well i talked to my mom about it but she can only help so much

Drowned in moonlight, strangled by her own bra.

The thing that is getting to me the most about news of Carrie Fisher’s autopsy report is not the results themselves, but the way the media is handling it. Like it’s a Gotcha moment—like somehow we were tricked into thinking she was a better person than she actually was.

And that is profoundly bullshit.

Carrie was open about being an addict. Her opening line from her iconic stand up show (and book by the same name) “Wishful Drinking” was quite literally, “Hi, I’m Carrie Fisher, and I’m an alcoholic.”

She talked at length and in often brutal depth about her problems with substance abuse, her compulsive self destructive tendencies, and her dependencies to both illegal and prescription drugs. She wrote about it in her books, she talked about it on talk shows. She made an entire comedic stand up performance out of it, detailing the lengths she went to in order to try and regain some semblance of safety and normalcy in her life. 

She was brutally honest that every single day was a struggle for sanity after years and years of attempting to self medicate a mental illness that for most of her life was mistaken for feckless lack of self control. 

You know how they way “Religion is the opiate of the masses?” Well I took masses of opiates religiously! -Wishful Drinking

She was bright, and beautiful and bold about it. And she didn’t have to be.

Carrie Fisher didn’t have to stand there and take the shitstorm of criticism people launched at her for decades, let alone turn it into humor. She didn’t. She didn’t owe anyone outwith her immediate family an explanation for her erratic behavior over the years, nor the flack she caught for it. (Think of all the male actors in Hollywood who are in and out of rehab centers so quickly they could harness the revolving doors as a wind turbine. Then tell me the media press about her life and now her death are fair.)

But she did it anyway, because she knew it was important. And she took those bright lights of Hollywood shining down on her like a ruthless, malevolent child holding a magnifying glass under the sun—and she turned that merciless heat and pointed it at things that mattered, often at the expense of herself, opening herself up to ridicule and the severe cruelty of others who lambasted her for everything, ranging from her weight, her mental illness or her audacity to simply grow old.

Is it tragic that her addiction likely cost her her life? Yes, of course it is. Does it invalidate any of her achievements? The strength and vibrancy with which she lived her life and touched the lives of millions around her for the better? 

“I call people sometimes hoping not only that they’ll verify the fact that I’m alive but that they’ll also, however indirectly, convince me that being alive is an appropriate state for me to be in. Because sometimes I don’t think it’s such a bright idea. Is it worth the trouble it takes trying to live life so that someday you get something worthwhile out of it, instead of it almost always taking worthwhile things out of you?” 

-The Princess Diarist

Carrie Fisher mattered, her voice mattered. The things that she said and did, mattered. They still matter. And they are no less true and poignant in the light of these revelations.

Addiction is a disease. It’s a dysfunction of the brain’s reward system which requires constant management and care and often goes hand in hand with other mental health disorders. It is not simply a question of willpower or the perceived lack thereof. And while sobriety is to be praised and encouraged—of course it is, of course it absolutely unquestionably is—you cannot possibly know what may cause a person to slip or to feel like they can’t cope without that crutch. And shame on anyone who says it was therefore deserved. 

Shame and my heartfelt wishes that you never go through the things that can lead to serious addiction. Or that you are ever abandoned, derided and regarded as less than human because of it and your death turned into a smear campaign against your memory for the sake of a sensationalist headline.

Yes. Carrie Fisher was an addict, she had drug dependency problems related to her mental health. There was a time she kept it hidden, but after she made the decision to come out about it, she stuck by that decision and became a champion, for herself and everyone like her who struggles. Because she never wanted anyone to suffer like she did in order to get help. And she did it with as much grace and humility as she could manage—and a whole lot more indignity, immodesty, crass humor and love as well. Because that’s who she was and she cared. 

And that’s a hell of a lot more than can be said for those crowing over her death like it’s just deserts.

Fuck you.

People do not exist to stand up to your demands of a perfect ideal of humanity. You do not get to place that burden on the shoulders of someone then tear them apart when they fall under that weight—famous or otherwise.

Fuck you and your whole pretense at moral piety and the horse you rode in on.

Carrie Fisher was not your unproblematic fave. She was in fact extremely problematic, and no one knew that better than she did. 

“I heard someone say once that many of us only seem able to find heaven by backing away from hell. And while the place that I’ve arrived at in my life may not precisely be everyone’s idea of heaven, I could swear sometimes—if I’m quiet enough—I can hear the angels sing. Either that or I fucked up my medication again.” 

-Carrie Fisher, Wishful Drinking.

The Turkey Story

 So it’s 2001, and my family drives from fucking California and like three blizzards to get to Ohio for thanksgiving, becuase my grandparents are moving into a nursing home and it’s their last holiday in that house.  So its a bit bittersweet but ultimately a good thing.

Since it’s their last holiday there, the family pulls out all the stops when it comes to dinner, all the Russian desserts come out, as does the Lethal Bacon Mashed Potatoes and the horrible candied yams dish because not all expressions of love are good, even if they are sincere.  In the spirit of going all-out, Uncle Bobby smokes a Turkey.  

Uncle Bobby started cooking as a boy scout by tossing foil-wrapped potatoes into a campfire and has been addicted since, and now has a hand-made smokehouse in the backyard where he makes various cured meats and other delights.  He seasons the turkey in the traditional manner, but he and grandpa have a shared passion for a spaicier mesquite-style bird, so Bobby makes a Cornish Game Hen seasoned that way, for them.

Then Bobby has a Brilliant Idea.  He realizes that he can stuff the turkey (once it has been smoked) with regular stuffing, and there is still plenty of room for him to put the game hen inside THAT, and stuff the game hen becuase why not?  He confers with Mom, and she explains how to cut open the turkey so there’s  dramatic reveal as the stuffing and game hen come out.  It’s Genius.

Except, of course, that my Aunt Sue is attending, Uncle Cliff slouching after her.

So the day of the dinner, tensions are running a bit high, between the marathon cooking, the kids all being trapped indoors due to aforementioned blizzards, and Uncle Cliff deciding that the best way to amuse himself is by hiding from the adults in the basement, getting drunk and rambling about how various ethic groups were destroying America.  Being that I had close Muslim friends that were leaving the country becuase of 9/11, I was near tears from this nonsense and ready to fight a man roughly five times my size.  

Sue, for some reason, keeps coming down and defending him, or telling us we’re rotten children for ‘attacking’ him, becuase she Must Stand By Her Man, even if her man is a hefty bag of feces with an ugly mustache.

My sister eventually bolts upstairs to tattle and my grandfather limps down to the basement and brandishes his Hip-Bone Cane, hands rock-steady in spite of the Parkinson’s slowly taking over him.

“Firstly Cliff, It may not be my roof much longer but while you are under it you will be civil, or I’ll beat your skull in.  Also, dinner’s ready, everyone go wash up.”

We go upstairs and sit down, and do the traditional “Name one thing you’re thankful for” as the bread gets passed around the table, and things calm down a bit.  Bobby brings out the Turkey and everyone goes OOH becuase it’s really pretty, them Mom carves it open so that the stuffing spills out dramatically along with the game hen and there’s an appreciative gasp all around becuase it looks cool.

Only Sue KEEPS gasping, in utter horror, before getting up and clasping her hands to her face ala Edvard Munch and shrieks-

“OH MY GOD IT WAS PREGNANT!”

We all stare at Sue.  We all look back at the fully-dressed-cooked-and-stuffed birds that in no way had any internal organs in them or ever gave live birth. Then we all looked back at Sue, trying to figure out where to begin but since she’d been trying to justify Cliff’s behavior she was pretty much free-associating conspiracies and scandals now, and just kept going.

“IT WAS PREGNANT MY GOD WE’VE COMMITTED AN ABORTION WE’RE ALL GOING TO HELL FOR THIS, I’M SO SORRY JESUS-” She goes into full pearl-clutching gibbering horror at this point and falls back into her chair like it’s a Victorian fainting couch only it’s a shitty chair from the Eisenhower administration so it collapses and she slams into the floor, sobbing and kicking her feet like a toddler.

Everyone watched for a moment before my Mom sighs heavily and starts carving and serving the turkey while my grandmother mouths “she’s not coming back”.   

Cliff, reactions delayed by about six beers, finally notices his wife is on the floor and tries to pick her up, falls on his ass himself.  They are assisted by Dad, who is saintly patient man and less immune to this jacknapery at that point. I am stuffing dinner rolls into my face to keep from laughing at this grand spectacle and it’s not working.

“I CAN’T EAT IT, I REFUSE TO PARTAKE IN THIS BARBARISM-”  Sue begins but Dad puts on his best Kindly Father voice (he went to seminary school long enough to learn that before getting drafted but that’s another story) and assures Sue that she need not eat, or even be in the room if she wants.  She nods, placated by being the center of attention again, and Dad goes in for the kill.

“I wouldn’t want you to go hungry.  Can I make you some Eggs?”

“That would be lovely.” Said Sue, joke flying over her head like a boeing 747.  I recall watching my grandmother nearly choke to death on the green beans over that, and everyone pointedly trying to avoid talking about anything poultry-related while Sue sat there and ate the most ironic scrambled eggs in the history of mankind.

Shortly thereafter, Cliff threw up in the sink and they went home, and the party got underway properly, with Grandpa raising a toast to Mom and Uncle Bobby “For marrying well, for a change”

“Pregnant Turkey” has been an Ohioan thanksgiving staple since then.  I’ll see if I can hit Uncle Bobby up for instructions but if you decide to make it 1. you HAVE to shriek “OH MY GOD IT WAS PREGNANT” when you carve it open, or it’s not authentic and won’t taste as good 2. Share the pictures with me.


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most of us know how important representation is, but i feel like we don’t always realize how vital it is for white cishet people to see representation as well. like my white cishet 65 year old mom’s favorite show is brooklyn nine nine, and when she first began watching it she was so perplexed by ray holt. she had never really seen black gay characters in television before, and the very few times she has they were stereotypes, so she was just so interested by him bc “gay people can be like this?”

like obviously it would be great if she already knew lgbt+ people aren’t the tired stereotypes that society tries to portray us as, and it would be great if she was more educated that Yes black gay men exist and are common. but she didn’t know that, because she’s never really seen it. but just watching brooklyn nine nine has educated her so much!! she’s seeing a black gay man run a police squad, she’s seeing a large black man be one of the most gentle people ever, she’s seeing women of color empowering each other and totally kicking ass, she’s seeing a jewish man repeatedly talking about issues such as transphobia, homophobia, anti-semitism, racism, and she’s also seeing all these characters understand when it ISNT their place to talk about certain issues

so my mom sees stuff like this and thinks “oh i was so wrong about these groups” and then she recommends these types of shows to her other ignorant friends, and she also corrects people when they say bigoted things that enforce the toxic stereotypes she is now educated on. all from some proper representation on a half-hour tv show!! like representation doesn’t just help minorities, it helps the privileged people who have ingrained bigotry in them to see what minorities are really like and what they can be and it’s so important!! and then these privilaged people can move forward and use their privilege to try and help minorities. representation of minorities helps the privileged too, and helps society to evolve!! so can bigots stop saying that it only benefits minorities. even if it did only help minorities that wouldn’t be a bad thing, but that isn’t the case so?? stop??

when i was seven the sea-witch cursed me.

she cursed my great-grandfather, actually, who had spat on the hands of the ocean and disrespected the beating heart of the earth - for what else are waves but a pulse - who was silly and violent and who tried to rip from the water what was hers by rights. we were wealthy, before that, a family of merchants. my mother says in her youth she recalls white horses, the gleam of candles, early mornings with bread baked fresh by a horde of servants.

he didn’t ask permission to cross her. that’s what my mother tells me while she spoons porridge with no flavor into the wood of my bowl. he had no faith in superstition, rode with boats that were more decoration than strength, the folly of a man who was cruel and vain and proud of his own gold teeth. the sky had been blue, so regardless of what the village witch said, he would sail that day. and when his boat sank; their lives turned blue like the sky that day.

my mother says she thinks the curse on the men of our family, even if they come in when they marry, is that they will forever be violent, too foolish to see the storm on the horizon. she whispers this to me on the eve of my seventh birthday, while father is his own storm, thundering around the house, looking for her. later, when i am cleaning the cut by her cheek, she tells me the curse is on the women to forever be unhappy, to wane until they are shadows, to walk into the deep like a sinking ship. 

we don’t burn candles often, they are too expensive. she tells me this in the silk of a dark room. the moon kisses her hair. 

in three days, my mother will walk into the ocean, and my father will be my own problem. the curse will pass onto me. 

my father does not believe in superstition, no curse to conquer him. when he is gone, and i am heartbroken, i go to the village witch. i ask her to teach me about magic, and other things, and about how the ocean can be coaxed, and how to save my father’s soul. 

and my hands rot too, keeping a house by myself with things i barely knew. i learn the art of a good scrubbing, keep my mind full of white horses while i endlessly clean, dream of candles in dark while i make the bread that he will not allow me to eat. he keeps me from the ocean, from visiting the place that took my mom, from following in her footsteps where the water makes women undone.

i am sixteen when i see her in the water of a bowl. she scares me so completely that i drop it, and my father comes in with his hands, and the curse, and i almost forget all about it. it isn’t until after that i realize she is beautiful, and young, which surprises me. 

i think about it every evening. her face becomes distorted to me. i can no longer remember the exact shape of it, only the impression of beauty. 

i turn seventeen and wait for the high moon. i pin safety to my vest in little witch herbs and runes. i put naked toes on the sand and slip closer, closer, to the avenue of my family’s doom. i find a little private beach, small and surrounded by rocks, hidden from my father in the event he ever thought to come looking. at high tide, it is barely the span of my body. at low, it feels empty.

the witch of the land has given me what i need to call in the witch of the sea, but i do not use it. it feels wrong, somehow, standing here in the wind and the quiet pulse of the world. i put down the incense and sage and i sit just close enough it feels wild, dangerous - but not close enough to get caught up in thrill. 

when nothing happens, i go home and i make bread that i will not eat.

for months i do this. i climb down to my beach. i learn to do it when the moon is half, and then when the moon is empty. i learn to do it so well that sometimes i go to sleep in my own bed and wake up by the water. i take to sleeping with warding runes to keep me from being pulled in the rip out to the waiting hands of a hungry sea-witch.

i don’t know when i start talking. more often i sing, because singing in my house is not allowed, and something about the way the rocks echo my voice feels comforting. the older i get, the more i can pretend i hear my mother’s voice, answering me, harmonizing gently. i sing songs about sadness and lullabies about curses. when i have exhausted every song i know, i write new ones about fathers who have never learned how to be kind, about the house i work in but do not love, about mothers who left, and about a sea witch.

i see her sometimes. in a puddle, in the drop of rain, in the strangest places. i never expect it, although i always hope. i am never able to see her for more than the length of a wave, breaking, and each time, it does something new to my heart.

at eighteen i am too much of my father’s burden. he tries to unload me onto other men. the land witch helps me with this. i rub hemlock, burn wolfsbane. we arrange so these men have other women to marry. the news of my curse is bad enough to scare most away. my father is not happy.

after a particularly savage night, i wonder how bad it could be. i could marry some boy from the village who didn’t quite bother me. i suppose they’re not ugly. timothy had always been gentle to me. i think about a life, and how i am cursed to be unhappy. my father would finally be proud of me.

i walk to the beach and i tell the waves about him and how i could convince myself it was love if i just never wanted from him. how i could be okay, if not content, how i could be free, how i already had learned life down on knees.

but i go home and i write a rune of warding. and the years pass and i find reasons each suitor is wanting. and the sea witch i see, sometimes, peeking out at me, staying long each time in the water, looking, watching. i see her in mirrors when my father storms against me. it is bad because he mistakes the cause of my smiling. it is better when she is there the next morning.

and i go to the ocean. when i am too sad to speak, it seems like the ocean is whispering for me. i picture my mother’s voice and tell myself i am happy. i am seven again and we are sewing. i am seven again and the curse has not been given to me. i am seven and she came home after she walked to the sea.

i grow silly, brave, unthinking. i leave behind the herbs and i wade deep. i teach myself the art of swimming. i am bad at it, at first, but something about it feels good to me. like the ocean wants to buoy me. in the day i think of it, guilty. what if there was a rip tide, and the water took me? who would care for my father if i stepped off the beach into a long drop? wasn’t i clever enough to know that the ocean is uncaring?

it is not this that does it. i go out after a rain and i slip on the rocks and suddenly i am in water above my head but without the moon i cannot see the up of it. i kick and i thrash and the water surrounds me. the tide pulls on my body and in the cold i feel my body grow weary. water spills into me. it punches through my body, up my nose and into my lungs and some part of me knows this is what mother felt before she was gone.

i kick ground by accident, reorient, drag myself heaving and spitting into the air. i lie there for a long time, half in and half out of death, enjoying the sensation of breathing and of life.

when i look up, i think i see her, watching me, her brows knit with something like worry. but we make eye contact and my heart leaps and then she is gone and i am left alone with nothing but the dawn breaking.

my father is furious when there is no bread. he finds my hair wet, and the salt of the ocean still smelling on me. and that is it. that day he goes out and pays someone to agree to marry me.

this feels right to me, i think. i’m twenty-one, three times seven, a perfect number for a curse to fully come down on me. i will be wed in three weeks.

the land witch comes to visit me. she looks like she’s sorry for me. she gives me a spell and tells me to put it under my pillow; i’ll dream of love and it will soothe me. instead i dream of the seawitch, and how wonderful she is, and the sight of her, out on the water, worried.

even though it is risky, i go down to the beach. i do not bother with protective spells, i have already seen that the water can kill me. fear alone keeps me from wandering. i sit on the beach and in the sand i draw runes for understanding and i make the small magicks i’ve spent years learning and i close my eyes and i ask the ocean “why do you do this to me.”

i fall asleep. i dream that the sea witch talks to me. i dream she is my age, that she is the great-granddaughter of the first to curse my family. i dream she has spent years watching, learning, finding the truth of me. that she just needs to get the courage to come and speak, that she has fallen in love with my singing, that she knows no curse but the one in her heart that brings her back to a human, to a creature of air and not water, to a mistake in the making.

in the dawn i know it is a dream and no more. i make bread. i pour water out before it can make mirrors. i do not look. i do not like the ache that has filled me, as if i’ve been looking for an answer and the answer only leads to longing.

the man i meet - my husband-to-be - is delighted by the house i keep. he believes a woman should keep in her place, and her place should be clean. he hears from neighbors that sometimes i sneak out to the land witch’s house. laughter barks out of him. not going to allow that behavior, not me. he does not believe in curses. he will pack me up and move me from the ocean to somewhere in the mountains, where i know nobody. and i will, he promises, learn to keep my place, and that place clean.

i tell myself i could love him. he is not ugly. he says i’m pretty enough after whiskey. my father mentions i used to sing. i refuse to perform for these men so instead i make them cookies. they laugh and talk about me, even when i am in the room, as if they cannot even see. they shake hands and talk about how useless a woman is for much else than breeding. it’s very funny. the man meets my eyes and promises he’ll put a baby in me. i look down and pretend the thrill i feel is excitement, not fear brewing in me.

the land witch comes by a week before my wedding. she is smaller these days, aging. her apprentice and i get along wonderfully. the two women stand before me, holding something. 

a small box, so tiny and lovely. “break the curse,” the witch whispers, “learn to be happy.”

i smuggle the box, take it everywhere with me. it is days before i have a moment to slip away, to open it by the sea. i take a candle with me, even though my father will notice and be angry.

by the light of fire i read the spell they have left me inside, and then i am so full of gratitude i cannot stop crying.

it must be a full moon, so i must wait. in the meantime, i walk home, and i bake. 

i do not see the seawitch, even though i look for her. maybe i have wounded her, getting married. my father asks why i keep smiling. i tell him it is because i am finally with a man. he grunts and says to stop looking so silly. 

the man kisses me. i let him. we are married on a night with a full moon, and i poison him and my father in the bread i did not eat. i think of how these men were cursed so they could not see a storm coming. i watch them as they lie there, dying, and then i put all of the things i own into a basket for the land witch. i leave it there with a song i wrote for her, a spell i know will make her happy, will stop the aging of her joints, will give her the kind of relief she gave me. 

i go down to the water. i find myself running, even though i am in no hurry. i know the way so well it is like i wake up there, panting. i ask permission first. i lay out the contents of the box, i organize and practice and when the needle and pain comes, i am ready for it. i am used to pain at night. i breathe into it and walk naked into waters that swallowed my mother.

i chew bitter herbs. i swallow fire. i feel myself drown as i change from land witch to sea witch. 

when it is done, i open my eyes in the deep of a moonlit ocean. and i see her. 

this time she does not flicker. this time when i reach for her, she is there, and she is pushing my hair out of my eyes, and we are kissing with the ocean rejoicing around us, and i am laughing, and i hear her voice as clear as bell inside me.

and we live like this, a whole world between us where white horses are the size of pinky fingers and swim with their thin snouts, where i need no candles because i was raised lightless, where we have no servants but the water takes care of us. i show her the magic of land and she unfolds the magic of water. together we are unstoppable. when i come up to the air to sing little girls a promise that they can survive the madness, she sings with me, and we make a beautiful harmony.

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

I’m Your Idiot

Originally posted by stydiaislove

Requested: By me, Actual Steve Harrington Trash™

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Y/N wasn’t planning on introducing Steve to her parents, but he had a plan of his own.

Warnings: I don’t think that there are any

Word Count: 1,386

A/n: I don’t think that this is that unexpected, but here we are, my first Stranger Things imagine. I hope that you guys like it, because I have a million ideas for this series! If you have any Stranger Things requests, please send them my way. Thank you to @secretschuylersister and @fragmentofmymind for reading this over. Also, here you go, @bullcrappery I hope that it lives up to your expectations!

Steve Harrington was standing on your front porch. He was in possession of one bouquet of flowers, one shit-eating grin, and a hunter green sweater that was tucked into his jeans. He was not supposed to be here. You’d specifically told him that you couldn’t hang out tonight, you were busy with family dinner.

Oh, god. You had told Steve about family dinner.

Steve had been asking about meeting your parents for months now, insisting that it was unfair that you had said hello in passing to his parents, but he had never met yours.

You blinked a few times, hoping that you were imagining him and that you could have a normal evening. But no, he was still there and if you waited much longer, he would ring the doorbell and you would have to explain this mess to your parents.

You threw the front door open, ignoring the smile on Steve’s face and stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind you. “What are you doing here?” you asked, eyeing the flowers in his hand suspiciously.

“Well, you wouldn’t come over, so I thought that I would come to you.” He said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

“You know that I am busy tonight.” you hissed, glancing over your shoulder, hoping that your parents would be too busy finishing dinner to notice that you had disappeared from the living room.

“Actually-”

“No Steve, not actually. I told you that-” before you could finish yelling at him, the door swung open behind you. You held in a groan as you turned around to face your mother.

“Steve! I’m so glad that you could make it.” She said, ushering the two of you into the house.

“Actually, I ran into your beautiful mother at the supermarket earlier today, and she invited me for dinner,” Steve said, the condescending tone of his voice only apparent to you. “It smells delicious, ma’am,” he said, handing over the flowers.

Your mother fussed over them for a few moments, before announcing that she was going to put them in some water.

“You ‘ran into her at the supermarket’?” There was no way that Steve hadn’t planned this after you had let it slip that you had family dinner that night, and therefore couldn’t hang out.

“I had to pick up the bouquet somewhere.”

“You planned this.” you hissed, punching Steve in the shoulder.

“I had to. It’s unfair that you have met my parents, but I haven’t met yours,” he complained, sitting down in his usual spot on the sofa.

“I saw your parents in passing one time.” You said, pointedly ignoring Steve’s attempts to get you to sit beside him. “You are unbelievable, you know that?”

Steve simply chose to smile at you, and grab your wrist, pulling you into his side on the couch. “I’ve been told before,” he mumbled into the crook of your neck.

You weren’t proud of the smile that slipped through your ironclad resolve, but Steve was laughing and there was no way that you were going to escape from the situation anyways.

“Are you embarrassed of me?” Steve was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him.

“What?” You were almost sure that you had misheard him.

“You didn’t want me to meet your parents. I don’t know, I just thought that maybe-”

“Steve Harrington, you are absolutely insane.” You said, sitting up. You forced Steve to look at you before continuing. “My parents are embarrassing and nosy, and even though I love them, I don’t bring a lot of people home.”

“Are you serious?” Steve’s voice was painfully soft, and you could almost feel your heart shatter.

“I just, I didn’t want to scare you off.” You refused to meet his eyes, choosing to stare out of the window.

You felt Steve’s hand gently wrap around yours, and his lips pressing onto your palm. “Me? Scared? Impossible.”

“Yeah?” you asked, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Of course. I have my bat in the car.”

“You are such an idiot.” you laughed, snatching your hand away from Steve’s grip.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap. “Nothing is going to scare me off, you know. You are absolutely stuck with me,” he said, brushing the hair that had fallen in your eyes away.

“Kids,” your mom called from the dining room. “Dinner!”

“I think that’s our cue,” Steve said, sliding off of the couch and offering you his hand.

You stood up on your own, shoving him slightly, before making your way into the dining room.

You had somehow managed to make it through a family dinner with no issues at all, and it was all because of Steve. He made your parents laugh harder than you thought possible, while calming you down at the same time. He had even offered to help your mother clean up. You could hear the two of them cackling from the living room.

“He’s sweet”. Your father said, pulling your thoughts away from the laughter echoing through the house.

“What?” you asked, sure that you had misheard him.

“The boy, he’s sweet,” he said, not looking up from the newspaper in his hands. “The hair is a bit much for me, but he clearly makes you happy. And that makes me happy.”

You smiled to yourself, glad that Steve had made a good first impression. Before you could think of a way to respond, Steve and your mother turned the corner. They were both beaming, and Steve had a container of leftovers in his hand (a true seal of approval from your mother).

“You drive home safely, now.” Your mother said, taking a seat beside you.

You hopped up off of the couch and looped your arm through Steve’s. “I’ll walk you out,” you announced, dragging him out the front door.

“Thank you,” you said quietly as the two of you made your way down the drive.

“For what?” he asked, leaning up against the hood of his car. He placed the tupperware down beside him and pulled you closer, wrapping both of his hands around yours.

“Being yourself, I guess. They usually hate my friends.”

“Well, that’s why they like me.” Steve cut you off, before you could explain further.

“What are you talking about?” you said through your laughter.

“I’m your boyfriend. Of course they love me.” Steve said with a grin before placing a kiss on your cheek and standing up.

“That’s all I get?” Usually, Steve spent a while saying goodbye, placing little kisses all over your face before one more on your lips.

“We have an audience, babe,” he said, shifting his eyes between you and your front window a few times.

You turned around to see your parents both hovering by the window. They at least had the decency to scatter once they realized that they had been found out.

“I can always make it up to you later. My parents won’t be back for a week,” he said with a cheeky smile, sliding into the front seat of his car.

“Maybe,” you said, closing the door behind him. “We’ll see.” You leaned down to kiss him goodbye properly as he started the car.

“Speaking of my parents, I told them that you would be coming to dinner next week.”

“I’m busy that day,” you said automatically.

“I never said what day.” he laughed, knowing that he was winning.

“I’m busy every day, Steven.” You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face made your facade less convincing.

“Next Thursday, at seven?” he asked, his hand reaching through the rolled down window to find yours.

You nodded, trying your hardest to hold the smile back and failing miserably. He held your hand as the car rolled out of the driveway, maintaining contact for as long as possible.

“I love you!” he yelled, as he drove away.

He was long gone before you managed your reply, too caught up in listing all of the ways that you loved him in your head. “I love you too,” you said quietly, before making your way inside, unable to suppress the enormous smile on your face.

Steve Harrington may have been an idiot, but he was yours.

anonymous asked:

I wish you would write an outsider POV Sterek, maybe from their neighbor's POV?

This is embarrassing.

Holy, fuckmuffins, this is embarrassing. She should not do this. She should turn around and go back home. She should just be at home. Forever. She can order groceries from Amazon and socialize with people over the internet and she thinks she could be very happy to just live at home. It would be fun. 

Also, she would be alive. Because she is not sure she will be after all is said and done. 

She gets to their door and then seriously considers just turning around. It would make her a fundamentally bad person but she could be okay with that. 

Ugh.

No she can’t.

She takes a deep breath, wishes that Jenny wasn’t at her father’s this weekend because maybe a cute little four year old would help, and then knocks anyway. On her next door neighbor’s door. 

It had to be her next dooor neighbor. Someone who she will probably have to see again. 

And, of course, Murder Man opens it. He is already glaring at her.

He is going to kill her

“Hello?” he asks and she realizes she has just been standing there. Staring. Which, like fair, he is gorgeous but mostly she’s staring because it is just now occurring to her that she should have told someone where she is going before just coming over to share this bad news. 

“H-hi,” she says finally. “My name is Tammy and I live in number 406–right next door actually and I-I’m so sorry but I’ve just… I’ve just scratched your car.”

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SU WANTED THEORY: The Pink Conspiracy; Homeworld Civil War Imminent!

Holy hell. Thanks to the Wanted special, we have a timeline granted a very rough timeline of the gem war, and now know around when Pink was shattered. 

According to Blue Zircon here, Rose Quartz and her terrifying renegade Pearl started the rebellion, then a few hundred years later, Pink is shattered. The way it’s explained, we don’t know if there was any more warring immediately following that, or if that’s what caused the order to evacuate before the Diamonds used the corruption song. For this theory, I’m going with the latter.

Then we’re hit with a bombshell;

Gemkind was lied to. Not just a huge bunch of the population. Gemkind.

The people of Homeworld were told the Earth was destroyed. From what we’ve seen so far, we can safely assume only the Diamonds and a select few elites know of the Earth’s existence. (Peridot, Jasper, the Rubies, etc), and by “the Diamond attack”, of course, they’re probably referencing this;

This changes everything. Why did they lie about the Earth? Besides the obvious; You’d want your people to think you’re all-powerful, what i mean is that’s quite a lie to keep up. Why go through all the trouble?

During The Trial, Blue Diamond makes clear the story everyone knows,  

But that’s impossible. Bismuth says in her debut, “It can cut a gem’s physical form in an instant, destroying the body, but never the gem.”.  Our only other eyewitness is Eyeball Ruby, who couldn’t tell Ame-Jasper apart from the real Jasper. 

She can’t tell Purple from Orange? Color plays such a huge role in their society, so important the Crystal Gems called themselves that because crystals have no color! It’s a symbol of their independence from the Diamond Authority. You’re telling me a war-hardened Ruby missed such an important detail as Jasper’s color? The others I can forgive, one of them didn’t even know who Pink Diamond was so we don’t know how new they are, but Eyeball? Is she colorblind?? Either way, we don’t know if she mistook whoever shattered Pink Diamond for Rose Quartz, or if Rose just used a different sword. Her testimony is unreliable.

Oh, and by the way?

What

the fuck

Is your problem Yellow D?

Yellow Diamond was clearly obstructing justice, and she lost it when Blue Zircon accused them of Pink’s shattering, almost as if the lawyer got too close. At first with her song “What’s the use of feeling Blue?” , we think Yellow Diamond wants to help Blue move on. But now that title’s double-meaning rings out to me and it scares me. “What’s the use of feeling, Blue?” Blue wants closure, not just the cheap revenge Yellow is offering her. Closure means knowing the truth so you can move on. If Yellow Diamond cares as much for Blue as she shows, why is she in such a rush to get Blue to bury this? You don’t just rush someone’s grieving. It’s clear Yellow doesn’t want her to know about something. 

Still not convinced? Look at Yellow Pearl here.

Wtf was that worried glance for? Since when does Yellow Pearl give a damn about anyone but her Diamond? That’s not a “oh shit are you okay Blue?” look, that’s a “Shit, are we screwed?” look.

Now. Personally, I never believed the rebellion was strong enough to fend off all 4 Diamonds and their homeworld forces alone. It never made sense, especially with Rose’s message of peace and Bismuth being bubbled for essentially advocating for murder. (though in these circumstances I really don’t blame her someone un-bubble my bb) Something’s wrong here.

Pink Diamond loved humans remember? Where did that come from? Sure, she plucked them up as trophies, but hold on. They’re not on display here, or in any way a display of her power. They’re kept nice and safe and com fortable, like pets. Rose Quartz didn’t understand the concept of love until Greg and her “fused” in the episode “We Need To Talk”, what if this was all Pink knew how to do? Would she have been fine seeing the Earth destroyed just to kill off Rose’s Rebellion? Blue doesn’t think so. Yellow Diamond does call it a “silly zoo” in her song after all, she doesn’t seem very supportive of Pink or Blue Diamond.  

Then there was this little scene.

Idk if anyone else has mentioned this, but I think Blue and Pink were in love. That’s what’s implied here, at least to me. They just paralleled Greg’s grief over Rose to Blue’s over Pink Diamond. That can’t be an accident.

What if Pink started to help Rose Quartz and the rebellion grew into such a threat that White Diamond needed her…removed? Rose did get her Pearl after all.

Listen fam, you can think whatever you want about our Pearl, she’s formerly White Diamond’s. Her gem’s in the right place. Rose would have needed someone on the inside to help her rebellion, and it would be a great show of power to say.. steal the Big Boss’s favorite slave?? The one servant White Diamond would have taken everywhere? Pearl must have known all of White’s secrets, and because of who White Diamond is, all of Homeworld’s secrets. All it would have taken is an offer of freedom. 

With Pink Diamond and White Pearl on her side, the Crystal Gems would have been a massive threat to Homeworld.

I think Pink Diamond’s shattering is a conspiracy that White and Yellow are keeping from Blue, because she and Pink were too close. They couldn’t allow Pink’s side to bolster the rebellion and start a gem civil war, so, Yellow and White found a way. Once Pink was shattered, they corrupted the survivors to silence any witnesses from the other side and pinned it on Rose Quartz to unify all of Gemkind against her and her Crystal Gems forever. They could accept the lie that the Earth was destroyed in a great retribution for their fallen Diamond, making her a martyr instead of a traitor and saving the Diamond Authority legacy.

Now, there’s the question of who. Well, White Pearl did betray White Diamond… wouldn’t it just be so poetic, to if not have Pink Pearl kill her master, not warn her about it?

Also, about what Yellow D said last..

Uh are you sure you want that Yellow D?  His mom started a rebellion. He has everything he needs right there now, plus, maybe an unlikely ally? 

ALRIGHT NEW LION SWITCH EXPLANATION inspired by a discussion with @bisharpshooter as a tangent from this

the lion chooses its paladin and forges a mystical bond with them. these lions have already chosen their true paladins. their choices for new paladins are for the sake of their true paladins. 

BLACK

in s2e1, black only responded to keith because shiro was in danger and keith could save him. in that same episode, shiro told keith that he wanted him to lead when shiro was gone. 

in s3, shiro was gone, and although allura is the “decision-maker”, black chose keith.

it all comes back to the trust between black and shiro, something that grew between them throughout two seasons. it’s the foundation of their mystical bond. 

black has been used and abused by zarkon, but shiro respects her and knows that she cannot be commanded. this has earned black’s trust. if shiro truly believes in keith as the leader of voltron, then black will trust that.

EDIT: as an anon pointed out, keith was talking to shiro when black chose him, making it even more obvious that black is carrying out shiro’s wishes, not her own. black literally responded in shiro’s place here, trying to tell keith, as shiro would, that he can lead the team. 

lance even said, “i respect its choice” when black chose keith. by extension of respecting black’s choice to trust shiro’s judgment, lance and keith are trusting shiro’s judgment as well. the very thing that keith doubted so much. 

furthermore, this would add significance to black rejecting the shiro in season 3. she didn’t reject him because he was unworthy or because she’d moved on; she rejected him because she does not trust him.

TLDR: the mystical bond between black and shiro is founded on trust. black chose keith because shiro chose keith, and she trusts her true paladin’s judgment. 

RED

red called out to lance only after keith literally called out to lance for help. essentially, red called out to lance because keith called out to lance. her desires mirrored keith’s. if keith wanted lance to be there, then by god lance would be there. 

get in, lancey lance, we’re going shopping to save my son.

throughout s3, lance looked out for keith both physically and emotionally, more so than any other character. without his help, it’s not fun to imagine what would have happened to keith and the rest of the team. 

red has demonstrated on two major occasions that she is very concerned with keith’s welfare and will do anything to keep him safe. this is particularly interesting, since she was so temperamental when she first met him that she waited until he was about to die to let him in. the foundation of their mystical bond is protection

we know that lance in particular is great at keeping keith safe, even if he wasn’t before… (hmmMMMMMMMM. HMMMMMMMMMMMM.)

furthermore, allura emphasized that red must have chosen lance to be keith’s right-hand man, to which lance said, “i won’t let him down.” he explicitly made the connection between red calling out to him and keeping keith safe. this is red basically saying, “please keep my idiot son from getting himself killed. be his impulse control, i believe in you.” 

TLDR: the mystical bond between red and keith is founded on protection. red chose lance because he will keep her true paladin safe. 

BLUE

lance said it himself: “i’m glad it was you.” it’s as simple as that. despite his obnoxious flirting that he’s done in the past, he deeply admires allura. this dynamic in particular really appealed to people, but it was a new angle that had yet to be explored until this opportunity arose. 

blue must have know that lance being separated from her would be difficult, but she guessed (correctly) that allura taking his place would put him in a position in which he wants to be supportive and feels the least upset about it. despite all my complaining about blue shutting him out, i think this decision was made with lance’s self-doubt (which is exactly what blue responded to in allura) in mind. 

blue supports lance. she’s his best bud, his old girl, his blue, his beautiful. she makes him feel useful and happy. as the “mom” of the lions, she’s there for him. the foundation of their bond is support

TLDR: the mystical bond between blue and lance is founded on support. blue chose allura because blue knew that lance would be supportive of allura

as for why lance needed to lose blue at all, maybe she knew that red would continue to refuse allura (being temperamental about keith), and thus needed to force red’s hand. this one is still…kinda fuzzy as to the “why”, but the “who” absolutely matches up with the pattern. that fuzziness also lends itself to a potential explanation for blue being so…cold about the whole thing, both to lance and to allura. 


black’s true paladin is shiro, red’s true paladin is keith, and blue’s true paladin is lance. the lions chose new paladins for their respective true paladins, not for themselves as they did initially. this is merely emphasis as to who their true paladins are.  

it’s interesting that lance was the one to confirm the true reasoning behind all of these switches. black: “i respect its choice.” (respect shiro’s choice to trust keith.) red: “i won’t let him down.” (protect keith.) blue: “if i had to lose blue to someone, i’m glad it was you.” (support allura, thereby supporting lance.) 

this highlights why season 3 was so effective in strengthening the bonds that lance has with both allura and keith. the switches were based on the bonds that their true paladins had with the other paladins, so of course the switch would strengthen those bonds. lance and allura always had the potential to mutually respect and admire one another, and now they do. lance and keith always had the potential of being leader and right-hand man, and now they are. 

TLDR: lance’s bond with keith was strengthened because red chose him to protect keith, her true paladin. allura’s bond with lance was strengthened because blue chose her to support lance, her true paladin. black chose keith to trust shiro, her true paladin, and rejected new shiro because she didn’t trust him. 

if this is the explanation, then i’m honestly okay with the whole thing. 

(if you’re wondering where allura would end up…)

Bruised (Richie/Eddie) 1/12

Summary: It’s 1993 and the summer from many years ago is dead and gone. Many have drifted apart from the Losers club and its at the point where there is no club at all. The atmosphere is cold just like the winter months and the only blushes to be found are the ones that are caused from the piercing spikes of cold that heat skin up. Being a teenage boy is hard; especially for the two boys that now count each other as strangers. In which both boys make a plan, but both disrupt each others.

Warning(s): Suicide attempt?? , depression, mental illness’, mixture of fluff and angst throughout the series, homophobic slurs

A/N: Hi!! welcome to part 1 of IDK HOW MANY but ayy!! Honestly, i’M MAKING A TAG LIST FOR THIS SERIES SO IF ANYONE WHO DOESN’T WANNA FOLLOW ME OR WANTS TO BE NOTIFIED JUST ASK!!

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

Richie Tozier brought the cigarette between his lips, letting the toxic smoke fill his decaying lungs and pulse throughout his insides and swirls around in each crevice of his body. He then takes away the cancer stick, after a moment blowing out the toxic waste into the thin November air.

Beverly Marsh raised an eyebrow at him, sitting across from the much taller boy on the brick wall with her own cigarette between her fingers. She watched as the smoke faded into nothing, sighing lightly as she proceeded to watch her best friend smoke away.

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Things that no one tells you before starting a new language

Everyone talks about the good parts of learning a new language and everyone is always so supportive if someone says they want to learn a new language so i thought to make a post about what you have to endure since out there are so many posts about the benefits you get from learning a language.

It’s not a piece of cake.

Whoever tells you that learning a language is easy… it’s lying! After a while, yes, everything gets easier but have you ever talked to someone who hit a plateau? or someone who is dealing with irregular verbs or prepositions? what about someone who learns kanji? have you asked your friend who learns French how they deal with all those grammatical exceptions? I can go on about this for a long time and many language learners can complain here with me about articles, cases, pronunciation etc.

It’s not easy to learn a language, but it’s worth it. 

You’ll lose your mind.

I’m honest here when i say that you will forget your native language, you will mix languages, you might never be able to think in your native language as you did once. This happens when you are upper-intermediate/advanced. Your mind got used to think in another language and you won’t be able to control when you will forget basic stuff in a language.

However, you need to experience this in order to understand how amazing it is. You aren’t going to be angry (frustrated sometimes), but proud because that it means you improved.

Your memory will be universal.

I really had no idea how to call this phenomen. You will read an article on Facebook for example and you won’t realize that you just read it in French and not your native language, however, when you’ll remember that article (after a month or 2 for example), you will only remember the info. You have 75% chances to forget in what language it was.

Again, this won’t make you angry but you’ll be fascinated by this.

Headches here, headaches there, headaches everywhere.

I’m not sure if i’m the only one but taking into consideration how big this community is, i hope i’m not; 

Have you every talked in 2-3 languages at once? I don’t mean to make a mixed sentence but to talk to someone in French, to your bestfriend in English and with your mom in Romanian? plus to listen to music in Spanish? (these languages are examples) In the end your brain burns and you mix all of them but before that you will be frustrated because code-switching. You’ll need a lot of time to switch languages and you’ll give yourself a headache in the end.

However, if you think of those 5-10 minutes where you succed to control all of these languages, that’s amazing and let’s be real, after a while you won’t be bothered by those headaches.

Your emotions rule!

Your progress is connected to your emotions and thoughts. I have 2 ways to prove this to you. In highschool i had classmates who thought that English was difficult, however, my teacher had a motivational speech that inspired a girl. She was in top 5 best students in only 3 months when she was in the top 5 worst students when we started highschool. She wanted to be better, she was confident and she was smart enough to admit when she needed help. Her thoughts were only positive stuff and that English is easy so she can learn. About my other point, when you feel relaxed, you succed because you are calm and you don’t worry so you can remember almost every rule/exception.

My point here is that you should always be confident in your skills and even if you have a hard time, be positive. You can overcome whatever that grammar book throws at you!

Motivation is your sweetest enemy!

You know that rush of adrenaline you feel when you start learning a language? You feel like you can conquer the world and you can master a language in 3 days! Guess what, that motivation breaks up with you after a couple of days. You will be occasionally motivated but what will make you move forward will be your discipline. You need to develop the habit of studying/learning without feeling motivated. (or just have a secret how to be motivated forever and i want that secret if you don’t mind sharing ;) )

Just remember that your discipline will save you when your motivation runs away. 

Screw the rules.

There isn’t a universal formula for learning languages. Everyone is different so everyone has their own way of learning/studying. You can try to use someone’s method but don’t think of it as a “rule”. The traditional learner is supposed to be solving exercises in a workbook and use books almost every single time when they want to learn something. If you don’t want that, change it. I’ve met learners who don’t touch grammar books, they preferred listening to others and picking up patterns. (my bestfriend is like this and i hate him so much! he learned Romanian in 1 year and a half because he kept watching videos) Also, i’ve met learners who like playing games like Duolingo, they have no notebook but they know the grammar rules just as well as someone who is in a class. And of course, there’s the traditional student with workbooks who is a master at solving exercises. And these aren’t the only types of learners, these are only the main ones.

My point is, respect how others are learning/studying, but experiment and find your own style, you got your own formula.

Are you grey?

I chose this title because when i was a beginner in Danish, i wanted to impress this one friend and instead of asking “how are you?” i asked if he’s grey because i mispelled a word. The idea is that you will make mistakes and some will be so funny that you will never forget them. You will be embarrassed for a while but after, you’re going to laugh too and you’ll realize how much you grow because of your mistakes.

Never be embarrassed of your mistakes, you’re learning and that’s the point in the end.

You’ll try to give up.

You will have so many reasons to give up. Maybe you thought it will be easier, maybe some irregular verbs are torturing you or maybe you hit a plateau, but in the end you will try not to. No one really complains a lot on tumblr (or any other social media actually) about the difficulties they have to face while learning but that doesn’t mean the other learners have a better time. Don’t be harsh with yourself when you have to deal with something difficult.

Always remember why you started and if you need help, look for someone who can help you. People don’t show their weaknesses but that doesn’t mean they don’t have them so someone will know how to help. You just have to look for solutions, not excuses.

Time to float - Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Title: Time to float

Pairing: Bill Skarsgard x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompts: If you’re taking requests for Bill Skarsgård can you write one where the reader is a famous actress and also little Jackson Scott’s big sister (the kid who plays Georgie) so she attends the premiere with him wearing a stunning dress as usual, she meets Bill who is awestruck bc hes a huge fan with a massive crush on her, the kids who played in the movie myb tease him a little bit, and she’s flattered and thinks hes adorable idk i like this idea 
— 
YN is Jackson older sister and Bill is her fan!so when he finds out he tries his best to get Jackson to introduce them,and when he does,Jackson can’t help and teels big sis that Bill has a crush on her and he’s just super adorkable to admit! later they all say that on an interview,and the kids love to make fun of them

“Jackson please don’t run! Be careful, sweetie, you’re gonna-” you stopped yourself when you heard you little brother giggle and you realized what you’d just said “Oh gosh I am turning into mom!” you breathed out, eyes wide.

Your little brother ran back to you, wrapping his small arms around your legs and you looked down to be met with his adorable smile “Yes you are! But I am always going to love you the most! More than mom and dad, and more than anyone else in the world!” he said and you giggled.

“And you will always be the number one man in my heart, JR!” you leaned down to pick him up and kiss his cheek as he wrapped his arms around your neck with a big smile.

“Even before dad?” he asked and you grinned, nodding your head.

“But we’re not gonna tell him that, because it’s gonna break his heart.” you pouted, and he giggled.

“You bet it will!” your father piped in, saying with a serious nod and you laughed with Jackson as he kissed your cheek before going to help your mother.

“And… even more than him?” he said with what was supposed to be a smirk on his face and you chuckled, tickling his belly.

“You sly little tease!” you grinned as he squirmed in your arms “Alright, maybe I really do like him a little bit but-”

He rolled his eyes so dramatically at you and shook his head “A lot!”

Keep reading

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

Knight in Shining Armor (Steve Harrington x Female Reader)

Requested by: @cometoceantrenches ( Okie since you take requests, is it okay if you write smth with our boi Steve where the reader drops off their younger sister at the Snow Ball the same time Steve drops off Dustin but Steve offers to take the reader home but they end up at a cafe or smth and talk abt the crazy stuff that happened (fighting the demodogs and all that) and end up confessing to each other?? im sorry if its long af, you just write rlly well *ugly cries*)

Summary: While waiting for the Snow Ball to end, Steve and you catch up at a local cafe where they recount the events of the demo-dogs, and then conversation becomes personal.

Word Count: 3013

Warnings: fluffy af and some smooches. Also get’s a bit emotional towards the end. lets also assume he’s always ooc to me

Note: if there is another gif that kills me it’s also this one!  I kind of just a little went overboard and it’s pretty long but I HOPE YOU LIKE IT! Enjoy!!!

Minor Spoilers of Season 2!!

Originally posted by mikkeljensen

“Do I look okay?” your sister Jen asked for the 100th time from the backseat of your mother’s car. You rolled your eyes, not even bothering to look at her.

“You look great, Jen,” you replied.

“You didn’t even look!” she cried.

For perhaps the third time you spun yourself around to take a look at your sister who was all dolled up and ready for the Snow ball.

“You look beautiful, now stop asking and stop touching your hair,” you slapped her hand away lightly, she flinched and grumbled. You knew she had a crush on one of the boys there, she just wouldn’t tell you who it was. But by how nervous she was, and how she was acting, you knew what was bothering her.

“Hey…whoever this boy you’re crushing over…he’s gonna think you’re the most beautiful girl in the room okay? And he’s going to ask you to dance,” you said, fixing her hair for her. Jen blushed.

“And if he doesn’t?”

You scoffed, “Then he’s a damn idiot, and you’re too good for him,” Jen let out a laugh. Your mother glanced at you two before pulling up in front of the school, behind another car who was dropping off their kid.

Unfortunately for you, your mother had wanted you to stick around the parking lot all night and wait for the Snow ball to end. Also, it was really, really cold out there. But, you didn’t want your mom to worry over Jen all night, so you agreed to stay. You would find something to do, even if that included freezing to death.

Death. Hah. That word honestly didn’t even faze you that much anymore, not after what had occurred in the past month. Images of alien like dog creatures Dustin had called ‘Demo-dogs’ flashed through your mind, especially of the one he called ‘Dart’ who nearly chewed your face off. And then there was that girl with the slicked back hair who everyone seemed to recognize except for you and Steve. Apparently, she had superpowers and helped close the gate and saved the world or something. You honestly didn’t know what to believe, or even do with all this newfound information.

You guessed life would just go on eventually, and somehow you’d manage to live past it.

You stood next to your sister, both of you waving good-bye to your mother, who yelled, “Have a good time and be safe!” before driving off and out of the drop-off zone. Jen sighed, flattening down her light pink dress.

“Are you really going to stay out here all night?” Jen asked as you both walked towards the entrance, you shrugged.

“It’ll be fun- staying out here all by myself in the freezing cold in order to avoid my past middle school teachers trying to catch up with me,” Jen laughed, stopping in front of the entrance and turning to face you.

“Are you sure I look okay, (y/n)?”

You glared slightly at her, pretty sure she’s just taking in the compliments, but you just smiled and held a thumbs up. Jen was about to speak before her eyes caught something behind you. Her cheeks suddenly turned the same color as her dress. You raised a brow, and turned around, seeing who had made her all flustered.

“Dustin?” you asked, the younger boy was surprised to see you here, but not as surprised as you when you saw how much his hair looked super familiar.

“What are you doing here, (y/n)?” he asked, you tore your eyes from his hair and pointed behind you.

“Just dropping off Jen-” but when you turned around, she was gone and already in the gym. You blinked, huffing slightly as you realized that Dustin was the boy she was so keen on. You laughed lightly, thinking that it was the cutest thing ever.

Your mind went back to Dustin’s hairstyle the moment you looked back at him.

“Okay- tell me right now…is Steve your role model or something?” You asked, jokingly. Dustin gave you an annoyed look before you chuckled, “You look great kiddo, now go in there and for the love of god find Jen and ask her to dance,” you winked. Dustin furrowed his eyebrows.

“Wait- what? really?”

You clicked your tongue before your eyes went to the car Dustin had gotten out of. Your jaw dropped when you instantly recognized it as Steve’s. Dustin noticed your excitement and gave a smug smile.

“He’s staying because he saw you and is hoping you’ll go over there to talk or something,” he said nonchalantly, you side-glanced Dustin, seeing him look at the car and wave. You can just feel Steve’s glare on the kid. You merely laughed it off.

“Don’t you have a ball to attend, kid?” you asked, Dustin cursed softly and walked into the entrance, muttering something about asking Jen to dance, a cheeky grin on his face. You shook your head, crossing your arms against your chest before turning and starting to walk over to Steve’s car.

You leaned down to his open window, a toothy grin and asked, “Is that you Steve? My knight in shining armor?” Steve smiled at the sight of you, and waved your comment off.

“Yeah, the one and only,” he responded, knowing you were referring to when he saved you from losing your face to some demo-dog, “Are you going to head home?”

You shook your head.

“Gotta stay here until it ends and make sure Jen is still alive after or something,” you shrugged, Steve laughed.

“Oh no- that’s not okay,” he said, “As your knight in shining armor, I’m going to save you from freezing to death…” he reached over and opened the car door, his other hand still resting on the wheel. You put your hand over your heart.

“Wow…what a gentlemen,” you commented as you climbed into his car, Steve shrugged, eyes still resting on you. You didn’t notice the way he stared at you, like Dustin had noticed when Steve pulled up and saw you.

“That’s what I am, didn’t you know?”

You just hummed, hugging your arms closer to you. Steve noticed, eying your shivering form before an idea popped in his mind.

“Wanna go get a warm drink or something?” he asked, you tilted your head in thought.

“Warm drink? You mean like coffee?” you asked, a playful glint in your eyes.Steve stared at you for a moment, before realizing how stupid he must sound.

“I said that…” he muttered. You snickered, but nodded.

“Yeah, I could go for a warm drink…” Steve cracked a smile, eyes still lingering on yours before starting his car. When he looked away as he began to drive out of the parking lot, you looked at the side of his face, thinking you saw a shade of pink on his cheeks…but it was too dark.

Keep reading

The RFA guys + V + Saeran reacting to MC having a daddy kink

yes hello it’s me, the submissive little shit back at it again with more dominance from our faves (i won’t do baehee in this as i can’t really imagine her having a mommy kink, so she would most likely kink shame you tbh)

((my first headcanon in months and it’s daddy smut, i’m not even sorry))

~jane

Yoosung

  • This boy is a switch, okay
  • It’s basically canon that he is often very submissive, but as soon as he gets jealous he gets super possessive and in my humble opinion dominant
  • Which means rough sex, including pinning you to the closest surface, hickies all over and the occasional spanking if he really needed to teach you a lesson
  • He needed to study for his final exams when Zen invited the RFA to see his newest musical, and therefore couldn’t join you there
  • He did however check his phone while taking a break and saw a selfie of you and Zen all over his feed, with crazy fans shipping the two of you
  • Taken over by jealousy, he had you pinned against the front door almost before you could even close it, attacking your neck with love bites as he muttered how you were only his
  • Seeing this side of your usually shy boyfriend always made you a stuttering mess, and before you had even realized it, you moaned out “daddy”
  • For just a moment he gave you his confused puppy look, before fully realizing what you said and blushed, his eyes darkening with lust
  • “That’s right baby girl, I am your daddy. No one else. Now go to the bedroom and be undressed in two minutes, daddy will make sure you remember that you’re his”
  • can you tell how much of a slut i am for dom!yoosung
  • After you were done he would be a blushing mess, as he didn’t even know he was into that
  • Although he would take control more often, he won’t be your daddy every time - but when he is, he takes very good care of his baby girl


Zen

  • Zen had gotten a role in a musical a few cities away but you were too busy to come with him, so he stayed alone at a hotel for two weeks while doing it
  • Even though the two of you made a point to call each other at least once every day, he missed you when you hung up to take a shower and decided to scroll through tumblr while he waited for you to come back
  • He knew you had a fan account on there and while he didn’t follow you because he didn’t want the spam from all your fandoms on his feed, he did check your account now and then
  • Totally not to see you fangirl over him, pff no
  • He scrolled quickly past the things he didn’t care/know about, a small smile on his face as he found it cute that you were so passionate about everything
  • That is until he saw a reblogged post saying “reblog if zen is is the reason you have a daddy kink - i would kill for him to call me princess and tie me up”
  • Flustered, he accidently dropped his phone on the floor and scrambled to pick it up
  • “Zenny? What happened, did you drop your phone again?”
  • You were obviously back from the shower, and the image of you naked and wet in addition to the idea of you calling him daddy made the beast within him groan with lust
  • “Princess, why are you keeping things like this from me?”
  • “What do you mean? What have I done?”
  • “You haven’t told daddy just how much you like being his little baby girl”
  • “I-I… I’m sorry daddy, I won’t keep things like that from you again”
  • “Hmm… Should I believe you? I think you should send daddy a picture of you to show him how sorry you are. Show me your apologetic look”
  • You tried your best to take a doe eyed selfie that showed how much he made you blush, making sure to show your clevage as well
  • “I don’t really think you’re all that sorry, princess. You should send me more pictures like that”
  • You heard his strict tone become a bit more relaxed as he started breathing heavy, and you hoped he was touching himself
  • You did as he said, trying harder to look innocent and sexy at the same time, and heard him downright moan when he recieved the picture
  • “Baby girl, facetime me now. You need to help daddy with something”
  • With that he hung up, leaving you kind of flustered as he had found out your ultimate kink, before you facetimed him and picked up where you left of


Jumin

  • You were trying to read a book and listen to some music while Jumin did some work in his home office, but Elizabeth kept playing with the cord on your headset
  • “No Elizabeth, stop it! Do I really have to go and tell daddy what a bad girl you are? Leave the cord alone!”
  • As you were listening to music and busy trying to distract the cat, you didn’t notice Jumin standing in the door until he chuckled
  • “Daddy, huh? i prefer that over ‘cat mom’, at least”
  • You blushed when you realized he had heard the nickname you used for him only around Elizabeth, and tried to play it off by lifting her up and talking in a baby voice, pretending to voice her
  • “But daddy, she is no fun! Your little kitten wants attention, and daddy was too busy to play. But I will be a good girl from now, I promise”
  • “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, kitten”
  • Jumin shaked his head in faked annoyance, but as he stepped closer you realized he wasn’t looking at the cat
  • You let go of Elizabeth and she walked away, leaving you alone with Jumin towering over you
  • “Good girls don’t blame others, my love. You’re the one who wanted attention, right? You’re the one who wanted daddy to play with her?”
  • You nodded and blushed more, trying not to show how much his words affected you
  • He caressed your cheek before gripping your chin and lifting your gaze up to meet his, wanting to know if you found this as hot as he did
  • “Let’s go get your favorite toys, then. Daddy will make sure his kitten won’t be bored for the next few hours”


707

  • He had been working for two days straight and you hadn’t even seen him leave the computer, except from the occasional toilet break
  • You were needy and wanted his attention, but he kept telling you off because he “just needed a few more minutes, then he would be done”
  • After a few more hours of this, you’d had enough and just plopped down in his lap, ignoring his furious typing
  • “MC, not now, I’m almost finished”
  • “But daddy, I’m lonely… Can you please play with me?”
  • His typing stopped and you could swear you saw his glasses shine mischievously for a moment
  • “Well… If my little princess is lonely, I guess I have no other choice but to play with her. Too bad you have been such a bad girl today, trying to distract daddy. How should you be punished, baby girl? Maybe some spanks on your cute little ass?”
  • You nodded shamefully, pulled your pants and panties down and repositioned so you were laying on your stomach over his lap, presenting him with your bare ass
  • You could only whimper when he smacked your ass without warning, before rubbing his hand over it soothingly
  • “Such a shame that daddy has to punish his pretty little girl… What do I have to do to make you listen, hm?”
  • He spanked you again and again with no mercy, until you were a whiny mess and tried to squirm free of his tight grip on your hips to save yourself from the bruises you knew would come
  • “Will you behave now, princess?”
  • As soon as he saw you nod, he picked you up bridal style and carried you to bed for your reward for being a good girl
  • fuck me up fam, he would be such a good daddy
  • When you woke up in his arms the morning after, he would already be awake and looking at you with heart eyes until your stomach growled, which would make him laugh
  • “Shut up, I’m hungry!”
  • “Hi hungry, I’m daddy”
  • Yes, he would use this as an excuse to say dad jokes


V

  • All he wanted was to edit a few photos of the two of you he had taken to make a card for your anniversary, but as he couldn’t find his laptop, he decided to borrow yours while you were out with some friends
  • However, as soon as he opened it up, he was greeted by the sound of obnoxious moaning and the sound of skin slapping
  • He quickly shut the computer again and hid his face in his hands, mortified that he stumbled upon the porn you were obviously watching
  • Deciding to respect your privacy, he really did try his best to find his own laptop, but he couldn’t find it anywhere
  • He eventually gave up and realized he had to use yours to get the pictures done, so with a deep breath he opened your laptop again, ready to click the porn away and focus on what he needed to do
  • The sounds started again and he paused the video, but as he waited for the editing program to open, he saw the title of what you were watching
  • “Daddy takes care of his princess..?”
  • Intrigued by the idea of you having a daddy kink he resumed the video, growing harder when he imagined the girl with the baby pink lingerine was you
  • A thought crossed his mind; he had the perfect idea as of what to give you for your anniversary
  • When the morning of the big day came around a few weeks later your blue haired boyfriend was already awake, presenting you with your gift as soon as you muttered a “good morning”
  • You opened the card expecting to find a cute message like he usually wrote on your anniversaries, but you were only met with “Daddy saw something that reminded him of his little girl and couldn’t resist getting you something special. Happy anniversary, my princess”
  • He was too shy to meet your shocked eyes, which only widened more when you opened the gift and saw the pink babydoll dress and vibrator
  • “Was it too much..?”
  • Obviously anxious that he assumed too much, you reassured him by pecking his cheek and resting your hand on his hardening croth, suprised by how much even the idea of being called daddy worked up your supposedly vanilla boyfriend
  • “I love it, daddy! Thank you so much!”
  • He smiled relieved as you changed from your sleepwear to your new set, gaining a boost of confidence when he realized he knew your body well enough to get you the perfect size
  • “You’re such a good girl, princess. Now lay back and let daddy give you your real present”


Saeran

  • “Harder, daddy…”
  • He was woken up by your needy moans and the feeling of your hips moving against his, grinding your ass against his crotch as he was spooning you
  • As he was half asleep he didn’t realize what you had said, the only thing he realized was how hard you’d made him and how badly he wanted you that exact moment
  • After hesitating for a few moments he let his hand travel down your belly before pulling your panties to the side, feeling how you were already soaking wet
  • This earned him another moan from you, which only got louder when he circled your clit with two fingers
  • “Saeran, I need you so badly… Please daddy”
  • Hearing his baby girl beg for him made him ever harder, and he couldn’t resist gently biting your shoulder
  • You woke up with a gasp as he pushed a finger inside of you, giving you some much needed satisfaction
  • “Were you dreaming about daddy’s cock, princess?” he groaned in your ear as he pushed it further in, crooking it to find your sweet spot
  • When your only response was a whimper, he pressed his crotch against your backside, letting you feel him
  • “I asked you a question baby, I expect an answer”
  • You nodded and wiggled your hips, trying to get him to shove another finger into you
  • “Tsk tsk tsk, such an impatient little girl. Daddy will take care of you, don’t you worry your pretty little head with that”
  • With that he rolled you over so he was hovering above you, before kissing his way down to where you needed him the most
  • fuck me up again, another good daddy
they call her maid maleen

for the first few trembling years of her life, she is a princess. she is the daughter to the king, born of his beloved wife and of her visage. her dark eyes have the appearance of a smoky quarts and her mother carefully twists her mass of black hair into a hundred small braids down her back. she is a beautiful, quiet child, and for a while all is well. they call her princess maleen.

then her mother dies. it seems as if the king is determined to bury his love for his daughter along with his queen. he moves her to a different wing of the castle, and refuses to see her. her tutors are let go, and the nobles’ children are no longer allowed to play with her. only the maids look after her now.

the king remarries. the new queen gives birth to a son, and maleen is forgotten completely, banished from a home she still resides in and a life she can now only watch unfold.

the maids take care of her, braid her hair and kiss the blisters on her fingers, teach her to scrub at porcelain and polish silver, to clean a fireplace and mop polished marble floors.

they call her maid maleen.

~

the king has a son by his new wife, and then a daughter. they are pale and fair-haired like their mother, with only their dark eyes to show they are the king’s children. but they inherit none of their parents’ beauty, have faces that don’t look quite right and bodies that get stuck between gangly and chubby and never settle into one or the other. princess gisella and prince jan are privately regarded as unfortunate products of a lovely union.

maid maleen spends long hours working, and has neither the time nor funds for creams to soften her skin or oils to care for her hair, has never used face powder or lip color.

maid maleen is twenty three years old, and the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.

her braids are wrapped carefully atop her head, but when she lets them loose they hang past her hips. her dark skin is made even darker thanks to long hours working in the palace garden, and her eyes have never lost that same curious light. she walks straight and strong, years of hard labor giving her muscles and definition to her body that she never would have had as a princess. boys and girls give her long, considering looks and flirtatious smiles, and nobles have to double-take when she passes them by.

no one speaks of it anymore. but maid maleen looks ever more like her beautiful late mother, has the same eyes as her father, and dressing in ill-fitting cast offs and running her ragged can’t hide the truth.

maid maleen is the king’s daughter.

she has accepted her life as a maid in the palace she was one day set to inherit, and tries to see it as a gift. she sleeps with who she likes, may marry whichever of the charming boys from the city who’s smile she likes best. in the maids who raised her she has more mothers than she has fingers, and perhaps she longs for the days when she was a small princess, when she was the apple of her parents’ eye, when the whole of their nation was to be hers to inherit.

but then the blacksmith’s daughter lets her hands linger a little too long on her wrists, and maleen knows that she won’t be sleeping alone tonight. there are some things that worth more to her than a throne she was born to. she doesn’t miss the little girl she used to be.

until.

tensions have always run high between their kingdom and the neighboring one – too many squabbles over borders, over trade agreements, over patrols, over anything and everything the kings can find a reason to be upset about, it seems like. so when prince wolfgang is sent over, the whole palace is abuzz. the prince seems determined to inherit a peaceful land, and is coming over to talk with the king to do it.

maleen does not care for princes. nor for nobles of any rank, in fact. she remembers how they turned on her, she sees the small acts of pettiness and cruelty they thoughtlessly inflict on their servants, and she wants nothing to do with it. commoners may not be as educated as nobles, may not have as many objects to call their own, but maleen finds she prefers their company to that of lords. she’s uninterested in this prince, which is perhaps why she’s the one that gets sent to his rooms. her moms can trust that she at least won’t fawn over him.

“sir wolfgang,” she murmurs, pushing open his door and giving a low curtsy, keeping her eyes trained on his mud covered boots. “is there anything you require?”

silence. she can only stay bent in a curtsey so long before she loses patience. she’s almost given up on him, is about to cut her losses and call it a night when he says, hesitant, “queen sabine?”

her mother’s name is punch to her gut, and her head snaps up at the sound of it, the rolling fire of her temper bubbling just below her skin. “i am maid maleen,” she snaps, then tacks on “your highness,” after a moment’s consideration.

his cloak is half unbuttoned as he stares at her with a slack mouth. she supposes he would not look unhandsome if he were not currently doing his best to imitate a frog. he appears to be only a handful of years older than she is, and if she were not furious she would be impressed that he remembers her mother well enough to see sabine in her.

“maleen,” he repeats, and for a moment she wonders if he will recognize her as well, but he only says, “my apologies. if you would help me with my cloak, i would be much obliged.”

she’s instantly suspicious. she’s met nice nobles before, ones that were considerate and remembered her name and thanked her when she brought them wine. but she’s never met a nice prince before – they’re always of the worst sort. “yes, your highness,” she says, and the cloak is soaked through and clinging, it’s no wonder he’s struggling with it. once she’s gotten it off she hangs it to dry, then goes back to him. she slaps away his numb, struggling fingers and undoes the rest of the buckles and loops of his overly complicated clothing. she’s gotten down him down to an undershirt and pants when his hands grab hers. she blinks and looks up. he has freckles dusting across his nose.

“this is inappropriate,” he says, but honestly she’s stripped a lot of nobles, it wasn’t weird until he took her hands and looked at her like no one’s ever looked at her before.

“yes, your highness,” she agrees, and takes a step back. she places his clothes in front of a fire, curtsies, and leaves. she can feel the weight of his gaze on her all the way back to her room.

wolfgang continues his diplomatic agenda, having long meetings with the royal family. after, maleen goes and tends to him, setting out his food and taking care of his clothes, straightening up any mess that he’s made. at first he’s quiet, and he just watches her, but he quickly discovers that maleen has opinions and thoughts and isn’t afraid to share them. soon they’re debating the finer points of trade routes and arguing the effectiveness of a sliding tax scale, and maleen comes to cherish the evenings she spends with the prince, likes the way he speaks to her and looks at her, likes the shape of his smile.

weeks in she enters his room, dinner steaming in her hands and eager to continue their conversation about state funded orphanages versus a state funded foster system. he’s pacing and tense, shoulder stiff. “wolfgang,” she sets down the food and wipes her hands on her apron, “is something wrong?”

“is it true?” he asks, and he’s not looking at her. he’s always looked at her before.

“is what true?” she flinches away from his coldness, is already preparing to retreat and hide and beg someone else to watch over him.

he turns to her, and she’s baffled by the mixture of hope and anger on his face. “are you the king’s daughter? are you princess maleen?”

she takes a step back, “i am maid maleen.”

“please,” he follows her as she steps away from him, and her back hits the wall. he stops when he’s almost close enough to touch. “my father sent me here with the goal to seal our new treaty with a marriage. he expects me to marry princess gisella. but if you are the daughter of the king – then he will allow me to marry you instead!”

“who says i want to marry you?” she retorts, but he gets on bended knee and she freezes.

he holds a hand for her own, and against every bit of logic, she gives it to him. “maleen, i’ve never felt this way about anyone. i was willing enough to enter a loveless marriage before i knew what true love is, but now i do, and i can’t go back. marry me.”

she wants to. she thinks she loves him. she hadn’t been planning to fall in love with anyone. “i am the king’s daughter,” she tells him, “but i am no princess. i haven’t been a princess in a long time.”

he brings her hand to his mouth so he can kiss each one of her knuckles, “then we’ll have to change that.”

~

wolfgang goes to the king to make his case, to return maleen to her birthright and allow her to marry him.

it goes even worse than maleen had feared.

her father is furious. he’s so angry at the audacity of this request that prince wolfgang is thrown from the kingdom. so incensed is he, that guards drag maleen from her bed in the middle of the night and throw her into a tower. the door closes shut behind them, and she bangs on it and screams but no one comes for her.

there are no windows, and only one door with a sliding metal grate in the bottom. she’s high in the tower, she thinks, from the number of steps she’d been forced to climb, but she stands on a dirt floor. the room contains only the bare minimum needed for survival, and nothing more.

once a week food is slid through the slot in the door. she has to be careful, because if she eats it too fast they will not provide more, she will just starve. days turn to weeks turn to months, and she despairs of ever being let out of this tower. months turn to years, and she gives up hope entirely of leaving this tower. she considers refusing to eat, killing herself slowly through starvation, because death is preferable to life locked in this tower.

one night there’s a scuffle, and shouting, and for the first time since she was shoved inside the door opens. there’s a guard standing there, and princess gisella tentatively steps inside. “maid ma – i mean, maleen?”

maleen stares. this is the first time she’s seen another person in years, and suddenly for all the screaming she’d done she can’t find her voice. gisella takes another cautious step forward, “maleen, please – we don’t have much time.” she holds out her hand, “come with me.”

gisella is sixteen now. although she’ll never be a great beauty, she’s grown into many of the features that she was once mocked for. “where?” she asks, but takes gisella’s hand and lets her lead them down the twisting staircase. anyplace is better than the tower.

“i’m to be married in a week’s time to prince wolfgang.” maleen feels a sharp pain go through her chest. had wolfgang forgotten her? their farce of a romance was such a quick, shallow thing. she was a fool to fall for it in the first place. “i’m not going to show up. you are.”

she stares, “what?”

“wolfgang started a war over father locking you in the tower,” she explains, “but eventually it got to a point where neither could justify it, so our father and wolfgang’s decided our union would mean peace between our countries, as intended. but i don’t want to marry prince wolfgang, and he does not want to marry me.”

“i don’t understand,” she hadn’t paid much attention to the girl when they were in the palace together, and she’s regretting that now.

they finally reach the end of the tower. it’s the first time she’s breathed fresh air in years. she tries not to get distracted by it, and instead focuses on the carriage to her left, and the pure black mare laden like a pack mule on her right. “i’m leaving,” gisella says, “i don’t want to be wolfgang’s bride because i want to be klaus’s,” the guard smiles, and he must be klaus, the princess is rejecting a prince to run away with a commoner. “there’s a map and everything you need in the saddlebags. the wedding dress is waiting for you at the castle. no one will know you’re not me until wolfgang unveils you, and by then it will be too late. he will marry you, and i will be gone.”

“why are you doing this?” she asks.

gisella shrugs, “you’re my sister, and father is an idiot. i want you to be happy, and i want wolfgang to be happy, and i want to be happy too. this way we all get what we want. our brother will be waiting for you in wolfgang’s castle. he’ll help you.”

maleen is speechless. gisella grabs her in a quick hug – the only one they’ve ever shared – and then goes to the carriage with klaus trailing behind her. “i’ll see you again, princess maleen!”

she doesn’t have time for tears. she gets on the mare, and rides for the palace of the neighboring land.

~

she makes it just in time. she sneaks into the castle the night before the wedding, ducking around servants until she find her way to jan’s door. she knocks, tentative, wondering if this was a mistake and all one elaborate trap. but the door opens and his face slackens in relief, “finally!” he pulls her inside, and sits her down. there’s lukewarm water waiting for her so she can clean herself, and jan stands with his back to her the whole time, outlining the wedding and how it will go so she knows what to expect the next day. “father isn’t here,” he assures her, “he didn’t want to leave the kingdom, so i’m here in his stead.”

“won’t you miss your sister?” maleen finishes washing and wraps herself in a soft blanket.

“when i am king, gisella will return,” he says confidently, “she will come home and bring klaus, and you will rule here with wolfgang, and all will be well. our countries shall be great allies when it is me and wolfgang on the throne.”

he’s only a year older than gisella, just seventeen, and maleen feels oddly old next to them, feels old next to these children who know what they want and take it and don’t let anything stand in their way.

“we need to get your hair rebraided,” he says, “you should look perfect tomorrow. it’s your wedding day.”

she stares, aghast. “that will take all night!”

“i’ve brought help,” he says, and sends a servant down the hall. the servant returns with a half dozen of the maids who raised her, and who crowd forward and hug her and kiss her cheeks and say how much they’ve missed her. princess or not, bride or not, to them she will always be their little maid maleen.

~

it’s clear gisella picked her wedding dress with maleen in mind. it fits her for one thing, and is clinging and heavy, and it must have looked awful on gisella, but on her it’s perfect. her dress is accompanied by white silk gloves and a thick veil so that no one can see her, so that no one will know she’s not the daughter of the king they’re expecting to be there.

wolfgang is at the end of the aisle, looking like he’s going to an execution, and it takes more self control than maleen was anticipating not to go running to him. she turns to him, and he lifts her veil. he sees her and freezes, mouth sliding open. she winks at him, because they just need to keep it together until they’re married, he just has to keep his cool for a few minutes and they’ll have won it all. wolfgang closes his mouth and says nothing about how this is clearly not the bride he was supposed to marry. they turn so none of the guests can see them, and the priest gives maleen a confused look, but with a glare from wolfgang he continues on with the ceremony as if nothing is out of place.

“you may now kiss the bride,” the priest says, after what seems like an eternity.

wolfgang grabs her about the waist, dips her, and kisses her soundly on the mouth. her veil falls off and she can hear the horrified and shocked gasps of the guests, and under that jan’s laughter. when they break apart, foreheads still pressed together, she whispers, “hello, prince wolfgang.”

he kisses her again, quick and sweet, and does nothing at all to disguise the joy in his face. “hello, princess maleen.”

and they all lived happily ever after.


read more retold fairytales here

Neighbors


Inspired by Shawn’s recent Instagram story and this line:

“Wanna, like– I mean, if you’re not busy… We could get lunch? Or even just coffee if you don’t have a lot of time?”


She sighed, looking around the mess that is her new apartment. Her back hurt, her arms were burning and she was so exhausted, she felt like passing out.

“Where do these boxes go, hun?” her dad asked, holding up a box with “books” written on it.

“Just put those in my bedroom, thanks,” she replied, taking a sip from the beer her best friend had handed her.

Moving into your new fancy place in Toronto could be really awesome but also very tiring and she groaned, seeing all the boxes in her living room she had to unpack.

Her best friend put an arm around her shoulders and as if she could read her friend’s mind she said: “Hey, the view makes this bearable, don’t you think?”

She grinned at her friend, squinting her eyes a little because the sun is shining bright on the balcony. “Yeah, true. The view made me buy this!”

“So… when’s the housewarming party?” her friend asked, raising her perfectly arched eyebrows.

The girl shrugged. “I have to put actual furniture here first. And clean up. And decorate.”

“Yes, yes, Miss to-do-list, I get it. It has to be perfect, I know. As always,” her friend stated, rolling her eyes.

They laughed as they go back inside and she knew she’s nowhere near done yet but she already feels at home. It’s a warm feeling. And she knew this is where she belongs.


Three weeks later

She’s on her way to the elevator, carrying a bag with groceries and another shopping bag from H&M because she just couldn’t resist buying that cute dress and the sweater she really needed as the concierge calls her name.

“Excuse me, Miss!”

She turns around. “Yes?”

“Could I ask you for a favor, please?”

She smiles a little, nodding. “Yeah, sure.”

“I have a parcel for… um,” he looks at the box, “Mister Shawn Mendes. Your neighbor. I know he hasn’t been home for quite a while but could you just take this for me? I have no space to store this and I would have asked Mrs. Johnson from 310 c but she would just forget about it, you know how she is…”

He smiles at her apologetically and she nods again. “Yeah, I can take it. I mean… I haven’t seen my neighbor yet and I don’t know him but I guess it’s a nice way to say hello”

“He’s very nice. You’ll get along perfectly,” the concierge says with a smirk. “You are both young and so hardworking! And both charming young things.”

She smiles back. “Yeah, we’ll see about that and um… thanks!”

She takes the parcel, briefly looking at it in the elevator. It says “Armani headquarters” on it and it got sent all the way from Milan. She raises her eyebrows a little.

Must be nice being a superstar. Getting free designer stuff all the time.

She felt a bit insecure when she found out who her neighbor was. 

Living door to door with a teenage pop sensation slash superstar could be a bit frightening, knowing how famous he really was.

She dreaded the thought of having lunatic fangirls standing in front of her door, screaming and shouting Shawn’s name but so far it has been very quiet and she hasn’t seen him yet as he was probably busy being the good looking popstar he was, traveling the world, making girls scream wherever he went.

She didn’t really get the hype. 

Her best friend freaked out when she found out who the mysterious neighbor was, making her want to move in with her. 

Or camping on Shawn Mendes’ doormat.

But the girl living in the condo next to him, didn’t get too excited. Sure, he was good looking and talented and cute and all of that.

But she didn’t understand how people could scream and shout, seeing him, shoving phones into his face for a selfie when he was just a regular person who happened to sing and play the guitar.

She didn’t understand until she saw him. In person.

It was a Saturday and she knew he was home.

There were footsteps in the hall, male voices, sounds of a guitar and doors shutting and she took a deep breath, brushed her hair and ringed the bell.

She wasn’t wearing anything fancy, heck, she was in her gym shorts and a loose band shirt she got at a concert some time ago. And she was wearing fuzzy socks.

Not sexy at all.

And she regretted her outfit choice as soon as she saw him, standing in the doorframe, looking like a Greek God or something. A light stubble, messy brown curls sticking up slightly, wearing black pants and a white t shirt that fitted him well and as he looked at her, eyes a bit sleepy and a wry smile spreading across his plump lips, she had to swallow thickly.

He blinked twice.

She looked down at the parcel and up at him.

“Um… hi!”

“Hi,” he said in a deep, raspy voice, smiling down at her.

“I’m your new neighbor and I wanted to say hi and I have this parcel for you and um… yeah, hi…” she rambled, blushing a bit because he was looking at her in a way that made her nervous.

He was checking her out. Briefly looking her up and down and she squared her shoulders a little.
His gaze rested on her bare legs for a little bit too long and he bit his bottom lip in a way that made her heart flutter and race and she felt hot suddenly.

“Oh, thank you so much!” he smiled brightly, taking the parcel from her. It looked tiny in his hands. “And nice to meet you,” he added, stretching his hand out. “I’m Shawn”

She shook his hand, saying her name.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

He leaned against the doorframe, obviously not in a hurry to close the door.

“I just hope I don’t bother you with my music. I’m working on something right now and it can get a bit… loud,” he said with a smug grin, dipping his head a little, after nodding into the direction of his condo.

He was towering over her, playing with the parcel in his huge hands and she looked at his long fingers, noticing a silver ring on his middle finger. He was wearing a black watch that looked cool and expensive and she pressed her lips together. She understood it now. The hype. The fangirls.

He looked like a teenage dream. Almost as if he wasn’t real.

Too handsome for his own good.

She looked up at him. “No, um, all good. I don’t mind.”

He gives her a crooked smile, licking his sinfully plump lips. “Okay, good. Just tell me if it’s too loud… and if you need anything I’m right here,” he said in that soft voice of his she already found so endearing.

She awkwardly shifted her weight from one foot to another. “Yeah, thanks! Goes both ways… the if you need anything thing… not the music thing, obviously…”

She blushed and he smiled at her, running his fingers through his curls. “Yeah,” he replied, never breaking eye contact and she felt like dying on that door mat of his.

“Okay, so I should try this on, I guess,” he frowned, looking at the parcel and she nodded.

“Must be something nice… coming from Italy,” she smiled and suddenly regretted her words. “I only saw that it’s from Milan, I didn’t…”

He laughed and it sounded like the most beautiful thing she has ever heard.

“It’s okay! All good. Yeah, they send me awesome stuff now… it’s just really cool because I actually hate going shopping,” he chuckled, blushing himself.

She smiled at him. “Oh, I can’t relate. Shopping is my favorite hobby.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, well, that’s because you’re a girl… must be natural, eh?”

She laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I guess. So cliché.”

He smirked and she looked down, avoiding his burning gaze. “Okay, um… I’ll leave you alone now… so you can try your new stuff on and yeah…”

He smiled. “Okay, yeah, see you.”

“See you,” she breathed and tried to walk gracefully back into her condo.

Don’t trip, don’t trip. Don’t mess up.

She exhaled loudly, closing the door after her and let out a little groan.
She reached for her phone because she really needed to talk to her best friend now and she quickly typed OMG CALL ME into her phone, pressing send.


Shawn sighed in frustration, looking into his empty fridge.

Living alone was not as cool as he thought it would be. His clothes were dirty and scattered on the floor in front of his washing machine, there was nothing to eat and he missed his mom.

Coming back from tour to his new posh place felt good at first but now all he wanted was to go back to Pickering to eat his mom’s roast and he started to feel jealous of his little sister who got to sleep in a freshly made bed and eat home cooked food all the time.

He groaned, looking at the stove. There was no salt. He had used everything his mom had given to him and he looked down at the chicken he was trying to make taste somewhat eatable.

He bit down on his bottom lip, turning down the John Mayer song he was listening to.
He could go to the supermarket and actually buy food – and get mobbed in the process.

Or he could ask her.

He was pretty positive that she had salt in her perfectly tidy condo with a full fridge and nice flowers everywhere. She looked like a girl who had flowers in her apartment.

And nice pillows.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Those long, lean legs. Her nice ass, he got a good look at when she walked back to her condo.

The outlines of her obviously nicely shaped breasts through that grey band shirt and he licked his lips again.

He was feeling frustrated, coming back from tour. He was needy, antsy somehow and he had felt hot and bothered, closing the door after receiving his parcel.

Leaning against the door he had to cup himself through his pants adjusting his cock that had started to stir against his boxers that were getting all tight around his dick as she had turned around and he had watched her hips sway slightly.

There were thoughts in his head. Thoughts he shouldn’t have about a girl he didn’t know.
Inappropriate thoughts crossing his mind. About her. Naked. Moaning his name. Panting. Legs spread and back arched.

He tugged at his hair in desperation. He shouldn’t feel like this about a girl he just met but the way she blushed and rambled made him want to be dominant with her. Be rather rough. Take her from behind maybe because he loved that position and she would feel him deep inside of her.

He felt guilty, thinking that. She probably had a boyfriend anyway. And Shawn would leave for Brazil soon. So that was that.

He hesitated a bit before knocking on her door. But he took a deep breath, fixed his hair and knocked.

His heart started to race, hearing footsteps.

She opened the door and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“Hi!” he said, his voice cracking a little. “So this thing about needing something came sooner than expected,” he said with an amused huff and she smiled up at him.

“Yeah, I guess?”

“Well, I just came home from tour and the only thing that is in my fridge is some mustard and disgusting smelling milk and I wanted to cook something but I ran out of salt,” he frowned a little, his cheeks turning pink. “That’s why I was wondering if - um – if I could borrow some?”

She nodded, giving him a beautiful genuine smile and his heart did a stupid little jumpy thing he didn’t know it could make until then.

“Sure! I got you.”

She turned around and he was about to drool. He shamelessly stared at her ass and he didn’t want to be like this. Lusting over her like some horny teenager. But he couldn’t help himself.
He totally had the hottest neighbor in all of Canada.

She came back from the kitchen. “There you go,” she smiled and his fingertips brushed over hers as he took the small package from her.

“Thank you so much! You saved me from starving! I mean I could always order pizza but I’m trying to impress my mom.”

She let out a soft giggle. “Good luck with the cooking, it smells like you burned something though.”

He looked over his shoulder in an alarmed way. “Oh, fuck, yeah, I should go look after that! Thanks again!”

And with that he ran back into his apartment, trying to save his dinner.


She looks at her freshly baked cupcakes and knows that there is no way she would eat all of that. She had baked too many cupcakes and couldn’t stop thinking about knocking on his door.

She found it way too cute how he had nothing in his fridge and here she was, practically surrounded by food.

That’s why she takes two cupcakes, arranging them on a plate. This time she is prepared. With gloss on her lips, wearing her favorite bra and a nice t shirt, denim jeans and flip flops. All wavy hair and bare tanned legs. She knocks. And waits.

Maybe he isn’t home.

She is about to turn around as she hears footsteps. And there he is.

Shirtless.

Fucking shirtless, only wearing some sweatpants he must have thrown over in a hurry.

“Hey,” he pants, looking at her, slightly confused.

“Hi! Oh. I’m sorry. Didn’t want to disturb!” she says, no, gasps.

He looks almost photoshopped. Ripped abs, defined v line, pecks and arms, defined and muscular. 

She swallows thickly, looking down.

He looks over his shoulder, an alarmed look on his face. “You aren’t! All good. Can I - er - help you?”

“No, no. I just baked those and have some left over and I thought you might like some?” she says tentatively, holding up the little plate.

He smiles in a genuine way, looking very grateful. But still tense.

“That’s so sweet. Thank you very much!”

He presses his lips together, hearing the high-pitched, female voice coming from his bedroom.

“Shawn? Who is that?”

A blonde girl comes up behind him, looking like she’s on the cover of Sport’s Illustrated or something, wearing nothing but a large men’s shirt.

And now she knows where his shirt is.

On some blonde bombshell with a D cup.

Silicone probably.

“Oh,” she squeals. “Cupcakes? Awesome!” the blonde girl grabs one, grinning at Shawn.

“Who’s that, Shawn? Your neighbor?”

Shawn looks flustered and his cheeks are red. As well as his ears.

“Yeah… that’s my neighbor.” He awkwardly introduces them and he shakes his head slightly - desperate -  at his pretty neighbor who looks shell shocked with her plate in hand.

As if he wanted to say no no she’s not my girlfriend. She’s just an one night stand. Meaningless. I swear. I was thinking about you all the time. Imagining you under me. Because you drive me crazy.

“Um-well,” she blurts out. “I should… leave, I’m sorry. Bye,” she hands Shawn the plate as if it had burned her and almost runs into her condo, leaving an embarassed Shawn behind.

He closes the door, groaning in frustration. That was not what he had planned. This shouldn’t have happened.

His one night stand should have left hours ago but she was clingy and annoying and Shawn was too polite to kick her out. But it was time now.

The blonde girl is nibbling on the icing of the cupcake and Shawn picks her clothes up, holding them up.

“Hun, I really should work now, sorry but… you know…” he says, sounding annoyed.

Her eyes widen. “Oh, I see,” she says, sounding ice cold. “I’ll leave. I get it.”

He sighs, turning around so that she could get dressed.

“Bye, Shawn! And don’t ever call me again! Asshole!” she spits out, leaving his place and he slams the door shut. 

“Yeah, bye” he snorts angrily. Just to huff a frustrated “fuck!” afterwards, letting himself fall onto his couch, hitting a pillow in frustration.


He slams his hand against her door. But she won’t open. Of course not.

“Hey! I know you’re home! Come on! Please! Open the door!” he yells.

He rings the bell again. Over and over until it starts to get annoying.

She opens the door with an annoyed huff.

“What?” she hisses. “I’m working on a paper and I need to concentrate. If you would stop ringing my doorbell- that would be nice. Thanks,” and she proceeds to slam the door into his face.

He’s quick, sliding a huge foot into the doorframe.

“No! Wait!”

She rolls her eyes at him, opening the door again.

“Your plate! Here!” he awkwardly holds it up, handing it over to her. “Tasted so good, really! Thank you!”

“Mhm,” she breathes out in an annoyed way. She isn’t exactly mad at him. She’s mad at herself. For believing that she would actually have the tiniest bit of a chance with this guy who looked like a young god and lived the superstar lifestyle. Fucking blonde bombshells included.

“She isn’t - that wasn’t - that girl is not my girlfriend,” he blurts out.

“I don’t care, Shawn”

“Okay. Just wanted to make that clear. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he frowns, brows furrowed, curls messy and bopping a little.

“What do you want to hear? I don’t care about your love life or whatever… we don’t even know each other.”

She looks him in the eye, looking dead serious.

He licks his lip nervously and steps closer so that he towers over her, hands on either side of the doorframe. He looks down at her and gulps, tilting his head a little. 

“Wanna, like– I mean, if you’re not busy… We could get lunch? Or even just coffee if you don’t have a lot of time?” he asks, feeling his cheeks get bright red as well as the top of his ears and he shifts his weight from one foot to another.

She tilts her chin up a bit.

“I have to see about that - I actually am busy right now.”

She sounds distant and he sighs.

“Come on… please… I’d love to get to know you.”

She nibbles on her bottom lip. And he wants to kiss her so bad. Part those pretty lips with his and slip his tongue into her mouth. 

He wants, wants, wants her.

“Really?” she says, barely audible.

She knew there were girls out there who would sell their souls for this. A date with Shawn Mendes.

He nods. Eyes dark.

“I’m not who you think I am. I don’t have a different girl every night,” he says quickly.

“I know what you’re thinking. That I’m some stupid teenage star who has a lot of hook ups and gets drunk in fancy bars but I’m not!” he adds. “I’m a regular dude. Really.”

She shrugs. “I don’t really think ‘bout you so you’re good.”

His face falls. “O-okay, right, yeah. I shouldn’t have assumed that.”

His shoulders hang a bit as well as his head and he wants to turn around but she holds him back. “No wait! Sorry, that was kinda rude. I’m just- I mean… coffee would be nice,” she breathes out and his face lights up again.

It frustrates her how freaking adorable he looks like that, smiling, looking like a lovesick puppy.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean- it’s just coffee, right?”

“Just coffee,” he grins.

And he’s already so involved in this. He loves the chase. The thrill. And he can’t wait for what’s to come. 

An Overrated Cliché

Summary: That Spider-Man kiss video was definitely cliché and cheesy, which is exactly the reason that Spidey and Y/N have to do it.

Word Count: 2235

Warnings: Heights and Swearing.

A/N: casually drops this after almost a year without writing like okay!! okay!! please enjoy this (it has good format!!) :0 and thank you to @buckys-fossil for actually tolerating me and proofreading this, i love you!!! also this is a gender neutral fic!!!! if you followed me when i was strictly an aesthetic blog well then, hello i write fics too

Originally posted by kimtaeyoen

Summer weather was the worst.

Summer holiday wasn’t that much better, what with having cabin fever and all. It had been a week since you had left the comfort of your apartment and three hours since you flopped onto the couch and lay there. All of your friends had been busy, Michelle doing her protesting, Liz with college preparation. It left you with nothing much to do other than lounge around your home.

The fan placed on the coffee table was set on revolve and hit your body with cool breezes. Laying on your side and absentmindedly watching season three of Phineas and Ferb, you felt jealous that those children were creative enough to make the most of your summer. It was a big contrast to you, as you hadn’t done anything the entire few weeks of summer there had been.

A thought suddenly came to mind and you decided to act on it. Shutting off the TV and fan, you put on actual clothes and took care of your hygiene before fixing your hair and pulling on your sneakers. Making sure to had some money and the house key, you texted your mom.

to: mom
hey i’m leaving the apartment for the first time in days are you proud of me

It didn’t take her long to reply.

from: mom
Fine with me, I was about to kick you out and make you do something.

You laughed at her text before tucking your phone away and leaving the apartment and locking the door.

Keep reading

Jealousy (Richie/Eddie)

Summary: In which Eddie can’t help but feel jealousy creep against his thoughts.

Prompt 97“Are you jealous?”

Prompt: 26“Open your fucking eyes, it’s so obvious that I’m in love with you!”

A/N: Thankyou for this request @wrongsmakethewordscometolife! If you wanna ask me for prompts ask away HERE. If you want to ask an ordinary request ask HERE. THIS IS HORRIBLY RUSHED IM SORRY BUT I HAVE SO MANY REQUESTS AND I WANT TO POST AS MANY AS POSSIBLE

Eddie sighed in frustration with tired legs, crawling back up from out of the water with the rest of the losers club. He fixed his white briefs and found himself standing up despite his legs practically wobbling from kicking them that much under water; this was because Eddie was in fact too short to stand up properly under the water.

The others sat down, stretching their limbs and talking quietly amongst themselves whilst Beverly set up the boombox and somehow managing to get music echoing from the speakers.

Eddie zoned out, watching as the water swayed lightly in the lake and a grin took place on his lips. He didn’t need his inhaler today, he was fine swimming. Despite countless times of his Mom telling him to always be extra careful in deep water because of how weak he is, he was strong enough to keep his head above water and that’s all that mattered to him.

Eddie turned back around, going to engage in a conversation with one of the others until he noticed it.

Most, if not all of the boys were staring.

Eddie followed their gaze, his jaw slacked which revealed his open mouth as he noticed that all of them were staring at a sun bathing Beverly, relaxed and in her underwear. 

Sure, Beverly was pretty. Very, pretty. But what made her so enticing for all of the boys to stare at her in an alluring way? She didn’t have the best reputation with boys to begin with, which surprised Eddie as he would’ve thought some of them would’ve moved away from the thoughts that were currently going through their minds right now.

Eddie couldn’t help but feel out of place, especially because the only reason he was staring was because he was trying to find out what made he so special? Was it because she was a girl? Was it because she was a girl in her undergarments? Possibly so. 

Eddie’s eyes then shift to his friends, eyeing the way they were all in a trance. As Eddie wandered his gaze over to Richie he couldn’t help but feel his heart strings twist and turn and he helplessly allowed a sigh to release from his nostrils. Anger filled his thoughts. 

What was so special about Beverly? If she was wearing more clothes then he wouldn’t be staring at her like that, surely. She was a stupid girl. Does Richie like stupid girls? Does he like girls in general? 

Just as he stares back at Beverly with distaste roaming his tastebuds, Beverly’s head turns and glances at the boys through her fashionable shades.

All of the boys, including Eddie, look elsewhere and pretend to engage in conversation to disguise their actions. Eddie quickly squirms his steps across the path to where Stanley was sat and switches the song to something else to cover up his own acts.

Beverly merely shrugs, before looking elsewhere.


It was later on that day when the losers were all packing up to go home; Eddie and Richie left earlier than the rest as they both lived on the same road a few houses away from one another.

It was silent, with Eddie still having bad thoughts about Beverly due to an unknown emotion taking over him, almost alike to selfishness. Richie on the other hand was chewing upon gum obnoxiously loud, his mouth open when doing so. He followed up his actions by blowing a large pink bubble, before sucking it back into his mouth. He repeated this a few times until the silence was practically killing him.

“You’re awfully quiet, Eds.”

“Don’t call me fucking Eds.” Eddie grumbled, tightening his fanny pack around his hips to prevent it from slipping down his legs.

Richie was shocked at Eddie’s sudden tone, not to mention that he had been quiet for the majority of the day up until this point. “Damn, no need to be a bitch about it.” Richie mumbled, pushing his glasses up with his middle finger towards Eddie in hope he’d see it as a joke and lighten up.

He didn’t.

Eddie simply rolled his eyes and walked faster. “You’re not funny and I’m not laughing.”

Richie frowned, walking Eddie closer and closer to his house. He was growing impatient with the boys temper growing, but he was determined to find the cause of his lack of happiness and find the core reason as to why he was acting strange.

“Eds, c’mon. Don’t be like this.” Richie bounced against Eddie’s side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie scoffed, ignoring the taller boys question and grabbing Richie’s arm and shoving it off him. “Go wrap your twig arms around Beverly, I’m sure she’d fucking enjoy that considering all you did today was stare at her.”

Eddie walked quicker now, his tiny feet pacing forth. A lightbulb went off in Richie’s head as well as his lips spreading into a knowing smirk.

Richie cleared his throat, “My my, Eds. Are you jealous?

Eddie stopped in his tracks, heat rising against the skin on his face and spreading to his ears and clothed chest. He turned around with an angered look on his face.

“J-jealous? What the fuck of Richie?”

Richie’s smirk turned into a sly one, walking closer and folding his arms. “You’re jealous of me and Beverly, ain’t ya’?”

Just as Eddie was about to protest, Richie walked up and pressed his finger against Eddie’s lips teasingly, rubbing it around over them to force a funny face upon Eddie.

“Don’t answer that, I don’t want you blushing anymore than you already are.”

Eddie was horrified, he didn’t know that the heat sensation over his skin was him blushing. Why was he blushing? 

“I’m not-” Eddie stuttered, before being shushed by Richie’s finger again.

“Is this why you’ve been ignoring me all day?” Richie tilted his head, his curls flopping to one side.

Eddie averted his eyes elsewhere, feeling the shame creep up behind his shoulder. Silence was the best option for Eddie.

“Hm.” Richie hummed, moving his finger away and standing closer to Eddie. “Can I give you some advice Eds?”

Both of the two boys stood in front of Eddie’s house now, Eddie barely moving head to nod as anxiety took over. The anticipation of not knowing what ‘advice’ Richie was going to give him was killing him; Richie was dragging it out purposely to create suspense.

Richie finally spoke in a soft and gentle voice, “Open your fucking eyes, it’s so obvious that I’m in love with you.

Eddie opened his mouth, only for Richie to once again cut him off. This time, it wasn’t Richie’s finger but in fact Richie’s chapped, gum flavoured lips merging against Eddie’s own smooth pair of lips.

Eddie was quickly filled with anxious thoughts, he thought about how many germs were in a human mouth. For instance, there are actually more germs in a human mouth than a dogs. Eddie hitched for a second, before somehow gaining strength and pushing the thoughts away as he trembled into his first kiss with Richie, the boy he was falling for.

Eddie felt the heat run down his shoulders and smothering his spine, sending tingles as he twitched his fingers against Richie’s cheeks whilst on his tiptoes. Richie confidently wrapped his hands around Eddie’s hips to hold him in place for the kiss. Both of the boys had their eyes closed as they enjoyed their moment in perfect unity.

After what seemed like forever, which forever was 10 seconds in this instance, both pulled away for fresh air. Their eyes opened slowly, Eddie looking up at Richie through his eyelashes and Richie surprisingly having flushed freckles over his dotted skin.

Both boys giggled, stepping away from each other awkwardly.

“So.. so uh- don’t get jealous.” Richie chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“i don’t.. I don’t think I’ll need too.” Eddie whispered, clutching his shirt for mental and physical support.

Richie smiled down at the boy, “Well.. goodnight Eds. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With that, Richie quickly rushed off with quick steps and his arms frantically moving in-between his steps. 

Eddie watched from afar, his fingertips touching where Richie had kissed him. The bubblegum taste lingered on his own lips from Richie’s, his tongue licking at his bottom lip ever so slightly to remember how Richie melted perfectly against him with no flaws whatsoever. How Richie made him feel negatively about Eddie by making him jealous. How Richie managed to sweep Eddie up and off his feet in the end. How… Eddie loved Richie too.

“I love you too.” Eddie whispered to Richie, despite Richie being very much so far away and couldn’t possibly hear Eddie’s silent confession.

With that, Eddie turned on his heels and made his way back inside.

Meeting the Family

Prompt: Batfam meets Batmom’s large extended family

AN: I interrupt our string of votes to bring you an actual story. Enjoy!

Words: 1490


          You’re more than a little surprised when your brother walks through your office door. Though not technically an employee of Wayne Enterprises, your office space is still in the building, just one of the perks of your husband owning the building. That also means your security is top notch, and well, you haven’t seen anyone from your family in about ten years.

          All of this is what’s running through your mind as your brother, your baby brother just stands there and fidgets. “You’re still drifting off I see.”

          You shrug and point to one of the chairs, on the opposite side of the room. There’s several minutes of silence, as you take in the changes on your brother, before you ask, “What are you doing here, Ricky?”

          “Mom’s in the hospital … It’s bad. She wants to see you.”

          That takes you by surprise. Your fight was never with your mother; it was just a side effect of the war with your father. “What’s wrong?”

          He shrugs. “Kidney failure, she wants to come off treatment. She won’t listen to anyone. The doctors say she still has a chance you know. If she continues her treatments, and waits for a transplant. Either way she wants to see you.” You open your mouth to say something but he stops you “This isn’t about dad, it’s about mom. The fight wasn’t with her, it wasn’t with any of us but dad. It was you who chose to leave. It was you who cut us off.”

          You nod. “You’re right, I did.”

          “She’s your mother, and she’s dying. You should see her.”

          “I won’t make any promises.”

          Your brother stares at you for a moment before laying an envelope on the table, and walking out.

          You debate on going for several days. Bruce is out of town on business for the week, and the boys are all gone as well. It’s just you and Alfred in the manor. And while the butler doesn’t pry he does acknowledge something is wrong.

          It all comes out two nights later about the fight that separated you from your family. The fight that ended up leading you to Bruce. The fight that led the two of you to each of the boys. “It’s weird how a fight that, at that time, nearly ended my world, led me to a brand new one. One I wouldn’t change for the world. “

          Alfred just smiles. “If you called Master Bruce he’d return home to go with you.”

          You shake your head. “No, I think this is something I need to do alone.”

          You’re packed and out the door several hours later. You catch a last minute flight, and you just go. It’s nearly midnight when you get to the hospital, suitcase in tow. You follow the nurse to her room. She leaves you at the door with instructions, to try and not wake her. You agree and slip into the room.

          Your eyes focus on the woman in the bed. She looks frail, and much too thin. Her hair though is still brushed, and delicately styled, your sister’s doing no doubt. And she’s dressed in nice looking pajamas.

          You prop your suitcase against the wall and move to the chair beside her bed. You just sit there staring at her. You study the changes and with a feeling of sadness you realize she’s actually gotten older, not old, just older. At the same time, it hits you. You’ve gotten older too. You have a husband, and kids now. You have a successful business. Things have changed not only for you, but for them as well.

At some point in the night, you turn to a book. You’re nearly halfway through when a voice whispers, “You always did have your nose in a book. Couldn’t get enough of them. You’d always beg her for one more chapter when she’d read to you before bed.”

You book mark your page and turn towards the voice. Your father is still very much like how you remembered him. He’s tall, and wide, but his hair has a lot more gray in it now, and there are more lines along his face.

He gestures with his head and you follow him out. “I didn’t expect you to come.”

You cross your arms. “I wasn’t completely sure I would myself.”

“She’ll be happy to see you.” You just acknowledge the statement with a nod. “I suppose we need to talk.”

You shrug, suddenly feeling like that twenty something again. “I don’t see why. We both said all we needed to all those years ago.”

He looks you in the eye and says, “I want to make things right.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“It’s been ten years.”

“And a lot has changed in those years. Right now, I’m here for Mom.”

“Which means you’re here for me. She wanted you here so we could settle things. She wanted to make sure that you had your family in case something went wrong, or something went right. She wanted you to have us around for when you got married, when you have kids. She’s terrified you’ll be alone.”

“And what do you want?” You ask. He just looks at you confused. You shrug and say, “So far everything has been about what Mom wants. What do you want?”

He stares at you for a minute before he says “I want my daughter back.”

You nod. “Small steps. This was a good first one.”

Without another word, you slip back into the room. Your father is right behind you and he takes the seat on the opposite side of the bed. Neither of you say anything, but you don’t go back to your book either.

          Your mother wakes up at about eight in the morning. She opens her eyes and she comes to life. There’s tears when she sees you, and a lot of saying sorry on both your parts. Your father just watches. You take her hand and don’t let go for several hours.

          Over the next several days you see a lot of family you haven’t seen in a long time. Some greet you with smiles, others with nods. Overall, you spend a lot of time with your mother and siblings. Things start looking up, and then suddenly something happens. No one’s quite sure what, but suddenly her blood pressure starts to drop, and you’re pushed out of the room, as she’s rushed back to emergency surgery.

          You’re a bit disoriented, as you watch the family surround each other. You consider joining in, but they’ve formed this little cocoon, and you can’t help but feel there isn’t a place for you there anymore.

          You watch from the outside, your arms wrapped around yourself. Till a noise you’d know anywhere hits your ears. A very tired looking Bruce rounds the corner, with the boys trailing after him. Dick and Jason are on the lookout for you while Tim and Damian bicker about something.

          You smile as Bruce’s eyes lock onto you. You meet him halfway, and he pulls you into an embrace. That feeling of safeness washes over you, and you allow the tears to come. Bruce guides you away from your family and suddenly the boys are all trying to reach you.

          They’ve never seen you cry, and you imagine it’s a bit unsettling for them. You hug and kiss each of them, before explaining the situation. Bruce disappears, and once you’ve collected yourself, they go with you back to the waiting room.

          You can see the curious looks on your family’s faces. And you do your best to smile and say, “Everyone, these are my sons. This is Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian. And my husband Bruce will be along any minute.”

          Almost if by magic, Bruce appears and says, “I’ve got her moved to a better hospital room, a private room. Not a private room, that can be turned into a semi private hospital. I’ve also called Lee, she’s flying in to take a look, and she has some recommendations for doctors that might be able to help her a bit more until she comes up on the transplant list.”

          Before you can even say ‘thank you’, your brother says, “And where the hell is all that money coming from?”

          Bruce just raises an eyebrow and says, “Me. I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Y/N’s husband, Bruce Wayne. I’ve take care of her medical bills, everything is settled. And my company donates quite a bit of money to this hospital every year, so they’ve comped the private room. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get my wife something to eat.”

          Without another word he begins guiding you down the hallway, the boys following behind, with smiles on their faces; and you can’t help but smile, because your family is right here with you.