#i had to buy new ones which i hope they fit and don’t make me break out cuz i got them off amazon :/

[zouisalmightie]

.

[iisasxia]

Hey, I recently developed a small obsession with the song "Crush" by Tessa Violet and I was wondering if you could share some thoughts about it ✨ Maybe Katsuki feels like a hopeless loser as he crushed over Reader, not knowing that the Reader has already these feelings? Overall, just fluff hehe 🫶

authors notes: aw I listened to the song and it’s cute, i definitely see him being a sucker for reader and thinking she doesn’t feel the same way :(

context: fluff, university au (18+)

It was the week before fall break, some classes were either canceled for teachers vacation or there wasn’t much going on. On Friday, the school through a mini festival in celebration of fall break and for good luck with new season.

Everyone was allowed to either dress up, wear their uniforms, or costumes depending on whether or not they were in the festival. You decided to wear black leggings, brown boots(like uggs), a white long sleeve with a cute brown jacket and a scarf (color of your choice). It was cold so everyone was wearing pants, long sleeves, scarves, and whatever to keep themselves even remotely warm.

—

“Bakugou!”

You noticed him shooting hoops at a basketball game outside with Kirishima as you walk over to them.

“Hey y/n, nice fit”

Kirishima was always good with compliments, kept it respectful and causal.

“Thanks kiri” you softly smile at his compliment. You look over at Bakugou who hasn’t even bat an eye at you. Him and Kirishima were in their school attire which looked so good on Bakugou. He wasn’t even wearing the sweater, just the white button down and tie and oh God-

“What’re you staring at?”

He was talking to you.

“Sorry I was-“ and then you stopped talking, realizing he still wasn’t looking at you. What’s his deal? Usually he’d at least acknowledge you with a “here to bother me?” Or “what do you want.”

His demeanor this time seemed so dismissive, you figured it was because he was focused on the game so you waited until he was finished.

Ding Ding Ding

“Congratulations young man, you can pick any prize up there of your choice”

The game manager looked at Bakugou as he walked off, huffing under his breath.

“Don’t want one.”

Your eyes also follow Bakugou as he walks away.

“How much is that panda?” You politely turn to ask the man, hoping it would make him feel better and to excuse Bakugou’s behavior.

“Well if you play it’s free if you win but if you’re talking cash it’s [___]”

You slightly frowned, not thinking it was worth it so you politely declined before looking back to try and find Bakugou.

You finally found him and as you began walking towards him you noticed a girl come up to him. She was also in the school uniform but she seemed… flirty? Her hand gently nudging Bakugou as she laughed and smiled, was she blushing?? You couldn’t see Bakugou’s face since his back was turned to you, but you didn’t want to see him. The girl pulled out her phone and handed it to Bakugou and that’s when you turned around.

You walked away, as far as you could. He was being a jerk to you but had the patience for a girl he’s never even met? Your heart was beating against your chest, you knew you liked him and assumed it was jealousy. Maybe it was. Or maybe it was the way you were hoping he’d at least comment on your outfit. You found a nearby bench and sat down, allowing your mind to relax as your emotions began circling around you like an endless whirlpool.

You looked around the scenery. It was packed with university students and some teachers. There were so many food trucks, game machines, and etc. it was busy. In hopes of taking your mind off of it you decided to buy some cotton candy.

—

“Can I get strawberry?” You politely ask the young man. He seemed to be in if not your grade at least the grade above.

“Anything for a pretty girl like you”

You smile at his compliment, “Thank you” at least someone aside from Kirishima noticed your presence.. but it wasn’t him.

You paid for the cotton candy before walking off, as you were about to take some you felt a strong hand pull you back, now taking a piece of your cotton candy.

“Hey-“ you notice it’s Bakugou, you look at him before handing him the cotton candy.

“Have it.” And you turn to walk away before he pulls you back by your arm.

“I never said I wanted it.”

“Then throw it away.” You were giving him attitude and he was not having it.

“The hell’s your problem.”

“I don’t know go ask your girlfriend.”

“Hah-?!”

“You heard me, that girl that was obviously flirting with you.”

“I don’t want her. That’s why I told her to ‘fuck off’, what’s it to you?”

You bite your lip, you’ve had enough with these stupid feelings and the way your heart races every time he’s near.

“I like you. I’m not sure if I’ve made it obvious, but if not then now you know. So sorry if im a bit of a grouch seeing another girl flirt with the guy I’ve liked since high school and today seemed to not even bother acknowledging me until now.”

Wow- you really let it all out huh? There was a moment of silence and he just stared at you. You looked away for a moment and closed your eyes before sighing..

“Look-“ but your words were cut off when you opened your eyes and saw the expression on his face, your body growing hot all over from shock.

“What did you just say?”

He was red. His cheeks, nose, ears, all red. He looked like he would past out from a 104 fever right then and there. Why was he reacting this way??

“That I- like you..?” You were confused.. what was the problem?

He covered his mouth with his hand before turning to look away.

“Dumbass.”

He lifted his hand, a panda plushie? Wait. This was the one from earlier?? From the basketball game?? How did he-

“I saw you talking to the guy, I went back and asked him what you were talking about so when he told me I got it with the tickets I won from the stupid game.”

You gently cupped it with both of your hands before looking at it and back up at him.

“Bakugou-“

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner??”

You slightly frowned, why did it matter? It seemed like he didn’t like you anyways.

“I didn’t know you felt the same way and here I’ve been trying to keep myself together cause I thought you were being an idiot and couldn’t tell I liked you.”

What?

What did he just say?!

“You.. like me too?”

“Obviously idiot. Why do you think I never look at you when you talk to me?” He rubs the back of his head before sighing.

“You’ve been driving me insane since we graduated. Couldn’t get you out of my damn head. When I told Kirishima he told me I liked you but I denied it.. then when I saw you the first day of school.. I realized he was right and I was being an idiot trying to say otherwise.”

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d like a guy like me.”

“I don’t think-“ and his words were cut off with the sudden impact to his chest. You were hugging him. You wrapped your arms around his back, the plushie still in hand as you buried your face into his chest.

“You’re right.”

And his heart aches for a moment at your words.

“I know-“

“You are an idiot for thinking otherwise and for thinking I wouldn’t like a ‘guy like you’.”

His eyes widened a little in surprise, you looked up at him and smiled.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, it hasn’t changed except for the fact that the longer I knew you the more I wanted to be with you. You’re a good person.. kats. You shouldn’t feel otherwise. You’re more than enough for me, okay?”

Oh you pulled on a heartstring.. the minute you buried your face back into his chest he hugged you tightly. Now burying his face in your neck as he smiled against your shoulder.

—

“You’re too damn good for me.”

“And you’re perfect for me.”

Ah I hope this was okay, I feel like I rushed it a bit but I wanted to finish it for you. I really hope you like it if not it’s okay 🥲, this was a cute concept though, Bakugou definitely would think he’s a bit too much for you but with you reassuring him he’s enough I think all he can do is melt for you more. I’m a sucker for loser Bakugou who melts for reader.

[buckysdollbarnes]

you are in love series - part one

one look, dark room

PAIRING: tfawts!bucky x grad student!reader

Summary: Moving to NYC to go to grad school, your friend's dad has a connection with the owner of a rental building in Brooklyn where you can live on your own, for cheaper than you could get anywhere else. On a student's budget, you strive to still make your place your own by thrifting as much decor as possible. Meeting your quiet and somewhat secretive neighbor, James, you gain some free labor to help you move the random stuff you buy, and with that he may be growing to love parts of the modern world he has been missing. With you in a big, new city feeling alone for the first time and Bucky wanting to make a connection with someone other than Sam and his therapist, maybe online marketplaces and a turntable will bring you both what you need most.

warnings: mild language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this is my first time EVER writing fiction, usually I only ever write academic papers so this is fun. :) I read over and revised this chapter so many times, so I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed and I'm excited to start on the next chapter.

a/n: also!! sorry for it being so long genuinely just so much had to happen in this chapter for it to be set up the way I wanted, which I think I did well enough. lmk what you think <3

Why did I think carrying this by myself was a good idea? It might be cute and a great deal, but I don’t think I'll be able to feel my arms tomorrow. I might need to hit the gym again before I find more bargains like this. Hell, maybe I'll even invest in a neck towel, because this heat is unbearable. I’ve been searching for some larger pieces to fill my apartment, and this vintage bar cart should fit perfectly. Just five more blocks to go.

Moving here alone has certainly come with its challenges: being on my own in such a big city, dealing with a lot of stress, and managing on a tight budget. But I’m determined to make it work though and prove everyone wrong. Growing up, you see so many romcoms where the heroine leaves everything behind to chase her dreams in NYC, landing a job at a magazine or fashion house, living in a gorgeous high-rise, and meeting the perfect guy. It’s a beautiful fantasy really, but the reality is much tougher. New York isn’t a movie set; it’s a real city with real people, and you have to work just as hard, if not harder, to be here. I know that, but it feels like a majority of my people back home DON’T know that I know that.

I came here for school. In about two months, I’ll be starting my Master’s program at NYU. I don’t think I’ve ever been as proud as when I received my acceptance email. I worked my ass off in undergrad to earn strong recommendations and good academic standing, and seeing it all come together was a huge relief—until the reality of the cost hit me.

Luckily, a friend's dad has a connection with a landlord in Brooklyn and got me a good deal on a place of my own. It’s incredible not to have a roommate in this market, especially in a place where your bed doesn’t touch your stove, though it can be a bit lonely.

Finally, reaching the stoop, out of breath, you set the cart down on the pavement. Wiping your brow, you notice the street is unusually quiet for this time of day. The city never truly sleeps, but the residential streets seem to take occasional naps. A little breath of air somewhere where it feels like oxygen is running out sometimes. Light filters through the trees, momentarily blinding you, and you turn back toward the building.

“How on earth am I going to get this up to my floor?”

Carrying it down the street was one thing, but hauling it up the stairs is a whole different challenge. Plus, who knows when the building's maintenance has last been here, the steps might not hold up under the cart’s weight. They usually feel like they could give away holding one person.

Deciding that falling to your death and being crushed isn’t really how you want to go, you open the double doors and drag the cart into the lobby, using the wheels on one side. Passing the main desk where the worker, who looks completely uninterested, engrossed in a crossword puzzle, you make your way to the end of the hall and start pulling the cart backwards up the incline of the stairwell.

“Nah, I can’t,” you say aloud, after struggling up two floors, letting the cart rest on the landing. There’s still three more floors to go, but your body is clearly telling you the cart belongs right here. Maybe the universe wants it to stay here—who knows, maybe the entire second floor needs a communal bar more than you do.

“Excuse me,” a quiet but rough male voice comes from behind me. You turn around to see him—a guy you’ve seen around your floor a few times, though you’ve never talked. One of the neighbors. You quickly realize you’re blocking the entire staircase.

“Sorry! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I’ll move this um — just give me a second.”

You shove the cart closer to the wall to make some space for him to pass, but he stays put, his gloved hands in his pockets. He’s definitely handsome—tall and solid, but not intimidating. His furrowed brow and tight-lipped expression don’t exactly scream “welcome,” but he’s still got a certain charm.

He shifts a bit, clearly wanting to say something but hesitating. Feeling a bit awkward under his gaze, you decide to try talking to him again.

“You can just squeeze by if you want. It’s just really heavy, so I’m taking a quick break before I try lifting it up again.”

After a moment, he seems to make up his mind and asks, “Do you need help?”

Looking back at him, you consider saying no. You pride yourself on being independent and capable, and part of you wants to insist you can handle it. But then you think about the struggle of getting the cart up the last two flights of stairs—only this time, it's three—and decide against it.

“You wouldn’t mind? You’re headed down, I’m sure you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

He gives a little smirk that makes you feel a bit dizzy.

“Well, I’m already here so.”

You nod slowly, a small smile appearing on your face.

“Sure, you can take this end, and I’ll get this o—” you start to say, but before you can finish, he’s already in front of you, lifting the cart with ease and starting up the stairs without breaking a sweat.

“Hey! Be careful, uh—,” you pause, realizing you don’t know his name.

He picks up on your hesitation and hesitates himself, considering whether to give his name. He’s wary of how others might perceive him, potentially recognizing his name from past news broadcasts or papers, still dealing with the shadows of his past despite his efforts to make amends. Not wanting to be dishonest, he chooses the safe option.

“James.”

“Be careful, James. I don’t want you tripping and falling on my account.”

“Won’t happen, doll.”

“What-,” you start, caught off guard by the pet name, “what if it does?”

“It won’t, see?” With the last few steps, you and James arrive at your floor. “Already here.”

He must have seen you around before too, to know where you live.

He gives you a quick look and then carries the cart to your door.

“This is yours, right?” He turns and looks at you expectantly. You rush over, fumbling for your keys to unlock the door. If he’s willing to move it all the way, who are you to turn him down?

You lead James into your apartment, wondering if it looks anything like his. The layout can’t be that different; it’s not exactly a luxury building.

He strolls further into the room.

“You can set it right here,” you say quickly. “Thank you for bringing it up for me. I was honestly thinking about giving up when you showed up.”

Setting the cart where you indicated, he straightens up, rolls his shoulders back, and gives you a look that feels intense.

“It’s no problem.”

His gaze wanders around your apartment, taking in the mix of vintage furniture and eclectic decor. On a student’s budget, you’ve filled your space with secondhand finds. It’s more affordable and personal that way. The place might not be filled with new things, but it’s entirely curated by you. Finding beauty in the mix of old and new is something you do well, and now, thanks to James, you have one more piece to add.

James’s eyes land on your turntable setup. He seems intrigued by your collection of records but doesn’t say anything, turning his attention back to you.

“I have to go.”

Your eyebrows lift at his abruptness. Sensing your surprise, he quickly adds, “I’ve got an appointment.”

You nod vigorously, urging him to go and thanking him again for his kindness. Feeling a bit sad that this chance encounter with your new neighbor is ending so quickly, you call out as he heads for the door.

“I’ll see you around then? Since you live here too.”

He turns on his heel, giving you one last smirk.

“Yeah, you’ll see me.”

As he heads down the stairs, you shut your door and lock it behind you. Wandering over to where James’s gaze lingered, you pull an album from the shelf, lift the acrylic cover on your turntable, and set the record down. You close the cover, push play, and let the needle softly drop onto the vinyl. As the music starts, your mind drifts back to James.

Embarrassingly, you find yourself hoping this isn’t a one-time encounter. You don’t know much about him beyond his name, but there’s something about him that makes you want to see him again.

“Two hundred bucks for this is crazy,” you mutter to yourself, staring in disbelief at the sofa you’re eyeing on Facebook Marketplace.

“People are practically giving this stuff away.”

Not wanting to miss out on such a good deal, you message the seller to check if it’s still available.

Since you got the bar cart about a week and a half ago, you haven’t picked up anything else. With the July heat blasting, just thinking about moving a sofa in this weather makes you want to rip off your skin to cool down.

You can’t help but think of James, who you’ve seen briefly in the hallway since your last encounter. He just nodded as he passed by, and that was it.

Your phone dings, snapping you out of your thoughts. The seller confirms the sofa is still available and offers to deliver it since they have a truck.

Excited, you reply with a yes, and they let you know they’ll head your way soon.

You get up to rearrange your furniture, making space for the new sofa. You don’t have much to move since you’ve been slowly collecting things. As you shift the pieces around, your turntable stops, signaling it’s time to flip the record. After you do, you take a moment to picture how the sofa will fit in the space.

Then it hits you—moving a sofa is way heavier than the bar cart. If you struggled with that, how on earth will you manage this?

“Independent woman, my ass.”

With the delivery imminent, you decide on the only solution you can think of. Without hesitation, you head to the apartment across the hall and knock softly on the door. You wait, hoping James will answer. After a moment of shuffling and then silence, you start to wonder if you should just try something else.

Just then, the door cracks open, revealing half of James’s face. He looks curious but not annoyed—no one usually visits him.

“Hey! James! Great to see you again! I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I was wondering if you could help me out a bit? I just bought a sofa from this marketplace deal, and the seller’s coming to drop it off right now. He said he’d deliver it, but didn’t offer to help get it up to my apartment. I realized a sofa is way heavier than a bar cart, and you saw me struggle with that, so I was kinda sorta hoping you could help me bring it up here?”

After your rambling, you offer him a hopeful smile, waiting for his response.

A few moments of silence later, that smirk you’ve been missing appears on his face. Opening the door wider, he comments with a grin.

“You bought another thing you knew you couldn’t get up the stairs?”

“I honestly didn’t think it through. The deal was too good to pass up. I’m really sorry for bothering you. I can try to find someone else if you’re busy.”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help, doll.”

The smile that blooms on your face is unavoidable.

As the delivery guy drives away, James shows you where to grab the sofa and effortlessly lifts the other end. He encourages you to take the lead, making sure the weight is on him as you both navigate the stairs. With minimal effort, you get the sofa up to your place.

After some awkward maneuvering, you finally get the sofa into your apartment through the thin door and set it down. You put your hands on your hips and exhale deeply, only to find James already looking at you with that same intense gaze from before. It makes you a little nervous.

You can’t help but feel grateful—there’s no way you would have managed this on your own.

“I could have handled the bar cart,” you say, nodding toward the cart now adorned with bottles in the corner, “but this? No chance. Thanks so much for your help.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “I wasn’t busy.”

As you look at him, you start to feel like you know him from somewhere beyond being just a neighbor. Maybe you’ve seen him around the city before you moved?

Brushing off the thought, you offer, “You’ve helped me out twice now, and it doesn’t feel right not to return the favor. If your whole evening consists of not being busy, why not stay for dinner? I promise I’ll cook something totally good and not poisonous.”

James looks surprised by your offer but quickly hides it.

“You don’t need to do that. You don’t owe me anything,” he says, not wanting you to feel obligated or uncomfortable. He worries that his presence might not be enjoyable.

He wishes he could be as charming as he was back in the 40s. Being friendly used to come easily, and if he were still the same person he was at 26, he wouldn’t have left so quickly after helping you on the stairs the first time. He wouldn’t have had a therapists appointment to go to and he wouldn’t have a hidden arm made of metal. He’d have asked you to dinner or for you to let him take you dancing instead in return for his brawn. Now, he struggles to make new connections beyond a few familiar faces, like Sam, and asking someone for a dance feels out of reach.

“No, no! Stay, I insist! It gets kind of lonely around here, doesn’t it? Why not have a friend dinner?” you press, hoping he’ll take you up on the offer.

Seeing your sincerity, though still feeling a bit miffed, he finally agrees.

“Yeah, sure. I can stay.”

James settles onto the sofa while you work in the kitchen. You’ve decided on making some stuffed ravioli and garlic bread—easy, delicious, hard to mess up.

Before getting into cooking, you switch out the record, letting new music drift softly through the space. Unbeknownst to you, James watches closely, paying attention to how you handle the records and the turntable. The care you take when putting a record back in its slip, taking a new one out of its dust cover, and gently putting it on.

Seeing you focused on cooking, James gets up and strolls over to your setup. He runs his fingers lightly across the spines of the record sleeves, feeling a surprising sense of comfort. He hadn’t realized people still used record players so often.

The setup looks quite familiar to him, with many aspects reminiscent of the record players he used back in his earlier days. In his life before this one.

As you finish preparing the pasta and pull the bread from the oven, you call out, “Hey, food’s ready!”

You glance back to see James hovering by the turntable. He quickly moves to the table and sits down.

Over dinner, the conversation flows comfortably. James seems to be relaxing a bit, his initial reserve fading. He’s still somewhat guarded, but what he does share is genuinely interesting. You sense that opening up is challenging for him, so you respect his pace and take whatever he is willing to give. Laughing with each other a few times and getting through some odd topics, he mentions that he hasn’t had a home-cooked meal in quite a while and thanks you with a smile.

After a pleasant dinner, you decide to bring up something you’d been curious about.

“You like records?”

Caught off guard by the question, James tries to answer without revealing too much about himself. It feels strange to be here, knowing you don’t really know who he is, but he worries that being too open might scare you away. He decides to keep his secrets for now, selfishly hoping to get to know you better before revealing more.

“Yeah, I used to have quite a few records as a kid. My ma would play them too, especially when she was cooking, just like you. I didn’t realize they were still so popular.”

Excited by this glimpse into his past, you push further.

“Oh, there’s definitely a huge market for vinyl. Lots of people who think it makes them superior, but also a lot who just love the physical aspect of it.”

“So which one are you?” he asks.

You laugh and reply, “Maybe a bit of both.”

You glance up at him from beneath your lashes, catching his rare smile.

“But really, I just like having it. There’s something different about the listening experience. It requires more effort than just hitting play on a playlist. It’s about choosing a full album and actually sitting down to listen. That feels more intentional to me, and that’s why I do it.”

James seems to ponder your answer, his expression softer than before. He then turns his gaze back to the turntable.

“So, since you mentioned you had records as a kid, do you not have any now?” you ask.

He shakes his head.

“Haven’t had any for a long time. Talking about it makes me miss them. Everything these days feels so complicated. I like simple things like that.”

Watching him as he looks away, you hesitate but notice the nostalgic shine in his eyes. You sense he might appreciate physical music even more than you do.

“If you ever get any and don’t have a place to play them, you’re welcome to use mine.”

He turns to face you, his expression unreadable.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most convenient offer, but it’s there. One record lover to another,” you add with a smile.

He returns your smile, saying, “Okay… thank you. I’ll keep that in mind, Doll.”

That night, Bucky lies on his makeshift bed on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and replaying the events of the day. You knocking on his door for help with the couch, inviting him over for dinner, and all the easygoing conversation you shared. It was such a stark contrast to his usual rigidity. He'd let his guard down just a little—letting himself smile or flirt ever so slightly.

He wishes he were better at this. It used to come so naturally. Hell, before he left for war, he’d gone dancing with both his own date and Steve’s at the same time. Now, he finds himself listening to you talk while struggling to share anything of his own.

He doesn’t want to pass up your invitation, especially since you’re inviting him into your space again. Clearly, his reserve hasn’t put you off too much.

“What would I even bring?” he wonders aloud.

All he’s ever listened to is 40’s music and big band. He doubts that’s readily available these days.

Rolling onto his side, he grabs the cell phone Steve had insisted he get before he went back in time to live his real life, without Bucky.

“You can do anything on here, Buck!”

Scrolling through the three contacts he has, he taps on the name of the guy who’s been trying to reach him for weeks.

“So, is there a valid reason why you haven’t picked up my damn calls?” Sam’s voice comes through.

“Sam, hi.”

“Did you finally learn how to click the screen? Is that why I’m hearing from you now, old man?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I just don’t like the thing. Too confusing,” Bucky says, grimacing as he fiddles with the phone.

“Okay, okay, what’s going on, man? You doing alright?”

“I’m fine. I just have a question and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t harass me about it.”

“Is it about wizards?”

“What?”

“Wizards. Is the question about wizards?”

“No, what the hell. Look, I had dinner with one of my neighbors tonight—”

“Was it a girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hell yes, it matters. And from that response, I KNOW it was a girl, so—”

“It doesn’t matter. She has a record player, which I didn’t know people still used, and she offered to let me use it, but I don’t have anything to play on it.”

“I’m not getting the problem.”

“I only like the stuff from the 40’s and—”

“Did you listen to that Marvin Gaye playlist I sent you?”

“Not interested.”

“C’mon, man, it’s good stuff. Give it a listen.”

“Not feeling it.”

“Alright, your loss, I guess. Still not seeing the problem though.”

“What do I bring? I can’t just bring around the stuff I know because where would I even get it?”

“Whoa, man, what do you mean, where would you get it? Just go to a record store and hit up the vintage section or something.”

Bucky pauses, mulling over Sam’s words.

“They have that?”

“Duh. You know, you could answer these questions a lot easier if you just looked them up on your phone—”

“Thanks, Sam. Talk to you later.”

Lying back down, Bucky decides that the next time he’s out to see his therapist, he’ll first stop by a record store to find something to bring over to your place.

Your easygoing presence was so comforting, and he found himself longing for it as he drifted off to sleep. He’d see you again soon enough.

Later in the week, as you wind down from a busy day, you focus on making your space as calming as possible.

You light some candles and turn on an orange floor lamp, the soft glow wrapping around you and setting the perfect mood to sink into your sofa with the book you’ve been neglecting.

You’ve just started settling into your reading when you’re jolted out of your half-nap by the sound of someone knocking on your door.

You get up and peer through the peephole, and there’s your dinner guest from earlier in the week.

Opening the door with a smile, you greet him.

“Hey James, unexpected visit! What’s up?”

His eyes linger on you for a moment before he speaks. You glance down and realize your outfit—shorts that really lived up to their name and a tank top—might not be the most guest-appropriate.

Brushing off your embarrassment, you look back up at him.

“I’ve got something I’d like to play, if that’s alright?”

Bucky’s mind races. Standing at your door, he worries maybe you only offered your place to be nice, and now he’s making a fool of himself. Of course, you didn’t want him there—he could barely talk.

Just as he’s about to get lost in his own head, your bright smile pulls him out of it.

“Oh my gosh, please, come in. What do you have?”

His doubt fades away as he sees your genuine excitement.

“Brought some Sinatra. Not sure if you’re into that, but I used to like his stuff when I was younger.”

You spin around abruptly, staring at him in disbelief.

“There’s no way you think I don’t know who Frank Sinatra is…”

Bucky stumbles over his words.

“Well, I mean, it’s not exactly new stuff so—”

“You think I wouldn’t know ‘Fly Me to the Moon’? ‘Singin’ in the Rain’? ‘New York, New York’? I mean, I even moved to New York—I had to get the romanticism from somewhere.”

“What are those?”

You pause, confused.

“Like, the most iconic Frank Sinatra songs. You are talking about Frank Sinatra, right? Not some other Sinatra I’ve never heard of?”

“No, you’re right, it’s Frank.”

“Then what do you mean?”

“I guess I don’t know those ones.” He admits.

“So, what era are we talking about?” You ask, reaching for the record.

As you grasp the sleeve, you notice a glint of light catching James’s bare hand. Realizing he’s not wearing gloves, confusion sets in before it clicks. You HAD seen James before.

Looking up at him, he seems frozen, obviously panicking. He planned to tell you eventually, but not like this. Not when you weren’t close enough yet.

He thought there is no way you are going to want anything to do with him now.

You thought there is no way was there's an actual Avenger in your apartment right now.

You’re frozen, just like him, but more in shock rather than fear.

“Do you… usually go by James?” you ask cautiously.

Hesitating, he shakes his head.

“What do you usually go by then?”

Bucky feels anxiety creeping up his back. You’re both still holding the record, and he can’t tell if you’re scared or just surprised.

“Bucky.”

You stay silent for a moment while Bucky’s nerves are on edge.

“So… metal hand…”

Clenching his jaw, he replies, “Arm.”

“You’re that Bucky.”

“Yes.”

After a long pause, you start again.

“You’re an Avenger and you didn’t tell me?”

Bucky hesitates, his discomfort visible. “I’m— I’m not an Avenger.”

“What do you mean? You’re totally an Avenger! Why wouldn’t you tell me? How did I not recognize you before?” you ask, laughing in disbelief.

Bucky’s taken aback. You really thought he was an Avenger? You’re not scared of him at all, which surprises him. You must not know much about his past if you’re still standing this close.

“No wonder you don’t know ‘New York, New York,’” you say, almost to yourself. “It’s from after your time! This is crazy, I—”

You’re interrupted by his response.

“Are you not scared?”

“Of course not.”

Bucky closes in on himself, panic evident. “If you really knew me, you’d want nothing to do with me. I’ve—”

“I might not know the version of you you’re talking about, but I’ve met James, who helped me not once, but twice  carry stuff he definitely didn’t have to up the stairs, stayed for dinner, has been very polite to me, and has given me zero reasons to be scared of him.”

He looks at you, his piercing blue eyes revealing an internal struggle. That one look holds more weight than his words. You can see the battle within him, torn between his past and the present moment.

“Listen,” you say, finally letting go of the record, “if you don’t want to stay, you don’t have to. But I’m not scared of you, and I actually like your company. So, regardless of whether you’re James, Bucky, or whoever, you’re still welcome here.”

You pause, adding, “And we can still play this if you’d like.”

Bucky struggles with his inner turmoil. The idea that you know who he is but still want him around is foreign to him. He doesn’t feel worthy of the kindness you’re offering, but it’s been so long since he’s received such warmth that it’s almost impossible to turn it down.

He’s not comfortable with his identity or his past, but in this moment, he wants to push it aside. If you don’t care, maybe he can allow himself not to care, even if just for a bit. Maybe he can prove something to himself, or even his therapist.

Handing you the record, he relaxes his face slightly. You’ve always thought him handsome, but in the dim light of the dark room, he looks almost ethereal.

You’re hoping he believes you because your excitement for his company tonight feels more significant than it probably should, but you’re okay with that.

“I’m Bucky.”

You smile warmly at this change. “Alright, Bucky. What do you want to do?”

He gazes at you deeply, his look sending a shiver down your spine and warming your chest. “Play it.”

a/n: well, hope this was alright. as I mentioned before, ive never wrote fiction before, but ive definitely read enough to get the gist.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Quand Tu Voudras

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: ~7.2k

TW: kissing, angst, blood, burns, cuts, bruises, arguments, crying, depression, mention of EDs, panicking, explosions, drinking, self-image issues, mentions of addiction, mentions of drug use, mentions of Maeve

A/N: Third and Final Part babyyyyyy let's GO. I'm actually excited to watch each part get its own vibes, but also be a cohesive story. I really hope you all enjoy it! Thank y'all for doing me on this crazy journey!

Dedicated to New Lovers , You're Keeping Me Down

“If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.” ~Orson Welles

It was the most beautiful you had ever looked. 

Shopping for a wedding dress was one of the most terrifying experiences you had ever lived through, and you had been shot multiple times. 

But being surrounded by your closest friends and family members as you tried on dress after dress kept you going. 

You finally found the perfect one in a small shop outside of the DC area, hidden in a little suburb where life wasn’t as rushed as it felt. 

You tried on only three dresses at this little boutique. The second was almost perfect, and you were about to “say yes to the dress,” but someone was reorganizing the front rack, and that’s when the one you were currently wearing appeared, sent by the higher powers. 

It fits you perfectly. 

You started to cry when you saw yourself in the mirror, which caused Garcia to start crying, which caused Emily and JJ to cry, and the rest of your family quickly followed. 

So it was only natural that staring at yourself in the mirror right now made you tear up again. 

“Oh, Babe, no.” Emily was quick to fan your eyes as you tilted your head back, letting the tears melt back into your eyes. 

“I can’t help it.” You grumbled, eyes wide as you tried calming your breathing slowly. “It’s just so pretty…” 

“I know, I know. My money is on Derek crying first.” 

“Oh, please. We all know Rossi won’t stop crying the second he takes his seat.”

You had decided that the only people you wanted at the ceremony were close friends and family. That meant the team, their little ones, and each of your parents. Small. Peaceful. Intimate.

Derek was over the moon when you asked him to officiate your wedding, wanting him to be there for you in every way since that’s always been his role. 

You had taken him out for coffee under the very real guise that wedding planning made you want to rip your head off and chuck it out to sea. 

“Okay, baby girl, talk to me.” 

The ice was melting in the cup from the warmth of your hands, making your hands wet with the condensation, hiding the sweat from your nerves. 

“Do you know how much flowers cost?” 

Derek chuckled and shook his head. “No. I don’t think I do.”

“The government doesn’t pay me enough for the amount of flowers I want at my reception.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have picked the Peabody Library as your reception location.”

“In my defense.” You furrowed your brows. “You were with us when we toured it. It’s perfect, Derek. Don’t tell me it’s not.” 

“No, it’s perfect; I just don’t understand why you need that many flowers.”

“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t even know me, Derek Morgan.” 

“He’s going to cry first.” Emily smiled, lightly dabbing under your eyes with some of your powder foundation to show that you weren’t almost crying. 

“I will buy you a whole bottle of Möet that Rossi will cry first.” 

As JJ entered the room, you and Emily shook hands, giggling like school girls. “Almost ready?” 

You nodded, glancing over at yourself in the mirror. 

Honestly, you had never thought this day would come. Your wedding day. After everything you had been through, all of the heartbreak, all of the confusion, all of the traveling and running away. Everything you could possibly think of going wrong just went wrong. Suddenly, the flowers weren’t delivered, and then no one showed up to the reception, and then you were left at the altar, abandoned and unloveable again. You couldn’t breathe; your chest was seizing. It was too tight. There wasn’t enough fresh air in the room. Your heartbeat was too loud, and you couldn’t look away from yourself in the mirror. This wasn’t real; Everything bad happening was in your head. 

Or maybe it was an awful dream, and you need to wake up before it gets too far and your heart gets shattered again. 

JJ whispered your name, reaching out for you, sending a shock of electricity through your arm when she touched it. 

You jumped. 

“I want to talk to him.” You blurted out, looking over at JJ. “I–I need to talk to him.” 

“You said yes.” 

You nodded, staring down at your wine glass, pondering if it was the right decision. Emily was wondering the same thing. 

“I don’t know if it’s the best idea for you to go back to—”

“It is.” You cut her off, not harshly, just firmly. “I haven’t been the same since I left the BAU, and I left for perfectly valid reasons, Em, I know. But….”

“But?” 

“But I miss it. Don’t you? It flexes my muscles in ways I couldn’t replicate, and I was so good at it. I felt smart and useful and not lost, wandering the islands of Greece.”

If you didn’t know her so well, Emily’s fake gasp could have easily been mistaken for a real one. “We had a fantastic time, and you know it.” 

“Yes, but I also know that I was feeling so unfulfilled intellectually that I went off and got a Ph.D. Like, come on, I never wanted a PhD before I left; I just didn’t know how to challenge myself.”

“That is fair. I just think you need to consider the fact that you’d be working with you know who.”

“You can say his name, Emily. He’s not some dark lord; he’s just an idiot with an IQ of 187.” 

“Yeah, Yeah, look. I have to go, but we are not done with this conversation, okay? I’ll need a full PowerPoint presentation with all the pros and the cons.” 

“Yes, ma’am, I can do that. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

You heard the click of her line going dead before there was a knock on your door. You quickly pressed play on your movie, letting one of your favorite rom-coms (When Harry Met Sally) play in the background as you scrounged around for where you had left your wallet. 

Clad in an oversized shirt you’ve had forever, plaid pajama shorts that were once part of a Christmas set, and your comfiest fuzzy socks, you slid over to the door once you had found your wallet. 

You opened the door. “How much…”

His eyes met yours, and you took a small step back. 

“You are not the pizza guy.” 

“No. I’m not.” 

His answer caused you to laugh a little bit, filling his chest with a warmth he hadn’t felt in over two years. 

“Can I–” He gestured into your house, and you moved to the side, allowing him to enter. 

“I, um….” You bit your lip and eyed him up and down. “As long as you’re okay with When Harry Met Sally playing in the background.”

“Time for the annual rewatch.” He smiled at you nervously, but a very small part of yourself enjoyed the fact that he remembered. 

You headed back towards the couch, casually trying to clean up as you went to give the impression that you were cleaner than you were. 

“Shoes off before you get to the couch.” You called over your shoulder. 

The door closed behind Spencer with a soft click. 

“Honey, you said you don’t want a first look.”

“We don’t have to look at each other—I don’t know, like a corner or something. I just..I-I-I.” 

JJ watched as your panic started to bubble over, and she took your hands in hers. “Want to call him first?” 

You nodded. “Y-Yeah, let’s try that.” 

JJ handed you your phone off the vanity, watching as you dialed the number, panicking even more when it wouldn’t connect—there was no service. 

Spencer had asked you to play chess with him that night, and you obliged. Something about falling into an old routine felt good; it felt right. A movie you chose in the background while playing chess against Spencer. Some things were always meant to be. The night was filled with laughs, small talk, and contentment–life feeling like it should. 

A familiarity shrouded you both, mocking the comfort you once used to feel.

When you won, he was a bit baffled. You had only beaten him a few times, and he was focusing on all of the outcomes. How could he not notice—

“You can’t win every game, Spence.” 

His heart lodged in his throat at the nickname, and he looked up at you, that goofy half smile on his lips. 

Lovestruck. He looked lovestruck. 

And then you exhaled. “We can’t avoid it forever. I know that’s why you came here in the first place.” 

He blinked away the love, replacing it with guilt, hurt, fragments of something you both had grieved in your own time. 

“Y-yeah. Let’s um, let’s talk about…”

You redialled the number only to be met with the same beeping as before, eyes wide as you looked at JJ. “There’s no service. JJ, I can’t–he won’t…” 

Emily handed you her phone–it was ringing, thank god. 

“Hey Emily, is everything okay?” 

“It’s me.” You said simply, but the wobble in your voice said everything he needed to hear.

“oh–Honey, talk to me. What’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

“I-I…” You swallowed your tears and looked over at your two friends—you gestured slightly, silently asking them to leave the room so you could talk to your future husband alone. They obliged, letting the door close. It was nice of them to pretend like they weren’t running over to see if they could eavesdrop from his room, but they were just met with Derek in the hall, who had also been booted out. 

“Is she okay?” 

Emily shook her head. “No idea. She was fine one moment, and she was about to burst the next. Like a complete shift of personality.” 

Derek sighed. “I’ve never seen him switch so quickly either. He was all nervous one minute, but the second he heard her voice….he almost sounded like Hotch doing damage control.” 

JJ laughed slightly at that, glancing back at the door hiding you behind it. 

“Do you think she’ll go through with it?” Derek whispered slowly, making sure no one was around to hear him. 

Emily fidgeted with the bracelet on her wrist. “She’s terrified he’s not going to.” 

“Look, Spence, I get it. Shit happens. But you don’t know what it was like, coming home one day and you were laughing with someone else. You hadn’t laughed for months, almost a year, before then.”

“I know. I’m so–”

“Say sorry one more fucking time. Sorry isn’t explaining…or talking to me. I know you have trouble expressing whatever bullshit is going on in your head, but you have to try. It’s me, for fucks sake, Spence, And while I am willing to wait, I can only be so patient for so long with no actual explanation—” 

“I was terrified of you.”

“What…” 

Spencer stood up, pacing back and forth in front of your coffee table, trying to find the right words. “You were so far gone when Em died, and you had sunk into this pit of despair, and I was scared of watching you push down this path, destructive and–and; I didn’t know who you were, and I was so scared to watch you go down this path so I turned away instead.” 

“Spencer, you ran to JJ. You just left me here, alone. And then, when she comes back, you fucking threaten the fact that you were having Dilaudid cravings?”

“I think he’s even more mortified that she will back out on him. He knows everything she’s gone through. I mean–I love her, but she’s got major commitment issues.” 

JJ slapped his arm and glared at him. “And for good reason, Derek.” 

Derek grumbled an ‘ow,’ rubbing at his arm. “I’m not saying it wasn’t justified–I completely side with her on it--I’m just pointing out what we already know.” 

Spencer closed his eyes. “I don’t love you anymore.” 

Your heart leaped into your throat, or maybe it was vomit, you weren’t sure, but all you could do was stare at him from across the kitchen countertop. 

“Since this was my place first, uh…I can give you a couple of weeks to find a place, and I’ll even sleep on the couch…”

You hadn’t even spoken yet, shaking your head. “Stop. Spencer. What.” 

Your head was pounding, hands gripping onto the counter to try and steady yourself.”

“Sorry.” He whispered. He couldn’t even look at you. He was just staring at his hands, almost unsure about what he was saying. 

“Sorry?” You laughed, tears starting to track down your cheeks. “Spencer, this has to be a sick fucking joke..” 

He shook his head. 

Behind the door, You were just pacing back and forth, listening to his voice, trying to erase this memory from your mind and find a new one to replace it, barely listening to the man on the other end of the line. 

“Hey, listen to me. It’s going to be okay. If you want to call the whole thing off, everyone will understand. If it’s not right—.” 

“No.” You responded immediately. “I–I, I want to do this, I want to marry you…just…”

“You just needed some reassurance. I know.”

You nodded, not realizing he couldn’t hear you nod, but somehow, it felt like he did. 

“I love you.” 

You smiled, exhaling shakily. “Good.” 

His laugh bubbled through his lips, causing you to take another breath.

“I’ll see you out there?” 

“Can you just stay on the phone for another minute or so? I just need, like—”

You could hear him nod over the phone. “Anything you want.”

Somehow, you were back in that fucking elevator. Again. 

But this time, it felt like a homecoming rather than a curse you were trying to break. 

When the doors opened, you saw your family leaving little presents on your desk—flowers, balloons, chocolate, even cupcakes from your favorite bakery. They were all so busy setting it up that they didn’t notice as you walked up behind them, peering over their shoulders. 

“Looks good, guys.” 

“You think—” Derek did a double take and clutched his chest. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.” 

You laughed and smiled at him, dropping your bag onto your chair. “It looks wonderful. You guys didn’t have to do anything for me–”

“Actually, we did. How could we not? I mean! She’s home! She’s back solving crimes in sexy-looking outfits!” Garcia wrapped her arm around your shoulders, resting her head on yours. 

“I love it, guys, thank you.” 

JJ briskly walked past you all, giving you a brief smile, almost running up the stairs and into Hotch’s office. 

“Well, looks like you’re getting thrown right back into it.” Derek sighed. 

Hotch came out of his office and smiled at you before nodding at the others. “Wheels up in forty, everyone. I’ll brief you all on the plane.” 

“Good.” 

“Just breathe y/n. Okay? I’ll be the one at the end of the altar with the incredibly well-tailored suit and those flowers you like so much pinned to my chest.”

“You’re gonna cry.” You whispered jokingly, taking in a deeper breath than before. “I look so good in this dress. I actually was crying about it before I made Emily call you.” 

“It’s like you’re trying to kill me.”

Derek knocked on your door, leaning his ear up against it, trying to hear what you were saying. He called out your name, and after about a minute, you told him it was unlocked. 

“Can I come in?”

“If you want Derek, it is entirely up to you.” 

He opened the door, tears welling up the second he saw you. 

Hearing him enter, you faced him, smiling softly at him. 

All Derek could do was take you in for a second, unable to really think of what he was about to tell you. This felt a bit ridiculous since he was there when you picked out the dress, but watching you now, ready to actually wear it for its intended purpose, was a whole different ball game. 

“You look…..”

“Right.” You whispered, walking over and squeezing his hand. “I’m ready. Let’s do this thing before shit goes south.”

______________________________________________________________

“Y/n, You are the love of my life, and I could give you an eternal list of every single moment of my life where I felt nothing but complete and utter adoration for you. But then last week, you picked the movie you thought we should watch: a nineties rom-com, obviously, with big romantic gestures and a heroine who doesn’t need to be tamed. And those two inspired me to give you instead a list of the ten things I hate about you.” 

Spencer had gotten a good look at you for the first time in a long time. He had already felt guilty about the fact that he had Maeve and that you had broken up. But what he had failed to realize was the same thing Derek had–You were someone entirely different, a ghost of yourself. The guilt was gnawing through his stomach when he told Hotch what was going on, and he had begged Hotch to let you sit out, trying to save you from this, but clearly, Spencer couldn’t do anything right for you anymore. He hadn’t been able to in a very long time. Hotch had cleared his throat while Spencer shook his head. “I-I tried Hotch, I really didn’t want…”

He just nodded at Spencer. “I know, Reid, but you must have known there was no way this conversation would go any better than that.” 

Reid just nodded and stood up, going out into the bullpen, not missing the way all of their eyes snapped to him as Penelope dumped her broken mug into the trash. 

Before anyone could say anything, Hotch walked out of his office and looked at everyone. “As you all could have guessed, Agent Y/L/N will not be joining us on this case. I expect everyone in the conference room in ten.” with that, Hotch walked past Reid and down the stairs toward where he had assumed you had run off to. 

Reid just returned to his desk, sitting and staring at your now empty desk. Hotch had fulfilled your request, letting you move across the bullpen so you didn’t have to sit next to him anymore. 

Some part of the thought that you couldn’t even look at him anymore caused his gut to lurch, causing his hearing to burst for a moment. Maybe this was too fucked up. Perhaps he had been wrong. He thought he was doing the right thing by letting you go, not weighing you down with all his own bullshit, but he realized he had failed to pay attention. 

Spencer thought long and hard, trying to piece together everything he had thought about in the past couple of months when it came to you, and that’s when he realized it was every day. He thought about you every day. 

But he had ignored you. He had failed to notice as you crumbled to nothing in front of him. 

“Number ten is that I hate the way you fold laundry. It’s incredible how you manage to fold every single item in a completely different manner. It baffles me. One of the great mysteries in this world that we might never have the answer to.” 

“So you two spoke?”

You held up your finger as you finished the prosecco in your glass. Once you finished, casually, you picked up the bottle and poured yourself a second glass, only beginning to speak when the glass had been filled to your liking. 

“He came over to my apartment, Derek. I had already opened the door, and what was I going to say—”

“How about no?”

“It’s rude to interrupt Derek Morgan.” Penelope elbowed him and took a sip from her own glass. “But he’s right, Y/n. You could have said no and slammed the door in his face.” 

“But that’s not who I am. You know I’m a sucker for closure. You know I wanted to talk to him anyway. I just wasn’t expecting the discussion that ended up happening….”

Derek raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Do tell Princess.”

You shrugged and took another sip. “We talked about Maeve.”  

The looks you received were exactly what you had expected, only because it was how you felt about the conversation. 

“Number nine. I hate how you pick out what we will watch each week. You just skim through every single title on every platform until the one with the right ‘energy’ calls out to you. And they’re never the same. You manage to match a film to the night perfectly, and I hate how well you can pinpoint that about me. 

“Eight. I hate the way you drive. You manage to be the safest and most dangerous person on the road. There’s nothing more to that one. You terrify me.” 

“I cannot believe you, Spencer Reid. You have the audacity to come to my house, lose at chess, and then accuse me of being the reason our relationship ended!?”

“That’s not what I said.” His voice was desperate. “I’m not blaming anyone but myself, okay? I fucked up. I know I fucked up. I just—You were so–”

“I was so what, Spencer. What about me was just soooo fucking terrifying to you that you decided you didn’t want to propose to me anymore.” 

“That’s not fair.” 

Your jaw dropped. “You’re fucked in the head if you think the part that isn’t fair is me calling you out on that.” 

Spencer paced around, running his hands through his hair. He was going to wear a path in your carpet the way he was pacing back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. 

“Seven. I hate how captivating you are. Whenever you tell a story, there’s no use in getting any work done because all anyone can do is wait for the story to be finished. If there’s no ending–I’ve watched Morgan sulk at his desk until you returned from a meeting because you were running late and didn’t wrap up the end of the story for him. Something about the way you speak, the way you capture people’s attention, is one of the most dangerous weapons I’ve ever seen on the planet. 

“I hate—oh, sorry–Number six.” He smiled at you and squeezed your head. You were shaking slightly as you rapidly blinked away tears, trying to inhale and exhale through your nose. It wasn’t working. Every word this man said made you one second closer to jumping onto him and kissing him senseless. “I hate how smart you are. It’s ridiculous. You can argue so beautifully and eloquently that it makes anyone arguing against you look like a fucking idiot. You speak four fucking languages, making you invincible and even more aggravating since you’ve decided to start learning a fifth one. You have started to beat me every other game in chess, which is actually humiliating for me, and I can’t figure out how you’re doing it. You read everything under the sun and still manage to have a life, friends, and family. I don’t know anyone in the world who could compare to your intellect.”

“Five. I hate how you steal my chocolate-covered pretzels. I bought you a whole fucking cabinet’s worth, and somehow, mine still got eaten.” 

You watched him give you a bit of a stink eye for that one, causing you to kiss his hand lightly. “My apologies.”

“You don’t mean it, and you know it.” He grumbled, flipping his page so that he could keep reading. 

“I hate how beautiful you are. It’s distracting. I can’t work near you anymore because all I want to do is daydream about you. I want to watch you smile for the rest of my life if I can help it.” 

“Three. I hate how much you care. It terrifies me how much you care about other people. I have seen you at your best and your worst moments.” You squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I have seen the worst outcomes of cases we could ever imagine, or the best, and yet you put the same amount of effort and care into all of them. It’s infuriating because you put your life on the line constantly to be able to give people a chance, whether that be to save them from others or to save them from themselves. You are the most considerate person in the world, even to those who might not deserve it.” 

This was not a good case. 

It was never a ‘good case,’ but this one just sucked the absolute life out of you. You had been back for only a month, and it was going too well. You were on top of your game. You were better than ever—but you knew the other shoe would drop.

And it did. 

You were never a big fan of getting shot at, but you would prefer that rather than have to escape a burning building. It was one of your biggest fears, and here it was, being realized. 

You had managed to crawl down to the first floor before everything started to go black. He had sealed the windows. He had sprinkled broken glass along the stairs, causing you to rip open your legs and hands as you slid down the stairs. The more significant shards of glass shredding the back of your pants. It was fucking painful. But you had managed to make it to the kitchen. 

That’s when you saw the firefighters bursting through doors, trying to contain the fire surrounding you. You could feel the burn on your skin as they pulled you out of the building, blood dripping down your legs and hands. 

You must have been one fucked up sight for Hotch to drop everything he was doing and run over to you. But you wished he didn’t because the building behind you exploded. The flames must have hit the gas line, and the house came crashing down. 

You were thrown back from the force, causing you to land on your back. Nothing was broken, nothing was sprained, but adding road rash and hearing loss to your ever-growing list of injuries was not fun. 

Spencer and Hotch, who were shoved to the ground by the blast, scrambled over to you, where you were just lying on the ground, facing the sky, trying to breathe. 

Maybe they were yelling your name or just trying to speak to you, but your head buzzed with the remnants of the explosion. 

You watched as the sky above you filled with smoke and flickered with red hues. At some point, you saw Spencer come into your line of view. He was definitely mouthing your name. 

Just then, like a wave crashing over you again, your hearing came back. Overwhelming could barely describe the feeling of shock running through your body. Your eyes widened as tears sprung to your eyes, your lungs gasping for air, and your mind flooded with adrenaline, with panic. 

“Y/N. Hey. Listen to me. Hey.” Hotch had been trying to get you to sit up. He was going through his own internal panic attack—this scene was a little too close to NYC, to Kate. 

Ambulance sirens blared, and you could hear a beam crash down and spur on the fire—” It hurts. So. Bad.” You finally managed to whisper, still gasping for air. 

Reid wasn’t sure you were even registering that you were sobbing and that tears were racing down your cheeks. 

“Can you sit up?” 

“My hands.” You mumbled. “There-there was glass…so much…” 

You flinched as Hotch yelled for a gurney. 

“I need you to try and sit up, okay?” Spencer was next to you. He was on his hands and knees, slowly trying to gain your attention. There is a gentle touch on the arm here and a brush of your hair out of your eyes. He was just trying to give you peace, a breath amid everything going on.

“Spence.” You whined, flexing your hand, wincing when a tiny shard of glass shifted in your palm, causing even more pain. 

“I know.” He said to you, gently taking your hand and wincing as he saw the microscopic shards scattered across your palm. “I need you to sit up for me.” 

“Please don’t make me get up, Spence.” You whispered. 

Hotch had moved away from the both of you, trying to clear a path so two EMTs could reach you. 

“Once you sit up, I promise you won’t have to do anything else.” 

You closed your eyes and let out a cry. It felt so relieving to just let whatever tension you had left in your body. But the thought of not doing anything sounded even better, so you slowly made your way to a sitting position, leaning against Spencer’s chest as he kissed your head and carefully ran his hand up and down your arm. 

Spencer’s entire body relaxed into yours. He had never been more grateful that you could make it out of that building before…he didn’t want to think about what else would have happened. The two of you had just started talking again. You were hanging out. He would have never forgiven himself if he left things the way they were. 

It felt wrong for him to be grateful at how much you got hurt because all of your limbs were still intact, and you were still conscious, still breathing. But he was thankful as he held you on the pavement, in the middle of the road, while everyone ran around you both. 

You, on the other hand, were not happy to be sitting up. The adrenaline started to wear off, and your body was no longer buzzing. “Spence.” You whispered to him, trying to get his attention. You were nauseous, and the world was spinning. Everything was phasing in, and out of clarity, you could actually feel the earth rotating. 

“Spence.” This time, it was said with more urgency. And it caught his attention. “I need to lie back down.” 

“You can’t—”

“I’m gonna vomit.” 

“Shit shit shit, okay, nausea is usually a sign of a concussion, a really bad one, most likely in the red zone—”

“Spencer, please.” You mumbled, closing your eyes and slumping against him, trying your best to hold down whatever you felt slowly creeping up your throat. 

“I can’t let you lay back down.” He mumbled, turning you in his arms, prepping for whatever would come out. 

Luckily for both of you, the two EMTs and Hotch had made it back over, bucket in hand, because Hotch had told them you most likely had a concussion. And god bless that stupid bucket because it managed to save some of your dignity by not throwing up all over the street. The EMTs had checked you out, flashing that stupid fucking light in your eyes, looking at your hands and doing their best to pull out some of the larger chunks of glass, and then helping to get you onto a gurney, and eventually into an ambulance to be shipped off to the nearest hospital. 

Spencer was the only person you would allow to come with you in the ambulance. 

“Two. I hate how well you know me and can read me like an open book. I have never met someone who knew me in the same way you could. You know things about me before I could even fathom the possibilities. You have been there for me in some of the darkest times of my life, and I would not have survived if it wasn’t for you. You picked me off the ground countless times, more than I could ever repay you for.” 

“And last but not least. I hate how I can’t live without you. I hate that if you’re not in the same room as me, I can’t breathe. I hate how you manage to make my days filled with comfort, support, and love when sometimes I don’t deserve it. I hate when you go away to conferences, and I have to wake up to an empty bed, and the only thing that motivates me is the fact that I know you’ll text me as soon as you’re awake. I hate how you are the last person I want to see at night before I go to sleep. And I hate that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

You were fully crying, tears tracking down your cheeks, as you squeezed his hand tightly. You laughed slightly, trying to wipe away one of the stray tears, but he beat you to it, using his thumb to wipe away your tears gently. 

“Did you just quote When Harry Met Sally at me?” 

He smiled cheekily, handing the paper back to Derek, who put it in his pocket. “What else would I be able to quote at you? It was playing that night…” 

You shook your head, unable to stop the smile across your face. You heard him whisper, “I love you,” but it still made your heart ache. 

“Okay, Doctor Reid. Work your magic.” 

“You make it sound like I’m performing a spell or something. I’m literally just fixing your computer.” 

You snorted and shrugged. “Isn’t it you who always said that physics and magic are basically the same thing.”

“Okay, yes, but—”

“And computer science is a science, right?” 

Spencer just rolled his eyes, realizing he would not win this argument, and began to futz with your desktop. 

It had crashed on you while you were in the middle of a report. At home. In your pajamas. 

This was a practice that was familiar to Spencer. Whenever you were working on something that was not classified or very sensitive information, you had gotten special clearance from Hotch to bring it home. So Spencer has seen you write up preliminary profiles for cases around the country in nothing but your pajamas many times. 

Except he hasn’t seen you in just pajama shorts and a tank top since, well. 

He was supposed to be focusing on the desktop, and that is what he is going to do. 

“I really appreciate you coming over at like 10 pm, Spence. I really do. I’m sure you were busy, so I really appreciate it.”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “It was no trouble, really. Besides.” He turned back to the screen with a cheeky grin across his face. “I know how you get when something breaks.” 

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you leaned against the kitchen counter. “Spencer. Are you…flirting with me…”

His face turned slightly red as he quickly faced the computer screen again. “And so what if I am,” he mumbled, focusing on the task at hand. He wasn’t sure how you managed to freeze your computer this badly, but he was determined to work it out. 

You shrugged and checked your phone, looking at the text from Emily that you had chosen to ignore. Maybe she told you not to ask Spencer over. Maybe she had warned against moving too quickly with anything. 

But you were a grown adult, you could make your own choices. You could—

“It’s, uh, it’s all fixed for you.” Spencer had stood up and was nervously fiddling with his hands. He hasn’t been like this towards you since you had both started dating over seven years ago. 

You bit your lip and casually turned your phone on DnD. 

“Thanks, Spence. I really appreciate it.” 

He nodded, doing his best to stop eying you up and down. 

The two of you stood there, unsure of how to continue on with one another. 

The tension was thick, almost like a humidity in the air that covered your skin and ruined your hair, just by stepping into it. 

Spencer eventually broke eye contact and wiped his hands on his pants. “Well, I’m going to uh…Have a good night.” He quickly grabbed his bag from the counter and shut the door behind him. 

Your hands dragged down your face as you sighed and shook your head. Maybe it was for the best that you two just stayed friends. Maybe it was for the best that you two never were in a relationship again. You remembered what happened last time. Maybe you should just finish the report and go to bed. Or maybe you should run after him. It wouldn’t be that embarrassing, considering he was staring back at you, right? 

Who said you didn’t deserve to make a bad decision every now and again. 

You grabbed your keys and slid on your slippers, not even bothering to grab a coat. You opened the door and came face to face with an out-of-breath Spencer just about to knock on your door. You took one look at each other. 

And that’s when he reached down and brought your lips to his. 

Emily reached over and gently handed you your vows.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” You whispered, causing everyone around you to laugh softly at you, desperately trying to stop crying. 

“I said I was going to try not to cry during his, and that obviously was not the case.” You slowly exhaled your lips, taking his hand and smiling up at him.

“Hey.” You whispered, causing him to whisper it back to you. “So–um. I wrote my vows a long time ago. Like, a while back. And I was looking for them and almost couldn’t find them. But I remembered that I had written them in that really small brown, leather journal thing that you got me for one of my birthdays that I kept losing because I always put it down and never remembered where.” 

The small, collected group laughed together, watching you turn the page in that small brown leather journal. 

“I didn’t know where I wanted to start when writing my vows. I knew how I wanted it to end, though. I’ve always known how I wanted my life to end and everything to go. So that’s what I did. I started at my endgame and worked my way backward. But shit happens, and life never goes according to plan. Never.” 

He squeezed your hand. 

Those weeks after were fucking brutal for you. 

Relaxing was something you were never fantastic at, so having to take two weeks off to recover from your concussion, burns, cuts, and bruises was excruciating. 

Maybe it would have been worse if a certain someone wasn’t basically living in your apartment with you, doing anything and everything to be there for you. 

You woke up to freshly brewed coffee, sometimes breakfast if he wasn’t away on a case. Sometimes, he’d be home in time to make you both dinner. It felt oddly domestic for you, reminding you of before Maeve, before everything that had gone down over the phone. 

Once the two weeks were over, he might have visited to check up on you. There would be nights where he would stay over just in case your head or back started to hurt again. It took more convincing for Spencer to let you go back to work than it did for your actual neurologist. 

“Need I remind you I’m a doctor too, Spencer. I’m going back to work on Monday, meaning two over one, majority rules.” 

Spencer scoffed and crossed his arms. “The lights will cause headaches, and staring at screens and files will only add to that. It’s a bad idea, y/n. Especially if we have to go somewhere, traveling across the country in a plane. You might as well knock yourself out because the air pressure would kill your head and ear drums.” 

“Always the one for dramatics, aren’t we.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’m not being dramatic. I just care about your well-being, apparently more than you do—”

“Spence.”

“What.”

You kissed him softly. Just to shut him up. There were no ulterior motives. None. 

He hummed, hands sliding around your waist, keeping you close to him as you broke the kiss. 

That was another development you were keeping under wraps. The two of you might have decided to give it another shot. It had been over a month since you rejoined the BAU, and even before you got severely injured, Spencer had been doing everything he could to apologize. Whether that be his apologies or through his actions, he was stepping up. 

But both of you had yet to outright tell the others. Emily knew something was going on, especially when you showed up to work in the same outfit two days in a row, but she had assumed you had seen someone else, not your ex. 

You didn’t mind, though, when he took such good care of you when he bought you fresh flowers every week, when he kissed you past the point of breathing when he would—

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer whispered, interrupting whatever spiral you had started.

“What book I should read next.” 

“Liar.” He squeezed your sides, laughing softly and kissing you again. 

“There’s not much I can say about how life doesn’t go as planned since everyone here with us understands and knows how quickly life changes. But I realized that I need to have you by my side regardless of how it changes. I don’t want to be back in a place where I’m not with you because it just didn’t make any sense.” 

“My vows are short because I would never make it through them if they were any longer.” 

This caused another ripple of laughter throughout your friends, giving your fiancé a moment to wipe away another stray tear on your cheek. 

“All of this to say.” You cleared your throat, but it didn’t stop the tears from clouding your vision. “Shit. Give me a second.” 

Emily gave you a tissue, which you used to wipe under your eyes. You shook your hands slightly, trying to calm yourself down and shake out the rest of the emotions so that you could at least finish saying your vows. 

“Having begun to love you, I love you forever—in all changes, in all disgraces, because you are yourself.”

Spencer beamed joyfully, realizing you followed his same path, quoting something you knew the other loved. 

And suddenly, the stars aligned. A soft breeze picked up, and the world was quiet. 

Everything was alright. Everything was okay. 

And for that beautiful, brief moment, you had everything you could have ever asked for, and there was nothing you would have changed, nothing in the whole world that was worth the love and happiness you felt in this moment, beaming at Spencer as you both said

I do. 

“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.” - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @gubzgirl @onlyspence @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @mynameisnotokay @kalulakunundrum @academiareid @lilsunshine1092 @brilliantreid @shqwqrma @cluelessteam @lockwoods-coat-and-reids-vests @hereforfun22-blog @yoursarahg @r-3dlips @lilrios-world @hereforfun22-blog @mega-kittyglitter-1

[whiskersz]

Husk/Angel/Reader, reader coming out as gender-fluid but is mostly masc aligned but has to put up with misgendering bc of liking fem fashion and how they support reader

Yay, poly relationship! I hope you enjoy the little fic and the format, decided to mix up hcs and ficlet :)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

When you come out as Genderfluid, both Angel and Husk are very supportive; you guys have been dating for a while at this point, and they were already aware of your struggles with gender, but they never minded one bit, just wishing for you to be happy and healthy, and to eventually find out what fits you best, whether that meant discovering a label you’re comfortable with or deciding not to label yourself at all.

Husk is, let’s say it, not the most well versed in these kind of things, but he does identify as Pansexual so he knows a thing or two about the community. He gathers his own information though, don’t worry, he doesn’t really need you to explain everything to him; unless it’s something deeply personal that only you can explain, in that case he’ll take you aside and ask you in the kindest and most non-judgemental way possible.

Angel is very excited for your discovery! He immediately asks if there’s anything he and Husk can do to make you feel more comfortable, maybe if there’s any pet names you prefer on some particular days or if you need to go shopping for new clothes that are gender affirming. Husk considers the latter a wonderful idea and offers to pay for anything that you might buy, if that is the case.

All in all, both of your boyfriends reveal to be your biggest support system within the Hotel, and probably in the entirety of Hell.

So it’s only natural that, when you three encounter a form of misgendering for the first time, they’re very protective of you over it;

It’s not often that you venture out of the Hotel with both of your partners, but today you three decided to go shopping for a couple new garments; your outfit could be described as fairly neutral, you’ve settled on wearing the most comfortable things in your closet to make it easier for you in case you’ll need to change and try anything on.

The chitter-chatter between Angel and Husk fills your ears and filters out the various cursing and screaming that’s, as usual, coming from every corner of the street – you’re used to it though, this is Hell after all.

You reach your destination fairly quickly, a small shop in an alley situated not much far away from the Hotel; Husk keeps the door open for both you and Angel, holding his pouch tight as it contains the money he’s brought with him in case you decide to buy anything.

The shop is cute, walls wine colored with white rose patterns scattered across them; you comment on it before an employee makes their way towards your little group:

“Welcome, what do you need?” she asks, voice flat, her tail swaying in an almost irritated manner.

You pay no mind to it and answer her question:

“Uhm, I’d like to look at the dresses section please.”

“Sure, follow me.” She gestures at you three before leading you to a different room a bit in the back, which is surely brimming with dresses of any kind.

You glance at the ones more on the chic side, already daydreaming about all the dates you could wear them on; Angel wiggles his eyebrows and nudges you when your eyes are caught by a black mini dress worn by a mannequin.

On the right side are the cuter dresses, the ones that are mostly meant to be worn during summer. They’re pretty, but most of them are of a color that you don’t particularly enjoy.

Right in front of you are exposed a couple of more dapper ones, you notice Husk eyeing those himself and you already know he’s imagining you wearing them, which makes your heart beat slightly faster.

“I’ll be nearby miss, if you need further assistance.”

And with that, the employee leaves. But oh, she used a word that she shouldn’t have.

Before leaving the Hotel, while having a light breakfast with your boyfriends, you had told them about how you specifically wished to be called masculine terms today and that you prayed nobody was going to misgender you. So it’s only natural that Husk’s ears shot up and Angel immediately turned towards her once they realized too.

“Leave it guys, she doesn’t know.” You stopped them before they could say something overly mean.

“Nothin’ wrong with correcting people, sweetheart.” Husk argued;

“Right! Hey toots-“ Angel calls her over once more, explaining the misunderstanding and communicating to her your preferred terms today since she is going to be helping and working with you for a while. He does so with such authority that she profoundly apologizes by the end of it, which is rare for anybody in Hell.

“Stand up for yourself when we’re not around too, alright?” Husk reminds you once the exchange between Angel and the employee is over.

“The old man’s right,” Angel teases, “We don’t want you feeling uncomfortable. But am I glad you didn’t have to interact with that woman because man, she was an ass at first!”

You shush him rather quickly, scared she might still be in hearing distance. Husk doesn’t help you at all, way too busy nodding at Angel’s statement.

Once they make sure one last time that everything is alright, you guys resume looking for the perfect dress.

Husk guides you towards the cheapest but still classy options, lots of dark shades and perhaps even accessories, while Angel proposes various things that are the complete opposite of that.

You know very well that they’re just suggesting though, and you can calmly look for a dress that you like while they check the options they enjoy the most.

You end up finding one that’s of your liking with the help of the employee, who this times seems to be acting in a way nicer manner than earlier; it’s in your favorite color, perfect for any occasion just like you like it, and both your boyfriends thrillingly approve!

 At the end of your little shopping spree – Angel ended up finding something for himself, too – you’re mostly glad that your boyfriends were there to make the whole experience a little less uncomfortable than it would’ve been had you gone alone.

You’re also delighted to see that both of them are ready to stand up for you in any situation, no matter how insignificant you might think of it as.

[wzrd-wheezes]

Guilty as Charged - Sirius Black x Reader

AN - I had this idea a while ago and thought it fit Sirius and reader so well. I had so much fun writing this. Please give it a reblog if you enjoyed!

Summary: fluff in which reader and Sirius end up in the back of the same police car...

Y/N wasn’t quite sure how exactly she ended up in the back of a police car, but it wasn’t the end of the night out with her friends that she was anticipating.  

The entire ordeal had been a chaotic blur of flashing lights and raised voices. One moment she was dancing and laughing amongst her friends, the next, a pair of strong hands had seized her shoulders and frogmarched her outside. The cool night air hit her flushed skin, a stark contrast to the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. She shouted a string of profanities, her voice raw with frustration and confusion, before being unceremoniously shoved into the back seat of a police car. 

As the door slammed shut behind her, Y/N looked around the dim interior of the vehicle. The smell of worn leather and a faint hint of disinfectant filled her nostrils. She glanced at the metal grill separating her from the front seat, where the police officer was murmuring into his radio as he drove. The hum of the car engine drowned out the police officer’s voice so she couldn’t make out what he was saying.  After a few minutes of driving, the car slowed and pulled onto a side road. The officer turned around to address her, his expression stern but weary. 

“I’ve got to pick up another officer from a different altercation,” he said, his voice carrying a note of frustration, “It’s not ideal, but we’re short on officers right now, so I’ve got to help out. Don’t go anywhere.” 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Y/N jerked her head towards the locked door and smiled.  

The officer’s expression softened for a moment before he shook his head at her, swiftly exiting the car and slamming the door closed behind him. The street outside was eerily quiet, the faint glow of distant streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. 

Minutes felt like hours as she waited for the officer’s return. She strained to hear any sounds from outside, hoping for some clues as to what was happening. Her fingers picked at the cracked leather of the seat as she glanced around the car, her eyes flicking between the worn edges of the seats and the scuff marks on the floor.  

She only looked up again when she heard the thud of footsteps and raised voices approaching.  

“You could at least buy me a drink first before you put me in handcuffs!” a voice exclaimed cheekily as the door swung open. 

Y/N snickered at the unexpected humour, her lips curling into a grin despite the situation, “Smooth talker.” she muttered under her breath. 

A dark figure was roughly pushed into the spare backseat, and Y/N shifted over as much as she could, her side pressing into the hard plastic of the car door. The new arrival let out an exasperated sigh, their silhouette barely visible in the dim light filtering through the windows. Y/N sneaked a look, trying to make out their features in the darkness.  

His hair, chin-length and dark, was tucked behind his ears, though a few rebellious strands had escaped. Dressed entirely in black, his attire stood in stark contrast against his pale skin. His hands, albeit a bit bloody, were spattered with tattoos and adorned with rings. 

“Well, this isn’t exactly how I imagined out first date.” the stranger turned to look at Y/N. 

Y/N blinked in surprise, caught off guard by his remark, “First date?” she echoed, a laugh bubbling up in her throat, “You work fast.” 

He leaned in closer, his eyes glinting with mischief, “Hey, when you know, you know.” he replied with a shrug. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle at his audacity, the absurdity of the situation making her forget, if only momentarily, the predicament she found herself in. Her eyes flickered to the now two police officers in the front seats, they were engrossed in conversation, paying the two of them in the back no mind. 

“So, have you just murdered someone? Should I be worried?” Y/N nodded towards his bloody knuckles. 

He flashed her a grin, “Ah, you caught me.” he replied with mock seriousness, “But, no. Don’t worry it was all in self-defence. I swear.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, unable to suppress her amusement, “Well, as long as you’re not planning to add me to your list of victims.” she joked. 

“Nah, you’re far too pretty,” he winked, “Speaking of... how did you end up here? No offence but you don’t look like the criminal type.” 

“Thank you for sparing me, then.” she replied lightly, “And I’m not entirely sure to be honest, it’s a long story.” 

“I’ve got time. It’s a long ride to the police station, trust me.” he said, his voice laced with interest, “And besides, I’m dying to know how someone as lovely as yourself winds up in the back of a police car.” 

Y/N stared down at her lap, she could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and the stranger’s stare burning onto her face. She started picking at the peeling leather again, trying to avoid his eyes.  

“You’ve been there before then?” she questioned, “to the police station?” 

“Smooth segue to avoid my question.” he grinned, “But yeah, I’ve frequented it a few times.” 

“Got a loyalty card, huh?” she mused, “What’s the usual reason for your visits?” 

He leaned back in his seat, looking thoughtful for a moment, “Oh, you know, minor incidents mostly. Trespassing, the occasional bar fight, that sort of thing,” he said casually, “I guess I have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” 

“A hobby of yours then, is it?” 

The stranger chuckled, nodding as he flexed his wrists in the handcuffs, “And what about you? Is this your debut performance, or do you have a record I should know about?” 

“I’m a one-hit wonder, unfortunately.” Y/N mused, “Anyway. You haven’t told me your name yet.” 

As he opened his mouth to answer, the officer in the front passenger seat turned around abruptly, shaking the metal grate separating them.  

“This is a police car, not speed dating. Pack it in.” 

The man grinned, undeterred, “Just trying to be friendly, Officer. You can’t put me in the back of a police car with a pretty girl and not expect me to chat her up, that would be a crime.” 

The officer huffed, but clearly decided it wasn’t worth the argument and just turned the radio up louder. 

“It’s Sirius,” he said, “Like the-” 

“Like the star.” Y/N finished, “I know.” 

“Clever girl.” he smiled, looking at her intently, “And yours?” 

“Y/N.” 

“Very pretty. Suits you.” 

“Alright, that’s enough.” the police officer turned around again, “No more flirting back there. Another peep from either of you and you can spend the night at the station.” 

“If flirting is a crime, then I’m guilty as charged.” Sirius quipped.  

As the police car rolled to a stop outside of the station, Y/N glanced over at Sirius with apprehension. He looked as cool as he had this whole time, staring straight ahead casually, shoulders relaxed, jaw untensed. The officer opened their doors, reaching over to unfasten their seatbelts. The officer that was driving took Y/N by the arm, escorting her inside. Sirius followed closely behind, the other officer leading him in more roughly.  

The police station stood as a formidable structure. It stood large and oppressive in the darkness of the twilight. Tall windows lined the front, their panes reflecting the glare of fluorescent lights from within.  

When they entered, they were greeted with the scent of antiseptic mingled with a faint whiff of coffee from the break room. The sound of ringing phones and echoing footsteps filled the air, the noises reverberating through the lobby. 

As they approached the front desk, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease wash over her. The bright lights overhead cast harsh shadows across the linoleum floor, accentuating the stern expressions of the officers behind the desk. 

“Oh, lord. Not you again.” The female officer glanced up from her paperwork, her expression a mix of annoyance and familiarity, “What is it? The second time this month you’ve been brought in here?” 

She was a stern-faced woman, her features etched with lines of authority and years of experience. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, not a single strand out of place, and her eyes, a piercing shade of blue, bore into Sirius with intensity.  

“Well, what can I say Officer Jones... with a smile as lovely as yours, I just can’t stay away.” Sirius leaned on counter, flashing a charming smile. 

Officer Jones didn’t seem impressed, her expression remaining stern as she regarded Sirius with a sceptical look, “Save the flattery for someone who cares, Black.” she retorted, “Go and take a seat. We’ve already called someone to come and pick you up.” she handed him a form to fill out, saving any explanation as he clearly didn’t need it, and Sirius sauntered over to one of the wooden benches. 

After a series of questions regarding her name, address and whereabouts that night, Y/N was also handed a form to fill out and joined Sirius over in the corner while Officer Jones rang someone to come and collect her. 

“So, what? They brought us here just to call someone to get us?” Y/N asked, slumping down on the bench. 

“Pretty much. They just do it to shit you up, I reckon.” Sirius tapped the top of his pen against his lip, “It’s just more paperwork for them to fill out if they keep us in. No real crimes were committed, to them we’re just a couple of rowdy youths.” he laughed. 

“Who’s picking you up? Will they be angry with you?” 

Sirius laughed a little, setting the clipboard and pen down next to him, “Nah. It’ll be my friends. They’re used to it by now. I’ll buy them a pint next time we go out and all we be forgotten.”  

They sat in silence for the first time that night while they filled out their forms, waiting for their lifts to arrive. Sirius tore the corner off of his form and slipped it onto Y/N’s clipboard. 

“What’s that for?” she asked, her brows furrowing at him. 

“Your number.”  

Y/N looked at him, dumbstruck for a moment before scribbling her phone number down and handing it back to him. He smiled, taking it from her and folding it up neatly. 

Y/N’s head snapped up. Two tall figures stood in front of them, their arms folded over their chests. Sirius’s friends, presumably.  

“What’d you do this time, Sirius?” The taller of the two spoke. 

“Nothing bad, I swear.” Sirius held his hands up in defence, the scrap of paper with her number on tucked securely between his thumb and his palm.  

“Well, gotta dash!” Sirius said brightly, standing up and facing Y/N, “I’ll call you, yeah? Maybe we can arrange a second date, not in the back of a police car...?” 

“Yeah, sounds great.” Y/N smiled, her eyes scanning over him as he walked around.  

“Fucking hell, mate.” his other friend said, “Only you could end up getting arrested and getting a girls number at the end of it.” 

“Yeah.” Sirius smirked, “What a story to tell the grandkids, eh?” 

[judysxnd]

hello could u do one where you dress you and Pedro's baby up as baby yoda

Baby yoda?????? Grogu!!! Despite this little mistake I will write your request 😂

I apologize first for being away for a few weeks, but it’s been really difficult for me. I’m moving back to my parents and I don’t really like the whole situation. So it’s really tough on me, I am not really feeling good mentally. So, I don’t really do anything, I don’t play, I don’t write, I don’t read.. I’m trying, but it’s not easy.

This is relatively short, but I think it turned out to be good. I’m coming back gradually. Also, I only dressed up the baby here and not the reader like you wanted, because I thought the reader would have had to dress more like the mandolarian and not as Grogu, so that’s why. Also, first, I thought you were talking about matching pyjamas or something, so yeah here both of them would have be okay, but I wasn’t really sure so I did that. I hope you still like it!

————————————————————————————

Last week you went shopping for new baby clothes. Your little one is growing extremely fast and it’s not easy to follow. He is almost one year old, but already fits in 14months. So, it was only natural to go buy some new stuff.

You went after work, as baby boy was with the babysitter, Pedro was on set filming, so you knew you had plenty of times. You bought shirts, pants, some socks, a new pair of shoes, and some bodysuits. You were in the last shop of the mall when your eyes met Halloween costumes. You had to check it out, you’ve always wanted to dress your baby up so it was the perfect opportunity. After looking around, you saw a little costume of Grogu. You couldn’t help but laugh. Pedro will love it. Not thinking twice, you took it.

Once you were home, the babysitter left, you could finally enjoy being with your child. Smiling and laughing to your weird and silly faces, your heart was melting. It was almost 6pm when Pedro texted you that he was leaving set, which meant that in around thirty minutes he would be here.

You decided to open the costume of Grogu and change your baby. It would be such a cute surprise for Pedro. Luckily, the costume wasn’t very complicated to put on. A big brown jacket and a headband with Grogu’s ears on the side. You had a big grey basin, so you put him inside, struggling to make him stay in, but to do just like in the tv show.

Right when the door opened, you quickly put the basin on the floor not far from it, and hid behind the counter. Pedro didn’t have time to see you, and his eyes fell immediately on his beautiful baby boy.

“oh my god what happened to you?” He started to laugh. You were secretly filming the whole scene. He kneeled in front of him. Both of them were smiling. “I can see that mommy got you a nice outfit” he started to tickle him a little to make him laugh. “My little grogu, tu eres lindo” he carried him out of the basin, hugging him tight once he was in his arms. “Now, where did mommy go?” And your now little grogu pointed to the counter where we could see you a little. You laughed and got up.

“Isn’t he cute?” You had big smile, as you approached them.

“Where did you find this?”

“At the mall, I went shopping for new clothes for this big boy” you said tickling him which made him laugh. “And I found this, I couldn’t resist”

“I can see why” you both looked at each other

“Our beautiful baby boy” you were both staring at him. Instinctively you got closer to Pedro, putting your right arm around his waist, hugging him from the side, as you held your baby boy’s hand. Pedro kissed the top of your head, which made you look at him. You both smiled before kissing passionately. The sight of you kissing made your baby Grogu laugh, which made you both laugh also.

“I need to send a picture to Bella” you laughed. You let him go to grab his phone. He took some pictures of the three of you, then just some of the baby alone, and sent them to Bella.

[2baabbies]

skz bingo; #7, she/her pronouns, with chan?? maybe some sort of bookstore meet cute where reader can't reach a certain book that's on a shelf just out of her reach, but chan is a little taller than her so he manages to crowd against her back and grab the book for her?? 👀 I don't mind either sfw or nsfw, whichever feels like it fits the fic best!

my dear, I couldn’t make chan taller for fear of excluding the tall girlies ;w; but I think I still worked it in well. and I hope you like hyunlix, because they’re in the background fulfilling my bookkeeper/florist couple fantasies. I also split the difference between n/sfw with extraflirty!chan, enjoyyy 🫶🏻

🖤 read me like a book (bangchan x reader) 🖤

Pairings: chan x reader, background hyunlix

Words: 1170 (I gave up on the world limit)

Humour + Suggestive (no smut) + Fluff

fem!reader

Request guidelines here!

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal!

Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are very welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

Felix has been flirting with Hyunjin for over ten minutes, which is only a problem for you because he is sitting on the only ladder in the entire bookstore. The shop owner sits on the middle rungs as the florist leans against the wall and dramatically tells him about his morning. Felix clutches the bundle of white and yellow daffodils Hyunjin brought for him to his chest with a dreamy smile.

Residing on one of the upper shelves, out of your reach, is a new romance novel that you came to purchase. You steal a glance at Hyunjin and Felix, then continue glaring at your target. Now, it was not just the minor inconvenience souring your mood, but the envy of seeing the two men together. You felt incredibly unlucky in comparison to the perfect couple chatting away in the corner. You were tired of reading about romance, and more than ready to find it for yourself.

The tips of your fingers just brush the spine of one of the copies as you try again, and you sigh in defeat. Climbing the shelf would be entirely too hazardous, although you are getting desperate enough at this point to try it. You had been waiting for this book for months. But, as miserable as you were, you refused to interrupt Felix and Hyunjin.

“Hey there,” You look over your shoulder to face the man that speaks to you, “You, uh, look like you could use a little help?”

“I’ve got it.”

The speed in which you turn away is criminal. The stranger is incredibly handsome, and you would be damned if you let the cutest man to ever walk into this bookstore see the smut you were trying to pull off the shelf. He clears his throat gently and you peek over your shoulder at him.

“Hm, are you sure? I’ve got to grab something up there anyway.”

“O-Okay. I-If you wouldn’t mind…”

You are about to move when the man drops a stepstool behind you and springs onto it with ease. He braces one hand over your shoulder and leans in, his chest brushing against your back as he grabs the books. Your breath catches as he hops down again, and you will yourself to breathe as you turn around. You inhale sharply as he does not hand the book over to you, but flips through it instead. He then reads that lovely little page of content warnings- mainly kinks- listed by the author at the beginning of the book.

Your face burns as he hums and casually places it in your hand.

“Here’s your book.”

“It’s not mine,” You blurt quickly.

“Oh? Did you want a different one?”

You clutch it to your chest.

“N-No! I-I’m buying it… for my friend. I don’t read this stuff.”

“Oh, I see,” There is a troublesome little glint in his eye, “That’s a shame. That author is quite popular. Maybe you should give it a try?”

You squirm under his playful gaze. You wish you could just melt into the bookcase to escape this conversation.

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“It’s not… realistic…”

His eyebrows quirk but he looks satisfied with your answer. Felix interrupts the tense moment as he begins leaving the bookstore with Hyunjin.

“Hey, Chan, I’m taking my break now. You got an eye on the cash?”

“Yeah, mate, you’re good. I’ll see ya in a bit.”

Hyunjin gives you an excited wave, which you return shyly, as Felix adds:

“Oh, y/n, I put a book aside for you. It’s behind the counter. Chan, her name is on it.”

“Alright.”

“Thank you,” You murmur.

The doorbell chimes as the door falls shut behind them, and you are left alone with Chan. He kicks up the stepstool and catches it one hand.

“Well, y/n,” He coos in his lovely accent, “I’ll be at the cash if you need anything. Give me a shout if you have any questions, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah, sure.”

He winks and walks behind the counter, settling in and opening the book he pulled from the shelf. You stall for a bit, then steel your nerves and approach the checkout. Chan sets his book aside and smiles as you set yours on the counter. He finds the book Felix set aside for you, and it is the exact same book you pulled from the shelf.

The road to Hell is truly paved with good intentions.

Chan pauses then coyly asks, “I guess you don’t want two of these, hm?”

You puff your cheeks.

“No.”

He chuckles and begins ringing up your purchase.

“Okay, I won’t tease you anymore. You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know?”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

He side-eyes you playfully.

“Alright. Are you paying with cash or card?”

“Cash.”

You quickly pull the bill from your pocket and hand it to Chan. You are both quiet as he makes your change then hands it back to you. You count it then furrow your brow gently.

“Something wrong?”

“Um, it seems… You gave me extra.”

He checks the receipt then looks at your hand as you hold it out to him.

“No, it’s right.”

“You gave me a discount?”

You drop the change in your pocket and accept the book and receipt as he hands them to you.

“Of course. Pretty girls shouldn’t have to pay full price.”

You fluster.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to tease me anymore?”

He rests his chin in his hand and leans his elbows on the counter with a smirk.

“That wasn’t teasing. That was flirting.”

You clutch the book to your chest and duck your blushing face.

“Well…”

He giggles and the charming sound startles you to look up again.

“Sorry. I’ll stop.”

“I-It’s okay.”

“Hm?”

“Uh, you don’t have to stop.”

Chan smiles warmly.

“Only if you like it.”

“I, um, I do.”

“Okay then. Well, I hope your friend likes the book.”

“It’s almost worse when you pretend you don’t know…”

“Well, for the record, I believed you a little bit.”

“Sure.”

“I did,” He purrs, “And I would agree with you. I tried to read those books but they weren’t really my thing.”

“You did?”

“Mhm, like you said: it wasn’t realistic. If you’d like an example of something more realistic though, I’d be happy to show you.”

You roll your eyes as a grin breaks out on his face. Although he delivered the line with confidence, his whole face is flushed like yours.

“I’ll keep that in mind…”

Chan winks as you walk away.

“Have a good day!”

You rush out of the bookstore and pause outside as you notice something sticking out of the book you just purchased. You flip it open to see a scrap of paper with a phone number written on it. You look through the window of the bookstore to see Chan, giving you a fluttery wave as you piece it all together. You huff and cover your face as you stomp away, but you cannot suppress your charmed smile.

[sokkigarden]

hi!! i am a sucker for the fake dating trope and i was hoping you could do a Jamie x reader fake dating thing? i would literally die <3

me and @whimsical-roasting were LITERALLY JUST talking about this tee hee so shoutout to her! i’m also obsessed w fake dating i hope you like this anon! <3 this is sorta the beginnings so maybe i’ll write part 2 if y’all like it ? lol

jamie tartt x reader | fake dating au drabble

it would start out at a bar or something definitely. you don’t know much about football but suddenly this really hot guy is draping his arm around your shoulder to get this creep to leave you alone. “hey babe, sorry it took so long,” he’d say and tuck some hair behind your ear, making eye contact with you so you know he’s playing it up to get this dude to leave.

the guy finally gets the hint and leaves you alone with the mystery guy. he’s looking at you expectantly but you don’t really know what to say.

“you have mates around here somewhere?” he asks, and you’d point to your friend who was presently making out with some guy in a corner booth. this bar was kinda exclusive and she’s dragged you along because she wanted to see some celebs and you hoped whoever she was kissing was at least mildly famous for her sake.

“no way, the blonde? she’s snogging my teammate,” he replies

“teammate?”

“yeah, i’m a footballer.”

“ohhhh, like professionally?”

you clearly don’t know anything about football if you don’t know him, but the question makes him laugh as he nods. your cluelessness is honestly endearing.

you thank him for helping with the creep and he offers to buy you a drink which quickly leads to spending the rest of the evening hanging out with him. you ask him stupid questions about football and then start trading stories about life.

it was a pretty platonic night aside from some light flirting but you couldn’t help but flirt with a fit footballer you’ll probably never see again.

until a picture of you next to him at the bar ends up on twitter. and your face is now trending.

you expect that it’ll pass by after a few days but then you see your face on the telly. followed up with a statement by jamie saying he’s happy with his new gf and would prefer people to stay out of his love life.

which is why you end up at the afc richmond training facility front desk asking to see your “boyfriend”

“why did you tell people i’m your girlfriend? are you insane?”

“uhhhhh”

truth be told the richmond boys had been ribbing him about the picture and he hadn’t wanted to deny it. and then some nosy reporter asked him about you in a pub and he thought a simple comment asking for privacy would be enough to calm things instead of fueling the fire.

jamie didn’t know what he was thinking. but the press hadn’t been super nice to him recently so he thought dating a nice low profile girl would help his image.

“and were you… i don’t know… ever going to mention this to me???”

“uhhhhh”

“oi, Jamie, is this your girl? she coming to the match tomorrow?”

one of jamie’s teammates clapped him on the shoulder and smiled at you before going into the locker room. his words intrigued you though. already a plan was forming in your head.

“would you… be able to get me tickets to matches? in exchange for being your fake gf?”

realization dawned on jamie’s face at your proposal and he nodded.

“i can get you VIP tickets, you and a mate? i’ll throw in a tartt jersey too. if you wear it, people might stop giving me so much slack. see i’ve changed.”

you held out your hand for him to shake and he did, squeezing it instead of letting go immediately. you looked into his eyes.

this plan could clearly mean trouble if you thought too much about how pretty he was. and how nice he seemed. and the feel of his hand in yours.

you were in so much trouble.

[nburkhardt]

Somebody Loves You, You Got A Friend (part 2)

(Part one)

It’s been nearly a week since everything was flipped and he’s no longer “King Steve”, no longer friends with Tommy and Carol, them jumping ship when Billy rolled into town.

Without a girlfriend or friends, he’s a little lonely right now.

Calling the number on the matchbox is easy, especially when it’s only his mom and him in the house today, so he grabs hold of the phone and dials it.

“Munson Residence, if this is Hagen again, I’m gonna hang up” a smooth voice floods his ear and he’s so glad his mom is working outside, because the sharp intake of breath would’ve had her eavesdropping immediately.

“Uh, hi, it’s- it’s Steve, Steve Harrington” he stumbles over his words, “you- left your-“

He’s interrupted by a chuckle, “I’m surprised you even called, Harrington.”

“Why would you give me your number if you didn’t think I’d call?”

“Considering you were sobbing like crazy, dude. I’m surprised you even got home, I realized after I should’ve driven you home. But, I didn’t think you’d like being seen with the resident freak”

Frowning, he looks out the window to spy on his mom, she’s too busy with her flowers. “Truthfully? I don’t give a shit who I’m seen with. I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’m on the bottom of the totem pole”

A snort, then continued laughter is filling his ear and he’s smiling like an idiot. Clearly, he’s been in the wrong crowd since school started. Because that laugh? He would absolutely kill to hear it every day of his life.

“Aren’t you a surprise, your highness. How about this, you come over and we’ll do a trail run. Sound good?”

He nodded, like an idiot. A smile growing on his face and he only knows this because his mom is inside and laughing at him. Scowling at her, he forces himself to talk, “sounds great, I’ll be there”

Eddie responds with a ‘see you soon’ as he hangs up and Steve just scowls at his mom as she walks up to him, “aren’t you adorable when you’re flustered”

Groaning, “I’m not flustered! I’m- anyway! I’m going to a friends place”

She laughs again, kissed his forehead and went on her way to shower. “Have a good time and remember to be safe!”

Throwing his head back with a groan, he went on his way to his own room to get properly dressed yelling out an ‘I love you and be home later’ to her as he walks out the door and into the unknown.

The test run, as it turns out was an amazing time. Despite running in different circles, having nearly nothing in common, they get along so well, it’s almost scary. Eddie’s all metal and nerdy, while he’s all pop and sports.

Truly the odd couple.

———

Rumors at school immediately spread wild and fast.

Not that he cared, actually, he and Eddie make it a game. Who can hear the wildest one, so far, Eddie’s heard that Steve is buying his friendship. Which, rude.

Steve will freely admit, he’s never had this much fun in years. His mom even admitted this is the happiest she’s seen him in a while and she’s happy to see it. (His dad is, of course, disappointed to hear about the lack of Hagen friendship. But doesn’t say anything else, thankfully.)

After only a week, he decided to introduce his mom to Eddie and eventually it’ll be a mistake with the two teaming up against him. But after the dinner, he’s unfortunately embarrassed by his mom talking and showing baby Steve to his new friend.

If he’s being honest, which he tends to be, he hopes Eddie is more than a friend someday.

And once Eddie is heading home, his mom corners him and he can see the twinkle in her eye. “That boy, is an absolute delight! A way better fit than Nancy, sweetie.”

Has Steve mentioned how much he loves his mother? Because truly, if anyone understood him, it’s her.

They don’t say anything more, because really, they don’t need too. They’re comfortable right now and life is so much better when they’re happy.

—

Ending it there for now :) again, this story is mostly slice of life with honestly no real plot to it. It was originally just a fun story I was writing for myself because at the time it was alllll I wanted and there wasn’t many fics with the exact thing I wanted. Anyway, hope you enjoyed it!

Any questions or if you see any mistakes let me know!! If you wanna be added to the tag list, I can do that ☺️

Taglist: @spectrum-spectre @itsfreakingbats @mysticcrownshipper @artiststarme @thereindeerlady @justforthedead89 @ronniescontinuum @freyaforestafay @littlewildflowerkitten @zerokrox-blog @callme-keys @maya-custodios-dionach @rajumat @yellowdevilkitten @munsonfamilyband @steddierthings

[cyberpxnk]

until the moon and stars fall | jeong yunho

♡ pairing: yunho x chubby!reader ♡ chapters: 1 out of 1 ♡ word count: 2.3k ♡ genre: nonidol! au, comfort/hurt, fluff, established relationship

♡ synopsis: your bad day at work takes a turn for the worse but despite it all, jeong yunho never fails to be there for you.

♡ warnings/tags: chubby!reader, no gendered terms for reader, a lil self indulgent, cussing, body/fat shaming, mentions of body image, bullying, minor kissing, maybe a lil cliche but bear w/ me

♡ author’s note:  this one is for all my chubby babes and customer service workers !! i've never rly written comfort before..,,.. so i hope it's like... ok for y'all :sweating_emoji: maybe i was a lil self indulgent on this one, but i hope u all enjoy it !!

The big fat zero in your face taunted you, reminding you of the awful day you have to endure for another hour. It wasn't often that you received no tip for your services, but the gods really rained down on you today, offering little sympathy.

Being a restaurant worker was tough shit, just as every other food industry and customer service job was. You hate it, really, but it was good money for a broke college student like yourself. 

Between classes, there were days you managed to muster up your feigned smile of politeness to customers, serving them while dealing with their all too present bullshit attitude. Of course, not all your patrons were so unlovely but today... Man.

Two hours in and you're ready to rip off your apron and book it home. You're not sure what's going on with you, but clearly nothing good. Already having spilled several drinks and messing up an order, you know it's not your day.

Even the zero tip didn't surprise you at this point. What did matter is that you had to make it through the rest of your ungodly shift and just get the hell out of there. Maybe you would look for a new job or something, anything to sate your present worries. 

What seemed worst of all was the ceaseless teasing that came from your coworker. She's the new girl, having barely worked with you, yet she was pompous and held herself with an air of arrogance as if you were someone of lowly status and she, royalty. 

Unlike yourself, she radiated haughtiness and garnered attention from all types of people. You're not sure why she even worked as a server, but you suppose her pretty looks helped her out quite a bit. If not for her atrocious attitude hidden beneath her sickening saccharine smile, perhaps you would be swayed too. 

"Didn't get tipped, porky? Serves you right for messing up so much today." 

Yeah, there it was. Cliche beautiful and slender girl poking fun at her less than fortunate chubby coworker. Let's get one thing straight though, you don't hate yourself or your body. But her? That's a different story. Well, she certainly made it a little harder not to be self conscious, even if you tried your best on most days. 

"Mhm," is all you manage back to her, lips pulled tight in a grimace as you continue to go about your work. Dealing with her was just another thing upon the pile of shit you didn’t have the energy for. 

And you don’t particularly enjoy being reminded of how your uniform stretched uncomfortably over your larger frame or how your thick thighs often chafed together, holes forming in the fabric between your legs, which resulted in you buying way too many new pairs of work pants. Ugh. 

Your coworker did enough complaining for the both of you, oftentimes taking a tone of mockery. On more than one occasion, you could recall her poking at your stomach in disgust before asking something along the lines of, "how do you even fit in the uniform? Did you have to order those rags off a plus size website?" 

Yeah, in fact you did but that's irrelevant! You wonder when a grown woman like herself would get tired of teasing you, but it's been months and she's still going strong. 

You can deal with it. You hope. Just one more hour, just one more hour — one more hellish hour and maybe you'll quit. 

Another fifty minutes of waiting tables and withholding your anger, you know you're at the homestretch. As you balance a tray of dirty dishes, you mosey your way over to the back when you suddenly find yourself stumbling, barely catching how your coworker stuck her foot out before you. 

No, no, no! What the hell kind of movie-esque moment was this? Surely enough, you trip over her leg and crumple to the ground, food and plates scattering messily along the floor. 

The sound of her obnoxious laughter fills the air, growing louder in volume as she cackles, throwing her head back in a fit of malevolent glee. 

"Oh my god! Can you do anything right, fatso?" 

A rush of emotions and you're on your feet, wiping away some of the food remnants from your uniform. Hot anger is flooding through you and you're visibly seething. 

"What is your issue, bitch?" You've held your tongue for too long and your eyes are welling up with tears, though you're unsure if it's from the unbridled rage or the overwhelming flood of negative feelings you're experiencing. 

"Your fat ass is my issue! I hate seeing you at work. Nobody wants you here. Even the customers don't tip you because they lose their appetite after they see they're being waited on by a whale!" 

The silence that falls over the restaurant is unsettling, tension palpable as nobody utters a word, hers still ringing in your ears. Even your manager who peers from behind the kitchen keeps quiet, unsure of how to handle the escalating situation. 

Not that they were very helpful anyway, always allowing your coworker to have her way — insisting that she was just "joking" and that she didn't mean any harm. Ha, pretty privilege. 

It was fine though. You had enough. This was the last straw and you would be sure to show them that you wouldn't take her shit any longer. You didn't deserve it. 

In your flurry of emotions, what you fail to see is your boyfriend hovering near the front door. Clutched in his hands, he holds a paper cup filled with a latte and the other is a crumpled paper baggie with your favorite pastry. 

Jeong Yunho was truly the epitome of sweet. Even after his long shifts as a barista, he never failed to make time for you. It was different today though. Something in the winds whispered to him that day, the energy unnerving as his stomach churned nervously during the last few hours on the clock. 

Not wanting to ignore the feeling, he was determined to see you. If whatever gods or deities were compelling him to check up on his partner today, then that's just what he would do. 

What he didn't expect to find was his said lover covered in slop, hair astray and tears threatening to fall from your eyes. If not for the last semblance of his senses steadying him, he would have stomped over in a fit of fury. 

Yunho nearly did though, hands just barely unclenching the items he held. The scene unfolding before him... he should have stopped it, yet he couldn't will himself. The determined look in your eyes advised him otherwise.

It was clear that you had snapped. Despite your current state of disarray, you held up your head high and pressed your pointer finger to your coworker's chest, practically spitting out your next words, venom dripping with each syllable. 

"You must get some sick sense of pleasure tearing other people down," you stepped forward and she stumbled back, eyes wide with bewilderment, "you're projecting pretty hard."

"Excuse m-" you interrupted her, moving another stride forward until she was cornered to the wall. 

"You must hate yourself so much that you need to resort to shitty high school bullying tactics to feel better about yourself. I feel sorry for you." 

Watching as you defend yourself, Yunho feels his chest swell with pride yet it pained him knowing you had been handling this problem all alone and he didn't know for how long. Several times in passing, you had mentioned your troublesome colleague to him but he never realized how awful to an extent it was.

"I'm done here, honestly. I'm sick of your attitude and I'm sick of management's negligence." You untie your apron and toss it at her face, watching as she fumbles slightly whilst trying to catch the fabric.

She sputters in response, her face twisting with rage as she points an accusing finger to you. 

"Even if you leave here, you'll never be liked and loved. Not with that disgusting body of yours. Do us all a favor and hit the gym after you're gone."

It is Yunho's turn to intervene as he steps closer to you all, protectively hooking one arm around your side. The gifts he previously held were long forgotten, abandoned at some table in favor of defending you. 

His entrance seems to startle everyone, including yourself as you jump slightly before you reach over, curling into the familiarity of his hold. The man squeezes you once, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You don't know how long he's been standing there, but you can see his gaze narrowed in a sharp glare. There's a fire alight in his eyes, wisps of anger that you rarely find on your gentle boyfriend's features. The heart shaped lips you're so used to seeing upturned are pulled taut in a line, displeasure clear upon his face. 

"You're wrong. It's you who will never feel true love. Not with that nasty, ugly heart of yours." There's a sharp edge to his voice, steely and void of any remorse. You know he wants to say more with how his jaw clenches yet he turns you both around with haste and leads you toward the exit without another sound.

As you both walk out in silence, his hold drops from your waist and his hand is reaching for yours, fingers intertwining with a gentle weave. It's only seconds later before he's helping you into his car, buckling you in before he gets in the opposite side and begins driving home.

No words are exchanged, a quiet stillness in the air. Though he has one hand on the wheel, the other still grips yours as you idly play with his fingers. You try to distract yourself from the earlier events, tracing gentle shapes along his knuckles. 

It's only until you're back within the safety of your shared home do the tears you've withheld finally drip down your cheeks. You sniffle once and then twice before you're sobbing. 

Yunho's arms around you are immediate, holding you against his frame as he gently rocks you within the security of his protective embrace.

His soft whispers of reassurance and comfort fill your ears as you soak through his shirt with your tears. He clutches you tighter, never letting go even as your cries begin to wane.  Minutes pass, and you're unsure of how long you're standing there before you sniffle quietly and reluctantly pull yourself from his chest.

When you finally look to meet his eyes, your breath catches in your throat. Yunho looks at you painstakingly, his gaze so tender that you practically melt in his arms. Your lip quivers at the sight.

"I love you," he whispers so faintly that you barely hear him. The warmth of his affections flood you, shaking your very heart to the core. Though he need not say more than those three things, he relents. 

"You're everything to me..." He speaks breathlessly, his lips repeatedly finding yours between sweet and inaudible murmurs. You're sinking into his touch, blinking back the wetness in your eyes as his loving touches ghost along the soft curves of your body.  

"Your size doesn't matter and it will never dictate how you should be loved. It doesn't make you any less attractive, any less desirable, any less lovable, any less you." 

The tears begin to form in your eyes again, and you're unable to stop the steady stream of waterworks as your heart trembles from his admission. Your hands grasp his shirt and you open your mouth, though no sound follows.

"Jagiya..." Your eyes flutter as his breath fans over your face, his lips brushing away each tear as they fall.

You know there aren't enough words to express how he looks to you in adoration, how delicately he reaches to cup your tear stained cheeks, how he kisses you as if you're so fragile you may break from his dainty touches. 

"The love I have for you seeps from my soul. I never want to waste a minute without loving you to the fullest." 

There is a brief pause as he rests his forehead to yours, his palms still clutching your face with the utmost care. 

"To me, you are ethereal. To me, you are divine. To me, you are perfect. If I am without you, then I would travel the stars just to see you." 

His proclamation strikes your soul so deeply that you can't help the way your heart beats readily, nearly bursting from your rib cage. He describes you as if you were of the heavens and you almost feel unworthy of his affections, yet you can't help but to believe the sincerity of his words.

The feeling of his unyielding passion is all it takes for another wave of tears and he's no sooner repeating his actions, kissing away each drop that slips from your eyes. 

"I love you so much," you say, unable to elicit anything more than just that between your soft cries. Your voice trembles with such emotion that Yunho understands you needn't say more. 

With your hand grasping his, you lay it over your chest and allow him to feel your heartbeat, showing him just how much his radiance and purity of love stirs you so.  

Yunho mirrors your action, and you feel his pulse steady to your palm. The lull of his essence roots you and grounds you to the very earth. 

Until the stars and moon fell from the sky, just as he cherished you, you would cherish him tenfold. Just as he loved you, you would love him eternally.

[warping-realities]

A Better Family II

David Evans was having a bad day. The young professor, only twenty-three years old, hated the job at St James, which he had obtained only through the influence of his father, one of the institution's biggest donors. The truth was David also despises his absent father. A father who only cared about how his son's attitudes interfered with the illusory life he tried to maintain, without ever really worrying about the boy, using the money to buy, manipulate and open his son's paths. As a reflex David grew up with a bad attitude towards the world, which extended to his teachers at that same school. But karma was a bitch. David only graduated from college the same way he got that job: through his father's intervention. After that fiasco, the solution to the boy's inability was to work with the teachers that for years he despised as inferior beings. And that place quickly became a torment. Although it was still only on his second day at work, David found former professors willing to make him pay for his para attitudes and students ready to replicate them in him. To top it all off, David's brand new Mercedez just got screwed up which added to his frustration.

"Damn car, damn stupid job, damn life."

"Apparently someone got up on the wrong foot today." Said a bassy voice.

"Ramirez." It was David's only comment as the handsome male specimen approached, Enrique Ramirez the PE teacher, already in uniform for the day and exuding an air of self-assurance and masculinity that had irked David from the first moment. He was used to being the alpha male, but a single glance at his colleague made it clear that here in St. James the position was already taken.

"Car trouble, Evans?"

"That crap just let me down so I was late for work." David replied, taking advantage of the problem to justify his delay in arriving at the service, caused in reality by his total lack of will to be there.

Enrique smirked as if he knew the car wasn't really the reason for the delay, but as a sign of good faith he decided to offer his new colleague some help.

"My father-in-law owns a car repair shop and I worked with him myself during high school, I can take a look for you and try to identify the source of the problem."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

"Sorry, but I don't understood your comment, Evans." Enrique replied, understanding very well what the other man had inferred.

"Hum... I mean ... you can look... please?" Asked David grudgingly. But taking the opportunity. His father was already irritated with him, if he bothered the old man with that problem he might decide to cut off his funds.

"No problem, let me see what we have here." Said Enrique approaching and opening the hood of the car, only to be hit by a cloud of black smoke.

"What the fuck did you do with the car, Evans?" he asked between a coughing fit.

"I... I don't know. I've never cared much about cars, it's the underlings' job and..." David started to say, stopping abruptly when he saw his colleague's icy expression.

"I suggest then that you find an underling to fix this shit." Enrique replied, ready to withdraw from that company that increasingly displeased him.

"Wait, Ramirez! Hum, Enrique..."

"What?"

"Would you be able to get me your father-in-law's contact? I mean… if he doesn't charge too much."

“Mr Huerta is extremely competent at what he does and will charge you exactly what his service is worth and nothing more. I shouldn't do this given you attitude, but we are colleagues and will be obliged to interact. I'll get in touch with a tow truck team to pick you and your car and take to his workshop."

"Hum, thanks and...ahh...sorry if I was...hum...offensive." David concluded as if he don’t apologize often, which in fact he didn’t.

"No problem, I hope the next time we meet things are better." Said Enrique knowing that it was almost impossible to happen.

"Sure, man" replied David, thinking exactly the same as his colleague.

….

Meanwhile, at that exact moment in Diego's workshop, a beautiful middle-aged brunette wearing was received by the smiling owner.

"Good morning Marina!"

"Good morning Diego, are you coming from the gym?" She said looking at the impressive arms of her boss.

"Yes, I've just finished my morning training. I hope someone shows up for a job interview, we're short of staff, I can't handle the work alone for much longer."

"I'm sure someone will show up. I could ask Nico to help you but…" Said Marina, her smile fading.

"What is it? Is the boy in trouble?"

"Oh, I don't want to bother you with my problems, Diego."

"Marina, I've known that boy and his brother since they were babies. I'm sorry I couldn't help with Miguel, but whatever I can help with Nicolas, I'll help."

"Oh Diego, you are a great boss and a wonderful friend and I really don't know what I would do without you. But I'm afraid my boys have more of their father than I thought. Miguel hasn't been home for months and Nico... he's been with the same kind of company as his brother and... we had a terrible argument! Oh, I'm so afraid of losing them both, Diego." She concluded with teary eyes.

"Marina, as soon as possible I'm going to talk to the boys, both of them, and try to put some sense in their heads."

"Thank you, with all my heart, I…" she started to say, being interrupted by the phone ringing in the waiting room.

"Let me answer the phone, maybe this is good news, perhaps someone interested in the job offer." And she went to her post, discreetly wiping her eyes in the hope that her boss hadn't noticed her crying.

But Diego noticed, there was nothing he didn't notice about Marina. The two had a long history together. She had crossed the border with him so many years ago, but her trip had been longer, she was Brazilian and had gone to Mexico in an attempt to enter the United States. At the border, she met Diego and helped him take care of Melissa during the entire journey. At the time Diego realized that she was interested in him, but his heart was still in mourning for his late wife. When they were already established in the new country, and Diego, ready to try something new, decided to look for her, but instead found her married and pregnant with her eldest son, Miguel, to whom she asked Diego to be godfather. Marina's husband, Marcelo, also Brazilian, didn't like it very much, but Diego accepted the position. And he didn't budge from that.

Shortly after the birth of the boy Marina became pregnant again, but before the birth of her second son Nicolas, Marcelo was arrested for drug trafficking, dying in prison after a gang fight. Widowed and with two children to raise, Marina did what she could to support the household, working day and night, often leaving the boys in the care of Diego or by Enrique's grandparents, since the boy grew up without his parents, who died in Venezuela. Whenever possible Marina returned the favor by taking care of Melissa and the boy.

When Diego finally opened his workshop he hired her to do reception work and the boys were raised as if they were his children. And he knew they could have been, if he'd had the nerve to ask her out. But he didn't, creating several excuses not to do what he wanted most.

Time passed, the boys grew up... and something in them changed, maybe it was Marcelo's bad blood coming out. It started with Miguel, at the age of seventeen the playful boy gave way to an angry young man, the hours spent helping Diego in the workshop replaced by hours hanging around with bad company. Diego tried to intervene only to be rebuffed. And that hurt him a lot. Now it seemed the same was happening with Nico and he didn't know if he could do anything to avoid it, but he would certainly try his best.

"It was Rico on the phone, saying he sent a colleague's car for repairs, apparently the guy is a jerk. But he has money."

"We've dealt with our share of idiots, one more won't make a difference." Diego answered while examining the small metallic disc that he had found in the living room that morning.

"What is it, boss?"

"I have no idea, it just turned up at my house. Maybe Melissa or Rico left it there, I forgot I took it this morning. I’ll talk to them later, looks like our client arrived and he is exactly what Rico told you." He said, nodding at the blond man who was coming down from the tow truck, with an expression of complete disgust on his face.

“Let me take care of him.”

"Graças a Deus." She replied, returning to her work station.

"Hum, who do I have to talk to in this...hum...establishment...?

Diego mentally rolled his eyes as he reached out to the boy, who reluctantly reached out as well, the expression of disgust still present. With the intention of provoking the asshole, Diego put his other hand, the one that held the Reality Warper, on the man’s shoulder.

“ I'm Diego welcome to this… establishment… son."

And thus starting an unexpected reaction. With the contact with the target established and interpreting that phrase from the bearer as if it were an order, the artifact began its work.

Diego's impression was as if time had stopped and he couldn't move, so great was his surprise when he saw the small disc begin to expand and form the metallic structure around David, who tried to escape, but like so many others before him ended up trapped inside the metallic cocoon that would transform him forever. Recovering his voice Diego began to shout:

"Marina! Help…. Marinaaaa!" But she couldn't hear him, because in fact time had stopped for the bearer and for the target, everything that was happening there was out of time and reality itself, as the two dimensions were being altered.

"Boy, boy? Can you hear me? Damn, I don't even know your name... What the fuck is..." he interrupted himself when he saw one of the walls of the structure show the image of a thin young man, reformulating himself to then present the face of a young man with Latin features.

The scare with that was not greater than seeing the walls of the metallic cocoon retract in the small disc, leaving a man totally different from the one who was in his place. In front of him was a handsome young Latino man, tall and muscular, wearing the work uniform from Diego's workshop. Not knowing what to do or how to react, Diego just watched him with an astonished face, about to have the third surprise of the day. The boy opened his eyes, fixing his gaze in Diego's direction and smiled.

"Buenos días, papá!”

“I thought I'd start with Mrs. Angela's car. An old model like that will be hard to find the parts. By the way, I was up late yesterday working on my little project and I think I'm going to need some more experienced hands." Said the man, pointing to a blue 1967 Ford Mustang located where David’s brand new Mercedez used to be.

"Boy... I... what kind of joke is this...?"

"Father, you know I would never play with that, this project has been our dream since I was little. I repeat, I would never play with that, right Marina? Said the man, seeing Marina return from the reception holding two steaming cups of coffee.

"Ah, yes. Ever since you were a little kid you've been talking about restoring an old car with your bare hands. I don't think I've ever seen you without grease on your hands, Dieguito." She said, handing a cup to him who opened an even brighter smile. While she extended the other towards Diego who stared at the two stupefied.

"Dieguito...?"

"Si, Papa?"

"Marina, what's going on here, I... I..."

"Papá, is everything okay?" Asked the man putting his hand on Diego's shoulder who was suddenly invaded by conflicting memories. A cheerful boy, walking beside him, not realizing the risk of the crossing they were making, while Diego held a three-year-old Melissa in his lap, who was talking animatedly with a young Marina, the two laughing and trying to understand the differences between Spanish and Portuguese. The same boy, playing soccer on a makeshift field in their neighborhood and smiling at his father as he tried to dribble past his best friend, a young Enrique Ramirez just as smiling. Then the two boys already teenagers, dirty with grease in Diego's workshop. The two boys playing baseball in high school, the happiness on Diego Junior's face when he found out that his best friend had received a sports scholarship to college, even though he himself hadn't won one. The two wearing gala clothes for the prom, with the boy all happy to discover that his best friend was dating his sister. Then the boy with tears on his face while apologizing to him for not being able to go to college and smiling when Diego told him that he didn't care, that he was proud of him and that he would be the happiest father in the world to have his son by his side at work. The same happiness that shone in the boy's eyes when he received the car he had dreamed of restoring his whole life as a gift from his father, expressed through the phrase "Te amo, papá!" And at that moment Diego fell to the floor of his workshop, with tears in his eyes, scaring those around him.

"Papá, papá! Marina ayúdame aquí!”

“Nossa senhora! Diego, o que houve?”

“No es nada, estoy bien.” Said, Diego getting up and staring into the boy's eyes full of concern, his boy, his son!

"It must have been my blood pressure, there's nothing to worry about. Ah, thank you Marina." He concluded, taking the cup of coffee from the woman's still outstretched hand."

"Papa, I bet you didn't have a proper post-workout meal, let me get something from the market. Marina, keep an eye on him until I get back."

"I'll do it, Dieguito! And you, Mr. Huerta, you can go sit down, and no efforts until your son returns!"

"Yes ma'am!"

"You should be happy, you have a wonderful son, Diego." She said with her sad smile."

"You're right, Marina, I have the best son in the world." Diego replied looking at his boy as he left the workshop.

….

The rest of the day passed in a way that felt both familiar and completely new to Diego. He had all those memories of his son, but at the same time he knew that until that morning the boy didn't exist. That in his place there had been another man, whose name he didn't even know and whose existence had been erased from the face of the Earth. Marina didn't remember anything and even Enrique told him that he didn't have a colleague who fit the description and that nobody in St. James had car trouble that morning. Apparently Diego Jr was here to stay.

Diego wouldn't complain about that, because Dieguito was everything he ever wanted in a son, the boy was strong, funny, smart, hardworking and looked at his father with eyes of total respect and admiration. Diego knew that when the time came, the boy would be ready to take his post at the head of the workshop.

Still, there was the possibility that it would all disappear just as abruptly as it had started. So he spent the whole afternoon locked in his office researching any information there was about the artifact. Aside from a few legends and myths about magical objects, he didn't find anything relevant. Although his research led him to sites with stories aimed at just that kind of situation, and although they were clearly fiction, some were eerily reminiscent of the situation he found himself in. With nothing else to do, Diego dismissed Marina and his son and closed the workshop alone, still thinking about the strangeness of the situation.

When he got home he found Dieguito putting on his gym clothes in the living room and he couldn't stop admiring him, the boy was everything he had wanted all his life and he knew that was how it was because he himself had created him, but there were those other memories where the boy didn't exist, memories that scared him immensely.

His thoughts were interrupted by his son.

"Papá, I didn't see you arrive.... why are you staring at me? Is there something wrong? I noticed you've been acting strange all day..."

"There's nothing wrong hijo, it’s just… just that today I realized how perfect you are!"

"Papá, por favor! I didn't even go to college like Rico, all I do is follow in your footsteps."

"And what more could I want? I repeat, you are perfect, Dieguito. I love Rico like a son, but you are my only son and I couldn't wish for a better one!" Diego replied causing a shy smile to appear on his son’s face.

"Thanks father, hearing you say it means a lot to me!" The man replied obviously happy but at the same time a little embarrassed by that statement. So much so that he quickly changed the subject.

"Papá, something happened today. I didn't mention anything to Marina, but I ran into Miguel today at the market. He didn't seem too well. We talked for a few minutes and... I don't know, something didn't feel right."

"Marina is worried about the boys Diego, Miguel has been out of the house frequently since last year, he hasn't appeared for months and now it seems that Nicolas is replicating the behavior.... tell me, can you get in touch with him ?" Finished Diego, with an idea sprouting in his head.

"Sure, do you intend to talk to him again?"

"I intend much more than that son. Get in touch with the boy and ask him to meet you at the gym." Diego said unbuttoning his uniform shirt and heading to his bedroom to put on gym clothes.

"I can try, but it's not guaranteed, papá. Do you intend to train twice today? Remember what happened in the morning."

"Kid, don't worry about me, worry about embarrassing yourself by lifting less weight than your father."

"In your dreams, old man!"

....

“Are you ready to see how a professional works Dieguito?"

"See those arms, Rico? They are the arms of a true professional, forged with the work of a real man."

With a radiant smile Diego watched his son and his future son-in-law exchange bravado at the gym, as the two best friends had been doing since childhood.

However, he felt that smile fade as he looked out the window and watched a boy approaching. Knowing he was about to do something very extraordinary or very stupid. But that either way could alter that boy's fate permanently.

[potentialguybodyswaps]

Halloween Party Swap:

The Halloween party between all the cool kids was just a few days away, and the winner of the costume party would supposedly get to bang Christine, she was the baddest bitch on campus, 5’6, D sized tits, the type of girl who had access to “mommies and daddy’s” money, everyone knew she had a lot of work done but that didn’t change from how fucking hot she was

How ever I didn’t really have a costume picked out… one of my buddies told me about this magic spell that could swap people’s bodies, reason he told me is cause he was gonna swap with this Chinese student who had a thick accent, and just go full stereotype and wear one of those straw hats the rice farmers use to wear in Asia, while also carrying around a rice cooker, asking people if they wanted rice

A few other people were running with this idea and so a lot of people already knew that not everyone is gonna be who they seem, so if they enter the contest they just gotta tell their real names

Now don’t get me wrong, my friend had a pretty good and pretty hilarious idea, it would really be hard to top that, but I think I could manage

I met up with the biggest nerd on campus, Davis, and told him about the party, he told me he already knew but also knew he wasn’t invited

“Bro if you help me with my costume, I’ll get you in, I promise” I said trying to convince him to come

“Ok, ya cool, I’d love to go to a party, what’s your costume” Davis said excitedly

“Um well you see Davis… I was hoping you could be my costume” I said continuing to explain the situation to him

He didn’t seem to buy it at first

“ so your telling me, you wanna swap bodies with me, dress extra nerdy, just to win some contest to fuck a chick?… quit fucking with me, everyone knows it’s not possible to swap bodies, and that magic doesn’t exist. grow up.” He said walking away

I continued to walk behind him and ask”come on bro, some of my other friends have already done it, why not, I mean you’d get to be me for a couple days”

“You know what?” He said stopping and turning around

If you want my body and can somehow use magic to swap us, sure I’d love to be you Brad ” he said turning around and continuing to his next class

“You won’t regret it” I yelled

Later that night before bed I starting looking at the spell online that my friend sent me, underneath it in some of the smallest font a computer can make, was a list of side effects

I had to zoom in just to see them, only thing that stuck out is if both individuals cum inside their bodies, the swap becomes permanent…

Now typically I would just, not jerk off in Davis’s body, but I’ve herd the stories, and apparently bro is a premature cummer, I’m talking like, just looking at too hot of a bitch could make him cum

So I did the only logical thing someone in my shoes would do, I went into my girlfriend’s drawer (well, she’s not really my girlfriend, but like a long term fling), and grabbed a chastity lock that my girl likes to use on me when she’s feeling extra kinky that night, and locked my cock in it and hid the key

It was a tight fit while soft and absolutely hurt while hard but I guess that’s the price he’ll have to pay if he wants to be me for a couple days

I proceeded to do the spell and nothing happened

I texted my friend who already did it with that Asian guy and asked what was up. He told me it takes effect while we’re sleeping, he then asked who I’d be swapping with, when I told him, he was a bit upset but proud of my idea “ dam bro, that’s a good one, I wish I would have thought about that”

So I decided I guess I should go to sleep, no better way to kill time right haha? I just wanna win this competition so bad so I can fuck Christine

The next day I woke up in a dorm that looked nothing like mine, all my posters of nude girls were gone (which I typically take down when I have girls over) and my posters of cars and shit

I instantly thought and new that it had to worked I got up feeling extremely boney and rushed to a mirror, the face that greeted me was this

Now typically someone that’s a hot certified fuck boi like myself would be upset they got swapped into a nerds body, but I was ecstatic. I mean ya I was ugly as shit and these braces looked fuck, man who in college still wears braces haha .

But man, I’m so gonna win this competition I said, getting dressed in a rush, not bothering to check out my crappy body.

I proceeded to go to the customs store and by a stereotype nerd costume to add to the “costume” I’m wearing now… white shirt with a pocket calculator, and pants held up by suspenders

As I was checking out at the register I started getting texts from my old body

“Hey um bro, I woke up in your body, I can’t believe it worked, this is crazy, but um, what’s this thing on my cock and how do I get it off, it kinda hurts my dick bro”

I smirked at the texts, I knew he’d want out of my chastity lock

“It’s a chastity lock, keeps you from pleasuring yourself, and you don’t… that’s the price you gotta pay if you want to be me” I replied putting my phone away and walking home with the costume in a bag

When I got home I had numerous texts from Davis, BEGGING me to get it unlocked

“ Brad come on dude, this hurts really bad and since I can’t jerk it, all I can do is keep staring and or adjusting it so it don’t hurt as much, doesn’t really help much but…”

“Brad, help me out here”

I decided to reply back and let him know why I can’t unlock it

“Look Davis, it’s there for a reason, If we both cum, we’re stuck like this and can’t swap back, and I’ve herd the stories about how just a girl talking to you can make you cum, so I’m not risking you jerking off in my body, and then me having a accident or something in yours… plus I’ve hidden the key so don’t think about trying to unlock it, that stays on untill we swap back, got it?”

“Ya got it, you’ve hidden the key so it stays on” he replied back

After that, I didn’t hear from David for the rest of the day…

Truthfully I’ve been holding in the urge to piss and shit all day, so once I got back to David’s dorm, I couldn’t take it anymore and rushed to the bathroom

As I’m blowin it up I have my eyes resting in my arms trying not to look at his junk but I caught a glimpse and had to look

“ no fucking way” I said as I removed an arm and took a look

“It’s so small it doesn’t even hang haha, this thing is pathetic, maybe like an inch soft, it kinda curls into itself” I said as I got done with natures call

“ I wonder how big it is hard” I thought to myself as imagined naked chicks

I watched as it grew to a pathetic 3 and a half inches

“Dam I would hate to be this guy haha” I said as I gave it a quick tug

That was a mistake, I almost blew it right there

“Jesus Christ, that was close, the rumors really undersold him, he’s not a premature cumer, he’s extremely premature” I said getting up making sure to be as careful as possible to not make myself cum.

………………………………………….

The night of the Halloween party came and I went, fully dressed in my nerd costume, suspenders and all

There was a lot of hot chicks around and at some point in the night they announced via the DJ that costume swaps that involved swapping we’re not gonna be counted in this years contest

“Man this is stupid” I said angrily walking to start getting drinks, that was probably the worst decision of the night because after an hour of drinking, I saw my body walk in, in this skeleton costume, now I shouldn’t be mad cause I did say I’d get him into the party, but what had me upset was the skeleton costume had an extra bone. My dick, he must have gotten out of the chastity lock somehow? Maybe he found the key?

I won’t lie, I was already hard from looking at all the hot chicks that I can’t fuck, mainly due to the rules of the swap, and due to how none of them wanna fuck this nerd…

But when I saw my body walk in, in that costume, displaying my dick though a costume I was gonna originally wear, and knowing I was disqualified myself from the contest, I let lose.

I got absolutely trashed, the last thing I remember before blacking out was Davis coming up to me an making small talk

“Hey bro, I herd they’re not counting swapped costumes this year” he said looking down at me

“Ya” I said looking up from my cup “so ima just drink my problems away and swap us back tomorrow night… I see you don’t have that chastity lock on anymore”

“Ya, I found the lock but I decided I’d need a costume and found this in your room, I’m guessing this was your original idea” he said giving his dick a quick pull.

“Ya” I said looking back down at my cup

Davis lightly slapped my arm and said “ aye don’t worry tho, I haven’t cummed yet, kinda hard staying erect for this costume all night haha”

“That’s good” I said, and then blacked out

I woke up in the middle of the night still drunk as fuck and couldn’t think straight

I saw Christine kissing my old body on the couch and got hard immediately

I rolled over to face them and whipped my dick our starting to slowly massage it

“Oh fuck ya, I always knew I’d end up with her” I said

“Christine looked over and without saying a word smacked my body to look this way”

Davis told her “it’s fine, he’s probably sexless and just living out some sick fantasy in his head, I mean maybe we should help him, how about instead of fucking tonight, we can just match him, and you can give me a hand job, and we can call it even if you want”

“Ok” she said putting back on her sexy face and proceeding to start giving Davis a hand job in my body

“Oh fuck this is so hot, a handjob from Christine, it feels so go-O-OD I said to myself cumming in my hand and falling asleep, not aware that I’m not actually me anymore and was just watching from Davis’s real body, not some out of body experience where I watch from the 3rd person

I awoke the next day with my pants down and my hand feeling Crusty,

“Ew, what happened last night?” I said to myself

I looked around and saw my body still on the couch, no longer with a boner, “Jesus how long did he hold that thing” I thought to myself

I reached over and threw a pillow at Davis’s head, waking him up

“ I’m up” he said frantically shooting upright

“Hey what happened last night” I said looking confused “why are my pants down”

“Oh you got drunk as fuck last night and jerked off last night on the couch” he said with a smile

“Oh shit did I? Well good save bro, I owe you one, I think ima get dressed and go home, we should be back to our normal selves tomorrow” I said getting up

“ I don’t think that’ll happen” Davis said standing up

“Woah woah why not?” I said looking concerned

He pointed down at his dick and I could see a white stain

“Did I mention you jerked off to Christine making out with me, and then proceeded to give me a handjob when she saw you jerking to us?” He said with a smile on his face

“How was it, was it worth the cumming” he said seeming excited at me slowly piecing things together

“I-I-don’t remember, you just let her jerk you off bro? Did you finish? Please tell me no”

“ dam that’s ashame, you seemed so satisfied after you lasted way longer than I typically do, you lasted about 2 minutes, there wasn’t a lot of cum at all but, hey, it still happened” he said smirking

“And I won’t say I did cum, but I also won’t say I didn’t, I think the stain in your costume answers that question pretty well hahahaha” he said laughing with the biggest shit eating grin I’ve ever seen

“ man, sorry you couldn’t help yourself last night but neither could I, I mean it’s not all bad tho, I get to stay as a bonafide fuck boi, this couldn’t have ended better for me” he said turning and walking out the door, leaving me to ponder what exactly went wrong last night tripping me in his nerdy body

#Edit I know this is a little out of season but I’ve been saving this story for awhile and just find it too hot not to post, hope tumblr don’t block it, if so it’ll have to wait till my patreon

[astrobei]

carrying the other one in their arms with byclair 😗

#23 for touch prompts!! (me acting as if i did not beg thea to send me a byclair prompt and as if i did not take forever and a half to write it) (was so intimidated and nervous about this one but i hope you like it !!)

Will doesn’t drink. Like, ever. With the exception of his twenty-first which was kind of a given and also at New Year’s that one time, but that was champagne, so it barely even counted, because who even gets drunk off of champagne? Or, more accurately, sparkling white wine from the supermarket, because they're in college and it's not like anyone has real champagne money right now. Unfortunately.

Anyways, Will never drinks. And that’s the reason why– when he had thrown the front door open ten minutes ago, thrown his bag onto his floor, tossed the keys onto the dining room table, and announced loudly that they were going out tonight– Lucas had immediately resigned himself to the role of designated driver.

Well, not driver per se, because they don’t have a car and the local college bar is, like, five blocks down the road. Designated walker, maybe. Designated sheepdog, because if there’s one thing about Lucas Sinclair’s friends, it’s that they get drunk and fucking scatter.

“What’s the occasion?”

Will is fiddling with his hair in the hallway mirror. “Ugh,” he says, and Lucas catches the corner of his frown as he leans in closer. “Long week.”

“I’ll say,” Dustin pipes up from the living room. “You would not believe the shit my client put me through today.”

“Tell us about the shit your client put you through today,” Mike says, head buried in the folds of a coat as he roots through the closet. “Okay, who took my other shoe?”

Lucas looks down at his feet. “Oh,” he says. “I was wondering why my shoes were fitting differently.”

“Unbelievable,” Mike mutters. “I told you not to buy the same pair as me!”

“But they’re so nice,” Lucas grins, bending down to undo the laces. Mike shoots him the finger.

“Unfortunately, it seems that you’ve just admitted that Mike has good taste,” Will says, which is a very occasionally correct but tragic point, then turns around. “How do I look?”

Dustin squints at him from the sofa. “Um. Normal?”

“Good,” Mike says, still glaring at Lucas as he pulls the laces of the right shoe– tragically, Mike’s right shoe– free. “You look good. Is that jacket new?”

“Kind of,” Will laughs, glancing down at the worn brown leather. “Jonathan lent it to me when he visited last month and I never gave it back.

“Typical,” Dustin calls. “But it’s just a college bar, Will. Who cares?”

“Me,” Will frowns. “I care.” He turns to Lucas. “Look okay?”

“Uh,” Lucas says, promptly letting the laces fall from between his fingers. Will looks good. Like, really good. Unfairly good, because he’d just been complaining about how he’d had the longest week known to mankind and how he’d been up at six that morning to get ready for a meeting with his advisor and then he’d sat through seven hours of classes before spending another three in the library and now it’s seven o’clock in the evening and it should honestly be a little bit illegal to go through all of that and come out of it not even looking frazzled.

Will frowns, snaps a finger in his direction. “Lucas?”

“Don’t distract him,” Mike says. “He still needs to give me my shoe back!”

Lucas finishes toeing it off the rest of the way, and kicks it in Mike’s general direction. It flies through the air, rather ungracefully, if he’s being honest, and lands with a soft thump near Mike’s foot. “There,” he says smugly. “Now give me my other one.”

“So I look awful,” Will huffs lightly. “Message received.”

“I said you look good, Will,” Dustin says, finally slamming his laptop shut and making his way around to where Mike is tossing Lucas’ other shoe– the one that’s blessedly his– over to him. “Jesus, Mike, you’re going to take someone’s head off throwing shit around like that.”

“Sorry,” Mike says, not sounding sorry in the least. “And we did say you look good, Will, so does our opinion just not count anymore, or–”

“Dustin said I look normal,” Will corrects, “and I don’t trust you. You have terrible taste.”

Mike lets out an offended noise. “Hey! I have excellent taste, thank you–”

Lucas doesn’t know about all that, even with what he’d been saying about Mike’s shoes, so he chimes in with, “Well, normally you do look good, Will, so Dustin’s technically correct.”

Will freezes, one hand still buried in his hair. “Really?”

“Oh,” Mike snorts, “nice one, Lucas.”

Lucas blinks. “What? What did I say?”

“You said,” Will turns back to the hallway mirror and smooths down the collar of his jacket, “that I look good. Like, normally.”

Great. Is his throat dry? Probably not any more than it usually is. Maybe Lucas should drink some water. “Well. You do.”

“Wow,” Mike rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe that Lucas has more game than you and I combined, even stone-cold sober.”

“Speak for yourself,” Dustin scoffs. “Sweet, sweet liquid courage will be working its wonders tonight.”

Lucas doesn’t know about all that either, but Will is still giving him a bit of a weird look and suddenly Lucas is really regretting not pawning designated sheepdog off on Dustin as reparations for throwing up in their single shared bathroom for hours on end last time they’d gone out. “Sure,” he says instead, as Dustin tugs his own shoes on, and pointedly does not look over at where Will is standing. “Let’s go, you losers. I’ve got class tomorrow morning.”

—-

Here’s the thing, right. Lucas isn’t stupid. He might be a little dumb sometimes, if any of the things Max or Erica or Dustin say have any merit. But he’s not stupid. 

Max says a lot of things, actually, and it’s kind of annoying how many of them land super close to home, considering that she’s currently in school on the other side of the country. But one of those things had been, “College makes people super attractive,” or some iteration of that, over the phone when Lucas had called a couple months ago. And his gut reaction to that had been, like, mild apprehension, because he’d seen the guys in his early morning Psych class, okay, and he didn’t know if he’d classify them as super attractive. Maybe just regular attractive, even though that might be pushing it. Or maybe it wasn’t pushing it so much as maybe they just weren’t his type, and he was being a little unfair.

He’d told Max that too, which, in hindsight, had maybe been a mistake. She’d paused, and then– not even bothering to hide the glee creeping into her voice– said, “Not your type?”

Belatedly– and just one second too late, but enough of a delay for Max Mayfield to hone in on his fumbling, vulnerable self like a vulture descending on a carcass– he’d realized that the appropriate reaction would have been to just call them, like, ugly or something. Unattractive, but entirely separate from his own attraction.

Tragically– as he’d figured out over the next hour and half by means of a very panicked phone call, a very amused ex-girlfriend, and a lot of very hyena-like cackling– the guys in his 8:30 Psych class aren’t unattractive. They’re just not– you know. Attractive to Lucas.

Because apparently that’s a thing now. Guys, that is. Being attractive to him. To Lucas, more specifically. Lucas, finding guys attractive.

Great.

“Don’t sweat it,” Max had assured him. “I told you people get hot in college. You’re gonna notice things.”

Notice things. And after some very dignified squawking on his end of the line, and some more cackling on Max’s end of the line, he’d accepted his sorry, highly amusing fate, and hung up.

So Lucas isn’t an idiot, is the bottom line here. And she was definitely right, and he definitely has been. Noticing things, that is. Things like the back of guys’ necks where their hair meets their skin, and the shape of their arms when they stretch, and the angles of their jaws and noses and shoulders. And, to be more specific, because Lucas isn’t an idiot, and he’s been noticing things– Will’s neck and arms and the angles of Will’s jaw and nose and Will’s shoulders. Especially in that stupid brown leather jacket.

Which is, like, fine. It’s fine! Because people get hot in college and you start noticing things, and Lucas is really, really starting to wish he’d never offered to be the sober one tonight because he would kill for a good spiced rum right about now. Unfortunately, he’s a man on a mission– which he’s already kind of failing, because Mike Wheeler has broken his self-imposed no tequila shots with Dustin rule and now Lucas can’t even be too sure they’re still in the bar.

Will is usually better at being the designated sheepdog than he is, because even drunk, they all seem to know that it’s kind of a low blow to make Will Byers chase them all around town, which is why he ends up doing it most of the time. Lucas would know. He usually is the drunk friends, and he sends a mental prayer of an apology up to whichever divine power might currently be listening, because if he makes it back home with one inebriated friend still intact, he’ll be counting his blessings.

He’s starting to think he might have lost Will too– which would make him go down in history as the worst sheepdog known to mankind– when he reappears at Lucas’ elbow, holding a cup of something in one hand and looking– tragically– very good.

Like, objectively. You know, if Lucas is going around noticing things, he might as well be upfront with himself about it. “Hey,” he says. “What’s that?”

Will looks down at his cup and frowns. “No idea. Mike gave it to me and then disappeared.”

Okay, so as of about ten minutes ago, at least, Mike Wheeler was still in the bar. “Where’s Mike now?”

Will is maybe just the slightest bit tipsy, because he shrugs, says, “Sidewalk,” then throws the rest of the drink back in one go.

Sidewalk. Great. Whatever that means. But it’s fine. Mike is a big boy. He can handle himself. 

Maybe.

“Cool,” Lucas says instead, straining a little over the music. “Was he– um. Okay?”

Will grins at him, saying something that Lucas can’t quite catch, and okay, apparently this is another thing Lucas is noticing now. Will has a nice smile. He’s not blind, okay, and it’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing. That is. And it probably doesn’t hurt that the mystery drink and the couple of shots he’d downed earlier seem to be lending him a kind of warm, easy confidence that Lucas is sure hadn’t been there before.

He blinks. “Sorry, what?”

Will leans in a bit closer. He isn’t that much shorter than Lucas, who doesn’t have to bend down much more than an inch to reach his height, maybe two at the most, but he finds himself leaning in more than that, for some reason, meeting Will in the middle just as his cheek brushes up against his own. “I said,” Will repeats, breath warm against his ear, “he was taking Dustin home. He didn’t look too good.”

“And he didn’t tell me?” That beats the whole point of someone staying unfortunately very sober, Lucas thinks, because the whole point was that Lucas was supposed to walk Dustin home after he and Mike inevitably broke their no tequila shots pact and started dry heaving into a bush. “Why didn’t he say anything?”

“Mike looked okay,” Will says, still right up next to his ear. He places a hand on Lucas’ forearm for balance, presses his fingers into the sleeve of his jacket, and adds, “Surprisingly enough.”

That is surprising, because Mike can’t hold his fucking liquor. And still, as surprising as Mike Wheeler not being the world’s biggest lightweight for an evening is, it’s not as surprising as Will sliding his hand from Lucas’ arm and dropping it gently down to his waist.

“Um,” Lucas says, because as far as the whole warm and easy confidence thing goes, this seems to be a little much, considering that Will isn’t exactly the touchy-feely-grabby-in-public type. Even in a strictly platonic sense, this is– “Um. What are you doing?”

Will looks at him, and looks at him, and looks at him, and then he finally cracks. “I gave you my wallet for safekeeping,” he laughs, slipping a hand into Lucas’ jacket pocket and pulling his wallet out. He wiggles it in the air. “Remember?”

Right. Yeah. He had done that, hours ago. “Oh,” Lucas says, feeling suddenly very stupid. Is he drunk? Can you get, like, secondhand inebriation? Is that a thing? Maybe Dustin knows. Lucas makes a mental note to ask him. “Yeah. I remember.”

“I’ll close out my tab,” Will says, pulling away just enough to look Lucas in the eye. His cheeks are a little tinged with pink, which makes sense, because it’s warm in here. It’s very, very warm. Lucas is warm, that’s for sure. Jesus. What had Will been saying?

Right. His tab.

“Right,” Lucas says. Will still hasn’t moved. “Your tab. You should. Um.”

“I’ll close it out,” Will repeats, a little quieter now, as he takes a step back and smiles. “And then you can take me home.”

Christ. Okay.

—-

Some other things Lucas has noticed (because he’s a guy with eyes, and when you’re a guy with eyes, you notice these things):

One. Will looks good in that jacket. Lucas hopes, just a little bit, that maybe Jonathan will never realize it’s missing, and then maybe Will can just keep it forever and ever and wear it every day because it looks good. It’s something about the cut of it, he thinks, because it makes him notice how it pulls Will’s shoulders up and out of his perpetually terrible posture, and there’s something about that confidence– artificial or not– that is just objectively very attractive.

Speaking of attractive things. Two– Will is attractive. There’s probably no point trying to avoid thinking about it anymore, out of some arbitrary fear of making things weird. You can find your friends attractive. That’s not weird! That’s a thing that happens to a lot of people, and Lucas can admit to himself that Will is attractive– without hiding behind the guise of thinking about his shoulders or Jonathan Byers’ choice of clothing– and it’s fine. It’s normal. Will Byers is an attractive guy. Full stop.

Unfortunately, because Lucas is Lucas, the full stop lends itself into turning into more of a comma. Because they’re walking home, right, and Will’s foot catches on an errant crack in the sidewalk, and he stumbles, catching himself on Lucas’ bicep with one hand and clutching at the front of Lucas’ sweater with the other, and in one fell swoop, Will Byers is an attractive guy turns into Will Byers is an attractive guy, and Lucas is definitely attracted to him.

Great.

“Whoa,” Lucas says, reaching out to steady Will where he’s still kind of swaying a bit, trying to get upright again. He grips Will firmly under his elbow and hauls him the rest of the way to his feet, and says, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Will breathes out, gingerly moving the offending ankle back and forth. “Yeah, I just– tripped.”

“I know,” Lucas laughs, and Will rolls his eyes up at him. “I saw.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Will smiles. He tests his weight slowly, leaning forward on one foot then back again, then lets out a soft noise of discomfort. “Ah–”

“Shit,” Lucas frowns, then tightens his grip on Will’s arm. “Are you hurt?”

Obviously the answer is yes, but Will, the stubborn motherfucker, shakes his head and says, “No, I’m– ow.”

“Nice,” Lucas deadpans, and Will shoves lightly at his chest.

“Don’t make fun of me. I’m drunk.”

Lucas peers at him. Will doesn’t seem drunk, but maybe he’s just really good at hiding it. “Are you really?”

“No,” Will snorts. “Are you kidding?  It’s going to take more than three drinks over four hours to get me. I’m just clumsy.”

Lucas knows this already, because they’re roommates. He’s seen Will in the mornings. And in the afternoons, and in the evenings, and in the middle of the night. “Fair enough,” Lucas agrees, then hesitates. “Here,” he pulls one of Will’s arms over his shoulder, “just– lean on me. Like this.”

“Now people are really going to think I’m wasted,” Will mutters, but he lets Lucas move him anyway. Lucas slips an arm around his waist, under his jacket, and pulls him in closer. “I definitely look like I just threw up into a bush.”

A fourth thing Lucas notices– Will is warm, and he’s solid, and he isn’t pulling away, even when Lucas grips tighter, right over the soft fabric of his university sweatshirt. Will lets him hold his weight up without complaint. It’s nice, Lucas thinks. This is nice. “Is that what Dustin was doing?”

“No, but it looked like that’s where it was headed.” Will leans into him a little bit more, the space between them almost gone, and tests his weight on his hurt foot again. “Ah– okay. Okay. I’m fine.”

He most certainly is not fine. Lucas frowns. “No you’re not.”

Will laughs softly, resting a hand over the back of Lucas’ palm, where it’s splayed flat across the side of his waist. “I mean, we’re only a couple of blocks away. What else am I supposed to do?”

“I could carry you,” Lucas offers. It’s partially a joke– because Will is Will, and the chances of him letting himself be carried by anyone are little to zero– but it’s also– well. It’s not not genuine, because Lucas is thinking about that noticing things thing again, and here are the other things he’s noticed, in the last five minutes or so:

One– Will really does not need to be this close to him. Even with the whole leaning on him thing, he doesn’t need to have his face turned into Lucas’ neck, or his body angled towards him this sharply, or his hand still resting atop Lucas’.

Two– and here’s the real kicker: Will hasn’t said no yet.

“Really?” Will sounds surprised, but again– that’s not a protest.

“Uh,” Lucas says, because he really didn’t expect to get this far, but again– he hadn’t not been serious. “Yeah. Yeah! Of course.”

Will gives him a curious look. “You think you could?”

Lucas scoffs. “Please. Look who you’re talking to.”

Will’s not a small guy by any means– and Lucas knows this, because, hey. He has eyes. Either way, Will laughs again, and says, “Right. I forgot who I was talking to. Mister student athlete extraordinaire.”

“I don’t know about extraordinaire,” Lucas says. “But that’s not a no.”

Will gives him another look, and holds his gaze for one, two, three seconds, before caving. “Yeah, okay,” he says, patting the back of Lucas’ hand once where it’s still holding onto his waist. “Why not.”

Lucas grins. “Great. I’m going to need you to turn about ninety degrees that way.”

“Sure,” Will says, turning, “but why– whoa!”

“See?” Lucas doesn’t consider himself to be, like, a douchey gym guy type, but hey. He’ll take his victories where they come. “Easy peasy.”

Will stares, legs bent and dangling almost hilariously off of Lucas’ forearm. “What–

Okay. So he’s enjoying this a lot, actually. Lucas does a little half-squat, just to show off. “Easy peasy,” he says again, and winks. 

Maybe that does make him a douchey gym guy type, but it’s worth it, for the look on Will’s face. “Wow,” Will says, eyes wide. “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Nothing,” Will blinks. His cheeks are slowly turning red. “You’re just– strong.”

Lucas stops dead in his tracks.

Is he being flirted with, right now? Is that what’s happening? Is Will Byers flirting with him?

He supposes he did start it, after all. “Um,” he says, feeling his own face grow warm. “Thank you.”

Will just nods wordlessly. “Yeah,” he says softly, then clears his throat. “Um. Should we–”

“Yeah! Yeah, let’s– um. Yeah!”

They haven’t even made it half a block down before Will starts up again. “You sure you can–”

“Will.”

“Okay,” Will says, tightening his arms around Lucas’ neck. “Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

It’s really not that bad. They’re close enough to the apartment for Lucas to see the building around the corner, and Will is solid and firm in his arms but it’s nothing he can’t handle. He keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the street ahead of him, though, because for all of his hemming and hawing about being able to carry him and it’s fine, Will, he isn’t sure that he won’t drop him immediately if he catches a glimpse of Will’s face.

Jesus. Okay. This is fine.

They make it all the way to the elevator before they run into a problem.

“Um,” Lucas says, looking up at the metal doors then down at Will. “So I don’t think we’re going to fit.”

They probably will, but he doesn’t want to be responsible for, like, slamming Will’s head against the door and giving him permanent brain damage. “Probably not,” Will agrees, then taps the arm under his legs with a small smile. “You can just put me down, you know.”

“No way.” Lucas shifts him in his arms and puffs out his chest. “We made it this far. I’ve made a commitment.”

“Chivalrous,” Will says, in what was probably intended to be a deadpan, but it comes out a little bit breathy anyway. His cheeks are still pink.

Lucas swallows, and, as the elevator opens up with a quiet ding, says, “Yeah, I know.”

“Go sideways,” Will instructs him, “no, more sideways– yeah, there you go.”

To his credit, Will’s foot only bumps the elevator door, like, the littlest bit. “Sorry!” Lucas apologizes. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“Lucas,” Will laughs. “It’s fine. It’s fine!”

“Not very chivalrous of me after all,” Lucas grumbles, as they make their way down the hallway to the front door.

“At least you weren’t the one who tripped and busted up his ankle,” Will points out, reaching into his pocket. “Here– let me down, I’ve got the keys.”

Lucas sets him down, gently, gently, keeping one arm braced around Will’s waist as he fumbles with his pocket, then the lock. Will lets him. He notices this too, with a kind of absentminded, gleeful sense of victory. It feels like one, anyway, how Will is leaning into him even though he doesn’t have to anymore, because they’re home and he can just hobble off to bed and deal with the whole situation in the morning. In the–

Oh, shit. It’s Thursday night, and Lucas has an 8:30 class.

Whatever. Small victories are small victories. He tightens his arm around Will’s waist and waits for him to get the door open.

“So,” Will says, once they’re inside and the door is closed behind them with a soft click. “That was fun.”

Lucas grins. Will’s turned to face him, so he’s not so much leaning against him for support anymore as he is just leaning. “I thought so too.”

“I didn’t think you’d really do that,” Will admits, taking a step closer. He places a hand on Lucas’ upper arm, the same arm that’s still resting on top of Will’s university sweatshirt, under the stiff leather of his jacket. “It was very gentlemanly.”

“Next time we go out, I’ll lay my jacket over a puddle for you,” Lucas whispers, and Will laughs gently.

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Seriously,” Lucas adds, “you should ice that, or something, because it’s going to be so bad when you–”

Wake up tomorrow was what Lucas had been about to say, and then Will cuts him off with a kiss.

Things Lucas is noticing, added on to the end of an ever-growing list, apparently: Will Byers is a damn good kisser. 

Lucas isn’t too sure where that came from, and also he can’t really find it in himself to care, because Will’s lips are soft and his hair is even softer, and up close he smells like fresh air and men’s cologne, and Lucas notices all of these things with far less lucidity than he’d been keeping tracks of things with before. Then, the list of things goes flying out of his head and it’s just Will– warm even though it had been so cold outside, in Jonathan Byers’ stupid leather jacket, and Lucas makes a vague mental note to buy him a brand new one, so he never again has to think about Will’s brother while kissing him.

Again, he thinks faintly, a little bit giddy at the thought, clutching at Will’s waist as he sways lightly, a little unsteady on his injured foot. Again. He’d like to do this again, except maybe without the melodrama and the injury and– whatever happened to Mike and Dustin.

“Gentlemanly,” Will murmurs again, as he pulls away. It’s barely loud enough for Lucas to hear, even though they’re just a few inches apart. Will’s eyes drop down to his mouth, once, then back up to meet his gaze. He bites back a smile, eyes sparkling. “I stand by my previous statement.”

Oh, god. Max is going to have a fucking field day with this one.

[andreafmn]

Swinging By | Peter Parker

Word Count: 2.5K Pairing: Peter Parker [Earth 199999] x Female!Reader Requested: Yes [@spideysbaby: "Maybe a spiderman (tom) sneaking in your room thinking it's his sense your his neighbor"] A/N: Hope I did the request justice... even if I did post it really late 😬😬 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffeeTikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST If you’d like to be tagged in any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

Swinging By | Peter Parker One Shot

Being Spiderman was hard work. 

Being Spiderman as a teenager that was still in high school was even harder. 

And Peter Parker was tired. More like exhausted. 

Of course, he enjoyed the role of superhero and getting to save people —he’d never take for granted having been bit by that radioactive spider. Still, he couldn’t help the fatigue that ransacked his body after every long day that passed. 

He wished it was easier. That he had an endless supply of energy he could distribute whichever way he saw fit. He would have enough for his friends, for Aunt May, the city of New York… maybe even for (Y/N), his downstairs neighbor, and the girl that filled his mind every hour of the day. 

He had seen her around the building. The very first time, she quickly caught his eye. It was the day her family had moved in. Peter had been too shy to say hi. He watched as the three of them walked in and out of the building with boxes in their hands, following the movers up and down the stairs.  

Peter had wanted to help them. But for some reason, his limbs had gone numb and he couldn’t bring himself to approach them. Any of them. He simply watched as they moved back and forth in the building until they disappeared into their new home. It was clear that he had missed his chance to introduce himself to the girl that was wearing a sweater from the New York Hall of Science. 

But May was always one step ahead and she had seen the longing stares her nephew would give to the girl every time she walked by. The boy had everything going for him. All he needed was a little push. And who better than his aunt to give it to him? 

May had made a batch of “homemade” cookies –which meant she had bought premade dough and followed the instructions– for the new neighbors. Conveniently, she had to run out to the office on a saturday morning and couldn’t drop them off, leaving Peter to take care of the task. 

“But, can’t you just leave it at their door with a note?” Peter whined as he felt anxiety bubbling in his body. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it regardless.” 

“Oh, come on, Peter,” she chuckled as she struggled to put on her heels. “You swing from building to building and face aliens and magicians and criminals every day. I don’t think handing your neighbors a plate of cookies could compare.” 

“But…”

“Peter, I just need you to do this one thing for me, please,” she smiled sweetly. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Alright, fine,” the boy finally resigned. “See you tonight.” 

“Thank you, sweetie,” May called as she left through the door. “See you tonight.” 

Peter had stared intently at the seran-wrapped plate in his hands, hoping he had developed teleportation powers in his sleep. He could already feel the knot of anxiety pushing against the walls of his throat, constricting sounds and air back. He couldn’t face her, not without making a fool of himself —something he could be sure of without his spidey senses. 

He had decided to take the stairs, walking slower than humanly possible. But he wanted the time to build his confidence. He had been the Spider-Man for a little over eight months but he had met his match in the form of a girl his own age. 

Before he had known, he had reached apartment 2F. The door was mocking him, teasing his cowardice and  nervousness. All he had to do was raise his fist and knock on the door. 

“Get it together, Parker,” he spoke to himself in a hushed tone. “Just knock. All you have to do is knock on the door, leave the cookies, and go, nothing more. Just get it together. She might not even be there. It could just be her parents. Why are you so scared? It could just be her…”

“Can I help you?” A honey-laced voice broke him out of his trance as the door in front of him swung open. Her smile was as sweet as her voice and seeing her in passing did not compare to perusing her face at that moment. “You’re our upstairs neighbor; right?” 

“Uh, uh,” he stammered as his train of thought broke. “Yes. Neighbor. Me.”

“Yes. Neighbor. You,” she chuckled. “I’ve seen you around. Sorry I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself. I’m (Y/N).”

“Pretty,” he sighed contentedly. But as soon as he noticed the words that had left his mouth, his whole face had gone red. “I mean, your name is pretty. Not that you’re not pretty, but I was talking about your name.”

“I figured,” she smiled warmly. “And yours is?”

“Oh, it’s Peter. Parker. Peter Parker.”

“Well, Peter Parker, may I ask why you were rambling in our Ring camera for a minute or two?” (Y/N) questions kindly. “Not that I’d mind seeing a cute guy talking to himself at my front door.”

If it had been possible for his face to grow redder, it had. He was sure he had turned the same shade as a tomato. “Yes, cookies,” he scrambled for his answer. His hand extended quickly, showing her that he wasn’t some creep at her door. He had brought a treat. “My aunt baked them to welcome you and your family to the building.”

“That’s so nice of you,” she beamed. “And normally I’d invite you in and share them with you, but we’re actually on our way out.”

“Oh, of course. I wouldn’t want to impose either way/”  

“You could never, Peter Parker,”  she had smiled brightly at him. “But you should definitely come over soon. Might be some cookies left. Or I could make some brownies and send them your way.”  

“I love brownies!” Peter answered enthusiastically. “And I might just take you up on your offer someday soon.”  

“You better,” she had responded teasingly. “I’ll see you around the building then, Peter.”  

“See you around, (Y/N).”  

Seeing her around had turned into almost every other afternoon. And the building had turned into seeing her almost everywhere, including Midtown School of Science and Technology. Any free time he could find all he wanted was to spend it with (Y/N) – even if everything in his life was against it. The more he wanted to see her, the more the universe seemed to throw obstacles his way. A spike in criminality, another school project, Tony Stark calling him to the Avengers tower, everything that kept him from spending more time with her. 

And everything had made him more and more tired. 

For almost a month straight of coming home late at night, almost blind from exhaustion. His body had gone into auto-pilot. He would sneak into his room through his window, slip off his mask, and crash onto his bed to get at least three to four hours of sleep before he had to be up once more to do it all again. Peter could have made it into his bedroom with his eyes closed.  

Something he shouldn’t have attempted to do even if he could.

It had been a rather debilitating night. He could feel the warmth of blood pooling on his forehead, his muscles were tight and sore, his leg was throbbing, and all he wanted to do was sink into his bed and pass out for a week. 

Peter climbed the fire escape slowly, his eyes closed as he counted in his head the three flights of stairs that would lead him to his bedroom. His window gave him more trouble than normal, getting stuck halfway, something it had never done before. And when he slipped into his bedroom, he found it was darker than usual. But, all he wanted to do was sleep. Just sleep. 

He slipped off his mask, wincing as the fabric stuck slightly to the cut on his face. Once the cover-up was off, he finally took in the room he was in. Quickly enough, he noted it was not his. Where his bunk beds would be, rested a full bed with black and gold bedding. The desk that would normally be covered with figurines and papers was replaced by a neatly organized surface. And he definitely would have remembered hanging vines and string lights on his wall.

“Uh, Peter?” His eyes went as big as saucers as he figured whose room he was actually standing in. “What the hell?”  

The boy turned around quickly, feeling a sense of deja vu from when his aunt had found out his secret identity. He did his best to shield his suit, putting his brain into overdrive to come up with a plausible excuse for standing in the middle of her room dressed like New York’s one and only Spiderman. 

“I, uh,” he stammered. “I can explain.” 

“Peter, you’re hurt,” she gasped as she turned on the lights in her room. “Sit. I’ll get the first aid kit.” 

Peter was dumbfounded. He was expecting her to freak out like Ned, or curse at him like aunt May. Instead, (Y/N) seemed far more worried about the cuts on his face than the fact that he was a secret superhero. 

He took a seat on her desk chair, placing a discarded towel he’d found in her laundry basket, too afraid of staining her furniture. As he waited for her to come back, his eyes studied her room. His gaze fell upon a bundle of pined pictures on her wall, specifically on a picture from the month before. 

They had spontaneously decided one afternoon to go to Central Park with Ned and MJ. They had walked, they had laughed, they had eaten ice cream, and, unbeknownst to him, MJ had snapped a picture of them as (Y/N) cleaned a drip of strawberry ice cream from his chin. But what stood out to him was the way her eyes shined as she looked at him. It was a gaze he had never noticed before on her. 

“Got it,” she breathed as she came back into the room. “I just hope it’s enough. It doesn’t look that deep.” 

(Y/N) settled before him, quickly going to work on cleaning his face. She poured alcohol onto a cotton pad, using the softest touch to not hurt him more than he already was. Her concentration zoned in on every cut, making sure not a single one was left behind. 

Peter couldn’t help but memorize her face. The way her tongue peaked out slightly from her lips, the small furrow of her brows, and the little scrunch of her nose. He could have stared at her for the rest of time and he would have been okay with that. 

“Alright,” she sighed. “All done. Is there any other wound concealed in this onesie?” 

“Oh, uh, I don’t think so,” he chuckled. “My body might just be insanely bruised.” 

“Do you need some ice?” (Y/N) worriedly asked. “Might not have enough for your whole body but I have enough for the most important areas.” 

“I’m okay,” he smiled. Peter stared curiously at her. They had spent over twenty minutes together and she had yet to mention the biggest elephant in the room –she didn’t give any indication that she would do so. “(Y/N), why, uh, why aren't you freaking out?” 

“I did. There was visible blood on your face but it’s gone now.” 

“No, (Y/N). I’m talking about the whole Spiderman thing,” he pointed. “You’ve barely reacted to the fact that I’m standing before you, dressed as Spiderman, with wounds on my face.” 

(Y/N) did something that he had not expected. She laughed. “I’ve known for a while now, Peter,” she said. “You might be quiet and sneaky when you’re out catching bad guys and saving the world, but you leave all your stealthiness in the street. Once you’re home, you tend to make a lot of noise. I saw you one time when I couldn’t sleep. I had been staring out my window trying to find anything to tire my eyes when I saw a flash of red and blue land on the fire escape. Don’t think Spiderman would have too much business with you, so I just assumed.” 

“So you saw me… as Spiderman?” Peter confirmed. “And you didn’t say anything.” 

“I didn't feel like it was my place,” she shrugged. “I wanted to wait until you trusted me enough to tell me.” 

“I do trust you,” he whispered, afraid that she would take his secrecy incorrectly. “I just… I just wanted to keep you separate from all of this. I don’t know what I would do if I put you in danger. I care about you, (Y/N).” 

“Oh,” she smiled before she noted the underlying sentiment behind Peter’s brown eyes. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he chuckled. Peter then tested the waters, standing from the chair and getting closer to her. “I’ve wanted to get closer to you whilst keeping you at arm’s length in order to protect you because I know just how dangerous it is to even be associated with me. All I’ve wanted is to keep you safe.”       

“Is it corny to say I can keep myself safe?” (Y/N) chuckled, taking his hands in hers. “I know it’s crazy but anything is worth it if I can… get closer to you.” 

“I would never let anything happen to you,” he whispered. “Even if I had to sleep outside your window every night.”

(Y/N) chuckled softly, releasing one of his hands to place a comforting palm on his cheek. “I don’t need your protection, Peter,” she said, her fingers tracing his features. “I need you safe. And well-rested. You look tired.” 

“I am,” he confessed with a sigh, closing his eyes at the warmth of her hand. “But, for you, I would never sleep again.” 

“I would rather you sleep, Peter,” the girl responded. “Why don’t you lay down for a bit? I’ll get you a shirt and some sweatpants. Wouldn’t want you stumbling around in a Spiderman suit and all exhausted like that.” 

“Honestly, I cannot deny that request,” Peter chuckled. “I don’t think I could make it up the fire escape tonight. But, I do want to do something before.” 

“What is it?”

“Can I kiss you?” he asked meekly. 

“Please,” she breathed.

With a smile, he closed all distance between them and placed his lips onto hers. He reveled in the warmth of her lips, enjoying the softness and plumpness of them. It was everything he had daydreamed of for months on end… except the suit… and the wounds… and the sluggishness. Other than for those things, it was perfect.  

“Want me to get those clothes now?” (Y/N) chuckled as they broke the kiss. “I think you should rest for a bit.”

“Only if we can kiss some more after.” 

“We can kiss any time you swing by,” she grinned. “I might just keep leaving my window unlocked for you.”

Taglist: @winter-soldier-101 @zheezs14 @clementinesjourney @dyslexiccatterpillar @cevans-winchester @sirenheadenby @sunsetcurvej @sapnapsbandana @skyesthebomb @esposadomd @this-is-a-bad-idea @nocturnalherb16 @blueshoelaces @then-worship-at-my-altar @six-call @yuki254 @nyenye @lunaOoO @avis15 @captainrogers-19 @honeylovemoon @wonieeee @supernaturalwriter @beckiej0073-blog @cecehensonn @krazyk99 @klf1999 @ilikepunsbeth @magimtz23 @adaydreamaway08 @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @thatgirljayy @laylaskywalker @fandomonetwo @fruitylilfuck @a-slut-for-loki-bucky @monbrss @honeywxter @haroldpotterson @kaita11 @gangstalicious06 @uwunuggetchan @elijahssuit @multifandomreader73 @shara-ne @blackloveangel13 @euphoria1992 @saltedcoffeescotch @thecollectorofwords @gabi-princesada1d @zealouscookierebeltrash @sleepilysworld @aonungsfreak @treatiseofselena @brittany-appleyard24 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @smolalien13 @jstarr86 @mzmarvel22 @itsmytimetodream @ivory-raptor @unstablekay @druigsluver29

[iwonderwh0]

Finally, I met a person with a similar opinion about Daniel, I hope you don’t mind me writing to you, I just want to talk to someone about him. I recently remembered about dbh and decided to delve deeper into this fandom, I liked Daniel because I like crazy and jealous characters so I wanted to read content about him and … it ruined my enjoyment of his character, I was surprised how much people are dismissive of what he did, many people justify that because of his new emotions, Daniel made a lot of hasty and bad decisions, well, maybe that's true, but it still doesn't change his actions, he had a choice to run away, but no, he chose violence and murder, he took Emma hostage and threatened to kill her, although he loved her, no, I think he really loved her, but at that moment he didn’t care about Emma’s safety, he just wanted to hurt someone harm at that time

It also outrages and annoys me when I see how in fanfiction where there is a scene that Emma forgives Daniel for what he did, no, just no, if Emma had ever met Daniel, she would have had a mental breakdown and a panic attack, she would never forgive Daniel, he killed her father, and almost killed her, this girl is completely traumatized because of him, even if Daniel sincerely repents, no amount of “sorry” will bring back John, will not bring back the dead policemen, who were sure to have family and friends, no one will restore healthy psyche of Emma and Caroline, Daniel destroyed everything irrevocably, there is no chance of forgiveness and redemption, for this reason, it infuriates me how people too easily treat Emma's trauma as if it doesn't matter

Also I don't like how people demonize John and Caroline, especially John, honestly we don't know what kind of people they were before the disaster because we only get glimpses of them, maybe they weren't very good people or not, but in anyway, it annoys me that all people think that Philips are to blame for everything, although they just wanted to buy a new android, they had no idea that Daniel actually felt something, although I have a theory that John and Caroline noticed that, something what's wrong with Daniel, and his behavior, he was too human, or did things that androids don't usually do, that's the reason they decided to replace Daniel, because of concern, but that's just a theory, anyway, people oversimplify things, making it seem like it's all Phillips' fault, and being too protective of Daniel

Thanks you reading, I needed someone to talk to about this because I felt like I was the only person who thought that Daniel was an asshole, I still have thoughts, but this won’t fit anymore, so I can write something else if only you are interested, of course

YES, YES TO ALL THIS

Man, I feel you, I was so damn frustrated when I went through their tags and saw it over and over again. This absolutely offensive absurd idea of some reconciliation, constant demonisation of John and Caroline and woobification of probably the most radically hateful and destructive character of the whole game. I swear, one of the absolute worst takes I've seen in this fandom were about Daniel and Emma. And it hurts my soul how people seem to refuse to empathise with Emma and Caroline for even one moment, because if they did, I don't believe those tags would look like they are. But well, this fandom is seeing exactly what David Cage presented – really black&white picture of that game world. "People bad androids good"

Btw, I tag them here as "#dbh emma" and "#dbh daniel" if you wanna go through more tags in which it's more similar to your view. I have quite a few posts under those tags, sometimes independently, and sometimes "dbh caroline" as well

Also, I have a really similar headcanon to yours! If you were to post a list of your headcanons about Phillips's and Daniel, I'd be curious to see it.