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notjustjavierpena · 2 months ago

Note

Thank you for the Husband Javi series. This family is absolutely incredible. Would you ever write about their miscarriage in between Lucas and Ines? It would definitely add to and shows strength of the bond between wife and Javi.

Loss

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A/N: This was done with utmost respect and care. If anything in this piece is unrealistic and tasteless, I take full responsibility. Please read the tags.

Summary: You wake up to a nightmare.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: Miscarriage, loss of a child, heavy angst, grief, child in distress, description of vomit, description of blood, brief mention of loss of a parent, hospitals, the inherent suffering and guilt of being a mother, hurt/comfort, somewhat happy ending

Word count: 5.4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58943479

Loss

It is a known fact that you easily stir from your sleep when Javier is out of your reach, always needing to feel his skin on your own in some way even if it is just your fingertips touching him. It is why you are confused about being woken up by your body in the early morning hours when Javier’s hand rests so gently on your shoulder as he snores beside you. On top of it, having a toddler in the room next door makes you sleep through the night whenever you can.

Lucas doesn’t need you right now. Javier is right there. There’s a hint of anxiety in your mind because the only explanation must be that something is wrong and your brain is yelling at you to figure out what. You sit up carefully, fumbling slightly as your hand searches for the light on your nightstand. You flick it on.

However, it is not the sight of red that makes your heart skip a beat. It is that you feel it; you are sitting in a pool of your blood, its dampness cold and clammy underneath you as it has soaked through your sleep shorts only to stain the sheets in a dark, crimson color. Where it comes from hasn’t clicked yet but when you throw the covers to the side, the realization of what is happening creates a drop in your stomach that is nauseating.

Your heart sinks at the thought of what is lost and your breath catches in your throat before you let out a wreaking sob, frantically scooting back on the bed until you are pressed into the bedframe and wanting to get away from what feels like a bodily crime. Your hand is on your belly, your breathing so fast that it is dizzying.

Beside you, Javier stirs from his sleep when his mind registers the noises coming from you. He blinks a few times in his barely-awake state, confusion evident on his features, until the realization hits him as well and his eyes widen.

He sits up immediately and flicks on the lamp on his own bedside table, “Fuck, baby. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“I’m losing it,” you breathe so rapidly that you are about to throw up, trying to abstain from looking at the trail of blood you have made from moving around on the bed, “I’m losing the baby. Javi, I— I’m losing my baby. I’m lo— I’m losing my baby.”

Javier is out of bed not a moment after, having walked around it to stand by your side. He puts a firm hand on your shoulder, demeanor having changed to show that he is completely in control of the room. He squeezes you, “Hey, heyheyhey, hey, baby. Eyes on me, mi amor (my love).”

You raise your gaze to him, your wet eyes huge like a doe’s from the panic in your body. You sound so frail as you talk, your voice filled with nausea, and Javier feels like he could punch a hole into the Earth for you, “I’m not pregnant anymore. I’m— my baby. I’m not… Javi.”

“Honey, we gotta get you out of bed, okay?” Javier tries to hold his own tears at bay. He swallows a little too often, still struggling with the disorientation of being abruptly interrupted in his sleep. You take his hand when he offers it, and he gets you onto your feet, “That’s it, there you go. We have to get you to the hospital. They have to take a look at you. We don’t know anything yet.”

“I know but… I think I do know,” you are sobbing on the spot, barely comprehensible as you do it but you still follow when he starts guiding you down the stairs. He wraps you in your longest coat, gets the car keys, and walks you to the truck all the while praising you with each step.

“But the car seats,” you cry, trying not to gag from the whole situation, “I’m bleeding.”

“Fuck the car seats, baby,” he reassures, stroking his hands up and down your shoulders, “Listen to me. I’m going to get Lucas. I don’t want to leave you here all alone but I need to get him, okay?”

You nod with a whimper, so brave in this moment of peril that it floors him a little. How do you manage to think of anyone else when you are experiencing the most horrific thing? He unlocks the car for you and makes sure you get inside alright.

“Five minutes,” he says, holding up his hand for show in case your ears are ringing like his are. Then he staggers back into the house with the most neutral expression he can force onto his face. Upstairs, Lucas is sobbing loudly in his nursery as he has sensed that his parents have gone. He is holding onto the railing of his bed, screaming his head off from anxiety but Javier feels nothing but relief at the sound because then at least he is alive and breathing. Who knew those little lungs could make such noise?

He hurries to his son’s side and scoops him up into his arms, cooing soothing words at him as he moves through the house like he is treading water. Lucas doesn’t seem convinced and Javier doesn’t blame him, frustration building up in his chest as his son cries until he feels tears escaping his eyes as well.

“I know, mijo (my son), I’m sorry we left, I’m so sorry,” he says with a shaky breath, passing the car with guilt in his chest to cross the neighbors’ front lawn. He knocks frantically on the front door, waiting impatiently while bouncing Lucas to make him settle even if it’s to no avail.

The Correas, the elderly couple, who live next door open the door with bleary eyes, startled by the noise at three in the morning. Mrs. Correa looks at Lucas with sympathy but then frowns in concern at the lack of color on Javier’s face.

“You alright, son?” Mr. Correa asks.

“I need to—“ Javier catches the swear that bubbles up in his throat but he doesn’t manage to keep his sob in. He bounces Lucas desperately but he still shrieks, “My wife needs to go to the hospital. I know it’s late but we really need your help. Can you take him? I know it’s a lot to ask for—“

They exchange glances of concern but then Mrs. Correa nods and her husband squeezes her shoulder with a little smile, “Of course, dear. Anything to help.”

Javier passes his son to them, and they already start comforting him with soothing words during his wailing for his parents. Javier hears him even as they close the door, bombarded with the image of his tiny frame being wracked by fear and confusion every time he blinks. He feels it coming as he approaches the car again, the burning sensation in his throat that makes him run to the nearest bush and empty his guts into it, coughing up bile because he hasn’t eaten since dinner time. He isn’t a father of two anymore. Was he ever? He can’t figure out where definitions start or end. This is worse than anything he felt back in Colombia.

Back in the car, you’ve gone numb. Javier finds you sitting in the backseat with your knees against your chest and your arms clutching around them. He swallows at the sight of the red stains on the car seats, the red on your palms too. You look so small as he glances at you in the rearview mirror, wrapped in yourself with your eyes distant as if you’re trying to make yourself disappear. He wants to say something but he is at a loss for words, figuring that he might make it worse if he tries to comfort you in a situation that is unable to be comforted.

However, as the car takes off and he drives you towards the hospital, things seem to make everything worse on their own accord. You suddenly gasp on the backseat, clutching at your lower belly as your pelvic floor starts to cramp up. Any hope that this might have just been bleeding is squashed because you know instantly that your body is trying to reject something.

Javier reaches behind his seat to take your hand in his own, feeling your clammy palm and trying his hardest to not let it show how helpless he feels, “I’m almost there, okay? They’ll get you something for the pain, baby. They’ll take care of you.”

You nod with gritted teeth, feeling like the rest of the drive is longer than an eternity. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes like hours in this fog of pain mixed with grief. You don’t know when you’ve started crying again but tears drip down from your chin, landing on the coat that you try to drown in.

When he’s finally pulling into the hospital’s parking lot, you’ve laid down on the backseat with tears streaming steadily down your face until they dampen your hair. You can barely breathe every time sharp pains in your pelvic floor crash over you like a wave, causing you to whimper like a wounded stray.

Javier slams the door behind him as he hurries to help you out of the backseat. His heart hammers in his chest as adrenaline rushes through his veins. He remembers this feeling from his time in Colombia, the dizzying high from being on guard and ready to fight, but he didn’t actually think that he would ever experience it again.

“C’mon, baby, just a few steps, attagirl,” he coos as he walks with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you hanging onto him for support as you tremble. He was, however, never quite this gentle in Colombia.

The automatic doors to the emergency room slide open and Javier can’t see anything for a few seconds due to how bright the lights are. He manages to get your staggering body inside, barely making it to the nurse at the front desk before she calls for assistance and a wheelchair.

Two nurses help you into the chair, already asking questions that quickly blur together and follow each other so rapidly that he cannot comprehend what is being said, hearing nothing but the adrenaline-infused blood rush in his ears. You answer mechanically, something that frightens him too, your mind seemingly trying to process the reality of what is happening while he feels in the middle of it, overwhelmingly aware.

They wheel you to a private examination room, helping you undress, and then onto a table. Javier follows helplessly behind, making himself known by saying your name so you don’t fear that he has abandoned you in all this. He holds your hand tightly while watching a middle-aged doctor enter the room, a serious expression on his face as the both of you cry silently. As the doctor does a quick scan of your belly, Javier tries to hold onto you, feeling as if you’ll fall apart if he lets go.

Your doctor is silent for a while, his mouth a thin line as he moves the stick around on your stomach. He looks like someone who hopes for better things than what he sees on the screen, uncomfortably quiet and drowned out by the whirring of the ultrasound machine. Eventually, he swallows thickly.

“I’m so sorry,” he says softly. “There’s no heartbeat.”

The words hit Javier like a punch to the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. His vision blurs with tears, and he hears a wail of grief escape your lips, raw with anguish and absolutely heart-wrenching.

He keeps hearing the sentence inside his head, feels his knees start to tremble so much that he has to grip the edge of the table you’re lying on until his knuckles are white if he doesn’t want to collapse to the floor. Your wailing is unbearable, cutting through him until everything hurts and bile starts rising in his throat again. He swallows it down despite the burn, trying not to think of how robbed he feels; there’s laughter and sibling rivalry that won’t be happening now.

In front of him, the doctor is holding his hands in front of himself, palms clasped tightly together as he gives you a moment. He looks down at nothing in particular, looking like someone counting the seconds until it is okay to open his mouth again. Javier doesn’t want him to say a single goddamn word.

But he speaks again, and Javier tries not to want to punch a hole through him. “We need to act quickly. Your wife—“

Javier glares at him. He turns to you, “Mrs. Peña, you’re losing a lot of blood, and there’s a risk of infection. We need to perform a procedure to remove everything from the pregnancy to ensure your safety and recovery.”

You look to the doctor, swallowing thickly through the tears, and then glance at Javier. He leans in to rest his forehead against yours, holding your hand as it rests in your lap, “They need to take care of you now, okay?”

“Don’t leave me,” you beg quietly, breaths shaky.

“I’m right here, I’m not leaving,” he replies, brushing his thumb over your knuckles repeatedly, trying to ground you. You nod slowly and look so small, “I love you so much, baby. You need to let them take care of you for me.”

“Okay,” your voice is barely there, weak and frightened.

The medical team works quickly after that. A nurse puts an IV into your arm and gives you something for your anxiety, causing you to half-doze off while they wheel you out of the room.

Javier walks down the hallways of the hospital until he cannot follow you anymore, his hand slipping from yours as you are wheeled into an available OR. When the doors close behind the team of medical professionals following you, the reality of what they’re going to be doing to you crashes over him like an avalanche. It is unbearable. Each second feels worse than the last.

A kind nurse touches his arm, makes him flinch, but then she apologizes and tells him the directions to the waiting room. His feet take him there without him quite knowing how but when he finally collapses into a chair against the wall, he doubles over and buries his face in his hands. A shaky breath leaves him in the colorless room, his thumbs pressing into his eyes until fireworks go off behind his eyelids. There’s the sound of the clock on the wall ticking quietly and then there’s the sound of his violent sobs, his chest burning as he finally allows himself to let devastation consume him.

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He has never felt this kind of fear, not even when he was fighting for his life in Colombia, and never knew the outcome of the dangers he faced. This isn’t the same terror that ambushes and flying bullets coming from machine guns brought along because back then, he knew - and still knows - how to act to keep himself safe, to get out of there alive. But back then, there was nothing to lose and if tragedy was upon him, it was only him arriving home in a casket. This is new and the fear suffocates him because there’s no clear enemy to fight, no escape route or strategy that can save him from watching his family suffer. His instincts tell him to return the fire but there’s no fire to return. All he can do is sit idly with the feeling that he can’t fix this, can’t protect you or him from the hurt. All his instincts from the chaos of Colombia are useless here.

Instead, he just feels like he did when he sat through the funeral of his mother at barely ten years old. This fact makes him reach into his pocket and fish out his work phone to dial the number of his father’s landline with the intention of getting told what to do, his inner child screaming for the soothing words and guidance of his parent.

Chucho Peña answers groggily on the fourth ring, “¿Bueno?”

“Papá…” Javier breathes quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He feels his throat constrict as tears well up in his eyes again and how the words suddenly feel too hard to speak.

Chucho knows something is wrong from the way his son trails off and suddenly his voice comes through the receiver again, sharper and fully awake, “¿Qué pasa, hijo? (What’s going on, son?)”

Javier swallows hard around the lump in his throat, his nose prickling, “I’m calling from the hospital. We— we lost the baby, Dad. There was so much blood. I didn’t know what to do.”

There’s a moment where he can only hear his father’s hitched breath, the older man seemingly trying to process what he has just been told. He clears his throat, “Lo siento mucho, Javi (I’m so sorry, Javi). You don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

“But I am sitting here and I am doing nothing,” he answers bitterly and a tear rolls down his face again just when he thinks he has it under control.

“Javier, listen to me,” Chucho commands, his voice still soft even when he is stern, “Some things we have no power over. Losing your mother taught me that. You don’t have to fix it, mijo (my son). You just have to be there.”

Javier wants to throw up at the mention of his mother. He shudders in his seat, trying to push down the flood of tears that threatens to repeat itself as before he made this call. He doesn’t want to think about his mother, doesn’t want to experience loss that same way again. All he wants is to fix it, “It’s not enough.”

“It is enough. She doesn’t need anything more from you, and even if this feels like it overshadows everything, you’ll find something to fight for. For me, it was you. And for you, it’ll be your family. Lucas. And her.”

“Fuck,” Javier’s throat tightens again as his thoughts turn to Lucas. He had barely been able to say goodbye before rushing out of the house, and the guilt of seeing his tiny, devastated face is going to keep hurting for a while. “I left him next door, Lucas, I mean. He was screaming for me, Pop, and I just left him.”

Chucho’s voice softens even further in reassurance, “You did what you had to, mijo (my son). He’s safe. Do you want me to get him? I can be there by morning. I can take care of him, handle things at the house so you can focus on her. Whatever you both need, Javi. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I don’t want to bother you, Papá. It’s late, and—”

“Javier,” Chucho interrupts, the gentle sternness returning but when he continues, Javier swears he can hear his voice wavering even as he tries to be strong. “You’re not bothering me. You are my family. You’re my son, and you need help. I’ll be there if you need me. Say the word, and I’m on my way.”

A nurse taps Javier on the shoulder. He looks up at her and she gives him a gentle smile as soon as she sees the tear streaks on his face. She speaks softly, “Your wife is recovering from surgery. Everything went smoothly. You can go see her now, I’m sure she’ll wake up any moment.”

“Papá,” he speaks into the phone after mouthing a ‘thank you’ to the nurse, sighing softly, “She’s out of surgery. I gotta go see her now.”

“You want me to go get Lucas?” Chucho asks as a final question.

“If it’s not too much trouble then—“

“It’s not,” he reassures steadfastly, “Hang up. I’ll make sure everything is okay at home. Te quiero tanto (I love you so much).”

“Te quiero también (I love you too),” Javier replies and hangs up. He pockets his phone and pushes himself to stand, walking to the front desk to get your room number, and then practically runs down the hallway to get to you faster.

He enters the hospital room after bracing himself outside the door. You’re lying underneath the dimly lit lights in the ceiling that are supposed to be soothing but have lost their charm. Javier has never seen you actually sleep soundly in a hospital room, barely saw you do it when you had Lucas because you didn’t like the cold, sterile interior. He doesn’t like seeing it now because he knows you’re not sleeping on your own accord, especially does not like seeing it accompanied by the steady beeping sound of a heart rate monitor.

He carefully drags a chair across the room to sit by your bed, dropping down into it with a small sigh from finally being at your side again. You don’t move by the little noise, and he recalls the nurse telling him that the drugs might take an hour or so to wear off enough for you to wake.

“I’m here, mi amor (my love),” he hears himself whisper, taking your hand in his own and resting his body against the white mattress. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to doze off while still being completely aware of the room around him. He had no idea that sleep would overtake him as soon as he saw you, all the tension of wondering if he ever was going to again seeping out of his body.

The clock tells him that half an hour has passed when he jolts awake but it only feels like barely a minute, his poor back killing him from leaning forward in the chair. Your fingers twitch in his hand - a sign that you’re waking up - and the pace of the pulse monitor’s beeping increases. He straightens to watch your eyes flutter beneath your lids before you blink a few times to adjust to the lights. Confusion clouds your face for a moment before the memory of what has happened hits, and Javier sees the pain flood back in without being able to do anything. He squeezes your hand, trying to offer some comfort, but it feels useless against the weight of what you’re about to remember.

“Hey,” he says quietly and you turn your head to the sound of his voice. He is sure that he looks tired, bags under his eyes, “I was waiting for you to wake up to me.”

When you don’t say anything, he reaches out to gently run a hand over your hair, his thumb occasionally rubbing against the spot between your eyebrows, just like he has come to love it when you do it. He soothes you whilst you try to find out what is happening, speaks quietly and gently, “Are you thirsty? Hungry?”

“Where’s Lucas?” You don’t register the question, voice cracking as you speak and Javier is sure you are distracted by the lack of life in your belly. He swallows thickly as you talk, “We left him. He—“

“He’s fine. He’s with the neighbors. I made sure he’s safe,” he pauses to press a kiss to your forehead before resting his head where his lips have been, “He’s okay, baby. Pop will get him in the morning. You don’t have to worry about him.”

It’s as if the fact that you don’t have to be strong for your son makes your face crumble. You breathe shakily as tears start to well up in your eyes. For a moment, it looks like you cannot breathe and then you sob.

“It’s my fault,” you tell him through tears.

“What? No… no,” Javier feels disoriented by that statement, pulling back to let you see him shaking his head, “No, baby. Why on earth would you say that? Of course, it’s not.”

“I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve known something was wrong, but I didn’t, and now— We could’ve seen a doctor—”

“No,” Javier interrupts firmly. He takes your hand to stress his words. He suddenly feels strong in your hour of need despite his own tears having started to fall from his eyes, “No, don’t do that. This wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. You did everything you could, everything you were supposed to do for our baby.”

He watches tears slide down your cheeks until they drip down from your chin, some of them even sliding down into your messy hair. He pushes the chair back when he gets up from his seat, the legs on it scraping loudly across the floor.

You are inconsolable even when he moves onto the edge of the bed, one leg stretched out on the mattress and another dangling over the edge, so he can plant his foot on the floor. He holds you gently, crumbling the sheets by wearing his usual jeans in bed, and rests his lips against the top of your head.

“Hey hey hey,” he shushes you softly and rocks you as much as he can without disturbing your IV, “You have already given me - us - a beautiful boy. You are so good to me.”

You quiet down a little at that but there seem to be no words to describe how you feel. You whimper at his words and shake your head, and it makes him ache to make all of this go away.

“Yes,” he stresses, reaching for your hand to hold it against his mouth. He kisses it repeatedly, opening your hand like a flower to kiss your palm too, “I love you both so much, and I love our baby. Even if they weren’t ready to meet us.”

“How can you love me when I can’t even—“

He shushes you gently, cooing at you as he would his son whenever he is in distress, “You are not hard to love, baby.”

“Yes, I am,” you sniffle.

“No, you’re not,” he sniffles, feeling a tear drip onto the covers, his hand still clutching yours to ground the both of you, “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done. You and I are forever, you know that.”

And this is where your cries intensify because you had never expected to find anyone who would do this for you, say these things to you. You weep and kick and scream for your baby in the small hospital bed, and Javier holds you through it all, not wavering once.

Silence fills the room when you miraculously feel empty of tears even if it’s brief. You breathe deeply into the quiet room, not sure what to do from now on because it feels too surreal to imagine going home.

“We can try again soon,” Javier says eventually.

“It’s going to take a while,” you reply.

“Then it will,” he reassures, reaching up to run a hand over your hair and kissing it too.

“Okay,” you sniffle.

“Okay,” he repeats and then pulls you close so you can bury your face in his chest. He rests his palm on the back of your head, cradling you gently, “Now we’re just gonna lie here and you are gonna let me protect you from everything in the world. Just for a moment.”

You let him and he lets you cry quietly into his shirt whilst he coos at you. The only other sound is the sound of the hospital; its continuous, rhythmic beeping, and the sound of squeaky shoes worn by nurses that pass by outside. Javier rests his cheek against your head. He can tell you feel soothed by the way he breathes quietly against you, the steady and reliable sound of his heartbeat, and his chest moving up and down.

—

The sun has gone down enough over Chucho’s ranch that everything has a golden hue. You kiss and hug goodnight and then head to the car, an SUV that has replaced the truck a few months prior. You are walking a few steps in front of Javier, dangling the key for Lucas to take because he has asked to press the button to unlock the car. Your son snatches the bundle and runs along excitedly, watching the car lights with fascination as they blink when he pushes the button.

You grin over your shoulder at Javier who smiles back at you. On his strong arm, Inés is fast asleep with her legs dangling with each step he takes as he carries her to the car. Her mouth hangs open, her eyelids flutter just slightly, and sometimes, she grabs at her father’s shoulders without waking up. She wears her new sandals, the ones with sunflowers on them that she begged you to get for her when you were last out shopping with her. Javier carries her so gently. You look at the sky behind them, feeling a tug in your heart.

It’s been four years since you lost their sibling. However, there’s a feeling of peace within you now, even if that night in the hospital is always with you, lingering just beneath the surface. Now, instead of a sharp constant ache, it has dulled into a grief that sometimes knocks on memory’s door and you answer it by letting Javier hold you a little tighter in the house that has become your home even more.

Lucas crawls into the backseat and confidently clicks his seatbelt in, having neared that age where he desperately wants to show you how much he can do by himself and grins with a ¡Mira, Mamà! (Look, Mom!) to win your praise. He has grown so much since that night, doesn’t even remember it that much but you have talked to him about it a few times when he has caught you in your grief, mostly back when it was a fresh wound to your heart and tears would sneak up on you out of the blur. It’s rare that he’ll mention it now but he knows he has two siblings; one here with him and one that he didn’t get to meet.

You had been so afraid of letting him carry the weight of your grief, trying to find the right words that would not overwhelm him but seeing him grin at you out of the car window, you know that you have done just fine. You wave at him with a big smile and knock on the window as you pass by it to see his excitement bubble over in a little laugh.

You sense that Javier lags behind and when you turn around, you see him cradling Inés in his arms as she only blinks a few times but doesn’t fully wake. He is quiet as he coos down at her, cupping the back of her small head and kissing her head with a smile. He loves her, there’s no doubt. You think back to how scared you both were after losing the baby, unsure if you could go through it one more time if it were to end up in tragedy again. But here she is, your precious daughter, peacefully asleep in her father’s arms who will do anything for her safety.

He meets your gaze as he walks up to you and smiles enough to make his eyes crinkle. You offer to take your daughter but he shakes his head, so instead you walk to the side where Inés’ car seat is and open the door for them.

Your husband carefully lowers Inés into her seat beside Lucas, and you catch the way his fingers linger, brushing her cheek as he fastens her in. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake, her little mouth still hanging open, completely at peace.

When the both of you are in the car - you in the passenger seat - Javier puts a hand on your thigh. He squeezes it, rubbing a soothing circle with his thumb, “¿Estás bien? (You okay?)”

You nod, glancing back at the kids in the rearview mirror before turning to him with a soft smile, “Estoy bien, te prometo (I’m okay, I promise).”

He looks at you for a moment, searching your face like he always does, making sure you’re truly okay. When he sees the truth in your eyes, he leans over the control center to kiss your lips like he has a million times before, “Good.”“Keys, mijo (my son),” he then says and Lucas hands him the car keys when he is asked, stretching dramatically to reach his father’s hand and looking curiously when Javier inserts it in the ignition and starts the car, “Let’s go home.”

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lucy90712 · 3 months ago

Note

Jude Bellingham with a bookworm reader going to the bookstore, like those videos on Tiktok where the boyfriends buy a bunch of books to their girlfriends 🥹

A/n: I had to post this today as it's my birthday and I got so many books so this seems fitting

I woke up this morning to the feeling of kisses being pressed to my face and neck from Jude. I kept my eyes closed for a bit longer so he would keep kissing me but he caught on quickly that I was awake so I was made to open my eyes but I was rewarded for doing so with a kiss on my lips. He is usually quite affectionate but this morning he's being extra affectionate which I'm definitely not complaining about. Jude wasn't satisfied with just kisses though he wanted to cuddle so he moved my boom that was laying on my stomach from me falling asleep reading it and pulled me into his chest to cuddle.

"Happy birthday my love" Jude said

"Thank you" I said

"I hope you're ready as I have a few surprises ready for you" he said

"I'd like to think I'm ready but I never know with you there's always a chance that you will try and take me skydiving or something" I laughed

"I promise I'm not going to do that you are going to love what I have planned" he said

We cuddled in bed together for a while longer before he picked me up out of bed and carried me downstairs where he had set up balloons and banners which weren't there when we went to bed so he must've got up after I'd fallen asleep to do it all. There was also cards and presents sat on the table waiting for me some of which were clearly from my parents which he must've helped them send. Jude was still yet to put me down and he carried me to the spare room downstairs in his house which he didn't know what to with. Finally he put me down outside the door and made me close my eyes while he opened the door and lead me inside. I was a little scared as Jude's surprises can either be great or terrifying I always think about the time he surprised me with a giant spider he'd caught which freaked me out but he found so funny.

He walked me inside and then allowed me to open my eyes which is when I saw what he'd done. The room which was completely empty now had book shelves across two of the walls and a comfortable chair with a lamp beside it. He'd made me a reading room because he knows how much I love reading. I read during every spare second in my life on my days off I read, before I got to bed I read even when a Jude takes me to his training sessions I spend most of the time reading. Books have always been my first love and I have so many of them but until now I had nowhere to put them so they are all in boxes hidden away in our garage. The fact that Jude had even thought about making this room a space for me to read in nearly made me tear up then he told me he built all the shelves himself whenever I wasn't home I couldn't stop a few tears leaving my eyes.

"This is so amazing thank you so much" I said trying to hold back more tears

"Its ok I'm glad you like it I realised that this house just feels like my home with my gym and all of the trophies and pictures hanging up so I wanted you to have your own space where you can do what you enjoy" Jude said

"You're the best boyfriend ever I hope you know that" I said jumping into his arms to hug him

We decided that later we would start organising my books onto the shelves but we didn't have time right now as Jude said he still has more surprises in store. First we had to get ready as he told me we are going to breakfast with some friends before we can do our next activity. Jude has really gone all out for my birthday this year which isn't necessary as all I really want is to spend the day together but he always promised me when we first got together when we were 17 that once he made it in football he'd spoil me and I guess this is him doing that. Last year we didn't get to spend my birthday together because we had conflicting schedules so Jude promised he'd make my next birthday perfect which he's doing a good job so far.

Breakfast with our friends was really nice I haven't seen them in a while as Jude and I have been away so it was nice to catch up and they all gave me lovely gifts. We couldn't stay long as Jude insisted we had somewhere to be but he wouldn't tell me or even our friends where we were going. Once we were back in the car he made me close my eyes as he put in the address in case I knew where we were going and then again when we got closer I had to keep my eyes closed again so I couldn't see where we ended up. Jude even helped me out the car so nothing would be spoiled until he was ready for me to see.

I heard the noise of a bell like the ones they have on the doors of smaller shops to signal that someone has come in which is exactly when I was allowed to have my sight back. Once my eyes adjust I realised that we were in a book store and not just any book store the one I always see on my way home from work but have never been into as I usually don't have time to stop. The entire place was empty which had me confused until Jude said that he had rented out the store for an hour so I could walk around and look at all the books with no one bothering me. I didn't need more encouragement than that to start walking down all the rows and rows filled with books to look at them all.

I've never had a favourite genre or author I just love reading any book that sounds like it had an interesting storyline. Even though they say don't judge a book by its cover I definitely do as if I can see that a book as a cool cover I am more likely to pick it up and read the back. I picked up quite a few books off the shelves all of which were interesting and seemed like a good read but I was selective on the ones I kept hold of as I know if I let myself I'd just read everything in the whole store. I was so in my own world that I completely forgot that Jude was even there I spent my time looking at books and talking to myself about whether they seemed good or not. If I could live in a bookstore like this one I'd be happy forever and I suppose if Jude was here that would make it even better but even without him I'd be happy if I was surrounded by this many books.

After I'd walked through the whole store I had five books in my arms which were the best books I found in the store. That was when I remembered that Jude was there and I turned around to find him as he could've left in the time that I was in my own world. He hadn't left though he was stood right behind me holding even more books that I’d picked up but ultimately put down. I looked at him confused but he just had a big smile on his face.

"What are you doing?" I asked

"I want you to fill up your little home library and I know you have a lot of books but you'll finish those books you've got in less than a month and I want you to still have something to look forward to reading at least until Christmas when I can top up your to read list again" he said

"That's really sweet of you but I don’t need this many books plus it'll cost a lot of money" I said

"Well it's a good thing I have the money to spend on them then but seriously don't worry about how much it costs I'm doing this as I want to spoil you you never spend money on yourself so please let me do this for you" he said

"As long as you promise you won't do this all the time and it's just this once then I'll let you" I said

"I promise now come on let's get all these books and head home to put them all on the shelves" Jude smiled

I think Jude was so much more excited about putting together what he likes to call my mini library. As soon as we got back home he went and got all the boxes we've stored away while I got us some snacks and drinks to fuel us as we start what will be a long task. First I had to decide how I wanted to organise everything which was hard but in the end I decided to do it by author as I'll be able to keep better track of where everything is that way. I got all the books together and Jude put them up on the shelves for me which was the easy part of the job as I spent more time telling him about the storyline of some of the books I'd forgotten about but loved so much. Jude has never been a reader but he still listens to me whenever I'm telling him about whatever book I'm reading and he makes an effort to always ask me about my current read which really means a lot to me as it shows he understands that reading is to me what football is to him.

It took hours but eventually we had every single book on the shelves in alphabetical order based on author. It was a magnificent sight the walls that were plain the last time I came in here are now covered with the many colours of the books I own which made me feel weirdly calm and at home. This room is definitely going to become my safe space where I can come when I need to get away and that's the best present Jude has ever given me.

"I'm not going to see you for a week straight now we've finished this am I" Jude laughed

"Possibly but if you join me and read one of the books then you'll see me" I said

"I'd much prefer you read a book to me I love listening to you read" he said

"I think that can be arranged but you have to decide what book you want to read so I'd get looking there's a lot to choose from" I laughed

"I'll think about that tomorrow right now I want to spend the rest of your birthday spoiling you" he said

"You are definitely doing a good job of that so far I've had the best birthday" I said

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham #football imagine

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mastermindmiko · 1 year ago

Text

Milestones

Pairing: Fred Weasley + fem!reader

summary: A small blurb of a night at the burrow in bed with Fred

Word count: 762

Warnings: none, but lmk

Requests are open

I wrote this in a grand total of fifteen minutes at 1am, so if there's any mistakes please don't mind them, and let me know

masterlist

"I'm sorry about my family" Fred whispers so low that I almost don't hear him. I move my head to the side to face him with a frown. I ask, "what?"

"They can be a little much sometimes I know." Fred continues and I find myself even more confused. I place one of my hand's to his face and I ask, "what makes you say that?"

He doesn't say anything, but I don't press, hoping that he will say something anyway. I rub my thumb in soft circles over his cheek, and I shuffle a bit under the covers. He holds my wrist, taking my hand off his face to press a kiss to my palm. Even after dating for a while now, I still get butterflies.

"I've been told that my family comes on a bit strong. Mom with her affection, dad with all his muggle gadgets, Charlie with the dragons-" Fred starts but I cut him off, unable to hear him say anything else, "Fred, no don't say that. I love your family."

"Really?" Fred asks, hesitantly. I nod my head eagerly, and ask, "what made you think that Fred?"

"I wanted you to like me- I didn't want my family to freak you out." Fred replies with a small blush on his cheeks. I smile at him and say, "if you haven't noticed Fred I do like you, that's why I'm your girlfriend."

"Hopefully it stays that way." Fred mumbles as he pulls me closer to him. I nuzzle my face into his chest as he wraps his arms around me. He rests his chin on my head and I don't think I've ever felt more relaxed. He asks, "well aside from my family, how was your day?"

"It was good, I read a new book, it was great." I say as I recall the events of what I'm sure is now one of my favourite books. Fred says, "you can tell me all about it tomorrow."

"But nothing else really, what about you?" I ask him lifting my head up so I can look at his gorgeous brown eyes. He smiles and says, "George and I found a good location for the shop, it's in diagon alley and above it, there is a good apartment-it's all within the budget of course."

"Fred, that's great. I'm so excited for you." I beam at the wonderful news, and I can see that mischievous and excited look in his eyes, the same one he always had when he was about to prank someone, except that this time it was bigger.

"The apartment is great too, two bathrooms, two bedrooms- that is if you don't mind us sharing the apartment with George" Fred rambles, and I blink for a second before realising. I tease, " Fredrick gedion weasley! Is this your way of asking me to move in with you?"

He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly. He says, " I kind of hoped that you wouldn't notice and just say yes. Things have been going well, I just thought that it was time- unless of course you don't want to-"

"Of course I want to, you idiot." I cut him off and nuzzle my head back into his chest. He wraps his arms more tightly around me and he presses a kiss to the top of my head and whispers, "good."

"Its got a big kitchen too since I know you like to bake." Fred says like he's still trying to convince me to move in with him, I would move in with him into a swamp if he asked me to. I reply, "Just some anxiety cookies no big deal."

"It doesn't matter what's their cause what matters is that they're damn good and by the way I love you" He says quickly that I almost don't catch it. My goes go wide and I look up at him and tease, "Crossing off a lot of big milestones today, Fred. What's next you're gonna pop out an engagement ring then tell me you're pregnant"

"Haha very funny" He replies, sarcastically, avoiding my gaze. I continue with a wide grin, I still can't believe he said it, "No seriously should I buy baby clothes, get you my ring size-"

"Go to sleep, love." He whispers before turning to the side to close the bedside lamp. I'm still smiling when I say, "Okay."

I wait a few seconds before pressing a knee to his cheek and wrapping my arms around his torso. I say, cheerfully, "I love you too by the way, goodnight."

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mysticficti0n · 10 months ago

Note

hiyaaa I love the Colby fic and I was wondering if you could do a short one of like y/n gong through a break up but she doesn't tell him or sam (and could Kat be in it- they're all roomates sorta thing) and she doesn't rlly come out her room and they get worried until Colby goes up and she breaks and he comforts her- like fluffy stuff plz

omg yes this sounds so cutie so ofcc!!! I don't know if its great as I'm very tired but I hope you guys enjoy, It feels good to be writing for someone new but I do still love Tokio Hotel !! I did a very quick proof read but if I missed anything sorry !!

Broken Heart

･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

warnings- ColbyBrockxFem/Reader, swearing, fluff, comfort, best friends, care, reader is cheated on

words- 1.7k

Y/n's POV

"I don't understand why you're so angry Y/n?" Justin looked to me, my eyes narrowed "she was just a fri-"

"Shut the fuck up! you keep saying she was a friend but friends don't fuck each other" I screamed- it was killing me, my boyfriend of 6 years cheating on me with his 'friend', his friend who is his phone had hearts next to her name, every message had a 'xxx' at the end, winky faces and peaches shared until one day...today, I go to his apartment 5 minuets from mine to see him in bed, his hands laying on the red-heads hips

"I-it's just a miss understanding Y/n please!" he begged but I couldn't forgive him- not for this "look let me apologise and we can re-start"

"yeah after 6 whole years? good idea Justin let me just forget everything huh?" I yelled, his eyes dropped he knew I wasn't going to take it "just leave"

"no- Y/n I can make it up to you" he pleaded again and again, hands reaching for mine but I pulled away, backing from him

"get the fuck out of my house Justin" my voice was low "go through the fucking door and don't come back- get out" I watched him give me one more look and he left, leaving me with the haunting memories of him with someone else, those 6 years down the drain. The pain settled in quicker then expected, my chest heaved up and down as I sobbed into my pillow as I stared into the images of me and him dotted around my room, the light from the day slowly faded leaving me in darkness, only figures in my room kept me company, my face ached, my whole body did, especially my head so I decided to sleep, sleep would keep me safe, sleep was quiet, sleep was calm.

Kat's POV

Me, Sam and Colby walked into the house, it was silent, no music or tv playing which was unusual if Y/n and Justin were in "think they went out or something I mean its 9- might be like their date night?" Sam spoke putting his keys onto the kitchen island

"Maybe... I'll check up stairs" I smiled quickly leaving the two to find Y/n, I got to her door and pushed it open to see her room pitch black, not any of her candles lit, or lamp on "Y/n?" I whispered and a body shifted under the covers "Y/n, you okay?" I spoke coming in a little more to her room

"fine, just tired" she hummed turning over facing away from me in the doorway

"oh okay- where's Justin?" I asked, most days he's in the house, I mean he was meant to move in with us in a few weeks

"I dunno" she answered in a yawn, I oh'ed, the mood didn't feel right but I decided to leave her in peace, I closed the door and made my way into mine and Sam's room, he was sat on the bed flicking through his phone until he saw me walk in

"she okay?" he asked

"think so- said she is and she's tired" he nodded looking back to his phone "Justin isn't here though" his gaze flicked back up to which I just nodded

"he basically lives here, why wouldn't he be here? and its a Saturday night and ever since they got together he was here every weekend" I shrugged climbing in bed next to the blonde, resting my head on him

"who knows"

The night went by, and the three of us were up in the kitchen, the clock read '12:48pm' and Y/n was still In her room, still in silence, I told Colby what I had told Sam and he seemed just as confused, we decided to order some dinner, just something small and ordered Y/n some too, I was sure something had happened but... maybe I was thinking to much into it

"foods here" Sam spoke bring it in, Colby was half way up the stairs as he said he was going to go get his hoodie from his room "Colby grab Y/n" the other called getting a thumbs up by him

Colby's POV

I jumped up the rest of the stairs going to Y/n's room first, it was weird for her not to be up, she's always awake before me at least but the house was just missing her, I knocked twice before hearing a voice murmur a small 'come in' I pushed it open and saw her body curled in her coves, curtains pulled shut, and tissues thrown onto the floor "hey- you okay?" I asked coming over to the side of the bed where it was empty. Her eyes flickered open and looked up to me

"yeah- think I'm getting Ill" she hummed, sitting herself up, I looked to her face and saw her nose was red and eyes glossy "just a cold"

"hm yeah- we've got dinner down stairs, got you a burger and fries" I spoke as I watched her, she nodded pulling her sheets away and crawling out the side she walked past me and straight to the stairs, I followed forgetting my hoodie and just went to her side, I could see her clearly now, mascara around her eyes along with dark circles, her hair wet on one side, the usual dark lipstick she wore, smudged against her cheek

"hey Y/n" Kat smiled passing her a bag of food "feeling better?"

"no don't feel it- thanks for the food but I think I'll eat up stairs- don't wanna make you guys sick" she spoke, her voice sounding gravelly and tired

"Y/n we don't care, come sit on the couch with us- we can watch a film or something- we have yours and Justins favourite, Tita-" Sam went to continue until the girl beside me face dropped

"I don't wanna sit down here" was the last thing she snapped before hurrying away and her door slammed, I looked to the others who just stood stunned...

the week carried on, time passing by as it does and still no sight of Y/n, I was getting worried she's never like this, I sat alone down stairs as Kat and Sam had gone out somewhere and the only thing that went through my mind was her, I couldn't help the fact I was thinking of her, Y/n's never in her room if someones in the house or if she is in her room- someones with her

but why is she acting off- everything was so different, I couldn't help but be nosey, it was all in good intention of course, thats what I kept telling myself as I stood ear to the door of her room just listening; her voice mumbled incoherent words, small little cries leaving her every so often, my body relaxed a little to much and I ended up falling against the door "Colby?" her voice called 'fuck' I cursed to myself before pushing her door open again "were you fucking listening through my door?" her tone was angry, a cry halting in her throat

"Look I'm sorry but I'm worried about you" I said, I didn't want to keep it from her, I was worried, scared even "you didn't even eat your food" I spoke looking to the bag still sat scrunched on her desk "what happened?"

"I'm fine Colby okay? For days people keep fucking asking me if I'm okay and I fucking am" she ragged the sheet over her "just get the fuck out"

"Y/n you're not fucking fine- I've known you long enough to know this isn't how you act all the time" I didn't mean for my voice to raise at her but I was annoyed but not with her, she was going through something and didn't want to admit it "what happened" I said, my voice stern. The covers flipped from her body, her eyes welled with tears, face wet

"He fucking cheated on me- There better? you know now, my boyfriend of 6 years cheated on me because I'm not good enough for him and I can't think straight, I feel sick all the goddamn time and all I have every hour is 'you okay Y/n?' No I'm fucking not" her voice broke, the sobs that once heaved in her chest being released

"I'm sorry" I spoke, coming next to her bed, she looked up to me and her face snapped, pearls of tears slipping down her cheeks

"Why wasn't I good enough, Colbs?" she whispered, her voice choked with sorrow, her head buried in her hands. I couldn't bear to see her in such pain. Without thinking, my arms enveloped her fragile frame, pulling her close to my chest as I settled on the edge of her mattress.

"You're more than good enough, Y/n – I promise you that," I reassured her, my voice a soothing balm against the storm of emotions raging within her. Y/n's face found refuge in the curve of my neck, and I could feel the warmth of her tears seeping into my skin. It broke my heart to witness her suffering. "Did he do anything to hurt you?" I asked gently, my concern deepening as I held her tighter. She shook her head, her breath hitching between sobs.

"He... he just said she was a friend, but then I walked in on them having sex at his apartment," she confessed, the pain evident in every word. My fingers traced gentle patterns along her back, offering what little comfort I could. "I just don't understand why," she continued, her eyes red and swollen from the tears. I nodded, listening intently as she poured her heart out.

"He's just stupid, Y/n. You're nothing but perfect," I whispered, my hand tenderly cupping her jaw, guiding her to look into my eyes. "He's the one who's made the biggest mistake of his life by letting someone as amazing as you slip away."

She nodded, her tear-stained eyes reflecting a mix of vulnerability and gratitude. In that moment, as I held her close, I vowed to be her pillar of support – a reminder that despite the pain, she was deserving of love and happiness. Together, we would navigate through the shadows, and I would do everything in my power to mend the shattered pieces of her heart.

"thanks Colby" Y/n smiled, hugging herself back into my chest

#cole robert brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock #colby x reader #colby brock fluff #sam and colby #xplr #sam golbach #colby brock smut #fluffy #heartbreak #connection #memories #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fic

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coolprettyleo · 8 months ago

Text

obsessed with your ex? - juraj slafkovsky ☆

wc: 650+

tw: toxicity? obsessive. mention of sex. stalking?

juraj slafkovsky x reader

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

it was four in the morning and you couldn't sleep. your thoughts were running wild as the six foot three man was laying sound asleep next to you. you were staying over his place tonight and what was supposed to be an easy going night turned into a nightmare; for you at least.

you had opened your instagram to find that jurajs ex had followed you, and commented on her recent instagram post, how you slayed the photo dump you posted on your recent trip to Milan.

I mean his ex didn't mean to get in your brain. you had finally met the girl, about a couple weeks ago at a brand dinner seeing as you were both models. you had been professional with her. but since you guys had many mutual friends the ex seemed to be trying to befriend her.

oh my god I wonder if she was friends with jurajs friends? did she know arber like you know him?

was she good in bed?

does he still think about her?

was she easy going?

every controlling?

well traveled?

well read?

all these thoughts made you want to scream into your pillow and die. something you couldn't do because you were at your boy friends house, sleeping in his bed on a side that was now 'your side' but you knew it was once hers.

when you met the ex about two nights ago you had to act like you didn't know every little thing about her, when you did. you knew everything about her, from her star sign to her fucking blood type.

you felt insane. you were honestly borderline of psycho. you were so obsessed with jurajs ex and everything about her was making you so upset.

you were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt the boy next to you move.

"why are you still awake" jury asked seeing her stare up into the ceiling. he moved to wrap his arms around her and pull her in, trying to to comfort his girlfriend.

what were you supposed to say to him? I'm up thinking about your ex? that im fucking obsessed with her? he would think I was her freaking best friend with how much I would want to talk about her and ask him.

and it wasn't like there wasn't anything I could complain about too, anyways. she was an angel, who was perfect. my friends would even tell me she talked so nicely about me. she was the life of every party and had these perfect hips with the most perfect lips. god you sounded like you were in love with her.

he had once told you that she hated flying so she would take melatonin when they would go visit his family with him back home, and you've never forgotten that detail about her.

"y/n" jurajs voice rasped again.

"what did you call me?" y/n exclaimed sitting up moving away from him. she could of swear he said HER name.

"your name?" juraj said slowly, beyond confused. he loved you so much and the last thing he would of thought was wrong with his girlfriend in the middle of the night, was that you couldn't stop thinking about his ex. he doesn't even speak to her anymore and he loves you with his whole heart.

you looked at him, studying his face for any lie. he wasn't. you felt so obsessed and you knew it was crazy upon repair, but you couldn't help it for some reason.

"alright what's wrong. did I do something" he says sitting up and turning on the nightstand lamp.

you felt horrible. he looked exhausted and he needed his sleep, he had games coming up and he had practice in about five hours.

"no-" you sighed looking at his soft eyes urging you to go on.

"-its just" you stumbled upon how to word your next choice of words.

"you can tell me" he said rubbing your back and kissing your shoulder.

"im obsessed with your ex"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

omg this is my first non au right and also like no oc character. if its cringe lmk! I like feedback. also this is based of an edit I saw on tiktok!! goodnight loves!!

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #juraj slafkovsky #hockey fic #hockey imagine #juraj slafkovsky x reader #montreal canadiens x reader #juraj slafkovsky smut #arber xhekaj

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lesinquietes · 25 days ago

Text

Summary: It’s been a few months since you and your friends moved into the old house. Inspections of the entire place — including the cursed basement — were completed. The results showed nothing out of the ordinary. You begin to feel safer in your new environment, growing carefully more comfortable in a space that never belonged to you. Alucard has been watching, though; dormant in the shadows and eager to play with his new toy.

Pairing: Yandere!Alucard x AFAB!Reader

Warning: 18+ (minors don’t interact), horror, sexual themes, violence.

Previous l Next

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Lots of psychological horror mixed with a bit of subtle lust. The buildup is happening fast. If I was reader I’d be subletting the shit out of my bedroom by now ngl

The Basement’s Monster I

You gaze out of your new bedroom window and take in the view. It’s dusk. Shadows are being cast by the trees and shrubbery surrounding your property. Within seconds of the sun’s descent, the house is swallowed by darkness; it sits in utter solitude, the closest road at least 500 metres away. This is a cryptic reminder that you’re actually here — in the very home you feared.

It’s been a month since you moved in. So far, nothing spooky has happened. The realtor didn’t find a single fault with the basement. When she asked the old man if he noticed anything out of sorts, he claimed he never went down there — bad knees. If his excuse didn’t do the trick, the realtor’s detective work served to convince you. After talking it over with your friends, you agreed to move in under one condition: the basement door must be locked tighter than a penitentiary. Graciously, no one disagreed.

“If it means you get to have peace of mind?” Cree shrugged. “No problem.”

“To be honest, I don’t even think we have anything to put down there.” Nelly asserted. “We have enough room on the first and second floors for all our stuff.”

It warms your heart to reminisce on their kindness. They care about you. Who else would sacrifice a whole portion of their rental to quell the fears of their roommate? Only the best of friends.

You bolted the basement shut with three different locks. Of course, they can only be disengaged from the outside. Initially, you didn’t know if it would be enough. He transcends the laws of physics, after all. But after zero incidents, you’ve started to believe restricting its access to the rest of the home sealed the deal. You certainly feel more at peace. And now that the horror is dissipating, you can finally see why your comrades liked this place so much.

It’s old and well-loved. It has an aged charm that you don’t see too often anymore; one that’s homely and tranquil. The road in front of you barely sees any traffic, and whatever vehicles do roll through are muffled by the tall evergreen trees decorating the grounds. Your closest neighbour is also roughly 500 metres away. It’s modern day seclusion.

You don’t bother to draw the curtains when you pull off your shirt and carefully remove your bra. Your pants come next, along with your underwear. You reach down to peel socks from fatigued soles, tossing them into your laundry basket with the rest.

Your chamber is cozy. Your bed is situated at the centre of the room, pressed against the furthest wall. Partially above it is a large window, shrouded by curtains fluttering gently in the autumn breeze. There’s a nightstand on one side, and a tall floor lamp on the other. The floor lamp has three arching claws that stretch over your mattress, golden bulbs illuminating your book when it comes time to read in the evening.

Your dresser sits in proximity to the door, wide enough to provide a surface for small trinkets and valuables. You keep a photograph of you and your friends atop it — a reminder that there is good in this world. Behind the grand item hangs a mirror.

A desk is shoved into the corner adjacent to your dresser, messy with notes and assorted books. Your laptop lives there, too. A chair is parked in the desk’s gap, wooden and uncomfortable. This is where you spend your work day.

There’s a door in the corner next to your dresser. It’s a closet. You twist the handle and hear the hinges squeal. After surveying, you yank your bath robe off a hanger and adorn it. The silky fabric is white, with black details of painted flowers and tall grass. Once tied, it dips halfway down your thighs, barely covering your backside. Not that it matters; no one is home but Ericson.

You exit your room and move down the upstairs corridor. The floorboards creak beneath your heavy footfalls. You have the first room at the top of the stairs. The bathroom is at the end of the hall, on the same side as you. Across from you are Cree and Nelly’s rooms. They’re at work. Downstairs, you can hear Ericson talking on the phone. She chose the only chamber on the main floor.

When you reach the bathroom, you open the door. It’s chilly, like outside. You frown when you identify the culprit. The window at the far end of the room, behind the bathtub, is wide open. The curtains flap with the nippy gusts that are flowing in from the night. Gooseflesh decorating your skin, you march to the problem and solve it. The window is shut with an abrupt clap.

From there, you bend down to run the shower. The washroom is Victorian-inspired, with a beautiful standing bathtub and a pedestal sink. A shower head was installed later, curving menacingly above the basin. The stream that gushes out is quite weak in comparison to what you’re used to. The realtor said it has something to do with the boiler being old and defective. The owner plans to replace it before winter.

You wander to the sink and begin to wash your face. Glancing into the mirror, you exfoliate your skin, cleansing it of the day’s stress. It feels good to do some form of self-care. With age, you recognize the need to treat your body with the respect it deserves.

Once you complete your task, you make your way back to the shower. Cautiously, you expose your wrist to the jet. You sigh, content. It’s ready for you.

Your robe drops to the floor. You step into the tub and close the curtain. As soon as the water hits your body, a soft moan leaves your lips. Your nervous system relaxes, and your mind straightens out. Eyes closed, you make the foolish mistake of thinking that you’re safe.

Alucard watches you from his hiding spot in the basement. He’s grinning from ear to ear, a droplet of saliva dripping down his pale chin as he remains transfixed by the image of your bare figure. How long has it been since he’s had a frigid body beneath his, serving and soothing him? More than a decade. Two decades, perhaps. But that doesn’t matter. He wants you, regardless of the pent-up lust that’s coiling around his loins.

From lying dormant, he’s harnessed enough strength to manifest himself in physical form. It’ll have to be brief, but he can’t have you trusting that what you saw on the day of the showing won’t come back to haunt you. He’s been picking up on some of your thoughts. If there’s one thing he despises, it’s false courage. His visit will teach you that it’s asinine to lower your guard in this hellhole.

Meanwhile, upstairs, you lather your hair with shampoo and scrub yourself down. The heat of the water is heavenly. You don’t recall the last time you were this relaxed.

Your anxiety has been on the rise recently, since you came across that beast during the showing. You kept anticipating to be hypnotized once more, but he hasn’t disturbed you. Didn’t he want this — infinite, unbridled access to you? At least, that was the sense you got from the encounter. Where is he now? Not that you’re complaining.

Alucard inhales greedily. The smell of your soaps is wafting down the hallway. His licks his lips. Despite the scent being artificial, he thinks it suits you. He deliberates how your blood will taste. If his intuition is right, there’ll be a sweetness to the coppery undertone. The last occasion in which he had that flavour on his palate was a century ago.

It’s difficult to restrain himself from laying claim to your neck. Despairingly, he wishes to plant a chaste kiss on its length before grazing his fangs across the target spot. He would feel your pulse and be unable to resist plunging into your jugular. The blood that would spurt from the wound would gush into his ravenous mouth and satiate him. No doubt, he’d be addicted to your unique taste.

Soon, he reminds himself sternly.

You hum a song you’ve heard a lot of lately. It’s been stuck in your head. Ericson’s a fan of indie rock and the like.

He doesn't look a thing like Jesus,

But he talks like a gentleman,

Like you imagined,

When you were young.

You don’t know how ironic those lyrics are to the situation that’s unfolding beneath your conscious awareness. You will in due time. For now, only Alucard relishes in the mockery.

A squeak outside the bathroom door causes you to perk up. The words catch in your throat. Your heart pangs, disrupting the ambient serenity you’ve cultivated. Wordless, you stare at the shower curtain. It’s not transparent. You don’t know what’s stopping you from peeking out of it to investigate. Fear, perhaps, or the hope that it’s just Ericson.

Alucard clasps the doorknob, nesting the bulb in his palm. He snickers cruelly. You stopped singing. Shame. He was fond of the melody.

You hear the latch of the bathroom door click. It startles you further. You can feel your pulse thudding in your temples. Heart galloping in your chest, the frantic organ begs you to rip open the curtain and face the intruder. Your limbs are frozen. It’s oddly reminiscent of that day near the basement; you don’t think that’s a coincidence.

It can’t be Ericson. There’s a bathroom equipped with a sink and toilet downstairs. She wouldn’t use this one.

Something lets itself in. It closes the door behind it, barring you in this minuscule prison with its wrath. You know, in the recesses of your soul, that a monster beyond your scope of comprehension is lurking behind the curtain. Paranoia has become your friend lately; nevertheless, you understand when a genuine threat has presented itself. And it rattles you to the core.

Alucard’s dead hand, with jagged nails protruding from lithe fingertips, ghosts along the fabric that’s separating the two of you. He growls lowly. If he snapped the curtains from their hooks and dragged the whole ensemble to its demise, you would be vulnerable for him. You would cover your chest and womanhood as best you could, leaving your dainty neck exposed. It would be the perfect opportunity to—

He bites his tongue. No. Repetitively, he insists that this isn’t the night to turn you; there’s more to be done before then.

Your jaw unhooks as you register what you saw. The curtain seemed to quiver. Did that really happen?

All you can register, outside of your rampant adrenaline, is the noise of water striking the tin basin. It’s as though everything else is frozen in time. Images of that cryptid return to you. Each blink ignites a memory of him treading closer, whispering with his barbed tongue. You can almost hear him in the present.

Come, pretty human.

Petrified, you don’t breathe for what feels like an eternity. At last, your first exhale is measured — a futile attempt to regulate yourself. With courage akin to the Chernobyl divers, dipping into a radioactive pool, you raise your hand. Shaking with dread, you guide it to the precise location you saw the movement.

Alucard fights the urge to snatch your delicate wrist. He can see your silhouette. You’re about to rip open the veil, in a silly attempt to thwart him. He yearns to tug you into his firm chest, securing your figure while he lulls you into a submissive state.

In a flurry of bravery, you grasp the curtain and rip it open. A cry leaves your mouth as you do. The fabric flies, and what’s revealed is an empty space, housing solely your derangement. No being stands there. No creature is seeking to haunt you.

You stand there, motionless. Every inch of the room is scanned until you’re wholly satisfied that not a damn thing is out of place. The towels and cloths are stationary. Your supplies remain on the shelves next to the sink. Hell, even the toilet paper looks untouched.

“Okay.” You breathe under your breath. “What the hell was that?”

Maybe what you heard was the house settling. Recently, you spoke with Nelly about the creaks and groans that resound in this place, and how they’ll take some getting used to. This evening, you let your apprehension over-encumber you.

You desperately want to shake off the sounds. Something inside you begs to forget about this incident, to turn around and finish your shower without acknowledging the truth. Against your better judgement, you do. You close the curtain and inhale deeply. Your objective is singular: conclude your shower so you can get the fuck out of here.

You don’t sing another word. Speedily, you continue to rinse off, straining your hair and body of any soapy residue. You glare out the window. You didn’t bother to close the curtain. This is common for you. It’s unlikely that anyone will see you. Cree and Nelly won’t be home anytime soon, and no stranger has business at the house. Besides, you enjoy peering outside as you unwind.

You furrow your brows. That’s funny. It wasn’t this dark before. You could delineate the closest trees. It’s as though a blanket is obstructing your visibility.

That’s when you notice the pair bloodshot eyes glowering down at you. Your heart skips numerous beats. Your mind goes blank while you examine the fiend. His irises are crimson. His pupils are death. His grin is all teeth.

You can’t swallow your misgivings. The howl that flies from your mouth is unhinged. You stumble backwards, almost tripping and falling as you struggle to get away from the window. Miraculously, the curtain survives your plight. Your shin isn’t as lucky; you smack it against the tub as you barrel out the door. Wet and partially nude, save for a towel wrapped clumsily around your torso, you back away from the room.

“(F/n)!”

Ericson is mobilized, too. You can hear her dashing up the stairs to get to you. Reaching the top step, she immediately notices your unease.

“What’s wrong?!” She shouts, skidding to a halt next to you. “Did you just scream?!”

“There’s someone outside!” You contend, legs wobbling. “They were watching me!”

“Where?!”

Without a second thought, Ericson shoves her way through the ajar door, fearlessly entering the steamy room. You witness her search thoroughly around the small area. Shutting off the shower, she unhooks the window and sticks her head out. Interestingly, the black figure is nowhere to be found. Just as it disappeared when you tore open the curtain, it fluttered into nothingness when your friend responded to its wrath. It seems intent on making this experience personal.

Your friend ceases her inspection after discovering no lingering threats. Riddled with shame, you feel silly. It doesn’t help that you’re cold and damp. Your entire demeanour is miserable. Why couldn’t you have stayed and assessed the situation? Maybe things weren’t as they seemed. Then again, if the cause truly is supernatural, you might have saved yourself by reacting.

“I don’t see anyone.” She calls, frustration washing over her peachy visage. “Where were they?”

Aversively, you take a few steps towards the bathroom. You don’t dare go back inside. Instead, you point.

“Literally standing in front of the window.”

Ericson’s expression doesn’t waver. If anything, it deepens. She return to the hallway.

“In front of this window?”

She gestures over her shoulder, to the one in the bathroom. You stare at her like she grew an extra head. You’re dripping and clad in a flimsy towel. Where else does she think you came from?

“Of course!”

Silence for an interval; then, the punchline.

“I’m asking because we’re on the second floor.”

You purse your lips. You know that; you know how stupid this sounds. But you saw what you saw. You wouldn’t cry out for fun.

“I swear I’m not making this up.”

Ericson clasps your shoulder with a ginger hand, rubbing the bare skin to soothe your raw nerves. A whimper leaves your lips. She doesn’t believe you.

“I believe you.” She mutters, contradicting the lie she’s concealing. “It’s just weird to me how someone got all the way up here.”

It would be weird, if you weren’t dealing with a multi-dimensional being.

“E, I saw his eyes.”

“His?”

“Well—“

How do you explain that you met the monster in the basement on the day you viewed the house, and that you think it’s back to wreak havoc on you for no reason? Right; you don’t. Just like you can’t confess to knowing its gender.

“I… don’t know that for sure.”

She hums.

“In any case, we should ask Cree and Nelly to search the exterior when they get home tonight.”

“Absolutely.”

Even if she doesn’t agree with what you saw, and she’s simply conceding to make you feel better, that’s still a fine idea. It rained this afternoon. The ground will be damp. They can check for footprints. You don’t know if this thing is capable of leaving a trace of itself behind, but this will be a good test to confirm your suspicions. You believe it skirts between this world and another, picking and choosing which clues to plant. If your hypothesis is correct, they won’t find a thing.

Ericson swings her arms and glances in the direction of the stairs. You worry about being left to your own devices after this. Graciously, she isn’t one to leave a loved one stranded.

“Wanna come hangout?”

You cast her a shy simper.

“Do you have to ask?”

She chuckles.

"You gonna be okay?"

It's a gamble. He could sweep you away into nothingness tonight, when everyone else is asleep. Nonetheless, you nod. For now, with her partially aware of the situation, you're fine.

"I think so."

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen, then?"

"Sure."

She flashes you the peace sign, and you allow her to depart without qualm. You think the worst of it is over. The cryptid has been intercepted, and thus, it wouldn’t dare return tonight — not with everyone on guard. Despite that, it’s hard for you to discard the eerie imprint left by the event. Thick in the air, you find it taxing to breathe through the tension.

The top of Ericson’s head vanishes as she descends. Her footfalls are faint when she closes her bedroom door. Both of you are isolated once more, though it’s only you who’s anxious. If your comrade could comprehend half of what’s lurking in this house’s bowels, she might be, too.

Gradually, you walk back into the bathroom. You squint through the steam. Fear ices your heart, giving you pause. It’s the mirror; there’s something written in the fog.

A low groan rises from your abdomen. You gaze over your shoulder. Should you run and grab Ericson? No. You want to see what it says first. It could disappear by the time you return.

You tread closer to the message. Nausea rises in your gut.

YOU LOOK AS DELICIOUS AS YOUR BLOOD SMELLS

A shiver travels up your spine. You process the note as it begins to fade, questioning why you bothered to stick around. Arguably, you could have gone without knowing that the creature hunting you is a night stalker.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “Not a fucking vampire."

You clap a clammy palm over your mouth. If he’s not a demon, then he must be a vampire. What other beast craves human blood? But as far as you know, they’re the stuff of legends. Sure, there was Vlad the Impaler, who brutalized his enemies and danced in their blood, and Elizabeth Bathory, who bathed in tortured virgin’s blood for eternal youth, but they weren’t actually fanged and inhuman. They couldn’t vanish. They couldn't transform into a flurry of bats. They couldn’t stretch as tall as the grand window in the bathroom. And they certainly couldn’t live forever... to your knowledge.

It's challenging for you to admit that this is the work of a bloodsucker. It’s illogical and frightening. It goes against what you understand about the universe. Worst of all, how can you hope to protect yourself against something that no one else believes to exist?

When Nelly and Cree got home, you and Ericson told them about the occurance. She said she heard you scream in the upstairs washroom, so she bolted out of her bedroom and met you at the end of the corridor. You narrated how you heard footsteps and saw a set of eyes. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Cree voiced his support for your otherworldly experience.

“There’s an overhang outside the bathroom window.” He offered. “Some creep could’ve climbed up to spy on you.”

“Mm-mm.” Nelly shook her head in dismay. “I do not want to think about that.”

“But who would go out of their way to do that?” Ericson argued, unconvinced. “The road is like, an eight minute walk.”

“The house is old and run-down looking. Wanderers could think it’s abandoned, and when they found it wasn’t, they stuck around anyway. They might’ve been casing us.”

Reflecting back, Cree made a few solid points. You’re glad he’s been willing to hear you out. He might be the one you turn to if things continue to unravel. At least you know he’ll be more dedicated to grasping your perspective than the skeptical Ericson.

“We should probably check for footprints, no?” Nelly prompted Cree. “And if we find any, let’s call the police.”

“Agreed.” Ericson interjected. “If someone’s fucked enough to walk all this way from the road, just to spy on us in the bathroom, I don’t want to find out what else they have planned.”

A grim undertone lied in her statement. They don’t yet believe the source of your dismay could be anything beyond human. After all, aren’t mortals scarier than the notion of demons and ghosts and vampires? With the way mankind treats each other, always implementing new ways to maim and kill, you ought to be worried about an intruder more than a v—

You chew on your inner cheek. You’re still having trouble admitting what he is. It doesn’t feel real.

Cree and Nelly spent twenty minutes on the prowl. Predictably, they didn’t find anything disturbing. Outwardly, it seemed invalidating to your claim that there was someone watching you; inwardly, however, you were petrified with the realization that this truly isn’t another human. Part of you wanted your spooky experiences to be debunked. Why can’t it be the deranged ex-homeowner screwing with you, or some neighbour from down to street with a god complex? Either of those culprits are criminals who can locked up. A vampire can’t be stopped.

You sit on your bed. The flesh beneath your eyes is sagging and dark with exhaustion. It’s twelve past midnight. The urge to rest is nagging; sadly, fear keeps your brain on high alert. It’s impossible to sleep right now. The darkness of your room does little to lull you into a peaceful slumber.

Phone high above your head, you read what’s displayed on the dim screen. Your eyes are squinted from hours of research. You’re grateful for the internet. Discussion forums of others who claim to have encountered vampires gave you ideas on how to protect yourself. Not only that, but you’ve perused information across various cultures on nightstalkers. If you’re going to suffer from insomnia, you may as well use your time to study the enemy.

The term vampire didn’t originate until the early 1700s. Some ancient people believed that demons were blood suckers. Others thought they were ghouls roaming the plain of living, yearning to feed. Suddenly, the monster’s words echo in your mind.

But I classify myself as none of those creatures, sweetness.

He doesn’t refer to himself as a demon. The ancients were wrong. A ghoul, perhaps. For now, you’re confident to say that he’s undead.

It’s three-fifteen in the morning when you ultimately drift off. You leave consciousness while you’re neck-deep in lore, unable to fight your natural urges any longer. Unfortunately, your dreams are much different from the stark reality of supernatural forces. An unconscious mind is more vulnerable than a conscious, guarded one, and monsters know it.

#18+ minors dni #the basement’s monster #alucard hellsing #hellsing x reader #yandere alucard x reader #alucard x reader #yandere vampire x reader #vampire x reader #fem reader

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libraryofgage · 1 year ago

Text

Addams Family Steddie Seven

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | ao3 (this part hasn't been added to ao3, yet, but I'll do it when I get the energy for tags lol)

Anyway, I'm back with another Addams Family for y'all fhdjsk

We now get Steddie children! I added little picrews of them at the very end, too! I just think they're little guys (affectionate) ^_^

Anyway, he's a big boi this time too, so you definitely don't see any typos no matter what you think

Dustin

"It's haunted?!"

Steve grins a little as he lets Dart dash into the house before shutting the door behind them. Dart only pauses by Dustin long enough to get a pat on the head before rushing off to explore. "Yep," Steve says, messing up Dustin's hair and meeting Eddie's gaze as a door bangs in the distance.

"Are you sure that's safe? What if it goes, like, full poltergeist on us?" Dustin asks, looking up at them suspiciously.

"I wish he'd go full poltergeist. I couldn't summon one for the life of me," Eddie says, sighing and shaking his head. "There's nothing like blood dripping down the walls to make a place feel like home."

"Okay, this?" Dustin says, gesturing to Eddie with raised eyebrows as he looks at Steve. "This is not making me feel better about the ghost."

Steve snorts and shakes his head, removing his hand from Dustin's hair. "Don't listen to Eddie. Blood is too hard to get off the walls and would mess up the paint. Anyway, Casper lives in the tower, and he likes D&D, so you can include him in sessions and stuff."

Dustin's face does this weird twisting thing as he tries to process the fact a ghost lives in their house and that it likes D&D enough for that to be a significant feature of its personality. He looks up at Steve, squinting slightly. "Like the friendly ghost?" he asks.

"He thinks it's ironic," Steve and Eddie say, perfectly in sync, and Dustin's disgusted expression nearly makes Steve dissolve into laughter.

"You're disgusting," Dustin tells them, rolling his eyes as he picks up one of his suitcases. "Just show me to my room before you start making out."

Steve snorts and leads Dustin upstairs, pointing out the living room, kitchen, D&D room, and guest rooms along the way. He has to grab Dustin's arm to keep him from veering straight into the D&D room, shooting him a look as they head up the stairs. "You can check it out later," he promises.

"I'll give you the grand tour," Eddie says, trailing behind them with a box of Dustin's computer stuff in his arms. "But first, check out the room. Stevie's been dying to know what it looks like."

"I haven't been dying," Steve says, looking over his shoulder to wink at Eddie as he continues, "You'd know when I'm dying, babe."

"C'mon!" Dustin shouts, ducking away from Steve and running up the last few steps. "Stop making everything a weird flirting thing."

"We're in love, Dustin," Eddie tells him, coming to a stop at the top of the stairs next to Steve. "It's only gonna get worse from here."

"I'm moving out. Don't even bother putting the stuff in my room. I'll go live with Mike, instead."

"At least see the room before you do," Steve says, gesturing to the door with Dustin's name on it.

Dustin rolls his eyes and marches over to the door. He throws it open, clearly expecting to see nothing of interest, only to freeze in the doorway, his eyes widening. "Woah," he whispers.

"I knew he'd love it," Eddie says, pulling Steve over so he can see the room is well.

It's at least twice the size of Dustin's old room. There's a loft bed with a desk and lamp under it against the wall to the right of the door. The opposite wall is covered in tools and random parts and wires, all placed carefully on hooks or shelves with a large table underneath. A pair of safety goggles is hung on a nail right above the table, with a little sign next to them that reads in all caps "WEAR THESE!"

Steve almost makes out with Eddie in the doorway of the room for that alone.

The wall with the window has been turned into a cozy area with bookshelves and posters of fantasy maps and cryptid anatomy. A telescope is set up next to the window, which has a clear view of the sky. In fact, it's one of the only windows that isn't blocked by trees from the cemetery. Two oversized chairs are set into a semicircle with beanbags, creating plenty of space for Dustin's friends to come sit and hang out.

"So, you like it?" Eddie asks, setting the computer box on the desk under the bed.

Dustin nods as he drops his bag, rushing over to the work table so he can inspect the tools hanging over it. "This is fucking awesome! Everything I need to make a lich animatronic is here!" he shouts, his excitement so great that he completely misses the equally excited flicker of the lights in the room.

"Language," Steve scolds, more on reflex than anything else.

"Yeah, yeah," Dustin says, waving his hand dismissively as he reaches out and pulls one of the wire bundles down from the wall. "I take back everything I said, by the way, be as gross as you want. I don't even care anymore."

Before Steve can tease Dustin, he's grabbed around the waist by Eddie. "With pleasure," Eddie purrs, dipping Steve and kissing him breathless just inside Dustin's room.

Steve can't help laughing into the kiss, inadvertently letting Eddie's tongue slip past his lips. And then he doesn't really care about laughing, too consumed by Eddie and his hands and his tongue and his teeth and Eddie.

He does, however, start laughing so hard that Eddie almost drops him when Dustin turns around and screeches like a banshee.

Belladonna

Eddie brings their first child home on a wonderfully dreadful day. The sky is unleashing a torrential downpour on the world, lightning cracks and thunder rolls through the clouds, and wind howls across the street. Perfect weather for a Saturday, really.

Steve was ready to spend the first half of the day in the kitchen, trying out recipes Wayne and Grandmama had given him while Dustin sat at the island to finish his homework. In the second half of the day, he'd sit at the piano outside his and Eddie's room and play while Dustin watched TV or worked on the lich animatronic in his room or fine-tuned a new character in the D&D room.

Eddie would be gone for most of the day, trying his level best to get struck by lightning. He's yet to succeed, but that just means Steve gets to cheer him up when he gets home. And the new song he's working on will do just that, especially when he tells Eddie it's composed from the lyrics Eddie wrote in that journal he gave Steve before they started dating.

Yeah, that will definitely cheer Eddie up, and Steve should probably tell Dustin to just order Chinese for dinner because he doubts they'll be leaving the bedroom after that.

The thought makes Steve grin as he pulls out an apple and nightshade pie from the oven, the cloying scent spreading through the room and making Dustin crinkle his nose. He hasn't quite worked up to nightshade, but he's almost there.

"I finished," Dustin says, pushing his homework away and dropping his pencil.

Steve sets the pie on a cooling rack and shuts off the oven. "And that was all your homework?" he asks, dropping his oven mitts and moving to Dustin's side of the island. He leans over Dustin's shoulder, pulling the homework back and skimming over the answers.

It's a sheet of chemical equations, and Steve very quickly realizes he's got no clue what he's looking at. He frowns slightly and hums. "How confident are you?" he asks.

Dustin chooses one of the equations and starts explaining his balancing process. He gets about halfway through before Steve puts a hand over his mouth to stop him. "Okay, okay, I get it. You're gonna make my brain hurt," he says, grimacing when Dustin licks his palm. He pulls his hand away, dragging it on Dustin's shirt to clean it.

"Can I go now?" Dustin asks, looking up at Steve.

Steve sighs and ruffles his hair. "Run along. I think Casper is in the D&D room," he says, his guess confirmed by the slam of a door down the hall. With a grin, Dustin slides out of the chair, shoves the homework into his backpack, and runs out of the kitchen.

Now that he's alone, Steve takes a deep breath and starts cleaning the kitchen. He rinses used mixing bowls and utensils before placing them in the dishwasher, unplugs the mixer, and wipes the counters clean of flour and sugar and nightshade extract.

He's just finished cutting the pie when lightning strikes a tree outside the kitchen window, thunder rolls loudly over the house, the lights surge and flicker, and the front door swings open to slam against the wall with a vigor only Eddie could produce. Steve blinks and looks out the window once more, confirming that it is, in fact, still raining, and leaves the knife in the pie to welcome Eddie.

If he's come home this early, he must have finally been struck by lightning, which means there's something to celebrate.

Steve grins excitedly and heads to the front door only to stop short when he enters the hallway. Eddie is soaked to the bone, which is expected, sporting a huge grin that reveals too-sharp canines with the ends of his hair burnt like he'd (finally) been struck by lightning. He looks like a drenched rat, and in his arms is an equally drenched child that he carefully sets on her feet.

She looks no more than ten and sticks close to Eddie, staring at Steve with silver-grey eyes. Her skin and hair are the same deep black as the calla lilies on the porch, and the hair she's pulled up into two puffs on either side of her head has a similar reddish tinge along the edges. Splashed across the bridge of her nose, cheeks, and forehead are freckles lighter than the girl's skin, standing out because of it.

Eddie smiles excitedly at Steve, practically vibrating where he stands but not moving since the girl is gripping the edge of his shirt. "Stevie! Sweetheart! I'm home!" he says, his gaze flicking between Steve and the girl and unabashedly begging Steve to ask about her.

Steve can't help chuckling. "Welcome home," he says, walking closer and grabbing the towel he'd placed on the coat rack after Eddie left that morning. He crouches in front of the girl and smiles warmly. "Hi, what's your name?" he asks.

She fidgets for a moment, glancing up at Eddie long enough to see his relaxed shoulders and infatuated smile before looking at Steve again and smiling at him. Her right canine is sharper than her left, and Steve feels his heart melt at that sight. "I don't know," she says, shrugging as she steps forward. "I don't like my name much, but I haven't thought of a new one, yet."

"I see," Steve says, unfolding the towel and wrapping it around her shoulders. "Well, my name is Steve, and you've already met Eddie here. Did you lose your parents?" he asks.

It's not that he doesn't know why Eddie brought a child home. Steve has made no secret of his desire for children, after all. He just has to make sure Eddie acquired the child...well, legality doesn't really matter, but he can't have stolen the child from people who truly care for her.

The girl rubs her cheek against the towel, looking delighted by something so soft, and says, "Oh, I haven't lost them. I know exactly where they are." Her grin widens a bit, and she points down at the floor. "I put them there myself."

Steve raises an eyebrow at her, getting a slightly amused smile. "Did you? How come?"

She sighs, shaking her head as though it's a shame. "They were meanies. I wanted new parents."

"And you met Eddie."

She nods, looking excited as she glances back at Eddie. "He had a big pole to catch the lightning!"

Eddie crouches next to her now, his eyes bright and eager as he says, "It was amazing, Stevie! The moment she walked up to me, I was finally struck!"

The girl nods in agreement, and Steve looks between the two of them as he considers. Her parents are gone (by her own hands, apparently, and Steve feels oddly proud already), and she got Eddie struck by lightning. "Do you have any other family?" he finally asks.

When the girl shakes her head, a few drops of water flying off the ends of her hair, Steve can't help grinning. Something settles in his chest, warm and happy, and Steve nods once. "There's a lawyer in the family," he says to Eddie, meeting his gaze.

"They're perfectly corrupt, too," Eddie agrees.

Steve nods and looks at the girl again. He scoops her up, standing straight and grinning when she squeals with delight. "Welcome home," he tells her, already figuring out the best way to introduce her to Dustin.

----

Exactly two weeks after Steve and Eddie gain a daughter and ask a favor from the Addams lawyer, she chooses her name.

It happens in the kitchen. She's sitting next to Dustin, both of them watching Steve and Eddie make pancakes for breakfast. Eddie is getting the pan ready while Steve is making two batters. One has chocolate chips and will be cooked the first. The other will have chocolate chips and nightshade berries fresh from Flora and Fauna's secret garden at their psychiatric hospital.

"What are those?" their daughter asks, pointing at the jar of nightshade berries.

Steve picks up the jar and shakes one out, placing it in her palm for closer inspection. "They're called nightshade. They're deadly," he says, smiling as he shakes the rest into a black mixing bowl.

"Do they taste good?" she asks.

"I wouldn't try it," Dustin says, leaning closer despite his wary look. "Unless you're like Eddie and Steve, I guess."

"Am I?" she asks.

"Well, you did just fine with the cyanide," Steve reasons, considering the berries for a moment. Finally, he nods once and gestures to the berry in her palm. "You can try it."

She lights up and pops the berry into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. After a few seconds, she swallows. "They're good," she decides, nodding once and looking unaffected by the berry.

Steve decides to give her a few minutes still, just to be sure.

"You know," Eddie says, looking over his shoulder and taking the finished chocolate chip batter from Steve, "they come from a plant with purple flowers."

"Oh!" Dustin says, sitting up straight, "We learned about them in class. They're called Atropa belladonna, or belladonna for short. They're native to, like, Asia and Europe."

"What class did you learn that in?" Steve asks, mixing chocolate chips into the batter alongside the nightshade in the second bowl.

"English. We read some story where a wife poisoned her husband using belladonna. Max said it was very girlboss of her," Dustin explains.

"So, it's a flower and a poison?" Steve and Eddie's daughter asks, studying the jar for a moment before grinning. "I like it!"

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, flipping a cooked pancake onto a large plate before pouring more batter into the pan. "Maybe we should get you a cutting."

She shakes her head. "I like the name," she explains.

Steve and Eddie both pause, sharing a look before turning their gazes to her with serious expressions. "Would you like your name to be Belladonna?" Steve asks.

After a few seconds of serious consideration, she nods once. "Yeah, I like it."

Eddie abandons the stove, dropping the spatula in favor of sliding around the island and lifting Belladonna from her chair. "It's perfect!" he tells her, hugging her close and spinning her in a circle. "Our little poison flower!"

Belladonna squeals in surprise, latching onto Eddie's neck as Steve flips the pancakes so they don't burn. "You know we gotta enroll her in school now, right?" he asks, looking over his shoulder just in time to see Eddie throw Belladonna in the air.

"Aww, man, she's too young to get her spirit crushed," Dustin says, leaning forward to watch as Steve slides a few more pancakes onto the plate.

"There's nothing wrong with a good spirit-crushing," Steve says, glancing up when the lights flicker and a cabinet door slams. "See, Casper agrees with me."

"They can't crush my spirit if I crush theirs first," Belladonna says, scrambling her way to sitting on Eddie's shoulders. She drapes herself over Eddie's head, arms hanging in front of his face, and brightly adds, "And by crush, I mean kill."

Eddie grins and grabs her hands, moving them so he can see Steve. "Our daughter is perfect," he tells him.

"She's just like y'all," Dustin says.

"Isn't it great?" Steve and Eddie ask, meeting each other's gaze and laughing when Dustin just rolls his eyes and mutters about them getting grosser by the day.

El stays with them on the weekends. She spends all of Saturday playing with Dustin and Belladonna, switching between the two as she pleases until they've all somehow congregated in the living room to watch true crime videos and judge the criminals. On Sunday, she helps Steve in the kitchen as he preps lunches and dinners for the week and then tends to the plants outside. Eddie sometimes joins them in the kitchen, but he usually ends up doing laundry most of the day.

On this particular weekend, Wayne drops El off with several suitcases next to her on the porch. Steve stares at them for a moment before looking up at Wayne. "Did something happen?" he asks.

"Well, I'm leaving on a world trip," Wayne says, placing a hand on El's shoulder as he continues, "and El would rather stay here than tag along."

"It is the middle of the school year," Steve points out, glancing down when Belladonna pokes her head out the door.

She sees El and lights up. "Oh, perfect! I've got a brand new guillotine from Cousin Wednesday. You got one, too, right? Let's race them!" she says, pushing onto the porch and grabbing El's hand.

El nods and looks up at Wayne. "I will be inside. Please help Steve bring my bags in," she says before grabbing one of her bags (presumably the one with the guillotine in it) and letting Belladonna drag her into the house.

Steve can't help smiling as they pass him, reaching out to ruffle each girl's hair. When they've gone inside, he looks at Wayne. "Where are you planning to go?" he asks.

"I'm gonna start domestic with Area 51," Wayne says, looking excited just to talk about it, "Then I'm gonna hit those Parisian catacombs, make my way to a haunted forest in China, and then circle back to spend a few weeks in the Bermuda Triangle."

"You'd better not pull a Fester on us," Steve jokes.

Wayne sighs, shaking his head regretfully. "Nobody could pull a Fester except him. How do you follow that up? I mean, the grief he put his brother through, it's impressive all right," he says.

Knowing the full story of Fester's disappearance and homecoming, Steve can't argue with Wayne. "Well, maybe you'll get lucky enough to be abducted," he says.

"One can only hope," Wayne says, returning Steve's grin. "Seriously, though, you don't mind watching El, do you? I'm sure Cousin Itt wouldn't mind if it's too much trouble."

Steve waves away his worries. "She's Eddie's sister, which makes her my sister, and she's friends with Belladonna and Dustin. Of course, she's welcome here. In fact, you're welcome, too, when you get back," Steve tells him.

Wayne laughs, pulling Steve into a spine-crushing hug. "I just might take you up on that," he says, patting Steve's back before pulling away. "Now, let's get El's stuff to her room."

----

El already has a designated guest room, and she helps Steve unpack her things in it. Her clothes are already in the closet and dresser, her books and knick-knacks are on the bookshelf, and she's currently setting out her skeleton collection on the windowsill while Steve hangs up her photos of cobwebs.

"Can I invite friends over?" El suddenly asks, looking at Steve as he carefully hammers a nail into the wall.

Steve blinks and looks over his shoulder. She's finished placing her collection and is now sitting on the bed, feet idly swinging over the edge. "Yeah, just try to let me or Eddie know when you do," he says, flashing her a reassuring smile before focusing back on the nail.

As though he's been summoned, Eddie bursts into the room and zeroes in on El. "It's about time!" he says, throwing himself onto the bed next to El. His weight makes her bounce, and she falls over Eddie's stomach, blinking a few times.

"You know," Steve says, putting down the hammer to hang the photo on the nail, "you could've invited her to stay here at any point."

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?" Eddie asks.

"Why was waiting more fun?" El asks him, pushing on his stomach to sit up again.

Eddie grins at her. "Cuz I made a bet with Dustin about how long it'd take, and I won," he explains.

Steve pauses and raises an eyebrow at him. "What did you bet?"

It must be something good because Eddie doesn't shy away from Steve's gaze. Instead, he lights up and jumps off the bed. "Well, Dust-Bunny lost, so he's agreed to babysit Belladonna next Friday," he says, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist and spinning them to the center of the room. "So, we can go out."

"Like, a date night?" Steve asks, a smile tugging on his lips.

"Whatever you wanna do," Eddie promises, pulling Steve into a dance to music only he can hear. Steve is only a little jealous of Eddie's auditory hallucinations.

"I can also watch Belladonna with Dustin," El offers, watching them from the bed. She has a tiny smile, looking completely relaxed and at home watching Eddie and Steve flirt. "If she dies, it will be in an entertaining way."

Steve snorts, pulling away from Eddie and dropping onto the bed next to El. Eddie follows, crouching in front of them and grinning up at her. "You don't need to babysit, too," Steve tells her, ruffling her hair. "But we'd appreciate it if you make sure Belladonna actually goes to bed on time."

El nods once. "I can knock her out if she stays up too long," she says.

"We have sedatives for that, so no blunt objects required," Eddie says, "They're in the kitchen."

"Can I have a bottle for my room?" El asks.

Steve and Eddie share a look, and Eddie shrugs. "Sure, I'll make some just for you," Steve promises. When El smiles a little wider at him, he pulls her into a hug. "Remember, this is your home now, too. So, just do whatever makes you comfortable."

"Oh," El says, leaning into Steve as she nods, "I'll start putting down traps, then."

Steve makes a mental note to warn Dustin later to watch out for those traps.

Romero

Three months after Belladonna twirls into the house and sets root and two months after El has laid down her final trap, Steve starts rearranging one of the guest rooms. He's not sure why, of course, but he's filled with a sudden and inescapable need for it to be different.

Steve changes the sheets on the guest bed, replacing them with a new, forest green set. He gets a dresser for the room and asks El to carve insects along the sides. The desk stays, but he moves it to sit under the window and replaces the curtains so they're lighter and more easily swayed by the breeze. He gets a bookcase and fills it with odds and ends: a jar of marbles, a comb with a mother-of-pearl handle, a shrunken head Belladonna found on the ground one day, and a collection of buttons, to name a few.

Finally, Steve covers the room in plants, dragging in planters and pots and even a fish tank for an aquatic plant set-up. While he never had a green thumb before, taking care of Nix and spending several hours on the phone with Morticia has given him the skills to make sure the plants thrive. He grows flowers and succulents and wall-crawlers and everything in between.

When he's done, two weeks have passed, and Steve inexplicably feels like the room is just about perfect.

It's just missing an occupant.

----

Someone grabs the back of Steve's shirt, tugging on it until Steve groans and rolls over. He stops once he's facing the edge of the bed, blinking tiredly against the odd glow coming from the kid standing there.

It's the middle of the night, and Steve had been halfway through a dream in which Dart and Nix were waltzing in the backyard, so he can definitely be forgiven for not questioning the child's existence. He just questions what brought the child to their room.

"Wha'z wrong?" he asks, the words slurred together and practically incomprehensible.

Thankfully, the child seems perfectly fluent in half-awake linguistics. "Bad dream," he says, voice soft like the breeze but all-encompassing like the rustle of leaves.

Steve hums softly and reaches out. He picks up the boy, vaguely noting that he can't weigh more than a five year old. The child says nothing as Steve cradles him to his chest and rolls back over.

"Sleep h're," Steve mumbles, placing the boy down between him and Eddie. He keeps his right arm under the boy's head, letting his bicep act as a pillow. And Eddie, somehow, seems to sense a child in the bed in his sleep. He shifts closer, draping his arm over the kid's stomach and then grabbing the edge of Steve's shirt tightly.

The boy settles in, grabbing Steve's other arm to hold like a teddy bear. "Good night," he says, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve smiles and kisses the boy's temple, murmuring a good night in return before falling right back to sleep.

When Steve wakes up in the morning, his arm is still acting as a teddy bear. He tries to pull away, intending to go to the bathroom, but the grip tightens. Steve is about to tell Eddie he'll be back in a minute but pauses when he looks down.

Green eyes meet his, staring calmly. They belong to a little boy, no more than five, with skin so pale it almost has a green tinge and hair so red Steve is surprised the pillow isn't on fire. The boy is pinned under Eddie's arm, looking perfectly content to stay there.

"Uh, good morning," Steve says, his voice rough from sleep.

Before the boy can respond, Eddie hums softly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Good morning, sweetheart," he says.

Steve can't help a soft laugh. "I wasn't talking to you, babe," he says.

Eddie opens his eyes at that, zeroing in on Steve first like always before seeing the boy in their bed. "Oh," he says, holding the kid's gaze for a few seconds, "Good morning."

The boy nods to Eddie and sits up, finally letting go of Steve's hand only to hold his arms out. Steve doesn't really think; he just scoops the boy up, cradling him close.

Apparently comfortable, the boy finally says, "Good morning. My name is Romero."

And Steve suddenly knows who he redecorated the guest room for.

----

Belladonna and El don't blink twice at seeing Romero sitting at the kitchen island, a small cup of milk in front of him, when they come down for breakfast. Dustin, however, stops in the doorway and gestures at him while asking, "When the fuck did we get another one?!"

"Okay, first of all, language," Steve says, turning around and aiming a spatula threateningly at Dustin. "Second of all, this is Romero. Now, come sit down."

"Do neither of you find this weird?" Dustin asks, looking at Belladonna and El as he slides into his usual seat at the island. Eddie places a cup of orange juice in front of him, pushing down the bill of the cap he insists on wearing inside before moving on to get drinks for El and Belladonna.

"Nope! I've got a brother now," Belladonna says, grinning as she leans closer to Romero and pokes his cheek.

"You already had a brother," Dustin mutters before taking a sip of his juice.

Belladonna still hears him, so she turns to Dustin. "Yeah, but you're, like, an older brother," she says. "I go to you when I need to bury someone or rig something to blow up. Now, there's someone who can come to me for that stuff."

Dustin blinks, considering for a moment before relaxing. "Well, I guess that's true. Oh, and that music box you asked me to...fix is done," he tells her.

"Thanks, Dustin!" she says, settling in her seat again as Steve slides a plate of eggs in front of her.

"I put ghost pepper on it like you asked," Steve tells her, kissing the top of her head before putting another plate in front of Dustin. "And yours already has ketchup."

He goes back to the stove and finds a cup of coffee waiting for him. "Thanks," he says, pulling Eddie into a quick kiss before pulling away.

Eddie hums and playfully nudges Steve away from the stove. "I can make the oatmeal," he says, gesturing for Steve to go sit at the island, too. "Go bond with the kids."

Steve rolls his eyes but doesn't argue. He just takes his seat next to Romero and idly fixes a few fly-away hairs sticking up. "Romero, this is Belladonna, Dustin, and El," he says, pointing to each kid as he introduces them. "Belladonna is our daughter, Dustin is my brother, and El is Eddie's sister."

After a few seconds, Romero looks up at Steve. "Must I call them aunt and uncle?" he asks.

"Nope, you can call them whatever you like," Eddie says, grinning over his shoulder at Romero. "I suggest Dust-Bunny for Dustin."

"Can we please let that nickname go?" Dustin asks.

"No," El says, watching as Eddie pours oats into a pot of warmed milk. "It's amusing."

Dustin groans and shoves a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"Hey," Belladonna says her eggs, poking Romero's cheek again, "How come your skin is green?"

"To blend in," Romero says, inspecting his now empty cup with a slight frown. He doesn't ask for more, though.

"Blend in with what?"

"The forest."

Belladonna hums, nodding once like that answers every question and doesn't inspire more, and focuses on eating her eggs.

"You know, we'll have to enroll Romero in school, too," Steve suddenly says, taking a sip of his coffee.

Eddie hums in agreement, pouring oatmeal into bowls before placing them in front of El, Steve, and Romero. "Good point. How old are you, Romero?"

"How old do I look?" he asks, picking up a blue plastic spoon and using it to stir around the oatmeal curiously.

"Around five," El tells him, pouring pitch-black syrup into her oatmeal before passing it to Eddie.

Romero nods. "I'm five."

Steve hums, meeting Eddie's gaze. His husband doesn't seem to have any ideas, either, so Steve tucks this moment away for later, after the older kids have gone to school. For now, though, he pours some honey into Romero's oatmeal and encourages him to give it a try. When Romero's eyes widen slightly at the taste, Steve grins and feels something warm settle in his chest.

Robin

Two weeks into summer, Robin appears on the front porch of the house with her dorm room in bags around her and an impatient expression. Steve has a similar expression when he opens the door. "What took you so long?!" he asks, yanking Robin into a tight hug that she quickly returns.

"C'mon, dingus, you know I had to finish school," she says, digging her fingers into Steve's side and grinning when he jerks away. "Now, show me to my room. I know you've set one aside for me."

Steve rolls his eyes, but he doesn't correct her. He has set a room aside. It's on the first floor. He'd dubbed it Robin's room when he finally spent more than two seconds studying the space and realized it had a perfect view of the house where the married couple likes to argue on the front lawn. They'll offer Robin hours of entertainment.

"Help me carry your stuff," he says, picking up several bags.

As he's shouldering two of them, Belladonna rushes onto the porch and crashes into Robin's legs, grinning up at her. "Robin! What took you so long?" she asks.

"Geez, she really is your kid," Robin says, grinning at Steve before crouching. "As I told Steve, I had to actually finish school."

"I know. I wanted to go set it on fire, but Dad wouldn't let me and Romero said it would draw too much attention."

"Well, set it on fire next time. If anyone dies, they have to give everyone an A."

"That's not true," Steve says, shooting Robin a look before gesturing Belladonna closer. "Here, can you help us carry stuff inside?"

"Okay! I'll take...this!" Belladonna grabs what looks like the heaviest bag on the porch, straining as she drags it inside.

Steve watches her and shakes his head. He looks at Robin and gestures to the final bags on the porch. "You gonna get those?" he asks.

"I can't believe you're making me carry things, Steven," Robin says, huffing as she picks them up. "Me, a guest in your home, having to carry her own things inside."

"One, not my name. Two, you're not a guest, Robin. You're family. And family carries their shit."

Robin rolls her eyes, unable to help a grin as she uses her foot to hold the door open for Steve. She slides into the house behind him, nearly tripping over Dart but managing to step over him at the last minute. "Once again, your name is whatever's comedically appropriate, dingus," she says, sticking her tongue out as they catch up to Belladonna dragging her bag down the hall. "And aww, you called me family."

Steve pauses and looks at Robin, a serious expression on his face. "Of course, you're family, Robin. You're more family than my parents. Living in a house with you was literally my birthday wish when I was 13," he tells her.

"Ooh, kinda embarrassing to admit that," Robin says condescendingly, her face scrunched into a sympathetic smile. It only lasts for a few seconds before she drops it into something more genuine and bumps her hip against Steve's. "But you're my family too, and I'm glad we get to be together now."

"Is this Robin?"

Steve blinks and looks over his shoulder to find Romero standing just behind them. He's gotten used to his son just appearing whenever and wherever he likes. "Yep. Romero, this is Robin. Robin, this is Romero, my son," Steve says, unable to contain a grin.

"Ohhh, this is the famous Romero," Robin says, spinning on her heel and crouching in front of him. They study each other for a few seconds. "Favorite color?"

"Gold. Like honey."

"Favorite food?"

"Dino nuggets."

"Right on. Favorite movie?"

"Friday the 13th."

"Favorite weapon?"

"Crossbow."

Robin nods once and looks up at Steve. "He sure fits right in," she says.

"He's got a way with the electric chair in Belladonna's room," Steve says, a happy pride filling his words.

"I'm sure he does," Robin says, nodding along like she hasn't heard Steve say this before during one of their phone calls. She flashes a grin at Romero, messes up his hair, and then stands. "Okay, show me my room already, dingus."

Steve snorts and nods, leading Robin the rest of the way to her room. "We're planning a big dinner to welcome you," he says, looking over his shoulder at her, "Everyone is gonna be there. Except Casper. He's on vacation."

"Ghosts take vacations?"

"Well, you can't expect him to work 24/7, right?"

Robin considers for a moment before nodding, figuring it would be an unreasonable expectation to have.

----

"The blood doesn't even look real," Robin complains, throwing popcorn at the TV from where she's sprawled on the armchair. He head is resting on one arm while her legs are thrown over the other, a bowl of popcorn and a soda balancing precariously on her stomach.

"It's the first movie," Steve tells her, shifting to lean more comfortably on Eddie's shoulder, "Give them a break." Romero is in his lap, sleeping with his head cushioned on Steve's chest. He'd nodded off a few minutes into the movie, and Steve had started idly running his fingers through Romero's hair.

"But she's right," Belladonna says, pouting as she tilts her head back to look up at her parents. "It's too dark to be real."

"They wouldn't really let the actors bleed," Dustin explains, looking up from his little animatronic long enough to meet Belladonna's gaze, "It's not, like, ethical. And the actors could sue them."

"They have never bled to death before," El decides, frowning from her spot on the floor. Her head is propped on Dart's side, and she's idly playing with a spider she'd found in her room. "They don't look nearly happy enough."

Steve feels Eddie laugh before he hears him, his shoulders and stomach shaking. "It's not even a clever death," he points out, feeding a few pieces of popcorn to Steve, "I wouldn't look happy, either."

"See, when I made these kinda comments at college, everyone looks at me weird," Robin says, nearly spilling her soda over herself and the chair as she wiggles to get comfortable. "Thank fuck I'm around normal people now."

"You think this is normal?" Dustin asks her.

"Yeah."

Dustin blinks and then points at El and Dart. "That's literally a freak of nature," he says, his tone still affectionate despite the words.

"Thank you for the compliment," El says, tilting her head to look at him.

Before Dustin can say he was talking about Dart, Belladonna turns around and pouts at him. The scene on the TV starts flashing, backlighting her in red and white and black. "How come you haven't called me a freak of nature?" she asks.

"It's okay, sweetie," Eddie says, reaching out to pat her head. "You'll always be our little poison flower."

"Besides, being a freak of nature is about your vibes, not your looks," Steve adds, flashing her an encouraging smile.

Belladonna considers this for a moment before nodding and turning back to the movie to watch the character's arm get completely torn off. "The arterial spray isn't accurate," she complains.

"You're all so weird," Dustin mumbles, not bothering to hold back the endeared smile tugging at his lips.

Steve's own smile widens as he reaches for Eddie's free hand and brings it to his lips, playfully biting his palm. "Isn't it great?" he whispers, meeting Eddie's eyes. He gets a semi-feral grin in response, one that shows off sharp canines, and Steve decides they'll simply have to break the bed again tonight.

Tag List!

(Tumblr has a limit, so I couldn't get everyone who's requested a tag, but I did try to get as many as I could)

@estrellami-1, @justforthedead89, @starman-jpg, @abstractnaturaldisaster, @sugartin, @ashwagandalf, @xjessicafaithx, @somegirlsomewhere, @imjust-that-shy, @blaqcats-fics, @littlebluejane, @xoxoladyclara, @halfadoginatank

@pjoneedstherapy, @nocturnalgayboi, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @justforthedead89, @gothwifehotchner, @elizbaehth, @angels-dressed-in-blood, @imfinereallyy, @oile-loves-sharks, @carlprocastinator1000, @stxrcrossed186, @spider-boygirl, @epiclazershark, @7shrewsinatrenchcoat

@perfectlymellowthing, @just-a-tiny-void, @nburkhardt, @nailbatandfreak, @sunfloweringstories, @vampireinthesun, @novelnovella, @bookworm0690, @bestwifehaver, @goosesister, @phantomcat94, @martinskis-lydias, @ghostofyourvampiregf, @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring

@nerdsconquerall, @dontslayfay, @potato-of-the-lord, @suikatto, @deliriousmom, @code-switcher, @lizard-dyk3, @anonymousbandgirl

Belladonna! (POV: you are Steddie and your daughter is very proudly showing off her new fang)

And Romero! (POV: you have insulted his little bow tie and he is now contemplating ways to get revenge)

#steddie #steddie fic #addams family steddie #addams! eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #eleven stranger things #robin buckley #it's about the found family vibes #and the addams trope of children just fucking appearing outta nowhere actually #where they come from? who knows but they're addams (or munsons) now

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vaguekiwi · 2 months ago

Text

Sleeping off Insomnia

(Read on Ao3) | for @babybatscreationsv2

“Can’t sleep?”

“Hmm… just… thinking.”

“Yeah, you’re always thinking.”

Peter pressed a gentle kiss to Tony’s shoulder, shifting so he was sitting up in bed. They were both quiet a few moments, with Peter’s eyes squeezed shut and his lips still firm against Tony’s skin, both of them silent and breathing in sync.

“Love you, Tones.”

“Love you too, babe.”

Peter moved so he was hugging Tony, arms wrapped around his torso with his hands clasped on the far side. With how he’d moved, Tony had to put his tablet down from where he’d been pretending to read the latest tech dispatch.

Peter wore only boxers and Tony had on just soft flannel pants. Tony’s hair was shot with threads of grey and he was wearing his reading glasses; Peter may be younger than Tony, but his body was starting to show its age, too. His muscles were less defined and his skin was pocked with scars and hairs and a weird bump on his back that the doctors assured them was nothing to worry about.

“You want to talk about it?”

Even though they were the only ones in the apartment, Peter whispered. His voice touched Tony’s bare skin gently and settled low and sweet in the bed. Tony took his time answering.

“Not tonight.” He said eventually, then rubbed his eyes.

Peter shrugged and climbed out of bed, moving as quietly as possible. He turned on the bedside lamp, covering them both in warm golden light, then padded out of the room.

Tony watched the open doorway where Peter had disappeared, but when Peter’s footsteps faded down the hall he turned back to his tablet.

Peter returned a few minutes later with a mug in each hand.

Tony smiled at him, “Babe, you didn’t have to make tea.”

“I didn’t.” Peter said, and he pressed a mug into Tony’s hand who smiled as the scent of chocolate wafted between them. Peter had added three mini marshmallows to the hot cocoa, and Tony took an appreciative sip, ignoring how it burned his tongue.

Peter settled next to him with his own cup and leaned his head on Tony’s shoulder, looking at the contents of his tablet.

Tony said eventually, “… My heart feels heavy. It just feels like… like there’s just too much… and it’s all stopped up… and I’ll never be able to… to…”

Too much all around them. Too much to the world. Never able to carry it all.

“I know.” Peter whispered, and his hands had been warmed by the hot chocolate when he reached to hold Tony.

Peter said, “You can sleep now, Tony. If you’re ready.”

Tony said, “I know.” And neither of them commented when he blinked back tears sparking on red-rimmed eyes.

“If you’re ready.” Peter repeated.

But neither of them slept right away.

Instead, they sat in the silence together, wrapped up in light and warmth and quiet.

With six mini marshmallows between them.

#starker #grace writes

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nattysstargirl · 1 year ago

Text

The Beast of my Dreams

Chapter 1.

Were!Hyena Natasha Romanoff X Fem Reader

Word count: 3079

TW18+: Masturbation, dirty talk, dirty dreams, cursing

A/N: first story ever written, enjoy

~~~

Y/N is in the forest again.

Her eyes fly open as she gasps to a seat, panting with a hand pressed flat against her chest. Dark trees loom and reach down for her. Her feet are bare and dirty. Her pale blue nightgown doesn't cover her knees.

A shiver runs up her spine as she searches the woods. The oak in front of her is the same as it always is, trunk wider than her arms can reach to either side, thick bark running with lines so deep she probably couldn't reach the back with her finger.

Long branches reach high and low, some brushing the ground, all dripping with thick clumps of gray moss. And at the bottom of the trunk, dug into the dirt beneath it, is a hole.

Two feet tall and two feet wide, the hole is so dark Y/N worries it might suck her in if she gets too close. She stays seated on the cold ground, waiting for what she knows will happen next. She tries to swallow quietly, but her throat is dry, and an audible gulp echoes in the still forest.

A low rattling grows in an enormous creature's throat, four high-pitched yips. Then, the dark hole is watching her with glowing yellow eyes. Y/N gasps softly, the skin on her limbs pricking with goosebumps as her stomach flutters.

She reaches a slow hand toward the tree. The creature's growl gets lower and softer, and its eyes move toward her, nearly touching moonlight before Y/N jolts awake. She's sitting in her dorm bed, and she apparently kicked her blankets off in her sleep because the shivering is real. She pulls her nightgown over her knees, then reaches for the duvet and yanks it up to her shoulders.

"Is that going to keep happening?" Peggy's annoyed voice comes from the kitchen-side of the dorm. If you can call it a kitchen. They have two twin beds nestled against their own walls with four feet of precious floor space between them, a small bathroom tucked behind the entry door, and a "kitchen" comprised of a sink (that also functions as the bathroom sink) and a microwave perched on top of the mini-fridge.

Y/N could make ramen noodles while sitting on the foot of her bed, which is often what she ends up doing for breakfast. She rubs at her eyes with the heels of her hands.

"Sorry," she mutters.

"It's just that I have morning classes?" Peggy says.

She's tugging an instant coffee pod from the machine and tossing it into the trashcan while she clips the mug lid on with the other hand.

"I'd appreciate a full night's rest without...whatever those sounds are you make."

"I'm sorry," Y/N says again.

"I'll pick you up some earplugs today."

"Don't bother." Peggy pats her straight brunette ponytail in the mirror on the wall, as if a hair would have dared fall out of place, then pulls her backpack onto both shoulders.

"I have inner-ear problems. Can't even wear earbuds. Why don't you try meditating? I can send you a referral link for my app. Might help you sleep better." Peggy leaves without saying goodbye, and Y/N's phone pings as soon as the door closes behind her.

It's a link from Peggy to a trial account of her meditation app. She rolls her eyes and tosses the phone onto their shared nightstand. Peggy ran a neat line of decorative crafting tape down the middle of it when they moved in, and the only items on her half are a boring, brushed nickel reading lamp and a self-help girl boss paperback.

Y/Ns side has candles, journals, scraps of paper with notes she probably doesn't need anymore, and a box of tissues to hide-she digs her hand inside and pulls out a slim purple dildo. It's not even 8:00 yet, and her first class isn't until eleven. She tugs the blinds closed (Peggy loves opening them first thing in the morning) and retreats under her blankets in the dark.

She pulls her nightgown to her waist and tugs off her underwear. The satin sheets cool her bare ass. She flicks on the dildo and pushes it in, cooing quietly as she clenches around it. It went in easy. As she learned after her third or fourth time having the forest dream, she wakes up ready.

Y/N is naturally flexible, so folding one leg under herself to hold the dildo inside with the heel of her foot is easy. Then her hands are free. She runs her left hand over her clavicle, tickling out a sharp inhale, before roughly grabbing her right tit. Her right hand rubs slow circles on her clit. She tries to think about the hot TA in her stats class, with his thick curls and wide shoulders, but her mind keeps bouncing back to the creature in the woods.

It's not weird-she's sure it's not an animal. It might be...animalistic, but like in a werewolf way. No one thinks it's weird to be attracted to Jacob Black, right? It's normal. She bites her lip hard. Every time she has that dream, she tries to stay in it until whatever is in the tree comes out.

Maybe it would speak to her. Maybe it would do...other things. Either way, Y/N wants to see it. "I want...you," she gasps at no one, shoving her heel harder against herself and bucking her hips.

"Oh, yeah... Fill me up," she mutters. Her nipple is sore from clawing at it, so she switches to the other and rubs her clit faster. "Yes...yes," she hisses. Then she moans and bucks as her orgasm builds. "Mmm." She gasps hard and opens her eyes. Then pretends she didn't just get off to the thought of a pair of yellow eyes in a tree.

"Again?" Peters's light eyebrows near his hairline raise. "And nothing else happened?"

"Yeah," Y/N whispers, as if the students seated around them would even care about her dream. "And it feels so real, Pete. Like, I forget I'm dreaming every time. I feel cold, I feel the wind blowing. The trees rustle at the right timing for me watching them rustle. It's fucking bizarre."

"And you've never seen what's hiding in the tree?" he asks. He's swaying the chair back and forth with one foot on the desk leg. This lecture hall has those long desks with chairs attached by pistons, and Peter never sits still.

His gray eyebrows match his hair, both dyed. He's a natural brunette, but Y/N will never expose him. People call him Jack Frost, and it's a whole thing.

"It's not hiding from me," Y/N says quickly. "It's just...watching me. It's not scared."

"Okay," Peters eyes wander the room. He smiles and waves at someone who just entered the lecture hall. Y/N knows he's trying his best to care, but other people's dreams aren't remotely interesting.

Especially around the twentieth time they've had the same dream. She drops her chin in her hand and stares through the empty podium. The hot TA arrives before the professor does, quickly passing out a quiz and taking his seat at the front of the lecture hall to pretend he's watching for cheaters.

Y/N does her best, but her mind frankly hasn't been on homework these last few weeks. She's got to get it together. After they pass the quizzes back, Professor Potts finally enters. She wears black slacks and a white silk button-up with the sleeves rolled to her elbows and the top three buttons undone.

Y/N always thinks she looks like a model. "Good morning, class," she says without looking up from her notes. "I trust we're all preparing for next week's midterm." The overachieving dick suckers in the front row nod their heads enthusiastically.

Y/N and Peter exchange eye rolls. "Right," Professor Potts says. She shakes tight blonde ringlets from her face. "Just to get housekeeping out of the way: I'm sure you're all aware of the wild animal problem on campus. Some geniuses generations ago thought it would be super cool and smart to build a university slab up against the biggest forest reserve in the state. Cute, right?"

There are a few giggles around the hall. Everyone has a crush on Professor Potts. "So," she continues. "I'm meant to read this announcement on the subject: 'Students of Avenger University-please use caution when moving between buildings on campus, especially at night. There have been an increased number of sightings and incidents of an unknown animal of significant size, strength, and presumably aggression. Travel in pairs when possible.' Yeah, whatever." Professor Potts drops the paper she was reading from.

"Y'all stay inside at night, use the buddy system, don't leave food scraps hanging around, got it?"

"Yes, Professor," a quarter of the class choruses. Peter leans toward her to whisper: "Ohh, a mysterious creature." Y/N swats him away, but she was thinking the same thing. She feels eyes on the back of her head and peeks over her shoulder.

A pair of students are glowering at her from the second-to-last row. They look like siblings. Pale skin, shaggy blonde hair. One is definitely a girl, but the other looks androgynous with a strong jaw and a small, upturned nose.

Y/N decides they're sisters, but she doesn't know why they're glaring at her. The blonde averts her gaze when Y/N meets it, but the girl stares her down with unblinking green eyes. Her hair is flopped over her forehead, and a buzzed undercut barely shows behind each of her ears. A row of silver rings runs the edge of her left ear, but the right only has a single blue stone piercing the lobe. She watches Y/N like she expects something from her. Y/N turns back in her seat and tries to focus on the statistics lecture, since apparently there's a midterm coming up that completely slipped her mind.

Get it together, Y/N.

After five solid minutes of attending lecture with her full mental capacity and taking copious notes, her mind wanders again, and she comes up with a plan to get this dream issue taken care of. Stand up, she chants to herself silently. Stand up. Stand up. Stand up. Y/N is on autopilot for the rest of the day, repeating that mantra to herself through lunch and two more lectures. Stand up. Stand up. She hurries back to her dorm building after her last class and repeats it the whole walk. Then in the elevator, then all the way down the hall. Stand up. Peggy isn't home. Good.

Y/N locks the door behind her, kicks off her shoes, and climbs into bed in her underwear. She's sleepy enough that she dozes off quickly. Stand up. - The forest canopy waves at Y/N. It's dark, and the ground is cold on her back. She sits up. The enormous tree seems to grow larger, or closer, as her eyes focus on it. She knows she's dreaming. There's a hazy, mystical quality over all of it, but it's so, so real. Stand up. The yellow eyes appear. Y/N's chest heaves up and down with deep, slow breaths. They watch each other. Stand up. With every ounce of awareness and mental energy she has, Y/N rises to her feet.

It surprises her so much that she can't take a step forward for what could easily be hours. But when she looks up, the eyes still watch her. They're just yellow globes, but...they feel expressive and curious. Like they're just as surprised that she stood up, and they're waiting to see what she does next. Y/N takes a shaky step forward, and she swears the eyes look startled. At a glacial speed, she moves toward the tree until she's got one hand resting against the thick bark. God, what now? She didn't consider that the creature could jump out and attack her. But it's a dream, right? If she dies, she'll wake up. There are no consequences here. She slowly lowers to her knees next to the hole, but she can't bring herself to peer inside. Y/N swallows hard. Then, cautiously, she reaches her hand toward the trunk's hollow.

The constant, low growl from the creature that's been a staple in every dream has quieted. The forest breathes around her. She holds her hand still at the entrance, and nothing happens. Further, then. She steels herself and pushes her hand a few inches into the darkness. Fuck, what am I doing? Before she can yank her hand out, a gentle, warm exhale curls around her fingers. Her eyes fly wide. It's right there, not an inch from her hand. She doesn't move while it sniffs each finger carefully. When it seems the creature has finished inspecting each digit, Y/N turns her hand like she would to pet a dog that had accepted her, but she doesn't reach further.

A solid, warm thing pushes against her palm. She thinks it must be a head, maybe a dog's? She strokes it gently, and she's treated to a pleased rumble from the creature's throat. She smiles and pets it again. When she moves further forward on one stroke, her stomach falls as she realizes the sizable furry thing she was petting isn't a head. It's a snout. She feels along the ridge of what she'd been petting, confirming that it ends with a cold, wet nose. She lets her fingers slowly explore upward, feeling the full head of a gigantic creature that's not quite a dog...but she doesn't have any other guesses. It doesn't feel like a wolf either, and she still can't dare to peek at it.

Two ears positioned more on the side of its head than on top of it are rounded and furry, like a koala bear. The head withdraws, and she gasps quietly in disappointment, her palm immediately cold from its absence. But she isn't alone for long, as something wide, wet, and warm wraps around her thumb. She gasps again. Is it licking her? And she lets it. It moves meticulously, licking every part of every finger, then her palm. That's when she realizes how huge the tongue is. When it licks her palm again, she pays attention to what it touches. The edges of the tongue wrap around to the back of her hand. It must be four inches wide! A light disgust rolls over her stomach as she chides herself for the first idea that popped into her mind.

But then she thinks, this is my dream. No one knows what I think or do in here. As if in response to this decision, the creature sucks three of her fingers into its mouth. Yes, sucks. Like a person. And inside, sharp teeth graze her fingertips, but they don't hurt her. This thing could rip her apart if it wanted, but it laps its tongue gently between the spaces of her fingers, building a growing need in the pit of her stomach. Y/N looks over her shoulder at the darkness of the forest. The moonlight barely peeks between thick branches above, and she can't see anything past the small clearing. It's like the only beings in this entire universe are Y/N and this creature.

Without further consideration, she uses her free hand to hoist her nightgown to her waist. Then she sits on her ass and scoots her legs into the opening unabashedly. The creature slowly releases her hand from its mouth. She lets it fall to the ground, inching into the tree opening until it's to her ribs. She breathes slowly through her nose and keeps her eyes on the tree canopy. This is her dream, and she has some control, and that tongue has got to have some other uses. Or it'll drag her inside and eat her for a midnight brunch, then she'll just wake up in her dorm, no harm done.

The cold wetness of the creature's nose pokes at her knee. She hisses, all shame gone and replaced with heart-thrumming lust. The nose runs down the inside of her thigh, as if it knows what it's doing and has done it many times before. Y/N should have taken off her panties, but now she's too nervous to reach her hands down. It replaces its nose with the wide, warm tongue, swiping slowly against her inner thigh, right at the edge of her panty line. It takes all of her effort not to moan. She definitely doesn't want to scare it away now. Hot breath billows around her hips and she tilts her pelvis upward.

"Go on then," she whispers encouragingly. She is throbbing from her hips to her knees. Then the sun rises, all at once and everywhere. Y/N flings upright.

"What the fuck?" Peggy is by the door, her arms crossed.

Y/N squints in the light before realizing her sheet have drifted to the foot of her bed, and she's lying with her legs spread wide in just her underwear and a Calvin Klein sports bra. "You know what time I come home," Peggy says with the tone of a scolding kindergarten teacher. "I wish you could have a little respect for our communal living space."

"All of it's communal," Y/N mutters, yanking her sheet up. "When can I nap in my underwear in peace?"

"Between the hours of seven-thirty and six-fifteen," Peggy says, hanging her jacket and backpack neatly on her row of hooks. Y/N squints at the clock on her bedside table. Shit, she napped for hours. "And it's not the underwear that is the issue," Peggy continues. "It's the moaning and writhing."

Y/N feels her face flush. "Sorry," she says quickly. "Must have been dreaming."

"Oh, I know all about your dreams," Peggy assures her. Y/N's eyes widen. "The TA, right?" Peggy says. "You haven't mentioned him in a while, but it sure sounds like you're being ravaged. Just...do it quieter, please?" Peggy grabs a towel and her shower caddy and leaves. She won't be back for at least forty-five minutes. Y/N rolls over and reaches into her tissue box.

#marvel #natasha romanoff #lesbian #were hyena!natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #g!p natasha #intersex #wlw ns/fw #kinktober

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