#even when my mom is sick or when she was working or in horrible horrible pain

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[urostakako]

my mom is the best person in this household and she is the best person in this whole fucking family and im sick of people acting like its otherwise

[fagrights]

people suck so bad these people who basically leave my mom to do all the work when it comes to my grandfather and now my grandmother have to suck it up and take charge for one week when she’s been in this nursing home ans they can’t. then they act like my mom not showing up is the worst slight they’ve ever seen in their life. they only show up when shit goes down and they can’t ignore their guilt anymore so they finally do something about it (poorly)

[miley1442111]

Heyyy!! Would you be interested in writing an angst aaron and bau!reader fic where they're in an established relationship for quite a while now and even have a kid together other than jack. they having relationship problems tho and maybe decided to take some time off their relationship temporarily. so reader takes her and aarons kid in their time off and jack is with aaron. angst where poor jack feels abandoned by reader and thinks she's leaving them cause both the adults are too prideful to talk everything out and make it work. (you can write it however like btw but hopefully with a happy ending 🤞🤍🤍🤍)

i love this idea, sorry i let it sit for so long! only realised i hadn't posted this now :0

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pinky promises-a.hotchner

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a/n: fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

summary: how you and aaron worry jack, and how aaron finds something out 20 years later.

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: angst, fighting, mentions of divorce, jack being upset, etc.

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It had been weeks and weeks of pointless fighting. You were exhausted. Aaron was exhausted. 

“What do you want me to say about it Aaron?” You sighed, exasperation running through your bones. 

“I want you to say anything!” He shouted. You felt a wire snap inside you. Aaron never shouted at you. He knew how horrible he was being. He knew how bad you felt. He knew that this was a stupid thing to be fighting about.

“I’m going to my brother’s house, how about that?” You sighed. “Is that what you wanted me to say?” 

Aaron rolled his eyes, irritated at your dramatics. When he came home from one of the worst cases he’d been on for a while, all he’d wanted was to wrap you up in his arms and not let you go. But of course, he had to ruin it by starting an argument. You were 7 months postpartum, he shouldn’t have been picking fights and he knew it. But he was just so irritated. He realised something, he was taking the worst parts of his job home with him again.

“I need a break from it Aaron, alright. I’ll take Marcy and you’ll get some real sleep for a weekend and we’ll calm down and talk on Monday, alright?” 

Some sleep sounded great. Calming down sounded great. Reconciling sounded great. “Alright,” he nodded curtly. 

“Alright,” you sighed. You had never wanted it to come to this. He promised you it wouldn’t come to this. 

Yet it had. 

“I’ll pack a bag for you,” He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek as he started to walk off but you grabbed his hand and kissed it softly.

“I love you. Always,” you reminded him. His heart melted a little bit. 

“I love you too.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ While you and Aaron were busy fighting, Jack was in his playroom down the hall. He was terrified, you were leaving? You were taking Marcy? 

What would happen to him? He’d already lost his mom, he couldn’t lose you too.

“Honey?” He whispered as you passed the playroom. He’d picked up the habit of calling you ‘honey’ the same way Aaron did. 

“Hey Jackers,” you smiled through the inner monologue running through your head. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?” 

Jack thought this would be his last time with you tucking him in, so he got up immediately and hugged your legs. You chuckled at his antics, unaware of his anxieties, and picked him up in your arms. 

“Can I say goodnight to Marcy?” He asked and you nodded.

“Of course you can, I’ll get your dad as well, we can all say goodnight,” You smiled.

Jack, being the little profiler he was, noticed the way you’d said ‘his dad’ not just ‘dad’. His stomach dropped. He felt sick, the kind of sick he felt before he vomited.  Jack ran into Marcy’s nursery as you went to find Aaron.

“Ok Marcy, I love you, I don’t say it enough,” he whispered into her cot as she slept soundly. “I hope I was a good big brother, you were a great little sister-”

“What are you doing jack?” You asked, worried  and confused by his actions. Aaron stood behind you, his signature frown painted on his face. 

Jack started crying and both you and Aaron ran to him, wrapping him up in your arms. After a few minutes of calming him down, and calming Marcy down after she woke up with Jack crying, you sat on the floor of the nursery beside Aaron as Jack explained. 

“WellIheardyouguysfightingandIknowY/nisgoingawaynowandI’llmissher-” He rushed out but Aaron held up a hand to stop him. 

“Slowly Jack, slowly,” he reminded him and Jack crawled into Aaron’s lap and whispered it to him. 

“I heard you two fighting, and it was like when mom and you used to fight, so I know it means that Y/n and Marcy are going away now, like when you went away and I’m sad because I’ll miss them like I miss mommy,” he sniffled as Aaron’s heart broke. His eyes filled with tears that he forced himself to swallow, the task almost proving too difficult. He looked at you, your head in your hands, you’d heard him too. 

“Jack, your dad and I aren’t breaking up, we’re both just really stressed right now and we thought it would be a good idea to give each other some space. The only reason I’d take Marcy is because I have to breastfeed her,” you explained, your voice breaking. “I love your dad so much, and I love you so much, I could never leave you,” you smiled sadly and took his hand. “Remember the pinky promise I made to you on my wedding day? I meant that.”

Aaron’s ears peaked up as Jack nodded. There was something unspoken about the way that Jack seemed to relax at your words, his entire body lacking any and all tension in mere seconds. 

What was the pinky promise?

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Aaron walked out of Jack’s bedroom and leant against the door of your bedroom, watching you read your book. When you looked up, you were reminded of a younger Aaron, the one you'd met in college when he was with Haley. You felt awful having a massive crush on one of your friend’s boyfriend so you steered clear of him. Who knew you’d be here now? His wife. The mother to his children. 

“Hey handsome,” you smiled at him. 

“I don’t want space. Please don’t leave,” he asked, not meeting your eyes. 

“Let’s be honest, we both know I wasn’t getting over the threshold of my brother’s place before I ran back,” you smiled. Aaron plunked himself down beside you, lying down and pressing kisses against your neck. 

“I’m sorry I picked a fight,” he sighed.

“Sorry I kept it going,” you whispered, kissing his head. 

“So we're alright?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes, we’re ok,” you chuckled. His hands wrapped around you, pulling himself closer into your comforting embrace. For a few minutes, he tried to read your book alongside you, but his question still nagged, what was the promise?

“You want to know what the promise was, don’t you,” you chuckled.

“Yes,” he admitted, a shy smile on his face.

“Too bad,” you smirked, making him roll his eyes. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------It was 20 years later that he found out what the promise was, on Jack’s wedding day.

“Now, probably 20 odd years or so, I made a promise to Jack on my wedding day,” you admitted in your speech. Aaron’s interest peaked once more. “I promised him that I would love him and his dad as long as they allowed me to. That as long as Jack wanted me there, I would be. I told him he could call it off at any time, if anything was ever too much for him or if he hated me when he became a teenager. I promised him I’d go without a word of his involvement. I swore that I’d love him until the minute he didn't want me there, and even then that I'd just love him from far away. But I’m so happy you let me stay around Jack, you’ve become quite the amazing person,” you smiled through tears as he held your hand in his, just like he had all those years ago. Aaron’s heart swelled. You’d thought about Jack since day one. When your speech was finished, Aaron pulled you away from the rest of the party to kiss you in the beautiful sunset, the same venue you two had gotten married in. 

He loved you.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[velocesainz]

Hi, can you do an angsty fic inspired by “I gotta go my own way” from HSM2. If can either be Charles or Lando or Charlando and they fuck up or something and reader leaves them? Maybe hurt/no comfort? It’s okay if you don’t want to

A/n: this was a very interesting request and it took me quite a while to really get the plot line. Hope you enjoy!

One heart broke six hands bloody

F1 masterlist | Main masterlist | Taglist

Summary: Charles and Lando are in a relationship with reader and they slowly stop paying attention to her and missing important events. The last straw is when they miss your birthday.

Warnings: sad, angstyy, hurt

Pairing: Charles x Lando x reader

Reader pov:

It had been nearly five months since they started acting distant to me.

I don’t know why.

We were so good all together

It was like we completed each other

But recently they’ve really started to distance themselves and ignore me.

Constantly say they have meetings and leave home when I know they don’t drive I’m in contact with their teammates

Were they both cheating on me?

I woke up in our shared bed with nobody by my side.

I went on about my day realising they both had left for some sort of meeting with their respective teams

They returned home late at night completely wasted

“Where were you two? I’ve been worried sick! I called you both so many times, why didn’t you guys pick up?” I questioned

“Oh shut up mom.” Was all Lando said before they both left to go to bed

The next day was one I would usually be excited for but maybe not this year

My birthday

I would usually celebrate it with my two boyfriends but they seem to not want to spend time with me at all

I walked into the kitchen to see them scrolling on Charles’s giggling and whispering to Lando about something. They would do that with me too but I guess not anymore.

“Hey guys, what’s for breakfast?” I asked them seeing they had made their breakfast already

“Oh..we didn’t make you any. We thought you would do it yourself” Charles said

I sighed and went upstairs to get ready, my appetite knocked out by his words

I got dressed and left the house watching them not care

I hung out around Monaco since I had no friends here, just Charles and Lando

It started raining and I was freezing on my way back to our apartment. As I walked in I found them on their game not bothering to focus on anything but that and each other

“Hey I’m back” I announced as best as I could in my feverish voice due to the intense shivering

“Yea yea whatever just make us dinner” Lando said

What is up with them?

“You can do that yourself. In fact you guys should have done it for me at least today of all days”

They looked at me and asked “What are you talking about?”

I give up on these two

“It was my birthday today and you guys didn’t even bother to wish me or spend time with me. You both have been so secretive and distant from and it feels like you have fallen out of love. I’m leaving. I’m not dealing with this shit any longer”

I walked up to my bedroom and started packing the essentials

Charles pov

How did we not realise we were hurting our dearest so much?

We were ignoring her as we were going to propose to her and knew Lando wouldn’t keep his mouth shut if he started talking

We were so stressed about getting the perfect rings that we completely neglected y/n

Me and Lando looked at each other and chased after her to the bedroom to see her packing her things

“Cheri please don’t leave us we apologise for our horrible behaviour” I begged

“We were working on something very important and in that stress we completely neglected we’re extremely sorry” Lando said

“I don’t care for your explanations. My state of mind has not been good thanks to you two and I refuse to worsen it. I’m leaving and that’s final” she said

All our hearts were breaking as she said this. We ruined a beautiful relationship because we cared about materialistic things over our actual love for each other.

Now there was nothing we could do anymore.

She packed her bags and left the apartment telling us not to follow her and we’d broken her heart enough I’m sure she wouldn’t want to listen to us anymore.

One heart broke and left six hands bloody.

A/n: I’m sorry I took super long to finish this request. Hope you enjoyed and make sure to leave feedback! Kissies ✨

Taglist

@grantaires-waistcoat

[hadesoftheladies]

actually, I DID have gender dysphoria as a teenage girl without being exposed to anything about it on the internet, on top of "racial dysphoria" and body dysmorphia

there were points I DID want to kill myself because i wasn't, or bleach my skin or change my body, i would have done anything to be a white boy at one point

which is both sad and funny to me because i remember two of my then good friends explain being enby and transgender to me and me being like "that doesn't make any sense" and it's because of trans-discourse we eventually broke up. the closest i ever got to accepting trans-ideology was transmedicalism with weak support for "queer" culture. i did not understand pronouns, but i understood dysphoria. but i did not understand how one could be a man or woman without the sex characteristics.

how did i heal?

one, i left church. that was one of the places i was most scrutinized for my physical body. two, i distanced from my parents, especially my mom. who often made my ocd and body-image worse (not because she was mean, but because she was always fretting about "decency"). three, i focused on bettering my personal space. writing, reading, watching my comfort shows, getting the focus off me. four, i started eating better, and my body became less burdensome. i stopped getting horrible period pain. five, i surrounded myself with self-confident women and stopped trying to resurrect toxic friendships with girls and boys (especially boys). started eliminating each toxic friend and focusing my efforts on healthier relationships. six, i'd started educating myself on my own history, watching and listening to more black and African people. even when i didn't enjoy what they made or resonate with it, i found i appreciated the experience and could allow myself to hate or love whatever i found.

by the time i discovered radical feminism, this was like, the final step for me: consuming women-centric literature and media. this was HUGE. i'd see paintings and photography of women in all shapes, colors and sizes. i'd listen to master musicians, read women philosophers, anthropologists, etc. this started mending a lot of what caused initial disquiet when it came to my dysphoria or dysmorphia.

basically, i took myself out of bad environments (especially those which force you to scrutinize every detail about yourself, like social media, i took long breaks from that), drew boundaries with people i couldn't get rid of, learned about myself (ocd, dyscalculia, anxiety, female biology) so that i developed understanding and could empathize, stopped centering men and white people.

now, while there's still a hint or trace of dysmorphia and dysphoria, it doesn't plague my life. it's like the occasional itch. more of a mild temptation to go down a dark hole than an actual threat. and i've learned how to handle those.

i learned the root of things. not just my history, but the root of how society worked and how it affected me. and i'm still learning, and my life is still improving.

so yeah, girls and women going through this is normal and common. anyone who is used to who they are being shameful is more at risk (like gnc lgb kids), but you can recover. usually better if you get out of the places that are making you sick.

[countcvnt]

Howl

Chapter One: Coffee Shop Crush

[Werewolf!Poly!141 x GN!Reader]

Summary: Four years after a horrible attack, you and your childhood best friend move for her job. After the move, you frequent a coffee shop near your apartment, and you meet a cute ex-military man. You can't help but fall for him. Warnings: Mentions of blood, descriptions of scars, 2 named OCs (i know some people don't like that, and that's okay!) one of the OCs is a child (they are important, i promise) reader being insecure about said scars, pet names (from friend), no use of y/n Word Count: 2.3k A/N: I had an idea and had to write it!! THIS IS AN AU (obviously), I'm doing what i want and everyone is alive. Don't worry, I'm still working Experiment as well! I love Gaz, truly and deeply, you are about to see that in full swing baybeeeee! Divider by @cafekitsune

“This isn't so silly now, is it?”

Your friend looks at you, her hand on her hip. You can't help but roll your eyes. “I never said this was silly,” You deadpan at her. “I said–”

“‘The idea of wanting to go camping before you give birth is silly’.” She uses air quotes around the words.

“Yeah! The idea, not the action, Cynthia.” You bite back.

She rolls her eyes this time. She looks at the tent the both of you set up —mostly you— and smiles to herself. You can’t help but smile too. You groan at yourself and walk over to her. You pat her on the back.

“You’re right.” She looks at you, “This isn’t silly. I’m just–”

“A hater. I get it! I love you for it!” Her words stun you. You cross your arms at her and scowl. You grunt and walk away from her. “Hey!” She turns to you, “Where are you going?”

You click your tongue, “Gotta get wood for a fire, silly.” She gives you an enthusiastic ‘thank you’ and you walk off towards the treeline. The sun is setting and there is a horrible feeling settling in your gut. “You’re just a hater…” You mumble to yourself. “Nothing bad is going to happen.” You inhale sharply and walk into the woods. You grab some branches that look pretty burnable and rush back out to your campsite.

Cynthia says nothing about rushed actions, instead she motions for you to place the branches in the spot she made for the wood. You set it down and Cynthia grabs the lighter fluid. She douses the branches and sets them ablaze. 

She smiles and sits down a few feet from the fire and you watch her. She places her hands on her stomach and closes her eyes. She looks content. Genuinely, and utterly content. You sigh. One of her eyes squint open and she pats the ground beside. You don’t hesitate to sit down with her.

“What’s wrong?”

Your stomach flips. In a horrible way.

“I don’t know.” You look at the fire before staring up at the full moon. Your eyes cut back to her and she pats you on the thigh.

“We’ve been friends forever, you can tell me anything.” She gives you a soft smile.

“My stomach hurts.” It’s not a complete lie.

“Sorry, babes,” She shakes her head, “can’t help you there.”

“I guess–” You pause. “You’re so happy. Like, glowing… I want that too. What are you doing?” You let out an awkward laugh. Her face drops. “It’s not that I’m not happy, I just– I’m not happy like you.”

“Oh, sweetie,” She pulls you into a soft hug, her ‘mom voice’ coming out. “I promise, I’m not always thrilled. I mean, I’m about to be a single mom… That’s terrifying. But I do have you, and that means a lot to me.” Her hand rubs your back. “When we get back from this trip, we can do something you want to do!” She pulls away and presses her forehead to yours. “I promise.”

You close your eyes, nodding. “That means a lot,” You smile. Cynthia pulls away and you sigh. You can’t help but still feel sick. A loud whine comes from the trees behind you. An animal dying. You tense.

“Get in the tent.” You don’t even look at Cynthia, your eyes are laser focused on the woods.

“It’s probably wolves or something…” She doesn't argue though. Cynthia crawls into the tent and waits for you. You don’t get in fast enough.

Something big moves in your peripheral vision. You look up and want to scream, no noise comes out. Cynthia sees the pure shock on your face before she registers what’s going on. You're tackled to the ground by some creature. You figure it’s not an animal or a man. Definitely not a man. Its claws are large, too large to belong to an animal you know, and ripping into you in seconds.

A scream finally rips from your mouth. Cynthia doesn't move. You hope she doesn’t come out of that tent. You’re overpowered instantly; the creature gnashing its teeth above you, its claws rip into your stomach. Another one of your screams echoes through the woods. You look over at the tent.

Cynthia isn’t in the tent.

Your eyes widen. You don’t move.

“Get off– Get back!” Cynthia screams, her voice full of rage and fear. You can’t see what she’s doing but, suddenly, the creature removes itself from you and takes off away from the both of you. Your eyes cut to her. She’s standing there, holding a burning stick. Tears fill her eyes.

“Sweetie,” She’s using her mom voice again, you look at her with shock filled eyes. Adrenaline is dwindling, she sees it. “I need you to stay with me…” She’s fumbling for her phone. “I have service!” She calls what you can only assume is authorities, and everything is starting to fade in and out. She gives the operator the location and she’s trying to keep you focused on her. “Please, stay awake… I can’t lose you…”

You open your mouth to speak, but you are out. You’re too far gone to even comprehend what you want to say. You let the darkness take over. So much for doing whatever you wanted to do.

You sit at the coffee shop, eyes looking at the laptop screen in front of you. Your eyes move down to the time and your heart is in your throat when you see the date. It doesn’t get easier it seems. You know what day it is, really, you are always aware. But, seeing it makes it so real. You inhale sharply and look back at the screen.

You’re doing your annual “What The Fuck Attacked Me in Those Woods” research. It’s hard to constantly look things up. And, every year around the time of the attack, things become fresh. The scars, and the thoughts. It may be the worst time to look things up, but it’s the only time you want to.

So far, you’ve found a big wolf, a bigger bear (which you are sure it wasn’t either of those), and… A werewolf. That doesn’t make sense either though. Not completely. It fits the description of whatever attacked you. But those aren’t real. You sigh and continue looking at the pictures.

You come across an article. Someone claiming ‘a large creature’ (a werewolf, they are sure) had attacked their livestock. You want to look away when you catch images of the poor animals, but you can’t… You’re too busy comparing the marks on the sheep to the marks on your stomach.

It’s adding up…

“Whatcha lookin’ up?”

You almost jump out of your skin. A yelp escapes you and slam your laptop shut. “Gaz!” You whisper, swatting at him. “What the hell?”

“Sorry,” He puts his hands up and sits across from you, “but really… Were you looking up werewolves?” He raises a brow. He sounds playful. If only he knew you weren't playing.

Your brows furrow and your lips turn downward into a pout. “I’m not in the mood.”

Gaz immediately apologizes. “My bad,” he pauses. He watches you closely as you grab your coffee and take a sip. “Are you alright?”

You only nod. “I will be.” You solemnly sigh. Your eyes peer up at Gaz, his wheels are turning.

“Would now be a bad time to ask you out?”

You are certain the shock on your face is visible from across the coffee shop. Your jaw drops and you stare at him. Gaz shifts. You swallow hard and compose yourself. “Um, actually, I don’t think there would be a bad time for you to ask that.”

He is relieved. You see him relax. He gives you a toothy grin and you can’t help but return the smile. “What about tonight?” His confidence is back.

“Yes!” You are excited, you cannot help but feel so excited. “I mean, yeah, that's fine.” You rub your hands down your thighs and try to act nonchalant.

Gaz’s smile turns cheeky. “Perfect.” He jots something down on a piece of paper and hands it to you. His number. “I'm surprised I haven't given this to you yet, but here.” He stands from his seat. “I have work to do today, but tonight I'm all yours.” He winks at you.

Heat bristles across your cheeks. You nod at him as he leaves. You pick up your phone and quickly put his number in. You send a text to him, letting him know it's you. You slip your phone into your jacket pocket and bite the inside of your lip. You put your computer in your bag and begin to leave yourself. Your mind is running faster than you can keep up with.

Maybe it doesn't have to be a bad day after all.

As you're leaving the coffee shop you pull out your phone. One new message.

I forgot to tell you what I have planned for tonight

If you're up for it, I can keep it a secret? -Gaz

Your stomach knots. You want so badly to know. Maybe not knowing will help you grow. You trust Gaz.

Just let me know what I need to wear.

Something cute! But you're always cute. So that won't be a problem. -Gaz

Your face is burning again. You respond with an ‘okay’ and send a thumbs up emoji. You smile all the way home.

You open the door of your apartment and are greeted with a shrill scream of your name. You close the door and small arms wrap around your legs. You smile down at the child.

“Hey, booger.” You hug back. “Where's your mom?”

Footsteps come from another room and the child points towards the noise. Cynthia walks in and smiles at you. Her eyes narrow and she hums. “You seem… oddly happy.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, no!” She shakes her head. “It's good. Great! I know you were upset this morning… Did something turn your morning around?”

You shrug. “Maybe.” You smile at her. She perks up. “I'm going on a date tonight.” You are nonchalant this time. Playing it cool for your friend.

She runs towards you and hugs you, her daughter in between you and her. She squeals. Cynthia pulls away and smiles widely at you, after apologizing to her child who runs off. “For real?” When you nod, she continues. “With your coffee shop crush?”

You nod again. “He stopped by today just to ask me out…” Your stomach flips at the thought of that. You want to scream at how sweet he is.

“What's his name, anyway?”

You haven't told anyone his name. You met him a week ago and didn't want to jinx anything. You didn't dare mess anything up for yourself. Now, you feel obligated to at least tell Cynthia his name. “Kyle.”

“Know anything about him?” She cocks a brow.

“Well, we've only been talking for a week. I'm sure I know more about him than he does about me though… He’s ex-military. I know he works with his old military colleagues. I also know he has the prettiest eyes I've ever seen and is the sweetest man I've ever met.” You smile at her.

Cynthia beams at you. “I'm happy for you! We've lived here a week and you're already among progress.”

“Now I have all day to think about this date…” You pause, remembering your search from earlier. “Cynthia, I looked more up about–”

Cynthia’s eyes snap from her child and to you. “Sweetie,” her voice is soft but full of worry. “It's okay to not know what it was…”

“Maybe for you!” You keep from shouting. “Cynthia… I found someone saying something attacked their livestock and the marks looked like mine.” You whisper. “What they described is the only thing I can describe.”

“What'd they say?” She whispers back.

“Werewolf.” It's the only word that falls from your lips.

Cynthia tenses. She mumbled your name and sighs. “I know you want to know what happened that night– But maybe… Maybe it's best we don't know.”

That is her way of saying that werewolves aren't real. You bite your tongue. “At least I know I'm not crazy.”

Her eyes widen. “You aren't crazy. I saw what you saw!” She stops herself from raising her voice any further. “I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe it's best we let this lie.”

You keep from rolling your eyes. “Whatever.” You walk to your room and close your door. Inhaling sharply, you begin to find something to wear for your date. You have the rest of the day ahead of you, but you want to be ready. You see an old sheer top and scrunch your nose. You wonder why you still have it. It's not ugly, but…

You lift up your shirt slightly and look down at the raised skin stretching from the middle of your ribs down to below your belly button. The scar is big, gnarly, and reminds you too much of the attack to wear that sheer top.

“Hey!” A knock comes from the other side of your door and it swings open. You drop your shirt.

“Amelia–”

“I knocked.” She smiles at you. “Are you comin’ to my party?” Her eyes are big and round and sweet.

You nod. “I'm just going out tonight. Your party is tomorrow, silly.” You pat her on the head.

“Good.” She pats your thigh. “I'll be…” She pauses.

“Four.”

Amelia smiles even wider. “Yeah! Four!”

You can't help but smile. “Okay, Amelia, go to your mother.” You shoo her from your room. She exits as fast as she entered and you sigh. You shake your head and look back at your closet. “At least I have all day to figure out ‘something cute’ for tonight…”

[nakanx]

this is why it’s so important for feminists to talk about motherhood as well, instead of just saying “everyone should be child free” and leaving it at that. this is a HORRIBLE double standard that i’ve even noticed with my parents (my mom works during the day and dad stays home). when my mom is sick, she still does what needs done. my dad, however, hides in his room and ignores all responsibilities. it has nothing to do with who does the majority of the household duties and everything to do with male vs. female socialization.

[danikamariewrites]

can i please request request something really fluffy with the acotar men where reader calls them baby or something sweet, and it’s their first time hearing it bc they’re used to be called bastard or something horrible so they’re in shock and just melt and maybe get teary-eyed, reader just hugs them and praises them more😭🖤

Calling them Baby headcanon

A/n: half of them would cry Ik it

Rhysand

I think Rhys’s mom called him a lot of sweet names when she was alive and after he lost her he lost that affection

When you call him baby you just needed his attention to ask him a question. You were sitting in his office with him when you realized you two don’t have dinner plans

“Rhys. Hey Rhysie. Rhysaaanndd.” He was clearly wrapped up in work but he seemed to raise his head to listen to you

“Baby,” you cooed and he immediately stopped. Rhys looked up at you, his violet eyes bright and wide

“Yes my darling?” He gets up from his desk to join you on the couch. Sitting down he holds your hands, pulling them into his lap, never taking his eyes off you

“Should we go out to dinner tonight?” You ask with a smile. He nods excitedly, “Yes, absolutely. Wherever you want.” He gives your lips a quick kiss and pulls you on to his lap hugging you tightly

“Rhys, are you ok?” He buries his face into your neck breathing in your scent, nodding lightly. “I’m perfect darling.”

Cassian

He had lovers that called him stupid shortened versions of his name but nothing with love behind it like you did. And he was never shown love by an adult figure in his life at the camps so this would just make him want to hold you to give you that love back

Cassian was frustrated when you found. He was rummaging through drawers in his office murmuring to himself about something he misplaced

You just wanted to help him so you silently started looking around his office for the lost paper

When you finally found it you were so happy bc Cass could stop worrying

“Baby, I found it!” You held up the paper with a giant smile on your face and Cassian froze, staring at you with his lips slightly parted

“Wh-what?” His voice barley above a whisper. “The paper you were trying to find. I found it for you.” You walked over, holding it out to him

At this point Cassian didn’t even care about the report he was just staring at you

Cassian gently held your shoulders and pulled you into his chest for a long hug

Azriel

Azriel never knew affection similar to Cass. His family was just awful and then going to Windhaven wasn’t great but having that brotherly love was nice. And Rhys’s mom was like a mother to him but he wanted more

He always craved the love Rhys and Cass found and now he has it with you. You always made sure to show Azriel he is loved, at times he feels like he doesn’t deserve you

The two of you were in bed one morning just enjoying each other before you had to get up

You placed a kiss on his forehead and played with his short black hair, “I think we need to get up baby.”

A stupid love sick smile took over his features. You had never seen him like this, so free and vulnerable

“Ok, just five more minutes.” He said, placing a gentle kiss on your lips

From that morning on every time you’d call Az baby or some other endearing nickname he’d give you that same gentle kiss

Lucien

Lucien was always competing for attention but never saw the point. I think even with Tamlin their friendship took a long time to get to a point where Lucien wasn’t competing for his attention with others

With you it was different, you gave him all of your attention from day one and he basked in it

Today was a bad day for him and he just wanted to be around you

He was holding a lot of his feelings in and was on the brink of letting them out even though he didn’t want to. He knew you’d help him calm down

Lucien found you in the library and curled into your side, resting his head on your chest as you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair

“Everything is going to be ok baby. Tomorrow will be better.” Lucien started blinking back tears at the nickname

He gripped you a little tighter and whispered, “Thank you.” As he let his tears fall, feeling safe with you

Eris

Eris, like Rhys, only had affection from his mom but his stopped once things with Beron took a turn for the worst

When you came along it took Eris a while to trust you and feel comfortable around you

You were passing each other in the hall, Eris was coming back from morning training and you were headed to breakfast

You two stopped to quickly kiss and promise to catch up later

“Bye baby, have a good day.” Eris froze as you walked away. Before he could say anything you disappeared around the corner

It was hours before he saw you again and the whole day he couldn’t stop thinking about you

Eris joined you for dinner early that night. When he saw you he scooped you up in his arms spinning around

“Hi baby. I missed you today.” You said, giggling as Eris put you down

Eris looked at you like you were the only person in the world as he rested his forehead against yours, “I love that. That you give me little nicknames. Please never stop.” “Never.” You whispered back

[xxchumanixx]

could you please do a john nolan x fem reader where her and john are irrigation a suspect but reader is a few months pregnant and has those mood swings (her and john are dating)

Mood Swings

John Nolan x reader

Warnings/Tags: pregnancy, mood swings, language, fluff

Word count: 624

Authors note: Hey love, thanks for the request! I had so much fun writing this, it definitely was something different! I know it's a little short, but I hope you'll like it still!

Enjoy!

It was a miracle how you even fit into your uniform. Really, you should have been awarded for it.

Seven months pregnant, you were still on duty, even though almost everyone had an opinion about that.

Especially John and Grey.

You had mood swings (even Bradford was a little scared of you), cravings and a mouth that just wouldn't shut up (even though it definitely should have in some situations).

The others tried to keep you out of dangerous situations, but you did what you were able to do given the circumstances.

So, when John and you were on patrol, stopping a car who's plates were stolen, John tried to stop you from getting out of the car.

"Why?" you wanted to know, brows knitted together as you already felt your mood shift. "I'm pregnant, not sick!"

Rolling his eyes he sighed, knowing he was wasting time. Still he tried, needing to know that you were safe.

"It could be dangerous." he tried to reason, instantly shrinking in his seat at the look you gave him.

"Okay, okay!" he caved in, holding up his hands in surrender, before he climbed out of the car.

Huffing, you followed him, stroking your belly lovingly.

He would have been a fool, if he didn't let you do your work - one of the things you loved most in your life.

Making your way towards the car you looked through the window, spotting a man in his twenties.

"Get out of the car, hands were we can see them!" you shouted, and the man nodded, before he slowly opened the door, getting out.

He held his hands up in front of him, eying you up and down, as his brows furrowed.

"She looks like she's going to give birth any minute!" he exclaimed, pointing at you, eyes fixed on John. "You're letting her work like that?"

Your eyes widened, looking at him in shock.

"Are you saying that I'm fat?" you asked in disbelieve, before John could have said anything, considering if you'd get away with hitting that man.

"What? No!" he gave back, taken aback. "No, your looking great! I was just looking out for you! Instead of your partner here!"

"Oh, if you'd only know! He thinks no one hears him when he's singing those songs for children - which are horrible to be honest - but I do, because he forgets to sing them to himself instead to everyone!"

"But-" John stuttered, looking at you in shock and disappointment. "I thought-" He cut himself off, a small smile playing at his lips as he realized that it was one of your mood swings - one of those moments were you just said everything that came to your mind.

No matter the outcome.

"Yeah, my mom used to sing them to me when I was a little kid." the man spoke, looking down sadly. "She left when I was ten years old."

Before either could have reacted you started to cry.

"How could she do that?" you wanted to know, contemplating if you should hug that poor man. "How can she leave her own child?"

John mumbled something, apologizing to the young man as he rubbed your back, trying to comfort you. "Are you gonna leave our baby, too?" you asked, even though the answer was already clear.

"What?" John exclaimed, eyes wide. "No! Never would I leave you or our child!"

Relieved, you sighed. "Okay."

You sniffed, wiping your nose. "Maybe I should go home, it was a long day." John's brows furrowed, as he looked at his watch. "But it's only eleven in the morning!" he said, mouth agape, as you walked to the car.

"Yeah, like I said: It was a long day."

[fangirlfrom-hell]

One of Those Days || Jay Halstead x Halstead Sister

We deserved more interactions between Kim and Jay, that's all I'm saying.

I was thinking about this day where I was feeling super shitty at school, my self harm habits were horrible back then and I always wanted to cry. Since my mom was working, I texted my aunt and she took me to her house. She knew I was pretending to have a headache, but anyway followed my game. My little cousin lend me her bed to lay down and she decided it was a good idea to read The Little Prince for me to fall asleep 💕

“Do you want me to call your dad?” The receptionist at school asked the girl infront of her. Her head was slightly lowered and her hair covered a good part of her face.

“Can you call my brother instead?” Becca asked in a low crackly voice.

The receptionist sighed, “Sure. But you know I can’t let you go without your dad’s permission”

The girl nodded and sat in the hard plastic chairs of the office to wait while the woman spoke on the phone.

“…Yes, she has a headache…She’s alright, but seems like it’s getting worse. The nurse checked her, but can’t really do much. Sure, she’s at the office. Thank you, Mr. Halstead”

“Becca, your brother will be here as soon as he can. Go get your stuff, I’ll call your dad to let him know”

She didn't really have a headache, but it seemed like "fake it 'til you make it" was a real thing because she was now starting to feel discomfort in her head. Although it might have been because she was struggling not to cry in front of everyone. Her nose was now red, and her eyes were watery. Everybody thought it was due to allergies or the flu, but in reality, she was swallowing hard, trying to retain tears rolling down.

“Let’s go, Beccs”, Jay said while picking up his sister’s backpack from the floor.

The walk to the parking lot was silent; she knew that if she talked, she would burst into tears. A hole in her chest appeared the minute she saw her brother, and now it was growing fast inside of her.

Jay was eagerly typing on his phone, dealing with work issues he couldn't leave for later. He was worried; since he received the call from the school, his gut told him Becca's emergency wasn't about being sick, and now, even looking at her sideways, he could confirm it.

The detective opened the car a few steps before they reached it. Both siblings went to the same side of the truck, the girl ready to jump inside, while her brother was putting her belongings on the back seat. When Jay closed the door, Becca was still outside waiting for him. She was scratching her eye, and as soon as their gazes crossed, she started to silently cry. Instinctively, brother and sister took a step forward to hug each other; there was no time for Jay to bend to her height, so she squeezed his waist tightly.

"Did something happen, or is it only the feeling?" He tilted his ear to be able to hear the answer.

Becca moved her head, saying no, her face still sunken in his stomach, "Only the feeling."

"Alright," he softly said. They stayed like that for a moment before actually going inside the truck.

With a mixture of affection and concern, Jay stared at his sister before starting the car. "Do you want to talk?" He spoke gently. Her delicate attempt to wipe away the evidence of her tears with the sleeve of her sweater tugged at his heartstrings.

Becca despised being seen in such a fragile state; the vulnerability on display only heightened her emotions. It struck her as ironic that the very person who made her feel secure and shielded, her brother, was the one in front of whom she felt the most exposed. In the tumult of her emotions, Jay remained her safe person, the only one she could trust.

"It's the pain in the chest, the black hole. It's growing."

He frowned with a slight nod. Jay knew perfectly what she was talking about, and he hated to be so powerless about it.

"I don't want to go home," she begged. Becca's face made Jay's heart drop; you could see the pain in her puffy eyes and her cheeks a bit swollen along with her pink nose.

He swallowed hard, "I honestly wouldn't take you there even if you asked me to. You are coming with me, but I still have things to do at the bullpen."

“I can wait”

On the road back to the 21st District, Jay’s phone never stopped ringing, but anyway he passed by a drive-thru to get an ice-cream for Becca, a nice attempt to cheer her up a bit.

“Feeling a bit better?” He asked before getting inside of the building. At least, the crying was controlled for a moment. “Alright, let’s go”.

It was obvious she had been crying, but nobody said a thing about it. All the cops, detectives and seargets greeted the girl with a warm smile and acted normal around her.

Becca stayed in the coffee room and never got out of there. After all the weeping, exhaustion took its toll, and she found herself drifting into sleep on the arm of the sofa. Jay periodically entered to check on her, his stress evident as he felt the weight of time pressing against him. The clock relentlessly ticked away, yet the workload showed no sign of diminishing.

Kim noticed, and after preparing to leave by taking her coat and bag, she approached her friend. "Hey! I'm already done here and heading home. If you want, and if she wants to, I can take Becca with me. I just need to pick up Mak from school, and then we'll be home."

The detective hesitated, “Uhm—“

"Look, I don't know what's going on with her, but at least she can properly rest there..." Kim's voice carried a note of genuine concern, her eyes reflecting a mix of empathy and worry for both of them.

They turned their heads to see how the girl was all tangled in her spot.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. That way you won’t have the pressure—I mean, you’ll still have the pressure, but it will be different knowing she’s comfortable in a safe place…I know the feeling, Jay”

After a few seconds of deliberating in his mind, he thankfully agreed only for his sister’s comfort.

“Don’t worry, don’t rush. You can pick her up whenever you can, doesn’t matter if it’s late”, Burgess said before departing and Jay knew she was honest, “I’ll take care of her”

Makayla was delighted with Becca's presence but was too shy to interact with her. Since they didn't have visitors often, this was kind of a new experience for her.

"Mak," her mom called, "Becca is not feeling very well, would you lend her your bed for a little while so she can rest?"

"Sure!" Despite her short life, Makayla's tender heart had already weathered enough storms, shaping her into a compassionate soul capable of understanding when someone else was beaten down or in pain. She sensed all that in Becca and was willing to make her feel good. "I can even lend her my stuffies," she added as an innocent gesture. Now addressing their guest directly, she continued, "They'll keep you company and won't be scary if you wake up in the dark."

Kim guided Becca to the room and arranged everything for her, picking up some clothes and toys that her daughter had left on the floor. Meanwhile, Makayla was opening drawers and climbing them to reach the highest shelf where the books were placed.

"There you go, make yourself comfortable," Burgess said while still fixing the unmade bed.

“And I’ll read you something to help you sleep”, Makayla approached holding a big book with her small hands.

“Mak, sweetie, no. We’re going out while she sleeps, okay? But you can read to me”, she took her hand to lead her out.

“No, mom. She doesn’t need to be alone right now”, Makayla’s big dark eyes were over Becca. “She needs a story, that’s what you do when I am sad”

Suddenly, the pain in Becca's chest intensified, and the gaping hole seemed to expand. It was as if her new little friend could read her mind. Becca yearned to be alone to release the pent-up tears, yet a lingering understanding told her that solitude might not be the best course of action.

“It’s alright, Kim. This her room, after all”

“Yas!” Mak jumped out of excitement. “Now, you lay down here and close your eyes. I’m going to read you a story that always make me feel better when I am not happy…”

With a smile and slowly going out of the room, Burgess leaved the two girls alone.

“The Little Prince is one of my favorite books too, Makayla”

“I knew it” her smile was bright.

As Becca listened to the reading, she feigned sleep. A few tears escaped her eyes, but she skillfully concealed them. Eventually, the reading ceased, and Becca sensed Mak's tiny face drawing near, checking if she was truly asleep. The youngest Halstead heard Makayla's footsteps departing from the room, but then she returned, placing a stuffed animal between Becca's arms. "Don't leave her alone, Buttons," she whispered before descending the stairs with her mommy.

Slowly, Becca opened her eyes and as soon as she made sure she was alone, she started an intense crying, trying not to make a lot of noise. She turned to give her back to the door, hidding in case someone came in. Clutching the stuffed animal tightly, she cried until exhaustion enveloped her, eventually lulling her into a fitful sleep.

She awoke in Jay's bed, disoriented about how she got there, a Mak's plush toy still nestled between her arms. Rising from the bed, a sudden wave of dizziness hit her, her head throbbing, and the discomfort in her chest persisting. When she emerged into the living room, her brother was seated on the sofa. Becca raised Buttons with one hand, a question mark etched on her face, silently seeking an explanation.

“Makayla insisted you should take it for tonight”, he answered simply.

“Oh. That's sweet”

"How are you feeling?" Jay asked, standing up to approach her, but she just shrugged. "Stupid question?"

"It's just—"

"One of those days," he completed. "I know."

"A terrible one, and it's not over yet" There was a long silence and Jay knew she was trying to say something, so he gave her time. "I was scared, Jay."

Those last words sent shivers down his spine, he understood what she was referring to and was also frightened but couldn't admit it in front of her. He masked his concern, assuring her, "You should never be scared, I'm here with you."

"I know", she gave him a hug.

"Do you want to talk now?" Becca hurriedly said no only with her head, and her brother understood.

"Okay", Jay sighed, "You haven't eaten a thing all day. Food should make you feel better. What about pizza, a movie, and the company of your favorite brother, hm?"

"What? Is Will coming?" Becca teased him, finally smiling.

"Ha! A joke, that's a sign that you are already feeling better."

The evening unfolded and laughter echoed through the room as they enjoyed the movie. Yet, even in her weariness, Becca managed to stay awake for a fleeting moment. As she drifted into sleep, the pain in her chest, a constant companion throughout the day, was miraculously eased by the gentle touch and care of her brother.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

TALK TO THE DOVES (IX)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER X ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.7k

WARNINGS: Angst, strained familial relationships, crying, mentions of suicide, I can finally I can say we have fluff & hurt/comfort y'all, etc.

A/N: Surprise, the MC finally gets her nickname

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“Tell me about the,” your mother pauses, looking at you as you sit at the dinner table for supper. She’d made a hearty meal—stacks and food piled high on the long, polished wood. Her throat clears. “The years. How is school? Keeping up with classes?” 

“Yeah,” you mutter, your plate holding all the items it had started with. Alex was drying the dishes, of his own volition, you have to add, across the room while Gaz took a long sip of water from his cup. The Sergeant leans against the island and tries to look like he’s not listening, tapping his foot on the floor in steady intervals. “It’s good. You?”

Your mom frowns, setting down her utensils with a clink. Alex hums a song under his breath and sets a dry pan on the counter. 

Eyes darting to the open patio curtains, you stare out across the estate, your estate, before your mother brings you back in with a strained sigh. She’s watching you—gaze hard on your face but not once do you look into her with anything other than a brief glance.

“I’ve been talking with Mr. Ramsey,” she says like she’s reading the newspaper.

Kyle and you both go rigid at the name. 

It’s only after you get over the slap to your face that you take a shallow breath, blinking quickly. “My…professor?” 

“Mhm.” Clearing her throat, she takes the glass of water from the table and sips slowly. The scent of her perfume—citrus and wool—invades your nostrils even if she’s a good few feet away on the opposite end. Horrible, and evoking memories like no other. It suddenly makes you sick to be in the same room as her. “I asked him to keep up on you while I was away at work.” A pause. “Hector too.” 

A sharp gasp is twisting in your throat. You think you stop breathing entirely.

“Now, before you go and act like you usually do,” hands clench and start to shake. “I really need you to understand—you’re my daughter, and you’ve lost your father; I lost a husband. Without all of,” her hands shrug, “this going on, I still wanted you to be looked after while I…tried to fix myself. I needed my work, but I needed my girl to be safe too.”

Inside of your sockets, your eyes twitch, staring blankly into her neck and the expensive jewelry she wears as if the glimmering will give you an answer as to what had brought this along. Her logic wasn’t what bothered you—caring about your child is natural. 

But yours was a special case. Because by her logic…she knew about…You make a small wheezing noise in your chest involuntarily.

Alex has stopped drying; Gaz widely side-eyes the interaction, fancy glass stalled at his lips. 

“Now,” your mom smiles easily, body burning with pride. “With that out of the way, back to you—let's maybe get some wine from the cellar? We can sit in the library and talk like old times. I remember your father’s bottle of—”

“Cellar’s empty,” you push back from the table and stalk off. “Enjoy your supper.” 

“Erm,” she stares after in shock, face pulling in while her neck’s vein pops. “Sweetheart? Please, let’s not fight. I just want to know what you’ve been up to—I’m worried, you seem exactly the same as when I first left...”

You walk and disappear out the back door, not leaving the estate, no, just…going. Gaz makes a small huff of air from his nose and lightly jogs after you; exiting the house just as the door’s about to slip back closed. 

Walking a short while, you push through the willow trees near the back pond and plop to the long grassy ground. 

Gaz sighs into the dark area, scanning the shadows. He wants to tell you that you both shouldn’t be here, but you’re already reclining back on your hands with your legs popping out ahead of you; the water ripples in the moonlight.

A small silence echoes like mute steel. 

“Should have known,” you end up muttering under your breath. “Figures.” 

Hec had been your mother’s bug, Mr. Rasmey, that ass of a professor, too. Why did it have to be Hector? The one…the one damn person it would hurt to have it be. 

You can’t even find the energy to cry, you just fold your arms and lay back, scalp grinding away plush greenery as it digs into the earth. 

“She seems to only have good intentions, yeah?” Gaz coughs, unable to stay completely silent in this instance. His anger still simmered, but…well…it wouldn’t be fair to keep you isolated if you insisted on pulling away from everyone else. That wasn’t who he was.

He supposed he was the only one able to get any sort of reaction now. “Just because there were extra tasks didn’t make Hector’s feelings any less fake, Ma’am.”

“Back to ‘Ma’am’ now?” You huff, brows loose and sullen. 

Kyle stares before his browns begin to soften on the edges. He looks to the ground before sighing and walking a few steps forward, easily stooping down and sitting beside you—a good few feet away. The Sergeant takes off his hat and places it on the ground beside him, running a hand over his hair and rubbing the back of his head.

“Well, what else would I call you?”

“I don’t know,” you stare at the wisps of the willows. “Idiot?” You say lower, “Mental?” 

The man’s eyes lightly flinch at that. 

“That wasn’t…” he begins, clenching his jaw in guilt. “I said some things I shouldn't have and I—”

“I’m sorry.” 

The world sills and a gentle breeze makes the trees speak for you as the shock lays waste to the sinews of your throats. 

It’s as if the words had taken what little resolve you had and shattered it entirely. The back of your eyes burns. 

“I’m sorry, Kyle.” You say it again and fold your elbow over your mouth as it quivers. “M’sorry.” Again, again, again, until a small break in your voice makes you go quiet again—you shove your flesh over your face, eyes narrowed with tears you refuse to let fall. 

Gaz’s face is open with delicate concern, chest tight and fingers so frozen he could pull the trigger on a rifle and nail a shot with little effort. Did he even have a heartbeat? 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you hiccup, not able to stop now that it’s started. “And everything hurts. I-It’s all spinning so fast I don’t know who I am, but I know that you’re right and it burns.” 

He’s taking you by the shoulders and grappling you into his arms. 

His touch has the same feeling as when he’d panicked at seeing your blood in your father’s office, pulled you in, and set you down on the couch. A tight and firm hold of skin and fabric; of a care that goes bone-deep and calls to this man’s nature—a gentle love for the protection of all innocent people. 

Your face finds the dip of his neck, hands wrapping his waist. It had been so long since you’d wanted to hug someone. Your mother didn’t count, no, right now you needed someone you hate to fix this. 

And there was no one better.

You hang off of Gaz’s shirt and he places a hand on the back of your head, lightly keeping you to him as you shake and lean into his chest. He curves over you slightly, as if shielding you as he did at the park—but there were no bullets here, no great boom of guns being fired, or rapid footsteps at your heels. 

There was no deteriorating room with peeling wallpaper; chairs and the scrape of a bag over your head. 

It was just the willows, the pond, and the two enemies. 

“It hurts,” you sob into Kyles's neck, and his lips thin as he pulls you to him tighter. “God, it always hurts, and I’m so tired of it. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat; I don’t feel good anymore. I don’t even remember what it’s like t-to wake up and feel happy that I did.”

“It’s okay,” Gaz mumbles. “Hey, it’s going to be alright, yeah? Just breathe with me.” 

Your words are garbled and wet, you breathe in shuddering gasps. It’s ugly, your crying, it gives you a headache, but not once do those hands leave from around you. 

“I don’t want to keep feeling like this, Gaz.” Fingers digging into his shirt, you have to wonder if he’s repulsed by you—you’d been so rude to him, so uncaring and blunt. 

But how else were you supposed to act? 

The Sergeant may not have pulled the trigger, but he was there. He was there…and he had apologized for his part. 

This was not forgiveness, but it was the only thing you could offer anymore.

You nuzzle your face deeper into Kyle’s neck, limp and still feeling tears being expelled from your eye sockets; lids firmly closed. It’s in a brief second of the still-air between another sob that you hear him speak again. 

Gaz’s eyes stare off at the mansion behind you as he breathes in silent puffs, heart beating quickly and his pulse hammering. This was beyond what he had expected from you, but that didn’t change the fact that what you were saying made his mouth tight and his face crease.

He knew it was bad, but…

“You’re afraid of me.” The thought hadn’t left him since the blow-up in the hallway. It’s said in a whisper, finally bringing to light the fact he already knew. The sarcasm as a defense, the biting comments, sneaking away and not trusting him. He already understood it on the second day you’d officially met.

Your tears wet his clothes, sticking them to his heated skin as your breath creates condensation. You shake so bad that it becomes apparent it’s not only from your mind breaking. 

It’s because you’re close to him. 

Brown eyes widen, and he glances down at your head in pain, yet even so your hands keep him to you like a bear, panting and near hysterical. 

“I just want,” you confess, his fingers heavy across your spine as the willows rustle. “I just want it all to stop.” 

You shouldn’t be here—not like this. Not with him.

But, dammit, being anywhere else is even worse.

“Easy, Sweetheart,” Kyle speaks quickly, accent deep on his smooth tone. “I’m going to get you through this. It’ll end, I promise you. Nothing that’s goin’ on is permanent.” 

He’s hesitant to do more, not wanting to step any boundaries, but you’re still not calming down; three years of heartbreak spilling out like a broken vase. Kyle’s head finds the side of yours, and while you involuntarily flinch, you don’t pull away. 

You sniffle and suck down tiny, quick breaths.

“Listen to my pulse, Love. C’mon, now.” His hand on the back of your skull twitches its fingers into small circles, the other pulling you farther up. “I know you like me being quiet,” he jokes, but still serious. “So I’ll save you the trouble of focusing on my voice. Right there in my neck…you feel it?”

You shiver, face on fire. Silently, you do as he says. 

You listen for it, his pulse, searching as you focus on just that. Not the man and his arms, not the squish of his chest or how you feel so warm by the strength in his biceps, but by the way it calms you. Searching. Being in control of yourself. 

You find those rapid beats after a moment, eyes tight closed and lungs heaving. The grass sways around your forms and Gaz swallows the saliva in his throat to ease himself further. His eyes close, taking a deep breath that you missed in your study of his blood. 

The stubble on his cheeks itches your scalp.

“That’s it,” Kyle whispers, sensing your breath slowing. The tension gradually slipped away. “There we are, you’re doing great.” 

When all is said and done, you’re limp in his grip, forehead on his shoulder, and Kyle’s chin atop your head. The breeze is slow like a sigh and overhead the sounds of kingfishers and the swans that live near the pond gradually return in the silence broken only by far-separated inhales. 

You blaze with a special type of shame for this, but you’re too tired to try and move. So, so, tired. Staying there, you let his grip keep you up, eyes stuck in the dark grip of his compression shirt as you don’t think—don’t fight it. 

It pained you to realize, but your mother’s hug dulled in comparison to this. 

Kyle confines you to his body, his lungs pushing his chest into yours, hands unyielding and steady; with that pulse still in your ear you sense the way he really feels, heart fluttering still rapid. Atop your head the chin, not digging into your scalp but instead turning in such a way as to follow the curve of your skull as if an eagle’s beak pulling at her mate’s form. 

His nose releases a slow sigh. 

“I’ll be here as long as you need me,” Gaz mutters. “Just say the word, yeah?”

The comments bring a bitter bite to your eye—another sting—but you keep it at bay. You have to. The hitch in your breath gives enough away, though.

“You can cry, Spitfire.” You shake once more, a deadly shiver running the length of your spine which the man rubs up and down. “You can cry in front of me. Hell, bloody cry whenever you want.” Kyle hums in his throat. “You’ve earned it. Fuck, you’ve earned it.”

The second round of tears is far more subdued than the first—quiet gasps and weak limbs. It only makes your head pound worse, the onset headache promising to be a big one. This one was reactionary; instinctual. 

It just…had to happen. 

And Gaz is there through all of it. He doesn’t pack up a bag and leave the country, he doesn’t pretend like it’s not happening—he stays. It is both something that makes you grow a new sense of him, and ends up pushing the knife deeper. 

Out of everyone, it just had to be him, didn’t it?

Voice raspy, crackling more than dry bark, you speak as your grip on his shirt lessons.

“Spitfire?” Kyle stills, releasing a tiny breath of relief that you seemed to be calming down for good this time.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat lightly, glancing down at you under him. “Guessed it would fit…Ma’am doesn't have quite the ring to it, eh?” 

Against the current situation, you force out a soft chuff. 

“...You good with it, then?” Your brain is mush, and Gaz seems to pick up on it. “We’ll, uh, we’ll get back to it, Love. Let’s get you inside.”

He makes a motion to pull away but in a display that no one foresaw, your arms constrict like a vice around him. 

Gaz freezes, feeling the hidden strength in your quivering limbs and how your face is hiding itself away even more fervently. You’re too embarrassed to look, to say anything. 

But he was so warm, and his hands felt nice; just like they had room, or even when they had pressed to your mouth in the back alley when this all started. 

Kind.

God, his hands were kind.

Kyle blinks in the darkness, the encompassing willow trees acting as a silent sentinel to this phenomenon. “Okay,” he says, low-like. When your grip doesn’t ease, he reassures, “I’m staying, Spitfire.”

You go limp once more, a shuddering sigh ripping out of your mouth. Gaz has to stay a twitch of his lips, a soft look spreading into his eyes as he huffs. Inside, he grasps for that small string of hope and pulls on it, wondering if this was when he walks back from the knife edge and can truly fix things. 

A relationship can only be mended by the two people involved in it. If you could call this anything more than a dependency, that is.

“I should never have said what I did,” Kyle relays, knowing it was his time to reach out. You listen silently, drained. “A…at least not the way I said it. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry, too. Lost my temper.” He chuckles after a moment. “Didn’t think you’d be able to do that to me, honestly.” 

In a second of contemplation, Gaz moves his head back and brings his hands up to your cheeks, shifting your face back from his shoulder entirely soaked and soggy. 

“I’m sorry.” He says it with no intention of making you look into his eyes, but the action itself makes it seem sincere and honest. Your red-veined eyes stay at his neck, gazing at his bobbing Adam’s apple. “I need you to know that I mean it.” 

Kyle’s thumbs go and swipe the tear tracks, spreading them away with firm attention. He spares a small chuckle. 

“I’ll be honest, I felt like a proper arse after all of that. I don’t like yelling when I don’t have to.” He sighs. “Certainly not at you. Not after everything.”

You let him grab at his shirt sleeve and mutter a small, “Here,” pressing the fabric along your chin to catch the last drops. Silent, you just blink. 

Kyle’s concern peeks back in. 

“...Nothing to say, Spitfire? Makin’ me nervous.” Face only holding blood and no longer tears, you shrug blankly after a moment. 

“Don’t have anything to tell,” you utter weakly, licking your lips as Gaz’s hands fall lightly away—one on the other side of your hip and the other near his. You itch at your neck slowly. “M’tired.” 

“No shame in it,” the Sergeant whispers, eyelids half-tilted. “You want to go in now, Love?” 

Again, you only shrug, looking into Gaz’s chest with eyes far away. Already the internal walls were trying to build themselves back up; capitalize on the silence to spread poison-coated oil in the moat—light an angry fire with flame-coated arrows. 

You feel utterly alone.

Kyle stays silent as you close your eyes and listen to the trees speak to each other, those little birds on the breeze dancing with wingbeats. Your father would take you out here often, not to impart his unending wisdom like some old man, but just to listen. Listen to nature; the simple parts of everyday life removed from the expectations and pressure. 

Water, the ruffling of feathers, and the trees.

My Little Love. 

But he wasn’t a good man.

“I found a USB,” you open your eyes, locking eyes with Gaz and telling yourself not to flinch backward. He blinks at you twice in surprise, body stilling as he looks back. 

Those browns and ambers melt into a concoction of memory—flecks of green tiny and barely noticeable from a large distance; but you two were relatively close at the moment. Your lungs go tight, fingers twitching as you wrap the limbs around your waist loosely. Kyle watches with apprehension, eyes flicking away for a moment at the weight behind this. 

“Say again?” He asks, gaze traveling back slowly only to see you still waiting to meet his eyes. The man holds it this time, clearing his throat against the hitch in his breath. “Are you sure you’re alright—”

“I kept it in my jacket pocket when you took the journal and the laptop.” You interrupt, eyes darting away quickly to look over his shoulder before the panic you feel in your gut spreads to your brain. “I don’t care, I can’t figure out the password—I’ll…I’ll just give it to you when I get back inside.”

There’s a black flash across the pond and as you lock onto the stray cat’s form, those silent paws padding to the water’s edge, Kyle gapes at you; jaw loose as he misses it. Yet the animal doesn't get water, doesn't even stoop down. It watches.

Silent, no hissing. 

Eyes like forests blink, a tail flicks, its head tilted, and then it turns and disappears back into the bushes like it was never there in the first place.

Kyle gets over his shocked confusion at your sudden willingness to confess to him.

“I…I’ll look into that,” he itches at his scarred cheek. “Thank you.” 

You scoff tinily, without venom. If you were a snake, he’d have said you had your fangs cut out. It’s pathetic, you know, how eagerly you want to get this off your chest—all of it. So you don’t stop. 

“Hector was just about the only person who was there for me after Dad…” You lick your lips. “You know. He…he made it better, or, at least, he tried to. I know you think that I’m overreacting to this, but—”

“Negative,” Kyle whispered, body loose and giving you his full attention. “I wouldn’t say that. Wouldn’t even think it.” 

“Then I guess you’d be the only one.” Your hand runs up and down your face, rubbing away the invisible blood. You mumble through flesh. “I shouldn’t be talking to you, Kyle.”

He huffs and tilts his head. “I’m not a bad listener, y’know? Talk all you want, if it bothered me, I’d tell you.” 

“It’s not about it bothering you.” Falling back into the usual bickering, you have to internally reel yourself back in. 

His body heat grounds you—latches on like hands. So starved for affection, all it had taken was one damn hug to entirely break you open like a cardboard castle; tears shed, and whispered words. 

How weak were you? 

Kyle hums, seeing the inner conflict. He could taste it on his tongue. 

“Go on,” he utters, accent lacing the words with patience. You shiver and drop your hands. 

Very.

“He,” your throat closes. “After the first year, I needed something to latch onto—some semblance of normal life. Hector was a constant face, one that was open and kind to me. Hell,” you look to the side, gritting your teeth weakly. “He gave me free food for weeks when he realized I wasn’t even eating anymore. Distracted me from falling back into a hole again. And to find out that after everything, he wasn’t not only doing it because he wanted to….but that my mother knew the entire time and…and,” you strangle down a whimper, the next sentence breathless with utter pain. 

“She didn’t even come back?” 

Kyle’s eyes break, lips pulling tight, before looking down. How many people were going to fail you, he asked himself. Him included.

The soldier thinks back to that small room and your terrified eyes—the blood and the boom of the rifle fired by Row from the corner. No definitive answers, a suicide, and names that led to nowhere. 

Everyone who had ever claimed to love you had stabbed you in the heart over and over again, and in that act, you’d decided to rip those blades out yourself and wield them like a shield. 

“When’s the last time you had a break, Love?” He speaks softly, gazing over your face and strangling down his anger at the people in your life—at the mansion itself; an entire metaphor for everything down to the closed curtains and the dusty corners. 

You blink back to the Brit’s neck, clenching and unclenching your fingers, eyes unfocused. 

“I mean a real one. Took off of Uni, just…forgot about all of it?” 

“If I didn't have college to focus on,” you confess, shaking your head. “I don’t even think I’d be…” 

As you trail, Kyle takes in a sharp breath with his heart jerking to a halt inside of his chest. 

After a moment of his digging eyes, he whispers, strained, “It’s okay. I understand.” 

“Yeah,” your body shifts, pushing past the topic quickly. “Yeah. Good.” 

The silence falls again, but there’s a different air to this one. Kyle doesn’t look away, not for a long, long time. 

“Why did you do it?” The words sneak out of your lips, face twisted up. “Please, Kyle.” You lightly shake your head from side to side, defeated down to your marrow. “All I’m asking you is why.” 

The Brit grits his teeth, glaring at the ground at his side. 

Why? How could he answer that? Nothing he says would bring you comfort—make this make sense. None of this made sense. 

But he can’t not answer you. 

Call him weak for that, not as durable as he thought he was, but you’re suffering—mind a mess of barbed wire and dark phantoms. There’s a weight on your shoulders that he can feel, had been feeling. For all of his opinions on your attitude, you didn’t deserve to live like this—that much was obvious. 

It was not in his nature to be needlessly cruel. 

Kyle stares at your shoulder as he answers, you, in turn, let your eyes slip the tightness of his face; near to one another in a way you’d both never believed you’d experience. 

“I don’t know,” Gaz admits with a single tilt of his chin your way as if to apologize. “Pressure. Duty. That’s all shite, I know, but…but I thought I was going down the only path available. It’s not a bloody excuse.” The man speaks earnestly, without faltering. “He was never supposed to die, Love. Never. That doesn’t make it better, but it’s the truth. You were never supposed to see that, and everything that’s gone on, I share the blame in. And that’s something I’ll take to my damn grave regretting every chance I’m able.” He closes his mouth for a moment, and carefully he shifts to grasp your arm. When you don’t move away, he ends with utter conviction. “None of this is your fault. None.”

You take a large shaky breath, mind a mess of information. But you feel lighter than you had in ages. Glancing quickly down at Kyle’s hand, you blink at it. The Sergeant squeezes once and lets go without a word. His cheeks heat before he clears his throat, going to rub a hand at the base of his neck and spare an awkward chuckle. 

“But, uh,” two pairs of eyes flitter away from each other's bodies. “Regardless, Love, you really do have a habit of making a man regret his actions.”

That gets a thin smirk flicking your lips. “It’s a lifestyle, Garrick.” 

Flexing your still bandaged hand, you lightly flinch at the ripped stitches; the old wrappings at this point entirely soiled. Gaz notices from his side-eye, fully looking down to make a noise in the back of his throat as the willows sway. 

“Let me see, then.” You huff, trying to shimmy away.

“It’s fine.” He deadpans at you, hand by your hip not letting up.

“You think I haven’t noticed you haven’t spoken to me about re-binding it? C’mon, Spitfire, I just thought you were taking care of it.” He smirks. “Then I remembered you’re more stubborn than a damn mule.” 

You glare at his chest and half-heartedly roll your eyes, unwilling to argue. That thought alone is like a strike of lightning. 

“Only one mule?” 

“Hm,” Gaz reaches and lightly grabs your hand, turning it over and picking at the binding. It unravels easily. “You’re right. Make that three, actually. Throw in a nasty habit of being selectively deaf and it’ll be you to a point.”

You slap his shoulder with your free hand and he slightly banks away, chuckling, with his spine hunching in. 

“Easy now, Girl!” You slap him two more times for good measure, a tiny giggle slipping past your lips as he jostles away with a wide smile. 

But it’s natural, surprising, how simply the laugh comes out right after. Maybe it’s the utter exhaustion that finally lets it out from the cages you’d kept it in—a sleeping jailor at the iron door.

You bend carefully forward, as Gaz’s hand holds yours, lungs pushing through the fog of the forest that was once sprouting in them to release little laughs into the air.

“I hate you, Kyle Garrick,” your lips utter as he pulls back the last of the wrappings and looks at the damage you’d caused to yourself, taking the skin and swiping a finger over the old blood to watch it flick away.

He chuckles and smirks, raising a brow. “I know, Spitfire.”

“That nickname staying?”

“Bet your bloody arse it is.” He’s smiling. You’re smiling. Or maybe he’s only doing it because you are. “No one fits it better.”

TAGS:

@fatunn, @mh073099, @littlegaypng, @untitled69555, @babybooday, @caffeine-anxiety-and-randomfacts, @underrated-youngster, @jupiterredolent, @idocarealot, @karnellius, @latteisaqueen, @petrat97, @jade-jax, @roosterr, @escapefromrealitysm, @renaich, @kysa32, @human-turtle, @aurora-basin, @terumisworld, @violet-phantoms, @xxfeelmylovexx, @neelehksttr, @nezukos-number1fan, @20forty9, @mdjenjen, @marrianena, @angeldaisyy, @alhaizen, @homicidal-slvt, @emerald-valkyrie, @raissadoesthingslmao, @misfne, @hollyhopesworld, @wasteland-babe, @330bpm-whiplash, @anna-banana27, @justherebecausesafarisucks, @sunnynomoar, @doggydale, @thecrispypotatochip, @74478328, @blueoorchid, @das-conk-creet-baybee, @dragonfruit1985, @chestnutsandcurls, @vamqyr3, @lavalleon, @nebula67, @urfavsunkissedleo

[lucassinclaer]

INVERSE

Rating: Gen Relationship: Erica Sinclair & Lucas Sinclair Notes: Post-Season 4, Erica Sinclair centric

“Erica,” says her mom, says her dad, says Lucas, and Erica doesn’t know how to say that it hasn’t occurred to her for a second to do things any other way.

READ ON AO3 HERE

this is a fill for my stranger things fic bingo square 'erica sinclair' - (if you wanna participate in the bingo, check out my pinned post!!)

“Erica!” says her music teacher and Erica doesn’t know why she sounds so surprised.

It’s not like she said anything that wasn’t true. She never does.

“Erica!” says Auntie Patrice and pulls her back by her collar.

Erica’s always thought that honesty is the good thing, the right thing, the thing other people would appreciate.

“Erica!” says Tanya on the playground.

She’s eleven and then she’s twelve and somewhere along the way it’s all changed. Her name become an exclamation she doesn’t get.

“Erica,” says her mom, says her dad, says Lucas, and Erica doesn’t know how to say that it hasn’t occurred to her for a second to do things any other way.

•

Here’s the thing: she isn’t trying to be rude.

Sure, she doesn’t care super care if she is, but it’s pretty much never her goal. Besides, shouldn’t it all be based on truth? Truth, justice, the American way. Erica can’t be the only one who pays attention to this stuff.

Sometimes it bugs her friends and they fight. They always make up in the end, but the days they don’t talk still suck.

She’s good in school, so her teachers don’t complain too much but when they have the time they tell her to be careful about running her mouth. Those days suck, too.

Her mom tells her, though – at night when she tucks Erica into bed even though she’s getting way too old for that – that she shouldn’t be anyone but who she is. That she shouldn’t let the world make her into someone else. (Erica doesn’t totally get it. How would that even work? There’s nothing in the world that she’d allow to change her, she’s sure. She doesn’t know where she’d begin.)

So, despite the chidings her mother doles out, Erica knows that she wants her daughter to be herself.

It’s a good thing, too, because Erica really likes being Erica.

•

The swelling of Lucas’ face still hasn’t gone down. Mom and dad fret over it, but the whole of Hawkins has been plunged into chaos and it’s easy to say that he and Erica and Max were in an accident when the quake hit. It’s not even that much of a lie.

Erica does most of the deflecting because her brother can’t be trusted these days. Not that she can blame him – although she still tries to give him grief. Can’t give up on everything normal.

But Max looks awful in that hospital bed, still and horrible. She’s meant to be her brother’s girlfriend who’s much too cool for him, on her skateboard, moving and teasing and fitting in at their house where she likes to watch TV. At least she used to before she stopped coming around. (Lucas never talked about that, at least not to her which makes sense. He still got those pathetic mooning eyes when she came up, though, so Erica knows it wasn’t his choice to break up. And he had hope the whole time. She could tell. He still has hope now and there’s something warm about it that Erica doesn’t know how to name.)

Yeah, Erica really hates that hospital room. It smells terrible, looks worse and there’s always some machine beeping in the background.

But there’s nowhere else to be. Lucas spends every possible moment in that room. The others come to visit when they can. They can only spare so many party members. Sometimes Max’s mother’s there but more often than not it’s just them, Max and Erica and Lucas.

A sick inverse of Saturday mornings spent on the couch where Lucas pretended not to be interested in her cartoons. Where Max would pretend like she didn’t enjoy her mother’s valiant efforts to feed her. Being a teenager involves a lot of pretending, Erica’s learned. It seems beyond exhausting.

Now it’s them playing checkers over Max’s hospital bed, commentating the whole way, before Lucas gets out Tolkien. They finished up The Talisman two days ago.

Today he hesitates. Doesn’t open his stupid Hobbit book and launches into reading.

There’s a heavy silence and when he speaks his voice is all torn up.

“I didn’t save her.” His fingers scratch at the cover, but his eyes are glued to Max’s still, waxy face. “We promised her we wouldn’t miss our shot but we didn’t—” He makes a choking sound like a sob.

There’s a twist in Erica’s chest, sour or like a burn.

“When she wakes up… I don’t know how she could forgive me.”

It’s the rawest Erica thinks she’s ever seen him. It’s unsettling and makes the biting feeling behind her ribs worse. She doesn’t want this to happen. Lucas is the big brother and big brothers aren’t supposed to fall apart.

They can be poked and prodded and provoked and they’ll yell and take their He-Man dolls back and they’ll lie for their sisters about the stain on the good carpet once threatened.

This isn’t right.

The helplessness in his eyes is contagious. It crawls up her arms, immobilizing her inch by inch. If Lucas doesn’t know what to do in this room, how is she supposed to know what to do in this room?

Her brother is broken in this moment, much like Hawkins. They have the same scars. Like he was torn apart with it.

So, she tells him the only thing she ever tells anyone: the truth.

“Well, that’s stupid.”

His head shoots up. He frowns but he doesn’t say anything. He’s listening to her, Erica realizes, like she has an answer he wants to hear.

Everything gets so weird when the world ends.

“That’s what Max would say, and you know it. Stop being stupid.” She’s standing on the opposite side of the bed from where he’s sitting. They bring their own water bottles because the hospital is overflowing still and can’t spare the glasses. Erica puts her bottle (pink to Lucas’ green, mom bought them together) back into their backpack. “You did everything you could. I don’t know how you guys survived ‘til high school. We all knew the risk. Max was never gonna let other people take the fall. It was a dangerous plan, but who else was gonna do anything?”

It's bitter in the back of her throat. She’d looked at the group of them, in that van, before they got to Creel House, and she’d felt cold inside. Everyone they had, everyone willing to fight, had looked so young. Unqualified. Inexperienced.

Child endangerment, she’d told Dustin and Robin an eternity ago. That’s all this town really is now. The evidence lies with them right here in this room.

There’s still something in her that’s constricted. Those words were all she had. She doesn’t know what she’ll do if Lucas pushes back, if it’s not enough.

Slowly, she tears her eyes away from the lonely backpack by the side of Max’s bed.

Lucas has the tiniest smile on his face.

“Erica,” he says, and it sounds like thank you.

[crimeronan]

Camila horror thoughts. In the horrifically fraught family horrors sense of the term.

What if Vee has specifically warned Camila about Hunter, told her all about what he specifically has done in order to give her a heads up, in a way naturally coloured by the views she has (not unreasonably) built up around Hunter because of all the stuff she's done.

So naturally she's got this wariness of Hunter that does not compute when she sees how genuinely caring he is with Luz even if logically she knows people can act remarkably differently in different contexts and none of it negates all the stuff he did with The Basilisks for Belos. But Camila is still pretty sure that Luz doesn't know, and is terrified that if she knew it might destroy something that she is desperately reliant on, her relationship with Hunter. It probably wouldn't, Luz could probably live with that since well horrible nightmare trauma soulmates and by Luz's standards she's done just as bad in a similar context but Camila and Luz keeping secrets for almost the exact same reason (to protect the people they love from horrors they are too insane to be affected by) appeals to me.

But the problem now arises, Camila's told Luz that she has adopted another kid, and Luz in the spirit of trying her best to reach out does want to see Vee or have her visit with Camila next time she comes or something like that since like, thats a normal thing to do on reconnecting with your estranged mother and finding out you have an adopted sister you've never met.

Vee, bless is not going along with that "don't tell Luz how horrible Hunter is since she is hopelessly codependent on him" bullshit at all. Camila knows that, Vee knows that. Camila knows she cannot ethically or reasonably expect Vee to not spill all of Hunter's darkest secrets to Luz in an attempt to ruin his life since, y'know all the stuff he did to her specifically.

For Vee the nicest most compromise-y thing she can do, is just never meet Luz face to face, and thats only because of her respect for Camila. But there's no way Luz isn't going to to notice or be concerned about this so there's this constant ticking time bomb of "when am i gonna meet Vee' since "oh she's off at college" isn't gonna work forever.

god this is all so good. i've been thinking about it since you sent this ask a few hours ago now. bc like. god. there's So Much....

i think you're 100% right that vee would try to stay out of things. she's like mama respectfully i'm ready to meet her IF i'm allowed to scream a lot of pent-up utterly unhinged bullshit but otherwise i think it's best for me not to be involved.

and camila is SUCH a bad liar. if she tried to say that things were fine with vee, luz would clock that something was wrong immediately. she obviously wouldn't jump to "she's from the isles" when there are so many more obvious conclusions -- maybe vee is jealous of luz for being the first daughter camila loved, maybe she's angry at luz for running away, maybe she's sick of luz monopolizing camila's time now when vee is used to having their mom all to herself....

regardless of what luz thinks is most likely, she's definitely like. Ah. I Am Driving A Wedge Between Them. This Is My Fault. On A Personal Level. Somehow.

and then on camila's end, that's even true to a point.... bc vee is getting increasingly more upset by the idea of protecting luz's feelings. i can absolutely see a very tired vee finally having the stress get to her & snapping, "why do you think she'll CARE?? she isn't going to care. even if she's as nice a person as you think she is, it's not like i'm a human or a witch. i'm nothing. she doesn't know how to care about people like me"

...there is, of course, a delicious and vicious irony in that. like. luz Very Much Does Know how to care about someone who isn't a witch or a human.

Oh God.

and then whenever luz meets vee, when it all finally Does come out.... i feel like it would sort of be worse for vee than anything she'd actually braced for. because luz DOES immediately care, she does act like it matters, she immediately wants to know everything and fix everything and make it all better, she immediately takes on all of the responsibility for everything the empire's ever done, she's so sorry, she didn't know, she would have done something, she can do something now--

--and vee is like well. HE knew. and he sure didn't want to help me!! even though i asked him to!! even though he KNEW WHAT THEY WERE DOING TO ME THE ENTIRE TIME

hunter has wisely remained quiet because he doesn't think he can really defend himself here. and luz has this moment of uncertainty and confusion, and then she looks at hunter's face, and for a second vee thinks that he's just going to straight-up deny it, but he doesn't. and luz seems to understand that it's all true.

and she doesn't look angry. or even betrayed.

and then she's trying to tell vee that hunter was always in danger when they were growing up, that there must have been extenuating circumstances that made rescue impossible, that he would have helped her if he could, that luz KNOWS he would have because he wouldn't just leave vee to suffer for no reason, that's not the kind of person he is,

and hunter is the one to be like luz. stop. she doesn't need to hear that right now. she can hate me. it's fine.

so vee's opinions on luz are like. 1) i hate that you're so nice that i look insane for being angry with you 2) you're a spineless coward who can't hold anyone accountable 3) you've fooled camila into thinking you're some helpless delicate flower by pretending to be sad when you DON'T care 4) if hunter is going to agree with me about anything then i should legally get to shoot him. just like once. i've never touched a gun or had any inclination to do so before today But I Should Get To Shoot Him .

camila's role in mediating this has mainly been to gently steer the conversation into more productive territory when it looks like it might devolve into panic attacks or violence from anyone involved. she's so fucking stressed by trying to keep things from coming to blows that there's like. no Way that she could do a professional-level job of Family Therapy Mediator.

god.

much 2 consider.

[rsanchezslut]

Bless us with all those sweet Rick x reader headcanons you hold

!! thank you sm for asking !! i'm not sure how many i have in such a broad sense, but here are some HCs i usually apply when thinking abt a relationship w/ rick!!

xXx

-i always imagine you meet Rick through Beth somehow. In my head, it's usually though an exercise class of sorts (Zumba, bc my first R+M hyperfixation was when I was doing dance twice a week LOL), but I also really like the neighbors approach too (typical) because i think it's fun to think she starts inviting you over to have wine nights with her and you become really good friends!!

-I also love HCing Morty bonding with you too!! Seeing the way you make his mom happy and pique Rick's interest in just the right way makes him literally. Want. to befriend you. He thinks you're cool and also genuinely NICE ASF which lowkey pisses Rick off for a bit but makes him all the more inclined to like, actually talk to you (bc he's jealous you won over Morty so easily<3)

-Rick definitely goes (a little) out of his way to impress you (eventually). not... overboard, because he's still Rick and his literal brand is not caring ofc, but... i do think he enjoys it, per se, esp season 5+ Rick who's a lot more considerate... when you seem interested in what he's doing and actually want to talk about it. Part of him is def still skeptical, but... it grows on him the closer you get emotionally ...

-Rick is surprisingly appreciative of acts of service!! Esp. things like cooking him food / doing laundry, and even more so if who you're helping is Beth, Morty or Summer!! I always think about you dropping off food for the family if Beth is working late, or helping summer w/ her homework... and i for sure see it as something Rick... notices and pays attention to.

-I LOVE RICK'S LITTLE COT in his room. it is so silly to me that he sleeps on that in HIS fucking DAY CLOTHES. So I think he gets all weird abt spending the night at your place. Maybe weird is the wrong word, but like. usually he's down to fuck and then just go home (or spend the night but not care abt the emotional significance of it and skip your morning together) and it's like. Lmaoooooo.

which I think for a while you're kinda cool w/ because... idk. It's not that serious? but the first time you actually have a real sleepover in your own space (and not an alien motel or his car) is genuinely so. intimate. and signifies and big change

-omf there was only one bed fic WHEN???? sharing a room fic WHEN?????

-but FUCKING IN HIS CAR HAS DEFINITELY HAPPENED absolutely. the way he had a little curtain when he was w/ daphne ... you have def used that curtain. and literally slept back there too.

-he has more dad/caring traits than he realizes. Sick? Sleep it off. Need a nap? Here's a bed. Always has everything you need on hand and is willing to give it to you <3

-he thinks it's hot when you fight with him and doesn't take you serious half of the time because of it

-when he doesn't smell like alcohol and oil he actually smells. so fucking good. Naturally sweet and kinda musky but in such a comforting sense!! u always know if he's been around somewhere in the house bc the scent lingers (or maybe youre just sensitive to him, who knows)

-one day we need to talk about his horrible possessive-ness streak when you actually manage to get close to him. Always talking abt how he doesn't care but really he's a HORRIBLE liar. coping mechanisms are 0/10 (tell me why he's surprised to find out you need to cope too LMFAO)

[oneirophobic]

MESMERIZED - m. sturniolo ( ★ )

part of the 'summer fun' series

summary : you think water is such a beautiful thing, you know what matt thinks is a beautiful thing?

warnings : [ IMPLIED FEM!READER ] anxiety, mentions of depression, coping mechanisms, water, strong mother-daughter relationship, mentions of feet, reader wears a bikini, horrible dad joke, cat calling, no use of y/n, not proofread well

a/n : thanks for two hundred followers! (you guys got pranked so hard lol) sorry for not posting fics, i've been busy. this fic also has significance to me, i struggle with my mental health and use water to cope. if you're struggling yourself, do not be afraid to reach out to me, my dms are always open.

ever since i was a baby, i was fond of the water, a water baby my mom would say. she'd sit me in between her legs in the shallow end of a lake we camped alongside. the water brushing against my small, fragile hips; releasing sweet giggles from me as i splashed the water onto her inked thighs. i'd fall asleep there in between her legs, eventually being dazed by the tiny fish that swam nibbling at her feet and the way her tattoos distorted under the ripples.

even when we were away from the lake, i'd refuse to get out of the tub until the tiny pads of my fingers looked like the raisins i had as a snack earlier. crying and pleading for her to let me stay in there although i hadn't been able to form a singular word properly. she'd give in and sit with me outside the bathtub with her steamy romance novels in hand, looking up between paragraphs at the smile on my face as i splashed around with an assortment of rubber ducks.

as i grew older, my mom would let me swim at the end of the dock with her by my side, my tiny torso just above the rippling water. i'd dunk myself into the water, watching the minnows nibble at my tiny feet through the lenses of my goggles. giggling as i stuck my head back up, facing my mom with sparks in my eyes, "it tickles, mommy!"

by the time i was in middle school, i had unfortunately developed anxiety. i'd skip school because i grew so physically sick, staying in bed all day, crying uncontrollably. my mom had to stop by the school on those days on her way home from work, giving me a saddened look as she handed me the papers. i'd do them in a blur, my eyes swollen and stinging from my tears.

on one of those days, i had to take a shower, my hair was a greasy knotted mess. my mom helped me detangle it, being gentle as she worked her way to the top of my head. i hesitated before stripping off my three day old clothes, not daring to look at my bare reflection.

i slid into the lukewarm water, standing there for a minute. i felt all the stress being rinsed from my body. i lowered myself to the shower floor and sat there until the water ran cold. i began showering every day, before and after school. the way it felt against my skin made me feel comforted within seconds.

years later, i still use that coping mechanism. i began to learn to control my anxiety, thanks to matt. matt and i got close near the end of junior year, we sat next to each other in math class; always helping each other.

this one specific day, i had been cat called by a group of boys and was absolutely terrified that it was going to happen again. i began overthinking: "are my jeans too tight? can you see my bra through my shirt? am i wearing too much makeup?"

the algebraic equations being written on the board quickly became irrelevant, my breathing was picking up and my throat was closing. matt noticed the increase in my breathing pattern, quickly turning to me as he saw the tears brimming in my eyes. he quickly grabbed ahold of my hand and began rubbing soothing circles along the back of my hand. i squeezed his hand out of fear, shaking slightly.

he leaned in close to me and whispered in my ear, "i'm right here with you, copy my breathing." i turned to look at him, unsure of what was going on. "trust me," he mouthed, looking at my tear filled eyes. i nodded beginning to copy his breathing as we both faced the teacher as if we were paying attention.

i almost had my breathing under control, when the teacher told us to work with our partners, the class broke out into a jumble of murmurs almost instantly. matt slid his water bottle to me, "drink some, please." i grabbed bottle and began taking sips, matt watched carefully as i began to relax. "t-thank you," i stuttered, still shaking as i let go of his hand.

"yeah, of course," he said, examining my bouncing leg, "come here." matt opened his arms to me, ushering me into them, i hesitated before wrapping my arms around his neck and resting my head on his shoulder. matt drew comforting shapes on my back as i breathed in his scent of vanilla, silently thanking him over and over.

after that moment, we became closer. he let me come over and spend the night with him and his brothers, just sitting around talking. we were just friends though, we'd share strictly platonic touches aside from the times we both started leaning in and someone waltzed in or one of us chickened out.

before homecoming of senior year, he'd finally ask me to be his girlfriend. making those touches romantic and closing the distance between our lips. we practically clung to each other, refusing to leave the other behind.

i had the lot that i had spent all my childhood in under my name now, my mom too focused on work to come up here anymore. i didn't have to share the trailer with my mom anymore, not being banished to the small pull out couch when we did.

i didn't like being up there alone, hearing the loud pitter patter of the rain against the metal roof gave me a sense of unease, only having my pillow to latch onto. i decided to bring the triplets out here, and they loved it.

they loved when i took them driving along the winding curves of the roads and to little shops. matt stealing chris' usual spot in the front seat to be close to me, which chris surprisingly allowed with zero hesitation.

every morning i'd wake matt up to go swimming with me while the lake was calm and nobody was disrupting the fish swimming below. he always agreed, throwing on our swimsuits while trying not to wake up nic and chris, it was our thing.

as soon as we crept out of the trailer, i took a moment to admire the sunrise and breathe in the fresh, dewy air that was destined to be filled with smoke by sunset from the campfires around the park. matt snuck his hand into mine and walked me down the dock, he always let me dip in first to see how cold it is from the night before. it was always relatively cold, it cooled down a lot at night after high temperatures and the blistering sun. despite the temperature, he always got used to it if it meant spending time with me.

we drifted to the drop off, avoiding the sharp shells that inhabited the lake years prior, the water slowly swallowing our bodies. i stopped as soon as it reached my belly button and dove down, savoring the feeling. i came up for air and turned to matt, looking at him with a big smile as the water rippled at his presence around his waist like a hula hoop. "come on, dunk in!" i said, laughing as i shook my shoulders in the water.

matt rolled his eyes before taking a deep breath and falling onto his back and gliding over to me. i smiled as i admired how silky his hair looked under the water. he came up and shook his hair like a dog on me, "matt!" i giggled. he stopped his movements and pressed a kiss to my sunkissed nose.

i turned to look at the horizon and let out a sigh, "i love this, i love the water." matt began chuckling at his own thought, "well, i am about 60% water." i gave him a weird look and laughed, "yeah, i guess i love you too, dingus," i said, sarcastically rolling my eyes.

i took another moment to watch the seagulls diving into the water to bring food back to their families when i felt a familiar feeling at my feet. i looked down to see the minnows nibbling at my feet and shins, making my giggle with a huge smile on my face.

i felt matt's eyes drilling into me, i looked over at him to see he had the dopiest grin on him face. "what's your major malfunction?" i laughed, drifting towards him. he grabbed at the waistline of my bikini, pulling me closer.

"i think i'm more mesmerized by you than you are by the water."

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