#but any comment calling them out just gets told it’s okay bc it was on the livestream

[bcofl0ve]

twitter has their flaws but tiktok and instagram fandom are the worst

yeah yesterday solidified tiktok as the worst for me. i was worried about ppl zooming in to point it out/making edits the second i noticed during the ceremony that you could tell austin was crying a few times. but i wanted to believe people would not do that after all bc you know- common decency???? and yet! and yet!

[transvampireboyfriend]

Here's a bit from a fic I'm not sure I'll ever start writing. for context, this is Corroded Coffin's first tour and they brought Steve along (bc Eddie would never even imagine having it any other way)

Jeff and Eddie are walking towards the green room discussing the way their melodies turned out at tonight's show, when Gareth catches up to them, a little winded,

"Hey," he pants, "Freak says he wants to try that tacos place we saw on our way into town, you guys up for it?"

Jeff simply nods and Eddie shrugs, "Sounds good" he answers,

Gareth claps them in the back and says to Eddie "Awesome, I'll go ask your wife",

He goes to skip ahead between them but Eddie grabs him by the scruff of his tshirt and yanks him back, causing his head to slap itself against Eddie's waiting palm.

Jeff snorts but Gareth isn't amused.

"OW dude! What the fuck?!" he demands with wide eyes. Eddie doesn't buy it for a second, launches into the same warning he always gives them,

"I told you! if he hears you saying that he could get really pissed, and then you'll get me into serious trouble!" he still has Gareth by the scruff, so he yanks him again for emphasis,

"Do you want me to be in serious trouble, man?" Gareth shakes his head, Eddie yanks again,

"Do you want me to be in serious trouble because of you?" Gareth frantically shakes his head but holds his palms up as he weasels out of Eddie's hold, half-laughing as he turns to face them and walking backwards as they advance,

"I do NOT say it around him!" Gareth defends, Jeff scoffs beside Eddie and Eddie just narrows his eyes,

"Plus, I told you that he's into you, man!" Gareth continues, Eddie rolls his eyes at that so he can't see the significant look Jeff gives him, agreeing with Gareth.

"This again" Eddie groans, "you're delusional. Just stop calling him that altogether and we'll be good," he insists.

Gareth just sighs "Fine. Can you go ask your very platonic friend, that you share a bed with every night, if he wants tacos? Or should we not even ask his opinion?"

Eddie flicks his ear and Gareth frowns dangerously, meeting the end of his rope.

Jeff says "Okay-" and holds his hands up placatingly, but Eddie doesn't like his chances so he sprints down the hall laughing and Gareth takes off hot in his heels.

Jeff groans as Freak catches up with him,

"Children." Freak states, tutting.

---

When Steve comes back to the green room he finds Eddie and Gareth wrestling on the floor.

"Um-" he starts and Eddie, who had been making Gareth slap himself turns excitedly to him,

"Stevie!! What did you think?" he asks, wanting to get Steve's opinion on tonight's show, and probably very specifically, the melodies he and Jeff had been working on for weeks now.

Steve's lucky that Gareth pulls on his hair and distracts him by slamming him on the floor, otherwise Eddie would have totally noticed him blushing.

He'll never get over Eddie wanting his input, especially when it comes to something as important to him as his music, his band.

"OW!" Eddie shouts as Gareth pulls his hair again, reaching to pull on Gareth's nose.

That brings Steve back. He ceremoniously places his hands on his hips, and calls "Children!",

It startles Eddie into slapping Gareth's arm away particularly hard and Steve hears muttered apologies as the two of them sit up criss-cross side by side.

"He started it!" Eddie accuses, playing along with Steve's babysitter bit, "He said we shouldn't ask your opinion on dinner," Gareth gasps indignantly and tackles him again.

Steve just sighs, used to them buzzing with energy after shows.

He hears Jeff and Freak enter the room and turns to them as if they had been there all along, "Dinner from where?" he asks them,

Freak looks up from the boys wrestling and says "Remember that tacos place we saw on our way in? last Thursday?"

Steve's expression clears with understanding, he nods "Oh yeah! Yeah, that place! Okay. Sounds good." Freak nods and goes to their clothes rack.

"Soon as these two finish," Jeff comments.

Gareth has Eddie in a chokehold now and Eddie is trying to lick his arm while also pulling on Gareth's hair.

"I should record you and put it up on the internet," Steve threatens.

Jeff joins in "It'd humiliate our lead man, but it's a risk I'm willing to take" he claps his approval on Steve's back and goes to the clothes rack as Freak goes to change his outfit.

Eddie taps twice on Gareth's arm to be released and Gareth raises both arms above his head triumphantly.

Eddie points a finger at Steve, then Jeff and says "I'm vetoing that!"

Steve frowns. "I didn't know you had vetoing rights" he teases, tilting his head.

"He doesn't" Jeff and Gareth answer in unison,

"You just said I'm the lead man!" Eddie whines to Jeff,

"I was talking about Gareth" Jeff shrugs.

Gareth puffs out his chest and Eddie shoves him, knocking him on his ass again.

Steve can't help but chuckle at them. Eddie turns to look at him with mirth in his eyes then, extends his arms to be helped up.

Steve pulls him to his feet with his heart in his throat.

"So?" Eddie asks,

"What?" Steve asks quietly,

"What'd you think?" Eddie asks again, quiet too like it's their secret, giving his arm a little impatient tap, reminding him he hadn't answered before.

Steve doesn't remember when he started smiling so big "It was good." he tells him, just as quietly, having created a little bubble for the two of them without meaning to, but not wanting to burst it.

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, the corners of his mouth twitching up,

"Mmhm," Steve confirms, starts fiddling with one of Eddie's many chains, "I think the change you made yesterday was smart, the crowd was definitely wilder tonight" he comments,

"Well, that was Jeff, 'member?"

"Hmmm" Steve hums, letting go of the chain and leaning his elbow on Eddie's shoulder to turn to Jeff,

"Well that was a very smart change Jeff!" he calls loudly, enjoying Eddie's flinch. He has to clear his throat because his voice comes out raspy for some reason.

----

Jeff frowns, confused.

"The new arrengement from yesterday," Eddie clarifies, eyes on Steve. Jeff ignores him, but takes the clarification all the same,

"Oh! thanks! Man, did you see the crowd tonight?" Jeff marvels,

Steve says "That's what I was just telling Eddie!" and they launch into specifics that Eddie misses.

He's thinking he usually doesn't like being teased but his cheeks are burning and he can't feel anything other than a pleasant warmth right now, Steve Harrington broke him.

He shakes his head and comes back to reality just in time to see Steve turn to him and say, "You did great tonight, Eds. You were super comfortable using the space on stage tonight, people loved it,"

Eddie doesn't say he was only comfortable because he had a clear view of Steve in the crowd.

"Thank you Stevie" he tells him instead. Steve smiles brightly at him. It makes Eddie want to rub his face on Steve's shoulder.

He pinches Steve's waist instead, gets all up in his space, still buzzing with energy from running around on stage.

"Help me pick something out for tacos?" he requests, hopeful. He loves the idea of Steve thinking about what would look best on him.

"Yeah," Steve agrees, grabbing the hand that pinched him and leading Eddie to the rack.

Gareth rolls his eyes at Eddie as they walk past him and Eddie flips him the bird.

[nickfowlerrr]

so inviting, i almost jump in.

pairing: neighbor!bucky barnes x curvy!reader

warnings: fluff. pining. idiots in love? fake dating...kinda lol. a lil bit of angst but not too much.

words: 4.5k

notes: happy new year! i tried so hard to finish this last night but just couldn’t do it lol. this is part of the ciwywt universe, but i think it can be read as a standalone, too.

also - coherent, consistent timelines? sorry, don’t know her. idk where this fits in their story but it does bc i say it does. 😌 i really love these two and i hope you enjoy this lil fic as much as i do. thank you in advance for reading. as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome, and so appreciated! 💞

"Ow,” you wince, “damn it," you grumble to yourself as you set your eyeliner pencil down, blinking rapidly to quell the tears you could feel about to form in your eye. You huff and turn to look down at the cause of your distraction, your phone ringing loudly as it lays on the counter. You see the caller and preemptively roll your eyes. Not this again.

You swipe to answer the call and his voice immediately floats into your ear, giving you no time to even utter a 'hello'.

"Before you say anything-"

"No," you state firmly, annoyance clear in your tone as you stop him before he can begin.

"Doll,"

"Bucky, I said no," you cut him off again. "It's a no. No. No, no, no. Not gonna happen," you continue despite his pathetic huff sounding on the other end.

"I know you said no..." he says before trailing off for a second, "but, doll, I really need you."

Damn him. You sigh heavily into the phone, putting a hand to your forehead to stop the headache you know is coming. He's really trying to pull on your heart strings... unfortunately for him, it's not gonna work.

"You don't need me, Bucky. You're gonna be fine. They're your friends, if you just tell them what you told me, they'll understand. You have nothing to worry about."

"That's not," he huffs, stopping himself, and you can almost hear him shake his head, "Will you at least try to come by?"

You know you won't, but you don't want to upset him any more than he already is.

"Yeah, I'll try. And stop worrying so much. You'll have a good time, I know it," you smile, the thought of him and his friends enjoying their New Year's Eve tugging at your lips.

"Yeah," he responds, sounding a little unsure. "Okay, well, I'll see you later?"

"Mhm...maybe," you say.

"Doll," he groans, causing an unbidden laugh to slip from you at his dramatics.

"I said I'd try, no promises! But I do have to go now, so, talk later. Bye," you finish, hanging up on him before he can try and talk you into making a promise you have no intention of keeping.

You sigh heavily as you set your phone back down, returning to your almost finished makeup. Just because you aren't going out doesn't mean you can't look good.

You're still so surprised he asked you to be his fake date to his New Year's Eve party. Both because you were surprised he was hosting a party to begin with, and because he needed a fake date.

But that was just it, he didn't need a fake date. He wanted to get his friends off his back with the constant set ups and double dates they'd plan for him. What he really needed to do was tell them the truth, just like he told you. He didn't want to date, at least not right now. He said his mind was on other things. That was understandable, so you weren't sure why he couldn't just tell them that...

A part of you feels bad for not helping Bucky out, but the other part of you knows you'd feel like a total outsider at a small party being attended by the avengers.

Like, the real-life superhero team, The Avengers.

That was an immediate 'no thank you'.

You were content to spend the night alone; just you, your grapes, and some apple cider to cheers to the new year.

--

The television plays on, another episode of a show you've seen ten times before just starting up, as a knock sounds at your door.

You furrow a brow as your head shoots in its direction. It only takes a second for you to come to the conclusion that it must be Bucky. You set your drink down and stand from where you were sitting cozily on your couch.

You fix your dress, and for no reason at all, check yourself in the mirror before you near the door, making sure your makeup isn't smudged and your hair still looks nice as you do.

There's another knock as you get to it and you open your door with a bit of attitude at his impatience.

"Bucky, how many times-" you're stopped short as you quickly see that the man before you is, in fact, not Bucky. "Oh, uhm, sorry, can I help you?" you ask.

"Yeah," the man laughs, "I'm here for the party. This is the right apartment, isn't it? Bucky Barnes?" he asks, looking at you quizically.

"No," you answer, "no, wrong apartment. He's just," again you're cut off, but this time by the door right down the hall opening, none other than Bucky peeking out to look down at you and - oh my god wait...is this - this is - holy shit you're talking to Captain America. Your eyes round as you look from Bucky back over to the man before you. "Oh, gosh, you, you're,"

"Sam Wilson," he smiles brightly at you, extending a hand. You shake hands as he continues, "and you must be-"

He is cut off from saying your name as it comes out of Bucky's mouth, almost frantically. You look from Sam back over to Bucky, your eyes still wide.

"I know you're still getting ready, but would you come here for just a second," he nods at you. You look once more between Sam and Bucky, your eyes narrowing as they land back on your own personal pain in the ass. What the hell is he up to... You and Sam go to walk over to him but Bucky speaks again. "Not you, Sam. You stay there," he says in a fuss. Sam puts his hands up, a look of confusion clear on his face at Bucky's demand.

You continue toward him and as soon as you're close enough to touch, he pulls you to him, turning you both so Sam can't see what you're saying. It's a hushed conversation, a whispered argument, really.

"You have to come over."

"No, I really don't."

"You do."

"I don't."

"You're staying."

"No, I'm not."

"You're staying. I'm not letting you leave," he says, trying to corral you into his apartment as you swipe at him, a back and forth of swats ensuing between the two of you.

"Bucky!" you finally whisper yell, stopping the battle as you ball your fists, almost stomping like a toddler in your annoyance. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I lied."

"Huh? To me? About what?"

"To all of you. But mostly them. I told them you'd be here. Because I thought you would be. But then you said you weren't coming, but I couldn't tell them that or they'd think I was just making up another lie about you..."

"Another lie?"

"I...may have... told my friends that we're dating and have been for a few weeks," he murmurs under his breath, so quiet you can barely hear his confession.

"You what?" you balk, trying your hardest to squash the stupid butterflies that are fluttering around in your stomach now at the idea of not only dating Bucky, but of being someone he brings up in conversation to other people.

"Alright, love birds, cute as this is, are one of you gonna invite me in or am I just supposed to stand here awkwardly in your hallway all night?" Sam interjects, walking to you both as you turn your heads to look at him.

Bucky turns entirely, moving closer to you, slipping his arm behind your back and resting his hand on your hip, "Yeah, welcome in. Steve said he'd be here with beer in a few minutes," Bucky says, an annoyed edge to his voice as he lets Sam through the door. Sam raises a brow at you and you force a smile. As soon as he's inside, Bucky snaps the door shut behind him, leaving you both in the hallway still.

"What the hell," Sam says, loud enough for you to hear through the door.

"Look, it started as a lie to get out of a date, but then I just kept using you an excuse to not go to things I didn't wanna go to. And ya know, more than half the time I wasn't really lying because I was with you," he tries to excuse himself.

"Are you insane?" you ask him plainly.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I really need you to be here tonight, please," he begs, his puppy eyes starting to get to you.

"You had only asked me to be your fake date."

"Yeah, once you said yes, I was gonna work the girlfriend thing in," he smiles wryly, rubbing the back of his neck in his anxiousness.

"You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"Is that a yes?"

You roll your eyes before acquiescing, "Fine. But you've gotta come clean tomorrow. You can't start the new year with secrets, it doesn't bode well for anyone."

"Deal," he smiles his real smile this time. Then his eyes drift down to your outfit and you warm, like you always do, under his attention. "You look good," he says softly, sincerity in his voice.

"Thanks," you accept quickly. You will not let him fluster you so easily. Not tonight.

--

More of Bucky's friends arrive soon after you get back from your apartment, your bag of grapes and bottle of unopened cider in hand. Bucky introduces you to each of them and you're now unsurprised that they know your name and exactly who you are. And you, for your part, are in awe of each and every one of them. Though you like to think you don't make it obvious.

And it's surprising how normal it all feels.

You for sure thought you'd be a nervous wreck around these people, but, especially with Bucky by your side, you've never felt so calm and comfortable, and at a party of all places. Though you suppose it helps that you're already so comfortable around his apartment. Still, it's nice. They're nice. And fun!

Card games are played, karaoke sung, and stories told as you all snack and chat the evening away.

You're all laughing as Sam talks about how everyone was sure Bucky had been making you up like a summer camp girlfriend after the fifth time he claimed you were sick or out of town so you couldn't show up to the events they had invited you to. Of course, you had no idea about any of them, but you do know where you were each and every night they brought up.

You were here.

With Bucky.

So, he wasn't completely lying. You smile and look to Bucky who stands right next to you. Your eyes instantly meet his, a smile of his own already gracing his face. You look back down, bashful despite yourself.

The night has passed so quickly and it's already nearing midnight. You're about to go get your grapes ready, but Steve's voice stops you, catching your attention.

"Ya know, I can't even remember the last time I've seen you look so happy, Buck," Steve smiles as he looks at the two of you. "I'm really happy for you, both of you,” he adds. “It's obvious how much you two care about each other. It's good to see."

You don't know what to say, and you're too scared to look at Bucky. You just force another smile, feeling a bit sad more than anything. Because this isn't real. Whether you'd like it to be or not. It isn't. You have to remind yourself of that.

Bucky's hand squeezing your waist, and the feeling of his admiring gaze on you as he pulls you closer to his side, doesn't help. It just makes that pit in your stomach grow deeper.

This is easy for him because it means nothing.

This is killing you because it means everything. It’s everything you never give yourself permission to dream about. Everything you want. And it’s what you know isn’t for you. It couldn’t be.

Just a few more minutes, you breathe, and then you'll go back to normal. No dating, just friends...just friends? Whatever it is you are to him...

You're lost in thought as the conversation continues around you, Bucky's hand never leaving you and his gaze never wavering. Even as he engages in the conversation, his attention is solely on you.

"Oo, countdown is going!"

The yell pulls you out of your head as your eyes snap to the television. What the hell! How did you just lose eight minutes? Damn Bucky always taking up your thoughts and distracting you.

You don't have the time to get to the fridge for your grapes as the kitchen is crowded, flutes of cider and champagne being passed out among the group.

You tsk, oh well. At least you have on your red underwear.

As the count gets lower, Bucky gets closer, and you mindlessly lean back into him as you watch the live broadcast from Time Square. Ten seconds hits and you all count along, Bucky's other arm comes around as he holds you from behind. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Bucky turns you around in his arms, catching you off guard as you look up at him, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

Two.

He leans in, and you're frozen. His nose brushes yours, as his lips brush against your own. Oh.

One.

"Happy New Year," he whispers against you, cheers and exclamations of the same sentiment shared all around the living room, between everyone else.

"Happy New Year," you whisper back breathily before you unthinkingly press closer to him.

His lips meet yours as he leans in ever closer and kisses you, so softly. Your eyes flutter closed as you return his affection, kissing back harder than you intend before you break away. It feels like magic, it feels like home. And you want nothing more than to do it again. To lose yourself in him so delightfully…

You remember yourself then and almost shy away completely before Bucky takes your face in his hand, turning you back to him. You lock eyes once more and you feel like you can't breathe at what you see in his. You don't have time to think on it before his eyes flick down to your lips and then he's kissing you again. His lips press harder against yours, still moving just as gently but somehow it feels much more intimate. Sincere. Real.

You deepen the kiss and then suddenly the whooping and claps around you both bring you back to reality.

You pull away, taking a sobering breath, blinking away the haze of longing as Bucky's delicate touch remains on your cheek. You gingerly reach to take his hand, slowly pulling it off of you. You hold it for a second, squeezing his hand before letting it drop.

The celebration continues all around but you need to get yourself together. Alone.

"'M gonna use the bathroom," you whisper to him, knowing he can hear you even through the din.

You exchange 'Happy New Year' exclamations with everyone you pass on your way to his bathroom and bid goodnight to the people already getting ready to head home. A lot of them have early mornings at the tower, so you get it.

There are only a few people in the living room with Bucky as you look back before you escape to the bathroom, taking your time to decompress.

Sam, Steve, and Nat were talking with him, but his eyes were on you when you looked at them.

You knew this was a bad idea. You knew you'd get caught up in the fantasy. And somehow, he still got you to do it. You curse yourself in the mirror and then notice your smudged lipstick.

The thought of your lipstick staining Bucky's lips right out there has you in a flurry of emotions...

He kissed you. Twice. That actually happened. But did it really mean anything?

Your heart twists as you refuse to believe it could have. You just need to... God, you don't know what you need. All you know is right now you can't stop thinking about Bucky's hands on you. You can't stop thinking of how soft and supple his lips are. And how damn good of a kisser he is.

You look at yourself once more in the mirror.

Fucking hell. What are you gonna do? You sigh, eyes squeezing shut before you shake your head at yourself.

You turn back to the door, opening it right when someone's knock hits.

You're somehow surprised, and yet not at all, to see Bucky staring back at you as you pull it open wider.

"Hey," you say, raising a brow and shoving every fuzzy feeling threatening to strangle you back down.

"Hey," he started. "Everyone left. I just, uh. Wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Yeah, I'm good," you nod.

"I'm sorry. About kissing you."

"Oh," you utter - sounding more dejected than you wanted to. "Yeah, no. Don't, don't even worry about it." You muster a shamefully see through smile.

His stare is near invasive as he really looks at you, analyzing you. He opens his mouth to speak, but thinks better of it, instead giving you a tight lipped smile in return.

He nods, then looks to the floor, "Okay," he accepts.

You nibble your lip, crossing your arms as he still stands in front of you.

He notices and moves out of your way, offering a small sorry and a huff of a laugh.

You walk back out into the living room as he follows.

"Wow, this place is a mess,” you breathe a laugh, hoping to keep the subject change.

"Yeah," he agrees, "I'll be having fun tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" you question. "Are you busy now?"

"... I guess not."

"Then grab a garbage bag, Barnes. We've got work to do."

He laughs, "Oh, yeah? You're gonna stay and help me clean up?"

"What are friends for if not clean up?"

He smiles at you as his mind replays his conversation with Sam, Steve and Nat just minutes ago.

He told them the truth about you, and their reaction wasn't what he expected, but definitely what he needed.

"Wait, sorry, you're not dating her?" Nat asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, I'm confused, too," Sam added. "You guys act more like a couple than most couples I know."

"And she's cute, you seem perfect together."

"Well, we're not. Not, not perfect together," he amended, "I mean we're just not together. We're friends. Nothing more."

"Looks like a hell of a lot more, if you ask me..."

"So," Steve finally chimed in, "you spend all that time together, you talk about her constantly, and I saw the way you kissed her at midnight, Buck, but you're telling us it's nothing more than friendship?"

Bucky didn't know what to say. But he knew Steve knew what he was really feeling. He knew exactly what he wasn't saying.

"Do you want it to be more?" he asked. "Because from an outsider's perspective, it seems like you have everything with her but the label."

"I..." Bucky looked around, making sure you hadn't snuck back out of the bathroom yet, "yeah. I do want it to be more. She's, fuckin' perfect," he breathed a laugh as his thoughts, as they always do, strayed back to you. That familiar warmth that fills his chest anytime you're near, or hell, anytime he so much as thinks your name, returned to him. And suddenly his thoughts went back to the softness of your cheek as he held you close earlier. How pliant and perfectly your lips moved against his as you kissed him back. Not once, but twice.

Even still, he thinks back to when he told you why he was so reluctant to go on the dates his friends kept setting up for him. It was a lie when he said it was because he didn't want to date right now... well, partially. He really didn't want to date around. And his mind was focus on other things.

Other things, of course, being you.

When you nodded and told him you got it, that you felt the same way, his heart felt like it deflated by ten.

He was getting ready to finally make his move and ask you out, for real this time. But how could he do that now? He didn't want to be another guy you had to swat away, he couldn't be another one of your rejections. And you gave out plenty, always to his selfish delight if he was being honest. In fact, he can't remember the last time you actually went out on a date. It's been months...

Most of your nights are spent together. Just the two of you. But if you weren't wanting to date anyone right now, and he asked you, he couldn't be sure what you'd say. More importantly, where it'd leave you.

Bucky wasn't stupid, he wasn't blind, and he wasn't deaf. He had every confirmation he could ever want that you liked him the same way he liked you. But he didn't want to chase you away by pressuring a relationship, especially if that's not what you want.

"It's clear she likes you, too, ya know," Steve pointed out what he thought was the obvious.

"I know, I just. I don't wanna push her away by moving too fast. I don't think she's looking to date anybody right now,"

"If you don't ask, you'll never know."

He knew they were right. He needed to just bite the bullet and ask you outright. And he would.

But as he watches you glide around his kitchen, so at home, putting things back in their rightful places and throwing away the random garbage left behind, he thinks maybe not tonight… He doesn’t want to ask a question that might make you leave. But then again…what if it makes you stay?

"Chop chop, supersoldier," you admonish him as he continues to watch, staring dreamily at you. Your back is to him so you can't see his face, but you can feel the weight of his gaze.

Bucky follows your lead, tossing away the empty cups and putting away the leftover food and drinks while you wipe down the counter.

It really wasn't that much of a mess, but you're glad to get it cleaned now, so you won't have to worry about it tomorrow.

Wait...why would you be worried about it tomorrow? This isn't your apartment. God, you really are always over here, aren't you...

You turn to Bucky as he ties off the bag of trash.

You just look at him for a minute. Admiring him from mere feet away while he does the same to you. It's quiet between the two of you, but you can feel the charged silence as it brims with words unsaid.

You know what you want to do right now. But you do what you think you should instead.

"I guess I'll head out, then."

"Oh," he breathes.

"Oh?"

"I just, uh,” he shakes his head, "Never mind."

"No, what is it?" you prod, now entirely curious.

Bucky's bright eyes flash back up to yours and you see him search for what to say instead of saying what was on his mind.

"Your grapes," he remembers, turning to the fridge to get them for you, "you didn't eat them."

"Oh, yeah, well, too late now," you laugh softly.

"What's your resolution?" he asks.

"That's not how the grapes work, Bucky."

"Come on," he goads. "What's your resolution? I wanna know."

"Hmm. Well, good question," you think for a moment, watching him as he rinses off a bunch, then pulls two grapes from their stems. You mindlessly purse your lips as you think. "I want to be less scared," you start quietly, eyes meeting his intent gaze, when he looks back at you, "More confident," you add with a little nod.

"You, more confident?" he asks. "You're one of the most confident people I know. And I know Thor," he adds, getting the laugh he was hoping for from you.

You shrug, "Fake it til you make it." You give a soft, almost sad smile. It physically hurts him to see that hint of sadness in your eyes, and he wants nothing more than to do whatever he can to take it away. He hands you one of the two grapes and you raise a brow as you take it.

"And you?"

Your heart rate kicks up as he steps close, invading your space and standing right before you.

"I…would like to communicate better."

You huff a laugh, tittering, "Yeah, that's a good one."

"Let's both start right now," he says, holding up his grape.

"Okay. Let's," you hold up your own grape, bumping it into Bucky's as if you were toasting before you both pop your own grape into your mouth, stupid smiles on both of your faces.

As you finish, Bucky takes a step closer, surprising you as you look up to him. A bit of deja vu coming over you as you swallow hard. You wait a long breath for him to say something. And then he finally does.

"So. This is me, trying to communicate better: I'm not really sorry that I kissed you. Either time. And if I'm being entirely honest, I'd really like to kiss you again right now."

You're stunned silent and you think you can hear your blood rushing in your ears as you blink up at him.

It takes you a moment before you think you can respond, but Bucky speaks again before you do.

"But I'm not going to do that. Because I want to do this right. In fact, I've been wanting to do this right for months."

"Bucky?" you murmur quietly.

"Doll, will you do me the pleasure of accompanying me to dinner and a movie this Friday?" he asks sincerely.

Your mouth is dry and you have to force yourself to swallow hard again so you can speak. "We always do dinner and movies on Fridays," you point out.

"I mean as a date," he clarifies, holding himself to his resolution.

You stare at him, unsure of what to say. Well, that's not true. You know what you want to say. You know what you want to do. You want to say yes, and you want to lean into him again and indulge him in one more kiss, because you want to kiss him as badly as he wants to kiss you. But that terrified voice in the back of your head is currently telling you to make a run for home as fast as you can. You want to fight the fear, really you do.

Bucky is keeping his resolution already, you're just not sure if you can do the same.

"Uhm," you drone awkwardly.

He laughs that nervous laugh you rarely get to hear...the one you love.

"Is that a yes?" he asks with a hopeful wince.

It takes you a second and then your mouth moves before your brain does as you respond to him.

You stand there, a bit shocked at your own answer, and not entirely sure where to go from here...

[alisonwritesimagines]

Naps in the Quinjet ~Peter Parker Imagine~

Requested by @manyfandomsfanvergent:

Peter Parker x female!Stark!reader

Reader and Peter getting back from a mission, on the quinjet, and the other avengers can't get over how adorable they are

Bc they are all cuddled, and how about Peter got a mild concussion so he's just snuggling int reader

Summary: After a rough mission, both you and Peter crash together in the quinjet.

Author’s Note: I got physically sick last night from being in charge of a family trip because no one understands a certain amusement park like I do.

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff, mentions of blood, mentions of concussions, injuries, reader gives out some Alex Russo vibes

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

Your father was never fond of the idea of you joining the Avengers team. However, it was bound to happen since your father was non other than Tony Stark. So you were a target to most enemies.

When your father took in Peter Parker after the civil war fiasco, you two have been together like glue. You both were the same age, liked the same stuff, and you two had fought many enemies together side by side.

However, this mission was harsher than any one that you and Peter have faced. Your father had to carry you back to the quinjet before setting you down on a bench.

"You should've been more careful," your father scolded you.

"I was careful," you tell him.

"No you weren't. Because if you were careful, you wouldn't have a wound on the side of your body," your father tells you.

"It's technically a minor wound," you tell him.

"Minor or not, I'm still upset you got hurt," your father tells you. "And that goes for you to."

You looked over at Peter who sat next to you. Peter had a cut on his head that was making him bleed a little. You frowned a little as you stared at his cut. Natasha walked over to the two of you before fixing Peter up a little until you guys got back.

"You okay, Peter?" You asked him.

"I'll be alright."

"You two can be reckless, you know that?" Tony tells you two, looking at you both with a stern look.

"But we survived," you pointed out. Tony gave you a look, making you quiet.

"Let's head out already so the two can be checked out," Tony tells Clint and Steve.

"On our way," Clint told Tony as he began the quinjet.

"Peter?" You asked.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna take a nap?"

"Yeah."

Natasha noticed you both first. She smiled softly as you leaned your head onto Peter's shoulder with his arm wrapped around you. His head was leaned back against the wall, making him look up at the ceiling as he slept.

"Steve," Natasha said quietly.

"What?"

"Look," Natasha pointed over. He looked over and smiled at the two of you.

"Tony's gonna have a blast when he sees that," Steve chuckled.

"Hold on. Before you tell him or before he finds out," Natasha said before taking out her phone. She snapped a photo of the two of you before smirking at the photo.

"Okay, now he can see the two," Natasha joked.

"Hey, Tony," Steve called out to get his attention.

"What?"

"How do you feel about y/n dating?" Steve asked him.

"I'm not ready for her to date," Tony said.

"Well you might need to get ready soon," Natasha said as she looked over at the two of you.

Tony followed her gaze to see you comfortably sleeping on Peter. Both Steve and Natasha smiled at Tony's small look of disapproval.

"He's a good kid. Plus they always hang out. What will be the difference?" Steve asked Tony.

"Because I would need to see him as a potential threat to her," Tony pointed out.

"How is Peter a potential threat to y/n?" Natasha asked.

"Because she is my little girl and if anyone hurts her, I will throw them up in space without any oxygen," Tony told her.

"Oh please. For anything, it would be Peter to get hurt from y/n," Natasha told him.

"Let them sleep. They need it," Steve told the two.

Once you all made it back to the base, you woke up to feeling Peter's arm around you. You felt your cheeks heat up as you looked up at Peter.

"Peter. Wake up," you whispered as you gently woke him up.

"Hmm?" Peter asked as his eyes opened up a little.

"We're back. Let's go get fixed up. And then maybe later, we can watch a movie?" You asked.

"I would need to check in with my aunt first," Peter told her.

"Of course. But whenever you're available, we can have a movie night?" You asked.

"I'd like that," Peter said as he helped you over to the infirmary.

"I bet you ten bucks those two will get together within the week," Natasha tells Steve.

"Ten bucks says Tony is going to have a small fit over her dating," Steve added.

"You're on," Natasha smirked at Steve as the two shook on it.

Bonus:

"You two are dating?!" Tony asked in shock.

"Yes. And I am old enough to date. Don't make me remind you of your dating history," you pointed out.

"At least it's with Peter," Pepper pointed out.

"Thank you," you tell her.

"Just no kissing in front of me okay?" Tony said.

"No promises."

While you and your father argued about your dating life, Peter looked at Natasha and Steve confused on why Natasha gave Steve ten dollars. The three were sitting together while they watched you defend your relationship with Peter.

"Why did you give Cap ten dollars?" Peter asked Natasha.

"Don't worry about it kid."

[mxqdii]

hey! i love love your work, and i was wondering if i could request a chris sturniolo x fem!reader?

maybe reader is also a well known influencer, or an actress or something of the sort, and there’s rumours about her and chris being together that they haven’t really confirmed?

but they are dating and she’s on live one day and he calls her like an intimate pet name, or just overall says something that shows they are in fact together and like the comments on the live just go crazy and stuff and shes like telling chris she’s on live or whatver

im so sorry if this doesnt make sense 🙏🙏

stop bc i requested pretty much this same thing to another author (on wattpad) a few months back, so when i read this request it was such an "i made it" moment (i love u sm, you're just like me fr fr)

baby - c.s

pairings: chris sturniolo x reader

summary: chris accidentally calls reader 'baby' while she's on live, revealing to the whole world that they're dating/

warning(s): fluff, reader calling chris bro 😔

not proofread

i'm sitting on the couch, watching tv, bored out of my mind.

then an idea hits me, i could go on live!

i used to go live a lot with the triplets, but only on their account, so it would be fun to go live on mine.

i open instagram and click the live button, watching the stream fill with thousands of people

"holy shit that's a lot of people" i say with a nervous laugh

"uhh i guess i'll answer any questions anyone has! so feel free to ask anything!" i add, smiling

i read through the comments, lots of them asking where the triplets are

i can't help but notice seeing a few asking if me and chris are dating.

fortunately, those allegations are true! but we've decided to keep it quiet for, just for now.

still, there’s only so much one can hide from the public

and although me and chris haven't said anything, i think everybody knows anyway.

people can see our glances, our gestures, how close we are, it's all pretty obvious.

i answer a few questions like my favorite singer, when my next video is coming out, podcast stuff with the triplets, and just some other various topics.

suddenly i hear the door unlock, looking over at it, but not really caring.

maybe i can get whichever triplet that is to join my live.

chris walks in and i smile in his direction

"hey baby" he says and my expression immediately drops.

i look at him, PALE.

(absolutely terrified to look back at the screen)

"what?" he says, walking closer, i turn my head to the screen, anticipating my death.

i let out a sigh of relief seeing the comments

@ssturniolo BABY???

@strniolo AWWWWWWWW

@lvrsparadise GOODBYE I LOVE THEM.

@ellieswifie this is such a chris and y/n mistake 😭

@lavieenvalentina i'm so happy for them i'll cry

(shoutout to everyone tagged ILY<;3)

as i'm reading the comments, i smile, chris hovering over me reading them too

suddenly he hugs me from behind, squeezing me tight

"chris!" i say laughing

"let me go bro" i whine

"you did not just call me bro" he says, immediately stopping

his death glare makes me laugh

"consider it payback for you calling me baby on live" i say laughing

(him clearly not amused)

"okay fine fine im sorry, guys it's all okay he's not my bro please let me redeem myself" i say joking on the last part

me and chris stay on live for another 30 minutes, answering questions about how we got together and just stuff about our relationship.

"bye guys we love you!!" i say, ending the live

i close out of insta, putting my phone down with an exhausted sigh

"so?" i mumble, anticipating chris's response

"so? so nothing" he say's with a smile and i face palm

"chris! we just told like, the world that we're dating" i laugh

"yeah, and i'm happy about it, like honestly i can't think of a better way it could've happened" he says

we both look at eachother and burst out laughing

"we're a little interesting thats for sure" i say

"i can't believe we tell the world we're dating ON ACCIDENT and then you start calling me bro" chris says, making me laugh harder

"i was nervous! im sorry!" i yell with my hands up in defense

"yeah yeah, it's fine" he says, wrapping his arms around me

"bro" he adds on

"chris i swear to god-"

TAGLIST:

@strniolo @stargirlv0id @annaisabookworm

[inkdrinkerworld]

ahhh i love chubby!reader and spencer!! what if she overheard someone talking about her weight in a negative way and when she runs into spencer he instantly goes into his own kind of awkward comfort mode bc he secretly has THE biggest crush on you and any other time he would be VERY proud that he managed to get you to hug him but now you’re crying and oh no he doesn’t want you to be sad especially not over the way you look!!

It’s gross. To hear people make comments about your body behind your back in the way you do.

It’s all snide, backhanded comments disguised as compliments. Your stomach rolls because none of your team is near enough to hear them and you don’t feel like making a scene.

Your mind changes when you hear, ‘And it’s so obvious she likes him but what would he do with a girl like her? He’s less than half her size. She doesn't deserve someone like him.’

Your blood boils and you flick away imaginary dust and lint from your clothes before making yourself known.

“You might not like the way I look but you’re much more unattractive than you find me because that’s just vile. You should be ashamed of yourselves. It's none of your business but Spencer and I are dating.”

The local officers blanch and you walk off ignoring their stunned silence and stutters for an apology.

Your hands shake as you sit next to your team and you’re silly for thinking Spencer wouldn’t notice it. Spencer noticed when you had dusted the ends of your hair a week ago.

"Are you okay?" he asks, voice so low it's barely a murmur. Spencer's eyes remain trained on you as you nibble on your lip trying to decide what to do.

"I've been better," you say and Hotch saves you from more questions by instructing, "Y/N I need you to speak to the local police and get every name they have for people who came in."

No one else notices the way your back stiffens as you stand. Spencer does, "I'll go with her, and we'll call Garcia."

Spencer takes you to a secluded hallway and tips your chin up, "What happened, sweetheart?" it's cruel for him to whip that out at work, but it has the same effect it does when you're at home curled in his lap while reading.

"The locals were saying things about me- which is fine, I'm not everybody's cup of tea. But they were extra mean and rude about it." you debate whether to say the rest, but it comes out before you come to a real decision. "They said they don't know why I think I deserve your attention and they said you're too small to be with someone like me."

Spencer gasps like you've burnt him. He feels heat searing his chest as he replays your words. He doesn't know exactly how to comfort you without his words being hard and rough.

"But I stood up for myself," that eases some of the pressure in his chest. "I told them they should be ashamed of themselves and that I wasn't just some girl pining after you and we were together."

Spencer presses his forehead into yours. "I'm glad you stood up for yourself, but you shouldn't have to defend yourself at work or in general. You're amazing and stunning and you're more than anything I could've dreamt up for myself."

His words are soft, sweet and it melts the remaining worry in your bones that even though Spencer loves you, he had regrets.

"They're fucking assholes," he deadpans quietly and you laugh. "But we have a job to do so we'll be civil for the rest of the time we're here but the second we're done, we're messing with them."

[taytrashmouth]

HIII!!!! could u do prompt 1 w peeta I think it would fit his character so well bc he’s actually the sweetest boy ever (also I love ur pfp robin lovers rise!!)

It so would!!!! Okay I love this!

Omg thank you! Robin slays- we should have a club…

Prompt 1: you’re being all cute and sweet and it’s making me want to kiss you

I hope you enjoy! This is just tooth rotting fluff.

Roses and kisses

Peeta Mellark x reader

Peeta was the perfect boyfriend. You realised this really early on in your relationship.

When you mentioned that you liked the smell of roses, the next day he was in your front yard planting rose bushes. You almost cried when you found out he came over every morning to trim, care for and water them.

You often visited him in the victors village, and today was a short, but difficult walk there. You were having the worst cramps which you mentioned to Peeta this morning when he tended to your roses.

“Peeta!” You called as you entered his home.

“Upstairs bathroom!” He yelled back and you began to walk upstairs.

When you turned into the room tears immediately filled your eyes. He had run you a bath, with rose petals floating in the water.

“Peeta-“ you could barely say anything.

“You said you had cramps…and I don’t know much about that stuff but I asked Katniss and she said heat helped sometimes so I ran you a bath.” He explained, completely oblivious to how perfect he was.

When you first started dating Peeta you were worried because of how the Capitol made it seem like he and Katniss had something going. But how could you be, he was so loyal and trustworthy.

“Thank you.” Tears fell from your eyes, more emotional today than any other.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, laced with concern.

“No no! Peeta…it’s perfect, you’re perfect. It’s just so nice and nobody has ever done something so sweet for me before.” You explained.

“Hey it’s okay.” He held you so tightly as he hugged you, stroking your hair. He didn’t mind if you cried on his shirt or were emotional. He was there for you.

“Well I’ll wait downstairs.” He smiled.

“No…you don’t have to leave.” You blurted out.

He nodded.

“I won’t look.” He stated as you pulled at the hem of your shirt. He looked at his feet while you got undressed. You hadn’t gotten there yet.

“I don’t mind if you look, Peeta.” You told him, his slowly raised his gaze. His eyes did a quick search of your naked body but they locked onto your eyes. It was small gestures like that, the ones he didn’t even know he was doing.

“Probably shouldn’t do this today.” Gesturing to yourself. “I’m all bloated and gross-“ you tried to explain.

“You’re so beautiful n/n” he stated just above a whisper. He was the only one that called you n/n. You smiled softly. How did you get so lucky.

You climbed in the bath, the water was so warm and soothing.

You spoke for a while, before Peeta offered to wash your hair.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to-“ he was nervous. “I want to.” You replied with a smile.

He massaged your head to gently, making sure soap didn’t go into your eye. He covered every inch of your head with soap and used a bowl to help rinsing it out. He used his hand as a shield from the water. Treating you with more care than you ever had. He finished by smoothing your hair back and softly kissing your forehead.

He was perfect.

He went downstairs to let you change and when you walked into the kitchen he was buttering some steamy bread.

“I thought you’d be hungry, so I made bread before you came. It just came out the oven.” He handed you a plate.

You could do nothing except smile at this perfect boy. “Thank you. It smells delicious.” You spoke as you took a bite of the soft bread. Warm butter on your lips.

“Holy shit!” You smiled widely. He smiled to himself, proud of his work.

“What do you wanna do today?” Peeta asked.

“Can we maybe just lie down. Rest.” You asked.

He smiled and nodded.

When you had eaten about six slices of bread, Peeta didn’t make a comment about how much you ate, he simply asked if you wanted him to make more.

Soon enough you were upstairs in his room. He walked into the on suite to drain the bath water before he lay down.

“Shit.” He spoke as he walked out of the bathroom, shirt covered in water. He obviously leaned to far forward when draining the water.

“Oh no.” You stood up, that’s when he saw you had changed into one of his plain t-shirts and your underwear.

“Wow.” He breathed out. “You’re really beautiful.” He told you so genuinely.

You smiled. Looking at him with nothing but love.

“Peeta…you’re being all cute and sweet and it’s making me want to kiss you.

He smiled shyly, blush touching his cheeks.

“Okay.”

You kissed him gently but passionately. Holding his cheeks.

When you pulled away he smiled with swollen lips, the sight made you giggle.

“Change you’re shirt and come cuddle.” You made grabby hands from the bed after you sat back down.

He looked nervous. “ I won’t look.” You assured him. He looked eternally grateful.

Peeta had told you before, he was littered with scars from the games, from his parents. He hated it. He was really insecure. He knew you would love him no matter what he looked like but it was still scary. He could barely look at himself in the mirror.

You turned to face the other way.

You heard some movement before you heard his voice again.

“N/n.”

You waited a second before turning around to see his bare chest. You smiled. Sure enough there were scars everywhere.

He looked at the ground, he looked nervous, more than you think you’d seen him before.

“You’re really handsome.” You told him and lifted his chin, stroking his cheek when you approached.

He smiled too.

“Thank you for showing me.” You smiled at him brightly. Teary again, it was a big deal.

You squeezed his hand to let him know it was okay.

You pulled him into his soft bed and you both lay entangled in each other. Your head on his bare chest and he played with your hair.

“Is this okay.” You asked as traced one of his scars.

He hesitated before nodding.

“You don’t have to say yes.” You say up slightly.

“I know. Don’t stop…it’s nice.” He held your head back to his chest and continued.

“Thank you for today.” You whispered. He answered simply with a kiss on your head.

Requests are open please send them in

[leggerefiore]

Guzma + team leaders of your choice hc for a partner that refers to them as boss like they just have a habit of calling people boss and saying things like 'on it boss'/'got it boss' (bc I am absolutely out here calling people boss like a shitty henchmen at any chance I get) I feel like it could be funny especially if for the other leaders (bc I feel this doesn't apply to Guzma) hadn't told their partner about their teams so the boss comment just comes out of left field for them I wonder who would go 'they know' and who wouldn't even notice because they're always being called boss anyway

yeah guzma isn't hiding being the head of team skull at lol

cw: light angst, most fluff

💀Guzma🕶

□ While it was basically common knowledge around Alola that Guzma was the “big, bad boss” of Team Skull, it was not exactly a title he preferred those closest to call him. Lusamine certainly did not (for likely worse reasons than he thought), Nanu scoffed at the thought, and Plumeria simply opted against it since they worked together to head the group of delinquents. His underlings did, though. It was a toss-up between boss or their boy Guzma. So, when he asked you casually to grab something for him, and you responded with, “On it, boss.” He was stricken for a moment.

□ Yes, he did technically consider you a member of Team Skull – You had the cap and pendant and everything – You were not exactly beneath him. Really, you were on a level like Plumeria to him, or even arguably above him. Though, he would never admit the latter part aloud. You shoot you a strange look for a moment as you walk off to grab whatever he had requested. Okay, maybe it was a joke. Only – it kept happening. He asked if you were grasping what he was saying one day, and you responded with that you “got it, boss.” He was bewildered. Why? Finally, he had to ask. You were not some underling to him — It was a bit to even partially view you like that. His partner was definitely nearly his equal, if not, actually.

□ Your explanation gets a loud bark of laughter from him. Really? That is it? Whatever, then. More power to you. He guesses he gets it. Part of him is partially aware that he is playing himself up as some big, scary boss. He has to in order to keep Team Skull as something mildly feared (even if they are just considered a nuisance at worst by people). He guesses it is fine, as long as you know that he does not see you as some underling of his. You are genuinely someone he loves and cares about, and in no way does he ever want you to feel like you are lesser than him. As long as that is completely understood, you can call him whatever you please. Though, there is something mildly hilarious that you keep calling him it even after disbanding Team Skull, too.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ In truth, most people do not call him boss to his face. That is simply his position and how he is referred to. He is far aware that his commanders and grunts both call him boss. Yet, to his face, they only refer to him as Master Cyrus. The title did not really bother him… Simply put, it was the truth. He was their boss. Logically, referring to him as that made the most sense. Even normal employees of Galactic, aside from those aiding in his, ahem, special work, usually used that title. So when you, his lover, responded with an “on it, boss,” after he asked you to hand him a document he needed, he flinched.

☄️ You did not know his plans. There was simply no way you could have, nor were you an employee at his company. He blinked as he took the paper you handed him. Did… someone speak with you? Who, if so? He knew this was irrational, yet it only made him worry more. He struggled to recall a time that you had previously called him that. If it had only stayed as that one event, he likely would have forced himself to discard whatever thoughts had come out. Except… It was not. Repeatedly, you had taken to calling him boss seemingly whenever he asked you for things. It almost made his mind conjure up images of two of his commanders. You could not know. It was impossible. He was careful – calculated. And yet… He felt his worries swell.

☄️ Finally, Cyrus dares ask why you call him that. You hum in reply before explaining. He sits in silence, blinking a few times. So simple, so strange. Too close to the truth, but just distant enough to soothe his worries. He remarks that it feels strange when you call him that due to you being his romantic partner. Politely, he asks you to refrain from doing that. It simply does not sit well with him, even light-heartedly. The idea of you discovering his plans makes him distressed enough as it stood alone. He knows he cannot stop you completely, but you do notably lower the frequency of its use. Ultimately, you are not some goon underling of his and the idea of you pretending to be makes him feel strangely, which he does not want.

🔥Lysandre🍷

☕️ Do people call him boss? He struggles to think of an instance, either in Team Flare or his actual company. His presumes his underlings likely use the title to refer to him sometimes, but he does not know of a time in which he had heard it spoken to him directly. While he is certainly the Flare Boss, most people seem to simply refer to him by his name. Which he finds most appropriate since they are not supposed to be an overt organisation. Bringing unwanted attention to his plans should be the last thing that they do rather than among the first. So it was a situation when he asked if you could hand him something, and you replied with a simple “on it, boss” that shook him momentarily.

☕️ There was simply no way that you had become aware of his plans. It was next to impossible – He was deliberately keeping you uninvolved as it stood, with intentions to only invite you later. The red-haired man chokes on his coffee before forcing himself to calm down. Perhaps you were referring to his place as president of his company – He was a boss in multiple ways. There was no reason to presume the worst possible scenario with little evidence to along with it. Yet, as you continued to refer to him as the title, his nerves grew more and more tense. It felt less like a joking jab and more like a knowing comment, even if it was never spoken with a serious tone of voice. He pondered what this could be but stopped himself before he fell top far into irrational thought. No, he must not do that. There was a better way to go about this.

☕️ So, Lysandre simply asks you. You tilt your head and give your reasoning. Despite how close it comes to the truth, he can tell that you seem utterly unaware even still. He feels ridiculous for being so worried about such a small thing. A joke… You simply wanted to feel like some criminal goon. He shook his head. That was the furthest thing from what you were in his eyes, so a genuine laugh escaped him. If it was only that – Well, Lysandre could bear the strange worry that bloomed in his chest. It simply was a joke between you and him. A joke with an unintentionally very real connection.

🥼Colress🛸

🧪 While he may be the “boss” Team Plasma as it stood, he struggled to recall how people referred to him. Most of the group actually seemed to look more towards Ghetsis for direction over him. Even Colress was aware of just how hollow his title was. He was more of an acting leader to put a boundary between Ghetsis and everyone. The scientist did not care so long as funds kept coming to support his research. Though, he was almost certain no one ever referred to him as boss. Well, except for one person. He simply had asked you to hand him a tool as he worked on a new machine, to which you gave the simple reply of “on it, boss.” He startled for a moment, gazing at you with large yellow eyes.

🧪 Did you know…? Colress would admit that he had not exactly been careful, but few actually suspected him of having any strong connections to Team Plasma. It was nothing he outwardly attempted, but his desires simply were not the most aligned with those of the group. Only Kyurem was a strong fascination for him… Had you put this together on your own somehow? Colress pondered it for quite a long time, neither making a comment of here nor there. You simply continued to refer to him by the word “boss” on and off. It was a bit of an oddity, he would admit. Paranoia was not a feeling he cared to acknowledge – rather, he felt, if knew then you simply knew.

🧪 One day, after you had done it again, he simply asked why you called him that. Your explanation almost only made him wish to laugh. Oh… To feel like an evil goon… Ah, he genuinely could not recall the last time he felt so amused. Your relationship with him was so far removed from Team Plasma, and he was almost certain you were actually unaware that it was genuinely fascinating how close to the truth you had gotten. Perhaps you had suspicions… Well, if you were not going to bring them up, he would avoid it, too. Truthfully, the last thing he wanted was to involve you. He was using Team Plasma as it was using him. Your joking title for him would simply remain something he has a strange amusement for.

[spenglersweetheart]

Helloooo! I was wondering you could do your own take on the following! Totally cool if you don’t feel comfortable doing a prompt I’ve already asked another (I really liked theirs I just love seeing people different interpretations of things 😅)

What about an AFAB! X Egon where reader is harassed on the street while waiting for the guys. They walk out and spot reader being harassed and are surprised at how nonchalant reader is about the whole experience, like reader just thanks them for getting the person away before continuing on with their plans and leaves the guys dumbfounded. The guys question reader later on and they explain that it’s pretty common for fem presenting people and that they’ve had to deal with it basically ever since they started developing. Maybe you could add that Egon pulls them aside and tries to fuss over them and stuff.

no you're honestly so real for that bc i do it too actually for the same reason !! i love different interpretations! i'll do it for you.

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

You Shouldn't Have to Go Through That

Egon Spengler x Reader

WARNINGS : mentions of harassment / being harassed

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

OF COURSE YOU WOULD ALWAYS RUN INTO MEN TRYING to harass you, to beg to try and date them when you weren't interested in doing so. It's happened for a long time, but it's become more persistent ever since you moved to New York. Though, you were pretty good at just ignoring it. You were good at ignoring them, even scaring them off if need be.

You were actually outside because the boss claimed they felt "uncomfortable" with how you presented yourself. Although you presented feminine, you didn't really like the feminine things, and getting messy when it came to ghosts was how you liked doing things. But, that was okay, though. You searched outside for any activity out there.

A group of guys walk up to you. You actually had been using the PKE meter. You were knelt down on the ground when they saw you. There was a guy, dark hair, probably the same height as you, if you stood up. He was flirting, or rather, making very inappropriate comments to you. That was bold.

You kept busy with the job you were handling. You acted like you didn't even hear them. And you could tell in the man's voice that the more you ignored him, the more impatient and angry he was with you.

You look at the meter, almost excited to tell the others and when you tried to leave, that same guy grabbed your wrist, pulling you back. You look at him with your eyes narrow. You're staring right into his evil eyes.

"I wasn't finished talkin' to you," he said, "and you have the audacity to ignore me when I'm trying to talk to you."

"Let me go," you growl.

"Oh? So you do talk," the man replied, "Then you should answer me when I'm talking to you."

"I don't have to do jack shit," you told him.

The guys had walked back outside to tell you their findings. They see the man that held onto your wrist, seemingly having a stare down with the guy. But you must've said something else because him and his friends started to walk off. Your friends had walked closer, so when Egon witnessed the guy spit in your face and call you a name, he intervened.

"Hey! Go! Leave her alone," he ordered.

He turned to you as you wiped the spit from your face, your nose scrunching up. You look up at Egon. "You find anything?"

"Did I── Y / N, you just got harassed by a group of guys and the first thing you think about is did we find a thing?" Egon asked.

"Well, yeah," you answer, "so did you?"

It was small, but you could see Egon's eyes soften up. Just a little bit. "Egon, when you look like me, you get used to people harassing you every day," you explained, it's normal. I'm not even fazed anymore."

"Yeah, but still ..." Egon trailed off, "You shouldn't have to go through that."

"Well, the harsh reality is that I do," you told him, "Now, did you find something or not?"

They all start walking to the Ecto-1. Egon looks down at you to answer your question. "Something is in there alright. It's hiding itself," he answers, "You?"

"Didn't find anything but the meter sensed a presence," you replied.

You look up at Egon. You can tell that he's still thinking about the whole ordeal. A sigh escapes your lips. "If it makes you feel better, Egon, you can stand out there with me next time," you told him.

"I think I'll do that," he says.

[yesimwriting]

Final Girl - Part 8

Series Masterlist (updated chapters 1 -9 and extras) Final Girl Masterlist

A/N this took awhile,, but i always want to put my best foot forward bc of how much this series means to me, which means i work when i’m in the right headspace for it and have the time to invest,, which hasn’t been lining up too much recently 😭 anyways i see all the supportive comments and appreciate them sm!!

also keep in mind that my priority is not the timeline, like if you’re feeling like the month before halloween is the longest month of all time,, it’s bc i want to give them bonding time before the heavy murder stuff! 

Series Summary: Y/n can’t believe that she has to leave the only home she’s ever known just because her mom’s latest boyfriend has a house in some town in California. Just as she’s starting to think that Woodsboro might not be that bad, something life altering happens after she agrees to sleep over at the Becker’s house. Now her name is practically synonymous with Ghostface’s/

Chapter Summary: Y/n tries to get back to normal and work on her friendships, but there’s nothing normal about surviving a serial killer attack, and it’s no one’s fault her friends keep noticing. She’s navigating the start of dealing with her trauma while also trying to be a good friend, especially since Billy hasn’t been feeling like himself lately. In a desperate attempt to feel like a normal, healthy teenager, Y/n crosses a personal boundary. 

----

My mom has often told me that in many ways, I was born as an old lady. 

She’d always say it after I tried being responsible. Suggesting that she give herself a curfew on weeknights, or at the very least, call if she was going to be late. Reminding her that there’s a reason people gave her the side eye when she took a visibly underage me into R-rated movies. 

Now that I’m older, I guess she was right in a lot of ways. I wasn’t the kid-iest kid, if that makes sense, but there was one thing I was always good at: playing dress up. 

With a mom like Gloria, it would have been hard not to. For years, my mom’s closet basically had the same magical properties as Disneyland. I thought that that mindset might have just been nine-year-old me, but apparently not, because Tatum and Sidney have been looking through it like it’s life changing. 

“Okay.” Tatum picks up one of my mom’s shimmery wrap and tosses it over her shoulder. “It’s official, when I die, I want to be buried here.”

I look over in time to watch her observe herself in the mirror. “Then I hope you live for a very long time.” 

She wrinkles her nose.  “That better not be the only reason.” 

“Course not, you know I love you very much, Tate-a-boo.” I make a quick kiss-y face, and Tatum almost giggles before returning the gesture. 

Turning away from my mom’s dresses, Sidney smiles. “Please, for all our sakes, don’t let Stu hear you say that.” 

After the joke settles, I practically snort. “Good point.” I step a little further into the closet, refocusing my attention. The only reason we’re all in here is because I wanted to borrow a pair of shoes before going out to the nail salon. It was Tatum’s idea, and the state of my cuticles made me agree. My social hibernation has not been good to them. “Okay, these are the shoes.” 

Sidney steps out of the closet to give me the space to do the same. I slip on the shoes, happy with how they look with my outfit and their level of comfortableness. My mom rarely buys any shoes for herself that aren’t heels, so she ends up taking anything that’s remotely comfortable from my closet. 

“I want to stay here.” Tatum’s hand brushes against the sleeve of something cashmere. “Maybe forever.” 

“And leave your nail beds like that?” Sid glances away from the full length mirror that’s right outside of my mom’s closet. She turns her attention to her reflection, adjusting the fluffiness of her always, almost magically perfect bangs.

Tatum halfheartedly glares before stepping out of the closet. “You’re such a liar.” She raises a hand, studying her palm while walking out of the closet. “You told me they looked fine yesterday.”

Sidney almost smiles before throwing me a look. A quick raise of eyebrows that seems to say got her. “We’re gonna be late.” 

----

The first nail appointment after awhile always feels like willingly volunteering to get a bunch of paper cuts. It’s not overwhelming painful, just a little irritating. After feels nice, though, now that my nails look fresh and I know I don’t have to worry about having my cuticles professionally gutted for a little bit. 

And being around Sidney and Tatum is nice. Familiar in a way that’s still new. It’s weird in a good way. Like I could start throwing around cheesy terms like BFF and it wouldn’t even be dumb. It’d still be ironic, but I think they’d get the sentiment. It’s not that I’ve never had good friends, but this is different. A little more open.

Like right now we’re in Sidney’s room and we’re not talking about anything in particular, just going off of whatever comes up. I could probably say the dumbest thing in the world right now and it wouldn’t even feel unfitting or awkward. 

“...Shut up, he was not that bad.” Tatum’s trying to sound more upset than she is. Somehow Sidney found a way to tell me about Tatum’s first boyfriend. A total middle school romance--they even went to the 8th grade dance together and held hands and had their first kiss under the bleachers. Sounds cute enough, but according to Sidney he was a total weirdo. Even by 8th grade boy standards. “He wasn’t.” 

Sidney laughs again, the movement has her arm bumping into mine. “He tried to eat a live lizard because Stu dared him.” 

“No way.” I snort. “Your first kiss was with a lizard eater?” 

Tate sighs, dropping her head against the side of the mattress and crossing her legs on the floor. “Tried. It ran away and no one ever found it.” That’s still objectively hilarious. I can’t picture Tatum with anyone that out there, but then again, she is with Stu. 

Not that he reminds me of an 8th grade boy trying to eat a lizard, but he was the one that came up with the idea. “Maybe Stu ate it.” 

Tatum glares, halfheartedly shoving my leg as Sidney clasps a hand over her mouth to avoid laughing too hard. “I’ll ask him.” 

It’s strange to picture them like that. A little younger, growing up together. “So you guys knew each other back then and now...” 

She shrugs, “I don’t know...it just kind of happened. He was always hooking up with or seeing any girl with a pulse and I didn’t even see him like that until after--” She cuts herself off with no warning. “You know Sidney and Billy have a way nicer getting together story.” Tate snaps her head up to look at Sidney, whose expression immediately shifts. “Right, Sid?” 

Sidney’s eyes briefly meet mine. There’s a bit of uneasiness there that I don’t get. What could the end of Tatum’s thought have been? What could she have been about to say that might have been--oh. 

“Yeah,” she agrees, “Billy and I were hanging out for weeks--” 

“You can say her name.” My throat feels drier than it did a second ago. “I won’t freak out if you mention Casey. Promise.” 

Tatum’s eyes briefly shut. “That’s--” She doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. I’m right. Why wouldn’t she think I’d freak out? After the way I acted at that party. “No one would blame you if you did.” 

It’s easy to say that it doesn’t matter when you’re not the one that has melt downs. “Yeah.” 

There’s a brief stretch of awkward silence, the light mood now tainted by the exact thing that’s kept me away from my friends for so long. Maybe keeping to myself was about more than the safety of others--maybe I don’t want anyone to know what I’m like now. 

“It’d be weirder if you weren’t a little messed up about it.” Tatum hums the words with such casualness I can’t help but laugh, even when Sidney snaps her head to the side to give her a seriously look. “I’m serious, only a total psycho would be able to see that and jump back into things.” 

Sidney sits up a little more, “And you took the SAT a week after it all happened. You’re doing a lot better than most people would be doing.” 

I nod, glad that they’re at least good at pretending that I’m not a total mess. “Yeah, guess I’m just sensitive about it because I freaked out on Noel at that party.” Ugh. That’s been something I’ve been trying really hard to forget. “He probably thinks I’m a total freak.” My eyes squeeze shut at the memory of the party. I had been a total mess. I flip flopped on murder accusations like it was nothing and nearly ran to Casey’s house in the middle of the night. “He’s probably told everyone I’m a total freak.” 

“You don’t know that.” Sidney’s nice for trying to comfort me, but it’s not the best argument. She picks up on my expression because she then immediately tacks on, “Okay, let’s be logical--why would he do that?” 

“Why wouldn’t he after the way I acted?” Ugh. Every guy that knows him is going to think I’m a complete weirdo. This is what I get for trying to date. “And it’s not like he called after. He hasn’t even talked to me in class since.” 

Sidney’s eyebrows draw together briefly before her hands move off of her lap and land on her comforter. She pushes herself to stand. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing.” 

“Noel’s a total scrub. You’re better off.” Tatum stands too, scratching the back of her arm once. She approaches the bag she abandoned near Sidney’s door, “I brought that eyeshadow I was telling you about. The sparkly, blue one that makes everyone look like Baby Spice.” 

She exhales what’s almost a laugh and I find myself not being able to answer. That does sound like something I’d normally happily go along with. Even though Tatum tends to go for a more subtle look on the day to day, she has a solid makeup collection. Lots of trendy shimmers and bright colors that are fun to swatch and mess around with. But there’s something about the way she said it...breezed away from one topic to this.

And the way Sidney just got up like she was hoping that’d change something. I sit up a little straighter, trying to remember what it’s like to not feel paranoid all the time.

Sidney stops adjusting her hair and messing with her bangs in the mirror. “Or we could hold off on that and go to the video store.” Another change to a topic that normally I’d be all over. “I think Randy’s working, we could bug him a little and get something to watch later.” 

Okay, another thing I’d normally want to do. It has been a minute since I’ve gotten to annoy Randy, and the itch is definitely there. Maybe they’re just trying to be good friends and cheer me up, but they’re spitting out suggestions in a way that feels like they’re really hoping one will stick.

 “Are--do you guys know something about something?” Ugh. If this is my paranoia acting up, I’ll never recover. Why can’t I just go along with things? “I don’t know if it’s me and my head, but you’re acting kinda weird.” 

“No, we’re just--” Sidney’s eyes don’t stay on me, they shift over to Tatum for the briefest second. I blink and almost convince myself I’ve imagined it. “You’re not crazy, we just don’t want to stress you out.” 

I push myself onto my feet. “That is the worst thing you can say to someone you don’t want to stress out.”

Sidney’s eyebrows draw together like she’s worried. I almost feel bad for pushing. “Noel not talking to you isn’t an accident or your fault.” 

“Sid.” I snap my head in Tatum’s direction. She hesitates beneath my stare and gives in with a sigh, “Okay, Noel’s a player who brags about crushing girls’ virginities and breaking up with them the next day. He talks about every girl he’s dated like they’re some kind of car and there are even worse things written about him in the handicap stall of the second floor bathroom.” Tatum pauses, considering how she’s going to word what actually happened. “You’re going through a lot right now and that’s the last thing you need, and we were worried about you, so we talked to Stu and Billy and basically...got Noel to back off.” 

Oh my god. The embarrassment, anger, and shock are all fighting for dominance in my mind, but none of them overpower the other so the feeling is just really fucking bad. All I can picture is Billy and Stu talking to Noel like I’m some little kid or someone with brain damage that can’t make their own choices. 

“You guys suck!” I wipe at my face with the back of my hand, exhaustion cutting into my irritation. “Like really suck. I’m not some child that can’t make her own decisions.” Ugh--I can’t even decide how to react. “It’s not like I was going to marry him or anything.” 

Tatum watches me with a certain level of uncertainty. I don’t think I’ve ever snapped at her or Sidney before. “You’re not exactly a casual dater.” 

“Well--I-I could have been.” It feels awkward, almost reluctant, and I hate myself for it. She’s technically right. I’ve never casually dated, but I’ve never seriously dated either, so it probably wouldn’t kill me. “Either way, it might have been a mistake, but it was my mistake to make.”

“I know, Y/n,” Sidney breathes the words slowly, “We didn’t mean anything by it, it wasn’t like a whole scheme or anything it just--” She’s trying, really trying. “We wanted to help you.” 

I didn’t need help, I was fine. The genuine hint of worry in her tone keeps me from pointing that out. I just stare at her and then at Tatum. Why does it matter anyways? Everyone gets to be normal and do dumb things and have people they’re close with and relationships and all I have is the stupid ‘almost murdered’ label. 

“Why does it matter enough for you to--” I cut myself off, not sure what I’m really asking or what I mean. 

Tatum lets out a small sigh, the sound almost reluctant, maybe a tiny bit annoyed that she even has to talk about this. “Because you’re our friend,” she half shrugs like what she’s saying should have been assumed , “And we love you.” She presses her lips together briefly, “Duh.” 

Sidney throws a look in Tatum’s direction, “Yeah, we love you so much we were willing to risk you being super mad at us because we were worried.” Sidney pauses to take a breath. “We shouldn’t have done it behind your back, and in the future we won’t meddle.”

When I don’t ease, Tatum tacts on, “If it makes things any better, Stu’s normally a total guy’s guy about this kind of thing and even he thinks Noel’s a total creep.” She scratches the back of her wrist, “And those two never care about this stuff, so, boohoo, we all love you.” 

Okay, that doesn’t exactly fix things but it does take the edge off just a tiny bit. They all go way back, and that’s intimidating. And Tatum’s trying to be funny about it, layering on the sarcasm so that I’ll laugh. I hate that it’s almost working. “Well, as long as it’s just everyone being obsessed with me...” The joke feels like a bit of a betrayal, so I tact on something else, “I’m still mad, though.” That feels even weaker. I’m too in my head about all of it and still pretty embarrassed despite the fact that I didn’t do anything. It won’t last forever, but right now, it’s all feeling like too much. The safety of my bedroom feels miles away instead of the few blocks it actually is. “I think I-I’m gonna...” 

“No,” Tatum huffs, “It wasn’t supposed to be a thing.” She tilts her head to the side, silky blonde hair bouncing with the motion. “We haven’t seen you in forever and it was more Stu and Billy’s thing, they’ve been ready to start a thing with him since like the 9th grade.” 

More Stu and Billy’s thing? That almost makes sense for Billy, who Noel casually suggested could be a murderer. But Stu? Noel seemed to like him well enough. Maybe it’s a loyalty thing. I can see Billy and Stu having a bit of package deal friendship. You can’t hate on one without becoming enemy of the other. And with how generally protective Stu seems to be over his friends, it’d make sense. 

But still. I am not a bargaining chip or an excuse or someone that needs their approval on who I do or don’t date.

“Let’s do whatever you want to do and then if you’re still mad, we can invite them over and you can yell at them.” 

Tatum almost smiles, “You’re good at that.” 

That...feels a little weird. “I’m good at yelling?” 

“No, it’s like when you told off that reporter. One minute, you’re normal, but then, when you need to be--bam! You’re super bitch.” 

I laugh, this time it’s genuine. “Super bitch strikes again.” The exit is still close, and some nervous part of me wants to cling to the out. I’m not sure if it’s out of some form of fear or genuine anger or both. But I do want to stay around them a little longer and go take way too long renting a video just to annoy Randy. “If I get to pick what we do, I say we go bother Randy and get a movie. He’s had it easy for too long.” 

Sid half scoffs at my ominous tone. “How do you know?” 

"Knowing whether or not Randy needs to be annoyed is my superpower.” 

----

The video rental is surprisingly empty for early Thursday evening. Schools are out and it’s close enough to the weekend where normally there are more people stopping by to check out what they want to watch in advance. Today doesn’t reflect that. Good to know that my Randy distress radar is still in tact. 

There’s an older man adjusting the latest release aisle, changing out movies. He’s the only employee that I see as I scan over the store and a part of me nearly deflates. Sidney did say she thought Randy would be working and I have no way of knowing. Our friendship has also been a victim to my recent hermit ways, and it’s likely suffered more than my connection with anyone else. At least my other friends are in a couple of my classes or need to walk down the same hallways. Most of Randy’s classes aren’t near mine and we only share a study hall, which he often uses as an excuse to leave early in order to get to work. Meaning that most days I only see him during lunch. 

The door to the back swings open and behind a cart of VHS tapes, there’s a familiar face. Randy. I find myself smiling as I approach the counter he’s coming up from behind. 

“Excuse me,” he glances up, a bit of surprise causing him to raise his eyebrows, “I was wondering if you have a copy of Child’s Play 2, but not the original, the extended cut with the alternate ending, Sorority House Massacre, uncut, duh, and/or Fox’s original version of Clueless.” 

Randy blinks, unfazed by my bullshit. “I’ve been around you too long to fall for that last one.” 

I almost laugh. I can’t believe Randy remembers my rant about the developmental nightmare that was the original Clueless pitch. Fox wanted a TV show, but they got a movie instead, and that took way too long for no reason. I had talked about it a lot longer than I meant to the other day at school. “You caught it.” 

“Decoys are always more obvious than they seem to the person making them.” It feels like some kind of movie rule reference, vague enough for me to get how it applies but not so random I feel the need to ask. “So are you here to rent something or make my job harder?” 

“A little of both.” Turning my head, I gesture to where Sidney and Tatum are. They’re in the same aisle, backs to each other as they scan through options. “We wanted something to watch and Sidney said she thought you’d be working today.” I tap my nails against the counter. “And I had this feeling that things have probably been too easy for you.”

Randy’s lips turn upwards but it feels a little different than a smile. “Yeah, nothing but peace since you...” 

“Became a total paranoid PTSD recluse?” 

He half shrugs, “Jack Torrence.” I roll my eyes, a little relieved that Randy’s joking about it instead of pressing. It’s part of the reason he’s a good friend to have. “You’re feeling better, though, right?” 

Spoke a little too soon, but that’s an okay question. It’s not invasive, it’s just an offer. “Getting there.” 

Randy nods, taking in the answer for what feels like a little too long for two words. Maybe he’s feeling the honesty of what does seem like a cop out answer. I’m not over it by any means, but feeling better is a process that’s starting to work. “That’s good.” He pushes the cart slightly before pulling back to place. “You’re good.” Randy lets out a breath, tugging and pushing the cart again. “I mean--deserve to feel good and normal.” 

I grin at the stumble in words. It’s rare that we’re openly nice to each other instead of acting like little kids after one pulls the other’s hair. “I get what you mean.” 

His lips part, but no words come out. Randy’s eyebrows draw together as his mouth shuts. What is--a firm touch on my shoulder snaps the question out of me. My head turns and some kind of comment about being rude to people in line rises and immediately falls back down. Stu! And then I remember my earlier conversation and it feels a lot more like: Oh. Stu. 

It’s such an instant flip that for a second I don’t react. Stu pulls his arm around me in a quick attempt at a side hug, but I’m so stiff it’s more like being shoved into him. “Look who’s here.” 

Bumping into him is by no means new to me. Small town, same friends, some overlap in hobbies. But this time it’s different. I promised myself that Stu and Billy would get scolded for meddling as soon as possible, but I didn’t expect run into him in public. It’s like being a parent with a child that’s misbehaving in church. You can’t do anything but redirect until you get to the car. 

Stu drops his arm back to his side. “Thought you were doing something with Tatum and Sid?” 

“They’re over there,” I gesture vaguely with a tilt of my head, trying to seem casual. I might not be willing to get into the whole Noel thing in front of Randy and the suburban mom trying to settle a dispute between two kids who can’t decide which movie to get, but Stu probably is. “I wouldn’t look too closely, girls’ night movies might make you sick.” 

Stu misses by just a second. He does wrinkle his nose in a display of the kind of good humor I’d expect from him, but it doesn’t feel as natural. There’s nothing wrong about his reaction, it just feels lacking. Missing his usual brand of energy. “I have no issue with girls’ night movies.” 

Clearly, I’ve been spending too much time with him because I get the joke instantly. Now it’s my turn to cringe. “Why do I even talk to you?” 

“Because, buggsie, your life would be so boring without me.” The nickname does make my expression warp, but this time it’s more like trying to keep in a laugh than anything else. “If your only movie influence was Randy, you’d be a lot less likable.” 

Randy sighs. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The words are just a little too sharp. They’re good enough friends in some senses. Not two I’d guess hang alone together, but I like to think at the end of the day they like co-existing. That doesn’t mean they don’t bicker from time to time in a way that feels different than when Randy and I fight like little kids or Stu and I fight like an old married couple too lazy to get divorced. 

“No need to be bitter, dude,” Stu’s hand is back around my shoulder, “I gave you a whole five minutes.” That was a weird thing to say. Random, and not in a fun sort of way, but before I can ask, Stu’s pulling me forward. “You want to help me sneak up on Tay?” 

I throw Randy a look that hopefully communicates my level of confusion and some sort of see you later. “Uh...” Stu’s already turning like I’ve answered, “Sure?” 

When we’re finally closer to the shelves than the counter, Stu lets me go, his hand sliding down my arm a little before retracting. “So you go up to Tatum, talk to her, keep her distracted, and I’ll sneak up behind her.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He’s moving along so quickly and casually, but I’m still fixed on that last comment to Randy. It wasn’t banter-y and Randy didn’t say anything back, which feels a little weird. “That last thing you said, the five minute thing?”

Stu barely pauses, head tilting in a way that feels confused. “Oh. Gave him five minutes to make a move, but you know Randy, not a closer.”

It’s said casually enough that I could think Stu’s being serious, but there’s also a hum of sarcasm in there. And what he’s saying does feel too unrealistic to not be a joke. Randy and I are completely platonic, there’s no way he sees me like that. Plus, I’d like to think that if a guy I’m around that regularly liked me in any sort of way, I’d have at least somewhat picked up on it. 

“Shut up,” I shove Stu’s arm, “You’re not funny.”

He holds his hands up in defense briefly. “Don’t shoot the messenger.” 

It’s said casual enough that I’m finally given a second to think. The nagging voice at the back of my head is finally given the opportunity to remind me that I’m supposed to be mad at him. Or, at the very least, irritated until I can tell him off for trying to make decisions for me behind my back. 

“Interesting that you mention shooting you, be--” 

“Ouch,” Stu hums, a little too pointedly, “Thought we were all good, angel.” I press my lips together, staring at the ground to avoid giving him anything to latch onto. “I’ve been on best behavior. Minding my business, just here to check something out.”

I stop, a motion I think is subtle enough but Stu picks up on it immediately. He turns and grabs my wrist. The contact is sudden enough to force me to look up. Stu’s watching me, his expression seems innocent, and not in that pretend way either. There’s a hint of confusion behind his eyes. I’m not sure I entirely believe it, but I think it’s possible that what I’m mad about isn’t coming to mind. He has no reason to think I’d know about it. 

His hold is firm and oddly warm and bordering on distracting. 

“Stu,” Tatum’s cheery voice snaps the two of us out of our stand off.

He pulls away quickly, eyes falling on Tatum. “There’s my girl.” Stu pulls her into a hug and gives her a quick kiss. “Y/n was going to help me sneak up and surprise you, but she’s in a mood.” 

Ugh. Stu has a way of dismissing any type of reaction that doesn’t work for him as me being in a mood or pouting. “I am not in a mood.” 

“Give her a break.” Stu’s hands are still on her. “Y/n found out about the Noel thing.”My gaze instinctually shifts back to Stu. His easygoing grin falters. Tatum smiles at him with a coy look that I guess could be interpreted as some kind of apology. “Don’t get moody, she pulled it out of us.” 

It takes him a second, but Stu eventually eases off of her. He doesn’t look as content as before, but his expression hints at nothing else besides casual annoyance. “She can’t be too mad if she’s still hanging around you and Sid.” 

“I got to tell them both off already.” 

Stu turns, something smug tugging his face into an almost smile. It’s infuriating. “If that’s what you’re into, babe.” 

Tatum scoffs and halfheartedly smacks his shoulders. “You’ve been around long enough that I don’t have to apologize for him anymore, right?”

“Right.” 

Stu lets out a breath, “Geez, you two sure act like you love me.” 

I am so not in the mood to say anything nice about Stu in front of him. “Maybe if you minded your business a little more--” 

“Okay,” Tatum pushes herself into the budding argument and looks at me. “Save your energy for when there’s two of them.” Good point. If I yelled at Stu and Billy separately every time they messed up, I’d be yelling constantly. Tatum’s attention shifts back to Stu, “Is he around? Sid’s around the corner.” 

Stu shakes his head once. “Nah, it’s still early and he only said he might call. He’s been a little out of it.” 

Billy’s out of it? And out of it enough to not be around Stu for once? It’s not like they’re literally attached at the hip but a weekend evening where both me and their girlfriends are busy and they’re not hanging out together? That in itself hints at something being wrong. 

I think through the last I heard from Billy, but nothing particularly stands out. He might have briefly mentioned his dad but not in a concerning way. Not in a way that indicated he’d have to spend extra time with him or anything.

Billy has also been weirdly absent. No recent warning-less appearances at my window. Has he been going through something and I’m just too caught up in my personal issues to notice? God, this serial killer nonsense has turned me into a terrible friend. 

“He okay?” 

Stu’s eyes flit up to meet mine. “You might want to hold off on the scolding, but last time I checked in, yeah. Just all angsty, you know how Billy gets.” 

I blink. Last time he checked in. Maybe I’m idealizing their friendship too much, but I’ve always felt like they were looking out for each other. Closer than Stu’s current reaction warrants. Or maybe I’m overthinking things and Billy’s just taking some time. He doesn’t seem the type to want to talk about fuzzy things like feelings. 

“We were going to ask you guys to come over, but if he’s not up for it, that’s okay,” Tatum says, “You can still come by later, but I think you should check in on him.” 

Now I’m starting to feel antsy. Like I should go check in on Billy, but I don’t even know what that’d look like. The realization that I’ve never been to Billy’s house hits hard and with no warning. Whenever we all hang out, it’s at my place or someone else’s, and when it’s the three of us we go to Stu’s and sometimes my house. The thought rubs me the wrong way, like this one thing is pulling on the threads of our friendship. 

He’s one of my best friends and I can’t even say I know what his room looks like. 

“I’ll probably stop by soon.” 

That makes me frown. Probably. Soon. 

“Oh, that reminds me.” Tatum’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “Dewey wanted me to give you a head’s up that he’ll be trying to meet with you soon. He wants to go over some....stuff.” 

Ugh, this again. I can’t escape it. “Yeah. He has my number, Dewey can call whenever, but the warning was nice.” 

Stu shifts back like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “He wants to talk to her again?” He’s more offended than I am. “What? It’s not like anything’s changed.” 

Tatum shrugs, “I don’t know. Dewey doesn’t give me the details.” 

“Unless they have new evidence, they shouldn’t be dragging her back into it just because they don’t know shit.”

I should tell him to drop it. That this is my business and maybe it’s time we establish some firmer boundaries, but I can’t get the words to form. The whole thing feels hypocritical. I should be annoyed, but I’m not because he’s saying what I can’t. 

It’s brief, but for a second it almost feels like Stu might be the closest to someone that gets what it feels like. The irony is insane, considering that there’s no way that empathy’s his strong suit. 

“I don’t know. It’s not my thing.” 

Tatum is understandably a little defensive, which is fair. Especially when considering our earlier conversation. This isn’t fair to her. “It’s okay.” The words feel like a flat cop out compared to Stu’s instinctual defense. “It’s not Tatum’s fault and Dewey was really nice about it last time--” 

“Last time? You mean when they ambushed you at the hospital before they let you take visitors?” 

My stomach knots at that. The feeling of waking up there, confused and unaware of what I’d just been through and then being made to feel like I was completely alone while Billy and Stu were waiting outside for me. “That’s not his fault.” A dry defense. “It sucks, but it’s for the greater good and it won’t take long.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince myself or him. “It’s okay.” 

Stu half sighs. “I’m going to grab my movie and head out, maybe stop by Billy’s.” He tuns to give Tatum a brief goodbye kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll see you soon, Y/n. Make sure you get to yell at me before it builds too much.” 

At that, I roll my eyes but still wave him off. 

---- 

My eyes are on the phone again, staring down the extension on my nightstand like it’s keeping things from me. 

Ugh. This is ridiculous. I snap my attention back to the homework in front of me. Some extra credit for my math class. It’s an attempt at damage control because the test I had to take the morning after being attacked by a serial killer is seriously bringing down my GPA. Too bad calc has never been my strong suit. The distraction that is my inability to move on from what Stu said is definitely not helping. 

Even after Sidney, Tatum, and I left the video store, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Stu’s uncertainty and what Billy could be going through. Maybe Stu was playing down how much he knows because Billy didn’t want anyone else knowing. I could see that. Hope for that since the thought of Billy locking himself in his room and dealing with whatever it is completely alone tugs at my heart.  

I could call. He might not answer, but that’s okay. It might make me feel better to just do something and it’s not like I’ve never called him. There’s also the more extreme option of showing up to his place. I’ve never been to his house,  but he’s pointed it out before. Even though I physically could get there, that feels like too much. If I’ve never been over, it’s probably for a reason.

There’s also Stu. I could call him to ask about Billy. He’s more likely to tell me about how Billy’s doing than Billy. But that also feels weird for no reason. Again, it’s not like I never call them. 

I glance over at the digital clock on my desk. 7:56. Okay--it’s not too late. Not weirdly late. 

I stand before I can think about it too much, walking over to the phone. If it’s going to be distracting, I should just get it over with. Maybe having some kind of answer will make it easier to focus on things.

The phone rings about three times before there’s an answer. “Yeah?” 

“Hey.” Okay, that one word feels super awkward for no reason. “Hi--it’s um--” Be more normal. It’s just Stu. “It’s Y/n.” 

A quick breath that feels more like a laugh than it sounds. “Yeah, I figured that out.” Great, now he’s making fun of me. “I also know why you’re calling.” 

“Really?” 

I can feel his amusement over the phone. “You can’t stop thinking about me and want me to come over.”

I snort as soon as the words wash over me. What was I expecting? “You figured it out. This is a booty call.” 

Stu sort of laughs. “Yeah? I can be over in five.”

Pressing my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, I sit up a little more. “Loser.” I reach over for a pillow and pull it on to my lap. “Okay, so actual reason, I was trying to do something for calc, so obviously my mind was wandering and thinking about literally anything else.” 

“Obviously.” 

My fingers brush the fluff of the pillow’s exterior. I brush the strands flat and then back into little spikes of hair. “And at some point, I started thinking about what you said at the video store. About Billy.”

There’s a brief silence, and then another one of Stu’s breathy-accidental-laughs. “Aw, you’re worried.” Ugh. “That’s cute, angel, I’ll make sure to tell him.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport.” 

My nose wrinkles at that, nails smothering my pillow’s layer of fluff. “Is he okay or not?” 

For a second, the only thing coming from the other side of the phone is the general static of someone’s movement. “Bossy.” I roll my eyes, but before I can tell him to spare me tonight, Stu continues, “Why didn’t you just call Billy?” 

It’s a fair question, which only bugs me more. “Because there’s no way to call someone and ask if they’re okay based on a passing comment without sounding insane.” 

I pinch the thin hairs of my pillows between my thumb and index finger. “And it’s less insane this way?”

Feels like it. “Kinda, yeah.” 

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it. Billy’s fine, he’ll be back to his usual levels of brooding soon. Promise.” I don’t know what to make of that, so I just focus on my pillow. “It might help if you called him tomorrow. Let him sleep it off for a little longer.”

That’s probably a good suggestion. “Yeah, I’ll do that.” My eyes drift back to the still open textbook on my desk. My mom is out with Wells so I can’t even use her as an excuse to not be doing this right now. I briefly bite my tongue to give myself a second to think through what I’m considering. “You um--are you doing anything right now?” Even more awkward. Great. “I could really use an excuse to not work on calc right now.” 

“Now it’s a booty call.” 

Being friends with him is so annoying sometimes. “I hate you.”

“Ouch,” a brief shuffling before he speaks again, “You know I love distracting you--” I roll my eyes. “But tonight’s--” 

“Shit, is Tatum over or something?” A hand flies over my mouth. Of course I’d call at a time where he had someone over and be a total mess. “I’m sorry.” 

Some more static before a response, “No, it’s--” He sighs once. “Billy’s here and he’s--” Oh. My embarrassment is definitely doubling, but there’s still some relief there. At least he’s not alone. “Maybe you should come over, help cheer him up.”

“You’re kind of an asshole for not mentioning that earlier.” I push the throw pillow off my lap and let my back fall onto my cocoon of larger pillows. “And it’s fine, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm him or anything.” 

“No,” Stu’s answer is quick but feels a little flat. Almost worried. “You--I think it’d be good for him to see you.” There’s still a bit of hesitance there, like Stu’s not telling me the full story. Maybe he can’t. “We rented a few movies and I think I might still have those sour gummy things you like.” 

I really do love sour gummies. “Is Billy okay with it?” 

“It’s my house, bug.” When I don’t say anything, Stu sighs, “Kidding. C’mon, he loves you.” I don’t know why I’m debating so much, it was my idea, but now it feels a little intrusive of me. “And we’re a lot more fun than calculus.” 

“Not a high bar you’re setting there.” Stu pointedly scoffs. “Okay--if you’re sure Billy’s okay with it, I’ll be over in a few.”

“Need to go ask your mommy?” 

I’m already pushing myself to my feet. “Shut up.” An ‘at least I have a parent that gives a shit’ nearly slips out and I just barely manage to bite my tongue. That’d be like reacting to a playful shove with a punch to the face. Besides, my mom’s not a factor right now. She and Wells are out to dinner with some friends. She left me with a 20 to order pizza and maybe rent a movie. “I can still not go.” 

Stu chooses to ignore the (empty) threat, “See you soon, babe.” 

I push open the door of my closet and search through it as quickly as possible. It’s not like I need to get dressed up to go to Stu’s, but my stained pajama pants from the ninth grade and practically threadbare tank top aren’t things I wear out of the house. Especially now that fall is making evenings a lot chillier. “I don’t get our friendship.”

“I keep you supplied with those awful sour gummies.”

I smile despite myself, grabbing something out of my closet. “That explains it.” Bending down, I pick up another article of clothing. “See you soon.” 

----

“There she is.”

Stu pulls me into a hug before I can think to react. He’s always so warm and everywhere. I think it has to do with his smell. It sounds weird but he’s so consistent about it. Enough expensive laundry detergent to drown out most of the usual teen boy body spray musk to a level that’s tolerable and sharpens the slight hint of weed that seems to cling to him. Even that is balanced. Subtle unless you know to think about it. But now it’s a little more overwhelming than usual...fresher. 

Like he just finished a joint. I stare at him for a second and while his eyes seem mostly normal, there’s a bit of a red tinge there. If it wasn’t for the smell of weed, I wouldn’t have noticed. “Are you high?” 

The corner of Stu’s mouth pulls up into an almost smile. He’s amused. “That’s a fun way to greet me.” I give him a pointed look. “Mmm...maybe a little.” Stu extends an arm, halfheartedly punching me in the shoulder. Instead of dropping his arm like usual, Stu relaxes his fist in order to squeeze the top of my arm. “What gave me away, angel?”

“With you, it’s always a safe guess.” He sort of frowns, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Kidding. You smell like a dispensary.” 

Stu squeezes my arm a little harder. “Judgy.” He tilts his head slightly. “And here I was going to offer you some.” 

“No one likes me when I’m high.” That’s true enough. I get all paranoid and clingy. Randy won’t even smoke around me if we’re alone just in case. 

He half scoffs. “Nah, that’s just for people that don’t know how to handle you.” 

Handle me? I’m about to give him some sarcastic answer, but when my eyes meet his, the reaction freezes over. He’s staring at me with a concentration that feels more prominent than his hand on my arm. I don’t know why, but I feel the need the redirect and break the silence. “Where’s Billy?” 

“In my room.” Stu swings a hand around my shoulder and starts guiding me forward. “C’mon, he’ll be happy to see you.” 

I should shrug Stu off of me, but it feels easier to just let him. Besides, there are other things to worry about. From the vagueness Stu’s been handling mentions of Billy with, I half expect him to be in a straight jacket or something. “He--he does know I’m here, right?” 

The only answer I get is Stu placing a hand on his bedroom door once we reach it. He releases me to push open it open. “Hey, feeling any better?” Billy doesn’t get a chance to reply before Stu continues, “Because I brought you a present.” 

Weird...and kind of objectifying, but in a weird way. It’s not so much the words, but the way he’s saying them. This is definitely an ambush. Stu pushes the door open all the way before I can really react. I still make a point of smacking his arm. “Don’t make it weird.” 

I turn my head towards Stu’s room. Billy is in there, sitting with his back against the headboard and he’s looking at me but there’s little recognition. It’s more like he’s seeing through me. I want to assume it’s part of some kind of side effect of being high, but I can’t quite get myself to dismiss it as something so casual.

Any fight directed at Stu evaporates into the air and morphs into this weird veil of tension. Not good or bad. Just heavy and full, bleeding through the room and into the hall where I’m still standing. 

“Hi,” it feels like an attempt at cutting through the harshness, “I heard you were feeling bad so I thought I’d come back and make you feel worse.” 

Billy’s eyebrows draw together slightly, like he’s considering how to react. He settles on a, “Yeah?” It feels smaller than the way he usually is. 

I swallow my instinctual reaction. “Yeah--things aren’t looking too good in Iraq and everyone’s getting too comfortable with nuclear bombs.” 

The corner of his mouth turns up into an almost smile. It’s not quite there, but the thawing of the icy layer behind his gaze is cracking. “Anything else?”

“I still think the Princess Diana divorce is kind of a bummer.” 

Stu sighs dramatically. “Of course you’re on her side.” 

“There is no other side, Charles is the worst.” 

Stu walks fully into his room and practically flops onto his bed. His head hits Billy’s calf and Billy throws him a dirty look before adjusting. “Charles is next in line for the throne. That entitles him to all the girls he wants. That’s just history.”

I wrinkle my nose and halfheartedly glare at him. “He’s also probably inbred.”

Billy sits up a little further, reaching for what I’m assuming is a joint. “Definitely inbred.”

The small vouch of support is strangely easing.

Stu tilts his head to look at me briefly. “You two deserve each other.”

“Don’t pout.” Maybe not my smartest joke, but it’s too easy to pass up on. 

He props his head up just to glare at me. “I can still kick you out.”

I roll my eyes and Billy wordlessly extends what he’s been smoking. Stu reaches for it absentmindedly and Billy moves his arm away. “You need to slow down.” 

Stu doesn’t protest, which has to be a byproduct of his easy high. I’m so distracted by that it takes a second for it to click. If Billy isn’t handing off the joint to Stu, he’s trying to give it to me...the person who’s going to be around their mom and a cop before the night’s over. 

“Can’t tonight.” I’m so going to get bullied for this, “My mom would know immediately, and then she’d kill all three of us.” 

Billy sits up a little more, not fully taking his hand back but relaxing it a little. Stu drops his head back down, accidentally landing on Billy’s leg. I suppress a laugh when Billy lazily shrugs Stu off. It doesn’t work, because Stu still glares at me as he curls into himself slightly. “You could stay over, sleep it off.”

Maybe Stu’s more high than I thought. I take a step forward, feeling awkward about the distance. “I don’t see how that helps the my mom killing us all thing.” 

“You could call her from my home phone, tell her you’re staying over at Sidney’s or Tay’s.” Stu doesn’t wait for my response before stretching out an arm in my direction. “Come here.” 

It feels a little bit like a trap, but at the same time, standing this close to the door is probably weirder than anything Stu’s going to try. I walk forward and sit down on the edge of his bed. Stu smiles lazily and adjusts so that his legs are on my lap. They’re long. He’s basically an arachnid. 

With Stu, a firm approach is usually best, but this seems harmless enough so I don’t kick him off of me. “You’re like a spider.”

He laugh-scoffs, stretching even further. “Like a daddy long legs.”

There’s a weird attempt at sultriness in his words. It’s so stupid I can’t hep the terrible laugh that comes out. “Shut up. You’re so gross.” Now I do want him off of me. He won’t move so I try dragging myself back a little. All that does is make me bump into Billy’s arm. “Sorry.” 

Dismissing my apologetic look with a short wave of the hand still holding the joint, Billy sits up even more, angling himself towards me. “You should be.” It’s sarcastic, but still oddly flat, like Billy’s putting work into being a part of the conversation.

Stu, clearly feeling forgotten, softly kicks his leg. “Your sobriety’s bringing old Billy Boy back down.” 

I lean back, ignoring the way my fingers brush against Billy’s. “I promise me being high would only depress him more.” 

“I like you high,” Billy muses flatly, “You get all jumpy.” 

I roll my eyes, trying to straighten to pull my hand back but Billy doesn’t let me get that far. His hand turns over and pulls his fingers between my own. It’s a casual enough attempt to pull me back into place, but his eyes are so quick to meet mine. There’s something almost nervous about the shift, and vaguely familiar. An uncertain, begrudging request for reassurance I’ve come to associate with people going through some sort of depressive episode. 

“That was one time,” I mumble, “And it was because you guys are assholes and didn’t tell me that it was extra strong.” 

Stu’s leg moves again, “It wasn’t extra strong, we just didn’t pace you.” 

“Either way--assholes.” 

Billy moves his thumb along my knuckles. “We’ll be nice this time.” He takes a deliberate hit and exhales the smoke in a way that lingers. I can feel the smell of it, a paranoid part of me thinking it’s already caught up in my hair and clothes and skin. Like my mom will just be able to tell already. Maybe it is already too late. 

And it’d upset her. She’s already worried enough about how I’m handling all the killer stuff, if she thinks I’m acting out and smoking she’ll probably freak. This also wouldn’t be the first time I did something like this and didn’t tell her...or the first time I stayed over at a friend’s house to sleep something off. 

It’s also objectively nice to be around them. Also, Billy’s whole slightly off thing is something I’ve definitely seen before. The familiarity finally clicks into place, a few memories of my mother from when I was younger. Bad ones, days in which things slipped through the cracks before my mom was diagnosed and started managing that part of herself.

“Even if you don’t smoke, you should call your mom...stay over.” Billy gets the words out stiffly, like some invisible force was trying to shove them back down his throat. “Keep me from being alone with that one.”

Stu lets out a sound that’s sounds a lot like a tired “fuck off”. The casual disapproval makes me smile.

Billy takes another, much shorter hit. I let myself observe the process. The way the smoke goes in, how he holds it in, and finally the way he forces it out. Billy wordlessly turns the joint around in a silent offering. I give in with an exhale and reach over. Billy doesn’t let me get that far, moving so that his fingers are almost to my mouth. I part my lips and let him hold the joint there as I inhale. He doesn’t give me long before taking it back. He runs his thumb along my knuckles. “Hold.” I struggle, but follow through. “Good. Now breathe.” 

I let it out with a slight cough.

“There ya go,” Stu mumbles, patiently dragging his leg up my thigh. “You’ll feel better.” I wish I had more experience with smoking outside of them. If I did, I’d have a reference point to tell me if Stu’s weed is actually extra strong or not. I’m sure what he gets is considered good shit, since he definitely has the money and tolerance. “You should call your mom before you get all giggly.” 

I openly frown. “I do not get ‘giggly’.” 

“Yeah, you do.” 

I’m not in an argumentative mood. Maybe it’s the atmosphere or the weed is already starting to cloud my judgement. I should call my mom, though. It hasn’t been that long since I left, which means she’s probably still out with Wells. It’ll be easier to just leave a message on the machine. She always checks when she gets home. 

Ever since the first incident, my mom keeps a cell phone on her that’s always on, but it’s still weird to both of us. I don’t have the number fully memorized yet, it’s written on a note held to the fridge by a magnet back home...a few blocks away. The cell phone isn’t exclusively emergency, but my mom doesn’t love portable technology. She thinks they’re tacky and breed rudeness.

I tap Stu’s leg, “Up.” 

Surprisingly enough, Stu listens, letting me go. I let go of Billy’s hand and reach for the extension on Stu’s nightstand. I quickly dial my number and leave a flat message. Staying over at Sid’s, have fun but not too much fun, love you and see you tomorrow. 

In a moment of straight forward association, I almost went with telling my mom I was staying at Tatum’s, but I have to talk to Dewey soon and my mom will probably be there and that felt like a potential loose end. 

Stu half snorts, “Love you and see you tomorrow, mom.” 

I shove Stu’s shoulder. “Shut up.” 

“Have fun but not too much fun,” Billy mumbles, a lot more subdued but just as teasing. 

Rolling my eyes, I move back to the edge of the bed where I was sitting before. “It’s an inside joke.” 

Stu leans forward and pinches my cheek. “That’s adorable.” 

The patronization doesn’t sit well and my eyelids feel heavier than they did a second ago. “I hate you guys.” 

“Clearly,” Stu breathes, reaching over and taking the joint from Billy. “Oh, Billy, forgot to tell you, Y/n’s supposed to be mad at us.” Billy tilts his head a little too far to one side like that’s news enough for him to be curious. “Tay told her about the Noel thing.” 

Billy feels imbalanced, head leaning one way and spine straight. His eyes harden over again. “Really?” He takes my hand again, this time a lot less softly. “Over that asshole?” I let him run his knuckles over my hand again, even though this time it feels a lot less soothing. “If none of your friends like a guy, that usually says something about the guy.” 

I’m sure there’s some kind of joke I could spin. Maybe about where he learned that one from. Get that from Cosmo? But the bordering on defensive look behind Billy’s eyes is overbearing and messing with my head. Stu is seriously in danger for bringing this up right now. 

“It’s not about the guy,” I manage, “It’s about...” All the points I had feel a lot less concrete under Billy’s scrutiny...or maybe it’s the weed. Or both. I swallow, dropping my gaze to my lap as I try to really think. Okay, it’s definitely both. “Timing and boundaries.” It feels fractured. “Like even if a guy totally sucks, you can’t go over my head about it.” 

Stu lets out a sigh, dropping his head onto one of his pillow’s. I glare openly. This is all his fault. Why bring it up now? Billy was just starting to act a little more like himself. “I don’t know what you see in him.” Ugh. It’s like he’s not even hearing me. “Especially with the way he talked about Casey.” 

That last part hits its intended goal. Stu’s staring at the ceiling, so I can’t see his expression, but he seems to take my silence as a win. I don’t know Noel as well as they do, but he did talk about Casey at that party and it wasn’t exactly kind. 

I squeeze what I can grab of the comforter like that will tether me here. It half works but it does nothing to ease the tightening in my chest. The memories mix uneasily with the start of my high. The dip of panic doesn’t suit the way my body wants to feel and it all blends together in a way that leaves me on edge and a little nauseous. 

There’s the sound of someone moving, but I barely pick up on it. Billy smacks the side of Stu’s head. “Too much, asshole.”

Stu throws Billy an offended look before craning his neck to look at me. I must look as off as I feel, because Stu does sit up. “Shit,” he pushes himself back, “Sorry. I didn’t think--” 

“You never think.” The words are pointed, but not completely angry. If I was feeling any better, I would’ve laughed. He slowly reaches forward and I don’t stop him from prying my fingers away from the sheets. “Your trip going a little bad?” I nod. “Don’t think about it.” Easier said than done. “You could end up like Stu the one time he smoked too much while watching one of those old horror movies where the special effects are basically held up by a string.” 

That cracks at the panic a little. “What did he do?” 

“Convinced himself that it was real and we were the ones that were off.” 

I almost laugh. “Actually?” 

“Shut up,” Stu sighs, a little bitter but not actually mad. 

Billy ignores him, “Actually.” He turns my hand over carefully before running his fingers over the thin scar on my palm and up my wrist. “So you’re already doing better than him.”

For a second, I let myself study Billy. The wisps of hair falling forward, the slight pinch between his eyebrows, his focused expression. Billy almost always holds himself with a certain tenseness. Whether that’s force of habit or natural to him, I’m not sure. Maybe that’s why he gets along so well with Stu. They balance each other. 

“Are you...” I don’t know where I’m going with this. “Are you feeling any better?” 

His expression briefly clouds, pulling into something much more blank. He drops his gaze and for a second I feel like I might need to take it back. “Yeah--yeah, don’t worry.” Again, easier said than done. Billy clears his throat almost immediately after, like that will erase the fact that he actually responded. 

“Good.” It doesn’t sound overly positive, but he hasn’t convinced me. “I’ve missed you, a little.” That feels a lot more real.

Billy angles his head downwards, almost smiling. “Only a little?” 

“It’s not like you haven’t been around at all.” He traces an invisible line up my wrist. “Maybe more than a little, anyway.” 

“Aw,” Stu hums, his hand finding a place on my back. He leans forward and rests his head on my shoulder. “You two are adorable.” I’m not really given a chance to answer before Stu lets out a sigh that I feel against my neck, “Don’t be mad.” 

Honestly, I’m not feeling any anger. I’m a little annoyed at him and frustrated that I’m still not normal. That’s all there is. It’s too tiring to turn into anger. “’M not mad,” it feels like a confession, “A little annoyed at you, but not more than usual.” 

He breathes a sarcastic, “Haha” into my shoulder. 

With no warning, I start to unweave myself from them. I think they’re too confused to ask until I’m actually standing. 

“Where are you going, angel?” 

I don’t really know, so I can’t really answer. Stu’s room isn’t super familiar. I’ve been in here a couple times, most of them brief. I take a second to really take in the space. A lot of posters, the ones that aren’t directly bloody movie posters feature practically naked women and some combine the two. It fits him.

“Getting a feel,” I decide on, “You can tell a lot about a person based on their room.” 

Stu moves to the edge of his bed, grinning at my focus. “Really?” 

I move to pull open the drawer of his nightstand. “Mhm.” 

“You’re not going to like anything you find in there.” He places a hand on the front of drawer but doesn’t stop me. 

It takes me a second too long to realize what he’s getting at. By then, I’ve already taken in a cover of a magazine with a model that’s wearing even less than the girls on the posters, a box of condoms, a surprisingly neatly stacked set of polaroids, an old deck of cards, and a few random odds and ends all crammed in there. 

My nose wrinkles, but I’m too distracted by the polaroids to make fun of him. I can only see the top one, but it’s innocent enough, an accidental snapshot that sort of looks like a blurry person on a couch.  

“Polaroids?” I pick them out of the drawer and flip to the next one. A small lump that looks like a cat in Stu’s living room. Weird, I’ve never seen one in his house and he’s never mentioned having a pet. Maybe these are old pictures. Before I can snoop any further, Stu pulls the stack of photos away from me. “You’re no fun.” 

He rolls his eyes as he moves the first photo back into place. “You’re nosy.” I don’t say anything because I’m not so high that I’m clueless. This is a little weird of me, but I can’t help the impulse. “What if the next picture had been me naked?” 

“You take naked pictures of yourself and keep them in your nightstand?” 

Stu intentionally ignores my laughter. “You don’t need pictures for that, baby, you can see the real thing.” 

My laughter picks up again. “Yeah? Let’s go right now.” 

At that, Stu does crack a bit of a smile. “Let’s make Billy strip first.” 

“Deal,” I mumble through another laugh. 

Billy drops his head onto a pillow, “Fuck off.” 

I turn my attention back to the card deck and dig them out with my nail. “Any naked pictures hidden in here or am I good?” 

“No promises.” With that as my warning, I begin to shuffle the cards absentmindedly. “Why? You wanna play strip poker?” 

Ignoring him, I move back to my previous position on the edge of the bed. “Think I’m good.” 

I drag the nail of my thumb along the edge of the cards and focus on the sound of them. Billy nudges my knee with his. I look up as he extends his arm, silently asking for the cards. I hand them over without thinking much about it. Billy begins to actually shuffle in a way that would fit Vegas. 

He has to notice my mesmerized stare, but he says nothing. “Do you actually know how to play anything?”

My mom briefly worked at a casino when I was in the first grade and she’d have to bring me in sometimes, but I retained nothing. “Not really.” 

That starts something. A process that should have been short and easy. Billy trying to explain different versions of poker and Stu trying to trick me, but only sometimes so I couldn’t know to for sure not trust him. It’s a mess of laughter and a refreshing lack of angst. Every once in awhile, someone insists that a loser has to take a drag from a joint, so everyone’s progressively getting worse. I’m pretty sure Stu’s cheating somehow, but I have no proof and I’m too out of it to get any. 

It’s so lighthearted and genuinely fun that I’m fighting against the heaviness of my eyelids. It can’t be that late, but I’m already starting to feel drowsy. I’ve finally been given good cards, so I really need to get it together. “I won.”  

Stu scoffs, eyebrows drawing together as he eyes the cards I just set down. “No--that’s not--” 

“I won,” a yawn cuts my sentence in half, “Don’t be a loser about it.” 

Stu picks up all the cards, ignoring my protests. He’s already mixed me up a couple of times. “I can let you have this one, because you’re--” 

“Because you have to.” 

Billy turns his ankle, tapping his foot against my leg. “Don’t be mean about it.” 

That was nowhere near mean. “Dramatic, both of you.” 

Stu’s mouth falls open in a mock gasp as he continues to gather cards. I don’t know what he’s doing until he drops them all back into his drawer and shuts it. He then walks towards his dresser, pulls out a T-shirt, and tosses it in my direction. “After all I’ve done for you.” 

I pick up the T-shirt and fold it onto my lap but make no move to go to the bathroom to change. “I don’t want to go to sleep.” 

“You’re half asleep already.” Billy ignores the dirty look I give him. “Just change in case you fall asleep.” 

Stupid voice of reason. I scratch the back of my wrist and decide to give in. If for no other reason than the fact that Stu’s shirt is almost weirdly soft. Rich people must have access to different kinds of fabric. I reluctantly get up and find Stu’s bathroom.

I change quickly and take a second to make sure Stu gave me a long enough T-shirt. Thankfully, he did, so I don’t have to feel extra awkward about anything. I fold my clothes and bring them back with me. 

“Looks nice on you, babe.” 

Drowsiness hits harder without any distractions. I blink, unsure on how to respond. Stu’s always a flirt with everyone, but it feels a little weird to react to it while standing in his room at night in one of his T-shirts. “It’s the rich guy cotton.”

The corner of his mouth turns up. “And those legs.” 

“Shut up.” 

Billy turns onto his side, fluffing his pillow. “Go to sleep before he gets worse.” 

“Yeah.” The two of them look comfortable, all settled. “I’ll crash on the couch.” 

Stu props his head up on an elbow. “You don’t wanna do that. Living room’s creepy at night and you’ve smoked too much. You’ll get scared.” 

“I’m not 12.” 

“It’s safer here, you wouldn’t be alone if something happened.” 

Ugh, Stu can never resist trying to get me paranoid. “Nothing’s going to happen.” That’s what I thought when I was at Casey’s. 

“Just get in bed,” Billy mumbles, half asleep, “I know how this argument goes with the two of you.” When I don’t move, Billy sighs, “If I fall asleep and you get freaked out, I’m not helping.” 

Stu lays back down, “He means it. He’s an asshole when he’s tired.” He pauses for so long, I briefly think he might have fallen asleep. “...’S not a big deal.” 

True. It wouldn’t even be the first time we all fell asleep in the same bed. And Billy’s slept over in my room enough times for that to barely phase me. “Yeah.” 

I walk over towards the bed. “Drink water,” Billy mumbles the words with his eyes still shut. I look over at the nightstand and there’s a glass there that wasn’t there before. I drink a few long sips until Stu sits up to steal the glass from me. 

Rude. “Give me--” 

He downs the rest of it in a few gulps, “Go to bed.” 

I roll my eyes, but unfortunately do listen. Stu pushes me towards the middle, ignoring my surprised huff. I smack his arm before covering myself with his bed sheets. I barely get to reflect on how much of an asshole move that was before I fall asleep. 

----

A/n fun fact, there’s a moment in here where Y/n came superrr close to accidentally finding out who Ghostface is :) 

Taglist: @cole22ann @womenarecannibals @fand0mskullfa1ry @princessleah129 @i-amnotokaywiththis @fvcking-gxddess @suckmyass-things @im-better-than-your-newborn @michibuni @bigenargy @marli-lavellan @mushy-mushroom04 @neenieweenie @lone-ray @the-ruler-of-death @andthevillainshallrises @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @dixbolik-bby @thebitchiestnerdtowalktheearth @peachycupotea @my5tica1ien @agustdeeyaa @astrial @3ll0kittylvr420 @zoleea-exultant @slaypussypop-21 @aonungs-tsahik @finnydraws @slytherhoes @vxarak @xofeeeeelsxo @thewayiknowyou @yourslashersfinalgirl @winterridinghood @maggieleighc 

[whiskersz]

Hi! I was curious if you were open to writing a little bit of angst/fluff with Angel Dust who is with a transmasc reader who is having a really hard time with his gender dysphoria bc of how many people have told him things like "you'll never be a real man" among other bad transphobic things, and the reader is just in a really bad headspace since Angel is gay and he thinks he doesn't really like him since he's not a "real man" and it ends with Angel comforting him and reassuring him? (totally not projecting at alllllllll. Please don't feel pressured to write anything on this if it makes you uncomfortable though!)

Hello! Of course I came up with something for you, as I am transmasc myself so I could really throw all of my thoughts in there and make this somewhat realistic, ahah!

WARNING for : transphobia and heavy dysphoria - Angel is here to the rescue though :)

*･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.* *･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.* *･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.*

Heart to Heart

A date.

Your lovely boyfriend, Angel, had invited you on a little intimate date in his room for Valentine’s day; just you, him, cosy clothes, a sappy movie playing on TV and a few snacks to chew on during the evening. Usually you wouldn’t be against this at all, it actually sounds like a wonderful night, throw in there a couple kisses and one might even call it perfect – but as of right now, everything you’re trying on looks wrong.

The first shirt you try on looks wrong, your favourite sweater looks wrong, the overly comfortable sweater Angel himself gifted you for your first year anniversary looks and feels wrong. Actually, the right words for it would be that none of these make you look flat on the chest enough.

No matter how much you tuck the top part of your outfit into your pants, or how much you try to adjust your chest into your already uncomfortable binder – just like those assholes had said under the pictures you posted on your social media earlier in the day, you will never look like nor be a real man.

It’s okay though, because there’s at least one person who would never doubt your identity in this Hell of a place, and that person is your boyfriend, Angel.

...right?

With a deep breath, you open your wardrobe for what feels like the hundredth time this evening, and carefully scan your options. You have your mind set on changing your whole outfit, not just the top part, now.

The pair of pants Charlie gifted you a while ago, hoping they’d be the right size since she only asked you about it once: while you manage to wear them on most days, they’re too much on the skinny side today, they show your hips’ shape and you don’t like it. Are they even masculine enough?

That one sweatshirt you just got, the one that’s your favourite color: it’s just too tight, it’s going to show your binder bump. As if there’s a way to fully hide that.

You could wear comfortable shorts – no, they’d reveal too much, show the shapes that a real man shouldn’t have. And that your boyfriend especially would not want to see tonight.

While rummaging through your wardrobe even more you try to keep your mind away from any thought of Angel not accepting you for who you are; it wouldn’t make sense, you’ve been dating for a while now, and surely he wouldn’t be so dumb to keep the relationship going if he didn’t like his partner.

He has also expressed how much he loves you many times in the past, showed signs of affection he denies others, accepted your affection countless times.

And yet, something in your brain just isn’t right today. All because of a few rude comments. How stupid can you be?

You give one last glimpse at the mirror on your right, eyeing the body you’ve grown accustomed to hate. But tonight it seems like your hatred is even more persistent than usual.

You love Angel so much, there’s no denying that. You wish you could just dress up and get out of your room. It’s probably too late anyways at this point, you’ve spent an eternity looking for the perfect outfit that doesn’t exist without even looking at the time, and now it’s too late to even try to show up in front of his room.

Three distinct knocks at your door distract you from your negative thoughts;

“Sugar? Are you still in there?”

It’s Angel’s voice, it holds a preoccupied tone. With a quick look at the clock you realize it’s been past half an hour since the original time for your date.

You reply, meek and defeated; “Yes, sorry I’m late.”

“It’s okay, can I open the door?”

You can’t help but notice how gentle and careful he sounds when he talks to you, in comparison to how he talks to others; it gives you the courage to answer his question, though you still hide your body with your arms as much as you can before doing so.

“Yes, come in.”

Anthony carefully steps inside, his brows furrowed in concern though he manages a soft smiles as soon as he spots you sitting on your bed.

“Hey Toots, I was worried you know? You’re still choosing your outfit? Ha-“

Before he can finish his sentence you blurt out yours without thinking about it twice, your eyes barely holding in tears;

“Anthony, I know this is stupid because you literally just invited me on a date but- do you actually like me? I was just thinking...”

There’s a pause as you’re struggling to find the right words. Your boyfriend knows to wait until you’ve found them, so he gives you a few seconds to formulate your sentence.

“...This.” you gesture at yourself, your body; “Are you okay with this? I’m not a real man, can’t even get top surgery yet. I’m sorry, it’s just...hard to believe that you would see me as one sometimes, especially today.”

You struggle to look into his eyes, fearing his response, but once you find the guts to do so you’re met with nothing but love in them. Anthony pulls you closer with one of his arms, and you immediately find comfort into the warmth his body emanates, letting your tears finally roll down your cheeks.

“Baby, I’ve got to say,” he chuckles, “That is a bit silly, of course I’m okay with you being trans. We’ve been dating for what, a year? And almost three months, I’m so good at remembering – I wouldn’t be with you for this much if I wasn’t okay with it. The only thing I would be is a huge dick actually.”

With the arm that’s lovingly draped across your back he lightly shakes you around at the end of his sentence, which makes you smile.

“So...” you trail off, shyness suddenly taking over.

“Yes, I love you and I think you’re very handsome. Kiss?”

You’re a little surprised by the question in such a moment, but you’d never deny your lover a kiss especially after he comforted you on a subject you feel very vulnerable on. Once you nod though, you’re surprised to find out that Anthony’s little kisses end up landing on your tear stained cheeks, as if this was his way of drying them up.

“I love you too!” you return between giggles and kisses.

He pulls you into a hug, enveloping you with all his four arms, and you bury your face into his chest – he’s wearing what you consider to be his softest sweater, a pink chenille one he always wears when he wants to be both comfortable and cute.

“You still wanna watch something together? You can take some time to pick something comfortable, darlin’.” He reassures you after a while, and you accept his proposal.

You decide to let him stay as you look through your wardrobe with a clearer mind now, even though sometimes you still let an occasional ‘this would make me look less masculine’ slip out. But Anthony always has the right remark to make you feel sliiightly better;

“See, I didn’t pick this because it’s too... tight. Too bad since it’s one of my favourites.”

“Don’t let that stop ya handsome, you’ve got me drooling and looking at you with heart eyes whenever you wear it.”

You can’t help but laugh at that one, though.

“Hey! I’m serious!!”

“Shush Tony! Don’t make me laugh when the rest of the hotel is sleeping!”

You do settle on something warm after a while, and with your boyfriend offering you encouraging words and looks it takes you half the time. He reassures you once again that he loves you before you two leave your room to go relax in his – it’s much more equipped for this kind of thing, being filled with plushies and fuzzy blankets -.

You spend a lovely little Valentine’s Day together, with your limbs intertwined and exchanging little kisses once in a while. Anthony has the cute habit of giving you one on the forehead every single time the characters on screen share one, you find this and many other things about him very endearing... just as he does with you and your habits.

[callmehere-iwillappear]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

this has been sitting in my drafts for probably months and i actually don't remember who tagged me at this point sorry </3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

26

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

168,724

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currently just rise but i've had some other fandoms i've written for in the past

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

call me here (i will appear) Use Only For Intended Purpose The Idiot's Guide to Blindfold Chess new phone who dis because i fear i'm lost (and i cannot be found again) wow big surprise(/s) all of these are rise al;jfldksjfkd

5. Do you respond to comments?

i try to but uh </3 i am not very good at it

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ummm. probably waiting for answers, wasting time bc even if u know the comfort and healing comes there very much isn't any in the fic itself so whoops </3 i am not good at hurt/no comfort so i don't. have a lot of fics that would really qualify

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

uuhhhhh ig fibonacci? most of my fics have relatively happy endings and. this is the one with the least angst overall so

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not yet thank god

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i do not alfjdlkjfkdls

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

imma keep it real with you chief most of the crossovers that i've written are with other people's aus and idk if that counts

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of fingers crossed

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yeesssss? sorta? it's not like, on ao3 but i've done some collab crossover stuff with friends (see aforementioned crossover question)

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

god idk. i don't do a lot of shipping these days sorry </3 i have some ships i think are cute but i'm not like, into them enough to say they really qualify

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i want to finish idiot's guide and cmh very very badly and i refuse to jinx it. idk abt npwd solely because of like the type of fic it is, idk if it'll ever be finished finished yk. like there'll always be more little scenes i can do

16. What are your writing strengths?

um. i've been told i'm good at character voice

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

sweats nervously

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i don't really do it? i probably wouldn't unless it was like, just a couple words - i don't mind too much when other ppl do it bc i have a translation extension on my laptop but i don't have many options when i'm on my phone

19. First fandom you wrote for?

doctor who........ i was like. god idek. fifteen? maybe younger i straight up don't remember <- also none of this is on ao3 this was like, back in my ff.net days and i don't think i even remember my login lmao

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

hmm hm hm. okay. probably because i fear i'm lost. just bc like... idk i'm proud of how it turned out and i'm really . idk. happy with the reception it got. i'm happy it reached people who can relate to it. and it's short enough that there's not like, enough space for there to be parts where i just have to force myself to write stuff i'm not 100% happy with to fill in the gaps. if that makes sense

tagging: You

[barnesafterglow]

she lives in daydreams with me

summary: your best friends thinks she has a solution to your problem

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: college au, reader is bisexual, another cameo bc apparently that's my niche, phone/facetime sex, f masturbation (duh), soft dom!wanda, mommy kink question mark, praise, this is not based off real life unless it is ykwim

a/n: hi this is my first time writing wlw smut so please go easy on me. i'm almost done with my kinktober prompts! i hope you all have enjoyed them, and reblog and comments are very appreciated!

you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to stay updated on when i post 🤍

kinktober masterlist ─ main masterlist

“I think you just need to get laid, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, entirely unamused with her suggestion. Of course you needed to get laid, but she didn’t have to say it out loud. She saw the eye roll clearly through the computer screen, which sent her into a fit of laughter.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for that,” was your response. “Any suggestions for that? Because the entire population of New York City seems to think I’m a leper who can’t be touched.”

“Have you even tried?”

“I downloaded Tinder.”

“Did you make a profile?”

“Well, no.”

“Okay then.”

The two of you had this conversation every handful of months, after you had broken things off with another “friends with benefits” situation and were sick of not getting off whenever you wanted.

“I’m just saying, babe,” she started off gently, which you knew was a load of bullshit, “you always know where you can go for help.”

“I’m not hooking up with Barnes again.” She was forever trying to get you to go out with your neighbor - who you had already spent the night with on more than one occasion. “We’re better off as friends.”

“You can’t be just friends with a man like that. I mean from what you told me about his -”

“Okay!” you said, cutting her off. “We were talking about your terrible suggestion and how there’s no solution?”

“I just think you need someone who knows. Someone you know would be good to you.”

“Yeah? Like who?”

“Like me.”

You had been taking a sip of the water, and it took every ounce of self control you had to keep from spewing it all over your laptop.

It’s not that it had never crossed your mind. Wanda was beautiful and was definitely good in bed - you had shared an apartment with her long enough, before she decided to study abroad, to know that she kept her girlfriends satisfied. She had also been your best friend since you were in diapers and you’d never wanted to jeopardize that.

But the way she was looking at you now, you could see the darkness in her green eyes even through the screen, and suddenly you had never wanted anyone more.

“I - really?” You expected her to laugh and say just kidding! and you would move on like nothing happened, but instead she just bit her lip and nodded.

Well fuck.

“You’re halfway across the world, Wan.” She was in Vienna at the moment, studying art culture or whatever it is that went on in her brain. “I can’t wait until you get back.”

“Who says you have to wait?” And oh wasn’t that something. “Do you trust me?”

Your answer was immediate. “Of course.”

“Then why don’t you take your clothes off and go sit on your bed?”

It felt like your heart was pounding out of your chest. You couldn’t believe this was your Wanda. Your Wanda. Maybe she would be after tonight.

You turned your head back towards your bed; the way your laptop was placed on your desk, there would be a perfect view of you from the camera. Like you were putting on a show.

For a moment, you hesitated. Were you really going to cross this line? Was it worth the risk?

And, yeah, Wanda was worth anything.

So you stood up, slowly pushing your desk chair in and setting gingerly on the end of your bed. You took your shorts off first, exposing the pink panties with a little bow on the front. Call it fate, but Wanda had always said they made your ass look fantastic.

You spread your legs just a little, enough to be seductive but not enough to show anything - yet.

Then you played with the hem of your shirt, teasing it up to show the skin of your stomach before dropping the material. Just as you were about the material over your head, her voice came through the speakers.

“Don’t tease, baby. Let me see you.”

Your core was molten lava. She had called you a lot of nicknames over the years, some affectionate, some funny, and some that were so off the wall you would never know where they came from. But baby was new. Baby had you squeezing your thighs together. Baby would be the only thing you ever responded to for the rest of your life.

The shirt came off, flying to some corner of your room, and your chest was bare to her. Her intake of breath served to make you self conscious and confident at the same time. It wasn’t the first time she had seen you naked - and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last - but those times had always been a platonic sense, at least mostly. 

But now she was staring at you like she wanted to eat you alive, and you had never wanted her to be home more than you did in that moment.

You slipped your hands under the waistband of your underwear, ready to expose yourself in an entirely new way, when you looked up to see her completely stripped down. You could feel the puddle forming in your panties immediately.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you have all the fun, did you?” She had a cheshire smile on her face, laced with lust and love and wonder, and suddenly you weren’t nervous anymore. 

Your panties came off and the two of you took a moment just to soak in the sight of the other.

Wanda was beautiful - perfect tits topped with rosy pink nipples, smooth skin all the way down to her core, and the prettiest pussy you had ever seen.

Her hands wandered and your eyes followed, dumbstruck, as they settled on her inner thighs. Your gaze flicked up to her face, where she seemed to be waiting patiently.

It was like you had forgotten you even had a body, you were so mesmerized by her that even the thought of anything else was a far off dreamland.

But you knew what she wanted, so you slipped your underwear and spread your legs wide, mirroring her movements.

“Now let me see you open yourself for me. Start with one finger, let me see how tight you are.”

Following her words were like second nature, and you leaned back on one elbow on your bed, the other hand circling your clit, before sinking one finger into yourself, starting to move slowly. When you looked up, you saw Wanda was doing the same.

It ripped a moan from your body, a noise you had never made before, and she smiled wickedly.

“Yeah, baby, you like that? You’re doing such a good job. Why don’t you add another finger for me?”

You did as she asked, letting another finger join the first while you pumped in and out of yourself. When she asked you for another, you quickly obliged, then doing the same when she told you to lay back and use the other hand to play with your clit.

And every move you made, you moaned at the sight of Wanda doing the same, until the only noises were breathy moans and the wetness of your bodies. 

It was almost instinct to ask for permission once you felt the coil in your stomach on the verge of snapping.

“Mo- Wanda, please, let me come.”

She wasn’t in the mood to tease you, it seemed, because she gasped a yes and followed you over the edge.

Once you came down, you sat up, taking in her flushed face and the redness that spread all the way down to her chest, then looked her right in the eyes and sucked your own juices from your fingers.

She smiled, pleased, and you again mirrored her. There was no awkwardness, you didn’t think there ever could be with her, and you searched for your t-shirt, slipping it on as you sat down in your desk chair.

Lucky for you, she didn’t follow suit, and you were allowed a closer look at her perky tits.

“Wan, I need you to come home ASAP.”

“Don’t worry baby, I already bought a plane ticket.”

kinktober taglist *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@treatbuckywkisses @sgt-barnesveins @bucky-barmes @opheliastark @sweetascanbee @writing-for-marvel @christywantspizza @hi-sarahh @highlyintelligentblonde @jjbunny14 @buckysfavoritereader

[ananxiousgenz]

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: PART 9 (?)

i've lost track by now ngl. we're at over 9,000 words so i get a pass. this part is. ouchie central. so i am expecting a lot of people yelling at me in the comments and tags. this is fun for me.

LETS GO TPP CREW, ROUNDING THE CORNER WITH MY TPP CREW: @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @demonic-panini (@the-private-eye i'm tagging you too bc i can :))

The silence was what finally woke him.

Juno had been solidly asleep, dreaming about things he couldn’t quite remember but that made his stomach twist. When he finally opened his eyes, the room was abnormally quiet. No rain, barely any wind, and… he rolled over to check. Nureyev wasn’t next to him in bed. That was not entirely out of the ordinary, as his insomnia often took him on long walks through the woods as he tried to find sleep, but this morning it set his teeth on edge. Something about it felt…  wrong. Like he had walked out of the door for the last time, and would never come back. 

Juno shook the thought away. It was a ridiculous notion. He loved him too much to let that happen. If Nureyev was having trouble, or looking to leave, he would have told him. Juno trusted him.

He dressed and washed his face and walked downstairs to grab some breakfast before starting to get the bar together for opening. Hopefully, the rest of the day would pass without incident, and he could chalk this nauseous, nervous feeling up to a nightmare that he couldn’t quite remember.

It was what he saw at the bar while half-way down the stairs that really made him feel sick to his stomach.

Buddy was leaned over a half-empty bottle of whisky, rubbing the bridge of her nose, tear tracks shiny on her face. That bottle had been full when he had replaced it on the shelf last night. She never drank this early in the morning, and never that much. Always said it made her unfit to serve the public or interact with any decent human being. Jet, the man she had employed as a bar bouncer when times were better, was standing next to her, a large hand on her shoulder. He was crying too. Buddy only called him when things were drastic, like when their latest whiskey shipment had been stolen by pirates on its way to the bar.

And then there was Rita.

Rita, who wore her heart and its many thoughts on her sleeve like a badge of honor for her humanity, was nearly silent. She was snot-nosed and puffy-eyed, like she had been crying for hours, and said absolutely nothing outside of the occasional sniffle and a quiet request for Jet to grab her a glass of milk from the kitchen.

Juno thought he might hurl right there on the stairs. A silent Rita was new. Juno had known her for years, and she had never stopped talking once.

What the hell had happened?

He cautiously came down the rest of the stairs and approached the bar. Buddy looked up at his approach and tried to wipe some of the tears from her face just as Jet returned from the kitchen with the milk for Rita. “Good morning, Juno.”

“Hey, big guy,” Juno responded, nodding in Jet’s direction before looking at each one of the weeping figures in turn. “What happened? You guys look like hell. Did we get another snowstorm in the middle of the night or something?”

The three of them exchanged a look that Juno couldn’t quite decipher before Buddy answered.

“I think Rita can answer that question better than Jet or I can,” she croaked before downing another swig of whisky.

Juno turned to Rita and reached out to wipe a stray hair out of her face. “Hey, Rita, what happened? It’s okay, it can’t be that bad, right?”

At that, Rita burst into tears again. “It is, it really is that bad, Mista Steel! You don’t get it! It’s the worst thing! It’s about Mista Nureyev!”

Juno’s heart dropped through the floor the second she said his name. “Rita. Rita, look at me. Rita. DAMMIT, I need you to tell me what happened to him.”

Rita looked at him then, with such a look of despair and heartbreak on her face that Juno’s heart ached for her. And then he realized. He knew that expression. It was nearly second nature to him. He had seen it every morning on his own face in the mirror after Benten had-

And then he knew.

He breathed in, breathed out. Took a step back. The floor was spinning. He dropped to his knees. “No. No it can’t- no, no, no, no, this can’t be right, Nureyev can’t be…”

Rita nodded, tears still flowing steadily down her face as she clambered off the bar stool to hug Juno. “He came back after dark last night, and I thought he was actin’ real sketchy, so I watched him for a while, and then when the sun started comin’ up, he packed up some stuff and left, but I followed him, only he didn’t know, ‘cause I acted real sneaky-like, and he went to a train station that I’m pretty sure wasn’t there before, and he met these big, creepy guys, and they gave him paypawork to sign, ‘cause I think they were makin’ some kinda deal, and once Mista Nureyev signed it, he fell down and started coughin’, and then one of the big guys said somethin’ about not havin’ enough time to wait for him to die, and then the otha one pulled out a huuuuuge knife, and then he- then he-”

She burst into sobs again on Juno’s shoulder. His ears were ringing and he knew his face was deathly pale. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

Buddy looked at him hollowly from the bar. “Rita said he called your name. It was the last thing he did before he… before they loaded his body up onto a train and left.”

‘He called your name. It was the last thing he did before he died.’ And Juno didn’t even hear him. He hadn’t been paying attention. How long had he been calling? How long had Juno been ignoring him? Why was he only now hearing his echo instead of his voice? How pathetic was he, that he prioritized a fucking song over his husband? What was wrong with him? But of course, as soon as he realized his problem, it was already too late to solve it. 

He never got to say goodbye.

Dimly, Juno realized he was shivering and tears were flowing down his face and Rita was apologizing profusely that she didn’t do anything to try and save him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so horrible about himself. 

Now, it was all over. He’d lost him forever, and it was all his fault.

He would never get to see Peter Nureyev again.

He sat there, curled up on the floor for a moment longer before a different wave of feeling crept over him.

No.

No.

This was not the end. He wouldn’t let it be the end.

He was going to get his husband back if it was the last thing he ever did.

He sat up, wiped the tears from his face, and grabbed Rita by the shoulders, lightly shaking her out of her self-deprecating ramble.

“Rita. Rita, look at me. I need you to tell me everything you know about the Underworld. It’s important. Really important.”

“Well,” Rita sniffled, wiping her face on the sleeves of her sky blue sweater, “I heard a while back about there bein’ a back door. A way to get in without havin’ to actually, ya know, die or somethin’.”

Jet nodded sagely. “This is true. I walked that road with a friend of mine years ago, trying to save people from unwise decisions.”

“It’s not easy though, Mista Steel. The road is reeeeeaaaaally long and difficult, and with the weatha bein’ the way is it, you could get caught in a storm and get hurt, and I don’t want you to get hurt, Mista Steel!!”

Buddy looked at Juno again, an odd kind of hollow despair marking her face, like she saw something in Juno’s set jaw and bright eyes that made her want to disappear. “I know what you’re thinking, Juno, and it won’t work. I’ve tried. Believe me.”

“I’m not going to give up on him this easily.” There was a defiant flame rising in him now, melting the shards of his broken heart back into a semblance of hope. “I can get him back. I know I can.”

Jet walked over from his perch next to Buddy and crouched on the floor next to Juno. “Rita is right, Juno. The road to Hadestown is not an easy one to take, which is why I must ask you: how far are you willing to go for your husband?”

The flame grew into a wildfire. 

“To the ends of the fucking earth.”

There was silence as Jet examined him for a moment longer, face expressionless, before letting out a small sigh and standing up again. “Very well then. Pack your things. I will take you to where the road to Hadestown begins. If you are going to make stupid choices, I will at least make sure you can begin making them safely.”

Buddy started shaking her head vehemently. “No, no, no. You can’t let him go, Jet darling, he’s just going to get himself killed too. It’s not safe.”

“And yet you took the same course of action all those years ago, Buddy. What does that say about you?”

A muscle in Buddy’s jaw twitched as she took another long swig of whiskey. Juno slowly stood up, like a prey animal caught between two predators trying to remain ignored. He desperately wanted to know what had happened between the two of them, but somehow got the impression that any requests to know would be soundly ignored. 

Buddy glared at Jet with one sharp eye, but said nothing.

Jet sighed again and put a large hand on Juno’s shoulder. “Go grab your things. We will leave in two hours.”

“Wait for me, Mista Steel! I’m comin’ too! I gotta go get my stuff and then I’ll go with ya! Lil old Rita isn’t as fast as she used to be! Wait up!”

Juno sprinted up the stairs, Rita’s voice carrying after him. And in spite of the loss he had just suffered, he was grinning.

Hang on, Nureyev. Just a little longer.

He was going to get his husband back. At any cost.

[hp-hcs]

Not really a request but holy crap your nb blaise fic was absolutely amazing hell yeah ill integrate that into my belief system. Do you have any other hcs about that bc it's super cool

(more) nonbinary! blaise zabini headcanons — a (sort of) part two to my fic uniforms

there’s a lot, so i’ve divided them up into sections and subsections

also i’m tired and it’s late if there are any typos shhh no there aren’t

~ 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕝 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤 ~

they’re better at makeup than you, hands down

isn’t blaise like canonically (aka, the actor) 6’3”? well anyways, they wear heels. they don’t need them, but they own six inch stilettos and won’t miss a step. absolutely strutting on the moving stairs while everyone watches like “how the fuck—”

(if you ask why they wear them, their answer will always be “so i can step on men, duh”)

~ ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕦𝕥 ~

• mrs. zabini •

their mom is hella supportive!!!

one of her definitely-not-murdered ex-husbands mysteriously went missing after making some joke at blaise’s expense

no, mr. auror, i haven’t a clue how my husband ended up at the bottom of the black lake with the word ‘transphobe’ magically carved into his forehead what that’s crazy

• slytherin squad™️ •

draco: shouts “i knew it!!!!” and runs off to go get his money from whoever he bet against

theo: could not give less of a fuck. i kinda hc theo as being fluid or at least apathetic to their own gender, so it’s all love & support over here!!

mattheo: needs it explained a couple times, but once he gets it, he never messes up their pronouns and will fight any bitch who does

pansy: absolute queen. she will d r a g them to diagon alley to go shopping with her and will buy them their first personal makeup palette. we stan.

enzo: already knew. knew like, two years ago. when they come out, he’s just like, “oh!! i’m so happy you finally figured it out!! i’ve been waiting for you to say something for ages!!!!”

• adults •

dumbledick: completely ignores their pronouns bc all slytherins are evil and he’s definitely not biased or anything

snape: is an asshole about it.

voldemort: would be like 🧍‍♂️“ok but ur still one of my death eaters right?”

narcissa: does that one fake polite smile and nod that every white mom is capable of. “how lovely, dear.”

bellatrix: man, bitch is crazy. who even knows

tonks: AGGRESSIVELY supportive

• golden trio (& co.) •

harry: gets into an argument with the slytherins and calls blaise “he”. draco’s ready to beat his ass, but blaise just calmly explains their gender identity and harry apologizes, then goes back to arguing with them, ✨respectfully✨.

ron: (what no i’m definitely not a blairon shipper shut up) immediately switches to strictly gender-neutral language and goes out of his way to ask them what terms/compliments/etc they’re comfortable being called.

hermione: hot take! i hc her as a closeted lesbian with internalized homophobia, and i think she’d try to make an argument about “bUt ThEy iS pLuRaL”.

neville: cutie pie!! he just nods and is like “okay! 🥹🌱”

ginny: doesn’t give a fuck. blaise is on the slytherin quidditch team, and damn if you think she isn’t going to do everything in her power to continue trying to beat them

luna: sagely nods like it was obvious. “oh, the nargles already told me.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

comments are always appreciated!! the author thrives off encouragement, like a toddler being given a gold star sticker!!!

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Question about something (no tw) you can call me cookie.

I’m only asking because I was told by a couple people that I’m childish, embarrassing, manipulative and stupid so I wanted to get your opinions on that?

Im an adult (23) so of course I have to be emotionally mature and responsible… Is it okay to cry as an adult in general? Over things like movies, depression, and just stress? Is it okay to feel triggered or hurt over something cruel someone said to me and end up crying and freaking out over it? There are times where I’ve cried, as an adult, over horrible things other adults have said to me, and not just cry but some of those times I seem to get triggered into what could be an anxiety attack? Only over certain things. But those are harder to control but I try my best if I’m still in touch with reality to distract myself from it or try to stop it. Some anxiety attacks I’ve lost control of my limbs and vision so that’s safe to say it’s out of my control at that point.

I can be a bit irresponsible at times I won’t deny it but I don’t mean to be on purpose if that matters, I have been getting better the past 6 months versus what I used to be like. Is it okay for others to yell at me about it and get really… aggressive about it too? I can say they seem to just hate me with the things they say to me bc they’re pointing fingers, gritting teeth, and saying, “wtf is wrong w you? You’re so disgusting act like a fucking adult, you’re such an embarrassment!” I have to point out it DOESN’T effect ANYONES life but my own… (my parents are my abusers so it’s just a tough relationship with them anyway) so I don’t get why it makes them so angry at me when it doesn’t effect them. I wouldn’t ever choose to roommate or whatever with anyone unless I knew I could be responsible on my own FIRST. Bc I certainly don’t want to burden ppl.

Hi anon,

The last response to anxiety attacks or mental breakdowns should be anger. There is no good reason for anyone to be angry with you for expressing your emotions, even if you're completely dysregulated. The more dysregulated you are, the more important it is to be approached with sensitivity and kindness. Being emotional doesn't make you manipulative, childish, or stupid, it makes you human, and being met with aggression isn't going to help you calm down. I would highly recommend reconsidering the relationships with the people that you're describing.

It's okay to cry at any age. Sadness is a healthy emotion and it's completely normal to cry from things like movies and stressful events. This does not make you a burden whatsoever. Sometimes you simply cannot regulate yourself and that's okay, that happens. But it's important for you to find a way to more efficiently manage your emotions in a self-compassionate way. If you can access or afford it, a mental health professional such as a therapist could explore this with you and help you come up with some helpful ways for you to self-regulate.

If anyone has any comments or suggestions, please feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun