i have also decided to actively stan you and your face

THE NINE TIMES STEVE GAVE YOU A FUNNY LOOK

Originally posted by themarvelnerd

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader (Platonic), Avengers x Reader (platonic)

Warning(s): the kinda language Steve would smh at

World Count: 3827

Author’s Note: I got so into this it’s not even funny. After like, two years of not doing anything on tumblr, it isn’t surprising that i write a Steve oneshot for the first time since. But on that note, I don’t only do Steve works, please feel free to request other characters and/or fandoms: masterlist - prompt list.

Drabble ★ Imagine ★ One Shot ★ Fanfiction
Original ★ Requested




[Y/N] [Y/L/N] was an asshole.
You were an asshole.
You are an asshole.

You were slightly narcissistic with an ego as big as the tower, you were very beautiful, and the last person on earth to ever be considered shy.

That made you and Tony Stark best of pals (most of the time), and you and Steve as foes (all the time). He wasn’t rude or a jerk or at all hostile, Steve was just always on edge with you. He didn’t know whether or not your jokes were jokes (you always reverted back to slitting your enemy’s throats – Steve being a righteous guy and all, he wasn’t all that optimistic with that choice), or if you really were here to save people and not for the money the government and Tony Stark paid you — eh, what can you say, it’s very, very good money.

Humble was also not on your list of qualities.

Bold red lips, a wide grin to showcase your pearly white teeth, and heart shaped sunglasses. That was you in your room as you blasted out music at exactly 2100 hours.

You and Steve shared a floor in the Avengers tower.

Why? It was a decision that was absolutely not your choice, but you had no problem with it. Fucking with Steve was fun.

See, Tony had a whole floor to himself, same as Bruce and Vision. Nat and Clint were right below them (Clint usually at his place with Laura, though), Sam and Scott also had their own floor, Wanda and Pietro, then last but not least, Thor either in Asgard or London with Jane – which then pretty much left you and Steve together. Peter kind of lived here during the day then and back at his apartment with May during the evenings. He was a total pest.

A knock went by unnoticed by you. But an upset looking Steve did. He stalked into your (much larger) room and paused your music. He turned and gave you a look.

You raised your brow as you paused your late night dancing. You pushed your sunglasses further down your nose to peak up at the Captain. “Captain.” You greeted, nodding your head towards the brooding soldier once. “May I help you?“ You raised your perfectly sculpted brow in questioning.

Steve took a deep breath and crossed his (also very large) arms. “Your music was too loud and I’m trying to sleep. Can’t you at least keep it down?”

You snorted. “It’s barely nine o'clock, grandpa.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not a grandpa.” He grumbled with an offended frown. “Just turn it down, will you?”

You smirked and pushed your glasses back up. “Oh, I’m sorry, have I spangled your stars, grandpa?”

With a final narrowed stare, Steve twisted his Dorito-body around and stalked back to his room.

You chuckled and resumed to your midnight dancing with wine.

That was the first time you got on his nerves. It was also the first time you were on the receiving end of his very famous looks.




The second time you received a stupid look was during a mission - in the middle of combat, mind you. This stupid robot who called himself Ultron was trying to ruin everything, and apparently, it was up to you and the rest of the Avengers to stop him – or it. It’s not that you wanted to. it was kind of what Tony Stark paid you to do. And like hell would you pass up Tony Stark’s pay checks.

Steve trusted you now, at least. You only saved his ass, like, a hundred (three) times after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell and he found out his best friend from seventy years ago was still alive. A wild ride, that year was.

Anyway, you and the team were in Sokovia fighting robots.


ROBOTS.


Fuck this shit, if the money wasn’t so good you’d drop your signature double pistols and walk the opposite direction. But one, your pistols were very delicate (silver with diamonds), and you were asked very nicely to stay by Bruce - and you could never say no to Bruce.

In hindsight, the view wasn’t so bad and I guess – I guess – that saving people felt a little good (don’t tell anybody). Sokovia was so far high into the sky that you could have sworn that you could see angels flying around in the distance – some helpful angels, huh.

The sky was beautiful, though. And so was Captain America’s ass.

You beamed at the sight and turned to Steve. “Hey, Cap?” You called out, shooting a robot.

Steve grunted in acknowledgement as he kicked another robot and decapitated it with his shield. “What?” He gave you a glance that barely lasted a second.

You shot another robot. Then another. Then another. Then you turned to him. “Nice ass.”

That was look number two.




"Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

"Yes, Ms [Y/L/N]?”

"What’s your faculty on nicknames?”

"Activated by Mr Stark, Ms.”

"Huh … so, like, what are you allowed to call me?”

"Whatever you ask, Ms [Y/L/N].”

“Right, right … how about Supreme Leader [Y/L/N]?”

"Activated,  Supreme Leader [Y/L/N].”

"Huh … thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

"Of course, Supreme Leader [Y/L/N].”


Of course, that didn’t go unnoticed for long. You were eating dinner with the team – something that didn’t happen often – and Steve took this time to lecture the team about a mission in a few days time. Three days, to be exact. It was located in Paris, and you were all to attend a gala crawling with HYDRA agents, mercenaries, psycho bitches, and anything else in between.

“ – so we’ll go over the plans again after dinner – ”

You groaned loudly and threw your head back. You dropped your knife loudly causing a clink made by the knife and plate. “Rogers!” You whined, “We went over this yesterday! And this morning at breakfast! And two seconds ago while I tried to enjoy my dinner in peace, fighting the urge to grab this fork and shove it through my eye – ” you ignore his wince, “and now again tomorrow?! If you even bring this stupid mission up again, I will resign.” You threatened. “Resign, you hear me. R. E. S. I. G. N.” Drama Queen is also in your list of qualities. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell him.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes, Sam cleared his throat, Steve still had his wince and sullen/guilty face, Clint looked bored as he played with his peas, Thor looked confused, Pietro look amused, Wanda was too busy chatting up Vision, Scott was – where was Scott? Tony had a smirk, and poor Bruce just didn’t know where to look. Peter just chewed his chicken in anticipation, looking back and forth between you and Steve for a reaction.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang out soon enough. “Of course, Supreme Leader [Y/L/N].” Then the AI began repeating your every word.

Natasha’s brow shot up. “Supreme Leader? Really?”

“ – And this morning at breakfast. And – ”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“ – seconds ago while I tried to enjoy my dinn – ”

Steve groaned. “That’s enough, F.R.I.D.A.Y., please stop.”

“Yes, Captain.”

You rolled your eyes. “Traitorous bitch.” You mumbled.

Cue look number three.




The fourth time you received a look was when Steve was fixing a lightbulb and he suddenly found himself on the floor. He did know you guys hired people for that kind of work, right?

Anyway, you and Pietro - bored as hell and without anything to do - you both decided to race from the ground floor of the Avengers tower, to the very top – on foot – using the staircases.

And the silver asshole was absolutely not allowed to use his powers. If he did, you had every right to shoot him in the shoulder with your trusty diamond pistols and he would have to take it like a man. He promised so, himself. “Scouts Honour.” Pietro said, saluting you.

To which Wanda replied with a snort and, “What Scouts Honour?”

You were enhanced, yes, but you were tired. Not too much, just enough not to be tired after running twenty-six flights of stairs. You and Pietro both slammed into Steve’s ladder as he fixed a lightbulb.

You didn’t even bother looking back.

You could not lose this bet.

The entire time you ran, you repeated the same thing in your head over, and over again. Run, Forrest, Run! Whatever - If Pietro won, you had to massage him whenever he felt like it for an entire month. If you won, well, he had to give you a piggy back ride whenever you felt like it. Also for a month.

Steve was really upset after that. He wouldn’t look at you for a week, and when he finally did, he gave you a long lecture about racing inside the tower. “Blah, blah, blah, someone could get seriously hurt, blah, blah, blah, if I see you two race again, blah, blah, blah.”

You leant over towards Pietro who sat beside you. He was also slouched on his chair, eyes looking at the ceiling in boredom. “Are you also feeling the urge to shove your foot up his ass?”

That was look number four.




Look number five + look number six was kind of your fault.

Steve had arrived after being gone for months. He, along with Sam, had been off around the world searching high and low for James Buchanan Barnes. You wanted to go, you really did. Despite your love for annoying the living shit out of Steve, you still cared about him more than you let on. That was not your fault. How? Well, you know the whole shebang: 

Tragic back story: check. Trust issues: check. Daddy issues: check. Issues with not being able to express how you feel without wanting to physically vomit: check.

However, it was in your job description to be able to read people. You were an intelligent person. You knew a lot, you sensed a lot, you observed a lot. You just didn’t show it a lot. And without saying anything, you knew how people felt and most importantly, what they needed.

And Steve just needed his own space – Sam excluded. You were actually kind of jealous of Sam (tell anyone, and you won’t live until the next day). Sam was kind of Steve’s boyfriend (along with dear old Buck-a-roo and Tony).

So while he was gone, you kept your distance. Steve didn’t need any more on his plate, let alone more of your shit. Whenever he called the team for a report or to simply catch up, you never said anything. You had told the crew to just inform him that you were on a mission, in the gym, or off gallivanting somewhere - anywhere, really.

Steve really cared about you though, you knew that. Every time he called he’d see if you were there. And you were. You were there, right behind the monitor that projected him along with the the camera that projected the team from your end. Your face would be resting on your hand, your elbow propped the table. You actually smiled whenever he asked about you. It was cute.

Anyway, you kind of deserved look number five.

Steve had finally arrived with Bucky by his side. Sam had already said his hellos and received his welcome-home handshakes and hugs. Steve stayed behind the Quinjet for a few short minutes before hopping off and finally introducing the famous James Barnes. 

But you didn’t know that.

And neither did Scott.

You two weren’t racing – nope. You were simply just running to get to the last slice of cake in the main kitchen. In both your defence, it was the last slice of the cake Pepper brought home from Paris. Paris. You loved Paris. And apparently, Scott did, too. If that wasn’t worth running for, what the hell was?

You distinctly remember Pepper saying that it was from Paris, and that it was the best cake she’d ever tasted.

So, without looking, you barged through the team yelling bloody murder. Scott was a little behind seen as though you’d throw whatever the hell you could at him. That last slice was yours, and ramming, pushing, throwing off the building, and threatening whoever you needed to just to that slice, you would sure as hell do it.

You felt your hip slam into a corner of a table: ignored. You tripped over a step: ignored. You felt your shoulder ram into a very strong and metal-like object: ignored. You saw a couch: ignored + jumped over.

But alas, you held in your hand … the slice.

A grin erupted on your face. Poor Scoot looked crestfallen.

“Sorry, Lang. This one’s mine.” You grinned.

A clearing of the throat made you jump. What the hell did they want? 

When you looked up, you saw the entire team + Steve + The Winter Soldier.


Well, shit.


“Oh.” You trailed off. You gave Steve a sheepish smile. “Hi, Steve, good to see you again. Did I tell you I missed you? Because I did.”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop running in the tower?” Steve stared into your [Y/E/C] eyes with his blue ones.

“No. You told said to stop racing.”

Steve didn’t reply. Instead he gave you look number five.

You chuckled nervously and stalked towards them. “Sorry.” You looked to Sam and gave him a large hug despite already giving him one earlier. Your right hand still refused to let go of the platter of cake. Then you looked towards James Buchanan Barnes.

Steve cleared his throat. “Buck, meet [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. [Y/N] [Y/L/N], meet Bucky.”

Neither of you did anything. Just kinda stared at each other in thought. He tried to read you while you tried to read him.

He was lonely.

Okay, you thought. So you reached your right hand up and gestured him to take your plate. “Here you go. Nice to meet ‘cha.” 

Steve gave you another look, only, this one was different. It looked funnier – more odd and curious. A look that you had never seen before. That was look number six.

And this time, you didn’t see anyone’s reactions. You just stared at James Buchanan Barnes, while he stared at you, to the cake, then back to you again. 

Thus, a beautiful friendship was born.




Few months later,
Look number seven.


You found yourself in this position a lot, it seems. It would be two in the morning, your head in your hands and your ears perked up.

As an agent, you were trained this way. Your mind had its own mind. Every morning at exactly one o'clock your eyes would flutter open, and without a single thought, your body would move almost mechanically. You’d get up, wash your face, then throw a hoodie over your head. Afterwards, you’d find yourself sitting on the edge of you bed, head in your hands, and your ears waiting for Bucky.

After sleeping in the same floor as Steve and Bucky, Bucky’s room was right across yours. Both your doors were so close you could stand in the hall way, spread your arms, and you’d be able to touch both your door knobs.

Insomnia was something you had as a child. It came very naturally. So, as a cure, you’d take sleeping vitamins – not pills. Though it would help you fall asleep, it was up to you to keep yourself asleep. Five hours was your maximum. If your sleep was disturbed, that’s when you would wake up every day from then on unless you trained yourself otherwise all over again. That could take days, or even weeks going up to months.

So every day, it was up to you. You didn’t want Steve waking up and losing precious sleeping hours. So instead of training yourself to sleep for five hours all over again, you allowed yourself two hours of rest every night. From then on, you’d stay awake and listen for Bucky’s screams.

Then you’d find your feet silently landing on the floor and rushing towards Bucky’s room.


Here are your steps:

  1. Lightly press a pillow on Bucky’s metal arm and cover it.
  2. Sit on his arm to keep him from attacking you.
  3. Softly say his name as many times as it takes for him to wake up.
  4. Press your body harder onto his as he thrashes around.
  5. Then hug the hell out of him and cradle his head when he wakes and begins to weep.


This would have been the one hundredth time you’ve done this. Even now, you could still remember the fourth time you had done this. You had accidentally left Bucky’s door ajar.

You were observant and smart. 

You knew Steve was there.

You guessed you just took a little longer that time to wake Buck up.

You definitely saw Steve’s look then. And again, this look was kind of different. It was a funny look that you had no idea how to read.

The fact that this look was so different, to say it irritated the hell out of you was an understatement. Out of the both of you, it was meant to be you that got under his skin.

You hated feeling this way.




Nowadays, you’ve been more confused than in control.

Back then, you saw Steve, you’d feel the urge to irritate the hell out of him. But now, you’d see Steve, and suddenly, you’d feel a funny feeling in your stomach.

So, naturally, you absolutely despised him for it. Tonight – or morning – when Bucky woke up, he didn’t cry. He just asked if you were hungry. And, naturally, you had said yes. You were always hungry.

Soft music was playing. You didn’t want to wake up Steve, after all. So you stood in the kitchen of your floor and began making pop tarts. Bucky was sitting by the kitchen island while you decided to cheer him up. While the pop tarts were cooking up, you decided to change the music to pop. Then you began dancing.

You were not a dancer. Add that to your list of non-existent qualities.

You sort of just threw your hands in the air and hoped for natural rhythm to save your dignity. 

Bucky looked somewhat amused, so that was the goal accomplished.

It all came to an end when Steve cleared his throat. He stared at Bucky in a way that made all of you uncomfortable. Bucky was going to be just fine, that’s what you thought, anyway. Steve thought otherwise. Steve treated him like a broken vase.

That’s how you and Bucky got so close. 

You refused to look or listen to any of Steve’s old war stories about Buck. Thus, why you called Bucky “James”.

He wasn’t the Bucky he was in the 40’s. And he wasn’t The Winter Soldier, either. He was someone else.

Steve’s eyes bounced from you, to Bucky, then from Bucky, to you. “[Y/N], maybe now isn’t the time to – ”

“No, Steve,” Steve’s eyes snapped towards Bucky, “it’s fine.” Bucky said quietly. “She’s actually making me happy here.” 

After that, nobody talked to a while. Bucky stood from his stool and began to walk off. 

You stepped towards him, “James - ”

He shook his head. “It’s alright [Y/N], trust me. I’ll be fine tonight. I’m gonna try and go back to sleep.”

Well, that was new.

You gave Bucky a funny look but nodded. “Okay. Call if you need me.”

Bucky didn’t say anything after that. He just walked back to his room.

Your pop tarts popped out from the toaster. After that it was left untouched.

Steve cleared his throat. “[Y/N] – ” 

You shook your head. “Nope.”

Steve’s forehead frowned. “What?”

“Do you want Bucky to get over what HYDRA did to him?” You asked. You didn’t wait for him to reply. “Well, too bad so sad, he isn’t going to get over it. Bucky needs to accept it. Then he needs to be angry. Then he needs to be sad. Then after all that, he needs to forgive himself.” You said, your hands on your waist. “And you making him feel like broken glass isn’t gonna help. It’ll confine him and make him feel crazy. Treat him like a normal person, you jackass. Let him feel like a man. Not a baby.” You took a deep breath and pulled your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. You looked at your pop tarts briefly before turning around and walking away.

And you didn’t miss his look when you did. Steve had already realised he was wrong the moment his eyes fell on the toaster.

You left your pop tarts.




Look number nine:

Again, it was in the kitchen. Bucky’s nightmares were slowly fading. Whenever he woke, you’d stay until he fell back asleep. Then you’d proceed to the kitchen and rummage for food.

“Hey, Supreme Leader.” Your head snapped towards the kitchen entrance.

You gave a nod to the blond man in acknowledgement. “Captain.” You said in a mocking soldier’s tone.

You both stood in silence for a while. You didn’t mind it for a while. Your arms were preoccupied with balancing cartons and containers of food as you boldly chewed on your Lucky Charms cereal – and then the silence just got too long. Steve stared at you with a funny look. Eh, eating cereal without milk at three in the morning wasn’t all that unusual – but for some reason, you had a really big feeling the look wasn’t about the cereal. That was actually the reason why Tony always complained about all the marshmallow gone in the morning. Not your fault. Marshmallows were the best part and everyone knew that.

You squinted your eyes as you watched him watch you. A silent growl of impatience rose to your throat. You couldn’t really speak so you opted with growling.

Still no reply.

Finally, you forcefully swallowed your marshmallow and pointed an accusing finger at Steve. His look was different again. It wasn’t annoyed or of frustration. Really it just frustrated you.

You huffed. “You’re looking at me funny.”

Steve just smiled softly. “Bucky loves you.” He said from his position by the entrance of the kitchen.

You just smirked and shoved another handful of marshmallows into your mouth. “Figured that one out a long time ago, Rogers.” Your hand reached into the box once again. “What can I say, I’m good at making friends.” 

Steve chuckled silently. Then he swallowed and looked directly into your eyes. “I love you. And not the way Bucky does.”

You swallowed. The you nodded slowly. Your heart felt so full, you had no idea what to say. And so you said the first thing that popped into your head. You said what you would say, and not stupid Nicholas Sparks movies.

“I know.” You grinned. “And I may or may not feel the same.” Before he could reply, your smile wiped off as you pointed your finger at him again accusingly, “I said maybe.”

rain (reddie) ch. 5

Type: Series

Summary: Richie and Eddie had dated each other for a long time, and things had been going great - or so, they thought. After Eddie comes home to an empty apartment and a note left behind, the loving relationship of four years tragically ended. Years of never speaking to each other later, the wedding of Beverly and Ben brings everyone back together, including Eddie and Richie. Hotel room mix-ups, drunken confessions, loud arguments between several losers, bad parties, old childhood games, memories, music, love, and drama ensues over the week of preparing for the wedding.

Pairing(s): Reddie, Benverly, Stenbrough

Word count: 2.7k

Chapter warnings: N/a

A/N: just. i’m sorry lmao. as some of you know, i had a recent tragedy in the family and that delayed EVERYTHING. i owe you guys this chapter. things are still moving a bit slow with the story but just hang in there with me. we’re going somewhere, i promise. AS ALWAYS, credit to my amazing beta @r-u-reddie for helping to make this shit coherent and put together. let me know what you guys think! edit: if you wanna listen to the song richie sung, it’s called disappear (remember when) by issues. listen to the black diamond ep version for a more accurate version. 

AO3 link here

Check out the inspo tag here

“Richie, frosting does not turn muffins into cupcakes!”

“Of course it does. If there’s frosting, it’s a cupcake. If not, it’s a muffin. It’s not that hard to grasp, Eds.”

“No, no, no, no, no. You’re wrong. They’re completely different recipes! You don’t know what you’re talking about, per usual. Y’know, I’m convinced you like to disagree just for the sake of it.”

Both men walked through the hotel lobby together, a frown of frustration locked in on Eddie’s face while a smirk that only spelled mischief was residing on Richie’s.

“Hey, look. They’re talking again, and they’re arguing. That’s some sort of normalcy.” Stan commented from their breakfast table, rolling his eyes playfully.

Bill’s expression was one of unease, but Beverly’s was one of glee. Out loud, she wanted to say ‘this just might work, guys’, but one glance at her fiance who was chowing down pancakes like it was the first meal he had eaten in years, told her to keep her mouth shut and to revel internally.

It wasn’t as if Bill didn’t want Eddie and Richie to get back together. He wasn’t an idiot; the two were still clearly in love with one another. He remembered the last conversation he’d had on the phone with Eddie.

Keep reading

RICHIE TOZIER X READER | MASTERLIST

- BAD DECISIONS -

 REQUEST: bad boy!richie and good girl!reader? maybe she’s eddie’s twin sister & they’re 17 and end up getting drunk together at richie’s one night because his parents are out of town the rest of the crew seemed to have plans. they end up having a steamy make out sesh on his couch and do what most teens do while drunk & raging with hormones & they keep it on the low even though they start sneaking out to see each other after but Eds sees a hickey or bite mark (or both ;) ) on his sis and flips his shit?!

WORDS: 4 K +

A/N: This turned out longer than I anticipated, but honestly I really loved writing it and look forward to more requests! I hope you don’t mind if there’s some stuff missing/not elaborated on that was requested, just due to the length of the fic and having enough time to include everything. I did try my best though!

WARNING: None

TAG:  @txnyatbh


There was a rumbling crash that came off the stairs, making Eddie look up from his breakfast. Sighing, when you came around the corner with your hair disheveled and your clothes twisted around your body, he resumed eating the waffle in front of him with cautious bites. Every once in a while taking a sip of his orange juice, concentration laid just on the thought of getting through another day.

It was hard to believe that you were both seventeen, being that Eddie had the habit of eating the same breakfast he had eaten since he was ten and your mom even started letting him have waffles in the morning. Before, he only ate an apple and a bowl of cereal. He now hates apples.

“Morning.” You said, taking the milk from the fridge. Your guys’ mom was sitting in her usual spot in the living room, away from the sight of the kitchen. Keeping your voice low, you then went over to Eddie. “Is the party still happening?”

“Yes, but no, you’re not going.”

“Richie’s going.”

“Yeah but,”

“It’s Richie.”

Eddie whipped his head around to stare at you and the wildly looked at you. “Exactly. It’s RICHIE.

“Shut up.” You then said, the jug of milk beside you then pouring into a white glass. Quickly popping a piece of toast into the toaster, it came out a minute later with the edges golden. You slathered butter onto the surface, biting into it while Eddie stared at you with disgust. “What?” You spat out, covering your mouth before wiping the crumbs from your chin.

“Mom would kill you.”

“No, she’d kill you.” You finished your toast within the first few bites, glancing at the clock to see that the two of you had five minutes before you needed to leave for school. Eddie angrily finished his waffles and downed his orange juice, leaving just enough that he could grab a handful of his pills from his container and pop them in his mouth, swallowing with an exhale that ended with him slugging his backpack over his shoulder, the fabric of his white t-shirt wrinkling and bunching under the pressure.

When he stood, he was taller than you, reaching now almost 6’0. He even towered over your mom, but that didn’t stop her from overpowering him, mentally. Which, was almost every day if he didn’t manage to avoid her by sneaking off with his friends-your friends. The losers, that had adopted you nearly the day you started butting into their conversations and taking interest in the stupid messes they got themselves into. It started with Bill asking Eddie if you wanted to hang out whenever they’d run by your house on their bikes, laughter filling the air until you were spotted in the window. Almost always mimicking Help Me! a game they had come up with that you would act out certain death.

“Does your sister have anything going on?” Your guys’ mom asked without looking up from whatever sit-down activity she was up to. Eddie gulped down the lump in his throat that had formed from the sudden interrogation, looking to the wall where there was a neatly arranged series of photographs that included your family, all but your dad.

“Yes.”

“What?”

“No.”

“Eds…” Richie would then wave at you to come out.

“I don’t. Want her. Here.” Eddie would grumble as you ran out with a smile tugging at your cheeks.

Then, he got used to it, and you became an official member of the Loser’s club. It didn’t help that Eddie and you were twins, born exactly three minutes apart.

As children, the two of you always wished to be as far apart as possible, absolutely loathing each other. However, as the years went by, the two of you grew closer and you found yourself actually enjoying his company. Eddie the same, you proved to be a worthy ally in the battle against his mother.

“Bye, mom!” You called out, pushing the lid of your coffee closed. She called over Eddie who you watched reluctantly move over to her as you stood by the door. Tapping your foot on the carpet until Eddie resurfaced and you smirked. “You know what Richie would say?” While Eddie gave a quick punch to your arm. Climb into the car before you.

Truth was, your mom didn’t like you. Didn’t care for you as much as Eddie, mostly due to the fact that you could see through her oppression of your brother. Sometimes you even got him to stop taking the medications, but other times, you had to leave it be. All you really knew was that as soon as you could move, get away from the prison that was your house, you were going to take Eddie with you. 

Even if you had to kidnap him.

Once in the car, Eddie leaned his head against the window and gave out a large breath. His hair grown out longer than your mom liked, he pushed the curls from his eyes, the color reaching a near black. And while the house pulled away, disappearing with the fence line of your neighborhood, fall trees whistled slightly in the wind. Cascading a slight chill through the crack of the window you forgot to pull up, the car ride remained quiet beside the slight squeak of the wheels as well as the static of the radio that never really seemed to turn off.

After about five minutes, the school became visible and Eddie watched the kids become clustered into groups, all huddled together in patterns, moving—migrating across the street as you pulled slowly into the parking lot, parking just across the way from the sign that remained lettered the warning of the 7:00 curfew from the summer of 89. 

You wondered why they kept it up, the few words seeming to give so much fright from just a few years ago. However, those missing cases had ceased to keep being a problem, parents moved on and remembered, but soon the kids began to litter the town even after dark. A small group of whom you recognized was also by the sign.

Beverly, the only other girl in the group, was turned away from the parking lot. Wearing jeans and a blouse, her hair beginning to grow out again from cutting it into a pixie, she laughed at whatever Richie (who leaned against the sign with his glasses low on his eyes) had said. Probably an obnoxious joke many would have found offensive, you and Eddie walked skillfully around the line of cars.

Richie was wearing a pair of black jeans, his favorite blue Hawaiian shirt opened to reveal the graphic of a band shirt he had bought last month for three dollars. And after hopping up onto the cement sidewalk, you moved your attention to Bill, who was talking to Stan. His reddish blonde hair cut in the same cut he had five years ago, grown nearly a foot, he competed against the height of Stan, who’s blonde hair was still as curly as ever and was the first to notice you and Eddie.

His expression changing when he tilted his head to the side and groaned? Well, rolled his eyes and then yelled something towards Richie, who then laughed loudly. Eddie immediately when between Beverly and Stan, Ben missing from the group as he was spending the morning in the library with Mike—who was thinking about coming to public school for Senior year. He hadn’t decided yet. You sauntered hesitantly towards Richie, who pushed his glasses up, smirking. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You responded, your face becoming hot. You hoped he couldn’t see it and lowered your gaze to your feet while Richie stood straight. The bell ringing and saving you from a long, awkward stretch of sleep, his voice then picked up again.

“Are you coming to the party tonight?”

“I was going to.”

“Good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean…” The two of you began to walk behind the group. Filing into the doors and then the hallways which only forced you to louden your voice. “We haven’t been able to hang out. Just us, in a while.”

“Yeah!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Beverly turned around and looked at the both of you like there was something to see.

“Just the party.” Richie smiled back. Beverly retained eye contact with you—even when you looked away.

“Oh, come on Richie. Y/n doesn’t go to parties.” She responded, looking at Richie with disapproval. You looked down at your feet as you walked without saying anything until Beverly stopped in her tracks. Bill and Stan moving ahead to their homeroom. “No! You’re going?”

“I was thinking about it.” You muttered, Beverly looking at you wildly before she went to class.

You and Richie walked together until you paused, turning around with him stopping by the lockers. You placed your hand on the doorknob, keeping silent and secretly wishing he’d say something.

“I’ll see you tonight?”

“Mhm…” You smiled, your eyes lingering on Richie’s before they dropped to his lips and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

Swinging the door open and escaping the tension that was Richie standing in front of you, you hated how nervous he made you feel, your lack of experience all the while making it worse that you knew Richie did. 

Have experience, that is. 

His touch nearly laid on the whole school as he had had many parties, many dates, many girlfriends most of which you didn’t like, all the while still managing to make you flustered and hot.

-

Following a day full of nervousness and shaky fingers, you went home with Eddie, who kept staring at you with disapproval—his usual look, the sight of his eyes on you whenever you looked away and a loud sigh coming from his mouth. “I know.” You glanced over to his direction, not meeting his eyes. “You don’t need to be mad…”

“I’m not mad… I just, don’t see why you have to impress him.”

Putting on your windshield wipers, the mist of rain began to hit your window harder as you turned right onto your guys’ street. Eddie shook his head at your response, the words that came out of your mouth hurried with the taste of embarrassment. “I’m not—!”

“Oh don’t bullshit me, Y/N! You like him and he likes you and tonight isn’t going to-“

Pulling into the driveway, you got out of the car without letting Eddie finish. Anger boiled in your stomach alongside the feeling of your head pounding, the truth making your cheeks hurt as they burned with a harsh blush, the car door slamming behind you. Outside, the rain hit your face before you could even get inside, the sidewalk soaked and the sky grey. Eddie followed close behind, his hair falling into his face while striding up the stairs, putting his backpack by the staircase after shutting the door. You were already halfway up the stairs when you first heard your mom’s voice come through from the living room.

However, you went upstairs and changed from your school clothes that consisted of a varsity cardigan, blue high waisted jeans, and a plain shirt, into black boots and red, blue and white striped t-shirt that rode low on your cleavage. Brushing your hair back behind your ears with a satisfying look into your mirror, the scent of your perfume freshly sprayed on the back of your neck filled your ears and you took in the feeling of your heart beating rapidly in your chest.

“Mom I have to go.” Eddie grabbed his backpack just to do something other than face his mother, who stood in the kitchen with a look of bewilderment.

“You’re always leaving! The two of you, leaving me at every possible moment!”

“This isn’t the time, and us being teenagers doesn’t have anything to do with you, mom.”

“Mommy. You call me mommy.”

“He can call you whatever he damn well pleases, mommy.” You walked down the stairs. Looking at you with discomfort, you nodded at Eddie and dismissed him, his shoulder grazing yours when he walked by and went to meet the rest of the group.

“What’s so wrong with my preferences?”

“They aren’t his.” Squeezing your jaw, you reached over to the wall, pulling your keys from the hook and giving a fake smile. “That’s the problem.”

Your mother stayed silent without the intention to keep speaking to you, hatred fuming her deep breaths. And even though you were strong against your mother, as soon as you were outside the home, you didn’t have any reason to be strong. So you weren’t, weakness overtaking you and the world becoming big. 

Chewing on the inside of your lip to the point that pain radiated through your mouth, you licked the slight taste of blood from your lips. Anxiety filling your bloodstream as if you had never even met Richie before and it was one of his blind dates he sometimes set up for you. You squeezed the steering wheel to the point that your knuckles turned white and you stepped on the accelerator.

Only a few minutes passed before you could see the foggy shape of Richie’s house, outlined in the grey colors of the fall. Two cars missing from the driveway, you gulped down the lump in your throat, questioning why you hadn’t thought about it before. Being that he had specifically told you that the party was at his house when you pulled up, the lights were on and you sat there, parked beside the sidewalk for a minute. Trying to calm down while tapping your fingers against your lap. 

He had said five, but it was only three o’clock, and you were nervous that perhaps he wouldn’t let you in or worse, would. But nothing would happen.

Richie moved through his room, his t-shirt slightly tucked into his skinny jeans and his curly black hair falling over his eyes until he brushed it out of the way, all the while pushing his glasses higher on his nose before glancing in the mirror, a tapping on the door over the sound of his music making his attention shoot to where the door was located. 

Tozier furrowed his eyebrows, the clock reading 3:10, as he hadn’t expected anyone to show up until at least—licking his bottom lip before taking the first step towards the top of the stairs, the sound abnormally loud compared to when he’d walk down the stairs when his parents were home.

Standing outside of the door, you held your hands behind your back and kept your gaze on your feet, running across the cracks on the ground, at least until the sound of the locks undoing forced your attention to the knob that turned, you then met the eyes of Richie, who smirked. 

Shaking his head a bit and saying, “couldn’t keep away, could you?”

“Are you going to let me inside?”

Richie looked at you with worry, opening the door wider. “My lady,” he added to the sigh that escaped his mouth. Walking past him, you knew he caught the scent of your perfume by the way he inched closer and bent his nose forward.

With a deep breath, you moved towards the living room where the stereo blasted music. Richie followed you like always, studying you as always. So close he could touch you, and so wanting to, he distracted himself by reaching out and grabbing two cups from the shelf and pouring them full of white, distilled alcohol that had been sitting there for god knows how long. You heard the sound behind you, but sitting on the couch, you kept your eyes away from Richie’s. Too afraid to look anywhere that wasn’t of your hands. They seemed to be the only things that stayed… Constant, the weight of Richie sitting on the couch beside you making your heart leap in your chest.

“You’re a bit early but… It’s never too early to really start drinking when it’s a party, right?”

A laugh bubbled in your chest before you were able to force yourself to take the second cup from Richie’s grip, lifting the lip to your mouth and swallowing the burning liquid. It washed down your stomach with a slight burp as you held your fingers to your lips and gave a smile. “Thanks.”

Nudging your shoulder, that was the first of the series of physical contacts you and Richie would share that night, all ending in the first bottle at the bottle of the trash can and the swish of a new bottle meeting both of your guys’ lips, even to the tick of the clock hitting 5 o’clock, then 6 o’clock.

By that time the night had become a dizzy mess mixing with loud laughter and your legs drooped over Richie’s laugh. His arm draped over the top of the couch, fingers grazing your opposite shoulder, he managed to lure your in. It wasn’t until you playfully put Richie’s glasses on that you looked towards the clock and squinted. “Isn’t this… Supposed to be a party?”

“I thought it was… Ya know, alcohol, fun, touching—loud music and quiet thoughts?”

You put his glasses back over his eyes and cocked your head to the side. “That’s where you’re wrong, Richie Tozier. That’s where you’re wrong. Veeery very… Very louuud thoughts.” In drunkenness, you giggled with your words slurring together.

“Uhu okay. Okay. What are your thoughts telling you that’s so loud?” Richie leaned forward, his breath hitting your lips and making you want to scream. In a fit of your impulses and stupidity of your drunkenness that heated your cheeks and made your body numb, you pushed yourself forward and felt your lips crash against Richie’s. At first, he didn’t kiss you back, but then he did and it proved to be the best feeling ever. His mouth massaging yours, messily and intoxicating—even more so than the booze you could still taste on his tongue. Pushing you beneath him, Richie then moved his arm around your back.

Supporting you to lay against the pillows of the couch, his glasses pressed against your face until you tore them off and set them on the coffee table. Richie kissed you harder at the new angles available by his blindness, darkness covering his eyes as he shut them and your skin hot against his fingertips with the movements of his hands around your waist, the moment washed together until the two of you lay there under a single blanket and your legs intertwined, Richie’s shirt twisted around your body and his boxers riding low on his hips from the actions the both of you performed not even ten minutes ago.

- 2 DAYS LATER -

You stared into the mirror with your fingers grazing the dark marks on your neck and chest where Richie’s mouth moved over your skin. Your chest squeezing with your heart fluttering in a way that made you smile despite the situation, you thought about seeing Richie again as you had skipped out on school the previous day due to embarrassment and the fact that you could simply take some medication from your bathroom’s cabinet, told your mom you had thrown up, and then spend the rest of the day in the hospital. At the end of the day, you went to bed knowing that whatever it was, you were feeling better and told your mom not to worry.

Tugging on your shirt, you pulled it over your chest enough that it covered some of your hickies. Remembering the conversation Richie and you had had while laying on the couch covered in the blanket and drying kisses.

“As I asked before… Wasn’t this supposed to be a party, Richie?” You teased him.

“And as I said before, it is. It doesn’t matter how many people are there.”

“So it was always just us?”

“Is that so bad?” His lips grazed the top of your head and he pressed a firm kiss to your forehead. “I wanted to hang out with you.”

“Not just hang out.” You then laughed, lifting your chin. “How do you explain this?”

“Fate. Destiny. All that bullshit. That’s us.” He sighed, putting his fingers under your chin just enough to pull your face back up to his for a deep kiss. melting into it, your hand came up to cup his cheek, his hair tickling your fingertips.

Your door opened and Eddie stepped through in a hurry, about to grab something, he stopped mid-track before you could look up from your backpack you had begun to pack and get ready. “Oh my god!”

“What?” You spun around.

“What is that? Did you and? SHIT!” Eddie clasped his hand over his mouth. You noticed where he was looking and felt yourself immediately cover the hickies.

“Eddie shut up! Shut up!” You pushed yourself forward and widened your eyes, the fact of which conveyed the obvious emotions you were feeling towards the situation. Your brother and your friend just completely found out that you had slept with his friend. Your friend… But…. That failed to diminish the shock and pure disgust he felt. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I’m pretty sure they’re gonna find out!” His words forming a gasp, you tugged a sweater over your shirt and pressed your mouth into a fine line.

“No! Not if you don’t tell anyone!” You hissed back, hauling your bag over our shoulders and becoming frantic to leave the house. Bewildered, Eddie pushed out of your door in front of you with the eyes of a wild man. Running down the stairs, he grabbed his bag and rushed out of the door. Too done with you to deal with his mom, you followed the same movements. Slamming the car door and starting the engine to get to school as soon as possible and escape the awkward silence of the space between you and your brother.

“Just keep it out of the group.” Eddie scoffed at you when getting to school, walking ahead to the losers where they were the day of the party.

Richie was nowhere to be seen when you got there, and a part of you thought that perhaps he didn’t want to see you. Or that he had already moved on. So you collected yourself and moved alongside the group, refusing to make eye contact with your brother. Yet, stopping at your locker with the chatter of the hallways dissipating into a buzzing static, a wave goodbye to the losers, you unlocked your code. Swinging the door open with a harsh pull before seeing that a note had been stuck through the slits in the metal.

Bathroom near 110 before school.

-‘Trashmouth’ Richie

A smile developed on your lips and a moment later, you pushed open the door of the bathroom Richie had meant. There was someone behind the door that took no time to grab you around the waist. Your back hitting the wall, Richie laughed into your neck before you pushed your hands on his chest. “Asshole!” You yelled before Richie grabbed your face and pressed a harsh kiss on your lips.

“Mmmmhm.” He hummed against another kiss. Butterflies taking over your stomach, you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him harder with the intent not to waste any more time before the bell rang. Savoring the taste of his lips against your mouth in a way that you couldn’t understand. But you didn’t care to understand, as all you really wanted to do was make some bad decisions. 

Seal of Approval || Jughead Jones

Originally posted by marorra

Request from anon: Hey can I request a Jughead x reader fic where the reader is a new student who has icey blue eyes and red hair and she’s really shy but she really likes jug. Your stuff is really amazing. Thank you in advance you lovely person you <3 <3

Request from @sunshine51879: An Jughead request. The reader is Jason & Cheryl ’ s little sister. She is not like them, quiet, shy, loves to read. Dating Jughead, the twins know & approve. Everyone else finds out when Cheryl blasts Reggie for blaming Jug for Jason’s death.

A/N: I don’t own the conversation between Jughead and Reggie. That belongs to the “Riverdale” writers.

—————

As you, Y/N Blossom, looked up at the building that was Riverdale High, you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Sure, you were definitely a Blossom with your bright blue eyes and fiery red hair and your older sister basically ran the school. But after your older brother’s death, your parents had pulled you out of your private school in the city and brought you back to Riverdale so they could keep a closer eye on you. They didn’t want to lose two children. You were also very different from your siblings. While Cheryl and Jason were involved in a ton of after school activities and loved to have parties, you were more laid-back and quiet, preferring to read in your spare time. You were a freshman, just a year younger than Cheryl and Jason but you felt like a kindergartner again, going to a brand new, big, bad school.

“Hey, Y/N!” a voice called, making you turn around.

You smiled once you realized who it was.

Jughead Jones, your boyfriend of seven months made his way over to you, giving you a quick peck on the cheek. You blushed and quickly looked around, making sure no one saw the two of you.

“Jughead!” you lightly scolded. “What if someone saw us?”

Jughead smirked.

“What a shame that would be,” he said sarcastically.

You and Jughead met over your spring break earlier that year. You had accidentally walked into him while carrying a milkshake and spilled it all over him. You apologized to him profusely as you tried to clean up his shirt as he continuously reassured you that it was fine. You then offered to buy him whatever he wanted from Pop’s as an apology. Little did you know that would end up being your first date. Laughing and joking with each other over spilt milkshake.

Although you were dating Jughead, not a lot of people knew about it. Your and Jughead’s families were always under scrutiny and you didn’t have to deal with your relationship being under the public eye as well. However, Cheryl knew you were dating the beanie-clad boy. Jason did too, when he was alive. To your surprise, they approved of the Jones boy. Why, you never knew. You decided it was better not to question them on it. Jason would always joke with you that he would murder Jughead if he ever broke your heart. You would always laugh at that.

You didn’t like to joke about that now.

“You ready?” Jughead asked, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You sighed and nodded, looking back towards the school.

“Readier than I’ll ever be.”

You managed to get through the majority of the day without any drama going down. But seeing as you were a Blossom, of course you couldn’t escape the drama that went down during your free period.

You were in the student lounge along with Jughead and the rest of the Core Four. The jocks were on the sofa and Cheryl was there as well, occasionally looking over at you to make sure you were alright. The jocks were chatting amongst themselves but you only started paying attention when you heard your brother’s name.

“… let’s be honest,” Reggie began. “Isn’t it always some spooky, scrawny, pathetic Internet troll, too busy writing his manifestos to get laid? Some smug, moody, serial killer fanboy freak. Like Jughead?”

You quickly turned to Jughead who looked at Reggie with a calm albeit annoyed expression.

“What was it like, Suicide Squad? When you shot Jason? You didn’t do stuff to the body, did you? Like after?” he teased.

“It’s called necrophilia, Reggie,” Jughead stated. “Can you spell it?”

Reggie quickly got up.

“Hey, come here, you little—”

“Enough!” Cheryl snapped, stepping in between Jughead and Reggie.

Everyone looked at Cheryl bewildered, wondering why the Blossom girl suddenly cared about Jughead’s wellbeing.

Reggie scoffed.

“Step aside, Cherry Pie, and let me avenge your brother’s murderer,” he said, a smug smile on his face. “It’s not like Jughead’s important to you.”

Cheryl looked like she was about to explode.

“He’s important to Y/N. She’s her boyfriend and she loves him and I’ll be damned if I let you hurt him. Back up.” she snarled.

Everyone’s eyes widened as they looked at you and then Jughead, the two of you now blushing furiously.

“No way,” Reggie said in disbelief. “Your little sister and Norman Bates?”

“I said back up!” Cheryl yelled.

Reggie knew better than to mess with the eldest Blossom girl and held his hands up in surrender, slowly backing out of the student lounge.

Cheryl sighed and turned back to you, and apologetic look on her face.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N,” Cheryl said as she walked over to you. “I know you and Jughead wanted to keep your relationship a secret and I just—”

“No, Cheryl, it’s okay,” you reassured.

You looked over at Jughead who was smiling and holding out his hand out for you, ready to walk hand-in-hand with you to your next class.

You smiled.

“It’s more than okay.”

—————

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please send me feedback!

Taglist

@lydixstiles @jughead-from-riverdale @pinkhappypanda @iamthegoatmaster @subsi4123 @deanskitten @latenightbooknerd @lostinpercyseyes @captainelsaeverdeen @itsjaynebird @allineedisconnor @superoriginalteenwolf @sastielstan @1amluke @satanwithstardust @babearchie @theselfishllama @katshrev @juggiesjuliet @betty-coopers-number-one-stan @imperfectanatomy @casismyguardianangel @irrajj @fangites @apocalypticangell @sparklingriverdale @jvghead-jones-iii @onceuponagladerhead @isabellaskyliner @vodkaluh @tegan-eva @murderyoursoul @regenpony @xbobaaa @farmfreshcoldsprouts @hellolittlebigstudent @audreyxhorne @faithmichaluk @thebloodyshuckface @castawayalicia @lost-in-wonderland-x @holoqraphik @nadya0128 @soulception @jughead-archie-imagines @juggys-betty @twizzlersnizzler @riverdale–trash @barbarachern @likesiriusly @thatsavagehufflepuff @multi-madison @mrs-fangirl @thatcraxygirl15 @frobert20 @miss-mia-rae @buckyplease @myblackwings5 @thecrossroad-demon @writing-in-riverdale @jghdjns-iii @johnmurphys-sass @killjoyloki @annoyingsibling @the-local-dreamer-star @stephyra17 @reginaphlanageadams @river-vixns @genderabused @wetsknn

Night Owls in Mexico

Author: @lovefilledtragedy

Pairing: Mitch Rapp x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.5k (sorry, another short one)

Warnings: implied smut, some light cursing, partying, and some more light alcohol use

Author’s Notes: so happy that I got to be in @ellie-bee242‘s writing challenge and I thought that this prompt would fit perfectly with Mitch. hope you all enjoy! also, if there are any mistakes at all, I apologize. I really didn’t proofread this an awful lot, but I still thought it would be okay to just post. this is based on the prompt: ‘Because he said he loves you and you’re not ready to say it back yet

Originally posted by mattwgubler

Mitch and you had been quite close since meeting one another working under Orion, the two of you being some of the best that the program had to offer, making you two consistently getting paired up together during your training. After defeating Ghost, you both were able to take a break as ordered by Irene and Stan, them wanting to reward the both of you for your contribution. You decided to ask if Mitch wanted to join you on your travels, and without hesitation, he said yes. After traveling most of Europe, you both decided to go off to Mexico, somewhere a bit closer to home.

As the sun began to go down over the city that you and Mitch found yourselves in, the nightlife filled the city suddenly as the other night owls, like yourselves, came out to have a good time. The Spanish dance music played loudly throughout the bar that you and Mitch has decided to hang out at for a while. After finding a table the two of you could share, Mitch and you began to order some drinks, some shots of tequila and a couple of margaritas, downing them quickly. Mitch sat and watched you intently as you stood up from the bar seats you had, running your hand through your hair so you could see him clearly without the long strands covering your Y/E/C eyes.

“Come on Rapp, it’s time to let loose a bit.” You said, smiling at him as you reached your hand out for him to grab.

As much as he hated to dance, he would do anything for you. Hell, he risked his life for you multiple times as you did with his; he trusted you even with the alcohol filling his system quickly. He took one last small gulp of his tequila and placed his hand in yours, letting you drag him into the crowd of other intoxicated bar patrons. “Okay, just don’t step on my toes, you klutz.” He laughed, his amber eyes shining as they connected with yours.

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My Love

BUCKY BARNES x Plus Size Reader

Summary: Reader is in the hospital, all about Bucky and how he’s coping with the situation.

Warning: I think there’s like one curse word and it’s really sad.

A/N: Sorry I’ve been away for so long, kind of hit a small wall while writing and college has been stressful. Anyway, this was requested it’s kind of based off the song My Love by sia. I’ll also be updating Written In The Stars sometime during the week. Enjoy and thank you.xx

Originally posted by thespoilerwitchblog

The room was filled with sunflowers. The yellow hues contrasting against the dull white of the wall Bucky was currently starting at. He hated the flowers, they stood there all tall and bright mocking him. While he sat there feeling all small and dull like the wall behind the stupid flowers. He was numb and broken like the cracks that had started to form through the concrete due to old age. He felt lifeless like the color against the bright yellow. And if someone else walked in with another vase of flowers he was going to explode.

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court-side love.

sebastain stan x reader.

warnings: none, i don’t think. 

request:  I watched an NBA game one night and they showed the kiss cam and there was a mom with a little girl and it was adorable! So, I thought how cute would it be if Sebastian took your 2 year old girl and you (his wife) to an NBA game and the kiss cam would be on them so he would give her many kisses on her face and she would giggle. Can you write one like that? - @starwxars

AN: this is fluff which i’m not great at or confident doing but i hope i did it justice. it’s also really short and the ending sux soooo it’s k.

excitement radiated through the stan household the morning you woke up, not only was your husband finally home but you were officially 20 weeks pregnant with your second child and able to find out the sex of the baby. you and sebastian had been on a back and forth about finding out the sex ever since you’d found out you were pregnant - you being for finding it out and sebastian being against, but after a few weeks of pushing and persuading, he’d finally given in.

stretching your body, you let out a small groan and a sigh before relaxing again, the little life in your stomach given it’s own small kick against your ribs. just as you were about to sit up and start your day, two strong arms wrapped themselves around your midsection, pulling you closer to a bare chest. sebastian sighed into your hair and pulled you impossibly closer before grumbling, “and where do you think you’re going?”

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supernaturalfangirlworld  asked:

reddie meeting while on vacation ??

this took me all day and is so long i am SO sorry i hope you love this thank you so much for my first ever request <3333 also they’re not both on vacation and i hope that’s okay? i was just thinking & really liked this idea.

(it’s not really nsfw or anything under the cut i’m just incredibly long-winded)

  • SO 
  • richie, stan, mike, and bev still live in maine everything is chill and normal but they’ve been saving hard for this big blowout senior trip for the summer after they finish high school since they were like, eighth graders
  • eddie, bill, and ben all live in a warmer beach place, maybe florida? i feel like that’s kinda far but they wanna know what it’s like in the south so let’s go with that (i am a Southern, Florida is the only beach i know)

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Stanley’s Choice

A/N: This is my first ever imagine, so please don’t hate me if it’s really bad! Also, the Losers are aged up to about 16 years old.

Pairing: Stan Uris x Reader (Romantic, kinda) + Richie Tozier x Reader (Platonic/Romantic-ish)

Warnings: mentions of drinking??

Summary: After staying friends for 3 years, the Losers’ Club all go to the Homecoming dance together. However, when you arrive, you’re surprised to find someone else with the boy you had been in love with since you were 13.


“God, damn it, Y/N! We’re going to be late! Bev and Bill are waiting, come on!” Richie yelled from your kitchen.

“Christ, I’m coming, I’m just looking for my goddamn bracelet,” you responded. You dug around in your drawers frantically, looking for your charm bracelet, only to find it sitting on your wrist, shiny as can be. “Fuck me.”

“Oh, I definitely will, especially in that dress of yours.” Richie said in the doorway, startling you. Although you and Richie were undoubtedly the best of friends, being each others’ dates wasn’t exactly what you both had in mind. He had planned on asking a girl named Kay to the dance, but as soon as he finally worked up the courage, he overheard her talking about how much she wanted to go with Ben, but at least he had gotten over it. You, on the other hand, were hoping that Stan would ask you. You had been in love with him ever since he first kissed you. Maybe even before.

As you biked home, hands bloody, you spotted a certain curly-haired boy in the distance. It didn’t take you long to realize that it was Stan, and you immediately called his name. You two lived on the same street, so you figured, why not just walk together?

“Stan!”

He glanced around and after noticing your H/C hair, he stopped biking, and waited, not saying anything. Once you caught up to him, he let his bike drop, confusing you. “What ar-”

Before you could continue, he cut you off with a kiss. It surprised you at first, but slowly, you closed your eyes and deepened the kiss. His bandages kept brushing against your face, but you didn’t mind. Then you heard Eddie’s voice in the distance and quickly pulled away. You looked in the direction it was coming from, but when you turned back to Stan, he hurriedly biked away.

But he hadn’t asked you. And somehow, the idea that you and Richie should be going together was brought up, and both of you decided, why the hell not?

“Gross, Rich…. I thought we were going with lavender? Why are you wearing a tie with eggplants on it? You know what, whatever, LET’S JUST GO,” you huffed. And with that, you both ran out of the house and into your minibus.

“I can not fucking believe we’re going to homecoming in this goddamn hippie van,” he grumbled.

You sighed, “Well, YOU could drive us there in your car, but seeing as you totaled your car AND got your license revoked, I just don’t see how that’s possible.”

It seemed as you and Richie bickered through the whole car ride, even after picking Beverly and Bill up. When you finally arrived at the venue, you went to your table where you found Mike, Eddie, Ben and his date, Kay. After taking your seats, you realized there were two other ones that were empty. It didn’t confuse just you, however, because Beverly asked, “Why do we have an extra chair? I mean, I know Stan isn’t here yet, but -”

“S-Stan IS here,” Bill said, cutting her off. Your eyes followed the direction of his finger, and at the end of it, you saw them by the punch. Stan and Patricia, matching in black. Your heart dropped, and you were pretty sure your entire face turned bright red. You felt the eyes of everyone at the table, except for Kay, who was completely oblivious to the whole situation.

“You wanna go get some fresh air?” Beverly asked. You shook your head, trying to maintain your composure. Eventually, Stan and Patricia sat down, and everyone at the table started talking, trying not to make it obvious that you had all just been talking about them. When they joined in on the conversation, you started feeling short of breath, something Stan definitely noticed.

He asked, “Y/N, are you alright? You seem a little bit -”

“I’m thirsty, Richie,” you blurted before quickly grabbing his hand and dragging him to the punch bowl.

“You’re going to break my fucking arm, you know.”

“Yeah, okay, sorry, I’m just a little… I don’t know. I’m a little I don’t know,” you responded.

“Listen, dude, we could just like fucking bail and like get straight to the after party at your house or something,” he said, trying to comfort you. “I mean, the tickets were pretty expensive, though…”

“No, it’s fine. I just needed to like get away from that really quick,” you smirked. When you faced in the direction of your table, you found Stan looking away really quickly. “You wanna dance, Richie?”

He held his hand out and spun you around onto the dance floor. The whole time you and Richie danced, you couldn’t help but glance over at your table, each time Stan had been watching you, to your surprise. After about five upbeat songs, the DJ finally played a slow one, and that’s where you and Richie drew the line. As you headed back to your seats, Stan watched you carefully, and you slowly recognized the song that was playing. “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want.” The Smiths.

After he kissed you that day, Stan actively tried to avoid you. Whether it was going the long way home after school or waiting a half an hour more so you wouldn’t meet in the morning, he really made an effort. When the Losers were all together though, he did his best to make sure he talked to you just enough so that they wouldn’t notice anything, but he would never walk home with you anymore, even though you two were neighbors. Until one day.

There was one particular day where the sun was just beginning to set when he decided he was going to walk you home. He acted as if you two had been okay the whole time. You didn’t reply to any of his attempts to talk to you, but you hadn’t tried to leave him either. When you got to your house, he handed you a tape. “Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want.”


I think I’m making this a series? Sorry if it’s like horrible !!!!

Homecoming Dance Pennywise x Reader

Pennywise x Reader

Requester: Anonymous

Prompt: I love your stories! Do you take requests? If so, could you do one the reader is part of the Loser’s Club and is at homecoming with them, sitting while couples dance. Then Pennywise - disguised as a human - asks her to dance. As the dance goes on, she starts to realize who it is, and he tells her that she intrigues him before he disappears.

Warning: None

Note: Enjoy!

Originally posted by mrbeniciodeltoro

Originally posted by deathtown

Originally posted by i-am-a-fucking-psycho

Oh. Yay. Homecoming.

The time where everyone comes together to dance and show off their hundred dollar dresses and express their dominance of how much their girlfriend or bohfirend is theirs and theirs alone.

You DID NOT wanna come but your mother of course dragged you to the store despite your protests and forced you to try on many different dresses until SHE decided on one since you hated every single one.

And don’t get me started on especially that dress that looked like Barbie would wear to a club. You wanted to throw up on that one. Eventually though your mom let you decide a dress so you went to the one place you loved the most, Hot Topic.

You were a tomboy so you liked to wear pants and shorts that are actually shorts and don’t look like someone was trying to yank their pants up all the way up their small, flat asses.

Well you were looking through all the dresses your mother decided on the Cinderella dress hands down. No questions, remarks, or nothin’.

So she got it.

But despite it being bought at one of your favorite stores you were still so not into makeup or dress up at all, unless of course the makeup was involved with blood or the dress up was for cosplaying or Halloween. Otherwise anyone who dared to put eyeshadow on you would end up with a broken finger.

Or two.

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I haven’t posted fic in a bit, even though I’ve been writing a lot. So…. here’s a thing I typed up because Fuck The Cold.

Familiar!AU random fluff. 

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dearest (you are the nearest to my heart)

Words: 2286

Chapters:  1/?

Author: hawrthiacoopri

READ ON AO3!

Summary: Any thought he had about Bill or Richie or any boy was permeated with the carrion-sweet voice of the wretched leper. He noticed Bill’s new shirt? The leper’s voice would rise from his mind to his ears, telling him that he could offer any number of things to Bill and he’d have a shot at getting his lips on any part of Bill he wanted, that the leper would show him, teach him, love him, in the way only a mother or teacher can. It was as if It had never left and lived on within Eddie’s head- and indeed it did. Eddie’s poor mind had adopted the leper as a suppressant figure of sorts, a kind of built-in slap on the wrist, reminding Eddie of what his own brain had decided would become of him should he become Actively Queer, which was different than Eddie’s case, which was Dormantly Queer. It gave him all the things Eddie swore he’d never do and reminded him that only FAGS did those, only GIRLYBOYS did that, only QUEERS liked them. And so Eddie unhappily trudged along, promising himself one thing- he could look at whatever boys he liked. But he was never to touch or speak of it aloud, and he would live his life as he was supposed to. Or at least, try to.

chapter one

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Mannerisms

summary: y/n meets sebastian during her last year of university. the actor volunteers to organise a workshop for aspiring actors on campus and needs an assistant. the head of the drama department believes that y/n is just the right person. within five days, friendly encouragements manage to turn into insinuations of sinful activities that should not, under any circumstances, take place in a lecture hall.

word count: 3′000+ 

warnings: age difference (nothing illegal though), implied smut, dirty talk??

a/n: for those of you who don’t know i live for thicc, long haired sebastian and this is just my way of dealing with my emotions. also this scenario has been haunting me for the past month and i finally decided to go ahead and write about it. btw this is not proof read so sorry lmao. might write a part 2 but idk

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NCT U Lineup Theory

This is definitely in no way official, at all. SM haven’t even confirmed the comeback, it’s barely in the beginning whispers of a rumour. Still, we’ve been thinking about this a lot ever since we decided back at the beginning of Limitless promotions that U would probably come back soon.

This is based on the limited information we have from SM and other NCT members, and that is NCT U is a rotational unit that changes lineup and concept with each comeback. Therefore, we decided that Taeil, Taeyong, Doyoung, Ten, Jaehyun and Mark would probably not be included. There is also no real information on whether the number of members is the same, so we may be guessing excessively. There is still the possibility that some members from the original U unit might make an appearance.

(I’m beginning to wonder if this is a theory or basically just our ideal lineup at this point)

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The Losers Club: Gym Class Zeros

Disclaimer: Hello fellow Losers Club fandom goers. So ever since starting up my blog I’ve noticed all the fan fictions on here are mainly centered around “Reddie” or some other oddly paired homosexual couple. Not that being homosexual is odd, but just the fact that we so desperately must find a way to make any two characters gay for each other in any franchise is just a BIT odd. Anyways I thought it would be cool to finally write a fan fiction that I think The Losers Club would ACTUALLY be like. So with that being said…here we go. 

Gym Class Zeros:

   Hi, my name is Ben Hanscom. You may know me as “the new kid on the block” here at Derry. Over the summer I met a group of kids my age who I wound up becoming best friends with. We call ourselves “The Losers Club” and it’s made up of seven of us. There’s Mike Hanlon, he joined last after we saved him from getting his ass whooped by The Bowers Gang. Mike’s pretty chill, always the one with a level head and a warm hug. Next is Bill Denbrough, I feel bad for Bill since he lost his little brother to a soul eating clown but he seems to be doing better these days. He’s even starting to get over his stuttering problem! Bill’s what I would consider the base of the group, it all kind of goes back to him. Then there’s Stan Uris, sassy bird boy with the best comebacks who is also Jewish as frick! Gotta love Stan. Then comes Eddie Kaspbrak, that little thing is a big ball of nerves that he promptly fights off with his mighty inhaler, Eddie is the closest with Richie Tozier who is probably the most annoying person you’ll ever meet yet we wouldnt be who we are without him. Now lastly, but certainly not least is Beverly Marsh aka the girl I got the hots for almost immediately after meeting her. Now I could go on for hours about Beverly, but unfortunately for me she has a crush on Bill.There’s so much more to her than that though but we’ll get into it later. Now let’s get to the story.

   The bell rang for 8th period, it was a hot summer afternoon. School was almost ending for the year even though it only felt like last summer happened yesterday. But now it was time for gym, crazy enough all the losers shared the same gym class. We usually didn’t endured about 45 minutes of torturous activities in tight short shorts, like being forced to run a thousand miles until we forget we have legs. But the last couple weeks of school was the best time for gym because it was DODGE BALL WEEK! Oh yes the game that allowed you to pelt giant red plastic balls at the opposing team and release a years worth of anger. Me and the losers all planned this day for weeks! We all promised to be the best dodge ball team ever and smoke everyone else in the class. But when we all got into gym that day, things were turning out a lot different than we had imagined…

Coach Hopper: Alright class today is the day we begin our dodge ball session. Meaning we’re gonna get into teams and throw balls at each other. Fun. Don’t know why you kids love this game so much, but I also know exactly why you love this game so much.

Richie: Ya know guys, I heard coach Hopper used to be the chief for some town in Indiana. He’s probably killed people before.

Bill: That would explain his deathly demeanor.

Eddie: I heard he has a daughter with like telekinesis powers and she can like fling stuff in the air with her mind and like levitate like Yoda.

Stan: Where exactly are you guys getting your information from? Richie’s comic collection? Like yeah ok Eddie, he’s got a super hero daughter. First off who would even have kids with Hopper? Let’s be real here guys.

Eddie: I’m not saying it’s true I’m just saying like there’s a rumor Stan, come on I could totally see it being true though.

Mike: Hey I’d believe it after what happened with us last summer. 

Ben: God, don’t bring that up on a day like today. It’s dodge ball week guys let’s have some fun. 

Beverly: Yeah I’m with Ben on this one I’m ready to fling balls at people’s faces.

*after taking attendance*

Coach Hopper: Okay so, I’ve decided that I’m gonna split the class into two parts. Half of you will go outside to play and the other half will stay in here. This means that there will be four teams in total. Got it?

Beverly: Oh no, if he splits up the class like that there’s no way we can all fit on a team.

Richie: Yeah what the hell Hopper

Coach Hopper: You, losers, I mean uh…small cluster of children who only seem to interact with each other. You guys will be staying inside today. So you’ll have to split up into teams.

Beverly:But there’s only seven of us, the teams would be uneven and we kind of wanted to all be on a team together.

Coach Hopper: Look, can you guys just play the game? It’s a game so what. *points to Bill and Mike* you and you, be the captains and choose your teams.

Ben: but we need an extra person to make each team even then.

Coach Hopper: *coughs* I know that

Bill: what do you mean you know that?

Beverly: wait, you did this on purpose. What are you up to Hop?

Coach Hopper: Okay look, I had to bring my daughter into work with me today because school already ended for her back home and no one could watch her. I figured she could join the class, now you guys are losers but I wouldn’t want her hanging out with any of the other freaks we got in this class.She’s a little uh..shy, she’s shy. Alright?

Richie: Is she hot?

Eddie: *slaps Richie across the arm* Oh shut up Tozier!

Richie: Ow! What I was just asking.

Coach Hopper: Behave please. Now pick your teams, let me go get her from the office. 

*Hopper leaves*

Beverly:Well I guess it’ll be nice to have another girl around for a bit? 

Ben: So Bill, Mike who are you gonna put on your team?

Bill: Alright losers, l-line up. Let’s go. Guess me and Mike are gonna have to make t-t-teams out of you.

*the whole group stands up and forms in a line in front of Mike and Bill. Richie and Eddie stand next to each other, arms linked*

Eddie: Me and Richie are a package deal.

Richie: Yeah if you choose one of us you get both. It’s the rules and I don’t make them

Mike: Yeah yeah yeah, how cute. The lovely couple doesn’t wanna throw balls at each other. Adorable. Bill you wanna pick first?

Bill:S-s-sure uh, I-I pick Beverly. 

Stan: Wow Bill, thought we were blood brothers. 

Mike: Hahahaha, ya know what Stan just for that get over it brother

Stan: A little appreciation is nice, thank you Mike.

*Hopper walks in with a small girl with short curly dark hair and brings her over to the group*

Coach Hopper: Hey guys, sorry to cut you off but this is my daughter El. 

Bev: Hi El! Nice to meet you I’m Beverly. But you can call me Bev. It’s gonna be fun having another girl here. Hopefully Bill here will put ya on our team!

*El just stares*

Hopper: El is really shy, but she wont bite I promise. Just play nice and make sure she gets on a team.

Bill: Sure thing Hopper, hey El I get next pick. You can be on our team.

Richie: WOW BILL! All girls? Really?

Eddie: I’m feeling a little offended.

Mike: Guys just get over here. 

Bill: So that means Ben you’re with us.

Ben: wow feels great being picked last!

Bev: Oh stop it, you know it’s nothing personal. 


Now here’s when things started to get weird that fateful day. The two teams faced each other and we all went around introducing ourselves to El. She was pretty odd I’m not gonna lie. She wouldn’t really talk and would stare everyone down. But she stared the most at Richie. Richie didn’t seem to notice though because him and Eddie were too busy going back and forth bantering about anything and everything. 

Bill: So El, you know how to play right?

El: *shakes her head*

Bev:Basically all you gotta do is throw these balls at all of them and also try not to get hit by the ones they throw at us. It’s super fun! 

El: *nodds her head* 

Ben: just try aiming at Eddie the most he’s the worst at this game.

*on the other team*

Mike: Alright guys so here’s the strategy, aim at El the most. Hate to say it but she’s our easiest target

Richie: Okay is it just me or is she a total freak show

Stan: God Richie, what do you think she thinks of you.

Richie: No but really! She doesn’t talk and has this weird look on her face.

Eddie: Super powers! I’m telling you!

Stan: Oh yeah guys, super powers, the girl barely speaks and you expect me to believe she has super powers?

Mike: Guys guys guys c’mon. Let’s just play the game.

We assembled into our teams, everything was in position. This girl El was kind of giving me the creeps. I didnt wanna lose against the others and I was afraid she might bring us down. We all ran to get our balls from the center, El grabbed one and then it was on. Richie made the first throw at Bill but he dodged it. Mike went for me and I just missed it. Bev stood back with El, giving her tips on who to go for. But El didnt make any moves.

Richie: SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT DENBROUGH!!! *throws ball aggressively at Bill*

Bill was first out and Eddie and Richie hugged and jumped up and down in celebration

Richie:FUX WITH MEEEEEEE!!!

We were down a member which meant we really had to be on our game now. Richie and Eddie were just flinging balls left and right. Stan was a pretty good dodger but a horrible thrower, he was the next to go down. He sat with Bill on the sidelines, each of them cheering on their team. I was surpised no one got El out. She didn’t really move much yet somehow the balls seemed to never get to her. She also must have been sick because she kept wiping her nose a lot. Weird kid.

Bev: Watch this El.

Bev threw her hardest at Eddie and got him out. Eddie went down with a scream to which Richie dramatically got on the floor and pretended to cry

Richie: NOT MY BOY! EDS NOOOO!!!!

Eddie: Go on without me ! 

Richie: I will remember you my dear Edward

Mike:Dude get up before they get you out too!

Eddie then hobbled over to sit with Stan and Bill. He wouldnt shut up screaming at Richie the whole time. It was still three against one, we were winning. But then I was hit! Mike got me and I too went over to join the rest of the losers. It was two on two now. It still amazed me how El was STILL in the game, and that damn cold. 

Ben: That El girl must be sick or something. She keeps wiping her nose on her sleeve.

Eddie: Ugh ew god gross! All those germs are just resting on her sleeve then.

Stan: I think she’s cute

Bill:*smacks Stan’s arm*

Stan:What was that for? Wow, jealous?

Bill:N-no you i-i-diot. She’s Hoppers daughter. Thats weird. 

Before I knew it Mike was out now and it was just Bev and El against Richie. I had faith that Bev could get him out but sooner rather than later he got her out. Leaving only El and Richie left on the floor.

Eddie: What the hell?! How is she still in ??

Bev: GO EL!

Mike: GO RICHIE!

Eddie:Yeah Richie!!

El had a weird look on her face, she couldnt get away with not hitting anyone anymore. She was carrying the team now and she knew it. Richie looked a bit nervous, probably because he didnt really wanna hit a girl he didnt know. El shot us all a weird look. Me, Bev and Bill cheered her on. Then she got an even weirder look on her face and all of a sudden out of nowhere one of the balls goes flying at Richie, knocking him down and his glasses off of his face. El looked shocked and ran over to him. Understanding the game was over and she won she went over to get his glasses for him. 

El:*reaching for Richie’s glasses, she looks up at him without his on and freezes*

Richie: Hey thanks, good game you totally kicked my ass how did you even-

El: Mike?

Richie: Uhh?? No? That’s Mike *points to Hanlon*

El: Wheeler. Mike Wheeler.

Richie: Um no, hey can I have my glasses back now?

El: *she keeps his glasses in her hand and stares at him intently*

Richie:Hello? Kind of blind here, you okay?

El: My friend, Mike. You look like him.

Richie: I’m Richie! Now can I please have my glasses now?

El: *her eyes start to water up and all of sudden she bursts into tears and throws herself onto Richie now crying in his arms*

Eddie: UM?!?!? IS ANYONE ELSE SEEING THIS BULLSHIT?!

We all watched this weird scene go down but nobody really knew what to do. Eddie stomped over to Richie and El.

Richie: UM THERE IS A CRYING GIRL ON ME !! EDDIE HELPPP SOS

Eddie: Um hello hi, girl. You can’t cry on Richie first off thats MY job. Second of all what the flippin frick is going on here?

El: Mike

Richie: WHO IS MIKE?! *he was awkwardly holding this small girl in his arms*

Eddie:He is not Mike, Mike is over there. 

Mike:*waves*

The bell rang for class to be over. It was the last one of the day but here we were stuck in a pretty uncomfy situation with a now crying girl.

Bev:Oh my god, when Hopper comes back and sees  this he is gonna have a heart attack.

Bill: W-whats even going on?

Stan:Yeah why would anyone, especially a girl be crying into Richie’s arms?

Mike: I say we go over and find out

Ben:Me too

We all walked over to Eddie, Richie and El. Something was up with this girl and it was very clear now. Also the way she won the game was definitely weird.

Bev: Hey El, are you okay? You won the game for us! What’s wrong?

El:*she looked up at Richie and cried even more* Mike…

Mike: Hey

El: No

Mike: Well okay then

Eddie was pacing back and forth with his hands on his hips. He was clearly uncomfortable, he was pretty possessive over Richie. And now some girl was hanging all over him crying.

Bill: W-w-who’s Mike? 

Richie: Not me that’s for sure

Eddie: Yeah not him. We’ve established that.

Bev: Guys obviously she’s upset over someone. Is Mike your ex boyfriend or something?

Be put out her hand to help El up and she took it and stood up, leaving Richie’s glasses on the floor. Eddie went over and handed them to Richie then helped him up. We all stood around El, who had her eyes locked onto Bev’s.

Bev: So who is he?

El: Gone

Bev: Oh, well where did he go? He okay?

Stan: Im beginning to feel uncomfy

Mike: Shh

El: c..c..camp?

Richie: Like summer camp? Or jail? Is Mike a convict? Do I look like a convict? Because that would be totally cool if I did.

Eddie: Shut up Richie

Bev: If he’s at camp you know he’ll be back right

El: No

After this Hopper came back in with a worried look on his face. He walked over to El and the rest of us.

Hopper: Hey guys how’d it go and oh my god why is my daughter crying?

Eddie: You’re daughter thinks Richie is someone named Mike.

Richie: Yeah she kicked my ass in dodge ball then knocked my glasses off and started crying on top of me. Sorry to call you out El, but hey. I dont make the rules.

Hopper: God.

Bev: What’s going on? Who’s Mike.

Hopper: Mike Wheeler. 

Ben: We got that part.

Stan: Does he hold an significance ? Cuz I need to get home and take my 3pm nap.

Hopper: No no, I mean yeah to her. He’s just this kid she’s friends with. His name is Mike Wheeler and he went away to summer camp but El doesn’t understand that concept so she thinks he’s disappeared. El we talked about this. Mike will be back in 6 weeks. He’s coming back

Eddie: So you mean to tell me, this girl came into my life, cried on MY Richie, all because he looks like a boy who went to summer camp?! 

Hopper: Yes?

Eddie: I’M GONNA SCREAM

Stan: Please don’t scream

Eddie: Im gonna scream

Stan: Someone make him not scream

Eddie: I’m gonna scream

Stan: For the love of God please dont scream

Eddie: *screams*

We all held our ears while Eddie let out a dramatic scream. Richie hugged him to calm him down. This day was just weird. But maybe this girl just really missed her friend Mike. Funny to think he looks like Richie, kind of wanna meet him one day.

Hopper: Alright alright, fun is over. Everyone can go home. We’re all good here. 

Eddie: Oh im going home and when we get home Richard we are gonna have a good sit down talk about all of this because this was not in my contract. You’re My best friend meaning non one else is entitled to your comfort and then this girl comes along and starts calling you Mike and I’m freaking out because like what if you had a secret identity that I didnt know about and every ounce of trust I had left just flew out the window.

Stan:God I hate you both

Richie: I’m not Mike don’t worry Eds. But this Mike guy is clearly stealing my look and Im miffed.

We went home laughing that day about what happened in gym class. This shit only seemed to ever happen to us. Nobody really questioned anything else about El, but before I left that day I noticed something on her sleeve. I thought she was sick, but it looked like blood or something. I’ll never really know what it was or what her deal was. But I did know this, there is no way she could’ve thrown that ball the way she did. 


*6 weeks later*

Eddie: I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this

Richie: I know but I kinda wanna meet this guy

Bev: Yeah we gotta meet this dude.

Ben: Look there she is!

El: Hello friends

Eddie: just as a precursor I dont wanna do this

Bill: I-I do

Mike: Yeah me too

El led us inside of what I’ll assume is her house and we all sat down in the dining room. It was quiet and nice, no one seemed to be home besides her but we were wrong. An older girl and her boyfriend peaked their heads in for a second before going off upstairs. And then came down a pale curly haired boy who literally was Richie’s twin. We all gasped and laughed.

Bev: Holy shit!

El: Mike

Richie stood up and walked right over to the boy. They stared at each other with their mouths wide open

Mike Wheeler: Who are you?

Richie: I’m you, but gay

Eddie” God damnit *face palm*


AND THAT’S A WRAP!

More stuff from the Symbiote Ford AU! This time, it’s an AToTS retelling. Ish.

I’m also on AO3, as MaryPSue!

The portal swirls away into nothingness, taking the last of the blue light with it, and the basement lab goes dark.

Stanley stands frozen in place where he’d stopped when Ford had unwound his scarf, torn somewhere between fear and despair. He keeps oscillating between a desire to throw himself between Ford and the awestruck and confused children in the corner, and the vague hope that Ford - or the thing he thinks is impersonating Ford - hasn’t noticed them yet. The cycle is only broken by a flash of worry about the - 

Ford pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, unable to believe what he’s hearing from Stan. Government agents, Stanley? It’s not bad enough that you restarted the portal, you had to end up on the government’s radar while doing it?”

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For Colored Girls Who've Found Makeup As a Creative Outlet - When Telling People To "Love Themselves" Isn't Enough

When I first became interested in makeup, I didn’t see it as a way to alter my looks or hide my features, I saw it as a way to further express my creativity. Similar to my interests in fashion, dipping and dabbling in makeup just seemed like something I would really enjoy.

The satisfaction of finding the perfect red lip or the perfect bronzy eye shadow was analogous to finding the perfect pair of boyfriend jeans —gratifying, rewarding, in other words, sweet.


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The feeling was so satisfying that although it took me YEARS to figure things out in the makeup department (and I think most of us know why,) I kept pursuing it, and I still am. 

While I realize that there are many existing societal pressures making women feel the need to wear makeup, I also believe that the beauty world is changing into a place that helps many utilize makeup as a tool to express their creativity. It helps many come alive in ways that little else does. It’s an underrated art form that often gets more flack than it deserves. That’s why comments like those of Zadie Smith, and others often rub me the wrong way. 

When speaking about raising her daughter, Smith felt disheartened when she noticed she was “spending too much time looking in mirrors.” She promptly implemented a “15 min rule,” for getting ready in the morning.

She mentioned things like:

“You are wasting time, your brother is not going to waste any time doing this. Every day of his life he will put a shirt on, he’s out the door and he doesn’t give a shit if you waste an hour and a half doing your makeup.“

As a prominent Black British author, Smith’s comments carry a lot of weight and were covered my major news outlets. But I found her comments to be extremely problematic. And I’ll tell you why. 

1. Women should have the autonomy to decide how they spend their time. 

If little Jaimie or Joelle or John wants to spend an hour and a half on makeup, maybe, just maybe, that interest and that talent can be fostered into something that can eventually turn into a career. (And even if it doesn’t, but it makes them happy, who cares? As long as they get their other shit done. 🤷🏿‍♀️) Apart from the obvious makeup artist route, practicing makeup artistry teaches one about color theory just as much as it does about patience + perseverance.

Why is something that has been pigeonholed as a "woman’s activity,” automatically given a negative connotation? Do we tell boys to stop playing video games because “girls aren’t wasting their time doing it.” No, we don’t.

I firmly believe that feminism is not about being equal to men, its about women having the access to choices without meeting violence and prejudice in the process. 

The choice to pursue a career in engineering, without meeting the sexist environment that world brings. The choice to wear short skirts and crop tops freely, without having to worry about the wandering eyes of men looking to take advantage. The choice to pursue a career in makeup artistry, without facing any stigmas about it being frivolous or superficial. Its about autonomy, its about choice.  

2. Conventionally attractive people should check their privilege before telling someone how to be.

Smith’s comments were annoying, but, ironically the impact of her words were crushingly coupled with the way she looks. 


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Whether she likes it or not, Smith is conventionally beautiful, especially for a black woman. Her light skin, narrow nose, and loosely coiled hair makes her a prime candidate for Jet Beauty of the Week in the black community. As someone with this bit of privilege, Smith’s words on beauty come off harsh, uninformed, and out of touch.

Instead of criticizing her daughter, or anyone else for the matter, for being worried about the way they look, why not take a look at the societal pressures that make one feel this way. It’s almost like victim blaming in a sense.

It’s why I also took issue with Alicia Keys, #NOMakeup Movement (which she didn’t launch until after she got her acne and skin issues under control btw.) I believe our time would be much better served tackling the reasons why someone with hyper-pigmentation needs to wear makeup in an interview rather than judging her for putting some concealer under her eyes. Our time would be much better served exploring why someone like Lil Kim, who was a gorgeous mahogany successful female rapper, felt the need to alter herself to the point where she is no longer recognizable, instead of placing the blame and onus on her for doing so.


“In a 2000 interview with Newsweek, Lil’ Kim said, “Guys always cheated on me with women who were European-looking. You know, the long-haired type. Really beautiful women [who] left me thinking, ‘How I can I compete with that?’ Being a regular black girl wasn’t good enough.”“  – Essence Mag

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In the past, society has told women that we need makeup to get jobs, or to get the attention of men, and then we wear it and are somehow we are wrong for it? Then all of a sudden our patriarchal society decides that being "natural” and wearing ones real hair is of the upmost importance, and “you gotta take her swimming on the first date.” 🙄 It just doesn’t make any sense.

Instead of criticizing the way people respond to societal pressures, maybe we should work on ways we can try to change society and alleviate those pressures.  

3. Shallow pieces of advice do little to combat the depth of beauty issues that stem from today’s society.

Our society is deeply flawed and has placed value on certain skin tones and facial features. This isn’t groundbreaking news. This phenomenon goes back centuries and is marked with racism, imperialism, and anti-blackness. While I am the first one to say I love a good inspirational quote or meme, simply telling those, for example, with darker skin, who don’t feel beautiful to “love themselves,” or “value themselves,” isn’t going to fix this wicked problem.

Does it help? Sure. When it’s delivered in the right way, from the right source, messages of inspiration encouraging self love and self care can help someone begin to see value when they look in the mirror, especially if that message is coming from someone who looks like them. (which is why representation is SO important, but let me not make this article hella long)

But we need to do more. In addition to presenting more diverse representations of beauty standards in the media, we need more spaces where people feel comfortable and safe being their authentic selves; which is why I can stan for the beauty community on social media. Although it is definitely flawed in many ways, the beauty world on social media has allowed so many people to find a creative outlet that makes them feel beautiful by their own standards. The beauty of something like YouTube, for example, is that people feel amazing emulating makeup looks inspired by everything from an album cover to a candy bar to potato chip packaging. (seriously.)

The amount of innovation I see on the daily is truly mind blowing, and is just one way many are reclaiming the beauty industry and redefining it in a way that works for them. 

One of my favorite quotes is by Steve Maraboli (although side eye that this is coming from a man.)


“There is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful, than a woman being unapologetically herself; comfortable in her perfect imperfection. To me, that is the true essence of beauty.”

Let’s create spaces where we can be unapologetically ourselves, whether its with makeup or otherwise. 

anonymous asked:

42 with Reddie please :)!

Of course lmao, Thanks for requesting!

42- “I’m pregnant”

With age Bill became quite the loser specific party hoster, which normally end badly but are fun nonetheless. He finds a way to get a shit ton of alcohol (usually the cause of the disasters) and finds fun activities to do throughout the night. One of these parties was the main reason that Richie Tozier and Eddie Kaspbrak have started dating in the first place, and much of their most openly romantic or just straight up strange interactions happen at these very events as well.

Tonight was just a night to drink a bit if you want and talk to your friends, nothing special, nothing crazy, nothing over the top. However, Eddie decided to have a few drinks tonight, and Eddie Kaspbrak when drunk is much more difficult to control than times where he’s sober. Making this event exceptionally more interesting, Richie did not drink, he rarely did, alcohol hits too close to him to drink very much, however, he did find joy in watching the others be the idiots for a change. Besides, all the losers would agree that sober Richie was already incredibly difficult to handle and they can’t even imagine the extent he would be at while drunk.

Stumbling over air and giggling regularly is Eddie, he had more to drink than anyone and he was more of a lightweight as well. The losers were not intending to drink very much that night but Eddie must’ve gotten carried away, a strange sight because he rarely had more than a bottle of beer. He wasn’t generally fond of alcohol, knowing the health risks and legal complications with it at their age (they were merely 17-18) and worried greatly about consequences and what he would end up saying if alcohol did the talking in replace of his mind. 

Eddie drew out Richie’s name dramatically, Richie already laughing at Eddie not even knowing what’s to come. Eddie lay down on Richie’s lap with a shit-eating grin on his face and a strange look in his eyes, Richie was unable to entirely grasp at what Eddie was feeling and wondered if Eddie was even sober enough to know himself.

“Would you still love me?” Eddie asked, it seemed very strange coming from a giggling boy with a never fading smile.

Richie ruffled Eddie’s hair gently, looking over at Mike who was rolling his eyes. Mike very rarely drank along with Richie and the two of them were the only completely sober people in the room leaving them to laugh at the idiocy of their friends and the utter irrationality of Richie’s boyfriends behavior.

“Sure I will Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie responded a smile growing on his lips.

“But will you love me when you know?” Eddie asked making an exaggeratedly shocked gasp matched with an equally ridiculous expression of shock.

“Know what Spaghetti man?” Richie asked, confused overall by Eddie and his conversation but also elated by his ability to use the dumb nicknames for Eddie without constant protest (though in all honesty Richie never minded Eddie’ s protests and complaints they made the whole thing better when Richie wasn’t trying to understand his boyfriends slurring)

“Richie… I should’ve told you sooner,” Eddie said, his expression suddenly changing to incredibly serious but his voice still draped with strange amusement.

Richie was nearly concerned despite knowing drunk Eddie had nothing incredibly serious to say, “What is it Eddie?” he said looking down at his boyfriend and playing with the boys hair, not even noticing that Beverly was not so secretly taking candids of her friends as Ben gushed over everything about it.

“I’m pregnant.” Eddie said seriously before bursting into a fit of laughs, “I’m pregnant, Richie Tozier you are the father!” He continued adding more.

Richie let out a laugh, watching as Stan rolled his eyes dramatically at the whole situation.

he’s probably just jealous his boyfriend’s head isn’t this close to his crotch right now,’ Richie thought in amusement.

Eddie continued the joke, it being the exact same thing with small additions.

“Hey Eds, I think you should head to bed for the night,” Richie said finally after getting tired of the stupid joke. He kissed his boyfriends head gingerly and reached for a blanket to cover his boyfriend’s body watching slowly as the boy fell asleep easily and peacefully.



100 Followers Gift Fic #2!!

Here is the prompt I received…last…November…

K2 “firsts” and shenanigans… like first date and first kiss and being like nervous/ over thinking it, Kenny trying to be smooth but he’s a lil nervous too…

Bless your patient heart, buttercup. Hope that you enjoy!

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