#I had a full on meltdown last night from excitement

[buttdumplin]

a ride home

cw: Gaz x reader, reader is not entirely neutral because it was written with someone specific in mind, fluff word count: 1309

AN: This was written for the lovely, wonderful, incomparable @mikichko. She was the first person in the fandom I actually engaged and connected with, and I could not be more grateful to have had that experience. Thank you for noticing all my rambling in your tags and talking to me. My life would literally not be the same without you, your love, or your support. <3 We also love Almond in this house <3

The last thing you expect to see as you leave work, exhausted from an over-long day caused by last minute meltdowns that no one in your team thought to prepare for, is Kyle standing right outside your building. Even through the blurry privacy frosting, you recognize him, his stance as deeply familiar to you as your own heartbeat. How could you not. You can feel the warmth of his skin just thinking about it. And there he is, waiting for you to come out. His head pops up as each person opens the door, hoping it’s you. 

“I never said when I was coming home.”

His face softens with joy, excited to finally see you. Kyle leans against his motorcycle, thighs hugged snug by his riding pants, sleeves rolled up to leave his forearms on proud display. Maybe you should do a quick photoshoot with him one of these days, print some for the house and some for yourself. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” he pulls you in by the waist of your pants, bending to kiss you softly. “I know, you said long night.”

It’s three hours past your usual clock out time. Precious boy, you could smush his face and cover it in kisses, but the day has left you drained. He grins and leans down for another peck, reading straight through you. You eye him carefully, looking for the faintest sign of tired, but all you find is happy pleasure on him.

“Train or bike?” Kyle asks, easing your heavy backpack from your shoulder.

“You can’t leave your bike here.”

“Not what I asked.” His tone is firm. He has full plans for both.

Closing your eyes, you breathe him in, crushing your nose to his chest. That’s what you need, your own little cocoon made of him. No other sounds or people to encroach in your space, no strangers or riding alone, just Kyle and the reassuring confidence wrapped around him. 

“Bike, please.”

Taking your sweater off gently, he sneaks another kiss to your cheek. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to let the day wash away. It’s so easy with Kyle. It always has been. You never have the need or urge to mask and hide yourself from him for convenience. He’s always there to meet you as you are. Waiting for you to come out the door, apparently. You feel one strong hand steady you as he double checks the buttons and straps on your riding jacket once he has it in place. 

“Got us new helmets,” he bonks your head lightly with yours. 

The helmet seems pretty normal as you inspect it, a simple black with no additional decor. The brief and shallow disappointment on your face tells him his gut feeling was right, that he should take you into the shop next time so you can personalize and decorate it. You slip it over your head as he slips his own jacket on, his checks much faster.

With your helmet slipped on, you stand in front of Kyle, chin tilted up and towards him, visor popped open so he can see how sweetly you smile at him. He really should do a photoshoot with you. He can see it so clearly, a picture of you only wearing that smile and helmet to grace his wallet with. 

“Who let you be so fucking lovely, hm?” he coos down at you, buckling the strap under your chin and pulling it snug, quickly doing the same with his. 

You pull him towards you again, you gently tap your helmets together in a quick kiss. His shoulders shake as he chuckles.

Watching him closely as he swings a thick leg over the bike, you eye his bulging thighs holding it in place for you to climb on behind him.

“Good god, he’s delicious,” you mutter under your breath. “Does the simplest thing and he makes it look beautiful.”

You climb on behind him, a practiced jump slotting you in place behind him, your thighs wrapped tight around him. Somehow, you always forget how intimate the pose is until you’re on the bike again. The position leaves him vulnerable to your touch, body left open to your wandering hands as he maneuvers. But it also leaves you completely exposed to him. Kyle reaches back with both hands, fingers digging possessively into the fat of your thighs, reveling in the heat of your stomach pressed against his back. 

“What a gorgeous little backpack you are,” you hear him say.

His voice is crisp and clear. Not muffled from the helmets, not distant from him facing away from you. 

“Mics,” you say, your face burning.

“Mics,” he says, his grin evident in his voice.

You wrap your arms around him and squeeze tight, avoiding your embarrassment.

“Told you they were new.”

“Don’t we gotta be getting home?”

“As you wish,” the bike rumbles to life under you. “We’ll take the scenic route, yeah?”

You nestle against him as he takes off, content to hold him and escape the day. There’s no need to think about your lackluster teammates or the failure of a structure the company is based on. Don’t need to worry about any emergencies that only you seem to be able to handle. Best not to let them continue to overwork you when you have the option of spending your time with Kyle instead.

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just wanna hear your voice while we ride.”

“I’d kiss you right now if I could.”

“Too bad there’s not much stoplights this way.”

The last streaks of sunlight fly right past you, night falling cool to cleanse you. Kyle’s humming comes in clear through the mic and after a couple of seconds you recognize it as the opening song from the very first playlist he made you. You squeeze him hard, gratitude fueling your strength. His hand grips yours, pressing them further into his belly. He continues to hum for the rest of the ride, soaking in all the little sighs you don’t quite realize you’re making. 

The long way around usually takes about 20 minutes, which can be cute or can be long, but now it feels like not enough. The greenery is still beautiful, the pastel of the clouds still stunning, the cicadas still blaring, but it feels like you get home far too soon. Not enough time spent with Kyle in your arms. Pulling into your usual parking spot normally feels so relieving, but tonight it hits a bit sour.

“Dinner is set, just gotta heat it up. I’ll do that while you go change,” he undoes his straps and buckles quickly, racing to beat you to the heavy backpack. 

Your mouth opens for another question, but he beats you to it, “Almond is fed and no upset tummy to report. New food is sitting well with her.”

Fully aware of how concerned you’ve been, amazing cat dad he is, he’s keeping careful track of any changes. Even bought a little journal to keep all Almond notes in, knowing seeing it all would help alleviate the hurt you’ve been wearing. Worry shouldn’t cloud your time with her. His best girls deserve to have fun and love on each other. Which reminds him, he’ll have to show you that new polaroid film he got you when you get inside, the one with the hearts on the frame.

“Why do you treat me so well?” you grab his wrist and pull him against you, already missing him.

Kyle barks a big laugh, “You mean like I love you? Hm, wonder why.”

“Thank you,” sincerity creeps into your voice, “This means a lot.”

“I’m just a call or text away,” he pulls you in for a tender kiss, lingering to bask in your sweetness. “I’m still working on telepathic messages, but I’ll get there.”

[lollytea]

Please, your finale Huntlow thoughts, my liege. We poor peasants beg of you, our bowls are empty and your tables full; if we might have but a crumb of your succulent meal to fill our bellies in these cold December nights.

ASGCDHBDJNK JESUS FUCKING CHRIST OKAY

I got a few asks about this but I guess I'll answer this one cuz it's phrased the funniest. I just wasn't too pressed about giving my Thoughts about finale Huntlow because I am fully a part of the Huntlow hivemind. Like I feel the way everyone else feels. I'm ecstatic, I'm delighted, I'm overwhelmed, I'm emotional, I'm so happy for them, I got everything I could have wanted. I won. We won.

(I HAVE TOO MANY PICS. I'LL RB WITH PART 2)

First of all this scene is so special to me, you have no idea.

It isn't inherently romantic but it's still so sweet and shows how much these two care for each other. Here's Willow, who's spent the last special Atlasing and repressing and refusing to rely on anyone else. But then she had her breakdown in front of Hunter and he realized just how stressed and scared she's been this whole time. She's visibly anxious and upset here, likely worrying up a storm because she hasn't found her Dads yet. And Hunter is right here beside her. He's seen her meltdown, he's felt her pain, he's heard her cry. He knows that Willow is in a fragile state at the moment. He knows she's been holding in a lot. He knows she's scared. I love that he's not only standing by her side and helping her search, but holding her too. It could be that she vocally expressed how worried she was to him, or maybe he just saw it on her face, but he probably placed that hand on her back to comfort her, let her knows he's right here, grounding her. And Willow, who's still learning how to depend on others, is letting him.

The way Hunter lights up when he sees Harvey and Gilbert, thrilled by how happy he knows she's going to be and his soft smile when he points them out to her. And then THIS!

Like Hunter is devastated. He feels alone and out of place here. He really thinks he has nobody. But Willow being happy can still bring a smile to his face. He just loves her so much!!!

And I know I already talked about the grom photo but UGHH!!!

I got a pic in better definition. I'm pretty sure this is Hunter's first grom. So likely a few months after the events of WAD. And it's so cute to think about Hunter and Willow very awkwardly but eagerly navigating a romantic relationship. I love how grabby and flirty Willow looks here, messing with his bowtie. She clearly LOVES the floral suit, thinking he's like the hottest man alive. She needs to smooch him and NOW. Or she's just like "Oh my, what a nice collarbone you have!!" Idk the ambiguity of what exactly Willow is doing here but the vibe and general intentions being very obvious is my favourite part of this pic. You can speculate for years on this. Oh and Hunter's face, I love it so much. His dumb little blush is like an old friend. He's fucking THRILLED that he's getting so much attention from her. He's very excited about where this is going. But he's also like. So nervous he's gonna pass out. But overall he's having the time of his life. Bi rights!

Also epilogue Huntlow....guys....guys epilogue Huntlow....are you guys still listening to me at this point?

God I love this scene. Its so natural and smooth, giving the characters a chance to breathe and exist and providing a glimpse of how they go about their daily lives. It's soft and lighthearted but it establishes so much about where Willow and Hunter are currently at in their relationship. They've been dating for like....3 years at the very least. And they're clearly very happy together!!

The way Willow casually slides on to the scene, giving the impression that she's often dropped in on him while he's working. And why wouldn't she? That's her sweetheart. What if she requires emergency smooches? What then? And of course, there's Hunter beaming at the sight of her. Seems he never gets tired of his girlfriend stopping by to visit. Or maybe he's sick to death of Willow the menace showing up to distract him while he's trying to work and he's just excited about the prospect of Luz's party. Either way, it's an adorable expression.

Something else I love about epilogue Huntlow is how equally distributed the affection is between both of them. Back when FTF dropped I gushed about how sweet it was to see Hunter taking initiative with Willow and the significance of something as simple pressing his backhand against hers during the pinky hold. And God, this sequence here says it all. From what I can tell, as Hunter runs towards her, they both reached out at the same time and linked hands immediately, implying that holding hands has become the automatic gesture for them whenever they meet up. They're in love, you're honor.

I love the huge carefree grins as they skate down the hill (still holding hands). They might have grown a lot since we last saw them but they're still young adults, they still love to have fun doing dumb reckless stuff. And even better, they love to have fun doing dumb reckless stuff together. All the handholding and fluffy cuteness is wonderful but I also love knowing that they seem to genuinely enjoy just hanging out and spending their youth with each other. Zeno was right, they ARE besties. Who knows how much shit Hunter and Willow get up to together? Being a pair of thrill seeking athletes, it's probably a lot.

This part is just so silly and ridiculous. After they go stumbling, Willow's first instinct is to grab Hunter and hold on for dear life. Her intense scrunched up expression is just so funny. "I will protect you, my love. No big dumb hill is going to harm a hair on your pretty head. Your girl is here." And Hunter barely acknowledging it (it probably happens a lot) because his life is currently flashing before his eyes. GOD they're just such nerds.

Oh and this frame is just SO adorable. The way Willow's hold on him lingers for a moment before he walks towards the grave, Hunter's heart eyes. They're clearly still so soft and touchy with each other. And this is after three years. I know they were insufferable when they started dating as teens.

[elvendria]

Clean

(re-releading this because it got hidden the first time)

AU Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Part Four

Summary:

You return to Hawkins after a few years in the middle of the night during the summer with your 4-year-old sister in tow, thinking the two of you could fly under the radar and settle in at Forest Hills Trailer Park. You thought you could get by without bumping into your old enemy, Eddie Munson, the town freak.

But you weren't always enemies, in fact, there was a time when you two were closer than anything.

Eddie dreams of making it big, you just dream of making it out of here alive.

Look, take willows age with a pinch of salt, I have numerical dyslexia but it'll make sense I swear

\\enemies - lovers//

There's some trigger warnings for stuff to do with willows birth, that's all I can say without giving away everything

((Warning I'm not from the US, so bare with me when it comes to states and such))

18+ MINORS DNI or I will be busting kneecaps, E.D, physical abuse, child abuse, runaways, the reader Joyce's ex-step-niece, Will and Johnathan's cousin, Joyce is Queen, Wayne is King, slow burn, gambling addictions, the reader is 20 and Eddie is 21, Chrissy is the villain but we stan Grace. Reader has a small scar on her lower torso. underage drinking, allusions to smut, no details of smut for obvious reasons, eventual smut in upcoming chapters, brief mention of Y/N

WC : ~5511~

part one part two part three part four

It was coming up to the middle of August, which meant one important thing was due to happen. The pinnacle of the year, the most sensational holiday of all time, the biggest event to ever rock the town of Hawkins.

"It's my birthday it's my birthday it's my birthday!" The little rocket herself was zooming around the kitchenette, hair a whiz as you walked out, rubbing sleep from your eyes. You reached your hands out, holding her shoulders to keep her in place. 

You were seriously gonna need to encourage her to join track or cross country or something.

"Tomorrow it is, but today we need to get you some birthday clothes, so how about we go to that shop in town? The one where all the fairy tale people give their clothes?" It was a thrift store; you were almost certain Willow knew that, but you weren't about to crush the delusions of a soon to be 5 year old. Especially one that's starting kindergarten in a matter of weeks.

Oh god, she's starting kindergarten. In weeks.

You pushed the thought to the back of your mind, the last thing you needed was to be an emotional wreck in front of her. Joyce had helped you with documentation for enrolling her, but it had never really set in. And it wouldn't. Not today.

Her little eyes lit up as you said that, and her bouncing started up again, causing you to grin and roll your eyes. You loved this kid, and her ability to be excited about anything.

"Come on then munchkin, let's hit up the fairy tale store.''

When you reached the store, you hopped from the car and almost bounced up the sidewalk, a bundle of joy and giggles and sunshine. Willow was adamant about getting something pretty and sparkly for starting school, and once again your heart tugged in your ribs.

4 years ago, you were holding her in your arms, cradling her as she cooed up at you, flexing her fingers and scrunching her nose a little. She was perfect to you, you knew that the second you held her in the hospital, moments after her birth. 

And now, she was running off to get sparkly pink shoes to go with a tutu she wanted to wear on her first day. Something to match the fairy wings you already told her she couldn't wear. One of the many meltdowns you've managed to navigate in the past few weeks in the run-up.

Entering the store, you were hit with a new but familiar scent of clothes and dust, the room light and airy and full of clothing racks. Row by row of different colours hanging side by side. You wondered about them, oftentimes finding your imagination ran away from you.                         

You would hold up blouses, covered in dainty flowers, and imagine a woman wearing this to a job interview. You pictured her leading a room full of men, becoming so powerful that she no longer needed the shirt because she had a full wardrobe now. 

A pair of shoes, leather old and cracked. You pictured someone spending every day of their lives keeping them in pristine condition until they were too old to keep them clean.

Or a white linen dress, that reached your knees. The kind that flowed out and moved delicately. You could see yourself, walking the aisle of a small chapel to see a tall dark-haired man at the end of it, ring-clad and- 

No, no you couldn't go there, you couldn't imagine what your life might've been if Eddie hadn't fucked everything up.

You decided you'd get the dress anyway because it hugged your curves just right. Willow was having a small party, organised courteously by Wayne. He had become like an uncle to her, the way he had for you. You'd wear the dress there, just something simple and plain.

Browsing the racks, you found Willow holding a raglan t-shirt, with black sleeves and a white front. It had a design that wasn't her usual style, but she seemed... drawn to it like she'd seen it before.

"You like that shirt honey?'' The design was okay, and realistically she could wear it to school without scaring the other kids, it's not unlike something from a storybook.

"Well, if you like it, let's get it then!" You scooped her up in your arms, balancing her on your hip as you walked through the store, pointing out other items as you played your little game with her, before heading to the counter to pay. 

It wasn't expensive, one of the many joys of a thrift store, but when you saw the guy behind the till ring up the white dress you felt your chest lurch, like you wanted to pull it back. A voice in your head that forever lingered there whispered to you.

You're not good enough

It'll never look right on you 

You're too big to wear something like that

Your skin felt hot, you hadn't had those thoughts since a few months after Willow was born, and they hadn't led to the greatest of outcomes. But you were better now, you had to be, especially for her.

Paying, you pushed it all down, heading back to the car so you could get home and out of the blistering heat that seared through your shoes. The rubber soles felt like they were beginning to melt off, and you wanted to get back to the trailer so you could take a cool shower and a nap.

Okay, maybe the cold shower wasn't directly related to the heat.

It seemed that no matter where you went in Hawkins,  the air conditioning was always broken. Whether it was your car, your job, or your home, the heat followed you like a curse. Although having lived in Nevada for a few years, it was safe to say you were accustomed to it. 

What you weren't accustomed to was the lack of air. At least in the desert, there was a bit of a breeze, albeit it was usually coated in sand and grit. But here in Indiana, it was like the heat hung heavy in the air. It lingered in every breath, every movement. You could feel it like droplets clinging to your skin as you walked.

The whole aspect of hanging up laundry in the scorching sun was maybe not the best idea. The lifting and bending and stretching to hang up bedsheets and clothes were making you sweat like crazy, your shirt and jeans stuck to your skin. But you didn't care, all you wanted was for everything to be perfect for Willow's birthday.

You had just finished hanging up your bedsheets, stepping back to get something else from the basket on your hip when you looked down, two black combat boots sticking out from underneath them.

"Been wanting to see you tangled in your sheets for a while, didn't think I'd have to wait till laundry day though."

You hated that you could tell his voice anywhere, that you could tell it was him from his breathing, from the way he made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You hated that you never wanted that feeling to end.

"What do you want?" You were talking gruffly, arguing with a fitted sheet before just throwing it over the line, catching a glimpse of him as it flew up.

"I want to talk." He pushed past the sheets until he was standing in front of you, his dark brown eyes like small storms. 

You moved away from him, balancing the basket on your hip as you began putting up Willow's clothes, stained from an argument with a juice box that nobody won. "I don't know what you mean, there's nothing to talk about." Okay so you were being stubborn, but you couldn't help it.

"Oh really? So you dropping to your knees in my job to suck me off meant noth-" Your hand flew up, covering his mouth to prevent him from saying another word. If his eyes didn't give away his enjoyment at your reaction, the smile pressing into your palm sure did.

"That never happened, you hear me? It was a mistake." When you were sure he wouldn't talk again, you removed your hand from his mouth, only for him to grab your wrist and hold it near his face, breathing hot on your skin.

"So what was it then, a mistake or something that never happened? Because I've got the imagery ingrained into my mind pretty damn hard." His eyes bore into yours, and you despised how weak your knees got. He shouldn't have this effect on you, you promised yourself he wouldn't.

You tore your hand back, ignoring him as you continued to hang clothes up, your shirt riding up on the front. You hadn't noticed until he spoke, until he pointed out something.

"Where did you get that scar?"

Your breath stopped, your hands stilled, and your mind began to race for an answer. No one had ever spotted it before, you always kept it covered.

"It wasn't there before you left. Did... Did your dad do it to you?" 

If only he knew how wrong he was. 

Flashback to 4 years ago

"There's been a complication." 

On this day of all days, that was not what you wanted to hear.

"Is everything okay?" You grabbed for your mom's hand, fingers clasped and clammy.

"She's going to be fine, but we need to operate, her blood pressure is spiking and she's losing oxygen. If we leave it any longer we put her at risk of a heart or brain condition." The doctor spoke quickly, stepping back and in turn scaring you further.

All these words that you didn't want to hear.

After that, it was a blur, the sound of squeaky wheels and the bright lights causing you to remember very little else about that day.

Back to the current day. 

"Hello? You're just staring at me now and you look a bit nuts."

You were frozen solid until he said that, quickly rushing to pull your shirt down, covering your scar. You didn't show it, not for insecurity reasons, but purely because having to explain it was so much worse.

"I'm fine, I have to go." You hadn't finished with the clothes, but you needed to go, you needed out of here. "I need some air."

"We're outside." Eddie held your bicep, not gripping it tightly, but the touch alone was enough to stop you. "Please… talk to me." 

What could you do? What could you say? The man you've loved your whole life was standing before you, looking at you like you were a bird, ready to fly at a moment's notice. You felt like you could, like at the smallest breeze, the slightest movement, you would be gone, flying to brighter skies and away from this pain.

"What do you want from me? What more is there to say? Have you found a part of my dignity you haven't crushed yet?" Your words were venomous, uncontrolled and spiteful. Your mother would be proud.

He stood there like a deer in the headlights, looking at you with his lips slightly parted. You wished you never looked at them, wished you never fell into his sticky maple eyes and got stuck.

"Ever since I met you, I knew we were going to be good for each other. Wayne saw it too, even my Dad said it when he was in between highs. I never saw it… not until freshman year." He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly seeming nervous to speak.  

The air around you both grew tense and muggy to the point that you weren't sure if it was the conversation or the heat. 

"That's when I knew it. That's when I realised that…"

He lingered, his eyes downcast and refusing to meet your own.

"Realised what Eddie?" You were quieter than you were meant to be, softer and more gentle than you were mere moments before. You knew this wasn't going where you've always wanted it to because there's no way it could.

It was as if all the air had been pulled from the world. Your throat was dry, almost like you had crossed a thousand deserts with no water. "Eddie…"

"Yes?" His eyes were hopeful, maybe because you'd answered him, maybe simply because you said his name. Whatever it was, it made it so much harder to say what you were about to say.

To look at him was to see the embodiment of a breaking heart. A heart Eddie didn't even realise still beat. He had been mad at her for so long, that he figured his heart had become as calloused as his hands. 

For some reason, this made you mad. How could he look so… so… perfectly broken, when it was you who had endured the pain and suffering that he had dealt you?

"When you stopped the letters, when you sent them back unopened, I went through every fucking stage of grief there was. I accepted that you didn't care, and I got better Eddie. I got clean. You were the most addicting, fucked up thing in my life and I got better, I got clean from you." You were panting as you spoke, chest heaving as every word carried more and more weight, yet somehow relieving all of it from your shoulders.

"Christ I've loved you for as long as I can remember and you never cared because you're an entitled selfish asshole who only thinks about himself! Moving away was the best thing to happen to me because it opened my eyes and showed me that you were never going to love me back." You were sobbing now, cheeks red from your tears.

He didn't speak, he didn't say a word. He just started at you. You needed him to talk, to show you that he listened to you, that he understood how angry you were, but all he did was stare at you with a neutral look on his face. You wanted him to be mad, you wanted him to yell at you till you felt it in your lungs.

"Jesus Eddie, fucking shout at me, scream, saying something don't just stand there and look at me!" You shoved his chest, but he was like a solid wall, unmoving.

You thumped on his chest with your fists, looking, no, begging for some sort of reaction. You didn't even realise Eddie stepping towards you, hands clasped around your wrists to stop you from hitting him any harder. You didn't notice him almost pressed against you, not until he had cupped your face, thumb hesitantly tracing your bottom lip before speaking in a hushed whisper.

"You know… you're as beautiful as the day I thought I lost you forever." 

You barely had time to seek out his eyes with your own before he kissed you, soft and needy, unlike the first kiss between you when you came back. Unlike the kiss in the garage. No, this kiss was something else, it meant something else.

It was as if a windstorm had opened around you. A rush of adrenaline surged through your veins. Your hands instinctively weaved into his hair, pulling him closer as his palms rested on your skin, delicately placed between your shoulder blades and the small of your back.

It was the type of kiss you'd read about in stories or watch in movies. Where the protagonists' problems all vanish in an instant from the touch of two pairs of lips. You were oblivious to your surroundings.

Maybe you shouldn't have been.

Eddie pulled away for air, looking at you with a heaviness in his eyes. "You walked in one day wearing this yellow sundress, and all the guys were staring at you. I felt this intense rage like I wanted to make sure no one looked at you like that except me."

You were confused, and it must have shown on your face. His lips were slightly swollen, and you were guessing yours were the same.

“You asked me and I never answered you." Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, he looked at you with a fondness you've never seen from anyone before. "I realised that I just don’t think I can see myself with anyone other than you for the rest of my life.” 

You couldn’t explain the feeling that spread through you. You knew this shouldn’t happen, there were so many reasons you two couldn’t happen. You had worked so hard on yourself, convinced yourself that all your problems lay in the hands of a 16-year-old boy from a backwoods town in Indiana.

But now… now you weren’t so sure. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

“Eddie, I…” You were cut off by a voice calling out, a high-pitched noise calling out for him. You’d recognise that sickly sweet screech anywhere.

“Eddie baby? Where are you?!” Chrissy called out from the front of the trailer, unable to see the sight of you together from where she stood. 

“Eddie you have a girlfriend.” You placed your hands on his chest, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. There were so many things you had to tell him, so many things that needed to be said.

“Only if you’re saying yes.” His voice was quiet, making your heart thump as he leaned back down. You thought he might kiss you again, but instead, he leaned in, whispering in your ear. The feel of his breath on your skin made you shiver despite the heat outside. 

“And I’m hoping you will.” He pressed a final kiss to your cheek, leaving you unable to comprehend what just happened as he disappeared behind the clothesline once again.

You were so completely fucked.

Chrissy wasn’t stupid.

Well no, let me correct that, she wasn’t entirely stupid, despite her dumb cheerleader personality. 

She knew when she was losing, and ask anyone who’s ever been up against her and you’ll find out that Chrissy was a sore loser. 

Despite his efforts to hide it, Chrissy knew from the day the girls’ car broke down that Eddie was distracted. She’d always known he wasn’t interested in her for anything more than her flexibility and eagerness to have sex with him, but this was something different. 

She knew from the day in the garage that they were fucking, it didn’t take a brain surgeon to know what a blowjob sounded like. She had been standing behind the wall for a minute or two before making her presence known, wanting to give the girl a chance to at least make herself look presentable.

Ever since that day Eddie hadn’t touched her, hadn’t even wanted her to touch him. She was losing him to some white trash lowlife and there was nothing she could do. 

Except for one thing.

Chrissy had a flair for ruining lives and getting her way. In a way, she was quite proud of what she could accomplish when she set her mind to it. And she was one hell of an actress too, given that she was able to convince Jason Carver that ‘no, he didn’t have a micropenis and yes, he was the best thing to happen to the Hawkins High Tigers.’

And so when she saw Eddie pull up outside and not immediately rush in to meet her, she ran to the window to see him going over to another trailer, her trailer, she felt her blood singe her veins. No one took her toys from her, no one stole what was rightfully hers. At least not until she was finished with it.

She walked out the door, intent on confronting them when she saw the kiss, the kind that she’d never gotten from Eddie or anyone for that matter.

And then she saw the kid's clothes, and her plan fell right into her lap.

Scurrying back into the trailer, she pretended to cry as she picked up the phone, finding the number in the phone book.

“Hello, hi, I hope I have the right number...”

The day of Willow's birthday was here, but you couldn’t sleep that night, your mind too active with thoughts of the previous afternoon. You didn’t know how someone could sleep when they had all this… emotion building up inside of them. You spent the night staring at your ceiling, and as a result, you were exhausted before the party even began.

Willow had donned her new t-shirt and a pair of black jeans you’d packed when you left. She looked adorable, even sporting a plastic princess crown you bought from the dollar store, waving the matching sceptre around like she was giving commands. Which she was.

“Look, Willa, I will get you a slice of birthday cake when the guests arrive, how does that sound?” You kneeled before her, hands on your thighs as she sat up in the soft brown lazy-boy armchair. She had been calling out for one all day and it was slowly turning your brain to mush.

She let out a little hum as if she was thinking it over, before answering with an enthusiastic “Okay!”, before going back to watching cartoons.

It wasn’t long afterwards that people started arriving. And by people I mean Eddie, Wayne and some of Eddie’s friends. Apparently, they were good with kids.

You remember some of them, particularly Steve Harrington, because who could forget the kid who came in freshman year of High School and immediately made the varsity basketball team? But the others you weren’t sure of. Yeah, you remembered faces, but names escaped you.

“Hiya, I’m Robin.” The girl came up to you, hand outstretched for you to shake. She had one of those friendly faces, an almost sunny disposition that radiated onto you. She was the only one you didn’t recognise, and you didn’t mind all that much.

Next was Steve and Nancy, your eyes going wide as they walked in and smiled at you, saying hi. You were almost certain they didn’t know who you were when you left, so seeing them in your dingy little trailer was quite a shock.

“I’ll be honest, never in my life did I expect to see the Steve Harrington standing in my doorway to come to a kids' birthday party.” You huffed a laugh, stepping aside to let them in. It was like a fever dream, watching the most popular guy in your sophomore year moving to sit on your couch, helping to blow up some balloons without ever being asked to. You remembered when he and Tommy H would give the nerds wedgies, Steve keeping lookout while Tommy stole someone's lunch money.

You also vividly remember Eddie breaking Tommys' nose when he tried to grope you at a school dance, but now probably wasn’t the time or place to bring it up.

A couple of kids showed up, early teens at best, all sitting on the floor. You knew some of them from being Will's friends and even babysat a few of them once or twice. Each of them came up to hug you, Will being last. His arms gripped you tight as if he was worried you’d disappear if he ever let go.

“It’s alright bud, I’m here, I’m not gonna leave again.” You squeezed him back, oblivious to the stare Eddie was giving you.

It was like your words were speaking to him directly. Like you were reassuring him that you were going to stick around. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, his palms sweaty against his jean-clad thighs. He didn’t realise how worried he was about this whole situation until it was presented to his face. He’d lost you once, almost overnight. He’d been in this situation before, where you were just out of reach, slipping through his fingers.

He was determined that wouldn’t happen again.

You released Will, turning around and meeting Eddie’s eye. Normally he’d look away, maybe even make an awkward cough, but this time… this time he held your gaze, lips turned up ever so slightly in the corners. It made your insides flutter just seeing it.

“Okay, who wants cake?”

The party was going off without a hitch. Willow loved the tea party set you got her as well as the crayons and colouring book from Will. She’d even made sure to give everyone a cup before plonking herself down on the ground, waving her little wand ceremoniously to announce that they could start their tea.

But her favourite gift was one that made you tear up a little, only a small bit, but teary nonetheless.

“Hey Willa, I made you something, it's called a mixtape,” Eddie spoke gently, holding his hand out to help her up before lifting her onto his knee. It warmed your very soul to see them like this, even if the truth of it all lingered in the background. 

“What's that?”

“Well, it’s a bunch of songs that your sister and I used to listen to when we weren’t much older than you.” As he said that, he stared across at you, that same gentle smile returning. You remembered those days like they were yesterday, lying out on the dried patch of grass that passed as his lawn, listening to whatever tape you two could find. It was always a hit or miss, sometimes it would be some weird music you weren’t sure of, but other times… other times it was music that would seep into your bones, would melt over your skin like a fine film, coating you in a layer of bliss and peace despite the thumping bass and squealing guitars.

 You sat and watched her turn the gift over in her hands, watching as Eddie took her over to the stereo to show her how to use it. Soft notes filled the air first of all as Close to You by The Carpenters started playing. It wasn’t your usual style, but it was memorable for you. 

It was the song that played when you first realised how much you cared about Eddie. When you turned your head on that dry yellow grass, to see him staring right back at you.

You let time slip away, listening to the music as Willow came and grabbed your hand, wanting to do that dance where she just swung your arms back and forth. You were so involved with her that you hadn’t even heard the knock on the door until someone pointed it out to you.

That was when the dread kicked in.

You couldn’t explain it, you weren’t even sure why it had come over you suddenly, but with every step towards the door, your hands got clammier and clammier until eventually you pulled it open. It was then that you could’ve sworn on it, would’ve bet on it, that your heart now resided on the floor across the room. 

A woman stood before you, 40’s at least, blonde wispy hair turning grey at the roots. And behind her, stood a strawberry blonde she-devil with a grin so wicked it would make your skin crawl.

“Hi there, I’m Sandra with Child Protective Services, I received a call and would like to have a quick talk.” 

It didn’t take long for everyone to clear out, leaving only Eddie behind to see what was going on, and to console you if needed. He wasn’t going to leave you, not when something like this had landed in your lap.

“So it’s just you and…” Sandra flicked through her notes before speaking again. “Willow, is it?” 

“Yes, it’s just us here… I’m sorry I need to ask,” You shot Chrissy a look, your answer already cemented in place with every inching step she took towards Eddie. “Who called you?”

“I’m afraid that’s confidential information that we can’t release at this time.” She flicked through more notes before landing on what she was apparently looking for. “It says here that Willow was born in Nevada, is that correct?”

“Yes, she was born this day 5 years ago in Summerlin Hospital.” You rubbed your arms, wanting desperately to hold Willow, but for some reason, this demon of a woman wouldn’t let you.

“And is her father in the picture?” 

You froze, not entirely too sure how to answer that without spilling everything. You weren’t ready, and you’d never be ready, so how were you supposed to cough up now, in front of people who had no business in knowing? “We um… we left my parents in Nevada, they were… well they were abusive towards me growing up, I didn’t want that for her.” 

You thought you’d managed to get past the question, maybe even diverted the topic of conversation. If you could even class this a conversation, more like an interrogation.

“That’s not what I asked you, I asked you was Willow's father in the picture.” 

That was when you saw it in her folder, a copy of Willow’s birth certificate with only one name on it, scribbled messily by a nurse who had no business working in a hospital.

Then, just when it was all going horribly wrong, it got a whole lot worse.

“But Willow is her sister, they have the same parents, your question doesn’t make any sense.” Eddie piped up from the corner, and it took all your might not to tell him to shut the fuck up.

“Please allow her to answer the questions herself sir, your being here is a privilege, not a right.” If only she knew how wrong she was. If only she knew that he had every right to be here.

That was when the tears fell when you knew you couldn’t hold back the secrets any longer. You turned to Eddie, cheeks stained as all you could do was mouth “I’m sorry.” 

“No, her father wasn’t in the picture… we fell out of contact after I told him I was pregnant. But he’s back in it now.”

It was as if you were standing in a glass bowl, and suddenly it shattered around you, your whole world came crumbling down around you. You looked at Eddie, watched as it dawned on him what you were saying, staring as he worked the dates back in his head, face gone pale.

“Wait, I’m sorry I was called under the pretences that you had taken Willow from her parents. Are you telling me that Willow is your child?” Sandra looked at you, handing you a packet of tissues from her cracked leather bag.

“Yes, Willow is my daughter.”

After everything had come to light, it didn’t take long for Sandra to decide that there was no need for any inspection as it seemed that Willow was in a fit and loving home, something you could’ve told her from the start. You stood outside the trailer, Eddie and Chrissy just behind you as you watched her navy Pontiac drive off in a cloud of dust.

And as soon as she was gone, you turned to Chrissy, palm connecting with her cheek in a fit of rage.

“How dare you do that, how dare you try to have her taken from me? What have I ever done to you? I’ve stayed out of your way, I have done nothing towards you that warrants you being that spiteful, that hateful.” You went again, lunging at her, and you would have made it if it weren’t for Eddie grabbing you.

“Thank you, baby, I thought she was going to actually hurt me!” Chrissy said in her whiny high-pitched voice, pouting out her bottom lip as if to show that she was about to cry.

“Let me get this clear for you. We’re done. I never want to hear from you, hell I never want to even so much as see you again. We’re through.” He set you on the ground as Chrissy looked on shocked, annoyed that her stunt hadn’t resulted in lives being ruined while her own prospered, before spinning on her heel and walking away in a huff. You could only feel the terror and rage beginning to grow inside of you as he turned you to face him. “And as for you, I think it’s time we had a talk. A real one this time.” 

You wanted to protest, you wanted to kick and scream and cry and dig your heels in. You couldn’t have this conversation, you wouldn’t.

“What is there to talk about, your psycho bitch of an ex tried to have my kid taken away and failed, end of story.” You went to walk inside, stopping in your tracks when he spoke again.

“Our kid.”

Hearing him say it, like actually say it, wasn’t what you expected it to be. Instead of a ten-tonne boulder crashing onto you, it felt like a weight had been lifted.

“When were you gonna tell me Willows my kid too?”

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

Only one more chapter to go!!

@vintagehellfire @1paire2vans @introvertedmouse @ms1oftheboys @ashlynnkennedy @poisonedluv @302rocks @micheledawn1975 @corrodedcoffincumslut @f-cklife @chloe-6123 @hellfirexwhore @caseyqdilla @alyisdead @winchester-angel @sunflowerabyss @badluckgirl @blackb4ts @tlclick73 @eddiemunsonsgf2 @rozxartaki @emilyslutface @them-cute-boys @ilovetaquitosmmmm @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @captainonaboat @lottie-90 @adaydreamaway08 @munsonmunster @thecomfortgoth @uglypastels @ghost-proofbaby @trashmouth-richie @blueywrites (im honestly just tagging people i would really like to have read this.)

[mooodyblue]

Hi lily I'm having a rough night so i was wondering if it was okay that I request something that will make me feel better.

What about cg!e with a little that HATES change (me) And maybe the big change is E has been home for longer than normal and all of a sudden he has to go back on tour and reader HATES THAT so she has a big meltdown when El tells her he has to go back and he reminds her they have a routine on tour too and that it'll be the same as last time (so not a lot is changing) ?

I hope this makes sense

miss you xo - kiwi

hope u feel better :( <3 ty for the request!! hopefully i can cheer u up a bit with this ~~

pairing: 70s!cg!elvis x gn!little!reader

wc: 942

➸masterlist

elvis knew you never did well with change, so of course when he sat through another tedious meeting with the colonel, you wouldn’t be happy with the news he was just given.

he’d been on a break from touring for a little longer than usual, surprisingly due to doctors orders. he spent a bit of time with you in hawaii then flew back to memphis, getting plenty of alone time with you now that he had a bit of time to take care of little you. 

you had a strict everyday routine with him. breakfast together, lunch together, snack time together, and so forth. the two of you always watched cartoons together and he adored watching you play happily in front of him every day. unfortunately, that routine was about to change.

his health wasn’t great, however, it was good enough for the colonel to make him go back on another long US tour. he wished that if he had to suffer through another long, agonizing tour that he’d at least go overseas, but that was just a dream that would never come true. now it left him with the plan of telling you. 

he stepped back into his home, immediately being jumped on by you with an excited squeal. he hated that he was about to crush your spirits. “hey, baby. what’re you doin’, huh?” he chuckled, picking you up and kissing your rosy cheeks. 

“can we play now, daddy? please?” you begged, giving him sweet, puppy dog eyes.

“ah—darlin’,” he sighed, putting you down and crouching down to make you appear smaller. he took his glasses off and hung them up on his shirt, taking your hands and looking you straight in the eyes. “baby, this is real hard for me to say. i need you to be big ‘n strong for me, alright?” 

the look of worry on your face broke his heart. “the colonel says he’s sendin’ me out on another tour. daddy’s goin’ away for a little ‘while.”

you felt like your whole world was about to collapse. an ache in your chest as you realized your life was about to change up again. you loved the routine that the two of you shared. you didn’t do well when things had to change. “no.” you shook your head, “no, daddy. no.” you said sternly. 

he wished it was that easy to just say no to the colonel, but he couldn’t. he squeezed your hands again, giving you a sympathetic look. “baby–”

“no!” you pulled away from him, “change is bad, daddy! it’s bad!” you hugged yourself, shaking your head again. “y-you hafta stay! you-you’re my daddy, you can’t….no!” you dropped yourself to the floor, the waterworks already flowing down your cheeks as you began to kick your feet angrily like a helpless toddler—but that’s exactly what you were in your state of mind. he knew it too. 

elvis was at a loss for words, unsure of whether he should attempt to calm you down or to let you ride out this meltdown of yours. he got down on the floor with a soft grunt, “hey, hey. c’mon, honey–look at me, look at daddy for a sec.” he cooed softly, trying to take your hands again. your eyes met with his, full of tears and sadness. almost fear, afraid that once the routine changed, everything would just go bad. 

“you remember the last time daddy went on tour?” he asked, getting a nod from you in response. “daddy didn’t leave you alone at home, did he?” 

“w-well….no…” you muttered.

“that’s right, honey. he didn’t.” the corner of his lip perked up, bringing you close to him as you leaned against his chest. he rocked you on a soothing motion, trying to calm you down to the best of his ability. “you think daddy’s gonna let ya sit at home by yourself this time around?” he shook his head, “ain’t no way, baby.”

he pet your hair gently, pressing a soft kiss to your scalp. “we always have the same routine when we go on tour, don’t we? you just gotta let daddy do what he’s gotta do durin’ the day before we can get to playin’ and snoozin’ all day.”

“b-but i won’t see you as much…” you pouted, looking off into the distance.

“i know, angel. i know. that’s the sucky part, but we get through it every time, don’t we? hm?” he kissed your scalp again, smiling softly. he turned you to face him, using his thumb to wipe the tears off your cheeks. “it took us some time to get into the routine you and i got goin’ on right now. we just gotta get back into the old one. then once tour ends, we come right back to this ol’ routine. think you can handle that?”

you sniffled, wiping your snotty nose with your sleeve as you nodded slowly. “it’s hard.”

“it is, baby. i hate it too. but we gotta do things we don’t like.” he frowned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “can daddy get a big kiss?”

there was hesitation in your eyes, clearly grumpy and unhappy with the situation. he sighed dramatically, forcing a pout on his face. “c’mon, honey. you that mad at daddy, huh? that mean you don’t love your old man, no more?”

you gasped, “daddy!” you pecked his cheek, cupping his plush cheeks with your small hands. “i still love you, daddy! i promise! i promise!”

he chuckled softly, returning the kiss and ruffling your hair. “that’s my baby.” he grinned, “now, lets get up off this dirty floor and have a lil’ snack.”

[bonezone44]

‘Stages of Grief’

Word Count: 1968

Joel x Reader

image credit

Summary: After a tense interaction with a family member who raised you when you were little, you spiral. Joel talks you through it.

Tags: Reader gender unspecified, angst, grief, familial neglect, childhood emotional/physical abuse

a/n: Read if your family sucks. Read if you like crying. Read if you’re crying-curious. But also keep in mind that I’m a random person on the internet who writes fanfiction. Not a therapist.

++++++

‘It’s not fucking fair,’ you tell yourself. The pain shooting through your body in a way that feels unending. 

How can an emotion feel so much worse than anything else?

How can a thought trigger a full body nuclear meltdown? How can it send you burning and twisting and writhing and regressing into the small child you once were?

Years have passed since you were a little kid, being tugged around and shoved from place to place, trailing behind the adults in your life. All your curiosities being ignored. Your questions going unanswered. Your needs being shoved aside so they could do whatever the hell they thought was so much more important than you. Their child. Their responsibility.

But what about you? What about your needs and desires? What about all the shit that you wanted to do? 

You still remember staring up at the glowing carousel–the colorful, twinkling lights mirroring the stars in the night sky. The beautifully painted horses gliding up and down to a fun, jaunty tune playing loudly from some hidden location within. Your eyes sparkled with majesty and wonder. And you remember how the whole place smelled like popcorn–rich and buttery. The memory always made you hungry when you thought about it.

“I wanna go on that next!” you pointed and shouted with hope and excitement.

You heard an angry scoff. “We’re not going on a fucking kiddie ride.”

“But I wanna go!” you stomped.

They turned around and got in your face. “Well too fucking bad!” They yanked your arm, tugging you through the crowd. Other adults. Other kids. Other people with cotton candy and stuffed animals and new light-up toys and big smiling faces.

You started crying. It felt like your whole world was shattering. “But I wanna go!” You kicked and screamed. You wanted to have fun. You wanted what you wanted.

They shoved you into a corner and got into your face again. This time it was accompanied by their finger and a suffocating cloud of anger. “I don’t give a shit about what you want. Now shut the fuck up and don’t fucking embarrass me.” They whispered fiercely.

“But–”

They slapped you hard across the face. 

It stung. Badly. You felt dizzy.

But it got you quiet.

“Now I’m gonna go down there and hang out with my friends–” they said, pointing down the dim, smelly alley behind the stalls. You saw two men in dirty aprons, sitting on buckets and smoking cigarettes with greasy fingers. “--and you’re gonna shut the fuck up.”

You pouted and sniffled, but had no choice in the matter. They were your adult. You had to go wherever they went. There were no other options.

And now you’re older and wiser, but anytime you’re with them or think about them or meet someone who reminds you of them–it sends you into a spiral. As if they still have their hand wrapped around your arm and you’re still begging them to let you get your way.

“You gotta talk to me, darlin’,” says Joel.

You can’t even see him. You know he’s in the room but your head is a thunderstorm and it’s raining out your eyes. “They do this. They do this every fucking time!” You choke out through sobs. “They can’t be happy for me. They can’t let me have anything!” The last word comes out with a stomp. You clench your fists and dig your nails into your palm. The pain is sharp and you shake your head, burrowing into it. “They never give me anything!” Never give you their attention, their love, their respect. It didn’t matter if you still lived in their house or not–they still saw you as a burden. “It doesn’t matter what I say or-or-or how I say it. They just refuse to fucking hear me!” They wouldn’t even listen when you spoke. “I have tried everything and nothing works.” You wipe your eyes, attempting to compose yourself.

“Then why do you keep tryin?” he asks.

You stare at him dumbly. “‘Cause they’re supposed to! They’re supposed to-to-to–” You break down harder. You can barely say the words in your own mind, but somehow they come out your lips. “They’re supposed to love me!” Your anger recedes, replaced with pain. Pure heart-stinging pain. You rub your chest with your palm. “They’re supposed to love me, Joel.” Your head falls back, your eyes on the ceiling. You can feel the muscles straining in your neck. “But they don’t!” Your mouth is wide and grimacing as you cry. “I can’t even get them to care about me!”

“Then why do you keep tryin?”

“‘Cause they’re supposed to,” you pout. Your brow is tight and you can feel yourself getting a headache. 

“But they don’t.”

Hearing those words from Joel–it knocks a part of you back into place. Like you had spread out into a puddle of tears and he’s scooping you back together. You’re still hurting, though. You’re still crying.

“So why do you keep tryin’?” he asks again. “When you know they don’t care?”

“Because… because I want them to. I want them to care about me. I want them to know me. It’s not fair that-that-that I’m living this whole life without them and they just… they don’t even make an effort.”

“So stop tryin’.” He shrugs. His arms are crossed against his chest. “Stop givin them the effort that they won’t give you.”

“But I have to–”

“No,” Joel says firmly. “No, you don’t.”

“But–” you’re not giving in. You refuse. Your leg is shaking. You wanna beg him. Plead him. “But they’re my family.”

Families are supposed to love each other. Share stories. Call on the weekends. They’re supposed to learn and heal together. They’re supposed to be interested in one another’s dreams and struggles and achievements. They’re supposed to be lifelong companions. And when you’re an adult–they’re supposed to make the effort to heal whatever wrongs occurred during your childhood.

“I can’t just… leave ‘em, you know?” Your lips are trembling as you try to get the words out. “I can’t just give up on them.”

“Yeah–” Joel’s eyes are wide and serious. “Yeah, you can.”

“But–”

“You don’t owe them shit, darlin’,” he says. “It don’t matter if they fuckin’ raised you.” He shrugs. “It don’t matter how much money they spent on you or the time they took outta their shitty little lives to take you to school or soccer practice or to fuckin’ feed you.” He steps closer to you. “If you feel like shit every time you talk to them or try to… reach out–then stop.” He shrugs his shoulders again. “They coulda gifted ya a million fuckin dollars and it still wouldn’t make a difference.” He stares right into your eyes. “You don’t owe them anything.”

Your sobbing has ceased, though your cheeks are still wet. “Then what am I supposed to do?” you ask. What are you supposed to do with this piece of you? This solid chunk of yourself that sits in your gut. What is it supposed to do if it’s not desperate and yearning for your family’s attention and approval and support? 

“Nothin’.”

“...What?” 

“You don’t have to do anything,” he says while shaking his head.

“But…” But that didn’t make sense. You were always doing something. You were always seeking and reaching and tugging and pulling and grasping for them. You were always begging and pleading and crying and aching and needingneedingneeding them. 

“But…” And you could feel yourself releasing–like the odd burst of blood flow you got after unclenching your fists. When you had been holding onto something so tightly for so long that you stopped even feeling your own hand anymore. Didn’t know you had fingers. The only thing you noticed at the end of your arm was a strange sensation.

And when you finally let go, unpeeling your fingers, your joints moved unfamiliarly and uncomfortably. Your muscles trembled and shook–feeling weak. Your fingers were warm and tingly and pulsed. It made you think of a balloon popping–without the sharp sound. It was dull and matted and flat, but also exploding and alive and free.

“I don’t have to do … anything?” you asked. Because how the hell was that possible? Because once again, you were always doing something. Always feeling some sort of way.

“All you gotta do is live your life and do what you wanna do. In whatever way you can.” He shrugs. “If they show up, they show up.” He holds his palm out. “But you don’t owe them anything if they do. Even if they try to tell you that you owe ‘em.” He shakes his head. “You don’t.” He puts his hand on your shoulder. “Nobody asks to be born, darlin’. But that don’t give them permission to treat you like shit for it. And you don’t owe them for doin’ the bare minimum to keep you alive.”

 “So I can just… do whatever I want?” The tears return and you’re not sure why. There’s still pain inside you, stored deep in your muscles. But the twisting ache in your gut isn’t as strong as it was before. You feel lighter. Lighter than you ever have in your whole life, you think.

“You can do whatever you want.” 

You start crying again, in a mix of confusion and hurt and relief. But you’re nodding. You’re agreeing with Joel. God, you can’t imagine what you must look like right now. Probably covered in snot, swollen eyes and lips. You just cried like a little baby and he watched you and talked you through the whole thing. You feel so silly and stupid and–grateful. You feel so grateful for Joel. 

“Thank you,” you say after swallowing back tears. “Thank you for loving me,” you choke out and you reach out to hug him and his big arms wrap all the way around you. 

“Of course, darlin’” he whispers and kisses your head. His hands rub up and down your back as you sway into each other. “Of course.”

Once the tears fully stop, and you can think of your family without immediately falling apart, you sigh and let go of Joel.

His big hands cradle your face and he kisses you on the forehead. “Gonna get you some water,” he says and leaves the room.

You know this won’t be the last time you do this–grieve your family. But it’s a start. It’s a baseline. It’s a feeling you know you can seek out again when the next spiral hits. And then the next spiral. And the next. 

But it will take less time in the future when you know the destination–when you can recognize the end of the journey. And even if Joel isn’t around for those, he was around for this one. The first one and worst one. And he didn’t judge you or silence you or push you away for having your feelings or expressing yourself. He didn’t treat you like a burden or toss you aside for being you and dealing with your shit. 

And he didn’t try to replace your family. He didn’t try to become the new target of your yearning and desire and need for approval. Because he knows he can’t be that for you. He can’t be your new family–your new lifelong companion. Only you can. Only you know your own thoughts and desires and ambitions and dreams. Only you can be there inside your head at every waking moment and every sleepy night. And when that solid chunk inside of your gut starts to spread, grasping like ivy for something outside of you to fix you or approve you–you have to scoop it back in and tell it, “No. I don’t have to do anything. I can do whatever I want.”

+++++++

a/n: I'm currently enjoying my ride on the 'Joel x Reader x Healing' train. Most of my fic titles end with "(18+)" and I was tempted to put "(Fun for All Ages)" on this one 😂

[oceangirl24]

20 Questions for Writers

Thanks @mrsmungus for the tag. ❤️

❣️How many works do you have on AO3?

13 total, including three fanart art gifts. The only writing I have is my current work. I'm bringing the old FFN stories over on another account.

❣️What is your total AO3 word count?

834,995- 1 million before the year's end would be nice.

❣️What fandoms do you write for?

So far only Boy Meets World. The fanart gifts have been in other fandoms.

❣️What are your top five fics by kudos? Autumn in Philadelphia Trilogy- 243

Flashbacks- 109

Christmas to Last a Lifetime- 94

Not too shabby for such a massive series with an OC as a main character.

❣️Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes. Eventually.

Ever single comment is incredibly important to me and I don't always have the spoons to respond the way I want to. Rather than rush a response, I wait until I can give it my full attention. There are times, however, when certain comments appear to go answered for months. Those are comments from people I am in touch with privately and have already thanked. I will respond to those in time as well.

❣️What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The Darkest Night without question.

❣️What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

At this point, probably Christmas to Last a Lifetime.

❣️Do you get hate on your fic?

Is having someone throw a tantrum in your comments hate?

The writer who did this was upset over how the first part of AiP ended because they did not read the tags or summary. They also complained about my OC being better than theirs and whined about liking Audrey more as though at 11 years old I created with Aud malicious intent to hurt them 20+ years later. 🙄

This was the person who also tried to push me out of the fandom, harassed me, and stole my work.

So, hate, no. Immature, entitled behavior, yes.

❣️Do you write smut?

No it's not my thing to read or write. My story is canon compliant and I'm staying true to the content of the show as well. Since it's a 90s kids' sitcom, situations were only dealt with to a certain degree.

❣️Do you write crossovers?

Technically. lol The AiP trilogy is a crossover with BMW and its sequel show, Girl Meets World, but since it's in the same universe I don't count it.

I am in the works of doing a real crossover that I'm really excited about, hopefully soon.

❣️Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Yes. See the hate on fics response.

I debated how much to say since my socials are still being monitored but you know what, I don't care.

This person stole big chunks of my work from three of my stories and readers have noticed. That's how I became aware of it. Two readers brought it to my attention and just recently another mentioned it also.

I've dealt with it thanks to my dear friends who have had my back through this year + long ordeal.

And ngl, it was satisfying to see her panic and meltdown when the report was submitted and rush her ending. The subsequent attempts to cover her tracks have been popcorn worthy as they have been both comical and pathetic.

Anyone who knows me will tell you I'm too nice and give too much benefit of the doubt which is why no one outside of my friends' circle has seen the massive report on the theft and harrassment.

However, should you dear [REDACTED] try it again, I'm holding onto that report and won't be so nice the second time around. It won't be your friend who's been asking for the link since December 8th that I'll give it to either.

❣️Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge.

❣️Have you ever co-written a fic?

Not yet!!! But soon and I'm so excited.

❣️What's your all-time favorite ship?

As for canon ship, they change all the time, but currently it's

❣️What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

At this point it's looking like Birthday Wishes. lol I mean, I have it outlined to the end and the next chapter is almost ready to go, but I'm prioritizing Saudade and have little time for BW, unfortunately.

❣️What are your writing strengths?

I'm not sure. May be characterization? Possibly world building and character development.

❣️What are your writing weaknesses?

Conciseness. lol Also SPAG editing. My brain skips words like crazy when writing and even editing. No matter how many times I go over things, I miss so much.

❣️Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I avoid this personally because I know enough that I'd mess it up. And I only know Swedish which isn't really a language that figures into my work naturally.

As for fics I'm not writing, it really depends on how it's done.

❣️First fandom you wrote for?

Boy Meets World. First published was Labyrinth.

❣️Favorite fic you've ever written?

Ah, how to chose. Autumn in Philadelphia trilogy. I can't get anymore specific than that. lol

No pressure tags to play for: @axolotlsupremacyowo @tsunderesalty @amberlide @winterlovesong1 @justanotherpersonwhowrites @obscureobsidiandraws @stealing-your-kittens @bees-and-sunshine @ligercat

If anyone would like to be included in the tags, please let me know and I'll be sure to get you next time.

[languageshead]

Special interests are not always good

My goal on this website is not to say that autism is all bad or the worst thing in the world. My goal is to: 

1. Share my experiences and listen to people with higher support needs because we are mostly left out and unheard;

2. Spread awareness. A lot of autism traits are human traits, but in order to be diagnosed with autism your traits must cause you impairment. If they don’t, it’s not autism. 

Now, I have already made a post about one of my special interests (Katy Perry) and how it affects me:

https://www.tumblr.com/languageshead/713712598521118720/about-my-last-post-and-the-severity-of-my-autism?source=share

But I want to get a little bit more into that subject. 

A special interest for me is the only way I can connect with the world. I feel like I live on another planet and the only thing that connects me with the rest of the world are special interests. 

But a special interest isn’t always good. I can only and will only speak about my special interest in conversations. I cannot have a conversation with someone who does not understand Linguistics or Katy Perry. I simply don’t know what to say, don’t know how to contribute to the conversation and will not be interested enough to pay attention to it. Often times I am not interested in learning about any other things that is not related to Linguistics and Katy Perry and some other subjects I enjoy. 

Often times, I am unable to have relationships with people that don’t want to hear about my special interest or with people who know nothing about it. Because 90% of my conversations are about my SIs, if you cannot teach me anything about it, I will often lose interest in having any kind of relationship with you. I am genuinely not interested in you if you cannot give me any more information about my SI. That is one of the reasons why I can have better relationships with adults/professors/teachers than with people my age. I like it when people tell me more about my SI. 

When I engage in talking about my SI, I get so excited that I will spend my whole energy talking about it. It comes to a point where I am so excited that my heart is racing and my palms are sweating and I can barely breathe because I am so excited. It drives me to absolute exhaustion and if someone doesn’t stop me, it’s likely that I go into shutdown because of it. This also happens when I am researching or watching videos, I get so excited that I need to stop whatever I am doing to regulate myself from all the emotions I am feelings. Autistics can get overwhelmed by good and bad emotions, which means that even happy feelings can drive me into a meltdown because I feel things so strongly that I can’t control or properly regulate my emotions. 

As some of you might know, I am in Uni in a special program for people with disabilities and sometimes I really need to focus about something I am learning but I can’t. This has gotten me taken out of class because I get so excited I start stimming, breathing hard so I bother other students. A lot of times I need to stop studying for my classes because I get so excited that I simply cannot stay still and continue learning. This really affects my performance as I need to regulate my emotions before going back to my projects and assignments. 

Besides that, specially when special interests occur in people or fictional characters this can cause a lot of suffering to the person. When I was on my early teens, I was obsessed with Lexa from the tv show The 100 and as most of you know she dies. When she died, I had a full blown meltdown in the middle of the night because the show in my country streamed at around 1AM. I mourned the death of a character as if she were a member of my family and I’ve had members of my family die that I definitely did not mourn anywhere near as I mourned for that character. 

As I have already mentioned before, Katy Perry has been my strongest and longest special interest along with Linguistics. And if you read my other post you might understand this better, but I absolutely cannot comprehend Katy Perry is a famous person that simply can’t text me back. My therapist believes this inability has to do with both my autism and language impairment. I am 21 years old now, I understand this better, but not really. When I was on my teens my mom would have to explain to me multiple times a week that Katy wasn’t ignoring me or our letters. She was just famous. This causes suffering to me. This is hard. It’s like trying to make your brain understand a foreign language.

I know there are many other bad experiences about special interest, specially because some people might engage in stalking, difficulties with boundaries and unhealthy behaviors. But I can’t talk about this because this is not my experience. 

I also know there are many good sides to special interests. The joy we feel is really important to me. Small things can make me really happy, like being able to make a small correct sentence in Hebrew. But I am tired of hearing about this because this is always talked about. There is another side to having a SI that people don’t talk about. This is the side I want to show. 

EDIT: forgot to add that not every interest is a special interest. Special interest is usually something that lasts for a long time that helps you cope and understand the world. Autistics can have interests that are not special interests.

[milo-igidk]

do you have any ro & keefe sibling headcanons? :)

OH MY GOD YES IM VERY HAPPY SOMEONE ASKED :DD I LOVE THEM SO MUCH SDJFFJSD okokok sO

Ro was quick to dismiss his complaints as whiny and dramatic until she saw how actually horrible his parents were

hc that Keefe has meltdowns and panic attacks sometimes which he usually hides from people, accept he literally cant hide them from Ro since shes usually with him at all times. i mean he tries at first but she found out about them eventually and tries to help.

im just like, thinking abt her wanting to help him and not knowing how so shes secretly rummaging through the candleshade book collections trying to find anything useful about it

hc that Keefe has nonverbal/ selective mutism episodes (i would never project coughs) and Ro made him little communication cards for him to use maybe if he wants. and aND she also drew little pictures on them and shes like standing there embarrassed and talking about how shes not much of an artist and theyre probably stupid and hes staring at the cards and tearing up bc hes never had someone who cared for him like that GOD IM I CANT I LOVE THEM

just her validating his anger and pain. in her opinion the kid needs to let loose some more and they should both go somewhere and break stuff

"have you eaten today?" "have you?" "...uhhh" (they both end up eating to make the other eat too)

She cut his hair at some point when it got too long and he was horrified sitting still as a rock in the chair and regretting every life choice hes ever made. it turned out ok tho hes just dramatic

Keefe asked her to dye his hair at 3am one night and she was so excited and tried to persuade him to do a full rainbow head but they just went with red

Keefe draws her sometimes and she saves all his drawings

karaoke nights together and theyre yelling at the top of their lungs and keefe mimics the voice of the singer when they do duets

she ruffled his hair one time and patted his head and he cried

keefe will target anyone who gives ro any shit from foxfire and actually personally make their life a living hell with pranks

//putting a tw for sh and other stuff for the last part//

ive said this before but her validating his scars and helping him not feel bad about them (yk how ogres are abt scars)

shes afraid to leave him alone after hes had a bad episode or something big has happened or just like in general she doesnt want him to be alone

tried hard to be calm about it when she found out for the first time and be able to talk to keefe about it but when he went to sleep she had a full freak out

she was horrified at how he was handling his wounds and she bandaged them and made sure they were clean

Ro tries to set up sleepovers with Sandor bc she knows Sophie helps him

//

OKKK i think thats all i can think abt for the moment aaaaa i love them they make me so insane

[lenbryant]

(LongPost) Joe Biden completely recast the 2024 election and Donald Trump can't handle it

Democrats were able to take bold action. Republicans are still embracing a fascist, who's having a full-blown meltdown.

Michelangelo Signorile

President Biden did something Donald Trump could never do: give up power.

He listened to members of his own party, people who weren’t afraid to speak up.

That’s the opposite of what happens in the GOP, where Trump silences anyone who challenges him with threats of political annihilation, the hallmark of an authoritarian.

And now, as Biden announced he was dropping out of the race while focusing on important issues for the remainder of his successful presidency, we can all get behind a historic candidate for president, Vice President Harris, someone who will energize voters and transform this presidential race.

Already, Democrats have raised a torrent of money from online small donors—over $50 million as of last night. It was the biggest online haul from small donors since 2020, showing the enormous excitement.

The Signorile Report is reader-supported. If you’ve valued reading The Signorile Report, consider becoming a paid subscriber and supporting independent, ad-free opinion journalism. Thanks!

Yes, these last few weeks and the process surrounding them were messy and drawn out, taking up precious time. We weren’t in agreement about what was playing out. Many of us went back and forth in the span of a few days—or even a few hours. It was also often enraging and heartless, as a sensational corporate media inflamed the discussion for its own purposes. I was certainly outspoken about that, as were many of you.

But we’ve come to a great place.

First off, the drawn-out process—which mostly was about Biden coming to a decision that certainly had to be made deliberately and with care—wound up benefiting Democrats and hurting Trump. He chose JD Vance, going full MAGA extremist and Project 2025-backed in his VP running mate selection. He was cocky and confident that Biden wasn’t leaving the ticket. He would have chosen someone who highlighted diversity or was part of the GOP establishment if he believed Biden was stepping down and endorsing Harris.

Better yet, Trump’s entire campaign and the entire Republican National Convention have been wasted, as they were focused on a candidate who is no longer running. He’s even now whining about having spent all his money on Biden. Poor baby.

We also seem to have dodged the suggestions of a “mini-primary” and a chaotic battle at the Democratic convention. There is simply no time left for that. As the days went on, more Democratic leaders came behind supporting Harris if Biden dropped out, as a consensus was built. It helped to alleviate fears of disunity and a party in disarray at an open convention in August.

There will likely still be an open convention and voting by the over 4000 delegates, as Democratic leaders heed the advice of those who say this shouldn’t be a coronation by the few hundred members of the Democratic National Committee.

But other potential candidates, named in recent weeks by those calling on Biden to drop out, took themselves out of the running. Governors Gavin Newsom, Wes Moore, and Gretchen Whitmer made that clear, while Governors Josh Shapiro and Roy Cooper quickly endorsed Harris, as did Cabinet Secretary Pete Buttigieg and Senator Mark Kelly of Arizona. They are all potential running-mate contenders, with Shapiro, Whitmer, Cooper, and Kelly reportedly under the most serious consideration.

So Harris will not have any real competition—even as Joe Manchin laughably announced he may re-register as a Democrat to run for the nomination, only to backtrack on the idea this morning—and Harris comes with a campaign war chest and, most powerfully, Biden’s endorsement, which the majority of delegates will surely honor. Already, at least five state delegations to the DNC announced they unanimously backed Harris as the candidate, as did all 50 Democratic state party chairs.

I know there’s lots of disagreement, angst, and sadness among many about the pressure put on Biden to drop out. I was in fact among those who two weeks ago were saying we needed to get behind Biden, as he’d made it clear he was not leaving the race and we needed to focus on Trump. And many were annoyed that the discussion continued even after Biden said he was staying in.

But I trust that almost everyone involved has been acting in good faith (except for the corporate media). Trump is an existential threat. Concerned people, from the donors and members of Congress to the rank and file of the party, had different opinions about what would be the least risky path. Many believed Biden should stay in, viewing that was less risky, while others pushed for a replacement, seeing that option as having less risk. And it was debated in the open for over three weeks.

This is where that’s all come now, and everyone should get behind Harris. And let’s be clear that it happened because Biden, and Biden alone, made a selfless decision to put the country ahead of himself based on data about the race and what he was being advised. That shows him to be a patriot in addition to having had one of the most successful presidencies in history, one which Harris, as a member of that administration, can build on in a new presidency.

Don’t buy all of the palace intrigue stories in the media about Biden “seething” in recent days at his beach house in Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, “digging in” and refusing to drop out—stories based on unnamed sources and reported even as late as Sunday morning, just hours before he announced he was leaving.

We now learn—from the same media that pushed those narratives, mainly the New York Times—that Biden was in fact preparing his letter to the American people announcing he was leaving the race all day Saturday, even as the reports of him being “dug in” were circulating well into Sunday afternoon just before his announcement.

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The president saw polling and other data that made it clear to him that he needed to make a move. Biden saved us from Trump in 2020, and he now passes the torch to a candidate who makes history, who would become the first woman and Asian American, and the second Black person, to become president. 

Biden is not stepping down because of cognitive decline—contra the ridiculous claims of those in the GOP now saying he can’t run the country if he can’t run for president—but rather because of shaky support in polls (in his case, because of a very bad debate that exacerbated the situation). This is what President Lyndon B. Johnson did in 1968—another enormously successful one-term president—and what other presidents did after they saw support dwindling. So it’s nothing new, and the president can certainly run the country for the remainder of his term.

This is a fresh start, and, as I said, the excitement is reflected in the amount of money Harris raised from small donors—and the big donors who were worried about Biden—in less than 24 hours.

And Donald Trump is very worried.

As I noted, he picked JD Vance, an extremist in his positions and a bit of a dud in his oratory and campaign skills, thinking Biden was the candidate. He stupidly listened to his two not-very-bright sons, Eric and Don Jr., who were charmed by Vance, who is a tool of the man who bankrolled him, tech billionaire Peter Thiel. The Vance pick was lauded by the leaders of Project 2025, who excuse Trump’s crimes and wouldl help him commit more as they work with him to consolidate power.

Trump again tried in vain to distance himself from Project 2025 at a rally on Saturday in Michigan, deathly afraid of the connection. And after Biden’s announcement on Sunday, he showed how petrified he is of Harris, already pushing back against debating her.

His fear drove him to write ugly, panic-laden posts on Truth Social attacking Biden and Democrats, which had critics saying he was “shitting his pants” in an overnight meltdown. Even the far-right Wall Street Journal editorial page criticized Trump in an editorial, headlined: “Trump Gives an Assist to Democrats: His reaction to Biden’s decision was small-minded and divisive.”

The 2024 election is Donald Trump’s to lose, and he may yet manage it.That was our reaction to his splenetic outburst on Sunday after President Biden’s withdrawal from the presidential race. It should have been an opportunity to show some class and judgment by welcoming the decision, warning U.S. adversaries not to take advantage of Mr. Biden’s last few months in office, and saying Vice President Kamala Harris will have to defend Mr. Biden’s failed record. Short and presidential, with a unifying tone. Not Donald Trump. On Truth Social on Sunday after the announcement, the former President posted this: “Crooked Joe Biden was not fit to run for president and is certainly not fit to serve—and never was! . . .” And on down from there.  We realize Mr. Trump is frustrated that he won’t be able to run against Mr. Biden. The biggest doubt voters have about Mr. Trump is that he’s a divisive, vindictive man who is unable to speak for all Americans. He had a chance on Sunday to show he was capable of more, but he didn’t rise to the occasion. 

Trump, of course, will never “rise to the occasion,” as he is incapable of it. The WSJ editorial page knows this, even as they hope against all hope.

And “frustrated” isn’t the word I’d use to describe his reaction to not running against Biden. He is, rather, immensely frightened.

Trump is now the oldest candidate in the race, one showing mental declineas he fumbles sentences, confuses names, makes non-sensical comments about “the late, great Hannibal Lecter," and is an overall rambling, low-energy mess. That was clear in his sleepy yet hateful and ultimately disastrous acceptance speech at the convention—and it’s why he’s not campaigning a lot—which completely upended the convention’s bogus unity theme.

Trump thought running against Biden, and using the media’s one-sided obsession with Biden’s age, would insulate him. Now he’s exposed, as all the focus will be on his fumbles in addition to his authoritarianism.

The entire MAGA world is, in fact, angry and fearful, railing on social media and attacking Democrats and Biden. And Trump’s campaign officials are worried. Per Axios:

Some of [Trump’s] advisers are quite concerned that a fresh, youthful, non-Biden ticket presents a bigger threat than Trump assumes…the Trump team's biggest concern, and some early polling flicks at why, is that Harris would help turn out more women, who historically vote in greater numbers than men. Harris, armed with Democrats’ abortion message, which worked well in off-year elections — could leverage the nation's gender divide.

Be fully prepared that they will be working hard to demonize Harris. Democrats have got to define her before the Trump and the GOP does. The good news is that she’s already a high-profile figure who has truly grown in he past year, on the campaign trail and in her public profile.

The contrast now couldn’t be clearer: a convicted felon and his enablers vs. a former prosecutor and her fighters for justice. It’s autocracy vs. democracy.

If some voters, as the polls suggested, disliked Trump but were reticent about Biden because of his age and the debate performance, they now have a new choice: a woman who will be making the case against Trump on reproductive freedom, racist bigotry, and democratic freedoms.

It’s time to rally everyone, get energized for this fight, and beat Donald Trump.

[jerzwriter]

War & Peace Leftovers

Based on this ask from @icecoffee90, she wanted a fic about Jackie & Bryce arguing over "eating all their food" and the roomies discussing "all the people they bring into their shared space."

Book: Open Heart (Book 2)

Characters: Jackie Varma, Bryce Lahela, F!MC (Casey), Elijah Greene, Aurora Emery, Sienna Trinh, Tobias Carrick (mentioned)

Rating: Teen

Words: 1,275

Summary: Jackie is looking forward to her first day off of work in longer than she can remember when Bryce unintentionally messes things up. After a meltdown, new rules are created.

A/N: I haven't written a "roomies chaos" fic in some time, and it was so much fun to do one again. I hope you enjoy it! Participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge 's August challenge by doing a throwback to the January challenge with the prompt "Friends."

OH Masterlist | My Full Masterlist

The life of a medical resident isn’t an easy one. But with a bit of creativity, there are ways to muddle through. One of the highlights? The rare, precious, and cherished day off, and today, Jackie Varma finally had one of those days. She hit snooze on her alarm clock five times... just because she could. She was about to hit it a sixth time just for fun when her eyes popped open. 

There was a very good reason to finally drag herself out of bed at noon: the delicious leftovers she had brought home last night. The hospital had hosted a luncheon and told everyone to take leftovers home. You don’t have to say that to a broke resident twice, especially when penne gorgonzola from Carmelina’s was among the offerings. The delicious delicacy definitely beat the instant ramen noodles she normally had for lunch. But that’s OK, she thought with a smile. Today, she had her leftovers.   

She thought about getting dressed, but this was her day off.  One of the highlights of this high holy day was sitting around in pajamas. Her roommates understood and had seen her in worse, so she wrapped her hair in a messy bun, slipped her feet into her fuzzy slippers, and off to the kitchen she went. She heard people conversing, and as nice as it would have been to have the place alone for a bit, she was used to living with four roommates, so she didn’t let it dampen her mood. Besides, she was about to have penne gorgonzola. If memory served, it tasted even better heated up the next day. She knew she was excited because she swore she could almost smell it, then she stepped into the kitchen and...

“Hey, Jackie!” Bryce flashed her his signature grin just before sticking his fork in the last piece of her precious penne. This was a declaration of war.

“Wha... what... WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” She screamed so ferociously Elijah, Sienna, and Casey came running from their rooms. “What the HELL are you doing!?”

Bryce had no idea how a simple greeting could have escalated so quickly.

“Nothing!” He defended, eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”

Jackie was already at his side, not-so-playfully hitting her now-sworn enemy.

“YOU ATE MY FOOD! Do you have any idea how much I was looking forward to that?”

“Oh, I’m sor...”

“SAVE IT! That was penne gorgonzola from Carmelina’s!”

“I know,” Bryce replied sheepishly. “And it was delicious.”

Casey silently gave Bryce the “cut-it” signal, mouthing, “Not helping!”

“YOU DON’T EVEN LIVE HERE!” Jackie hollered. She turned to her roommates. “Why is he here! Who brought him here?” But before anyone could answer, she directed her ire back to Bryce. “WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS HERE?”

“OK, Jackie... simmer down,” Casey pleaded. “I know you’re pissed, but Bryce is our friend, and....”

“He was my friend,” Jackie snapped. “Past tense. Who comes into an apartment THAT IS NOT HIS and eats someone’s leftovers!”

“Jackie,” Sienna said nervously. “This isn’t entirely Bryce’s fault. He asked if he could have my leftovers, which were also in the fridge, and I said yes. I’m really sorry.”

“OK, so what are your leftovers? I’ll eat them.”

“Uh... a cheeseburger from McDonald’s...”

Jackie slumped into a chair with a sigh of frustration. Her head fell into her hands, and, to everyone’s shock, she began crying.

Elijah shook his head at Bryce. “Oh my God, you broke her!”

“OK! I’m really sorry, Jackie, but if we’re being fair, you ate the rest of my sea-salt caramel ice cream.”

“That was in OUR freezer! Why are you keeping your ice cream in OUR freezer!”

“Because he practically lives here,” Aurora yawned as she entered the kitchen. “What’s going on? You woke me up.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Aurora,” Jackie replied, ignoring her question.  “Because we need to set new rules in this place.”

“Jackie,” Bryce said sympathetically, “I’ll go on Uber Eats and order you another penne gorgonzola right now...”

“Forget it!” she said, holding up her hand. “Bryce.  I tolerate you and all, but why are you always here? You have your own apartment.  I’d KILL for my own apartment.  But no, I have to put up with these four, and you’re here so much you make it five. And Elijah...”

“What did I do?” Elijah asked nervously.

“Why is Baz here all the damn time playing video games... in the living room... next to where I am trying to sleep!”

“We can get headsets...”

“But why is he always here!?”

“Jackie,” Sienna jumped in. “It’s not bad for us to have our friends over.”

“No, it’s not,” Casey agreed. “But Jackie does have a point.”

“Says you!” Jackie barked.

“What do you mean?” Casey gasped.

“Do you think I need to see Tobias stumbling out of your room shirtless when I get up to pee at two a.m.!”

“What?” Aurora’s eyes lit up.  “Two a.m. is when that happens? Damn... I’ll have to set the alarm.”

“That’s my boyfriend, Aurora,” Casey teased.

“Oh, I don’t want him in the least! He’s all yours. But hey, eyecandy is eyecandy.”

“So,” Bryce asked, “if I take off my shirt more often when I come over, can I stay on the drop-in anytime list?”

“Yes!” Aurora said as all the others yelled, “No!”

Jackie turned to her with a look of disgust.  “When the hell did you become Miss Thirsty?”

“Ahh...” she shrugged. “I haven’t had a date in a while.”

“Guys,” Casey attempted to get everyone’s attention. “Can we go back to before my boyfriend was sexually objectified...”

“Guilty!” Aurora grinned.

“I was going to say, maybe we should have more rules about other people coming over.  No offense, Bryce.”

“Offence taken,” he nodded.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing to have nights where we say no guests,” Sienna agreed.

“Quiet nights.” Aurora enthused. “That’s what we need, just nights where we know we can unwind a bit.”

“Since our schedules are so erratic, we can do them a month in advance...” Sienna offered.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Elijah agreed.  “Why don’t we have roomies meeting this weekend.  That doesn’t include you, Bryce.”

Bryce grasped his chest in mock horror.  “I’m hurt!”

“Or we could divide the rent by six, then you can come and go as you please,” Aurora smirked.

“Ehh, I can see you all at Donahue’s,” he smiled. “Jackie, I am really sorry about your leftovers.  But you know, if you ever want a little more privacy, you can use my apartment.  I’m almost never there.”

“We know,” they all said in unison.

“That’s so nice of you!” Elijah smiled.

“I was only offering it to Jackie,” Bryce winked.

“Bryce, I’m sorry for having a meltdown on you.  It’s just....”

“... just that you’ve slept ten hours in the past week, and you don’t always have much to look forward to, and I ... inadvertently ... took one of those rare treats away today.”

“Yeah,” Jackie smiled. “That.”

“I get it,” Bryce grinned. “You know, people always see my brilliance and this body, but they never see that I’m empathetic, too.”

“And humble,” Casey said, bumping his shoulder.  “Don’t forget, humble.”

Just then, the doorbell rang.  “Oh, no!” Casey said. “Who is dropping in now.”

“That would be the delivery man,” Bryce smiled.  “While you guys were having your roommate's legislation session, I ordered Carmelina’s for all of us.”

“You did!” Elijah grinned. “Hell, I say we have a rule that Bryce still gets to come over whenever he wants!”

“If he’s bringing food,” Jackie smiled.  “Thank you, Bryce.”

“Don’t mention it... roomie.”

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[snootlestheangel]

Snootles rant time *feel free to ignore I just need to get this off my chest*

I really hate how life can go from having several good days in a row to suddenly very not great ones

Like how I can go from getting some really good news and having really productive days to having a knot on my head from where I slammed it into something to prevent a dog from escaping its kennel and having pulled a muscle in my leg

Like what the fuck?

Am I not allowed to have one good week???

For fucks sake, I mean c'mon man!

I literally had a fucking meltdown last night but meanwhile a few nights ago I was bouncing around after work cause I was so excited about the good news I got

And of course, it's that time of year where a lot of people seem burnt out. A lot of people have been having issues. I get that and I respect that and I really wish I could make those issues go away for the people I really care about

But God it's so easy to feel like you're not being taken seriously when you're basically the middle child and it shows. Your twin has a literal fucking heart condition, your older sister just had a baby recently, your little sister has always been the queen of new drama

But you're over here working a full time job like you didn't drop out of college

Sorry I want the damn ac in my car to get fixed so I'm not miserable after work cause we live in the devil's ass crack

I don't know

My fucking leg hurts, my head hurts, I've got that autism flavor of burn out, and I can't fucking sleep worth shit anymore

[sweeterthanmydreams]

Spring Means Baby Hemming-"Birds" part 2 (the Hemming-Byrd Legacy)

[Legacy Challenge Rules] [My Legacy Sheet] [Blank Legacy Sheet] [Intro] [<< Previous] [Next >>]

Friday at 3 PM and it's finally time for baby three! After the most miserable pregnancy (seriously, Ophelia was constantly having angry meltdowns) it's off to the hospital with Ophelia and Lanuola; though Beatrix is disappointed she can't come (again) she gets to hang out at home with baby Ruby and the sitter instead. Lanuola (fresh from work) comforts Ophelia as they wait for the hospital staff to get checked in; dunno why no ones at work 3pm on a Friday, but that's just hospitals for you I guess. Lanuola got caught in the bathroom and had to run so she didn't miss the birth of her third child; being on time was so much easier when Beatrix was born! After another smooth delivery, it's time to say hello to baby Amethyst Hemming-Byrd! Welcome to the--

Wait, there's more?? Welcome to the world, baby Merida Hemming-Byrd. May you and Amethyst always remain close…

…with your sister. Welcome to the world, baby Tourmaline Hemming-Byrd.

Ophelia and Lanuola are going to have their hands full with three new additions to their flock. While they're thrilled to have more daughters, their family planning and floor space have both gone out the window! Can we get a tube-tying while we're here? Before they head home, they get a surprising phone call: Lilliana Kealoha is pregnant again! It looks like their little birds will have plenty of neighbors to play with.

Back at home the babies settle in. Beatrix tries to make progress on her social aspiration, but is already friends with so many people that it's hard. While playing with baby Ruby, Beatrix had the honor of hearing her very first word: "please! She couldn't be more proud. Ruby's mom's begging her to "please" eat her food must have left quite the impression. Bea makes the acquaintance of Amethyst, Merida, and Tourmaline and is very excited to have more playmates in the house. The triplets absolutely will not sleep that night, waking Bea up repeatedly. At some point in all this, Bea gets another loose tooth; hopefully she didn't knock it out climbing in and out of bed. Ophelia briefly loses a star of fame, but she's gets it back just as quickly by sending some expensive violins to her fans. The only casualty is her Emotion Bomb fame quirk but that's quite frankly for the better.

The family heads out to do some work away from home: Lanuola needs to do some mentoring at the gym and Ophelia needs to check the fashion trends at the museum. Little Bea tags along to make some new friends. Ophelia decides the roof the the gym is the perfect place to start a midlife crisis but she's too busy with work and kids to start chipping away at it. Are we maybe looking at a second hot tub joining the household?

While away at work, Lanuola knocks out the last level of her career and is crowned Miss Solar System. Beatrix hangs out at the Community Center with mom and conquers her Aspiration to become a Social Butterfly! Though she's not got much childhood left, she's thinking about trying out her creative side so she can learn how to play the violin mother Lanuola made her. Saturday is also the babys' birthdays! Ophelia makes the rounds aging them up: first Amethyst, then Merida, and finally Tourmaline. They've all developed distinct personalities: Amethyst is Sunny, Merida is Wiggly, and Tourmaline is Cautious. They're all three very different, but they've got the same big smile. Saturday is Ruby's birthday, too! She's aged up to become an inquisitive little bugger; it's going to be hard to keep her out of things! At least they've got some gifts she's meant to get into.

Though it was chock-a-block full of events, Spring is finally over! This was a real midnight-to-midnight experience starting with the birth of Ruby and ending with a quadruple birthday. Hopefully this is the last time I need a two parter; I don't think I'll survive if every season is multi-part in the future. You can find the complete version of Ophelia's family on the Gallery under my ID DreamingTaffy with the name Hemming-Byrd Legacy 1.5 including all five children. The spreadsheet is also up to date if you want to peep the family tree.

Infant milestones have been giving me huge lag glitches so wish me luck dealing with three of them at once; hopefully my game won't freeze up completely. Anyone know if I can hope for them to pick up milestones at daycare instead?

[bluesherbet]

So I went to the science museum today in London and this orb was showing different planets. But they literally had a Moon Knight moon, look at the detailing of the bandage effect on it just like the suit. I’m in love 🥰🌙

[briannaisanxious]

Do I Need to Fight Someone For You? [Austin!Elvis x fem!reader]

A/N: this is my first completed fic ever so i'm not sure how i did but i hope it's okay :) it's way longer than i planned to make it and i also didn't do any proofreading so yeah lol but i hope you enjoy !!!

word count: 1.3k

warnings: taking over the counter pain medicine, it's all fluff though lol (please lmk if i forgot anything !!)

summary: elvis comes home to you having a meltdown because you got overwhelmed while trying to pack up in order to move to Graceland, and he calms you down

You set the last box labeled “kitchen” on the dining room table, taking one last peek inside before taping it shut. After Elvis had surprised you last night with the paperwork designating that Graceland was now owned by the two of you, you had woken up full of motivation to pack your entire apartment into boxes and get settled at Graceland as soon as possible. Elvis had to go record something in the studio bright and early that morning, so you were able to start getting things organized just how you wanted them. So far you had packed up everything from the kitchen and bathroom, and you were heading into the bedroom with a pile of boxes when you started to feel a headache coming on. Deciding to just see if maybe it would just go away on its own, you began pulling everything out of your dresser and throwing it onto the bed to sort into boxes later. You didn’t realize just how much clothing you had packed into your dresser over the past year until it was all in a pile, and now it was starting to get overwhelming. You took a deep breath and walked out to the kitchen to grab your glass of water. Now that you were coming back into the living room after being in your room, it looked a lot messier than you remembered it being. And now your head was starting to pound. You wanted to take some medicine for it, but you realized that all of the medicine was now buried in a box under everything from your kitchen. 

You finished off your glass of water, and trying to power through your headache, made your way back to the pile of laundry in your bedroom. Taking a step away from it had seemed like a good idea at the time, but as you came back into the room you realized how much of a mess you had made and how long it would take to pack all of it into boxes. Overwhelmed and in pain, your eyes began to fill with tears as you sat down on the carpet with your back to the door. You tried to begin thinking through the best way to organize everything into neat boxes, but it only made your head pound harder as the tears began to flow freely down your face. You had been so in your own head that you didn’t hear Elvis unlock the door to your shared apartment and walk in. 

“Wow, you really made some progress while I was out. Excited, huh?” Elvis joked as he walked through the kitchen. You jumped at the sound of his voice, and started trying to hide your tears in embarrassment over your little meltdown.

“Yeah, I guess..” you tried to joke back, but you apparently hadn’t made it sound very convincing, because Elvis came hurrying into the bedroom with a concerned look on his face. When he saw you there, on the floor, surrounded by clothing, with your eyes red and tears still running down your cheeks, he panicked a little.

“Oh, darlin’, what happened? Are you okay?” he asked, kneeling down in front of you and holding your face in his hands. Something about the worry in his eyes and the way that he cared for you made you break down into sobs. You tried to explain it all to him, gasping for air, but it was pointless. You couldn’t stop crying.

“Babe, I can’t understand anythin’ you’re saying. Come here,” he said, standing up and moving towards the bed. He pushed some clothes aside, clearing a place to sit, and grabbed your hand. He pulled you into a hug, kissing you on the forehead, and then sat down on the edge of the bed, placing you on his lap. The two of you sat there for what felt like forever, Elvis hugging you and running his hands up and down your back as you cried into his shoulder. As you managed to calm yourself down, you pulled back and looked into your lover’s eyes. Seeing that you were no longer crying, he smiled and kissed your forehead once again. 

“Glad to see you’re feelin’ at least a little better. Now, did someone do this to you, angel? Do I need to fight them?” He asked, half-joking, but still with concern in his eyes. Shaking your head, you began explaining to him how overwhelmed you had gotten, and how you had a headache. But the more you tried to put your feelings into words, the more embarrassed you felt at how much you had let such small things get you upset to the point of tears.

“I know it’s stupid, I don’t know why I got so worked up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I mean come on, it’s a pile of clothes, and here I am, sobbing uncontrollably. I’m pathetic-“ you rambled, as Elvis interrupted you by kissing you. Breaking the kiss, he pulled himself away from you so that he could make eye contact with you.

“Baby, I get it. You’re not pathetic, I promise. It happens to all of us. But I’m here to help you now. I’ve got you,” he reassured you, pulling you into a tight hug. He stood up, lifting you bridal style, and carried you out to the living room. He sat you on the couch and went to refill your glass of water. 

“Now, where did my girl put that medicine?” he asked you, placing your now full glass on the coffee table in front of you. You pointed to the box at the bottom of the pile, and he got to work moving everything around so he could access the medicine. He eventually found it, and brought the bottle to you. You took it from him and poured a dose of the pills into your hand. As you took the medicine, he closed the bottle and took it back to the kitchen. He made you your favorite snack and brought it back to the living room, sitting down next to you. He put his arm around you and, handing the plate to you, grabbed the book you had been reading off of the coffee table. 

“Where were we again, doll?” he asked, opening the book and flipping to the chapter you told him. He began reading it to you as you ate your food. After you finished, you cuddled up into Elvis’ side and put your arms around him. You suddenly felt like taking a nap. He read to you until you fell asleep, then put the book back onto the table. He kissed your cheek and then very carefully separated himself from you, leaving you to nap on the couch as he went back into the bedroom.

You woke up hours later to the sound of the apartment door opening. You looked over to see Elvis walking back in with a paper bag in his arms. He had gone out and gotten the two of you dinner from your favorite restaurant. You smiled at him and he looked over, seeing that you were awake.

“Good morning!” he chuckled, setting the bag down and heading over to you to give you a hug. As you walked around the couch to go get your food, you looked over towards the bedroom, and saw through the open door that your clothes were no longer littered all over. In their place was a small pile of boxes, taped shut and with “y/n’s clothes” scrawled on the side of each. You turned to Elvis, and he just looked back at you with a smile on his face.

“Figured maybe it would help you feel a little less stressed out. Anything for my darlin’. Though it probably isn’t nearly as organized as it would’ve been if you’d done it..”

[madaboutmunson]

The Drive-In Part 13

Part 1 | Part 12 | Part 14 | Links to all Parts | AO3 Link

Taglist: @2btheanswertothequestion @cr0w-culture @panicatthediaz @rhyswritesreadsandcries @weirdspaceowl @duraffinity

Eddie knows this was probably stupid. He didn't have to make banana pancakes from scratch. He could be on his way to his van now and home, but he knew that shitty feeling after a meltdown only too well.

His reasoning being if he could see Steve eat something relatively healthy, he wouldn't worry all day. He knew that wasn't the only reason. He'd done this a lot of times.

Pancakes the morning after. The girls rarely stayed. Maybe realizing their mistake, or perhaps being uncomfortable in a trailer, he'd usually be up early making them because he'd been too excited to rest properly and had probably already spent a good hour watching them sleep peacefully next to him.

Now the emergency was over. He was trying to keep eye contact with Steve to a minimum because now Steve was wide awake and sober. Eddie was worried about how much his own eyes would give away. He never was that good at hiding his true feelings on his face. So he kept his head down and ate.

Eddie notices Steve is picking at his food,.moving it around more than actually eating it, "You haven't gotta eat them if you don't like them. No offence taken," Eddie says with a little false laugh.

The clang of Steve's fork against the plate makes Eddie look up from his food. Eddie tries to remember to look as calm as possible, like he did when he hid a secret during a hellfire campaign. But this time, he was full of dread instead of harbouring a feeling of excitement for the final reveal. He didn't know if Steve could remember everything, nothing, or something in between. His eyes go back to his food.

"Listen, Eddie," Steve starts, and Eddie feels his stomach churning, but he continues to eat and responds with a hum and absolutely is not going to take his eyes off his plate. He isn't. Nope.

"I'm sorry about earlier. I just...um...a few years ago. I was at my friend's house, and this guy broke in, and I think that maybe that's kinda stuck with me," Steve explains.

"Well, that must have been fucking terrifying. No need to apologize, man. I've had a few meltdowns in my time." Eddie looks up for a moment and tries to give a comforting laugh, "Nowhere near as violent though. I'm more a yelling, screaming, fainting kinda guy".

Steve's eyes look up to his, and Eddie couldn't look away for all the Gibson S.Gs in the world.

"Really?" Steve asks quietly, and though his mouth doesn't smile, his hypnotic eyes read hopeful, and they are searching for it in Eddie's eyes.

"Yeah, really," Eddie replies gently. Maybe more gently than he should have because Steve looks away.

Eddie clears his throat, reaches for his glass of juice, and takes a sip. Then, he nervously thumbs at his rings with his free hand under the table.

"I don't really remember much of the details after the pool last night," Steve starts, "But I feel like I had fun, and I hope I didn't do or say anything dumb, you know?"

"Same," Eddie laughs. Of course, it's a complete lie; he remembers everything, every look, every word, every touch, every move, but the laugh is genuine and of nervous relief.

To Eddie's surprise, Steve also laughs, and it's music to his ears. As he looks up, Steve discards his fork and picks up a pancake like a taco and bites it clean in half and then the other. His cheeks are packed like a hamster.

Eddie feels a warmth in his very soul, and he feels a huge grin split his face, "Don't ever let it be said that I don't bring good shit to the party," he says happily.

"Munson, I will never doubt you again," Steve replies, mouth partially full before he drowns a pancake in syrup and devours that one too.

A little warmth spreads across Eddie's face. He knows he's blushing, shakes his hair in front of his face to hide it, and eats a small, precisely cut square of pancake. He didn't always eat this delicately. More than anything, he wasn't hungry. Which he really should be. He should be ravenous, but his stomach feels full already of a billion butterflies.

It was already blowing his mind he was feeling this way about a guy, but not just any guy. Steve Harrington. But not just Steve Harrington. Mentally unhinged, I-thought-he-was-going-to-kill-me-this-morning Steve Harrington.

Maybe, if he'd just made his apologies and walked out of that room, Eddie wouldn't have seen that look in his eyes. He was broken and fragile underneath it all, and Eddie was a fixer and protector.

"I can't believe you found pancake mix. I didn't even know we had any," Steve laughs, demolishing pancake number four.

Eddie isn't sure whether to tell him, so he changes the subject.

"So, besides chauffeuring me back to my old lady, what does Sunday hold for, Steve?" Eddie was mainly making polite conversation, but part of him wanted to know. Not so much to know Steve's plans, but that sensible side of Eddie wanted to hear a mention of a date, a girl's name, or something that would kill his dreamy impossible hopes where they stood to nuke those billion butterflies.

Steve laughs, covering his still full mouth, "Pretty funny you think I have any plans other than recovering"

"Haven't partied like that in a while, huh?" Eddie smirks back.

"The last time I partied, even close to last night, there were a lot more people around, and my girlfriend told me I was bullshit" Steve laughs and shakes his head, wiping the last of his stack around his plate.

"Well, that sound like it sucked," Eddie says with a frown.

"Oh, it absolutely did, and you know what else? I think she cursed me. Since then, I've been having issues I didn't even know I had!" Steve gestures to himself animatedly. "I mean, I don't have issues getting dates. But, once on a date, I'll do something and think, Was that me, or was that bullshit? You know? Like it's constantly there, just waiting" Steve puts his hands up, imitating a bear.

"Sounds like you got sucker punched to me, dude," Eddie says supportively.

Watching Steve talk animatedly like this flashes Eddie back to being called smart, and his stomach isn't just somersaulting. It's doing an entire gymnastics routine as he looks up at Steve.

Steve is out of his seat, hand pointed at Eddie, "Exactly! Exactly this" His hands go to his hips as he paces around, and for a second, Eddie's eyes follow them.

Eddie should really go home now.

"You know, I've had a fun time and all, but I think I better get to my van before someone who hates me gets there first" The speed at which Eddie gets out of his seat makes everything on the table clatter as he bumps it.

Eddie quickly starts clearing away the dishes, "That's a no!" Steve says with authority, taking the plates from Eddie, "You've done enough today."

Eddie puts his hands at the small of his back and blurts out, "I'm not great at measuring, so there is like another stack and a half in the oven" then his fingers find a string, and he realizes he still has the apron on. He whips it off at lightning speed, quickly collects his jackets and lunch box, and waits in the hallway nervously.

Hurry up, Steve, Jesus!

It's only a minute or two before Steve appears, keys and jump cables in hand, but it felt like hours to Eddie.

"Figured I'd bring these just in case" he holds them up proudly. Eddie nods and smiles, not having the heart to tell him he's holding two positive ones, but Eddie has some in his van anyway.

When they get in the car, Eddie puts his seat belt on straight away, and as soon as he starts the engine, Steve puts a tape in the stereo, switches it on, and turns it up a little. Eddie looks at Steve from the corner of his eye, and he swears he's smiling at him.

Eddie can hear Steve's fingers tap the steering wheel as the intro of some familiar piano chords kick in, and Steve taps along before singing along in a mumble.

Just take those old records off the shelf

I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself

Today's music ain't got the same soul

Eddie joins in

I like that old time rock 'n' roll

"Whooooo," Steve exclaims, as he slaps the steering wheel at the sound of Eddie's voice.

The irony of the following verse is not lost on Eddie, who starts laughing, earning him a gentle backhanded tap from Steve, "Hey, don't laugh at my singing!"

"I'm not, I swear!" Eddie protests and secretly smiles happily out the window, "I just enjoy being right. I did say you probably liked Seger."

"No!" Steve playfully tries to deny it, "Wrong. I just happen to like this song." Steve laughs and says excitedly, "Oh, it's on now."

"What's on?" Eddie turns to Steve in confusion.

"I'm gonna annihilate you singing this song, Munson" Steve grins over at him, rewind's the tape, and hits play again.

They attempt to outsing one another all the way back to the drive-in, and Eddie, in his element, entirely forgets anything troubling his mind and lets himself enjoy the moment.

Eddie jumps in the van, and she starts up on the first try. He laughs, "That's my girl," he says, patting the outside of the door.

He looks down at Steve leaning against his car, like a fucking movie star, cigarette hanging from his lip, one leg hitched up against the door, one hand on his hip, the other playing with his hair as he looks out into the distance.

Jesus Christ, this is really bad, but at least it was nearly over.

"Well, Harrington, it's been a pleasure. Thanks, I owe you one," Eddie says with a smile.

Steve's head snaps to Eddie like he just woke him out of a daydream, "Don't worry about it. I'll see you around, yeah?"

Eddie forces a grin and a little salute before he drives away.

He brakes to give way at the drive-in exit and catches a glimpse of the back of Steve in the mirror, and his heart sinks. He plants a kiss on his two fingers, presses them on Steve's reflection, and quietly says, "See you around, Steve."

[babyloposts]

New BakuBaby

(Ughhh I love this anime. Any excuse to use my baby Kotaro I’m gonna take)

Dilf!Bakugou x poc!fem!reader

—————————————————

You and Katsuki knew better than to let lil mama get comfortable, but that’s exactly what you did. 5 years of blissful marriage with your little girl (that wasn’t so little anymore) and you felt that now was a good time to start over and have another. Katsuki wasn’t opposed to the idea he was more worried about how your daughter would react. She had already gone 13 years being an only child and she was spoiled rotten. Neither of you had any idea how she would react.

But one late night, coming home 2 bottles of wine deep after a date, the protests of your teenager were the last of yours and Katsuki’s worries. Plus you just so conveniently stopped taking your birth control about a month ago, so the timing was perfect.

Katsuki must have had some Olympic swimmers even after all these years because it only took one try before you were missing your period and waking up with morning sickness. Your husband was surprised, nervous, excited, and ecstatic all rolled into one. He forgot what it was like to have a new born and he was so happy that he would be experiencing all the highs and lows of pregnancy with the love of his life.

You waited well after your first trimester to announce your pregnancy to people and the first on the list was the most nerve-wracking, your daughter. You and Katsuki sat her down on the couch together and presented her with a small Polaroid. It took her all of a second to realize what was going on.

“We’ll it took you long enough.” She chuckled. Katsuki’s nose and brows scrunched at his baby girl’s reaction. He was expecting a full blown meltdown but it seemed she was being mature? “It would have been nice for us to not have such a big age gap, I mean 13 years? I’m practically gonna raise the baby myself.” Well nice to know one thing hasn’t changed. She still had no type of filter.

“You’re happy, then?” You asked hope practically radiating from your skin.

“Yeah, of course I am! I pretty much figured it out a month ago, though.”

“Wha- you did?” Katsuki questioned.

“Duh. All the signs were there. Morning sickness, the glow, plus Mom’s boobs have gotten bigger.”

Yep, no filter.

All your friends and family were super excited and supportive about you being pregnant and your pregnancy wasn’t that bad. At least, your first trimester wasn’t that bad. You didn’t start getting big until you were six months in and that’s when pregnancy, with all of its cravings, aches and mood swings, hit you with full force.

Katsuki, of course was super protective over you. Basically waiting on you hand and foot throughout your third trimester. He’d give you massages on your back and swollen feet, hold your baby bump up for you, run your baths, make late night trips to the store and whatever fast food you were craving (even if he would act like it was a burden to him, he wanted to go out for you). He was perfect, albeit a little over protective, especially when his friends came to visit you.

“Stop crowding her, and leave my kid alone! They’re kicking cuz they want your hands off of his home.”

“Y/N, is he always like this?” Mina giggled.

“Yeah even with his mother. He’s such a helicopter parent, and husband.” You laughed rubbing your bump with care.

“No I am not!”

Katsuki was so cute. He was just happy to be experiencing everything with you since he wasn’t around the first time. Even with Hero work you and his family came first, always.

The day finally came to push that big headed baby out of your cooch and you don’t know who was more annoying in the delivery room. Katsuki who was freaking the fuck out the entire time, his mother who was yelling at him to calm down because he was getting you worked up, or your daughter who was giving you a full play by play of what the doctor was seeing down there as you pushed. If it weren’t for your own mother being there, holding your hand, to keep you sane you might have kicked them all out and birthed the baby alone.

Once your daughter announced that the head was coming out Katsuki went into dutiful husband mode holding your other hand and telling you to keep breathing. A few insults were hurled at Katsuki for putting you in this pain, but he knew you didn’t mean it and it would all be worth it in the end.

And finally your son was in your arms and the mixture of your cries with his were filling the room.

Soon you settled into your new life of sleepless nights and living only to serve your little parasite precious baby. Katsuki somewhat knew what he was doing. He got full custody of your daughter when she was four months so he knew the basic needs that was required for a new born. He just couldn’t comprehend how cute and tiny he was.

No amount of cuteness can make up for all the screaming this baby did, however. Katsuki wasn’t used to fussy babies. When your daughter was small she would have her tantrums and meltdowns, but it seemed your son just cried for no reason. He wouldn’t want to feed, he had a clean diaper, and if Katsuki rocked him he wouldn’t go to sleep. The only thing that would calm him down was his mommy. And his sister surprisingly.

“How come he shuts up when you hold him.” Katsuki would pout after handing the baby off to you to cuddle in bed.

“Because he’s a mommy’s boy. Plus I’m prettier than you.”

“This is my woman son. You can’t have her.” Katsuki would pinch the little chub on your son’s cheek, causing him to stop feeding to look up at him with the stankest face he could muster.

“Aww look Katsu~ Baby’s first mean mug.”

A/N: I am so in love with this blended family head cannon. I think I’ll make another part showing the dynamic between the kids because something about older girls having younger sibling that they treat like their own baby. Ughhh it’s too cute I can’t 😩 anyways I hope you enjoyed this continuation (also I should probably name the kids… I’ll think abt it. Suggestions welcome :))

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