#okay gonna go cry in the bathroom now ✌️

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

i love it here so much. i love yall so much.

[estrellami-1]

Lay With Me (Sleep It Off)

Apparently one of the symptoms of covid is fevers… guess who just spent the last 5 or so days with a low-grade fever 🙄 it started with me waking up at 3am to use the bathroom, thinking I was fine until I got out of my (warm) bed and started shivering uncontrollably.

Also my eyes started hurting about halfway through so uh. If you see any typos. No you don’t ✌️

Steve wakes up to Eddie’s hand drifting over his skin.

It’s something that happens more often than not, nowadays, to the point where he rolls over and presses his hips to Eddie’s automatically.

Eddie’s hand stutters. “Baby?” He asks, and Steve frowns, because neither of them had expected him to be soft.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, still sleep-drunk. “Dunno.”

“You want it?” Eddie asks, then presses a kiss to his forehead and freezes again. “Oh, shit, baby, you’re hot.”

“Mmm,” Steve says. “Thanks.”

Eddie chuckles. “Though you are hot, that’s not the kind I’m talking about, babydoll. I think you have a fever.”

Steve frowns. “No, ‘m fine. Got work.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think fevers care about our work schedules.”

“Rude,” Steve murmurs. “They should.” He sighs and tucks himself closer to Eddie, because he’s warm and Steve is a little bit cold. “Time’s it?”

“Almost eight.” He runs a hand down Steve’s back. “You’ve got a little over an hour.”

Steve smiles against Eddie’s throat. “You were gonna make me late.”

“Was not,” Eddie retorts, even though they both know that’s a lie.

Steve hums and wiggles further into Eddie’s warmth. “Gotta get up,” he says, doing absolutely nothing to do so.

Eddie keeps petting Steve’s back, which furthers his resolve to do nothing. “I think you should stay home, baby. If you’re sick…”

“Not,” Steve argues nonsensically. “Don’t have time.”

Eddie sighs, pressing a kiss to Steve’s temple. “Okay, baby. If you’re not sick, then you need to get up and get ready to take a shower, right?”

“Mhm,” Steve mumbles. “Come with?”

“Of course I will, baby. Following your lead here. You gonna get up?”

Steve groans, strangely feels like crying as he detaches himself from Eddie and shuffles across the bed to sit on the edge.

He stands after a second and walks to the closet, realizing as he’s reaching for a shirt that he’s trembling, shivering. He’s suddenly, viscerally aware of how cold he is, and he can’t stop his teeth from chattering as he looks to Eddie with a furrowed brow.

“Baby,” Eddie murmurs, pulling him into a hug and taking some of his weight. “You’re sick. You should be in bed.”

“No,” Steve murmurs, ashamed at the tears pricking at his lids. “Can’t- need to work-”

“I’ll call Robin,” Eddie soothes. “She’ll figure it out, ‘kay? But you know as well as I do that she’d tell you to stay home, too.”

Steve sniffles. “Don’t wanna be sick,” he mutters petulantly.

Eddie runs a hand through Steve’s hair. “I know, baby, it’s not fun, is it? Let’s get back in bed, I’ll make you a hot tea and call Robin, and then I’ll be right back and we can cuddle, alright?”

Steve nods slowly. “Tell Robin sorry.”

“I will, baby. You just focus on getting back into bed now, there you go. And I’ll be right back, m’kay?”

“‘Kay,” Steve agrees, letting his eyes slip shut again as chills continue to wrack his body.

Soon enough Eddie’s back with a tray of dry toast, hot tea, water, and some painkillers. Steve startles awake even though he’d only been half-asleep, and Eddie apologizes, rushing to place the tray down so he can assist Steve’s shaky arms in lifting his body to a seated position.

Steve is handed the water and meds first, then considers the tea and toast and shakes his head, trying to apologize. “It’s okay, baby,” Eddie murmurs. “They’ll keep, you need to eat something today, I’ll just heat them up later. I just wanna do what you need, m’kay? Right now your bodu is saying it needs more rest, and that’s just fine. C’mon, come lay down with me, go back to sleep, okay? Let’s try and sleep this off. I bet when you wake up, you’ll feel a hundred times better.”

“M’kay,” Steve murmurs, tucking his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. “Thank you. Love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” Eddie whispers, sealing his vow with a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

And with that, he drifts off to sleep.

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[frecklystars]

my ptsd is baddd today fellas ✌️✨

i keep thinking of Driver rubbing my back while I’m stress vomiting. he wouldn’t be grossed out, he’s literally stomped someone’s head into watermelon mush seen some shit. it wouldn’t bother him. he sits with me the whole time and promises nothing is gonna hurt me. nobody’s gonna get past him. especially when I’m shaky and crying, he keeps repeating reassurances over and over. he’s not gonna hurt me. he won’t let anyone else hurt me either. he’s here to protect me and it’s ok. afterward he holds me and puts his jacket around me like a blanket and squeezes me super tight so I feel safe and secure. when I’m not nauseous anymore he takes us for a drive so we can look at the lights. I can’t stomach anything so we don’t get apple pie like we normally do, but we park by the edge of a cliff by the beachside to look at the waves. we move to the backseat and cuddle while listening to the radio. He doesn’t say a word this entire time until I ask him to tell me a bit about racecars because I need a distraction. he talks about the racecar he’s working on, how he and Shannon are designing it, what colors they might pick for Bernie Rose. Nino’s pizzeria will be advertised, as will Shannon’s Garage. he keeps talking until I can finally exhale without a shake. he pets my hair and makes sure I’m still holding up alright before we drive home again.

Ken’s got this. Ken’s got this. he’s ready. he’s done his research on ptsd attacks/symptoms and he’s prepared. he’s gotten sea sick before, so he knows vomiting is a gross feeling and how much it burns your throat. hes got a glass of water ready (real water… no, I didn’t ask him where he found real water in BarbieLand but whatever it’s fine.) hes got animal crackers for me to nibble on afterward. He’s got Barbie’s hair ties. we’re in a blue painted room and there’s not a lot of pink. I tell him that pink isn’t what’s triggering me right now but he still insists on staying away from it and he makes sure he wears different colors. he’s never seen real vomit before though so I tell him to leave me alone so he won’t have to look at it, but he doesn’t listen. he stays next to me and ties my hair back. he can’t really seem to stop talking because he’s nervous, hugging my shoulders. “sweet girl, it’s okay. it’s okay. hey, you wanna hear something really stupid? I bet it’ll make you laugh. okay, so—“ he tries to joke around. it kind of works. every time I lean over and retch he thinks “oh my god she’s dying oh my god” and his hands get shaky. “You’re so brave sweet girl. It’s okay. It’s okay.” if I start having a panic attack he hugs me tighter and calls Barbie for help. She rushes over and they both realize that it feels so much like the first day they found this scared star, her light going out, and they brought her back to BarbieLand and promised everything would be okay. They still keep this promise now, saying everything’s safe right now, nobody else is here but just us three and nothing scary will happen.

my relationship w/ Jesse is fairly new and I wouldn’t want him to see me in this state. I’d lock the bathroom door and he’d be really anxious, pacing the room and repeatedly asking for me to please just open the door. he’d eventually sit on the other side of the door and say “hey yo I’m not gonna think any less of you just cuz you’re hurling. cmon open the door. let me hold your hair back or something. I’m your boyfriend, and this is, like, my job. Let me do my job.” and when I still don’t let him in, he finds a bobby-pin and tries picking the lock. He sucks at it. “I got this. I got this babe. Here to save the day. Just give me a second.“ He doesn’t got this. Five whole minutes later I finally just unlock the door for him and he fists pumps “YEAH BITCH I GOT IT!!!!!!” He’s so proud of himself. He throws the bobby-pin on the floor. He looks at me and says “oh shit babe are you okay? you look like you got hit by a truck.” and he panics and says “shit no I mean… you’re still hot. majorly.” I just laugh at him and shake my head. and then he sits next to me and rubs my back. he tries to empathize a little by telling stories about all the laced drugs he used to do that would make him nauseous and paranoid all day. he rests his head on the very back of my shoulders and tries to say the most outlandish, stupidest shit that could come to his head to make me laugh. it works. later he draws me a picture of his OCs holding my hand and says they’d want me to feel better. we are dorks.