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medium-rare-bimbo · 9 months

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Perv! Eddie munson x naive! Innocent! Reader

♡Smoking with Eddie <3

☆ if there are any spelling and grammar mistakes no there arent

♡masterlist♡

MINORS DNI

contains: Dubcon, drugs, darkish! Eddie

༺*:ﾟ･✧･:*:ﾟ･♡ readmore ♡･ﾟ:*:･✧･ﾟ:*༻

When he invited you over to his trailer you first thought that he need extra help with his english work, which was true he did need help with his english work but that wasnt why he invited you over. He had noticed the interest you had expressed around getting high, it started off as innocent questions that he didnt think much of such as;

"why do people get high?" "do all drugs feel the same?" "Why do you do drugs?" And much more similar questions, eddie was heavily against it when he picked up your unsubtle questions however after some heavy thinking (and masturbating), maybe having you fuzzy and malleable was a good thing, if he was lucky he would get you so high you wouldnt remember the groping he'd do.

You had arrived to his trailer with your bag filled with school and revision work, you had been hesitant to knock afraid that he hadnt actually wanted you to come over and it was all a misunderstanding, overthinking on your part. fortunately for eddie you pushed aside the anxieties and knocked. Almost immediately eddie opened the door as if he was waiting for your knock, he quickly invited you into his room, sitting you on the bed, you begin to open your bag to pull out the equipment before he stopped you. "Actually.. I- uh I was thinking we could do that later y'know? Like let's- lets hang out for a little"

"Oh yeah sure! What do you have in mind?" You quickly closed your bag placing it near the end of his bed, looking up at him, you noticed the slight nervousness that radiated off him

"We can um- read some comics- just dont touch the ones you find under my bed or the ones in my bedside table they're- uh they're... limited addition? Yeah limited addition, definitely dont want anyone to touch them-" his voice cracks inbetween words as he desperately tries kick one of the "comics" in question under his bed "- o-or we can just talk.."

"I dont mind it if we just talk, i- I don't really like comics that much.. no offense or anything I'm sure they're great!"

Eddie released a breath he didnt know we was holding in and awkwardly sat on his bed next to you, glancing at you as the room became silent minus the low sound of his mixtape playing in the background.

"So um how is the hellfire going? I heard that will byers joined recently that must be fun h-hes a sweet kid I used to babysit him, sometimes I'd join in with the game but I never understood it-" your face turned hot as you spoke slightly embarrassed that you were saying this to the dungeon master himself "s-sometimes steve and Jonathan tried to join but they didn't know much either so it made me feel better about it. One time nancy joined and got so-"

He cut you off "are you close with Jonathan and steve?" His nose flared and hands clenched as he asked you

"I mean i guess- i-i um I used to babysit will and dustin and- and sometimes I still do so it's hard to not be close to them y-y'know?"

"Do you like them?"

"I- what of course I do they're my friends-"

"No- do you like LIKE them?"

You breathed in feeling exposed and vulnerable letting tears well in your eyes the thought if your fleeting crush being so visible mortified you "I- well I um- I used to have a small crush on both of them like a long time ago b-but I never tried anything! I dont like them anymore- I-" he placed his hand on your thigh

"Hey hey hey its okay I was only asking, I'd go for steve 'the hair' harrington too" he joked, quickly easing your nerves and calming you from the breakdown you were possibly about to have. Soon the conversation picked up and you both began talking about school, games, music, life and anything that crossed your mind. Eddie had seen the way you reacted to his questions and a part of him felt bad for upsetting you, he didnt mean to make you almost cry, he just wanted to know if he had any competition he didnt mean to embarrass you.

The conversation soon died down lulling you both in a comfortable silence, clearing his throat "do you um- do you mind if I smoke? I know you dont do that stuff so I just wanted to ask incase-"

Almost like a dog being asked to go on a walk your eyes lit up and you nodded your head cutting him off from his sentence "yes sure go ahead I dont mind i- this is your room" Eddie exhaled and pushed himself near the wall of his bed, he sat snug in the corner and put his hand between the mattress and the wall pulling out a box containing his secret stash and various pre rolled blunts and joints, he had hid before you came thinking that seeing it would scare you off. he pulled out a joint looking at you for approval before lighting it, as he dragged the joint to his lips he took notice of your eyes following his movements, the way your pupils would dilate when he flicked his tongue out to dampen his lips.

He inhaled the drug, holding it in his lungs before exhaling away from you, he smirked as you watched the smoke crawl around the room. "D'ya wanna try it?" Your head whipped back to face him, you looked at him with wide eyes before trying to form a sentence that he could understand

"I've never done anything like that so- so I dont know how um I- think you should just- um just do it" you avoided his gaze that bore into you, he grabbed your hand and tugged you closer to him forcing you to shuffle to get closer to him , he placed the joint near your lips

"Its easy, all you gotta do is breathe in and breathe out-"

"Like breathing?"

"Exactly like breathing sweetheart" he smiled pushing it closer to your lips, your hand holding his trying to comfort yourself aswell as allowing yourself to push it away at any moment. You looked him in his eyes as you took a drag, holding back a groan he waited a moment for you to pull back and exhale. unfortunately when you did you immediately started choking on your breath, tears brewing in your eyes and falling as the coughing continued eddie chuckled and patted you on the back praising you despite your fail.

"You did so well for your first time, so good even if you did choke a little. How about we try again-"

You shook your head as soon as the words left his mouth "nuh uh, no. s'too hard hurt my chest" you said, voice wavering still trying to recover from the assault on your lungs. Eddie smiled and lay back patting his chest for you to lay on it, he took a drag and let you wiggle yourself across his bed, your leg straddled his thigh, tangling themselves with his. Sighing into his chest you breathed in his scent feeling better now that you had some comfort

Your head lay on his chest where he raised a hand to your hair and started to trace patterns and shapes into the side of your head gliding his fingers through the baby hairs along your neck and up the side of your cheeks, he pulled your head up and leaned down, you tried to back away not wanting to take advantage of his high state, as his lips were centimetres away from yours he blow his smoke into your mouth, this time you didnt choke. As he pulled back he looked at your large pupils and smiled "y'like that?" You didnt respond too awestruck with what had just occured, unconsciously dragging yourself forward to get closer to him.

Eddie took another drag, before repeating his actions, he didnt think it would take much to get you feeling warm, you were a virgin in this field and he was a prostitute. You lay your head back on his chest looking up at him with adoration, the drug clearly kicking in. Eddie began his plan and moved his free hand from your head taking his time to feel your body as he makes his way down to your thighs.

You melted as he pulled you closer forcing your clothed cunt to press against his thigh, taking this as a hint, he took a drag and blew the remnants into your mouth. Your hips, without your control, began rocking against his thigh making him groan under his breath, your eyes were half lidded and your hands were resting on his chest, "that feel good?"

You slowly nodded "makin' me all fuzzy" as you continued your grinding

"Yeah? You like it?" He cooed at you. pushing his leg up to meet your lazy thrusts, moaning, you dumbly nodded your hips jerking up against him trying to get release, something you've never had before. Eddie softly bounced his leg, forgetting about the joint and placing it on his table moving his hand to your hips, pulling you flushed against him, the other groped around your body feeling as much flesh as he could manage to get his hands on.

"Eddie feels s'good 'like it- f-feels nice w-want more"

"Yeah? M'not giving you enough? You're so greedy"

He pressed you down on his bulge, your clit knocking against the zipper of his pants causing you to jolt away from it as if it burnt you. Eddie forced you to stay put letting you sit up to look down at him, he let you continue your pathetic thrusts letting you get used to the feeling of direct contact to your clit before guiding you like before.

"Ah- eddie! Again!- w-wan' more"

You whined from above him as you could feel your orgasm build up, your panties were now soaked seeping into the material and ruining his pants. luckily eddie enjoyed that he could feel your juices against him, pulling you down harsher he bucked his hips against yours pushing you over the edge refusing to stop even when you cried that you coudlnt take it.

"S'too much eddie stop! S'too much feels weird don' like it eddie dont like it"

"Ssshh-shut up- shut the fuck up- oh god fuck- take it for me c'mon fucking take- make me feel good baby-"

Eddie was in heaven right now and hed be damned if he let your overstimulation ruin it for him. he continued to use you for his own purpose soon flipping you over so you lay under him, thrusting against your clothed pussy which was now soaked and puffy from his abuse. The sight beneath him was a sight for sore eyes. youre face soaked with tears, drool coating your lips, a light bucking of your hips, it pushed him over the edge forcing him to cum in his pants like he was a virgin.

His head fell into the side of your neck as he prolonged his orgasm, your legs flinching as he grazed over your clit once more. Desperate for comfort you moved your face to muzzle the side of his head, he tilted your face and kissed your drool coated lips "did s'good for me baby, so so soo good" eddie pulled you up turning you around and pressed you back against his chest, one of his hands resting on your spine and the other in your hair.

When you woke up the next day you were none the wiser on why you were laying on top of eddie or why your thighs were so sticky, you barely remembered last night but you assumed it had been good because eddie was smiley the entire day

"Was last night good? I dont remember"

"Oh absolutely you were so high, you'll get a higher tolerance as you get used to it we can do this again if you want" almost as if god was on his side you agreed

#stranger things x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #dark eddie munson #eddie munson smut #perv x reader #perv!eddie #perv!eddie munson #perv eddie munson #perv eddie #innocent reader #innocent!reader #x innocent reader #eddie munson x innocent!reader

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kastheory · 7 months

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steve did not bully eddie in "the past" steve was a grade below him for 3 out of 4 years of his high school career freshman steve heard this weird loudass sophomore talking w his friends at 100 decibels in the hallway about fighting elves in the woods or something (steve did not know what larping was nor care to find out) and then he went to class bc are you insane hes not fucking w a sophomore you dont normally fuck w people ahead of your grade especially if they yell at people and wear chains and get into fights in the woods (with elves?) and you dont even have classes w them. you dont even care much about them in the first place beyond passing gossip like HAVE YOU GUYS EVER BEEN IN HIGH SCHOOL. sorry. anyway.

then steve keeps catching this guy in his periphery over the next two years shouting about board games and controversial food opinions and metal bands that steve likes a few songs from but could not ever imagine giving that much of a shit about. like at all. and by (steve's) year 3 the motherfucker is bouncing off the walls giving speeches about what the hell ever and saying he cant fucking WAIT to get out of this FUCKED UP PLACE!!!! YEP ITS TRUE IN LESS THAN ONE MEASLY YEAR ILL BE SAYING MY SWEET SWEET GOODBYES TO THIS BRAINLESS CONFORMIST PRISON!!!! and hardly anyone reacts beyond rolling their eyes or snickering to their friends about it and this includes steve because who cares literally who cares. this guys been causing a ruckus since the beginning of time and hes weird and unpredictable and not worth trying to shove in a locker he would probably evade the attack anyway like a nimble mouse or squirrel he might even try to bite you. and steve didnt shove anybody in lockers in the first place so who cares and yeah he has pretty eyes and a funny way of talking and moving around but WHO CARES

and then steve goes through the first round of nightmarish shit that would become a yearly ordeal and then wraps up junior year in a perfectly normal not haunted whatsoever fashion. and then hes a senior and in his subtly cringefail era (ongoing) and that freak guy is STILL HERE for some reason and kinda pissed off and possibly a bit devastated about it so okay great now steve has a few classes with this angry weirdo loudguy but. crucially. he has had a lot of OTHER SHIT to deal with lately (MONSTERS ARE REAL) (GIRL DIED IN HIS POOL) (GF RESENTS HIM) (HAS NO FRIENDS) (COLLEGE APPS) so the only effect eddie's constantly loudmouthed & often unwarranted input during class ever has is that it adds a little flavor to the constant metaphorical and literal headache of steves life.

and then he goes through round 2 of shit and finishes his senior year with little hope for a satisfying future ahead of him and never once thinks about that guy again except when his fellow grads whisper about oh my godd did you hear that the freak flunked out again hahaha and yep sure enough eddie's not there at the graduation ceremony. and he thinks huh i wonder what his fucking problem is and then he MOVES ON. the end. thats the extent of """their past""" at least in terms of any actual interactions btwn the two of them i promise okay listen to me. i was there

#and i think its beautiful. this was not supposed to be like 600 words long lol #im just so tired of the 'sorry i used to bully you...' of it all like WHAT?? HE DIDNT DO THAT?? WOULD EDDIE NOT HAVE MENTIONED THAT-#SHIT IN HIS SPEECH ABOUT STEVES TRUE CHARACTER???? HES LIKE 'i thought u were an asshole lol' COS IT WAS ALL IMPRESSIONS AND GOSSIP #also im tempted to write or add what eddies perspective would have been but it would be a MUCH SHORTER post imo #oho another popular jock roaming the halls well those things are a dime a dozen. time to throw pretzels at my friends #steve #eddie #steddie #📼#🎱#edit... i drafted this in....... april........ LMFAO #🪩

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ang3lofsmalldeath · 1 year

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blurb of steve harrington x reader having a daddy kink (minors DNI; not proofread)

maybe it was the warmth of steve’s heated pool or the sips of rosé you had rushing to your brain, but you couldn’t stop the fluttering in your tummy as you watched steve play basketball with the younger teens in his pool. you certainly couldnt stop the feeling when robin swam up to sit with you on the pool steps and pointed out steve’s behavior, “ugh look at dingus… god he’s gonna be such a good dad one day- it’s kinda annoying.” of course, you couldn’t help but agree with her, a dreamy sigh slipping out of your month while steve dunked dustin under the water, and you had begun imagining him with a lil fluffy-haired babe of his own. robin clocked the way you were looking at steve, “don’t you agree?” she questioned as you quickly nodded your head, “oh i see- you wanna be the one to make him a daddddyyy!” teasing you in that sing-song voice, making you simply giggle in return, trying to ignore the warmth that flushed to your cunt thinking about steve as a daddy.

one of the best things about your relationship with steve is that he almost always can tell how you are feeling, he can read you like a book. so you weren’t shocked that he immediately could tell what you needed when you wrapped your arms around him, basically hugging him from behind as he cleaned the grill, clad in just his yellow crewneck over your damp bikini to fight the nip of the wind. at this point, everyone had left so he felt no shame as he put his arm around your shoulder, pulled you into his side, and stared at your glassy puppy-dog eyes. breathlessly chuckling, he pressed a chaste kiss on your forehead, “i know, honey, i know.”

once you got inside, steve all but carried you to his bedroom, both of you loving the way he manhandled you, as you pressed small pecks on his jaw and cheeks. “are you feeling needy, baby, huh?” he teased, turning the knob on his door, noticing the way your hips were trying to hump his. you could whimper and squirm in response as steve sat down on his bed with you in his lap. you were both so turned on, and still a lil tipsy, so it wasn’t a surprise when you ended sinking down on his throbbing cock, his hands on your waist, within a few minutes. “o’shit baby, yeah there you go, my good girl. jus’ the tip, ok, don’t hurt yourself baby- god you’re so fuckin wet,” steve couldn’t help his whines and moans as you trembled like a leaf around him, cockdrunk trying to take him deeper. “hnghhh-oh! i-i ca- cant-s’good daddy”. you didn’t catch the petname slipping past your lips, but steve did. stopping you from sinking any further, he stilled your hips and grabbed your face by squishing your checks “what did u call me, honey?” of course you were beyond embarrassed, but with his steady grip in your face you had nowhere to run. “i’m s’sorry! i didnt mean to i-it jus’ slipped out-” you felt stupid and small and you couldn’t control the tears dripping from your eyes. “aw, sweetheart, it’s okay, dont be embarrassed. i jus’ wanted to know why you want to call me that. y’know ill give you whatever you ask for, angel”. you stopped your sniffling, and shifted your eyes to nervously connect with steve’s, basically whining out “ ‘s just-robin asked me if i was ever gonna make you a dad, ‘n’ i cant help imagining it- you take such good care of all of the group now, and well… me so i jus’ couldnt stop thinkin’ about it”

steve could say he was surprised but, he wasn’t. at heart, he was a caregiver through and through, and that carried into your relationship to an extreme. there was a hint of casual dominance in everything he did for you. tying your shoes, carrying you around, bathing you in the shower or bath, keeping your hands warm in his pocket, making you meals, feeding you when you were to weak, kissing you to sleep everynight, etc,. and to be honest, he blushed to the thought of you wanting his babies as bad as he wanted to give them to you.

“aw, peach,” he cooed grabbing your face and slowly thrusting into you, watching you contort your pout into a gasp, “you’re s’sweet, love, one day, you’re gonna let me put a baby in you, hm? yeah but until, i’ll just be your daddy, you can have me all to yourself, how ‘bout that, honey?” you rapidly nodded your head with your eyes pinched, whimpering and whining about how good it felt and how deep he was, as you began to match his thrusts, slowing building a steady pace as he went further and further inside you. “my shy, dumb lil baby, huh? put daddy’s cock in you and you can’t respond t’me? that’s okay, my girl, my good girl, just let your head go empty and daddy will do all the work, gonna make this soaked, pretty pussy cum all over me.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington brainrot #steve harrington smut #smutty stevie #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington thot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington thoughts #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve stranger things

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undercoverpena · 8 months

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epilogue. she might just be my everything and beyond

javier peña x f!reader | epilogue of late night texts

summary: It's the year 2000. Javi is minding his own business on the porch of his pop's ranch when a text from an unknown number vibrates his phone. The only problem is, no one knows he has a phone and no one has his number.

chapter warnings: here's the epilogue. two idiots pining for one another. fluff. flirting. continuous romcom vibes. falling in love. idiots in love. mention of olivia (steve's and connie's child) ✨ wordcount: 2.7k.

an: at the end.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

you keep flirting with me and ill drive myself over

Oh will you now?

use my key and everything

You have had very little reason to use it lately.

thats cause youre so desperate youre already at the door

Desperate or welcoming?

both

I can be less desperate next time, if you prefer.

dont you fucking dare baby

So when you coming over?

already putting my shoes on

It flies by, time.

One minute, he’s clutching your hands until your fingers slide from his. A promise in the air, one he knows you’ll keep because it's all temporary. Knowing that you’ll be right back, suitcase—and possessions following behind—as you move across the country.

Within a blink, Javi is asking you where you want things to go, in the little place you chose with so much ease. Spotting you unpack a photo frame, the photo strip from Houston front and centre, sitting on a bed of receipts.

The next, he’s sweating for reasons he’d rather not be.

His back twinging, protesting as he carries another box to the van. Your smile rises at the sight of him approaching, gesturing to pass it to you—still standing on the edge of the truck.

“Cariño. You’ve lived here six months. How have you amassed so much sh–tuff?”

Narrowing your eyes, taking the box and placing it on top of another, “Nice save.”

Sending you a sink, he smiles as you slide your hand in his to get down. Knowing he doesn’t ever need to feel them slide from his again—hopefully, no emotional goodbyes at the airport. Not ones that don’t involve you visiting someone for a long weekend here or there.

“Are you forgetting that I packed an entire suitcase the first time I saw you? Because knowing that information, I am surprised you’re confused that I’ve doubled my possessions since living here?”

Pulling you close, he focuses on how you feel warm against him—fitting against him perfectly. A feeling he’s had plenty of time to grow used to but finds he never does. How you slot with him, face turned upwards, looking at him like he moves mountains and walks across fire.

If you asked him, he would.

But you never do. You just look at him as though you know he would. Knowing he does.

He supposes it’s why you’re all set to move in with him. Into his home. His room.

This place—as lovely as it has been—will no longer be yours. The little home in the centre of town is tucked away above a video store that you’ve become a frequent customer of, whether he has plans with you or not.

From tomorrow morning, though, you’ll be waking up with him officially. The two of you have had months of it, where you’re there but not entirely with him. Even if, over time, your things have been left amongst his, some even finding themselves hanging alongside his. To the point a drawer was needed—and hangers. Still, for a while, when you said home, you had meant yours.

That was until the last few weeks. Your eyes shimmering, twinkling with the stars in the night sky, curled into his side. His green jacket, the one with the brown collar, wrapped around your shoulders, no longer smelled of old cigarette smoke and desperation but rather sweetness and hope. Your hand entwined with his:

Can we go home, baby?

Yeah, I can take you now.

No, to yours.

You poke him. Light, but purposeful. A little jab to bring him back, and the way you’re smiling at him—fuck. He can’t imagine a look that could make his heart double in size quicker. His thumb strokes alongside your cheek. His pink shirt—the one you had commandeered as your own—rolled up at the sleeves and tied at your waist.

Javi’s noticed you steal his clothes a lot. Fashion them into something that suits you better. He doesn’t moan. If anything, he makes it a purposeful thing to show you how much it means to him—how much he likes it, craves it.

“C’mon, only a few more boxes...”

Groaning, he buries his lips against yours, feeling your smile widen, grinning widely against him as you hold him close.

Your teeth pull at his bottom lip before releasing it with a pop, a twinkle to your eyes. “… think of it like this: once the van is packed, we get more time to say goodbye before I have to return the keys.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles, keeping you in place with two fingers under your chin. “And how do you plan on us saying goodbye, baby?”

Sliding your nose against his cheek. “Loudly. I plan on saying it loud, baby.”

You packed me a note in my lunch?

I did

It wasn’t very safe for work.

you said you eat your lunch at your desk

Yes but I’m not a loner, Javi. I do eat lunch with people.

lesson learned then baby

But yes.

yeah?

I don’t think the porch table will cope though, may have to think of a more stable surface.

I think I can think of something

No wood! I am not having you pick splinters out of my ass again, baby.

that was on you

I think it was on you and your speech about how beautiful I looked being a ranch-hand.

Do you fancy coming to my office Halloween party?

do I have to dress up

Yes. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll be dressed up too.

before I decide what are you dressing up as

That’s the incentive to come, if you say yes I’ll tell you.

do you want me there

Yes! Want to show you off

then ill be there baby

Because you like being showed off?

yes. but also because you want me there

While outwardly, he’d protested the trip to Miami from the moment you booked it off work up until he was sat beside you on the place, he does see the beauty in it.

Although, Javi primarily suspects that it is down to you. You with your legs out, you in a bikini on the beach, robbing his shades until he buys you your own—a matching pair, something that makes Steve chuckle and Connie aww.

The lazy mornings that remind him of Houston are nice, too. The ones where neither of you are woken by an alarm or his Pop’s awful singing. The backdrop of the airy hotel room and a warm, gentle breeze blowing the sheer curtains as his thumbs dig into the back of your thighs and make you chant, is a bonus.

Because Javi can make your skin glisten, and your body sing, whenever and wherever he gets the chance.

What he can’t have at home with you is the sight of you fitting in so easily with the two people who have become a second family. The ones who have seen him go to lengths he hadn't known was possible, him and his old partner seeing things that only appear in occasional nightmares now.

Connie and Steve welcomed you in with ease and with them, you smiled so effortlessly. Blending in like you were always there—laughter bursting out of you when you’re playing with Olivia.

It's there, ever-present on the beach, as you chase Olivia around in the sand. The castles the two of you had been making long since trodden on, as the little girl squeals and squeals until she’s caught.

“You should marry her.”

Turning his head, Steve nods towards the three of you. Connie snapping photos as you roll in the sand. The yellow tinge from his aviators adds an additional glow to the world as he eyes up his former partner-turned-friend—a friend who apparently now gives unwarranted marriage advice.

Scratching his chin, he rolls his jaw. “You giving me permission, Murph?”

“C’mon, Jav. She’s nice, good to you. Clearly makes you very fuckin’ happy.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe I’m already planning it.”

“Yeah? Fuck. Can’t wait to tell Connie. She told me I needed to convince you.”

Javi shrugs, pushing the glasses up his nose. “It so hard to believe I’d have come to that conclusion on my own?”

“Before you met her? Yeah. Since her? No. Could tell you were smitten—”

Snorting, Javi runs his hand across his chin. “I was not fucking smitten.”

“Yeah, you fucking was. No shame in that, Jav. No shame in enjoying one good woman.”

Groaning, he turns back to the laughter. The corner of his lips twitched, wishing to slide into his cheeks as he watches you throw your head back, neck exposed, as Olivia tries to do a handstand.

“I got the ring last month.”

“Shit.”

Turning his head, he narrows his eyes, watching Steve put his hands up in defence.

“You just said—“

“Yeah, well. Forgot how determined y’can be about things. Surprised me. S’not a bad thing,” Steve says. “Just, y’know. Years ago, I knew you as the man who fucked his way through—“

Elbowing him, Javi smirks as he hears Steve splutter. A sharp look added as Steve holds his hand up.

“I’m not that person anymore, Murphy.”

His friend nods, apology falling. The evidence that he means it stitching into his expression—that he was just joking, teasing. An explanation coming, that he knows how he’s changed—all words he would have once craved hearing. But since meeting you, he’d found even the teasing didn’t upset him as much.

Clapping his hand on his shoulder, Javi looks over his shades. “I know. Alright. Just, I don’t like the reminder, that's all. Feels like… feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Y’telling me.”

Snorting, Javi slides his hand off. Moving his eyes back to the sight of Olivia grinning at the two of them. Her small hand trying to cover her mouth as she whispers something to you, something which Javi suspects involves him from the way she’s running full speed towards him.

“She’s grown up so quickly.”

He’s about to reply, but Olivia interrupts—skidding to a stop in the sand, kicking it across his feet. Swiftly, her hand—all small and delicate—wraps around and tugs on his hand.

“Uncle Javi, can you come play?”

Over the top of her, he spots you. Leaning your weight on one side, hand covering your brows to watch his expression.

And fuck, how can he say no to either of you.

hows pops?

He’s good. In fact, enough to be getting your Mom’s cookbooks down from the shelf for me.

I hope you know thats him saying he loves you

He has told me how much it means to him that I wanted these. Also keeps telling me that he’s happy they’ll be staying in the family.

bet that made you cry didn’t it

Yes! Obviously.

youre so cute baby

In my defence he caught me off guard with the comment, I was busy staring and deciphering the handwritten notes.

not gonna be able to read them now if youve cried all over them

As always, you’re hilarious. I obviously didn’t cry into the book! I cried in the bathroom.

you turn the tap on to try and hide it again

Shut up, Javi.

i should be back soon, just grabbing the parts now

Don’t rush, he’s fine. Promise. He even says his back is barely giving him any problems since I told him I’d cook from the book.

what you cooking?

Come home safe and find out.

youre such a tease

Learned it from you baby.

At one stage, Javi had been good with people.

Persuasive.

Now, he’s unsure if he even knows how to ask for a favour without giving something up or flirting.

He’s still charismatic, or so you tell him. But, he's pretty sure his tact has gone, impatience bubbling as he tries to pretend to give enough of a shit to be able to ask for the favour he wants.

For you, he decides to push through. To not walk back through the door he came through. He does stuff his hands into his jacket, the man staring at him, still wearing the same confused expression he had when Javi first stepped through the door.

Because even if he’s explained three fucking times, the man still doesn’t understand why he asked him to create the crossword he’s got clutched in his hands.

The one that would never even go to print—just a single request. A favour. All personal, just for him. Not to be published in every newspaper, but just one.

The one for him, and him alone.

It didn't matter how many ways he explained it, the man remained confused. Only reluctantly accepting, he's sure, to get him to leave.

That had been days ago. Now, you're ahead of him. Your fingers brushing over the tops of long stands, occasionally looking over your shoulder at him, making him feel like he's stepped into one of the movies you've made him watch.

Even when you look ahead, he can tell you’re grinning from behind—taking the view in. It's 'one of your favourites', something you’d told him the first time he brought you here.

It’s why he brought you here, now.

Second to you, of course, baby.

You stop some distance ahead, beginning to place down a blanket, all chequered and soft, as he comes to join you. Placing the basket in his hand down on the edge of it, before your fingers are swatting at him and undoing the ties before you grasp the bottle, food and other bits.

Not that he can eat, needing more than what the wine you’d grabbed would do.

Nerves bubbling, dancing and fluttering like the flies further down the hill. You don't notice. You're focused on the newspaper, the crossword he's not let you see for the last few hours, taunting you, making you wait.

He almost wishes he hadn't when it adds to the knot in his stomach, it tightening more when you become irritated at his coyness as he's reading out the clues—

Javi, what are you up to? You always do down, across, down. Always.

You’d have made a good detective or DEA agent.

Likely given him and Murphy a run for their money—something Steve had even said to you both when the two of you were in Miami. Sand in your toes, sea air in your hair—grin brighter than the sun.

“Give it here,” you say, not sharply, but not playfully either.

His hand wipes his lower mouth, hiding his smirk, having wanted you to do that for the past fifteen minutes.

When you take the crossword, you’re chewing.

Distracted, barely able to spot him sliding the remainder of your punnet from reach. Because Javi remembers how you feel about being asked any critical questions when you are eating.

He supposes it's the one benefit of you making him watch so many romcoms. It allowed him to do market research and ask questions without raising your suspicion, such as where wouldn't you like to be asked and if you want him down on one knee.

Mainly, I don’t want to have food in my teeth when I’m being asked. Don't want to spit any leftovers at you in my shock.

“Hey,” he whispers, stealing your attention—watching you smile, glancing at your clean teeth. “Eres preciosa.”

Your lips slide, curling up into your cheek. “You’re such a flirt, Peña.”

Kissing your cheek, he keeps his arm around you. Fingers playing with the fabric on your hip—balling it up before smoothing it out. Thumb and index brushing, calming, soothing him as your eyes glance over the page.

Occasionally, asking him things, avoiding the clues he desperately wants you to solve.

Until.

Fuck, until.

“Javi.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles, pretending indifference, head tilted down, resting his chin on your shoulder—knowing from the high-pitched way you said this name that you’ve already cracked it.

Your fingers slide over the paper, smothering the white and black boxes from view. “Javi?”

“Yes, baby.”

“I think that’s my reply, isn’t it?”

Lips curling, he wraps his fingers around your chin, turning you to face him. Watching it happen in slow motion, how you smile before you grin—tears all but filling your eyes as you clearly try not to get ahead of yourself.

“You wanna make me less lonely, cariño?”

Swallowing, you drop the paper. Let it fall to the blanket, twisting your body until your knees are between his thighs as you take both sides of his cheeks.

“Sí.”

“Sí?”

Nodding, a tear falls. It's one shimmering with joy and happiness, his thumb swiping it, spreading it across your skin.

“I don’t know… I don’t know the translation,” you laugh, it spluttering, fingers stroking his skin. “But I’ll marry you. I love you. Yes, Javi.”

And he whispers it.

The translation. Pressing it, as well as I love you, to your lips as his arms snake further around your waist. Hearing you, all quiet, it almost buried in kisses, repeating the translation back.

Before he falls backwards into the grass, with you on top of him—his fiancé. His world.

you fancy coming to laredo in autumn

Any particular reason?

been told I need a best man and I only know you

an: gosh, here we are. i began writing late night texts one night after a chaotic chat with @guyfieriii because i was manic/sad/anxious all at once and it was the only logical thing i could focus on. as much as javi and reader saved one another, they saved me too. thank you to you lovely lot. not only did you welcome this in with open arms, but you cheered me on every single week (also, btw, how cool is it we didn't miss a single week omg). i owe you so much, and i cannot believe we made it here together. to the old followers, i see you. to the new ones who just discovered me, hey, welcome. to all of the friends I've harrassed over the last few months, i love you. to the new ones I've made, i also love you omg. i'm already missing this pair so much, and i cannot wait until we get to hang out with them sporadically. i'm going to go cry in a corner, but just know my heart is so full and so happy and it's all down to you all 🩷

#javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #pedro pascal x reader #narcos fanfiction #pedrostories #mm: late night texts #javier peña fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfic

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hanasnx · 2 months

Text

❝ incendium. ❞

── stephen glass x reader

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 3.3k SUMMARY: when a lie snowballs out of stephen's control, you swoop in for unorthodox damage control. NOTES: sorry i posted with the wrong title at first | wrote most of this over a year ago, so the style is a bit different, but stick with it trust me | if you say "part two" in the comments, you better come into my inbox with an actual plot or idea that will fit this "au" WARNINGS: f!reader | editor-in-chief!reader | suggestive content including sex and porn mentions so no minors still cos i dont want them on my page ever | deceit | inappropriate contracts.

When you’re the Editor-in-Chief for the biggest magazine of the year, you’ll have a couple thousand rumors spread about you. You wouldn’t pretend that its source wasn’t jealousy that drove poor opinions of you to circle the sandbox. It’s child’s play really, the way sparks of lies catch ablaze to spread like a dry forest’s fire. You’ve always imagined the end of the world to begin and end with a great flood— it was a blue planet after all. With that comforting metaphor, a measly incendium left you unbothered.

You didn’t have a free moment in your schedule, and it had been like that for months. Being in charge meant shouldering the work of the workers underneath you, and it often meant taking some home with you— work, not workers. Speaking of which, you’d wish you’d find somebody decent to take home. Unfortunately, a relationship really didn’t fit into your hectic calendar.

It was nice to have a personal assistant. She took care of the unimportant things for you, while you got to work on time and started on your bulleted list in order of priority. Said assistant, Maddy, sat at a desk outside your office, and when she entered to drop off your coffee she picked up, you seized the opportunity to inquire her knowledge on number one on your list.

Maddy hummed questioningly as you waited, blinking at her over your reading glasses. “Oh!” She clapped her hands together once her memory was jogged. “The New Republic ran something a little detrimental to our brand. Our CEO’s legal team reached out to me to ask you to handle it before they had to step in. The last thing they want is a lawsuit—“ she rambled on and you held up your hand, quieting her. Upturning your palm to invite her to hand you TNR’s piece that supposedly mentioned this company.

Maddy read your mind, spryly collecting the paper to place in your possession.

It took seconds for you to scan it, creasing your brows in response to its misinformation. Maddy studied your reaction to its error. For you, this was not a matter of opinion, it was a matter of fact, and required your addressment.

“Get Chuck on the phone, I want his earliest appointment.”

STEPHEN GLASS moistened his lips as he furiously typed up his latest story, anxious to meet the deadline with a particularly difficult article. His coworker Caitlyn swung in by his door frame. “Yo, Steve, Amy and I wanted to head to the bar after work today. You free?” Caitlyn had figured out the best way to ask him if he wanted to hang out was to put as little pressure on it as possible. He reminded her of a chihuahua…consistently shaken.

Stephen glanced her way but continued typing. “Yeah? Got it… maybe…” he drawled dreamily, and she concluded he wasn’t entirely listening.

Inviting herself inside, she slumped into one of his cold, blue, faux leather chairs. “What are you working on anyway?”

“The Gainsmen piece. I was supposed to have it done already but it got buried.” he responded, eyes glued to the screen as if hypnotized. His hand blindly fumbled for his pen off to the side, like a good friend Caitlyn leaned over to slide the utensil into his fingertips. He banged the end of it against the meat of his thigh, revealing the ink tip so he could scribble some sort of note on his pad, all without ripping his pupils off the growing lines on the monitor. His coworker had never seen him so… intense. To free up his other hand for efficient typing he tucked the staff of the pen in between his lips.

Stephen had the power to make her worry for him. From what she observed, he was overworked, and spent more time here than he ever did at home when he should be resting. That reasoning eased her into her next question, “You want me to help?”

A sudden shift in his demeanor, his full attention on her for the first time since she entered his office, raising his brows with a hopeful glint in his dilated pupils. He pinched the pen in his knuckles, balancing the end of it against the corner of his mouth. “Would you?” His disbelief was adorably naive, as if surprised he’d ever receive help… if he deserved it. A smile tugged at Cait’s lips when she nodded, parting them to respond when a slam of a door tore both of their attentions away.

It was you, the notorious editor of their largest competitor. It had silenced the entire floor, quiet enough to hear your heels click on the thin carpet, and Stephen’s pen drop onto his keyboard. Cait glanced at him as he scrambled to catch it in a failed attempt to prevent its further clattering against the keys.

Every pair of eyes was on you as you cut through the stations. Your mere presence froze those around you, as if afraid to do something wrong and offend you in some way. At least, some of them anyway. Stephen always thought it was because of how stunning you were. Bone-chillingly authoritative in stockings and a pencil skirt. Behind his glasses his pupils dilated as they scanned from bottom to top, watching you walk further from him through the glass of his office. He gulped, thoughtlessly leaning in his seat to consume every angle of you his limited view from his desk would allow. Caitlyn had faced him again just in time to catch him in the act, and he settled back into his chair as if he hadn’t moved at all. She resisted the urge to flash him a quizzical look as he sheepishly watched himself fiddle with his pen in his lap.

You did not waver your gaze from your goal, and Chuck had been expecting you. He wore the warmest smile he could muster as he opened his door for you, a headache having come on from the call he received earlier, announcing your scheduled arrival. “Miss (l/n),” he greeted with a nod, and you returned the greeting as he closed the door behind you. The frosted windows left a lot to the imagination of the employees on this floor. Everyone wordlessly agreed to remain reticent in order to eavesdrop on any juicy tidbit they could claw their sleep-deprived hands onto. Not only that, but as if enslaved to their subconscious desires, they shifted closer, gravitating towards Chuck’s office, crudely concealing the way they inclined their ears.

Stephen’s hands clammed up, and he dropped the pen in between his legs so he could wipe his palms on his pants. He had a feeling he knew what you were here for.

The conversation inside was indecipherable to the surrounding throng, except for one fragment at the resolution, resounding through the room, causing prying eyes to desperately study your blurred figures in hopes to interpret what kind of violent gestures you punctuated your threat with.

“I will not be trifled with. My magazine did not tank my first year, it was the year before I was brought on board.” Able to see your arm raise, clutching a fluttering page, and slam it down onto Chuck’s desk. “When I came on I saved that establishment. I’m sick of reading about how the last Editor’s fault was mine! I expected more from The New Republic.” You had straightened. “Let a simple fact like this go unchecked in the future and I’ll poach you. Understand?”

It was impossible to tell whether or not you waited for Chuck’s response before storming out. Stephen still thought you were as elegant as ever, observing you as you strode to the exit. He had suspected why you were here, and what you said at Chuck’s had confirmed it. You had nipped Chuck for signing off on Stephen’s piece. His mouth ran dry when your gaze landed on him. You didn’t recognize him as the man who wrote what you had come to pontificate on. Instead, you saw a boy in glasses, gawking at you from the seat of his desk as you happened to face him and accidentally make eye contact.

Stephen had no idea you didn’t know who he was, and that assumption caused him to raise his hand at you to offer you a polite smile and a wave. You acknowledged it to be proper, unfaltering in your traipse. Just as soon as you’d left, the floor reignited, bustling and trucking through paperwork as if you’d never appeared.

Caitlyn, unaware of Stephen’s current situation, had stood from the chair, and leaned against the back of it as she collected her thoughts, narrowing her eyes at Stephen. “What was that?” she inquired slyly, curious as to why Stephen had greeted you so familiarly. According to Cait’s knowledge, you and Stephen have never formally met, and you weren’t exactly the most accessible person to befriend. Casually greeting you was simply not done, unless it was a peer like Chuck.

Stephen had returned to his monitor, nervously tapping the pen against the desk surface as the gears in his head turned. “What? You mean the wave?” he affirmed with a smile tugging at his lips, about to tell her the truth of why he did it.

When you re-entered his mind, he idled, reminiscing on your outfit today. How your hips swayed in your smart pencil skirt, the lines of your stockings at the backs of your legs, the tasteful blouse and how it accentuated your exquisite outline. As a writer, Stephen admired your professional work. As an artist, he agonizingly wished he knew you— inside and out. When Caitlyn demanded an answer, Stephen looked up at her with a bashful snicker. “I mean… okay, alright,” He clasped his hands together, reminding himself how sweaty they were.

“Go on, Steph, I’m waiting,” Cait said in a playful tone, eager to hear the gossip she knew he would inevitably spill. Her favorite source of entertainment was Stephen: the human embodiment of the overflowing cup.

He longed to do just that, hanging his head briefly before feigning defeat. “We kissed.” he conceded as if it was reluctantly drawn from him rather than readily supplied as soon as it was conjured. He didn’t know why he said that, it just slipped out.

“Hey, Stephen,” Amy peeked her head in, seemingly oblivious of the nature of the conversation he and Caitlyn just shared, evidenced by Amy’s immediate interest in Cait’s gaping mouth, readjusting against the door frame. “Wait, wait, what did you say? What did I miss?”

Cait flashed a look at Stephen as if to ask permission to repeat what he’d just spread. Stephen merely smiled childishly, and pinched his fingers together at the corner of his mouth, running across his lips pretending to zip them. Caitlyn got the message, nodding, and mimicking him.

Amy sighed in playful annoyance, which only caused the other two to grin knowingly. “Whatever. Stephen, Chuck wants to see you in his office.”

One more quizzical look from Cait, and he reassured her, “It’s probably nothing,” He met Amy’s gaze, “Tell him I’ll be right there, Ames.”

We kissed. He’d said. We kissed. A lie he couldn’t stop pondering, and it snowballed into expansion. At first it was an innocent kiss, as virtuous as a young white flower. When it was received with such shock and entertainment, Stephen couldn’t help himself. A kiss became a heated make-out session at a company Christmas party he snuck into. A make-out became a regular occurrence when you just couldn’t stay away from him. A regular occurrence became seeing each other. Became experimental oral.

All until it became dirty fucking on the side using your power as an Editor over him. “What am I gonna do? Say ‘no’ to her? No,” Stephen shook his head and sipped his Colombian coffee from the slit in its lid. “No,” he swallowed, “not to an Editor-in-Chief.” His regaling earned him pats on the back and laughter from those taking it as a joke. No one thought he was in any real danger. It’s not like he worked underneath her— in an employment stance.

He couldn’t give it up. Cooking was one thing, but earning the respect of those around all because a woman made of ice was supposedly wrapped around his finger was another high entirely. One he couldn’t give up, no matter how immoral. He admired you— immeasurably— and still he let those words run out of his mouth faster than he could stuff them back in. Filthy secrets about what you’re like in bed, how rough you like it, what position is your favorite. It’s not like he could reveal those details without unveiling a little of himself and his fantasies as well.

He never expected that it’d turn out like this.

Never expected he’d be summoned to your office.

“Miss—“ Maddy’s clear voice rings in your ear, interrupting you during your process of scratching your notes into the margin of the text.

You sigh. “Madeline, if you’re here about Frank’s paternal leave again I’ll be forced to fire that baby myself.”

She stutters, caught off guard by your sour attitude and poorly-timed joke. “No, Miss, I’m here to announce Mr. Glass’s arrival. I made him wait a few minutes- like you asked.”

You peer up from your work at Maddy who’s in a straight-and-narrow posture by the door as you gesture incredulously with your hand. “Go ahead, send him in.” She nods, and hastily abides by your notion, fetching him.

This time you don’t redirect your eyes from your thick pile of papers as you annotate, the nervous footsteps of your anticipated company echoing through your cavernous office. He follows the rug across the long pathway to the chair in front of your desk, taking a seat, and the leather creaks against itself.

He takes notice of your strategic reticence. “Hi.” his wavering voice is a near whisper. Your script comes to a screeching halt.

“Mr. Glass,” you reply, “you are a man-in-demand, aren’t you?” You swipe a page to the left, noting at the top right to bookmark it.

Sheepish, Stephen stutters in his response, lips curled politely up, “I- I suppose so. I suppose I wouldn’t know.” To keep him nervous, you hum, and he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Every movement, no matter how minute, creates the leather din that damn-near echoes in your resonate office-space. He waits for you to speak, and when it becomes unbearable he fills the silence. “Is this about your talk with Chuck– er, Charles Lane? Because- about that, if you just listen–”

At that, your eyes finally flicker up to meet his. “No, Mr. Glass, it is not.” He swallows. It’s becoming increasingly clear why you’re known as cold. It’s an unforgivable atmosphere, and a shiver runs up his spine powerful enough that he takes his hand to rub his own arm to generate warmth. You stand, and he presses his lips into a thin line, watching your every move as you gracefully close the script on your desk with a rare finesse. “You’ve brought a lot of attention to my door, you know that?” Strategically, Stephen remains silent as you leisurely round your desk. His hands begin to clam up again, and he rubs them on his thighs as he stares hard at his lap. A whole new level of intimidation has been reached being this close to you at the center of your focus. He’s unsure how to play this right now, and he finally registers your proximity when out of the corner of his eye he sees you sit on the edge of your desk adjacent to him. Your smooth legs are crossed within arm’s length of him. You fold your arms over your chest, your unwavering gaze making him feel smaller and smaller. Regardless of that, you can tell he’s not going to break. So you increase the pressure. “Have we met before?”

Big, innocent eyes peer up at you, hesitant to face you as he shakes his head marginally. The instinct to question if you’re mad at him dies in his throat. “No, ma’am.” The panic rises in his chest now that he’s denied having met you aloud, but you can’t possibly know about the lies he’s told, can’t prove he told them. Yet when he meets that piercing gaze, there’s a part of him that wants to come clean to you about everything if it means pleasing you. Though there is his job to think about, what would people say about a writer who lies about sexual encounters with the company’s competitor? It can’t be good.

“Is that a fact?” You raise your brows at him, and he nods slowly. “So, can you tell me why others have a different perception on that?”

He shakes his head.

“Mr. Glass, as frustrating as this all has become, you’re not here so I can berate you.” you concede, and at those words he visibly perks up. You reach over, plucking a folder from across your desk that stretches your body out in a specific way that rides your skirt up. Before he knows it, he’s sneaking a glance at the exposed skin of your thigh, how the flesh pushes together. The promiscuous rumors he’s spread about you and his own animal attraction to you has gone to his head because in that very moment he considers how warm and tepid your thighs must be against his ears. His salivating tongue rolls between his lips. He morphs into the posture of a goddamn saint as soon as you slam the folder onto the surface in front of him, he jolts right into it from the sudden noise, as if a chastising ruler had just struck his naughty hands. “I’m prepared to make you an offer.”

“What is this?” The shiny material of the folder falls open, and he inclines forward to read the cover of the thick stack of papers within it.

“An NDR.”

“An NDR? For what?” Stephen plays dumb, but you naturally would assume he’d know nothing about what this deal entails. You give him a silent moment to scan it. Uneasily, as if he’s reading it wrong, he relays the synopsis of one of the passages. “You want… you want to have…”

“Sex.” you reply casually. “You have heard of it?” you joke. “You paint our encounters so colorfully in your little stories, I assumed you were far from a virgin. Or at least well-versed in porn.”

Stephen can feel his throat closing up, shifting in his seat as he engages with you, his mouth in a permanent gaping position, looking for an opportunity to get a word in. “No, no.” He shakes his head, gesturing to himself at his chest. “You don’t understand, I don’t know what you’re talking about- honest!”

“Mr. Glass.” you chide with a playful curl to your lips. Your hands grip the edges of the wood, leaning towards him as if you’re exchanging coy secrets. “Don’t be modest, you’d make a killing in the fictional industry. Whatever are you doing at The New Republic?”

He rallies, sharply inhaling through his nose. “Let me just get out of your hair, and we can forget this whole thing happened—” he pleads, and in an effort to remove himself from the confrontation, he rises from his seat. Your hand gives him a firm push at his chest, planting his ass right back where it belongs.

“Mr. Glass, by all means I’m not keeping you here against your will, but need I remind you: I am not to be trifled with. Forgive me for being indelicate, but why not have the real thing?”

A second of silence passes, and Stephen gulps. You stand, and return to your chair behind your desk. “Think about it.” you tell him, and he takes it as his cue to leave, hastily gathering himself to stride towards the exit.

#indy: one shots #ch: stephen #stephen glass one shot #stephen glass x reader #stephen glass x fem reader #stephen glass x you #stephen glass x y/n #stephen glass imagine #stephen glass fic #stephen glass fanfic #stephen glass fanfiction #shattered glass x reader #reader insert #stephen glass #shattered glass #shattered glass 2003 #shattered glass stephen glass #hayden christensen

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angelbaby-fics · 7 months

Note

I saw that u write for Daddy stucky x little x little Peter and it's si adorable 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Maybeeeee 🐝

Daddy stucky x little reader x little Peter where the reader is in babyspace like daipers and all the time sleepy and she just want to be in daddies arms but they need to go to the avenger tower and have a Meeting and another cg babysit the little one's but the baby reader dont understand why daddies aren’t there and just cries and petie try to comfort her and when daddies are back and daddy bucky picks her up she immediately stops crying and falls asleep and more fluff u can choose how petie would try to comfort her (he is like 6 or 7 in headspace)

Proud Of You

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: CG!Stucky x Little!Reader x Little!Peter (fem terms used for reader)

A/N: hello lovely anon! my requests are actually closed but………… i really liked this idea 😮 sooo i wrote it anyways!! i really really love big brother peter 🥺 and i tried to make this as fluffy as can be! enjoy 💕

It was the dreamiest afternoon, a heavy blanket of clouds pushing away the last sunrays of summer as autumn made itself known. As you napped in your crib, Peter and Bucky were enjoying a movie on tv, curled up on the big couch in the living room. Steve had left on an errand to the grocery store, suddenly inspired by the overcast weather to cook a cozy meal for his family. A scented candle on the shelf in the corner filled the room with warmth, and Bucky took deep breaths as he stroked Peter’s hair, filing away this perfect moment in his mind to look back on whenever he needed to remember just how safe his life was now. He tried to ignore the phone buzzing in his pocket, silently cursing whoever was trying to disturb his heaven, but when the notifications continued to flood in, he reluctantly answered the call.

Peter sat up as Bucky maneuvered to retrieve his phone, the sudden movement of his favorite pillow pulling the kiddo from the brink of an unplanned nap. Peter looked up at his Baba as he answered the phone, furrowing his brows as Bucky sighed. On the other end, Steve lightly chided his husband for not answering sooner, before letting him know that he was currently stranded at the store, the family car unresponsive in the parking lot. Bucky reassured Steve that he’d be right there, running a tired hand over his face as he hung up the phone and picked up the baby monitor that showed your nursery. The video showed you still fast asleep in your crib, pacifier half fallen out of your mouth. Mentally calculating the time it would take to reach the store and back, Bucky decided it wasn’t worth disturbing your nap for an errand that would hopefully be over before you even woke up to notice he was gone.

“What’s wrong, Baba?” Peter spoke up. There was anxiety in his voice, but not very much; he could tell it must not be an emergency if Bucky was so calm.

“Daddy’s car broke and I have to go pick him up from the store.” Bucky tried not to sound too annoyed.

“Can I come?” Peter asked eagerly, but Bucky shook his head.

“Not this time, pumpkin. I need you to be a big boy and take care of the house while I’m gone. Don’t answer the door for anyone and try not to wake up your sister, okay baby?”

Peter nodded enthusiastically, thrilled to be assigned a mission - even if that mission was just to stay put on the couch and not get into trouble.

With a kiss to the top of the spider boy’s head, Bucky was out the door, wanting more than anything to get this done as quickly as possible. Peter stared at the door for what felt like ages after it had closed behind his Baba, counting down the minutes until his return. And then he heard your cry from the baby monitor speaker.

Your precious slumber was interrupted, your peaceful dreams morphing into a heart stopping nightmare, almost as if you could sense your Baba’s absence and your Daddy’s distress. Tossing and turning, you ripped your way out of the cocoon of sleep, letting out a choked sob as you desperately tried to rejoin the waking world. You opened your eyes into the darkness, anxiously staring at your nursery door, almost mentally willing it to burst open and your daddies to come rushing in. But when the door finally did open, it was tentative, and the figure you saw illuminated by the hall light was not who you expected.

Peter rushed towards you as soon as he saw your desperate face. He reached through the bars of your crib to hold your hand as he reassured you were safe, big brother was here and he wasn’t gonna let anything hurt you. But it was no use, you just kept thrashing and crying out.

“Daddy! Baba!!” You wailed, needing more than anything just to be wrapped in their big strong arms, protected from anything and everything that could come your way.

Peter crouched down so his face was level with yours, wanting more than anything just to comfort you.

“Daddies aren’t here right now, but it’s okay, I got you!” Peter reassured you, and although you stopped fighting and let your body calm down, your tears still didn’t stop.

“Baba…” You sobbed, your chest heaving up and down with nervous breaths.

“Can I get you out of your crib?” Peter asked, his hand already on the latch.

You nodded and Peter let down the bars of the crib, helping you down onto the carpeted floor. He held your hand all the way as he led you back to the living room, his protective heart breaking as he heard you sob behind him. He brought you to the couch and helped you onto it, making sure you were comfy and stable, knowing you were particularly small at the moment. Peter wrapped you in a plush throw blanket and grabbed the nearest stuffed animal, tucking it into the blanket with you.

“I gotta go to the kitchen, okay?” He asked, and your eyes widened. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll be right back!”

You watched him all the while he zoomed around the corner into the kitchen, never leaving your line of sight as he ran to the fridge and pulled out a premade bottle. Taking the lid off, he put it in the microwave for less than a minute, just enough to bring it around room temperature, and as an added courtesy, he even made sure to open the microwave door before it could beep too loudly.

Just as quickly as he’d rushed into the kitchen, Peter was right back by your side, climbing up onto the couch to join you. He wrapped an arm around your blanketed body, leaning you into him as he brought the lukewarm bottle to your lips. With tears still in your eyes, you drank. The warm milk filling your belly brought your mind into focus, and your breathing steadied with each sip. With the hand that wasn’t already clutched around your stuffie, you reached out to Peter, gripping his pointer finger with your whole hand. The more you calmed down, the more your brother did as well, now confident in his ability to take care of you. You weren’t even halfway through with the bottle when you heard a familiar key in the front door lock.

Your milk drunk eyes flew open, laser focused on the door as it opened to reveal your two favorite people in the whole world. Peter dropped the bottle, but you’d already forgotten about your post-nap snack, your only care in the world was getting into your daddies’ arms as quickly as possible. Your arms reached out, fingers flexing out at Steve and Bucky, desperate for them to finish bringing in the groceries, locking the door, taking off their shoes. It felt like it was taking forever.

“Well look who’s awake!” Steve’s eyes lit up at the sight of you, just about as eager as you were to have you in his arms. He relieved you from Peter’s lap, and you gripped his shirt up in your fists, burying your face into his neck and breathing in his comforting scent. Peter was left to look up at Bucky, studying his face to try and figure out what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry Baba.” He apologized preemptively, just in case Bucky was mad at your nap ending prematurely.

“Sorry about what, kiddo? You didn’t wake her up on purpose, did you?”

Peter shook his head rigorously, hoping to convey to his Baba that he’d never do that.

“Then you have nothing to be sorry for, okay baby boy? In fact, it looks like you did a pretty good job holding down the fort while we were gone. I’m so proud of you.” Bucky said, picking up Peter and joining you and Steve in the kitchen where the ingredients for that night’s special dinner were all spread out on the counter.

“Yea! Luv oo!” You chimed in, and Peter grinned the widest you’d ever seen him.

#little!reader #stucky x little!reader #agere fic #daddy!stucky x little!reader #bucky x little!reader #marvel agere #daddy!bucky #little!peter x little!reader #chloe's fic

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nonbinary-eddie-munson · 1 year

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Steve hadn't meant to evesdrop on eddies new band. Really, he was an innocent party here.

Once things had calmed down in the aftermath of Vecna, Steve and Eddie had scrounged up every penny they could -steve even sold his precious beemer so they could have the extra cash- and got the hell out of dodge. Eddie couldn't stay in a town where everyone still looked at him like he was a murderer and Steve loved Eddie too much to keep him trapped in a town that hated him.

They had settled into chicago nicely, far enough away from the hellmouth that was hawkins, indiana that they werent constantly jumping at the sight of their own shadows, but still close enough they could be back in less than a day if shit started going down again.

The metal scene in chicago was just starting to take off, and Eddie quickly fell in with a local band that was in need of a new lead guitar. Steve had yet to meet any of Eddies new band members, his work and class schedules keeping him entirely too busy and exhausted for socializing. All of which led to this moment, Steve hovering awkwardly at the end of the hallway leading backstage as Eddies new bandmates tore him apart.

"Seriously how'd a guy as hard core as Ed end up with a preppy little asshole like that, i mean did you see what he was wearing?" The drummer scoffed

Self-consciously Steve worried at the hem of his black polo, he had stressed over his outfit all evening before they headed out to the venue. Eddie assured him that he looked great telling him he looked "like a sexy little gothed up jock" in his black polo, his tightest jeans and just the barest hint of eyeliner and mascara to make his eyes pop

"I know it must have been slim pickings back in butt fuck nowhere but Ed's got options now. Sure, the guy has a nice ass, but Ed could pull someone who's not gonna ruin our cred by dating a guy who looks like a narc" the bassist added on meanly.

Swallowing past the lump in his throat Steve turned to head back to the bar when Eddies voice stopped him in his tracks.

"People who disrespect my boyfriend dont get to talk about his ass" came Eddies sharp reply "Steve is more metal than all of you dumb fucks combined, and he's the inspiration behind all of the lyrics that are making us so big in the scene right now. If you cant fucking respect my boyfriend, you sure as hell dont deserve to get famous off the songs i wrote about him so im fucking out and im taking my songs with me."

"Ed you cant be fucking serious" the drummer started

"No, fuck you guys! You act all high and mighty but your just as fuckin shallow and small minded as the dumb hicks Steve and I left Indiana to get away from. Good luck finding someone to replace me and my songs before the fest next month" Eddie spat, his footsteps thundering against the concrete floor and around the corner into the hallway, coming up short as soon as he spotted Steve frozen in the hallway shocked at Eddies fierce defence of him.

"Oh sweetheart" Eddie crooned bringing a hand up to cup the side of Steves face his thumb gently swiping away the tears Steve hadnt even realized had begun to fall "I'm sorry you had to hear that baby. Lets go home" Eddie took his hand back from Steves face, wrapping it around his waist and tucking Steve firmly against his side ushering a still dazed Steve down the hall, out of the bar and into the cool night air

"Your didnt have to do that Eds" Steve said quietly, reluctantly pulling away from Eddie now that they were out in the open where anybody could see.

"Of course i did baby. You're the love of my life. You matter more to me than anything else in this world. More than my guitar and metal and dnd. And certainly more than some mouth breathers who wouldnt know what metal is if it got up on stage and took a bite out of a demon bat" Eddie replied with a grin and a wink swooping down to press a quick peck against Steves mouth as he stood in the middle of the sidewalk frozen in shock at Eddies declaration

"Im more important to you than music and dnd?" Steve asked in a quiet awed voice, his heart beating rapidly as if it was trying to physically escape his chest and burrow itself into the flesh of Eddies own ribcage.

"Sure are sweetheart, now why dont you get that sexy ass of yours moving so we can get home and I can show you just how much I mean it" Eddie replied, his voice lowering into a deep gravel that drove Steve crazy, hands reaching out to pull Steve forward a few steps urging him in the directon of the van parked furthur down the street.

Steve stumbled after Eddie, letting the other man lead him, his brain still not fully back online after Eddies bold decleration of love.

Steve didn't believe in any god, but he found himself thanking every god he could think of for bringing Eddie Munson into his life.

#im sleep deprived and idk where this came from but here you go #anyways they definitely went home and fucked real nasty #and then Eddie went on to make a new better band and they all became best friends with Steve and then they got a record deal #and eddies old band could suck it #okay thats enough internet for me its time for bedtimes #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie

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amhrosina · 1 year

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Feelings are Fatal (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

A/N: omg whatttttt amhrosina writing a fic about someone not in a marvel show/movie???? whatttt???? the people who know me in person (& one of my fav mutuals) knew this was coming. what can I say? it’s pedro fucking pascal and i've been in love with him since GOT lol enjoy this angst fest!

request: rosi i noticed that you added pedro pascal to your writing list so im requesting a fic with javi comforting dea reader after a family member/friend dies. soft javi, maybe reader is drinking and theres an established but secret relationship. feel free not to write it if you dont like it but i saw your authors note about pedro and figured i would ask

Summary: Javi comforts reader after she gets terrible news and is forced to confront the depth of his feelings for her. Steve confronts Javi about his secret relationship.

(Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grief, minor injuries, alcohol, Javi is a grump but is a soft!boy w reader, cursing, lots of cigarettes lol, feelings are hard for javi)

The second you heard the receiver click on the other end of the line, the bulky phone slipped from your hand and tumbled to the floor. The booming crack of the plastic smacking the tile, followed by the trinkle of the pieces cascading across the floor, were the only sounds you could hear in the bullpen. You tried to find something to focus on, eyes glazing over as your heartbeat pounded in your ears. You scanned the area around you, skipping over Murphy’s concerned gaze and landing on Javi’s empty chair.

Mierda. (Shit.) He was still chasing a lead in Cali, and he wasn’t supposed to be home until early tomorrow morning. It’s not like he would be able to do anything for you right now anyways, considering you were surrounded by people who would out your relationship in half a second if it meant their career might be boosted because of it, but his reassuring presence was something you sorely needed at the moment.

Your chest tightened as you processed what your dad had just murmured through the phone. You had been sitting when you answered the phone, but at some point, you must’ve stood, because you were currently white knuckling the back of your chair.

Murphy rolled his chair into your eyeline, waving his hands in the air. Everything around you sounded muffled, almost like you were under water, and you couldn’t focus on anything for longer than a few seconds. You ran through the tricks you knew off the top of your head to stave off a panic attack. You tried to take a deep breath, you counted the tiles on the floor, hell, you even tried to find five things you could see, but the rapidly rising pace of your heartbeat, and the shallow breaths you could barely manage told you your panic attack was in full swing already.

A gentle presence on your wrist sent a shock through you so prevalent that you snapped to attention and the world suddenly got very loud. Murphy was standing in front of you with wide eyes, murmuring your name, while the lucky few agents that happened to be in the bullpen when your phone rang stood a few feet back, observing you with keen interest. You weren’t stupid enough to believe they cared about your wellbeing. Nosy fuckers.

Your hands clenched into fists, shaking slightly. The indent of your nails pressing into your palm was a steady ache, one that you absolutely needed if you were going to walk out of the office without incident. And you knew that was where you needed to go. Away from here, away from the DEA’s bullshit bureaucracy, away from Pablo Escobar and his sicarios. You stumbled away from Murphy, turning on your heels when you reached the lip of the bottom stair. You would explain everything to everyone later, when you could think again. ‘If you still have a job later, pendeja (asshole/idiot),’ you thought miserably.

You barely remember jumping into your front seat, nor starting the car, nor pulling out of the police headquarters lot. You had a vague awareness that you arrived home when you unlocked your front door, but you were stuck in autopilot, and couldn’t bear to think about why you were stuck in autopilot.

You eyed the bottle of liquor Javi had left in your kitchen the last time he was here and sighed. Yes, you thought, that’s perfect.

Javi was driving like a maniac, and he didn’t give two shits about it. When Steve had called earlier, he hadn’t been able to give any details about their partner’s bizarre behavior, other than her hasty departure from DEA headquarters after a strange phone call. Steve was puzzled, but otherwise not too concerned about her. Javi, on the other hand, had carefully untangled himself from his business in Cali and hopped on the next available and inconspicuous flight home he could manage.

He could feel in his gut that something was wrong, and he couldn’t leave his girl hanging, job or no job. He wasn’t any closer to capturing Escobar anyways and had already determined that his trip to Cali was a colossal waste of time and resources before Steve had called him.

He’d been pulled away from DEA headquarters for long enough, and this was the perfect excuse for him to high tail it out of Cali and come home. He was tired, and he missed his conejita (bunny – term of endearment), and even though he’d never admit it, he missed Murphy’s early morning grumblings too.

He peeled into the nearest parking spot he could find to the apartment building and hurdled himself out of the driver’s seat. When he entered the building, he eyed the door at the top of the stairs. Dark – either Murphy was still at the office, asleep, or sitting in his apartment in complete darkness. His apartment was also dark, but a soft glow emitted from under his conejita’s door, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He considered using the key she had given him for emergencies. Did this count as an emergency? He sure thought so, but he didn’t want to startle her, so he knocked on the door with anxious trepidation. He waited, straining to listen through the door for any sign of life inside the apartment. There was nothing, and then there was the loud crash of something glass hitting the floor, and Javi was through the door before she could let out a yelp.

She was on her hands and knees, hunched on the floor by her couch. Broken glass was all over the floor around her, though Javi couldn’t tell what she’d broken. He was more concerned for her palms and kneecaps, all of which were being pushed into the broken glass shards with little resistance on her end. He rushed to her side, lifting her off of the glass and into his arms.

“Javi?” She slurred, raising her chin in a defiant gesture.

“Cariño (honey), what happened?” He noted the way she slurred her words and the fact that her cheeks were tinted pink. “Have you been drinking?”

“Have you been drinking, Agent Grumpy?” She pouted, trying to mimic the way Javi’s lips would poke out when he was upset about something.

Clearly, she’d been drinking, but Javi couldn’t figure out what might’ve spurred this behavior. Out of him, Murphy, and her, she was the most levelheaded of the trio, and the least likely to drown her sorrows in a bottle of liquor. Dread coiled in his gut. Something awful must’ve gone down while he was gone, and he couldn’t help but feel like the idiot that couldn’t keep up.

“Baby,” he murmured, carefully navigating through the millions of tiny glass shards all over her living room floor, “¿Que paso (what happened)?”

“I dropped the bottle.” She breathed, clutching onto his shirt with her bloody hands. He didn’t care. He’d use a hundred of his shirts to stop her bleeding. He carefully set her down in a kitchen chair, untangling his limbs from hers. She seemed more alert now, more awake than when he’d busted through the door moments before. The cuts on her hands and knees were probably to blame for that, but Javi couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief yet. First, he had to find a first aid kit.

Every agent was trained in basic first aid, and if they felt like being kiss-asses, they could take classes to get certified in trauma response. Javi hadn’t felt like being a kiss-ass, but he knew he way around a first aid kit. As he poked around her kitchen and bathroom cabinets, he stuck his head in the hallway every few seconds, checking on her. She was waiting patiently at the kitchen table where he’d left her, but she’d adopted a look that could only be described as “far away”, and his concern was growing by the minute.

Javi couldn’t figure it out. When they’d talked on the phone this morning, she was fine, chipper even. She was excited that he’d be home soon, and he had promised that he’d make up for the nights they’d lost while he was working in Cali. When her voice had dropped to a whisper, and she revealed that Murphy had just walked into the bullpen thirty minutes early, his breath had hitched in his throat as he almost let the words “I love you” slip from between his lips.

Javi wasn’t inexperienced with women, but he was sure that she was the only woman in the world that could get him that tongue tied. When the receiver clicked, indicating that she'd hung up, Javi had spent entirely too long staring at the phone in his hands, listening to the dial tone drone on and on as he searched his brain for wherever the hell that had come from.

But that couldn’t be what was bothering her. Steve had mentioned a phone call, but she’d hung up the phone with him before 8am, and she didn’t start acting weird until almost ten hours later. There had to be someone, something bothering her, and Javi’s chest ached with rage about it. The only person allowed to bother her was him, and he took that job very seriously.

“Bebé (Baby),” he sighed, propping the medical kit open on the kitchen table, “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

She swallowed thickly, sighing as he pulled up a chair in front of her. He gently lifted her hands to the light so he could see the cuts. They were shallow, but hands always bled a lot, so both of her palms were stained a deep crimson. She watched him as he began to remove pieces of glass from the cuts, and he waited patiently for her to explain herself. He’d wait for as long as she needed him to.

The stinging sensation hadn’t left your trembling hands, but you wanted to be tough in front of Javi, so you watched quietly as he wrapped your hands in thick gauze. He’d lit a cigarette two minutes ago, puffing smoke in the air at regular intervals as he worked. When he finally moved on to your knees, which had stopped bleeding ten minutes ago, you tried to figure out exactly what to say to him.

It wasn’t every day that your significant other’s mom suddenly and inexplicably dies during an evening nap, leaving everyone, especially your significant other, baffled and choked by her loss. His mom had quietly passed away earlier the year before, and he was only gone for two days before returning to Colombia. He hadn’t broached the topic since then, and you weren’t as comfortable with him then as you were now. You could confidently say that you had no idea how this was going to go.

You took a breath, and before you could talk yourself out of it, mumbled the same words your dad had spoken hours before, causing your world to crumble around you.

“Mi mamá está muerta. (My mom is dead.)”

Javi sucked in a breath, lifting his gaze towards yours with a pitiful expression. Tears welled in your eyes, and for the first time since you’d heard the horrible news, you allowed yourself to cry. Javi dropped the gauze on the table and wrapped his muscular arms around your neck, pulling you into his chest.

“Oh, Cariño,” he cooed, kissing your hair as you sobbed into his shirt, “Lo siento, bebé. (I’m sorry, baby.)”

His shirt was sure to be irreparably stained now that your blood and tears were soaked into it, but he didn’t seem to mind. He stroked your back, kissed your head, and held you close while you cried and cried into his chest. He’d never seen you so vulnerable before, and a rush of fear shot through you at the thought of him scaring away because of that, but every time you tried to push away from him, he’d tighten his hold on you and urge you to let it out.

When you finally got a handle on your sobs, Javi pulled back, searching your expression for any further breakage. He’d weather it, this awful storm, for as long as you needed him to. You knew that, and even still, when he began to put the pieces of you back together again, your heart melted at the thought of him.

Javier Peña was not the guy that women came crying to in the middle of the night. He was the guy you picked up for the one-night stand, the one you’d talk about for years afterwards, the one you’d think about as ‘the one that got away’ until you were too old to remember his name and where he came from. That was Javier Peña, and yet, he was in your kitchen, cleaning up your wounds, healing the part of you that was inexplicably broken. If only Murphy could see you guys now.

“Cuando es el funeral? (When is the funeral?)” He asked, blotting at the scabs on your knees.

“Next weekend.” You murmured, wincing as he taped gauze over a particularly deep cut.

“When mi mamá died,” he started, and you stopped breathing, unwilling to be the one to fuck this conversation up before it even started, “I didn’t let myself mourn the way I should have. I tried to sweep it under the rug, ‘ya know?”

You nodded, remembering the weeks after his return from Texas. He had thrown himself into his work, which made yours and Murphy’s lives a little easier for a while, though neither of you preferred it that way.

“Let yourself mourn, Cariño. It’s my biggest regret.”

“Okay.” You nodded, though you weren’t sure exactly what he meant by that. You spoke before you could stop yourself. “You can still mourn her. There’s not a time limit on grief.”

It sort of felt like the air was sucked out of the room. You’d never said something so bold to Javi, especially not about his personal life. You were five seconds away from blaming your brashness on the alcohol you’d consumed, even though you’d sobered up fairly quickly once he’d arrived, when he nodded.

“That’s true, Cariño.”

You blinked. You must really look like shit if Javi wasn’t actively building walls around himself. Sure, he’d opened up a little throughout the relationship, but he was still working on being vulnerable with you, and he had a lot of work left to do. You knew he was plagued by nightmares – you were too, and who, working this job, wouldn’t be? – but he wouldn’t talk about them with anyone. Instead, he’d pull you closer, kiss you harder, and make you forget why he’d woken in the first place. It was a coping mechanism that both of you recognized as ‘not actually coping’ but neither of you had the resources or the energy to work through that trauma. At least, not yet.

He lit another cigarette, and you watched him breathe in the smoke deeply. He lifted it toward you, and you eagerly parted your lips, taking a much needed drag. Before Colombia, before Javi, you hadn’t touched a cigarette in your life. After being assigned to team Murphy-Peña, you felt like you had a perpetual cloud of smoke hovering over you at all times.

Javi brushed his hands together and threw the remaining unused gauze back in the first aid kit. He gently pulled you from your seat, and the slight movement sent a sting through your legs. You were already regretting the alcohol and your hangover hadn’t even started yet.

“Let’s sleep at my place tonight, Cariño. We’ll clean this up tomorrow.”

You nodded, teary eyed again. You didn’t want to think about tomorrow, or next week, or any time in the future that didn’t include your mom. If Javi noticed your tears, he didn’t say anything about them, and you were grateful for his wherewithal. He always knew exactly how to handle you, and that was part of the reason you’d fallen in love with him.

Love. You blanched. Nope. Not thinking about that right now.

You shrugged the thought away as Javi lifted you bridal style in his arms. Javier Peña didn’t fall in love, and you certainly weren’t going to be the woman to challenge that.

Bonus Scene: Steve confronting Javi about his secret relationship with you.

“Are you fucking stupid? You’ve got to be, to pull this bullshit.”

Javi watched Steve pace across his living room. Again. He’d been walking a hole in the rug for half an hour, and Javi wasn’t sure Steve would be stopping his rant anytime soon.

Technically, Javi deserved this. Everything Steve was saying was true. He was jeopardizing not only his career, but hers too. The integrity of the investigation against Escobar would be questioned if word got out that two of the three agents assigned to his case were fucking each other. Not to mention how quickly procedure would be thrown out the window if either of them were in danger. There’s a reason why those rules existed.

But like most things, it wasn’t that simple. Javi hadn’t been able to offer an excuse for when Steve caught him carrying her into his apartment, taped to high hell with gauze and tipsy as all get out. He’d simply shrugged, unlocked the door, and carried her through the frame without a second glance.

Now, Steve wasn’t stupid, but he chalked up that incident to her being overwhelmed with grief. What friend wouldn’t offer their couch up to their drunk, mourning partner when she needed it? What he didn’t know was how often she slept at Javi’s already. She even had a toothbrush in his bathroom and a stack of books piled on one of the nightstands in his bedroom.

Steve’s suspicions might’ve grown a little the weekend that she went home to Oceanside for her mother’s funeral. Weekends meant little to the DEA agents working Escobar’s case – every day was another day they could possibly learn information that may or may not give them someone who might know something about Escobar, or not – but Javi was especially fidgety the two days she was off on leave.

Steve finally demanded to know what the hell was bothering Javi when he caught him staring at her empty seat for the third time in an hour. Javi brushed it off, claiming he hadn’t been sleeping well, but Steve wasn’t so easily persuaded to look the other way again.

The final straw, the one that prompted the yelling and the insults and the pacing, made Javi’s relationship with her so obvious that there wasn’t a chance in hell he could talk his way out of it. Steve, being the hero best buddy that he was, had heard an alarming thump from Javi’s apartment, and taken it upon himself to investigate. What he hadn’t been expecting to find was his two partners, tangled in each other’s limbs, going at it on the kitchen counter like rabbits.

Hence, the yelling.

“I mean, seriously Javi? You could fuck any woman in the world, and you chose the one woman that’s off limits!”

“Listen, man. I-”

Javi tried again to interrupt Steve’s rant, to explain himself and what he felt for her. Steve was missing the bigger picture. Javi wasn’t just fucking her, he loved her. He couldn’t figure out if that would make Steve more or less angry about it.

“You what, man? You what?!” Steve threw his hands in the air, beckoning an excuse that might help him understand why his partners would be such idiots.

Javi struggled to translate his feelings into words. He hadn’t even told her yet exactly how he felt and saying it now felt weirdly similar to a trial run. He searched his head for the right words to describe what she was to him.

“I’ve been sleeping.” Javi rested his hands on his hips and sighed, eyes flickering across the ceiling as he realized how incredibly stupid that sounded outside of his brain. “I know I love her, because I can sleep after I’ve talked to her.”

Steve studied Javi, searching for any signs of deception. He narrowed his eyes when he couldn’t find any.

“What do you mean you ‘love’ her?”

“I mean, I fucking love her, man. I don’t know what you want me to say.” Javi was growing restless, tugging at the neckline of his button-down shirt. Conversations like these always made him antsy, and he could feel the temperature in his cheeks rising.

“You.” Steve cocked a grin, “Javier Peña. In love? I’m not buying it man.”

“Well, I’m not going to try and convince you.” It was Javi’s turn to throw his hands in the air in distress. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“You actually care about her?” Steve’s expression morphed from disbelief to genuine shock. Javi wished he could take a picture to savor the moment.

“Are you going to say anything to anyone?”

Javi would normally never be so obvious about his fears, but he was thinking about her, back in her apartment, probably walking a hole into her rug as she waited for Steve and Javi to hash their shit out. The look on her face when Steve started yelling was enough to make Javi panic, and he was not above begging if it meant keeping her out of trouble.

“Nah, man.” Steve shook his head, plopping down on Javi’s couch. Javi sagged with relief. “Just don’t make it so obvious. I was suspicious before I walked in on you two.”

“Yeah, man.” Javi took another drag of his cigarette.

“Have you told her?”

“Told her what?” Javi couldn’t keep the bite from his tone.

“That you love her.”

Javi envied the ease that Steve managed when he talked about love. Before she’d been transferred to Colombia, Javi had never, in his life, been able to understand why anyone would choose to fall in love. He recognized the signs of it from the years of watching his parents interact, but he’d never experienced it before. When Steve talked about Connie, whether it was a complaint or not, there was always an underlying tone of love in his words. When she showed up, everything Javi had ever thought about love was scrambled, and it terrified him.

“No.” He blew out a slow trail of smoke.

Steve nodded slowly in understanding. If anyone in the world could comprehend Javi’s mindset right now, it was the guy he’d spent hours and hours with every day for years.

“Maybe you should.”

“Yeah, maybe I should.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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peterparkersnose · 1 year

Text

Three Years

pairing: Javi Pena x reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: anxiety, reader has a child, angst if you squint, re connection of the two characters, reader has a liking of photography, out of character javi but who cares (i crave this man domestically)

a/n babies! the pedro wave recently has me worried. i dont want them to make him into eddie munson/joe quinn bc i cannot loose pedro (ive been a fan since march ‘22) and i will be heartbroken if it becomes embarrassing to stan this wonderful man. tell me he doesnt look good in that gif god damn. any narcos inaccuracies I apologize I havent watched it since the summer

summary Javi reconnects with his former fling (the ambassador’s daughter) and finds out a secret

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 6 mins 15 seconds

His palms were sweating. Maybe it was the Texas heat, or maybe for once in his life Javier Peña was actually nervous.

He sat parked on the busy street of San Antonio trying to muster up the courage to knock on your door.

2213 Ace Street, San Antonio, Texas. Y/N.

The crumpled up post it note Steve had hastily written your address down on. It was his final goodbye gift to Javi, handed over to him secretly through a handshake.

Javi figured he pulled it from a classified document. You were the ambassador to Colombia’s daughter anyways, it’s not like your address would just be laying around in the Colombian embassy.

He felt a bit out of place in the expensive neighborhood. Everyone around seemed to glare at him in his tight jeans. Maybe it was all in his head, he wasn’t sure. Anxiety seemed to overshadow his unbeatable confidence that day. He stared at the house numbers trying to figure out which one was yours.

2205, 2208… 2211

2213

Your townhome was nice. Natural brick house, a bit large for just yourself.

After all these years, you have had to move on. Three years with no contact. There was no way you were still single. And the size of this house was just living proof that you had moved on.

Three years. Javi stood with his hands on his hips, glaring down the avenue at the setting sun. When the secret relationship was exposed, it had all been swept under the rug. The facade of close friends the two of you had been putting on was figured out by your father. One of Javi’s biggest regrets was letting you leave and go back to the states. He didn’t want to admit it then, but he knew.

He was in love.

Three years. Javi couldn’t believe it.

He swallowed sharply. Three years, he had to at least see you. Be in your presence one more time, even if it was just to say a proper goodbye. The crumpled up post it returned to his pocket as he made his way up your steps.

The doorbell was an antique painted white; typical for these upscale neighborhoods. He rung it, and prayed you weren’t home.

His stomach dropped when he heard your sweet voice.

“Coming!”

The door whistfully opened. Your hair was tied back and you had an apron on over your outfit. Flour was smeared over the apron along with other various baking ingredients Javi couldn’t name.

Your expression fell from ‘I think my package I ordered is here’ to a face Javi couldn’t even explain. Confusion mixed with such an unannounced wave of hurt.

Silence and stares became the moment as your soft radio in the background ended its song and switched to a commercial.

“Hi,” Is all that he could manage to say. He let out a breathe of air he had felt like he had been holding for years.

“H-hi.” you stuttered, giving him one more glance to make sure this was real.

“What are you doing he-” you began to say, but you were interrupted.

“Mommy!” said your son, trotting in from the kitchen to find the two of you standing there. Your back stiffened as you took in a sharp breath. “The cakes, there big! Too big.” the child exclaimed, waving his hands in the air to tell the story.

“Shit, Grant!” you scolded your son, scooping the boy up in your arms and whisking him back to the kitchen.

“One second, Javier!” you called from the kitchen. His stomach seemed to turn at the use of his name. His full name.

He stood dumbfounded at your door. So you had moved on.

Javi slowly entered your house. Pictures hung on your wall; he recognized one from a date he took you on. He hated hiking, but the beautiful sights were just too good to miss in Colombia. He could see the corner of the picnic blanket in the photo, remembering the nice time together. Pictures of the boy were hung, of course. Baby photos and photos looking like they were taken yesterday of Grant were in various frames around the house.

His heart stopped when he saw the one picture sitting on your fireplace. An easy one to miss, but he spotted it.

You, himself, Steve, and Connie all smiling at the bar you used to frequent. Wouldn’t your spouse be mad about those pictures being on display?

“I see you let yourself in,” you said, entering the room once again. “I can go, I’m sorry but… you still have these?” he asked. Your eyes widened as he mentioned leaving.

“Your welcome to stay, please, have a seat if you’d like.” you offered, taking off your apron and hanging it on a hook. Javi could sense your shock. “Wouldn’t your husband be upset? I mean with our history…”

“No husband.” you said with a tight lipped smile. “Just me and Grant.”

“Your son?” Javier asked, looking down the hallway leading to your kitchen. There he saw the boy peeking out behind the wall. Once they made eye contact, he gasped and retreated the kitchen.

“How did you find me?” you asked, ignoring the question. “I… had help?” he said, trying not to throw Steve under the bus. He took the post it note out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Steve’s handwriting,” you chuckled to yourself. His distinct chicken scratch was hard to not recognize.

“I saw that you finally got that bastard,” you scoffed. “I was so relieved when I saw Escobar was killed on the news. It was strange, though. Seeing you and Steve through a screen.”

“Yeah,” Javi awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Would you like to meet him?” you asked, biting the bullet. “Escobar?” Javi asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. “No,” you chuckled, turning around to see your snooping son again.

“C’mere,” you said sweetly, giving into the child’s interest in this stranger.

Grant came running and hit your form so hard you almost fell forwards on your knees. “Careful baby,” you chuckled, caressing his dark brown hair as he hid behind your legs.

“This is Javier,” you introduced your son to the mysterious man.

“From stories?” Grant asked, peeking out behind your legs. “Yes, baby. Like from the stories.”

Javier’s heart seemed to drop. This kid has heard stories about him before? No father around, no husband? Tell me why this kid was starting to look more and more like his mother.

He didn’t want to admit the very possible truth to himself.

“He got the bad guy?” Grant asked, now holding on to your hand. He was still very obviously weary about Javier. “Mhm,” you said, crouching down next to Grant. “Remember the TV a few weeks ago? When they caught the bad guy?” you asked your son. He looked at Javi intensively.

Your eyes met Javi’s and you felt the guilt consume you. You had to do it; even if the pit in your stomach was about to erupt out in vomit. You had to.

“He’s yours.”

“No,” Javi immediately responded. He didn’t mean to give such a negative response, he was just stuck in a haze in this new reality.

He was a father.

“Your kidding?” he asked, a hand coming to his forehead and sliding down his face. “Your the only guy I slept with in Colombia.”

“What’s his name? Full name,” he asked. “Grant Javier Peña.”

Grant looked up to his mother when she said his name. “He turned two in April,”

A silent tear rolled down Javier’s face as a hand moved to his mouth. It was early January. He had about a two and a half year old son. The little boy that had now moved to playing with action figures on the floor in front of him was his; his own flesh and blood. Half of him, half of you.

“And your father?” he anxiously asked, rubbing his hands together. “He wasn’t pleased. Doesn’t visit much anymore anyways,” you scoffed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said, trying to keep his tone steady. “I wasn’t allowed. I promise, I begged my father through my whole pregnancy. I tried letters, ways to get to Steve or Connie. Nothing. I had given up hope after his first birthday.”

“And you did this all alone?” he asked you, standing up to embrace you. His hands took yours as you shook your head yes. You bit your lip, trying your best not to cry. You wrapped your arms around his chest and felt his heartbeat. It was beating fast.

“I’m so sorry, mi amor.” he whispered in your ear. “What can I do?”

“Whatever you need to,” you said, breaking the hug. “I know it isn’t easy. It’s a hard decision. I’ve been doing it alone now for almost three years. If you don’t want to be involved, Javi, I completely understand.”

“No, no.” he said. “I… if you’ll have me, I’ll stay.”

“Javi-”

“No questions. My decision, I’m here for you two. Emotionally, financially, whatever you need from me.” “That’s asking too much, just maybe give it some time to think about-”

“I’ve been thinking about you every day for three years, Y/N. I am absolutely sure about my decision.”

“Mama,” Grant asked, turning around to look at the two of you standing above him. “Play?”

Grant approached Javi cautiously, holding a G.I. Joe figurine in his hand. He offered the toy to his father. “Play?” he asked once again. Javier looked to you; you shook your head in approval.

The sight of your son and his father playing together was enough to make you happy for a lifetime.

Javier was cautious. His experience with children was basically non existent. “Who is he?” he asked in his softest voice he could think of. “Joe! This Jack, Jasmine, Kevin, Gumball and…”

Javi listened as his son named off all of his action figures along with some stuffed animals strewn across the room.

You slowly crept to your bedroom where you kept your camera hidden away. Adjusting the settings, you hid behind the couch to get a perfect angle of this moment you never wanted to forget.

Snap!

Both of the boys turned around to see you standing behind the couch. “No picture!” Grant complained, stomping his tiny fist on the ground. A smile spread to Javi’s lips as he saw his son squirm.

“I’m sorry baby. Keep playing.” you said, placing the camera on a desk in the living room.

“Mommy take pictures a lot.” Grant sighed, picking up another action figure and kept on playing.

This was definitely going on your wall.

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