#But for the match that made me want to make this post?

[sceletaflores]

well, all right i’m bad, but then you’re no prize either…

pair: joel miller x fem!reader

wc: 8.6k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, no ellie, general violence (only referenced), age gap (56/26), swearing, so many spacers lmao, not quite friends to lovers and not quite enemies to lovers but a weird other thing, kinda mean!joel for a good sec, dressing wounds, joel miller TUMMY, loss of virginity (reader is a virgin but she's not completely oblivious and weirdly infantile about it lmao), fingering (fem!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex whoops, size kink, belly bulging, pussy pronouns, porn with a tiny plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: well, i finally caved y’all. baby’s first tlou fic! this literally took me forever to write and even longer to post cause i was so terrified LMAO so please give me some grace if it’s shit and he’s ooc and timelines are a little fuzzy cause i barely know what i’m doing. thank you chickens love you mwah mwah mwah. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

joel found a lodge house…

You don’t know what you did to make Joel Miller hate you so much.

He's never outright said it, but you know it’s there—in every sharp glance, every clipped word, every deliberate avoidance.

Besides, his silence is worse than anything he could say. A quiet condemnation that settles in your chest like stone.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter, that you don’t care what he thinks, but the truth is harder to swallow.

You do care—more than you want to admit. His approval, his respect, hell, even a sliver of kindness from him feels like an impossible prize you’ll never win.

And you hate yourself for wanting it. For needing it.

It's not just the weight of his disdain that eats at you, it's the not knowing why. God, do you wish you could ask him why.

What did you do to make him look at you like you’re some necessary evil he has to tolerate. Why does he hold some unspoken grudge that's manifested itself into something you couldn't dream of ever comprehending.

But the thought of confronting Joel feels like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down into a void that might swallow you whole.

So instead, you do what you've always done. You keep your distance, try to match his indifference with your own, and tell yourself it’s better this way.

You were young when the outbreak hit, six years old.

You’re sure that’s part of it. That that’s how Joel sees you, as some bumbling, naive child who’s more of a hassle than anything else.

Another mouth to feed, another back to watch, baggage.

You've been with him for almost seven months now, traveling side by side when you may have well been miles apart. Trekking through abandoned cities, overgrown highways, and every godforsaken patch of wilderness in between.

In the beginning, you did everything you could to prove him wrong.

You pushed yourself past your limits, hunted, scavenged, fought, kept up. You did everything that needed to be done without hesitation.

All to show that you were more than what he made you out to be. It never seemed to matter much.

After you lost your parents in the early days of the outbreak, it was just you and your sister. She taught you everything you know, taught you how to survive.

It's because of her that you know how to shoot a rifle, how to skin a rabbit, how to start a fire with nothing but sticks and dried moss, how to snap bones and locate which vital arteries bleed out the quickest.

It's because of her that you've been able to hone some sick skill in the maiming of clickers.

A skill you never thought you'd need to use on her.

You were supposed to be safe in the QZ. You weren't supposed to be fifteen years old, aiming a gun at the one person you had left.

Your own flesh and blood wasn't supposed to be the very first in a long list of red tallies under your belt.

It’s been years and you’ve still never forgotten that day. December 19th, 2012, the date burned into your brain like someone took a branding iron to the tissue.

You can’t count the amount of times you’ve been ripped from your sleep drenched in a cold sweat with the tail end of a scream tearing at the skin of your throat.

The image of what was left of your sister, slumped on the ground lifeless as her blood painted the wall behind her flashing behind your closed eyelids. The sound of her last labored breath ringing in your ears louder than any shotgun blast.

You ran that same night, with the weight of her death on your shoulders.

Your entire world spinning out around you as you clawed through barbed wire fencing, not caring where you were going or what would happen to you—just needing to escape.

There was nothing left for you to do after that but survive. And that’s what you did, for years, scraping by in a world that had already chewed you up and spit you out a mangled mess.

You learned how to be ruthless because of it.

How to harden yourself against the loss, the pain, the brutality. But there were cracks, too. Cracks you hid well, buried deep beneath layers of stubbornness and distance.

The endless days blurred into each other. Empty houses, hollow streets. A life reduced to scavenging, hiding, and the occasional, fleeting moment of human connection that inevitably ended in loss. 

And then you found yourself with Joel.

You hadn’t exactly found him, though. More like crashed into his orbit by accident.

A few desperate days spent scavenging through the ruins of a small town, a chance encounter that left you both wary and unwilling to turn your backs.

But, inexplicably, you somehow became part of his traveling routine.

He wasn’t like any of the others you’d met before. At first, you thought he might be different. A man who seemed broken, but different nonetheless.

As the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, you began to see the truth. Joel Miller wasn’t concerned with you. He didn’t need you. And, more than that, he didn’t want you around. 

You didn’t know what to do with that.

It’s a bitter kind of irony. You’ve survived all this time completely on your own, fought tooth and nail to stay alive, but with him, you might just crumble.

Joel found a lodge house. It's a small, weathered place tucked away in the dense trees of the wood surrounding it.

He only deemed it suitable after an extensive perimeter check and a thorough sweep of the interior.

It's not much—just another run-down place in the middle of nowhere—but for the first time in what feels like forever, it’s a roof over your head for the night.

The walls are sturdy, though the windows are cracked and half of the floorboards creak like they're about to give out at any moment.

You explored the second floor alone, creeping through the desolate rooms and taking in all that was left behind.

Old family photographs covered in thick layers of dust, worn clothes riddled with holes still hung in the few closets you stumble across.

The oddest of all was an old jewelry box tucked away in a dresser draw, tarnished silver dull and muddy.

The sound of familiar footsteps comes from somewhere behind you. The door creaks open slowly.

Joel. Of course.

He clears his throat, the sound abrasive in the quiet of the house.  

“Fire’s low,” he says, voice rough from its lack of use today.

You don’t turn around, not yet. You take the box in your gloved hand, running your fingers across the intricate design of the lid, touch trailing over winding vines and small roses.

“Okay,” you mutter, your voice coming out quieter than you intended. “I’ll grab some more wood later.”

Another beat of silence. Then, “It’s gettin’ cold out, I’ll go.”

Your fingers pause their ministrations, moving to flip the lid open. Empty.

“Suit yourself,” you reply after a moment, your tone just as neutral as his.

Joel doesn’t leave right away. You hear the floorboards groan beneath his weight, his presence lingering in the doorway. 

You wonder what he’s waiting for, or if he’s waiting at all.

Finally, he speaks. “Don’t touch anything.”

With that he turns and leaves the room, you wait until you can’t hear his footsteps trailing down the stairs anymore to let out the scoff festering in your chest.

You snap the jewelry lid shut with a little more force than necessary. “Asshole.”

Joel's been gone for a while now. Longer than it takes to chop a few logs for firewood.

You came down from the upstairs a few minutes after hearing the tell-tale sound of the heavy door opening and closing. The main room is quiet, save for the soft crackle of the dwindling fire.

You're perched on an old armchair near the entrance, peering out the dirty window that has the best view of the treeline as you nervously pick the skin around your nails.

You tell yourself not to worry. He’s probably fine, he’s been doing this a lot longer than you. And if Joel is anything, it’s annoyingly competent.

Still, a nagging doubt itches at the back of your mind. It's been at least half an hour, maybe more.

You’re just about to grab your own pack and go looking for him when the front door creaks open.

Joel stumbles inside, the frigid evening air rushing in behind him before he slams the door shut. At first glance, he looks fine—no more haggard than usual. 

But then you notice the way he favors his left side, the way his free hand is pressed against his ribs, blood seeping through his fingers and staining his torn undershirt.

You’re on your feet in an instant.

“Fuck,” you say, voice sharper than you expected. “What the hell happened?”

“Raiders.” Is the only explanation you get as he tries to brush past you like it’s nothing. The stiff way he moves and the tightens of his jaw betray him. “S’just a scratch.”

“Bullshit,” you snap, stepping in front of him and blocking his path to the fire. “Sit. Now.”

He gives you a look, one of those deep, withering glares you’ve seen him use to intimidate countless others into submission. But you stand your ground, chin raised and jaw set–defiant. 

His stubbornness finally meeting its match in your own. 

Finally, with a low growl of frustration, he drops onto the couch. “Happy now?”

"Not until you let me take care of that." You motion toward his side, where the blood is still spreading.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, lolling his head back to rest more heavily on the couch.

“Sure you are,” you snap, crossing the room to rifle through your bag. “And I’m the fucking Queen of England.”

"Said I’m fine," he bites through gritted teeth, but you’re already moving, heading back to him with the first aid kit from your pack.

"You want to bleed out on this ugly-ass couch? Be my guest," you shoot back, dropping to your knees in front of him. "Otherwise, shut up and let me help."

Joel surprisingly doesn’t argue any further, just sighs heavily and reluctantly sinks further into the couch cushions.

You push the front of his jacket open to slide it off his shoulders as gently as you can, peeling back the layer of his flannel next.

The smell of blood hits you immediately.

The gash is about five inches long, trailing the span of his ribcage. It’s deep—but not fatal—just an angry red and oozing blood.

Definitely not the simple 'scratch' he made it out to be.

Your stomach churns at the sight, but you push it down. No time for that.

“Jesus, Joel,” you mutter under your breath, reaching for the alcohol in your kit. “You really know how to underplay a situation, huh?”

He doesn’t respond, just watches you with those dark, calculating eyes of his. Always watching, always assessing.

It’s unnerving, but you focus on the task at hand, grabbing a clean cloth and soaking it with alcohol.

“This is gonna hurt,” you warn, though there’s a part of you that doesn’t mind the idea of causing him a little discomfort.

A petty, vindictive part that still stings from all the scorn he’s thrown your way.

“Just get it over with,” Joel grits out, his voice low and gravelly.

You don’t give him any more warnings as you wipe the soaked cloth over the wound. He flinches, a harsh curse slipping through clenched teeth, but he doesn’t pull away.

You work as quickly as you can, wiping away the blood and dirt with steady hands, your movements as gentle as possible given the situation.

You let out an annoyed huff when the torn fabric of his shirt gets in the way of your hands for a second time.

You lean back on your heels, glancing up at Joel. “You need to take your shirt off.”

Joel raises a brow at you, his lips pressing into a thin line. “That really necessary?”

“Yes, it’s necessary, Joel,” you huff, already losing patience. “Unless you want me to sit here and cut around every thread of this ratty thing while you bleed out, then by all means—”

He sighs heavily, cutting you off as he shifts forward and grabs the hem of his shirt. He tugs at the fabric, grunting in pain each time it strains his ribs.

You roll your eyes at how slow he’s moving, and your patience—already worn thin by the day's events—snaps.

“Jesus Christ, let me help,” you huff, reaching forward and grabbing the fabric.

Joel jerks back slightly, his hand shooting up to stop yours mid-motion. “I got it,” he growls, a sharp edge in his voice.

You glare at him, your hand still caught in his grip. His palm is calloused, his hold firm enough to make your pulse jump unexpectedly. 

For a moment, the two of you just sit there, locked in a silent standoff.

Then he releases your hand and pulls the shirt over his head himself, wincing as the movement pulls at his side.

You wait with your arms crossed, trying to ignore the awkward flutter of nerves in your stomach as the fabric peels away to reveal his chest.

Joel’s broad, solid frame isn’t new to you. You’ve seen him shirtless before—brief glimpses when bathing in rivers or changing in run down houses between stops.

But this time feels different, more intimate somehow.

You’re staring, and you know it.

The firelight cast shadows over his skin, illuminating old scars, faint lines of muscle, the barely there jut of his stomach over the hem of his jeans.

You had been getting more game kills recently, two hunters are always better than one.

Joel clears his throat, dragging your focus back to the present. “You gonna gawk all night, or can we move this along?”

You snap out of it, scowling to cover your embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

You finish cleaning the gash and grab the small needle and thread lying next to you.

“This’ll hurt worse than the alcohol,” you say, threading the needle easily.

Joel snorts, a rare sound. “Figures.”

The needle pierces his skin, and this time, you catch the smallest hitch in his breath. He doesn’t make a sound, but his jaw tightens, the veins in his neck standing out like cords.

His hands grip the edge of the couch hard enough that his knuckles turn white with it, but he doesn’t tell you to stop or slow down.

He’s too damn proud for that.

You shift closer, your knee brushing against his leg as you position yourself to work from a better angle. You feel his eyes on you, that intense, scrutinizing stare that makes your skin prickle.

“You’ve done this before,” Joel says after a moment, his tone less sharp than before. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.

You shrug, keeping your hands steady. “Of course I have.”

“Who taught you?”

The question catches you off guard, Joel’s never shown much interest in what your life was before you met him. You glance up briefly, catching his gaze. There’s no malice there, no judgment—just curiosity.

You swallow hard, dragging your eyes back to stitches, half way done now. “My sister.”

You don’t elaborate and Joel doesn’t push.

Maybe it’s the sudden tightness in your tone or the look you know must be clouding your face that keeps him quiet.

You finish off the stitching, tearing the thin strand of thread with your hands before you’re leaning away again.

“Good as new,” you say, dabbing some more alcohol on your own hands to disinfect. “Try not to tear these open anytime soon.”

Joel leans back, strong arms spread across the back of the couch, his face unreadable as he peers down at the fresh stitching on his side. 

“Could’ve done it myself,” he mutters, but the edge in his voice is gone, replaced with something softer, almost resigned. 

You roll your eyes with a scoff, not even trying to hide your irritation as you rise from the floor. “Sure you could’ve, right before you passed out. You’re welcome by the way.”

You gather your supplies and turn to head back to your bag, but Joel’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“You’re always like this, y’know,” he says, and the words carry that same gravelly drawl, but there’s something new there—something heavier.

You pause, your hands tightening around the kit in your grasp. “Like what?”

“Pushy. Stubborn,” he replies, his tone cutting, though it lacks the usual venom. “Like you’ve got somethin’ to prove all the damn time.”

You whip around, your patience officially gone. “You think I’m stubborn?” you shoot back, your voice rising. “Coming from the guy who would rather bleed out on a fucking couch than admit he needs help?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, and his hands flex against the couch cushions, but you don’t stop. Not now. Not after months of this.

“I’ve been busting my ass since day one to prove that I’m not dead weight to you. I’ve fought for us, for you. And for what? Just to get more of your bullshit attitude?”

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about,” Joel snaps, pushing himself upright despite the obvious strain it puts on his freshly stitched wound. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

“Because you won’t let me!” you fire back, stepping closer, your voice rising. “All you do is look at me like I’m some burden you can’t wait to get rid of.”

Joel’s glare sharpens, his lips parting as if to respond, but you cut him off.

You really can’t stop yourself now that you started, all the anger and frustration reaching a fever pitch hot enough to burst the tight lid you’ve kept on your emotions.

“If I’m such a hassle, why didn’t you just leave me back there, huh? Why didn’t you just walk away like I know you wanted to?”

Joel’s breathing is heavier now,  his broad chest rising and falling as his dark eyes bore into yours.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. Then, he stands, and the sheer size of him forces you to tilt your chin up slightly to keep your glare fixed on his face.

“You think I wanted this, kid?” he growls, his voice low and strained, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You think I wanted to be responsible for someone else? To have someone else’s fuckin’ life on me?”

“Don’t call me kid,” you spit, shoving a finger into his chest, ignoring the way his jaw ticks at the contact. “I’m not a fucking kid.”

He scoffs, casting his eyes to the ceiling disbelievingly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” you growl, fists clenching at your side. “If you hate me that much, why the hell are you still here? Why didn’t you tell me to fuck off the second you met me?”

“Because I couldn’t!” Joel snaps, booming voice filling the small space.

The confession slips out like it pains him. His fists clench at his sides, and for a moment, he looks like he might break something.

You’ve never been scared of Joel, even though you’ve seen first hand just how scary he can be.

Now, as he looms in front of you, eyes blazing and jaw working furiously beneath his skin, it’s the closest to scared you’ve felt.

“I’ve seen you out there,” he continues, tone low and dark. “You’ve got a fuckin’ death wish. You’re too damn stubborn to just stop, and I’m not gonna let you go so you can run off and get yourself fuckin’ killed.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, his words hitting far too close to home.

“I’m just trying to survive, Joel,” you snap, your voice shaking. “That’s what we do, isn’t it? Survive.”

“Survive,” Joel repeats bitterly, his gaze burning into yours. “That what you call it? Throwin’ yourself into every goddamn fight, gettin’ stabbed and shot right fuckin’ in front of me and expecting me to brush that shit off?”

You let out a humorless laugh, nodding your head exasperatedly. “Yes, yes I do expect you to just brush it off, because that’s what you always do.” 

“Well I can’t,” he grates out, taking a step closer. “I can’t ‘cause despite whatever it is that you may think about me, I don’t hate you. I care about you too damn much and that's my goddamn problem.”

That shuts you up, your mouth snapping closed with a sharp click of your teeth as you stare at him, shocked.

Joel holds your gaze, lips pressed into a thin line. “That what you wanted to hear?”

It’s in that moment that the fire finally fizzles out, the dull hiss of it the only sound left in the room.

You’re quiet for a beat, stunned into silence. The heat of his anger, his frustration, it radiates off him, and you realize suddenly that this isn’t just about you. 

It never was.

“Then show me,” you challenge softly, your heart pounding in your chest. “Show me that you don’t hate me.”

Joel’s eyes darken, his head cocking to the side as he searches your face for a sign. You don’t say anything, you only square your shoulders and raise your chin, your eyes just as hard as his own.

“I want you to prove it.”

The tension snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. 

You shouldn’t—this shouldn’t—happen. Not like this. Not after everything that’s been said.

But when Joel’s lips crash against yours, hot and desperate and urgent, it makes everything blur into nothing. 

It’s not gentle, not soft—this is anger and longing and frustration all wrapped into one. It’s messy, frantic, like a fight that’s been brewing for too long.

He grips your arm, pulling you closer, almost too roughly, but it feels like it’s everything you’ve both been avoiding.

His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, grounding you as his lips press harder against yours, like he��s trying to pour everything he can’t say into this single moment.

You respond just as fiercely, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders as you kiss him back with all the pent-up emotion that’s been simmering beneath the surface.

The coarse hair of his beard scrapes against the skin of your chin deliciously, the scent of blood and firewood filling your senses as his arm wraps around your waist, dragging you impossibly closer.

Close enough that you can feel the wild beat of his heart booming against your chest.

You pull away for a second, breathless, both of you looking at each other, your eyes wide and pupils blown.

“Goddamn it,” Joel mutters, his voice thick with frustration and something else you can’t place. He presses his forehead to yours, the deep brown of his eyes dark than before. “What the hell are we doing?”

You don’t have an answer. You’re not sure if you even want one.

You reach for him again, arms looping around his neck to drag his mouth back to yours.

This kiss is nothing like the first, it isn’t a clash of frustration–it’s filthier, rawer. A near feral thing, all teeth and tongue, a surge of hunger and need that borders on violence. 

Joel groans into your mouth, a low, guttural sound that sends a shiver racing down your spine. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling just hard enough to make you gasp.

He takes advantage of the sound, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to slide against yours with wet, messy desperation, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you.

The taste of him—salt and iron and something distinctly Joel—makes your head spin. 

Your fingers knot into the chocolaty curls at the nape of his neck, surprisingly soft to the touch. His own hands roam the soft curves of your body, rough and insistent, like he can’t decide where he wants to touch you most.

“Joel—” His name spills from your lips like a plea, and he answers with a deep, guttural noise that sends heat pooling low in your belly. His tongue follows the path of his teeth, soothing the bites with lazy, deliberate strokes that make your knees weak.

You’re moving before you even realize it. Joel dragging you across the room and down onto the couch with him, using the strength he’s built up after all these years to manhandle you until your thighs are spread wide on either side of his lap.

“Joel,” you gasp again, rearing back enough to break the kiss. “Your stitches–”

He cuts you off with a sharp nip to the sensitive spot behind your ear, tearing a high whine from your throat. “Can hardly feel ‘em.”

You make a displeased sound, but it’s undermined by the way you tilt your head to give his wandering lips more room. His hands find a home on your hips, one slipping beneath your shirt to press against the soft skin of your stomach. 

His fingers splay wide across your skin, his palm callused and rough. His pinky just barely brushes the underside of your breast, and you’re suddenly rearing back. 

“Wait,” you say, your voice barely a whisper.

Joel’s hands immediately loosen their grip on your hips, his brows knitting together in concern. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, your heart pounding in your chest. “I just...I need to tell you something.”

His jaw tightens slightly, but he stays quiet, waiting for you to speak.

You take a beat, chewing at the skin of your bottom lip nervously.

“I’ve never...” You pause, swallowing hard as your cheeks heat up. “I’ve never done this before. I mean, I’ve never been with anyone like this.”

Joel pulls back slightly, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. For a moment, you think he might pull away completely, but then he exhales a long, slow breath.

“Christ,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re tellin’ me this now?”

“I didn’t exactly plan for this to happen,” you snap back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “It’s not like I had the luxury of a high school sweetheart to pop my cherry out here.”

Joel’s gaze softens at your tone, and he reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Hey, hey, I didn’t mean it like that.”

You glance away, suddenly feeling self-conscious under the weight of his stare. “I just...I wanted you to know. But I want this, Joel. I want you.”

His thumb stills against your cheek, and he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as he considers your words.

“I don’t...” He pauses, the most hesitant you’ve ever heard him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

It’s the most vulnerable he’s been around you, round eyes shining with something so raw and so earnest it makes your heart ache in your chest. 

“You won’t,” you insist, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach. “I trust you.”

Joel’s jaw clenches, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to argue. But then he nods, his shoulders relaxing as he cups the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your foreheads touch again.

“At least let me do this right,” he murmurs, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it. “Not here. Not on some goddamn couch.”

You blink up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his tone. “What?”

“Upstairs,” he says, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the side of your neck. “There’s a bed up there. It ain’t much, but it’s better than this.”

You can’t do anything but nod, your pulse racing beneath your skin fast enough to combat the cold night air seeping through the walls.

“Okay,” you say softly, voice barely above a whisper. “Upstairs.”

Joel stands, gently pulling you to feet and taking your hand in his. He leads you upstairs, each step feeling heavier with anticipation. The small bedroom is dimly lit, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through a broken blind. 

The bed isn’t much—an old mattress on a worn frame, covered with a patched-up blanket—but it doesn’t matter.

Joel shuts the door behind you, the sound of the latch clicking into place sending a shiver down your spine.

“Last chance,” he says, his voice a low rumble. “You say the word, and we stop. No questions asked.”

Your throat tightens at the sincerity in his tone, the way he’s giving you an out even though you can see the strain in every line of his body, the way his hands flex at his sides like he wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you.

But you don’t hesitate.

You step closer, placing your hands on his bare chest. You bite back a smile at the goosebumps that break out all along his skin at your touch. 

“Jesus, Miller,” you mumble teasingly, nails lightly scratching through the salt and pepper hair scattered along his chest. “How long are you gonna drag this out before you get it through your thick skull that I want to fuck you?”

"Christ." Joel huffs, shaking his head as the corners of his lips turn up in a small grin. “Like I fuckin’ said,” he starts, big hands kneading the meat of your hips. “Pushy.”

Joel walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you fall onto it with a soft gasp.

He follows you immediately, crawling over you, his body covering yours, his weight a comforting pressure. “I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing yours. “I’ll make it good for you, I swear.”

His fingers are everywhere, unbuttoning your shirt with a practiced ease that has your pulse racing. His lips follow the path of his hands, each touch a branding mark, each kiss leaving you wanting more.

“Pretty girl,” he mutters softly, pressing a kiss right between the valley of your breasts.

You feel his cock stirring against your stomach, and it makes the ache between your legs flare to life, the weight of it, the hardness of it, driving you crazy with need. 

You want him so badly you can barely think straight, but when his lips graze over your collarbone, you can’t stop the quiet whine that escapes your throat.

Joel growls in response, a sound that resonates deep in his chest, and you know then that he’s as far gone as you are. His hands slide down to the waistband of your pants, tugging them down your legs with urgency. 

As your skin is exposed to the cool air, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

“You’re fuckin' perfect,” he mutters, his voice thick with desire.

Joel's hands find your thighs, parting them with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath catch in your throat. He positions himself between your legs, his body weight pressing you into the mattress, his chest rising and falling with the same frantic rhythm as yours. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable as his fingers trace the line of your panties, the fabric damp with want.

“Jesus, she’s drippin’ for me already,” he mutters, voice rough, as he slides the material to the side, his thumb brushing over the sensitive swell of your clit.

Your body jerks at the contact, a desperate sound escaping your lips, but Joel doesn’t relent.

“You touch yourself down here, baby?” he asks, working tortuously slow circles over your clit.

"Please," you beg, your hands grasping at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

He looks up at you, his gaze dark and filled with an intensity that makes your stomach tighten. “Asked you a question, honey.”

You whine, high and loud in your throat as your thighs clench desperately around his wrist. “Yes, I touch myself.”

Joel’s lips curl into a satisfied grin, sliding his thick index finger through the messy wetness to slip inside your clenching hole, making you gasp. Your hands grasp at the sheets, pulling at them as if they can anchor you to the moment.

“Good girl,” he breathes, eyes darkening at the broken moan that bursts from your lips. “When’s the last time you touched yourself?”

Your brain feels hazy as you search for the answer, pleasure clouding your mind slow and sweet as molasses. “A–a few nights ago.”

Joel hums idly, slipping a second finger alongside the first. The stretch has you whining, his fingers a lot more to take than your own.

Your hands come up to claw at his shoulders, relishing in the way his broad muscle ripples and shifts beneath your greedy palms.

“Joel,” you whine, hips canting down against his hand impatiently.

He just shushes you softly, free hand brushing soothing circles along the skin of your inner thigh. “I know, honey,” he mutters, the pace fingers speeding up. “But I gotta get her nice and ready if you wanna take my cock.”

The gush of your pussy around his fingers is loud in the stillness of the room, a filthy wet noise that burns your ears each time he plunges them into your aching hole.

“I am ready.” Your breath hitches as your body begins to tremble beneath him. “Please, Joel—fuck—please, I need—”

“Need what?” His voice is thick with dark amusement, but there's a hunger in his eyes that has your stomach twisting. “Tell me, baby. What do you need?”

“I need you,” you rasp, your nails digging little crescent moons into his skin, your body pleading for release. “I need you inside me.”

Your hands grab at his hair, pulling him back up to meet your lips in a feverish kiss. 

The pressure of his body on yours, the way his hard cock grinds against your trembling thigh, drives you to the brink of madness. 

Your hands trail down his chest, past the waistband of his jeans, finally reaching the bulge straining against the fabric.

Joel groans when you rub him through his pants, feeling his cock twitch in response. He pulls back, breathing heavily, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice thick with lust. “You want my cock in this pretty pussy? Want me to show you how good it feels to be fucked?”

“God, yes,” you answer, desperation lacing your tone as your hand moves to unbuckle his jeans. “Want it so bad.”

He lets you push his pants down just enough to free his cock, and you gasp, your eyes drawn to the way his length stands, thick and hard, just waiting for you. The tip flushed an angry red, drooling pre-come onto the scratchy sheets.

Joel pulls his fingers from you, using his hands spreading your legs wider, positioning himself between them with such careful precision that you can barely stand it.

The head of his cock drags through the mess between your legs, slipping all the way down till it catches on your soaked entrance.

Joel pauses, looking down at you, waiting for your signal, but the only answer you give is a pleading whimper, your hands pulling at his shoulders, urging him to move.

His mouth captures yours once again as he slowly slides into you, the stretch of his cock filling you steadily, making you gasp into his mouth. 

The slow burn of him carving a place for himself inside of you is almost too much, your body trembling as you adjust to the feeling of him.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel mutters against your lips. “You’re so tight, so fuckin’ perfect for me.”

As he sinks deeper into you, his thick cock finally buried to the hilt inside of you, the feeling is overwhelming. You gasp, nails digging into his back as the pain slowly shifts into pleasure.

Joel groans into your mouth, his hands moving to your hips, guiding you as he rocks gently against you. 

The rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, as if he's savoring every inch of you. Your body quivers beneath him, every inch of your skin tingling with sensation. You clutch at him, your legs tightening around his waist, needing more, wanting more.

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Take it, baby."

You screw your eyes shut tightly, trying to steady yourself as he thrusts deeper, harder. The angle shifts just enough to make your breath catch in your throat. 

Every stroke feels like it’s hitting the deepest part of you, sparking heat in places you never knew could burn so hot.

"Fuck," you gasp, the sensation too overwhelming, too much in the best way. "Joel... please..."

"Please what, sweetheart?" He pulls back slightly, teasing you with a slow roll of his hips before driving back in with a grunt.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, urging him to move faster, harder. "Don’t stop," you breathe, your voice trembling. "I need you to fuck me, Joel. Faster. Harder. Please."

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as Joel finally picks up the pace, each thrust harder and deeper than the last.

Your back arches off the bed, chest pressing flush to his as your body coils tighter and tighter, already so close to the edge.

Joel reaches up to take your wrist in his, dragging your hand down to press flat against your lower stomach.

“Feel that?” he asks breathlessly, the speed of his hips knocking the dingy bed frame into the wall with every thrust. “You feel how deep I am?”

His own hand blankets yours, pushing down so you can feel the way his cock punches up against your palm on the next thrust.

Your pussy clenches desperately around him at the feeling, your slick lips dropping open on a loud moan.

You can barely hold on. The heat in your stomach tightens, coiling painfully as your free hand scrambles to find purchase on his skin. "I can't—I'm gonna—"

He grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he drives deeper, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come for me, baby," he growls, his voice dark and commanding. "Let me feel it."

With a strangled cry, you finally release, your body clenching around him, every nerve igniting in a white-hot explosion of pleasure. 

You’re lost in it, your world spinning, your senses overwhelmed by the sensation of Joel’s body pounding into yours, the way his cock brushes against that sweet spot behind your clit enough to make sparks go off behind your eyelids.

Joel pulls out of your velvety warmth, hand coming up to fist his dripping length until he’s bowing over you tightly and coming with a deep groan of your name.

His release paints your stomach with milky strands of white, rope after rope of warm come claiming you in a way no one has before.

He finally collapses against you with one last shuddering breath, both of you breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling together in the quiet aftermath.

For a few moments, neither of you speaks, the only sounds are the soft creak of the bed and the quiet hum of your racing hearts. 

Joel rests his head against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin, and you can feel the tension begin to slip away, the weight of everything that’s happened between you both settling into something new—something different, but still there.

Your hand slips down the sweaty expanse of your stomach, your fingers swiping through the sticky mess of his release curiously.

“Christ, quit that,” Joel groans, tearing his eyes away from the sight to press his forehead against your shoulder.

“Why?” you hum, brow raised in amusement as you drop your hand back to the mattress. “Can you even get it up again?”

Joel pinches your side hard enough to make you squeal, your body flinching away from him as a surprised laugh bubbles from your chest.

“Watch it,” he warns, though there’s no bite to his tone. You only laugh in response.

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, wrapped in each other as crickets chirp from outside the window.

Then Joel clears his throat, fingers idly tracing different shapes on the skin of your hip as he gathers the courage to speak.

A circle, a square, a diamond, a circle, a heart, a heart, a heart.

“I’m…” he starts, trailing off softly. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a real fuckin’ prick, and you didn’t deserve it. You never did.”

You turn your own gaze to his chest, hand coming up so you can trail your fingers along the jagged scar decorating his shoulder. Your touch featherlight over the rough patch of skin.

All the anger seeps from your body, a heavy weight gone until you feel so light you could float off the mattress and into the cold night air.

“It’s okay,” you whisper softly, so soft you think it gets lost in the quiet darkness of the room. “I understand now.”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you both just lay there, tangled in each other, not worrying about the world outside, about the chaos that waits. 

Just you, him, and the soft glow of moonlight.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: should i add joel to my taglist...i do kinda want to write more for him in the future but i'm not sure yet...lmk chickens <3 bee tee dubs sorry the ending absolutely sucks i could not for the life of me figure out how to end this LMAO

[remxedmoon]

UPDATE TIME BABY

so!! i’ve been making a lot of edits over the past few days after i noticed a few Issues so!!! i think it’d be a good idea to list them here? consider this an update to this weird little pseudo-mod i’ve accidentally created. plus there’s some extra art here (if you, uh, couldn’t guess from the sprite directly above me :3)

okay!! big news first!! thanks to @horatiocomehome, i finally have access to the actual game files! kinda. at least enough access to actually know what the files are named. so, i’ve renamed all of redraw files to be compatible with the game! this should make it way easier to mod them into the game. yipee! so sorry these weren’t correctly named before auauua

i finally made “official” spritesheets for my battle portrait redraws!! ttthese are not intended to replace @/thea2l112’s mod or anything, i just wanted to make ones that included my custom sprites! because i’m very proud of them. i don’t think the custom sprites should cause any issues, but just in case, i also included versions that exclude them! the only differences you’d actually see in normal gameplay are act5 siffrin’s buff sprite and act6 siffrin’s ko sprite (or lack thereof). you can find them in the portrait redraws folder, but i’ll also include them at the end of this post for ease of access 👍 also the fourth spritesheet doesn’t actually do anything in normal gameplay it’s just there so my custom bonnie and loop sprites have a place to go.

okay the changes here are a little less important so they’re going down here. anyways

added the afterimages(?) for the special attacks! i genuinely didn’t realize these were a thing until one of my partners actually put my cgs in the game. so those exist now!! yipee!!

predictably, isa and mira’s jackpot cgs having different aspect ratios did in fact cause issues. i put in a bandaid fix, but i still can’t actually test it out (and i don’t want to pester pastell about it) so, uh, maybe let me know if you encounter any problems with their placement??

so you might’ve noticed that there’s two copies of each of siffrin’s cgs during the final attack scene? that’s just how it is in the game files. i don’t know why. they’re identical in every way, just there to make sure things work properly 👍

made an alt version of the mal du pays death animation! nothing drastic, just cut out a hole to match the original. probably safer to use the one with the Hole for modding, i don’t know what the layering for the cg is in that scene. alas. sspeaking of death animations though!

so!!! there’s two new sprites for this little update thing!! i forgot to do siffrin’s unused battle portrait during my first batch of redraws, so i went ahead and made it! as you can see above! nothing too difficult, i just reused the lineart from my bigfrin sprite (since they use the same lineart ingame)

second of all!! act6 siffrin death animation :3. or well, i guess it could work in other contexts, but i intended it to be for the twohats fight. idk! thought it’d be fun! use it for whatever you desire

aaaand i think that’s it! again, sorry there were so many issues with this batch! i might’ve drawn these for use in mods and fangames or whatnot, but i really did not expect all the interest and support i’ve received??? at all?? it really means a lot!!! so i want to make this thing as Polished and Complete as i can!

aaaa. enough rambling. if you’ve read this far, thank you!!! i hope the redraws are a little easier to work with now!! here’s the spritesheets as promised, please enjoy :3

spritesheets without custom sprites here v

so all you need to do right now is disappear.

HHHHAPPY ISATVERSARY EVERYONE. here’s redraws for every single battle cg in the game. 36 drawings this time around, with 11 of those being custom (though admittedly a good portion of those are edits). combined with the portrait redraws i made back in september, i’ve made 114 redraws for this project! jesus christ! just like those redraws, these are completely free to use!! as long as i’m credited and it’s not for commercial purposes, go wild!! do whatever you want!!!

no i didn’t make these for isat’s 1 year anniversary this is just wildly good timing.

i genuinely can’t fit all of these cgs in one post even with the 30 image limit on browser, but i’ll still try to fit Most of them below the cut (without making this post horrifically long), along with some notes that might be important 👍

okay! once again, i labeled all of the custom art as such in the drive(UPDATE. NNOT TRUE ANYMORE. reformatted file names to be easier to mod in auau. apologies!), but if you want a full list, the customs are hatless siffrin jackpot, bonnie jackpot, bonnie special attack, bigfrin attack, and a bunch of alts which are definitely not related to any projects i’ve been thinking about don’t worry about it. and out of those customs, only like. 3 of them are actually completely from scratch.

while i did my absolute best to keep the aspect ratios completely the same as the originals, there’s 3 exceptions that i just couldn’t get to work.

isabeau’s hair in his special attack cg wouldn’t fit in frame if i kept things completely accurate to the og, so i moved his cg down a bit. it shouldn’t cause any issues with modding or anything, it’ll just appear slightly lower than it does in game. alas…

isabeau’s sleeve and mirabelle’s hair made their jackpot sprites a little larger than the originals? i’m hoping this doesn’t have too much of an effect (since the jackpot sprites have inconsistent sizes) but i can’t test this myself unfortunately. aaa feel free to let me know on discord if any problems arise!!

i managed to fix these, so they aren’t going to cause problems now, but my original drawings for mirabelle and siffrin in the final attack scene were a pain in the ass to fix. mirabelle’s sprite was slightly too talk to fit in frame and siffrin’s hat whacked bonnie in the face while i was editing everyone together. i’m only mentioning this because it took like an hour and a half to fix them and finish the scene.

all that aside, these were a fucking BLAST to work on. apparently this ended up taking 57 hours over exactly 10 days. which is a little worrying if you do the math on that but somehow i have not burnt myself out. i will be doing enemies at some point!!! but probably not for a little bit. i think my friends will actually kill me if i don’t take a break.

once again, happy birthday isat. you’ve ruined my life and i wouldn’t have it any other way (silly).

also, on an actual serious note, this little timeloop game has genuinely changed my life for the better? you guys are probably sick of hearing it at this point (or maybe not, i don’t talk about myself That Much. i hope), but i was practically a ghost for about 2 years before joining this fandom. it’s a little surreal to suddenly have friends (plural!!!) and people who Care about me, or even know i exist, honestly. it’s weird!! in a good way!!!

i don’t think i would’ve ever come back to social media if this community wasn’t so welcoming. i’ve met a lot of really great people through this game!!! so, uh, thank you isat, i guess. here’s to another year.

[copperbadge]

Sam, how on earth did you get permabanned from tinder and okcupid? That seems like such a random thing!

I'm still not entirely sure; I have a theory, and Tinder gave me an indication, but by policy they don't tell people why they've been banned. Which I can understand, if someone reported you for bad behavior they don't want you to know or suspect who.

For me it was very weird. I'd had accounts with both before but had deleted them so I needed to reregister. When I registered for Tinder they kept making me verify I was real in different ways, like some weird escalating scale of identity. At last they had me take a real specific picture, and then I got an email saying I could not prove I was real to their satisfaction, and that I was permabanned. I never even interacted with anyone on the app.

But there are plenty of apps, so I went to okcupid a few days later and while they didn't SAY Tinder tattled to them, they immediately denied and permabanned me when I put in my phone number. I can only suppose they talked. They're both owned by the same company, so it tracks.

Most dating apps are owned by one or two companies, they're just formulated differently for different tastes/wants. What's funny is that I'm on at least one other app owned by Match Group and that one, Hinge, is totally fine with me. So idk.

The post office also didn't believe my address was real for the first few years I tried to register for their postal Letters to Santa giving program. I still can't get delivery meals that don't go badly awry. It's enough to give a guy a complex, but honestly I never felt good or comfortable on those two apps anyway so it might be for my own good. Having been on different ones now, I genuinely think OKCupid is one of the more toxic apps in this sphere, purely because it markets itself so specifically to people looking for authenticity but doesn't really foster it. A lot of other apps at least don't pretend they aren't meat markets.

I've had to approach dating apps in general as hostile places, simply because the level of harm they inflict for someone with RSD is so high. I don't blame the other users, but the apps themselves are structured so that you can, for example, see all the people who didn't think you were date material, but have to pay to see people who thought you were. Being radically honest about who I am and what I want has been helpful because I expect a much higher rejection rate from that, so I'm braced for it, but it's still not fun. On the other hand, this is the first try where I've made meaningful connections that have resulted in real dates. Breakfast Date, who I met on Hinge, has been really hot and fun, and Museum Date, who I met on eHarmony, is an ongoing exercise in hilarity (sexy hilarity) so for the first time it's worth it. And I don't think that would have been the case on OKCupid.

[rineros]

SHE WAS TOO GOOD TO ME

summary: he wants to heal

characters: miya atsumu, ex!reader

contains: 1.6k, self reflection post breakup

note: don’t judge ooc atsuwu i haven’t written hq fics in four years and he was the closest person to my ex bestie #fuckthatguy

sometimes, miya atsumu allows himself to wonder what could have happened if he wasn’t such an asshole.

he glances to his right. across the empty side of the bed where the scent of your shampoo was fading, his alarm clock reads 2:56 am. he groans loudly in frustration and drags his hands down his face, stretching out his tired features.

he stares at his ceiling that is illuminated by the glow in the dark stars you and he stuck up there once upon a time. a small smile strikes him when he remembers walking in on you hopping on the bed to get them up there.

he had watched you for a minute before you saw him. he’ll never forget that warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest when you laughed joyously the moment you saw him and jumped from the bed to his arms. he held on to you tightly as he spun you around, relishing in the feeling of being truly loved.

you had kissed him so gently as you smiled when he set you down that he thought of himself as an adorable little puppy.

you excitedly showed him the progress you had made over the past hour, which honestly wasn’t much, but he knew you had probably gotten distracted by your phone.

“i got an idea,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders. “turn around.”

“you’re one dirty dog, you know that?” you giggled as you followed his movements.

you had yelped as you felt yourself being hoisted up into the air, but he gripped your waist as you held on to his hair for dear life. you steadied yourself and praised him for being such an innovative and creative problem-solver, making his cheeks flush.

from there, he walked to wherever in the room you wanted to place the stars, bed be damned, and by the time you two had finished, the sun had set. he set you down as he had done earlier and the two of you had lain patiently in bed, talking to pass the time as you waited for the darkness to settle.

when the stars started glowing, both of you had squealed childishly, but he thought that all those rare, once-in-a-lifetime comets could never compare to the sparkle in your eyes. cheesy, he knows.

he checks his clock again. it’s a quarter past three.

osamu’s going to be pissed if he calls him.

fuck it.

atsumu grabs his phone from the nightstand and dials the person who will always listen to him. he cringes when he hears osamu’s ringtone across the hallway.

it rings… and rings… and rings. voicemail.

an eerie silence settles in the apartment. you always hated that. the air is still, his pillow is much too flat, and there’s a disturbing feeling bubbling in his throat.

atsumu jumps and drops his phone on his face as his ringtone blares in his ears. he pinches the bridge of his nose, rubbing it to soothe the sharp pain as he accepts the call.

“the hell you want?” the raspy voice of his brother mutters. atsumu feels bad because he knows that osamu’s first class starts at 8:00, but he can’t deal with this anymore tonight.

“i just… i wanted to talk.” his foot starts to shake and bounce as the silence returns.

a second passes, then another.

“come over.”

with that, his restless body rises from bed and walks quickly and nimbly across the hall to osamu’s room with his blanket wrapped around him. he opens the door to a half-asleep osamu and climbs into his queen-sized bed, the perk he received since atsumu got the bigger room. he makes himself comfortable as he lays on his side to face osamu, bringing the blanket up to his chin, basking in the warmth that could never match your own.

“gimme a sec,” osamu says gruffly. his eyes are still closed as he lays on his back. atsumu watches as he takes a few more deep breaths, then slowly cracks his neck to wake himself up. “talk.”

atsumu moves to lay himself on his back after he sees his eyes open slightly. they both stare at osamu’s bare ceiling.

“i never told you this, but when she broke up with me,” he pauses. “she didn’t cry. she looked too exhausted.

“she told me even before we broke up that i stopped putting in as much effort and that she felt like she wasn’t even in a relationship anymore, just the ghost of it.

“she completely tore me to shreds without even raising her voice because that’s who she is. no matter how much you hurt her, she’ll never hurt you. she cares too much. she wasn’t even trying to rip into me, like, she was just explaining the type of person i am and how my actions affected her and everyone’s perception of me.

“she told me that every time i hurt her, it seemed like i didn’t take her seriously and i never took accountability for my actions; i was always trying to weasel my way out of trouble.

“but i just wanted to preserve everyone’s feelings, y’know? i wanted to keep the peace. i never meant to make her feel like that.”

atsumu stops talking for a second as he waits for osamu to say something. it’s all a blur, with bits and pieces flashing in his head, but he could never forget the blank look in your eyes as you pointed out his shortcomings as a person, not just as a boyfriend.

“we judge others based on their actions, but we judge ourselves by our intentions,” osamu says. his voice is still ragged with exhaustion and his eyes have closed yet again. “i heard mom say somethin’ like that to her friend once.

“i believe you when you say you think you didn’t do anything wrong, but that’s only from your perspective. you’re busy; i get that and so does she. there’s volleyball, classes, homework, clubs, work, your friends, and then you added her, but it seems like you had spread yourself too thin already—“

“and that’s exactly one of the points i told her,” atsumu interrupts. “i’m not gonna be able to give her 100% all the time because i already do so much.”

osamu side-eyes him. “will you shut up and let me finish?”

atsumu huffs but lets him continue anyway.

“what i’m trying to get at is that, yeah, you’re busy, but you’re not the only person that’s busy. this isn’t just your world that we’re living in, it’s everyone’s. to her, it must have seemed like all of the effort, time, and love she invested in you was losing its value every time you ignored her or prioritized something stupid when she needed you. it’s not difficult to detach yourself from something that treats you like you don’t matter if you know your worth.

“you also lie. a lot. and i know you think they’re harmless little white lies, but they’ve gotten too out of hand lately that you’ve probably become desensitized to them.

“she’s smart and she knows you. she knew whenever you lied and it destroyed any kind of trust or credibility that you had.

“and that bullshit about wanting to spare everyone’s feelings? you know you don’t care about all that. also, who cares? nobody made you play mediator besides yourself and it’s impossible to not hurt anyone. you’re already hurting people; you’ve done it before and you’re going to keep doing it because that’s what learning is about. making mistakes. and if you haven’t already realized that you’re hurting people more than you would if you’d just tell the damn truth, you’re screwed,” osamu finishes his monologue, leaving atsumu in his thoughts.

was it really that bad for you? was he?

when he was younger, his tongue was as sharp as a shard of glass and he was much more careless with his words. it didn’t matter to him if the true words, in his opinion, hurt those around him. his belief was that there was no improvement without criticism. as he grew up, however, he had to learn to filter himself because nobody would willingly choose to be around someone who solely focused on their flaws.

and somewhere between then and now, he had forgotten the importance of honesty, usually opting to twist and bend the truth to preserve his reputation. it started off with a fib of “too much hw, can’t hang tn :(“ to multiple complicated lies spanning months, in which he would tell others things to make himself seem better. the kinder person, the most reliable, the smartest. just better.

eventually, it became too difficult to manage all of these lies and his stories became mixed up. when he was questioned about it, he would lie even more and even harder.

even now, as osamu told atsumu what he thought of him and his situation with you, there wasn’t much good. though atsumu came to osamu for comfort tonight, he, like you, wasn’t trying to make him feel bad, but it seems that’s the way he is destined to feel about himself when his personality is brought into conversation.

osamu snores next to him and as atsumu snuggles up to his blanket further, he realizes that this is a path he no longer wants to walk down.

he’s going to be better.

[yoomiwrites]

We won⁶

Summary: The war is won, yet you lost too much. Between friendship and love, what will you—what will Ekko—pick?

Note: And there we go, the last chapter of this little mini-series. I enjoyed it a lot & am sure it won't be the last time I'll write something for Ekko. The next character will be Silco, though! Maybe I'll see some of you there. The Teaser-Chapter will be posted today and then updated every week (not friday though). But we all agree that Ekko is giving his best to be a green flag, yeah?? Happy reading!

⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Ekko didn’t know when he’d become the one chasing, but now that he was, he realized how much he wanted it. You had moved on—or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. And yet, there was a sliver of hope he clung to, a belief that maybe, just maybe, he could prove himself worthy of the place in your heart you had once reserved for him.

It wasn’t easy.

At first, things felt awkward between you. You were close again, but not like before. Conversations weren’t as effortless, your smiles not as lingering. Still, Ekko didn’t let it deter him. Instead, he decided to show you how much he cared in ways that words couldn’t.

He started small. A carved charm you could wear on a necklace, shaped like the Firelights' sigil. A meal he’d cooked, albeit clumsily, when he heard you’d skipped dinner working on repairs. Even a patch for your jacket that matched one he’d sewn into his own.

“Just thought you could use it,” he’d say, his tone casual but his eyes searching yours for a hint of approval.

You always accepted his gestures with a warm smile and a thank you, but he could tell you were cautious. He’d earned your trust once before, and now he had to earn it again.

Beyond the gifts, Ekko worked on being honest with his feelings, even when it made him feel vulnerable. He told you about his struggles, his fears, and his regrets—especially the regret of not seeing you sooner.

“I know I messed up,” he said one evening, his voice steady but soft. “But I’m trying. For you. For us. I just… I need you to know that.”

You didn’t respond immediately, but the way your expression softened gave him hope.

Weeks turned into a month, and the distance between you began to shrink. You lingered longer during visits, laughed more freely at his jokes, and even surprised him with small gifts of your own. One evening, as you both worked side by side fixing a drone, your hand brushed his. Neither of you moved away.

For Ekko, it was enough. He wasn’t in a rush anymore. Winning your heart wasn’t about a grand gesture or a perfect moment. It was about showing you, day by day, that he was someone worth trusting again.

It had been another long day. The streets of Zaun were alive, but the heavy haze of loss still lingered in the air. You had spent hours helping organize supplies, your hands raw and your body aching. Ekko had spent his day in the Firelight base, making repairs and tending to the drones that patrolled the streets.

You stopped by the base as the sun dipped below the horizon. The door creaked open, and he looked up, his face lighting up when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, setting down a wrench. “You’re late.”

“Blame Vi,” you said, smiling as you stepped inside. “She thought it’d be funny to put me in charge of inventory. I think she just wanted to get out of doing it herself.”

He chuckled, brushing his hands on his pants. “Classic Vi.”

There was a comfortable silence as you leaned against the workbench, watching him fiddle with a half-disassembled drone. The low hum of the Firelight base filled the air, and for a moment, it was enough just to be near him.

But then he stopped, his hands falling still. “Y/N,” he began, his voice quiet but steady, “can we talk?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You nodded, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in your chest. “Of course. What’s up?”

He turned to face you fully, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About us.”

You froze, your mind racing. “Us?”

“Yeah,” he said, taking a step closer. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this without messing it up, but... I can’t keep holding it in.” He paused, searching your face. “I love you, Y/N. I think I have for a long time—I was just too stupid to see it.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and fragile. You opened your mouth to respond, but no sound came out.

“I know I’ve made mistakes,” he continued, his voice gaining strength. “And I know I might’ve missed my chance. But I need you to know how I feel, even if it’s too late.”

You took a shaky breath, your heart pounding. “Ekko… it’s not too late.”

His eyes widened slightly, hope flickering across his face. “It’s not?”

You shook your head, a smile breaking through your disbelief. “I waited for you for so long, and I thought… I thought you’d never feel the same way. But I never stopped caring about you. I have never stopped loving you.”

His breath hitched, and before you could say another word, he closed the distance between you. His hands found your face, cradling it gently as he leaned in. His lips met yours, and the world seemed to fade away. The kiss was soft but charged with emotion—a mixture of relief and longing. When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You laughed, your cheeks warm. “You’re lucky I let you.”

He chuckled, his arms slipping around your waist to pull you closer.

The days that followed felt like a dream. The awkwardness that had lingered between you dissolved, replaced by a new sense of closeness. Ekko still left little gifts for you—flowers he’d found, a charm he’d carved—but now they came with lingering kisses and soft whispers.

Together, you began planning for the future. Not just for Zaun, but for yourselves. The world was still a mess, and there was so much work to be done, but you faced it together.

As you sat on the rooftop one evening, the city spread out below you, Ekko reached for your hand.

“You know,” he said, his voice thoughtful, “we’ve been through hell and back. But I think... we’re gonna be okay.”

You squeezed his hand, a smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, we are.”

And in that moment, with the stars overhead and his hand in yours, you believed it. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: you wouldn’t face it alone.

[calx-bdo]

. ★⋆.

𝓝ow playing :: glue song - beabadoobee

-> choi beomgyu x g/n reader (fluff, strangers to lovers)

-> no warnings

a/n : i wrote this while listening to glue song by beabadoobee and bed chem by sabrina carpenter.. i hope beomgyu is okay after his recent live 🫂

"choi yeonjun, you best have a reason why i'm being dragged to this stupid party !!!" your wrists burn from the sheer strength the raven-head is pulling you alongside with.

"look, taehyun just wanted me to bring someone. even out the numbers, y'know? besides, you're already dressed up. you're acting like you're not looking forward it!" he retorted, the pout evident in the way he's speaking, as if he's the one getting wronged. you felt heat rise to your ears. you'd hate to admit it, but he's right. you did dress your best for this party, deciding that this was your one chance to actually socialise with others around your age instead of just hunching over your desk for college work.

"well- just stop grabbing my wrists so hard!" your shoes click against the pavement, the white rocky path slowly transitioning to a gravel walkway, letting you know you're slowly approaching the house of that college boy he was so interested in..

"yeonjun! you're here! and... you are..?" taehyun's eyes lit up seeing you both at his doorway. "hi, i'm y/n! nice to meet you." you extended your hand to taehyun, but he only chuckled and pushed it down. "loosen up, this is a party. let's go in." taehyun's blue hair shone underneath the party lights, his glasses glinting under the rainbows.

once entering the house, it was clear that you were completely out of your element. the loud banging of the music was slowly driving you to a headache, with the bright lights completely blinding you. "first time?" taehyun asked, his hands slipping inside his pockets. you sighed, rearranging and smoothing your clothes over. "yeah, i'm kinda nervous." he merely smirked, "just make sure to cover your drinks."

you gave him a weak smile, but by the time you looked back, yeonjun had disappeared from your sight. you could feel your eyebrows furrowing, but you decided to not let it get to you. you slowly made your way over to a couch, sitting on it as you looked around the party. you picked up a red silo cup from the table beside you, taking huge sips of the alcoholic drink. just as you thought, nobody here looked as if they would hang out with you. with nothing else left but wait for yeonjun to finish chatting up his friends, you fished your phone out of your pocket and opened it, finger automatically opening instagram.

deciding to play a fun game of "match the account to the owner", you opened a few random accounts to match to people on the dance floor. "forever_young10", that's wonyoung.. "hynjinnnn", hwang hyunjin.. suddenly, an account caught your eye. "bamgyuuuu"? that's such a cute username. you clicked on it, not expecting the pure beauty on the page shocking you. you began opening his posts, admiring his features, and his aesthetic, his...everything, it's alluring. unconciously, you began to like each of his posts. being too engrossed in your phone, you didn't even notice the couch dip beside you, or even a head peering over your shoulder.

"you like my photos?" a deep timbre suddenly entered your ear. you shrieked a little, head whipping around to lay eyes on the most gorgeous person you've ever met. but.. hold on.. his photos?

in an almost comical fashion, your eyes darted from your phone to his face, back and forth. back and forth. holy fucking shit, user bamgyuuuu is in front of you, and catching you in the act of stalking his profile. a small smile played on his lips. "well?" you stammered a bit, blurting out whatever's on your mind. "yes, you're very pretty! i mean, they're very pretty! wait, you're also really pretty and i don't mean only yourpicturesareuglybut-" every word came out of your mouth like word vomit, and mr.gorgeous man over here clearly enjoying each and every second.

"hey, hey, calm down. you don't look too bad yourself." beomgyu's hands started fanning you, almost like a parent trying to calm their child down. he giggled, looking you up and down as you visibly panicked. in your state of fluster, you suddenly whipped your head to look at beomgyu. "wh-h-huh-what..?" heat floods your face, as you take in his own eyes staring at you like you hung the stars. "i mean, well.." beomgyu tilts his head, a small shrug on his shoulders. "you do look good. why haven't i seen you on campus?" maybe its the alcohol in your system, maybe its the low lighting, but you swear you can see blush spreading on beomgyu's cheeks.

"i mean.. thank you.." you let out an embarrassed laugh, subconciously smoothing your clothes and tidying your hair. "usually i don't come out of the dorm often. i'm too busy studying anyways." beomgyu's eyes lit up, before opening his pink plush lips and suggesting the best idea you've heard in a while. in the whole time you've been in the college, actually.

"let me take you out for ice cream?"

──── ୨ৎ ────

3 months. 3 months of freuqent dates (not dates but you really really wish they were) and 3 months of this repetitive situationship. you were sick and tired, and currently screaming into your pillow as yeonjun looks at you with the most amount of exasperation you had ever seen possible on a human face. "dude, JUST CONFESS. IT'S SO OBVIOUS HE LIKES YOU!!" his arms swung up, clearly tired of all the constant back and forth 'flirting-but-not-really-flirting' you two had with each other.

"IT'S NOT THAT EASY!" you yelled back, throwing the pillow directly at his face. qith a thud, you laid down on your dorm bed as you looked at the ceiling. "there's a chance he doesn't even like me! have you seen how flirty he gets??" you kicked your feet, akin to a child throwing a tantrum. "oh my god..." yeonjun trailed off, a deep sigh leaving his mouth. "he waited outside in the rain for 50 minutes because your stupid ass left your water bottle inside the BIGGEST lecture hall in the college. FIFTY MINUTES. FIFTY!!! HE HAS NEVER DONE THAT WITH ANYONE BEFORE and i KNOW for a fact if he hadn't liked you he would've ghosted you by now." yeonjun threw the pillow back, narrowly missing hitting your face directly.

"i knoww!!! but there's always.." you trailed off, eye catching onto the blinking signboard across the road. on the mall beside your dorm, there was a repeated flickering of a light. a haunted house was flickering on the sign. you blinked a couple of times, before finally jumping up and yelling, "i know what i'll do!" yeonjun slumped back against the chair, looking at you through his eyelashes. he rubbed his temple a bit, before sighing. "please don't tell me you're going to invite beomgyu to the haunted house and then make him scared shitless and accidentally confess to you." he deadpanned, looking at you with a slight frown.

"i hang out with you too much." you sneered, before picking your phone up and opening beomgyu's chat.

You:

gyu theres a new haunted house opposite my dorm

do u wanna come

only if u want to ofc

gyummy bear <33:

duh obv

gonna be ez for me cus im a goat

i dont get scared easily

You:

i hope u piss ur pants in front of the actors

im so fr

i rlly hope u do

praying on my lucky stars

gyummy bear <33:

if i pee its gonna be on YOU

watch out.

Stay cautious. Be on high alert.

Pay attention to the ominous bell tolling.

You:

???

ON ME???

that's called a kink Weirdo

ykw its fine i'll go w yeonjun instead

gyummy bear <33:

do NOT go with tyat STINKY BASTARD

i dislike him greatly

i'll go w u

pls

pls

pls

pls

pls

pls

pls

You:

SHUT THR FUKCK UP

you threw your phone onto the bed, hugging the pillow lightly. the scenario was already playing out in your head: the actors would scare beomgyu, but you, being brave, would protect him. beomgyu clings onto your arm, eyes shutting tight as he hurriedly rambles, "if i die i need to tell you this, i liked you ever since i met you and i really, really wanna be your boyfriend.. oh my god this is so scary.. if we get out of this alive please date me!!" his clutch on your arm gets tighter-

your face meets with a pillow, courtesy of the redhead in your room.

──── ୨ৎ ────

"this is it. are you ready to go in?"

you and beomgyu both stood at the entrance of the haunted house, looking at the .. ominous writings on the wall. the red calligraphy along with the truly graphic images frighten the ever-living shit out of you, but beomgyu remains unfazed, laid-back even, with his hands in his pockets.

"welcome! is it only the two of you?" the receptionist in front smiles and picks up a clipboard, her positive demeanor sticking out like a sore thumb against the gloomy atmosphere of the place. "yes, only the two of us." beomgyu affirmed, nodding his head. "there is a couple discount, so i'll sign you both up for it, yes?" her smile moves from "capitalist" to mischevious, the sly glint in her eyes akin to a fox.

at the mention of "couple", both beomgyu and you flushed a little, standing still like a deer caught in headlines. "i'll take that as a yes.." she giggled, the pen quickly writing down onto the clipboard. "well then, luckily there is actually a queue reserved for two people, and it is currently empty. you guys can go ahead and wait by the door on the right!" with a small smile, she'd usher the both of you to a door before leaving. you huffed a little, mind still reeling at the thought of you two being a couple.. "hey, are you ready to go in? or are you too much of a pussy-" your eye twitched, choosing to push beomgyu into the door and leave him to his own devices.

that sneaky little rat grabbed your arm and pulled you in..!

──── ୨ৎ ────

"gyu !! gyuuuu !!! slow down!!!" you tugged hurriedly on his jacket sleeve, pulling for him to at least give you a minute to take in all the horrors. "i thought you'd say i'd pee my pants?" he said with a teasing lilt in his voice, shit-eating grin already present on his face. "screw you.." you mumbled under your breath, but your hold on gyu's arm did not loosen up one bit. he patted your head and went into the last room, with you automatically following like a lost puppy.

out of the blue, a ghostly figure jumped at you, its face marred and disfigured. the stench of blood permeated the air, and the fog in the room made you want to rethink your live choices. you shrieked, hugging- almost crushing beomgyu's arm in your grasp. before you could even control yourself, words and confessions tumbled out of your mouth.

"if i die, i need to tell you this!!! i liked you ever since i met you and i really, REALLY wanna be yours.. oh my god this is so scary!!!! if we get out of this alive please date me...!!!!" you shook your head as you whined wantonly, fear and terror digging its claws into you. seeing your pale face, beomgyu pulled his arm from your hug and opted to tighten it around your waist instead, pulling you both into a position where your head was directly onto his chest.

despite his nonchalant behaviour, you can hear the way his heart pounded after your confession, and the deep red on his ears is not a trick of the light. you blushed slightly too, knowing that his state of fluster is from you, and only you. once you both made it out of the haunted house in one piece (thankfully), beomgyu didn't.. pull you apart from him..?

instead, beomgyu looked down at your face, and tilted his head, smirking.

"was the ice cream THAT good?"

──── ୨ৎ ────

"i still can't believe you slapped me after that." beomgyu whined, pouting on the couch of your dorm.

"gyu, i had my most vulnerable moment exposed to you, and you managed to completely ruin the atmosphere!"

"the atmosphere was already ruined once you made such a rushed confession!"

you flushed, remembering the sheer embarrassment you felt when you had confessed to not only beomgyu, but also to the other five scare actors in the room. beomgyu stood up, and walked over to your bedside.

he placed a soft kiss onto your lips, his plush ones feeling your own. he grabbed your chin lightly, pushing your foreheads together.

"you're so cute when you're embarrassed."

you threw your pillow at him.

──── ୨ৎ ────

@studiogyu @daddldee . ★⋆.

[mattyriddlesbitch]

Yule Ball (Chapter Six)

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of fighting, I think that's it

Posting early since I forgot to do this earlier

The Yule Ball was only hours away and you and the rest of the girls in your dorm were getting ready, putting on makeup and doing each other’s hair, helping zip each other’s dresses up. It was chaos, the dorm was a mess from all the clothes and shoes and accessories thrown about as some of the girls made last minute changes to their outfits. Lots of ‘Does this look good?’ and ‘How does this look?’ was being asked over the music playing. It was definitely the most active and chaotic the dorm had ever been since you started. Even the first and last nights of the school year were calmer.

You finally finished getting ready, looking at yourself in the mirror. The dress was gorgeous, the shoes matched perfectly, your makeup and hair were done perfectly. Honestly, you never felt more beautiful, but you were still nervous. Why were you nervous? It’s just Mattheo.

You didn’t have much time to think about it since one of the girls called your name to join in some photos they were taking to remember the night.

After the photos, you all headed to the Great Hall to meet your dates. You were so focused on not tripping on the stairs from your dress or heels, you didn’t notice Mattheo at the bottom just staring at you in awe. He offered his hand to you on the last few steps and you finally looked at him and smiled, taking his hand as he helped you down the rest of the way.

“Hi, Matty.” You said when you finally stood in front of him.

“Hi, princess.” He copied. The lack of words would’ve put you off if it wasn’t him you were talking to.

“That's a nice suit.” You smiled as you looked down at the suit, noticing the tie color matching your dress.

“Thank you. I like the dress.” He said, making you look back up at him.

“You get into another fight since I last saw you?” You asked, noticing the cut along the bridge of his nose.

“Maybe.” He shrugged.

“So, what should I expect tonight? Are we dancing or just hanging with your friends or what?” You asked, still smiling at him.

“Do you wanna dance with me?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I feel like that’s kinda the point of having a date to a dance, so yeah.” You nodded.

“Fair point.” He said, offering his arm. “Come on. We better get in if we wanna see Potter make a fool of himself.”

“Oh, right. He gets to dance in front of everyone.” You take his arm and he leads you both into the Great Hall.

After a few minutes, the champions of the Tri-Wizard tournament came in with their dates and danced. People slowly started to join them and Mattheo led you to dance with him. He placed a hand on your waist and his other hand held one of yours, your free hand going to his shoulder as he led you two to the music.

“Wow. You actually know how to dance, like really well.” You said, a bit surprised.

“Is it that much of a surprise? We were forced to learn anyways.” He said, smiling ever so slightly, like he was happy he surprised you.

“Fair point.” You said, repeating him from earlier. Each house had their own dance lessons earlier, and it definitely wasn’t optional.

“I did also learn when I was younger. My mother forced me to learn.” He said, his smile growing slightly.

“Oh, really?” He surprised you yet again, making you smile at him. You liked learning these little tidbits about him.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Hm. I’m not sure. I’d love for it to be true though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because it’d be funny to imagine you in dance lessons.” You teased, and this time he actually chuckled.

He took the opportunity to catch you off guard and spun you before bringing you back to him, continuing to dance with you.

“Mock me all you want, at least I know how to dance. More than I can say about most of the guys here.” He said, letting go of your hand to place it on his shoulder, moving his to your waist, bringing you a bit closer as you danced.

“How old were you when you started these dancing lessons?” You smiled at him, seeing if you could get more information out of him.

“I was nine. But the teacher gave up after a few weeks.”

“What did you do? You didn’t curse them did you?” You joked.

“Maybe I did.”

“Surprised they lasted a few weeks then.”

“She was stubborn.”

“Seems like you learned something, though. It’s cute. Thinking of little nine year old you being forced to learn how to dance.” You laughed.

He just smiled at your laugh as he continued to guide you in the dance.

After a few songs, he guided you over to a table to rest and the other boys slowly gathered with you two. All the boys were joking around and their dates were gossiping, it really seemed like everyone was having a good time. It honestly was the happiest you can recall seeing Mattheo. He was laughing and smiling with his friends. You even watched and laughed as they danced together during a few of the line dances and fun songs. You really couldn’t think of another time you saw Mattheo smile this much.

He pulled you from your seat to join them in dancing. You laughed together as you danced to the music, just having fun, wrapping your arms around each other. He kept you dancing with him through the slow songs and the upbeat ones, swaying and spinning you, or just dancing while singing the songs to each other.

This was a version of Mattheo you really loved. A version you could really fall in love with.

No. That wouldn’t work out.

You quickly shook that thought from your head as you kept yelling the lyrics of the current song playing to each other.

“I wanna show you something.” Mattheo said in your ear during one of the songs so you could hear him.

You nodded and he led you out of the Great Hall by your hand.

“Where are we going?” You asked once you were in the hall where it was much quieter.

“Somewhere. Just be quiet if you don’t wanna get caught.” He said before putting a finger over his mouth as he looked at you over his shoulder.

You cursed him out in your head, knowing you were doing something that could get you in trouble, but still followed him.

He led you through the castle, up the stairs and down some hallways before getting to the final staircase that led to the Astronomy Tower.

“We’re not supposed to be up here this late.” You whispered to him but he just smiled at you.

He guided you over to the balcony and gestured to the view. “Yeah, but isn’t this worth it?” He said, looking at your face for your reaction.

You could see the lake and the landscape and, of course, the night sky. “Wow…” You breathed out. You’d been up here before, but not at night and not when all the stars were out. It was breathtaking.

His smile grew at your reaction as he turned his head to look at the view, leaning forward on the balcony railing.

“So how often do you come up here?” You asked after a moment of silence.

“A few times a month, at least.” He shrugged, looking back at you. “It’s quiet. And it’s away from everyone.”

“I can see why you  like it.” You nodded before looking over at him. “No people, it’s calming and pretty.”

“Don’t tell anyone about this. I would hate for my spot to be ruined by everyone else.” He said with a small smile.

“I won’t.” You smiled back. “Why’d you show me then?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

He shrugged, looking back out at the night sky. “I don’t know. I don’t mind you here.”

You didn’t comment on that, not wanting to dig too much deeper into it. “I had a lot of fun tonight.”

“Yeah?” He straightened up and turned to face you, leaning his hip against the railing. “I had a lot of fun too.”

“I’m glad I went with you. I’m not sure I would’ve had that much fun with someone else.”

He smiled again at that. “Me too. I think that was the most fun I’ve had in…a long time.”

You smiled back at him. “I liked that. I liked how happy you looked.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting to actually enjoy it, but…” He shrugged again.

You leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Matty. For a fun night.”

“Yeah. Of course.” He said, watching as you leaned back down.

You smiled at each other for a moment before you spoke up. “It’s getting late. I should, uh, get to bed. As much fun as that was, my feet are killing me.” You chuckled.

“Right, yeah. Well, come on then, princess. Let’s get you to bed.” He said, gesturing you towards the stairs before helping you make your way down them so you don’t trip.

urrent Taglist

Taglist:

@jeannie-beannie @mixvchelle @helendeath @evaslytherpuff @leandre2006

@yours-truly-5 @hpnsfwaddict @mayamonroem @brittney-121 @leovaldezsbitch

@dracoslovergirl @littlemadamred @mattheoriddleluvbot @acornacreacure @opheliamalfoy236

@delulugirl2000 @akira1246 @queenshu @prettypinkprincess15

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@lhotse8801 @eneywey @suna-rintired @maxsisly @ur-local-wizard

@notavailibles-world @tantrumbaby @peonies-and-unicorns

[fandomtrash67]

Nu!Who Doctors/Companions and my thoughts on their gender/sexuality ect. (I'm almost finished with season 10, so this will only cover up to Capaldi. I will be doing the small companions like Jack, and also the master/missy)

THIS IS MY PERSONAL OPINION, IF YOU DISAGREE PLZ DNI. HATE COMMENTS WILL MAKE ME CRY. Thank you.

If you have any questions on the terms used, either look it up or leave a comment and i'll respond.

9th Doctor: Demiaro/demiace. He doesn't seem super interested in romance n' stuff until later (once he knows Rose a bit better lol). I want to say he/they, but I'm not sure on that. Def pansexual (most doctor's will be lol) not giving polyamorous, not giving monogamous. he's down bad for rose and that's all he knows.

Rose Tyler: MY BISEXUAL QUEEN!! Billie Piper confirmed that Rose would've loved the doctor if they regenerated into Whittaker!Doctor instead of Tennant!Doctor. She slays so hard, I love her.

Mickey Smith: I want to say straight but we all saw him and that one guy so I'm gonna say heteroflexible, which is mostly straight but with the occasional homo interaction (that's a terrible explanation just look it up)

10th Doctor: My boy! I love 10 so very much. Demiace, slightly less demiaro but still there. (this is mostly inspired by that one clip of David Tennant saying that 'the doctor is a fairly asexual character') I want to say mostly into women, but we all saw him and Jack. I'm gonna say ominsexual, with a small/medium preference for women. giving ambiamorous, but more towards monagomous, you feel me?

Captain Jack Harkness: Most of the actors/writers/etc. say bisexual, but also admit to omnisexual, because he does get freaky with aliens. I feel like if you don´t think aliens are included in bisexual, then pansexual would be a better fit, but whatever. I'm not sure on this one, but he's def queer and also super freaky, so we stan. polyamorous if i've ever seen one

Martha Jones: I'm really unsure on this tbh. I think she doesn't really use labels, but def kisses men and women. kinda ambiguous on this, my bad.

Donna Noble: Bisexual. No evidence, gut feeling. I will not be explaining.

Simm!Master: that is a homosexual. he had a wife n shit ik, but that felt wrong. gay for the doctor. it's that simple. (i do want to clarify that he would still love fem!doctor, but like. hes gay. you feel me? timelords get that ambiguity.)

11th Doctor: hmm. hMM. he's silly. Giving pansexual. does not see gender. (danced with all the men and women equally at the Ponds wedding, was confused why the men were shy. an icon, truly) less on the demiaro, more on the demiace. (not super sexual except with River) I'd say monagomous but between River and Clara, he's most certainly not. ambiamorous.

Amy Pond: Pansexual. would kiss women, but loves Rory to death. She/they, we all know the scene i'm thinking about.

Rory Williams: bisexual. ik ik he had that whole 'im not gay' scene, but it was giving 'im not gay im bi' energy. I have no evidence for this claim, just trust me.

River Song: what a pansexual queen. canonically had at least two wives. in love with the doctor. an icon. Very much NOT asexual. Do NOT let her and Jack Harkness meet. They'd match each others freak and end up killing people.

Clara Oswald: canon bisexual, literally kissed Jane Austen. giving she/they. of all the people to fall for, fell for the doctor in his 'post-pond-depression-wet-cat-era', worst choice she ever made and i love that for her. she is babygirl, i will not explain.

12th Doctor: I'm currently on his last season right near the end, going to cry when he leaves. giving true pansexual, no preference. i have no evidence, i just think that all the doctors are pan, but some have preference, hence the omni. he/they, idfk. less on the demiaroace then all his previous regenerations, but i don't think any doctor is truly allosexual/romantic. you get the vision?

Bill Potts: !!!! My girl!! a lesbian queen!! basically the doctor's granddaughter!! queen!! her and heather are so flipping cute istg-

Nardole: literally cannot picture him with anybody. i hesitate on aroace, but also; he's def aroace.

Missy: a queen. love her so much. she/they pansexual. i feel like greyasexual/aromantic, but thats a bit hesitant. I feel like she's down for love and sex n shit, but unfortunately she fell hardcore for the doctor (and clara, to an extent), so she's just stuck. someone help her, she deserves so much better (currently on the vault era, if you couldn't tell.)

Alrighty!! that's all for now, I'll reblog and add my opinions on newer dw as I watch. lmk if I missed anyone (I don't think I did), and tell me your dw headcannons!!

Inspo:

[cuntressgoingdigital]

RUNAWAY | abby anderson x reader

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you and abby are in a mutually destructive situationship. after everything you put each other through, you both always find you way back to one another.

notes: gonna be sooo honest, this isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea and that's okay! heed the content warnings. this is a super angsty catharsis piece.

cw: 18+ content MDNI, reader referred to as a girl, alcohol ment., top! abby, mutually toxic relationship, no happy ending, honestly neither of y'all are good people

word count: 1k

all you could do was sigh when you read the text that popped up on your phone. 

can i see you tn?

it was 2AM, you and your friends were on the way back home from the club. you had texted abby hours ago. you always did this after drinking. not because your judgment was impaired, instead you wanted to be able to blame your actions on the alcohol. you would’ve texted her completely sober. you often did. 

“what are you staring at on your phone?” your friend tried to snap you out of it, but nothing would stop you. your friends learned to stop trying.

the text interaction was instigated by you, around 8PM, after one sip of a cocktail your friend had made for you. 

fuck you abby

who is this new girl? 

what happened to all the shit you said last week?

she had posted a picture with some pretty redhead on her arm, her face buried in the crook of abby’s neck. she always did this. she knew it would make you mad.

and you always took the bait. 

now it was 3AM, your friends had left you for the night, and abby was knocking on your door. you had sobered up in the last hour or so. your mind was clear. all of your actions were your own. 

immediately abby leaned in for an embrace, prompting you to practically leap back. 

“who the fuck is she?” there was an undeniable venom in your voice. you didn’t have time for pleasantries. 

abby moved past you, crossing the threshold into your apartment. “she’s one of manny’s exes. we’re still cool so me and nora had dinner with her. that’s it.” 

cue the inevitable repetitive screaming match that you two would end up in once every few weeks. the walls were thin and you knew your neighbors could hear. luckily, they minded their business. 

“abby it’s like you don’t give a fuck about my feelings! all week you're texting me ‘i miss you’, ‘you’re the only person who’s ever made me feel this way’. what happened to that?”

you couldn’t ever stay mad at her. you used the same playbook she did. after a couple weeks of not talking, a post on social media would lure her back in. an “accidental”

i had so much fun with you last night <3

that was immediately unsent. it was a song and dance that both of you were perpetually stuck in. after this long, it felt like you couldn’t leave the dancefloor now. 

for the record, abby wasn’t lying. it was just dinner. nothing else. it was clear the girl wanted her. hugging her for just a moment too long, getting a little too handsy when they went to the club together, the frequent requests for one on one hangouts. 

abby wasn’t anywhere near interested. 

she didn’t want any of the girls she would entertain for a week, sometimes a month (never longer). she couldn’t fuck them without thinking of you. without missing you. one too many times when a girl was between her legs she had accidentally uttered your name. 

that’s why every argument resulted in the pure bliss of hate filled make up sex. whoever was on the receiving end of the accusations would placate the other with ‘they dont mean anything’, ‘i just miss you so fucking much’, ‘i wanna be with you’. 

that night when you’re face down in the mattress, back arched, her strap buried impossibly deep inside you, you forget everything. the reasons you hate her. why you would never work. she takes you by the chin and pulls you up, back flush against her chest, fucking up into you while she whispered in your ear.

“fuck, you look so good like that. my pretty girl.”

you would always be her’s.

“such a fucking slut. only running back to me when you need to be fucked back into your place, yeah?” she hoped that wasn’t true. she wants to hear you say that it isn’t true.

“i love you, abby.” was all you could manage to say between thrusts.

abby starts thrusting with a fervor. her hands were gripping your hips so tight you feared they might bruise. she knows your body so well that she can tell when you’re about to cum. you’d dig your nails into her arms, gasping for air, whimpering her name. 

“i love you too, baby girl.” 

that was all it took for the floodgates to open. 

neither of you had lied. you both loved each other more than anything in the world. you said it during arguments, over dinner, at the end of a phone call, and most often during sex. 

if it came down to it, you would die for one another. 

the orgasm was so intense it brought tears to your eyes. abby could fuck you for hours, and she often did, especially when you were mad at her. tonight was one of those nights. by the time the sun had fully risen in the sky you were both sweaty, sore, and exhausted. 

you spent the next few weeks together. she had a key to your apartment that you hadn’t taken back after any of your fallouts. after work, you would find her at home, making your favorites for dinner. she came and went as she pleased, but you knew she’d be back. such was the nature of your relationship. 

when it’s good, it’s amazing. when it’s bad, it’s miserable. the good never lasted long. your record best was a little more than two months. then, one of you would get antsy, terrified of the ‘what are we?’ conversation. 

after being away from each other, the monotony of peace set in. one of you would find a way to snake back in. 

you were mutually destroying each other. you knew that. abby knew that. a happy ending wasn’t likely for either of you. 

but, that was okay. 

she was familiar. this was easier. you had to leave or live with it. 

and here you were, laying in her arms, pressing kisses against her chest and collarbones, while she whispered sweet nothings in your ear. 

[chokisnumber1fan]

reblogging this at 2 am so my thoughts are SUPER incoherent and very offtopic and tangential, sorry about that </3

this is such a good analysis of nagi's possible backstory! and while i haven't read past the BM v MC match yet, to me this gives a lot more depth to the relationship that nagi and reo have. i might be delusional since nagi is one of my favourites and also since i don't know much about the later chapters other than a really vague direction but i think this serves as a good reminder that neither nagi nor reo are inherently 'bad' or take up an antagonistic role— they are just two boys that got too codependent and need some space away from each other to develop on their own.

i see a lot of people jump to antagonising either nagi or reo, or judge their duo as a good/bad one, but imo it's more important to view them from a more neutral lens since this isn't just about football or just about their personal lives outside of it— we can see just how much their 'personal' affects their 'field relationship' and vice versa.

from here on out i'm probably straying from the main point that OP is trying to make, so you've been warned!!!

also, if we were to assume that nagi is indeed one of the neglected to some extent kids— then i believe that chris and agi could truly have done better with how they handled nagi. it's pretty obvious that nagi is heavily dependent on reo, but instead of cutting reo out entirely they could have trained the two of them together in a way that allows them to still play together but not be completely dependent on the other. but then again i can see why this would be a much harder task to pull off because of their respective goals and their feelings towards each other (more specifically, reo's feelings towards nagi) that would definitely get in the way. like, reo is entirely capable of scoring goals on his own but he chooses not to because his main objective has always been to assist nagi— and because of this, nagi's had everything handed to him on a silver platter by reo. their formation served them well in the initial stages of blue lock but it's falling apart now, in major part because it was mostly an emotionally driven formation, which makes it a lot easier to predict especially if you're someone like isagi who knows them and their relationship.

nagi and reo are somewhat unique in that their struggles are against their own inherent natures and pasts and not because of them lacking in some sort of skill or whatever. nagi doesn't have the drive to do anything unless he has a solid goal that he wants to reach— he just won't bother putting in effort it (just like OP mentioned).

reo is willing to give nagi the attention and validation he needs; and while this was fine in the beginning, you could say he's almost starting to smother nagi now— almost mirroring the relationship reo has with his own parents, ironically enough. it's gotten to the point where reo cannot be trusted as a narrator since he let his feelings distort the words that nagi really said to him at the start of the second selection. he projected his worst fears regarding nagi and made them true in his mind. i think that reo has a problem with idolising and devoting himself to people to the point of detriment, especially to himself.

lord help me i have rambled so much about this, honestly i don't think i'm even making any sense right now. i feel like that deranged connect the dots meme man right now. somehow this all links up and makes sense in my head so i hope my disorganised addition to OPs post will somehow telepathically make sense to anyone else reading this too 🙏🙏🙏👍👍

I have this foreboding feeling that while we are prepared for Sae's and Shidou's backstory, Nagi's backstory is going to sneak from behind and punch us in the gut.

No, I don't think it's going to be straight up depression like Kaiser's, but I do think that it'll hit close to home.

You see, Nagi got Laissez-faire parents which means they never really interfered with his life. Like, these type of parents—as I have read on some websites—will basically set their child free and let them do whatever they want with no or very few rules/restrictions. They will not tell you, "Oh! You should do this!" or "Oh! You shouldn't do this!" They will simply let you figure out your life all by yourself.

I'm not an expert on this and I'm not calling this type of parenting bad in any way. Every child is different with different needs, and I'm sure there are many who grew up in this kinda family and liked this parenting method. However, I do think that Nagi didn't like it that much, and I got two reasons to think this way:

1. "That's nice."

When Reo said that his family constantly meddles in his life, Nagi's immediate reaction was, "That's nice" instead of being surprised or disgruntled. If Nagi really liked his parents NOT meddling in his life, then he should've said something like, "Really!? Sucks to be you, Reo. I can't imagine living a life like that!"

You getting me?

Also, we all know how Nagi is—he definitely feels that telling someone to do or not to do something is a hassle, so he, probably, feels that if someone is doing all this for you, then you are important for them.

And before any one says, no, I don't think Nagi was tying up his tongue thinking, "They are his parents. They wouldn't want anything bad for their own child, right? I shouldn't say anything against them and should say good things about them just to be safe." I don't think he has this kind of filter in him.

2. "Don't die ."

So, why would you not want someone to die? Of course, because you care for them and want them to be with you.

"Want"

That's really what I'm tryna highlight.

It's a pretty common knowledge that some children are just naturally more independent while others are a bit more dependent and seek guidance from the elders. Considering Nagi's first reaction to knowing about Reo's parents' meddling, I think that Kiddo!Nagi falls into the latter category—someone who likes to be guided and helped by the adults. Now, place Kiddo!Nagi with his Laissez-faire parents... You are getting where I'm going with this one?

That's why I think that Kiddo!Nagi, probably, thought that his parents didn't love him/care for him. And what happens if someone doesn't love you or care for you? Yeah, they don't care if you die which, somewhat, explains why Older!Nagi was happy to hear, "Don't die [before us (probably)]" from his parents.

I have already talked about his potential backstory before too, so it was actually when I heard he had longer bangs as a child that made my head turn to him again—something felt odd.

I understand that having long bangs is not a big deal—Niko's bangs literally cover his eyes, but having it as a kid is way different, y'know. Once you are like 12-13, you somewhat become capable of doing your own hair and clothes by yourself, so you can manage whatever aesthetics you prefer. However, for a kid younger than that, it's the parents' responsibility to look after his/her hair and clothes, and we all know that long bangs are quite bothersome—blocks our vision, sometimes stabs the eyes, and even irritatingly itches the nose.

All in all, till his backstory drops, I'd firmly believe that he was, though unintentionally, a neglected kid—at least, emotionally.

Now I can't get this image out of my head where Kiddo!Nagi is longingly staring at other kids in a park where everyone is learning things like riding a bicycle or maybe playing baseball and stuff with their parents while he is just.. there, probably, all alone.

[bandsofmarv]

can you do a steve smut enemies to lovers related?

Thank you for the request! I actually had one ready to post this evening! Here we go :)

Bitter edges of Steve

After a disastrous mission Steve and you finally confront the tension between each other.

TW- not really any, slight smut, angst.

The door slammed shut behind you, rattling the rusted hinges. You barely had time to take a breath before Steve Rogers stormed in after you, his boots heavy on the concrete floor. His face was a mask of barely contained rage, his blue eyes sharp enough to cut.

“What the hell was that?” he snapped, his voice low and dangerous, the kind of tone that made lesser men cower. But not you.

You turned to face him, matching his glare with one of your own. “It was me getting the job done, Rogers. Someone had to, and you sure as hell weren’t stepping up.”

His laugh was cold, humorless. “Stepping up? You mean disobeying orders, blowing our cover, and nearly getting yourself killed? That’s what you call stepping up?”

“You hesitated,” you shot back, refusing to back down even as he advanced toward you. “You always hesitate. I did what had to be done, and you’re pissed because you didn’t get to play the hero this time.”

He closed the distance between you in a flash, his jaw tight and his fists clenched at his sides. “You think this is about my ego?” he snarled, his voice dripping with contempt. “This is about you being a reckless, insufferable pain in my ass who can’t follow orders to save their life.”

“I don’t follow your orders,” you spat, stepping closer to him despite the warning in his eyes. “And I’m not your responsibility, so stop acting like you care.”

He barked out a sharp, bitter laugh, his head shaking as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Care? You think I care about you?” His words were a knife to the gut, sharp and cruel. “You’re nothing but a liability. A thorn in my side I should’ve dealt with a long time ago.”

The venom in his voice made your chest ache, but you refused to let him see it. You squared your shoulders, meeting his fury with your own. “Then why don’t you?” you challenged, your voice shaking with barely restrained anger. “Why don’t you deal with me, Steve? Why do you keep coming after me, cleaning up my messes? If I’m such a liability, why the hell are you still here?”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his chest rising and falling with the force of his breathing. Then, without warning, he grabbed your arm and yanked you forward, his face inches from yours.

“You want to know why?” he growled, his voice low and rough. “Because you drive me insane. Because every time I look at you, I want to throw you against a wall and—” He stopped himself, his jaw clenching as he tried to rein in his temper.

“Do it,” you whispered, your voice trembling, though not from fear.

His eyes darkened, his grip on your arm tightening. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Don’t I?” you shot back, your breath hitching as his body pressed against yours, backing you into the wall.

For a second, you thought he might actually walk away, leave you there to stew in the silence. But then his lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, his hands gripping your waist with bruising force. The kiss was a battle—hot, messy, and unrelenting, years of pent-up frustration and anger spilling out all at once.

“Still think I don’t care?” he muttered against your lips, his voice a dangerous growl.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you kissed him back just as fiercely, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. His hands roamed your body, possessive and unyielding, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

When he pulled back, his eyes burned into yours, a mixture of anger and something darker, something that made your knees weak. “You make me crazy,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You make me want things I shouldn’t want, make me feel things I shouldn’t feel. I hate it. I hate you.”

“Good,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Because I hate you too.”

His lips curled into a dark, almost cruel smile. “Prove it.”

Before you could respond, he was kissing you again, his mouth hot and relentless as his hands slid beneath your shirt. He lifted you effortlessly, pinning you against the wall as his lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough as his hands gripped your thighs, holding you firmly in place. “Say you hate me.”

“I hate you,” you gasped, though your voice trembled with need.

He laughed softly, the sound dripping with satisfaction. “Liar.”

His hand slid higher, his touch rough and unrelenting, and you couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped your lips. His mouth found yours again, swallowing your gasps as he pressed himself harder against you, the line between hate and desire blurring until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

The rest of the world faded away as you surrendered to him, the weight of your shared anger and frustration dissolving into something raw and primal. This was no fairytale, no perfect resolution—but in that moment, with his body pressed against yours and his lips claiming every inch of you, it was enough.

For now, it was enough.

[jumpingwjoy]

another watercolor painting!! im going through my pokemon sun playthrough as ricky, and this outfit is what i dressed her up in ^_^ i tried to match her band au fashion as much as possible 🫡

i’ve got game screenshots and long ass ramble under the cut 😭

realizing tumblr can let me ramble continuously as much as i want so i could talk about my thoughts and my previous pokemon runs too woaw...maybe i’ll post pics of those playthroughs one day, but probably on my main blog instead 🤔

here's ricky's current team where i’m at and what she looks like in game!! i was sooo peeved that twin tails are locked in post game, even if they don’t even look like ricky’s hairstyle at all, i just think she needs some kind of ponytail…i used to have her with straight bangs to imitate her three bangs style, but it kinda looked ugly af… :V

i’m just before vast poni canyon so gummy will soon be the rail gun beetle that ricky deserves ^_^ i decided on a sweets/dessert nickname theme, tho i did consider a norse mythology theme, but i thought she’d be more cutesy in a pokémon au/world where she is not in life threatening stakes.

i want to write out my reasonings for each pokémon pick too, this team isn’t exactly what i had in mind since it’s limited to the sun pokédex, but i’m pretty fond of them!! mostly, i thought she could have a non-dex rotom (but since it’s like this, her rotom dex is definitely named mike), and i also thought she’d have a porygon - but u can only get it post-game and i’d have to deal with trade evolutions o<-<

i also chose pokémon sun as ricky’s game since i headcanon her to be wasian HAHA specifically japanese and american/german - since hawaii is known for its japanese immigrant population (which is also reflected in the game itself), i liked the idea of her having an actual game background of immigrating from kanto

1. alolan raichu - pikachu is the iconic mascot, just like ricky XD alolan raichu shares her love of sweets, and i think lets her identify with being alolan too

2. vikavolt - he’s a rail gun!! ricky should always have fun with guns. i think ricky has an affinity with machines, and vikavolt has gundam aesthetics hehe. his pre evolutions are cute too, which i think ricky would like. notably he’s another electric type, a remnant from when i used to have ricky as an electric type specific trainer, before i decided to diversify types for eo teams. rotom also would’ve been another electric type…😅

3. metagross - another association with machines—it reminds me of gladsheim as well. i like the juxtaposition of this hulking creature made of metal next to ricky too. showing off her cute and cool sides...

its name is ike as a companion to mike, making them fit into the sweets theme LOL

4. wigglytuff - i headcanon that ricky enjoys singing (and is the lead singer in band au) so i wanted a music related pokémon. maybe in universe, she would stay as a jigglypuff?

5. toucannon - also because of gun. i actually hunted a shiny version, bc it looks like the bi pride flag aghdjshfd. i think ricky can be prone to have a temper, matching toucannon's angry look

6. alolan ninetales - ok so i was conflicted bc i wanted an ice type, as a reference to ricky’s cryo sleep lol, and i was also considering vanillite bc ice cream… but its moveset sucks ass!!! sorry!!!! i do like ninetales as an additional reference to her heritage though…i have vanillite in rosa’s hypothetical team too so it wasn’t really meant for ricky in the first place :P

honorable mentions:

i chose litten as her starter since i think she’s a cat person, and also someone who likes buff people……….

vanillite like i mentioned—harder to catch than i thought cause it needs to be snowing for this guy to show up as an sos helper >:0

alolan exeggutor - long long yggdrasil

this turned out a lot longer than i thought im not used to writing down so much even in tweet threads but it was fun to spill out some of the very specific things i think about in my day to day lol...if you somehow read all of this, thank you for your time wakjhsdg 🙇🏻‍♀️

[siriuslysatorusimping]

Locked Out (Gojo Satoru)

This is pretty much just idiotic fluff. University AU. I made a post like over a year ago about this idea and now here we are. I just wanted to post this first bit as a lil taste of what’s to come!

The First Key

Flipping through her notebook, Rinko hummed along with the quiet music filtering from the computer speakers as she added the occasional extra note.

Night shifts were one of her favorite things about working for the dorms. Most of the time, they were uneventful except for a midnight package pickup from a nocturnal student or someone forgetting their keys.

“Yo!” a deep voice greeted cheerfully, “Could I get a lockout key?”

Nodding, she didn’t bother looking up before swiveling her chair around to open the filing cabinet with the lockout forms.

“Name and student ID number?”

“Gojo,” he replied, rattling off his ID as well.

“Dorm number?” Rinko asked as she located his sheet and turned back to the desk. “D’you know the drill for–?”

She trailed off when she finally looked up from the paper in her hands.

People forgot to take their keys with them all the time when they bathed. The majority of lockout keys she’d seen were unfortunate students who finished their bath or shower only to find that they couldn’t get back into their room. He wasn’t even the first person she’d seen wearing nothing but a towel while they asked for a key that week.

But he was, by far, the most attractive she’d encountered yet.

Pale skin, perfect complexion—not a single blemish in sight. Skin like that shouldn’t even be possible for someone living in the dorms. Messy, white hair dripped occasionally as it clung to his forehead. Eyelashes that matched his hair framed eyes so blue they threatened to drown her.

Tall—so tall. Even if she weren’t sitting, he clearly towered over her. Very built. So many muscles. Did he have an eight-pack? The dark blue towel hung low on his hips left very little to the imagination. Dimples sat at the edges of a shameless grin adorning his face, perfect teeth on display.

A pretty boy who knew he was pretty. Just perfect.

“Two twenty-four,” he stated, and she blinked, trying to remember why he would tell her such a random number. “They gave the regular spiel about these keys at the start of last semester, but I honestly didn’t pay attention. Mind giving me a refresher?”

Dorm number. She’d asked for his dorm number. Lockout key—right.

His eyes seemed to sparkle at her while she gave a brief explanation, trying to ignore the heat that crept up her neck when his gaze wandered as she spoke. She had no doubt that his once-over mirrored the one she’d given him, except she did doubt her outfit was as flattering as his towel.

“Fill this out,” she stated evenly, placing the sheet on the desk in front of him. She turned away to open the key cabinet, locating the spare for his dorm. “Just the first row.”

He hummed his affirmative, and she held the key out when he slid the form back toward her.

“Thanks, Miss Desk Girl.” His fingers brushed against hers as he accepted the key. “Be back before you know it.”

Sending her a wink, he tapped the desk with two fingers before turning to walk to the stairwell, leaving her staring at his towel-covered ass until it disappeared from sight.

“You didn’t think to get dressed?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.

The towel was even lower on his hips than before as he handed the key back to her.

“Only had fifteen minutes,” he replied, tilting his head to the side innocently. “Took me a while to find my keys once I got back inside, and I didn’t wanna get in trouble for taking too long just because I threw on some shorts, ya know?” His lips pulled into a small smirk. “Plus, I figured you might not mind getting another look since you were kinda drooling earlier–”

“You won’t get in trouble for putting clothes on,” she cut him off, her face burning at being called out for staring. She scribbled her name in the box to confirm he’d returned the key. “The fifteen-minute rule is just to make sure you actually bring the key back. Most of us don’t mind as long as you don’t take forever or you get it back before our shift is over.”

“Yeah?” He reached to take the key back. “What time does your shift end? I’ll have this back before–”

“Doesn’t matter since you’re already here. But for future reference, please put clothes on before you come back.”

“It’s okay to admit you like the view,” he teased, bracing his elbow on the desk. “I definitely like my view. Though, it feels kinda unfair since I’m the only one in a towel. I could bring you one to even things out–”

“I’m good, thanks.”

-

AN: what do you guys think?? I know it’s short, but I did say it’d be a mini series :)

[plant-droid]

I don't really know how to express this properly.

I fuckin' hate E-Liter mains so much that I need to have a rivalry with one where I can just constantly say "Fuck you, asshole!" and they're just going to be a smug bastard and brush me off. Then we make out vigorously make out in the locker rooms until one of us decides to quit, and by The Great Zapfish I am not going to fucking lose to that smug E-Liter bastard.

(Translation: I'm very mad at E-Liter mains, but I respect that other people have their own favorite weapons and that I shouldn't be too mad over someone using a specific kind of weapon...)

But if you use Respawn Punisher in Turf War, you're just an asshole /j

[imerian]

Vr46 academy keychains

Set of five charms that all match in different ways

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 . ✦　　˚　

Open for detailed pictures of each one

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

ִֶָ 𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃 ִֶָ

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

˖⁺‧₊˚⭒✮⭒˚₊‧⁺˖

. ݁₊ ✶. ݁ ˖ˎˊ˗

I ran out of tags so I'll say it here but i would greatly appreciate a reblog, especially if you share your thoughts on these pieces in tags (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

(Also i forgot that bez have matching part with luca so I didn’t add that to tags sorry

[averlym]

fairest of the fair