#it was really like hearing your own internal monologue when you talk to yourself about something boring you care about a lot

[ambassadorquark]

i love the genre of youtube video where a random faceless guy just reviews some niche thing. tremendous.

[emeritusemeritus]

Hi love! If it's not too much to ask, could you maybe do a Fred fic with a bit of an insecure reader? As in, she hears some people say nasty things about her (mainly about appearance like weight) and her relationship with Fred, and she distances herself from him until one day she really can't handle staying away from him anymore? Sweet sweet fluff with a bit of making out by the end, maybe?

Hi Anon, I’m sorry this took so long! I tried to write it as if it was an insecure monologue, a little jumpy and janky like how the reader’s thought process would be. I hope you like it! 🖤

Warnings: Insecure reader, self-deprecating thoughts, bullying, verbal abuse, taunting, talks of breakups, appearance and other issues, negative mentions of weight. Kissing, implied sexual references. Happy ending I promise!

Word count: 2.7k

Fire and Ice

It wasn't easy being Fred Weasley's girlfriend.

Being with Fred, falling in love with him- that part was easy; but having such an extroverted, popular joker for a boyfriend was at times, not so easy.

You were quieter by nature, a little more introverted and a lot more insecure than Fred but you seemed to balance each other out well most of the time, ying and yang, fire and ice. Fred was always quick to silence your hateful internal monologue whenever it presented itself, reminding you that you were beautiful, important, loved- all the things he wanted you to feel, the way that he saw you. But sometimes the insecurities were too much, the voices in your head too loud that you began to believe them again.

Fred had been busy, the tri-wizard tournament had been announced and him and George were trying everything they could to work around the age restriction but upon the application. They’d been virtually locked in their dorm for days researching different ideas and brewing potions that would age them up, though you doubted it would work, they always surprised you in the end.

Their reclusion could not have come at a worse time for you, though of course you would never mention anything. You’d been stood in front of Fred when the students had gathered to watch the regal, horse-drawn carriage fly over the tips of the trees in the forbidden forest and across the Great Lake led by the majestic white winged horses that made it look effortless and well, magical. You’d stood with pure excitement as you watched the magnificent ship emerge from underneath the water and sail towards the bank until you’d all be called away for the feast.

Your excitement had dwindled almost immediately when the girls of Beauxbatons glided through the door in a whimsical and captivating display, grabbing everyone’s attention for their beauty and elegance- including Fred. You’d seen Ron look flabbergasted, a fresh pink hue on his cheeks as he looked upon the girls with mouth agape and a glazed look in his eye and couldn’t help but avert your eyes slightly to see Fred looking at them in a much tamer way, but seeing his eyes fixed upon them nontheless. It pulled at every single one of your heartstrings, that familiar sinking feeling in your gut instantly making you nauseated by the food in front of you.

Their uniforms were delicate and beautiful, tailored perfectly of the finest satin in such a rich colour that it was both feminine and powerful all in one. You couldn’t help but look away from Fred, from anything and began to pick at the edge of your frumpy school cardigan, suddenly disgusted by its mere existence.

When Dumbledore announced the entrance of Durmstrang, you didn’t even look up, already too consumed by your own self-deprecating thoughts. The uniform you’d once been so proud to wear now felt like a potato sack in comparison, shapeless and bland from head to toe. You suddenly wanted to get away, to do anything you could to get out of the shapeless mess and to prove to yourself and to others around you that you weren’t just a blob of blended wool and scruffy hair that had been haphazardly thrown into a high pony ahead of your long day of travelling back to school. But there was nothing you could do, forced to sit there in a mass of unflattering garments next to your boyfriend who had been looking at much more attractive females and pretend to be fine. Thankfully the arrival of professor Moody was enough to prompt serious discussion around you and you could blend into the background without notice, eating only tiny bits and slipping away before the end of the meal.

It continued for days, the stab in your side whenever you’d see the Beauxbatons girls in their pretty uniforms looking so sweet and dainty, often followed around by drooling boys that quivered with their every move. You were jealous, but you wouldn’t admit it, choosing instead to be disgusted by it all and very much wanting it all to be over and for them to be gone. You couldn’t forget the expression on Fred’s face when they made their grand entrance and the pain that it brought when you did remember. You’d never doubted his love for you, not really, though of course you doubted why he chose you in the first place- did he now regret that decision?

It had been days since you’d seen him and the messages he’d initially sent through Lee had dwindled to none, meaning that you were so out of communication that you felt that stinging dread all over again- was he preparing to break up? Had he found someone else? Someone undoubtedly prettier in a powder blue satin uniform?

So when you finally caught sight of that gorgeous red head in the hallway, you lit up, excited to finally get the chance to talk to him. You heard his laugh and smiled to yourself, feeling relieved already- until you noticed he was laughing with one of them. She was pretty, brown hair tucked perfectly into her blue hat and her satin cape bellowing perfectly around her.

Something inside you felt out of place all of a sudden, enraged by the injustice and the inevitable ending to your relationship. You were angry at everything, most notably Fred, the Beauxbatons, the whole stupid competition. It left a sour taste in your mouth and you realised that if Fred wanted out, he could have one of the stupid French girls.

You were sat in the great hall with Hermione quietly reading when you heard a group of people moving excitedly towards the cup which broke your concentration. You watched as Cedric Diggory placed his name in the cup and his friends cheered for him, smacking him on the back in a hearty well done when he suddenly stopped upon making eye contact with you and sent you a little smile of recognition. You smiled back with a little head nod and watched as his friends dragged him away, leaving the room in relative peace once again.

That was until Fred and George came barrelling into the room, their distinctive blend of voices crying out and echoing through the hall as they high five students across the benches, proudly clutching hold of something in their hands, professing that ‘they’d done it’.

You could barely look at them, for the first time not caring in the slightest about what they had created.

“It’s not going to work,” Hermione says from beside you and immediately you are met with their bodies either side of Hermione. You feel Fred’s hand on your shoulder, a little touch that should have given you hope but actually felt repulsive to you. You didn’t even look up from your page, nor acknowledge their arrival and if Fred noticed, he didn’t say anything- though you could feel his eyes in you. The second the Triwizard cup fought back against their tricks, propelling them into the air and forcing them back into the ground with a definitive thud, you were gone. You walked back towards the common room without so much as a glance, not caring to find out the predicted result of their attempt.

“I would just die if I had to wear their uniforms!” You heard from around the corner in a thick French accent that had you rolling your eyes. The stupid little French cackles reached your ears and it was all that you could do not to petrify them on the spot as you attempted to walk straight past them.

“Oh” one of them said, spotting you emerging from around the corner. Another small fit of laughter that was hardly concealed, upon seeing someone in the exact uniform they were mocking.

“Does it feel as frumpy as it looks?” Another one said, her accent almost indecipherable. You shot daggers at the group of four witches and tried to get past but they blocked you in.

“You’re with the tall redhead yes? I’ve seen you,” the blonde one says, making your stomach lurch at her mention of Fred. “He’s cute.”

You don’t retaliate, though you can think of many choice words you wish to say to her, presuming you didn’t reach for your wand first. Their words cut into you like a knife, though you try to block out the harsher things they say about your appearance, your weight, your ugly uniform. Only when they bright up Fred again do your barricades fall, their words tearing you apart.

“It’s funny actually, that he chose you. You look more of a girl he’d want to be friends with, definitely not one to be in love with.”

The final nail in the coffin for you was the round of laughter that echoed throughout the corridor, following you in your mind straight back to the common room until the second you passed out that night, still sobbing into your pillow.

The next morning, your eyes were virtually swollen shut from all the tears shed the night before. You felt retched, all of your fears coming true as the beautiful girls laughed at you, hitting every one of your insecurities. They may as well have called you fat, ugly, all the other things you knew about yourself but never said out loud.

You didn’t go to classes that day, never even attempting to step foot out of the dormitory or even your bed until you were certain everyone had left. You looked an ungodly mess with red puffy eyes and a mass of tangled hair that felt like a limp weight on top of your head. The tears started again within seconds of reaching the bathroom mirror, silently falling down your cheeks and landing in little droplets into the sink. You sobbed for your sorry appearance, for the loss of Fred and for the unfairness in life. Why couldn’t you just be pretty?

You eventually crawled back into bed, not even bothering to sort out the disastrous mess upon your head and forced yourself to go back to sleep, pushing all thoughts of him and them out of your head.

Three days you’d been confined to your bedroom, feigning a migraine that had managed to convince even Mcgonagall and Hermione. Ginny had tried to relay multiple messages from Fred, both verbally and in writing but you’d feigned a worsening headache, nausea and other ailments and asked her politely but definitively to leave, rendering the message unheard. You’d heard all about Harry’s selection from Hermione and how he and Ron were fighting but you’d barely listened to any of it, too consumed by your own issues.

The fourth day, you made it out of bed only to remember that it was a Saturday. You considered slipping back into bed and ignoring the sun completely but your bladder disagreed with your plan vehemently. You wandered to the bathroom and for the first time in days, looked in the mirror.

You looked so sad, so broken that it made your heart constrict a little, seeing a sad little girl staring back at you. You look younger somehow, like a first year all over again. Memories flash beneath your eyes, memories of meeting Fred for the first time, of being young and falling in love, of being the girl that he fell in love with.

Ignoring the vague rumbling of your food deprived stomach, you rush into the showers and attempt to untangle your hair using every product you can find. You shave, condition, lotion up your entire body and make a start on magically fixing your puffy face. You’re on a mission to look your best, to show those petty and judgemental bitches that you were just as worthy as them and more importantly, that you were definitely someone that Fred would- and did- love.

You dried your hair and curled it using a spell you’d found in an old teen magazine that worked surprisingly well and stood back to look at the result, feeling pleased. You looked like yourself again but better, happier.

You dressed in a nicer than usual outfit that was still casual but actually highlighted your curves rather than hiding them, something you knew that Fred liked after years of compliments on your curves. You momentarily considered grabbing a cardigan incase your confidence weakened but thought against it, instead grabbing a jumper than you’d stolen from Fred a year ago. You felt feminine and pretty for the first time in ages and actually smiled when you look in the mirror one last time.

“Well don’t you look nice,” Ginny said as you stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door from where she had walked back into the dorm, realising that everyone else was now awake. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you replied honestly, smiling and nodding a little.Want to get breakfast?”

“I was going to have a shower, Fred’s down there though, he’ll go with you I bet,” Ginny says, grabbing a towel and her bathing stuff. You pursed your lips, not letting the glow fade as you nodded at her, butterflies starting to flutter about in your belly.

Walking down to the common room, your nerves were already starting to build as you scanned the room with your eyes, searching for the one person you hoped to see. The guilt of hiding from him, of pushing away was eating you up and you wanted nothing more than to just make it right. You spot George and Lee in one of the corners, Harry and Hermione on one of the sofas and a few more people dotted around but no Fred.

“Blimey,” you heard to your left but instead of seeing the boy you’d hoped to find, instead you found Ron. His mouth was slightly parted and he was looking at you with an expression he’d never looked at you with before, focusing uncomfortably on a piece of your chest never wished to have his eyes.

You flinched as you watched Ron get smacked in the back of the head unexpectedly, making him wince and rub his head but you didn’t see anymore after his initial reaction, instead focusing your attention on his assailant. Fred.

“Look at my girl like that again and I’ll transfigure every piece of furniture in your room into a spider,” he says gruffly as he walks past Ron, keeping his eyes on you and moves to stand directly in front of you, reaching for your hand.

“Are you feeling better?” He says carefully, eyeing you with slight trepidation, making you frown.

“Much better,” you reply carefully, watching his reaction.

“Good, then I won’t feel guilty for this,” he says, pulling you forcibly by the hand until you bump into his chest, his lips finding yours almost immediately as he kisses you with a fiery passion.

“You look so hot,” he mumbles against your lips, hands finding your synched waist and bordering on inappropriately low as one hand tucks into your back pocket. You kiss back with just as much passion, happy that all the doubts and the insecurity had been wiped away, though you still felt guilty for pushing him away. “You’re never hiding from me again.”

He begins to tug at your side and you realise he’s pulling you away, towards the stairs to the dorms.

“But Freddie, breakfast,” you weakly protest.

“Can wait,” he mumbles, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he barely parts from you, only enough to push you up the stairs towards his empty dorm, giving you a teasing smack on the ass as you ascend, for good luck. You never doubted his love for you again, especially not for the next hour.

[starfilmz]

SHOW ME WHERE IT HURTS — SAM W.

⤷ An argument between sam and dean lead for the younger winchester to call the teen help line his friends has been bugging him about. ᡣ𐭩

cw: gn!reader, sam pov, platonic relationships, maybe a little of mischaracterization, jess is here, swearing, takes place in s1ep1, unbeta’d so mistakes are around, inspired by dawson’s creek’s college help line and this fic (read if you like cj braxton or jensen!), alot of sam internal monologue. banner || gif

It all started one night when Dean arrived at his and Jess’ apartment, out of nowhere, and tried to bring him back into hunting because of their dad’s prolonged disappearance. Sam’s mind was already a jumbled mess because of his interview on Monday; his brother’s appearance and his attempt to make him leave Stanford were the last things he needed. He can’t just leave the life he’s been building on his own—at first, at least, now he had his friends, his Jess— and Sam wasn’t willing to let it crumble down for the man that had shut him out of his own family.

He was quick to reject Dean, not even when he used his brotherly tone on him.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Dean said with a scowl. “Didn’t you hear what I said? Dad is—”

“I heard you, Dean.” Sam crossed his arms, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “And I meant what I said. This isn’t the first time Dad didn’t come when he said will.” He felt for Dean; he really did. If he were to have come sooner, before everything, Sam would’ve said yes. The guilt Sam had instilled in himself for leaving Dean weighed on his shoulders, but that wasn’t enough.

His brother’s frown deepened when he didn’t respond, though Sam could see the visible disappointment and anger in the boy’s eyes. The silence thickened the tension between them and deafened him—he swore he could hear Jess’ breathing in the other room.

Dean turned his head away from Sam, and with his jaw clenched in the same way he does whenever he wants to say something but refuses to. Sam, even with the little time he spent with Dean as a teenager, was able to pick up the facial expressions and unsaid words his brother would use when their dad was around.

“Fine.” It’s not fine. “I’ll go look for him myself, with or without you.” He meant that, actually. “Enjoy your little university, Sammy.” Go fuck yourself.

Sam suppressed a sigh as Dean left, who made sure to slam the door on his way out.

“That went well.” Jess was already behind him as she spoke. “He looked exactly as you described him; rugged and, I quote, like a ticking time bomb.” Her arms circled around his torso, managing to intertwine their fingers together. Sam remained quiet as he looked at the closed door.

He didn’t expect Dean to take his rejection so hard. Sam knew his brother was more than capable on fighting a house full of ghosts on his own, let alone finding a human being. Why did he need his help anyway?

Sam sighed, squeezing Jess’s hands. “It’s something you’ll need to get used to.” He turned around to plant a quick peck on the girl’s head, leading them back to their shared bedroom.

“I’m guessing this is a family matter you’re not going to share with me?” She asked as soon as she got on the bed.

“Jess...”

She smiled at him, though the corner of her lips didn’t exactly reach her eyes, and took his hand. Sam lets her gently pull him down beside her on the mattress, their feet planted on the wooden floorboards.

“I’m not going to pester you for it. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but judging from what I’ve heard, you guys have a lot to talk about with each other, not your girlfriend.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam agreed, running his fingers on his hair. “but I have a lot on my plate right now. I can’t just- you know, leave.”

Jess nodded, her expression never changing from her soft gaze. “Unfortunately, I can’t tell you about it, since you don’t give me much detail about it.” Sam looked like he was about to be say her name again in that same tired voice whenever they would talk about his family. “But I know where you can. Anonymously, so you could tell all the details without trouble.”

He groaned, letting himself fall horizontally on the bed. Sam knew exactly what she was talking about. It’s been what his friends have been doing since the announcement from the school board. It was some sort of collaboration between neighboring schools— Stanford created a teenage helpline specifically for the university close to them, and vice versa. Some students confided in the helpline since the counselors weren’t from their university, but Sam had refused to give in.

It felt stupid to spill all your secrets and personal problems to another person, who’s most likely the same age as him, and expect to get the answers he needed. Sam had to point out that the helpline was used for normal problems, but that wasn’t something he could say to his friends, who continued to force him into dialing them.

“Jess, c’mon, I highly doubt a student can fix my problem with just one phone call.” Sam dismissed the idea entirely, but Jess seemed to be persistent with it, anyway. She lay on his chest, letting Sam’s hand twirl with the ends of her hair.

“Who said about fixing? or that it’s just one phone call?” Jess adjusted her position on the bed, letting her legs rest on Sam’s. “Sometimes, a person just has to talk to someone to help them feel better. Obviously the counselor won’t fix your family’s situation, but they could probably help you from exploding the pretty head of yours.”

Sam glanced at Jess, and from the tired tone in her voice when she spoke up, it didn’t surprise him to see her already fast asleep on top of him. He smiled for the first time in a while after Dean appeared, and the cogs in his head began spinning. For as long as he could remember, ever since he began studying at Stanford, Sam had nights where he’d talk to himself in his head. Sometimes, it would be about a test he needed to take the next morning— a topic he could easily make conversation with— but it’s usually about his family, more specifically his brother, Dean.

Especially during his first week, Sam found himself sleeping in a place that wasn’t a dingy motel with a roommate who wasn’t his brother. Sam wondered at night what Dean would be doing, knowing sleep was the last thing on the list. Then he would feel his chest tighten— the one thing his dad didn’t want his sons to have was fear. As much as he believed in Dean and the remaining fatherly instincts their dad had, Sam couldn’t shake off the feeling of guilt for every possible injury his brother had or would have because he wasn’t there to back him up. The thought of the older brother, whom he viewed as the strongest person he knew (despite his lack of saying so), all bruised and battered, cornered by monsters no person should be laying their eyes on in the first place, clawed onto Sam the whole night.

And the worst part of it all was that he had nothing to prove himself otherwise, leaving him chained to his own guilt.

Sam closed his eyes, his migraine coming just in time. If monsters weren’t going to kill him, he was sure it would be himself who would do so.

—-

The next morning, as soon as he got his first vacant time in between classes, Sam had to excuse himself from his friends, including Jess, who exactly knew the reason why he needed to go back to the apartment. It was a now-or-never situation, Sam believed. He gave Jess a chaste kiss before leaving. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” she answered, though he was already a few steps away to hear it.

Sam entered the small home, leaving his bag on the couch, and grabbed the telephone from the bedroom. He was already pressing against the buttons before he registered what he was about to do. When it rang, Sam immediately began to think about what he was going to say.

It was an anonymous call, but surely he doesn’t have to be fully honest, right?

Even if Sam had never talked about his former profession to other people, he knew ghost hunting wasn’t exactly a well-received topic.

“Help line. This is Y/N.”

Sam held his breath for some reason, scared that even the pattern of his breathing could easily be an indicator of who he was. His leg nervously shook below him, still unable to say a word into the mouthpiece. A few seconds passed, and he heard your voice again; this time he could clearly hear your voice against his ear. Sam assumed you got closer to the phone.

“I could hear something shaking from your end, if I’m not mistaken. That’s either your hands trembling on the phone, your legs shaking against the floor, or it’s something else causing it.” His eyes widened at your observation just by what you’re hearing. This caused him to voluntarily stop his leg, embarrassed by his action.

“I guess it was you.” Your tone remained careful, though Sam had no idea why. “If there’s anything keeping you from talking freely, press on any of the buttons, please.” The boy finally registered your sudden change of mood— you were worried for him. It started to make him wonder what type of phone calls you receive every day.

“There’s nothing. I’m alone.” Sam leaned against the couch with a sigh. “Just nerves, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. A lot of first-time callers feel the same way.” You reassured him. He was glad your voice sounded much calmer.

“You can track those?”

“I mean, yeah, since you guys are anonymous, it’s the only way we can keep up with regulars.”

In truth, Sam fully expected a whole spiel from you. Like a robot scripted into saying whatever’s appropriate for the caller, he wasn’t fully prepared for your laid-back tone and casual words, as if the two of you were just friends talking.

“So, anything troubling you today? or in general?” He didn’t realize he’d been quiet for a whole minute. Again, he was surprised by the amount of patience you’re giving him.

“Oh, uh, yeah, yes.” Sam coughed into his fist at how awkward he sounded. “You guys don’t usually get family problems, don’t you?” He would assume so, seeing as both Help lines were created a few months before Midterms.

Sam heard a quiet chuckle from you. “We do, actually. A lot of Stanford students seemed to hate their parents more than we thought they would.” He doesn’t exactly fall far from them, Sam thought to himself.

“But we try our best not to fuel them. The Help Line is exactly what it is; we help, but only to a certain degree.” You continued, your voice full of the most sincerity he’s ever heard from someone. He could tell you were quite fond of what you do.

“I bet a lot of your callers were glad they decided to call you guys.”

“Maybe,” You paused for a moment. “are you?”

The change of topic caught him off guard. Sam didn’t exactly plan to keep the conversation going about you and Help Line; talking with you made him forget why he called in the first place. To catch that as well— you were really good of a counselor.

Sam nodded and realized what he just did before answering your question. “Yes, I am,” he couldn’t help the smile forming on his face. “this is probably the most like-able conversation I had over the phone.”

You hummed as you listened. “Unlike-able people calling you often?”

"Not really, now. I did have a bit of an argument with my brother in real life last night. I didn’t like how it ended.” Sam’s words came out almost naturally, unaware of how open he’s currently being. You had that sense of familiarity in Sam’s head already, despite how little time has passed since the two of you spoke.

“Tell me about it.” And he knew you meant it, so he did.

Sam gave all the details of what happened last night with Dean, though he had to keep him under the alias of ‘Older Brother’ for his sake. He told you about his relationship with their dad and with Dean, how he was never the son he wanted him to be, which resulted in him leaving for good and his small journey to Stanford.

He was still weighing his decision to be completely honest with you, and he told you that as well.

“That’s totally up to you, really. If those details aren’t needed for what you need help with, then you don’t have to.” You responded, being the ever-understanding angel Sam was learning you were.

“I’m not really looking for fixing, if that’s what you’re thinking of helping me,” he recalled Jess’ words from last night. “I don’t like talking about these things with my friends or my girlfriend because they shouldn’t be burdened by my messed up life.”

You were quiet on the other line, except for the barely audible breathing that told him you didn’t hang up on him. Sam wasn’t expecting an immediate response; you needed just the amount of time to think of one, just like any other person in a normal conversation would.

“I’m all ears, then. I can’t imagine having to handle all that by yourself. This call isn’t just for fixing, I assure you; sometimes people just need to let out some steam to help them think, y’know?”

“That’s true,” Sam agreed with a sigh. “I make a bunch of wrong decisions when I’m all worked up.”

“Like saying no to your brother?”

Sam’s lips thinned into a straight line, as if he were a deer caught in headlights. His silence seemed to have made you continue speaking.

“Hey, like I said, I’m all ears, but questions are meant to happen when you’re listening,” you said, your voice lighter than before, as if you’re trying to bring back the friendly mood.

Sam smiled as you did, scratching the back of his neck. “I get it, yeah,” he said, tapping on the back of the phone with his finger, thinking about your question. “my mind was a bit out of it last night, not to mention the—”

Pausing on his words, Sam managed to catch himself from mentioning how Dean greeted him that night. He didn’t think that was information you needed anyway.

“Never mind. What I’m trying to say is, yes, maybe my answer was a bit of a ‘heat of the moment’ thing,” Sam confessed. To you or to himself?

“I’m glad you finally managed to catch up with yourself.” Your voice was filled with humor, a teasing tone that somehow made Sam’s heavy chest a little bit lighter as he playfully scoffed.

“Is it allowed for counselors to make fun of their callers?” He challenged, but had no intention whatsoever. The chuckle from your end made him grin.

“Only if it’s needed in the process.”

“Let’s agree to disagree.”

The banter ended with the two of you laughing at each other, though Sam was laughing at himself a little bit. He knew Help Lines existed for a reason, but Sam doubted he’d get this much help if another person who wasn’t you had picked up his call in the first place. You were a good person in a good job that fitted you.

Sam’s mind was a bit clearer for now, definitely better than usual, and he wanted to fix his mistakes as soon as possible.

He was the first one to break the comfortable silence. “Thank you, by the way.”

“There’s no need for thanks,” You seemed to be genuinely pleased at it, though. “the best way you can thank me is if you feel better than before.”

“I do. After this call, I’ll probably start looking for my brother, if I can find a way.”

“Of course, you will. I can’t exactly help with that, but if you need me in ways that I can, feel free to call back next week.” Sam smiled at the offer. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

“How would I know it’s you I’m calling?” He asked.

“My shift starts at three pm and ends at eight. If you don’t get me, you’re allowed to switch counselors. Just look for the charming employee named Y/N and they’ll direct you to me.”

“I think saying your name would be just fine,” Sam chuckled as he heard your whispered protest. “okay, okay, I’ll ask the charming employee named Y/N when I call again.”

Your switch of moods made him shake his head. “That’s the spirit! You promise?”

“The name or the call?” Sam teased.

“Preferably both, but mostly the call part.”

“Yes, yeah, I will. I’ll update you on what happens.”

“Oh, gossip!” You faked a gasp, making you laugh at your own jokes as well Sam. “I’m so glad this isn’t a recorded line.”

[hayleythesugarbowl]

so I know you like just did a Angela x reader one shot and IM SO SORRY LIKE SO SORRY BUT COULD YOU DO ANOTHER ONE can it be like a really sad on like a realllllllllllllllllllllllly sad like I’m saying reallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllly sad if you could 😭 pls thanks bae and if you need some ideas I got you so what if reader like was in love with Angela but we found out she was going out with someone but we didn’t know it was like only for like two days and didn’t really like them and so we started to distance ourselves from her and it got so bad to where we stopped showing up for try not to laugh or eat it or yeet it to the point where we asked to be a editor or something off screen and that’s all I can think off but have a lil fluff at the end please thanks bae love you have a great morning afternoon or night too❤️❤️❤️❤️

Love Hurts || Angela Giarratana x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ masterlist • smosh masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ summary: oneshot where you have been in love with angela for months and upon finding out that she is dating someone else, heartbroken, you start to distance yourself from her and everything else in your life

word count: 3.9k

warnings: angst

a/n: i hope you enjoy this love!! i tried to make it sad enough for u, i hope i succeeded 💋 also, since i wrote most of this while listening to taylor swift, i think this is very much i can see you, gold rush, labyrinth, and lover coded in that order!! also i have a smosh masterlist now so you can find everything there 🎀🍓

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     You took a deep breath.

     Today was the day. The day you were finally going to ask Angela Giarratana, your cast-mate at Smosh and crush of the past three months who was maybe, possibly the love of your life, out. 

      Ever since you’d started working at Smosh, you’d been drawn to Angela and her beautiful smile and charming, exuberant personality. After months of admiring her in secret, you finally decided to make a move.

     You liked to think you two were getting closer. Talking more and more and quickly  becoming good friends. You couldn’t be sure how she felt, but you had to take a chance 

     It was now or never.

     You turned a corner, shoving your hands deeper into your pockets as you walked swiftly down the hallway. 

     What’s the worst that could happen? You thought. She could say no. Humiliate you. You could ruin your friendship.

     Internal monologue, not helping, You thought. 

     Shaking the ideas from your head, you tried to focus on something else. You had to be confident. And your own doubtful thought weren’t doing you any favors.

     You rounded the next corner, seeing Angela and Chanse in the middle of a conversation several feet away.

     “Tell me everything!” You heard Chanse say. 

     Angela tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a movement you had observed many times. “There isn’t much to tell!”

     She turned her head, catching sight of you standing there and smiling at you.

     “Oh, (Y/n), hey!”

     “Hi, uh,” you started, “I was just going to—can I talk to you for a second?” 

     No turning back now.

     She walked towards you, “Of course.”

     “I’ll catch you later,” Chanse said, “ when you will finish telling me about last night.”

     You looked inquisitively at Angela.

     She rolled her eyes at Chanse, waving him off, and told you, “Just this date I had last night. So what is it you wanted to talk about?”

     You felt like you’d been punched in the stomach. “What?”

     “Oh, it’s just this person I’ve been seeing, and Chanse wants to hear every a run-down of every date and every detail of our relationship.” 

     This couldn’t be happening. You tried to say something else, but couldn’t find the right words to say.

     Finally, Angela spoke up, “So you wanted to tell me something?”

     “Um, yeah I just, wanted to say that—I have the schedule for tomorrow if you want to see it. I know you don’t check your email often and so I printed out the schedule for you.” You finished, defeated.

     “Oh,” Angela seemed mildly confused, “Ok, thanks! I’ll come by to get it from you later.”

     “Great,” you said, trying to smile. Trying not to show your disappointment. Trying to take even breaths and get out of there.

     “Hey, are you okay?” Angela said, “you seem like something’s on your mind.”

     You. “Nope, everything’s fine,” you got out, “I’ll catch you later.”

     And before she could respond, you turned and speed-walked away from Angela and your conversation. 

     Once you were a good distance away, you let yourself deflate.

     Despite yourself, tears started to cloud your vision as you made it to the first door you came upon—which happened to be the bathroom—and you shut yourself in, leaning against the door and letting yourself cry.

     Stupid. Irrational. You told yourself. Angela had the right to date whoever she wanted. You hadn’t even asked her out yet. But a part of you had thought she’d say yes. That she’d felt the same way about you all this time as you’d felt about her. That you hadn’t been in love with her for months only to have it come to an end like this. And to top it all off, you remembered, now you had to print out your schedule for tomorrow to give to Angela, successfully backing up your lie.

     You pressed your palms into your eyes and willed the tears to stop. 

     You heard footsteps outside, and quickly ran into a stall, locking the door. You honestly weren’t sure if you were in a men’s or women’s restroom, but either way you didn’t want anyone to see you like this and have to explain what was going on. 

     You waited until you heard whoever was in there with you go in and out before stepping out of the stall, rushing to the door, and quickly stepping back into the hallway. You knew you had to film Eat it or Yeet it in a few minutes. But you didn’t know how you could bring yourself to face Angela again—just thinking about your last conversation made you sick. 

     Reluctantly, you made your way back to set and scanned the room, trying not to look like you’d been crying. You saw Courtney in conversation with one of the crew members, Damien and Shayne laughing at a joke one of them had just made, and Amanda taking a sip of her coffee.

     No sign of Angela. Yet. 

     You looked over just in time to see Amanda walking over to you. 

     “What’s up, (Y/n)?”

     “Uh, nothing much.”

     “Have you seen Angela?” Amanda asked you when you didn’t elaborate, “She should be on set.”

     “No, I haven’t,” you lied. You couldn’t deal with reliving the past few minutes right now. 

     As if on cue, Angela walked into the room. “Hey guys! Sorry I’m late,” She called out.

     You looked up at her, but looked away quickly. 

     “Angela!” Courtney called out, rushing over, “Chanse tells me you’ve been seeing someone behind our backs? Spill!”

     You dug your fingernails into your leg.

     “I haven’t been doing anything behind your backs,” Angela said, grinning, “and yes I’ve been seeing someone but—”

     Just then you all got called to start the show and the conversation dissolved.

     “Well, we all want to hear about it later, right (Y/n)?” Courtney looked to you for help. 

     “Um, I—”

     You were saved from responding by Angela exclaiming, “I’ll tell you later, I promise!”

    It was going to be a long day.

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     “(Y/n), are you ok?” 

     You spun around, coming face to face with Angela.

     “What?”

     “You just seemed…distant during Eat it or Yeet it.”

     Distant was one term for it. Living a nightmare was another. 

     You had struggled to make it through the episode, sitting next to Angela and trying not to notice—willing your heart not to race—every time your shoulders brushed or she looked at you. You tried to tell yourself this shouldn’t feel any different—you were still friends and you still loved her in secret. 

     That much hadn’t changed, You thought wryly. 

     Except that you knew she was seeing someone else.

     You squeezed your eyes shut before answering Angela, attempting an ‘I’m fine’ look.

     “I’m just tired.”

    “Alright, well, I’ll see you later to get that schedule…” 

     Shoot, that’s right.

     “Sounds like a plan,” was all you said. 

     “Great!” She leaned in for a hug and you hugged her back, unable to not notice how her hair smelled like mango and flower blossoms. 

     Curse her, You thought, curse her and her perfectly shampooed hair.

     After a moment, you watched her walk away, thinking it was going to be nearly impossible to make it through the rest of the week. You’d just have to go on pretending. Act supportive of Angela and her partner. Act like nothing was wrong. Act like you weren’t a mess inside. 

     Act like you weren’t in love with Angela

     ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     The rest of the week went about as well as you thought it would. 

     You’d spent the whole time practically avoiding Angela. Turning the other way if you saw her coming. Making up excuses to get out of conversations she was a part of. Keeping your answers short.

     Everything was a reminder.

     Shoots were harder. When you had to act like everything was fine in videos and put on a smiling face for Angela and the public. 

     You didn’t want to distance yourself from her. But it was hard to be around her when all that ran through your head when you saw her was She doesn’t love you and she never will.

     Your other cast mates had started to notice you acting differently, if the “are you ok?”s and the “are you sure you don’t need anything?”s were any indication. You appreciated their concern, you really did. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell any of them the real reason for your distraught state. Still, the worried questions kept rolling in. From everyone but Angela, because you never stayed around her quite long enough to let her inquire.

     “(Y/n), did you hear me?” A voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you looked up, out of your daze, quickly.

     “Sorry Damien, what were you saying?” 

     He looked at you with a frown, “It’s ok, I was just asking if you—”

     Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Angela walking into the room and headed in your general direction. 

     You stood up quickly. “I have to go, I’m sorry.”

     Picking up your bag, you fled the room, leaving Damien standing there, mid-sentence.  

     “(Y/n), wait!” You heard someone call you.

     You kept walking, hoping you could pretend you didn’t hear the voice you knew had just said your name. 

     Angela.

     Eventually, she caught up to you and you were forced to spin around.

     “Ok, I don’t know what’s up, or why you’ve been avoiding me all week…”

     She trailed off, waiting you to explain, and when you didn’t she kept going. 

     “Did I do something?” She looked at you expectantly.

     “I—no, you did absolutely nothing, I mean I haven’t—” 

     “If I offended you in any way, I’m sorry,” she said. “And I’m also worried about you, you haven’t seemed your self lately at all.”

     You sighed. “No, it’s nothing like that, I’m just really busy and I—I have to go.”

     You turned the other way and kept walking, not looking back to see the concerned expression on Angela’s face. 

     Great. Just great. On top of it all, now Angela thought you were mad at her. 

     If she only knew that couldn’t be farther from the truth, you thought.

     You turned a corner and almost ran right into Shayne, heading in the opposite direction. 

     “Hey, (Y/n), didn’t see you there! You ready for TNTL. I’ve got this awesome new bit—ok, imagine a shark goes to medical school…”

     You didn’t hear the rest of that sentence. You’d completely forgotten there was another shoot today. You internally groaned. You’d much rather go home, sit in your pajamas, and enjoy your much-anticipated date with ice cream and Pride and Prejudice. 

     “…and anyways obviously the cheesecake can’t be eaten, which is why the whole place explodes. What do you think?”

     “Um, sounds great,” you said, having missed half of what he said. You continued to walk with him to the set of TNTL. When you got there, an animated conversation was already taking place.

     “I did not say it like that!” Angela was saying

     “Sounded like it to me,” Courtney said.

     “Totally said it like the heart-eyes emoji,” Damien agreed, imitating the face.

     “No,” Angela corrected, “all I said was that Alex was coming to guest star on Try Not To Laugh. Do you hear any heart eyes?”

     “No, no heart eyes. Just Alex, my true love, my one and only, the fire of my loins—” Amanda went on but you couldn’t listen to any more.

     No. This couldn’t be happening. The person Angela was dating couldn’t not be coming here. Now. 

     You couldn’t do the show. You turned to Shayne, “I forgot something, I’m going to go back really quick.”

     No one else had seen you yet. You rushed away from the set, opening the first door you found—a storage room—and sat down on a box, burying your face in your hands. Could this week get any worse?

     And you were crying again. For the—honestly you’d stopped counting how many times since the day. 

     You felt really bad skipping a shoot like that. This was your job! But you couldn’t bear to see Angela with the person she’d been going out with. 

     Hearing about it was one thing. But actually seeing them acting like a couple in front of you—you might actually be sick. 

     You had to figure something out. You couldn’t stay in this room forever. You couldn’t keep ditching shows, and moping around, and avoiding Angela for the rest of

your life. As much as you’d like to. 

     You didn’t know how long you sat there in that closet, letting the tears fall as you contemplated your situation. Finally, when you figured someone would probably start looking for you soon, you got up, wiping the tears from your face, and opened the door. 

     You didn’t know where to go from there.

You were contemplating this when suddenly you heard a noise and, turning around, were met with at least half a dozen faces staring at you from down the hall. You noticed Angela among them.

     “(Y/n)!” 

     “We’ve been looking all over for you!”

     “Where have you been?”

     “You never showed up for TNTL, what’s wrong?”

     “What we’re you doing in there?”

     Never showed up for TNTL. That meant you must have been in that closet for much longer than you thought.

     You didn’t know who’s question to answer first. Or how to answer any of them.

Completely overwhelmed, you did the only logical thing.

     You ran.

     Ok, maybe it wasn’t the only logical thing. But as you dashed towards the back door and your waiting car in the lot, you decided it was worth it. You’d come up with an excuse later, even though it would be hard. 

     But if it meant not having to face Angela today, then skipping one TNTL shoot wasn’t that big of a deal.

     Right?

     ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     It wasn’t long before one turned into every show Angela was in. 

     The first time you’d blamed it on food poisoning. But by the eighth or ninth you were running out of excuses. Once you skipped one shoot, it became easier to do it again and a lot harder to work up the nerve to be that close to Angela with things the way they were. 

     You knew you shouldn’t be skipping, but the idea had just become so tempting. It wasn’t that you wanted to, it was more that you physically couldn’t bring yourself to show up. 

     You contemplated these things as you sat across from Ian Hecox, your boss, waiting for him to say something.

     “(Y/n), I think you know why I need to talk to you. You’ve missed…a lot of filming. It’s becoming a problem.”

     Your knew that. Which is why you had come to a decision about what to do. 

     “I know, and I’m sorry. I was thinking…I don’t think I want to be a part of the cast anymore.”

     You let that sink in. It killed you. You loved your job and what you did. This decision didn’t come lightly. But for your mental state, it had to be done. Besides, you were probably going to get fired anyway if you missed any more work.

      You continued, “I have loved being a part of the cast here and If there’s any way it could work, I’d like to apply to be an editor. I think I have the credentials to do it and I feel like it would be best for me.”

     Ian contemplated you, “Well, I don’t know what’s brought on this sudden change but if you think it’s best, I can probably make something work. We do want to keep you around, you know. I know everyone’s worried about you.”

     You swallowed hard. “Thank you, I appreciate it. Can I?” You motioned to the door behind you.

     “Go ahead.” Ian smiled at you. 

     You rushed out of the office and shut the door behind you, leaning against the wall. 

     You couldn’t believe you just did that. You’d worked so hard to get where you were. And now, there you were, throwing away your entire career. You steeled yourself. You made this decision, and you were going to stick with it.

     “So, editor, huh?” 

     How had you not noticed Angela standing on the other side of the office door?

     “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I was just waiting to talk to Ian and I couldn’t help but overhear,” she said, sheepishly.

     “Yeah, I uh, I just think it’s best,” you told her, trying to stay composed. But something about the decision you’d made mixed with Angela standing in front of you looking all warmhearted and beautiful made something inside you break. You couldn’t stop the tears from threatening to pour out and so you turned away.

     “Hey,” Angela said, catching your arm, “what’s up?”

     “It’s nothing,” you attempted.

     “It’s not nothing, you’ve been acting weird these past few weeks and I want to know what’s going on.”

     You tried to respond, you really did, but the tears were falling harder now and you couldn’t make out a response. 

     “(Y/n), come here,” she led you to a chair and crouched down in front of you. “What’s wrong?”

     You couldn’t possibly begin to tell her. “I—I can’t.”

     “(Y/n), I’m your friend and I care about you, you can tell me anything.”

     She was looking at you so intently now. So intently you almost told her everything.   

     How you had been devastated and heartbroken when you found out she was with someone else. How you couldn’t be around her without wanting to cry when you knew she’d never feel the same way about you as you did about her. How you’d began to distance yourself from everything and everyone around you. How you had basically ruined your career over all of it.

     How she could quite possibly be the love of your life, even still. 

     As you stared into her warm, brown eyes and thought, What if I could?

     “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

     “Sorry? For what?”

     “For ignoring you and…and avoiding you.”

     “I knew it! I told Shayne I knew you were avoiding me, and I was right! Dude owes me five bucks,” she looked down sheepishly, “but not the time, I get it.”

     You almost smiled. That was what Angela did. She made people feel better by making them smile, making them laugh. 

     You swiped at your cheek with the sleeve of your sweater. “I’m sorry also for not telling you why I was avoiding you. I promise I was never mad.”

     She waved it off, “I get it, I’m loud.” She shrugged, smiling.

     “No, no that’s not why. I—it’s just—I can’t tell you.”   

     “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to—I just want to make sure you’re ok,” she gently rubbed your arm. You leaned into her touch.

    You took a deep breath. Sitting here crying in front of Angela while she consoled you, a thought ran through your head. A crazy one, but a thought still.

     What did you have to lose? 

     “You Angela, It’s you.”

     “Me?”

     “I know you don’t know this, but the day I heard you said you were involved with someone I was—” 

     You looked up at Angela, awaiting the rest of your sentence. You could do this.

     You continued. “I was on my way to ask you out and—and I know it shouldn’t have mattered to me that you were seeing someone but I couldn’t bear to picture you with someone else and after I knew it was just hard to see you when everything was a—reminder and so that, that’s why I avoided you and stopped showing up to set and I just, I was a mess—I’m still a mess and—”

     You broke off as your voice cracked, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt Angela wrap her arms around you, rubbing your back. You rested your head on her shoulder, letting all the things you’d felt and kept in for the past few weeks out.

     You lifted your head, sniffing. “Sorry, I’m probably ruining your shirt.”

     “Don’t be, it’s Courtney’s anyway. Don’t tell her,” she added.

     You laughed, the first real laugh in many days. 

     As wonderful as this moment was, you remembered what the conversation was about and the fact that Angela was dating someone.

     “I didn’t mean to tell you any of this, ever.

I know you’re in a relationship and I don’t mean at all to—impose or anything—”

     “(Y/n), stop—Alex and I aren’t dating anymore. We haven’t been for weeks.”

     What? “But—”

     “When you heard me talking to Chanse that day? Well we broke up that night. To be honest, I didn’t even want to go on a second date let alone a fourth but,” she threw her hands in the air, making a face. 

     Your couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was she saying that this whole time, she hadn’t even been seeing anyone? But—

     “You invited Alex to TNTL, I just thought…”

     “Alex is an aspiring comedian, I was just helping out.”

     You wrapped your arms around yourself. “Wow, sure makes me look stupid, huh?”

     “Hey, you’re not stupid (Y/n), ok?” she tilted your chin toward her. “You know that right?” 

     You nodded, but looked away quickly.

     “(Y/n), I just, I had no idea,” she shook her head. “How you felt this whole time and all that you’ve been through recently…”

     “I guess I’ve effectively ruined our friendship now, haven’t I?” You awkwardly wiped the rest of the tears from your face.

    Angela looked at you, really looked at you as if she was contemplating something. You remembered all over again how easy it was to get lost in her eyes.

     She leaned forward, until you were inches apart.

     “Well, I’m glad,” she said, her voice quiet, “because if you’ve already ruined our friendship, then it can’t hurt to do this.”

     She leaned in and kissed you softly. You kissed her back with the longing of months and she wrapped her arms around you. You did the same, savoring this moment.

     Everything was a blur. You couldn’t believe mere moments ago you’d been certain that you and Angela could never be. You’d spent months in a depressed state, heartbreak turning into numbness and spiraling and a perpetual sadness. You’d confessed all of this to Angela and found out you’d been making assumptions this whole time. 

     And then you’d kissed her. Were kissing her. And it was everything you’d hoped it would be.

     She pulled away, saying “And that’s a yes, (Y/n), I’d love to go out with you.”

     You smiled at her, a real smile, and said, “I love you, Angela.”

     “Love ya more,” she kissed you quickly and then jumped up, grabbing your hand. 

     “Now let’s go tell Ian that you want your job back.”

     “Sounds like a plan,” you told her, grinning from ear to ear.

     You looked down at Angela’s hand in yours. You looked at the way she was smiling at you, eager to fix your mistakes. You looked at all of the possibilities and all of the memories yet to be made and the love that could only grow. 

     And you were happy. For the first time in nearly a month, you were happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ˋ°•*⁀➷ hope this was what you wanted, happy to give you the smosh + angela content you deserve <3

[multiplicity-positivity]

Heya! I hope you're having a great day! I saw in your askbox guidelines that you're open to advice asks so I thought I'd drop by but please delete this if you're uncomfortable! I know this is a MASSIVE ask so I really will not be offended if you don't want to answer. Para in this context is meaning another character in my paracosm that I interact with instead of being. If anyone else sees this and wants to add their own opinions in the notes, please do!

I'm really struggling to figure out if I'm plural so I thought I'd get your opinion (/nf) given I've been using the resources off your blog for months LOL. I have a potential headmate who was originally a maladaptive daydreaming para. This para would be a fictive from a popular game. He follows the same archetype I've latched onto for paras since I was little & has told me he sees the other characters as similar to him when asked. I've been daydreaming since I was 4ish, he has been my para since I was 11. I'm currently 17. I'm going to bullet point real quick to stop it being an absolute wall of text! Reasons I have to believe he might be a headmate:

He often expresses different opinions to me or interest in different topics.

He seems to generally know almost all of what's going on/what has happened, but sometimes asks me to remind him or explain something (moreso for stuff several years back).

His voice sounds different in the internal monologue.

I think I've sensed him watching what I've been doing in the past & possibly felt him be triggered by stuff relating to his source.

One of the times he interacted unprompted was due to me being very negatively triggered.

He has gender dysphoria (see the bit below).

He's nothing like me identity wise. He's middle-aged and a cis guy and I'm fairly certain he has a different sexuality.

Reasons I doubt him:

He only speaks once prompted or once I think about him passively, excluding a couple of rare occasions. I very rarely hear from him unprompted at the moment unless I'm stressed.

He has never fronted fully. We might've switched once or twice in the past (though it was more co-fronting). It normally feels like the internal monologue switching to be his in the front & mine in the back. I'd say the terms non-possessive & monoconscious would be most fitting. I think us being able to switch on demand that early though feels wrong - though we can't always. Oh adding it here as it connects but not as a point against him: these 'switches' are sometimes accompanied by gender dysphoria, though I'm genderqueer anyway. His dysphoria is more for being male though (I actually realised I wasn't cis because of him abt 3 years back!).

I can talk to any fictional character I've engaged a lot with due to maladaptive daydreaming. I'm nervous I'm just daydreaming him tbh or forcing his responses bc sometimes he merges with my daydreaming and the lines blur.

I had a past episode where I thought I was a system a few years back but that was unrelated to him (though he was an 'alter' in that) and totally ungrounded in anything LOL.

As far as labels go, I think we might be median?? Perhaps OSDD but unlikely. I got a 35.7 on the dissociative experiences scale denoting OSDD but I got 21 on the MIID (though that felt heavily geared towards aggressive and/or childlike alters imo). I promise I'm not looking for a yes or no or a diagnosis or anything! Just any general opinions/pointers/advice you've got. It's good to hear the opinions of outsiders sometimes. Don't feel pressured to say yes either, I won't feel invalidated if you're like "urmm no that's definitely something else" because it very possibly is! If anyone else sees this and wants to add their own opinions in the notes, please do! This is all /nav /lh

hey, so we (and anyone else, really) can’t confirm or deny whether or not you’re plural. in the end, it’s going to be something you have to figure out or decide for yourself(ves). no one knows you better than you know yourself, after all, especially not people online.

plurality is an at-will label that anyone at all can use if they feel like it fits for them. it’s a label you can put on and take off at your own discretion as it works for you. if you feel plural, you’re welcome to call yourself plural, and you belong in the community just as you are. if you ever realize and decide that you’re not actually plural in the future, no harm done. it’s okay to question, and it’s okay to be wrong. it’s all a part of learning and growing as a person.

it is totally possible for someone with maladaptive daydreaming to consider the beings from their daydreams as headmates. in fact, paragenic as a term refers to systems whose plurality originated from madd or some other form of immersive daydreaming.

switching is not a requirement for plurality. our partner system is plural, and they do not switch at all. having imaginary friends or talking to characters in your mind doesn’t always have to be a plural experience, but it definitely could be. it all depends on your comfort level and how you and your potential headmates choose to identify. you very well could be a median system, if you feel like that label works for you.

as far as osdd goes, we will say that complex dissociative disorders (like did and osdd) do often arise from a history of repeated childhood trauma. these disorders form by helping children dissociate or disconnect from overwhelming stress or painful situations as a method of survival. it is absolutely possible to be plural or a system without a complex dissociative disorder, but it is not possible to develop a cdd without a history of repeated trauma in childhood.

if you suspect that you may have osdd, we can’t stress enough the importance of seeking outside help, preferably from a understanding, trauma-informed therapist or counselor. while we do believe it is possible and sometimes necessary for individuals to self-diagnose, healing from the complex trauma that accompanies dissociative disorders like osdd may require some form of outside guidance and/or support.

we’ll leave you with this post we have with resources for questioning systems. if you’ve been following us for a while, you’ve probably already seen it, but we’re sharing it anyway.

and of course, if anyone reads this who has advice for anon, you’re welcomed and encouraged to share :)

discovering and coming to terms with potential plurality can be a difficult, lengthy process. please don’t rush yourself on this journey, and give yourself space to breathe and process as you try to come to a conclusion about whether or not you’re a system (or a member of one). we’re always happy to help however we can if you have any more questions throughout this process and beyond. best of luck to you :)

[bropunzeling]

jess i would love to hear you talk about themes and motifs!! specifically how you use them in your own writing, and how much of it is intentionally building on something you notice vs just finding it when the story is finish vs having a theme you want to build around and going from there

oooh what a GOOD question, ty friend. i'd say that i am first and foremost a Concept writer than a Thematic writer - as in i tend to shape stories around "what if x happened" and spin out the plot from there, and don't really uncover the themes and motifs until way later in the process (sometimes halfway, sometimes the end, sometimes way after posting!). it's funny because there are some stories where i can NOW be like, "girl!leon is about letting yourself open up to people," "marriage bets is about loneliness," "omega matthew is about coming to terms with your own desires," but so often i really didn't figure that out until midway through the process.

a lot of the time i set up characters or side plots and then later realize i had unconsciously made them load-bearing thematic elements, but every once in a while i'll have ones where i KNOW they got the motifs. for example johnny in marriage bets was intentionally load-bearing, but brady in the same fic was accidentally load-bearing. i think that worked to my benefit because brady was in the story longer and could provide a different kind of contrast to matthew's emotional state that i wasn't necessarily anticipating, and it made the story and ending a lot richer imo.

but yeah i'd say a lot of it is just discovery! i'm noodling around! going "wouldn't it be funny/horny/achy if!" and just rolling with whatever feels right. and then i get the lovely payoff of writing a bit of character introspection or internal monologue and going "wait a second, that was the theme all along!!!"

[dorianbrightmusic]

learned helplessness, & sweeping up internal/external hurricanes

i'd say one thing we don't discuss enough with mental health is the sheer terror of having something going on that you can't really describe, or that you don't comprehend well enough to be able to explain. so as a result, you end up dealing with some of the worst mental health symptoms you've ever had simply because you cannot describe them. a therapist, no matter how good, can seldom help if they don't know it's going on; and you can't tell other people that you're distressed, because if you don't get the wording right, they'll suspect you of something else, and then you'll have worried them without even getting help for the original distress.

when i first started having intrusive thoughts, i couldn't tell they were intrusive thoughts: i had an egosyntonic disorder at the time, meaning i couldn't really tell my own will apart from this other thing that was splitting my mind into little pieces. as such, i couldn't say 'i'm having violent intrusive thoughts', since i was scared that a part of me was genuinely turning violent. the result? i could only really articulate that i felt very afraid and unsafe, but not that 'i actually have this terrible feeling that i'm not in control of my body or mind'. trying to articulate 'i know it's irrational but every time i hear this song i wrote, i think i'm going to die, so i had to delete it from my computer and wipe the backup drives'?. couldn't do it, for it was something that could have made no more sense to anyone else than it did to me.

how do you articulate that your internal monologue doesn't feel like your own? you don't. it's not something that makes sense to you, so it'll certainly sound insane to anyone else. so you push it down and desperately hope it resolves. and it does, but the experience of not being able to talk about it, of not knowing what's going on and others never being able to understand when you try to explain – it's isolating, so isolating. so you learn to cling to any morsel of emotion, of validation, that you can get, and hence you learn to be disappointed, because you have an unspeakable conundrum. you hide each bit of yourself and then resent the fact that people complied when you instructed them not to go looking, and resent those who went looking and still never quite pieced you back together. nobody hurt you and nobody pushed you away and everyone was kind, but your experience is now fragmented, and if only someone could see that, could fix that.

i had a bad year last year—my memory gave out, and i lost a sense of joy. i saw static when i closed my eyes. at the time, this was called work-related stress. and sure, i was stressed; but 12 months later, i had a moment of sheer clarity in an elevator, where i finally could describe what'd happened. not just 'i was sad'. i had felt like i hadn't existed. my entire identity had ruptured and i was trying to pilot a body that didn't recognise itself. and that was the exact summation of it all, but had i been able to see that, let alone say that, at the time? no, and as a result, i learnt to be disheartened and afraid, and what was probably depression-adjacent at least and actual depression at most got brushed off as stress. which is fair, because overpathologising isn't necessarily helpful, but when you are lonesome, and you know there could have been an answer, a consolation————

that's the problem with mental health – you can't help someone who doesn't know what's happening to them, who thus can't communicate what's happening to them, unless you can somehow guide them to work out what's going on. and that's not something most people have time to achieve. the result is that we grow isolated and resentful because we didn't get the help that never could have been (but oh, if it could have been). and you stop trusting that people will hear you. given how many mental health symptoms are marked by that sense of not knowing what's going on – intrusive thoughts, dissociation, panic, demoralisation, anxiety, psychosis, trauma, detachment, despair – then it still is quite easy in today's world to feel a sense of becoming helpless to your own unspeakable terror.

[faytelumos]

Found this from @lexiklecksi and decided I wanted to do it.

Then I waited for forever to fill it out and forgot what the little title for this game was, haha!

---

1) What motivates you to write?

For one thing, I feel like it's my best skill. Back when I got started, well over a decade ago, it was experiencing all of these stories I loved that inspired the desire to become a part of the magic.

Deep down, I have stories to share. It's always nice when a lot of people see my stories and like them, but my biggest goal is to get those stories to the people who need them. It feels deep-seeded, and I know if everything stopped tomorrow, one of my biggest regrets would be that I wasn't able to get my Story out to people it might have helped.

2) A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud of; if not, share a line of someone else's work that you love (just be sure to credit).

It's been a month and I cannot for the life of me think of a story line I'm especially happy with, so have my favorite ever poem, which is by Robert Frost, recited from memory:

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,

But I have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

3) Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Maybe Ræs. He's a mess of a person, honestly, but in a realistic way. He doesn't really have tact when it comes to sensitive matters, he comes off as abrasive, he's angry, he doesn't really know what he's doing, and he's got some ingrained biases he doesn't want to face. But he's trying his hardest, and I think, despite all of the rough starts and choppy interactions, he comes to realize that the people he meets in this story really truly care about him in a way he hasn't seen since he was a little kid.

4) What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

The feverish inspiration of a new character or plot development. I love it to death when I can't stop thinking about something, when I'm fifteen chapters away from this scene but I've written it in my head ten times already, when every song I hear is about them or this. It's fleeting, and even if it weren't, I couldn't survive an extended period of this, but it's the chemical I crave when making my way through a project.

5) What part of writing do you think you're best at? (Stroke your own ego, it's okay.)

Internal monologues. I'm really good at thought processes and being in a character's head. Moving from thought to thought, reaching conclusions and using them to fuel the next process, I feel like I really have that idea down.

6) What is something in the writeblr community that is most enjoyable?

The comradery. We're all a bunch of writers and we love reading. Since a lot of my work is currently in the hero/villain community, there's a lot of passing around of the same tropes we all love, and I definitely enjoy that, too.

7) A writing tool/device that help you with writing (i.e. text to speech, a program, etc.).

I don't use much except a word processor. I use one on my phone and a different one on my computer, but both of them have the ability to make folders and reorganize documents, which I use liberally.

8) A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story (it could be the magic system, a particular place, a law, etc.).

In my first book, there is a sense of that same-old fantasy setting, where everyone's wearing frocks and going to the river to do laundry. But then, here and there, I'm able to sneak in hints of technology. There are steam engine trains. There are chemical heaters so people can have hot baths indoors. There are disinfectants and surgery procedures. There are certain things that remain in the past as we see it (no printing presses, no personal transportation), but the world is different enough to be somewhat unique.

9) What piece of advice would you give to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Write for yourself. If you're feeling burnt out, stop the projects that are draining you and just write for only yourself. Write some really self-indulgent fanfic or poetry that you know will never see the light of day. Write an unhinged essay on why A and B would never do that (or why, no matter what, they always would have) and tuck it straight into your pocket. Remeber why you started writing, or if you're new, really truly be kind to yourself and realize that you are learning a new skill and it can be bumpy.

Writing is such a personal and intimate expression, and if you're having trouble baring yourself to even a hypothetical world, then curl up and let your heart bleed in private for awhile.

10) Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters.

@the-modern-typewriter is actually a big part of the reason I even started a writeblr. Other folks I love to see are @surplus-of-sarcasm, @those-damn-snippets, @the-phasea-kalogria, @thepenultimateword, @sternenmeerkind, and @unorganisedalienrubbish, @robin-parravel, @bryansartbooth, @thelazywitchphotographer, @why-am-i-on-this-website-anyway, @pebbles-pile, @severalonions, @thepromiscuousfinger, @alltimelowing, @canonicallyshort, and @perfecthologrambluebird.

(Obviously these tags are no pressure because some of them don't follow me and several of them don't post writing.)

[gerrymike]

Writing pointers Ive internalised up to now more or less for my own reference no one asked but i needed the refresher

- classic show not tell kinda subscribed to the Palahniuk school i dont have the article on hand but it’s good even though i forget to do it sometimes. My philosophy is show for the 80% of time where showing lets you puppet around sexier pictures, tell for maybe 20% of the time when you have a specific voice to the telling and if the pictures the showing makes are pointless/redundant/slow-downs. okay hey wait I found the article it’s called “Nuts and bolts”

- Ocean Vuong on metaphors where the metaphor HAS to serve a purpose or connect to something, or at least have an “underneath” underside to it that can’t be accessed through any other means, note: sometimes the metaphor comes to you but usually if you feel real strong about it and can’t seem to replace it with anything else then it’s probably got a hidden layer already that will show itself to you with time even if it doesn’t really make sense in the moment. This pointer is the main source of my anguish when i read my old stuff because Im always like fucccckkkkk this metaphor is so gauche, what are you doing

- again i dont fkin remember where this is from but the thing about external/internal prose - God i swear this is from someone’s medium account but i don’t know. Basically interior novels where page space is mainly your character’s thoughts VS physical space novels, with your characters moving around, acting out and interacting with an environment with their thoughts maybe veiled from reader. Kind of ties into Nuts and Bolts with the showing, but on a diff level I like to stay in the external realm in a way where you could block the whole novel as a play with clearer, charming actions that can translate to visually compelling stage directions. Of course it depends on how interior/exterior your narrator/character is but in principle i find it easy to dislike overly interior narrators (why should your reader care what your narrator thinks??)

- secondary to prev point, if the movement/interactions you block aren’t inherently stylish then they should serve a purpose, moving your characters from point A to point B necessitates a relevant activity at point B, a push factor away from point A, or valuable information communicated from what happens in the journey…wait i say stylish a lot i dunno if ykwim best example i can think of is from Miss Julie where (even though it’s secondary to the dialogue at hand) while Julie tries to bargain with Christine you have Jean VISIBLE TO THE AUDIENCE in the wings of the stage sharpening his razor two hands nodding to himself as she repeats exactly the words he used to bargain with her <- THAT is style

- kinda boils down to the common thing about ensuring motivations for all of your characters, like all of them should have wants that drive them to be in places (if you flesh your guys out wholly enough this should come naturally)

- on character voices best if you can reach a point where you can basically hear them chatting at you in your head: best examples I think are like, Mercymorn from the locked tomb (crazy brilliant and bonkers voicing from muir imo), Tennessee williams plays (but they’re plays so obviously the voices are meant to be heard - i just personally haven’t seen any of them performed so i hear them 100% based on williams’ skill in writing dialogue)… no real tips on getting to this point but if you’re going for a specific brogue obviously listening to it helps. Though the point of writing fiction is ofc that it’s fiction and you can make your characters talk funnier and smarter than anyone in real life might so like: liberties, my philosophy is style over realism in the tradition of stage monologues and the like, where your characters chat in the manner you wish people around you talked all the time (STRIKE THROUGH THE MASK!!!!!)

- word count for sake of word count is your enemy if you ever catch yourself writing a scene that bores you, if it bores your reader then no ones gonna be happy. Cut it and frame it in a way that you like enough to keep in at all costs

- lowkey been trying to cut down my semicolon usage because I grudgingly see the value of Cormac Mccarthy stylistic choices but laaaaiiiikeee its hard and sometimes you need it to install a kind of half-breath in your prose - i think the middle ground I want to reach is the use of it as a luxury and not like pepper (literally searched the last chapter for my semicolon usage and its 28 like 3 per thousand words :( help)

- literally never make me read the word cishet in a serious work of writing ever. “Dysphoria” no “trans” its 50/50 “genderfuck” get out of town no “intersectional feminist” no. Okay lol this point is just me being not liking any explicit integration of the present cultural-political terminology into writing and also me being a bit bitchy about this one lgbt cult novel named after a US state if you can guess which. My view is it will always be gauche and i dont like it and it tends to prompt me to say out loud to myself My God I hate gay people

More later if i think of it but i swear ive yet to meet the writing pointer from a true sage that is gonna transform my thinking and make what im capable of transcendental

[amazing-spiderling]

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change? 🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with? 🪄what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic?

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

I'm not sure if this means the style of the act of writing or the finished product, but I have a hard time identifying aspect of my own style (in writing or art) so I guess I'll answer it for the former.

I'm one of those people who "hears" voices when they are reading and writing. (At times, I would use the voices of VAs etc that I was familiar with and would sort of make my brain "narrate" them in my head as I read stories.) I didn't really think much of it until I started talking to other writers about their process and learned that dialogue didn't come easily to everyone. It usually does for me because that's how my brain organizes information, just an ongoing internal monologue- so when I think about how to create a scene, often the first thing I'm thinking about is either a conversation happening in the scene, or what a person might say out loud about it if they were alone. (This is part of why I struggle with the prose/describing settings and am often blown away by the visual imagery other people incorporate into their stories.)

I think this mindset of mine makes me approach writing a bit like a script writer? Not that I've ever written a script (except for comics), but my brain thinks of scenes in a story like I'm setting up a scene for a screen. So I'm certainly thinking about the way the characters sound, the flow of their dialogue, the beats between their words, the pauses, but I'm also very concerned with the way the prose sounds. When I'm editing, I often say things like "this line makes my brain hiccup" which just means, something about the way it sounds is bumpy and doesn't flow. It could be an awkward word choice, or phrasing, even a choppy sentence that could be better integrated elsewhere.

I don't know if this is evident in the finished product though. To my knowledge, nobody has ever mentioned it.

🌈is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

Ah, yeah. What a question. Even I overlooked the story I'm about to mention because other ones stuck out in my mind until I actually went to look.

Some years ago, I organized a Metal Gear anthology called "Lost Years" that paired artists and writers to create stories about the moments that happened between games. Stories that had been hinted at and alluded to in the game canon, but whose events we never see. It was a great project with SO much talent coming together and the stories that people produced were incredible.

For my part, I got to work on a topic dealing with the very difficult topic of CSA, an event that often gets played for laughs in some sides of the fandom (namely people who aren't doing the math and realizing the horror of the situation). It was for that reason that I wanted to do my due diligence and write the best story I could handling this topic, as well as creating a sense of underlying dread.

One of the things I did was write in present tense, which I hardly ever do- in order to make it seem like the events were unfolding in real time, with the main character unable to do anything about it. Everything is just happening to him and he's almost a spectator in his own life.

Also, I tried to take a page from Kojima's book- as a game creator, he is very influenced by movies, so I tried to think about what movies might have inspired this character dynamic, and some of the themes and visuals we do get in the game, and came away with "The Graduate", which I'd seen some years ago. It was an unsettling movie for me to see randomly on television one night (knowing nothing other than it was a "famous classic movie") but a lot of it stuck with me. I revisited the movie when I started writing this story, watching it as more of a study and singling out elements that I thought I could use to inform my own story and characterization.

The result was "Surface Tension" which comes in at a mere 3.7k and garnered a scant few comments, but it's a story I probably did the most "artistic research" for and I'm proud to have written.

🪄what is your post-writing/sharing aftercare? How do you take care of yourself or celebrate yourself when you've finished a fic?

This is the one that's easiest for me to answer because it's something I consciously think about. XD After I post something (whether it's fic or art) I often make a joke like, "Never ask me for anything ever again." And while I am being silly, and of course I'm not done creating, it's also kind of a message to myself that it's okay for me to take a break and not worry about cranking out more stuff, and allowing myself to bask in the feeling of completing something for a few days. It's certainly a luxury since writing is my hobby and not my job, but I think it's easy to get wrapped up in the idea of being a "bad person" if you're not constantly making stuff every day.

I think this goes double for event fics where I've probably been stressing out about a deadline and doing something for another person. Basically just telling myself it's okay to take some time off to watch movies and read comics and enjoy "input" rather than "output" for a little while. :3

[ciboriaadastra]

Oh, it's close...can we get to 50/50 GhostBat nation?

hopefully these are different BTK panels than the ones I posted on the last poll.

Batman: The Knight (2022) #4

"When you lose your home you lose yourself. It's been almost a YEAR on top of Paektu Mountain. I'm not sure if I would have made it without Anton." (Note: Anton and Jack are Minhkhoa and Bruce's codenames respectively)

When another guy becomes your home, your rock in an unfamiliar world, your warmth on frozen mountain peaks...

"...take me with you. Take me to your list of mentors. Let's leave together."

This is such a Let's Elope line and they're just leaving the dojang to go on a journey of self-improvement and homosexual exploits across the world together.

Boyfriend jacket!

I appreciate Mr. Born In New Jersey Winter giving his coat to my SEAsian brother. Chivalry is not dead

Batman: The Knight (2022) #8

Boyfriend jacket! pt. 2

Also he did fall bleeding and broken and lowkey dying a little into Bruce's arms earlier...Bruce literally peeled the cloak off of Minhkhoa's body, wrapped it around himself, and charged out to seek vengeance on the man who hurt his boyfriend.

You could say it's like a knight keeping a token handkerchief from their lover with them as they charge into battle.

Bruce clutches Minhkhoa with the most tender splaying of his hand too. Usually gripping somebody falling on you involves some pretty ungraceful grabbing and grappling, but Bruce holds him gently against his own chest and lowers Minhkhoa to the floor.

"But all I see is BLOOD...HIS."

Fellas, is it gay to thirst for the blood of an enemy after seeing they hurt your "best friend"? Sure, you were already rippling with vengeful anger before on account of being stalked and sabotaged at every turn and shown photos of your loved ones back home murdered...but for some reason, seeing your "friend" weak and bleeding really sets you off in a frenzy.

Bonus: he's doing the bat thing with the boyfriend cape

Batman: The Knight (2022) #9

The young married couple is arguing like an old married couple (do they know they're going to get divorced?)

Yeah, you guys haven't talked much since your whole breakup in Canada. Maybe you guys can smooth things over. It's pretty optimistic.

Bruce isn't really known for being the best communicator or even communicating the most, even at this early point in his life, so I think it's pretty telling that he misses being able to talk to Minhkhoa

"It's so rare in my life, I need to hold on to it for just a moment longer. I'm scared the lightness isn't long for me."

I'm always going to be a sucker for Bruce hearing the death rattle of a relationship and clawing desperately to hold onto every scrap of the good times, the peace, and genuine connection before it all burns down. He wants to ignore the signs and the ever growing distance, but...

"This can't last. And I think we both know it."

(They do know divorce is on the horizon. And yet. And yet...)

Batman: The Knight (2022) #10

I almost forgot the pause in Bruce's internal monologue when he mentions Minhkhoa. Lingering on the name of his ex (with dramatic emphasis) as he talked to Alfred about his life abroad and then slinked off to mope in his bedroom.

Bruce came home with a scarred heart.

[mercurytrinemoon]

Another post on Moon signs you can drag me for

Before we get into the actual thing, I'd like to say this post initially started as something else but ultimately, what I tried to put across is, sometimes Moon signs aren’t that easy to decipher. It’s easy to grasp overall characteristics of the signs and then learn how to identify their specific traits. But what people seem to forget it that Moon represents the deepest side of us & our inner world - it’s uncommon to really see someone’s side of it unless you really pay attention. Sometimes I’m surprised to see what someone’s Moon sign is even if I know this person well. Meaning, people usually hide that part of them - or they just simply process it internally and others can’t see their emotional reactions. It’s also uncommon for folks these days to fully express their emotional needs so it gets even trickier to pin-point their Moon characteristics. I don't think I have to mention this but, of course, your entire chart should be taken into account, as well as house placement, aspects. Personally, I like to also look at Moon's dispositor.

Let’s start from my friends, Gemini Moons, who, I feel, get a bad rep for not showing their feelings and scanning every emotion like an AI. Nah-ah. I know this one Gemini Moon whose immediate emotional reactions aren’t very cerebral in the sense of processing everything in the mind and intellectualizing it aka, what people like to label as being un-emotional. Instead her reactions are often fast (air energy) but physically expressed through Mercury (Gemini Moon’s dispositor) and Sun (overall identity) – she has them both in Aries. She’s a crybaby who can burst into tears in a matter of seconds. So she’s not something that would stereotypically be assigned to a Gemini Moon. But what I did notice is that all Gemini Moons tend to have this weird look on their face when they’re processing stuff. As if they were about to have a brain malfunction; they stop and have that specific worried look. They also like to either gossip or tell stories (either real or made up lol); they’re great with words - they can talk for hours if they feel comfortable with you. They just crave interaction and mental stimulation. Their quick reactions tend to make them effortlessly witty. Even if they’re a withdrawn Gemini type, they make up for it through social media and technology or just a quiet exploration. My shy Cancer pal with Moon in Gemini is now a brand/website designer and an instagram queen who travels the world. This is great energy for content creators in general. And don’t forget that Geminis need to have their fingers in many pies. It’s because they always have a backup plan… and they get bored easily so they need that chaos around them to feel at home. They like to have options in everything, which is kind of funny cause it’s hard for them to make up their minds and actually choose something. And they store a lot of information in their brains… I feel like it must be exhausting, no? 

On the other side of the axis, whenever I see someone with a Sagittarius Moon, I can immediately say “yup, a Sag Moon indeed” (probably thanks to my Sag stellium), meaning, they all seem the same to me. Sag Moons often find comfort in exploration - best if it’s literal travel. They always seem to need to free themselves from their surroundings, family, roots or their own culture to discover something new and exciting, even if it’s only in the imaginary words - through books, movies and other medias. Their happiness always lies somewhere else from where they currently are. Like, I think all Sagittarius Moons that I know have left their parents and went their own paths early on. And they have this yolo attitude. Just like Sagittarius Suns, they’re massive dorks, probably also obnoxious… sometimes in a REALLY annoying way. They’re either a) very wise and curious b) lil preachy and stuck up c) just plain dumb clowns with no filter. But they’re all funny. And they take things lightly, with a natural ease. This means sometimes they may offend other people just because they assume everyone’s as chill as they are; „relax! I was just kidding!” - that’s a phrase you’ll hear from them often… I mean, unless you’re a jokester yourself and you’re unmoved by their sarcastic or teasing words. They have somewhat spiritual or philosophical nature so besides making you laugh, be prepared for deep monologues. They want to believe everything will eventually fall into place. It’s also hard to bring them down - or I should say, it’s hard to make them acknowledge that they're feeling down - they always try to distract or cover it up with a joke, usually a self-depricating one. If Sagittarius Moon (or Sagittarius in general tbh) is telling you that they’re unhappy, then it’s serious.

I’ve noticed there comes a point in life for a Libra Moon where they just have enough. They’re too nice for everyone and one day they wake up and yell about how they have to do everything for everyone and everyone wants something from them and bLah bLah. Makes me think of when Bieber was this overly nice kid and then he was like “I’M NOT TAKING PICTURES WITH FANS ANYMOREEEE AAGhJFJFUWIUq”. Yup, a Libra Moon, everyone. They know how to charm and appeal to people, I think overall they’re easily liked by others. Sometimes it’s simply because they like to kiss people’s ass just to avoid being rejected. That’d be a Libra Moon’s nightmare. They like other people’s company too much. And they thrive in relationships and in a big circle of friends. What they hate is confrontations (like every other Libra placement omg). They may be good mediators when it comes to other people but if they’re involved in an argument they get sooooo passive aggressive. They just don’t know how to handle conflicts - it’s as if their nervous system wasn’t designed for emotional outbursts (because, you know, everything needs to be peaceful and harmonious Venus-style). A fussy or angry Libra Moon will suddenly get loud as they blame someone for something… and then they’ll leave the room cause they’re scared to even hear the other side of the argument. Or, alternatively, they’ll make a doormat out of themselves just to stay quiet and avoid causing any rift. And making decisions? I think it’s common for them to have two different romantic interests and feeling so dramatically torned between them *Alexa play Agony from Into the Woods*. Then when they decide, they have problems breaking the bad news to one of them.

On the other end we have Aries Moons. *deep breath* Listen, I think I’ve said enough about having Moon in Aries (or rather purely dissing it) but last time it made a bit of controversy so why not wreak even more havoc. I have a good description for this one: I will punch you but be gentle with me cause it’s easy to break my fragile heart. So basically, imagine putting Buttercup and Bubbles into one person. And honestly, I need to say this, women with this placement are just hot badasses, look at friggin Angelina Jolie. The queen of badass. The queen of hot. People say because Aries folks move quickly (literally and figuratively lol), they often get bored with whatever got them excited last week... or yesterday. Ha, yeah, right. You get their heart to open up and they’re going to have their eyes for you ONLY, like a lil puppy. Give us treats and we’ll build our world around you. But NOT in a clingy way by any means, we need our space and independence after all. My lil niece is an Aries Moon and ever since I started playing guitar with her, she became my #1 fan or something. That’s the energy. But we get easily bored with day-to-day stuff so yeah, there’s that. Innocent and clumsy yet raw in their emotions - so there’s potential to make mistakes sometimes (or a lot of times) or having this tunnel vision, like „I want this and I don’t care about anything else!”. And then excusing it with some „but the heart wants what it wants” crap (looking @ ya, Selena Gomez). They experience constant inner movement and turbulence that needs a physical outlet in order to feel satisfied. WE NEED PASSION IN OUR LIVES, OKAY?!?!?? now leave me alone

Aquarius Moons aren’t as cold as you might think. People like to describe them as if their Moons actually disappeared from their charts: dEtaCheD, uNeMotiOnaL, tHey fEeL nOtHinG. It’s just they don’t sit and dwell on things, they find solutions to the problems. If something doesn’t make them feel right, they just leave that situation. They do care about other people’s well-being, they’re very sensitive in that regard, they’re humanitarians after all. Yeah, they detach, but from their own emotions - in order to make sense of them. They may seem like snow queens sometimes (and this comes from an Aqua rising) but they’re really friendly and if you pique Aqua Moon’s interest, they’re going to be curious about you. They like new exciting things so if you’re cool enough, you have their attention. Usually they’re pretty progressive as well and can’t stand injustice. That’s why you’ll see them standing up for those who are in need. Uranian energy gives them a specific type of sharp intuition and wit. Idk they’re just cute in a quirky way. But this buzzing, fast energy is a great recipe for anxiety, over-thinking and frequent changes of heart. Similarly to Sadges, they need constant exploration and stimuli. Intelligent, people-oriented (but not people-pleasing! Look to Libras for that), individualistic. They definitely need their own space and independence. Their decision-making is fast and it’s easy for them to just say „screw it, I’m doing this”. My Aquarius Moon friend just casually decided that she’s moving to Turkey cause nothing in our city (or even country) seems interesting or helping her expand… So she was like, see ya suckers, I’m leaving.

Leo Moons shine from within. You’ll spot them from a mile away even if they’re on the shyer side. They’re all lil stars no matter their profession. Very expressive people & easily excitable. Art galleries, live shows, theater - they love a creative environment even if they don’t pursue that lifestyle themselves... One of my Leo Moon friends is an art junkie – suggest taking her to an obscure play at the local bar, a music festival, a weird museum – she’ll say yes in the blink of an eye. And she loves discussing these things. A Leo Moon may not see themselves as artistically inclined, but usually sooner or later they at least try dipping their toes in music, arts, acting, dancing... you name it. They’ll learn a simple 3-chord song on a ukulele and then play it to you in excitement. Imagine a lil kid making you a puff piece and being super proud of it. Sometimes they just need some encouragement. Remember, Leos feed off of praise, that’s their fuel. Doesn’t mean they’re all proud, egotistical people but what it does mean is that they need a lil assurance to gain their self-confidence. I lived with a Leo Sun/Moon for almost 15 years (who’s a musician btw so yeah, a classic creative Leo type) - he did have some issues lol but ego wasn’t one of them. Drama followed him everywhere but I’m pretty sure he disliked it himself. BUT, with that being said, I feel like Leo Moons tend to dramatize themselves internally. People say it’s something Virgos or Geminis would do - because of their tendency to overthink, but Leos can just go straight to a worst-case scenario in their heads simply because they exaggerate everything. So don’t be surprised to see a Leo Moon feeling down and anxious. On the bright side, be their cheerleader and they’ll give that to you in return. They need sparks and dullness kills their upbeat spirit. They need to feel their own heartbeat so the feeling of excitement is crucial for their well-being. Romantic, giving and kind. They’re fixed fire so once they’re set on something or someone, they give their all and are rather loyal.

I feel like my chart low-key tells me I should dislike Taurus Moons but I just want to melt in their arms and just stay there? Like, forever? Low maintenance but a bit slow-moving and stubborn. They won’t settle easily, at least not officially, so you need to have a lot of patience with them. They need 3 things to feel secure and at peace: physical stimuli, time and a stable place they know they can always come back to. And it’s not like all of them are total lazy homebodies, they may be active spirits & travellers but they are going to have a reallyyyyy nice cosy flat somewhere near their childhood place (gotta be be close to their moms, you know). Not necessary materialistic but they may have one thing that they collect throughout their entire life and they won’t. ever. get. rid. of. it. There needs to be at least one constant in their life - like you know when Elton John decided to go to therapy but one thing he stuck to was shopaholism? Very Taurus Moon of him. Also, they’re very affectionate. In fact, may have issues differentiating between affection and passion - this is actually something Taurus Moon and Aries Moon have in common. Pro tip - and this is in regard to all Taurus placements - don’t smell bad when you’re around them (I mean, don't smell bad in general, no one likes stinky people lol). They have a sensitive smell. Doesn’t help that they like to smell everything. EVERYTHING. I swear, Taurus, stop sticking your nose in every single thing!!! You don't need to know how that piece of utensil smells like. Jeez.

Scorpio Moon (shoutout to those who remember me accidentally calling them sporpio last time I made a post on Moons lol). I honestly don’t know what to tell you... I feel like all you hear about Scorpio Moon is 100% true, there’s nothing to debunk here. It’s the Moon of extremes. Prone to jealousy and surpressing emotions; severe trust issues; they’re instigators. I was low-key bullied by a few Scorpio Moons when I was in school so there’s that. Very secretive and private. Scorpio Moon will be like “I’m in control of the situation!!!!” and you’ll just look at them and think, yeah, right, looks like the situation is controlling you. But keep being in denial, sure. Like, don’t get me wrong, Scorpios in general can be TOTAL SWEETHEARTS OMG but ya’ll have issues. Even celebrities who have this placements... Think Beyonce or Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus... I feel like they have issues lol, especially with control and the need for everything to be perfectly the way they want it to be. To be fair, that’s probably why they’re all so influential and high status: it’s either their way or highway. They need constant reinvention; they’re the ones to wake up one day and decide they’re going through a spiritual awakening blah blah. They also like to talk about dark and shocking topics while having casual lunch with you... So like, be warned that you may end up with a depressed mood after talking to them for 10 minutes. And their mood swings... don’t even get me started on that.

I don't know where to start with Virgo Moons... I feel like they're very calculated and nit-picky but they're a lot warmer than Virgo Suns. I think I called them softies in my last Moon post. Very sweet people but prone to anxiety. You gotta experience seeing them having a heart attack over someone mixing bananas with milk or messing with their stuff that’s been put in a perfect arrangement. I saw a Virgo Moon once literally squealing shouting "YOU'RE GONNA RUIN YOUR LAPTOP WITH THAT SUPERGLUE!!!" Highly entertaining to watch, not gonna lie. Gordon Ramsay has his Moon in Virgo - it’s conjunct Uranus and Pluto so that’s an extreme but I think him being fed up with people over small inconsistencies in their food prep is a perfect example of this energy (btw his chart is hilarious, it literally explains EVERYTHING). They're VERY picky with their food as well, just as Virgo Suns tend to be. Like, they’ll only have a specific type of single origin coffee or they’ll be vegan or something. Self-critical over their work, which is a plus... except for when finishing a simple task takes them a few hours because they want to make it perfect. They take everything seriously. This of course doesn't mean they're total bores - on the contrary, Mercurial energy gives them witty approach and a talent for choosing the right words at the right time. Tho they can be a bit awkward or shy with it. Can be as bubbly as Gemini but the grounded earthy energy gives them more practical and almost nurturing nature - earth signs are providers after all and Virgo is the sign of service - helping others is like their second nature. I’ve noticed they often find comfort in devoting themselves to a choosen task - this is why if they pursue something, they’re really good at it. They’re also very likely to dissect their emotions.

I’m not a fan of water Moons in general but Pisces Moon is the best water Moon in my opinion. Maybe because I like Pisces overall. I think it’s like a tweaked Sagittarius Moon - just more internalized, withdrawn & gloomy. But unlike Sag, who has a tendency to be an adventurous optimist, Pisces likes to focus on the negatives instead. Obviously, they can be very upbeat, they’re Jupiter-ruled after all, but there’s somehing whiny about them lol. Just like Sadges, they dream big and have their standards put up sooo high but if there's not much active energy in their charts, they’re often too passive to actually fullfill any of that - or I should say, they’re stuck daydreaming about it, believing it’ll just magically manifest for them... OR they do everything with an apathetic approach. What I do like about them is that they’re funny. And really chill - sometimes to the point of coming off as confused or hazy. I feel like a lot of them would just love to sleep all day... or sit by the lake and just think about the world. Most of them are also compassionate folks - again, maybe a bit too much. Hey Pisces, you don’t have to take everything to heart, it’s okay. On the bright side, they have big imagination and the ability to disconnect and just create. I have a few Pisces Moons in the family: one’s that sleepy artistic type with grand visions, one is an asshole-ish but funny entrepreneur with a questionable work ethic and one is a witty IT guy who’s actually a workaholic and likes to shut in his own world of computers and numbers or whatever he does there... So there’s this factor of tunnel vision, escapism and, on the more negative side, being kinda iffy and almost addicted to the way they want things to be. Once they set their eyes on something it’s done deal…

My issue with Capricorn Moons is that they're often trying to be sooooo mature omg, like, loosen up a bit. It usually starts when they're in their later teens... They can be the most rebellious kid that likes to have fun and suddenly they'll be like "I'm too old for this ugh grow up" *judgmental stare*. My 18-year old niece once literally roasted my sister that she's in her 30s and still doesn't have her own place (well so do I so I guess she also indirectly roasted me as well???). And she was SO deadpan with it. Because she herself wants to be independent and start a family before turning 25. This is classic Capricorn Moon energy. They suck out joy out of everything lol. Of course, OF COURSE, it depends on the whole chart but I feel like worst-case scenario is that at one point in their life (or maybe even a few times throughout it) they go through a massive shake-up that makes them change their attitude and re-evaluate their structures. There's this multi-instrumentalist Yvette Young - she's a sweet, funny Cancer/Leo mix but her Moon is in Capricorn. She used to be a competitive pianist but the pressure that was put on her has led her to severe health issues. Like yes, she’s now an extremely talented musician - thanks to family’s expectations & a rigid schooling system (Saturn) but it did cost her a lot. She has recovered since then but I think it's a perfect example of this energy. It’s very ambitious and hardworking but emotionally demanding in the sense that you have to actually put your emotions aside in order to deal with the rest. Another thing, because Moon can be associated with family, there's often a weird dynamic surrounding this topic. I don't think I've met a Capricorn Moon that had a completely healthy and happy relationship with their fam or one of the family members. Or, alternatively, there can be a strong bond between one of them but usually created in the atmosphere of hardships.

Last but not least, Cancer Moons. I had three school friends with this placement and all of them made this sad, whiny face as they said „oh I don’t knoooow anymoreee”  when they were feeling torned or frustrated. To be fair, two of them are water Suns so for them, it added to the mushyness. All Cancer Moons I know are family people or better yet, baby people. One of those school friends is now a guidance counsellor, working with kids; the other turned her instagram into a gallery of her own child after she gave birth. So much kid content, omg. There’s also something very indecisive about them… or I should say, hesitant. They’re not very fast at making decisions. Also, what’s interesting, they’re kind of like walking libraries, they remember a lot – so they store a lot of information in their brains just like air signs but they process it in a completely different way – emotional, obviously. I think this also makes them hold grudges a lot. For them it’s more of a question of „how does it make me feel?” rather than „how valid is it?”. There’s certain stubborness in them in that regard because they don’t keep their minds open. It’s also hard for them to walk away from people and situations, like a crab pinching you with its claws – it won’t let go. Sensitive but not easy to open up; very protective of themselves and their loved ones & they tend to shut down in their crab shells. But they may crave connection and the feeling of belonging. Also very caring and with a big imagination. They’re very receptive of their environment so mood swings are a thing for them.

[eijishimas]

midnight snack.

18+ nsfw content, minors dni. all characters are aged up.

masterlist.

content warnings: oral sex (f!receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (use protection irl pls!), quirk use (electro stimulation), a hint of overstim, & a sprinkle of degradation. f!reader.

notes: all i could think about while writing this was “and they were roommates! ohmygod they were roommates.” also thank u bria ( @rekiri ) & sun ( @kiridarling ) for keeping me sane while writing this, ily both <3

wc: 3.0k

You rarely got hungry in the middle of the night. You usually went to bed full of food cooked by yourself or ordered takeout by your roommate, Denki. Tonight was different, however. You had been working on a project, one that was taking up far too much of your time due to your incompetent group members causing you to pick up the slack. You had been stressed beyond belief lately because of them. Maybe a small stretch would help clear your mind, you reasoned to yourself internally. While you were at it, a midnight snack wouldn’t be too bad. It would help ease your nerves, even. You stood from your desk, stretching your arms above your head and cracking the joints of your shoulders. Now exiting your room, you threw a glance across the hallway to see the light under your roommate’s door was still on. Of course he was staying up again, when did he not? Probably off playing video games with the guys again.

You yawned, bare feet pattering against the hardwood of your apartment floor on your way to the kitchen. You shivered, wearing only a cropped sweater you had thrifted and a pair of your comfiest shorts. So what if they were a little short on you, they did the job of keeping you comfy while you slept. No one besides Denki saw you in them, mostly because you wore them to bed. Opening the fridge door, you cringed at the harsh lighting hitting you square in the face. You bent over, eyes scanning the bottom shelf for something to pique your interest. Since you figured Denki was in his room, you didn’t bother to bend your knees while you were searching for your snack.

“Uh- I uh, whatcha lookin’ for?” Denki’s voice cracked slightly. What were the odds? Your head whipped up so fast from the fridge, you nearly knocked into the door of it. Your face began to overheat as you saw your roommate standing there in his pyjamas, fighting off his own blush as he looked at you. Had he seen how your shorts rode up your ass, giving the perfect view of the lace black panties you had been wearing that night? Maybe. The answer was most definitely a yes, but he wasn’t going to admit that to you. He really didn’t want to die by your hands.

“I was, well I was grabbing some water,” you fumbled for your words as Denki approached you, moving around the bar counter of your apartment to peer into the fridge himself from behind you. His hair was damp, sticking to his forehead indicating that he had just hopped out of the shower. No kidding, he had used your fruit passion shampoo along with lemon scented body wash again. You felt his hot breath on the back of your neck from how close he was to you, your tongue wetting your lips as you tried to ease your building nerves. You were never so nervous around him, he was your roommate and your best friend. The two of you had always been comfortable around each other.

You stood perfectly still, razor focused on the fruit cup on the top shelf to distract your mind that was buzzing with electricity. He smelled so good. He felt awfully warm. And he was incredibly close to you, so much so that you could hear his own inner monologue if you listened hard enough. You were so caught up in your thoughts that your mind barely registered that his hands were sitting comfortably on your waist. “Hey,” Denki spoke up, “Did you wear that for me?”

Processing his words, there was a tiny heat that began to burn low in your stomach. “I’m sorry?” you squeaked out.

“The black lacy ones. The ones that make me want to eat you out on the counter until you’re screaming. Did you wear those for me?” his voice was low, whispering deliciously into your ear. Sinful thoughts were clouding your mind, your previous intentions of getting a snack now lost to the idea of possibly choking on something else entirely tonight. “Denki—” His hands slipped beneath your shirt, stopping just below your breasts. You were starting to feel something hard poking at the cheek of your ass. Your breath hitched, thighs clenching together in an attempt to tame the growing heat between them. The two of you had been dancing around the notion of having feelings for each other for a long time.

You tried to look the other way every time he would stare at you for just a small bit longer than he should. He pretended to not notice the way you sat so very close to him, despite the entire couch being free. The way your fingertips brushed his thighs when you leaned over him to grab the remote. The way his touch lingered on your hip when he went to pass behind you while you cooked dinner together, his palms warm and jittery. Everything clicked together so perfectly for the two of you, it was beginning to become undeniable and almost comical at this point.

Tonight only made you more desperate for some type of release, since all of the previous tension between the two of you had crescendoed into Denki moulding his lips to your neck and sucking deep purple marks in a lovely pattern against your hot skin. Your legs felt weak, a strained moan escaping you. Between the cool air of the open fridge and his hands exploring your torso, it felt like heaven. His fingers pinched and pulled at your nipples eagerly, his name falling off your tongue as if second nature. You wanted him bad. And he wanted nothing more than to strip you of your clothes and have you right there in the kitchen.

Your legs quivered as he touched you, allowing yourself to lean back against him and succumb to his affection. “I’ve been waiting to do this for so long, baby,” the confidence radiating off the blond was dripping right into his tone. It made more of that liquid heat manifest in your lower half. You were quite certain that those lacy black panties Denki had been talking about now had a wet patch from all of his ministrations. His hands kept massaging at your breasts, small whimpers leaving your lips as you whispered out how you needed more from him. You panted, craning your neck to the side to give him more access to your skin. Your hips seemed to move on their own as you wiggled your ass right up against his prominent hard on. “Fuck,” he swore, fingers dipping into your shorts and past the waistline of your underwear to feel your slick. You were soaking from his touches, thighs shaking and fingers finding purchase in blond locks as his finger pad grazed your aching clit. “More,” you whined with need, “I wanna.. I wanna touch you, please.”

Denki’s mind felt like it was melting. Was this a dream? He never wanted to wake up if that was the case. He inserted a finger into your core, heart fluttering upon hearing you moan out for him again. Your walls hugged his single digit, his dick twitching at the sensation. You were feeling unbearably sensitive for some reason that night, the way his thumb drew circles around your clit paired with his finger reaching within you made your head light. “You’re so greedy, look at you fucking yourself on my fingers. Moaning like that for me. From how much you walk around like a little slut, you had this coming,” Denki nibbled at the lobe of your ear before adding a second digit, curling his fingers and further sending you into your pleasure. “Denki,” you called out again, head tossed against his shoulder, ass rubbing right against his dick in ways that made his head spin. “You’re so wet, do you hear that? Holy fuck, I can’t wait to taste you,” Denki’s words made the coil inside the pit of your stomach snap, your first orgasm of the night finally washing over you as you clenched around his fingers. It took all of Denki’s willpower not to cum in his boxers right then and there. Falling against him for support, your hips lazily rolled against his digits to ride out your high.

“Up on the counter babe, we’re not done yet. I’m still feeling a bit hungry,” he murmured into your ear. The two of you backed away from the fridge, leaving the door open to allow some light in the darkened kitchen. You turned to face him, seeing a bit of a loopy smile on his face despite his lust blown pupils. You wasted no time in connecting your lips, tongue sliding into his mouth with ease. Your body pressed his against the cool granite of the counter, his hands drifting lower down your back to meet the flesh of your ass. He tapped your ass a couple times, his fingers pinching at the fabric of your thin shorts. “You won’t be needing these,” he chuckled deeply against your lips. His drop in octave made you shiver. Your own hands mapped out his body, feeling across his abs that he prided himself on as a pro-hero while your other went right for his cock.

Your excited fingers pulled down his gray sweatpants along with his boxers, his cock springing free from its confines. There was a lovely amount of precum beading atop his reddening head, your thumb swirling the natural lube around his tip. The action elicited a groan from the blond, grabbing a bit harder at your ass. You were gentle, teasing even, your eyes glazed over in lust as your hand pumped his dick at a slow tempo. Denki’s hips began to fuck into your hand, his chest heaving as he took this time to shed himself of his t-shirt. He felt entranced by how your fingers looked so delicate fisting his cock, breath hitching in his throat as your wrist rolled with each stroke of his dick. “Do you know how— fuck — how long I’ve waited for this?” Denki’s words are gentle, his neck craning back down to nip at your exposed skin.

“Too long?”

“Way too long.”

You giggled and he groaned, a low rumble against your soft skin that makes you shiver yet again. You smirked with amusement as you felt him pulse in your hand, yet Denki pulled away from your touch just as you were about to tip him over the line to his own orgasm. “You, you first,” he told you, golden eyes trained on yours, “I like seeing you come undone for me.”

A whimper escaped you, his grin hungry with want for you and only you. “Let’s see how good you taste,” he pressed a final kiss to your lips as he eagerly dropped to his knees. With a shy look in your eyes, you allowed your legs to spread, giving Denki a full view of your pretty pussy. He was practically salivating, eyes taking in your wet sex with a strange fire lit behind them. He was eating good tonight. With your fingers threading in his hair and tugging lightly, he took it as his signal to go. You sucked in a gasp of surprise as something cool touched your already slick entrance. Oh, you had forgotten that Denki had a fucking tongue piercing.

Instinctively, your thighs started to close around Denki’s head. He held them open with ease, the metal ball of his piercing following the tip of his tongue as he happily traced your entrance. “Denki,” you huffed, growing frustrated at his languid pace. For a man who seemed rather eager, he was going very slowly. Denki hummed in response, lips now attached to your clit and you felt your body jolt at the feeling. Fuck. Maybe you should have bit your tongue instead. Channeling electricity through his quirk, you felt a shock emitted from the tiny piece of metal in his mouth to your aching clit. “Denki!” you moaned, eyelids fluttering as you struggled to keep your gaze on him. Your hands kept pulling at his semi-damp hair, rutting your hips as best as you could into his face as your heart beat rapidly in your chest. You felt ten times hotter than you did when you first entered the kitchen, your hands expelling your own sleep shirt to the floor as Denki moaned at the sight of your exposed tits. This gave him the opportunity to push his tongue into your pussy, your toes curling at the sensation of his tongue entering your heat. He had his fun, darting his tongue in and out of you as he kept moaning to keep up the tiny vibrations. Moving his bangs away from his eyes, you could only watch as he ate you out with his skilled muscle.

His tongue reached deeper inside of you, his hands holding your thighs apart firmly as they were threatening to clamp around his head with more force. You hadn’t anticipated that Denki would be this fucking good with his mouth. Your inner walls squeezed around him, your moans picking up in volume. Your nipples were peaked, your back arched and your head thrown back as all you could do was continuously grind your hips against his face. This only edged the blond further, his nose stimulating your swollen clit as his tongue delved as far as it could into your dripping cunt. You nearly screamed his name as you were finally tipped over the edge, your chest heaving as Denki suckled at your sensitive lower lips. He drank your essence happily, your body prickling with heat as he drew back to watch in awe at how your pussy fluttered invitingly around nothing. He was drunk on the feeling of you cumming on his mouth. You two were definitely doing that again.

As you steadily regulated your breathing, Denki slowly got up from his position on the floor. Wiping away a bit of your cum from the corner of his mouth, he threw you another grin. You swallowed dryly, “Need you.”

“What was that, baby?”

“Need you, Den. I need you in.. Please.” Your eyes were begging him to give you more. You had seen how much his cock had been leaking onto the kitchen floor, practically throbbing between his legs from not having given release. With a cheeky sort of smile, Denki gave you a kiss to your cheek before settling his lips to the shell of your ear. “Whatever you say, babe.”

In an instant, you were swept off the counter, your body being caged between the closed freezer door and Denki holding you up from beneath your thighs. His cock fell heavy against your stomach, twitching in its desperation for attention. The light emitting from the open door of the fridge illuminated the right half of the electric blond’s face, his expression lustful and giddy in the harsh LED lighting. It made your heart buzz with anticipation, your body tensing as he eased the head of his cock past your folds. Your hands scrambled for his shoulders, fingernails leaving red crescents along his creamy skin. Denki’s eyes were on you, his breathing irregular as you wasted no time in pulling out and thrusting back in with confidence. His lips swallowed your moans, the wet, lewd sounds of your fucking adding more tinder to the heat now coiling in the pit of your stomach for the third time tonight. “Please,” you begged, practically trembling from overstimulation as Denki rocked you into the cool aluminum of the freezer door.

“Please what, baby?” the playfulness in his tone didn’t match the serious manner in which he kept pistoning into you, chasing his own release as your slick from previous orgasms now coated his cock and ran down his thighs. Each time he went in, he angled himself right up to meet that special spot inside you to make you see tiny specks of white dot your vision. “I- I, ah! Denki!” Fingers now grasping at his hair again, you yanked harshly as you came around his pulsing cock for the third and final time, squeezing him snugly as you desperately attempted to catch your breath. There was a tingly sensation running through your legs starting from your thighs, numbing and electric as Denki kept up his quick pace to chase his own release, groaning dirty praises into your ear that made you keen. Your legs wrapped around his waist, urging him to go deeper and finish inside of you. His hips met yours for one last time, stuttering as he pumped his sticky cum into your abused hole. You two stayed there for a moment, you letting out quiet giggles as Denki took his time in getting the air back into his lungs. He let you down steadily from the position you had been in, making sure to hold you up since the feeling was still a bit lost in your legs.

“Wow that was,” Denki paused, struggling to find the right word for the situation you two had caught yourselves in. “Satisfying,” you finished for him, to which he blushed deeply. The smile he flashed you was earnest and relieved, if he was being quite honest. “Ah, nice! Let’s get you something to eat, maybe a cheese string. But definitely water!”

“I’m actually feeling pretty full right now in terms of cheese. Thanks for that, Den.”

“Wait really?” Denki questioned as he swept his boxers along with his shirt off the kitchen floor, his concern showing through his furrowed brow, “Not even for a cheese string?”

A deadpan look crossed your face, sighing as you gave in to your dumbass of a roommate. “One cheese string.”

“Bet!”

Needless to say, post sex activities consisted of a hot shower, the second Shrek movie, and two cheese strings (per Denki’s request). Not a bad way to relieve your stress, you concluded to yourself happily as you snuggled closer to your roommate, fingers intertwined beneath the blanket as you allowed yourself to slip into a comfortable slumber against Denki’s shoulder.

all works © eijishimas 2021. do not reuse, modify, or repost.

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[webbyweeb]

Characters: Genya, Suma, Hinatsuru Tanjiro,

Summery: you get isekai’d into your brothers favorite anime and end up in a game of tag with one of the most underrated characters.

Warnings for cussing and odd humor.

You’re it!

“I won’t die, thanks Suma-sama.” “Suma! She’s already promised you she won’t die 3 times let go!” “I CANNTT!! YOURE TOO YOUNG FOR THIS [NAME]! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WHILE YOU’RE GONE?!” Hinatsuru finally freed you from Suma’s grip “[name], run!” “I PROMISE I’LL BE BACK IN 7 DAYS!” Around 5 hours ago you left the Uzui household for final selection, and somehow you already miss your adoptive household. It was chaotic sure, but it came with reassurance. Here it’s just… Quiet. Oddly enough, you seem to miss them. You thought you’d do anything for a break from their flamboyance, but their flamboyance came with the comfort of not needing to think of much else. Like how you and your brother got pulled into his favorite anime that you know close to nothing about. This final selection thing was really hyped up so you hope it has to do with the plot so that you can find him, but he’s nowhere to be seen. You doubt yourself more with each passing second until you bump into someone, you bow immediately and he mutters an apology under his breath before walking off before you could apologize yourself. Processing the new information you think ‘Did he not have eyebrows?’ The two girls started talking and so you assume the main character has arrived, you celebrate internally. ‘Yes! I’m so smart! Or intuitive? Maybe I’m not that smart… Maroon eyes and crimson hair... remember that. Where is everyone going? Oh shit it started?!’ You didn’t hear what the girls said and all you could do is hope it was monologue, not life or death information. You ran through the forest and tried to find somewhere relatively cleared out where you could see things coming and run away easily. 7 days, You only could bring food for 3. You find a nice spot and start picking up leaves and debris, getting more and more worried as the area keeps getting quiet at certain intervals. Apparently it was for nothing because you made it to the day without a demon encounter. ‘Now that it’s safe I’ll go look for remanence of examinee’s, maybe I’ll find [brothers name..]’ You start off in the clearest direction heading towards a river that you hear. You pick up a few hanten’s that you found along the way, got some river rocks and refilled your bottle. Going back you picked up your campsite of everything that fell during the night and started making sound traps to trigger incase a demon or person sneak up on you. You used your hori hori to dig out a platform and starting weaving wood to create a door. You can sleep in a two foot hole, if there’s a door it’s a home right? No. You didn’t compensate for your poor attention span and ended up getting lost until afternoon. Unfortunate… You took a nap in your Minecraft dirt shack laughing to memes from your own world.

You woke up when a rabid animal tried to attack you. That rabid animal was your idiot brother. “[Brothers Name?!] What the hell?!” “I KNOW YOU’RE HAPPY TO SEE ME SHUT UP!” “YOU WERE LIKE RUNNING ACROSS THE WORLD TRYING TO AVOID ME OR SOMETHING! WHERE WERE YOU WHEN WE STARTED?!” “I climbed the wrong side of the mountain okay!!” “That seems like something you would do.” “WHAT?!” *roar* “Oh! So that’s what happened to jeremiah hart!” “You didn’t even watch that movie!” “MEME BREATHING SECOND FORM! PERFECTLY CUT SCREAM!” Your brother chopped off a demons head and you just stood there, unable to understand why that’s his breathing form. “Really?” “$100,000 game of tag, I call dibs on sapnap!” “BUT HE WON?!” “HAHA GOOD LUCK JIMMY!” “NO [BROTHERS NAME] WE JUST REUNITED!” You went after your brother and found him rather quickly. “TAG! YOU’RE IT!” You jumped up to the canopy and realized, ‘Oh wait that’s the dude I bumped into earlier… HE LOOKS SO CONFUSED I HOPE HE DIDNT SEE ME!’ “TAG!” “YOU’RE NOT EVEN IT!” “Oh I forgot.” “You tried to scare me and couldn’t.” “….” “You’re so annoying.” You hopped back to your campsite and started eating with your brother, mostly you making fun of him for not bringing any food to which he justifies with “They didn’t bring any in the anime!” So you call him a liar because hey, he can’t take advantage of you for not watching the anime! “TAG!” “…Eeh? WHERE DID THAT SUCKER GO?! HE DIDNT EVEN USE A BREATHING STYLE!” “HOLY SHIT IS THAT GENYA FREAKING SHINAZUGAWA!?! What did you do?!” “IM BLIND OKAY!” “Don’t tell me you mistook him for me…” “…” “[name]…” you look away “FRICK YOU!” “Hahaha!” “SHUT!” “And that kids is how I meet your father.” “NOT ON MY WATCH! THAT IS AN S CLASS PSYCHO!” “Oh yeah, cuz psycho’s play tag.” *roar* “MEME BREATHING, FUCK THE FORM! RICK ROLL!” “Dude, you’re luring all the demons out with your phat ass” “NO U- wait wait never-mind I like that” “gross.” “IM A NINE COURSE MEAL!~” “Yeah you are marechi..” “Ayo did that one just talk-“ “AAAAAHH!” “AAAAAAHHAHA OWWW!” “IT BIT MY DICK OFF!” “First time?” [In the near distance] “…idiots” “HEUEHA OW MY DICK AH FUCK!” Genya watched as the crazy person from before ran past his hiding spot. “TAG BITCH!” And how the weird girl from before found him and ran off with the crazy person. ‘Are they taking this seriously?’

The next day was a ton of crying and laughing and eventually passing out. Until late afternoon. “Tag!” You jumped awake, it was the guy from before. “DAMNIT!” You run after him. “HOW ARE YOU SO FAST?! YOU’RE NOT EVEN USING A BREATHING STYLE!” he jumps and you fall into the river. “NOOOOOO” you swear you hear snickering and you curse this weird boy. You decided not to get up because hey, you’re tired. “Are you alright miss?” ‘Is that main character energy I’m sensing?!’ “Fuck that no eyebrows idiot.” “Eeh?” “[NAME] ARE YOU DEAD OR SOMETHING?!” “I WISH I WAS!” You throw a tantrum and end up splashing the boy with maroon eyes, and your brother. “Sorry about my little sister! She’s a handful. My name is [brothers name], what’s your name?” ‘this is definitely the main character. He wouldn’t act like that normally.’ You glared into your brothers soul. “Ah! No need to apologize. My name is Kamado tanjiro! It’s nice to meet you!” “IM GONNA KILL HIM!” You run after the now identified as “Genya” in the direction you saw him run. “[NAME] NO!” “[L/N] SAN!” “WHERE THE HELL DID HE GO?!” “Right here!” “ALRIGHT YOU STUPID IDOIT PREPARE TO-“ “NOOOO” Genya got away. Again. And now you have your brother on your back. “Take more interest in kamado-san! He’s not crazy! Someone has to balance you out!” “IM ENRAGED NOT INTERESTED GET OFF ME YOU FAT FUCK!” “For that, I don’t think I will!” “Tag!” “YOU TAGGED ME WHILE IM DOWN?! CMON MAN YOU DONT HAVE TO RUB IT IN!” “WHATS EVEN HAPPENING?!” “C-calm down [L/N]-san!”

I ran out of time again but I plan to continue this. I’d love some suggestions!

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

I've written a handful of reader insert fics, but I'm by no means an expert. I'm just someone who likes writing while pushing the boundaries of narrative voice.

What I send to do is write in a sort of "stream of consciousness" sort of way. I'm literally putting myself into these situations, but changing any instances of "me" to "you". So while I'm writing, I'm thinking, what's would I do in this situation? What would I be drawn to, what am I likely to make observations of, what comments would I make if I was stuck in an elevator with this character? So as far as how many details you would include, how detail oriented of a person are you? Do you notice when the picture on the wall behind your conversation partner is crooked? Or are you just focused on the image itself? Or are you actually focused on the person speaking to you?

How often in your own internal monologue do you refer to yourself? If the answer is not very, then that's about right, unless you're Eon Musk and think yourself to be the greatest thing since sliced bread. But you're not him, I presume, so let me keep making my point.

You're not describing yourself in your own head. So you don't need to include details about yourself, unless the thing you're writing happens to be gendered. Even then, though, you can often make it neutral enough where unless you're writing a romantic/sex scene, pretty much anyone can insert themself into any "you are your own adventure" situation.

Even here, in the form of advice, I'm talking to you, about things you would be doing. Are you imagining yourself sitting at the computer? Or are you imagining me, a faceless internet person? You're likely imaging yourself, because of the power of phrasing.

You walk down the stairs, you hear a noise, you turn your head abruptly to see a mirror crashing to the ground.

You're activating the readers imagination just by telling them what they are doing. That's why the details of who you are, aren't really all that important. Each person who reads the above will find themselves in it, precisely because I the author have told them to.

I walk down the stairs, I hear a noise, I turn my head abruptly to see a mirror crashing to the ground.

Now I'm telling you to imagine me, but you can't because I haven't provided any details about me. I can picture myself because I know what I look like. If I were to, however, say something more like, "I turned my short stature towards the shattering sound, my black hair falling in front of my glasses as my green eyes darted around, startled by the noise," then you can start picturing who I am.

When you separate the person from the details, you get two distinct parts, one that is perceivable, and one that isn't. Everyone already has a perception of themselves, so why think about the details of that? We already know who we are. We can fill in the blanks as needed. So in the case of reader inserts, use the details of the setting, the situation, to do the work for you, and let the reader fill in their own details when you tell them what they are, not who they are.

I love reader inserts, not because I ever insert myself, but because it lets me imagine they’re about my OCs and it happens to be in the second person. 

So, I thought I’d try my hand at it (not on this blog but somewhere else)! But I’m always unsure about what people enjoy. Am I supposed to not have any detail figured out? Like hair length, height, measurements, or coloring? Do I shoot for the average, or what? I’m not aiming to make the reader <me>, but rather as someone you could easily stand in for.

But then, isn’t every piece of media supposed to be for empathizing with the main character? So even if you have short hair and the reader-insert has long hair, how jarring is it really?

Would love some feedback and opinions of people who write or read a lot of that kind of stuff.

[n0bamak1s]

whisper of the heart- megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: you begin to take notice of the name “megumi fushiguro” on all the tops of your library checkout cards. a semi-retelling of whisper of the heart featuring you and megumi. (genre: fluff, high school au, meet cute)

warnings: none! except maybe slightly ooc megumi

word count: 3.2k

a/n: hi everyone! ty all again for being so patient with me publishing this. i’ve been very busy with college apps lately, but i’m gonna try to keep this blog as active as i can while balancing it with school life. anyways, i had a lot of fun writing this, but i’m definitely not used to writing megumi, so feel free to leave feedback ^^ i also changed some details from the original movie and left it a bit open ended, so feel free to let me know if you want a part 2!

“who the hell is megumi fushiguro?”

your gaze was fixed on the faded ink reading the now all too familiar characters. the characters spelling out a name that managed to keep showing up on the yellow tinted checkout cards tucked into the books you borrowed.

nobara glanced over your shoulder, inspecting the piece of cardstock tucked between your fingers. wrinkling her nose in disgust, she plucked the card from you, holding it closer to her face.

“whoever it is, they have terrible handwriting.” she stuck her nose up, turning back to you with a playful smile. “i don’t know how you managed to get ‘megumi fushiguro’ out of that chicken scratch.” a face of mock distress crossed her features as she did air quotes around the name, as if she couldn’t believe such a delicate name would be given to someone with such handwriting. she’s always had a tendency to be a bit over dramatic about trivial stuff like this.

with nothing more than a huff in response, you snatched back the card, tucking it neatly back into your library book. your fingers grazed the worn down cover for a moment, gliding along the slight tears around the corners and the stiffness of the yellowing pages.

‘i wonder how many of these creases came from megumi fushiguro?’

“whoever it is, it seems like that name shows up in every book i check out in the library.”

nobara kicked a rock as she walked, leaving a small cloud of dust around her feet. “maybe you’re just imagining it. you always stay up so late doing whatever the hell it is you do in your free time that you’ve probably begun to hallucinate.” she nudged you playfully, eliciting a dead pan expression from you.

“i’m serious nobara. i mean, i’ve never really believed in fate but there’s no way it’s completely coincidental!”

she raised an eyebrow, as if to say you can’t be serious. “i think you’ve been reading too many romance novels, for all you know this person could totally be just some weird old guy with nothing better to do than visit the library.”

“hey!” you acted as if that last bit was a personal attack on you, and knowing nobara it probably was. “i’m not saying this megumi fushiguro person is my soulmate or anything, i just think it’s a very strange coincidence.” you shrugged off your backpack as you talked, putting away your book. noticing the suspiciously light weight of your bag, you rummaged your fingers around for a moment to find that your sketchbook had gone missing.

crap.

nobara turned to you, perceptive as ever of your suddenly altered demeanor. “forget something again?” it was almost annoying sometimes how well she knew you. was it really that obvious?

“just my sketchbook,” your hands rifled through your bag one final time to make sure you really didn’t have it “probably left it on the park bench or something, it’ll just be a minute to get it.” you turned to her with a sheepish smile, silently pleading her to follow you there. she stared blankly at you for a moment, probably having one of her internal monologues about how lucky you were to have her as a friend, before rolling her eyes and following suit.

“this better be quick, i have places to be you know!”

“no you don’t.” you turned around before you could meet her melodramatic glare.

behind you, you could hear her huff of dissatisfaction, though she made no move to leave, reassuming her position next to you, giving you a gentle nudge as she brushed next to you.

as you walked, the sunlight peeking between trees framing your pathway began to warm your face, highlighting the ends of your eyelashes and the tops of your cheeks with the warm glow of the first hints of summer time. for a moment, you closed your eyes, letting yourself be enveloped in it, before your fleeting thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a bike coming in your direction. you felt as if you’d jump out of your own skin in that moment, hearing a “move out of the way!” from a husky, disembodied voice.

it probably looked pretty ridiculous how you jumped out of the way, kicking up a fleeting cloud of dust as you avoided the sudden presence of the biker. grounding yourself, your eyes flickered up to the source of the voice, being met with the gaze of stormy blue eyes, framed by long, dark eyelashes that nobara would most definitely be envious of. taking in the boy’s whole figure, your eyes were drawn to the messy black hair atop his head, formed at the ends into contradictorily gentle looking spikes. the sleeves of his white button down were rolled up taut around his forearms, leading your gaze to his hands wrapped tightly around the bike handles.

oh, right. he’s still biking.

you turned your focus back to keeping to your side of the path momentarily, before the sight of your name written atop the sketchbook peeking out of his bag came into your field of vision as he continued to move past you. before you had time to think rationally, you turned to his now retreating form, breaking into a jog, kicking up a few more dust clouds as you did.

ignoring nobara’s incredulous calling of your name, you tried to call to the boy who had no intention of slowing down. “excuse me!” you cupped a hand around your mouth, hoping to project your voice louder. “hey!” the irritation in your voice was clear, but you breathed a small sigh of relief as the bike slowed to a stop, and the spike headed boy turned to your direction.

after an awkward moment of your continued jogging to him while he stood with a blank expression, you stopped in front of him, an accusatory look grazing your features.

“i think you have something of mine.” you tried your best to imitate the confident attitude you always admired from nobara, placing a hand on your hip and using the other one to point to his bag. his gaze followed the direction of where you pointed, his eyebrows raised while the rest of his face remained stagnant.

“oh, this?” he tugged the cardboard covered sketchbook out of the pocket it had been placed in, examining the cover. his eyes flickered between your name written in the top corner, and your currently annoyed looking face, as if he was playing some sort of word association game. you simply nodded in response, anticipation clear in your actions.

as he held out the sketchbook to you, he leaned down so his face was closer to you, as if to tell you a secret, voice low and eyes trained on you. “you should be more careful next time. you’re lucky i’m nice enough to not just steal this from you right now.”

you didn’t have an explanation as to why your heart began to race.

taking your silence as a response, he pushed it into your hands, his fingers brushing against yours gently. “nice drawings by the way, i recognize your friend over there from the portrait you drew of her on the first page.” his face remained stoic as he pointed at nobara, who was tapping her foot in boredom.

face warm from embarrassment, you snatched the sketchbook from where his hands lingered on it, muttering a bitter sounding “thanks” before stalking over to nobara once more, who looked relieved that she’d finally be able to go wherever it was she was going to.

“what an asshole.” you glared at him over your shoulder as he biked away, your gaze lingering a second too long for someone so insistent on hating him. nobara shook her head in response, clearly annoyed at your own obliviousness after witnessing the whole interaction.

a smug smile crossed her soft features. “maybe that’s megumi fushiguro.”

you raised a brow as you glanced at her. “as if!”

despite your insistence on your distaste for the mystery boy, he managed to have flooded your thoughts. ‘he must be using sorcery or something to keep himself on my mind, weirdo.’

still, you couldn’t deny how just a few more of your portraits were accented by ocean blue eyes, or pointed ends to the different mops of hair you sketched. how did you manage to keep attracting mystery people into your life?

when you returned to the library, you gripped a thick science fiction novel, the pages brushing your soft fingers as your marched it up to the checkout counter. as the librarian wrote the date on a small piece of cardstock, you took note of the fact that your name would be the first one there. had megumi fushiguro missed out on this one?

a pleasant smile stretched across your face as the librarian handed the book back to you. scrawling your name at the top of the checkout card, your eyes flickered to a stamp of ink beneath the slot for it.

donated by fushiguro.

of course it was.

the library door squeaked quietly as you pushed it open, one hand on the door, and the other placing your new book in your backpack. zipping it up and throwing it over your shoulder, you were met with the feeling of a dog sniffing your leg. your eyes trailed down to a dog almost akin to a small polar bear brushing its nose against your calf. reaching your hand to scratch softly against the back of his head, you coo gently at the not-so-little little guy.

“what’s got you all by yourself buddy?” an involuntary smile creeps onto your face at how he calms at your pats.

wordlessly, obviously considering this is a dog, he turns and walks a few steps forward, before pausing and tilting just his fur covered face toward you, egging you on to follow him just as you had the other day with nobara. you considered for a moment, before shrugging and giving in to his pretty minimal amount of convincing. nobara would be out getting lunch with maki today anyways, so you could use something to do today. after all, it could be fate.

it was almost as if you were one of those people who walked their dog without a lash, but in reality, it was more like the dog was walking you as it lead you down tall, sidewalk-lined hills and through parks filled with young parents having picnics with their children and couples going on walks. you wondered to yourself if this was a worthwhile excursion, was he just leading you to a dead end, or worse, was he some dog trained by a gang to lure people into danger?

after walking a few minutes more, you found out the spot you were being lead to was, in fact, even worse then both the possibilities you’d been brainstorming in your head, when you were met at the bottom of another hill with the stoic expression of that spike head. his eyes softened at the sight of the dog, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips that quickly vanished as he met your gaze, his eyes hardened in contrast with the bashfulness that shone on his cheeks.

“oh, you found him. thanks for that.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting his gaze back to the dog. you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. to be fair though, what did you expect you’d do when you found where the dog was leading you?

“i should probably go.” your usually collected demeanor had been replaced with that of a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs. with a stiff wave, you took your leave, turning on your heel.

“wait.” his voice wavered, as if trying to catch himself before he spoke. “i can walk you home if you want. it’s the least i can do after you got him home.” he forced a smile onto his face, though it made him look more constipated than inviting. what happened to the snarky, aloof boy who had handed you your sketchbook just a few days ago?

still, you nodded, lips pressed into a line that you hoped resembled somewhat of a smile. surely, you should have been more worried about his sudden change in demeanor, but the relieved expression on his face seemed to soothe your nerves a bit. he assumed a spot next to you, tucking his hands in his pants pockets.

“your little buddy there lead me all over the city trying to find you, so i don’t exactly know how to get home from here, but maybe you can just lead me to the library.” you turned so you faced him, now aware of the close proximity between you two. nobara would probably laugh in your face if she could witness the moment you paused, stunned by the eye contact he made with you under his thick eyelashes. had you been perceptive enough in the moment, you may have noticed the blush creeping up his face. he nodded his head, which was already tilted down to face you fully, with eyes hazy and lips slightly parted.

“it’s just this way, i’ll show you.” he removed his hand from its pocket to point up the hill that had brought you to him in the first place. you gripped the straps of your backpack and faced in the direction he pointed to obediently, hoping to ignore the weird tension in the air. what could you talk to him about?

before you could continue your internal dilemma, he cleared his throat again. “you seem to like the library a lot, huh?”

by god was this boy terrible at small talk.

“i guess i do, but i don’t know how you came to that conclusion considering i only just brought up the library.” you cocked an eyebrow as you looked at him, probably sounding more annoyed than you’d intended.

he smiled knowingly at you, a hint of disbelief on his features as he raised his eyebrows. “i guess you wouldn’t know since your nose is always buried in a book, but i see you there like every day.”

your eyebrows furrowed so they practically touched, trying to rack your memory for seeing him in the library. “i’m sure i’d be able to recognize you if you did.” you were completely oblivious to the implications of how memorable you found him that laced your statement.

he shrugged nonchalantly. “believe it or not. i even tried sitting down in front of you a few times, but you were always too focused on your books to notice.” his smile was almost bittersweet as you waited by a stoplight. before you could respond, he continued. “it’s kind of admirable though. i think it’s nice that you’re so passionate about your books.”

you took a chance to look at him, really look at him, for the first time since you’d glared at him biking by. he held your gaze, eyes gentle. there was absolutely no way this was the same boy carrying your sketchbook in his bag from a few days ago.

“well if you think i’m so nice, what was with you trying to be all smart about my sketchbook?” ever the stubborn one, you were.

he shrugged his shoulders, shoving his hands back in his pockets. “you really should be more careful of your stuff. i was just letting you know. it’s not like i would have put in that effort for just anyone’s sketchbook. i guess i was just trying to make sure you wouldn’t lose it again. sorry if i offended you.”

the way he was blushing would have made any bypasser believe he’d just asked you to marry him.

“it’s just…” he continued “after seeing you in the library all the time, i thought you were really impressive. i thought if i tried to return your sketchbook, i could impress you too.” he kicked a rock that touched the edge of his sneaker.

“why would you wanna impress me?” your obliviousness was excruciating for the poor boy, though it was completely sincere on your end.

“you know, for someone so smart, you really are dense.” he pursed his lips, feigning annoyance. “and here i was thinking i was so obvious.”

at this point, you were nearing the library, and suddenly desperate to continue this conversation that you would have been dreading at the start of this walk.

“when it was obvious you weren’t gonna look up from your book, i tried checking out as many books as i could to get on your radar.” his smile had a weird hint of sadness behind it. you stayed silent, piecing together facts in your head.

“recognize the name megumi fushiguro?”

oh.

it pained you for a moment to know you’d have to tell nobara she was right.

“you’re megumi fushiguro?” your eyebrows shot up in surprise, mouth slightly agape. he seemed to stifle a laugh at your expression.

“i mean, what were you expecting?” he looked a little too smug for someone who was too scared to talk to you in the library.

“some weird old person, probably.” you shrugged, still with an incredulous look on your face. “i’m glad it wasn’t though.”

“oh?” he really did have a nice smile. “i guess you’re glad it was me then.” even he was unsure of this sudden confidence.

you pondered his question for a moment, but your body moved before your brain did, nodding your head slowly. he seemed to loosen up then, hands out of his pockets again, making you aware of how close you stood to him with the way his fingers brushed yours every few steps. a slight sadness filled your being as you stopped in front of those squeaky library doors that suddenly seemed so uninviting.

“i’ll tell you what then,” he started confidently, juxtaposing the bashful way he avoided eye contact with you all of a sudden “come to the library again tomorrow, and i’ll meet you there. really meet you this time, not just walking past your table. i can show you my favorites there and you can show me yours, it’ll be…fun.” he looked up almost worriedly for your reaction, slightly angry at himself for his sudden shyness, you seemed to have quite the effect on him.

there was a beat of silence, and he almost cut the tension in the air by taking back his request and booking it back home. before he could fully hatch his master escape plan, you reached over to grab his hand, his slender fingers lacing through yours. you gave it a light squeeze, and swore you could feel him jump a little at the contact.

“i’d like that a lot,” you looked in his eyes, which had gone from defensive to doe like in just your five words “megumi fushiguro.” he loved the way his name sounded coming from you. his anticipation cracked into a smile as he squeezed your hand back, and you prided yourself on getting to make him smile again.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, then.” he leaned down slightly as he said it, reminiscent of how he had scolded you about your sketchbook just a few days ago. you nodded in response, unable to stop the giddy smile stretching across your face.

tomorrow couldn’t come any faster.