to ask how I was doing and how my mom was

anonymous asked:

Eddie, your mom took asking about Richie to stay for a few days pretty well.. maybe you could ask if Richie could stay semi-permanently maybe? Explain what’s going on. If she says no just say “if this was me you know you’d want me to stay somewhere safe, too”

My mom took it 200% better than I expected her to.. however, I’m not sure how much of that had to do with my aunts being there and how much was just the pure shock of everything that happened.

And I would love for Richie to stay at my place in a more official way, and I can try asking my mom after the 3 days she gave me are up, but if I am honest I do not think it is very likely that she will agree to it. I also do not think that Richie moving into my house and my mother knowing about it would be the healthiest thing for Richie, because my mom would not really tolerate a lot of Richie’s humor and just his overall personality and the amount that Richie would have to censor himself would not be fair… 

I also think trying to tell my mom something along the lines of ‘if this was me..” would just start a whole thing about twisting my words to say that I think she would do something like that to me.

I mean, if Richie wants, I can always ask my mom and see what happens. Maybe she’ll agree to him staying longer or at least until we have everything sorted out more officially for where Richie will be staying, but I just think it is already amazing that she agreed to how much she has and I do not want to push my luck.

- eddie 

i mean im an adult, i guess, if that’s the word for it. a lot of things i used to care about i just say “Fuck It” and let go. 

but it’s incredible to me that there’s still so many passages to my soul. how just a group of teenagers looking at me and laughing makes my teeth hurt. how someone’s comment sends me back to high school bullying. how i am constantly asking myself are they even really my friends? 

i don’t know. i never throw myself birthday parties because my worst nightmare would be that nobody shows. i just wonder if there’s ever a time that your last insecurities let go. i’ve only ever found that kind of freedom at the honey lips of tequila. i want to be brave at two pm on a sunday. i want to actually not care what they say. i want to be the kind of witch that laughs through the burning.

i don’t know. i hope i’m learning.

anonymous asked:

uh was it just me or was Dean like turned on when Cas said 'I'm your Huckleberry' and ISN'T THAT SLANG FOR 'I'M THE MAN YOU'RE LOOKING FOR'????

*snickers*

Firstly (everyone’s screamed about this already; I’m still DYING fyi), Dean and Cas watch movies together (or Dean makes Cas watch his favourite Westerns like a cool, cultured hubbie should do). 

God, just look at Dean’s lowkey scandalized face saying “Babe! How dare you suddenly forget the MOVIE Tombstone!”

(Meanwhile I’m laughing at Cas’ casual, vague summary of it because you have no idea how many times my mom talks like this when my dad would ask her if she remembered a certain action movie [he’s an action movie buff]. To my mom, the action genre consists of two things: guns and blown-up cars. That’s it. They’ve been married for 25 years.)

Secondly (of course), Cas watches these movies because Dean wants him to despite not having a fetish/obsession with Westerns and cowboy paraphernalia like Dean does. Happy Dean = Content Cas. 

Thirdly:

Yep–popularized by Tombstone, the phrase is 19th century slang for ‘I’m the man you’re looking for’ according to Urban Dictionary (or ‘the man for the job’).

Dean: *fondly confused/flustered* *swallows* *licks lips*

Here, Dean’s voice catches on a gasped inhale as he shakes his head (both in disbelief and amusement) at Cas’ endearing antics.

UGH. Textbook married.

Maybe once I gather my wits I can write proper meta alongside flailing but we’ll see–like I said, there’s barely any sub left in that text, if you ask me  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

 gif credit: x x

BONUSES:

  1. Dean had a good snore-ful sleep after sleepless grieving nights post-Cas return.
  2. Cas knows Dean sleeps like “an angry bear”. AN “ANGRY SLEEPER…LIKE A BEAR”.
  3. Cas (who “doesn’t sleep”) makes Dean coffee in the mornings.
  4. OFFSCREEN DESTIEL ROUTINES IN GENERAL.

*What Cas is actually thinking* “Nice job, Jack. Now I must make your father coffee again. I didn’t resurrect myself for this.” 

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

Sugiyama Noriaki interview for “Otomedia” Magazine October 2017

Before we start I want to clarify 2 things:

1) I translated only Uchiha Family stuff (it’s about 80% of all interview). Maybe one day my laziness and self-confidence in my translating skills will let me translate it till the end (or someone else translates it) but for now only SasuSakuSara parts.
2) English is not my native language so if you see any grammatical, lexical and other mistakes or just don’t understand some parts feel free to write me. 

This story tells about the final of the difficult situation that has developed in the Uchiha family!

 Was Sasuke (even in his own way) as nervous as Sarada was? While emotions are increasing, the strength of their family’s bond warms the heart. Is it really because of the nervousness in the 23 episode he doubts whether he should poke Sakura’s forehead? We asked about this seiyuu of Sasuke, Noriaki Sugiyama.

“Without words he said to Sakura: Are you really willing to do something so embarrassing in front of your daughter?” It was funny to watch him teasing her (laughs) It seemed to me this shyness was very much in Sasuke’s style. Honestly, after the end of the recording, Naruto’s seiyuu, Takeuchi Junko, said to me: “No, I don’t believe that he could do otherwise!” (laughs), probably Takeuchi-san is right. “ 

We talked a lot with Sugiyama-san about Sarada’s Story. After reuniting with his family, Sasuke again goes on a journey. However, there is bento in his hand made by his family therefore even if they’re apart, their family’s connection is felt even more. 

- How it was to play Sasuke as father and husband?

In "Boruto” Sasuke Uchiha appears to be different from what we’ve seen before. So I often wondered how I should play him. Of course, in «Naruto» he and Naruto sorted all things out, his character somewhat “softened,” but if you change a lot the nature of the character, in the end you will ask: “Who is it?” (laughs). Therefore, to prevent this from happening, I had to think carefully how to express this softness in Sasuke’s style, how would he show it? I believe that it is unlikely that Sasuke would say a lot of gentle words to his daughter … at first glance, Sasuke could look indifferent, given his violent past, but I’ve felt that he certainly thinks about Sarada. And I thought it would be very difficult to balance.

- There was a scene where in his words to his wife Sakura you could feel a “trust”.

There is a reason why Sasuke was absent from the village, that is why I think that during their meeting you can feel how much their relationship changed, especially from Sasuke’s side. Although the atmosphere is similar to the one that was before… how to say it more precisely, there is a mutual understanding between them. At least, I felt it. 

- What’s about Naruto?

 In my opinion, one of the most notable changes was his attitude towards Naruto’s words. After they sorted all things out, instead of cutting Naruto off with words «it’s wrong!» Sasuke rather thinks: “Well, most likely this idea also can be right”. If you compare with the former Sasuke, you can get the impression that in his mind he’s indulgent to Naruto. I think, instead of “a little softened” (about a small change in Sasuke) it would be more correct to say: “Ah, he seems to have become a little kinder.”
  I think if Sasuke was too kind to Sakura and Sarada, Sarada wouldn’t have had all these worries. The image of Sasuke should have turned out to make Sarada think: “Does this man understand what kind of relationship should be between the father and the child?” And this is also difficult.

 - Sugiyama-san, what is your impression of Sasuke’s daughter, Sarada?

 I think with the way she thinks and her insight she’s just like Sasuke. And love. In the Uchiha clan, “they are penetrated with love, that’s why they try to avoid this feeling” and Sarada also inherited it with the blood of Uchiha (laughs). In my opinion, the child is very cute. From her mother Sakura, she gets both love and trust, but you can see how much she wants to know the truth, she want everything to be clarified. Here, the blood of Uchiha has proven itself especially strong.  

- Is there any scene and phrase in the story of “Sarada Uchiha” which really impressed you?

There are a few, but the most exciting of them, when Sarada asked: “Do you think your feelings are well and truly connected to Mom?”, and when Sasuke replied: “Because we have you, Sarada,” what surprised her. Even if he doesn’t say a lot “Sarada, Sarada”, his concern for her is evident. Sasuke’s position can be understood, because if he were in Konoha, it could bring danger to Sarada and Sakura, so he wanted to eliminate all those who sought revenge on him in the village or outside of Konoha. In the village, he has people dear to him, to whom he can’t return, and he strongly feels that he must protect them from the outside.


Translated from Russian to English by me
Translated from Japanese to Russian by SasuSakuTeam. Мастерская переводов

You Bet

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

Request(s): 

  • Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader … Honestly IDK what you wright. I am just a sucker for Steve The Mom™ and his bromance with Dustin. Would love for Dustin to have a sister or cousin or something and the Reader getting roped into Dart shenanigans. PLZ PLZ PLZ PLZ PLZ
  • Can you do an imagine with Steve Harrington, were the reader is really badass, and kills one of the demogorgons, and steve starts liking her?

Word Count: 3038 (suuuper long I kinda hate it)

Song: No song for this I kinda just blasted the whole soundtrack for two days straight

Summary: Kinda exactly what the requests say but if you didn’t read it it’s essentially Steve being Mom Of The Year and you being Dustin’s badass older sister that Steve falls for after seeing her in action while fighting the demodogs.

Warning(s): Violence, swearing, I think that’s it????

Author’s Note: I’ll do a smutty part two if y’all want it like I’ll probs do it anyway let’s be for real

Keep reading

Thanks Mom

Prompt: You’re Steve’s gf and the golden girl of Hawkins High School … and you aren’t quite as good at taking the high rode as your bf when it comes to Billy Hargrove. 

Warnings: Innuendo. Language. Threats. Basically 25% trying to kill Billy; 75% fluff with Steve’s gf being the Mother of his Children 

You shoved you’re books in your locker just in time for Steve to sweep you off your feet. 

“Hey, good lookin’.” He smiled. 

You rose an eyebrow and restrained a laugh. “Hi Gorgeous. Why are you so chipper?” 

He sighed, toying with the hem of your shirt. “Well I’ve got this crazy hot date tonight.” 

“Ugh, I know, she’s so out of your league.” You grinned. “How do you cope?” 

“Well, you know I’m good in the sack.” He said in a matter-of-fact tone.  

You tossed your head back in laughter, checking to see if anyone had heard him, before leaning closer. 

“You do have that going for you.” You murmured, pecking him on the lips. 

“Yeah?” He kissed you back, and didn’t pull away this time, pressing you against your locker.  

“Harrington. Leave room for Jesus, will you?” Ms. Lockhart barked from her classroom door. 

You pulled away from him and giggled, the slightest hint of blush in your cheeks as you peeked over Steve’s shoulder.  

“Meet me at my car?” Steve said. 

“Why don’t you meet me at mine, sweetheart?” Billy Hargrove strutted by the two of you, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. “I’d love to give you a ride.” 

Steve took his hands from your waist to face Hargrove, but you grabbed his hands and put them back on your hips, looking Billy in the eyes. 

“Stick to what you’re used to, Hargrove. We both know your car isn’t built to handle a girl like me.” You said evenly. 

Tommy, who flanked Billy, let his mouth drop, a giggle escaping. 

“Shut your mouth.” Billy said, with a side glance at Tommy, and then looked back to you, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Well that’s one hell of a bluff, baby. Why don’t you call me, if you’d like to prove it?” He winked at you and then looked at Steve, “Or if you just get bored.” 

You and Steve both watched him as he made his way down the hallway. 

“Wow.” You said. “What a dick.” 

“Yeah, he’s been after me for a while.” Steve shook his head, “All this alpha male stuff about who runs this school or whatever. It’s bullshit, don’t worry about it.” 

“I won’t.” You said, then Steve looked at you.

“‘We both know you couldn’t handle a girl like me’?” He rose an eyebrow, a smile on his face. 

You bit your lip. “Yeah, was that a bit much?”  

“Babe, that was so hot.” 

You giggled as he pressed you up against the lockers once more, his lips on yours. 

Mister Harrington!” 

He broke away. “Sorry Ms. Lockhart.” He said, still looking at you. “God, you’re wonderful. Do I tell you that enough?” 

“No, not nearly.” You smiled. 

“Jesus Christ. Why don’t you just cream your pants now, Steve?” Came Dustin’s voice, with Will, Lucas, Mike, and Max in tow behind him. 

“Fuck off, man.” Steve took a step back. You noticed a slight blush in his cheeks, and it made you smile. 

“Aw, did I hurt your feelings?” Dustin said. “No really, we can all turn around, give you your privacy in this public school hallway-”

“Hey, I’m the one with the car. So clearly you didn’t hurt my feelings, or your ass would be biking home.” Steve griped, grabbing your hand as you all made for the parking lot. 

“Sorry about that again, by the way.” Max said sheepishly. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Lucas reassured her. 

“Yeah, she can’t help it her stepbrother’s the Antichrist.” Dustin added. 

“Billy Hargrove? What’d he do?” You turned to look at them. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Steve look at you, and then to the kids. 

“It wasn’t a big thing, really.” Steve said. 

“Basically, he tried to kill us.” Dustin said, ignoring Steve’s pointed looks. 

You stopped on the school’s front steps and turned. “He did what?” 

“Tried to run us over on our way home from school a couple weeks back.” Mike said. 

“I was arguing with him, he was just trying to freak me out.” Max added, rolling her eyes. 

“How-” You stopped, putting your hand on your hip and looking at them. “Exactly how close did he come to killing you?”  

They all glanced at one another. 

“Babe, are you …” Steve began, but you turned on your heel and started down the steps at a fast pace. “Hey, Y/N, where are you going?” 

“Do you still have that tire iron in your trunk?” You asked distractedly. 

“Um … what?” Steve looked at you, bewildered and alarmed. 

You opened his trunk, grabbed the metal instrument, and headed off in a different direction: Billy’s car. 

“Hey. Hey!” Steve called after you, but Dustin grabbed him when he made to go after you. 

Billy sat in the driver’s seat, Carol getting ready to climb in the passenger’s side. He saw you approaching, smiled, and leaned out the window. 

“Bored already, baby-” 

But he hadn’t finish his sentence before you’d lodged the tire iron in his left headlight. The crash attracted the attention of everyone in the nearest vicinity as glass scattered on the pavement.  

“Hey! HEY!” He threw his cigarette out and kicked open the door. 

Billy Hargrove was not a person to be taken lightly, but you only moved closer, stepping up beside the hood of his car. 

“You make a single move, Hargrove, and I will lodge this tire iron in your windshield.” You held it up threateningly. He paused, looking at you in alarm and muted rage. “Where EXACTLY do you get off trying to kill a bunch of kids, huh?” 

“What the fuck are you-”

“Don’t remember that, shitdick?” You raised your weapon higher. 

He glanced at it and then sighed. “Look, Sweetheart, I was just trying to teach my kid sister a lesson, okay? Nothin’ personal.” 

“I don’t give a fuck.” You snarled, leaning forward. “Those kids over there? They’re mine. If I see you so much as take a step in their direction your car will be the least of your problems. I will beat your fucking ass, do you understand me?” 

He watched you for a moment, and then scoffed and shook his head. “Alright, whatever. I get it. Just get the hell off my car.” 

You started to turn and then turned back, putting your hand on his door so he couldn’t shut it. He stopped and looked at you. “And just to be clear, you don’t run this school and neither does Steve. I do.” 

You released his car, turned on your heel, and marched back to the kids, tire iron still hanging from your right hand. Dimly, you heard Billy’s speakers turn up as he tore out of the parking lot. 

“Alright, Y/N!” Mike grinned. 

“Dude, he was so scared!” Max said incredulously. 

“God, Steve, you’re fired. Y/N’s our new Super Mom.” Dustin said. 

You put the tire iron on the hood of Steve’s car and your smile turned sheepish when you finally looked at him. 

“What the hell was that?” He asked, bewildered. 

You shrugged. “He could’ve killed them. We’ve got enough aliens and government conspiracies to deal with without some douche trying to mow them down on the street.”  

“God, I am so hot for you right now.” Steve grabbed your arm and pulled you against him, making you giggle and the kids let out a chorus of hurling noises. “You are the new Wonder Mom, I can’t beat that.” He said.

You pressed a kiss to his lips and grabbed the iron, “We can co-parent. Wonder Dad.” 

Epoch

Epoch (m) a period of time in history or a person’s life, typically one marked by notable events or particular characteristics.

Words: 11.3k

Genre/Warnings: smut, language and angst

Pairing: Reader x Jungkook

Summary: When Namjoon breaks up with you, you’re left wondering what to do. Realizing you’ve been unhappy with your life, you go off to Hawaii. In Hawaii, you meet a cute desk clerk named Jungkook who saves your ass. (Based off of Forgetting Sarah Marshall)


You were waiting for your boyfriend, Namjoon, to come over. He had just gotten back from New York, where he had a few concerts. You worked with him, you were a lyric writer and producer. He had called you last night, saying, that he would be getting in early and wanted to see you.

Keep reading

the bet || fuckboi!peter parker x reader

 oi, I don’t want to make this too long but…. IM BACK smh I’ve been so m.i.a. but that’s literally because I’ve been so busy and have bad writer’s block. Smh this probably ain’t even gon be good. But like I worked hard on it to have meaning and stuff and I rlly hope you guys enjoy it. I just want you guys to get straight to the story because you’ve waited so long for it and I’ve been teasing it sm smh. Just read it hope you enjoy muthertruckers😬

tags : @running-outta-time @i-just-wanna-run-hell @munalisax @themyscirahs @sammie-blogs @geeksareunique @violentlybarnes @geeksareunique

words : 11,197

warnings : fuckboi!peter parker, mild cussing, various mentions of sex, angst, ned needs a hug, peter needs a hug, you need a hug, everyone needs a hug

Masterlist

——————–

Originally posted by peter-and-mj


”I bet you your whole Goddamn rep that you couldn’t get weird ass mcgee over there to sleep with you; you know, take her v-card. Before. We. Graduate.”

The words spoken smugly by one of Peter’s multiple friends at the lunch table caught his attention as quick as you could say, “Spider,” The statement challenged him, making him smirk at the smug boy before looking over his shoulder, almost savagely, at the fifteen year old girl huddled in her own little corner of a table in the back, her face morphing as she read through numerous pages of the thick book she held in her hands.

Watching the scene, Peter laughed and shook his head before turning back the group at his table, them looking deeply invested as to what would happen next, he spoke lowly, “Watch me.”

Keep reading

movies [ steve x reader ]

premise: (name) is dustin’s sister and they decide to watch movies all night. what (name) doesn’t know is that dustin invited steve, too

a/n: this was supposed to be shorter, like to paragraphs short, but…
also, requested by:  Hey I loved your Steve x Reader where reader is Dustin’s sister’s fic. Can you do more of it please? ( @queeeenofscots​ ) / can you plz do more dustinssister!reader x steve imagines??? thanks ily <3 (anon)

if you like my stuff and want to support me, don’t forget to treat me to a KO-FI! take part in the 7K followers gift HERE!

MASTERLIST.

A family night. Well, more of a sibling night. Mom is out of town with a couple of friends of hers (Mews death had really taken a toll on her). You and Dustin are left to your own devices, which means movie marathons and junk food all night. Falling asleep is also a no go because you swore to draw on his face with a sharpie if he even closed his eyes for a second. The same goes for you, of course. Granted, for being seventeen you sure can be childish sometimes. But you can’t really blame yourself for that, or wanting to spend more time with your brother. The two of you had always been close, but you drifted away when you grew into a real teen. Naturally the Demogorgon business brought you two together pretty quickly and neither of you intend to lose touch again.

Dustin picks between a few horror movies you had rented earlier that day as you heat up the popcorn, “Hey, (Name), how do you feel about Halloween?” Dustin asks from the couch.

You make a face, “Not good.”

“Perfect. We’re watching this one.”

You surpass the urge to roll your eyes and you grin and take the KFC you ordered out of those meek paper bags. As you turn off the lights in the kitchen, with one hand holding plates and the other grasping a big bottle of soda, you move into the living room as Dustin sets up the movie, “Just try not to scream.” Dustin says, fiddling with the VCR.

“Pretty sure you’ll be the one that’s screaming.”

The doorbell rings and makes a shiver shoot up your spine.  Instinctively you look at the looming front entrance and the dark night pooling behind it. You glance at Dustin but he doesn’t even look your way, mumbling something about ‘Stupid fucking movie why don’t you work?!’ so you set down the food and slowly make your way to the door. Right, maybe turning off all of the lamps so only the TV screen lights up the room with its ghostly bleak light and that weird scratching noise wasn’t the best idea. But it’s not like a Demo-dog can ring a doorbell, right?…Right?

Scolding yourself for being paranoid, you swiftly unlock the door and with a deep breath open it fully. The cool air pinches your cheeks red as you meet eyes with deep brown ones. Something clicks in your mind and you can’t help but grin at the visitor, recalling all those moments he had pulled you away from the mission just to talk or be close to you. Steve Harrington stands on your porch with a lazy smile on his lips and his hands shoved into his pockets. You make a mental note to thank Dustin later, because you sure as hell didn’t invite your crush over.

“…I was told there will be KFC.” Steve states.

“Who gave away this information?” You wonder, stepping aside to let him in. With a light shrug he enters and beelines for the couch.

“Hey, Dustin!—And I never reveal my sources, (Name).”

Soon you all squeezed on the small couch. Dustin in one end, you in the middle, and Steve in the other. After fighting over the popcorn and the abundance of puns Steve kept saying, a hush fell over your small group as the movie started. You were immediately sucked in and a bit terrified. You never could handle scary movies. And now that you literally had the opportunity to live out a real life scary movie with the Demo-dog business, you still find scary movies, well, scary. You pull the warm blanket closer to your lips as you are ready to hide behind it at any given moment.

Steve notices your terrified expression, and on a different occasion he wouldn’t find it as cute as he does now. You lean into him a bit when Michael Myers shows up. Something swells in his chest, something light and fuzzy and he can’t help but smile a little. For a full minute he ponders should he do the old ’yawn-put-my-hand-around-her-shoulders’ shtick. He conducts that would be pretty stupid and awkward so he just pretends to shift in his seat and drapes his arm over your shoulders anyway. You look at him. He pretends that nothing happened and gives you a playful glance.

Half-way through the movie you grew comfortable enough to rest your head on his chest. Steve’s fingers played patters on your skin, played with your hair almost subconsciously, but his eyes never once left the screen. When the clock struck 1 o’clock and the screen cut to black – the movie was finally over and you can take a breather, - you and Steve had to surpass a laugh at Dustin’s snoring. In hushed murmurs the two of you moved and Steve took up the job of picking Dustin up and bringing him to his room. With the blanket wrapped around your shoulders you waited him to return, and honestly, nearly swooned at how domestic he is.

Once he returns he shoves his hands into his pockets and looks around, almost as if trying to think of an excuse to stay. In lazy steps he approaches you and you have to bite down a smile, “I should…probably go now.” He says slowly, testing the waters. You flick your brows upwards.

“You sure?” You ask, “There are two more movies left.”

“You know, I always considered myself a patron of the arts so yeah, I say I could stay. With you. T-To watch the movies. If you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t. Trust me, I don’t.”

Steve makes quick work of setting up the VCR as you find a good spot on the couch. You fluff the pillows and can hardly contain the excitements that’s practically radiating from you. Now there’s way more space to move around, but he sits close to you and you throw your blanket on the both of you to keep warm, if that is even needed. Honestly, you just want to share something with him. Be as close as you can possibly be without going overboard with your feelings. You have a small hint that he may feel the same way, but then again, you don’t want to ruin this – whatever this is you have with him – by tuning all mushy and sappy and kissy. Not that turning kissy would be a bad thing, now that you really consider it.

The movie starts in bright flashes and loud sounds and you frown softly. You feel Steve’s arm drape over your shoulders again and you turn your head to him. A kaleidoscope of colors shine on his face – it almost appears mesmerizing – as the thought of the two of you being completely alone finally sinks in. A spark lights up your chest and fuels your whole body with the need to kiss him. Your gaze roams from his eyes to his lips and back, an action he notices and smirks at, as you lean in ever so slightly and asks, “…Patron of the arts? Really?”

“I lied.” He grins, “Sorry.” He murmurs, leaning in and capturing your lips in a long overdue kiss.


end.


forever tags: @tozierswheelers @princesspeach212@ohblue@phillipas00@ichigothewisewolf@alittlebitofmagic@vanillaladyuniverse@onehellofdevilotaku@itsallinyourimagination @whatshernamemaria@magical-spit @viixenbriiar @averagewemo@sams-my-babys-daddy @jordysgirl87 @iamhereyoudidthis @thehuntchback@badbitsh13@headcanons-for-losers @orchiddarling @michelangelui@hugeroftrees @pupylvr4905@gcnnyweasleys@nerdysandwichqueen @oomylifeiseternalsufferingoo@cheshirecatbyul @broken-pieces

*   —  —   VERY SERIOUS RIP VINE SENTENCE STARTERS

‘  when will you learn? when will you learn that your actionS HAVE CONSEQUENCES!  ’
‘  can i get a waffle??? can i PLEASE get a waffle!!!  ’
‘  go suck a dick, suck a dick suck a motherfucking dick  ’
‘  you better stop! biTCH STOP  ’
‘  do you ever like wake up and do something and you’re just like what the hec– fuck is goin on  ’
‘  what’s good, brah you don’t know me! you don’t– WHAT IS GOOD! YOU DON’T KNOW! YOU DON’T KNOW ME! ’
‘  it’s summer i got my hat on backwards and it’s time to fucking party  ’
‘  anyone ever tell you you look like beyonce?  ’
‘  I LOVE YOU, BITCH. I AIN’T EVER GONNA STOP LOVING YOU BITCH  ’
‘  BITCH I HOPE THE FUCK YOU DO YOU’LL BE A DEAD SON OF A BITCH, I TELL YOU THAT  ’
‘  and they were roommates!  ’
‘  oh my god, they were roommates  ’
‘  oh my god, i love chipotle chipotle is my liiiiife   ’
‘  this bitch empty YEET!!!!  ’
‘  WHERE ARE THOOOOOSE  ’
‘  THEY ARE MY CROCS  ’
‘  bitch disgusting  ’
‘  yeaaah. yeAAAAAH.  ’
‘  so no head?  ’
‘  THIS IS WHY MOM DOESN’T FUCKING LOVE YOU!  ’
‘  i’ll kill you. i’ll kill you. i’m not even worried about it.  ’
‘  ahh, fuck. i can’t believe you’ve done this  ’
‘  aHH STOP! i could’ve dropped my croissant!  ’
‘  what’s up me and my boys are going to see uncle kracker  ’
‘  give me my hat back, jordan!  ’
‘  do you wanna go see uncle kracker or no!?  ’
‘  i sneezed! oh, i’m not allowed to sneeze?!  ’
‘  look at all those chickens  ’
‘  i smell like beef  ’
‘  i gotta go home cause i forgot to… vacuum my room  ’
‘  actually, megan, i can’t sit anywhere. i have hemorrhoids.  ’
‘  is there anything better than pussy? yes! a really good book  ’
‘  mom, i’m peein on myself  ’
‘  sorry, i’m on the toilet. i hope the ice cream don’t melt, bitch  ’
‘  honestly i don’t remember, i was probably fucked up. yeah, i was crazy back then  ’
‘  I WON’T HESITATE, BITCH!  ’
‘  just shut up and die slowly, okay?  ’
‘  two bros chillin in a hot tub five feet apart cause they’re not gay!  ’
‘  mother trucker, dude! that hurt like a butt cheek on a stick!  ’
‘  i said WHOEVER THREW THAT PAPER, YOUR MOMS A HO  ’
‘  you remember one time i liked you? GOOD! cause it never happened  ’
‘  if your name is junior and you’re really handsome, come on raise your hand  ’
‘  i’M WASHIN ME AND MY CLOTHES, BITCH! I’M WASHING ME AND MY CLOTHES  ’
‘  waddup i’m jared, i’m nineteen, and i never fucking learned how to read  ’
‘  whAT THE FUCK IS UP, KYLE? NO WHAT’D YOU SAY? WHAT THE FUCK, DUDE! STEP THE FUCK UP KYLE  ’
‘  oh my god why can’t you just take the fricken compliMENT  ’
‘  is that a wEED? i’m callin the police!!!  ’
‘  yo, drink this vodka down the hatch c’mon  ’
‘  it is wednesday, my dudes. aaaaAAAAAAH  ’
‘  there is only one thing worst than a rapist… a child!  ’
‘  get to del taco, they got a new thing called fre shavocado  ’
‘  *to the tune of ghostbusters* i’m an adult virgin  ’
‘  hi my name is tre, i have a basketball game tomorrooooow  ’
‘  babeyou’reafuckingbitchiwantyoutogetthefuckoutofmycarcauseiwannabreakupwithyou i fucking hate you   ’
‘  todays forecast we can clearly see that somebody got me fucked up. FUCKED. UP.  ’
‘  whAT’S UP FUCKERS  ’
‘  FUCK YOU, THAT’S WHY  ’
‘  he needs some milk!  ’
‘  you are my dad. YOU’RE MY DAD! boogie woogie woogie  ’
‘  yEAH NO SHIT, HONEY  ’
‘  oooooh my boy going to prom. fuck it up! fuck it up! fuck it up!  ’
‘  hey, how you doin? i’m doing just fine. i lied. i’m dying inside  ’
‘  honey, you got a big storm comin  ’
‘  i wanna fucking DIE  ’
‘  road work ahead? uh yeah i sure hope it does  ’
‘  the yo-yo master did not answer, he just kept on yo-ing  ’
‘  welcome back to me screaming  ’
‘  you know sometimes i think to myself what are you waiting for you dumb stupid fuuuuuuck!  ’
‘  do you ever shut the fuck up?  ’

Emmett’s Top Surgery Guide

Alright so a few people have asked me to do this so here we go-

(I hope I covered everything)

What do I need to prepare for?

  1. Get clothes together. You will probably not have the energy or motivation to change, so have some sweat pants and a few shirts. I recommend zip up hoodies because buttons are too hard sometimes. Really, zippers are the best. You can deal with buttons 2 weeks post op when it’s easier.
  2. Prepare food. This is especially important if you’re gonna be alone a lot or if you’re stubborn like me and don’t like asking for help. Cooking is gonna be hard, so get easy things. Ramen, other microwaveable soups. You can do it stovetop too if it’s not too high for you to reach (I’m 5'2" and it was a bit hard for me). Chips and pretzels and crackers and cookies are also good because it’s tasty and good to just have by you for if you get nauseous and need a quick bite or if you jsut can’t make yourself get up. I know it’s not healthy but let yourself live a little. I also bought some chicken tenders and stuff like that to throw in the oven because do have a freezer that’s on its own so I could reach all the stuff. I love coffee but the coffee pot was too far back for me to reach and the mugs were way too high so I bought some of the cold pre made Starbucks and dunkin donuts coffees. Also have money to order food possibly depending on how long you’re laid up and what you can do.
  3. Have things to drink. A good water bottle or Styrofoam cup is important. Having water and tea and other liquids is important because the pain meds and antibiotics can dehydrate you and you will be a bit dehydrated from surgery in general. Hydration can also make you feel more energetic too.
  4. Queue up some movies and shows. Netflix (or recorded shows or on demand shows or dvds or blue rays or whatever) is amazing. I watched a lot of parks and rec and also paranormal survivors. You’re gonna have a lot of time and you’ll be sleepy and it might be hard to focus so easy things to watch are good
  5. Have a place to sleep. I slept on a recliner in my living room for about 2 and a half weeks post op. I did try to sleep in my room but I kept rolling over and it hurt so much. I wasn’t able to sleep on my stomach a whole night until about 3 and a half weeks post op. The recliner was amazing. If you don’t have that, lots and lots of pillows to put on 3 sides of you work too. My headboard has shelves built in so I couldn’t use pillows to prop myself up, but my grandmother got a surgical wedge for me and putting blankets and pillows around that helped when I moved back to my room
  6. Have help scheduled. If you’re alone most of the time, have a visiting nurse or friend or family member come check on you and help you out for a couple hours. Having someone with you all day is ideal, but you don’t have to, and I know that’s not possible for everyone.
  7. Have a mental health care plan. This is important whether you’re mentally ill or not. Top surgery brings up a lot of emotions and many people experience mood swings and depression after surgery. This happens because surgery is trauma to your body, even if it’s good. Your mind is trying to understand why there is missing flesh and all of that can be overwhelming. The pain meds don’t help with that either.
  8. Get a long phone charger. As long as possible. You’re gonna be sitting and laying in some weird positions and you’ll be bored out of your mind, so you’re gonna wanna have your phone. If you don’t have a long phone charger or can’t get one (or if you’re breaks 1 day post op like mine did) you can use an extension cordd or a power strip to make it longer
  9. Have other things to do. Maybe a book or a sketch pad or coloring or clay. Just something else to keep you busy for when you are tired of Netflix
  10. Trim your body hair. I suggest trimming your armpit hair a little, if not all the way, because the ace bandage will pull on it and it will be uncomfy. Also if you do anything with your hair elsewhere, do it pre op
  11. Also if you have pets that need their habitats cleaned, do that the day before surgery. I have fish, a turtle, a hermit crab, 3 geckos, a guinea pig, and a dog. I changed bedding and cleaned tanks for all of them except the dog admit was worth it. It would’ve been way too hard post op.
  12. If you take any medication be sure to call the hospital and check if you should stop it or keep taking it. I stopped T and my vitamin supplements and all oral steroids 2 weeks before and you’re not supposed to take nay medication the morning of, but the hospital told me I could because it’s psych medication and I’m better on it than off

What do I do the day of surgery?

  1. Go to the hospital!! Your surgeon (or someone from their office) eill give you directions to the hospital and a list of what you need. I needed my ID, my insurance card, pre-op paperwork, and all of my meds. I ended up needing none of those things, but I was told to bring them so I did and I suggest you do the same.
  2. Anxiety is 100% normal the morning of. I was very anxious and so was my dad and we ended up screaming at each other. My way of coping with the anxiety was to text my partner, and I also Facebook live streamed a couple time sin the car (it’s 2 hours from my house to the hospital)
  3. When you get to the hospital go with the flow. I was called on my way and told to get there asap bc there was a cancellation. I told them that wasn’t happening because of how far I live and I was already on my way but I would be there in time for my surgery slot. When I got there, I checked in and everything was okay. Until they mixed me up with two seperate patients and I got really anxious. But my surgeon came to meet me and calmed me down and it was okay. They let one of my parents stay with me until I went to the OR which was also nice
  4. The OR is scary. There are a ton of people and the table is cold and everything is moving fast and you just lay there. I actually somehow felt calm though? I think I hit the point of being anxious where I was in stress nirvana and nothing registered anymore. I just breathed deeply and said that whatever happened was gonna happen and then they told me to keep breathing the oxygen in and that they were giving me the medicine to make me sleep.
  5. Rely on whatever you believe in and whatever helps you. I had play doh with me and my favorite stuffed animal in the car and I kept it in my bag at the hospital. That helped me stay calm a lot. I also am spiritual in the sense that I believe that things happen the way they happen and that’s that, and we should go woth it and tackle it as it comes. If you are religious, praying or worshipping however you like can help in the money’s and days leading up to surgery too.

What’s it like waking up?

  1. It’s weird. It’s really fucking weird. I was very sleepy and confused. I don’t remember a lot of it. I remember asking for my partner (they couldn’t be there because they had class) and I remember being sleepy. Apparently I asked for Adrian so much that my mom called them and I talked to them. Apparently i said that they are wonderful and that I’m in love with them (which is true) and tbh my parents still make fun of me for it. I don’t remember doing that at all. I also remember needing to per and the nurse asked me if I could get up or if I wanted a bed pan and I said I was gonna get up. I did, and I was so stumbley and dizzy. I remember getting confused about toilet paper and it took me forever. I also got tangled in the wires and tubes from the IV. This happened 3 more times while I was in the recovery room
  2. I also had a very hard time breathing. I was coughing and my oxygen saturation was in the 60’s which I not good. They gave me albuterol and oxygen which helped a lot.

Night 1 in the hospital

  1. I spent 1 night in the hospital. I know some surgeons do more, some do less.
  2. It was an interesting night. I was on a lot of pain medication and I was starving. I ate a lot of banana bread my mom gave me.
  3. My dad stayed the night with me which was also nice.
  4. Instated on oxygen most of the night until I was breathing better on my own with the help of a spirometer every hour
  5. The hospital however was not good about giving me my meds. Hospital are notorious for fucking up when someone should get meds. I take a lot of medication, mostly for psych stuff, and I absolutly need all of it. The one in particular they weren’t giving me was my anxiety medication, which also stabilizes my blood pressure. So of course my BP is high and they are asking why and saying they can’t give me my meds because it’s not in the system.
  6. So long story short I didnt get my meds but it was fine because it was only one day
  7. In the morning, I got to go home. They gave me one last dose of pain meds and I was ready for the 2 hour car ride back to my house
  8. Before I left however, my surgeon saw me and I got to see my chest. I didn’t expect to see it so soon. The only other time I felt so at peace was when I was high. I also got my drains out that morning because I wasn’t draining much so my surgeon didn’t feel like they were needed

Being home

  1. It is hard. I slept for the first 3 days most of the day. I was on a lot of Percocet. I needed it. I literally just slept on the recliner all day. I woke up to pee and to eat and watch a little bit of parks and rec.
  2. Speaking of peeing. The anesthesia basically stops everything and peeing is hard after surgery. It’s like you can’t make yourself do it, you just have to let it happen
  3. Also pooping. This is TMI but for the love of fuck have stool softeners because pain meds and antibiotics fuck that up and the last thing you need is a tummy ache along with your chest hurting. I took stool softeners in the hospital and when I got home and it still took me 5 days to shit. I know that’s gross but really, love yourself and buy stool softeners.
  4. Okay last bathroom thing I promise. Wearing underwear that are kinda tight is not a good idea. The elastic is gonna be too hard to pull down and you’re gonna get tired and frustrated. I know how absurd that sounds but that’s really how it is. I just didn wear any for a couple days.
  5. Every single thing is difficult. I was so weak I could barely lift a mug. Everything was really hard. I needed a lot of help.
  6. Post op you will cough and need to take very deep breaths. Your lungs are paralyzed during surgery and it takes time for them to sort their shit out once you wake up. I coughed a lot and I coughed up blood and it was gross. I also was at a very high risk for pneumonia so I had to watch that
  7. As the days went on it got easier. I could do more things. I could cook more, I could get up and do things. 4 days post op my partner and my friends and an old teacher came over and saw me and hung out which was nice. Having support is really important and honestly those people made me so happy.
  8. Having someone to help you is so important and also having someone to give you positive vibes and love and support makes all the difference
  9. Emotionally you might be a mess. That’s okay. Go with it. Make sure to take time to self care and do things you enjoy. And don’t be afraid to ask for help
  10. You will get back to normal in time. Recover at your own pace.

What it looks like

  1. When you first see it, it’s gonna be blue and purple and green. All bruised. The stitches look angry and jagged. And it only looks worse as the days go by for the first week or so. That is normal. Your chest went through a lot and it’s gonna bruise and look swollen and gross.
  2. The bruising does fade and the stitches will fall off (if they are the kind that does that). It’s gonna be weird. Don’t pull them, don’t fuck with them. I know how tempting it is, but just don’t.
  3. The swelling lasts for about 3 weeks, then it looks pretty much how it’s gonna look. Remember it’s not gonna be completely flat, it has to match your body
  4. Also you’ll have to wear a surgical binder for at least a month post op

Showering

  1. Wash up. Washcloth and soap or wipes are your friends. You can’t shower head to toe unless you wrap your chest with plastic wrap, which is really hard. I do not reccomend it. Wash your hair in th sink if you want, but only if you have help. Moving your arms like that is gonna be hard.
  2. Once you can shower head to toe, it’s amazing. And your stitches will fall off faster. It’s just really nice. But be gentle because your chest is still tender.

Things I didn’t expect

  1. I’m psychotic so I normally have some hallucinations, but the pain medication made it so intense that I couldn’t function. I thought I was being watched constantly, I was screaming and crying and panicking. It was really scary and really bad. If you’re psychotic, please keep this in mind and share concerns with your doctor. I stopped my pain medication early because of this.
  2. If you have body related trauma, surgery might bring that back up. No one told me this and I was not prepared. I was raped and I have trouble not being in control of my body. I wasn’t even thinking of that until I was on the table seconds before I fell asleep. I would never know what happened during surgery (aside from the obvious) and that scared me and tbh it still does.
  3. I didnt expect how hard it would be to sleep. I slept on the recliner in my living room for almost 3 weeks. I sleep on my stomach and I just couldn’t because it hurt so much. Once I was a month post op I could though and thats what I do now
  4. Infection. I was expecting it to happen as soon as i went off antibiotics but it happened around 3 weeks post op. The nurse at the surgeons office told me i was crazy and she was really rude so I sorted it myself but it was unexpected at that point.
  5. Emotionally it really was hard. Some of that was my mental illness but some of it was post op mood swings and depression. I knew it was a possibility, but I didn’t expect it to be that bad.

Okay so that’s it I think. If there is anything I forgot or if you have questions feel free to ask!!

Lowest of Lows | Steve Harrington

Summary; Steve Harrington is a sweetheart (as per usual) after the events in Season 2. Minor spoilers.

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

A/N; Yes, another Henderson!Reader Steve fic…I love the idea what can I say 🤷‍♀️… I’ll mix it up soon but for this idea it had to be done.

The fact that your cat, Mews died, didn’t really set in until a week following the events in the Upsidedown. You were still on edge, constantly in fear that things weren’t actually over. That Will wasn’t actually okay, and that he, or any of you really, could be taken at any second.

In your head there were much more important things to worry about.

When your mom got the cat a few years back you were sceptical to say the least. She got him as a coping mechanism for your dad leaving, at least that’s what you thought.

You weren’t big on animals, cats especially. You contemplated pretending that you were allergic, but your mom needed it.

Eventually the little fur ball wormed his way into your heart. You did have one, afterall, and he was freaking adorable. Your only complaint was the ample amounts of orange fur that you would always find all over your black clothes.

The loss of your feline friend didn’t even really take its toll on you, until all of a sudden on Friday night you were struggling to breathe from sobbing so hard.

Your nose was raw from rubbing it, and your eyes were practically swollen shut. To conclude; you were an utter mess.

Luckily for you, you were home alone. Dustin was sleeping over at Mike’s with the boys, and your mother was off doing who knows what. The fact that you didn’t have Mews to cuddle up to when you got lonely really took its tole.

Steve knew you were home alone, and from experience he knew how lonely it got. He wanted to provide company for you, even if it was just in the form of a phone call.

You, however, were too busy sobbing to pick up the phone. And that worried Steve. His mind couldn’t help but go back to the previous weeks and the danger that everyone was in. You especially.

So he did what any concerned friend would do, at least that’s what Steve told his self, and drove over to your house.

By the time he got there it was past 10 and pitch black out side. You were probably just asleep. He tried to reassure himself. Yet he hopped out of his BMW anyways and knocked on your door.

When you didn’t respond after a few seconds Steve decided to knock again, putting his ear against the door to listen in. He could hear your sobs and hiccups. Relief filled the man. At least he knew you were alive now, granted you were crying which still wasn’t the ideal circumstance.

“Y/N/N? Is everything okay in there?” He questioned from the other side of the door, his hand gripping the brass doornob tightly.

“Steve?” You questioned softly, not believing your ears. You were probably dehydrated from all of the crying. There was no way in hell Steve would drive all the way to your house just ‘cause you didn’t pick up the phone.

“Yeah, it’s me. Could you let me in?”

“Just go home, Steve. I’m okay. I’ll be okay.” You responded, pulling the fluffy blanket tighter under your chin.

“Now that doesn’t sound like a very good idea at all. I can’t leave when my best girl is down.” Steve grinned.

Even though you couldn’t see Steve’s face, you could imagine his expression. His eyes were probably soft as he watched the door for movement, a sympathetic smile painted on his lips.

“If you don’t answer the door I’ll find another way in. I’m a ninja, remember? I could do it.” He warned, taking a few steps back from the door.

“Have it your way.” He mumbled softly to himself, ready to kick the door down if necessary.

You stood up slowly, a small smile finding its way onto your lips at the theatric boy’s antics. Leave it to Steve Harrington to cheer you up in less then 200 words. Even in your lowest state.

You wiped your raw nose with a discarded tissue and threw it into the trash can, dragging the blanket behind you like a cape. Hesitantly you placed your hand on the door nob, unlocking the door slowly.

You pulled the door wide open to reveal Steve Harrington, looking a bit disheveled but of course still handsome. Even after his face was bashed in by Billy Hargrove he managed to look handsome.

“Were you about to try and kick down the door?” You questioned in disbelief, staring at the sheepish boy with wide eyes.

“I-I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He replied with a light blush. “And obviously you aren’t. What the hell happened to you?”

You scoffed. “Way to kick a girl when she’s down.” You walked back into the livingroom, plopping yourself back down onto the brown loveseat.

Steve followed closely behind, taking the seat by your side. “You know that’s not what I meant. You could have two black eyes and be missing your front teeth and I’d still find you fucking gorgeous.” Steve reassured, linking your hand with his.

“You’re gonna think it’s stupid.” You pouted, disconnecting your hands.

“Nothing that has you this worked up is stupid.” He reassured, placing a gentle hand on your cheek.

“Mews is dead.” Your eyes watered just thinking about it so you closed them, hoping to stop anymore tears from falling.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Steve whispered, pulling you into his chest.

You gripped his blue shirt tightly between your fists, trying to hold your sobs in. “I miss him so much.” You cried shakily.

“I know you do.” Steve ran his fingers through your messy hair. “It’ll get better. I promise.”


The next morning you were even more exhausted. Steve had left a few hours after your miniature breakdown. Your eyes were practically swollen shut, and your voice was almost gone.

When you left your bedroom you were greeted by the smell of pancakes, which admittedly made your stomach turn a bit. Your mother was an awful chef.

“Woah, you look like shit.” Dustin yelled, scaring you slightly. You hadn’t even known he was home yet. How late was it?

“Gee thanks.” You smiled sarcastically, flipping the boy off and walking in the other direction.

“I’m just being honest.” He shrugged as if he didn’t do anything wrong.

“Screw you, asshat.” You yelled back in response, slamming the bathroom door shut. You could use a hot shower for sure.

You were snapped out of your hot-water induced haze by your mom screaming your name. “Y/N/N! You have a visitor!”

“I’ll be right out mom!”

When you imerged from your bedroom, fully dressed in the most comfy pajamas you owned, you were met with your mother and brother crowded around Steve Harrington on the couch.

“I thought you said I had a visitor.” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t be jealous sweet cheeks, Dustin and your mom were just keeping me company while I waited.

You grinned at the brunette boy, ignoring your brothers groan in disgust. “Gross.”

“Oh, this one is a keeper, Y/N/N.” Your mom declared dreamily. You know that she knew you weren’t dating.

“I keep trying the tell her that.” Steve winked at your mom.

“For Christs sake, I’m sitting right here!” Dusting gagged, “Screw this.” He sighed, hoping up from his spot on the couch and running off to his bedroom.

You rolled your eyes at the boys antics. Your mother followed behind him except she went off back into the kitchen. Something about meatloaf (which you hated).

“Why don’t you come take a seat.” Steve grinned, patting the seat next to him softly.

You didn’t trust it at all. “What the hell is going on?”

You noticed that Steve was blocking something from your view as you sat down. He looked up at you with soft eyes and an even softer smile. One thing was for sure. He looked proud as hell of himself (though what was new).

“Close your eyes.”

You hesitantly agreed, tensing when you felt something light being placed into your lap.

“Okay, open them.”

Your gaze was met with that of the cutest kitten you had ever seen in your entire life. He was small enough to hold in one hand and had a soft black coat.

Yours began to water as you looked up at Steve. He had a pink blush on his cheeks and was watching you wide wide eyes.

“You-you did this for me?” You questioned shakily, a tear falling from your eye onto your cheek.

Steve nodded, reaching over to pet the kitten on his little head. “His name is Dart.” Steve winked.

“Dark.” You laughed, petting the tiny animal’s cheek.

“Do you-do you like him?” Steve asked you in a small voice.

“I love him Steve. Seriously. This is the sweetest thing anybody has ever done for me. Thank you.” You smiled, leaning over to embrace the man. He held you tight against his chest, neither of you wanting to let go.

You placed a soft peck of thanks on his cheek once you pulled away. You smiled at how warm the skin was from all of his blushing.

“I think you missed.” Was all Steve said as he leaned in again, this time tilting his head so he could properly lay his lips over yours.

“You Love Me?”

Title: “You Love Me?”

Pairing: Richie Tozier x Reader

Type: Platonic | Romantic | Familial | Other

Warnings: angst, profanity, mentions of aids, mentions of neglectful parents.

Prompt: F13: “you love me?” “You have no idea.”

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier.

You’d known him since your diaper days - toddling about together, plump thighs and sticky mouths, with both of your parents watching - your’s attentively, Richie’s listlessly, bored, looking as though they wanted to be anywhere other than watching their only child take his first steps.

Growing up, shared rattle toys became shared peanut-butter sandwiches or bright-coloured hairclips pilfered from your mother’s china dish. Richie loved to wear those hairclips, more than even you. He’d stick an assortment of them into his unruly web of dark curls, specks of pink and lime and chrome swathed in a brunette tide.

Richie had always been… spacey, almost. From the first time, in third grade, you could cross the road on your own (“be very careful, Y/n. Remember to look both ways, and stop and listen for any cars, and never, ever cross on a bend.”) Richie’s parents gave no such forewarning, and it was with cheery ignorance he sauntered right into the - albeit, quiet - road on Monday morning.

Your hand shot out and grabbed him by the collar in childish alarm. “What are you doing? We have to look both ways first!”

“Oh yeah,” he returned cheerfully. “I forgot.”

Brushing off your scandalised look, he pointedly craned his neck left, then right, and then took your hand in his and pulled you from the curb with no warning. You shrieked at him all the way over the asphalt, sure a car would come from nowhere and career into you. When you scrambled onto the sidewalk on the opposite side, you ripped your hand from a giggling Richie’s grasp.

“That wasn’t funny!” you said shrilly. “I told you, we have to be careful when we cross a road, else we’ll both be hit by cars!”

“What happens when you get hit by a car?” Richie countered thoughtfully, as the two of you began walking. You paused to think, chewing your lip.

“We end up flat as pancakes, and the police have to peel us off the road,” you eventually returned triumphantly, but if your aim was to deter Richie, it backfired.

“Cool! I want to be a pancake!” declared the boy enthusiastically, but you merely shot him a frosty look and dragged him through the school gates.

You were there when Richie got his glasses, and the teasing started. Sneering jibes of “four-eyes” were brushed off, kids asking how many fingers they were holding up deflected with ease. You worried for Richie, the sensitive soul that you were, but he only ever laughed about it.

You were there when his parents stopped calling when they weren’t going to come home that night. Before, it was apologetic phone calls (“Richard, sweetie, we’re so sorry, the most silly thing - your father enjoyed himself a little too much at the gathering, you know how he likes his currant wine, only we thought it best to stay at the hotel tonight.”)

You found him hunched up by the side-table where the phone stood. The house was dark and cold - the heating wasn’t on. Richie looked like he hadn’t moved in years, a statue gathering dust, huddled against the wood of the table. You flurried around, snapping the lights on, straining to reach the boiler on tiptoe and turning the dial all the way up before scooting over to Richie and crossing your legs anxiously.

“What’s wrong, Richie?” you inquired. “Where are your parents?”

A pure stab of shock flashed through you at his sudden sob. Tears dripped down his screwed-up face, and when he spoke, his voice trembled. “I don’t know.”

Eventually, after a few phone calls, it was discovered that they were in New Jersey for an open evening of his father’s business. Richie stared at you, stricken, as you solemnly recited what the lady on the phone had told you. “But why didn’t they tell me?” he whispered. You didn’t know the answer to that, so you hugged him instead. He smelled of apple suckers and loneliness.

You were there in fourth grade when Richie discarded his mismatched sweaters and jeans for bright eyesores of Hawaiin shirts and jean-shorts and colourful sneakers. He traded his thin, wiry black glasses for thick red ones that made his eyes looked three times their normal size (you noticed what a pretty brown those irises were, then). He was there when your love for rainbow ponchos and ballet skirts and bracelets with bells on them faded in favour of garish maroons and olives and navies, overalls and sandals and short-shorts. He still wore the hairclips, sometimes - the dark red one that was always his favourite. The rest he kept in a small pot under his bed, along with a photo of you and him grinning toothily in first grade, tucked safe under the velvet lid.

You were there when Henry Bowers, held back for the third year running, decked him for the first time. He called Bowers a “son of a motherless whore” - something impressive-sounding he’d overheard on TV - when he saw him laying into the tiny asthmatic kid from world history. It hadn’t ended well, and you ended up wiping the blood from his nose and lips and teeth. He smiled sheepishly as you scolded him, but his apology was real as the blood staining the tissues. And another plus - from that day, you had three new friends. Stuttering Bill and Eddie Spaghetti and Stan the Man. You five were united as outcasts, not exactly a force to be reckoned with but certainly one that required brief consideration before attempting said reckoning - or whatever.

And in fifth grade, Richie hit some sort of tipping point.

He grew louder and more foul-mouthed, more enthusiastic in his spastic movements, and far more inclined to disrupt a class or smoke in the toilets or flunk school entirely. Then the remarks filtered in - intrusive and suggestive, comments on your legs or your chest or your mom. It annoyed you to no end, but you could think of no way to make him stop. Every time you snarked him or socked him on the shoulder, it made him slightly wilder, a shit-eating grin cracking his face in two - until you remembered something you’d seen once on telly. A man and a woman, and the man talked a lot. Whenever he talked too much, the woman would press a big red button that made a loud “BEEP BEEP” sound.

So, when the next remark came - “Hey Y/n - you have any other hobbies, ‘cept for being my own personal bicycle?” - you stared him dead in the eye and countered solemnly, “beep beep, Richie.”

He gaped at you like a fish out of water, speechless for the first time in years. “Did - did you just - beep me?”

From then on, it seemed to work to shut him down.

But it wasn’t until four months ago - when Georgie went missing, and you met Bev and Mike and Ben, and IT chased normalcy from your life did things between you and Richie start to shift.

You wanted to be with him every second - he was the longest-standing memory you had, the boy with hairclips in his curls who watered your head like a flower the first day of second grade. He was the one who poked your cheeks and called you “bubs” and yanked your ponytail and drew obscene images on your hand in permanent marker. He was the one who spent 70% of his time sleeping round your house when the silence of his was unbearable, who held you sombrely when you cried and cursed at the toughest of bullies in your honour. Richie was, to say with a flair for the dramatic, your life - mapped out in dark hair and freckles and lime sneakers, your other half.

The first time you wanted to kiss him was after the blood oath.

You hissed in pain as you wiped your hands absently on your black shorts. Richie walked beside you, gazing at the jagged cut on his palm with avid interest.

“I swear you can get AIDS from doing shit like this,” Richie commented as the both of you reached your bikes discarded in the grass.

You huffed a laugh. “Probably - but don’t go telling Eddie that.”

“Please. He’d convulse and die on the spot,” Richie scoffed, swinging a leg over the leather saddle. “So, where’ll it be, sweetcheeks?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname. “I’m kind of in the mood to not think about anything. You wanna head to the arcade?”

Two hours later, pumped up on blue-raspberry Slushies with fingers cramping from the buttons and levers you’d been busy stabbing and yanking, you and Richie sat in a greasy-spoon café, snacking out of a shared basket of cheesy fries as the sky darkened outside the window.

“What d’you think’ll happen now?” Richie asked suddenly.

“What do you mean?” You swallowed your fries, reaching for your Pepsi to wash it down.

“Now IT’s dead. Kaput, bitch. No more missing kids, no more hallucinations, no more freaky fuckin’ clowns.” Richie heaved a sigh. “Cause I don’t think everything will just magically go back to the way it was.”

“No,” you mused in agreement. “No, you’re probably right.”

“‘Cept for us,” Richie beamed suddenly. “We’re inseparable, right?”

You grinned. “You bet, Tozier. For better or for worse.”

You looked at him - skin illuminated by the softly-glowing neon lights from the sign outside, the contours of his face sharply shadowed, hair a black, untameable mess as ever - and the urge to kiss him took you so fiercely, it almost knocked you off your chair. You swallowed your mouthful of fries too quickly in your shock, and one ended up dislodged in your throat. You choked and wheezed, and Richie unhelpfully thumped you on the back until you’d swallowed the damn thing.

“Jesus Christ,” he commented. “Y/n, if you wanted something to choke on, you could’ve just asked.”

A week ago, the comment would be met with an eye-roll; now it only made a flush climb your face, and you took a long swig of your iced Pepsi to ward off the redness.

The first time you actually kissed Richie Tozier was two months later.

It was midnight, but sleep troubled you not. You sat wide-awake, flat on your back and staring up at the ceiling in the darkness, when a sudden tap like long nails on wood made you start violently. Clambering to your feet, you glanced at your window; sure enough, a second later, a pebble hit the glass pane and bounced off again, and you sighed, picking your way over and opening it wide.

“Throwing pebbles, Romeo?” you called down teasingly. Richie glared up at you.

“Can I come up?”

You jerked your head in affirmation. At this point, your parents were so used to you going to bed alone and coming down in the morning with Richie, you didn’t even have to worry.

You slid the ladder out the window until it touched solid ground, then went back to your bed. A minute later, Richie’s face appeared at your open window, and he hauled himself in with all the grace of a sack of wet concrete.

You frowned as the scents of - was that wine? Wine and perfume - wafted in after him. He was also wearing a suit - a suit - but the illusion of whatever formality he’d been going for ended at his hair; looping black curls in total disarray, a soft tide of dark hair held back by a lone red hairclip.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” you eventually managed to choke out.

“My parents are home,” he answered non-communally. “And they decided to host a fucking mixer at our house tonight. So I was forced to wear this bullshit thing -“ he plucked at the suit in disgust “-and I only just managed to get away.”

“Wow.” Your eyes caught the red hairclip glinting amongst the soft web of dark curls. “I haven’t seen that thing in years.”

His hand skittered up to trace the clip absently. “My final act of defiance,” he chuckled weakly, before sinking down to sit on the carpet with heavy shoulders and clasped hands.

“Why are they such assholes, Y/n?” he asked suddenly. “I don’t know if I mortally offended them as in infant, or some shit like that - but even if I did, I still wouldn’t know, because they don’t talk to me. I don’t get it. Why have a kid if - if you’re not gonna-“ He waved his hands around in frustration, as if he could wring some meaning from the sentence if he hit at it enough.

“I don’t know, Richie,” you sighed, sliding off the bed and scooting closer until you sat toe-to-toe with the despairing boy. “I wish - I wish I could help you.”

Finally, he looked up; the tear tracks on his face glistened faintly as he smiled - not a smirk, or a shit-eating grin - a real smile that tore a hole in his chest and let all the dully-glowing fragments of the real Richie spill out for you to see. “You already have,” he answered softly.

Your breath seemed to catch in your throat. “But there’s gotta be more I can do. Damnit, Richie, I love you, so much and it fucking kills me to see you just - just take this shit.”

Richie stared at you, stricken. “You love me?”

You scoffed lightly, your face softening. “You have no idea.”

“But…” Richie was struggling to finish a coherent sentence. “Do you love me like - like the kid the split your granola bars with in second grade or do you love me like a…” Again with the wild hand gestures. “Y’know?”

A laugh bubbled through your lips. “Who says it can’t be both?”

As he opened his mouth to retort, you covered it with yours.

It was chaste and clumsy, but the chaps on his lips felt just right against the smoothness of yours, and the squeak of surprise he made at the embrace was swallowed. You could feel the heat of his cheeks and the flutter of his eyelashes and the firm beat of his heart all in that one, fleeting moment your lips touched.

And even as you pulled back, you felt him still. He was stammering in a way that’d give Bill a run for his money, but you could only smile.

Never in your life did you dream you’d fall in love with Richie Tozier - but right now was one of the rare, blissful seconds reality was better than dreams.

anonymous asked:

Magic AU. Bitty is a baker who really messed up this maybe-not-recipe. Jack is a powerful but quiet demon who isn't sure what's going on, but there's pie.

Okay you sent this a literal year ago, but it’s finally done. Also, it’s 5k. 

I will post another, more refined version on ao3 (with betaing, even) in December, after NaNo, but please enjoy!



“Aaand… done.” Bitty shuts the oven firmly, and claps flour off his hands. He picks up the yellowed piece of paper from the counter, and scans his eyes over the recipe. He’d had to buy a few… weirder ingredients from the internet to get it done, but as long as it came out of the oven correctly, he’d get an A on his project, meaning that he would be officially done with his Bachelor’s degree in American Studies.

Now, to wait. The recipe said an hour, but Bitty’s oven was, obviously, better (though not by much) than a simple fireplace stove, and so he’d set it for thirty minutes, which was just enough time to finish that new movie he’d been watching.

Thirty minutes later, he pulls out a steaming pie, and grins. The crust is a beautiful golden brown (and all the symbols the recipe said were necessary stood out nicely, a darker, richer brown than the rest of the crust, unexpected but pleasant). “Perfect,” he mumbles to himself, setting it on the counter. He was tempted, all of a sudden, to cut into it. But it needed to be perfect for his professor, and she was a renowned stickler. He’d fail if it wasn’t perfect, and he didn’t have the money to buy the ingredients for another try. There were only so many places one could get rat tails for cheap.

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Mother’s Day is coming up and this is just my small reminder to please not assume everyone still has their mother because going through Mother’s Day without your mom is already hard enough and we don’t need it to be made harder by the people who come up to us asking about what we’re planning for our moms or giving us ideas for how to make our moms happy on that day etc.

every road leads to an end

this is for everyone in my inbox who asked for a mike coming out story.

***

Mike’s hands are shaking as he reaches for the phone on the corner of his desk - a hand-me-down he’d nabbed from Nancy’s room when she’d packed all of her things and headed off to college two summers ago. He nearly knocks the entire thing to the floor in his haste to grab it.

“Get a grip, Wheeler,” he mumbles out loud to himself, but he can’t quite stop the tremor from coursing through him - it’s the adrenaline, maybe. Probably not fear. Definitely anger.

Mike shakes his head and pulls out a piece of crumpled paper from his desk drawer, taking his time to punch the neatly-written numbers into the keypad on the phone. It rings once, twice, three times.

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Stranger Things/Billy Hargrove imagines - Lose it - Part 3 (final part)

Originally posted by cxhragrove

AN: More Billyyyyyyyyyyyy for y’allllllllllllllllll

Overall Summary: You can see straight through Billy Hargrove

In this chapter: Withdrawal. 

(PART ONE HERE) (PART TWO HERE)

Pairing(s): Billy Hargrove x reader

Word count:

Warnings: 927

Over the next few days, you stayed away from Billy, even if that meant carrying all your books around with you for the next few days. 

Billy found himself more irritated than normal, smaller things pissed him off, Max bugged him to the hill and only seeing the back of your head wasn’t helping as it only infuriated him further even though he wouldn’t admit that. Just like how he wouldn’t admit that the reason tensions were high around him were because he didn’t get his daily dosage of you. 

However, when it came round to Friday, he had a reason to try and talk to you. 

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Operation Henderson and Harrington Pt. 3 ~ Mini-Series

Summary: The kids take it upon themselves to test their matchmaking skills. With a little help, they form a plot to get you and Steve together by Halloween.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x (Henderson!You) Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Language! Mostly from Dustin.

A/N: Part Three is up!!! Enjoy!

Part One ~ Part Two ~ Part Three ~ Part Four ~ Part Five ~ Part Six (Coming Soon)

Tags: @vaultvixen @everythingilove-blog @petah-parkah-and-potahtas @holycoldcoffee @thechandlerbingdance @jinx-is-fire @jinx-is-fire @unapologetically-insane @moonlightbae14 @thatcrazyfangirlmaze @eylul222 @eadesa @richletozler @thegirlwhoisintoomanyfandoms @13reasonswhyimcrying @kyliegeatz @itskayleefam @goimaginethiss @tapetayloe @theoraeken9 @greatbarrierwreath @themidnight-train @stressedoutkylo @pugsandkisses14 @a-sinners-ink @captainstilinskis @iamzion-therealhabesha @turqois-e @agirlwholovesfandoms @alwaysoutoftheordinary @totheworldosanime


Phase Three of Operation Henderson and Harrington: Shopping.

You hummed as you made your way through the Halloween store that was located about a mile outside of Hawkins. Everyone knew this was the best place to go to for all costume and decorating needs. You already had found black attire at a regular clothing store, attire meaning black leggings and a black shirt to wear underneath the signature pink jacket, for yourself and the two girls but the pink jacket could only be purchased at a costume store.

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So Much More

Synopsis: You are a new and upcoming superstar and during an interview, you get asked questions about the one and only Harry Styles. 

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