV when an interesting story comes on, it makes Eddie miss Wayne, who does the exact same thing.

It’s so stupid how it’s simple things that make Eddie feel 2 seconds away from breaking. Not having to be quiet during the day because Wayne’s not there sleeping after his night shift. Looking at the wall and not seeing Wayne’s endless collection of hats and mugs. Not hearing the squeak of the old couch when Wayne sits down to take his boots off.

It’s so stupid but it all makes Eddie’s chest feel so tight and empty he can hardly breathe.

But he’s grateful to Steve for letting him be here, so he doesn’t dare complain about what’s missing when Steve’s already given him so much.

One morning, Eddie’s sitting on the counter and Steve gives him his coffee. It’s just how Eddie likes it, sweet and creamy, but he can’t drink it.

Steve used a different mug than usual, and Eddie can’t stop staring at it, orange and round. Wayne has one like it. It reminds Eddie of the Garfield mug that hangs by the door in their trailer. That tight feeling gnaws at his chest, and he sits there staring at it so long his coffee goes cold.

“Everything okay, Eds? Did I not put enough sugar or something? Do you need a straw again today?”

Steve’s voice startles him out of his thoughts, he flinches and the mug slips out of his hand, falling to the kitchen tile, shattered.

Eddie curses while Steve rushes to clean it up, telling him to stay put when he tries to get down and help.

That, too, reminds Eddie of Wayne.

He can’t help it then, he just laughs. It feels tight in his throat, sounds almost painful, but he laughs so hard he feels tears prickling the corner of his eyes.

Steve just stares at him, leaving the broken mug in his concern for Eddie, asking carefully, “Hey, what’s so funny? You alright?”

Eddie shakes his head, laughs dying down. “You know those mugs on the wall at my trailer?”

Steve looks confused, nodding.

“They’re Wayne’s, he collects them. I used to tell him it was lame and he should invest in something cool like hanging guitars or records,” Eddie goes on, grinning, reminiscing, “He’d always just laugh and tell me that cliche line, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure, boy. I never understood you buying all them amps either, paying money to make noise.”

Steve smiles but he’s still watching Eddie carefully.

“Those damn mugs,” Eddie laughs again, rubbing his eyes, “There’s a Garfield one that leaks from how many times I knocked it over running out the door trying not to be late to school, and Wayne had to superglue it back together. He’d never even get mad about it, just snap at me to be careful because he didn’t want me getting hurt.”

Eddie laughs even harder, his chest twisting and writhing but it feels good, like he’s finally letting himself breathe, gasping for air. He doesn’t know when his laughs turn into sobs, but he assumes it’s around the time when Steve steps forward and gently wraps him in a hug.

They’ve never hugged before. Eddie doesn’t know how he could miss something he’s never had but that’s what hugging Steve feels like. He’s missing his Uncle, he’s missing a piece of himself but he feels close to complete somehow right there in Steve’s arms. He holds on tight, smearing tears into Steve’s t-shirt.

“I miss him, Steve,” he sniffs, bottom lip wobbling, “I miss those damn mugs.”

“I know,” Steve rubs his back, soothing, “I promise you'll see him again, Eds. And those damn mugs.”

Eddie laughs wetly and squeezes him tighter.

Within the next week, Steve keeps his promise.

Eddie almost drops to his knees when he sees it, has to rub his eyes to make sure he’s not imagining it, but it’s there.

Right there on the wall in the Harrington living room, there’s three mugs hanging up. Not just any mugs, Eddie recognizes all three. A green one that used to hang next to Wayne’s coat, an Indiana State one that went above the couch, and the cracked up Garfield one that leaks next to the trailer door.

“Steve, what—”

“I tried to get more, but Wayne was already suspicious by my third visit this week,” Steve shrugs innocently, “It’s just like home, right?”

Eddie’s torn between bursting into tears or laughter at the thought of Steve sneaking out of his trailer with coffee mugs in his pocket one by one, “You stole my Uncles mugs, Harrington?”

“I figured he’ll forgive me when I bring his nephew back safe and sound soon,” Steve smiles, charming as ever, “And if he presses charges, well, it’ll be worth it just seeing the look on your face right now.”

Eddie's chest spreads with warmth, his heart so full it could almost burst.

“Get over here, you little thief.”

Steve's grinning as he strolls right over to Eddie and wraps his arms around him. They've hugged a lot since that first time, but they've never kissed before, not even in Eddie's wildest dreams has he kissed Steve Harrington, but it's happening.

Eddie can't describe it, feeling Steve's lips on his, safe in his arms, warm in his embrace, but it feels a little bit like home.

#here's some free eddie angst with a dash of comfort from steve yum #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fanfiction #steddie headcanon #steddie fluff #eddie munson #rueswriting #my fic #mp #steve harrington #steveddie #stranger things 4 #eddie x steve #steddie fic rec #wayne munson #my fics

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 11 months

Note

How would the suitors reaction be when their wife ( Crewle daughter) is pregnant with triplets? And meeting the kids after birth?

With Ruggie, Jack, Lions, Malleus, Silver, Trey, Vil and Ace

Triplets Are Here | Yandere Twisted Wonderland Crewel Daughter

Ruggie Bucci

“What can I say I’m a beast in bed!”

He’s not going to act like it even could have been inherited to you

He’s got a whole new air of confidence

Not only does he have the woman of his dreams

But he knocked her up times three

Hopefully that will squash anyone else’s delusions about being with you

Either way he doesn’t mind getting rid of them the old fashioned way

“Awww they look like we had babies! Oh wait-”

“Just focus on feeding that one.”

“Yes Mama!”

Jack Howl

“...!”

“Jack?”

“!!!!”

“Jack?!”

“!!!!”

“If you faint now, I won’t catch you!”

This is the best news

A strong litter, a perfect mate

He’s protecting his already larger than average pack

“Back away or I will not hesitate to end your life. I’ve got four lives to protect now.”

Leona Kingscholar

“Geez…three?”

“Don’t make that face.”

“What face? I’m just surprised you took me so well.”

He has mixed feelings about it

Especially when he’s catering to you as your belly swells to an almost unbelievable size

And you groan in pain

“Why don’t the brats just get here. I hate seeing you in pain.”

He’s heard of other lions so jealous they kill their kin

But as he holds the little bundles he can’t begin to fathom it

He might just cry

Malleus Draconia

“If you and I were not made for each other, theres noway this could be.”

He’s ecstatic

But the entirety of Briar Valley and the world around you must be made to cater to you

Devoted to your comfort and health above all else

he even struggles to let Crewel see you

“Nothing will ever hurt my loves. My babes. My wive. I’d curse the world for you.”

Genocide Murder spree ensues should there be any pain or assassination attempts

No one’s so much as flicking you

He’d sooner rend them to ash

Silver

“Three…at the same time…?”

“Yes so we’ll have to get three times the baby equipment and–Silver?”

“Three…in…you?”

He’s barely processing any of it

Even when he’s practically carrying the four of you as you waddle places

“Our babies…”

“Aren’t they precious they have your eyes!”

“M-m-my eyes-? Agh-!”

“Its okay babe this is a good time to cry.”

“H-how did Dad do it!? I-I’m never letting any of you leave me!”

Any protective traits are amplified even higher

And if there was ever a time he refused to kill anyone in his pursuit for love

That has long since past

Trey Clover

“Well I did always say I wanted a big family!”

He’s thrilled to see your tummy rounding with his children

All while you incessantly demand for his sweets and cooking

And he’s jumping to his tooth brush after a rough morning

But its all made even better when they arrive

Little mixes of his love and himself

“They’ll have the cutest little teeth!”

He definitely saves them when they get older

But he’s the perfect papa

Poisoned sweets and all

Vil Schoenheit

“We’ll be parents…is that registering?”

“Barely. When we agreed to marry I doubted ever moving further than that.”

“Does it make you unhappy?”

“Not in the slightest.”

He’s brimming with anxiety

Worry eating away as he contemplates his own jealousy and the excitement of having a child

It doesn’t become much easier when the triplets arrive

He despises the paparazzi

So much so he’s willing to set his rabid fans on them

Purge them of every photo of his adorable babes

He’s the only one who gets the honor

A dazzling photo of your delivery is only for his eyes

Doxx the peeping toms

“They’re all mine. I’m willing to lose everything for them.”

Ace Trappola

“Dang! I really am amazing–Ow! Joking, joking.”

He couldn’t be happier

What better way to prove his love ownership of the sexiest woman alive if it weren’t for the giant round belly you had

And soon to be three little rascals that are further testaments of his status

He’ll whine about things

Probably more than you

But in the end he’s glowing with pride as you look down at your freshly born babies

“Ehehe they can’t deny that I may have children for days but I’ve got game.”

1K notes · View notes

illvmii · 8 months

Text

Home For The Weekend.

DBF!Miguel x FEM!Reader, NSFW!! READ WITH CAUTION!!

TAGS: DBF!Miguel, Nsfw, a little fluff ig, pining Miguel, I gave you good parents because you deserve it, oral (fem receiving), praise, p in v, unprotected (use protection gang), a little exhibisionism (people are in the house), Miguel is pretty soft in this one, LMK if I forgot anything

A/N: Because I had to swap accounts and all that, I decided to write smut as a sorry (cause I know that’s what most Miguel fans want LMFAO) so here you go!! It’s Dad’s best friend cause GODDD I love DBF Miguel lemme tell ya. Also not proof read (I’m really fucking tired rn I’ll proof read tmr probably)

You’ve been away from home for a good while at this point. Your college really wasn’t all that far away, but you’ve been so freaking busy it’s unbelievable. You called your parents at least three times a week, even at that point you were failing to do so. You were completely overwhelmed and it was awful.

But finally, finally you had a weekend where you were free. You didn’t have anything to do, so you decided to drive home and spend the weekend there. You knew your parents really missed you, so it was the best choice for all of you (plus you’d been killing to taste some of your moms cooking once again).

You had called your father to let him and your mom know you were coming, but were told a very interesting surprise. It was for sure a welcome one, though. Your father’s best bud, Miguel O’Hara, was staying with your parents for a week. Apparently the man’s house got termites which fucking blew chunks for him. But for you… well, aren’t you just lucky?

That man is HOT! We all know it, he’s absolutely stunning. So when you figured you’d be in the same house as him for a whole weekend, your entire stay seemed to get much more interesting.

Of course it was a ‘Look don’t touch’ scenario, you couldn’t even imagine the hell that would let loose if you made a hit on your dad’s best friend. You knew your father and Miguel were super close, they have been since you were a little girl. Miguel and your pops met when you were in third grade, because you were on your schools little soccer team. Miguel was the coach, since his own daughter Gabriella was on it.

You and Gabi actually became pretty good friends, still are to this day. She’s fun to be around and you text her whenever you have the chance. Of course she doesn’t know about the absolutely disgusting thoughts you have about her father on the lonelier nights. You think nobody but you really needs to know those. God forbid if your dad found out.

You haven’t seen Miguel in… what was it? Nearly three years at this point. He didn’t come around the house much after you turned 19 for some reason. Your dad and him always hung out at bars and such. So you haven’t seen him in a long time. The barbecues Miguel always had once a month were strangely on days you had told your dad you weren’t available, either. It’s very strange. You never have had the best of luck with men, so you just assume god is playing a cruel trick on you.

You eventually pulled into your childhood home driveway, the second you entered your mom pulls you to the side and presses kisses all over your face.

“Oh my gosh! It feels I haven’t seen my baby girl in ages! How have you been, honey?!”

Pressing a kiss to her cheek, you smile, “Been good. Busy, as I’ve said on our calls. But finally got some free time!”

Your mother grinned and pulled you into a hug, “I’m so glad your home, sweetheart. The house just isn’t the same without you here.”

“Dad already getting on your nerves, huh?” You snicker, hugging her back tightly.

Your mom chuckles and shakes her head, “He’s still the same ol’ grump. You should have heard him and Miguel when the soccer game was on… my goodness I was worried we were going to get a noise complaint.”

“Are they really that bad? Geez. I know Dad is bad, can’t imagine two of them.”

Your mother chuckles, “Your father is in the living room. Go say hi, hes been waiting for you all day.”

You give her a nod and walk off to the living room to greet your dad. He’s on the couch, so you plop down next to him. “Hey, Dad. How’s it hanging?”

He turns to look at you and bumps your shoulder with his, “There you are, squirt. Where you been for so long, huh? Outgrown us regular people now you’re a big shot at college?”

You smirk at his tease, “Don’t worry. I won’t forget about you. Least not yet.”

He flicks your forehead, chuckling to himself.

“Miguel is out in the pool. You should go say hi.”

Your face immediately heats up. He’s in the god damn pool?! With probably little shorts? Oh god…

You nod and stand from the couch and make your way to the pool. You slide the glass door to the patio open and dear god.

You see Miguel, hes swimming laps in the big pool. As long as you’ve known him, he’s worked out a bunch. No wonder he’s so fucking buff.

Stepping down into the patio area, you send him a wave, “Hey, Mr. O’Hara?”

He pauses his swimming and looks up at you. He flashes a smile, “My god, that you, pequeña?”

Miguel shakes his head to get the excess water out, swimming too the stairs of the pool to get out. You see now that yes, he is in little swim trunks.

He grabs his towel to wipe his extremely chiseled chest down. He smiles at you as he does, “How have you been, chica? I haven’t seen you for a while. Your dad sends me photos of you sometimes, but they really didn’t show off how much you’ve grown.”

You blush as he runs his eyes over you to really take in your growth. “I’ve been okay. College is keeping me busy. How about you? I’ve heard your house has termites.”

Miguel let’s out a loud groan, “Mhm. I could hear them in the walls at night, it was hell. At least they’re getting taken care of now, ‘Eh?”

“Yeah. I could imagine that would be hell,” You add on, not helping the conversation at all. You really couldn’t focus on conversing well. The man who has plagued your mind since you hit puberty is standing right in front of you, wet and in tiny shorts.

Miguel fully dries himself off, “I’ll go in and change, alright? Then we can talk some more.”

He walks off and you follow behind. You sit next to your dad in the living room and patiently (not at all patiently) wait for ‘Mr. O’Hara’.

Miguel walks into the living room wearing some loose shorts and a white t-shirt. He sits on a free chair and looks to your dad, “Man, look how big your girl is now! Can’t even believe it. Can’t believe how big my Gabi is, either.”

Your dad chuckles and groans, “I know, right? Time really flies when you get old.”

Miguel shoots you a smile, “I’m not that old, am I, cariño?”

You shake your head quickly, “Of course not.”

Your father chuckles, “You don’t gotta lie to Miguel, honey! Let him have it.”

Miguel leans forward to smack your father’s shoulder, “Ay! You aren’t young yourself.”

Your father and Miguel banter back and forth for a bit, before the soccer game starts out. They shut up immediately to watch, though once the plays start happening they shout at the TV like mad men. You chuckle whenever they do. It brought back memories of you and Gabriella having a play date and hearing them go nuts over the match in the other room.

After the match, it was dinner time, and holy fuck did it smell good. Your mother knew how to cook man, let me tell you.

You were sat in between your mom and Miguel. Your dad and the hunk were talking about the game, while your mother asked you questions about how college was going. You told her all about it, from the gossip to how the vending machine in the lobby stopped working again, which pissed you off to no end.

While you were talking and ranting about “those damn machines”, you felt a thigh press against yours. You glance down, seeing it was Miguel’s. Strange, because you didn’t remember his chair being this close. You shrug it off and keep talking to your mom.

After dinner you were stuffed, so you head up to your bedroom for the night. You were currently sitting on your old bed, snuggled up all nice and cozy while watching some YouTube. That was until the door creaked open. You figured your mom had done your laundry like the lovely lady she is, but indeed it was Miguel.

He stepped into the room with a soft smile, closing the door behind him, “Hey, pequeña.”

You sit up immediately at the sight of him, plucking your earbuds from your ears, “Hey, Mr. O’Hara. What do you need?”

Miguel sits himself on the edge of the bed, “You can just call me Miguel, sweetheart. Mr. O’Hara makes me feel ancient.”

“Alright, Miguel.” You smile, which makes him chuckle. He looks up at you and speaks;

“We haven’t had much time to speak one on one. I just wanted to catch up with you, hadn’t seen you in a while.”

You tilt your head endearingly, “Yeah, it has been a while. College has kept me from coming home, plus you and dad don’t hang out around the house as much as you used to.”

Miguel’s face actually pinks a little at the statement, to your bewilderment. He scratches his head, “Yeah. Just gettin’ out on the town as you kids say makes us feel young, I guess.”

Cuddling your blankets a bit closer to you, you grin at him, “You really aren’t that old. You had Gabriella decently young, right?”

“I guess so,” He shrugs, “It feels like forever ago, yet also yesterday. Can’t believe my flor pequeña is in college now.”

You nod, “Oh yeah, I can’t believe we’re in college either. Gabriella texts me all about her college days. She rants about her boyfriend constantly, she seems to really like him.”

Miguel groans, “Don’t even get me started on that boy. He is not worth my daughter, not even a little.”

You giggle at his protective nature. You’re positive that no matter who Gabriella dates, Miguel will never deem them as good enough for his daughter.

Miguel looks into your eyes, “So, you got a boyfriend, niña?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t really met the right person,” Which was a total lie, by the way. You’ve gone on dates and met super nice guys, but in your head you constantly compared them to your first crush ever, Miguel. They never shaped up, so it never went anywhere.

His eyes widen, “Really? You’re so beautiful now, I’d figure you’d have tons of boys chasing you.”

The statement makes you blush fiercely, “Ah, no.”

Miguel lets out a thoughtful sigh, “You really have grown into a lovely young woman, you know.”

You blush even harder, “Thank you, Mr. O’Hara.”

He places a hand on yours with a chuckle, “I told you, it’s Miguel.”

“Right. Sorry. Sorry,” You take some deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down. Miguel sees this and smiles.

“Why so flustered, cariño? Is it because I called you beautiful?”

You end up covering your face to hide said blush from him. Geez, your heart could not take this right now. You were dressed in some baggy Spider-Man pajamas, yet he is calling you beautiful?

“I-I’m not…”

You can’t believe you’re stuttering. The things this man does to you is insane.

Miguel reached a hand forward to take your hands away from your face. He doesn’t remove it, though. He rests it on your cheek.

“Do you want to know why I stopped coming around your house?”

You nod, staring into his chocolate brown eyes.

“It’s because of your 19th birthday. Do you remember it?”

You think back to those years ago. It was a pretty fun party. You got a bunch of friends and family over and swam in your pool. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but just a fun time.

“Yeah. What about it? Did I do something?”

He chuckles and tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, “Nah. It’s just me. You… that day, do you remember what your swimsuit looked like?”

You think back again and blush. Not one of your smartest moments, buying a white swimsuit. It looked cute online, the thought of that it was supposed to go in water and get wet not really cementing itself in your head.

“Yeah…”

He nods and chuckles, “I saw you step out of the pool, and rushed over with a towel to cover you up. Remember? Sure, it was because I didn’t want you to expose yourself like that. However, I had a selfish reason.”

You look up and tilt your head a little.

“I didn’t want anyone else to see that part of you.”

“Huh?” Your brows furrow.

He smirks, “I was confused by the thought, too. I left right after the party and went to my house. I figured I’d stop having such strange thoughts after a day… but amor, I haven’t stopped thinking about you once.”

Your eyes widen, “Wh- Huh?”

“You’re so beautiful, I don’t think you understand. You grew into this woman who I admire, not just for your looks. You’re wonderful, absolutely wonderful. You’re kind, you’re thoughtful, you’re funny, you’re perfect. I can’t get you out of my damn head.”

You can’t manage to speak at this point. You stare up at the man in shock as he moves his hand from your cheek to the back of your neck.

“Please, let me kiss you, niña,” He basically begs, his eyes look full of desperation, “I’ve wanted to do it for years.”

You manage a tiny nod, so he rushes forward to kiss your lips. He holds you very close against him and kisses you hard. He lets out a groan at the contact. His tongue prods at your lips after a while and who are you to refuse such a man? You let him in, letting out a little groan of your own when he explores you.

After what felt like too short, you have to pull away to catch your breath. He doesn’t stop being on you, though. When you pant, he moves to kiss your jaw and neck.

You let out a little groan, “M-Miguel…”

“No good?” He speaks between kisses, “I’ve wanted to touch you for years, you don’t understand…”

You let out a little whimper, a god damn whimper.

“Please, let me touch you. Fuck, please,” He begs again. You manage a small nod once again. He dives back in to keep kissing your neck.

You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. His hands move downwards towards your shirt. He tugs it over your head and moans. His hands immediately reach down to squeeze your tits, and you have to cover your mouth to keep your moans in.

He mumbles out a soft “Fuck…” when he uses his thumbs to glide over your nipples. After a few seconds, he leans down to press kisses all over your soft breasts. He still uses his hands to softly prod at them.

You let out a low whine and he looks up at you, “Be quiet, my girl. Can’t have anyone hearing you.”

You nod and keep covering your mouth as he leans down to keep pressing soft kisses to your chest. After a few moments, he tugs at your bottoms and looks up at you. You nod embarrassingly, and he takes them and your underpants off in one fell swoop.

You hear him audibly choke a breath, which makes you blush more. He manhandles you so your thighs rest on his shoulders, and just goes to town.

You let out a loud yelp when his tongue presses against your clit, so he reaches down and puts his fingers in your mouth to silence you. He keeps his mouth going, sucking on the bud to bring you pleasure.

Miguel pulls back with a long breath, “Tastes so good…”

You whimper against his fingers when he leans down to insert his tongue in you. You cry out as he holds nothing back, forcefully having his way with you.

His one hand that isn’t in your mouth is softly caressing your thigh, which is driving you crazy in its own right. It feels like everywhere he touches you is pure heaven.

Though that one hand leaves after a moment, instead he moves to insert a finger in you. You clamp down on his fingers, which makes him chuckle.

“Feel that good?”

Against his hand, you mumble, “Fingers so thick…”

He smirks and curls his index finger, making your hips buck up and you let out another whine. He can softly hear you beg for more.

He complies, of course. Hes waited for this for years, no way he won’t give his girl everything she wants.

He inserts another finger, moving them around a little until he eventually finds your most sensitive spot. He presses the pad of his fingers up against it suddenly, making you jerk and squirm around.

His mouth dives back down to suck on your clit, which drives you absolutely insane. His fingers in both your mouth and inside you, as well as his skilled mouth was far too much for one woman to handle.

Miguel looks over at one of the thighs placed on his shoulder, seeing it shiver and shake. He breaks away briefly, “Are you close already, amor? You’re so sensitive for me. Have you been wanting my touch too?”

You nod frantically when he lowers his head to your clit again. You cry out, “Uh-Huh! Y-You were my first crush!” Your words were mumbled against his fingers, but he understood them just fine.

He sucks on your clit hard and curls his fingers at the same time, which causes you to let out a moan and your thighs shake more. He breaks away,

“Look at me when you come. Look into my eyes as I make you come. You understand?”

You nod and keep eye contact with him as he inserts a third finger, pressing over and over to your g-spot. He uses his tongue to swirl around your inflated bud at the same time.

His gaze, his mouth, his fingers, it was all far too much. After one harsh suck, you came with a muffled shout.

Miguel drank it all up immediately, seemingly absolutely satisfied to be covered in your juices.

He lets you catch your breath and removes his fingers from your mouth. He also lowers your hips back to the bed, being delicate as he does so he doesn’t hurt you. You were panting very harshly, still coming down from your high.

Everything was a bit fuzzy at the moment. Though you refocused a few seconds later- holy shit.

His shorts have been discarded, along with his shirt. He was naked just as you were, and god damn was he big.

He leans down to press a kiss to your stomach, “You think you can go again? Can you take me, pretty girl?”

You try and speak only to realize that you, in fact, can’t. You settle for a thumbs up, which just makes him laugh softly.

He gives you a few more seconds before aligning himself up with your pretty pussy, pushing himself in agonizingly slow.

You let out another moan, so he quickly puts his fingers in your mouth again to keep you quiet. He really, really did not need your parents who were down in the living room to hear this.

He kept pushing himself in, holding his own groans back. He’d used his hand and imagined how you’d feel in the past, but it was nothing like this. This was perfect.

Once he was in as far as he could go, he stopped and let you get comfortable. Of course it was a battle for him, he was fighting his primal instincts to just take your hard and fast.

You keep letting out the most adorable little whimpers, which even though he’s currently fucking you, make Miguel’s heart melt.

You hum against his fingers, “Ready…”

He nods and begins to move very slowly. He focuses on your face as he watches it contort and squeeze with his movements. You were so pretty when you were experiencing such pleasure, he thought.

He whispers, “Good job, pequeña. Such a good girl for me.”

The praise makes you bite down on his fingers a little. Your hands travel upwards to scratch on his back, too. It was taking all your willpower to not be loud.

He moves a little faster, leaning down to kiss you as he does. He keeps mumbling “My pretty girl” And “So perfect, just for me” as he increases his speed.

He knows he isn’t going to last long. He’s been dreaming about you for years at this point.

He begins to sweat as his hips snap against yours. His free hand moves down to rub on your already abused clit. You grunt on his fingers, pursing your lips against them.

“You gonna come for me again, amor? Come on my cock. Can you do that for me?” He speaks very softly. Both to keep it down, but to also be intimate with you.

You breathe heavily as you feel him pound into you. You can feel tears brimming at your eyes from the sensation.

He licks his thumb and places it back down on your clit, rubbing circles over and over again. At the same time, his hips were slamming against yours. Soon enough, you reached a second orgasm. He let out a moan that was nearly too loud when you did. The sensation was his end, because a few thrusts later he pulled out and came on your stomach.

You and him sat there, panting like you’d just ran a damn marathon. Though after a few minutes, Miguel stands and walks over to your nightstand to get the wipes there. He begins to wipe you of his cum and your sweat, cleaning you off so you can sleep comfortably.

You were so fucking exhausted it was insane. You could barely register as he carefully slid your pajamas back onto you, then changed back into his own clothes.

He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, “If I could sleep in here, I would.”

“Mhm…” You mumble, a little upset he wouldn’t be cuddling you to sleep. But you obviously understood his reasoning.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips,

“Let’s do this again sometime, pequeña.”

Hope you enjoyed you rabid Miguel fans!! Feedback is always welcome. I used spanishdict so please correct any mistakes you see. Reqs open too!!

This was my first time posting anything NSFW on any site ever so I’m sorry if it’s bad LOL

Don’t repost or claim as or own and all that stuff please!! ❤️❤️

#reqs open #miguel x you #miguel smut #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara smut #dbf!miguel #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv fanfiction #miguel o'hara #miguel x y/n

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loveharlow · 3 months

Text

SEVEN - 002

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[6.5k] based on 1x02.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of parental neglect, mild violence, mentions of death/grief, disturbance of a graveyard (?)

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I've been wanting to do an OBX rewrite for a very long time so here it is, the first chapter from yours truly.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

“DO YOU REALLY THINK BIG JOHN COULD STILL BE ALIVE?” Kiara’s slightly digitally distorted voice came from the other end of the line. Your phone was pressed between your ear and shoulder as you searched the hangers in your closet, bath towel wrapped snug around your frame and your hair thrown up into a bun, which was presenting more like a mess of damp strands.

“It doesn’t matter what we think, Kie,” You made clear, eyeing a cute shirt you thought you’d lost. “We should just be there for him.”

“Yeah… but what if we’re just feeding into a fantasy? Wouldn’t that make us bad friends if we weren’t honest with him?” You could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the phone as well, dresser drawers slamming occasionally.

“Maybe you’re right.” You sighed, throwing your outfit onto your bed and heading back into the closet to find a bikini to wear underneath. Living in the Outer Banks meant you had a plethora to choose from. “But the way I see it? If it were my dad that went missing, I’d be looking for him too. I’d give anything to even have that small hope that my dad was still alive back, but I know he isn’t… so, I understand.”

“I didn’t think about it like that…” It was sad to hear her so conflicted, as if she’d said the wrong thing.

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to. And I would never want you to be able to understand that feeling. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.” You reassured, putting the girl on speaker to toss the phone on your bed and slipping the bikini you picked out onto your frame and tying the respective knots. “That’s why if John B thinks his dad is alive and wants to look for him? That’s what we’re gonna do. Because alive or not, John B is like a brother to me and leaving him to do this alone is what would make us bad friends.”

“I guess you’re right…are you still meeting up with the guys today?”

“Just J and John B for right now. Pope said he’d be around later after helping his pops.” You told her, slipping an oversized shirt over top of the bikini, eyeing your closet shelves for a pair of shorts.

“Alright, I might swing by if my parents aren’t up my ass about work.” She complained. “Talk to you later.”

“Later.” Was all you said before the end-call sound rang out in the expanse of your bedroom.

A swift series of knocks met your closed door from the other side, you shouted for them to come in, assuming it was either your mother or your dog Marley’s tail hitting the wood. The 2-year-old golden retriever had a knack for sitting outside your bedroom door on the rare occasion that it was closed and she wasn’t inside.

The knob twisted and in walked your mother, adorned in her signature navy blue pencil skirt and blazer, still a half hour to spare before she had to head off to her office for work. Rebecca Reyes was the Outer Banks’ most notable and renowned lawyer. Even when you still lived on The Cut all those months ago, she was still the island's number one defender. Moving to Figure Eight and getting rich, almost overnight, just gave her the resources she needed. You still questioned where all the money spawned from, chopping it down to your father’s life insurance coming through.

But the bank said that could take a while and you never assumed it was enough to buy a house on Figure Eight. But that’s adult stuff, you thought to yourself.

“You got home late yesterday,” She began bluntly, adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist. The smell of her expensive perfume already wafting into your space. “Where were you?”

“Just out with John B and the others.” You said with a shrug, walking out the closet with a pair of sneakers in your hands as you undid the tied laces.

She hummed, eyeing the space around you as if she’d never seen it before. “Did you hear about the boat they’re searching for? Scooter Grubbs’ boat?”

You side eyed her quickly, not quick enough for her to catch however. “Yeah, the whole island is losing their minds over it.”

“You and your friends haven’t come across anything, have you?”

“...I doubt we’d have any luck coming across a Grady-White, mom. Especially after the hurricane. That boat could be oceans away for all we know.”

“Right.” She agreed, but she seemed far away. Off. Why’d she care about Scooter Grubbs’ boat? “And what’s this I hear about some kid with a gun at The Point?” Your heart dropped.

“A gun?” You acted semi-shocked. “I don’t know, I wasn’t there.”

“Hm.” She droned. “Well, if you find anything don’t hesitate to tell me. Or Shoupe, for that matter. He said two out of towners showed up for the boat search yesterday, looked sketchy. So, be careful.”

You hummed in agreement, watching as the woman strutted out of the room without even a small ‘goodbye’.

You and your mother were nowhere near as close as you used to be. Your father’s passing caused a rift between the two of you that seemed irreparable. You just felt like she had become so cold and closed off, nothing like the woman who used to bake every weekend or plan family nights in the backyard. She was more secretive, dismissive. You couldn’t even remember what her smile looked like. She’d changed so much. She used to hate Sheriff Shoupe, said he was a dirty cop who worked under the rich snobs of Figure Eight. Now, it’s like they’re business partners of some sort and she is a rich snob on Figure Eight.

She even changed her last name back after your father died and wouldn’t tell you why. That was what made you feel the most alone. Rebecca Carter was now Rebecca Reyes but you were still Y/N Carter and your father would always be Owen Carter.

It was like she was trying to erase him and everything they’d built together.

You hated to admit that sometimes you wondered what your father would think of the woman she’s become. If she would be as unrecognizable to him as she is to you.

YOU SAT IN THE BACK OF THE VAN, legs bent as your journal rested atop your thighs while you scribbled down your thoughts and recent events — namely the events of yesterday. You had one earbud in, your playlist on shuffle as you half-listened into JJ and John B’s conversation that was happening in the front seat, the bumpy ride making your handwriting a bit chicken scratch-ish.

“I don’t understand why you don’t at least try with Kiara,” JJ started, his heavy boots kicked up on the dashboard. “She clearly likes you. She’s like ‘Oh, John B!’. She’s sketchy about you diving and then she kissed you, bro.” The blonde continued.

“She kissed me on the cheek. It’s not like we were makin’ out.” John B denied, brushing off the girl’s clear affections.

“Low-hanging fruit, bro.” JJ cut him off, the statement making you cringe in silence as you continued to scribble. “I see it in your eyes. You’re like ‘I kind of like that’.” JJ said in a mockingly low and seductive voice.

“Okay, you want to talk about me?”

“Yeah, bro, I wanna talk about you and your lack of game.”

“My lack- my lack of game? Okay, what game do you have, JJ? ‘Cause I haven’t seen any improvement in your case.” JJ’s head whipped between you and the boy in the driver’s seat within milliseconds before he was swatting John B’s arm.

“C’mon, dude...” He warned in a hushed tone. John B just chuckled.

“That’s what I thought.”

Moments of silence passed before their voices were heard again. “I gotta admit, your dad’s compass in Scooter’s boat? Freaky, man…” JJ claimed, twirling the newfound object between his fingers.

“That’s why we’re going to talk to Ms. Lana and figure this whole thing out. She’s his wife, she has to know something.” John B told him.

“And what makes you think she would want to talk to us?” You added, spooking the blonde boy in the passenger seat.

“How long have you been listen-”

“I’m always listening.” You spoke bluntly, a blank expression on your face as you averted your attention from your journal to him. “Anyway,” you dismissed. “A group of teenagers showing up to ask her about her dead husband, the boat that the whole island is looking for, and the compass we found inside of said dead husband’s lost boat? She’ll either think we’re criminals, FBI, or crazy.”

“Well, this is our first resort.” John B replied, eyes looking at you through the rearview. “We gotta try.”

“KNOW WHAT THIS HOUSE LOOKS LIKE?” JJ said, leading the group of us to the front yard of Lana Grubbs’ residence. “Whoever lives here smokes too much weed.” He observed the small, shack-like house — the walls were overgrown with weeds, the yard looked like it’d never been cut, the place was a mess from the outside.

The three of you stopped, more like flinched, in your tracks when you heard glass-shattering from the inside of the house followed by crash after crash. It sounded like the outside of a rage-room or a gun range.

“Maybe we should come back…” JJ advised, taking small steps back. But John B persisted, even as the two of you stood back in fear.

“No, no, shut up, JJ.” John B reprimanded absentmindedly.

“Tell me where it is or I’ll fuck you up!” A deep, brassy voice boomed from the inside. The voice so authoritative it made you shudder, but it didn’t worry you as when a woman’s scream followed. You could only assume it was Ms. Lana. “I’ll sink you in the fucking-” A crash, louder than the rest, cut off the sentence, almost covering the sound of Ms. Lana’s blood-curling screech.

“You’re hurting me!”

John B beckoned JJ and you on with his hands, urging the both of you to move forward. Reluctantly, and after a weary glance at one another, you and JJ followed the brunette boy who was edging closer and closer to the side of the house.

“Where the fuck is it?!”

“I don’t know!”

The three of you quickly dashed and ducked beneath the window seal on the only open window when you heard something hit the wall from the inside. You had just parted your lips to say that, just maybe, this was a bad idea. A terrible one, even, before a phrase yelled by the angry man inside had you shutting up.

“The compass wasn’t in the boat! Where is it, Lana?!”

“I don’t know!”

Your heart dropped as things continued to get thrown and slammed inside the house and you prayed those ‘things’ didn’t happen to be Lana. The paint and wood started to physically chip and fall off the walls outside, landing on top of the three of you crouched against the side of the house, wood particles falling into your eyes.

“Let’s get the hell out of here, man…” Another male voice commanded, followed by two pairs of heavy footsteps against the wooden floors inside. The three of you peeked around the corner to watch the two men disappear from the grounds through the front door, stomping angrily towards their boat.

The same boat that had been shooting at you only 24 hours prior.

“Those were the guys that shot at us.” JJ whisper-yelled.

“Go back.” John B commanded, pushing you all back behind the safety of the wall so they wouldn’t see you all. Once the boat sped off, the three of you slowly tip-toed your way into the house. The sound of Lana’s cries getting louder and more heartbreaking the more you entered the house, shoes crunching on wood and glass. Photo frames and dishes all broken into smaller fractions and littered on the floor, holes in the walls, kitchen cabinets hanging on by a single hinge.

“Ms. Lana?” You called out, voice laced with concern, eyeing the broken windows before they found Ms. Lana’s curled up figure on the bathroom floor right below the sink that was hanging on by a singular pipe. “Oh my God.” You gasped, kneeling right next to the woman and laying a hand on her shoulder that caused her to flinch and shrink in on herself.

She had tears running from her red, swollen eyes, curled up like someone’s child.

“She is tweakin’.”

“Shut up, JJ.” You hissed, shooting a mean glare at the insensitive blonde before turning your attention back to the feeble woman. “Do you need a doctor? We can call a doctor for you.” You assured, examining the multiple cuts adorning the woman’s face and arms.

“We can call the sheriff’s department-” John B was on the verge of suggesting before Lana cut him off frantically.

“No cops, please!”

“Mm, that’s not good. Let’s bounce.” JJ urged, weary of the woman’s persistence to avoid law enforcement.

“You shouldn’t be here...” Lana cried, her eyes focused on John B, speaking as her lip quivered and her voice shook.

The brunette’s face twisted, kneeling next to me to level his gaze with Ms. Lana’s. “Do you know those guys?”

“They were… looking for something.” Her voice wavered.

“...Does it have anything to do with this?” John B asked her, pulling the compass from the back pocket of his board shorts. You and JJ shared a glance, both knowing John B probably shouldn’t have shown it to her. “This was my father’s and Scooter had it. Do you know why?”

Why did John B think showing a woman his father’s compass and saying he copped it from her dead husband was a good idea? You had no clue. Interrogation tactic? Impulsiveness? Stupidity? Lana’s eyes were wide and teary, she looked like she was seeing ghosts.

“Scooter didn’t have it, okay? Don’t tell anyone that you have that. They can’t know that you have that!”

Your lips pulled themselves into a thin line and you were starting to feel less bad for Lana and more suspicious of the distressed woman. Maybe she wasn’t as innocent as she appeared. She didn’t seem to be a threat but she clearly knew things that she shouldn’t. You nudged JB’s arm, whispering in his direction even though the woman could most likely still hear you. “We should go…”

“You’ve gotta get out of here!” Lana cried, fearful gaze eyeing the compass in John’s grasp.

“What do you know about the compass?” John B raised his voice over her frantic one, still questioning Lana as JJ pulled him back and the three of you stood to leave.

“Go! Get out!” Was the last thing you heard as the hysteric woman yelled at your retreating figures.

“SO, YOU SAW THE GUYS THAT SHOT AT US, RIGHT?” Pope asked with his head in his hands, stressed after listening to JJ’s dramatic rendition of events. The three of you had returned to The Chateau and summoned Kiara and Pope not too long after, the events of today on the tip of your tongue. “Did you get a good description of them? Anything we can bring to a police report?”

You shook your head along with JJ and John B as Kiara and Pope sighed at you all's lack of response. There was nothing special about these guys. Sure, they seemed out of place but that’s because nobody on the island knew them. That was one perk about living in Kildare, everyone knows everyone. But these weren’t leather jacket, ski-mask wearing criminals. They didn’t stick out like sore thumbs.

“That’s not very helpful…” Kiara huffed.

“But, but,” JJ started again. “They were burly. Like the men I’d see at my dad’s garage. You guys know he made cargo hides for drug smugglers...” He reminded you all carelessly. “I can tell you with full confidence that these guys? They’re square groupers.”

“Like Narcos square groupers?” Pope questioned with little amusement, his face dropping as he watched JJ smoke against the brick wall.

“Like, Pablo Escobar square grouper?” You added on, just as skeptical from your seat on the patio floor, legs stretched in front of you and crossed over one another while you leaned on your elbows for support. JJ just nodded, blowing out smoke.

“You guys, not everything is a kingpin movie.” Kie reprimanded from her place next to Pope on the patio furniture.

“Okay,” Pope started. “What does a square grouper look like? Hm? Because clearly, you don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“Okay, you weren’t there! I wasn’t taking little mental polaroids the entire time, dude! I was under duress!” JJ whined to which you and John B rolled your eyes.

“Why would they want the compass?” Kiara probed, leaning forward in her seated position, resting her forearms on her thighs.

“That thing’s a piece of shit, you could pawn it off for five bucks if you wanted to… No offense, John B.” Pope claimed honestly, watching as John B flicked the object open and stared at it longingly, paying no mind to the boy’s insult.

“Well, clearly it’s worth something.” You popped in. “Considering these guys are willing to kill for it.”

“...The office.” You all turned to the scruffy brunette. A silent question on everyone’s face. “My dad’s office.” John B continued, shooting up and walking inside The Chateau as you all scurried to follow, shooting one another confused glances. “He always kept the office locked ‘cause he was worried about his competitors stealing his Royal Merchant research. Remember?” He directed at you and JJ, looking back but still walking forward. “We used to laugh at him like he was actually going to find it. But now that he’s…gone, I just left it as he kept it.” He said despondently.

“Yeah. For when he gets back.” Kie backed him up with a light-tipped smile. Keys jangled as John B unlocked the room you hadn’t seen in years. Not since before Big John went missing. Before all of this.

“I’ve slept over here like six-hundred times and I’ve never seen this door opened.” Pope said aloud, eyeing the office like a museum.

This was like being hit by a tidal-wave for you. And you’re sure it was the same for John B. You can remember the countless nights you’d slept over before and after Big John went missing. Before he went missing and you, JB, and JJ would peek inside just to watch him just write and type like his life depended on it. It even brought back memories of when your dad would stay a while after dropping you off to spend the night just to share beers in the backyard with Big John.

The nights after his disappearance weren’t as sweet though. Sleeping in a group hug around John B after his dad went missing. Then your friends all slept in a group hug around you after your dad went missing. Then they slept in another group hug around you when your dad’s body was found, washed up on the shore for the entire island to see. With the plethora of events, The Chateau became a haunted house in your mind.

“Look,” John B said, pulling you out of your stupor. He’d taken a bulletin board down off of the walls that was decorated with paper scraps and old pictures. His index finger pointed to the photo at the very top, a sepia-like tint to it. “This was the original owner of the compass.”

The paper pinned against the photo read ‘Robert Q. Routledge. 1880 - 1920’.

“There’s the lucky compass right there.” Kiara showed you all, pointing to the object clutched in the old man’s hand in the picture. You wouldn’t exactly call the compass lucky, though. And if it was before, it surely isn’t now.

“Actually, um. He was shot after he bought it…” John B informed. “Then the compass was shipped back to Henry.” He continued guiding you all through the timeline, pointing to the next picture. “Henry was killed in a crop-dusting accident when he had the compass.” You happened to look up at the exact same time as Pope, the two of you locking eyes with visible worry. “After he died, the compass was given to Stephen. Stephen had it when he died in Vietnam.” The boy ranted. “After that, Stephen passed the compass down to my dad.”

“This is painting a very bad picture, JB…” You warned, hand on the back of your neck as your face twisted.

“Yeah, he has a death compass.” Pope deadpanned.

“I do not.” John B denied, rolling his eyes and sitting down in the nearest chair with the compass still in hand. “My dad used to talk about this compartment here.” He explained, fiddling with the article between his fingers. “Soldiers used to hide secret notes.” He twisted the back of it off, revealing a word scratched into the top. He sat up with surprise as he spoke. “...This is my dad’s handwriting.”

Pope scoffed. “How can you know that?”

“He’s right.” You assured the doubtful male absentmindedly, squinting your eyes and craning your neck down to see the word written into the metal. “Big John had horrific handwriting and his R’s always had a point to them. I always used to think they looked like big-headed baby chicks, in a way. That’s definitely his handwriting.”

“Weird observation…but she’s right.” John B backed you up, his eyes going back to the compass. “Redfield…” He muttered. “What’s Redfield? Is it a clue?”

“A clue? C’mon that’s-” Pope began until you shot him a nasty glare, silently telling him to be helpful and supportive or shut up. His eyes widened as he gulped. “If it is a clue, m-maybe it’s an anagram?”

“Yes!” John B jumped up from his seat, beckoning you all to back up some. “Anagram. Perfect. You need paper.” He directed at Pope, eyeing scanning the cluttered space. Handing the boy an old, crinkled sheet of notebook paper, Pope got to work with the help of JJ and Kiara as John B and you scoured the desks for anything else of use.

Your ears were quick to pick up on the sound of an engine over the chatter of the brainiac bunch behind you. Eyes perking up to see a black truck pulling onto the yard.”...Guys?” You spoke, but not loud enough. “Guys!” You shushed them, all eyes turning to you. “Somebody’s here.”

The five of you crowded around the window, peeking through the blinds and peering through the dusted glass. Two males got out of the car and you recognized them immediately. “Those are the guys from The Marsh and Lana’s house.”

John B was quick to turn towards JJ. “Where’s the gun?”

“I don’t know-”

“Now you don’t have the gun? The one time we need the gun?” Kiara panicked.

“It was in my backpack and then I-...it’s on the porch.” JJ quickly realized, sighing before biting his lip out of frustration.

“Go. Go get it.” John B urged quietly but you were quick to step up, tugging the short sleeve of JJ’s shirt before he could open the door.

“No, no, we are not sending JJ out there to be pummeled by square troopers, square groupers, whatever they are-”

“We need the gun-” The bandana-wearing boy hissed.

“I don’t care. We stay put. We stay together.” You insisted. But JJ gently swiped your hand down and backed out of your reach, one hand up in surrender. “What’re you doing-”

“It’ll be quick, I swear. I’m like a ninja-”

“JJ.” You said simply, disappointed as you curled your fist in annoyance.

“I’ll be on my Batman shit.” He whispered before leaving the room quietly with the door cracked behind him, allowing you all to see him leave.

“John Routledge!” A country man’s voice boomed, causing JJ to turn around and slide his way back into the room quietly before he’d even made it two steps outside of the office. “C’mon out now!” JJ closed and locked the door as you all heard the pairs of footsteps enter The Chateau. The men began smashing and throwing things around just as they did Ms. Lana’s house. Was this their MO or something?

‘Window’ Kie mouthed, pointing to the window that led straight into the yard, towards the chicken coop and the surf shack. JJ and Pope rushed over to it as John B held down the door, which was just him standing against it with his hands above his head. JJ and Pope tried to lift the frame but it wouldn’t budge. Your face twisted in confusion, walking over to where the two boys were struggling and attempting to pull up the window seal yourself with no better luck.

“It’s painted shut.” You couldn’t help but smack your teeth, cursing under your breath as your eyes quickly scanned the room for something sharp as you patted the back of your shorts, feeling an object in your pocket. Digging your hand in to reveal a pen, the one you’d been using to journal that morning. You whispered for the guys to move before ejecting the pen and sliding it quickly along the seal to break it as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, one of the square groupers began kicking the door down, John B running across the room.

“Hurry!” Kiara whispered.

“I’m going as fast as I can!” You hissed. When the seal was completely broken, you wasted no time in opening the window, being the first to jump down into the backyard and making a b-line for the coop. The five of you piled inside one by one, the space surprisingly big enough for five fully grown teenagers as you crouched in tense silence. Just then, you heard a shot ring out from the inside of the house, assuming the man shot the door down.

Everyone could hear everyone breathing, shaky breaths all throughout the small enclosure. And the roosters. One rooster would not stop crowing. You were hoping, praying the damn thing would stop making noise. It wasn’t long before the guys were seen leaving the house, carrying at least two crates of books and research each.

“Pope, shut him up.” JJ demanded, referring to the rooster next to Pope that was making the most noise.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Pet it or something, I don’t know.” Kie cried. Suddenly , JJ got up and grabbed the rooster by its neck, pressing it into the ground until its neck audibly snapped and its clucking ceased. You couldn’t help but cringe and look away, the sight somehow prompting you to gag. JJ’s eyes met yours as if he was making sure you were okay, you giving him a sickly nod in return. One that wasn’t as reassuring as you hoped. Kie was crying silently and you didn’t miss the way John B grabbed her hand in comfort.

“WHAT BETTER PLACE TO HIDE A MESSAGE THAN A FAMILY HEIRLOOM?” John B tried to muse from the driver’s seat of The Twinkie.

“Maybe somewhere more easily accessible.” You said bluntly, laying back on the floor of the van, your foot on Pope and head in JJ’s lap, Kiara in the passenger seat. “Like a hidden jewelry box compartment or a locked drawer. Not inside of a death compass on a dead man’s sunken boat.”

John B simply ignored you. “He had to know it was gonna get back to me, right?” He spoke hopefully, referring to his father.

“It’s possible.” Kie agreed from the passenger seat next to him, not wholeheartedly however.

“It could also be possible that you’re concocting wild theories to help deal with your sad feels- Ow!” Pope was interrupted when you kicked his knee, shooting him a glance that said ‘what the hell'.

“You know how I process my sad feels,” JJ started, your eyes drifting to him as your head craned slightly back from its place atop his thighs. “Dank nugs and the stickiest of ickies.”

“Preach.” You agreed, dapping up the blonde boy.

“Look, I’m not concocting, okay?” John B nearly shouted in frustration. “My dad’s trying to give me a message.”

“...If it helps you believe, John B.” Kiara tried softly.

“I don’t need a therapy session. I’m not trippin’ out.” He dismissed the four of you. “My dad is missing, okay? Missing. You guys don’t know what it’s like to have the person closest to you vanish and have no idea what happened.”

Suddenly, the two pairs of eyes in the back of the van turned to you. You couldn’t help but curl in on yourself slightly. “Stop it.” You demanded, averting your eyes to the window, watching the palm trees pass by. You hated when they acted like you had to be shielded from things because of what happened to your dad.

“It’s been almost a year.” Kiara nudged JB, letting it go. “But fine. What do you think the message is?”

“Redfield.” The brunette reiterated hopefully. “Redfield Lighthouse. My dad’s favorite place.”

THE LIGHTHOUSE LOOKED A BIT DIFFERENT THAN YOU REMEMBERED. It looked older, more rickety. You could swear it was leaning now. The five of you stood staring up at it before John B turned around to face JJ.

“You’re gonna post up out here and look for bogey’s. Alright?”

“Wait, why me?” JJ asked pitifully.

“...JJ, there are independent variables and dependent variables. You’re an independent variable-” Pope tried to reason.

“Shut up.” The blonde-haired boy dismissed with a snarl.

“We don’t know what you’re gonna do!”

“Just shut up!”

“Listen to me,” John B broke the boys up, pointing an assertive finger. “Pope, you stand lookout with JJ. Y/N, you make sure they don’t rip each other’s heads off. If we get split up, we meet back at JJ’s house.” You watched as Kiara and John B hopped over the fence and onto the lighthouse property. You slid your back against a nearby tree, one earbud placed in your ear as you drummed your fingers against your thigh, playing with blades of grass between your fingers.

“I’m gonna work on my merit scholarship essay. I’m trying to keep felonies to a minimum.”

“All right, would you just shut up already?” JJ sassed, you rolling your eyes and scoffing at them both. A few beats passed before JJ spoke again. “They’re probably boning in there right now.”

“Jesus, JJ…” You breathed out.

“What? You don’t honestly believe they don’t have a thing for each other, do you?” He defended.

“Maybe you’re just jealous.” Pope offered from his place in the grass.

“Jealous? Of what?”

“Because John B’s trying to move in on Kie and you have a thing for her.”

“Listen, dude,” JJ started with his hands out in front of him. “Kie’s hot and all but she’s a kook. I don’t see her like that.”

“That’s what they all say.” You sang playfully, causing JJ to whip around to face you.

“Oh, really? And what about little miss pretty & popular?”

You visibly cringed. “Ew, don’t ever refer to me like that again.”

“You’re telling me you aren’t crushin’ on someone? No rich, polo-wearing kid swept you off your feet during you and Kie’s kook year?” He egged on.

“Knock it off, JJ.” Pope defended when he saw how your face fell at the mention of it. You hated when they brought it up. Technically Kie’s kook year was longer than yours, considering you’d joined her kook friend group when you moved to Figure Eight. That was an era of your life you’d love nothing more than to forget.

“Fine, fine,” He backed off, his hands thrown up in mock surrender as he backed some steps away. Just then, the three of your heads whipped to the dirt road behind you at the sound of police sirens. You snatched the earbud out of your ear and pocketed it, standing up from your place against the tree. They were clearly headed for the lighthouse.

“What do we do? Do we wait?” Pope asked frantically.

“We can’t, man, c’mon.” JJ urged, sprinting towards the van with you and Pope following close behind. He jumped into the driver’s seat, pulling off before you and Pope had even closed the side door completely. You could only have faith that your other two friends made it out okay.

“NEXT TIME YOU END UP AT THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE, YOU CALL ME FIRST. DO YOU UNDERSTAND, JOHN BOOKER?” Your mother reprimanded the poor boy, her heels clacking against the pavement outside of the department. You didn’t expect a call from John B after you all had run from the lighthouse, coming from the Kildare County Sheriff’s Station from John B saying he and Kiara had been “arrested”.

“Yes, ma’am.” He affirmed. By the time you’d arrived at the station, Kiara had apparently already left with her dad who’d refused to bail John B out as well, leaving the boy with only one other option. The three of you stopped in front of your mother’s car as she now turned to face the two of you.

“Shoupe already has enough to deal with. The sheriff’s office doesn’t need a couple of rowdy teenagers on their radar. I don’t know what you kids were doing up at the lighthouse that led to this, but drop it. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You both blurted out simultaneously, your mother having a newfound knack for intimidating people. She didn’t hesitate to jump in her car and start the engine, giving one last look as a goodbye.

YOU WERE AT THE DOCKS WAITING ON JOHN B, SITTING ON THE WOOD AND SWINGING YOUR FEET. You’d gone with him when he realized it was time for him to work, an employee saying Ward was looking for him as soon as the pair of you had arrived. He was up on The Druther’s, Ward’s boat, talking to the man himself. You couldn’t tell what the conversation was from your seat on the docks, so you waited. It was only minutes before the boy himself came stomping down the marina, prompting you to get up and dust yourself off.

“Is everything okay-”

“I just got fired.” He blurted, not even making eye contact with you and he brushed past you. You stuttered at his passive nature, scurrying to follow behind him.

“What do you mean you just got fired?”

“Ward found out about the gear.” He scoffed, and even with his back to you as he breezed through the working people to leave the dock, you could almost feel his frustration. “I can’t believe her.” He muttered.

“Who? Who are you talking about, John B?” You soon got your answer as Sarah Cameron walked by, you and the girl making brief eye contact with a mutual snarl on both of your lips before her attention turned to John B, who she somehow saw after you.

“Hey, John B.” She greeted, her hands full of paper bags that were filled to the brim with groceries, a large, brimmed hat on the top of her head. You weren’t surprised when he continued walking as you followed without a word to the girl, but she persisted. “That’s it?” Sarah scoffed. “Not a ‘hey, how you doin’’? Not a ‘kiss my ass’?”

You didn’t expect John B to turn around and swiftly walk over to the girl, getting all in her face. With the noise of the busy marina in the back, their close conversation became hushed but it was still audible enough.

“Your secret’s safe with me? Really?” Your friend pressed the girl. “I just got fired because of you. And I know you can’t imagine that but some people need jobs, so they can eat.” Nothing shocked you more than when he smacked the bag of goods from her arms, leaving Sarah stunned as fruits rolled in front of her sandals. Her jaw slack and eyes wide.

“What the fuck?” She hollered.

“You are exactly who I thought you were, Sarah Cameron.” He reprimanded, turning and leaving behind a stunned kook girl. Although, you would’ve paid money to see that again, it was such an odd interaction.

You knew he worked on Ward’s boat so he was bound to come across her but you weren’t aware they really talked. If you didn’t know either of them, you’d assume they were a high school couple arguing out in public.

The brunette brushed past you once again, taking his time and seemingly building up the courage to break into a run.

“Wh- John B!” You called from your place in the parking lot. “John B, where are you going?!” But it was no use as he simply left you behind and continued sprinting away. You figured you’d just give him some space to himself.

YOU’D RECONNECTED WITH POPE AND JJ SOON AFTER BEING LEFT IN THE DUST BY JOHN B, meeting them on the docks in The Cut. The three of you had been there for some hours, you helping Pope fix a generator while JJ smoked unhelpfully to the side when John B pulled up in The Twinkie.

He honked, beckoning the three of you into the van with a finger and none of you questioned what was happening or where you were going as you hopped into the rickety vehicle. You were mildly pissed about being left at The Marina but you got in nonetheless.

THE SUN HAD SET AND YOU ALL STILL HADN’T ARRIVED YET. John B briefly explained the destination and plan but you half-listened. You’d been driving for a long time, picking up Kiara along the way, with no clue as to where the five of you were going.

“Do you mind if I sit this one out?” JJ asked tiredly. “It’s been a long, weird day…”

“Look, I know I was wrong about the lighthouse.” John B acknowledged. “And wrong about everything else. But I was right about one thing — my dad is trying to tell me something.”

Just then you pulled up to a graveyard, the five of you piling out of the van with a flashlight each in your hand. “This place is scary.” Kie voiced. “John B, what are we doing?”

“You know how you’re trying to remember a song but you can’t remember who sings it?” He started. “Redfield. This whole time, I thought it was a place.” He explained as you all followed him further into the mess of graves and tombstones. “But it’s not.” He held the lantern in his hand up once you all stopped in front of a tomb, one of the tallest ones in the yard, revealing “REDFIELD” engraved in the stone. “It’s a person. My great-great-grandmother, Olivia Redfield. That was her maiden name.” He spoke longingly, looking up at the stone letters. “Help me with the door. C’mon.”

Pope stepped forward as the remaining three of you flashed your lights in the pair’s direction as they attempted and failed to push the tomb door open.

“Are you pushing?” Pope said to the brunette.

“Yes, I’m pushing.” John B strained out. Then JJ was jumping into help but even with his addition, the boys had no luck opening the door. They all jumped back when a snake hissed, peeking its head out from a crack in the stone structure.

“Woah! That’s a moccasin, alright” JJ started, jumping back almost cartoonistically. “Ye-old cottonmouth. Death in tall grass. Roof! Roof!” JJ started barking at the snake. Sometimes, you questioned his sanity.

“JJ! Shut up!” You warned the erratic blonde.

“You’re gonna wake the dead.” Pope slapped him on the shoulder, grimacing.

“Dude, they’re afraid of dogs. Everybody knows that.” He breathed out, straightening himself back out.

“Look, John,” Pope sighed, turning his attention back to John B. “We’re not gonna get in there, it’s not budging. We should probably just go.”

You were examining the tomb carefully, flashlight trailing the structure up and down before you noticed something. “I think I can get through.”

“...What?” John B spoke.

“You think you’re gonna fit through that hole?” Pope asked, worried.

“I’ll do it.” You reassured them, ignoring their concerns. “Just help me up.” They all shuffled to help you up — Kiara and John B holding the vines away and to the sides while JJ and Pope intertwined their hands for you to use as a human step-stool.

“What am I looking for?” You inquired, eyes fleeting to John B.

“You’ll know when you see it.” Your hands slapped your thighs. Helpful, you thought, but you didn’t ask anymore questions. You put your flashlight in between your teeth, like a dog carrying a bone before laying a hand on each of the boys shoulders, you put your foot over their connected hands and boosted yourself up.

It was a tight squeeze but you made your way through, landing on your feet and removing the flashlight from your teeth. It took your eyes a minute to adjust, staring at the walls of the spooky space.

“You alive in there?” JJ called.

“Alive and kickin’.” You called back, aiming the flashlight everywhere, scanning over everything. But the space was much bigger than you thought and your one flashlight didn’t seem to be enough. “I need more light, please.”

“Gotcha’.” John B said, pushing his arm holding the lantern through the crack of the wall, illuminating the space by tenfold. And that light was just what you needed.

“Oh my God…” You breathed out. John B may not have led you all on a goose-chase after all.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

SVN Taglist; (let me know if you'd like to be added!) @esquivelbianca @fallingwallsh @calmoistorm

©loveharlow.

#Spotify #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #obx jj #SVN #obx fanfiction #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fluff #obx jj x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #obx jj maybank #obx netflix #obx x reader

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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 8 months

Text

A Better Father (Loki X Stark!Son!Reader) *PARENTAL

Characters: Loki X Stark!Son!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Parental negligence, bad relationship with parent, mention of drugs and underage drinking

Request: could you do a tony x son!reader, in their live, tony was always cold to him (but eventually take him in with pepper) and then Peter Parker show up and take that away, Loki see him in reader (like with odin and how he treat Loki and Thor) and decide to adopt him, teach him magic, reader happy again 😊.

Notes: I wrote this and completely forgot it's meant to be male!reader until it came time to post- I think I've corrected it, but if you spot I've accidentally used the wrong pronouns please let me know so I can fix it. Thanks!

“I’m going out!” You announced, already at the front door, pulling your shoes on and your jacket, before grabbing your bag, hand on the door handle before you got a response.

“Where to?” Pepper asked, rounding the corner, arms crossed.

“My friend is doing a school project and wants my help with it.” You excused yourself, being careful not to go into any details.

“Do you need a ride?” She asked.

“No, it’s okay, there’s a bus that takes me right outside their apartment. I don’t know how long I’ll be, since we have a lot to do, if it gets late I’ll call you to let you know I’m okay and I’ll stay over, is that okay?” You asked her. Pepper walked a little closer, her expression clearly troubled.

“I’ll have to ask your father…” She commented, and your shoulders slumped, you turning to face her.

“You know he’s not going to care, Peps. In fact, I’m going to predict what he’s going to say, something along the lines of ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’.” You mimicked, Pepper frowning, knowing you were right. “I appreciate you actually trying to make up for him, I really do. It’s why I go to you instead of him for permission- because you actually care. Please don’t waste your breath. If he actually wants to know what his son is doing, he’ll do it himself.” You pointed out.

“I know… he should be better, and I want him to be better for you… and I also know you’re lying to me.” She pointed out. You felt your heart drop into your ass, and you sighed. “I told Peter about one of your prior projects with friends, and he looked into it- wanting to see if he could help as well, but then found out that your friend doesn’t even exist.”

“Has he told Tony?” You asked.

“No. He hasn’t. I made him promise to wait, told him I’d deal with it.” She explained. “Peter also cares about you, even if he doesn’t have much time to actually spend time with you.” She pointed out, and you just nodded. You’d accepted that even though Peter was Tony’s favourite despite not actually being his kid, when Peter got an idea od the dynamic between you and your father, he tried his hardest not to play into it or make it worst, though he often realised after events that he actually had and had not realised it. He always apologised for it, always tried to spend time with you in school, and on more than one occasion, he’d covered for you or even claimed something you did that your dad didn’t like was his idea, knowing Tony wouldn’t punish him and it would stop your relationship with your dad somehow getting worse. You appreciated him, he was like a brother in a way, and at this point, more like family than your dad, like how Pepper was more of a parent than Tony was, despite you not being related either. Same with Happy. Same with…

“I’m sorry for lying to you. And Peter… I just…” You fumbled.

“What’s going on, Y/N? Where are you going?” She asked, her voice soft and welcoming, a silent promise that no matter what, she wasn’t going to yell, turn on you, that she actually cares and just wants to be there for you.

“I’ve been going to meet someone… not romantically or anything!” You told her quickly. “I’m not doing drugs or anything like that either.”

“That’s good, so you’re being responsible with this person… why have you been hiding this person from us then?” She asked. You thought for a second on how to break the news, and in that time, Pepper started to pry a little more. “Are they… older?” She asked. You nodded. “So not a teenager? Out of school?” She asked, and you nodded again. “How old are they?” She asked, tilting her head. Another hard question, and you bit your lip, and sensing you weren’t confident answering, she changed her question. “What do you two do? It’s not illegal, so what’s so bad you have to hide it?” She asked.

“He’s… mentoring me.” You told her.

“Oh, so he’s like a professor? A teacher? What’s he teaching you?” She asked with a smile, seemingly suddenly relieved, getting the idea that you were getting one on one lessons for something you were interested in as a future career, and she was ready to support you from the jump.

“Magic. He’s teaching me magic.” You admitted, which made Pepper’s eyebrows press together. “And not the cut a woman in half or pull a rabbit out of a hat kind of magic.” You clarified, and she had a moment of realisation.

“I know two people who know magic. One is Strange, who your father gets along with and so learning from him wouldn’t be a problem, which means… Loki? You’re going to see Loki? He’s teaching you magic?” She asked, and you nodded.

“Please don’t tell Tony! I promise, Loki’s been nothing but kind to me! When we’re not doing magic, we just read books together- or go on walks or stuff!” You explained.

“What kind of magic?” She demanded.

“How to teleport, how to create an illusion, today he’s teaching me a spell that translates both written and spoken languages!” You explained to her. “He said for a treat for my birthday he’s going to teach me a spell that lets me understand animals because apparently what they say is really funny and cute and he thinks I’ll like it.” You explained to her. She clearly wasn’t convinced, and you sighed. “We do other stuff to.” You told her.

“Like what?” She asked.

“You know when Tony’s in a bad mood or I do something he doesn’t like and we get into an argument and I go for a walk to cool off and don’t come back for hours? Loki walks with me. He makes sure I don’t do anything stupid… I feel so safe with him, that I feel comfortable and safe enough to actually cry.” You admitted. You watched Pepper’s concerned expression fall. You never cried- at least not at home. Not at school either, according to Peter. You didn’t cry in front of her, or Peter, or Happy, and sure as hell never in front of Tony, no matter what he said or did. “And he knows what I need when I cry. He hugs me, he just lets me cry, he doesn’t shush me or try to make me stop. If anything bad happens, I go to him first. Like when I went to that party last month and got wasted and realised I didn’t know how to get home- you and dad thought I left with a stranger and stayed with someone who I didn’t know and then came home when sober- instead I called Loki and he looked after me during the night, he rubbed my back when I threw up, hugged me and promised it was gonna be okay when I was crying, he made this really nice tea which instantly made my hangover go away, and promised if this ever happened again he’d do it all over again, and then he took me home when I felt well enough.” You admitted to her.

“Where do you two hang out, usually?” She asked.

“He has a little apartment, there’s probably a hefty amount of magic to make it so the other tenants can’t notice the door to it since it defies the floor plan of the entire building, but it’s so cozy, and warm and I have my own bedroom there- which is where I go whenever I have any ‘sleepovers’, though I do make him watch movies, especially bad ones.” You laughed. It felt so good to finally be able to talk about this- about everything you and Loki did, because time with Loki was your happy time.

“Okay… I have two questions.” She said, and you nodded, gulping. “Why…Loki? If you wanted to learn magic, why not go to Strange, and why is Loki so willing and…” She didn’t say the word, but you knew what she wanted to say. Fatherly.

“Because when he looks at me, he sees himself.” You admitted. “He told me himself… Loki didn’t have a good relationship either with his father. Thor's the golden child, Loki was the one pushed to the back, forgotten. He knows how it feels to be unwanted, to not be thought of by the person who is supposed to love you. He knows how it feels to want to be loved and no matter how hard you try, not getting it, because in your dad’s eyes, you’re not worth it. He sees me, and he sees his own childhood, and he hates that, so… he decided to do something about it.” You explained to her. “Loki… Loki’s like a dad to me. He certainly acts more like one than Tony.” You pointed out. Pepper looked devastated, but understood. “What was your other question?”

“Inevitably, Tony’s going to find out about this. I won’t tell him, I’ll feign ignorance, but Peter’s going to find out somehow, and you know that even if he wants to protect you, that boy can’t keep a secret to save his life, especially from Tony.” She pointed out. “What’s your game plan for when he finds out?” She asked.

“I’ve already got that figured out.” You reassured her. “Loki set up the bedroom for me for the worst case scenario… I graduate next year. I’ll graduate, start going to college, and I’m going to move out and live with Loki- he might move his apartment to be closer to whatever college I want to go to. If he doesn’t know by then, I’ll tell him I just have a roommate and we know he’s not going to come and visit, and after college, I’ll just slowly drop contact, keep my distance, away from him, happy, learning magic, living my own life. I’ll come visit you and Peter and Happy, regular phone calls, if you need me, call me and I’ll be there… and if Tony finds out before then? I’ll go anyway. I’ll be okay, no matter what. Loki has my back.”

“...And so do I.” She added. You two stared at each other. You weren’t sure what she was thinking, what exactly she was going to do. Ban you from seeing Loki? Tell your father? Treat you like a criminal and monster even if you’ve done nothing wrong? Be locked away? Somehow become even more of an outcast? Lose the few people you actually consider family? Lose Loki? “I won’t keep you waiting. Keep me updated on what you’re doing, if you want to stay the night let me know, okay? I’ll tell Peter something that is easier to swallow and then we’ll tell him the full truth after you graduate. I’ll explain to Happy, maybe he can also help you… please just… don’t do anything stupid. Behave. No more secrets from me, okay?” She asked.

“Okay. Thank you.” You told her, nodding with a grin. “I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow!” You told her, finally opening the door and dashing out. Pepper sighed, wondering what she was going to tell Peter to help keep in calm and not accidentally tell Tony, how she was going to get Happy to go along with this, how she’s going to look Tony in the eyes and feign ignorance, lie to his face about where his son is and who he's with. But then she remembered every time she could recall when she would come to Tony’s place and find you home alone when you were a young child, thinking it was normal, how you used to try to get his attention and him brush you off or even yell at you to go away and then slowly stop trying and instead go to her and Happy who actually cared. She remembered how utterly overjoyed you were when your dad actually came to your birthday after he was kidnapped, seeming to realise how precious life was and wanted to make up for lost time, and things were going well until Peter came into the picture, and he lost his way, his sole focus being Peter, you once again forgotten and neglected. Except this time you weren’t upset, just disappointed. You gave up on him, and instead adjusted, adapted, and found a new family. Pepper was your new mother, Peter was your brother, Happy your uncle, and Loki was your new, and much better father. You were making up for lost time with someone who actually cared and wanted you as a son. If Tony had a problem about it, he should have done something about it a long, long time ago.

You arrived at the apartment complex not long after leaving, heading up to the top floor, going to the door at the end of the hallway and letting yourself in. Loki peeked up from the book he was reading and smiled. “There you are, had me worried.” He joked. You sighed as you kicked your shoes off, dumping your bag on the floor and hanging up your coat. Your lack of an immediate response was weird for Loki, and he placed the book down, standing from the settee, and stepping closer to you. “What happened?” He asked softly, locking his hands behind himself. You turned to look at him finally.

“Is it that obvious?” You asked, and he smiled sadly. “...Pepper knows. She’s covering for me, so I guess she’s okay with it, it’s just… what if Tony finds out and massively blows everything out of proportion?” You explained to him.

“Well…” Loki crossed his arms, thinking. “Knowing you, your first thought is to run and start afresh.” He pointed out, and you nodded. “Or… I could talk to Thor. You and Pepper and him talk to the others, explain everything, we lay everything out, and then we tell your father. No secrets and being honest might work more in our favor than just upping and leaving, Y/N.” He pointed out. You squinted at him with suspicion.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the God of Mischief and Lies?” You asked, making him crack a smile.

“I may be, but it means I also know when’s a good time to actually tell the truth, and I think this might be the time. Pepper knows, she has your back, Thor is, as you describe it, a loyal labrador and will be happy I’m behaving, those two alone can be the brains and the brawl to help keep the situation under control.” He reassured you.

“Okay, if you think so… but can we do that tomorrow? I want to learn that spell so I can finally read your Asguardian books.” You begged, making him chuckle.

“Of course we can, go make some tea, then we’ll start.”

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby-blog @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort @freyathehuntress @abbybills22-blogg @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic@courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-liess @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

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luveline · 9 months

Note

Thinking about Eddie going out to get dinner while reader is over!! Reader sees a big bug and doesn’t want to deal with it/tries to trap it so Eddie can deal with it, but Roan legit just picks it up and let’s it go easy while reader is like “roan my hero T_T!!!” Reader def brings over presents for Roan the next visit because of that LOL.

thank u for ur request lovely! eddie and roan —your boyfriend's trailer attracts creepy crawlies, but luckily his young daughter knows how to catch them. 1.3k

The thing about Eddie's trailer is that, while he's more than made it a home, it is full of bugs. Maybe because the trailer park is a huge field of grass, maybe because of the forest surrounding, you're guaranteed to find a bug or two every time you visit.

Sometimes you get lucky with small moths to be herded back out of the kitchen door. Occasionally, spindly spiders on lines of sink drop down into the room and are swiftly captured by Eddie in an open palm. You have never, ever faced this particular brand of misfortune before.

"What is that?" you squeal, pulling Roan hard against your chest.

She's small, and before your violent flinch, she'd been quite comfortable sitting atop your thigh, her back to your chest. "Woah!" she says, her voice very high.

"Holy crap," you say, again and again as you shuffle down the couch and off of the side of it.

As soon as you can stand without fearing for your life, you pull Roan to your chest, her short legs dangling from either side of your thigh. Letting your new boyfriend's daughter die via a mysterious bug bite would be extremely uncool. You quite like her, and her dad's fine (you feel this yawning pit at the very bottom of your stomach whenever you think about how much you want this to work, how much you already love them).

"Princess, what is that?" you ask, though as soon as you've finished asking, you realise it's nothing nefarious after all.

She tips herself back in your arms, assessing the bug upside down. "Uh. That's a mildi-pede."

The bug is long and brown, segments of its body curved and multi-legged. It moves with tiny footsteps but makes good progress, crawling across the wooden slates toward the rug.

Eddie is the bug catcher. You're the celebrator —he grabs a cup and a piece of paper to sequester whichever insect has decided it must harass you that night, and you get to thank him for being brave with kisses that are somehow shy and congratulatory at once. You're allowed to kiss him, now, whenever you like, but each one makes your lips tingle.

"You get a lot of those?" you ask.

"You've never seened one?" Roan asks.

You live in Indiana, so of course you've seen a millipede. But, you know, normal millipedes, not mutant ones the length of your forearm.

"I feel like I haven't," you confess, your pulse thudding against your chest.

"Where did it go?" Roan asks, wriggling to be put down on her own two feet. She sounds far more curious than afraid.

You put her down on the rug and peer over Roan's play picnic table cautiously. You're ninety nine percent sure that millipedes can't hurt people, but you're scared shitless anyhow.

"Your dad will be back with Chinese food, soon," you say, stepping backwards as Roan creeps forward. It's adorable. You'd coo if your nerves weren't frazzled. "Maybe we could go wait at the kitchen table."

You'd rather wait for him to come home than deal with it yourself. The thought of somehow touching it makes your skin crawl.

"She's a super duper long one," Roan calls, dropping to her knees.

"Roan?" you call back hesitantly. "Uh, don't do whatever it is you're doing. Come on, I'll make you a fun fruity drink again like last week while we wait for your daddy?"

You bite the tip of your tongue so hard you're sure you've sheared the tip clean off when Roan turns back to you, the wretched (innocent) creature racing its legs uselessly as she holds it up in the light.

You wrap your arms around your own chest. "Holy crap, babe! Put it down!"

"Daddy says the bugs aren't scary, they just wanted to have somewhere warm to sleep!"

"Your daddy is very smart," you concede, strained, easing away as Roan comes closer. The creepy crawly is a contrast to her silky lilac pyjamas and ruffled socks, its armoured carapace shining as it metronomes with each step she takes. "But I'm not as brave as you both."

"If you open the door, I can put her outside," Roan says, as though you're the child and she's the adult, her tone softened by that seemingly endless patience Eddie possesses.

You keep your doubt (your disbelief? your awe?) to yourself and cross the short distance to the front door to open it as she commanded. Roan rushes out onto the small porch and down the steps, crouching in the grass to place the millipede down with the utmost care. It's dark out, and she's unafraid, the path lit only by orange light slipping from inside the trailer and the weak headlights of an oncoming car.

You descend the steps and join her.

"Here you go, missy mildi-pede, back to the grass," she murmurs. The millipede's back legs cling to her hand. Roan runs out of sweetness and shakes her free.

You breathe in the cool night air for a moment, watching with Roan as the millipede crawls out of sight between tall blades of bluegrass.

"You're very brave," you say. You feel a little sheepish to have been rescued by her.

"Daddy says that all the time," she agrees proudly.

You offer her your hand and stand tall together as the headlights become apparent. Your car (with Eddie driving, to avoid a game of driveway leap frog) pulls into the space behind his own. He waves when he sees you both behind the windshield, getting out of the car with the takeout bag looped around his wrist.

"Hi girls," he says, closing the door with his hip. "What're you doing, sending out a search party? I wasn't gone that long."

"I had to– I had to bring a mildi-pede outside because Y/N was scared," Roan says, her sentence punctuated with a roaring giggle as Eddie swoops her up into his arms, takeout bag and all.

"Oh yeah?" he asks, smothering her answer with kisses.

You bracelet your wrist in the other hand sheepishly.

Eddie doesn't look up. You assume you've gotten away with not knowing what to say until he pops Roan on his hip, reaching for you. More shameful than your inability to deal with a bug by yourself is how urgently you step into his side. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, the takeout bag hot against your back, his lips curled into a fond smile as he murmurs, "D'you finally see the spider in the bathroom?"

You tilt your face into his cheek kisses. "No?" you ask.

"I'm calling him Gregory," Roan says.

"He's not that big," Eddie promises, leaning back to stroke your face.

"She saved me from the world's grossest millipede."

"Were you kind?" Eddie asks her.

Roan puts a little hand over her heart. "Duh, daddy."

"She's wicked with them, isn't she? She grabs them like they're nothing," he says to you, his hand rubbing down your arm before he passes you the take out bag. Roan must weigh heavy after a long day; he needs both arms to keep her up. They grin at each other with twin mouths. "She's fearless. Thanks for saving Y/N, babe."

"I like Y/N," Roan says earnestly.

You like Roan too —your saviour. You bring her a big Dotty Dolly set the next time you're lucky enough to be invited over, an entomologist Dolly with khaki cargo shorts and a butterfly net. Roan loves it, and Eddie's evidently appreciative, sitting you half on top of his lap as you watch her tear it open with his arms crossed lovingly over your tummy.

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mxmmyprentiss · 2 months

Text

I Miss You, I'm Sorry

Summary: Long story short, you survived without her. Her name had become a memory pushed and tucked away in the back of your mind. You locked it and threw away the key. You had stopped yourself from waiting for answers as to why she walked out on you or why she didn’t fight for you ages ago.

Well. Until now. Genre: Angst Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader Warnings: homophobia, parental abuse (?) Word count: 6.9k (I got carried away)

A/N: Hi, guys! I just made a new tumblr account and I'm new to Criminal Minds and I'm still actually just about to start season 4 lol but Emily Prentiss already got a chokehold on me and here I am. English is not my first language so any grammar/spelling/other writing mistakes, I apologize. I also have not written anything in a long, long time. Comments and criticisms are welcome.

(also emily's fbi timeline here might be a little confusing so idk lol)

AO3

Relationships don’t always work out. You have known that fact since you were seven years old as a result of your parents’ divorce. You still remember your mother saying, “Baby, sometimes love doesn’t last. Maybe it’s love for now but it won’t be love forever. Two people can grow apart even when they are together all the time. And that’s what happened with me and your dad. And honey, it’s not your fault, you understand?” And you still remember nodding as if you really understood what was happening.

But just like any other child who knew how it felt to be a product of a broken family, you still felt responsible about it. You could have done more, could have done something to prevent your family from falling apart, or at least could have done anything to stitch your family back together. But as you grow older, you learned that what if’s are only as good as heroin and cocaine combined together - it’s not. It’s lethal.

So even though your parents are still alive, you still considered them as the first ones you have lost. Accepting that has helped you cope with other things you have missed throughout your life..

Pen.

Hair ties.

Bus ticket.

Money.

Your first love.

The last one, unlike the others, was not forgotten, misplaced or stolen. The last one walked out of your life before you even had the chance to tell her you would move mountains and set the world on fire if she asked you to. What once were gentle, careful hands that held your heart are the same hands that crushed it into pieces and may have been impossible to glue it back together no matter how much you tried.

It’s fine though. It was a long time ago. You learned to live with it.

At least that’s what you told your therapist when she asked during one of your sessions.

“Come on, sugarplum.” Penelope Garcia, your roommate, tugged your arm. “It’s just drinks at the bar.”

“I’m already beat, Penny. I’ve had a long shift.”

“Exactly the reason why you need to get out and have fun, doctor. We were both so busy with work and never had fun anymore.”

“We have movie marathons sometimes.”

“Please,” Penelope scoffed. “You fall asleep in the first 30 minutes of every movie.”

You sighed. You didn’t defend yourself because it’s true. Lately, everything feels heavy. And you’re always exhausted to the point of passing out at any furniture you lay your head to.

“I’m sorry, Pen.”

Penelope cups your face and forces you to look at her. She has the most gentle, caring eyes when she wants it to be. Curious and determined, most of the time. “Hey, I’m not saying those aren’t fun, okay? I’m just saying maybe we need a change of environment. Get loose. Have a few drinks and maybe meet some people and dance. That’s all.”

“I don’t know these people,” you said defeatedly.

“And you don’t know your patients either but you’re forced to interact with them anyway.” Penelope squeezed your cheeks before letting go. “They’re my friends as much as you are mine, sweet cheeks. I’ll introduce you to them and who knows. You might end up liking them too.”

There’s no winning against your roommate. So you finally agreed and Penelope pranced to her room to change.

Since tonight seemed to be about changes, you decided to put on a skin tight knee-length blue dress that complimented your curves and skin along with a light denim blazer. You matched it with black printed flats and a purse Penelope gifted you last Christmas.

You and Penelope walked hand in hand to the bar. She told you briefly about everyone’s first names but you’re not sure if you will remember them all as you haven’t seen their faces just yet. Also, Penelope talks too fast when she’s excited and your brain just cannot process it as quickly knowing how tired you are.

You both stopped at the door, scanning the place and saw a booth on the far end of the bar. Penelope waved at the people on the table and everyone happily greeted Penelope. You felt a little at ease that they were all wearing casual clothes and looked a little less scary compared to what they actually do for a living.

“Everyone, this is my roommate, Y/N,” Penelope introduced you to the team. And pointing from left to right, she said, “This is Hotch, Derek, Reid and JJ.” They all waved at you. Reid stood up and shook your hand. He insisted you can call him Spencer and babbled something about an article he read the other day that he remembered because you’re wearing a blue dress. You stared at him, fascinated albeit confused. Derek chuckles and pulls Reid next to him.

“Hey, guys, here’s our dri-”

A pause.

A stare.

Your heart skipped a beat. Or two. Or maybe it stopped for God knows how long.

One of the glasses of beer almost fell out of the raven-haired woman’s hands. Luckily, JJ caught it, looking back and forth between the two of you.

“Emily, you are an angel.” Penelope snatched three glasses out of her friend’s hand. “Y/N, this is Emily.”

It took you a second - or ten - before you reached out your hand for a handshake and forced a smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” Your jaw started to hurt at how tight you’re clenching them but you can’t help it.

She’s here.

Emily took your hand and for a brief second, you felt her squeeze it harder than you would normally do for a handshake. “Emily,” was all she said and sat to Penelope’s right.

Everyone grabbed their drinks. The music at the bar grew loud and they talked even louder to understand each other. Derek and Reid debated about something work-related that you didn’t understand but Derek rolling his eyes at Reid whenever he stated facts amused you. Meanwhile, Penelope showed something to JJ and Emily on her phone and you just hope it’s not something embarrassing because you caught the glance JJ shoots at you and she giggled.

“What are you showing them, Pen?” you asked curiously.

“Nothing,” she grinned. “I’m just showing them how pretty my best friend is.”

You squint, not believing a word she just said. Your hands were quick to snatch the phone from her hand. “Penelope Garcia!” Even with the dim lighting, your blush was evident. It’s a photo of you sleeping in your kitchen, hugging a stainless pot and holding a wooden spatula. You don’t remember that happening. “When was this and why are you keeping this picture?”

Penelope laughed. “You don’t remember so I’m not going to remind you.”

You immediately deleted it off her phone. “Now it’s gone.”

She raised her eyebrows and let out a chuckle, “You forget I work in tech?”

You mumbled a curse and rolled your eyes, accepting defeat.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s cute.” JJ teased and you could only force a smile in embarrassment.

Out of nowhere, Penelope gulped down her entire drink and stood. “Come on, let’s get dancing! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Everyone followed her. Even Hotch who seems to not like the idea but Derek practically pushed him to the dance floor.

Everyone except Emily.

Her.

And you.

You two were left at the booth, sitting across from each other. Emily was gripping her glass. Hard. You believed she might break it if she didn't relax.

You averted your eyes from Emily. It’s ridiculous to not find anything to stare at other than Emily’s hands.

Emily’s beer.

Emily’s hair.

Emily’s clothes.

Emily’s necklace.

Why is this place full of her?

The place was full and crowded and the music was so loud but the silence between you two? That was louder. Deafening. Unsettling. Awkward.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Emily said, finally managing to look you in the eye again.

Your breath hitched once, twice, before answering, “You too.”

And you meant it. But you didn’t want to.

Oh, but you did.

She chugged her beer and grimaces the second she does. “I … I didn’t know you and Penelope are friends.”

“I didn’t know you and Penelope are co-workers either.” You shrugged. “How long have you been with the FBI?”

“Seven years,” she answered.

Penelope called your name from the dance floor where she was dancing with Morgan. You only gave her a thumbs up to let her know you’re fine and will be staying at the booth.

“You’re staring,” you said and Emily quickly diverted her eyes from you. She decided the floor was a better view instead. You licked your lips to keep yourself from smiling. “It’s okay, you know.”

“What?”

“I said it’s okay.”

“What’s okay?”

“If you want to pretend like we don’t know each other.” But the agonizing tug in your chest claimed otherwise. “I mean, they’re your friends and Pen is your friend as much as she’s mine. She doesn’t have to know. She just brought me here tonight so we could have fun and meet you guys.”

To your surprise, Emily moved to sit next to you. Not really next to you but just close enough to smell her perfume.

Velvety.

Delicious.

Familiar.

You inhaled deeply, composed yourself, and stole Penelope’s second beer.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

The shiver that ran down your spine shouldn’t be there when Emily said your name. It shouldn’t have affected you that much. Or at all. But it did. And you despised it.

“Since you left me? Great.” You laughed quietly, staring at the glass now half empty. “Really great. I … I’m well … a resident doctor …” You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I just …”

“You didn’t expect to see me, I get it.”

“Yeah.”

There’s the awkward silence again. If it doesn’t stop sooner, you think you might just bang your head against the table just to shift the mood.

“I tried to find you,” Emily spoke again. Her voice was low, you almost miss what she said. “I came back but you weren’t there anymore. Your mom said you already moved to LA with your dad and -”

“I don’t want to do this here, Emily. Please.” You just can’t. You might cause a scene if you keep this up. You’re still torn between crying hysterically or just downright screaming at her face.

But her face. Her stupid, fucking perfect face.

You looked away. You focused on the people dancing specifically at Penelope grinding against Reid who’s only swaying awkwardly. That’s better.

Emily scooted closer to you but not close enough to invade your personal space still. “Do you hate me?”

You wanted to be rude. Tell her what does it look like, bitch? But that’s just not you. You’re not a confrontational woman. You’re an honest woman. And to be honest, you’re feeling a lot.

Instead, you gulped a drink and stared at it for a while, leaving Emily staring at your hand, waiting for an answer that may never come.

It took a few minutes for you to gather the strength to look her in the eyes. Your eyes may have been teary, you’re not sure, but everything else looks blurry and you feel lightheaded. You’re not even drunk yet. You only had two beers, for fuck’s sake.

You missed those eyes. Emily’s kind, loving, gentle, ‘used to see right through you’ eyes.

“You left me,” was all that came out of your mouth.

Emily moved closer to your seat, dark eyes still locked on yours as if asking for permission. “I was scared. I was young, Y/N.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “And I wasn’t? Your mother literally hired a private investigator to threaten me so I would stay away from you! I was 17, Emily! 17!” You hissed. Emily tried to reach out for your hand but you got up quickly and ran to the dance floor, to your friend.

You whispered to Penelope’s ear that you needed to leave immediately to cover an emergency shift at the hospital. She knew better than to argue with you and your work so she let you go and told you not to worry about the tab. She offered to call you an uber but you insisted on walking since the hospital is only a few blocks away.

“Y/N, wait!”

“Emily, not now!” Your strides were getting bigger and you wished you could just fly home instead and get there faster. She grabbed your arm, pulling you to the side. And although it’s already dark outside, Emily can’t miss the way your eyes glisten with tears, staining your cheeks. “Please, Emily, just please.” You didn’t know what you’re actually asking - begging - her. You weakly placed a hand to her stomach and pushed to keep a little distance between the both of you.

Emily took your shivering hand and held it to her chest instead. Her hands were as soft as you remembered them to be. And you hated the fact that you still remember that after so many years. “Please, Y/N, let me just talk to you.”

“What’s there to talk about? We made it this far in life without each other.” You said bitterly.

“But we didn’t want to.” She sighed. “At least, not for me.”

You took a deep breath in. Emily wiped the tears with her thumbs. Then she cupped your face and you couldn’t help but to just feel her for a minute, face settling on her warm hands. You look at her, eyes pleading. “Em, please.”

Emily shuddered at the nickname. You were - are - the only one who could make it sound so soft and loved; make it sound like home. After all this time.

“Emily?” You both looked at the sound of Penelope’s voice. You quickly retracted your hand from Emily’s. “Y/N? You’re still here?”

“I, uh, Emily here just brought me my purse because I forgot.” You lied. Emily swallowed whatever she was about to say. You turned to Emily. “Thanks. I have to go now.”

“Oh, okay.”

You hailed a cab and got out as fast as you can, leaving Emily dumbfounded and Penelope confused as she was intrigued.

___

Emily rubbed her hands together and exhaled loudly. Penelope raised her eyebrow. “What did you do?” She asked.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“For an FBI agent, you’re a bad liar right now, honey.” She squinted and took a closer look at Emily’s eyes. Teary. “Were you two making out?”

Emily scoffed. “You’re drunk, Garcia.”

“And you’re hiding something, Prentiss.”

“I’m not!” Penelope continued to stare at her suspiciously, pressing the truth out of her. “Okay, I think you should talk to her first. I can’t be the one to tell you if she doesn’t want to.”

“Did you know Y/N before I brought her here? I saw that you two were surprised to see each other a while ago. There was something there. It doesn’t take a profiler to see it.”

Emily paced back and forth, biting her lip, arms crossed. She stopped herself from biting her nails, a habit she may have done when she’s anxious. Emily contemplated whether to tell Penelope everything or something or anything. “God, I think I need something stronger than the drinks in the bar.”

“I’m waiting here, pudding.”

“And I’m thinking here.” She kept her pace. Then stopped. Emily takes a deep breath. “Y/N is … well, she was … is … I think …” she rambled, hands in her pockets. Emily looked up to keep the tears pooling in her eyes from falling. “Garcia, she’s the love of my life.” She stated weakly.

Penelope gaped at Emily like a deer caught in headlights.

___

Penelope arrived home at around 2:30 in the morning. You heard the lock click and footsteps approaching your door. You quickly pulled the covers above your head and pretended to sleep soundly.

“Y/N?” It’s your roommate. She caressed your foot. “I just want to say I’m sorry for bringing you out there tonight. I … I didn’t know you and … her …” Penelope sighed sadly. “We can talk about it when you’re ready or whenever you want or not at all. It’s up to you really. I just want to say I’m sorry.” She gave a light pat to your leg. “Good night, sweetie.”

___

The next morning, you found Penelope sitting in the kitchen having coffee and talking to someone on her laptop. You didn’t interrupt her, suspecting she might be working from home.

You prepared coffee for yourself and sat on the opposite end of the table. You pretended to scroll on your phone … waiting …

“Morning, baby girl,” Penelope finally decided to break the silence.

“Morning, Pen.”

“So …” There it was. You have known her for a long time to know that nothing - not even the strongest of hangover - is stronger than her inquisitiveness. “Want to talk about the elephant in the room?”

You took a deep breath.

“I’m not forcing you, Y/N. I’m just asking if you’re ready because if you’re not, it’s fi -”

“And let you die of curiosity?” You hid your smirk behind your mug. Penelope smiled widely. “Did she tell you about me?”

“Emily?” You roll your eyes as if to say who else? “We haven’t had the chance to talk about our personal lives before but last night, she told me two things actually.”

“Oh?”

“One, that it might be better if I get the dirt from you. And two …” Penelope pauses, grinning. Is she actually pausing for dramatic effect?

“Spit it out, Penny.”

“I’m not sure if you want to know.”

“Just say it.”

“That you were -” Your friend shook her head. “ ARE. You are the love of her life.”

Oh.

There it was again. That tug in your chest. Are you dying? Maybe. You needed to get this checked out one of these days at the hospital, you thought. You might need an ECG or probably a 2D echo.

“Is it true?” Penelope pushed. “How did you two know each other?”

You walked to the living room with your coffee and sat on the couch. Penelope follows you.

“That love of her life part, I’m not sure.” You took a sip of your coffee. Black and bitter. “We met in high school. She was my girlfriend.”

Penelope scooted closer. “What happened?”

“Well, long story short -”

“No, I want the long complete detailed version, love bug.” You rolled your eyes at her and she smacked your arm. “You’ve been holding out on me!”

“Hey! I didn’t know my ex is working with you, okay?”

“Still! Everything really does happen for a reason.” She smiled to herself.

You raised an eyebrow. “And what’s the reason for this then?”

“We’ll see,” Penelope smirked. “Now, go on with the story, girlfriend.”

“We met in high school. She was a transferee. I was, well, an introvert with no friends. She was the new girl. I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.” You see Penelope with a shit-eating grin, nodding her head. “It took a week before I could say a word to her.”

“Because you’re so gay and she’s a pretty girl?” Penelope grinned.

You glared at her. “Because I was an introvert.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, she missed a class and asked if she wanted my notes and she said yes. We have been friends from then on.”

“Until…?”

“She was the first one to say ‘I love you’, you know?” Tears started pooling in your eyes. You immediately wiped it off with the end of your sweater before it even stained your cheeks. “We were in the locker room. Just the two of us after gym class. It was out of nowhere. We just finished showering -”

“Together?” Penelope gasped scandalously. You swatted her arm and she laughed. “I’m kidding.”

“Anyway, we just finished showering and she said she loved me. You have to understand that it was a time when you know … it’s not accepted nor tolerated to be … us.” Penelope took your hand and squeezed it. She could only sympathize, knowing how cruel and tough the world must be to not let people love who they love. “We hid it for a year, maybe two. I’m really not sure now, I think, but it was the longest time of my life. We were okay, great even. We had the most fun, enjoying each other’s company, sneaking around, going on dates. My mom met her. She liked her. Always asked about her when I get home.” You smile at the memory now but it quickly fades. “Until her mother found out about us.”

“Ambassador Prentiss? Oh, that evil -”

“Her mother sent a P.I. to threaten me so I would stay away from her daughter. I was 17 years old and scared, what else can I do?”

“Oh, honey,” Your friend pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry the world has not been kind to you, sunshine.”

“Thanks, Penny.”

“You two broke up after that?”

You shook your head. “I was about to ask Emily what we should do. I was ready to run away, to hide, to go anywhere with her. I messaged her to meet me at the gym locker room after class the next day but she never showed up at the school at all.” Penelope noticed your trembling hands and gently caressed them. “I found out from the faculty that she moved overseas.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it’s hard for you, honey bun.”

“I just didn’t expect to see her last night … or ever. I stopped myself from looking for her again. Turns out, life has funny comebacks.” You chuckled bitterly. Penelope enveloped you in a tight hug until her phone rings. You giggle, “Work is calling you, badass computer nerd.”

___

When Penelope reached the BAU, Emily was the first one to spot her. She ran towards her, following Penelope to her office.

“Fabulous morning, person who hurt my roommate.” Penelope greeted without looking at Emily to which she replied with an eye roll. “Y/N told me everything.”

“Y/N told you everything about what?” Suddenly the two women stopped on their tracks and turned around. It’s JJ with take-out coffees in one hand and files on the other. “Come on, ladies. Share it with the team.”

“No!” They simultaneously yelled.

“Okay, chill.” JJ handed them each their coffees. “Share it with me. I’ll find out about it anyway.”

Penelope dragged the two women into her lair. Once locked inside, Penelope announced, “Y/N is your ex!”

“Garcia!” Emily hushed her.

JJ’s eyes were wide and almost spitted out her coffee. “I knew there was something!”

“What?” Emily looked genuinely confused.

“Emily, we’re profilers. We see everything.” JJ reminded her. “You were so awkward with her last night. I assume you guys haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“15 years.”

“And it’s still that awkward?” JJ scoffed unbelievably. “Must have been a bad break up.”

“Technically, they didn’t break up but Agent Prentiss here left my friend without saying goodbye.” Penelope squinted her eyes at Emily, arms folded and eyebrows raised.

Emily’s face was almost as red as her blouse now. “I didn’t … I didn’t want to.”

“Then why did you?”

“It’s com-”

A knock interrupted the ladies’ gossip session. “Ladies, Hotch wants us in the briefing room ASAP.” Morgan told them.

“Be right there!” JJ replied. “We’ll continue this later. Over drinks. Just the three of us. Ladies’ night.”

Emily saw no way out of this so she just nodded.

___

It was a terribly bad day at work. The ER was filled with too many people. Patients kept on coming without showing signs of slowing down. Every bed was occupied - some were already in the hallway in wheelchairs - and everyone had something to do. You have not had breakfast or lunch yet. Your cup of coffee left cold at the doctor’s quarters which you’re sure someone threw out already.

Sometimes you wonder why you chose this career instead of just pursuing your love for multimedia arts.

“Doc,” a senior nurse called you. “I have your patient’s labs and ECG right here.” She hands you the chart. “X-ray results are to follow. Let me know if you’ll be requesting more. Bed 5.”

“Okay.” You walked towards the bed, reviewing your patient's chart. Name … age …

Name?

Now the world was playing a prank on you.

“Emily Prentiss?” You call your patient’s name as soon as you draw the curtains. Emily looked up to you, lying on the bed, beaming too much for someone who’s injured. There’s a small stain of blood on her tank top. You felt something stuck in your throat as worry fills your thoughts yet you retain your poker face.

“Y/N?”

“Dr. Y/F/N, resident. I’m,” you cleared your throat. You put down the chart on the bedside table. “I’m here to examine you. Can you tell me what happened?”

Emily adjusted herself on the bed with a grimace. “I got shot. Almost. I was wearing a vest but I think it left a graze.” Emily lifted her top to show you. You don your gloves and inspect the wound closely, pressing softly at the area. You suspect she might have taken more than one close hit from the way the graze looked. Your eyes panned to her eyes staring at your hands.

“Did you get hit elsewhere, Agent?”

“No,” Emily shook her head. But your eyes found fresh bruises on both of her arms. “It’s fine, doesn’t hurt.”

“You’re always a tough cookie, agent?”

“I have to be.”

“Of course.” You assessed the rest of her body, especially her head for any bumps or cuts. Apart from the bullet graze on her chest and the bruises on her arms, you didn’t find anything else worthy of concern or emergency so far. “Do you feel anything else? Any pain?”

Emily had many answers to that but she bit her tongue. It’s not the time and place. She shook her head instead.

“Okay, I’ll get someone to clean and dress your wound. I’ll order an intravenous painkiller. It will take care of the first six hours, at least, but I’ll also prescribe you some oral painkillers and have your home care instructions ready. Do you have someone I can talk to?”

“I, uh, I think JJ is around somewhere. Or Reid.”

“Any relatives?”

“They’re all I have.” There was a small pause. “We take care of each other.”

“Yeah, of course. Part of the job.” You wrote your initial reports on her chart before leaving. “So, uh … I’ll call the nurse.” You turned around but Emily grabbed the end of your coat. “Anything else, Agent Prentiss?”

“Can you, if it’s not too much to ask, can you do the IV thing? I just …”

“You hate needles.” I know.

She nodded. “Please?”

Fuck. How can you say no when she’s looking at you with those eyes? Dark, pleading and consuming.

You can lie and tell her you have other patients to attend to but so far, no nurse had called you yet. You hear another resident had come in, too.

Emily’s eyes and hand were still on you.

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll be right back.”

Just your dumb, stupid luck.

___

Your shift ended at around 10pm but it’s almost midnight when you got out of the hospital. You already changed your top into a purple t-shirt. You carried your bags, coat hanging on your arm, as you walked to your car. You couldn’t wait to go home and wash off the busy day you had.

You stopped by to take out Chinese food for you and Penelope and a little extra to reheat tomorrow for breakfast.

You heard the TV as you approached the door. Penelope must still be awake and watching a show. You opened the door with your keys and to your surprise, one of your patients today was sitting on your couch. Your eyes met briefly.

“Hey, sweetie pie!” Penelope cornered you and grabbed hold of the take-outs. “Let me talk to you for a minute.” Penelope excused herself and you, dragging you to the kitchen. “I’m sorry Emily’s here but somebody’s got to take care of her and she lives alone. I figured since you’re here and you’re a doctor, this will be the safest choice. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No.” Your roommate grinned widely.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Then it’s fine. I’m going to my room. I had a long day.”

“But aren’t you going to eat? You can watch TV with us.”

“I lost my appetite.” You mumbled. You walked to your room and Emily caught you on the way. She stopped in front of you. “What?”

“I’m sorry for staying. The team insisted and -”

“It’s fine, Agent Prentiss.”

Emily frowned. “You don’t have to be so formal.”

“I’m sorry but I’m really tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“Okay, sorry,” She stepped to the side and you walked past her. “Y/N?” You looked back at her. “Thank you for today.”

You flashed her a small smile.

___

You woke up the next morning to a loud scream. You quickly got up and ran to the living room. Your hair still disheveled and pajama pants hanging a little low.

“Is there a fire?” You asked, confused and half awake.

“Sorry for waking you, sunshine. But I cannot do this.” Penelope handed you a gauze, medical tape and scissors. “Help us, oh sweet lord of ER.”

You yawned then sat next to Emily. You disinfected your hands with alcohol and proceeded to clean her wound with povidone-iodine. She winces a little. “Hurts?”

“A little.”

“Well, it’s supposed to.”

“Wow, aren’t you grumpy in the morning.” Emily teased, earning a glare from you and a slightly painful poke. “Ow! Hey, be gentle please. I’m already hurt.” She pouted.

“You have a dangerous job. Couldn’t you be more careful?” You retorted, annoyed.

“Well, I’m sorry the UnSub has a gun and tried to kill me.”

You ignored her mumbling. “Do you have the day off?”

“Hotch gave me the week off.” Emily answered, clearly disappointed. “I can’t believe my doctor suggested a week's rest. It’s not even that bad, right?”

You bit the inside of your cheeks. “And you know better than your doctor?”

Emily smiled. “I guess not.”

You finished cleaning up her wound and changing the dressing. You picked up an ice pack from the fridge and handed it to her. “Ice your bruises. No more than 15 minutes at a time.”

“Yes, doc.”

“Don’t call me doc.”

“You’re a doctor.”

“We’re not in the hospital.”

Emily leaned forward, a little too close to your face. “What should I call you then?”

Up close, you noticed her lower lip has a small cut while her upper lip … well, there’s nothing wrong with it.

You tried not to focus too much on her lips. Tried is the keyword.

Then, you suddenly felt like your ghost floated above you and gave the back of your head a cold hard slap. Your eyes quickly darted up to her own brown orbs, intently staring back at you.

“I’d rather you not call me anything at all.” You said firmly and got up. Emily watched you march back to your room. A small smirk formed on Emily’s face.

You lied on your bed. Heart pounding, head somewhat dizzy, cheeks flushed.

Fuck Emily Prentiss and her stupid, stupid, tempting lips.

___

The three of you ended up watching your second classic film one afternoon with Penelope sitting between you and Emily. You didn’t like the movie that much honestly. You walked to the kitchen to make yourself your favorite drink - soda with vanilla ice cream.

“You still like that huh?” Emily sneaked up behind you. “It’s diabetes in a glass.”

“Guilty.” You took a sip. “It’s my comfort drink.”

“It sure is.”

“What do you need? Ice?”

“You, actually.”

“Why? Something hurts?”

“Nothing you can heal.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious.”

“So am I, Y/N.” Emily stepped closer to you. “I was wondering if we can finally have a talk.”

“We’re watching a movie.”

“Penelope’s just fine.” You both glanced at Penelope who turned her head back to the TV at breakneck speed.

“She put you up to this huh?” You took a seat and you gestured to Emily to do the same. There’s no use avoiding ‘the talk’ anyway as it looks like Emily might live here for the whole week whether you liked it or not. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

“Us?”

Emily ran her hands through her hair, not knowing where to start. “I didn’t want to leave.”

Fifteen years.

It’s been fifteen years since you last saw Emily. Both of you were still kids - young, innocent, carefree, hopeful. The day Emily left your life, you were a wreck. You did good at school, acing exams after exams, and eventually got to medical school on partial scholarship. Outside, you tried to be the perfect little golden daughter your parents and teachers expected you to be. Inside? You were empty. You felt as if you’re a shallow case of a person.

The first five years since Emily left, you graduated from high school. You got multiple part time jobs before applying to universities. In between those busy times, you tried to find her - called her up on her phone every single day for three years, wrote letters to her last known address every month for two years. Once, you even tried to sneak into their house but the security guard spotted you and almost caught you. You almost had a bald spot from the security grabbing your hair.

By the sixth year since Emily had gone, you stopped. You realized it’s not healthy anymore. You were holding on to a ghost. So you learned to live the next years of your life without her. After finishing your degree in biochemistry, you moved to LA with your father. You got yourself into UCLA and pursued medicine.

The med school journey wasn’t a smooth ride at all. Yes, you didn’t fail one subject during med school but the harder part came later - the actual practice. You struggled with a lot of things but mostly socializing with different people - strangers - whose life depended on you and your capabilities.

It was only five years ago that you finally started to feel somewhat confident with yourself. Not perfect but you weren’t getting yelled at as much by the attendings anymore. A senior resident even complimented your improvement which meant a lot to you.

Long story short, you survived without her.

Her name had become a memory pushed and tucked away in the back of your mind. You locked it and threw away the key. You had stopped yourself from waiting for answers as to why she walked out on you or why she didn’t fight for you ages ago.

Well.

Until now.

“Y/N,” Emily placed her hand on top of yours and you were quick to retract it. It was a reflex at this point. “Sorry.” She kept her hands under the table. “I know apologizing won’t erase anything that happened to us but I’m really sorry, love.”

“Don’t call me that.” You clenched your jaw. “Just tell me why.”

“She, my mother … she took me to the Middle East when she found out about us. I should have known, I should have seen, that we were being followed by her men every time we went out. She tossed the photos - our photos - to my face. She called me disgusting and immoral and a fucking disappointment all because I loved you.” The last part came out as a mumble but you caught it.

Your eyebrows relaxed, eyes softened. The waterworks in your eyes were threatening to fall again. Damn it.

How would a 17-year-old expect this from her own mother? How was she supposed to know?

“She had all your information and your family’s and I was so afraid that she would come for you.” Emily continued, now looking down at her hands, trembling in fear and probably embarrassment of being vulnerable and open. “I knew she would come for you. She told me so. I will set that girl straight if that’s what it takes, that’s what she said. And you have no idea how that sentence scarred me until now.” Emily takes a deep shuddering breath. “The thought of you being hurt because of me … us … I couldn’t bear that, Y/N. I had to protect you so I made her swear to leave you alone and in exchange I will follow whatever she wanted me to do, whatever she wanted me to be.” Emily glanced back up to you, eyes defenseless and face flushed. “I just want you alive and safe.”

“Emily …”

“You don’t have to forgive me now or ever if you don’t want to. Or if you can’t. That’s okay. I can live with that … I think.” Your ex-girlfriend sat up straight, faked a smile. “But I want you to know that when I got to the Bureau, I did look for you.”

Your eyes met. And from what Penelope was seeing from the living room, everything was evident: the longing, the pain, the memories.

“I found out you got into med school in LA. I was so happy for you, you know that. I knew you would make it. I remember you wanted to be a surgeon at first but then you said you liked kids so maybe pedia -”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I couldn’t … I wanted to, Y/N. I have wanted so badly for years. But when I remember about what I put you through, what my mother put you -”

“Us,” you corrected. “What your mother put us through.”

Emily nodded. “I just couldn’t ruin your life like that again.”

“Do you still talk to her? Your mother.”

“Not anymore. We haven’t been in contact since the last case she brought to the FBI.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Can’t miss someone you don’t know.”

You gave her a sad smile. “You’re strong, Emily.”

“Sometimes I think it’s a curse.”

“It will take some time,” you mumbled. Emily stared at you, waiting for what you meant. “Forgiving you, I mean.”

“I know. You don’t have to.”

“But I understand, Emily. I understand now.”

You shared a friendly smile. You leaned forward to wipe the tear from Emily’s cheek.

Emily held your wrist, feeling your hand on her cheek. You two stayed like that for a few seconds. You were the first one to let go but before going, you left a tender kiss on her forehead to which Emily closed her eyes, feeling your lips against her skin for the first time in a long time.

The moment was almost ruined when you and Emily heard a shriek from the living room and saw Penelope stuffing her mouth with ice cream. Clearly, she saw everything.

You and Emily chuckled.

“Em,” you softly whispered. “I’m sorry too.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Sorry the world wasn’t kind. To you. To us.”

Emily frowned. “It’s not your fault.”

None of this was your fault or Emily’s as it turns out. Now that everything was out in the open, a blossoming hope grew in your heart as you looked at Emily. All the sadness, anger and pain you felt the first time you laid eyes on her at the bar, you felt that diffusing quickly.

Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.

To just kiss her. Just once. Again.

Or hug her.

You don’t know. All you know is that you missed her. And although she looked much older than you remembered her to be - so are you - you still remembered looking at her eyes all those years ago. At the locker room. During classes. At the carnival. At the mall. In your childhood room. The street two blocks away from her house.

Emily stood up, eye level with yours, as if she read your mind. She leaned forward. Your lips now close to hers that you can feel her take a breath. She waited for you to pull away or to ran to your room but you didn’t. The next thing you know was Emily closing the gap between both of your lips.

The kiss was soft. Like the first time when you were two young girls at the locker room the first time she told you that she loves you. Yet, it was also intoxicating, exciting. You felt a jolt of electricity running through your whole body.

The kiss was also quick. It was done before you know it.

Emily flashed a smile. “I’d like to do that again.”

“Me too,” You mentally kicked yourself at how quick you responded to that.

“Let me take you out on a date sometime.”

How can you say no to her?

The answer is you don’t.

“I’d like that, Em.”

“Friday? 10pm? I’ll pick you up?”

“It’s like you know my work schedule.”

“Lucky guess,” Emily smirked. “Let’s go before Penelope dies of excitement. She’s literally red and might combust.”

“Don’t worry, I’m here if she codes.” You share a laugh.

You couldn’t wait for Friday to come.

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss angst #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss #paget brewster x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #jaye writes #emily prentiss x female reader

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livwritesstuff · 3 months

Text

uh so i was feeling like writing something angsty and ever since i wrote this a little bit ago i can’t stop thinking about the idea of what the upside down coming back decades later would look like, however it’s a bummer and not the vibe i want for my steddie!dads verse so consider this an au for an au or whatever idk

It’s a normal, average, mundane, regular Wednesday when Dustin calls.

They don’t talk as much as they used to, but that’s adult life, Steve supposes.

They both have entire lives now, spouses and children and jobs that consume pretty much every waking hour. The near-1000 miles that separates Steve and Eddie in Massachusetts from Dustin in Indiana doesn’t help things either, and seeing as how Dustin had long-since inherited the Hawkins Lab research from Owens when he retired back in the mid-2000s, that won’t be changing any time soon.

Steve is home when Dustin calls, and between counseling clients, so when the phone rings and lights up with his name, Steve picks it up with a grin.

“Hey man, what’s goin’ on!”

Nothing but silence comes through Dustin’s end for a while – such a long time that Steve checks to make sure that the call didn’t drop or his phone didn’t die or something (and neither had happened, so it’s definitely a Dustin thing).

“Dustin?” he asks, “You there?”

Silence, still.

Then –

“Steve.”

Dustin sounds…not normal, and Steve feels the grin slide off his face.

“What?”

“Steve,” he chokes, “It’s…it’s back.”

Steve feels his heart stop for a second, feels it like all the blood in his veins came to an abrupt halt for just a moment.

“The Upside Down,” Dustin continues, “It…all of…it’s back.”

He sounds like he’s underwater, or maybe Steve’s the one sinking beneath the surface, just like he’d done forty years ago when he’d taken Dustin’s place on that boat and got dragged into hell through the depths of Lover’s Lake.

Steve hangs up the phone, his hands shaking.

His knees feel shaky too, like they can’t support his weight anymore despite doing so for nearly sixty years.

They’ve been giving him problems lately – his knees. Nothing too crazy; he can still go on his runs and putter around the yard and all that. It’s just a part of aging, he supposes, and he hadn’t minded aging before – liked it, even. Liked his greying hair and the crow’s feet around his eyes and his achy knees, because there’d been a period of time many years ago when he wasn’t sure he’d make it long enough to experience that inevitability of life.

Right this second though, he hates it, hates the way it makes him realize he’s not as nimble as he used to be, the way his reaction time isn’t the same anymore, because he knows that’s what had gotten him through those horrible years back in the mid-eighties.

He lowers himself down, and as his ass hits the tile floor of the bathroom – his daughters’ bathroom, the one they’ve shared practically their whole lives, the one Moe lost her first tooth in, the one Robbie pierced her own ears in, the one Hazel will be getting ready for prom in soon – Dustin calls him again.Steve doesn’t pick up, too busy kicking himself for not considering sooner the possibility of this sooner, for not having a plan ready to execute to keep their daughters safe the way no adult had done for him.

He can feel an old instinct – the urge to gather his loved ones close – starting to kick in, his mind starting to race as he catalogs the people who make up his small corner of the world.

Hazel is easy – she’s at the high school just down the road. He can have her back home, back within arm’s reach, in a matter of minutes.

Robin and Nancy are next closest, still living in Boston after all these years. Steve would wager a guess that they’ll be hearing from Dustin soon if they haven’t already, and then they’ll probably head Steve and Eddie’s way, and then they’ll all regroup.

They’ll figure out what their next moves are.

Moe and Robbie are trickier with both of them living in New York City and likely unwilling to leave their school and their jobs and their friends without any warning whatsoever. Moe is getting more and more reasonable the older she gets, so Steve may have to start with her and hope that Robbie follows.

Moe is twenty-two now.

Moe is older than both of her dads had been when Eddie had nearly died, when Steve had carried him out of hell and made sure he didn’t. All three of their daughters – even seventeen-year-old Hazel – are older than Steve had been when he got sucked into that horrible mess, and they’re still so damn young.

With two decades of parenting under his belt, he finds it kind of unbelievable that anybody had looked at his sixteen-year-old face and seen anything but a child, nevermind actually asked him to do the things that he’d done.

Dustin calls him two more times before he gives up. Only a moment later, Steve hears Eddie’s phone ring downstairs, and then he hears Eddie’s jovial tone as he answers the call.

He goes quiet real quick after that.

Just as Steve is deciding who to call first – Hazel’s school or Moe – his phone vibrates, two quick buzzes that can only indicate a text from Robin.

He opens it.

did dustin call you?

Steve lets out a heavy breath because, fuck, it’s real.

Yeah, he texts back, then adds –

This fucking sucks

40 years

As Steve watches the bubbles of Robin’s incoming response, he can vaguely hear Eddie’s ascent of the stairs, still on the phone with Dustin.

The bubbles disappear.

“Fuck you, Dustin,” he hears Eddie snarl, “This is on you.” There’s silence for a while, and Eddie seems to pause in the hallway just in front of their bedroom door. Then, “Yeah, I’ll talk to him…I know…later, man. Love you. Be safe.”

Steve looks down at his phone to see that Robin is still typing, only for the bubbles to disappear again a second later.

Finally –

nance is going back

i’m going with her

Steve could throw up.

He almost does, he’s pretty sure, although he’s not positive because he might be having an out of body experience, or maybe he’s dissociating, or maybe it’s a fucking PTSD flashback or something. He doesn’t know.

He should know, or so his handful of psych degrees would suggest, and he probably would know if it was happening to someone else, but then again, he’s always worn blinders when it comes to himself.

That was true about him when all this shit started in 1983, and it’s still true now, almost forty years later.

Forty fucking years.

He doesn’t look up when Eddie comes into the bathroom, joining him on the floor with his back against the bathtub.

“Dustin took offense to you hanging up on him,” he says, and Steve can hear the way he’s forcing humor into his tone.

As if any of this shit is funny.

“Erica and the kids left with Claudia,” Eddie continues, answering a question Steve probably would’ve gotten around to asking Dustin himself if it weren’t for the whole hanging up on him thing, “Erica went kicking and screaming, obviously. I offered up our house, but they’re still deciding where they want to camp out. And everyone has agreed not to say a word to Jim and Joyce.”

Yeah, that makes sense, seeing as they’re both in their eighties and perpetually acting like they’re thirty years younger – at a minimum.

Not that Steve would know anything about that.

Definitely not.

“He said he’s one-hundred percent positive that it’s all still contained to Hawkins, so…” Eddie pauses, “We don’t have to, like, track down the girls or anything. Just make sure they don’t go anywhere near Indiana.”

And that, at least, is an actual relief.

“Robin’s going back,” Steve tells him, because there’s no point waiting to address that particular issue in this whole fucking mess.

The so I’m going too is implied, because that has never needed to be said when it came to Steve and Robin.

The way Eddie’s face changes evades Steve’s ability to describe. It makes him regret saying anything – that’s for fucking sure. Makes him wish he’d just snuck away in the dead of night.

“C’mon man, we’ve picked up a whole fuckin’ litter over the years,” Eddie says, and he’s still forcing humor into his tone, “You can’t leave me to fend off the masses alone – the years have made me weak-willed, I’ll surrender immediately.”

Steve manages a snort, but he still looks down at the floor all the same.

Eddie doesn’t say anything else for a while, but his hand wraps around Steve’s ankle as if there was enough brute strength in the one appendage to keep him rooted to the bathroom floor.

(Strangely enough, it feels like there might be).

“Steve,” Eddie finally says, his voice stiff and hard in a way Steve doesn’t think he’s ever heard before, “We are way too old for this shit – Robin and Nance too.”

Eddie pauses.

“Steve,” he says again, “I know how important Robin is. I know, but our children would be fucking devastated if anything happened to you. Don’t think they wouldn’t – and something would most certainly happen to you.”

“Eddie.”

He’s still avoiding his husband’s eyes.

“Steve,” he pleads, something desperate in his voice, “We talked about this. Remember? Last spring, when we watched that stupid zombie show with Hazel? And there was the episode with the old gay guys? We talked about this. You told me not to let you go if this shit came back.”

Steve makes no response. Ed lets out a heavy breath, looking to the ceiling.

They have this conversation every now and then – one of those conversations that always teeters on the edge of an argument – in which Eddie insists that Steve could be fine if their relationship ended in a way that Eddie himself would not. It’s a conversation that Steve hates, because he hates the idea that Eddie – his husband of twenty years and the love of his whole entire life – could still be thinking so low of himself, that there’s any part of him that doesn’t think Steve would be fucking wrecked by losing him.

Still, it had always been a hypothetical. It had never been real.

Suddenly, Steve feels claustrophobic sitting on the floor of his daughters’ bathroom. He gets to his feet and, as he heads for the door, Eddie scrambles up after him.

Halfway down the hall, Eddie lunges for him and catches his arm, wheeling him back around to face him.

“Steve,” Eddie says one more time.

Then, because he apparently has no words ready to follow with, he stops.

“Steve,” Eddie starts again, “Please. You’re everything. I love the girls and I love our life, but Christ, Steve, you’re my entire world. You changed everything for me. You showed me how life could be worth living, and you keep showing me, and I’m not ready to let go of you yet – not even fucking close. Please don’t let this be the way we leave each other.”

Steve finally lets himself look at Eddie’s face, the face he’d fallen in love with decades ago, the face he’s still in love with decades later. He looks at his big eyes and the hint of grey at his hairline and his crows feet and the scarring that creeps up his neck from underneath the collar of his shirt (it’s a shirt he’s had for ages – since before even Moe was born by the looks of it, but so is the rest of his half of their closet).

And he finds himself nodding.

Eddie’s exhale is all desperate relief as he tugs Steve into his arms and wraps them around his shoulders. Steve immediately reciprocates the hug, pulling him in even closer, surprised to feel tears pin-pricking his eyes

“I love you so much, Steve,” Eddie tells him, gripping the back of his t-shirt so tight he feels the collar pulling taut against his throat, “I don’t say that to you enough.”

“You say it all the time,” Steve replies with a wet laugh.

“Not enough,” he shakes his head, and Steve decides there’s no point in arguing.

A minute goes by.

“Fuck,” Steve half-laughs, half-chokes as he lifts his head to meet Eddie’s eyes, “This fucking sucks.”

“I know,” he says.

Again, he reels Steve in, and again, Steve lets him, holding onto his husband like a lifeline, like they’re standing somewhere far more perilous than the carpeted floor of their upstairs hallway.

“I know,” Eddie repeats, “And we’ll…we’ll talk about it but for now, just – can I just hold you for a bit, okay?”

Steve nods again.

“Okay.”

read the extended version on AO3 (i.e. feat. added “flashbacks” so it fits the formatting of the rest of the series)

#eddie calls robbie and moe and tells them to come home – not because they actually need to but because ed knows steve needs them home #i slipped in some sneaky dustin/erica how do we feel about that here on tumblr.com?#steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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lovebugism · 4 months

Note

I know this is early, but fights on Christmas for the prompts thingy. Maybe with Punchy x Eddie? Or with Steve?

ty for requesting angel! hope u like it :D — eddie tells you that his dad is coming to hawkins for christmas and an argument ensues (peach x eddie, angst, hurt/comfort tw for toxic parents, 1.5k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

The smell of a homecooked dinner lingers in the air, warm and nostalgic. You spoon the leftovers into plastic containers for when Wayne gets home from the graveyard shift. Eddie’s laughter sounds from the distance, where he takes a phone call in the living room. The sound is warmer. More nostalgic.

He hangs up and walks back to you, wearing a bright pink grin that shows all his teeth.

“Who was that?” you ask, smiling because he is.

Eddie shrugs, trying to be nonchalant despite his beaming. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter across from you. “That was— That was my dad, actually,” he tells you, still a bit dazed about the whole thing. He’d almost forgotten what his father’s voice sounded like before now.

Your grin fades. “…What?”

He nods with his brows raised behind his fluffy bangs. “Yeah. He’s, uh— He wants to come to Hawkins for Christmas, apparently. Said he’s finally got some time off work, so he’s gonna drive up here in a few days and stay for a while.”

Work doesn’t mean work — not with Alan, anyway. You know this, so you’re not entirely sure why Eddie doesn’t. If you had to guess, the asshole got up to too much trouble and needs a place to lay low until it all dies down.

You try to be supportive of your smiling boy, but your concern is evident, practically dripping from your features. “Oh. That’s… That’s… Does Wayne know?”

“Um, I don’t know. He didn’t say.”

“Don’t you know why that is?” you ask him, trying to laugh. It comes out much more bitter than you intended it to.

“Uh… No?”

You drop the wooden spoon into the bowl and face him entirely. Your hip digs into the counter’s edge — a distant pain that doesn’t rival your burning anger. “He’s not telling Wayne because he knows Wayne won’t let him stay.”

Eddie’s chin jerks back like he’s flinching. “I don’t know what you mean,” he says with a forced chuckle.

You sigh. You don’t want to be insensitive, but his obliviousness makes you impatient.

“Eddie… He’s… Your dad…” You try to explain it all to him, but you can’t find the words to. There are far too many ways to describe his father, and you come up short in the end. “I mean— you’re not letting him come, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he laughs.

“Because he doesn’t deserve to see you, Eddie. Or Wayne— He doesn’t care about either of you, you know that.”

Eddie goes agape with shock. You’re not usually so confrontational. You’re unusually argumentative, and it surprises him — offends him. “You say that like you know anything about him,” he argues with a scoff. He’s still smiling but there’s little warmth behind it.

“You don’t know anything about him!” you retort, a little harsher than you mean to. Your hands flail as you gesture wildly. “He doesn’t know anything about you, either, Eddie. He’s an addict. He chose thatover you a long time ago.”

Eddie clenches his teeth. You can see it in the way his temples shift. “I told you that because I trusted you,” he says with a tight jaw, trying not to show you how angry he is. “Not for you to use against me—”

“I’m not using it against you, Eddie. I’m trying to protect you!”

He scoffs a cynical laugh. “Well, you’re doing an awful good job of that, aren’t you, Peach?”

His unusual bitterness stings somewhere deep in your chest.

You don’t know why he’s being so blind.

Except, you sorta do. You’re the resident expert of letting assholes into your life over and over and over again — like a kicked puppy that doesn’t know when to stop coming back.

That’s the root of your frustration, you think. You know a lot more than he’s giving you credit for, and it’s infuriating to be written off so easily.

You huff and turn away from him again. You pop the lids onto the tupperware containers to busy your trembling hands. “Fine. Let him come. I don’t care. I’m not the one that’s gonna get my heart broken after all this.”

“Wow,” Eddie muses, dragging the vowel for effect. “That’s real sweet, babe— what would I do without you?”

You leave the bowls to cool on the container and disappear down the hallway. You go to his bedroom for your bag, and he doesn’t follow behind you — you’re not sure you want him to. After nearly a week in the trailer, you figure you’ve spent entirely too much time together.

And as much as it hurts, you know it’s not the end of the world.

If you and Eddie — the neurotic type A and the laid-back-to-a-fault type B — can survive hanging up Christmas decorations together, you’re pretty sure your relationship can survive just about anything.

He’s still lingering at the counter when you get back, idling like he’s been waiting for your return. He sees your bag slung over your shoulder and deflates like a popped balloon. “Where are you going?” he wonders despite his ebbing anger.

“Home. It’s getting late.”

“It’s barely nine o’clock.”

“Exactly,” you hum, stilling when you reach his side. You press a chaste kiss to the apple of his cheek and walk towards the door without looking back. “Call me when you tell Wayne.”

“C’mon, Peach. You don’t have to go.”

You turn back with your hand on the rusted brass door knob. “I’m mad at you,” you say with a soft smile on your lips.

Eddie grins back at you but doesn’t press it any further. You’re allowed to be angry. Hell, he’s still a little angry, too. And if you wanna be alone, then so be it — as long as you’re back in his bed when all the bullshit’s over with.

‘Cause he’s mature and everything like that now.

That’s why he just smiles as he tells you, “Call me when you get home.”

—————

You call him when you get home that night.

He calls you the next morning when Wayne gets home, all worked up because his uncle took the news about as well as you did.

You’re not a total asshole, so you don’t rub it in his face. When he comes to you after a few more days have passed — fighting back tears because his dad ditched him all over again — there are no I told you so’s. No bitterness or stupid comebacks.

You just hold him and love on him like you always do. He needs that now more than ever, you figure.

You sit with him on your couch while he hides his tears in your lap. His dirty sneakers scuff the cushions that you’re usually a stickler about keeping clean. You quickly find that you don’t care as much as you thought you did, because you’ve never seen your boy so sad.

It makes your chest ache. Like his heartache is your own in some way.

“I’m an idiot,” Eddie grouses, muffled into the pillow in your lap. He feels like one, anyway. He’s spending the week before Christmas crying his eyes out because he was too stubborn to listen to you.

He’s a total dumbass.

The dumbest of dumbasses.

Your fingers dance through the soft strands of his chestnut hair, scratching gently at his scalp to keep him grounded. “No, you’re not, Eds. Your dad’s just an asshole.”

He scoffs, managing a small laugh despite his tear-stained face. “Yeah. That too.”

“And that’s not your fault, either. You know that.”

“No, I know,” he insists, sniffling as he turns onto his back. His chocolate eyes are rimmed red and slightly glassy. His cheeks are softly flushed, speckled with a rosy heat. Strands of hair stick to his wet jaw. You smooth them away with the palm of your hand while he wipes at his reddened nose with the back of his.

“I just… I guess I just thought he’d changed, you know?” he confesses, voice wet with emotion.

You nod sympathetically. “I know. It’s the worst feeling in the fucking world.”

You have a different kind of experience in that department — the skeleton in your closet that always comes back to haunt you department. For you, it’s Billy. For Eddie, it’s Alan. The sting is a different one, but it still hurts in the same place.

“I should’ve listened to you, huh?” Eddie asks, the corner of his lips curled into a sad smile.

“I know why you didn’t want to,” you assure, smoothing your palm over the top of his wild head. You hope the warmth of your touch will aid his inevitable post-cry headache. “But I didn’t say it to hurt your feelings, you know that, right?”

“I know. I knew it then, too, I just… didn’t want to believe it, I guess.”

“I know what it’s like,” you promise. And then, when you see his mouth twist into an apology, you cut him off as gently as you can. “And don’t apologize for it, either. It’s okay, Eds. I promise.”

He grins at you, still a bit weighed down with leftover emotion.

His eyes squeeze shut when you swipe tears from beneath them, the edges of them crinkling ever so slightly. And when he opens them again, they glimmer with a newfound life.

No one on earth is as resilient as your boy.

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