#♡ convo: teddy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

luveline · 2 years ago

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i think alternate versions for roan calling reader mom would be fun since there are so many ways it could happen !! personally would love it to happen after the last convo with eddie seeing how roan just says the silliest shit it wouldnt phase me if she just started calling her mom directly after that convo

I thought so too! much pressure to pick just the one scenario and why bother!!! plus I love this idea. the ficlet anon mentioned. ♡ roan calling reader 'mommy' for the first time ♡ fem!reader [4k]

Eddie had made the decision to ask his daughter, Roan, for permission before he proposed to you. He thought it might be best for her to get a say and that by including her any future transition would come smoother, softer.

He hadn't anticipated this.

Roan practically writhes in her car seat to be released. She hasn't stopped singing since he told her his plans.

"I'm gonn'have a mommy, I'm gonn'have a mommy," she repeats, a saccharine sweet tune that makes his heart thrum for her.

He hadn't realised how badly she wanted this.

Because Roan loves you. Has loved you since she met you, has grown to love you like any kid loves a parent. She's infatuated with you and, Eddie's proud to say, you adore her in turn. He can't believe that fate would work like this, that he'd find you — someone who could love both him and his daughter with an intensity he melts under and a tenacity that scares him.

You're a fixture in their lives. You're forever. Eddie knows that and he thinks Roan had known it some. His admission that he has plans to marry you had seemingly sealed the deal.

Though he feels that may be a bad analogy. Whatever's happened to his daughter, 'sealed' doesn't apply; she's become usntoppered. All her mountains of love and affection for you have appeared and they cannot be tamped down.

Believe him, he's tried.

"Roan," he says, very carefully and with all of his parenting might, "what's the rule?"

She's still in her dress she wore to daycare with Teddy, her one-eared stuffy, clutched to her chest. He watches her beam to herself and sing to the bear through the rearview mirror.

"Roan," he says again.

"What?" she asks, looking up.

"What's the rule, sweetheart? What did we talk about on the way here?"

Roan whines to be let out of her car seat. "We talked about big questions," she says.

"Right, babe, we did. But what did we talk about after that?"

Roan stares at him, dumbfounded. After a couple of seconds she nods, bunches messy from all the excitement. "Oh! I can't tell Y/N about the-" She stops dead, the word sticky like honey in her mouth. "Puh-postal. Posal. "

"Yes, the proposal. Because?"

"Um, 'cos it's private?"

"Yes," he says gratefully, dragging both hands through his hair. He's far from ready to propose tonight, covered in oil and grease and dirt from a long shift. He needs time, and he's worried Roan might force his hand. He wouldn't have come at all if she hadn't wanted to see you so badly.

She would be my mommy? she'd all but-screamed, more excitement on her face than a Christmas morning when she'd realised the enormity of his admission.

"We don't want to spoil the surprise, okay? So we aren't going to talk about the 'puh-posal', we're gonna talk about other things, yeah?"

"Yes, now let me out!"

Eddie bites his lip at her lack of manners. It's his own fault.

He gets out and releases Roan, slinging her hastily packed backpack over his shoulder and locking the car as she sprints to your front door. He wouldn't normally let her run off by herself but it's a short distance that she clears in seconds.

She hammers at the door, and Eddie means hammers. Both fists and her teddy's glass eyes slamming into the wood.

He catches up with her and pulls her back before she can smash something, whether it be her plushie's face or her tiny fists. She fights his hold.

"Baby?" he calls loudly, face angled toward the grain of your front door. "It's us."

"I'm coming!" you yell.

Roan squeals. It's extremely heartwarming. Eddie's sure he'd be beaming if he didn't suddenly feel sick with nerves. He might not he about to propose, but he'll have to eventually. Have to sum up every feeling he has for you, and ask for something huge from you. He'd been so caught up in Roan's acceptance of his decision that he'd forgotten there's a future where you don't say yes to this. Irresponsible, that he hadn't considered that happening.

He can survive your rejection. (He would literally be in agony, but he would survive.) Roan might get permanently hurt, though. He hadn't thought about it.

Nausea climbs up like a wave. It spikes as you open the door in your pajamas, a t-shirt he'd got for you and a black pair of slacks. Your hair's slightly messy but your face is clean, a water droplet dripping down the curve of your neck. You must've been washing up for the night.

Roan squeals again and launches herself at you. It's not unusual behaviour for her — she loves you, seriously — and you giggle infectiously, sticky thick and sweet with fondness.

"Oh hi, princess," you say with equal enthusiasm, pulling her up easy. It had taken you a while to master the parent hold. Now you're a champ. "I didn't think I was gonna see you tonight, wow!"

She looks like the happiest little girl on the planet. "Daddy said we could come because I answered the big question and I wanted to come really badly," she explains in a rush, smiling as wide as she possibly can.

You laugh again and look up from her to raise your eyebrows at Eddie. "Big questions, huh? Sounds like daddy was proposing to you." You've made yourself laugh.

Eddie could keel over.

"He said not to talk-"

"I said-" he interrupts loudly, mouth moving before he can really think about it, "not to talk about-" and he really can't think of anything, he's flailing, he's hopeless-

"The postal!" Roan says helpfully.

"Postal," you echo quizzically.

"I missed you so much," Roan says.

You forget very quickly about the 'postal'. You're as gone for her as she is for you. "Aw, babe, I missed you so much too. I'm so floppin' happy you're here."

You reach your hand out toward Eddie to pull him inside. He closes the door behind himself and drops Roan's bag by the door, following his two lovely girls down the hallway and into the living room. You flick the light on and drop Roan into her special designated seat, pausing with your hands on either side of her face to ask a familiar question.

"Can I give you a kiss, princess?" you ask.

Roan doesn't usually say no, only when she's really cranky, and today isn't an exception. "Yes, kisses."

You kiss from temple to temple and then ruffle her hair. Your fingers get caught in her bunches and you give her another kiss, murmuring into her skin, "Can I take those hair ties out? I bet you have a hairpin headache."

Roan doesn't know what a hairpin headache is but she's taken on an almost delirious pleasure from being so loved on and lets you remove her hair ties without a single sound.

"Mm," you hum, threading your fingers into her curls. "Tell me how this feels, baby."

Roan closes her eyes as you massage her scalp, encouraging her tangled curls apart with gentle, carding movements.

You're being especially tender, like you somehow know how important this moment is in Roan and Eddie's minds.

"Feels nice, huh?" you ask when she shivers.

"Feels nice," she confirms giddily, leaning back into your big throw cushions.

"How could daddy leave them in all day?" you chide. You're clearly joking, sending him an apologetic pout. He gets it. Part of your bond with her is picking on him.

"He was being grumpy on the couch."

Your pout turns authentic.

"What?" you ask, lowering your voice. "Are you okay?"

Eddie smiles, crosses your rug, takes your shoulders into both hands. "Perfect," he says, and kisses you soundly.

You pull a hand carefully out of Roan's hair and lay it flat over his chest, straight into an oil stain. It's greasy against his skin and under your fingers, and your slightly disgusted reaction stops his adoring kiss short.

"Still in your work clothes? Are you sure you're okay?"

His hands rove slowly up the slopes of your shoulders. "I'm fine. I'm a busy guy, you know? Haven't had time to change with trouble running me ragged."

"Who, this precious angel? For shame, Munson. Like I'd believe it."

You emphasise your point by leaning down and away from him, back into Roan's bubble. She responds like a moth to flame, her small hands quick to screw into the fabric of your sleep shirt and anchor you in place so you can't escape again.

"You're the sweetest baby I've ever met. Your dad's telling me white lies, I know."

"I brought a tiara for you," Roan says, mind on one thing.

"You did? Is it time for a princess party?"

Eddie wouldn't be surprised if Roan burst into tears any second now.

She runs off babbling happily to grab her bag and you turn back to him and stand at full height. You're really pretty, and he loves you, and he's told you so many times now and it still feels urgent to tell you again.

"I love you," you both say at the same time.

You spend a handful of seconds sharing a smile.

"How's your fish?" he asks.

"Still super alive." You drape both arms over his shoulders like you might slow dance with him. "You should shower. I washed your navy pajamas earlier, they're clean."

"I'll just get changed, I'm too tired to shower."

More like, if he leaves you and Roan alone there's no way he can possibly keep this situation under control.

You shake your head. "Don't be silly. Me and Roan'll start our party without you. I'll make samdwhiches and snacks and stuff, don't worry about it."

He really wants to reject your offer.

"Baby, you have to take care of yourself," you murmur, stroking down the hill of his cheek with your pinky finger.

He couldn't be more in love.

"Yeah, okay. I'll be really quick."

"Take your time." It's obvious that you're confused. Long passed are the days where Eddie had worried Roan might be a bit much for you. He's usually got more trust in you. "You know I love her, right? I don't-"

He kisses the stricken look off of your face.

You lean into it, like you'd been waiting for it. He supposes it's a reassurment, and he offers you more, "Of course I know that. M'just tired, and she's excited tonight. Don't want you to stress."

"I'm not stressed. Now go shower, you're getting oil on me."

Eddie is an extremely physically expressive person and as a result has created and extremely physically expressive child. Roan doesn't just feel emotions, she experiences them. Excitement for her isn't a feeling but a mode, in which she sings and dances and climbs in and out of your lap citing a thousand different reasons.

"I'm straightening your crown," she informs seriously. It falls off of your head and onto the couch. She doesn't seem in any hurry to retrieve it, choosing instead to play with your hair.

"Did daddy give you candy for dinner?"

"We had chicken and waffles."

"Oh, nice. Did he leave any for me?"

She thinks about it, socked feet digging into your thighs. "I think he left chicken wings for you and then Rufus was by the porch."

"I see how it is. I'm gone for one day and he starts giving my dinner to the strays."

Roan's fingertips are warm where they explore the skin beneath your ear. "What did you eat for dinner?"

"Well," you say, wrapping an arm around her until she collapses into your lap, "I didn't have your dad around to cook for me so I had a sandwhich and chips." You feel bad for being a poor role model.

"Chips," she says, eyes widening.

"You want some? I got lots left."

You and Roan head into the kitchen. You get her some chips and start to make sandwiches with the scraps you have left for her princess party.

"You want crusts?"

"No," she says. You really love the way she says it, like she's being super cheeky even though you really don't mind cutting them off.

"So what's up with you, Ro? Was school okay today?"

Roan's bag of chips rattles as she flounces toward you and raises her arms to be picked up. You're mid-sandwhich, so you raise her up onto the counter top and stand half in front of her to account for the low possibility that she might fall off.

"Stacey P.," she begins, somehow managing to fit two chips in her small mouth at the same time, "she got a new bike that she was riding to school, and she got a basket and it had a flower."

You cut the sandwhich into four triangles. "That sounds fun. Did dad let you ride yours too?"

"Yeah but he makes me get off at the hill."

"Your legs will get tired trying to bike up that hill, babe. I's like a mountain."

You smile at the mental image of it, Eddie in his work uniform, a pink sparkly bike under one arm and Roan's hand in his. Sometimes, you're genuinely shocked you managed to nab him before somebody else did.

"I can do it," she says confidently.

You slide the plate toward her. "Sandwhich?"

Roan ends up disassembling a triangle to shove chips inside. You laugh under you breath at her antics. She reminds you of her dad all the time, and he reminds her of you. They're intertwined completely.

"Roan, you won't think I'm a weirdo if I give you a hug, will you? I really missed you and dad."

Roan drops her sandwhich instantly and opens her arms up, grinning. "Dad says being a weirdo is cool."

"Being a weirdo is cool," you agree, bundling her up into a very close hug.

Her hair is soft as silk pressed to your cheek, sweet curls crushed against your skin.

"You know I love you?" you ask her.

Being close to her like this has you thinking extremely selfish thoughts. You're not naive, you know you do lots of things that mom's do. You know you look after her, that you love her, that you want to be her mom forever. It kind of feels taboo to think it. Do I have the right?

By the time you'd met Roan she was barely a baby anymore. Eddie's her dad, he did and he does all the hard stuff, but you've slowly earned certain gifts. You love to make her dinner, and get her dressed, and help her in the shower when Eddie's busy — all the basic stuff that doesn't feel basic at all. And you get to do more. You sit with her during tantrums, you cause tantrums. You kiss her scraped knees and let her nap in your lap, you answer her unending questions with patience and you spoil her when you can. You take care of her like she's your own.

She feels like your own.

But it's terrifying to presume.

The thought of one day losing Eddie is striking. He's your favourite person in the entire world (along with his daughter, of course). You love him and everything that comes with him, the oil stains and the bad jokes and the nerd games, the thousands of cuddles and his eager kisses. Losing Roan at the same time would be a death sentence.

"I love you too!" she says. It's like she'd been waiting all day for you to say something and now's her time to shine. "I love you so much and dad told me not to tell you 'bout it but I love you so I want to."

You frown into her hair. "Dad told you not to tell me you love me?"

She giggles. "You are trying to trick me."

You giggle in reply, willing to run with it. "I'm not trying to trick you, baby. I'm just confused."

"Dad says it was private."

You encourage her face back to meet her eyes. "I don't know what daddy's been telling you, but if you love me it's okay to tell me. I love you."

You rub her cheek with your thumb as she nods a voracious agreement. "And you're gonna be my mom," she says, beaming. It's casual. She doesn't realise the bomb she's dropped.

Lips parted, you stare at her. Roan goes shy, the obvious beginnings of rejection on her face.

"Baby," you say quickly, ignoring the trembling in your own hands as you stroke her hair from her forehead and cup the back of her head, "I think that's something me and your dad have to talk about first."

"But after the pu-postal you'll- Dad said-"

"What did I say?" Eddie asks, brown eyes wide as a deer in headlights.

Roan falls silent.

You look between the two Munson's. Your heart pounds with anxiety.

Eddie stands in the kitchen doorway in his pajamas with a towel around his neck, curls sopping wet and leeching into the white fabric steadily. He smells distinctly like conditioner even from a couple feet away, the fruity sleekness of jasmine tickling your nose.

"What has she told you?" Eddie asks, scratching the back of his neck.

"What's a 'postal'?"

You're ashamed to admit you're on the edge of being upset.

"It's uh- a code word," he says. "For a secret."

"We're keeping secrets?"

"No?"

"You don't sound very sure."

"It's just- It's- It's hard to explain, baby."

Roan's hands covet your arm. You let her pull you toward her and hug you, still so confused by everything that's being said, and you're conflicted about what she's told you. Honestly, you're a little bit hurt.

"Roan said... Said you told her that she shouldn't tell me she loves me because it's private?"

Eddie pulls at both ends of the towel, looking conflicted. "It's not that."

"It's okay," Roan says softly, resting her face against your arm.

"I just don't get what-"

"It's okay, mommy," Roan says, lifting her chin to smile at you.

"Roan," Eddie says, devastated.

You press your lips together hard and turn to her, the prick of tears sudden and effective as a thorn. It's okay, mommy.

You get your arms under her armpits and pull her up into your chest before she can protest one moving to behind her butt and the other her back as her knees dig into your waist. You know if you look at Eddie you're gonna start crying for real, hiding your face in her hair and taking a shaky breath.

You always say the same thing when Roan is unhappy. Why are you sad, babe? It's okay. You can cry if you want to. Do you want me to do something?

Roan doesn't remember the words, but she tries.

"Why are you crying?" Roan asks. Clumsy, earnest, lovely.

"I'm not," you deny.

"It's okay to cry when you have to."

Eddie joins her reassurance. "Babe, it's alright. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, I promise. I'm not keeping secrets from you. Please don't be upset."

"I'm fine," you squeak.

Neither Munson believes you.

"I didn't tell Roan she couldn't say she loves you, okay? It was something else I asked her not to tell you."

You blink quick and dispel tears. It's a silly thing to cry about. You can't understand it, and you're embarrassed. You're perplexed by Eddie's sudden opaqueness but thrilled and aching at Roan's calling you 'mommy'. You can't get the words out to tell him.

Roan called you mommy.

"I love you," you say tearfully, squeezing Roan tight enough to make the poor girl groan.

"You're suffotating me!" she laughs, squirming.

Her dad finally comes up behind you and spreads his hand over your shoulder. You raise your gaze to his, find his lovely features lined with a strange kind of stress. He dips his head toward your ear.

"If you don't want her to call you mom, that's okay," he says quietly, seriously, "I didn't know she was going to."

"I know, Eds," you say, relaxing as his hand climbs to your neck.

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know," he reaffirms.

You understand what he's trying to say. All these conversations can be had privately if you want to have them. But Eddie doesn't realise that he doesn't need to worry, he never has. You love them.

"If it's okay with you," you murmur, staring at the soft 'V' shapes of his bottom lashes, "she can call me mom."

It feels like an admission. Is there any other way he can take it? Yes, Eddie, I plan on being here for a long fucking while.

It's a huge thing to admit that you want, and to promise that you'll live upto.

Eddie encircles the two of you in his arms. As Roan rests her head against your chest, your rest your head against his collar. He lifts his hand to wipe away the small shock of tears lingering in your eyelashes and then kisses the top of your head three times in a row.

You understand what the secret had been, suddenly.

The pu-postal.

Your heart jackhammers. You cling to Roan, unsure how long you stand there being hugged and hugging.

Roan breaks first. "Sam-widges," she whines, wiggling.

Eddie pulls away. You set Roan on the counter and she continues to eat her sandwhiches, legs kicking against the dishwasher.

You collect yourself before you turn to face Eddie — and his secret — head on. You can tell he knows you know.

You sniffle under his adoring gaze.

"Love you," he says, leaning down for a kiss. He stops before his lips can reach yours, the tip of his nose whispering against yours as his hands explore your abdomen.

Waist, ribs, the small of your back.

You stare at his closed eyes.

"I love you," he says again.

"I love you, Eddie."

His eyes open and he catches you watching him.

Eddie doesn't kiss you, only stares. You nod almost imperceptibly and he chucks under your chin with his knuckle before he gives you some space, moving to stand by Roan where she's lounging on the counter and picking apart a sandwhich to fill with chips.

He kisses her cheek. "Got one for me?"

Roan holds her sandwhich up to his mouth. Eddie takes a huge bite.

"Dad! You almost ate my fingers!"

"Not my fault your hands look yummy."

You hold your own face in two hands and feel the blistering heat of your cheeks seep into your hands. How can two people make up so much of your life?

"I think we should move in together," you say.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled.

"You and Roan. You should come and live with me."

Eddie's barely smiled when Roan shrieks at the top of her lungs.

"Yes!"

more eddie and roan

there's an eddie and roan masterlist available through my navigation but the link is temporarily not working here ♡

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