#but i was thinking last night how my mom doesn’t have any parents anymore and that got me kinda choked up

[roszabell]

another sobbing fight w my parents last night, woke up w a headache and feeling sick this morning. when can i leave

#personal personal #i feel like this should have a cw but i don’t even know #my mom. says the most incredibly hurtful things to me in rants and i can only sit there feeling frozen. #then when she finally shuts up i start to cry and tell her how hurtful and inconsistent her words are with what she tells me most of the tim #and then. she cries and wants to hug and hold my face and asks for forgiveness feeling awful. #i nod but i don’t have it in me anymore to keep letting myself fall for this emotional manipulation #last night she said that she’s so lucky that her daughter is so forgiving. i’m tired #she says that she only says those things because she’s angry that i’m not recovering and she’s upset that she can’t do anything to help. #but how do you thinking ranting at me with all the things i can’t do and all the things she doesn’t trust me to get done #and will give to my sister first because she thinks i simply don’t care enough about her chores she gives me #and it always starts with my parents speaking aggressive towards each other and then the conversation gets turned on me so i can’t #leave them to duke it out in peace #i’m not in a dangerous situation by any means but i just. want to move out. i love them but i can’t have this constantly #held above my head or anxiously looking out for the next explosion #rant.

[solarmorrigan]

💘 for the writing game!

Hello! I definitely have to thank you for this prompt because I think it might be my favorite of all the fills I got to write for this meme (although I maybe got a little carried away) <3

Call this one a modern AU, probably. CW: emotional abuse, briefly mentioned homophobia, Steve just has a shitty family

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

Prompt from this list

-

So Eddie’s maybe been laying it on a little thick.

That’s his excuse, anyway.

It’s just – it’s possible he’s gotten a little carried away; while the idea had been for him to accompany Steve for moral support to the annual three days of torture that are his visits home for Christmas, Eddie’s priorities had shifted a little with the last phone call he’d overheard Steve taking from his mom.

Something-something-I hope you’ve found someone to bring home with you, Steven-something-something-your cousin already has a baby on the way-something-something-such a disappointment to see you alone, Steven-something-something.

Steve had looked so small and sad after talking to her, the way he always does after talking to her, and Eddie wishes his parents’ approval (or lack thereof) didn’t hold such a sway over Steve, not when they don’t deserve that kind of respect, but he also gets it – family is complicated. So instead, Eddie offers Steve a way to shove his parents’ faces in it.

Instead of showing up in a strictly platonic, friendly-like capacity, he offers to play Steve’s boyfriend for the holiday.

And since Steve is the same brand of crazy as Eddie (even if he buries it better), he accepts.

So from the moment they pull up in front of the Harrington house the morning of December twenty-fourth, Eddie plays the doting boyfriend to a tee. He holds Steve’s hand, he kisses him on the cheek, he snuggles up to him on the sofa; he plays nice with Steve’s homophobic grandfather, and is only a little snarky with Steve’s patronizing uncle, and talks Steve up every chance he gets.

So yes, he’s laying it on a little thick, but Steve’s family should think he has a partner who adores him.

Because Steve deserves a partner who adores him.

(Because Eddie does adore him. Which is – well, that’s probably part of the problem.)

It doesn’t work as well as Eddie had hoped it would, in the end. Steve’s family can’t fault him for being “pathetically single” anymore, but they can pick him apart in literally every other respect – and they do.

He takes it like a pro, letting the nasty, pointed comments roll off him, smooth and brittle as glass, never causing a scene or biting back, because it’s Christmas and apparently this is just how they celebrate.

(They mostly ignore Eddie, acting like he’s beneath them, which has Steve sending apologetic glances his way the whole day, like Eddie is the one who needs an apology when Steve is the one being vivisected by his family.)

Steve just holds in whatever he’s feeling until they’ve retired for the night, up in the guest room that used to be his room, that his mom had apparently barely waited until he’d moved out to start converting.

He holds it in and holds it in until the door shuts behind them and he all but collapses on the edge of the bed, crumpling in on himself like the ugly plaid duvet is crumpling underneath him, with his shoulders curved in and his face covered and his chest heaving with what are maybe supposed to be calming, deep breaths but are definitely not working, because the stress is still coming off him in waves.

And like Eddie said: he’s maybe gotten a little carried away with his role, but it just feels completely normal to go right to Steve, to curl his arms around him and pull him in close and remind him that his family’s opinions aren’t worth shit and that Steve is so good, and–

And when Steve uncovers his face, a little blotchy and pulling tight with the effort not to let any tears flow free, it just feels completely normal to press a kiss to his cheek, and another to the corner of his mouth, and another to his lips, all in quick succession, all soft and reverent and reassuring.

Eddie freezes the moment he’s pulled back. The moment he realizes what he’s just done.

“Eddie,” Steve murmurs into the still air between them, “there’s… no one watching right now.”

You don’t have to do this, he means.

“I–” Eddie’s voice gets caught up in his throat, because his brain is screaming at him to play it off, to tell Steve that he just got carried away, got too into the role – but his heart, noisy fucker that it is, has different ideas. “I… maybe haven’t been faking as much as I said I was. Or, like– at all.”

“Oh, thank god,” Steve breathes, and then he’s pushing back in for another kiss, his mouth eager and warm and perfect against Eddie’s.

And the next two days aren’t going to be any less stressful, spent around a flock of hungry vultures masquerading as people, but Eddie figures that if nothing else, at least one good thing will have come from the holiday.

He tilts his head to deepen the kiss and Steve opens up beneath him, anticipating him like they’ve been doing this for ages, and – yeah, Eddie decides.

One very, very good thing.

#steddie-island #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #Eddie realizes that since there’s no pleasing Steve’s family either way he might as well just act like himself for the rest of the trip #so he does - like. as much as he can without picking a fight #because it makes Steve smile and that’s the important part #and the next night they realize that Steve’s homophobic grandfather is in the room next door to theirs #and Eddie fucks Steve hard enough that the bed hits the wall #repeatedly #and they leave early the next morning while Eddie loudly talks about how he’ll drive #because HE KNOWS STEVE MUST BE TIRED #and Eddie didn’t mean to keep him up ALL NIGHT but he just COULDN’T HELP HIMSELF #and then they spend their next Christmas with Wayne instead of Steve’s family and it’s much much better #the end #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #answers from solar

[joelmillersdumbslut]

I think it's time you had a pink cloud summer (part one) (joel miller x f!reader) 18+

masterlist

summary: After losing your job and moving back to your hometown, you begin a fast-paced and steamy summer romance with your parents' friend, Joel Miller. (no outbreak AU, no use of y/n)

rating: 18+ explicit (minors do NOT interact)

warnings (for this chapter): age gap (reader is in late 20's, joel is in his 50's), dirty talk, pet names, hand kink (if you squint), mutual masturbation, fingering, hand job, soft!joel, dbf!joel, just a mix of smut and fluff

word count: 5.2k

a/n: this is my self-indulgent attempt at a smut and fluff series featuring my fav, joel miller. hope you enjoy it! ♡

ao3 link

You’re a loser. You’ve resigned to that fact. Your career has abruptly ended at the ripe age of twenty-eight. Over a fucking Zoom meeting, of all the ways to be laid off.

We appreciate all the hard work you’ve done for us.

You’re just not the right fit for this company.

We wish you luck with your future endeavors.

The job you fought so hard for. The one you studied and practiced hours for the interviews alone. The late nights spent at the office, weekends of writing emails and checking for messages from your coworkers. All gone in an instant.

After a few days of crying and wallowing in your misery, you call your parents. They drop everything to help you move back to your childhood home in Austin.

Your room is untouched. Pink bedding, unicorn decals on the walls, plastic glow-in-the-dark stars clinging to the ceiling. You cringe and beg your mom to let you paint over it. But, she loves reminiscing about the good ol’ days of your youth, and asks you to think about it before making any “irrational” decisions. You leave it as is. For now.

While you’re hauling the last box from your car to the house, a hand touches your shoulder. You spin around to see a man. Graying hair, scruffy beard, dressed in dirty jeans and a black t-shirt. His biceps protruding through the cloth. Your first thought is how attractive he is. And how he looks so familiar.

“Hey there, remember me?”

You squint at first before it hits you.

“Mr. Miller? I haven’t seen you since… Since I don’t know when,” you set the box down and he embraces you. His cologne fills your nostrils and you take a deep breath, hoping to remember the smell.

“You call me Joel now, we’re both adults, right?” he chuckles.

Joel lets go, his eyes trained on you. “Thought you were livin’ in Dallas. Had you a big girl job.”

Your face falls, you play with your hair nervously, “Well, I did. Guess they had enough of me.”

“Sorry, babygirl,” he mutters, the word knocking the wind out of you. “Sure you’ll find somethin’.”

“Yeah, if you have any leads, let me know,” you laugh awkwardly.

Since when did Joel get so handsome? Was he always this way, but you were too young to notice? Or care? His long, thick fingers comb out the curls in his hair and your heart skips a beat. Salacious thoughts about those fingers run through your mind before Joel’s gravelly voice brings you back down to Earth.

“Your mama invited me over for dinner. Lemme carry that for you.” Joel picks up the box and heads for the door.

—

“I know it’s weird. Please don’t judge me,” you feel embarrassed at the fact that the hot, older friend of your parents is standing in your childhood bedroom. You feel the urge to rip the decals off the walls, throw the girly bedding out the window. Anything to prove to him you’re not a kid anymore. Your anxiety doesn’t seem to faze him though. He sets the box down on the desk next to your computer, taking in the scenery around him.

“I like the stars,” he says, nodding at the ceiling.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen a night full of real stars,” you admit. “It’s hard to see them in the city.”

A prolonged pause fills the air. Joel raises his eyebrows, looking to test the waters.

“Maybe I could take you,” he murmurs.

“Like, the two of us?” you ask, stepping closer to him.

“Yeah, just like that,” he affirms. He closes the distance between the two of you. You’re standing face to face. Joel reaches out to caress your cheek. Your body is on fire.

“I’d like that,” you hum.

Joel seems to be thinking. Weighing the options of his situation. You bite your lower lip in anticipation.

And before you know it, Joel’s hand is reaching for yours. It happens so suddenly. His lips crash into you. His beard tickling your skin. You reciprocate, kissing him back, your hand clutching his fingers for dear life. You don’t dare pull away. Not yet. His tongue enters your mouth and collides with yours. Instinctively, you moan, and Joel drops your hand to wrap his arms around your body, pulling you even closer to him. You can feel something poking you through his pants. Your hand moves lower and lower and—

“Honey, dinner’s ready! Have you seen Mr. Miller?” your mom’s voice calls from the hallway.

The two of you separate. Quickly. Joel stands beside the desk, the box blocking his lower half from view. You sit on the bed, ignoring the wetness growing between your thighs.

Your mom is now in the doorway, apron tied around her waist. A delighted expression shines on her face. She has no idea what events just transpired in her daughter’s childhood bedroom. And you are going to make sure she never finds out.

“Joel was just helping me with my moving boxes,” your smile is as sweet as saccharine.

The older man gruffs and moves to tousle your hair, “It’s good to have her back.”

—

You think about his tongue, what it would be like between your thighs. You think about his fingers, wondering what it would feel like if they were to hold your breasts. You think about his cock straining against the denim of his jeans, desperate and hungry. Just for you.

You masturbate all night long.

Thinking of him.

—

In the morning, you decide to go for a walk. You can’t job hunt. Not yet. Not with your mind clouded like this.

You need to figure out where this is going first.

You head down the street and round the corner. Joel’s house is on the left. It’s Monday, but you hope he’s there. Maybe he took the day off from work. How could anyone be expected to focus after that moment in your bedroom?

He’s waiting for you on the front porch. His hands are occupied with his guitar, morning sunlight gleaming against the wood of the instrument. It reminds you of the way he’d play songs for you when you were a teenager. You would sit on the floor of his living room, watching in awe as his fingers danced across the neck of the guitar. You’re trying to recall what exactly he played for you, maybe it was Bob Dylan or Pink Floyd, but that memory soon escapes your brain when Joel glances up at you. He smiles as you carefully take the steps, each foot landing on the wood with a heavy thud. You cross the porch and sit down on the swing next to him.

“Good morning,” you finally say. Your hands are already shaking. Afraid you read the signals wrong. Terrified he may turn you down.

“What do I owe this pleasure?” he asks, setting the guitar down against the porch railing. His arm envelops your frame, pulling you a little closer. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest.

Your answer is honest. Straight-forward. Simple.

“I came back for more.”

—

You find yourself standing in Joel’s living room. It’s been so many years, but it’s just like how you remember it. Knick knacks, magazines, and books spread out across shelves. A record player with a stack of vinyl in the corner. You thumb through the collection, settling on a Soundgarden album. You vaguely remember Joel telling you about them when you were going through your “emo phase.” You had preferred Nirvana instead. Once you slide the record onto the slipmat of the player and drop the needle, the heavy, sludgy rock music fills the air. You turn back to face him.

He’s been watching you intently, a small grin on his face. “Just makin’ yourself at home, huh, babygirl?”

You blush at that word again. It fills you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. One that feels so wrong that it’s got to be right.

“What, you like when I call you that?” he teases, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What are we doing?” you ask quietly, your skin burning against his slightest touch. You know exactly what you’re doing. You know what’s about to happen in this house. You just want to hear him say it. Make it come to life. Make your fantasy a reality.

“Whatever you want, pretty girl,” he kisses your forehead, moving down to your neck. The small nips and bites he leaves have you aching for more, but you silently pray he doesn’t create any marks for your parents to see. How would you even begin to explain that?

“Is what we’re doing okay?” you mumble between his kisses, fighting off all the moans trying to escape your lips. “What if my parents find out?”

Joel pulls away, holding your hands. His soft brown eyes stare into yours.

“We don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do. We’ll go at your pace,” he whispers. “And if they find out, I’ll take care of it. How’s that sound?”

It’s an offer you can’t refuse.

—

“Ri-right here?” your voice trembles as Joel leads you to the couch. He had suggested you start there before making your way to his bedroom. On one hand, it feels rather adolescent. But on the other hand, there’s something about sneaking around like a couple of teenagers that excites you.

“Remember what I told you,” Joel plants kisses along your hairline as he helps you sit down on the couch. “Whatever you wanna do. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

He heads into the dining room, returning with a chair. He sits across from you, waiting for you to make the first move.

Moments pass. Joel’s hand reaches out, caressing your cheek. You can feel yourself melt as his calloused fingertips brush against your skin.

“It’s—It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything, with anybody,” you say suddenly, mindlessly picking at your fingernails. “Work kept me busy. I guess I don’t… I don’t even know where to start.”

Joel stares at you, deep in thought. Finally, he asks, “You wanna watch me?”

You glance up at him, amused. You’ve never done this with a partner before. Especially not with an older man like Joel. But, you aren’t going to let your lack of experience stop you.

“Okay,” you grin.

At your command, Joel unbuttons his jeans. He slowly pulls the zipper down. You observe his fluid movements as his cock springs from his boxers, and he begins to stroke himself. Soft moans slip away from his lips. He occasionally looks at you to smile.

After a few minutes of watching Joel touch himself, you begin to feel your insides throb. Thinking about how badly you want him. Your nerves dissipate as you remember what he told you. Whatever you want. At your pace. 

“I can’t let you have all the fun,” you giggle as you slip out of your shorts. Joel groans at the sight of you in your underwear.

“Such a pretty thing,” he murmurs, pumping into his hand at a quicker pace. “You gonna play with yourself for me?”

Your hand slips into your panties and you start rubbing your clit. Your fingers moving in slow circles against your already sensitive bud. You whine from your own touch, which causes Joel to crack a smile as he further examines you.

The two of you watch each other. The only sounds in the room consist of your simultaneous labored breathing and the record player needle reaching the end of the vinyl, a dull scratching noise on repeat.

“Can I see you, babygirl?” a whimper breaks away from Joel’s throat. You can see the head of his cock is now glistening in precum. You wonder how close he is.

With a smirk, you kick off your underwear, spreading your legs for him. You swear the old man’s heart stops for just a moment as he stares straight into your dripping pussy. Absolutely hypnotized.

“So pretty,” he exhales, his hand quickening its strokes, “That all for me?”

“It is,” you reply in a hush, “Is that cock all for me?”

“Just for you, babygirl, just for you,” Joel sighs.

You buck your hips as you keep touching yourself. You can feel your orgasm building quickly as you watch Joel. Imagining his cock inside you is pushing you over the edge.

“I think I might cum soon,” you whisper, your fingers moving faster against your clit, fire growing deep inside your belly.

“Can I help you, babygirl?” Joel asks, removing his hand from his cock. You nod frantically, needing something, anything to help you release the tension building inside your body.

The long and thick middle finger of Joel’s hand is suddenly curling up inside you, hitting places you forgot had existed. Places your own fingers can’t even reach. He moves in and out gently. Your body stiffens right as you’re about to let go. You hear Joel mumbling words of encouragement, plenty of them including “babygirl,” as you cum all over his couch, your arousal trickling down the back of your thighs and sticking to the fabric.

Joel follows you soon after. He takes your slick from his finger, using it as lube for his cock. He mutters obscenities as you watch him orgasm, long liquid ropes splattering in the palms of his hands. He breathes heavily in the afterglow, looking up at you to grin. 

“How was that, babygirl?”

You nod, your brain still thinking of his fingers, his cock, his mouth, his everything, unable to find the words you’re looking for. Joel stands up and walks to the kitchen.

You begin looking around for your clothing, not remembering where you had tossed it during all of the commotion. You hear the kitchen sink running as you pull on your underwear, reaching for your shorts next. Once you’re fully dressed again, you make your way to the record player on the other side of the living room and flip the vinyl to the next side. Trying to find excuses to stay a little longer in case he wants you to leave. Your heart sinks, hoping that’s not the case. Hoping you’re more than just material to jack off to.

To your surprise, Joel’s arms wrap around you from behind, and he leans down to kiss you.

“You don’t have anywhere to be, right?” his voice is a little wobbly. You wonder what he’s got to be nervous about. If anything, you feel like you should be the anxious one.

“I was hoping to stay for a while. If that’s okay,” you answer, turning around to face him.

“Good,” his smile is genuine, warm. “I was plannin’ on takin’ you to see the stars.”

—

When dusk rolls around, Joel leads you to his truck. He holds the door open for you as you settle into the passenger seat with plastic bags filled to the brim with snacks and drinks. You set them on the floorboard and put on your seatbelt as Joel sits down next to you in the driver’s seat. You’re looking through your phone for songs to play on your mini-road trip when you receive a call.

“Shit, it’s my dad,” you mutter, eyes darting between the “Answer” and “Decline” icons on your screen. You never told your parents where you were headed when you left this morning.

“You should tell ‘em where you are,” Joel suggests, turning the key in the ignition to start the vehicle.

“You gotta help me then,” you respond, your eyes full of fear. You aren’t sure how your parents would react if they were to find out you spent the day messing around with their longtime friend. And even though you’re an adult who is capable of making her own decisions, even if that includes developing a relationship with an older man, you're still afraid of their reactions.

“‘Course I will, babygirl,” Joel grips your thigh as you tap on the “Answer” icon.

“Hello?” you try to remain cool and collected when you pick up the phone.

“Honey, where have you been? Your mom and I have been worried sick,” your dad’s voice echoes through the speaker.

“I know, I’m sorry. I lost track of time,” you explain. Not totally a lie. You just won’t tell him what you spent your time doing.

“Where are you?” your dad asks.

You glance at Joel, your eyes pleading for help.

“Don’t worry, she’s with me,” Joel answers. “Found her a temporary job while she’s lookin’.”

“Joel, is that you?” your dad’s voice is drenched in confusion, “What did you find for her to do?”

“Figured she could organize my paperwork and my blueprints,” Joel says calmly. Your eyes light up as you remember Joel’s carpentry business. It’s a good cover.

“Yeah, he needs all the help he can get,” you add with a grin. Joel smiles back at you.

Your dad lets out a sigh of relief, “That’s mighty kind of you, Joel. Just make sure she’s not out too late.”

“Dad, I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m in good hands with… Mr. Miller,” you remark.

“I know, I know. We’ll see you when you get home,” your dad says and the call ends.

You stare at your phone, wondering how the hell you just pulled that off.

“You know, you’re gonna have to actually work for me now,” Joel teases you as he backs the truck out of the driveway, turning onto the street.

“I don’t know, seems like a lot of effort. What exactly do I get out of it?” you joke back at him.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Joel chuckles, his hand reaching for yours as he drives toward the highway.

—

An hour later, you’re fifty miles outside of Austin. On the way to your destination, Joel tells you about this river with beachside parking that’s great for stargazing. It’s hard to focus on the conversation when his fingers are interlaced with yours. Those same fingers that were touching you just hours earlier. You snap back to reality when Joel squeezes your hand.

It’s pitch black when you pull into the parking lot at the river. The sky is littered with stars and planets and the blinking lights of airplanes flying overhead. Just begging for you to see what wonders it holds.

You climb into the bed of Joel’s truck, laying on your back. You forget about how uncomfortable it is when Joel joins you, his arm wrapping around you.

“See that one right there? That’s Jupiter,” he whispers, his scruff grazing your ear.

“How do you know?” you squint your eyes, trying to see it a little better. A bright blue glowing dot in the nighttime sky. Millions of miles away from you.

“Looked it up before we came here. Wanted to impress you,” Joel sheepishly admits.

Your heart skips a beat as the two of you continue to look up into the atmosphere.

“You know,” Joel breaks the silence, “It’s been about ten years since I last saw you. We got a lot to catch up on.”

“Well, we’ve got all the time in the world now,” you lean over and kiss his nose. It’s hard to see in the dark, but you swear his face briefly turned red.

You nod at one of the clusters of stars in the sky and ask, “Which one is that?”

“Which one? Hard to see with all of ‘em so close together.”

“That one riiiight there,” you smirk, your finger pointing at a star at the very edge of the cluster. All by its lonesome.

“Don’t know,” Joel laughs, “Maybe that could be our star.”

“I like the sound of that,” you murmur, cuddling closer to him.

—

You spend your days at Joel’s house. He actually puts you to work organizing his carpentry blueprints and filing business paperwork. But, it’s easy and you’re grateful for something to keep you busy. Spending time in Joel’s presence is an added bonus.

It’s been a few weeks since you watched each other. Glimpses of that moment keep swirling around in your mind. You try to focus on alphabetizing Joel’s client list, but all you can think about is the way his hand wrapped around his cock. Sliding up and down his length. You think about how you wish that was your hand instead. You wonder what his skin feels like, you wonder what it tastes like, you wonder what it would feel like inside of you—

“You workin’ hard or hardly workin’?” Joel’s voice disrupts your impure daydreams and you nearly jump out of your seat.

“I’m almost done,” you stammer, spinning around in your chair to face Joel. He’s standing just inside the doorframe of the home office. He’s covered in dirt and sawdust and sweat.

“Gonna take a shower. You wanna hang out when you’re done?” he looks at you expectantly.

You’ve been skipping dinner with your parents a few nights a week to “hang out” with Joel. Which entails making out on his couch, your hands traveling across each other’s clothed bodies, kisses on cheeks and necks and shoulders. Every night, you pray that it leads to something more.

“If you wanna hang out, I’ll be free,” you can feel your face burn, wondering if he has anything special in mind for the two of you tonight. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

“Good. Got a surprise for you.”

Or maybe it’s not.

—

“We’re here,” Joel puts the truck in park, glancing over at you with an enthusiastic expression.

“A record store?” your face is planted against the glass window of the truck as you marvel at the flashing neon “open” sign hanging on the shop door.

“Thought maybe we could pick out some new albums together,” Joel runs his fingers through his hair, “Since you like my record player so much.”

You beam at him and lean across the console of the truck to hug him. He seems surprised, but returns your embrace, his hand rubbing your back.

“Come on, let’s go!” you break away from him and push open the truck door. Joel scurries after you.

The inside of the store is filled with racks and shelves. The vinyl records are organized by genre, mostly in alphabetical order. A little anarchy seems to exist in certain sections, but what you’re focused on is rock. The bridge that connects you and Joel.

You thumb through the albums whose artists start with the letter “N,” already knowing exactly what you’re looking for. Joel joins you, amusement dancing across his face as he watches you.

“Oh my god, they have it!” you exclaim, carefully sliding a record out from the batch before you.

“What’s that?” Joel scrunches his eyes as you show him the cover.

“Only one of the most monumental albums in history! It’s from when Nirvana played acoustic versions of their songs live on MTV,” you explain quickly, your excitement growing.

“Were you even alive back then?” Joel teases, scanning a stack of records in front of him.

“Can we get it, Joel? Please?” you bat your eyelashes, fully prepared to go all doe-eyed in the case that he tells you to put it back.

“Only if we can get this,” he says, holding up a dark pink album cover with hands and arms reaching up to the text of the band’s name.

“Pearl Jam? You still listen to them?” you smile, remembering that Joel had given you a burned copy of one of their albums when you were in high school. You don’t remember ever listening to it, but now you hope you have it packed away somewhere in one of the moving boxes in your bedroom.

“‘Course I do. You think I’m old or somethin’?”

“You’re not that old,” you playfully punch his arm.

You feel the urge to say something. You’re not sure if the two of you are there yet, but you want to see how he reacts. See if this is going where you think it might be. Better to figure it out now than get your heart broken later on down the line.

“This is probably the best second date ever,” you confess hesitantly.

Joel looks surprised, but not startled. He takes your hand, leading you to the cash register.

“‘Probably?’ Anything I can do to make it the best second date ever?” he asks, a small grin appearing on his face.

“I’m sure you can think of something,” you smirk, relief washing over you.

—

Once you get back to Joel’s house, you kick off your shoes in front of the door, making your way to the living room. It’s late and you should be home by now. Your parents are probably worried. You know you should hurry home. But, you have to arrange the albums perfectly. You decide to organize Joel’s existing pile into alphabetical order after he admitted to you that he normally leaves the records lying around when he’s not listening to them.

After spending a few minutes getting everything systematized, you finally place Nirvana and Pearl Jam next to each other in the stack, standing back to admire your handiwork. Ever since you lost your job, you’ve been feeling like you don’t have control over anything. But, at least Joel lets you have this with his albums and his paperwork. A little bit of calm amidst turbulence. 

“It’s gettin’ late,” Joel is standing behind you now, “You should probably head home.”

“Yeah,” you respond somewhat sullenly. Spending time with Joel has recently become the highlight of your days. You always manage to find reasons to stay. Because leaving is the hardest part.

“Unless…” Joel begins.

You turn around, your eyes darting between his face and his hands.

“Unless what?” you ask.

Joel’s hand reaches up. He tips your chin as he leans in to kiss you. The press of his lips is soft, doting, sweet. You ache for more. You always do. With him, it’s never enough.

“Can I touch you, babygirl?” he asks between bated breaths. Pulling away, he looks into your eyes. Waiting for your confirmation.

“Please,” you whimper, “Please touch me.”

Joel guides you to the couch, gesturing for you to lay down. You shimmy out of your pants and underwear, letting them pool onto the floor. As soon as you’re on your back against the cushions, Joel climbs on top of you. His kisses are ravenous as he nibbles your collar bones, leaving his mark for you to see, to admire later on when you’re alone.

“You ready?” his hand moves from playing with your breast to just below your belly. He hovers over your sex, waiting for you to give him the word.

“I’m ready.”

“If you don’t wanna do this anymore, you tell me to stop. Okay?” Joel refuses to break eye contact with you until you nod. 

His middle finger easily penetrates you and slips inside your body. A gasp evades your throat and you arch your back. Joel begins to move slowly, his calloused fingertip hitting your sweet spot just right.

“How’s that feel, babygirl?” he asks, kissing your jaw.

“So fucking good,” you murmur, focusing on the pleasure being transmitted from your core to your limbs to your brain to your teeth to your toes.

“Want another one?”

He certainly doesn’t have to ask twice because you’re wildly nodding, silently begging and pleading for more.

“You let me know if it hurts,” Joel adds another finger, sliding deep inside you, pumping in and out a little bit faster now.

“So, so good,” you can already feel your orgasm building, climbing up from deep down inside your depths.

“I know, babygirl, you’re so fucking wet. Just imagine how wet and tight you’ll be when I finally fuck you,” he cooes.

“I want you so bad, Joel,” you whine, panting faster as your body exudes your satisfaction.

“Soon, babygirl, soon. Just focus right here, right here on my fingers. Cum for me.”

And you do. You cum all over the couch, liquid dripping from between your legs. Joel fucks you through it, slowing down once you’ve reached the end. He gently removes his fingers from your pussy, holding them up to his mouth. He sucks on them and you feel desire rise up inside you again. You want him so bad. You feel insatiable.

“You taste so good, babygirl,” he leans down and kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Can… Can I touch you?” The words barrel past your lips.

Joel sits up, leaning back against the couch. He unzips his jeans, reaching into his boxers. He eases his cock out. It’s already hard, waiting just for you.

“Come here,” he smiles.

You suddenly sit up, leaning against him. Your hand makes contact with him. The skin is soft and smooth. Just like you had imagined it.

It’s been a long time since you’ve touched another person. So, you mimic what he had done a few weeks earlier. You start out slow, your hand gliding up and down his shaft. You glance up at him to gauge his reaction. Joel is breathing deeply, his eyes closed. Focusing all on you.

“How does it feel?” you question him, your hand moving a little faster now.

“Feels good, babygirl,” he murmurs. His head tilts toward you, his kisses along your neck are driven by desire and lust.

“Bet it would feel better if my pussy was wrapped around you,” you purr mischievously.

That gets a groan out of Joel. His sighs are getting shorter, raspier. He must be reaching the edge.

“You got a mouth on you, you know that?” he teases.

You hurry your hand’s pace, hoping to help Joel arrive at his climax. Your thumb grazes the head of his cock, you can feel arousal dribbling out.

“Doin’ such a good job for me,” Joel moans, “You’re gonna make me cum, babygirl.”

You stroke faster as he releases into your hand, covering your palm in a sticky, ropy substance. You slow down, kissing him on the cheek.

Then you climb into Joel’s lap, holding him close to you. Your chests rising and falling as one. You spend several moments like this. Just existing. Together. Joel’s fingers interlace with yours, combining each other’s fluids.

“I don’t wanna go,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to,” his lips brush against you, “Stay here with me for a little while.”

A little while turns into several hours. Time spent kissing and listening to music and dancing in the living room. You sneak back into your bedroom after 4 a.m. You’re careful not to wake your parents. You wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain the bruises on your skin, the pounding in your chest, the yearning in your heart.

You fall asleep thinking about how losing your job and moving back home originally felt like a death sentence. But, now with Joel, it feels like the beginning of a new life.

And there’s so much yet to experience.

—

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel x reader #joel tlou #joel x you #the last of us #pedro pascal characters #joel the last of us #tlou

[moralesmilesanhour]

or can u write margo awkwardly admitting to miles she’s a bit weirded out whenever his parents are so nice to each other and her because she’s not used to seeing that, and miles comforting her (and maybe he feels sad for her) about that?

Flowerbyte fluff and angst all in one night golly gee...thanks for requesting!

escape.

“So, Margo,” Jefferson Morales began after saying grace. He dug into the vibrantly orange plate of rice and peas sitting in front of him. 

“How’d you and Miles meet? He never told us the specifics.”

Margo’s eyes flickered toward Miles, who gave her an encouraging thumbs-up.

Right. The cover story.

This was her first real dinner with the Morales family since being introduced. Usually, Rio would invite her to eat with them just before Miles interrupted and insisted that Margo “had to get home by six o’clock sharp” and ushered her out the door. This time, though, his mom insisted on having dinner early and won the battle.

“We met at one of those Alchemax conventions for, uh…kids in STEM? We had a really nice conversation and exchanged numbers.”

“They still have those?” Rio piped up as she took a seat with her own plate. “We used to beg Miles to sign up his freshman year. I didn’t think he actually went!”

She looked intently at her son as she said, “I keep telling him that it’s a great opportunity to look for internships before college.”

Miles looked up, and mirrored her tight smile.

“And I keep saying that I’ve done enough science internships to get me a job at NASA,” he replied through slightly clenched teeth.

Margo silently toggled her gaze between the two until Jefferson broke the silence with a cough.

“Anyway, you live far off? Miles tells us he doesn’t get to see you very often.”

“Yeah, I’m actually down in Atlanta.”

Technically not a whole lie; her parents were from Georgia, they just didn’t live there anymore.

…Savanna, Georgia.

Rio turned to Margo with wide eyes.

“Wow, that’s far! And you’re able to still keep in touch?”

“I keep saying to Miles, technology’s amazing,” Jeff laughed after taking a sip of water. “A few decades ago, you needed to write down people’s numbers in a little book. Now y’all got text messaging, Instagram, the Facebook–”

“It’s just ‘Facebook’, dad.”

“ –FaceTime, all these ‘faces’!”

Margo giggled at Miles’ weary expression as she shoveled spoonfuls (fork-fuls?) of rice into her mouth, saying nothing of the fact that in her world, half of the things that Jefferson had just listed off had become obsolete. People’s status updates tended to float above their avatar’s heads. Some didn’t even bother to exchange numbers anymore, preferring to ask for usernames instead.

“Margo, sweetie, do you want any fruit juice? I just remembered we still had some in the fridge.”

Before she could reply, Jeff interrupted with a wince. 

“Ooh. See, about that…I think I drank the last of it with breakfast this morning.”

Rio sighed and massaged her temples. “Jeff!”

“I didn’t know we were having company!”

“You always finish everything in the fridge before the week’s even over. You eat faster than Miles!”

“Whoah, why am I in it?”

“And I keep telling you to throw the carton away when you’re finished. Nobody in here listens!”

Margo felt a cold sensation in her chest. 

She nearly squeezed her eyes shut as the familiar sentence rang through the dining room, her grip on her fork tightening as Jefferson opened his mouth to respond. Miles saw her tense, but couldn’t get her attention. Her eyes were laser-focused on her plate.

“That’s my fault, honey. Tell you what, I’ll do the grocery shopping tomorrow to make up for it. How’s that?”

Like magic, the woman’s face relaxed and melted into a grin. 

“You’d better. I want Margo to have a nice time with us before she has to fly back to Atlanta.”

Jeff turned his attention to Margo.

“Y’know, speaking of Atlanta, I got some extended family down in Charleston, just a few hours from y’all. We used to send Miles down there for the summer when he was younger,” he chuckled, “Came back darker than me, and with an accent!”

Margo blinked. The argument was just…over? The speed at which they moved on gave her whiplash. 

She quickly forced a polite smile. “Uh, that’s cool.”

Rio chimed in, “We’ve been planning to send him down to P.R. this year instead, pick up some Spanish for a change.”

Miles was in the middle of finishing up his plate, and nearly choked on his rice.

“Mami, I know enough Spanish to get by,” he coughed. “I don’t think that’s–”

“Not the basic Spanish they’re teaching you at school, mijo. When we take you to family reunions, you can barely talk to your cousins!”

“I’m all for it. We got some great pictures from down South when he was eight–”

“O-kay! I think we’re both done with dinner,” Miles shot up and grabbed his now-empty plate, reaching over to take Margo’s as well. “Right, Margo?”

She snapped out of it and stood up herself. 

“Oh–um, sure! Lead the way.”

He hastily led her up the stairs as soon as he dropped their plates off in the kitchen sink.

“Come back down to wash those later!”

“Y’all behave up there!”

Miles looked at Margo and rolled his eyes as he opened the door to his room. Margo snorted.

“Nothing’s gonna happen, dad, I promise!”

Miles’ room managed to be full of stuff without feeling cluttered. There were empty crates stacked on top of each other that he used to prop up extra books or comics, but that gave the impression that he had built a neat fort around himself and the crates were mini skyscrapers. He had two huge speakers on either side of his window that he only used when his folks were out, and the soft neo-soul he played surrounded the room with bass and piano like a warm hug. Margo sat down on his bed, sinking into the mattress a little. She had always quietly envied the boy’s ability to create this second home-within-a-home for himself. 

The space next to her dipped as Miles laid down and stared up at the ceiling, his hands resting behind his head like he was on vacation. 

“Sorry if that was…a lot.”

“It’s fine.”

“My folks actually really like you, you know? That’s why they talk so much.”

Margo’s eyes flickered downward at his grinning face, and she smiled.

“I know.”

“Alright, just making sure. You just looked a little shaky back there, and you’re never that quiet.” 

He sat up and narrowed his eyes at her, jokingly placing the back of his hand on her forehead.

“You’re not sick, right? Don’t spread that shit to me, I got a test tomorrow–”

“You play too much,” Margo laughed, shoving his arm. “I’m not sick. Haven’t had a cold in months.”

Miles lowered his hand to rest partially on top of hers.

“So what is it, then?”

She paused, and spent a few silent seconds staring into the boy’s face. His expression sobered, the furrow in his brow a signal that now was not the time to lie. 

She tried anyway and said it was “nothing”, knowing that Miles wouldn’t believe her.

There was a strange sort of comfort to be found in the way he leaned in and said–

“Margo.”

“What?”

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met. Why do you keep doing that?”

Margo shrugged with a lopsided grin. “If at first you don’t succeed, right?”

Miles looked away for a second and kissed his teeth, but Margo could tell he had smiled.

She tapped his chin to gently turn his face back towards her.

“Okay, okay, my bad. I’ll tell you.”

He nodded, “Go ahead.”

“I thought they were gonna fight.”

“...Huh?”

“Your parents. At dinner. I thought they were about to fight, so I braced myself.”

Miles looked even more baffled. 

“Over juice?”

“Yeah? But then they just sorta stopped, so I got nervous.”

“I mean,” he shifted uncomfortably, “They fight sometimes, I guess. But they don’t, like…fight fight. Like, they make up after.”

Margo looked down and smiled at her socks. “My folks actually make up sometimes, too. It’s real cute. They sit on the couch and watch old movies together with popcorn, then they share some with me. It’s like a lil’ party for just the three of us.”

Miles chewed on his bottom lip. That was the most she had ever spoken about her parents; the only time he’d heard her mother’s voice was when the woman had yelled something in another room and Margo’s computer picked it up.

“So what do you do when they don’t? Make up, I mean.”

Margo hummed in consideration, kicking her feet back and forth before turning to Miles.

“Now I come here, I guess.”

This gave Miles pause. He remembered the first time he snuck out of the house - before he could climb walls. It wasn't to go to any parties, or to escape getting grounded. 

He went out just to draw. To get a breath of fresh air without a pair of eyes looking over his shoulder, even admiring ones. 

Whenever he got asked too many questions about his grades, or the music filtering through his headphones wasn’t enough, his room felt more like an enclosure that he needed to escape. It got smaller with every inch that his bed shrunk, until his feet were touching the edge. 

But this little box of a room was now Margo’s escape. And Miles wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

He nodded slowly. “That’s good. My mom needs an excuse to make arroz con dulce for somebody, so…”

Margo laughed, “I’m always happy to taste test for her.”

“I’ll make sure to tell her that.”

#margo kess #miles morales #atsv fic #flowerbyte #cyberflower #cybershock #moralesanhour #requests

[withacapitalp]

She's Still Here Pt 2

Pt 1 Link to ao3

“Hey. School today was pretty cool,”

Why would I care about school? School doesn’t mean anything to me now. I'm dead.

“.......”

“Nancy was over the other day. She was crying a lot. I didn’t really know what to do, so I just kinda rubbed her back? I don’t know if she liked it. Did you ever help her when she was upset? Should I be doing something special?”

Nancy likes tea with lemon and honey after she cries. She also hates anyone watching her like that, so she probably loathed every second of it. You would know that if you knew her at all. 

“.......”

“I’m going to the movies with Jonathan on Friday. It’s kind of weird that it’s just the two of us…I don’t think he likes me all that much, but I wanna try, you know?”

You were a total ass to him. He doesn’t owe you anything. 

“.......”

“Tommy won’t look at me anymore. I think he’s decided the best way to go about things now is pretending I never existed. I think I understand a bit better why you were so upset that night. I should’ve been nicer. I'm sorry about that,” 

….yes, you should have. I also shouldn’t have ever come here. He shouldn't be treating you like that.

“.......”

“Do you even want me talking to you? I can stop. If it’s like upsetting or…well, you don’t have to talk back, but I’ll keep hanging out with you. If you ever want me to stop, just give me a sign or something,” 

I don’t know. I hate you. You’re a jerk, and you’re not good enough for Nancy, and I died at your house. But I think I might go crazy if you stop talking to me, and I don’t think you have anyone else to talk to either. 

“.......”

“Do you get cold? Do you maybe want to come inside?” 

I can’t feel anything at all...but I want to come inside. I just don't know how to move anymore. 

“.......”

“Jonathan likes the camera. I gave it to Nancy to give to him. I don’t think Jonathan would accept it from me. He likes it though! He showed us a bunch of pictures he took. They were really good,” 

Why do you care so much? Why do you want Jonathan Byers to like you this badly? You already have Nancy, you don’t need to butter her up. 

Do you want to be his friend just because?

“.......”

“Your parents started having me and Nancy come over for dinner once a week. It’s a nice house, cozy. Not saying like- your parents are just nice people you know? It’s sweet,” 

I miss my mom. I miss my dad of course, but I miss my mom so badly it hurts. Could you tell her what happened? I don’t want her to wait forever for me to come home. Could you bring her here? I want to be able to talk to her one last time, and you could help me with that. You would if I asked. I know you would. I just have to ask. 

“.......”

“My dad told me if I don’t bring my grades up he’s going to make me wish I was never born.”

Your dad is terrible to you. Like really bad. It’s kind of crazy that Steve 'The Hair' Harrington has such a fucked up family. Either way, you shouldn’t listen to a word either of them says…and you should stay at Nancy’s the night report cards come out. They’ll leave again eventually, but till then it isn’t safe for you to be here. I hate that I just have to listen as they tear you apart. I hate that I can’t tell them to stop. I hate that the only person who would hear me is you. 

“.......”

“Sorry I come out here so late. I just don’t sleep so good anymore,” 

I know. I hear you screaming at least twice a week. Is that why you don’t let Nancy stay over anymore? Maybe you just like her house better. You can come talk to me though. I should start talking back. I should help you. I think you need help. 

“.......”

“It’s my birthday. I’m 18 today. I don’t feel any different. Mrs. Wheeler made a cake, and then Nancy and Jonathan took me to the movies. It was fun.  I- it’s gonna sound stupid, because I know we weren’t friends and you probably hate my guts, but I wish you could’ve been there. I think it would’ve made Nancy happy.”

I’m never going to get to have another birthday. You’re right. We aren’t friends. 

But I don’t think I hate you anymore. I know too much of you now.  

“.......”

Tag List: @afewproblems @dilutedpondwater'

((Incase it was confusing the italics are Barbara's thoughts. She never actually answers Steve.....yet))

#ghost whisperer au #Steve harrington #Barbara holland #Nancy wheeler #stancy #st #stranger things #st au #stranger things au #Steve can talk to ghosts #steve harrington #st drabble #stranger things 1 #stranger things ficlet #st ficlet #she's still here #Jonathan byers #Steve harringtons parents #Steve harringtons dad #Liam speaks up #Writing(withacapitalW)

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

In Plain Sight (Part 3)

Summary: The reader and Jensen have a chat on the way to work about her birth mother. Meanwhile her quick thinking gets her some praise at work...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x daughter!reader (with lots of daughter!reader x OMC)

Word Count: 4,500ish

Warnings: language, mention of family angst

A/N: Wonder what happened with the reader’s birth mom...

______

“Honey bun,” said your dad the next morning. He insisted on driving you in to work, even if you were fine to do so yourself. His voice was rough, laced with a lack of sleep. And he wondered where you got your morning grumpiness from. You grunted, sipping on your thermos filled with cold brew and ice. An affinity for black coffee was another thing you’d inherited from him.

“Father,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. Even though you were considered crew, you had a later start time to your day typically, normally a few hours after call time. You didn’t have to sit through hair and make up or do blocking after all. 

“Dost thou prefer to speaketh regarding young sire Foxe’s confession?” You rolled your eyes slowly, your dad chuckling deeply as he caught it in the side mirror. “You like my british accent.”

“That wasn’t british. That was butchering the english language,” you said, sitting upright, crossing your arms over your chest, snuggled up in a warm SPN crew hoodie you’d stolen years ago.

“I know Crew told you something very personal last night.” 

“He did. I’m assuming you knew about his family.” He hummed. 

“Episode one last season we’re in a car accident. He told me when I saw how shaken up he was at the end of that day. It’s not easy for him to share that. And the sad part is that the more well-known he gets, the more likely that information is going to get put out there without his consent.”

“That’s not guaranteed to happen,” you said, closing your eyes. “I know why you’re talking about this, dad.”

“I’m just saying, please be respectful of the information. That boy doesn’t need more heartbreak in his life.” You nodded, turning your head towards him.

“Crew’s your friend but you look out for him like a parent would, don’t you. You and mom.” He was quiet for a moment, parting his lips. “Dad. Come on. It’s obvious.”

“He is my friend. But this is a hard industry and I’d want someone to look out for you if I was gone. He deserves someone having his back. If that makes sense.”

“It does,” you said, glancing out the dark window again. “You and mom are good people, dad.”

“If you ever become a parent, you’ll know how much what you just said means to me,” he said quietly. 

“It was never your fault,” you said, still staring at the moving trees along the side of the highway. You hadn’t brought it up in years. You’d said it to him before but he had a tendency to shut down after you told him that. “Just like it wasn’t Crew’s fault.”

But this morning felt different. And you hoped he listened for once.

“I know it wasn’t, honey bun,” he whispered. “I just wish it never happened.”

“Me either but I want us to be able to talk about it because I recall doing a lot of talking and a lot more talking and you didn’t do any. It’s been a long time and one of us has a lot healthier way of dealing with it than the other.” A loud sigh filled the car, the air growing tense. “Dad.”

“Y/N. Enough. You know I’m hear to listen if you ever-”

“I thought you wanted us to be best friends again. Last I knew, best friends talked about shit like that with each other.”

“If I say I’ll talk to mom about it sometime will you drop it?” he said, voice harsher than he meant. 

“Fine,” you said quietly, glancing at him, his eyes focused on the road. “I get that I’m your kid but I’m not a little girl anymore. You can talk to me about her, about it, and I can handle it.”

“Leave her in the past where she belongs,” he said, words heavy. He was done talking about it until you were brave enough to bring it up again. 

But then he surprised you as he drove down an off ramp.

“I forgave myself for it a long time ago. No one could have changed a thing.” You sat up straight, giving him your attention. 

“Then why won’t you ever talk about it? I’ve thought you blamed yourself for years.” He smiled, a sad smile that made your gut ache.

“Because you don’t tell your child you hate their mother. You don’t raise a child to have hatred, even when it’s deserved. I love you too much to put that on you, make you cynical, afraid. But you’re right. You’re not a little girl and you’ve had some crappy life experiences all on your own. So the reason I never talked about how I felt is because I hate that bitch and I didn’t want my little girl to grow up with that. I wanted her to be understanding and have faith in the good in the world and to believe in the good crap. Why do you think I made you go to therapy as a kid? I needed to know that bitch didn’t put a dark mark on your heart that you’d carry with you. And maybe you thought I blamed myself but I will take your pity because that means you are kind and good and I did my job as a parent.”

You stared at him, his eyes hidden by the sides of his sunglasses but you felt him look in your direction. “I…thank you for telling me the truth.”

“You’re old enough to know,” he said. 

“For the record, I hate her too.” Now he was definitely looking, pulling to a stop at a sign, ignoring the line of cars behind him. He lifted his shades, worry in his green eyes. “I always understood her actions. But she hurt you and that pissed me off. As far as I’m concerned, all I ever had was you and Dee. You and my real mom. That woman that made me was an egg donor and that’s it. She never cared about either one of us and then she hurt you as much as me and the bitch can rot in hell for all I care.” 

“You always were protective of me, even when you were a kid,” he said softly, pulling his shades down and driving again. “You got that from me.”

“I got everything from you.” He reached over and ruffled your hair, trying to hide his grin. “You have to ruin the moment don’t you?”

“Absolutely. Far too sappy of a morning so far. So no more worrying about me alright?” he asked.

“Deal. Well, at least for that,” you said, his ruffling turning into a full on hair attack. “Dad! I have to work! I can’t look like shit!”

“Oh I’ll get one of the hair and makeup girls to fix it for you.” You huffed, pointing out the window at a building, earning a groan from him. “No.”

“Yes. You ruined my hair. Payback’s a bitch.”

“We get breakfast at work.” You crossed your arms, an overly dramatic sigh escaping him as he turned off the road and pulled into a parking spot. “Ten minutes. Max.”

“We’ll be in and out. Promise.”

“Good morning!” said Crew when you walked on set. You had your hood up, your hair still a hot mess while you sipped on your black coffee from dunkin donuts. You blinked slowly at him as your dad walked past you with a few boxes of munchkins. “I stopped at Starbucks on the way in. I could have-”

“This demon child doesn’t like starbucks. Something is wrong with her. Truly.”

“I like dunkin donuts. Black,” you mumbled as you noticed Crew was holding two cups in his hand, one of them filled with whipped cream and something syrupy looking. “What is that?”

“Uh…a peppermint mocha…for you,” he said, holding it out cautiously. “I knew you were coming in early today and thought you might like something special…” he trailed off as you stared at it. Carefully you took a lick of the whip cream as he held the cup, Crew’s eyes wide as you bent down and slowly straightened. 

“I like whip cream. But not in my coffee,” you said, offering a tired smile. “I’ll make an exception today.”

“Uh,” he repeated, still holding the cup. You held up your hands, a cup in one hand, boxes of mini donuts in the other. “Oh. Oh! Your hands are full. That makes more…sense.”

You grinned, blinking away the sleep in your eyes. “Did you think I was making a sexual gesture Crew?” You slipped past him and smirked. “What a filthy mind you have…” You turned and went back, licking at the whipped cream again.

“You’re fucking with me. Aren’t you.” You licked your lips, Crew watching the motion closely.

“Me? No, no. I’d never dream of it,” you said. “Thank you for the coffee Crew. You can leave it in hair and makeup. I’ll find it.”

“I’ll get you black next time. Extra whip cream.” You pouted but found yourself smiling, Crew returning it. “Later, kid.”

“Later, Foxe.”

It was a long day and you were actually quite grateful for Crew’s sugary coffee when it was night time and you were still shooting. There’d been issue after issue today that delayed filming but the crew appreciated the donuts you and your dad had brought in for a treat that morning. Your boss had told you that you could go home a few hours ago but you knew they were doing the big car stunt in the night and the shots of that would be great promotional material for the next season.

“Jensen. Crew,” called the director. Both of them hopped up from their seats in the tent shoved in an alley between buildings. You followed after with your camera around your neck, settling into where you wanted to be for your shots. You were past the camera rigging and after discussing with stunts earlier, you knew where a safe place to stand would be as the car drove past you.

But while you watched the two of them take their marks in the middle of the road, something nagged at your gut. You glanced over your shoulder at the stunt car, eyeing it suspiciously while the director and a producer talked to Crew and your dad much farther down the street.

“Hi,” you said to the stunt driver, the man giving you a tired nod. “How’s the car running?”

“Hm?”

“How’s the car handling? I imagine it’s much rougher than a normal car.”

“Stunt cars are normally bare bones. They get beat to shit,” he said. “You’re the new photographer? Jensen’s kid?”

“Yeah,” you said, holding up the camera. “You mind if I get a few shots of you and the car for behind the scenes stuff?”

“Go for it,” he said. You didn’t bother to pose him and he didn’t seem to mind given it was close to midnight and this was his last shot of the night. He did give you a strange look though when you got down on the ground and took a picture of the undercarriage. “I’m getting the signal. I got to go.”

You let him get in the car as you sat back on your knees, glancing through your photos. You quickly stood and walked in front of the car, the guy getting halfway out. “Kid, you can’t stand there. You have to-”

“You know who’s in charge of the stunt cars?” He stared at you like you were an idiot. “Who is in charge of the stunt cars?”

“Y/N! Get out of the damn way!” shouted a producer from down the street. 

“Not until I can talk to whoever is in charge of these cars!” you shouted back. Suddenly the director, two producers, someone from stunts and both Jensen and Crew were headed your way.

“It’s your funeral,” muttered the stunt guy, shutting the door and leaning back against it. 

“What the hell is going on? Get out of the way, Ackles,” said the producer. 

“Over my dead body I move,” you said, waiting until everyone was within earshot, ignoring the producer that was growing louder and more impatient with each passing second.

“Jensen deal with your fucking child,” said that producer when your dad got closer. His eyebrows shot up, a dry laugh escaping him. “I’m not joking. She only got this job-”

“She got this job because she’s a good photographer, dickhead,” said your boss who’d jogged over. 

“Now that’s the second time in two days you’ve insulted her. First it was yesterday when a fucking safety protocol was missed. Granted, it was a minor one but she could have been seriously injured and now today-”

“She’s holding up a fucking scene! We only have an hour before we have to pay everyone-”

“Are you worried about fucking overtime right now?” barked back your dad. “This is not the first time I have-”

“Don’t you pull that lead actor shit on me, pretty boy. I was doing this when-”

“Oh, don’t start, Todd. You have a history of harassing younger staff and I never wanted you to join this season.”

“I fucking knew it was you who-”

“Y/N, why won’t you move?” asked Crew calmly.

“She’s a diva like her father,” said the producer.

“She’s doing us a fucking favor filling in last second like she is, putting her own business on hold for it. Show some damn respect,” said your boss.

“She’s holding up a scene!” shouted the producer.

“Because the air smells like fish oil,” you said. The producer threw up his hands as your dad and the stunt coordinator stared at you. 

“Whoopey-di-fucking-doo. There’s stale fish in a trash-”

“Leaking break fluid smells like fish oil,” you said, turning around your camera, showing them the screen. “And that is a leak, forming a puddle under this car you were about to drive at your two lead actors at high speed.”

“That’s bullshit. That’s-”

“She’s right,” said the stunt coordinator, wiping a hand over his face. “That’s what that smell is.”

“How the fuck does she know-”

“My diva father taught me on our muscle car. But I’m just a diva photographer that only got this job because of her daddy, right? What do I know?” you said, giving the producer your best bitch face. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Crew trying to hide a smile while your dad wore the one on his face proudly. 

“I…” said the producer, turning to the stunt coordinator. “This is your fault.”

“This was an accident. You have a flaw in your safety check with the stunt cars. All you have to do is fix it,” you said calmly. “But the way you spoke to me this morning and then now-”

“What the fuck did he say to you this morning?” said your dad.

“He told me I wasted time yesterday and I wouldn’t be paid for the full day.”

“You told a union member you were docking her pay?” said your boss.

“She’s not in the fucking union. She’s-”

“She joined the union when she was in college during an internship and she kept up her dues,” said your dad, turning to your boss. “I’m not a manager but it sounds like he crossed a line with your union employee.”

“I was just-”

“There are rules for a reason, to protect employees from assholes like you. She had a medical emergency, caused by this fucking set. You’re lucky she’s not suing,” said your dad.

“You’re fired.” Everyone turned to the other producer who hadn’t said a word, his eyes locked onto Todd’s. “You’ve been on the job a week and I’ve already had too many complaints from young employees about you. Now you threaten to illegally dock pay. Pack up your shit and leave. You’ll get a nice compensation package so just fucking leave.”

Todd didn’t say a word as he walked away. It was only then that you realized Crew had come up to your side, his hand on your lower back steadying you when you breathed deeply.

“Sorry for my language,” you said quietly, glancing down.

“You don’t have anything to worry about, Y/N,” said the producer. “And I’m making an executive decision. No stunts with vehicles until every single one of them is checked and extra precautions are taken going forward.”

“We can make the scene work without that one shot,” said the director. “We already have the one of the stunt guys. Jensen and Crew will just show a bit more emotion on their faces when we cut to them lying in the road, right guys?”

“Of course,” said Crew, your dad giving a nod as he looked at you. 

“Sorry,” you said again. He shook his head with a smile.

“Don’t apologize. God, don’t apologize for standing up for Crew and mine’s safety. You did the right thing,” said your dad.

“I could have just said something and not…now you’re down a producer and it’s my fault. I-” 

“He made his own bed. As a producer we’re all responsible for on set safety and he tried to pass the buck onto stunts. I’m Nolan by the way and if photography ever doesn’t do it for you anymore, consider management because you sure as shit got the backbone for it.”

“Uh, thank you,” you said, pursing your lips. “So uh, can we go back to work so the rest of the crew isn’t awkwardly staring at us anymore?”

“I think that’s a good idea. We’ll need to write up an incident report but we can do that in the morning with fresh eyes,” said Nolan. “Nice catch, Y/N.”

“Hey,” said your dad when he and Crew guided you to walk with them down the street towards where they’d want to be filming now. “How’d you smell that fluid from so far away? I didn’t notice until we were next to the car.”

“I didn’t. I had a funny feeling something was off so I made an excuse to get closer to the car. Then I noticed the smell and took a picture underneath and saw the leak,” you said. 

“She’s always had a sixth sense about that sort of thing,” he said to Crew.

“I guess this means I owe you coffee every morning for like, ever?” joked Crew. 

“I’ll settle for you guys being okay,” you said, closing your eyes. “I have to find a new spot to shoot from. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Honey bun.” You stopped in your tracks, spinning around. “Proud of you for trusting your instincts and standing up for us and yourself.”

“I second that like, a gajillion times,” said Crew. 

“Thanks guys. Now get back to work so we can all get home.”

“Alright, alright,” you heard as you woke up that night, about three hours after you’d finished work. You must have been screaming, eyes screwed tight as you clutched your blankets to your chest. The bed dipped behind you and a pair of strong arms wrapped around your torso. “I got you, baby. Daddy’s here. You’re safe.”

“I should have told you I didn’t want to go to the park,” you said, fighting back tears, your heart thundering. “I had the same feeling I had tonight but I didn’t listen.”

“You were seven years old, honey bun. You never did a single thing wrong.” He shushed you, the door creaking and shutting gently. 

“I woke you up. You’re so tired and you have work,” you whined, burying your face in your pillow, hiding away from him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come on,” he said, releasing you for only a moment before you were back in his arms and he was carrying you along with your blankets out of the room and down the hall. 

“I’m twenty five, dad,” you cried, tucking your face into his neck. “You don’t have to do this anymore.”

“And I don’t give a shit how old you are. I’m not leaving you alone tonight. End of discussion.” You fisted a hand in his shirt, wetting it, not opening your eyes as you were tucked between his warm body and your mom’s in their bed. Gentle fingers ran over your head, more sobs wracking your body. “Talk to us. Come on, baby. You know it’ll help.”

“You could have died and Crew could have died and it would have been my fault cause I thought something was wrong. You got hurt when I didn’t listen to it before,” you said, trying to pull the blankets over your head but he wouldn’t let you. “If I’d listened when I was a kid it wouldn’t have happened and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I got you hurt and the only reason I was brave enough to say anything tonight was because I was so scared of it happening again.”

Suddenly you werre pulled upright, two strong hands on your arms, forcing you to stare at your dad. Tears streamed down your cheeks and your nose was a mess as you watched him shake his head. 

“That bitch hurt the both of us. You were the child and I was the adult. It was never on you to protect me. It never will be. I’m the one that failed you. I failed you and you never saw me as the bad guy. As the pathetic man I thought I was. You never made me feel less than even when I deserved it. Because you love me. Because it wasn’t my fault you’d tell me. It was hers. And I believed you. I clung to the word of that seven year old and I still do. If I can believe you, then you can believe me. Neither one of us could have stopped it. And I’m goddamn proud of you for protecting Crew and me tonight. I know you hated that, hated standing up like that to people with so much control. You weren’t brave because you were afraid of me being hurt. You were brave because you know you’ll risk getting hurt to do the right thing. You’ll risk your job to make sure I’m okay. Because you care. You have been a brave little badass since you were seven years old. I will never be afraid of you not standing up for yourself or other people. So stand up for yourself, Y/N. It was not your fault. You were not supposed to stop the unstoppable.”

You sniffled, feeling small and like you were that little girl again, spending the night in his bed, terrified to leave his side, him terrified to leave yours.

He wiped off your face with his palms, tucking your hair behind your ears, running his hand over your head. “Tell me you believe me, honey bun.”

“I do,” you said quietly, a barely there smile on his face. Your mom hugged your from behind as he pulled you both into his chest. “Do I have to go to therapy again?”

“Because you have one nightmare after a hard night? No. And you make those choices now, not us,” he said, kissing the top of your head. 

“How can you love someone who’s half someone you hate?” you asked, resting your chin on his shoulder. 

“You are genetically half hers. But that’s it. The rest of you is all me, all Dee. I’ll love you with every ounce of my soul until the day I die and every day of wherever I go after that too. Blood doesn’t automatically mean family. Not at all.”

“I know,” you whispered, reaching an arm back to hug your mom. “I’m glad you taught me about Baby even though I complained the whole time.”

“Me too. And Crew.”

“Do you think he’s okay?” you asked. “Cause of the accident and everything.”

“He’s alright, I made sure before I left him tonight.” You nodded, your heart finally calming. 

The next thing you knew you were waking up in the middle of their king sized bed alone, stretching as you saw the clock was close to eight, mom dropping the other guys off at school. You snuggled back down into the bed, clutching a pillow to your chest when the door opened.

“Hey,” said your dad, lightly patting your cheek. “Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey.”

“Unless you’ve made me eggs and bacon, that is a cruel greeting,” you groaned, blinking open your eyes to find him walking across the room towards his closet in a towel and with damp hair. “You have far more trust in that towel than I do.”

“You do realize you’ve seen me naked only several thousand times? I was a single father for a while you know.”

“Remember when I asked why you had a tail,” you giggled. “I thought you were part dog or something. Like a werewolf.”

“I remember when you kicked me in the nuts so hard I nearly passed out in the tub. Nearly ensured you were my only heir,” he chuckled from inside the closet.

“You were a good dad back then too,” you said, hearing the sound of clothes shifting stop. “I mean, you took baths with me and let me sleep in your bed and took me to school and you did everything, even when you must have been exhausted.”

“I was young and I was not perfect. I know that. You probably know it too. But I wasn’t striving for perfection. If you were clean and fed and happy and safe, I was happy too.” He stepped out of the closet in a pair of jeans and a black henley t-shirt, crossing his arms. “It helped having a good kid. Made things easier.”

“I am pretty amazing,” you said, yawing and closing your eyes again.

“And so modest too,” he said, slapping your thigh. “Up or I’ll tell Karl Urban you think he’s hot.”

You immediately sat up, giving him a death glare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“How about Josh Duhmel? Stephen Amell? We can tell Quaid you think he’s a cutie with a cute ass. I got a whole laundry list of famous people I know that you think are hot. Your move.”

“You’re evil, father,” you said, gathering up your blankets and walking for the door. “But I respect it.”

“I need to pass along my evil tendencies to at least one of you,” he chuckled, catching the edge of your blanket, stopping you halfway out the door. You glanced up at him, his green eyes soft. “You okay?”

“Thanks for making me talk about it,” you said. He pulled you into a hug, kissing your temple. “Father.”

“Daughter.”

“I appreciate the moment but I really need to go pee, like now.” He released you and you took off down the hall. “I’ll be ready in ten!”

“So be ready to go in twenty. Got it.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#jensen x daughter!reader #Jensen x daughter!reader series #Jensen Ackles #daughter!reader #reader x omc

[plantboiart]

I love looking too deeply into things that were clearly meant to be jokes and not serious in any shape or form. Today on the list: Kian’s relationship with Donna. Under the cut to avoid filling people’s feeds

Now I think most people will agree that Kian’s relationship with his own parents probably wasn’t great. I mean I’m just saying if my parents didn’t give me a last name I probably would just assume they didn’t want me or something. It’s one thing to support your child if they want to change their name but it’s a whole different thing to not even give them the choice to keep the name you gave them.

Now this plays pretty interestingly with Donna considering the fact that she’s without a doubt the best parent we see in the campaign. And we don’t know exactly how old Kian was when he and the others became friends, my personal headcanon is like 12-13, but if you have a child and they make a new friend who’s parents are probably known to be in a cult and also hippies and also didn’t bother naming their child? I’d grab that child so fucking fast and try to treat them as my own. Show them some love and support they wouldn’t get from their own parents.

And so like I find it extremely reasonable to assume that when they were younger Donna probably would have been very caring towards Kian (and obviously Rolan as well but this post isn’t about him). And I find it pretty reasonable to assume that if Kian’s parents were neglectful he would probably have just clung onto that care from an adult because he just needed some fucking paternal support.

But the thing is. I find it very easy to headcanon Kian with some major abandoment issues that honestly even rival Rand’s. Because I mean Rolan left them, Becky left him and he waited for her for fifteen fucking years, we can assume Rand wasn’t exactly emotionally available because he had his own issues (can’t really blame him for that but still), his parents were probably shit, and judging by the fact that Kian is very clearly a huge romantic who literally waited for his high school girlfriend for fifteen years, and yet in his introduction it’s made extremely clear that he doesn’t seem to do like serious relationships anymore? My guess would be that he had a lot failed relationships in his like early twenties and when none of them worked out he eventually just gave up and settled for one night stands.

Now this works alongside something else that is of course very notable about Kian: his looks. Like we don’t know their stats exactly I don’t think but he is canonically extremely attractive and probably has his highest characteristic in appearance. Because he’s a grizzly character. Of course he does (/lh).

But I find it very reasonable to assume that if someone had pretty bad abandonment issues and was extremely attractive and aware of that, it would become very easy for them to assume that people could only want them or care about them for their looks. And if we assume that, we can probably also assume that they would heavily lean into that and use their looks to get even some kind of affection and care from others even if it’s extremely surface level.

And bringing this back to Donna: if we assume that all my reachings in this post are correct (they are not, i am looking too deep into things because it is my favorite hobby) then it really just puts Kian’s relationship with Donna into an entirely new and way sadder light. Because suddenly it’s not just an extremely flirty person flirting with his friend’s mom for fun, but instead someone who’s been lacking any kind of paternal affection for his entire life trying to make himself sexually appealing to the one person he might have received it from because at least that way she’d care for him on some level.

And the thing is I don’t know if Kian would even be like… aware that’s what he’s doing. Or if he’d really just removed any possibility for platonic or familial love from his own life that he couldn’t even recognise that that’s what he really wants.

And maybe it’s even worse that it works. That Donna is attracted to him. That he can get that affection and love from her, someone who probably knew him as a kid, who might have practically raised him, and wouldn’t that just make him even more sure that he’s right? That the only way anyone could ever truly love and care for him is if he makes himself sexually appealing to them?

(Sorry for long post. I am. Thinking about him every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month of every-)

#anyways how is everyone #my hobbies include causing pain to my blorbos and over analyzing everything this was just the natural conclusion #i very desperately want to bring this up in my fic somehow but i’ll have to see how to go about that #i just love looking too deeply into kian’s character he’s so interesting to examine like a little lab rat #this is also why i keep killing him and putting him in pain in my fics. it’s for science i swear #just roll with it #jrwi #jrwi show #jrwi bitb #jrwi blood in the bayou #blood in the bayou #kian stone #jrwi kian #bitb kian #character study #? i think

[cowboy-like-mee]

i wish i could change

summary: depressed! reader and boyfriend! harry

warnings: depression, mentions of wanting to d word

word count: 1.1k

a/n: hello. i am ending my year and a half long hiatus. i am writing this in the midst of a depressive episode, so it is based off real life me rn! it was kinda therapeutic tbh. i feel a lot better after getting this out.  i listened moon song by phoebe bridgers, my tears ricochet by taylor swift, and a different age by current joys on repeat while writing this. have fun!

p.s. i kind hate this :/ i feel like the end is rushed but whatev. i hope you enjoy. i feel like i might want to write more about this couple. i have many ideas also! if you have any requests let me know! or i can post what my ideas are and yall can tell me what you want first!

masterlist

Sitting in the filth of your room never made it any better. But you just couldn’t help it. There were empty bags of chips and dirty clothes everywhere. The floors need vacuuming. The bed hasn't been made in weeks- the fitted sheet isn't even on the bed anymore. You've just been lying on the bare mattress with a blanket covering you that doesn't even reach your feet. The smell of old food and dirty laundry stings your nose every time you breathe in a little too deeply. You needed a shower. There were clumps of your hair sitting next to a pair of scissors on your desk from where you had decided it was a good idea to chop a few inches off at 3 am yesterday. 

You're pretty sure you hadn't been to a single class in at least a month. You were failing only two at the moment, luckily. Last semester it was three. Emails and text messages were piling up in your inboxes. There was no point in setting alarms anymore. You knew you weren't going to wake up anyway. 

You really just missed your mom. You missed her encouraging words and her hugs. Her hugs. Any of your problems were made to be nothing with just one of her hugs. You know she would be beyond disappointed to see the state of your life right now. 

Nothing even happened to make you feel this way. It's just a part of that never-ending cycle of depression that seems to hinder everything you try to do. There are no words to describe what happens in your head when you get like this. No therapist or medication could ever stop this feeling. It's like the weight of the world sits on your chest. You can't breathe. You can't think. You can't move. You can't even provide yourself with the basic necessities one needs to survive. 

You try to tell yourself to get out of this funk, but nothing will help. Nothing has ever helped. 

Well...maybe one thing has.

Harry.

Your boyfriend on two years. The man who has helped you out of funk numerous amounts of times throughout the last couple of years. Of course, you don't always feel like this. It comes and goes. It seems nowadays it mostly comes. It never seems to go. But when it has come, Harry has been there for you. He has fed you and showered you and loved you and kissed you and never ever judged you. 

You feel like a burden. 

No matter how many times he tells you he does it because he loves you. He hates seeing you like that. He wishes he could take all of your pain away. You mean everything to him. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

You don't know why. What kind of man wants a girl who goes four days without showering at times. Or a girl who wakes up at 3 pm because at night her thoughts wander so far she has to hit herself in the head to stop them. A girl who can't just...be normal. 

Either way, you know one thing is for certain. You love Harry. You really do. You probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. He has changed your life. There have been more good moments with him than bad. He kisses you just to kiss you. He watches your favorite movie with you weekly (even though you know he despises it.) He goes out to brunch with your parents because he loves talking to the people who created you. He buys you flowers every time he goes to the market just because he loves to see you smile every time he gives them to you. 

He really was made for you. Nevertheless, you felt like you didn't deserve him. 

You wish you could change. You wish you could change for him. You wish it was easier to be alive. You wish you didn't want to die. For him. Not for yourself. You wish you could be the perfect girlfriend. The girlfriend he deserved, not one that rots away in her room.

Harry walks in. You hear the door to your apartment creak open and gently shut. Footsteps lead into the kitchen, probably putting down the food you know he probably bought for you. You sit up and try to put on your most neutral face. You sniff your armpits and wince a little. It's only been since yesterday morning you showered, but a little deodorant wouldn't hurt. Your door opens letting in light, making your eyes squint and your hand instinctively come up to block it. 

"Y/N?" Harry says. You smile for the first time since you saw him last a few days ago. "Hey, baby." He gives you the softest, pure smile you've ever seen in your whole life. He tilts his head at you with a concerned look on his face. 

"Hi." You croak out, using your voice for the first time in a while. He walks up to your bed and pulls the blanket down to lie with you. You scoot over to make room for him. He climbs in and immediately wraps his hands around you. His face buries into your neck and plants soft kisses along your throat. Your hand goes into his hair and softly brushes through his soft curls. 

He hums. "Mmm, I love you." He kisses you again right on your jawline. "I've missed you, baby. How has my girl been?" Your throat tightens. You're regretting not answering his texts. He's probably been worried. 

You smile sadly. "I love you more, angel. I-" You pause to think of an adequate answer to your disappearance the past few days. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I haven't answered your texts. I've just been...not feeling well. I've missed you too. So much." Your eyes are welling with tears, but your room is dark so maybe he won't notice. 

He pulls back a little to look at your face. His heart breaks. His girl has been feeling bad and he hasn't been here for her. "Oh, honey. It's okay. You know I just want to make sure you're okay." He kisses you sweetly. Your heart swells. He really is perfect. "I brought you dinner. I hope you haven't eaten." He smiles at you.

You laugh wetly. " Eating hasn't really been my number one priority today." 

He frowns, "Y/N, you have to eat, love. It's important to take care of your body." He sits up and grabs your hand. "Come one. Let's go eat and watch Silver Linings Playbook." He pulls you up from your nest. He wraps his arms around you and engulfs you in a hug. Your head rests on his chest and you just breathe in. 

You reach up and kiss him. You will never understand how this man can be so selfless. He really has changed your life. You will love him at your highs, and you will love him at your lows.

#harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harrystyles #Harry Styles #harry styles fanfic #boyfriend!harry

[dragcnbreak]

dream theory

A drabble based on the prompt by @lab-trash that Ness is the reason why Mike has the dream theory book.

Also cross-posted on AO3!

◞♡࿐

It’s not often Ness gets to hear Mike talk a lot, much less ramble. The shorter man mostly conveys what he wants to say through his actions, not his words. But sometimes, late at night when the moon is shining through their bedroom window, Mike will talk about what’s bothering him.

He talks about Abby a lot and his worry about providing for her and parenting her. Ness will comfort him and remind him that he isn’t alone anymore and they will go overcome every hurdle together. Other times, it’ll be about his parents and specifically his dad, who Ness can easily guess was distant. But very rarely, it’ll be about Garrett.

Mike hates talking about Garrett and what happened to him. He only gets a few words out before he clams up and Ness doesn’t push him any further. Well, until one night.

They’re lying in bed and the lamp next to Mike is off but neither one of them are sleeping. Mike is draped across Ness’ chest with Ness’ hand and arm over his body. Maybe it’s the drink or two they had before bed (when Abby was asleep) but Mike starts talking and just… doesn’t stop.

“When I was 12, we were camping in Nebraska and my mom had stepped away for a second when it happened. She told me to watch my brother and I got distracted and he got taken.” Mike swallows the lump in his throat as well as his tears. “The police never found him or his… body or the man who did it or anything. I saw the car and sometimes, I feel like I saw the man who did it too but I can’t remember.” Ness hums in response to show he’s listening, carding his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair.

Suddenly, Ness remembers something. “You know, I was at the library once,” a usual sentence starter as Ness loves reading random books in his free time, “and I picked up this book. It was called Dream Theory. Basically, it talks about how the human brain doesn’t forget things. Everything you see is stored inside of you, even the smallest things. So, if you think you saw him, it’s probably in there.” Ness explains, tapping Mike’s head as he murmurs the last sentence.

They sit in silence for a minute, Mike thinking over what Ness has just said and Ness waiting for a response. “You think… if I could relive that day somehow, I could find out who took him?” Mike asks in disbelief. “I read it a while ago, I don’t remember too much of it.” Ness chuckles at the irony. “Maybe I could get you the book.”

Mike lifts his head, meeting Ness’ eyes and leans forward, kissing his boyfriend. “Thank you.” He mumbles quietly, sleepiness setting in. “Of course, sugar. Just… don’t push yourself, okay? I know how hard it is for you to talk about him.” Ness smiles softly but Mike is already asleep against his chest. Ness lays in bed for a few minutes in silence, wondering if he’s done the right thing.

◞♡࿐

Ness buys the book the day after, skimming through it in the bookstore to make sure it’s what he remembered it was. He bites his lip as he reads, wondering if he should really give this to Mike. He doesn’t want his boyfriend basically reliving one of the most traumatic things that happened to him every night. But maybe, just maybe, he can find something out about his brother that will start the healing process. With that thought in mind, he buys it.

He gives it to Mike that night when they’re about to go to bed. “What’s this?” Mike hums, holding the book in his hands. “You were tipsy, I think, but we talked about the night Garrett was taken and you said you might have seen the man who did it. I think this can help you figure it all out.” Mike is silent and Ness wonders if he’s done or said something wrong.

“Thank you, Nessie.” Ness’ heart races at the nickname and the hug he receives after. It’s just like hearing the words “I love you” and it’s plenty nerve-wracking because they haven’t said those words before. But, Ness says it back anyway. “I love you too, Mike.” On his tiptoes, Mike buries his head into the crook of Ness’ neck, book clutched tightly in his hands.

#mine #my fanfics #text #fnaf movie #mike schmidt #ness #ness the waiter #securitywaiter #dreamtheory #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy’s movie #fnaf #mike schmidt x ness the waiter #mike schmidt x ness

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

I can’t BELIEVE for the nights and days of life is over, I was starting to think that novel would last forever.

I hope you all are ready for the fact that it’s not over here on my blog, as my 5-5 ass is not done with it yet. In that respect, here are the chapter ten notes. No spoilers in the comments for me and any people who haven’t read yet, or are for some godforsaken reason, reading along with me.

And @mochalottie u are a queen and my favorite, I’m so sorry for taking so so long to read your work and being so bad at responding to your dms, I’m at the stage in adulting where every text from anyone seems like a monumental task lol. I’m trying to manage time better and respond better. It doesn’t help that I work in a high school so it blocks tumblr!!

Onto the for the nights and days of life chapter 10 notes! Happy Halloween all!

-The way I feel like my own children are growing up too fast when I hear that Spider and Neteyam aren’t sitting with Mo’at in the infirmary much anymore. 

-Ur fighting my Jake and Mo’at spend an insane amount of time gossiping headcanon. Ur simply spitting on it. Just think about it, just pICTURE it. Mo’at’s grinding up a paste and Jake sneaks in like “…Have your heard about what happened with Moe and Ninat?” and Mo’at goes “JAKE SULI I would never talk behind someone’s back. Tell me everything.”

-Hey, Neytiri being like unable to acknowledge Paz as Spider’s mom? Banger. It really gets to me. She’s like well fuck off that’s my kid all while doubting herself. But Mo’at's right baby Spider was Neytiri’s number one fan from day one, he was literally always a momma’s boy.

-Also because you mentioned the kids taking an afternoon nap, I wanted to take a moment to just highlight how hellish that year or so where Neteyam, Kiri, and Spider were done with naps and Lo’ak still needed them was. You know his ass threw the bIGGEST tantrum every time it was time for a nap and everyone else was still playing. He was enRAGED because no one has fomo like Lo’ak. The kid was feral, crying overtired tears simply insisting that he is absolutely not tired and does nOT NEED A NAP.

-Spider being in the sleeping pile is one of the things that makes my heart grow three sizes every time I read about it. But you made it 20 times worse by adding in that by himself he spreads out for safety but he feels safe in the pile, like I’ll kill myself.

-I literally can prove Spider always asks for banana fruit and I’m starting to become convinced it’s the only fruit he knows.

-Lol Norm and Max sitting on Earth absolutley fIGHTING over who has to tell Jake things are going BadTM. 

-Lol I just literally kNEW that Neteyam wanted to make Spider a present, and yet instead his gift to him was even more of a complex. 

-YOU CANNOT TEASE TARSEM LOVE STORY TO ME. ALSO I’M NOW ASSUMING HE’S GAY THAT SCENE READ GAY. 

-This is what both Jake and I thought of when Neytiri told him to keep his secrets:

SHE QUOTED THAT MOVIE ALMOST BAR FOR BAR MAN, IF I WAS JAKE THAT WOULD’VE SENT MEEEE. When I was younger I used to have to share a bed with my cousin on family vacations, and I’m telling you bitch is possessed. She sleep walks and sleep talks, and sleep assaults me in my sleep. But one time she fucking quoted The Princess Bride and the next morning when I told her I loved that movie, she told me she’s never seen it. I have never felt more fear for my life. Picture Jake struggling to explain the plot of Lord of the Rings, his ass has seen it, his twin was a nerd. 

-Jake as soon as his child needs comfort: Oh fuck, I’M the only one here!

-Spider, like 7: I won’t be able to mate dad. Jake: I have to go. I’m not ready for this.

-HUMANS ARE BACK, time for things to get a little fucking sad. I know I’m ALMOST twenty chapters behind and you guys are already in it, but I’m just getting started baybeeee.

-Also I love Spider calling his parents Ma and Da, your Irishness has crept in.

#the spookiest thing of all is me posting notes #miles spider socorro #spider socorro #spider sully #neteyam sully #mo'at sully #jake sully #neytiri sully #paz socorro #kiri sully #lo'ak sully #norm spellman #max patel #tarsem #fic recs #melissa does notes #melissa og #melissa on avatar (cameron) #fanfiction

[fan-fantasies]

Want Me

A/N: I hope you enjoy the second part! My writing has slowed down as my wifi at work sucks and that’s usually the only place I write. But I’m gonna try to keep working on some more pieces I have in mind!

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

Warnings: parents being assholes, unprotected sex

< (y/f/n) = your full name >

Part two of Feel Me

Every fiber of your being wanted to rush back to Eddie’s trailer that night and confess your love for him. You wanted him to hold you and tell you he loved you too.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

The coolness he displayed toward you the last time you were together scared you into thinking maybe he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. You wouldn’t blame him, after all.

So instead of running to him, you ran home and showered, trying to erase any trace of the evening off of you. You wanted to forget about everything for a while and pretend like your life wasn’t falling apart.

You told your parents that you had broken up with Alex and they were furious. He was the perfect guy for you, they insisted. They practically demanded that you go and try to get him back. When you heard that, you exploded.

“I’m done!” Your parents stared at you with wide eyes and shocked expressions. “I’m done with him. I’m done with you guys telling me what to do. I’m done trying to be perfect!”

“(Y/f/N), you listen here, little lady. You will apologize for being disrespectful and you will clean up your act! Alex was your chance at stability, for a good life, and you threw that all down the drain. And for what?!”

“For love! For real love! And real happiness!” You shouted. Your heart instantly sank when you realized you had just confessed. Your father’s demeanor hardened.

“Excuse me? What do you mean ‘real love’?”

“I didn’t love Alex. He was nice and all but he didn’t make me happy. I want to be with someone who does,” you said.

“And I’m guessing you’ve already found this person?”

“I-I-”

“You will tell me who it is, right now! No daughter of mine is going to be running around with trash ruining our reputation!” He yelled.

“It doesn’t matter who it is, it just matters that I’m happy.” Tears began to well up in your eyes, threatening to spill. Your voice trembled but you didn’t back down.

“Get out.”

“What?” You and your mother both asked at the same time.

“Get. Out. And only come back when you have some common sense in your head,” he said. You looked at your mom who just looked at the floor. You understood now just how little you meant to either of them.

You ran to your room to pack a bag before speeding off in your car. You could hear your mother sobbing in her room, but she made her own decision to stand by your father.

Tears began to blur your vision as you drove so you pulled over. You finally let out all of your pent up emotions as you cried into your steering wheel.

Where would you go? Who would be willing to take you in? God, you had really fucked it up this time.

You sucked in a deep breath and composed yourself, heading to the one place you could think of.

“Of course you can crash with me,” Steve said, placing a comforting arm on your shoulder. You smiled softly.

“Um, I think she was talking to me,” Robin scoffed.

“I was just hoping I could crash in the back room for a while, nothing fancy. I know Keith, he’s my neighbor, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh he absolutely wouldn’t mind a pretty lady staying here,” Steve smirked. Robin just rolled her eyes and pushed him out of the way.

“Honestly, you could just come stay with me. It would be a lot comfier than that crappy old couch. And we could get to know each other better,” she smiled.

“The couch is fine, but thank you,” you smiled back.

She opened up the back room for you and brought you a hidden pillow and blanket.

“So do you wanna share why one of Hawkins royalty is hiding out at the video store?” She asked.

“Not so much hiding out as kicked out,” you chuckled dryly. Her eyes instantly softened and she sat down on the couch.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Just stupid stuff, like ruining my entire life. And over a guy who probably hates me now.” You sat down next to her and laid your head on the back of the couch.

“Alex? You were dating that Alex guy right?”

“I was…but I wasn’t talking about him…” you mumbled.

“Oh. Well, I’m sure everything will work out eventually. Maybe not the way you want, but it’ll work out,” she said. You gave her a small smile and she left you in your new home.

You didn’t know what you were going to do. You had no family. No boyfriend. No close friends really. Your entire planned future was dismantled in mere minutes.

You decided not to go to school the next day, just so you could avoid Eddie. You helped Keith and Steve out at the store so you didn’t feel so guilty crashing on the couch.

You knew you couldn’t just drop out of school, no matter how much you wanted to sometimes. So the next day, you put on your bravest face and entered the school.

You immediately found Robin, not wanting to face your normal crowd of douche bags. Even though she didn’t know exactly what was going on, she still did her best to keep your spirits up.

She was going a pretty good job of that, too, until lunch came. You knew the cafeteria was Eddie’s own personal stage most days. He liked to put on a show, proving he was the freak everyone said he was. You knew that wasn’t true, but sometimes it was easier to conform than to fight the crowd.

You picked at your food, not really paying much attention to what was happening around you. That was until you heard his booming voice. He was on some monologue about the popular crowd and their horrible music choice. That’s when he turned his attention to the band geeks, most of whom you were sitting with.

“And you all need to learn some real music!” He said enthusiastically. His smile fell, however, when his eyes landed on your. Your heart plummeted into your stomach and you were frozen. Robin looked between the two of you and her mouth formed an “oh”.

You grabbed your lunch tray, throwing it out, and ran from the crowd. You made a beeline for the nurses office, which was thankfully empty. You told the nice lady that you were feeling faint and nauseous. She said you had a slight temperature and didn’t look well so she excused you from your classes for the rest of the day. You, however, decided to take the rest of the week off.

It was Friday night and the video store had just closed. You offered to clean up and put all the returns away. The only light on was in the back room so it didn’t look like you were open. That didn’t stop someone from knocking on the door anyway. You tried to ignore it, but they wouldn’t go away.

“We’re closed!” You yelled. The pounding intensified. “I said we’re closed!”

“(Y/N), open up!” Your entire body tensed when you heard his voice.

With shaky hands, you unlocked the door and yanked it open. Eddie stood outside, staring at you which only made you more nervous.

“W-we’re closed,” you almost whispered. He let out a short laugh.

“Good, then we won’t be interrupted.” He pushed past you and you quickly locked back up. He disappeared into the back room and you ran after him.

He surveyed the room that was now scattered with your belongings. He finally looked back up at you with a sadness in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You finally asked.

“I asked Robin what’s been going on and all she told me was I would find you here and I didn’t believe her. What the hell is happening, sweetheart?” He took a step toward you and you wrap your arms tighter around yourself and looked at the ground.

“I broke up with Alex and my parents kicked me out,” you mumbled.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I wanted to,” you sniffled, “I just figured you wanted nothing to do with me.”

“I’m sorry for how I acted toward you. I knew what our arrangement was and I guess I just let my feelings get the best of me,” he admitted.

“What feelings?” You pulled back and looked at him.

“I fell in love with you and I wanted to be selfish and have you all to myself. It was hard for me to accept that you belonged to another guy.”

“I broke up with him that night.”

“Why?” He leaned in closer, your lips begging for his.

“Because I love you Eddie.” That was all it took for him to sweep you up in a passionate kiss. You walked him back until he fell onto the couch.

You straddled him easily without breaking the kiss. Your fingers tangled in his hair and he moaned. You pulled harder and his hips bucked up into yours.

“Fuck, I missed this. I missed you,” he whispered as you peppered kisses down his neck. You started to grind down onto his lap and he threw his head back.

Before you knew what was happening, he rolled you over and started to undo his pants. He shimmied your bottoms off of you and his fingers instantly found your clit.

“Always so ready for me, baby, huh? Always so ready for my cock,” he grunted, freeing himself from his pants.

“Please, Eddie,” you whined.

“Please what, sweetheart?” He lined his cock up with your entrance and waited.

“Please, fuck me!”

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Eds. I’m all yours,” you said in all honesty for the first time. He slowly pushed into you, sending electricity through your entire body like it was your first time all over again.

“That’s right, gorgeous. You’re all mine,” he said, slowly picking up his pace. “And I’m never letting you go.”

“Fuck, Eds, I don’t want you to,” you moaned. You clawed at his back as he began to hammer into you. He sucked a hickey onto your neck but you didn’t care.

His hand snaked it’s way down to your pussy, fingers finding your clit again.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me, cum on my cock,” he said.

You tried to hang on, to prolong it, but Eddie’s fingers rubbed faster and you were a goner. You came with his name falling from your lips like it was the only word you knew.

His orgasm followed yours, his hips stuttering until he stilled deep inside you. A warmth came over your entire body as you came down from your high. Neither of you moved for a few moments, just enjoying being together once again.

“You’re really mine?” He asked quietly, suddenly unsure of himself.

“Of course, if you’ll have me,” you answered.

“I’d have it no other way,” he smiled. He kissed you again before getting up and cleaning you off. He began to throw your things into your bag.

“What’re you doing?”

“Packing your things. You’re coming home with me,” he said like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Oh, Eddie, it’s really okay. I don’t mind staying here,” you protested.

“No girl of mine is gonna be staying on some couch when I have a perfectly good…mostly good mattress at home,” he said and you laughed.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, baby. You’ll stay with me as long as you need. And if that’s for forever then even better,” he smirked. You smiled at the idea but it was bittersweet because you didn’t like that your parents were mad at you. Eddie could tell something was wrong so he took you in his arms. “It’s all gonna be okay, I promise.”

“I know, Eds. I love you,” you sighed.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now let’s go home.”

———————————

Taglist- @dootys @thebookbakery @mellomadness @munsaniac @tiredwritersworld

@mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes @rafecameronswhore

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #Eddie munson x reader #stranger things

[sphynxrpmemes]

Family Planning pt. 2 || Pregnancy & Birth

TW: Obvious warning for medical, blood, vomit, etc. I have not included any poor outcome type prompts in this so that anyone that doesn’t prefer the darker, angsty routes can skip. If that's something people want to see, let me know. Be sure to specify in the tags if you’re looking to avoid certain prompts, lovelies! Obviously feel free to adjust them as needed to suit your needs 💜 💜 💜

“If I have to go clothes shopping one more time, I’m going to just move to a nudist colony.”

“Wait- that didn’t make you feel sick? Are you starting to feel better?”

“When did you want to start telling everyone else?”

“No, no, if we don’t tell my mom before friends and coworkers, I will never hear the end of it till I’m dead.”

“Just so you know, if I end up in jail, it’s because one more person I don’t know touched my stomach.”

“So pregnancy brain is apparently actually a thing. I left my phone in the refrigerator and couldn’t find it for hours.”

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I seem to have misheard you, I could have sworn you said 'there's more than one in there'..."

“Oh. Oh no. No way. That is a name that says ‘Hi, my parents hated me and wanted me to be bullied, would you like to give me a wedgie?’“

“Have you felt any movement yet?”

“I don’t know if I’m feeling movement? It might just be gas from my stomach being messed up all the time.”

“I think I’m finally showing? Tell me I’m showing!”

“Is this a trick request? Are you going to then get mad at me for implying you’re showing?”

"I can't reach my feet to put on my shoes. Being pregnant sucks."

"Sleep now while you can, they say. What sleep? How is anyone sleeping with this much activity going on inside them?"

"Pass me those headphones you don't use anymore. I'm cranking up Mozart and this kid is going to sleep so help me."

"Did you get any sleep at all last night? Seemed like you did nothing but get up for the bathroom."

"Remind me again why I said I wanted kids? Because I forgot."

"Remember how I said I wanted nothing to do with sex? Yeah, well, hormones say otherwise now. The complete opposite, in fact. When are you getting home?"

"I'm not going to hurt you or the baby?"

"You are worth spoiling, and it's not even spoiling, it's just me helping my partner while they're pregnant."

"No, that's a hideous nursery color. We will see enough of that color elsewhere."

"I didn't know having a baby in a hospital cost so much, holy shit."

"See, this is why we should have moved to Europe, better parental leave and healthcare."

"This isn't the movies, your water doesn't break in a bucket load."

"You're making a face, baby good?"

"It's just false contractions, I'm fine. Promise."

"Oh no, I don't do genital reveal parties, that's just...so weird."

"You look stunning, I promise. Pregnancy glow is not a myth."

"Why is there a Switch in the go-bag?"

"So my parents wanted to be in the delivery room..."

"Absolutely not. Your mom is not getting to know me that well."

"You will manage just fine. You're not the world's first single parent."

"So that was definitely a contraction."

"I'll time them. You want me to get you anything?"

"I get you're not jumped up to leave, but if we don't, I feel like you're going to end up having the baby in the car on the freeway."

"You don't have to stick to the plan, you know. It's okay to say you want the pain relief. Either way, I'm here."

"I'm good, I'm Gucci, I- oh my god I want drugs! Now!"

"My hand can take it, promise."

"Those cries- it feels like that was an eternity."

"They have your eyes already, I'm in trouble."

"Nine pounds? No wonder it took so long!"

"Is it normal for babies to be this bald?"

"I needed you at the appointment. They- there- there wasn't a heartbeat on

"I told you so. Look at this tiny person, you did it!"

"No, please, you hold them. I feel shakier than a leaf."

"I could pick that face out of a hundred babies if I needed to. I've only been staring at it in awe for the past three hours."

"I did not know one that small could be that loud!"

#rp meme #rp sentence meme #roleplay meme #rp memes #sentence starter meme #roleplay memes #askbox meme #inbox memes #inbox meme #pregnancy memes #pregnancy meme #starter sentences #sentence starter memes #sentence starters #sentence meme #rp starter meme #rp starter #pregnancy tw #tokophobia tw #medical tw

[stranger-fanfiction-n-things]

CHAPTER 3: HOLLY, JOLLY

This is an Original Character fanfiction. All Stranger Things characters and content are owned by Netflix and The Duffer Brothers.

a/n: This scene makes me cry. Even more when I listened to Heroes by Peter Gabriel.

Warnings: Sadness.

Word Count: 1309

Masterlist

PART I || PART II || PART III || PART IV || PART V

SINCLAIR RESIDENCE 

Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I run down Maple. Nancy is close beside me and once my house comes into view, we slow down to a light jog and eventually to a stop. I bend over placing my hands on my knees gasping for air. My legs ache and my chest burns from overexertion. Nancy and I linger on my front lawn until we can catch our breaths to speak. 

“What—” I cough into my arm. “What was that?” I wheeze. 

“I don’t know.” Nancy pants. She stands up, holding her side. 

“Do you think—” I draw a sharp breath blinking back tears. I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. 

Nancy doesn’t respond. Both of us think the same thing. Something happened to Barb. Something bad. Her car still at the same spot we left it last night. She wasn’t at school today and there was something or someone in Steve’s backyard. 

“We need to tell our parents.” Nancy says, her face flush with pink. I nod my head in agreement. Our parents will know what to do. “Meet at my house in twenty, okay?” Her voice sounds thick with emotion.

“Y-yes,” I croak. A tear falls down my face. 

Nancy’s chin trembles as she wraps her arms around me. I choke on a sob, holding her tight in my arms. We stand there for a moment, crying in each other’s arms and in that moment, what happened last night at Steve’s party doesn’t matter anymore. Any anger or resent I had in my heart disappears. What matters is Barb and that we need to find her.  

I approach my door with heavy feet and unlock it. My body feels like it has been drained of everything in it. I feel like a hollow cavern, floating around. I close the door behind me and walk towards the kitchen. I don’t see anything around me. I don’t hear anything. I just feel exhausted. 

“Mom!” I shout, my chest feels tight. “Mom!” 

Mom comes rushing down the stairs with Erica trailing behind. Her face is etched with worry and fear. Erica lingers by the stairs watching me carefully. I hold my chest in my hands, feeling my tears trickle down my face. 

“Diana! Honey, what’s wrong?” 

“S-something happened to Barb.” I whimper. “Something bad happened to her!” 

“What do you mean something happened to her? Didn’t she sleep over at Nancy’s?” 

I look up at the ceiling. I forgot. How could something bad happen to Barb if she was with us the whole time. I open my mouth to speak but the words don’t come. I hiccup, choking on a sob. This is what I get for lying to her. I drop my bag on the floor and hold my head in my hands. I can’t stop crying at how my life has turned upside down in the span of 24-hours. 

“Diana?” Mom says, her voice thick with worry. I smell her expensive perfume before I feel her arms wrap around me. “What happened last night?” 

I lift my head from my hands, looking up at her. Nancy and I had a plan. I needed to stick to the plan. “We have to go to Mrs. Wheeler’s house.” I say, taking a step back. “Right, now.” 

“Diana, what’s going on?” 

I don’t answer, marching to the front door. I hear Mom’s footsteps behind me. “Diana!” 

I turn around, eyes fresh with tears. Mom is standing in front of me, eyes darting back and forth, waiting for an answer. Erica is close behind watching me with a glint of fear in hers. 

“We can’t find her, Mom.” I whimper. “We can’t find Barb.” 

WHEELER RESIDENCE

Thirty-five minutes later and me, Mom, Mrs. Wheeler, Nancy and Mr. and Mrs. Holland are sitting in the sitting room. Mrs. Wheeler set Erica in the living room with snacks and the television making sure she was far away from the commotion, but close enough to keep an eye one. Nancy and I are sitting beside each other. Neither of us look at the adults. I’m bouncing my leg up and down trying to calm my nerves. I feel like pacing back and forth. Going for a run. Just anything to keep from having a mental breakdown. I expect Mrs. Wheeler and Mom to be angry with us, but they aren’t. Only concerned. As they should be when Nancy and I walk into our respective households crying. Still I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Tell us what happened from the very beginning.” Mrs. Wheeler says, calmly.

I feel like I have been asked to take the stand. Thankfully, it’s Nancy who responds. 

“Barb, Diana and I were invited to a party last night.” She says, looking at her hands. I quickly glance at Mom. Her expression is neutral. 

“Who’s party?” 

Nancy doesn’t answer right away.

“Is it Steve’s?” Mrs. Wheeler asks. 

“Yes.” Nancy mumbles. “I told Barb and Diana to lie and say we were going to Will’s assembly on the field. Instead, Barb drove us to Steve’s house across town.” Nancy looks up at Mrs. Wheeler and swallows. “We were all hanging out at his house and then…” she looks at me to speak. 

“I wanted to go home.” I finish. 

“I didn’t.” Nancy adds. 

“I asked Barb if she wanted to come with me, but she decided to stay with Nancy.” 

“You walked home from across town.” Mom voiced. I can hear the shock in her tone. “In the middle of the night.” 

I look at her, biting my lip. I want to tell her about Eddie driving me home, but what then I would be caught in another lie. “Well—” 

The front door opens and slams shut. All of us turn to the door. Mike is halfway across the foyer when Mrs. Wheeler calls out his name rushing to him. Mike stops and turns to face us. Tears glisten on his cheeks and more run down his face. I stand up, feeling my stomach drop to my feet and share a worried glance at Nancy. Mike’s face puckers as he fights to hold everything in, but as soon as Mrs. Wheeler hugs him, he lets go. 

“What happened, honey?” I hear Mrs. Wheeler say between Mike’s sobs. 

“W-Will.” It’s all Mike is able to say before he breaks down. 

I stumble back, losing my footing for a brief moment, my body rocked by the sheer force of the unexpected revelation. I stagger out of the sitting room to the front door, yanking it open. 

“Diana!” I hear Mom shout, but I don’t turn around, my feet guiding me back home. 

I can’t hear anything but the violent whooshing of wind hitting my face as I run down the street. Tears leak from my eyes, trickling into my hairline. My heart is pounding so hard I feel like it’ll burst out of my chest. I run. I keep running until I see my lawn. From the other side of the street, I see a small flash of light. His legs are pushing against the pedals of his bike. 

“Lucas!” I shout. My throat burns. “Lucas!”

Lucas climbs off his bike dropping it in the middle of our lawn. He runs, slamming his body into mine. All the air rushes out my lungs but I don’t care. I wrap my arms around my brother holding him tight. I hear his sobs. I feel his shudders. Lucas clings to me like if he let’s go, I’ll disappear too. I don’t say anything. I just hold him letting my tears fall silently. I don’t know how long it takes for Mom to pull into the driveway or how Lucas and I got back inside the house. All I know is, we need each other more than anything. 

CHAPTER 4: THE BODY

#stranger things rewrite #black fem reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #dianasinclair #eddie munson x black!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #sinclair!reader #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader

[charcoalhawk]

Don’t go where I can’t follow

What scares Tucker the most, after everything, was that he hadn’t even known anything was wrong.

Truce gift for @phan-pheeking-tastic, ended up going with Tucker and Sam finding out Danny is half-ghost in a No-One Knows AU.

This was super fun to do, hope you enjoy!

What scares Tucker the most, after everything, was that he hadn’t even known anything was wrong.

He had thought, with how close he and Danny were, how close they had been, that he would have known if something had happened to him. To his family.

But he hadn’t. Neither had Sam.

When he wakes up that day there’s no dread, no forbording feeling in gut. Heck, Tucker wakes up pretty happy.

It’s the last day of school before winter break, and he and Sam have plans to play as much Doom as possible so they can hopefully beat it before the new year. There’s rumors that anyone who can will be able to access new dlc content that otherwise won’t be available until at least the summer.

Some small part of him is even happy that Danny isn’t in town this week, meaning he and Sam can hang out without things getting awkward.

And Tucker hates thinking like that. Danny was his best friend for a long, long time, but ever since high school started the two of them had slowly drifted apart. Which he does understand, on some level. They’re not five years old anymore playing together on the playground.

But Danny had become so aloof with them, barely interacting with them in class and showing up late to hang out, if he even showed up at all.

And it couldn’t have been because of their new undead neighbors that now haunted the town. After the first like, month, Phantom had proved he was a decent enough ghost that most people didn’t really have to worry about malicious undead any more than they had to worry about overdue homework.

He and Sam have just finished fighting the second to last boss in Doom when there’s a knock on his door. A quick glance at his computer’s clock shows that it isn’t even 11pm yet, so it can’t be his parents telling him to start winding down to go to sleep. It’s also winter break now, so why-?

After a second his Dad’s face peeks through the door, his form backlit by the hallway lights. He thinks he sees his mom too, but after a moment she seems to briefly lay her hand on his father’s shoulder then disappear from view.

“Hey kiddo,” it's hard to tell what his dad is thinking at that moment, and his voice sounds carefully neutral, “are you at a good stopping point for the night? I need to talk with you about something serious.”

He goes to share a glance at Sam but she’s already getting up from her desk.

���Hey Tuck,” Sam’s voice is muffled from her starting to remove her headphones, “I think I’m going to have to call it quits for tonight. My parents just came in and said they need to talk about something important. Hopefully tomorrow we can start planning for the final boss. I’ll text you later, night.”

“Sounds good,” he replies, quickly saving and logging out to the main screen, “night.”

And with that the room is washed in silence. After a second of hesitation his Dad reaches over and flips on the room’s overhead light, moving to sit on the bed across from his gaming set-up.

“Soooo…” Tucker prompts, “what’s up? You said you needed to tell me about something serious?”

His dad doesn’t respond immediately, taking a deep breath before slowly reaching out to rest his hand on Tucker’s shoulder.

“Tucker,” his father looks so sad, “there’s been an accident, a- an attack. Danny’s mom is in a coma.”

———

It takes almost a week to fully find out what happened.

The Fenton’s had been visiting a family friend in Wisconsin, apparently Vlad Masters had gone to college with Danny’s parents, and had invited them all to his mansion for the weekend. It had also been rumored that Mr. Masters had been experiencing some supernatural events that he had wanted Maddie and Jack to help him solve, and with how fanatic the two were around ghosts they had obviously been eager to help in any way they could.

And it had turned out that the rumors had been true, and at least one violent ghost had attacked the mansion the following evening.

Here the details get murky.

Some reports say a single ghost was responsible for the attack, and only the Fenton’s weapons and skill saved everyone from being killed by the vengeful spirit. Others claim it was two ghosts having a territory spat that just so happened to happen in the mansion. Some even claim Phantom drove off the raging ghost and stopped more injuries from occurring.

Number of ghosts aside, the attack had destroyed almost a third of the Masters’ Mansion, and had left most of the staff with injuries from debris or from the ghosts themselves. Danny and Jazz had apparently escaped the worst of it because their parents had gotten them out early on and the two had hidden in the nearby woods until authorities arrived.

Jack had gotten a nasty concussion and broken two ribs fighting off the ghost(s), and Maddie had suffered some kind of mental or physical trauma that left her comatose.

Vlad Masters’ was missing, no one had seen him directly prior to the attack, and afterwards it was like he had just up and vanished.

————

He and Sam stand outside the Fenton house for almost a full minute before Sam seems to find the courage to knock. Two long, followed by two fast and one long, the same combination they’ve all used since they were little kids.

The silence afterwards is thick, and just as Sam is raising her hand to knock again there’s a series of clanking sounds as the locks are undone and the door opens to reveal Jasmine Fenton.

“Oh, hey there,” she gives a small smile, “I’m glad you two are here. Danny is upstairs in his room, we’re all pretty shaken up from what happened, having you two visit should help.”

“How is- how are you holding up?” Tucker asks as they move through the hallway into the living room, a place that’s both so familiar and yet alien, he half expects Danny to be leaning over the staircase inviting them upstairs to his room.

“It’s, I’ve been holding it together,” Jazz says, “I’ll probably be staying here at least until Dad’s ribs are better, luckily all my professors are pretty accommodating and will be letting me attend virtually until I can head back to college. I’m… really scared for my mom, but I trust that she’s getting the best care possible and that she’ll wake up soon.”

Jazz gestures towards the stairs, “Danny’s in his room, call me if you guys need anything. I was actually just about to head over to the Hospital, Dad should be getting discharged today, so we should be back in a few hours.”

With one last smile Jazz heads back the way they came and there’s the sound of the front door opening and closing.

“Should we really be doing this?” Tucker finally breaks the silence, glancing towards the staircase as if Danny will suddenly appear there.

“Honestly I don’t know, but it’s too late to go back now. If we leave Jazz will just ask Danny when she gets back and then we’ll be the assholes who left without saying anything.”

Damn, Tucker hates it when Sam uses logic like that.

“Yeah but it’s just, I don’t think we’ve had a full conversation with him in the past month. It feels wrong to just drop in now when he’s hurting like this.”

“Well it’s not like Dash or Paulina is going to just waltz by and offer to go comfort him,” Sam’s mouth twists into a grimmance, “and Valerie’s probably too busy investigating the attack to try and find the ghosts who did this.”

Tucker can’t argue with that, they really are the closest ones to Danny. Still, it feels wrong to walk up those steps and knock on Danny’s bedroom door like nothing in the past two years has happened.

There’s no immediate answer, but after a second series of knocks there’s the sound of bare feet on hardwood before the door opens slightly, just enough for Danny’s tired blue eyes to peek out.

“Hi,” Danny’s voice is hoarse, “uh, no offense but why are you two here?”

“We uh-,” Tucker shares a glance with Sam, “we wanted to check in on you. I know we aren’t all as close anymore but we wanted to at least see if you were ok in person and see if there was anything we could do.”

That sounded a lot better in his head, but Danny isn’t slamming the door on them, so there’s that. After a moment the door opens fully and he and Sam cautiously walk inside as Danny moves to lean against the far wall.

“I, thanks for coming over?” He seems to almost hug himself, looking anxiously around the room. “I don’t know if your parents put you up to this, or worse Jazz, but you guys don’t need to hang around out of some sense of obligation.”

“We came because we wanted to Danny!” Sam exclaims, “we’re still your friends and, and we care about you! This is obviously traumatizing and we want to help you-“

“You guys don’t understand!” Danny snarls at them. Apparently what Tucker had thought was anxiety was in fact anger.

“You think I’m some scared kid trying to come to terms with an unfortunate accident. Well I’m not!”

Danny’s eyes almost seem to glow in response to his heated words, which doesn’t make any sense. Humans eyes don’t glow, the only thing close to that that Tucker has seen happens when ghosts-

“It was my fault!”

With that last shout there’s a brilliant flash of white, and when Tucker can finally blink the spots out of his vision he finds he can’t quite comprehend what he sees before him.

“I hurt her! I was trying to stop that stupid ghost from hurting my Dad and I ended up almost killing my mom!”

Danny’s too long sweatpants and pullover have been replaced with a glowing hazmat suit, and what’s left standing before them is Phantom, the town’s own ghostly hero. The town’s very young, very dead hero.

“What?”

Sam sounds like she’s just been gut punched, and Tucker doesn’t feel much different.

Everyone in Amity Park knows that Phantom is one of the friendlier ghosts that now haunt them, even dealing with the rowdier ones that try to interfere with day to day human life.

But everyone also agrees that Phantom can be downright terrifying most of the time. The simple fact that he looks all of thirteen makes most residents uncomfortable at best.

Trying to understand that Danny and Phantom are one in the same is almost too much for him, but looking the ghost dead in the eyes now the similarities between the two are overwhelming.

He can see Danny in the way the ghost is hunched like he’s about to collapse onto himself, and he can see Phantom in how his stance is planted and ready to move in a moment's notice.

“It’s-“ and here Phantom's voice breaks, “it’s my fault.”

And with that soft admission the dam finally breaks, and Phantom crumbles to the floor, back heaving as great sobs wrack his body.

In that moment Tucker’s body seems to almost move on to own, moving almost in tandem with Sam to crouch down and envelop Danny in a tight hug.

“I’m sorry that happened,” Sam whispers into Danny’s hair, “I wish you could have told us when this happened so we could have helped. But we know now. We’ll help you however we can, and I’m sure your mom will be better in time.”

Sam sounds so sure of what she’s saying, Tucker can’t even bring himself to speak. Whatever happened to Danny, whatever he’s been doing these past two years, has changed him.

All Tucker can do is tighten his grip, a promise that he hopes he can keep.

#2022 holiday truce #2022 DP holiday truce #Danny phantom #tucker foley #sam manson #no beta we die #injury mention

[gubes-sweaters]

Fire on Fire

Summary: Spencer’s post-prison therapy session doesn’t go quite as planned. While discussing the ghosts of his past he becomes spacy, thoughts lingering on what could’ve been.

Content Warning(s): Talks of Spencer’s trauma, addiction, allusions to what cat did to spencer, brief mentions of Maeve’s death, a brief mention of what happened to the unsub from season 5 episode 12 ‘uncanny valley’ aka the living dolls episode. (I think that’s all but if there’s any more let me know) !ALSO ANYTHING THAT THE ‘THERAPIST’ SAYS IN HERE IS NOT ANY SORT OF SOUND ADVICE, IT JUST USED AS A PLOT POINT!

Word Count: 1.7k

Chapter 1: Maybe it’s all That i’ve Been Through

“Now Spencer, have you made any attempts to contact any of the people you’d like to reconcile with? At least the ones we wrote down last session,” the woman asks as she closes his patient file. She pushes her wide glasses up her nose with her nimble fingers, shifting in her seat before looking up at him.

“Yes, I um, actually got to everyone, except for one, but I don’t think I’m going to reach out to the one I scribbled off,” he says, trying not to fidget much in his seat. 

Despite the relaxing room equipped with a white noise machine, dim lights, along with the comforting smell and crackling sound of a candle, Spencer found it nearly impossible to do just that. It may be because these therapist seasons were the last step before he could fully return to the BAU. His anxiousness to bury himself in his work once again was clawing at him. 

He’s not used to having the watchful eye of a professional to pick apart his behavior at all times, at least while he’s in this room with her. He feels intimidated and paranoid, but those feelings aren’t as strong as they were while he was in prison. Which is the whole reason why he’s stuck in this room right now.

“Why was that?” The older woman inquired as she stares at him, her head cocks to the side as her wavy gray hair that frames her face shifts with her.

“I didn’t realize how many people there were that I wanted to connect with,” he says, looking out the window thinking of the difficult dinner he had just last night. They were the second to last on the dreaded list. As if she can hear his thoughts his therapist pipes up.

“Now I know you had a few people you wanted to speak to. There was a distant relative of a man named Tobias Hankle who was…” she trails off to let Spencer fill in the gaps.

“An unidentified suspect, an unsub. It’s what we call the people in our criminal investigations.” Spencer says.

“Right, and he was the reason for your addiction. Correct?” She asks in an attempt to keep him engaged in the conversation.

“Mhm,” is all Spencer musters up.

He looks out at the view from the therapist's office. There’s a park right across the road with large willow trees, casting shadows down at a happy family. ‘That could've been him,’ he thinks to himself. A dad playing with the older child. The kid bopping along happily in the lush grass. A woman sat at a park bench, not too far from the other two, with a baby happily gurgling on her lap, clapping along to the antics of the two in from of them. It pains him to know he has no memories of his own like that. Not from his own childhood and none from a family of his own.

“Spencer?’ The woman sitting across the mahogany coffee table asks him.

“Yes?” he responds, not even realizing she was still speaking to him.

“I asked you about the others on the list. Both of your parents, Derek Morgan, Stephen Gideon, Elle Greenaway, Mary and Joe Donovan, and one last one that’s scribbled over. Who’ve you reached out to?”

“Um, I sent Tobias Hankle’s cousin and letter, then I talked to my mom, but there’s not a lot to talk about with her. She hardly knows who I am anymore. I sent my dad an email and he sent one back, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to read it quite yet. I talked to Morgan. I actually had dinner at his house with his family and it was nice. Stephen Gideon didn’t pick up any of my calls and he didn’t email me back. Elle called me back, it was nice to hear her again,” he says before he cuts himself off. The last two, Maeve’s parents, that was the terrible dinner he had the night prior.

The memories were still so fresh and it hurt to think about for too long. The actual memories themselves were not terrible, they were content and happy, but something about seeing that Maeve came from such a happy family hurt even more. She was pure sunshine and now he knows where she got it from. 

“And?” She pushes.

“I talked to my ex-girlfriend's parents last night. After everything they’re been through I didn’t think they would’ve wanted to talk to me, but they did. They welcomed me into their own home. I think hearing them talk about everything made me blame myself a lot less,” he says trying to choke back tears. The lump in his throat seemed to swell.

He thinks about the tight hug her mom gave him. How she commented about how tired he looked as she dished out food for him. It was the first really good home cooked meal he enjoyed since before prison, other than at Morgan’s house the week prior. He thought about Maeve’s dad talking about Maeve when she was younger. It made his empty heart clench, sitting there imaging Maeve sitting next to him at the table, giggling along to her fathers stories. A shiny diamond ring on her finger, that catches the light from the delicate chandelier that hung over her parents' dinner table, as she lifts a glass of wine to her lips. The thought of that never happening made Spencer’s loneliness all the more soul crushing. He longed for that feeling of domesticity.

“That was progress. We talked about you alleviating the blame that you pile on yourself. Now, I would like to know who this is on the bottom you scribbled off?” she asks, pointing her pen to the writing at the bottom of a notebook. 

“I’m not too particularly keen on reaching out to her.”

“Why is that, are you afraid of rejection from this mystery person,” she inquires.

“No, everything with Cat Adams was very recent, and I know the investigation just stirred up her life. At least that’s what I heard from my team. I’m not sure if I want to do that again,” Spencer replies with a shrug of his shoulder before chewing on the inside of his lip. He knew he was partially making excuses.

“Well, this is your time to be a little selfish when it comes to your healing. We’re also supposed to be growing some more empathy for people like Tobias Hankle and Cat Adams. We’re not washing them of any wrong doings but,” is all she gets out before Spencer cuts in.

“I know, the bureau wants me to still feel bad for unsubs and in a lot of cases I do. Samantha Malcom is one that sticks out, sure she kidnapped women and basically turned them into living dolls, two of them she even accidentally killed, but she had also been physically, sexually, emotionally, and mentally abused by her father her entire childhood. Part of my heart hurts for her. There’s too many to count in all honesty. I look at them and it’s like looking in the mirror,” He says quickly.

“Spencer, I know you have a good heart, but after all you’ve been through in prison and your wrongful conviction I think it’d be best to speak with someone who knew Cat Adams and was going through similar things to her in order to not look at this all so… clinically. We can look at these peoples actions as monstrous, but we can’t paint everyone incapable of changing their lives. Abuse victims aren’t a monolith and if you think of what Cat has been through and think that her way out is justified, or any person's way out was justified, then we can’t have you working in the field with that mentality, given everything you’ve been through,” she says, trying to give him the softest, empathetic smile.

“I didn’t say that people seek vigilante justice or everyone reaches a tipping point. I never said those things were a healthy reaction either. I just,” this time it was the older woman's turn to interrupt him.

“You just poisoned men while in prison in the name of vigilante justice, or framed a man for assault, or told your unit chief Emily Prentiss that you would’ve had no problem murdering Peter Lewis a.k.a. Mr. Scratch. Spencer I know how your brain has been scrambled by being put in such a dog eat dog environment like that prison is. I just want you to exercise empathy by reaching out to her. I’m not asking you to ever justify any of Cat Adams’ behavior and I’m never going to ask you to forgive her for anything. You have a right to feel hurt, violated, and angry. I just want you to look at Cat Adams and see where her life went when she was hellbent on revenge. Then look at this family member of hers and see how she’s healed. At least I presume they’re a family member.”

“It’s her half sister. On her dad’s side.” he says shortly, feeling like a child who’s just been scolded by a parent. He knows she’s right in the effects of how it could help with healing, but a part of his heart that holds that hatred and content for Cat wants to project that onto her.

“Great, when you’re comfortable, reach out to her and simply ask to talk in a location that has brought you comfortability in your life other than your house. So you can feel a bit more relaxed and ready to open up. All of this is about doing what you can to improve your quality of life and your mental health. I care about you Spencer, I really do,” when she finishes her statement offers up another soft simple before opening his patient file backup once more.

“Alright.” he says with a gentle sigh.

“Well, that’s all for this week. Unless there’s something else you’d like to talk about. If not I’ll see you in two weeks,” she says, preparing to stand up.

When Spencer shakes his head no, they both wordlessly standup as he exits the room. He knew he already had the next appointment booked so he leaves with a polite wave and a tight lipped smile. Once he reaches his car, he takes a deep breath before cranking up his car. The warm August air causes him to shed his cardigan before pulling out his phone. He hovers over a number Penelope gave him. Dread fills his stomach once he hits the button to call her. Spencer once again looks at the happy family, now packing up their stuff as the line picks up.

“Hello?”

A/N: AHHHH! So I fell in love with writing again. Part of my burnout was caused by not wanting to pick up my series “unexpected turns” again because I didn’t plan it all out ahead of time, which was the worlds biggest mistake, but I digress because in my free time I’m going to rework that series while I put out this one. This one is already fully planned out and all of the rough drafts are done for it. So, the only thing I have left to do is polish this series, while reworking the other one. Any who I hope you enjoy the start to this series, if you do please like, comment, and reblog my work. Any engagement is much appreciated!

Taglist: @striving4averagegirl @measure-in-pain @tvandfanfic @haylaansmi @rexorangecouny @sophiario

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x fem reader #Spencer reid x fem!reader #Spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminalminds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fanfiction #matthew gray gubler fluff #matthew gray gubler #mgg

[biillys]

was always firmly on the what the fuck was billy’s mum thinking abandoning billy with neil train etc but then dacre went and opened his big mouth at that one con and said the they moved to hawkins to keep billy and his mum seperate and then [gestures vaguely to everything else he’s said about billy and his mum] so obviously my mind was like. okay well now i need to know everything. i need that backstory. and we’re never gonna get it until dacre drops the 237 hour long Life of Billy documentary. so for now we are just grasping at straws, and this straw i could not un-grasp. i hate myself. 

anyway.

billy's mom leaving, not by choice, but by force.

her and neil started with a whirlwind romance, neil with his clean cut up bringing and military service. her from the wrong side of the tracks, running wild and free, happy to be neil's spot of rough for a few weeks.

but then weeks turned to months, and months turned to years. neil stopping by to see her, and only her, when he was home on leave, and she felt so fucking special because of it. it didn't even matter on the days he got quiet, withdrawn, mad. he always came home to her.

she could deal with anything, everything, as long as he chose her.

loved her.

she was barely 22 when she found out about the baby, and suddenly the walls were closing in, and neil was ringing around and organising a wedding, and the feeling of trapped set in permanently.

she tried so hard to make it work, but her own parents were barely existent, and neil's parents had frowned upon her since the moment they met her, and any hope she had for role model options of an upstanding mother and wife had been dashed before she even knew she needed them.

but then billy was born, and he was in her arms, and she promised herself that she would never give up, that she would try, and they'd both make it out of this alive.

neil was gone a lot for the early parts of billy's life, leaving just her and her son alone, and slowly the trapped feeling started lifting, leaving behind nothing but love.

she was there for his first smile, was the first one to make him laugh, was there to watch him take his first steps, there to watch him take off running. heard his first word, and then every word after that. neil popped in and out, coming and going between tours, but billy was a mumma's boy through and through, and neil could never bond with him the way she could.

he tried, she'll give him that, but all efforts were quickly given up on, and it wasn't long before neil started in on being the firm parent, talking about how some kids just needed some tough love. stating that there was no reason billy should need to be sung to sleep anymore, that he was 2 years old, he should be putting himself to sleep by now, staying in his own bed the entire night. that he should eat all the food on the plate in front of him, and if he doesn't, then he can go to bed hungry. that tantrums and meltdowns and wrong doing's need more than a simple time out, that's the only way he'll learn.

and then neil would disappear again, and it would just be her and her little boy, and he'd sleep in bed with her all night, and he'd get dessert even when he didn't finish his dinner, cos 'no one likes carrots, baby, i just thought i'd let you try them', and when he draw on the wall with markers he wasn't meant to play with, she talked him through what was wrong, put him on time out, and then they went secondhand shopping for old used couches to cover up that section of wall.

neil never found out.

but then she gets the call, and her chest freezes, her hands white-knuckling the phone cord, because neil's coming home, and this time he's not leaving.

he's coming back for good.

she puts on a brave face, and makes the most of the last few days of peace with billy while she can. spending every moment she can with him by the water, spinning around and playing in the sun, walking to and from the beach on their usual route, billy having the corner shop owner wrapped around his little finger and getting a free lolly each trip.

doing her best to prepare for whats next, promising herself that no matter what, she can handle it. that for billy, she can handle anything.

except then neil's home, and he's everywhere. he has opinions on everything, and nothing she does is right, nothing billy does is okay, and neil use to sometimes be mad, but now he's angry. he's angry at the military for writing him off over an injury he claims he could've walked off, he's angry at her for fucking up their son, he's angry at billy for being a child, he's angry at the entire fucking world.

the first time he hit her, they weren't married. billy wasn't even a thought. she let it go, thinking it was just a one off, a heat of the moment thing, brought out only because of their fight. and after months of no repeats, she figured she was right to let it go. but then it happened again, just before she found out about billy. then again, just after. again, just before billy's arrival, again, just after, again, and again, and again. but she never worried too much, because neil always left, and she always had a count down, a light at the end of the tunnel, a fail safe.

then she didn't, and neil was back, for better or for worse, and there wasn't anything she could do.

but she tried. he got angry, and she tried with everything she had to make sure billy was safe, that it was just her that got hurt. that billy would never know this side of his father. but as billy got older, and as neil got colder, firmer, she could only protect him from so much.

it felt like she was holding him, just a baby a few hours old in her arms one moment, then she blinked, and suddenly he was six, and scared, and so so brave, running at neil to try protect her, trying to tackle him to the ground.

her and neil's fights got louder, more frequent, more physical, and billy got quieter, more withdrawn, terrified.

the fight that broke them was over billy, naturally.

she came home from a shift from a local little clothes boutique where she'd picked up some part time work, only to find billy sitting at the kitchen table, head down, sniffling, doing his homework, and neil standing at the stove and stirring a pot, his eyes never leaving his son, looking at him the same way he looks at her when she accidentally fucks up dinner.

"you okay, honey?" she asks as she cards her hand through his hair. he sniffles again but nods, still not looking up.

she doesn't believe him even for a second, but she knows what it's like to have neil's weighted stare sitting on you, so she lets it go for the moment and leaves to get changed.

when she comes back, neil's finally turned around and focused on the stove, and billy's packing away his maths worksheets. she sits in the chair beside him and resumes running her hand through his hair.

"how was your day, baby?" she asks softly.

billy finally looks up at her, and the second her eyes land on the marks around his neck, the dried tear tracks all over his cheeks, his damp and shiny eyes, and the wince he doesn't even think to hide when he shrugs, she's out of her chair and grabbing neil by the arm and spinning him around within the second.

"what the fuck did you do?" she hisses at him, and neil has the nerve to continue fixing dinner, like their son isn't in pain, crying, just a few feet away from them at that very second.

"he needs to grow up, no more childish games. no more kid stuff," neil replies calmly, like billy isn't an actual child.

"he's six!" she stresses, because he is six, he's just a baby. he's her baby.

"he's old enough now to not-," neil starts, before getting cut off with-

"he's a child!"

"he doesn't need-"

"he is a kid! he is just a child, neil!" she yells, and part of her's worried about scaring billy, but neil hurt him. neil can lay his hands on her all he wants, but billy's always been off limits.

until today, apparently.

"he's our child- my child! you can not fucking touch him, ever."

it escalates, as all their arguments do, and before she realises what she's saying, she's threatening to leave, to take billy and never turn back. it’s not the first time she’s said it, but this time it feels right, feels like something finally settles into place.

neil waits calmly for her to finish her tirade before bringing reality down.

"you're gonna take my son away from me, huh? and what judge, in their right mind, would leave billy with you, a mother who can't even hold down a full time job, with a police record, and barely a handful of savings."

neil waits her out while she scrambles to find an answer, but that trapped feeling she had all those years ago comes back full force, and the only thing tethering her is billy, whose come up behind her and has buried his face into the small of her back, his hand gripping hers.

"i'm his mother," she breathes out, "courts favour the mother," she settles on, even though she knows that if this ended up in court, neil would fight her every step of the way, and a sinking feeling in her gut tells her he would win.

he always wins.

in the end, it's neil that takes her to court.

it's barely a custody battle. neil's always been good at putting on a show, winning over a crowd, turning on the charm. it doesn't seem to matter that she's the mother, that she finally landed a stable full-time job, that billy wants to stay with her. neil talks, and twists stories, paints an entirely different picture of their home life and situation than the reality; before she knows, he has everyone eating out of the palm of his hand before she can even try rebuttal anything.

he's given full time custody.

she's given nothing, not even contact, unless approved by neil himself.

neil never approves.

billy sneaks one call in though, because he's just like her, and he never gives up.

her heart feels like it’s breaking right down the middle, never to be repaired, and she knows he's too young to understand or comprehend, but she doesn't know how to explain to him the gravity of the situation. doesn't know how to tell him that if someone found out they made contact, that her chances of overruling the court order could be jeopardised. so she takes a page out of neils book, even though it tastes like acid in her mouth and makes her cry herself to sleep, and makes her voice as firm as it can go, tell's him that she had to go, to not call her again.

she'll hear billy crying 'i don't understand!' until the day she dies, she knows.

she works and fights for years. learns more about divorce and the child's court system than she ever expected to know, and tries everything she can to finally see him again. has long since moved on from the pipe dream of full custody, and is now just trying for visitation rights.

slowly, she gets somewhere. unfortunately, everything she gets approved for has to go through neil first, and neil blocks her at every turn. he answers every call, and hangs up every time. all letters are returned, unopened, never making it to billy's hands.

(billy completely unaware of everything. forbidden to answer the phone, never seeing any mail addressed to him. isn't even aware that his parents are even in contact, let alone at war.)

before she knows it, he's lived more life without her than with her, she's missed more birthdays with him than celebrated, and soon he won't even legally be a child.

sometimes she thinks maybe if she just waits ‘til he's legally an adult, then she can try reach out, and neil won't have any leg to stand on. her and billy will be free. but then she remembers neil, she remembers how he tried to raise him, how the purpose of this arrangement wasn't for neil's benefit, but for her and billy's punishment's. she remembers billy's voice on the phone, crying, begging her to take him too.

she promised herself she wouldn't give up, and she won't.

she writes him another letter, but instead of folding it up and putting it in an envelope, hargrove residence address dotted on the front, she simply folds the piece of paper, writes 'for billy' on the outside, and calls in an old family friend. someone that was around in the early days of her and neil, close enough to still probably be in town, but distant enough to hopefully not be too chummy with neil. it's risky, but she's desperate.

luck seems to be on her side though, because she barely explains the situation before he's nodding along and taking the note. promises her that he'll have it delivered asap; neil won't know a thing.

she hugs him and thanks him repeatedly before she sits and waits. takes a moment to think about how this might take more than a few hours, but like fuck is she gonna miss whatever happens next.

-

billy and max are hanging out at the skate park on a sunny as fuck day when it happens. billy's sitting at the top of the half pipe, legs dangling over the edge while he has a smoke, when he hears his name get called out. he looks over to see some old guy trying to get his attention, nodding his head over and holding up a piece of paper, and billy's two seconds away from telling him to fuck off, except he looks vaguely familiar in a distant kind of way, and billy kinda wants to know what the fucks up. he grabs his board before sliding down and cautiously walking over, glaring at the guy holding out the letter. billy reaches out and grabs it.

"good luck, kid," the guy says, then walks away.

"the fuck?" billy stares after him as he goes, then looks back down at the letter in his hand. he flips it over and reads the neat and cursive 'for billy' on the front, the flips it open.

max takes one look at his face, which has lost all it's colour, and chooses that moment to wander over and try to casually take a peek. the second he realises he's got an audience, he quickly shoves the note into his pocket and wipes a hand over his face, quickly pulling himself together.

"fuck off, shitbird," he basically growls.

max levels him with a glare but takes off on her board, rolling her eyes at his dramatics. she didn't even get a chance to read a single word.

billy shoots a look at a bunch of middle schoolers hogging a park bench that’s mostly secluded, and after they all flee, takes a seat to read the letter properly in peace.

the letter doesn't say too much, just that his mom's fighting for him, and she's never stopped fighting for him. that she loves him, and she's sorry it's taken her so long, and that she promises, soon, they'll see each other again, if that's something he still wants.

it's been 9 years, give or take, since he's seen his mom, and the longer it's drawn out, the angrier he's got. he's well aware he's got abandonment issues, and he's pretty sure they all started with her, from the very second she told him to stop calling her, and they’ve only grown with every second she hasn't been in contact since.

but the second he reads the letter, the moment 'i've never stopped fighting for you' digs and etches itself onto his brain, the anger he has just drains out of him, and suddenly he's seven years old again, desperate to see her.

he folds the note as small as he can, and slips it in the smaller hidden pocket of his jeans that he's never known a function for, and guards that pocket like it's his only hope. scrubs at his face with his hands to make sure there's no evidence of any tears, and schools his face into the usual scowl.

he hangs back and chills on the bench until max is ready to go, in absolutely no hurry to get home, then spends the entire trip back ignoring her and her 50 questions. max gets pissed pretty quickly with the silent treatment, and within two blocks has turned the silent treatment back on him.

later on, while billy’s finishing a late assignment under neil’s watchful gaze and max is helping her mom out in the kitchen, things fall apart.

susan asks how max’s day was, and before billy can even attempt to signal for her to keep her mouth shut, she’s telling her mom about the weird guy giving billy letters at the park. susan turns to him and starts talking about stranger danger and accepting things from people he doesn’t know in public places, and billy has no choice but to nod along and agree. he casts a glance over at his dad and finds him looking straight at him.

billy swallows and wipes his hands on his jeans before trying to focus back on his school work and prays his dad will drop it.

billy’s never that lucky.

he hears his dad stand up slowly from his armchair and make his way towards the kitchen.

“what’s this about a letter?” neil asks casually, walking up to the table.

billy glances at max and susan, then back to his dad.

“nothing,” billy grips his pencil tightly and makes sure his voice keeps steady. “just some guy trying to get people to go to his band’s gig. he handed out flyers to the whole skatepark.”

he makes sure to not break eye contact and hopes it’s enough.

“he called you by name, and you were the only one who got a note,” max points out, looking at billy like he’s lost his mind. billy kinda wants to fucking strangle her. he swallows, and continues to keep eye contact with neil.

“most guys know my name there, it was noth-”

“where is it?” neil cuts him off.

“where’s what?” playing dumb hasn’t really worked for him before, but billy’s willing to try again.

“where’s the letter, billy.” neil’s not asking anymore. billy can feel his palms getting clammy.

“i threw it out.” billy wishes his voice didn’t waver, that he could keep his shit together, but he can feel himself breaking under the weight.

neil looks at him for a second longer before walking with purpose straight to billy’s room. billy quickly pushes his chair out and follows him, almost running into his back when neil stops dead in the doorway.

“you tell me where the letter is, or i tear apart this room until i find it. your choice, son,” neil doesn’t even bother turning around to say it to his face.

billy closes his eyes and thinks about the letter currently burning a hole in his pocket, ‘i’ve never stopped fighting for you’ flashing in his memory, and suddenly the anger that left him earlier is back full force.

“I don’t. fucking. have it,” he spits out.

neil finally turns to him and raises an eyebrow, a silent ‘you sure you wanna do this’ look, and- fuck it. his mom basically fucking hand delivered a letter to him just to tell him that she’s still out there, and she’s coming for him.

billy just raises an eyebrow back then throws his arms out in a ‘be my guest’ gesture. takes a step back so he can lean against the doorway and watch.

neil upturns everything he can get his hands on, breaks his flimsy bedside table, rips the sheets off his bed, empties out all his drawers, pulls out all his clothes. throws all his records and knickknacks on the ground. comes up empty.

billy can feel the anger running through his veins, watching his dad destroy his room and all his possessions. max and susan have came over to see what the commotion’s about and are watching on in horror.

“give me the letter, billy,” neil says slowly, breathing heavily, getting right up in billy’s space, “now.”

billy looks him dead in the eye.

“no,” he breathes out, no hesitation.

“give me the letter, now, billy!” neil slams his hand against the doorway, just above billy’s head, finally losing any calm he had.

"no," he repeats, leaning right back into his dads space, a half feral smile starting to spread across his face. his dad's so fucking mad. billy usually doesn't get this far under his skin on purpose, but god it feels good to be in control for once.

neil slides a hand down his face and takes a deep breath before straightening up, focusing back on his son.

"give me your car keys," neil says, holding his hand out expectantly.

billy grinds his jaw before reaching a hand around and grabbing his keys from the shelf by the door, smacking them down in neil's hands.

neil shoves past him and makes his way outside, the whole family following. billy catches sight of max's face, her wide eyes, and clenches his hands at his sides. if she had just kept her fucking mouth shut.

by the time billy and the girls make it out the front, neil's already tore into every compartment of his car.

"i told you, i don't have it," billy repeats again.

"neil, honey, he say's he doesn't have it, maybe-," susan tries, but neil's not having it.

"empty your pockets," neil says, climbing out of the camaro and walking right up to billy, leaving barely a space between them.

"empty. your. pockets," he repeats, slowly, quietly, dead calm.

billy lifts his chin a bit, glaring defiantly, but he can feel his heart pick up the pace, and sweat start to gather on his forehead.

he empties his pockets.

places his pack of smokes, his lighter, a two day old receipt, and a ring that he took off earlier onto his dads hands. waits.

neil looks down at what billy's discarded and silently fumes. billy clenches his jaw, then breathes out a quiet, "i don't have it."

his father holds his gaze before nodding.

"okay."

he moves past billy, past susan and max, and heads back to his armchair.

"fix up your room, it's a mess," then looks at susan and gestures to the fridge. she instantly gets the message and quickly moves to grab him out a beer.

max looks between them all like she doesn't understand what just happened, and billy can't fucking deal with this. he heads back to his room, getting ready to try salvage what he can.

doesn’t dare bring the letter out from its hiding spot, doesn’t even touch a hand to that pocket, just in case his dad can just sense it.

thinks, prays, that that’ll be the end of it. that neil would actually let it go.

he should’ve known better.

they sit down for dinner the next night, and no one’s mentioning what happened yesterday, but it’s sitting heavily in the air. max still looks like she’s trying to figure out what the fuck happened, susan looks like she’s trying to pretend everything’s normal, like nothing’s out of the ordinary, and his dad digs into his food like he does every other night, like he didn’t lose his absolute shit the night before. billy falls for it, believing for just a few minutes that his dad’s moved past it.

it’s when his dad’s finished his dinner that the other shoe finally drops.

“i talked to my boss today,” he starts, “and there’s a job opening in a different warehouse. we leave on friday.”

susan looks speechless, and max looks livid, but billy can feel the floor slipping out from underneath him.

“neil. what-” susan starts, before trailing off uselessly, before finally picking her next question. “where?”

“hawkins,” neil responds, wiping at his face with a cloth before pushing his plate away, “indiana.”

“what the fuck?” billy drops his knife and fork and throws a hand out, “indiana?”

“indiana? indiana?” max yells, completely disregarding neil and throwing all her anger at her mother.

“neil, we should talk about this, i mean-” susan tries, but falls silent when neil shoots her a look.

“we move,” he levels them all with a look, one at a time, “on friday. no questions.”

“what about my dad? what about my friends?” max bites out, levelling neil a look right back.

billy feels like he can’t fucking breathe, wants to tell her that neil doesn’t give a flying fuck about her dad, couldn’t care less about keeping them separated - just look at the situation they’re in now - but theres a lump in his throat, and he doesn’t think he could talk right now if he tried.

“phones exist, maxine” neil responds, ending the conversation there and then, pushing his chair out and heading to the living room.

susan has her head in her hands but quickly picks herself up and tries to do damage control with max, even if max doesn’t seem to be having a bar of it.

billy’s fucking shaking. doesn’t even know where to begin to fix this. there was no phone number in the letter, no forwarding address, no contact information. just his mom telling him she’s trying, she’s doing everything she can.

there’s only gonna be so much she can do if neil drags him half way across the fucking country.

he’s only had the hope of his mother coming back into his life for just over a day and he’s already grown so attached to the idea that the thought of it no longer happening has him spiralling in ways he’s never felt before.

fuck.

(they move on the friday. arrive on a sunday. billy builds his new room from the ground up, his bed frame and mattress along side a few items of clothes and bedside table objects being the only survivors of neils rampage. everything else he improvises or goes without. 

him and max are on the outs. billy unable to see past his own rage and grief, and so so quick to blame, and max just as angry and emotional as he is, but with only half the picture, fully ready to give it right back.

billy hoping and praying that somehow, his mum figured out that neil moved them. that she knows where he is, how to find him. but the longer he goes without another letter, the more it sinks in that it’s too late. the small window they had is closed. 

neil watches him like a hawk now, makes him chauffeur max around town, keeps on top of him about his grades, his extra curricular activities. their new house in hawkins is bigger, but billy’s never felt so trapped.

max has a bat in her hands, and billy was standing, but now he’s on the floor, and there’s other kids around cheering her on, there’s blood on his hands, and this isn’t the night billy had planned, but this is the night billy got. he listens to her tell him to stay away, watches as she swings the bat, hears her yell ‘say it’, can feel whatever the fuck she injected him with running though his veins, and wants to scream.

he didn’t realise how much of neil got to her, too. wishes neil got to her in the same way he got to him, that she would just fucking understand, then hates himself for it. 

that’s the one thing that him and sue can agree on, that max stays out of it.

they settle on a truce eventually. billy so fucking tired, can’t hold onto the constant anger anymore, and max never really knowing the real reason they were fighting to begin with. the older she gets, the more of the picture she sees, but they never show her all the colours, and she’s already discovered her own monsters in this town, she can’t handle the idea of them living in her own home, so she tries her hardest to look the other way.

it’s not easy though, and it doesn’t take much for the illusion to shatter.

her and billy going from having a truce, to having an actual understanding. she’s still none the wiser about his mother, and billy’s never gonna just open up and spill his guts, but she knows enough. has had one or two of her own run-ins with neil. knows how to read the room now from the second she steps in the house, the way billy’s always been able to. 

he’s not actually that bad of a brother to have, now that she’s finally getting to know him.

that’s the only thought going though her head, when she watches him stand up to the mindflayer.

she watches him take on an inter-dimensional monster, a monster that el can only fight with her supernatural powers, that will had to get burned out of him, a monster that can tear apart the literal fabric of the universe, and thinks, he was never actually that bad of brother, when she finally started to understand him. 

sees him use nothing but his bare hands to fight back, to save el and her, to save all of them, and wants to throw up. her minds screaming at her to run towards him, to pull him away, for them all to run, but she can’t fucking move, all she can do is watch.

the monster finally falls, but so does billy, and when max’s feet finally find movement, she’s running to his side as fast as she can. she begs and pleads and cries, trying so fucking hard to help get him through this, but all he does is look at her, tears in his eyes and and covered in blood, and chokes out an i’m sorry. 

max feels his last breath leave him, and feels the second his heart stops beating and thinks, i’ll never get the chance to fully know him, now.

billy’s written out to be a hero in the local news reports, saving them all from a tragic fire, and everyone around town offers their condolences every chance they get. max wants to hit something. she dreads going out, doesn’t wanna see a single pitying look. has stopped answering the front door, doesn’t wanna eat another fucking casserole from patricia, who lives two houses down, who’s married to harry, who accused billy of stealing his garden shit like once a fucking week, getting billy in the shit with neil, constantly.

a month passes, and things are tense. neil’s drinking more than ever, having lost his job just two days after billy’s funeral. her mum’s trying to keep things together, but there’s only so much she can do when nobody else is willing. 

max sure as fuck isn’t about to try and play happy families.

it’s on a thursday night when the doorbell rings, and max tightens the grip on her fork.

“you’d think they’d have run out of recipes to try on us,” max mutters dully, before shoving some mash potato in her mouth.

“ignore it,” neil says to susan, completely disregarding max, before going back to his own dinner.

the doorbell rings again, and then again a third time, and a fourth time. susan grows tenser with every bell that chimes, and max looks between both adults, waiting to see who’ll break first.

neil slams his knife and fork down on the table before shoving his chair out and storming towards the door, ripping it open. susan follows quickly, and max rolls her eyes before following as well. it’s been at least a week since the last neighbour tried to shove food at them, and maybe it might be some baked goods from mrs. taylor this time. at least she can actually bake.

max doesn’t recognise the person at the front door, but it’s clear neil does.

she has long wavy blonde hair, terrified eyes, and looks like she’s ready to go to war.

“where is he?” she asks, her arms folded and hands white knuckling in their grip. “he’s eighteen now, you can’t keep me away.”

max feels her stomach sink.

“he’s been eighteen for months now,” neil says back, monotonous.

max watches the terrified look get overshadowed by anger.

“do you have any idea how long it took me to find you, to find him, after you up and left?” she takes a stop forward and throws a hand out, giving neil a filthy look before breathing out and looking away.

her eyes have turned to water, and max watches as she wipes at her eyes the exact same way billy did when neil got him to turn to water at the kitchen table.

“well,” neil starts, some emotion creeping back into his voice, “you’re too fucking late.”

neil slams the door in her face.)

(billy’s mum sticks around, because she refuses to leave without answers, not after searching for her baby for almost eleven years, and now, finally getting so fucking close she could touch.

she can’t touch, though, because there’s six feet of earth between them. her baby boy’s in a wooden box, buried deep underground, with dead flowers at his grave- flowers that have probably been there since the day of his funeral - because no one’s been to visit him.

she touches his headstone gently, traces the words ‘gone but not forgotten’ with her fingertips, and she’s spent the entire time since susan tried to brokenly explain everything denying it, but right here, looking at his grave, she can’t anymore. once the first tear slips, they don’t stop.

susan stands a small distance away, max just beside her, and feels the guilt and smallest hint of relief crush her. 

guilt at never knowing who this person was, never even knowing she was trying to reach out. guilt for accepting everything neil every told her without question or fight. guilt for every occasion she looked the other way, the way she complied every time neil said he’d parent his son, and she’d parent her daughter. 

guilt at the bone-deep relief that it’s billy in the grave, and not max. 

susan still doesn’t know what happened for sure that night, all the details never quite adding up, but the only solid thing max would give her was that billy saved her. billy died to save them all.

one time, susan spent some of their savings on fixing the kitchen sink. when neil got home and saw the little money jar on the bench emptier than when he’d left for work, he instantly accused billy. it has been the last day of school that day, with no commitments to be at for at least a week. 

neil didn’t hold back. 

billy tried to reason that he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and steal money from the extremely obvious savings jar, especially when he already had a job and income of his own, but the more billy denied it, the angrier neil got.

neil didn’t get violent with billy in front of her often, but he seemed to be on a hair trigger that night, and susan didn’t know where to even begin to try stop it.

she tried to step in gently, to tell neil that it was her, that the sink needed some maintenance. he didn’t listen to a word she said. she gave up without a fight.

it wasn’t until later that night that susan found out that neil’d got his second warning at work, one more warning and he’d be fired. he claimed he didn’t deserve the warnings, that saving money didn’t mean cutting corners, just meant he knew how to do his job efficiently. his boss didn’t agree. 

she tried to justify it to herself that billy probably would’ve copped it that night either way.

billy came out to the kitchen the next morning with a swollen face and a barely noticeable limp and got himself a glass of water. turned the tap on with extra force since it’d been fucking up lately, only for it to turn on without any effort at all, no noise or clunks either. he turned to look at susan, look at the money jar, then clenched his jaw and abandoned his still full cup in the sink, and locked himself up in his room, his music blaring just a second later. 

he barely acknowledged her for a week.

now, as she stands back and watches his mother weep, she thinks she may never be able to forgive herself.

thinks that if someone ripped max away from her, and she finally found her again after searching for basically max’s entire life, only to find her in a casket, after living with someone so spineless they couldn’t even protect her, that she would never be okay again.)

(max not knowing how to talk to billy’s mum. leaving the room every time she enters it. not knowing how to handle the fact that she’s alive, and billy’s dead, and she just stood back and watched. 

just wanting to go to sleep and never wake up on the nights she stays up too late thinking about how she stood by and watched him die a slower and more painful death long before the mind flayer ever came into the picture.

billy’s mum’s not having it, is the thing. 

she’s read the articles, listened to the towns people talk. heard all praise about her sons heroics as well as the quiet re-tellings of his delinquent ways. listened to the whispers about his reckless california driving, his dangerous and careless attitude, only for them to paste a sympathetic smile on their face when she rounds the corner, muttering about how he died too young, was taken too soon. the police telling her how this town lost a lot of people that night, but her sons final actions saved more than he could ever know, except they say his name like they’re pushing it through gritted teeth, and she wants to scream. her baby boy died to save his little sister and her friends, and this town will never forgive him for being the teenager he was raised to be. 

she tries so fucking hard to talk to max at every given chance, just so she can hear about him though her eyes.

max cracks eventually. she leans into the part of her that billy carved out and shaped himself, the side of her that jumps straight to anger and rage and disbelief. yells at his mum for leaving him in the first place, of fucking up her only son beyond belief, then after watching his mum take it so fucking gracefully and so fucking deeply, turning on herself. spits out about how much of a shit show this family really was. how she was just his shitty little sister. how they hated each other most days, and had only just started to get along. how she never should've been in that mall in the first place, and billy sure as hell shouldn’t have been there either. how he never should have died, especially the way he did, because he was never meant to be a part of it to begin with. how it’s her fault. how she could have, should have, saved him, but she froze up, because she was scared, she was fucking terrified, and so billy took it, and now he’s dead. and it’s all her fault.

when she finally looks back at his mum, there’s tears streaming down her face, and she has a hand over her mouth trying to stifle any sobs, but she’s still looking at max with such fucking soft eyes, and then she’s slowly walking towards her with her arms open wide, and max is falling into them and breaking down before she can think of running away.

billy’s mum carding a hand through her hair and telling her that it’s okay, that she’s gonna be okay, that it’s not her fault. starts telling her about how billy’s always been a do first, think later person, that he’s had the biggest heart she ever knew since the second he came into her life. how he use to try and protect her from neil, no matter the consequence. that he’s been protecting his family since before he even knew what it meant, or that he was even doing it. it was just how he was. how that’s how she knows max must’ve been important to him, because she still doesn’t quite know what happened in that fire, but she knows in her heart that billy knew exactly what he was doing in his last moments, and it was making sure max got home safely, and that’s probably all that mattered to him. that max made it home.

she was family to him, and therefore max was family to her.

she’s gonna spend the rest of her life with regrets and a sadness so deep that it’ll never be moved, but she got to meet the person, and the people, that billy died saving, and it’s never gonna be the same as the future she had dreamed about, the one she’s spent the past eleven years planning, but this is all she’s got. she’s gonna miss her son until her last breath, but she’s so so so fucking happy that billy had someone in his life that he cared about so deeply, he was willing to give it all up for her.)

(billy’s mum visiting his grave every chance she gets, and starting off every visit with an apology. telling him about the first time she held him in her arms, how he changed her life forever, and how she promised him that they’d both make it out of this life alive. how she’s so so so fucking sorry she failed him, and she was gonna spend the rest of her life making it up to him. 

updating him on max and susan, about how neil left, just fucking walked out one day, taking most the money with him, but it’s okay, cos she offered up the spare room and the pull out couch in her trailer to them, and max is now claiming part time custody of the neighbours dog. 

tells him about how max told her about the time he tried to teach her to surf, and she was so so so bad at it, but he kept dragging her out into the waves after spending what felt like hours on the shore teaching her the steps, and finally it clicked, and max still remembers the look on billy’s face the first time she caught her first wave. remembers how he fucking laughed at her when she inevitably wiped out.

tells him how susan seems to walk on eggshells around her, thanking her everyday for giving them a place to stay, and how once she’s back on her feet, they’ll be out of her hair. how she has her suspicions about why susan looks at her with such guilt in her eyes, but she knows what it’s like to be married to neil hargrove, and while there’s a part of her that’s so so so angry, she fucking gets it. she understands it in the most horrifying way possible, and she’s already made her peace with it.

she’s just so fucking sorry that billy spent so long thinking it was him against the world. that she abandoned him, that max had someone love her enough in the house to keep her safe, but billy believed he had no one.

she tells him that max gave her his jacket, and after not being able to hold it without crying for the first month, she finally had a proper look at it. how she found the note in a secret pocket on the inside of the chest. the letter she wrote to him, what feels like so long ago now, looking a little worse for wear, like it had been folded up and clenched tightly every single day, a couple of watermarks blurring some of the words. pulls out the only picture she has on him from when he was so so little, a toddler on her hip, them both grinning in the sun and sand. how its creased to hell and back and so fucking faded that you cant even tell the colour of her hat, but his smile lights up the picture anyway, and how most days, it was the only thing getting her through. how she hoped with everything she has that he was happy, but that if he wasn’t, that she gets it. and she’s so fucking sorry. and that one day, she’ll see him again, and she can’t fucking wait.)

#I DON't KNOW. can u tell ive never been divorced or had a custody battle over a child. #okay thats a lie. the parents of the kid i nannyd split and it got messy and i was asked to appear in count in favour of both but like. hmm #ANYWAY. modern au where his mum sends the letter earlier and drops her number #and billy fucking reaches out himself on his friends phone becos hes not stupid #and things are Tense and Awkward and Rough but they fucking TALK and billy gets his MOTHER and they have to talk in secret for SO LONG #becos neither of them is risking The Neil of It All when this line of communication they have is so fucking fragile #but then EVENTUALLY; after neil's dragged the family to hawkins; and billy and max have made their feelings about the choice Known #and after max has caught onto the fact that billy's in contact with his mum and is now billy's mum's honorary daughter #she comes to town! and billy IS alive. #AND! actually no the au of this is actually alive and kicking in my head and i cannot explain the vibe of it all through tags. i can't #anyway whatever idk what this is i'm sorry i'm SORRY #m #nqff