not sure how i feel about this but it needs to get out of my head

i say “straight cis men are spoiled, that’s all. spoiled brats.”

my father bristles. “oh, so i can say the reverse of that? how would you feel if i called your entire gender something like that?”

like what? like bitch? like hysterical? like keep your voice down, don’t get crazy, don’t be one of those girls, come on, just say yes to me. like what? like needy, like over-emotional, like high maintenance? 

i say, “i know what it feels like.”

he says, “men just want things and you’re pretending being denied those things doesn’t hurt.”

oh i know it hurts. but when i hurt, i hurt myself. i cut into the lip of my body and rip out all the good things. when i hurt, i blame myself. when boys around me hurt, they hurt me. come at me with fists and knives and screaming. trap me on trains while they shout names at me. lock me in the car when i try to leave. hold me down and ignore the begging.

i say, “it does. but, while women can be toxic and abusive, i find that denying a man something is like telling a spoiled child they can’t have a toy for being good.”

on my tongue are stories that don’t seem to break the pattern. stories i know other women have. men who wanted me because i was nice to them, men who wanted me because they were nice to me, men who turned equally quickly into beasts, howling about their lacking, how i owed them, how they could take advantage of me, how, like bread and water, they were starved of me. of course i should give in, how dare i let them go hungry, how selfish it was of me. 

my father says, “when. there are tons of perfectly fine men and just as many bad women. you’ve worked in retail. you’ve complained about them.”

oh, yes. i’ve had my humanity dragged through the dirt by that-kind-of-haircut, by “speak to your manager”, by still-in-the-store-an-hour-after-closing. i’ve been screamed at and serenaded by swear words. i’ve had women look like they were about to pop a blood vessel. 

none of those women ever followed me to a car. none of those women ever wrote down my name just to find me on facebook. none of those women ever followed me home, sniffed at my neck, told me how pretty i’d look naked. oh, i’m sure they wanted to kill me. but they didn’t make it about how much they’d debase me. it was a clean threat, a cold knife. 

it’s a hard thing to explain. that i knew if these women went for me, it wasn’t because of my gender, and that made those threats differ. the same way that if they had been threatening me for being gay, it would have been scary. i was just in the wrong place when they hated me. they didn’t hate me because of my identity.

i clear my throat. “a spoiled woman wants what i’m not giving her, sure. but i can usually calm her down by helping and understanding. and we’re talking about the difference between being denied an object and being denied access to my body.”

my father snorts. “i think you’re blowing this out of proportion.” 

there’s an entire group of men on reddit that we’ve just come to accept as thinking of women as objects. it’s not a small group, either, but what are you going to do. they write each other novels about how women are all animals who need to be controlled, how they’re “involuntarily celibate”, that we’ve denied them all. and how somehow, that denial is our fault. there’s been murders because men were mad they couldn’t have women. mass murders. serial murders. and so many of them were straight violence: not for the intention of killing, but of dragging out the sorrow of it. did you know rape isn’t about sex, it’s about power.

my mouth hurts. i tell him, “you should see how they act when you’re in a position of power above them.” 

how they are when they find out a hispanic female got the job. how they are when it’s me, and i’m not even five foot three, and they know they can intimidate me. how it is when they raise voices over me, and sit on my desk, and come into my room without asking, and ask who i blew in order to get here, and ask to see my resume because obviously i was given the job for diversity and not my three years experience, and ask if i’d be their office affair, and stretch themselves to expand, like a balloon, filling, filling. how their voices pop, “stole my job,” “affirmative action is reverse racism,” “i’m going to bend her over one of these days and show her who’s boss.”

my father shrugs. “if it bothers you so much, stop listening to them.”

in three days from this conversation, one of my friends will text me that a guy pulled a knife on her in a bar because she said no. in two days from this conversation, i will have someone pull up my skirt. on the day of this conversation, three of my friends and i will get wine drunk and cackle over white boys texting and their dick pics and demands for love. when they say things like “you’re a slut and i fucking hate you and i hope you die” when she says no, we laugh. when my skirt comes up, i laugh. when my friend is at knifepoint, she laughs.

did you know laughter is a fear response. 

to my father i say, “just watch. watch what happens when a woman says no.”

he shakes his head. “god, where do you even get this stuff?”

i want to live in a world where i got this from nowhere. where it’s just a figment. where i’ve never met men in the wild, only read about them, and their hands, and their ability to take things from me without feeling sorry. i want to live in a world where other women are confused about the accusations, haven’t experienced the same thing, or haven’t heard the same thing from the women close to them. i want to live in a world where it’s fake, because they treat us like it’s fake; instead of living where it’s this giant open secret like a blood boil, pulsing, a shush of things we’ve learned to answer with laughing, a big burn mark we’ve all been through but is somehow not counted as scarring. i want to live in a world where i’m making up my experiences for want of them; where i’ve never been kissed or touched or groped without my permission, where i don’t fear trains and enclosed spaces. the world i see so many men live in; where it might be a concern on their periphery, but not enough to warrant attention.

“you’d see it too,” i say through his words, “if you just stopped and listened.”

Notes to the girl whose house I live in

by reddit user JJX2525

It took me a week to find where you keep your wifi password. A whole week! I was really worried you’d thrown it away, but lo and behold, there it was in the cutlery drawer of all places. Everything about the way you organize things confuses me. I guess because you live on your own now you just put things any old place. I know there was someone else before, I heard you talking about him on the phone. Johnny, I think? Jimmy? Anyway, I know because you said it was tough being alone. But you’re not alone, of course. You have me!

Keep reading

I want you to want me

“Wait, no, let’s take the other corridor.”

“But that will take so much longer!”

“I don’t care. Come on!”

Draco ignored Pansy’s pouting and dragged her along. What were the teachers thinking, hanging up all these mistletoes around the castle? There were so many, it was so hard to avoid them all. Also, it was only November 17th! Couldn’t they at least have waited until December?

Cursing under his breath, Draco turned to the corridor that was still mistletoe-free. Well, at least it had been this morning.

“Oh, come on,” Draco groaned as he suddenly found himself and Pansy standing beneath a gigantic ladder. Filch was on top of it, fumbling with the fateful plant Draco had come to loathe.

Since he was a child, he had been very superstitious. Ignoring the mistletoe wouldn’t do it. It was bad luck. And Pansy knew this very well, judging from her smug expression. She had been taught the same by her parents, but, unlike Draco, she chose to try her luck. At least she usually did.

“Well, go on,” she said, grinning at him. Exhaling loudly, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This is ridiculous,” he grumbled.

“I’m waiting.” Pansy’s grin only widened when Draco huffed and blew his hair out of his face.

“Alright, alright.” He leaned over to her reluctantly, but panicked, when she suddenly closed her eyes. She couldn’t be serious! Dear Merlin! Hastily, he planted his lips on her left cheek and immediately started walking again. There! Surely that would count!

“Hey! Draco,” he heard Pansy call after him. Nope, he would keep walking! He would keep walking and avoid these bloody mistletoes this time! Getting back to the Slytherin common room couldn’t be that impossible!

“… no, I remember you specifically told me- Ouch!”

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” Rubbing his nose, Draco glowered at the person he had just collided with. The Weasel. With Granger in tow. Magnificent!

You bumped into me,” Weasley said in an accusing tone.

“Whatever, Weasel! Now get out of my-”

“Oh, mistletoe,” Granger interrupted him, pointing at the ceiling.

You’ve got to be kidding me!

Draco looked up, then back at the other two standing in front of him. Oh, damn it!

“Come on, let’s just go,” Granger said, taking Weasley’s hand.

“We can’t,” he whispered. “We have to kiss.” Granger rolled her eyes at him, but Weasley’s face turned serious. “No, we really have to kiss. It’s bad luck if we don’t.”

Huh. Weasley wasn’t as dumb as he looked after all. With an exasperated sigh, Granger pulled him down and kissed him for much longer than was necessary. When Draco cleared his throat, they finally stopped.

“What, you want one, too?” Weasley asked, arching his eyebrows.

“Well, I was standing under the damn thing, too, wasn’t I?”

Understanding hit Weasley’s face and Draco would have loved to take a step forward and slap him. His dumb face was just so infuriating. Before Draco could do anything, however, Granger shoved her boyfriend and he stumbled forward.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Weasley asked, turning his head.

“Well, obviously, you two are the ones with the superstitions. And I already kissed you, so you can go and kiss him.” The way she said it was so nonchalant, it made Draco gape at ther. Okay, so he definitely didn’t want to kiss her. But did she understand how revolting it would be to kiss the Weasel? Well, of course not. She did it willingly. On a regular basis. Yuck!

When Weasley turned back around to Draco, his face was so pale, Draco thought he might faint.

“Ugh, let’s just get this over with,” Draco murmured.

“No, please, Hermione, no, please don’t make me do this!”

“I’m not making you do anything! You were the one who said you have to kiss under the mistletoe.”

“She’s right,” Draco said through gritted teeth. He closed the gap between them and wrinkled his nose. “Just… hold still.” Draco placed both his hands on Weasley’s shoulders and tried to ignore the way his bottom lip was quivering. His lips looked very chapped.This was going to be worse than he had thought!

If he hadn’t already cheated when he had kissed Pansy on the cheek, Draco would have done the same with Weasley. But he couldn’t cheat fate twice in one day! Ugh!

Just a quick peck. Light. Very light. Lips barely touching. Yeah, that wouldn’t be so bad, right? Ugh, if only it weren’t Weasley!

“Merlin, Malfoy, just do it already,” Weasley groaned. Clicking his tongue once, Draco stood up on his toes and gave Weasley the quickest kiss in history of all kisses.

“Ugh! Now excuse me, I need to go wash my mouth,” Draco declared and started hurrying off.

“Ron. Ron? Are you okay? Are you crying? Oh, you’re gagging. Come on, stop it!” Granger’s voice slowly died down behind him as Draco ran down the stairs to the Dungeons. No, wait, he couldn’t walk down that corridor. There were at least three bunches of mistletoe down there. The one on the left had only one. That he knew of. And he’d have to walk through half the castle again. But one was still better than three. Okay then.

As he walked, Draco kept his eyes to the ceiling. He wouldn’t let himself get into another situation like that. Yuck! Weasley! Disgusting! He’d probably never forget it. November 17th, the day he had kissed Ron Weasley. Why? Why??

He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and began running when he spied the bunch of mistletoe he had been dreading. Luckily, no one else was in the corridor. Heaving a sigh of relief, Draco slowed down when he suddenly heard footsteps approaching.

“Potter!” Draco narrowed his eyes. “Wandering the corridors all alone?”

Why couldn’t it have been Potter? Why couldn’t he have bumped into him under the mistletoe? This really wasn’t fair! Draco was doing everything, but still he had the worst luck! This was just infuriating! And honestly, it was kind of Potter’s fault he’d had to endure kissing Weasley. If Potter had been with his stupid friends, it might have gone very differently.

“Why aren’t you with the rest of your little trio? Tired of being the third wheel?”

Potter blinked.

“I am, actually.”

“Oh.”

This was no fun when Potter was being honest.

“What about you? You look a bit ill. Are you okay?”

Draco tried very hard not to think about his lips touching Weasley’s. This would probably haunt him for a very long time. Instead, he rolled his eyes.

“How sweet. Nice to know the Saviour cares.”

Potter was about to respond, when his gaze fell to the ground.

“What’s that?”

Draco followed Potter’s gaze and almost choked. Was that mistletoe? Growing, actually growing out of the cobblestone while they were standing there? But mistletoe usually grew on trees!

“You can’t be serious,” Draco muttered. This was insane. But… he was with Potter. This would be the perfect opportunity to steal a kiss without having to reveal his feelings for the stupid git. “Ugh, can this day get any worse?” Draco moaned. Yes, yes, act like this is the worst thing that could have happened right now! He watched as Potter slowly examined the plant.

“Is that…”

“Yeah,” Draco said, trying to sound as displeased as possible.

“Oh.”

There was a brief silence, in which they both avoided the other’s eyes.

“Well, since we’re not exactly standing under it… Let’s just ignore it,” Potter babbled. Draco’s heart fell. This was his opportunity! Why was Potter being so difficult?

“We can’t just ignore it. It’s bad luck,” he mumbled. He felt so stupid. Potter was probably seeing right through him. From the corner of his eyes he saw the Gryffindor shuffling his feet, while his eyes were still glued to the ground.

“That’s just some stupid superstition, isn’t it?” Potter said with an arched brow.

“It’s not,” Draco insisted. “People… people have died after ignoring it.” It was utter bollocks. And Potter probably knew it. Draco considered just walking away. Potter was right, they weren’t standing under the mistletoe, so the rules probably didn’t apply here.

“Oh.” Potter paused while Draco suppressed the urge to kick the mistletoe.  “Well, if it’s that serious… we better not risk it.”

Draco’s head snapped up. What? Had Potter just… What?

Keep reading

BTS replaced you. - pt.3

[pt.1] [pt.2] [pt.3] [pt.END]

Originally posted by hobixing

“Ah… they did? What did they say?” Hongseok passes my phone to me as I read the messages I haven’t opened for the last few hours. Seeing them still hurt because it still feels insincere, as if I was alone in this friendship. 

“Are you going to reply?” Hongseok asked while taking one of my hand in his from under the blanket. It was barely even 6am and I wasn’t down for the drama just yet. 

“Not yet, let’s have cake.” I say smiling, and dragging him with me over to the kitchen still with my phone in one hand.

I took the cake out from the fridge and set it on the table between Hongseok and I. He placed a candle in the centre and lit it, turning the light off before he took his seat. The room was dark and the winter sun hasn’t yet risen and so all that was left to light up the room was the moonlight seeping through the gaps of the blinds and the orange candlelight. A few seconds after, the room was filled with his voice - he sang happy birthday and I couldn’t help but wear a smile on my face. His voice was pretty and I honestly couldn’t thank him enough for doing all this for me. When the short song came to an end we both clapped, I clapped to applaud his singing and he clapped to applaud me fo coming to life twenty-one years ago.

“Make a wish Y/N.” 

“Wishes don’t come true Hongseok.” 

“I’ll make sure this one does, as long as it’s realistic and I can afford it.” He laughed as I smiled. 

“There’s nothing I want.” 

“But there is, I can tell.”

“I just want a shoulder to lean on and not be a burden to people.” 

“Done!” I laughed at his enthusiasm.

“I’ll always be your shoulder to lean on, and you’re never going to be a burden to me.”

“It makes me feel as though I’m replacing them because that’s exactly what they said to me five years ago.” 

“I’m not asking to take their place silly, but just know that I’m always going to be here for you.” He grabbed my hand again from across the table and rubbed his thumb on the back of my hand. I wanted to cry in this moment because I was so grateful of him and his words. 

“I don’t deserve someone like you in my life.” 

“Idiot, I told you this already. You deserve more and better but you’re stuck with me now.” 

“I like the sound of that though.” We both laughed and enjoyed one another’s company. Until my phone dinged, showing a notification from the group chat. I un-muted the conversation but didn’t think they’d be up to say anything.

Keep reading

Don’t Freak

Originally posted by kings-of-my-heart

Steve Harrington x Reader

Requests are OPEN

PART II | PART III | PART IV | PART V

PART I


“You’re really trying to tell me that Low is David Bowie’s best album to date?” Jonathan nodded, opening the brown paper bag that held his lunch.

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Y/N’s eyes widened, then shoved her lunch tray to the side. She leaned on her elbows, her hands in front of her.

“I could name five other Bowie albums, easily, that blow Low out of the water,” Jonathan took a bite of his sandwich, then motioned to Y/N.

“Go on then,”

Station to Station,” Y/N’s right index finger began to point to the fingers on her left hand to count. “Aladdin Sane, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars -obviously-, Diamond Dogs, and my number one favorite Bowie album of all time,” Jonathan mimed exactly what Y/N was saying with her, “Hunky Dory.” Y/N took a deep breath as she finished, then shoved a french fry in her mouth. “It’s like I don’t even know you sometimes,” She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders jokingly, “But, I mean, Low is still a great album,” That made Jonathan chuckle. A body suddenly appeared on the bench next to Y/N, scaring the life out of her. She had one hand on her mouth and the other over her heart to stop herself from screaming. Y/N turned her head and saw Steve Harrington with a dumb grin on his face.

“Tonight?” He looked at Y/N expectantly.

“What?” Her pupils were still wide from the shock, and the word sounded pretty dumb coming from her.

Keep reading

Man Up

by reddit user Pippinacious

When the bookstore at the mall put up its help wanted posters, I jumped at the chance to put in my application. Between being an avid reader who had practically lived amongst the store’s shelves in high school and a broke community college student taking a semester off to save money, it seemed still customer service.

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Can’t go to Interactive Introverts because your parents said no/will say no? This is for you!

Hello everyone, my name is Paige, and I am really freaking good at convincing parents of things. I grew up with two very strict and overprotective (though loving and awesome) parents, and so I’ve had the perfect life experience to give you this advice. Buckle up.

Are you a fan of Dan and Phil, who is super excited about their oncoming tour, Interactive Introverts, but your parents won’t let you go? Here is how to convince them you should. (Most of these also work for other special trips, such as going to a concert.)

Please reblog this so it can reach all the people who need it :D

Step-by-step guide under the cut!

Keep reading

Blue Blood

“Prince Jimin was born with blue blood. His coronation is rapidly approaching, but there are two requirements he must fulfil before becoming a king. He must have the skills to fight in battle, and he must have a Queen with blood as blue as his. You, a member of the royal guard, are assigned to teach Jimin the ins and outs of combat. You are not scared of death, of blood, or of battle. What you are scared of however, is falling in love with Jimin, the one man your blood decrees you can never have.”

pairing: jimin x reader
genre: royalty ausmut, angst
wordcount: 26k

❀ 1 / 9 of my oneshot requests ❀

** warnings: this is angsty!, jimin is a light dom, slow burn, violence, mentions of blood, heavy themes, lots of drama, character death

Keep reading

BTS replaced you. - pt.2

[pt.1] [pt.2] [pt.3] [pt.END]


Originally posted by fairybcby

After the conversation we shared I muted the conversation, there was nothing I wanted to hear anymore and nothing I wanted to do but sleep. I was curious of what they had to say, if anything at all but at the same time I didn’t want to know because they probably don’t think it’s a big deal they’ve missed my birthday three years in a row. I sat at my dining room table, staring at the candlelit cake in front of me. It was their favourite, strawberry flavour and just looking at it reminded me of them and how they won’t be here again to share this too large cake for one with me.

For so long I believed that we were best friends, that we were inseparable and nothing or no one could come between the friendship we shared because we had been through so much with one another. But I was wrong. They let her get between us. I don’t want to be a selfish brat that I’m seeming to be, but they just forgot me so easily after spending a week with her, wouldn’t that hurt you? They used to be the first people to say happy birthday to me, even if they were away they’d never forget to FaceTime me at 12am - but this year, even though we were supposed to celebrate, they didn’t call at 12, they didn’t send me a text. Because they forgot, and they left me waiting for them like a fool standing outside the restaurant in the winter cold holding my own birthday cake. They promised. They promised that they were going to celebrate with me this year for sure, they even made sure they had no schedule clashes today so that we could celebrate, but just like that they forgot and I was replaced with someone new, someone better.

People looked at me funny, people who walked into the restaurant, had their meal and came back out to see me still standing there alone - they all looked at me with pity in their eyes. ‘That girl must’ve got stood up’ must be what they were all thinking. Yeah I was stood up by my seven best friends. The entire week they’ve been hanging out, the entire week they’ve dismissed me. ‘If it was important we would have remembered’ ‘Clearly wasn’t all that important’, that hurt to say the least, it only told me how much I didn’t mean to them, making it clear to me that they don’t need me in their lives anymore because they have someone new, someone that let’s them have the personal space that they needed and I understood now. I was only ever thinking of myself and what I wanted. Maybe they didn’t forget, maybe this was their way to tell me that our friendship is over. 

I blew out the candle without making a wish, wishes don’t come true. I’ve wished for the same thing the last two years and each following year I end up getting disappointed. I crawled into bed and went to sleep, eyes slightly wet from crying. But a few hours later, I heard my phone ring; I picked up without even checking the caller ID. 

Keep reading

The Point

Originally posted by cxhragrove

Billy Hargrove x Reader

Request: Billy angst

AN: Hi. Hello. I’m just going to leave this here and bury myself in my backyard. 

PART II


“You have third period free, right?” The boy that Y/N was partnered up with in chemistry, Chris, was standing next to her locker. He nodded. “I’ll meet you at the library tomorrow, then? See how much we can get done. God, I just hate how Mrs. Lewis just piles these things on us as if we have nothing else to do,” Y/N switched the books she had in her hands for the ones needed for homework that night.

A ruckus down the hall caught Chris’s attention, but Y/N knew who it was. Chris looked over Y/N’s shoulder. Y/N rolled her eyes, getting ready for the interaction. Chris sighed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? We can go over the homework, too. I’m sure I’ll have some questions,” Chris started backing away as Billy and his friends got closer.  

“See you tomorrow!” Y/N called out to Chris. He gave a wave and turned around down the hall.

“Don’t leave on my account, Williams,” Billy yelled down the hall, his voice booming. Chris ignored him and turned down the connecting hall that would lead him to the parking lot.

“Hey! I’m talking to you, Williams!” Billy’s voice turned menacing as he and his friends made their way after him. Y/N grabbed Billy by the back of his jean jacket, trying to hold him back.

What are you doing?!” Y/N screeched at Billy. Billy whipped around, cornering Y/N at her locker. He slammed his hands on either side of her head, making her jump.

Keep reading

Je T’aime, Mon Cher Eddie

For @time-for-tozier who came up with this idea, I hope you like it!!

Eddie watched as the clock’s minute hand moved towards the number 12, making a ticking noise as it wet round. He was so fixated that he jumped when the bell rang, the cue for people around him to pack up and leave the room.

He slammed his yellow note book shut and shoved it, and his pencil, into his backpack, before running out of the classroom to meet up with the other losers.

He sprinted down the hallways, bumping into several people and nearly tripping twice, before he reached the door. He swung the door open and walked to the bike rack around the side of the school.

“Hey Eddie,” Ben called to him as he walked over.

“Hey guys,” Eddie took in the positions of his friends. Mike was sat on the ground, fiddling with his bike, it kept breaking. Ben was sat on a bench about a meter away from the bike rack, a book resting open on his lap. Beverly was sitting on her bike seat, hands already gripping the handlebars as if she was in a hurry to go. Bill and Stan were stood next to each other, however, Eddie noticed, much too close to be considered normal. And Richie, well, he was being his usual self. He was hung upside down on one the metal bannister of a nearby stair case, dark hair brushing the ground.

“Eds! You finally arrived!” Richie near shouted bouncing his way back over to the group. “Can we go now?”

The losers collectively rolled their eyes and grabbed their bikes, climbing on and cycling towards the woods.

Their was a field there that they had claimed as their new hangout. It was completely secluded and surrounded by trees. In the spring, the ground was covered in daisies, Richie loved it, and prided himself on making “the best daisy chains in Derry”. In the Summer and Autumn, the grass was green and soft. And in the Winter, the Loser’s decided to just hand out at each other’s houses instead, with the careful avoidance of the Tozier, Marsh and Kaspbrak residences.

They were all laying on the grass. Beverly had her head resting on Ben’s lap as he sat cross legged playing with her hair. Stan and Bill were laying shoulder to shoulder, Mike was spread out like a starfish, and Richie was resting his head on Eddie’s stomach.

They were peaceful.

“Richie, I couldn’t help but to notice that you were in my French class this morning.” Bev spoke up, breaking the silence.

She knew there had to be a reason behind his sudden appearance in the class. She knew that she took it so that one day, when she was old enough, she could move to France and never look back. She knew that Stan’s parents wanted him to focus more on his religion. She knew that Ben was already fluent in the language and didn’t need to take a class. She knew that Bill found it too hard because of his stutter. She knew that Mike and Eddie simply didn’t want to take the subject, seeing no reason for it.

So what was Richie’s reason?

“You take French?” Eddie chuckled, sitting up. “Since when?”

“Well, obviously since this morning dipshit. I already know how to say some stuff. Such as,” Richie cleared his throat. “Ta mère aime ça dans le cul.”

Bev’s head shot up. “Beep Beep Richie.”

“W-what did he say?” Bill asked.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” Bev whined. The rest of the group, bar Richie and Ben, nodded. She sighed. “He said “your mother likes it up the ass.”

Groans of “Richie”, and “really?” We passed around as Richie smirked.

“Hey Rich? Do you know anything that’s not rude?” Eddie asked.

“Umm yeah,” Richie replied. “Eddie, tu as de beaux yeux.” (You have beautiful eyes)

“What does that mean?”

“Ahh, my dear Eddie Spaghetti, that is a secret.”

“Don’t call me that. Bev? Can you tell me what he said?” Eddie asked Beverly, who was staring at Richie with a strange look on her face. She stared for a few more moments before turning to Eddie.

“Sorry Eddie, I don’t know what he said.”

————

The next morning Richie bounced into school with too much energy for 7am on a Tuesday.

“Good morning, mes petits choux.” He smiled, leaning his chin on Eddie’s head.

“Richie, if I may ask, why did you just call us ‘your little cabbages’?” Ben questioned.

“I did it because I felt like it.” Just then the bell rang for class.

“Um, Richie? Can I talk you you for a sec? In private?” Beverly asked. Richie nodded, he loved the girl like family, they both dealt with similar issues in their home lives. “Do you like Eddie? You know, as in like him?”

Richie blushed. “No, where did you get that idea?”

“You’re always hugging him, you never stop staring at him, and yesterday you told him, in French, that he had beautiful eyes.”

“You said you didn’t understand what I said!”

“Well I lied, I guessed that you didn’t really want me to tell him, otherwise you would have simply said it in English.” She sighed. “Richie, what’s the real reason you started taking French class? You know I’m not going to judge you.”

Richie sighed. “I’ve been dealing with so much at home and then I come to school and he,” Richie leant back against the wall. “He makes me feel safe, and, I dunno, loved I guess? I just wanted a way to tell him how I feel and explain what’s happening at home. But it was way too painful to say it all in English, so I thought it’d be easier to tell him in another language.”

“Oh, Richie.” Beverly wrapped him in a hug. “That’s so sweet.” Richie gave her a half smile, and they began walking to their first class, which happened to be French.

———-

Eddie was just dozing off when he hears the taps at his window. At first he was scared that it was a leper, or a murderer, but he was assured it wasn’t when someone spoke up from behind the glass and curtains.

“Eddie? You awake?” Eddie pushed he covers off and got out of bed, he walked over to the window and opened the curtains.

The person at his window was Richie.

“C-can I come in?” Eddie could see the tears making their way steadily down Richie’s cheeks. He pushed the window open as quietly as he could and Richie clambered in.

“Rich, are you okay? What happened?” Instead of the answer Eddie knew he wasn’t going to get, Richie clutched him in a hug, openly sobbing.

Eddie guided Richie over to his bed and lates him down so that Richie’s head was resting above his heart. He never got answers, but he knew how to calm his best friend down. He liked listening to Eddie’s heartbeat, to confirm he wasn’t alone, and he like it when Eddie ran his fingers through his hair.

That’s exactly what Eddie was doing when Richie stopped crying and mumbled something.

“I’m sorry? I didn’t catch that.”

“Je t'aime. S’il te plaît, ne me quitte jamais.” (I love you. Please never leave me.)

Richie fell asleep soon after that, Eddie had no idea what the sleeping boy had said to him.

Over the next few months, Richie refused to stop talking in French whilst around Eddie. Beverly noticed he would constantly be blushing whenever Richie spoke the foreign words, in a thick accent. All of the Losers agreed that it was The only good impression Richie Tozier had ever done. During these months, Bev had to put up with Richie’s constant pining for Eddie.

She would always catch him calling Eddie a ‘magnifique petit tournesol’ (gorgeous little sunflower) or telling Eddie that he ‘avait l'air si mignon dans ce pull’ (looked so cute in that sweater’. He even said ‘Mon Amour.’ (My love) a few times

She was fed up of it. She knew without a doubt that Eddie had the same feelings towards Richie. So, during their 5th period geography class, Bev gave Richie a stern talking to.

“You need to tell him.”

“What?”

“Eddie! You need to tell him how you feel! I’m like 99% sure he reciprocates your feelings.”

“Yes Bev, but what about the 1% hmm?” Beverly rolled her eyes, they spent the rest of the lesson in silence.

A few weeks passed and Richie and Eddie found themselves alone at Loser’s Meadow, as the gang had dubbed it, watching the sun set.

“Eddie, I’m about to ramble in French and you just need to listen, you don’t need to understand.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Oh, okay.” He secretly loved it when Richie spoke French, however, he’d never admit it.

“Vous ne comprenez pas un mot que je dis en ce moment, et honnêtement? Je pense que c'est une bonne chose.

(You don’t understand a word im saying right now, and honestly? I think thats a good thing.)

J'avais besoin d'un moyen de pouvoir te dire ce que je ressens sans que tu me détestes.

(I needed a way to be able to tell you how i feel without you hating me.)

Parce que je sais que tu ne m'aimes pas en retour. Qui pourrait m'aimer de retour? Je suis un morceau de merde sans valeur.

(Because I know you don’t love me back. Who could love me back? I’m a worthless piece of shit.)

Vous voyez, vous n'avez absolument aucune idée de ce que je dis. En ce moment, tes joues sont d'un rouge vif avec combien tu rougis, et ton sourire n'a jamais été aussi beau.

(See, you have absolutely no idea what I’m saying. Right now, your cheeks are bright red with how much you’re blushing, and your smile has never been more beautiful.)

Tant que je continue à sourire et à parler, ce regard restera sur votre visage. Je ne veux jamais que tu arrêtes de sourire.

(As long as I keep smiling and talking, that look will stay on your face. I never want you to stop smiling.)

Ok, maintenant pour la vraie merde.

(Okay, now for the real shit.)

Eddie Kaspbrak, je t'aime depuis que nous avons neuf ans. Vous avez toujours été mon refuge, pour les nuits où il n'est pas sûr de rentrer à la maison, ou j'en ai fini avec le monde.

(Eddie Kaspbrak, I have loved you since we were 9 years old. You have always been my safe haven, for nights when it isn’t safe to go home, or I’m just done with the world.)

Vous êtes la seule personne à qui je fais confiance. Sauf ça. C'est la seule chose que vous ne saurez jamais, parce que je sais que vous ne ressentirez jamais la même chose.

(You are the one person I trust everything to. Except this. This is the one thing that you’ll never know, because I know you’ll never feel the same.)

Je t'aime Eddie Kaspbrak, je t'aime.

(I love you Eddie Kaspbrak, I love you.)”

Eddie giggled. “What the hell did you just say?”

“Oh, um, just a very detailed description of your mom’s vagina. I can retell it in English if you’d like?”

“Beep beep Richie.” Eddie said whilst laughing, as Richie sat admiring him, a wistful expression on his face.

A few days later saw Richie climbing into Eddie’s window at 3am with a bust lip and a black eye and tears streaming down his cheeks.

Without having to ask, Eddie pulled him into his bed and wrapped his arms around the crying boy. Richie wouldn’t stop muttering something in French until he fell asleep.

“Je t'aime.” Eddie made himself a promise that he’d look those words up as soon as the library was open tomorrow.

As soon as Richie left the next morning, Eddie pulled on a Red sweatshirt, one of Richie’s that he’d left behind years ago, and some shorts. He ran out of the house, making sure to kiss his mother goodbye before he left, and raced to the library.

He walked in and asked the receptionist to point him towards the ‘languages’ section.

He grabbed himself the first French dictionary he could find and flipped straight to the ‘T’ chapter, he already knew that ‘Je’ mean ‘I’.

Eddie gasped when he read the meaning. He dropped the book, causing a loud thud, and ran straight for the exit. He clambered back onto his bike and sped down the streets. He knew where Richie would be. The out of use highway bridge. He would always go there on a Saturday to smoke, listen to The Smiths and get away from his Parents.

Eddie threw his bike down as soon as he arrived, taking a puff from his asthma inhaler. “Richie?” He called out.

“Eddie?” He looked up to see Richie sat on the bridge’s ledge, feet swinging backwards and forwards. Eddie began to run up the hill towards the dark haired boy, whilst said boy stumbled down towards him. They met halfway.

“Eds, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting your mother or something.”

“Je t'aime aussi.” Eddie stated, not even bothering to tell Richie off for calling him Eds.

“What?” Richie looked unsure of what he’d just heard.

“Je t’aime aussi.” Eddie took a breath. “I love you too.”

Richie wasted no time in pulling Eddie in by his waist, connecting their lips. Eddie fisted his hands in the collar of Richie’s shirt. They pulled away a few moments later, in need of air, and rested their foreheads together.

This felt right. This felt like home.

13.05 coda

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The sun sets early this time of year. The sky starts to change color as Dean pushes the Impala along towards Meadows’ house of horrors; the violent orange of the sunset gleams across the chrome lining the windshield and gilds everything over. Dean glances away from the road for a second when the glare hits him in the eye. Sam had his head turned towards the window, but he looks over when he feels Dean do so, too.

“So, uh,” he says, clearing his throat. “You ended up at the Clam Dive after all.”

Dean’s mouth quirks for a second, but it doesn’t last. “Mm.”

Sam taps his fingers against the door. “Worth the four and a half stars?”

Easing the Impala around a corner plunges the driver’s side into shadow. Dean ticks his head away from the light. “Don’t let the name fool you. That is one classy joint.”

Sam scoffs. “I’m sure.”

Dean doesn’t reply. The sun dips lower on the horizon.

“So, you’re. You’re working through it, then,” Sam says, unable to stay quiet. “Business as usual. It’s… working.”

Dean clenches his hands on the steering wheel and hopes that Sam doesn’t notice. The first stars of the night have started to come out, visible just beyond the stained-purple clouds.

“Yeah. See? Totally fine.”

He doesn’t tell Sam that most of the time he spent at the Clam Dive was at the bar. He doesn’t tell Sam that he only sat by the stage once he was drunk enough to start seeing double. He doesn’t tell Sam that he didn’t have any fun even though he tried all his old tricks and every cheesy line in the book and even pushed some of his boundaries a little farther than usual. He doesn’t tell Sam that he drove the Impala full-blown wasted and didn’t even care because why would it even matter if he ended up –

He doesn’t tell Sam about the death sentence he keeps in his duffle bag. He doesn’t tell Sam that he tried to crawl into bed once he got back to the motel but the thought of doing so made him so lonely that he’d actually rather sleep on the floor.

Point is: there’s a lot he doesn’t tell Sam.

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[M] Innocence

Originally posted by herthealbum


A/N: Hi guys~ It’s Admin Sunshine here, as you may know I’ve been changing my fictions and today I’ve changed this fiction; I hope you guys will enjoy <3

Pairing: Jimin x Female Reader

Genre:  One Shot, Roommate AU!, Slightly fluff, Smut

Words Count : 3.5k

Warnings : [M] for Mature Content, this fiction is pure smut.


“It’s been six fucking months already” You said out loud as you scrolled down on your phone to keep yourself busy. But it was the truth; it’s been already six months since you had sex, you were horny and your roommate’s existence didn’t help you at all. When you took a deep breath, you started to think about your roommate; he was already sleeping and you were excessively horny. In fact you were getting even hornier than before and you couldn’t hold yourself any longer—you just wanted to cum.

But there was only one problem on your way to masturbate; the walls were thin and you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold back your moans. As you started to play with your clit you let out a soft moan, when you were wet enough; you’ve decided to slide a finger inside of your pussy. But when your moans started to get loud you tried to bite your lip—you tried to push second finger but your pussy was tight and you decided not to add another finger. As you kept fingered yourself, you started to cry out loud and at this point you didn’t care if Jimin aka your roommate heard you or not. You couldn’t help but think about him as you fingered yourself—he would fuck you real good if you asked him to do, but he didn’t know this side of you; you never showed how kinky you were in front of him. When you paced up the speed, you let out a big whiny-moan without noticing it. As soon as you came all over your finger, you started to catch your breath.

When you took a deep breath, you started to think about Jimin and the all those sex that you could have with him; you wanted him more than anything.

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just the two of us

Summary: You’re quite the shy one, but Steve always manages to get a few words out of you, no matter what.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Someone tell me to do my college work, and stop writing fics! who am I kidding, though - I can’t stay away from this angel. Also, I am not very good at writing shy readers, apparently :/ I will do better with the next shy reader fic I’m writing, I promise! enjoy xx | masterlist

Originally posted by franciscastle

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Counting Orgasms

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Type: Smut, overstimulation, multiple orgasms

Plot: You learn your lesson, a lesson about never lying. To never lie about how good your boyfriend is in bed.

Originally posted by wonhobe

I couldn’t do it. Desperate moans, fingers working vociferously at my clit. Images of my boyfriend painted in my mind. I just could not do it. No matter what I tried. A bath, a sexy movie, listening to my boyfriend’s music. Nothing worked better than his touch. And he deprived me of it recently. I just couldn’t cum without him.

I was driven mad by this. Entirely desperate for such an unobtainable release. I knew he was the only one whom could grant this, and I resented him so much for denying it. Sure, he was busy. But how busy can a man be to deprive his girlfriend of her own basic needs? I needed to vent before a fight brewed. So, I did just that.

“Y/N… Why don’t you just talk to him about it?” My best friend confided in me. We were face timing, and I was begging for a solution to such a peculiar problem.

My eyes widened, “No! Are you kidding! If I were to talk to him about this he would just write me off as being horny and annoying, not sexy and needy.”  I snapped suddenly at my friend, my own sexual tension, and frustration beginning to escape through words.

Her eyes stared at me for a moment, a smile erupting on her face, “You are so sexually frustrated Y/N.” She exclaimed, laughing to the point of tears welling in her eyes.

I rolled your eyes, finding a small laugh bubbling up within you due to hearing her’s. I sighed, “It’s not funny, okay? He hasn’t done anything with me for, like, 2 weeks. I’m dying over here.” I whined, pouting at the joke of it.

My friend snickered, “Is it because you can’t get him up anymore?” She asked deviously, making me gasp immediately.

“What? No! That’s not it at all!” I defended myself, taken aback by her question. I had wondered about this for the past 2 weeks, but soon enough came to the conclusion that it wasn’t my fault, but rather his.

“Then why on earth would your boyfriend not want to fuck you?” My friend challenged, wiggling her eyebrows. I laughed with her at this, shrugging my shoulders.

“I don’t know… He says he’s busy but when he is home he doesn’t do anything. I’ve been trying so damn hard. It feels like he doesn’t want me.” I relished in my own pity party, a frown overtaking my expression.

“Aww, Y/N… I’m sure it’s not your fault! You’re beautiful, okay? I bet he just feels awkward because he knows he isn’t fucking you right.” At this, I laughed. I laughed so hard that I snorted, catching both me and my friend by surprise.

“Come on though, Y/N… Spill it, he isn’t good in bed, is he? Because if he was, he’d be fucking you every night. Hell, if I were gay I would too.” My friend announced, making my laughter never cease to give up, “Come on! Just admit it.” She egged on.

“Okay, okay. I mean, the last time we did anything he couldn’t even make me cum.” I chimed in. My friend’s eyes lit up at this, “I knew it! He can’t make you cum, can he?” She exclaimed.

I went with the sarcasm of the situation and nodded, laughing with her, “Nope. He can’t.” I lied, making her raise her fists and cheer, “I knew it!”

“I can’t?” Yoongi’s voice cut through the happy aura of the environment, my friend going silent, holding back laughter from the awkward situation.

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Clingy – Harry Styles

I read a really good “Clingy” imagine the other day and it kind of inspired me to write my own lol. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: You unintentionally go through Harry’s texts where he said you were being clingy.


You were laying on Harry’s bed, binge watching Stranger Things when his phone started to vibrate next to you. You glanced over and noticed that Jeff was calling but you brushed it off thinking that Harry will call him back when he gets out of the shower.

But then he called a second time. Then a third time. Then texted when he wasn’t being answered.

You got up with Harry’s phone in your hand and walked into the bathroom.

“Babe, Jeff keeps calling and texting you. Do you want me to answer him?” You said, peaking your head in. You stood close to the door, trying to prevent any cold air from going in the steamy bathroom.

“Huh?” Harry asked, he poked his head out of the shower curtain and you smiled at the sight of him squinting his eyes from his wet hair that fell in front. “Oh, um, yeah that’s fine. Just text him that I’ll call him back in a few minutes. I’m almost done.”

You mumbled a quick “ok” before he disappeared back behind the curtain. You closed the door and walked back to his bed, opening his messages.

“Hey Jeff! It’s Y/N here, Harry’s in the shower right now but said he’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Almost instantly the typing bubble popped up and he replied back, “Ok cool, thanks for letting me know!”

You swiped down on the screen to hide the keyboard and was just about to turn off his phone when you saw your name in the conversation.

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Case Closed (Jungkook x Reader)

Admin: Candi
Request: Can i request a rough jungkook smut? Thx btw.. – anon”
Fandom: BTS
Member/reader: Jungkook x Reader
Genre: Smut, Lawyer!AU
Warnings: Smoking, language, hair pulling, daddy kink, spitting, slapping, choking
Words: 3.6k
Authors note: O this is a treat for all you jungkook stans, hope you enjoy it and lemme know what you think. Thank you! Also I ain’t a lawyer so don’t judge my case scene lmao.

           As a child you always thought you’d end up being a vet, then during your teens you wanted to be a tattoo artist since you entered the rebellious phase at that stage. Throughout the years you never saw yourself as a lawyer but here you are, your first case was happening today and you were going against the most respected and feared lawyer in the company. His name was Jungkook and he always won every case. You wanted to kick your boss in the teeth for putting you up against Jungkook for your first ever case but you were also quite flattered knowing that your boss thought you’re good enough to go against Jungkook.

           The case has been going on for a few months, your client was a victim of identity fraud and Jungkook was defending the person who did it. If the judge had any common sense you’d easily win the case but it’s not about that, it’s about knowledge and confidence, it’s much like having a debate; the more facts you put forward the more likely you’ll win.

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self-control (part 1) - steve harrington

Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Angst, some light cursing.

Summary: You’re in charge of homecoming but you don’t have a date.

A/N: OK, honestly I’m so proud of this you guys. It was like ten pages on a google docs. I hope you like it. I know a lot of people want a part 2 to twist of fate, and that will most likely happen pretty soon! But I want to do this as a series as well so we’ll see. Anyway, hope you all like it. I love the feedback, by the way, so tell me what you think!

Gif is not mine, belongs to the owner.

Originally posted by nwetss

The sound of the phone ringing woke you up. Startled, you ran a hand through your hair and looked around before registering where you were. Home. In bed. Things were normal again, right?

Wrong. It was two a.m and the phone was ringing. Why did your parents agree to get you your own line? You quickly flicked on your bedside lamp and then picked up the receiver. “Hello?” You mumbled barely coherently, slowly sitting up in bed.

“Y/N?” It was Steve. You could tell by the way he pronounced your name. Just slightly different than everyone else did. Like it had more meaning coming from his mouth.

You let out a long yawn. “Yeah, Steve. It’s me. What’s going on? Why are you calling me at-“ you glanced over at the clock on your night stand. “Two thirteen in the morning?”

“I haven’t been able to sleep at all,” he said, and you could hear the tiredness in his voice, all groggy and deeper than usual. “Let me apologize. Let me make it up to you. I fucked up, okay-“

“Fucked up is putting it lightly,” you cut him off, your words sharp like daggers. “I don’t want to talk to you about it. Especially not now.”

Steve sighed on the other line. You could almost picture him running a hand through his hair. You hated that you knew him that well. “Go to sleep, Harrington,” You said, and didn’t wait for a response before hanging up the phone.

You tried to go back to sleep but your mind kept drifting back to a few days ago, when everything starting going to shit.

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green-eyed monster

request: Could you do a Steve x reader where Billy hits on her and it forces Steve to admit his felling for the reader? Maybe some like cute fluff??

warning: some cursing

word count: 1,534

“Damn, look at the legs on that one.”

Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the guy standing a few feet away from him. Billy Hargrove was the resident bad boy at Hawkins High School. He was obnoxious and a total asshole.

The two of them clashed on multiple occasions. It was clear that they would never ever be friends and Steve was perfectly okay with that. He didn’t want to associate himself with a guy like Billy.

“The things that I would do to that beauty.” Billy whistled making a couple of guys around him laugh.

Steve had been tying his shoes and trying to ignore the stupid shit coming from Billy’s mouth. He looked up to see the poor girl that had gotten Billy’s current attention.

He was shocked when he saw that it was you.

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