#then I go to their DMs and ask awkwardly how they liked it

[leidensygdom]

con cryptids: a post

So, I tabled at a con this weekend and had a grand time. However, cons are ripe with cryptids, situations and events. I thought it'd be a good idea to compile some of them, because it's been quite the eventful one. Here's some of the encounters:

That one girl who asked me if I had HP merch. The excess of pride flags on my booth did not deter her, I guess.

The few people that were on my booth when that happened, also wrapped in pride flags, who did a collective grimace at the girl when she left.

Girl who lost her phone in the bathroom- I noticed it right away when entering after her, but she had already vanished the second after. I kinda awkwardly waited on the bathroom because I knew she'd notice at some point, and few minutes later, she came back crying and sobbing. She hugged me when I told her I found her phone and had been waiting for her.

This group of women in her 40s that all dressed up as the jawa (is that how it's spelled?) from Star Wars. They had little ID cards with their names, which were all puns. They had a TTRPG group together where they passed the DM torch with every session. Honestly, I look up to them

This person in an Ao Oni cosplay that consisted of a bright purple bodysuit and a very well crafted, unsettling-as-hell mask. They mostly just stood in places and stared at people without saying anything.

The people who had a sticker for Eileen (the Bloodborne plague doctor lady) to gift me when they saw me on my plague doc cosplay

This one... Very little girl. 6-7yo? She came to my booth and looked at my (many) stickers. She really liked the warlock one (it's a d20 with "warlock" written on it, with few eyes, demonic wings and a black-purple-red scheme). She did have no idea on what a warlock was, nor what was dnd, but she liked the design and asked her dad to buy it in sticker form. He thought he wanted the holographic one, and gave her money for that- But she wanted the plain one. So she bought a second sticker. She was undecided on which, and I suggested a cute little witchy black cat, since it's very popular with kids. Instead, she pointed at my Mothman sticker and went "I want this one, it scares me!"

About 10ish minutes later, this girl returned to my booth. She wanted the same warlock sticker, but now in holographic and pin format. Her dad didn't know why, but he just gave her money for them anyways.

And about half an hour later, she came back once again. This time, she... wanted the warlock charm. Which her dad was more than happy to get for her.

The endless amount of kids that come to my booth, point at my thicc yellow among us sticker, and go "omg!!! he's got a butt!!!!!!!!!!!"

The way my OFF print almost sold out this year. I never thought that the one print I made of an indie RPG maker game made by some Belgian dude 20 years ago would be my 2025 hit, but it sure was. The people who bought it were surprised by the fact I was surprised about people recognizing it. It was my most sold print, beating stuff like my Hollow Knight one by a massive mile.

People bought a bunch of my Blasphemous print too. They also all commented on names for the Penitent One that they used. Most of them don't translate well to English, but they ranged from "The Drama Guy", "The Penetrating One", or even better, "Pepe". We also joked a bunch about leaving cookies out for the Penitent One, since it's the Holy Week in Spain.

This one guy that already came to my booth last year who tried to get me to join his cult. He completely forgot he also tried that last year, for the record.

This one person who, talking about TTRPG stuff, mentioned that he played a dual character once. One of them was a bear, I think a barbarian. The other one was a woodpecker, who was an artificer. One of them played the banjo. The other one played the kazoo.

He also was currently playing a character that was a "fire baboon monk who wanted to kill god"

The endless amount of people who bought my Hornet-with-a-Clown-Wig sticker, who were very sure that "nah, Silksong AINT coming out, that was bait!"

Every single year, I manage to sell one (1) genderfluid sticker. This has remained true once again. There's always a moment of connection between me and the one designated genderfluid person who can only find a little relevant sticker on a singular booth in the entire con.

I had quite few more fun encounters, but these were kinda the main ones. All in all, a fun time- And a lot of fun oddballs to meet!

[bookwormscififan]

I feel called out

Every single fic update there is an author trying frantically to find the right balance between a nonchalant aside of "leave a comment if you enjoyed =)" and clinging desperately to the coat tails of a random stranger, dragging along behind them on the street wailing "Please, please! I have to know what you thought! I'm desperate to talk to people about this! Ask me about the alliterative repetition! Ask me about the symbolism!"

[faunandfloraas]

So... since it's november now, aka 5 minutes until the end of it all (new year) I thought I would ask if any mutuals would like to exchange cards? I may or may not have caught the making small crafts bug after the concert and I may or may not have already made some small things.... so Uh :) if you'd like to hit me up 🫰😌

[mimipolo]

Hii I was gonna ask if you can do a headcanon about how Nam-gyu acts when he's jealous (and if you do anons can I be the rose🌹?)

Jealous! Nam-gyu x reader headcanons

He's definitely the type to get to stupid amounts of jealousy unprovoked

Anyone that knows how to make my works look prettier please dm tutorials or advice pretty please :^

When this man gets jealous you can easily tell. You're just catching up with one of your friends from uni and he's hovering over your shoulder and squinting at the poor guy like he killed you expecting him to take the hint.

He's standing unnecessarily close to you, his grip on your waist or shoulder constantly tightening as if you'd accidentally trip and fall into the other guys arms.

Actually has the audacity to ask the two of you "Are you done?" mid conversation and you both just share looks of astonishment, looking between yourselves then at him. It's so tense you both just have to laugh it off as he awkwardly walks away saying he hopes to see you around town again.

"Good riddance..."

Is all you hear from behind you and then he's tugging you in the opposite direction, wherevers furthest from that guy. He's pestering you with semi rude comments towards them as you walk away.

"What's his deal anyway?"

"Did he need to talk to you that long."

"He thinks he's all that, arrogant dick."

You roll your eyes and make a show of groaning dramatically at his behaviour to which he blatantly ignores, glad that you're (he's)not talking with them anymore.

It's one thing with people, it's easy for him to have jealousy towards them and even easier to justify himself. But when people aren't the problem is when it gets difficult. You're so dedicated to this pet/hobby/interest of yours and he's wondering why you couldn't obssess yourself with him like that.

You've been working on the same peice for a while now, you estimated that after two or three more days you'd finally be done. What you hadn't recognised was Nam-gyu constantly hovering around you all throughout the project. Offering you tea and asking you to come lie in bed with him, the vulnerability confused you but you just summed it up to being another one of his clingy moments. That's until he finally speaks up, his head resting atop of yours, his hands resting on the back of your chair. If you had taken a moment to glance up you'd see the visible pout frown on his face.

"[Namee]..."

"Hm?"

He lips furrow deeper, you couldn't even answer him, this dumb project you're working on has been occupying every small gap of time you had and leaving none for him, and of course you were oblivious. He liked that about you but damn he had offered you tea??

"You're always hunched over this table, when are ya finally finishing this thing?"

It would've been a normal question, even one of concern if it wasn't for the clear bitterness and irritation that laced his words. This catches your attention and you turn your head towards him a slight sympathetic yet playful look in your eyes.

"Aw, ya miss me Nam?"

"Go to hell."

Tutting disapprovingly at his words, he sucks his teeth in annoyance when he sees the winning grin on your face, you knew he'd eventually cave and start complaining. And so stretching your back you decide to pause your progress for tonight.

"All right then, bed it is."

He huffs like he doesn't care if you do or not but he's already making his way to lie on the bed as you push your chair out, you have to bite your lip in order not to laugh.

Totally the type to be petty, turning on his side when you two are sleeping then regrets it like five seconds after and is turning on his side to lean against you. You don't have to say or do anything.

The most embarassing moment of jealousy he's had was when you were holding one of his new born nephews with the most doting look in your eyes. You asked him why he looked so serious and he said how you should be holding him instead he's just hoping his sister rests up soon.

He's so dumb.

[hangup119]

ඞ JOIN GAME?

twenty-two. galvanized steel and eco-friendly wood veneers

warnings: spoilers for jujutsu kaisen (manga only), cringe brain rot 😓

NERVOUS WOULD BE A COMPLETE AND UTTER UNDERSTATEMENT FOR WHAT ANTON LEE CURRENTLY FELT. 

After he had made sure that the stream was officially over and that his camera was no longer running, he had made a quick dash towards the nearest mirror in a vain attempt of making sure he didn’t look too much of a try-hard with his outfit and hair. Only after making sure that he didn’t look like either, he gathered the last of his wits (what much was left after playing Resident Evil 4 for two whole hours anyway) and proceeded to make his way down to the lobby to finally meet the ”girl of his dreams,” according to the embarrassing, spur-of-the-moment tweet he had made earlier. He cringed just to even think back on it. 

“Where is she?” Anton muttered as he stepped out of the elevator, quickly looking around the relatively empty lobby for any sign of you, much to no avail. 

Well, this is  it, he thought while attempting to steel his nerves for the umpteenth time. This was the moment all previous chapters have accumulated to—the peak of countless weeks of having known each other online in and out of streaming and private DMs he would sometimes think about during the crack of dawn on a random Tuesday. He figured that there wasn't much to do now since he already hyped himself up while he was cleaning this morning, and recently just now when he was still five floors above. Sure, he probably looked real stupid when he kept repeating affirmations to himself (“your rizz is real, your rizz is real…!”) in front of whoever was monitoring the CCTVs today, but Anton realized that he was far too skittish about your short-notice meet up to truly care about others’ perception of him anymore. Which, in hindsight, was concerning. He wonders if he needs to schedule an appointment at the doctor’s…

“Boo.” 

Anton jumped lamely, cursing under his breath before having it immediately taken away when he turned around to face you. 

You blinked up at him.

“Woah,” you said, a bit surprised, “you’re so… tall.” 

“And you're so… short,” was his genius response. 

“What was that?” you asked darkly. Anton gulped nervously, but then you looked at him quizzically. “No, like, seriously, what’d you say? I couldn’t hear you properly; your voice is too soft, man.” 

Oh, okay. He almost breathed out a sigh of relief because you didn’t hear that.

“Nothing important,” Anton stammered, hastily ushering you towards the elevator doors without giving you a chance to say anything else. “Let’s just go. You wanna see the fish, right?” 

“But I—…” you trailed off, watching him hurriedly press the buttons on the wall. “Yeah, okay,” you breathed out eventually, awkwardly fiddling with the straps of your bag. When the doors finally closed, Anton stood back and glanced at you briefly. It didn’t go unnoticed however, as you quickly returned the look, offering him a small, steady grin.

“Hi,” you greeted. 

“Hi,” he nodded back at you, before tearing his gaze away. 

Anton didn’t bother to say anything else, and neither did you, so it was safe to say that the ride towards the seventh floor ended up being a little awkward, what with him trying to discreetly steal glances at you every now and then without you noticing, far too busy finding out what’s so interesting about the elevator ceiling. 

By the tenth urge, he realized just how hard it was to resist looking at you. 

Truly, incredibly, and scarily concerning. 

Now, don’t get it wrong: Anton’s not the kind to just fall for anyone that easily. Sure, he may be young and chronically online and knows too much brain rot-terminology for his own good, but he wasn’t some fourteen-year-old on Discord with a Ken Kaneki profile picture who’d join random servers that would probably die within three months, snag an E-Girlfriend within that time frame before breaking up with her because ‘LDR just won’t work out, babe, it’s not you, it’s me’ or however those situations would go. He was better than that, or so he’d like to think. (Although he was, unfortunately, a twenty-year-old on Discord.) 

Point is, Anton wasn’t stupid enough to fall for just anyone he met online—much less someone he met on Roblox Altitorture, for goodness sake! He can entertain the thought of finding them pretty through pictures he’s seen online, yeah, and he can entertain his friend’s teasing remarks about his supposed crush on someone he hasn’t even met, but Anton liked to believe that it never was that serious. He wasn’t that jealous over you sitting all alone inside another guy’s house, looking after another guy’s fish, or planning to spend another guy’s fifty bucks on useless micro-transactions he could buy for you as quick as lightning without you having to lift a finger (and he has!), and he definitely wasn’t that serious when he accidentally blurted out a sentence that could potentially jeopardize the fanbase he had been steadily building up since he was fifteen, right?

And inviting you over to his house under the pretext of taking a look at his fish (who was probably in both Sungchan and Shotaro’s hit list) wasn't that serious. 

…Right?

You’re just friends, Anton convinced himself when the two of you exited the elevator and walked towards his door. You’re just friends, Anton repeated inside his head as he typed in his PIN on the keypad. You’re just friends, he reassured when he finally swung the door op— 

“God, you’re so rich,” you muttered the moment you entered his condo, and all thoughts of denial Anton had repeating in his mind suddenly came running out the window as he watched you remove your shoes at the front. “You have all this space to yourself?” 

“My mom visits sometimes,” he squeaks out pathetically. 

You looked back at him, a bemused smile on your face and—oh, who was Anton kidding? You’re way prettier in real life compared to the pictures he saw on Sohee’s Facebook post, and whether that was a good thing for his mental health or not—well, he didn’t want to find out anymore. 

Wrongly assuming you’d head straight towards his fish tank, Anton found himself trailing after you as you started loitering by the living room. “Are these your parents?” you asked, signaling towards the multitude of frames on top of the wooden furniture. “You have a brother? He looks just like you.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Anton affirmed, moving to point at the photos. “That’s my mom, my dad, and my younger brother. Over there are my grandparents.” 

You whistled. “Wow, your mom’s really pretty,” you noted with a laugh, “she looks like she could be famous, or something.”

“Uh, she was an actress, actually.” 

Your smile dropped as quickly as it appeared. Anton had to stifle back a snort. 

“...For real?” you asked, carefully looking back at the picture and then towards him. He slowly nodded. “What? Don’t tell me your dad’s famous too? Your grandma? Your childhood dog? The mailman who steals your Amazon deliveries?” 

His silence practically confirmed it, and you squawked in response. (Though you weren’t too sure about the mailman. The grandma and the dog? Sure, since even his fish was famous.)

“My dad’s a music producer,” Anton elaborated, moving away from you to head towards the corner where his fish, the supposed star of the day, resided at. “He’s over in Korea, though, so I don’t see him as often anymore.” 

You followed after him, unsure of where else to go. “Your mom was an actress, and your dad’s some hot-shot music producer… and you decided to become a Let’s Play streamer?” you wondered to yourself, incredulous. Anton looked back at you indignantly, but you merely shrugged back at him. “I’m just saying, dude. You could be, like, I don’t know, a K-pop idol or something with those connections. Oh! You could be in NCT—what do you think of bright, green hair on those luscious locks of yours?” 

Anton gave you a scalding side-eye.  

“...Nah,” he eventually said with a  shake of his head, a wistful grin on his face. “It’s a little late for that.” 

You were about to say something else, something probably much more snarky to the absolute nonsense Anton responded to your suggestion with, but your words quickly died down inside your throat the moment a familiar shape of glass appeared in your vision. Anton promptly stepped aside to let you have your moment with his pet, unable to fight off the smile rising on his face as you approached the tank with wide, astonished eyes. 

“Stonerland,” you breathed out quite dramatically, finally witnessing the white betta fish swim inside his lonesome tank. “You’re real.”

You inched closer towards the glass, but remained mindful not to touch it per Leehan’s wise teachings. The light from inside reflected onto your eyes, splashes of green and white appearing in them. It would’ve been off putting to anyone else who was observing you, the you who was unblinking as you stared at the oblivious animal, but you didn’t seem to care. You were completely and utterly entranced, lost in your own little world. 

“...You’re so pretty,” you murmured, following Stonerland’s every move. 

Your gaze slowly moved towards him. 

“Right, Anton?” you asked, fully expecting him to be looking at the fish as well. 

Instead, you were met with him already staring back at you, like those romance K-Dramas Eunseok always made him watch with their cliché fireworks scenes that always had Anton’s eyes rolling whenever it inevitably came up. They were all just copies of one another anyway—Han River, fireworks, and the main couple having the space all to themselves when it really should have been packed to the brim with other couples because it was South Korea.; he really could have cared less about such things (even if Eunseok swore to him that they were “peak”).

“Yeah,” he breathed out absentmindedly. 

And because Anton always disliked watching those scenes, the thought of him doing the same thing, albeit at a different situation but with the same principle regardless, never crossed his mind. 

But now, inside his place—the Han River—and watching his fish—the fireworks—with only the two of you beside each other, Anton didn’t even have the chance to roll his eyes because he was too busy staring at you, like some cliché male lead in some cliché romance K-Drama. 

“Oh,” you said. 

And then Anton blinked, snapping himself out of his reverie. “What?” he sputtered out, looking away from you and towards Stonerland, before inevitably bringing his gaze towards you again, only to shy away when you caught him in the act all over again. He coughed out, “What were you saying? Sorry, I was… I was thinking about something else.” 

“Like what?” your head tilted to the side.

“Like,” Anton nervously began, licking his lips as he thought of something to respond with only to come up with blanks. “Like, uh—” 

His eyes landed on Stonerland. 

“—I was just thinking of ways that I could fortify his tank so evil, malicious forces won’t get to him…?” he cringed as the words just kept tumbling out of his mouth. “Because I’m low-key scared that if I invite the boys over, Sungchan and Shotaro will find a way to murder my fish when I’m not looking. Or something like that. I don’t know—I’m just getting bad vibes from them, you know? I might just be paranoid, though.” 

Anton immediately found himself desperately avoiding your gaze, feeling the tips of his ears turn red at how stupid he must have sounded just now. 

“No, I get it,” you said, which catched his attention. “Those two are definitely up to no good, since you practically memorialized the empire they worked so hard to destroy in the form of a fish. A small, helpless fish up against two grown men… yeah, maybe just don’t invite them over.” 

Anton looked at you hopefully, only to be immediately let down when you continued. 

“To be honest, if Stonerland was your pet fish in Minecraft, I’d probably blow it up when you aren’t looking too. Redstone engineering and all, it’d look like a whole fireworks show,” you added bluntly, watching the tank with blank eyes. After a second, however, you quickly look back at him with an easygoing smile, cheerfully saying, “Good thing Stonerland’s a real fish, right? So cute! Betta fishes are the best…” you sighed wistfully. 

You didn’t bother commenting on the look of absolute horror on Anton’s face, too busy cooing at his fish as if you had not just threatened to blow it up in another life. 

He looked at Stonerland—poor and unassuming Stonerland, oblivious to the evils surrounding him and his owner. He wasn’t even safe from the girl who kept squealing over him, simply because of his given name. Poor, poor Stonerland indeed. Anton briefly considered changing the unfortunate fish’s name, maybe install some galvanized steel beams around his tank and some eco-friendly wood veneers for extra protection just in the slightest case anyone would dare to think of hurting his precious betta fish, but he was definitely putting up a sign that had Sungchan and Shotaro’s names crossed off on his front door. 

He slowly turned to you, meekly saying, “Please don’t hurt him.” 

You looked at him, absolutely flabbergasted. “Stonerland’s a guy?”

“Yeah?” Anton’s eyebrows furrowed. “...You didn’t know?” 

“What!” you gaped. “But the fins…! It’s so pretty and long!” 

“Male betta fishes have longer fins, and they’re much leaner,” Anton explained, pointing at Stonerland’s white, flowy fins. “Shouldn’t you know this? Isn’t that Leehan guy you’re friends with a fish-expert or whatever?” 

You pouted. “Well, he is, but he doesn’t own any bettas… so I don't know if he knows anything about them.”

“Hm, so Leehan doesn’t know shit about bettas, the coolest fish ever. I see.”

He felt pride quickly bubble inside his chest when you looked at him expectantly. “Right, yeah! Bettas are so cool! And you know so much about them; that’s so cool!” 

“Nah,” he pretended to be humble, scratching the nape of his neck. “I just did my research.” 

“You should buy a black one,” you continued enthusiastically, “so they can swim together! Isn’t that cute?” 

Anton deadpanned. “Uh, they’ll probably fight to death if that happens…” 

“Oh, so like SatoSugu,” you said blandly. 

Yeah, whatever that means, Anton thought.

The both of you stayed there for a little while more, with most of it spent on useless chatter and you taking hundreds of photos of his fish, so much so that Anton worried whether your phone’s storage was about to reach its limit, however you didn’t seem to care. He honestly didn’t know what exactly was so enamoring about the fish—it was just some small living creature that came with flowy fins and a penchant for loneliness, and all it would do is swim and eat and live off of Anton’s paycheck, but he supposed that if you enjoyed looking at it so much, then he was fine with keeping it. Heck, he’d be fine with protecting it against Sungchan and Shotaro, if it meant that it would keep you happy to see it was still alive. 

Which is, again, concerning. Anton never meant for any of this to happen—he never meant for him to wake up on a random Friday and decide that he was gonna let you into his house when you were, at the core of this situation, just some girl he had just coincidentally met online—and at a kids’ game of all places. 

But between the calls you’ve shared, the jokes, the countless hours you’ve spent together playing games, and the private DMs you’ve shared where no one else could interrupt him teasing subtweets or obsessive ramblings from either shippers or haters, then Anton figured that getting Stonerland was worth all the trouble and money (and Wonbin’s constant whining at the bus) just to see you smiling towards the tank.

…So, yeah, maybe he was jealous of you sitting all alone in another guy’s house, watching another guy’s fish, planning on using the money you earned to purchase useless micro-transactions he could easily buy for you, and maybe accidentally blurting out a sentence that could potentially ruin his career was all the more worth it when you are literally standing right next to him now. 

Anton never thought that everything would eventually lead up to this moment, and he might not be extremely smitten with you right now the way those male leads in K-Dramas would be, at least he doesn’t think so, but what he knows is that there was already a tiny voice inside his head constantly saying that, eventually, at a moment when he least expects it, it will happen. 

“If you want, I can buy you a black betta fish,” he started, leaning his chin on his palm, “and then we’d have matching fishes. Just like SatoSugu, right?” 

You glanced back at him, a little bit shocked. But then your eyes twinkled, and a laugh escaped from your lips. Anton found himself smiling back.

“No way,” you said, “you don’t have to do all that. You already bought me some Robux.” 

“It was literally just twenty dolla—” 

You cut him off. “Plus, one of them dies anyway," you said grimly, your expression darkening. "Actually, they both die."

That quickly shut him up. 

You continued with a snap of your fingers. “You know what, I’ll just tell you their whole lore—no, wait, we should just watch Jujutsu Kaisen instead! Do you have a Netflix account? Let’s binge the first season.” 

Seemingly without a choice, Anton promptly handed you the remote to his TV, staring blankly ahead while he followed you towards his couch. 

It seemed that it was also safe to say that your online personality translated perfectly into real life. For better or for worse.

previous | masterlist | next

SYNOPSIS. not everyone is good at playing obby’s on roblox, and you’re no exception to this rule: after a particularly nasty encounter with another player on roblox’s altitorture, you log into twitter only to find out that the very same player who publicly dunked on your gaming skills turns out to be anton lee, a well-known streamer who also happens to be a friend of a friend. fed up with his fans bombarding your dms with teasing remarks or jealous musings, you decide to end it once and for all by appearing on his next stream with a promise to get through an obby successfully. however, you realize that the only thing you’ll be successful at is falling for anton lee instead.

AUTHOR'S NOTE. wooo first written chapter! what do you guys think so far??? i really like putting the pov on anyone else BUT y/n, it makes her more mysterious HAHA

TAGLIST. (closed) @shoberi @gisellessgf @serafilms @palchokitty @seunghancore @nujeskz @hisrkive e @alwayswook @emohoon @milktea-academia @kyusqult @dolloie @slutforjeno @meowbini @yizhuobberi @fae-renjun @kcharlyy @whoisgwyn @saranghoeforanton @au-ghosttype @gyehyeonist t @dodot04lover @outrologist @papichulomacy @odxrilove @maleegayuh @ilovejungwonandhaechan @dalsosapple @starwonb1n @tojis-luver r @slayhaechan @lakoya @he6rtshaker @rikianton @brachioswrld @woonagi-lemon @ffixtionista @endtostartbreathin @ki3ntot t @bidibaabidiboo @totheseok @astrae4 @hanbinniesmango o @daegale @regrool @sunflowerbebe07 @taroddori @miyawwn @snowyseungs @p-d1ddy

[fruitidyke]

No One Else Noticed

SYNOPSIS: You were one of the toughest players in basketball history. That was until you got hurt, one bad fall had costed you everything. Your dream, your career, your future on the court. You hide the pain from everyone, pretend like it doesn’t bother you. But Nika knows better. She sees right through you, every time.

WARNINGS ⚠︎: INJURY (ACL TEAR), FAILED SURGERY, HURT/COMFORT, AND GRIEF OVER A CAREER. I MIGHT'VE MISSED SOME AND IF I DID DM ME OR LMK <3

WORD COUNT: 𝟏𝟐𝟐𝟏

RECOMMENDED SONG: Like real people do- Hozier

masterlist

It was your last game before the WNBA draft. You were predicted to become the third pick overall. Life felt like a high, and you never thought it could get better. You were hyped, you had helped getting your team to the championship game, and this was it.

It was the third quarter. It was difficult. Both teams were neck and neck the entire game. The crowd wasn't helping either, some booing when there was a foul helping your team, or the overly supportive fans that distracted the team.

You stole the ball from a player on the opposing team and got to the offensive end as fast as you could, trying to plan a left-hander in the hoop and get the lead by four now. That was all until the girl caught up to you, and fast. She went to block it, yet moved the wrong way, toppling on top of you.

When she did, you hit the court awkwardly, and it was clear something went wrong. It took a second to realize what the hell just happened. The stadium was silent after hearing the pop in your leg. It felt as if everything had just stopped except the excruciating pain in your leg.

Coaches, trainers, and teammates all ran over once you didn’t get up. You laid there on the court, crying out in pain as you held your left leg, trying to relieve any of the pain. A teammate and a trainer helped carry you off to get the medical attention you needed in the locker room.

After everything...the years you spent as a kid telling everyone that you were gonna be a professional basketball player, the times people laughed in your face and said, “In your dreams, kid. Find something more realistic,” to the hours spent practicing to prove all those people wrong one day, it felt like it was all thrown away when you were told you tore your ACL and needed surgery.

After you woke up from your surgery, the uncomfortable throb and pain was noticeable but wasn’t unbearable due to the drugs. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still wrong. Your parents sat next to you, gently rubbing your arm and talking, but you were too busy fighting off the sedation to hear them.

A little bit of time passed before there was a soft knock on the door and it opened, revealing the doctor, a solemn expression on his face.

“Hey kid, how are you?” he asked softly.

You looked up at him, slowly repeating the words that were stuck on repeat in your head. “When can I play basketball again?” you asked softly, still feeling the effects of the drugs.

“I’m sorry to inform you... but you won’t be able to after this. There were complications during the surgery, and you won’t be able to exert yourself like that anymore,” he said, trying to break the news gently.

He saw the look on your face. He saw your world completely crumble at his words.

“What?? No-no, I need to… Mom, I need to!” you said as tears welled up.

“Baby-” she got out.

“No! I can do physical therapy, I-I just need time!” you panicked, feeling that dream slipping from your fingertips. You tried to sit up even a little, but it was no use, your parents gently held you back.

“With the problems that happened during the procedure, physical therapy won’t help. No matter how much time passes, you won’t be able to go back,” the doctor said.

Those dreams of the WNBA never became your reality.

You were an assistant coach for the Seattle Storm now. But hey… at least you were finally dating the girl you’d been pining over since your sophomore year of college, Nika Mühl. She was the most amazing, sweetest person ever. She could read you like a book. No matter how hard you tried to hide things, especially your pain, she already knew when it started.

She was handing you your pain medication when it flared up, not even having to ask if it hurt. She was the one running a warm bubble bath and sitting in there with you, gently massaging your shoulders and whispering how proud and in love she was with you when you couldn’t bear it. She was the one waking up in the middle of the night to help you.

You were snapped out of the nightmare haze that repeated in your head of getting that news over and over again, by the sound of the team playfully arguing over who had won, they were messing around, trying to see who could shoot the most in a minute. You weren't in the hospital but sitting in the Seattle Storm Center for Basketball Performance watching the team mess around during practice. A player, Zia James, came over, tossing the ball in her hands to you.

“Still got those skills, coach?” she asked, crossing her arms and looking at you.

“Come on now, you know I do,” you said with a soft laugh, standing up from your seat on the sideline, hiding the stabbing pain flaring up.

“Then show us,” she said, watching you.

You got up, walking to half court where the other players were. Everyone watched you, eager to see what you’d do. Nika watched you too, a hint of worry in her eyes. She tried to subtly get you not to attempt it. She was the only person—other than family—who knew the surgery had failed two years ago. Everyone else assumed you went into coaching because you liked it more and didn’t want to risk another injury.

You got to the three-point line, dribbled a little, watching the hoop and calculating your shot. The team was cheering you on as you perfectly swished it in.

For the rest of practice, you helped with plays, shots, and perfecting their movements—masking the worsening pain.

When you and Nika got to the car, she sighed, put her basketball bag in the backseat, and got in the passenger side. As you started the car, she pulled out your pain meds from her bag.

“Ljubavi, you need to stop working yourself so hard,” she said, gently pushing some hair out of your face. She handed you the medicine and her water bottle.

“I-” you cut yourself off, knowing you were about to give her some excuse she’d see right through. “I know…” you said softly as you took the medicine before driving out of the parking lot.

When you got home, she ran a bath for both of you. While she was doing that, you slowly undressed, not wanting to push yourself any more than you already had. You looked down at your leg, it was red and puffy from being aggravated.

Your thoughts were cut off by Nika’s voice calling out that the bath was ready. When you got to the bathroom, she gently kissed your head before helping you in. The warm water helped a little with the pain you were experiencing but Nika helped you the most.

You rested between her legs as she held you, gently placing kisses on your shoulder. In that quiet, intimate moment, it felt like only you two existed.

A/N: this has genuinely been such a fun story to write. I tried my best with the idea, hopefully I did good. Pls enjoy <3 I love yall, please stay safe.

[keeryhours]

new year’s magic - eddie munson

Eddie Munson x female! reader

Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

You and Eddie meet up at Steve’s annual New Year’s party

Warnings:

Drinking, kissing

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N:

Happy New Year to all of you!! I hope 2025 is the best yet! This is just a short little oneshot I wrote to celebrate. I hope you like it! And thank you again @punkrockmlchael for my banner ily!

—

Steve Harrington’s New Year’s party was in full swing, living up to its reputation for another year. The music was loud, the alcohol was flowing, and it was nearing midnight.

You stood awkwardly to the side, a mixed drink in a red solo cup clutched tightly in your hand. This wasn’t really your scene, but Steve insisted on your presence. You had rolled your eyes when he first brought it up, but as you always did when it came to Steve, you eventually gave in.

Now he had effectively abandoned you, which you couldn’t really blame him for because it was his party after all. But you weren’t close with these people, you didn’t know how to talk to them. You were debating heading out early, before the countdown even happened - because who was going to kiss you at midnight? No one yet again, that’s who.

You were brought out of your thoughts by a hand on your lower back. You jumped, some of your drink splashing over the rim of your cup and onto your dress. “Shit!”

“Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You looked up and immediately softened when you saw those brown doe eyes looking back down at you, wild curls framing his smiling face.

“It’s okay, it’s not that bad,” you said, face flushing red as you reached for some paper towels on the kitchen counter.

“Here, let me help you,” Eddie said, quickly taking the paper towels from your hands and dabbing at your dress with them. Thankfully not much had spilled - your outfit certainly wasn’t ruined. You stood there as Eddie wiped at the fabric over your boobs for an awkwardly long time. Once he was satisfied, he shoved the wet towels into the trash can. “Good as new!”

You looked down at your little black dress - you couldn’t tell anything had been spilled on it at all. You smiled back up at Eddie. “Thanks. My hero.”

Eddie chuckled, a hand on the back of his neck. “I don’t know if I can qualify as your hero when I was the one who scared you in the first place.”

“Oh, no,” you said, not wanting your friend to feel bad. “I just wasn’t expecting anyone to come talk to me.”

Eddie looked around at the crowd. “Not exactly your scene, eh?”

“Definitely not,” you admitted, taking a sip of your drink. “I didn’t think it was yours, either.”

Eddie shrugged, giving you a sheepish grin. “It’s not. But Harrington wouldn’t leave me alone about it, and I figured, could be fun?”

“Are you having fun?” You asked, eyebrows raised at him over the rim of your cup.

“I am now that I’m talking to you,” he smiled. Your cheeks heated even more, looking away from him and into the contents of your drink.

“I’m not exactly the most fun person at this party,” you mumbled. Honestly, you still weren’t even sure how you and Steve Harrington had become friends in the first place. He never even noticed you all through high school, but when you started working at Family Video with him and your best friend Robin (who insisted he was a changed man and wasn’t King Steve anymore), you just hit it off. You had been close friends ever since.

You met Eddie when your close friend insisted you meet her new boyfriend, Gareth, and his D&D buddies. You were shy and dreaded meeting new people, but you were also into fantasy and games, so you agreed.

Eddie became one of your best friends immediately. He invited you into Hellfire - something that was sacred and rare, as your friend and Gareth filled you in - and you became a regular in their campaigns. Eddie was even in the process of helping you come up with your own campaign to DM for the club, which again, was sacred and rare and shocked the rest of the group to their core.

But Eddie had a soft spot for you.

Maybe there was something else there, too.

You had had a crush on Eddie since you first met him. How could you not? He was just cool, liked fantasy, liked D&D, loved metal music and could play guitar (which was so, so hot). He even played guitar for you a few times, which had your heart melting.

Just like it was now with him standing so close to you.

“It’s time for the countdown!” Steve called loudly from wherever he was, and the whole party cheered. Everyone shuffled into the living room where the large TV was on. You and Eddie stayed back in the corner, away from most of the chaos.

The Times Square ball filled the screen. As it began its descent, the whole party cheered along with the countdown.

“10! 9!”

Eddie shuffled a little closer to you, but you were sure it was just because of the crowd.

“8! 7!”

You took the last sip of your drink, sitting it on the table to the side of you. You’d clean it up later.

“6! 5!”

You felt Eddie place a hand on your hip. It sent an electrical current through your body, making you shiver. His calloused fingertips were pressed against the bare skin peeking through your sheer dress. He smelled like beer and cheap cologne. It was nice.

“4! 3!”

Eddie turned you to face him with his hands on your hips. You looked up at him wide eyed. Your body was humming with excitement and nerves as you looked into his eyes, searching for what he was planning behind that smirk.

“2!”

He pulled your body flush against his. You gasped.

“1! Happy New Year!”

Eddie leaned down and pressed his lips against yours as cheers and noise makers went off around the room. You think your heart might have stopped for a moment. His lips captured yours with a confidence you didn’t fully expect from him. You wrapped your arms around his neck as your knees went weak and you shared the tender yet heated kiss. You tangled your fingers in the hair at the base of his neck as he pressed his body impossibly closer to yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you happily let him in.

“Get a room, you two!” Steve yelled jokingly, laughing from across the room. “But also, about time!”

Eddie pulled away and you knew you were red as a tomato with how hard you were blushing. Eddie pushed a strand of hair behind your ear as he grinned down at you. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

“Me too,” you admitted, which made Eddie chuckle.

“You know, they say that whatever you’re doing when the clock strikes midnight, that’s what you’ll be doing all year.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leaned in, placing a kiss to your cheek before his lips reached your ear. “Be my girlfriend, maybe? So we can do this all year?”

You giggled, the biggest smile covering your whole face. “I would love that.”

Steve erupted into cheers and claps again, waving his noisemaker in the air. “That’s what I love to see! Magic always happens at the Harrington New Year’s party!”

[n1ght0f-nyx]

My hero academia boys asking you out pt 1

warnings/tags: cliffhanger, more fanon way of acting than canon ngl, i dont think there's other warnings other than that- feel free to dm me if you notice a common warning that could affect someone

characters: katsuki bakugo, izuku midoriya, shoto todoroki, tenya ida, Eijiro kirishima, denki kamanari

🔥 Katsuki Bakugou 🔥

Bakugo seemed more agitated than usual. He kept glancing in my direction, his eyes burning with an intensity that made my heart race. I tried to ignore it, focusing on the lesson, but it was like trying to ignore a blazing inferno in the middle of a snowstorm.

When the bell finally rang, I gathered my things and started to head out, hoping to make a quick escape before he could confront me. But as soon as I stepped into the hallway, I felt a firm hand on my shoulder. I turned around to find Bakugo standing there, his expression unreadable.

“Y/N, we need to talk,” he said, his voice gruff but lacking its usual edge.

“Uh, sure. What’s up?” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart.

He led me to a more secluded part of the school, away from prying eyes and ears. I could feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating. He turned to face me, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made my knees weak.

“Look, I’m not good with this kind of stuff,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “But I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. More than I probably should.”

My breath caught in my throat. Was he really saying what I thought he was saying? I tried to keep my face neutral, but I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

“I like you, Y/N,” he said bluntly, his eyes never leaving mine. “I don’t do things halfway, and I’m not gonna start now. So, what do you say? Will you go out with me?”...

💚 Izuku Midoriya 💚

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the UA High School grounds. It had been a long day of training, and I was ready to head back to the dorms when I heard a familiar voice call my name.

"Y/N, wait up!"

I turned around to see Izuku Midoriya, his messy green hair slightly tousled and his cheeks flushed from running. He caught up to me, panting a little but with that determined look in his eyes that I'd come to admire so much.

"Hey, Midoriya," I greeted him with a smile. "What's up?"

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "There's something I need to talk to you about. Do you have a minute?"

"Sure," I replied, curious about what had him so worked up.

We walked over to a bench near the training field and sat down. Izuku seemed nervous, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding eye contact. I waited patiently, giving him the time he needed to gather his thoughts.

"Y/N, we've been friends for a while now, right?" he began, finally looking at me. His green eyes were filled with sincerity and a hint of something else—something that made my heart skip a beat.

"Yeah, we have," I agreed, my curiosity growing.

"I-I really admire you," he stammered, his cheeks turning a deeper shade of red. "You're strong, kind, and always know how to make people smile. Being around you makes me want to be a better hero."

I felt a warm blush creep up my own cheeks at his words. "Thank you, Midoriya. That means a lot to me."

He took another deep breath, clearly trying to muster his courage. "What I'm trying to say is... I like you, Y/N. A lot. And I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me sometime?"...

🧊 shoto todoroki 🔥

I glanced across the bustling courtyard of U.A. High School, my heart doing a little flip when my eyes landed on Shoto Todoroki. His dual-colored hair was unmistakable, a vibrant mix of crimson and white, just like his enigmatic personality. I always found him intriguing, a blend of ice and fire, both literally and figuratively.

Today, he seemed different. He was standing a bit straighter, his eyes scanning the crowd as if he was searching for something—or someone. My pulse quickened as his gaze locked onto mine. For a moment, I considered looking away, but curiosity and something deeper held my attention.

"Y/N," he called out, his voice carrying over the chatter of our classmates. I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness as he approached me. Todoroki was known for his calm and stoic demeanor, so seeing him a bit unsettled was surprising.

"Hey, Todoroki," I greeted, trying to sound casual despite the rapid beating of my heart. "What's up?"

He stood in front of me, his mismatched eyes intense and focused. "Can we talk?" he asked, his voice steady but with an undercurrent of emotion that made me wonder what was going on.

"Of course," I replied, nodding. "What's on your mind?"

Todoroki took a deep breath, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "I've been meaning to tell you something," he began, his gaze unwavering. "I've realized that I have feelings for you, Y/N. And I was wondering if you would go out with me."

🗣️ tenya Iida 👔

I had always admired Tenya Iida from afar. His dedication, his sense of justice, and his unwavering commitment to his classmates were qualities I deeply respected. But today, something was different. I noticed him glancing my way more often than usual, and there was a nervous energy about him that I hadn't seen before.

The school day passed in a blur, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of Tenya. Finally, after our last class, I headed towards my locker, only to find him standing there, waiting for me. His usually stern face softened as our eyes met.

"Y/N," he began, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. "Could I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course, Tenya," I replied, trying to keep my own nerves in check. "What's up?"

He took a deep breath, his eyes searching mine for a moment before he continued. "I've been meaning to tell you something for a while now. I admire your strength, your kindness, and your dedication. You inspire me in ways I can't quite put into words."

I felt my cheeks heat up at his unexpected praise, but I nodded for him to continue.

"I... I have feelings for you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice steadying as he spoke. "And I was wondering if you would do me the honor of going out with me."

🗿 Eijiro Kirishima 🗿

It was a bright and sunny afternoon, the kind that made everything feel a little bit more hopeful. The UA High School campus was bustling with students, everyone going about their business, but my mind was focused on something—or rather, someone—else entirely. Eijiro Kirishima.

I had known Kirishima since we started at UA, and over time, my admiration for him grew into something deeper. His unwavering spirit, his kindness, and his infectious smile had a way of making my heart race. Today, though, something seemed different about him. There was a nervous energy in his usually confident demeanor.

We were in the courtyard, taking a break from training. Kirishima approached me with that wide, toothy grin of his, but there was a hint of something more in his eyes.

"Hey, Y/N," he began, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Can we talk for a sec?"

"Sure, what's up?" I replied, trying to keep my own nerves in check.

He led me to a quieter spot under one of the large oak trees that dotted the campus. The shade provided a nice respite from the sun, but it didn't do much to calm the fluttering in my chest.

Kirishima took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto mine with a seriousness I rarely saw in him. "Y/N, I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, and I just... I need to tell you something."

I felt my heart skip a beat. Was this really happening?

"I really like you," he confessed, his cheeks turning a shade of pink that rivaled his hair. "Like, a lot. You're amazing, and I've been wanting to tell you for a long time, but I didn't know how. I guess what I'm trying to say is... Would you go out with me?"

⚡️ denki kamanari ⚡️

I had just finished my last class of the day, my mind still buzzing with the day’s lessons. As I walked down the hallway, I saw Denki Kaminari leaning casually against a locker, his usual grin plastered across his face. He saw me and straightened up, a spark of nervous energy in his eyes that I hadn't seen before.

“Hey, Y/N!” he called out, waving enthusiastically. I couldn’t help but smile back. Denki had always been a ball of energy, lighting up any room he entered.

“Hey, Denki! What’s up?” I asked as I approached him.

He rubbed the back of his neck, a sure sign that he was nervous. “So, um, I was wondering if you have any plans this weekend?”

I tilted my head, curious. “Not really. Why do you ask?”

His cheeks flushed slightly, and he took a deep breath. “Well, I was thinking... maybe we could go out sometime? Like, on a date?”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Proud III

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Summary: The aftermath of the derby

The comments started coming in the moment you got home.

You were in a boot. Your ankle was very badly sprained. Not broken but anymore pressure on Morsa's tackle and it might have been snapped completely.

It wasn't your fault. You knew that but it didn't stop the comments from rolling in.

Some of them (very few of them) were wishing you well in your recovery. More of them were simply people retweeting the injury. But the overwhelming majority were downright nasty.

A lot of them said that you were milking the injury. A few more said you got what was coming to you. Even more said that you had goaded your mother into it.

Your feed was flooded with comments and then DMs, so much so that you had to turn off your notifications.

Your ankle still throbbed and you refused to take painkillers, sitting on a heap on the sofa with your phone opened on Twitter. You don't know why you were doing it. It was like watching a car crash. It was horrible and a bad feeling lodged in your chest but you just couldn't look away.

You kept scrolling through every nasty comment blaming you for your own injury as your ankle throbbed.

The foot door opened and you jumped in shock.

"I'm back!" Morsa yelled out more for Momma's benefit than your own.

"Hmm," Momma grunted from the kitchen, still intent on the silent treatment as Morsa fell next to you on the sofa.

"How's the ankle?"

You gave her a deadpan look. "Sprained."

Her smile fell. "Oh...right..." She looked around the room awkwardly, drumming her fingers on her knee. "Have we sorted out dinner?"

"We're ordering in," You replied. You don't look at her, you just keep staring at your phone. Your eyes pricked with her tears as you stared at the comments. The pain in your ankle lessened as it was replaced by a deep pit in your stomach and a stitch-like pain in your chest.

"Cool. Cool." Morsa let the silence ring for a moment before speaking again," How long do you think it'll take for her to talk to me again?"

"How long does it take for a sprained ankle to heal?"

"That long? I think I'm sleeping out here tonight."

"Hmm, yeah, maybe."

You didn't pay much attention to her as you scrolled through your feed. Your shoulders slumped as you began to clear out your DMs as quickly as you could without getting a glimpse of what was written there.

(It didn't work).

You made sure to keep your mouth shut as a few stray tears slipped down your cheeks. You tried to clear your throat quietly. It worked for the most part but you did see Morsa cutting her eyes towards you as Momma returned with a glass of water for you.

"What are you looking at?" Morsa asked as she tried to crane her neck to see.

You tilted your phone away. "Nothing," You insisted.

"It's not nothing," Morsa said firmly," You're crying. What are you watching?"

"Nothing! Can't you just leave me alone?!"

Your phone was snatched from your hand by Momma and she instantly started going through it. You surged to your feet, trying desperately to ignore the pain in your ankle.

"Give it back!"

"Sit! Back! Down!" Morsa's icy voice cut you straight to the bone and you slumped back down into your seat, allowing Morsa to raise your leg up to rest on the pillow stack Momma had set up the moment you got home.

"Why are you reading this utter shit?!" It wasn't often that you heard Momma swear but you knew she was usually mad when she did.

"Mom-"

"No!" She stood up. "I don't want to see you doing this again! You're not to read any more of this stuff! It's stupid and none of this is your fault. It's Magda's! And trust me, she'll get what's coming to her-"

Morsa looked like she wanted the sofa to swallow her whole.

"-But none of this is your fault. You're the one in the boot. You're the victim here!"

"Momma...I-"

"Unless the next words out of your mouth are 'yes, Momma, I am the victim' then I don't want to hear it!"

Your mouth snapped shut and you began to understand why Morsa tried to make herself invisible.

"Say it," Momma said.

"Mom-"

"Say. It."

You sighed and mumbled out," Yes, Momma, I am the victim."

Momma smiled. "Good. I'm glad we're on the same page. Now, first things first, Magda...You're sleeping on the sofa tonight. You're doing the dishes and the laundry. Understand?"

Morsa tried to hide her smile but you could see it peeking up on her lips. "Yes, Pernille."

"Good. Next, y/n, take some painkillers and you're not getting this back-" She wiggled your phone "-Until I can trust that you're not going to scroll through anymore hate comments."

You sighed. "Yes, Momma."

"Excellent. Now...What do we want for dinner?"

[theartofcollapse]

Woman of Many Talents - Casey Novak

a/n: I'm taking requests, so feel free to dm me summary: you ask Casey to do something that's not so Assisted District Attorney of her. pairing: Casey Novak x female reader warning: none word count: 1K

masterlist

You were this close to losing it. The toilet in your office, a reliable, if old, fixture decided today was the day to betray you completely. You’d jiggled the handle, stared menacingly at the tank, and even attempted a few Google-searched troubleshooting steps, all to no avail.

The kicker? It was after hours, and almost no one was still in the building. Almost.

“Casey?” you called as you poked your head into the hallway. You knew the ADA worked late often, and tonight was no exception. Casey Novak, in all her sharp, blazer-clad glory, was pacing outside her office, a folder in hand. She paused mid-step when you called her name, looking up with mild curiosity.

“What’s up, Y/N?” she asked, her tone all business, but her expression softened with the faintest smile when she saw it was you.

You shifted your weight awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. “Um. This is going to sound… insane, but…”

Her brows lifted. “Go on.”

“The toilet in my office isn’t working. And I can’t seem to fix it. You’re the only one around, so…” You gestured vaguely.

“So…?” she repeated, visibly confused.

You sighed, unable to look her in the eye. “Could you help me try to fix it? Please?”

Her mouth fell open slightly, stunned into silence. You could practically see her brain short-circuiting as she processed the request.

“Me?” she asked incredulously. “You want me to help fix… the toilet?”

“Yes,” you replied, cringing at how desperate you sounded. “I don’t have anyone else to ask, and I’ll owe you forever. Promise.”

Casey blinked a few times, her gaze flicking between you and the direction of your office. For a moment, you thought she’d laugh or brush you off entirely, but then she sighed, shaking her head with an exasperated, amused grin.

“You owe me for this,” she said, following you toward your office.

“Oh, I know,” you replied, heart leaping a little at the prospect of her actually agreeing to help.

Once inside your office, Casey stopped to assess the bathroom. She looked like she had no earthly idea where to start but was still game for the challenge.

“Alright,” she muttered, rolling up the sleeves of her button-up shirt. “I guess we’re doing this. If I can argue in court all day, I can surely… fix plumbing?”

You stifled a laugh, but as Casey glanced at her own sleeves, her lips pursed with irritation. “You know what? This blazer is not going to survive this.”

She shrugged off the fitted jacket and hung it on the back of your chair. Before you could say anything, she started unbuttoning her shirt.

Your mouth went dry.

“What… what are you doing?”

Casey shot you a confused look. “Taking this off before I ruin it. Do you want me elbow-deep in tank water or not?”

You blinked rapidly, trying not to stare as she slipped out of her crisp button-up, revealing a simple, dark white tank top underneath.

And good god.

Her toned arms and shoulders looked like they belonged on a Greek statue. Defined biceps, taut forearms, it was unfair, really, how someone who spent most of her time in court could look this good. You could barely form coherent thoughts as she moved toward the toilet with determination, muttering about “float mechanisms” and “chains” while you stood there, practically drooling.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes snapped up to her face. Casey was watching you over her shoulder, one brow arched.

“What?” you asked innocently, trying to ignore the heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help?”

“Oh yeah. Right. Helping,” you stammered, stepping closer and pretending to focus on the toilet when, really, you couldn’t stop sneaking glances at her arms.

Casey crouched down to check the inside of the tank, her tank top pulling taut across her back. You were not handling this well.

“So, what exactly happened?” she asked, breaking you out of your stupor.

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat. “Flushed it earlier, and it just… didn’t stop running. I think something’s disconnected in there.”

She nodded thoughtfully, arms flexing as she fiddled with the chain and float valve. Watching her work, strands of red hair slipping loose from her ponytail, a slight furrow of concentration in her brow, was the highlight of your week. Possibly your year.

After a few minutes, Casey stood up and jiggled the handle. The toilet flushed perfectly, water settling without an issue. She turned to you triumphantly.

“Fixed it,” she announced with a smirk, wiping her hands on a paper towel.

You blinked, genuinely impressed. “You… you actually fixed it.”

“I’m a woman of many talents,” she replied, shrugging.

“I’m starting to see that,” you murmured, eyes lingering on her arms again before you could stop yourself.

Casey caught your gaze this time, and her smirk deepened. “You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes.”

You froze. “I… no, I haven’t!”

“Yes, you have,” she teased, stepping closer.

“I have not,” you protested, though your voice cracked slightly.

“Y/N,” she said softly, amusement colouring her tone. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

You swallowed hard, unable to meet her eyes. “I just… you looked really good. Fixing the toilet. I’m sorry if that’s weird.”

Casey let out a quiet laugh, her voice warm. “It’s not weird. I’ll admit, though, I wasn’t expecting this to be the way I’d impress you.”

“Well, it worked,” you muttered, still flustered.

Casey smiled at you for a long moment before leaning in slightly, her voice dropping. “So, what do I get in return for my plumbing skills? You did promise you’d owe me forever.”

Your breath caught. “What do you want?”

Her gaze flickered to your lips briefly before she grinned. “Dinner. Just you and me.”

Relief and excitement flooded through you. “Deal.”

She grabbed her blazer from your chair and slung it over her arm, shooting you one last look, this time softer, teasing, and impossibly charming.

“Next time, though,” she said, smirking, “let’s call a plumber.”

You laughed, watching her walk out of your office, and couldn’t help but think that maybe broken toilets weren’t so bad after all.

[elliespassagerprincess]

Hii omg live for you're work

Could I maybe request loser ellie fluff/nsfw hcs

Headcannos: loser!ellie williams x reader

Part 1 part 2

Sfw:

☆ Loser Ellie who doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, and who gets nervous when someone she doesn’t know talks to her for longer than 5 minutes.

☆ Loser Ellie who spots you at a party and who instantly wanted to talk to you.

☆ Loser Ellie who tries talking to you the whole night but ends up on chickening out.

☆ Loser Ellie who accidently bumps into you and drops her drink on you.

☆ Loser Ellie who keeps apologizing without making eye contact.

“What the fuck you!” yelled as you felt a cold liquid run down your body. Ellie looked at you in shock.

The pretty girl. Fuck.

“i-im sorry” she stuttered as she looked at her feet, too embarrassed to make eye contact with you.

“It’s ok” you spoke softly as you put your hand on her shoulder.

Her head snapped up to where your hand was. Ellie’s jaw dropped at the touch.

“I Ellie” she spoke quickly.

You raised your eyebrows confused.

“I Ellie?” You don’t remember asking her name, and why the fuck isn’t she talking English properly?

A pink blush spread across Ellie’s cheeks. This is humiliating.

“I am Ellie- like my name. I’m Ellie. Hey!...yeah, that’s my name Ellie…” She rambled on.

☆ Loser Ellie who wants to die after that interaction, but at least she knew your name.

☆ Loser Ellie who somehow finds your Instagram and who stalks you daily.

☆ Loser Ellie who practically drools every time you post something.

☆ Loser Ellie who doesn’t have the balls to follow you on her main, so she made a separate account.

☆ Loser Ellie who almost pisses herself, when she saw you sent her a DM on her main.

☆ Loser Ellie who realized that Dina was the one who took her phone and DM’d you on her behalf because she was tired of Ellie constantly looking at your pictures.

With shaky hands Ellie opened the chat to see her message.

“Hey I’m the girl from the party! I got your Instagram from a friend, and I thought you were cute… Would you like to go on a date with me?”

Ellie groaned at the message, her eyes lowered down to see your response:

“Oh yeah! The girl that dropped some strange liquid on me:) I think you’re cute so yeah, I’d love to go”

☆ Loser Ellie who decides to take you on a picnic, and she planned the whole thing. She even made all the foods from scratch.

☆ Loser Ellie who spends 4 hours before the date on FaceTime with Dina, because she couldn’t pick an outfit.

☆ Loser Ellie who waits for you at the park and almost vomits with nerves when she sees you walking towards her.

☆ Loser Ellie who extends her hand out for a handshake, but you just rolled your eyes and brought her in for a hug.

☆ Loser Ellie who stays quiet, and barley looks at you because she was going to explode.

☆ Loser Ellie who loses her shit when you ask her about her tattoos.

☆ Loser Ellie who forgot this was a date and starts telling you all about space, tattoos and Joel.

☆ Loser Ellie who remembers this was a date and becomes all shy again.

“I’m sorry” she muttered looking down.

“For what?”

“talking so much”

“It’s ok, I like listening to you Ellie” you said with a smile.

☆ Loser Ellie who walks you all the way home.

☆ Loser Ellie who looks down to your lips hoping you’d make a move. You noticed and all you did was smirk, as you leaned forward to give her a kiss on the cheek.

☆ Loser Ellie who listened to your front door close, and she brings her fingers to the spot where you just kissed her.

☆ Loser Ellie who asks Dina to write you a texting, asking to go on another date.

Nsfw:

☆ Loser Ellie who was soaked when the two of you made out for the first time.

☆ Loser Ellie who didn’t know how to kiss you, so her hands were awkwardly on her lap as you helped her.

☆ Loser Ellie who’s hands you grab and put it on your waist.

Ellie pulled away heavily breathing, her hands still on your waist. “It’s ok if I touch you?” she asked unsure.

“Use me Ellie” you muttered as you kissed her again, and she most definitely moaned into your mouth after that.

☆ Loser Ellie who cums the first time she ate you out, and you didn’t even touch her.

☆ Loser Ellie who audibly gasped when she saw in a bra for the first time.

☆ Loser Ellie who likes to believe that she’s in charge because she’s on top, but in reality you’re telling her what to do.

☆ Loser Ellie who moans every time she gets a taste of you.

☆ Loser Ellie who loves it when you leave hickeys on her.

“My girl did this”

“yeah my girlfriend left these”

☆ Loser Ellie who’s too scared to ask for sex so she just kisses your neck and waits for you to say something.

☆ Loser Ellie who cums after 2 seconds when you first went down on her.

☆ Loser Ellie who touches herself to your pictures every night.

☆ Loser Ellie who humps her pillow imagining it was you.

☆ Loser Ellie who has a collection of your panties that she uses to get off on the nights you weren’t with her.

☆ Loser Ellie who gets wet when you smile at her.

☆ Loser Ellie who goes to the bathroom every time you come over because you were just so pretty.

☆ Loser Ellie who loves it when you praise her.

“yeah just like that baby”

“Fuck Els you’re doing great”

 ☆ Loser Ellie who wishes she could record your moans because they are so pretty.

Yeah she was a loser, and pathetic at times, but she was your pathetic loser.

[laylaysdelusions]

New neighbors

(Ellabs x reader)

Warnings: masterbation at the end for like a second, suggestive, poly.

A/n: if you want a part two let me know in my asks of DMs

You stand in your kitchen with baking ingredients spread all across your counters. “What does the recipe say again?” You talk to yourself. “Ah, half a cup”. You continue to make your brownies with a smile on your face. You open your curtains after deciding it’s too dark in the room, that’s when you notice two women inside the house next to yours. Oh, someone is moving in?

You see it’s a blonde and a brunette, both of them are very attractive. Your eyes scan both of them for a good few minutes. You snap out of the trance you are in when the timer of the oven goes off. You grab your brownies and set them aside to cool.

You can’t help but look over there constantly just to see the pretty girls. Are they best friends? Sisters..well no they can’t be. Girlfriends? Your mind races as you get lost in thought. When you feel eyes on you, you look up to see them both smiling at you. You awkwardly wave before frantically drawing curtains back. “What the hell did I just do..” you facepalm yourself for being so awkward.

A few days pass and you still can’t remove the image of their smiles from your head. You really wanna introduce yourself, however you don’t know how. You’re pondering around your bedroom until you think of the perfect way. You’re gonna make them cookies.

You immediately get to work. Grabbing the sugar and flour and all the good stuff, these have to be perfect. It takes an hour and when you are done it’s 2:30 in the afternoon. You take a peek outside to make sure their car is there, it is.

You look in the mirror in the hallway to prepare yourself for this. With a deep breath and a gentle smile on your face it’s time to go knock.

You skip your way down the sidewalk until you reach their front steps. Your soft hand connects with the sturdy door. The opening swings open to reveal the blonde you’ve already mentally gawked over.

Her muscles look like they could smash you in the concrete and it makes your belly warm. “Uh hi?” The woman says to you, making you jump out of your thoughts. “Oh hi I’m your neighbor and I baked some cookies for you” you say anxiously fidgeting. “Aw sweet” she says plainly, taking the container for your hands. You felt like she just dismissed all your hard work for them. Suddenly you see the brunette at the door with her hand on the salty woman’s shoulder.

“don’t be rude to this sweet girl” her words made you blush and stare at your feet. “I’m sorry about that, Abby can be mean, I’m Ellie” her voice has the perfect amount of rasp. Abby scoffs at her. “You can come in if you want”

They have such contrasting personalities and for whatever reason it makes you melt. “Thank you for the cookies that was sweet” Ellie says while Abby takes a seat next to you.

“Why did you decide to move here of all places” you ask. “We thought it was a cute little neighborhood to explore our love in” Ellie says, making your eyes widen. “Shocked we’re a couple?” Abby says and you nod. “It’s nothing against you both it’s just there’s not many fellow queer women around here”

“Well it must be nice to know us now”

Abby’s hand subtly touches your thigh, causing you to flinch from the unexpected feeling. She’s so beefy it’s so sexy. You just wanna suck on her fingers.

Your cheeks turn red as you see that Ellie saw that interaction. You get embarrassed and quickly make an excuse to leave. “Bye Ellie and Abby i just remembered i have something important to do” you mutter while walking out.

You slam your door shut and may twist your hands in hand. “I just exposed myself in front of the two prettiest girls I’ve ever seen” you slap your forehead. You go up to your room to toss and turn in your bed. Every time you thought about them it made it worse. Your mind wandered off to Ellie’s smirk and Abby’s thick fingers and before you could process it your jeans were off and your fingers were drawing circles around your puffy clit.

What you didn’t realize is that your bedroom window was open.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: this decrepit pervert is back.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You’re restless. What’s worse, is you have no energy. You never really do. Living is the most exhausting thing you’ve ever done. 

You lean in the window sill, half hunched as you stare out at the suburban street. It’s a nice neighbourhood. Your mother lives in a condo, on one of the highest floors. You hate it. This place isn’t so bad. It’d be nice if it was just you. 

That last thought makes you sad. You don’t know that you’ll ever be able to be alone. You hate being such a burden. What you hate most, is feeling like you’re on a leash. Sometimes literally as your oxygen tube keeps you bound to the tank. 

All your existence, there’s been something wrong with you. In high school, it got so much worse. You didn’t even realise until your mother pointed it out. Then the appointments doubled, the tests too, and it never stopped. Will it ever? 

You’re trapped in a holding pattern. If living is so difficult, should you even try? That’s a bad thought but you can’t help it. You see your mom, you see Andy, and they don’t need all these medicines or this thing to breathe for them. They have lived full lives, they have jobs and a home. You have nothing. 

You turn away from the window. The tall trees and peaked rooftops are no longer so beautiful. They’re just another reminder of everything you don’t and will never have. 

A knock at the door startles you. You cross the room and inch it open. You peer out, disappointed to find Andy again. How long is your mom going to sleep? 

“Hey, sweetheart, I was thinking you might want to come with me. It's pretty quiet around here,” he says. 

“Come with... where?” You rasp. 

“I was going to go to the pharmacy and get your script filled, like your mom said,” he explains and holds up the doctor’s paper. “Found it in her purse.” 

“Oh, uh...” you hesitate. You don’t know what to do. That he’s even asking makes you feel obligated. “Sure, I... okay.” 

“Take your time, I’ll warm the car up,” he assures you. “Anything I can help with?” 

“No, sir, I’ll grab my bag.” 

You shut the door before he can respond. You pause and feel bad. You hope that didn’t seem intentional. You go and grab your belt bag. You check that everything is in it, then drag your tank back to the door. 

You come out and the hall is empty. You go around to the bathroom and rinse off your face. You don’t have a toothbrush so you use your finger to spread some paste around your teeth and rinse your mouth. You’re overly aware of your day-old outfit. You do what you can for your hair then resign yourself to being the same mess you always are. 

You take the stairs slowly. One at a time as you prevent the wheels of the tank from thumping. Andy’s house is so nice, you don’t want to ruin it. You get to the front door and pull on your jacket. You put on your sneakers and awkwardly angle out the front door. 

The SUV whirs in the driveway. Before you can get to the first step, Andy is there. He helps with the tank and sets it on the flat ground. You quickly take the handle and thank him. 

“You alright?” He asks. You wish he wouldn’t be so worried. Your mother doesn’t ever ask, only if it’s for show. 

“Fine,” you assure him. 

You roll the tank past him and he calls after you as you get to the SUV. “Hey, you don’t gotta sit in the back.” 

“Uh, right,” you say. 

You go around to the passenger door and he opens it for you. Once again, he lifts the tank. Before you can react, he does the same to you. You lurch up into the seat and wriggle until he lets you go. He doesn’t seem to notice your discomfort. 

You sit straight and steady the tank between your knees. He shuts the door and you get the seatbelt clicked in. As he climbs in the other side, you take out your vaseline and smear it under your nose. It’s particularly raw this morning. 

“Shoot, is that from the AC? I can turn it down.” 

“No, it’s... okay,” you stare through the windshield. You want to get this done and over with. Your brows furrow at the thought of your mom waking up to the empty house. 

“What’s the matter?” He asks. 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“You look worried,” he says. 

“I... my mom. She’s in rough shape.” 

“Hungover,” he clucks, “it’s a good thing you don’t take after her with that.” 

You nod, not sure what to say. He does up his seatbelt and checks the mirrors. He shifts and backs out of the driveway. 

“Feel free to put on some music. I don’t think you want to listen to my oldies,” he chuckles. 

“It’s okay,” you hug yourself with one arm, your other hand on the tank. 

The silence buzzes in your ears. It’s too late now to change your mind. Besides, you’re so indecisive about your music. You wouldn’t exactly brag about your taste either. 

The drive stretches on as you huddle into the door, distracting yourself with the passing light poles, houses, and so on. You don’t know this area. It’s not anywhere near your usual pharmacy. You often wait in the car when you do go with your mom. 

He pulls up along the curb and park. It’s a nice quaint street in the neighbourhood. There’s a park on the corner and an organic store on the opposite side. You peek out at the local pharmacy’s moniker, hand-painted unlike glowing banner of the department store where your mom usually goes. 

“Should be able to get this filled,” he says as he shuts off the engine. 

You just nod and hum. He gets out quickly, easily. You envy that. You can’t do anything easily. He comes around as you push the door open. He once more brings down your tank but you’re certain to climb out on your own. You nearly stagger as you do. 

You wheel out of the way as he closes the door. You look around at the other pedestrians. A woman with a stroller, a family just across the way babbling in glee. You turn away before the scene can make you morose. 

Andy leads you to the pharmacy door and pulls it open with a chime. He lets you in first. There’s only a few aisles inside, the pharmacist’s counter is at the back, another till near the front where they sell chocolates and candy. 

You linger until Andy points you down the center row. You go ahead of him and stop before the long counter. He unfolds the prescription as he greats the man behind it boldly. Good mornings and niceties you struggle to get right. 

“Hm, we have these on hand but it’ll be a wait. Been a busy morning,” the pharmacist explains. 

“That’s fine, we can keep ourselves busy.” Andy says. You squirm. You can? Waiting that long will only add to the tension that makes your chest even tighter. 

You back up as he turns around. He looks around for a moment, as if he thinks you wondered off, then smiles at you. “There’s a cafe across the street, how about it?” 

“I don’t... drink coffee,” you say. 

“I know, sweetheart, I remember,” he gently strokes your shoulder, “they have tea, too. Or smoothies. You must be hungry too.” 

“I... if you want to, I guess...” you shrug. 

“You know, I’m not your mom. I won’t say no,” he intones. “You don’t have to be so nervous.” 

“I know, I... I’m sorry.” 

“And you don’t need to be sorry,” he counters. 

You almost apologise again, only to fill your cheeks with air and nod. You feel like you should be though. Like everything you do is a disappointment. 

You go back down the middle aisle. Andy reaches past you to hold the door again. You come out and narrowly avoid a collision. You wait for the family of three to pass by before Andy nudges you to the curb. He takes your free hand as he tugs you with him, jaywalking through the lazy traffic. 

The effort is enough to make your head spin. You get your wheels over the other curb and sway. Andy doesn’t let go. He takes you past the patio area of the cafe and swings back the door before he releases you, pointing you within. 

The smell of coffee, the grind of a machine, and the chatter of diners greets you. You wait behind the two teenage girls at the counter as Andy comes up next to you. He stands close but you assume it’s because it’s such a tight space. 

“Do you want to find somewhere to sit?” He wonders. 

“No, I’m okay,” you say. 

“Sure, uh, so what do you want?” 

You look up at the hand-written menu. You might get a tea after all. 

“The brioche egg sandwich is one of my favourites,” he says. 

“You come here... a lot?” You wonder. 

“Sure. I like to run in the mornings. I’ll grab a coffee on my cool down. And weekends I’ll have breakfast. Your mom’s usually still asleep if she’s around,” he tuts. 

“Right, uh... that sounds fine. Brioche.” 

The girls go to the further end of the counter and Andy waves you forward. The barista greets him by name. She’s very pretty. She has amber coloured braids with a zigzag pattern and cute freckles over her cheeks. You want to ask how she did her hair like that but you don’t want to be rude. 

“Andy, how are you?” She chirps in recognition. 

“Good, we were just walking through the neighbourhood,” he says,  You adjust the tube under your nose self-consciously. The barista is gorgeous and reminds you of everything you’re not. 

“Oh, is this your fiancee?” She asks. “She’s finally come around.” 

Andy chuckles and you blanch. He doesn’t offer a protest and neither do you. You wait for him to correct her. He doesn’t. 

“Sweetheart, what did you want to drink?” He looks at you and you nearly choke. 

“Can I have the pomegranate tea, please?” Even your voice sounds ugly. 

“Sure, what size, hon?” 

“Small,” you croak out. 

“Small pomegrante, and your usual?” She asks Andy. 

“Yep, and two of the brioche breakfast sandwiches. Oh, and something sweet for dessert. Those cherry tarts look delicious,” he points to the display.” 

“Got it, anything else?” She taps the till screen. 

“That’s it,” he slips out his card and waits. He selects a tip amount before he taps, the machine beeping in acceptance. You spy the total right before it disappears. Oh, that’s expensive. 

“I’ll bring it to you, Andy,” she smiles brightly, “you two enjoy.” 

Andy takes your hand again before you can react. He brings you to the table and you sit across from him, right by the window. You feel like you’re on display. You hate it. 

You push the tube into your nose as you think then trail your hand down the length. You stare off into the distance. You don’t know, it feels weird. It feels like he’s doing too much. Like maybe he feels bad for you. 

“Whatcha thinking about?” He interrupts your trance. 

You flinch and look at him, then avert your gaze to the table. 

“You didn’t...” you begin then shake your head. 

“What?” He prompts. 

“Nothing.” 

“Go on, sweetie, you don’t have to be shy with me. You can say whatever you need,” he leans forward as he crosses his arms over the table, “you know, your mom told me you’ve never really had a father figure. I’m here to help, to support you.” 

You nod and pick at your dry lip then stop yourself, hiding your hands under the table. “You-- that woman... she thought I—that we—you didn’t say no.” 

“Oh, I didn’t want to embarrass her,” he laughs. “It’s funny, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah...” you nod at your lap. “It is really... funny. No one would really want to marry me.” 

You cover your mouth as the thought slips out. You shake your head. Why did you say it? 

“Huh? Sweetheart?” He leans in even closer, “you don’t think that’s true, do you?” 

You shrug and peel your hand away, chewing on your sleeve as you slump low in your seat. 

“You’re a nice girl. Pretty too.” 

“I’m not,” you murmur into your cuff. “You don’t have to lie.” 

“Well who says you’re not?” He urges. You shake your head again. 

“Your mother?” He suggests. You shake your head harder. She would be livid if you told him that she did. He clicks his tongue, “well, however it is, don’t listen to them.” He reaches across to you, “hey, sweetheart, look at me.” You obey, trembling in humiliation, “you are very pretty.” 

[dear-ao3]

Question for the mods....

HOW IN THE FUCK DID YOU MEET???

Like what???

How??

I am so god damn curious about you two. I wanna study yall under a microscope lol

Also ngl kinda envious of how close of friends you two seem to be. (Being an introverted shy af mofo sucks lmao)

I would actually probably read a whole ass book or watch a sitcom or something of the seemingly ever present weird-ass shit that seems to happen on a day-by-day basis.

/gen /lh /nf /pos

2018 newsies fandom. we weren't overly close but we bonded over race and albert a little and then katya dropped off the face of the earth for about a year.

during 2020 lockdown we both independently got into the witcher fandom and somehow ran into eachother again and had the fingers pointing OH MY GOD Y O U !!! moment in our dms. we bonded over hating jaskier. during this time we realized we were both dancers and katya was looking at dance colleges, i was already in college for dance and since it was lockdown and we couldn't go anywhere i told katya my experience auditioning at places to give him a good idea of places. and then i broke every internet safety rule known to man and said hey what if you had applied to my college but didnt know it?? and then one thing led to another and i dished out all the tea on my school. (only After that did we face reveal and give eachother our names lol) and then katya applied. mostly as a joke. until it wasnt a joke because that school gave katya a shit load of money and actually had stuff katya wanted to do. katya ended up coming to one of my zoom ballet classes and it took everything we had to not loose our shit on camera.

during this time we mostly kept eachother sane in lockdown writing witcher fanfic, and sending eachother awful thirst traps on instagram to pitbull music. one of our awful bits was using the dilf filter to make bad frat boy edits.

come august of 2021 we both moved into college. the same college. in the same building. it was wild. i pinched myself several times in shock. we went on a walk around campus with some worms on strings and were like what the hell how did we get here.

we continued to hang out and did weird insane things together. we took a class on the french revolution together where i had to put up with katya and fennec awkwardly flirting (read: making finger guns at eachother).

and then, since i was 2 years older, i was graduating and was going to stay in the area for a job and was like hey. what if we got an apartment together? and then we did. several adults agreed to this. idk why they let us. but now we live together in a real life apartment and we haven't even killed eachother yet. neither of our parents know that we met online. each of them have a different fake story as to how we know eachother and we really just hope they are never in the same room long enough to ask eachother about it. but its insane. 12/10 would recommend.

katya wanted me to include old tumblr screenshots of us talking, heres what i found from circa 2020:

we've always been like this lol

and heres some ancient greatest hits from instagram, i dont have context and trust me you dont want it:

every now and then the two of us look at eachother and go. how the fuck did we end up here??? (we have no idea)

[sasheemo]

When We Collide

Chapter 14

Chapter Summary: You wake to Agatha's unsettling yet impossibly grounding presence, unspoken questions threatening to unravel a fragile moment. And just like that, walls begin to crack.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N (very long, sorryyy): I still can’t believe it, but here we are. After exactly one month since the last chapter was published, I’m officially back! I can’t promise the creative block I’ve been struggling with for When We Collide is completely gone, but I’m really trying, and I’m so happy to continue this story.

Before you dive in, I just want to take a moment to make a small dedication:

Over the past week, I’ve received an overwhelming amount of love and support that I never expected. Moots, strangers, and even anonymous readers stepped forward in the comments of my update posts on Tumblr or slid into my DMs to show their appreciation and encouragement. You know who you are. It’s because of all of you that, in just over 24 hours, I managed to write an entire chapter after being stuck for a whole month. You gave me an incredible boost of energy and motivation. So, this chapter is for you. To my moots, followers, and each dedicated reader of When We Collide. To everyone who messaged me privately or left a comment on a post or a fic. To those who, even without reaching out directly, have always supported me with their thoughts and good vibes, waiting patiently for an update and never abandoning this story. What you’ve done, and continue to do, for me is amazing. You’ve filled me with so much love and support, and I truly hope this chapter (and the ones to come—yes, they’re coming, hehe) can serve as a proper thank-you.

It’s true that writing should primarily be for yourself, but when you receive this kind of support and encouragement, it becomes something truly special to write for others too.

Let me know what you think of the chapter, and thank you from the bottom of my heart! 💜

PS: Spoiler—I literally felt my heart break while writing a certain piece of dialogue. Had to pause, pick up the pieces, and keep going. Sorry y’all, I couldn’t resist 💔

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

You stir awake to the faint glow of the early afternoon, the light filtering softly through the edges of the curtains. For a brief, suspended moment, your mind lingers in the haze of sleep, the kind where nothing feels quite real, and you’re not entirely sure where you are. Then the weight registers.

The warm, undeniable weight of someone pressed against you.

Your breath catches, your body locking in place as you become acutely, painfully aware of Agatha’s head resting on your shoulder.

Her dark hair brushes against your neck, faintly ticklish, while her arm lies draped across your waist.

You don’t dare move. Not even a twitch.

Every nerve in your body stands at attention, screaming for you to do something. But you lie there, frozen, your heart hammering so loudly you’re sure it’ll wake her. The thought of turning your head to look at her fills you with a mixture of terror and curiosity, and you’re too paralyzed to face either.

You try—really try—to focus on the practicalities. How did this even happen? You’d climbed into bed hours ago, stiff as a board, determined to keep your distance. You’d stayed on your side, curled up awkwardly, staring at the wall like it held the answers to every question you were too afraid to ask.

But then sleep had come. Or at least something like it—a restless tangle of half-dreams and unconscious movements, shifting and turning under the weight of the night’s tension. 

At some point, the gap between you must have closed. At some point, her arm must have found its way across you.

A thousand excuses rush through your mind, each more fragile than the last, as if rationalizing the moment could make the closeness disappear. But they all crumble, leaving behind one undeniable truth: you don’t want to move. Not really.

You tell yourself it’s fear. Fear of waking her. Fear of the look on her face if she realized the position you’re in. Confusion? Annoyance? Disgust? The thought twists your stomach into painful knots. But beneath the fear, another emotion lingers, quieter and far more dangerous.

It feels… good.

You hate how much you notice it, how your senses seem to betray you with every passing second. The softness of her hair brushing your neck, the heat of her body radiating against your side, the faint pressure of her arm resting on you—it all feels far too natural, far too easy, like some cruel joke the universe decided to play.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to move, to shift, to put some distance between you. But your body doesn’t listen. You’re too hyper-aware of every tiny detail, of how close she is, of how safe she feels.

A shaky exhale escapes you, your chest rising just enough to disturb the delicate stillness between you. Agatha stirs slightly in her sleep, a soft sound escaping her lips as her arm tightens instinctively around you.

Your heart practically leaps into your throat.

You swallow hard, trying to convince yourself that this is normal. That there’s nothing strange or inappropriate about lying here like this. That it doesn’t mean anything. That it’s just an accident, a coincidence. That’s all.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. Except it’s not. 

Because no matter how much you want to believe that this is accidental, that she’s completely unaware, a small, traitorous part of you wonders what it would mean if she wasn’t.

You try to focus on the ceiling, on the faint creak of the house settling around you, on anything other than her. But it’s impossible. Because no matter how still you stay, no matter how hard you try to quiet your thoughts, Agatha’s presence fills every corner of the room—and every corner of you.

Your breath hitches as you finally, finally let yourself turn your head. It’s tentative at first, a small, hesitant shift of movement. 

Your chin almost brushes her forehead, and the nearness of her—so close you could count the faint freckles scattered across her skin—leaves you utterly undone. 

For a moment, you can’t think, can’t breathe. The sight of her like this, her face so close to yours, is enough to send your thoughts spiraling.

Your gaze moves carefully, tracing her features as if each one might dissolve into smoke if you looked too quickly.

Sharp and soft. The words loop in your mind like a mantra, and you can’t stop staring. The sharp lines of her jaw and cheekbones, the delicate curve of her lips—they blend danger and allure in a way that leaves you off-balance, like she was never meant to be anything less than both.

Your let your thoughts drift, unbidden, to what you know about her. And, perhaps more troubling, to what you don’t.

You’ve spent all your life in the same coven, shared the same spaces, breathed the same air, yet she’s always been distant. A figure just out of reach, admired and feared in equal measure by most.

You sift through your memories, trying to piece together fragments, to make sense of the person sprawled across you now.

Everyone has been speaking of Agatha’s power in hushed tones since you were children—the raw, unpredictable force of her magic. How it brims with potential but defies control. Even the older witches have always been wary of her, watching her like a storm poised on the horizon.

And then there’s the story. The one no one speaks of outright but that lingers in fragments, carried around by rumors and half-truths.

It was just over a couple of years ago. One of the daughters of your mother’s friends—a girl you barely knew, though her name still echoes through the village homes and halls—was found dead in the woods. Cold, lifeless. Drained.

The whispers said it was Agatha.

They claimed she had taken the girl’s power, siphoned it like a flame devouring a candlewick. That she left her there, alone in the woods, to die. 

But that girl wasn’t just anyone. She was Agatha’s best friend.

The rumors painted it as a calculated act of power, a way to send a message and solidify her place as the rightful heir to the coven’s legacy. They said her magic demanded sacrifice, and she hadn’t hesitated to give one.

But that version of the story never sat right with you.

Even more so now, with Agatha asleep beside you, her head resting on your shoulder, her breathing slow and even in sleep. The idea of this Agatha—the Agatha who clings to you in her slumber—being the monster the rumors describe feels impossible to reconcile.

You’ve always wondered if there was more to the story. If the truth had been buried beneath layers of fear, jealousy, and Evanora’s carefully orchestrated manipulations. 

Because if there’s one thing you know about Evanora Harkness, it’s that she’d burn the truth to ashes to protect her image.

The slow rise and fall of your chest brushes faintly against Agatha’s arm, jolting you back to the present. You exhale shakily, your gaze locking once again on her face.

She looks so… harmless. The thought slips into your mind unbidden, and you can’t stop yourself from clinging to it. Here, now, in your bed, tangled against you, she does look harmless. Innocent, even.

And yet… the stories remain. The danger, the sharpness, the fury—it’s still there, lurking just beneath her momentary serene exterior. 

You should move. You really should. Break the moment, pull away, regain the distance you’re supposed to have. But you don’t. You can’t. Because for all the danger and mystery that surrounds Agatha Harkness, there’s something else, too.

Something that keeps you rooted in place, your gaze drinking her in, feeling her presence in every breath you take.

The stillness is interrupted by a faint shift. Agatha stirs against you, her body shifting slightly as her fingers twitch where her hand rests near your waist. Her breathing changes, no longer the even, steady rhythm of sleep but something shallower, more conscious.

You freeze, your own breath caught in your chest. Her head lifts just a fraction before settling again, her hair brushing against your neck in a way that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. For one agonizing moment, you wonder if she’ll pull away.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, Agatha lets out a soft exhale, her lashes fluttering as her eyes blink open, slow and heavy with sleep. There’s a beat—a single, suspended second where her gaze adjusts, flitting from the faint light of the room to you.

Her arm remains draped across your waist, though her fingers flex slightly, testing their place. Her lips twitch, just barely, into something resembling a smirk.

“Is this how you treat all your guests, or am I just special?” she murmurs, her voice husky and rough from sleep, the teasing lilt sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

The words pull you from your haze of panic into full-blown mortification, heat rising to your face as you open your mouth, then close it, scrambling for a response. 

“You—you asked me to stay!” you stammer, your voice breaking as you shift just a little, glaring at her. “Don’t twist this into—”

Agatha cuts you off with an expression so faux-innocent you want to scream, her tone light but laced with mockery. 

“Did I?” she muses, her brow quirking as though she’s genuinely pondering it. “Hmm. Doesn’t sound like me.”

Your jaw drops. 

Your heart hasn’t stopped pounding since she stirred, and her smirk only makes it worse. The audacity, the smugness. She’s so calm, like waking up tangled together is just another morning for her.

For you? It’s a waking nightmare—or at least, that’s the excuse you cling to as you try to suppress the heat that is completely taking hold of your whole body. Your fists clench at your sides, and your frustration boils over. 

“You did! You said—” you stop yourself, huffing in exasperation as her smirk turns into a full-blown grin. “Ugh, you’re impossible.”

“And you’re far too fun to annoy.” she counters shifting slightly, her arm sliding away from your waist as she props herself up on one elbow.

You bite back another retort, your face burning as you turn your head to look anywhere but at her. She’s infuriating. Smug and sharp-tongued and—close. Too close.

The silence stretches for a beat, and you take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. 

It doesn’t help that she’s still watching you, her gaze a quiet weight against your skin. You can feel it without looking—how her smirk lingers, how her eyes flicker between amusement and something unreadable.

She shifts again, finally breaking the silence. 

“Well,” she says softly, her voice still carrying that teasing lilt, “if this is how you handle all your guests, I can’t imagine they stay very long.”

Your breath hitches, and you glance at her despite yourself, catching the faintest flicker of something beneath her grin. She’s teasing, sure—but there’s an edge to it, a quiet discomfort she’s trying to mask.

You huff again, crossing your arms and refusing to let her get the last word. “Maybe they don’t. But you did ask me to stay, so if you have complaints, take it up with yourself.”

Her grin softens slightly, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she leans back a little, her hand brushing against the blanket as she rests her weight on her palm. Her gaze flickers briefly to the window, her expression almost thoughtful.

You watch her for a moment, your own irritation ebbing away as curiosity takes its place. She’s still infuriating, still impossible—but there’s something else, too. Something quieter. 

You should let it go. The tension, the moment—it’s already too much and you both literally just woke up. But the question lodges itself in your throat, unspoken words buzzing like a swarm. You don’t even mean to say it. It just… slips out. “What really happened that day?”

Agatha’s head tilts slightly, her eyes cutting back to yours in a sharp, measured motion. 

“What?” she asks, her tone casual, but there’s a sudden wariness in her gaze, the edge of a blade being drawn.

You hesitate, regretting the words almost immediately, but it’s too late now. 

“The girl.” you clarify, your voice quieter than you intended. “The one they say you… killed.”

The room seems to still, the air shifting as the words settle between you. 

Agatha doesn’t move, her expression unreadable, but the flicker of something raw flashes behind her eyes—a shadow that vanishes almost as quickly as it appears.

Her lips curve into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Really?” she drawls, leaning back slightly, the picture of feigned nonchalance. “That’s what you want to talk about? Here? Now?”

Your stomach twists at the sharpness of her tone, but you don’t look away. 

“I just…” You pause, choosing your words carefully. “I just want to know the truth.”

Agatha lets out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking her head as she looks away again. 

“The truth…” she mutters, her voice low, almost mocking. “You’re the first person to actually ask me for it, you know?”

The words hit you like a slap, leaving you momentarily speechless. 

“Wait.” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No one’s ever—?”

“No.” Agatha cuts in sharply, her tone laced with dry amusement that barely conceals the bitterness beneath.“Why would they? They already think they know. They don’t need my version.” 

She scoffs, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk.

Your chest tightens painfully at the words, the weight of what she’s said settling over you like a heavy fog. If no one’s ever asked for her version of the story, if no one’s cared enough to hear the truth… then everything you’ve heard—the whispers, the rumors, the stories—might not be true. Or at least, not entirely.

Agatha’s gaze flickers back to you, piercing and unreadable, as if she can sense where your thoughts are heading. 

“I know what they say.” she continues, her voice quieter now, colder. “Some of it’s lies, some of it’s not.”

Your breath catches, her words hanging between you like a challenge, daring you to press further. And you do. 

“But if not all of it’s true…” you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “… then why?”

You hesitate, the question twisting in your chest before it finally escapes. “Why do you let them believe those things about you, hmm?”

That stops her cold.

Her gaze locks on you, her expression sharp and unyielding, but there’s something flickering beneath the surface—something fragile and dangerous and far too human.

For a moment, you swear you see something shatter behind the mask she wears so flawlessly. And when she finally speaks, her whispered answer tears through the silence like thunder.

“Because the truth is too awful.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at her. The rawness in her voice, the vulnerability she so desperately tries to hide, steals the breath from your lungs.

But you don’t back down. Not now.

“Maybe.” you say quietly, your voice softening but steady. “But I don’t think it’s worse than the lies, than the stories people tell.”

Her head tilts slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. The tension in her shoulders doesn’t ease, but there’s something in her gaze—a flicker of hesitation, of consideration.

“You’re persistent.” she mutters, the edge returning to her voice, though it’s quieter now.

“And you’re exhausting.” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual despite the knot in your chest tightening with every passing second. “But since it looks like we’re stuck together—and you’re literally in my bed—you might as well tell me.”

You know the truth, though: you’re not really stuck together. Agatha could leave anytime she wanted—she’s clever, resourceful, and probably already thought of four different ways to slip out unnoticed, if she needed or wanted to.

But you also suspect that getting Agatha Harkness to open up requires more than simple patience. She needs to feel cornered—not with malice, but with intent. She has to know that someone is paying attention, that someone cares enough to ask, and that walking away won’t make the questions disappear. So you hold her gaze, refusing to let the moment slip away.

Agatha exhales sharply, the sound laced with frustration as she rubs a hand over her face. For a long, agonizing moment, you think she might retreat entirely. But then her hand falls, and she looks at you again.

And just like that, the walls begin to crack.

[the-witty-pen-name]

Love is Blind (Part 3)

Eddie Munson x PlusSize!F!Reader

Summary: In a last ditch effort to evade the normal disappointments of dating, a group of misfits desperate to have someone see who they are on the inside volunteer for the most recent brain chemistry study at Hawkins Lab. 

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut in later parts (part 4), reader has low self-esteem and struggles with self love/acceptance, anxiety/trauma related to bullying, tooth rot worthy fluff, Eddie being a major flirt, cursing, mentions of substance use, descriptions of bullying & people being jerks but like also very overdone tropes, mentions of smut

A/N: Please let me know if you liked it!! Feel free to send me an ask if you want to fangirl with me over these two because I cannot stand them at this point. LOL Or if you want to share any ideas/predictions for upcoming parts with me or other ideas for future stories with Eddie, I would love to hear them. Also, if I forgot to include a warning that should be included, please let me know!

Series Masterlist

“Eddie.” 

“Hey, Eddie.” 

“Earth to Eddie.”

“EDDIE.” 

“Shit! Sorry,” he says, breaking out of his thoughts and coming back to reality. He stares at his notes in his DM folder and he literally has no idea where the campaign has left off. He clears his throat and awkwardly flips through the pages. “Umm..”

“We just made it to the fishing town and we were tasked by a local merchant to kill a sea serpent that’s poisoning the local fish in exchange for..”

“Oh yeah,” he interjects, grabbing the correct script he needs to continue. “Uh, did you roll..?”

“Are you kidding me, man! What the hell?” Gareth exclaims, exasperated. “What’s wrong with you today?” 

Eddie’s face turns pink, shaking his head and ignoring the question. He was not going to admit to being distracted. He’s not embarrassed to talk to the guys about you, but he hasn’t told anyone he signed up for the study. He didn’t want to admit he was desperate or lonely, he’s too proud. He knows his friends don’t care, but it’s a mental block he can’t pass. 

“Nothing, I’m good. Just let it go,” he says defensively. 

“No way. Fucking spill it,” Jeff laughs. 

Eddie racks his mind for the most sane way to answer their questions. He sighs, pushing a mess of his curly hair out of his face. 

“Who is she?” Gareth asks, raising an eyebrow. 

***

DAY FOUR

“I’m mad at you,” Eddie says, and you roll your eyes. 

“What did I do now?” You ask, playful sarcasm evident in your voice. 

“You’re throwing me off my game”

“I don’t even know what you mean by that.” 

“Obviously because I’m really cool and popular,” he jokes, “I’m a Dungeon Master as you know.” 

“Yup, I’m familiar,” you toy. 

“My friends called my ass out so many times last night for not paying attention and I kept fucking up.” 

“I don’t appreciate you pinning this on me,” you chuckle. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Lies!” He says in a bravado. “You are the distraction! You have managed to weasel your way into every aspect of mind- I hope you’re proud of yourself. I’m probably going to be dethroned. My reign is over.”

You bite your bottom lip, to hold back the goofy smile you know is creeping over your whole face. Never before has anyone made you feel like this. The notebook to keep track of other “dates” is long forgotten. You only want to continue talking to Eddie. You wonder if any of the other people you spoke to felt a connection this strong. You’re dying to know if there are other people who feel as good as you right now. 

“What were you thinking about?” you ask shyly. You can hear the way it makes Eddie stop in his tracks. You assume he wears some sort of chain on his pants cause you can hear it when he paces, but suddenly, his end of the wall falls silent.

“How honest do you want me to be?” he asks, suddenly sounding shy. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I could go the cheesy, romantic, ‘I was thinking about you’ way- which is true. Or, I could be brutally honest because ‘I was thinking about you’ in this context has much more implications than that.” 

“You’re confusing me,” you laugh, “just tell me.”

“Do you ever fantasize about when we get out of here? In like, a you know-”

“Like sexually?” you ask, throwing him a bone. He was drowning. 

“Yeah,” he admits, and you can hear the chain on his pant leg as he fidgets. 

“Yes,” you answer honestly, “I do.”

“I think about it all the time,” he says, the confession spilling out, “The fact that I can’t touch you is driving me fucking insane. It’s not even like just like the thought of getting to fuck you- it’s like being close to you and like feeling your body heat, or like the weight of you sitting on my lap, what it feels like to just touch your skin- just everything that we’re being denied. I don’t even have a visual in my head to go off of it’s just like- I don’t know, man…”

You wince at the mention of sitting on his lap. “I don’t know if you’d want me on your lap for a long time..,” you sound defeated. 

“Um, don’t speak for me,” he cuts you off, playfully. “Any man who doesn’t want the full weight of his woman on his lap is a fucking idiot. Ugh, I don’t even think you understand just how amazing it is. I don’t care if you try to fight me on this, princess. You’re sitting on me, and I will love every second of it.” 

“I’m not thin, Eddie,” you whisper, feeling defeated. You hear him blow a raspberry and then he knocks on the wall. 

“I… don’t… care,” he emphasizes by drawing out each word. “You need to believe me. I couldn’t care less about your weight, your height, your hair… whatever  it is. I like you! And that means I like every part of you.”

His voice begins to raise, like he is yelling up, “If these fuckers would realize we’re done already and let me out.” He then lowers his voice like he’s looking back to the wall. “I want you. The experiment fucking works, I wish I could show you what you do to me cause maybe then it’ll finally stick. I’m going out of my mind that I can’t touch you and show you how much I want you, your body, everything. Do you need me to spell it out?” 

“Would you have still found me attractive if we met outside of this experiment?” you ask, “I bet you wouldn’t have even looked my way if you saw me at a bar or something.”

“Sweetheart,” he coaxes, “absolutely. I know that I would’ve been annoying the shit out of you for your number. You’d have been the one to reject me, I guarantee it.” 

“I would have never,” you reply. 

“So if it’s possible for you to know that you wouldn't have rejected me without seeing me,” Eddie muses, “why can’t you believe the same for me?”

“You haven’t asked me a single thing about my appearance,” he continues, “Do you care how much I weigh? Do you care if I’m short?”

“Not at all. I haven’t thought about it,” you admit. 

“I haven’t either. Now, please let me have my fantasy of you sitting on my lap please,” he whines, “I need something to get me through the day, Christ.” You laugh at his fake annoyance. 

You’re so happy at how he’s able to talk you down. It amazes you how he’s able to see through the insecurities and brings you back down to Earth. 

“Okay, okay,” you say, settling back into the couch and getting comfortable. You rest your head back. 

“I don’t know, basically, we’re in the middle of the campaign- I literally spent weeks writing it,” he continues, “and I literally just can’t stop thinking about how amazing it would be if you were there. I’m just sitting there, thinking about what it would feel like to just have you sitting on my lap while we’re playing and then I’m thinking about how I want to feel lean back on me and I’d have my arm around your waist holding you, and maybe I’d rub little circles on the side of your thigh and I thought about how soft you probably feel and then suddenly I’m sporting the most embarrassing boner which thankfully no one saw- Fuck, this is what you’re doing to me.”

***

“Is there any way to end the trial early?” Eddie asks, sitting in the interview room. There’s a man putting a pulse oximeter on his right index finger and another testing his blood pressure with a monitor on his left side. 

Two other technicians sit across from Eddie, taking notes from Eddie’s answers on a clipboard. They have tested his levels of dopamine and norepinephrine. They’re taking extensive notes on Eddie’s physical reactions to you, and the same is done to all of the candidates- including you. They continue to ignore Eddie’s questions as they ramble on about his levels of oxytocin. 

“In order for us to gather all of the information necessary, this isn’t possible,” one of them finally answers. 

“But I’m telling you how I feel- I’m telling you it works,” he insists. 

“Mr. Muson,” one says, closing a file folder that contains his charts. “This is a study in brain chemistry. You agreed to participate for the designated number of days and in exchange you’d receive compensation. Your conversations between yourself and the other candidates is not our business, nor what you choose to do afterwards. Our job here is to collect data, not the details of your personal life.” 

“I can’t believe this,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes. He pulls off the oximeter and grabs his jean jacket. He walks out, despite their protests, flipping them off as he goes. He couldn’t care less about the lousy $200. As far as he was concerned, they poked and prodded the two of you enough. 

Of course, he did show up the next day. Promptly with a big grin on his face, he walked in with a happy go-lucky attitude that the entire lab team was secretly sick of dealing with. These sudden outbursts and dramatic tirades were becoming a staple of Eddie’s interviews and they equally couldn’t wait to be done with him. 

***

DAY FIVE

“Are these dice?” You ask with a chuckle, opening the small, black velvet bag that’s been left for you on the table in the room. You empty the bag out into your hand and watch as the dice roll into your palm one at a time. They’re all red and shimmer as you move them around in your cupped hand. 

“Well, I wanted you to have them,” you hear his voice explain from the other side of the wall. You’re beaming as you carefully pour them back into the bag and tie it off. 

“This is so sweet, Eds,” you marvel. “I love them.” 

“I also brought my guitar and like in a non-douchebag way I was kind of hoping to play something for you,” he says, his guitar perched on his lap. “I’ve just been working on this song and I wanted your opinion on it.” 

It's surprisingly soft sounding. You were expecting heavy guitar, something really metal based on what Eddie has told you about his music taste and his band. It’s slower paced, like a dreamy, slow rock ballad. 

You wished you could see him, observe how he looks when he’s concentrating or how his fingers look strumming against the cords. You just know he has the most beautiful hands. You imagine his fingers and try to visualize them flexing as he strums. You’re so distracted by it that you almost miss him singing a verse. 

“It’s not done yet,” he prefaces, still strumming. “I’m still working on the lyrics so don’t think too much about them, just like the meaning and the melody you know?” 

“Yeah totally,” you hum in agreement. “I think it sounds great.” He smiles at the praise. 

***

Before

You anxiously sit by the front window, peeking out between the blinds occasionally. You smooth out the skirt of the new dress your mom bought you, and you make sure your hair is still how you requested. Your mom let you wear makeup and you picked eyeshadow that matches your dress and you feel like a million bucks. It’s your ninth grade formal, and the star of the JV basketball team asked you to be his date. 

The minutes tick by and the time changes from reasonably late to stood up. You still hold out hope, and reject your parents' offers to just drive you to the dance. It’s been 45 minutes now, and you still hoped he’d be there. It was long past an hour that you admitted that he wasn’t coming. 

The following Monday you learned the whole thing was a prank, and he never wanted to ask you to the dance. It’s in the school paper that he’s at the dance, dancing cheek to cheek with one of the cheerleaders, who you can’t help but compare yourself to. 

***

Eddie is sitting at the middle school cafeteria table alone. He’s about a hundred pages into the Hobbit and the crusts of his peanut butter sandwich are forgotten about on the crinkly brown paper bag Uncle Wayne packed his lunch in. He’s long forgotten he’s sitting alone, far too engrossed in the story to care, when suddenly his head is yanked back by someone tugging on his t-shirt. 

“What’s up, Freak?” the voice asks before shoving Eddie back towards the table. He catches himself on the edge before his head comes in contact with the surface. He winces as anger boils up inside him. The three jocks laugh amongst themselves until a familiar voice shoos them away. 

“Sorry about them,” she says apologetically as Eddie looks to see her. Chrissy. He notices how she glances from him to the cafeteria table where the cheerleaders sit, and Eddie knows she doesn’t want to be seen with him for too long. 

“You can go, I’m fine,” Eddie says, forcing a laugh to make her feel better. “But, uh, I wanted to ask you-” 

“Okay, thanks,” she says, cutting him off and practically skipping to sit next to the prick who shoved him. Eddie recoils as the jock’s arm wraps around her. Eddie rolls his eyes and gets up to have lunch outside. Along with the remains of his lunch, he shoves the necklace he meant to give her in the bin. He’d stayed up past his bedtime, Wayne showing him how to drill a small hole into the top of one of his guitar picks to put a metal jewelry loop through so it could be put on a silver chain. 

***

You’re sitting at the table in the dimly lit restaurant and sipping on your cocktail when you see him walk in. He matches the description your friend gave you, and you feel yourself smile at how cute he is- definitely living up to the hype. Your friend spent weeks convincing you to go out on this date- one of her boyfriend’s best friends. They’re in the same fraternity. 

You can see as he walks into the dining room, he’s looking around trying to find his date. You offer a smile when he makes eye contact, and you offer a small wave. 

“James?” You ask, “you’re exactly like how Donna described you.” He offers a polite closed lipped smile, and a nod, taking a seat across from you without saying anything. 

As the date continues, you notice you’re doing a lot of the talking. You ask him questions and you’re met with a lot of one word answers. He looks detached, checking his watch and his attention seems to be wandering throughout the restaurant at anything but you. By the time your entrees arrive, he yawns. 

“I’m sorry, did I do something or say something?” you ask, hesitantly.

“No, no you’re good,” he says, straightening his posture like it would correct the behavior he’s been exhibiting. 

He pays for dinner, and you ask if he’d like to do this again sometime (just to be polite, you knew it was going nowhere). He sucks in air from between his teeth, and lets out an exhale. 

“You’re a nice person,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets as he waits for the valet to bring his car. “I’m sorry, but you aren’t really my type. Tom didn’t tell me anything about you really. I just felt like we didn’t click.” You notice the way his eyes scan your body, the unspoken awkwardness of you knowing what he isn’t saying. You nod, and say strained goodbyes as he gets in his car. You wished you were more surprised. 

***

Eddie is met with dirty looks when he approaches a girl at the bar. He feels her eyes on his tattoos and on his clothes, judging him. He sees her friend, who's also looking at him, lean in and whisper something and they both laugh. He knows the joke is on him, yet again. 

He opts to hang where he is, leaning against one of the high top tables, when he watches another guy approach her. He’s muscular, of course he is, and Eddie looks down at his own torso in comparison as this guy’s abs strain his shirt. Eddie scoffs, but now feels incredibly insecure at how his own shirt hangs loosely on his figure. 

***

DAY SIX

“Are you still worried about tomorrow?” Eddie asks, playing haphazardly with his rings as he sits with his forearms rested on his thighs. 

“A little,” you admit sheepishly. “Are you?” 

“More excited than nervous,” he replies honestly. “This whole thing has been fucking wild,” he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Insane,” you agree, laying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. 

“I just wanted to ask, no pressure,” Eddie says, clearing his throat, “Uh the other day, when we talked about, you know- what’s gonna happen when we see each other…”

“Yes?”

“You said to not hold back, I don’t remember exactly what it was but along the lines of ‘I don’t want you to hold back. Just whatever feels right to you in that moment, do it. Kiss me, touch me, I’m down for everything.’ Or something. I just want to make sure…”

“You don’t remember exactly, huh?” you tease. 

“Is that still what you want?” he asks earnestly. 

“Without a doubt,” you smile.

PART 4

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