#i mean they know each other but getting to know each other BETTER

[reignpage]

Movie Night

Summary: in which alien!reader asks Gojo to teach her a little something Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: smut, not proofread

Day 7

“What’s wrong, E?”

All fresh from a shower, you and Satoru are sitting in the sofa, watching a movie. He’s finally bought you your own clothes and you’re dressed in a warm jumper and cosy pants. Satoru won’t lie; he’s grieving the pleasure of seeing you drown in his clothes. But you were ecstatic at the sight of the space themed pjs and so he was left with nothing to do but he happy. 

Wrapped under a thick blanket, you’re huddled by his side, clutching his shirt. As with every movie, every night, you ask questions, and he answers as best as he can. He’s insanely grateful that you can understand him when he explains things like what a car is (a moving vehicle) or who Gordon Ramsey is (a famous chef known for being very wrinkly and very angry). It seems that your biggest issue, however, is stringing a full sentence together. 

You’ve been getting much better, accelerating at a rate no human could manage. It’s both impressive and terrifying. 

Right now, you’re tilting your head at a particular scene. Satoru forgot the plot of the money and he really regrets not keeping an eye out for the age rating, because on the screen plays a steamy, kiss scene. 

In fact, ‘kiss’ isn’t even the right word; they’re making out. 

How you both managed to last a week of doing nothing but watch movies without coming across a kiss scene he’ll never know. But the moment’s finally arrived and he is not any more prepared than he was on the first night.

He winces at the sound lips smacking against each other, a blush on his cheeks. A kiss is nothing -- he’s done far more than that, and multiple times. But, for some reason, he’s feeling a little shy. It might have something to do with the fact that you’re staring up at him with your big, curious eyes. 

“What they doing?” You ask. 

Satoru gulps. He’s become painfully aware of how close you are — his arm is trapped between your breasts, just a thin layer separating him from your soft flesh, and, under the blanket, your leg is strung ever so slightly on his thigh. He can smell his shampoo emanating from you with something sweet coursing just under that masculine scent. 

Chuckling uncomfortably, he explains, “They’re kissing.”

“Why?”

He has half a mind to turn the TV off and declare an earlier bedtime, but you look so innocent he feels bad that he was thinking of something indecent. He’s your friend. He can’t prey on you and take advantage of your reliance on him. Plus, how would a kiss between two people from different intergalactic species even work?

Would it be the same? Or does it lead to pregnancy straight away? What if you lay eggs in his mouth? What if he lays eggs in your mouth?

Composing himself, he searches for the right words. ��It’s something people do to express their love for each other, I guess. Well, not all the time, actually. Sometimes it’s just for pleasure.”

“Pleasure?”

Why, oh, why did you have to focus on that one word? 

And why on everything that is good in this world is this scene so long?

“It means to feel good.”

The hand clutching his shirt flattens out until it’s feeling the hard planes of his chest and absorbing the vibrations of his heartbeat. You drum your fingers at the same pace, smiling softly. The heat of your hand, of your entire body, is setting his skin alight. Suddenly, it’s too hot under the blanket, there isn’t enough room or air, and he needs to go but he can’t bear to. 

Batting your lashes, you inquire, “How to make pleasure, Toru? How kiss feel good?”

Brushing a lock of hair behind your ear, he corrects you, “It’s, ‘how does kissing make you feel good’, E. Try again for me?”

You taste the words, lips stretching to practice the movement before you parrot back perfectly, “Tell me how kissing makes you feel good, Toru.”

Oh, fuck. 

Why did he make you repeat it in perfect Japanese? Why did he have to use this very moment as a learning opportunity? 

Curse his perfect teaching instincts!

He’s about to shrug you off, using sleepiness as an excuse to retreat, but then you’re leaning even closer, licking your lips and eyeing his. Warmth is spreading through his body, circulating in one particular area and he’s hoping you don’t move your leg any higher otherwise this will turn into a completely different conversation and he’s not certain he could survive giving you an anatomy lesson without getting a nosebleed. 

Licking his own lips, he grazes your cheek with his fingers. The skin he touches glows the very faintest hint of blue. He’s reeling. Up till now, he thought that your skin glows when you’re sleeping, but apparently you also glow when you’re being touched. But this isn’t the first time he’s touched you. 

Was it because before he was trying very, very hard not to stare?

He doesn’t know, and regardless, he can’t stop touching you. Satoru presses on your adorable cheeks to watch it light up, the way his is flushing red. Whispering, he asserts, “I can’t tell you how kissing feels, E.” 

Your hand presses harder against his chest, fingers splaying across the expanse. Subconsciously, he juts it out just a little. And with the most seductive voice, you demand, “Show me then, Toru. Make me feel good?”

Oh, and when you ask like that, how could anyone ever resist you?

There’s a tantalising closeness between you, just a hairsbreadth away from touching. When he finally closes that minuscule gap, a purr like thrum echoes through you. He kisses you, sweet and gentle, simply pressing his lips against yours. There’s nothing human about this, not with the invigorating taste of you, the scalding feel of your skin, and impossible softness of your body on his. 

“This is a kiss?” You mumble.

Chuckling, he says, “No, E. This is.”

With one hand holding the back of your neck, he sucks your bottom lip, unable to help himself from deepening the kiss. You gasp into his mouth, and he dives his tongue in, meeting yours. He knows he should slow down, should let you adjust to a friendly peck before he takes more than you can give, but you taste so good and it’s like he’s drunk. 

There’s a force, a gravitation pull drawing him in. He can’t resist it, can’t fight it, he isn’t even trying. 

You pull back in shock. 

Satoru chases after you, dragging you back in. He kisses you again. Groaning into your mouth, he slides a hand down to your leg, rising up your thigh. You jolt, a shiver running through your body. That electrifying purring hums in the air again and he’s smiling, hand rising and rising until he’s curving against your ass and carrying you over his thighs.

“This feels... I feel...,” you whimper, at a loss for words. 

Squeezing your thighs, he coos, “It’s alright, sweet thing. I’ve got you. You wanted to learn pleasure, right? Who better to teach you than Toru, hmm?”

You shiver again when he whispers that against your neck, nose skimming your jaw and lips curling. He’s inhaling deeply, eyes fluttering close at the weight of your body pressing down on him and your addictive scent. 

He can’t tell if this is all you or if it’s an alien thing, but he doesn’t care. Not in this moment, not when your hips are churning as he sucks at your neck, laying burning kisses against your skin, and watching the blue light dance under your skin. 

“Oh, E,” he sighs. “Are you grinding on me, baby? You want more than just a kiss, is that it? My greedy, greedygirl.”

When your clothed core rubs just right against his throbbing length, you throw your head back, that purring noise a hiss and it vibrates against his cheek as he listens to your rapid heartbeat. He can feel how wet you are; you’re soaking through your panties and pyjama bottoms.

Satoru’s growing dizzy.

One hand guides your hips to gyrate on him whilst the other clutches your throat to pull your lips back to his. Satoru knows he should stop now that he’s already taught you what you asked for, but he can’t. He just can’t. The thrill of going further, of testing your, and his, limits is too much for one man to resist. Even if that man is the strongest sorcerer in the world, even if not a whole gaggle of curses could pose a threat to him. 

“Toru!”

He thrusts upwards the same time he tugs you down and the elongated moan that leaves you, hips stuttering and hands frantically searching for purchase on his broad shoulders, leaves him feeling lightheaded. “That’s it, E. Take what you need.”

Your eyes are flashing blue, a darker hue than his own, and he’s amazed. Everything about you is incredible, like you were created to be his temptation, to be his undoing. Whether aliens have souls or not, he doesn’t know, but he does know that if you did, his and yours would be the same, all blue and perfect. 

Laughing, he leans back, hands simply resting on your thighs as you ride out your orgasm, shocked eyes pleading for explanation, for reason but finding none in his. That purring gets louder and louder, the vibrations stronger now and they’re flowing straight from your soaked pussy and right onto his cock. 

“Oh shit!” Satoru groans, nails digging suddenly. Within seconds, he’s cumming in his boxers, hot cream flooding his underwear from inside at the same time your wetness seeps through on top. “Jesus, E! That’s fucking intense, what the hell.”

He’s panting, eyes shut tightly as he keeps grinding your hips on his cock. 

You slump onto him just as he falls back. You’re completely depleted of energy, and he knows exactly what you’re feeling. Rubbing your back, he presses a kiss to your hair, muttering ‘well done’ and ‘good job’. 

“How was that for pleasure?”

Smacking his chest, you mumble a complaint. “Toru mean.”

He laughs agains.

“Sorry, E. You were just too cute.”

You raise your head, eyes bleary and fluttering shut. You meet his gaze, shaky fingers reaching for his lips and tracing them, all sore and pink, like you’re amazed at him the way he is at you. “Thank you. Kissing is nice.”

“We did a little more than just kissing, E. But sure, you’re welcome,” he chuckles. 

Eventually, you both fall asleep in each other’s arms right there on the sofa, ‘Are You Still Watching’ filling the TV screen and not the movie he can’t even remember the name of, drying cum posing a problem he’ll have to deal with in the morning.

He dreams of sapphire streaks in the air, of giant balls of fire, and an angel descending with its arms outstretched. And he hopes he never wakes up.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Yandere! Caleb:

Content: Non proof-reader; Gaslight + Manipulation + Lying; Established relationship + Somnophilia + Masturbating with clothes + Possessiveness + Riding + Size difference + Praising + Dumbification + Overstimulation + Thigh riding.

Note: I have never been a Caleb hater, so of course I had to write something about this cutie... Have you all seen the trailer? What do you think about him? I'm actually quite glad that they added someone who better fits the role of a dark romance, as Sylus was just a green forest contrary to what he was presented as. Let me know if you want in comments/private messages!! Also, sorry if it seems a bit too short :((

SFW:

Yandere! Caleb, who has known you since childhood, thus it is only natural that he knows every single small detail about you. What do you mean by saying that it's not normal for him to know the exact measures of every single inch of your body? He has known you for over eleven years, it's only natural.

Yandere! Caleb who sometimes takes advantage of your kind heart, remarking just how close you are, gaslighting you into thinking that some of the stuff he does for you is completely normal between friends. I mean, of course friends tell each other where are they every single second, and of course they know all of their other friends.

Yandere! Caleb who also uses the advantage of being a bit older than you, so you just have to trust his advices. He knows best, and he loves you, so how could you even doubt him?

Yandere! Caleb who slowly makes sure to get rid of your other friends, specially those who seem a bit too eager to hangout with you. He does this by lying, asking you to help him searching for the perfect gift for grandma, as he wasn't completely sure if that would actuall suit her taste. Or maybe getting sick on purpose, bathing with freezing cold water, staying there for a few hours just to make sure you would refuse to leave him all alone.

Yandere! Caleb who overprotected you since he was young, always holding hands with you until you started to get shy about it. He was always leading you, his magnetic gaze making it impossible to refuse his requests.

Yandere! Caleb who starts to train late at night as a way to stop his own urges to chain you to him. Punching the training bag as he keeps reminding himself that if he does that it would mean breaking the façade he had spent so much time creating just for your entertainment.

Yandere! Caleb who buys you a beautiful necklace for your birthday, he smiles brightly as he helps you put it around your neck. You were still unaware, but this was just one of the most tame ways he came up with to show just how much he wanted you only for him.

NSFW:

Yandere! Caleb who sometimes makes his way inside your house late at night, the keys to it in his pockets as you had given them to him in case he ever needed a place to rest, or he simply wanted to pay a visit. He rummages around your drawers, searching for anything that has your scent, he presses it to his nose, smelling that sweet scent as he feels his erection grow under his pants. He bites his lips as a way to keep himself from undoing his belt and start to touch himself just from imagining your precious face smiling at him.

Yandere! Caleb who enjoys using his own body weight as he fucks your pretty pussy, making you whine and mewl each time he increases the pressure against your lower tummy causing his dick rubbing even more against your insides. Even despite you cling to the sheets for dear life as he plunges against you, he simply smiles sadistically, one of his hands petting your hair as he keeps watching you try to stop yourself from spilling out all those lewd moans by biting on the pillow. His mind rushing as he imagines all those damn "friends" hearing you melt under him just from him moving his hips a bit as he forces his way into you.

Yandere! Caleb who loves seeing the necklace he gave you recoiling against your chest each time he helped you to move up and down his cock, nails digging on his back as he kept hitting that sweet spot, kissing your neck as he whispered sweet nothings against your ear: "You're doing so good for me, yeah, keep moving your hips baby..." [...] "Are you getting tired, baby? Let me help you." Suddenly, his hands wrap around your hips, forcing his whole length on a single thrust, a squeal leaving your mouth as the tip of his cock suddenly hit against your cervix, eyes rolling back as he kept pressing his cock against you, mainting you completely still as he kept praising you. "Shh... You're doing so good for me, taking my whole cock inside you... So good baby, so good for me... Just a bit more, yeah? Gotta make sure you get all dumb and pretty for me, right?"

Yandere! Caleb who loves dirtying your face with his cum, allowing you to give him head, his fingers making their way into your lower half, using his rough fingertips to play with your clit as you started to spread soft kisses all over his length. By the time he finally cums, your mind was completely melted from cumming all over his fingers and mouth, sucking on his cock mindlessly as he moved his hips in a slow rythm, only increasing it as he came inside your mouth. When he opened his eyes, he found a precious sight, your mouth slightly open as a few strings of his cum escapep from your soft lips, your eyes looking at him as if you were dazed, glistening with a mixture of pure love and devotion. He quickly cleans it, kissing your lips as lets you rest on top of him, peppering soft kisses all over your face. "You did amazing, sweetheart. Such a good girl for me."

Yandere! Caleb, who sometimes becomes extra mean with you, making you mewl as he forces you to orgasm just from using his knee, having you ride them as he looks at you with an unamused look on his face. You keep rubbing against his clothed lower half, pleading between soft moans to get him to touch you, whispering things like: "Please, please, please, just the tip-- Can't take it anymore... Caleb please--". By the time he decides to get you to cum, you are already a panting mess, drool falling down your chin as your mind is already too far gone, tears falling down your face from the frustration. Before you are even able to realise, Caleb is already forcing you to cum all over your panties, his fingers rubbing against your clothed clit as you mumble a few words of gratitude.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Billionaire-proofing the internet

Picks and Shovels is a new, standalone technothriller starring Marty Hench, my two-fisted, hard-fighting, tech-scam-busting forensic accountant. You can pre-order it on my latest Kickstarter, which features a brilliant audiobook read by Wil Wheaton.

During the Napster wars, the record labels seriously pissed off millions of internet users when they sued over 19,000 music fans, mostly kids, but also grannies, old people, and dead people.

It's hard to overstate how badly the labels behaved. Like, there was the Swarthmore student who was the maintainer of a free/open source search engine that indexed files available in public sharepoints on the LAN. The labels sued him for millions and millions (the statutory damages for digital copyright infringement runs to $150,000 per file) and, when he begged for a settlement, said that they would accept his life's savings, but only if he changed majors and stopped studying Computer Science.

No, really.

What's more, none of the money the labels extracted from teenagers, grandparents (and the dead) went to artists. The labels just kept it all, while continuing to insist that they were doing all this because they wanted to "protect artists."

One thing everyone agreed on was how disgusted we all were with the labels. What we didn't agree on was what to do about it. A lot of us wanted to reform copyright – say, by creating a blanket license for internet music so that artists could get paid directly. This was the systemic approach.

Another group – call them the "individualists" – wanted a boycott. Just stop buying and listening to music from the major labels. Every dollar you spend with a label is being used to fund a campaign of legal terror. Merely enjoying popular music makes you part of the problem.

You can probably guess which group I was in. Leaving aside the futility of "voting with your wallet" (a rigged ballot that's always won by the people with the thickest wallet), I just thought this was bad tactics.

Here's what I would say when people told me we should all stop listening to popular music: "If members of your popular movement are not allowed to listen to popular music, your movement won't be very popular."

We weren't going to make political change by creating an impossible purity test ("Ew, you listen to music from a major label? God, what's wrong with you?"). I mean, for one thing, a lot of popular music is legitimately fantastic and makes peoples' lives better. Popular movements should strive to increase their members' joy, not demand their deprivation. Again, not merely because this is a nice thing to do for people, but also because it's good tactics to make participation in the thing you're trying to do as joyous as possible.

Which brings me to social media. The problem with social media is that the people we love and want to interact with are being held prisoner in walled gardens. The mechanism of their imprisonment is the "switching costs" of leaving. Our friends and communities are on bad social media networks because they love each other more than they hate Musk or Zuck. Leaving a social platform can cost you contact with family members in the country you emigrated from, a support group of people who share your rare disease, the customers or audience you rely on for your livelihood, or just the other parents organizing your kid's little league game.

Hypothetically, you could organize all these people to leave at once, go somewhere else, and re-establish all your social connections. Practically, the "collective action problem" of doing so is nearly insurmountable. This is what platform owners depend on – it's why they know they can enshittify their services without losing users. So long as the pain of using the service is lower than the pain of leaving it, the companies can turn the screws on users to make their lives worse in order to extract more profit from them. This is why Musk killed the block button and why Zuck fired all his moderators. Why bear the expense of doing something nice for users if they'll still stick around even if you cut a ton of headcount and/or expensive compute?

There's a way out of this, thankfully. When social media is federated, then you can leave a server without leaving your friends. Think of it as being similar to changing cell-phone companies. When you switch from Verizon to T-Mobile, you keep your number, you keep your address book and you keep your friends, who won't even know you switched networks unless you tell them:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/29/how-to-leave-dying-social-media-platforms/

There's no reason social media couldn't work this way. You should be able to leave Facebook or Twitter for Mastodon, Bluesky, or any other service and still talk with the people you left behind, provided they still want to talk with you:

https://www.eff.org/interoperablefacebook

That's how the Fediverse – which Mastodon is part of – works already. You can switch from one Mastodon server to another, and all the people you follow and who follow you will just move over to that new server. That means that if the person or company or group running your server goes sour, you aren't stuck making a choice between the people you love who connect to you on that server, and the pain of dealing with whatever bullshit the management is throwing off:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/23/semipermeable-membranes/#free-as-in-puppies

We could make that stronger! Data protection laws like the EU's GDPR and California's CCPA create a legal duty for online services to hand over your data on demand. Arguably, these laws already require your Mastodon server's management to give you the files you need to switch from one server to another, but that could be clarified. Handing these files over to users on demand is really straightforward – even a volunteer running a small server for a few friends will have no trouble living up to this obligation. It's literally just a minute's work for each user.

Another way to make this stronger is through governance. Many of the great services that defined the old, good internet were run by "benevolent dictators for life." This worked well, but failed so badly. Even if the dictator for life stayed benevolent, that didn't make them infallible. The problem of a dictatorship isn't just malice – it's also human frailty. For a service to remain good over long timescales, it needs accountable, responsive governance. That's why all the most successful BDFL services (like Wikipedia) transitioned to community-managed systems:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/10/bdfl/#high-on-your-own-supply

There, too, Mastodon shines. Mastodon's founder Eugen Rochko has just explicitly abjured his role as "ultimate decision-maker" and handed management over to a nonprofit:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2025/01/mastodon-becomes-nonprofit-to-make-sure-its-never-ruined-by-billionaire-ceo/

I love using Mastodon and I have a lot of hope for its future. I wish I was as happy with Bluesky, which was founded with the promise of federation, and which uses a clever naming scheme that makes it even harder for server owners to usurp your identity. But while Bluesky has added many, many technically impressive features, they haven't delivered on the long-promised federation:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/02/ulysses-pact/#tie-yourself-to-a-federated-mast

Bluesky sure seems like a lot of fun! They've pulled tens of millions of users over from other systems, and by all accounts, they've all having a great time. The problem is that without federation, all those users are vulnerable to bad decisions by management (perhaps under pressure from the company's investors) or by a change in management (perhaps instigated by investors if the current management refuses to institute extractive measures that are good for the investors but bad for the users). Federation is to social media what fire-exits are to nightclubs: a way for people to escape if the party turns deadly:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/14/fire-exits/#graceful-failure-modes

So what's the answer? Well, around Mastodon, you'll hear a refrain that reminds me a lot of the Napster wars: "People who are enjoying themselves on Bluesky are wrong to do so, because it's not federated and the only server you can use is run by a VC-backed for-profit. They should all leave that great party – there's no fire exits!"

This is the social media version of "To be in our movement, you have to stop listening to popular music." Sure, those people shouldn't be crammed into a nightclub that has no fire exits. But thankfully, there is an alternative to being the kind of scold who demands that people leave a great party, and being the kind of callous person who lets tens of millions of people continue to risk their lives by being stuck in a fire-trap.

We can install our own fire-exits in Bluesky.

Yesterday, an initiative called "Free Our Feeds" launched, with a set of goals for "billionaire-proofing" social media. One of those goals is to add the long-delayed federation to Bluesky. I'm one of the inaugural endorsers for this, because installing fire exits for Bluesky isn't just the right thing to do, it's also good tactics:

https://freeourfeeds.com/

Here's why: if a body independent of the Bluesky corporation implements its federation services, then we ensure that its fire exits are beyond the control of its VCs. That means that if they are ever tempted in future to brick up the fire-exits, they won't be able to. This isn't a hypothetical risk. When businesses start to enshittify their services, they fully commit themselves to blocking anything that makes it easy to leave those services.

That's why Apple went so hard after Beeper Plus, a service that enhanced iMessage's security by making conversations between Apple and Android users as private as chats that were confined to Apple users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/07/blue-bubbles-for-all/#never-underestimate-the-determination-of-a-kid-who-is-time-rich-and-cash-poor

It's why Elon Musk periodically freaks out and suspends users who list their Mastodon userids in their Twitter bios:

https://techcrunch.com/2022/12/15/elon-musk-suspends-mastodon-twitter-account-over-elonjet-tracking/

And it's why Meta will suspend your account if you link to Pixelfed, a Fediverse-based alternative to Instagram:

https://www.404media.co/meta-is-blocking-links-to-decentralized-instagram-competitor-pixelfed/

Once upon a time, we had a solid way of overcoming the problem of lock-in. We'd reverse-engineer a proprietary system and make a free, open alternative. We've been hacking fire exits into walled gardens since the Usenet days, with the creation of the alt.* hierarchy:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/11/altinteroperabilityadversarial

When the corporate owners of Unix started getting all weird about source-code access and user-modifiability, we didn't insist that Unix users were bad people for sticking with a corporate OS. We reverse-engineered Unix and set all those users free:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/GNU_Project

The answer to Microsoft's proprietary SMB network protocol wasn't a campaign to shame people for having SMB running on their LANs. It was reverse-engineering SMB and making SAMBA, which is now in every single device in your home and office, and it's gloriously free as in speech and free as in beer:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/samba-versus-smb-adversarial-interoperability-judo-network-effects

In the years since, a thicket of laws we colloquially call "IP" has grown up around services and products, and people have literally forgotten that there is an alternative to wheedling people to endure the pain of leaving a proprietary system for a free one. IP has put the imaginations of people who dream of a free internet in chains.

We can do better than begging people to leave a party they're enjoying; we can install our own fucking fire exits. Sure, maybe that means that a lot of those users will stay on the proprietary platform, but at least we'll have given them a way to leave if things go horribly wrong.

After all, there's no virtue in software freedom. The only thing worth caring about is human freedom. The only reason to value software freedom is if it sets humans free.

If I had my way, all those people enjoying themselves on Bluesky would come and enjoy themselves in the Fediverse. But I'm not a purist. If there's a way to use Bluesky without locking myself to the platform, I will join the party there in a hot second. And if there's a way to join the Bluesky party from the Fediverse, then goddamn I will party my ass off.

Check out my Kickstarter to pre-order copies of my next novel, Picks and Shovels!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/14/contesting-popularity/#everybody-samba

[producedbysohyun]

Protective

Squid game x reader hcs

Summary: How the squid games characters would be protective over you

Includes: Thanos, In-ho, Gi-hun, Dae-ho, Myung-gi, Hyun-ju (squid game au)

Warnings: mentions of death, might be a little repetitive because I just feel like they would act similar.

Masterlist

a/n: Mb this is pretty short but I haven’t posted in awhile so I wanted to post something (I might add to this as time goes on) !! Please enjoy !!

Thanos:

Let’s just say that if anyone lays a finger on you, they are dead 🤗

You literally don’t have to worry about dying when you are with him

Always has his arm around your shoulder or waist so everyone knows to not try anything with you

During the night he holds onto you so tightly you feel like you could suffocate

He just really doesn’t want anything to happen to you 😔

If you really don’t want to play the games he will cave and vote X

You mean way more to him than money

No matter how bad his debt is

*cough* 1 billion *cough*

In-ho:

Idk how you would get in the game in the first place cause he definitely wouldn’t let you but

Ya you are not dying

Has full control of the game and will do everything he can to make sure you don’t die

Even if it means playing unfairly

Tells the guards to not kill you even if you didn’t pass the game

Definitely tells the guards to give you extra food so you have energy 😭

You’re basically just gonna be playing the games on easy mode

Gi-hun:

Bro has nothing to lose besides you so he’s gonna do everything he possible can to keep you alive

Doesn’t let you go anywhere alone

Beats himself up about not trying harder to end the games because if he did then neither of you would be in this situation right now

Never sleeps because he knows that fights happen at night and he wants to make sure you’re safe

Would immediately put himself in danger if it meant you would be ok

Makes sure you pass the games before even worrying about himself

Dae-ho:

Does not take his eyes or hands off of you

Is not afraid to defend you either verbally or physically

Even tho he is freaked out about the games as well he doesn’t let it get to him and tells himself he has to be brave for you

Always puts your safety above his

Ends up getting no sleep at night because he’s so scared something is gonna happen to you

Always insists on giving you his food even tho he is hungry

In his mind, you matter more.

Myung-gi:

Wanted to keep playing the games but when he figured out you were there he voted for X as he wanted anything but for you to be dead or hurt

Will literally kill anyone who bad mouths you (that one scene when he killed Thanos because he said something about Jun-hee 🤭 rip Thanos 😞)

Doesn’t let you leave his sight for a second

During the special game where the lights went out and everyone was killing each other he just kept you behind him the entire time

Boy was ready to risk his life for you 😭

If you get separated during a game he will probably scold you out of worry before realizing that he’s literally yelling at you for something you couldn’t control

You better believe he won’t let you get separated from him again

Hyun-ju:

Girl would do absolutely anything to keep you alive

Holds your hand 24/7

You guys are NOT getting separated

Doesn’t care about herself

As long as you’re alive she’s ok

Would absolutely crash out if anything happened to you

If you wanted to join the revolt with them she would tell you no instantly

Because if you ended up dying and it was her fault she would never forgive herself

Can’t sleep because she wants to watch over you pt.2 😢

a/n: I hope you guys liked this!! I know I say that requests are closed rn but I will take requests for hcs !! Not for a singular character but if it’s for multiple characters I will gladly write it !!

[hitlikehammers]

The One Where Wayne Munson KNOWS BETTER Than to Lend Air to IDLE GOSSIP

(and does it anyway on accident and ends up thinking his 💕boy's boy💕 might be ✖️stepping out) ——(1/3)

Wayne Munson’s lived his life mostly free from the hubbub of small town gossip. Some was unavoidable in his tiny holler as a boy; more was part and parcel to the service, and plain keeping half-sane in war—anything for a distraction. After all that though, Wayne’d had more’n his fill of even a teaspoon of hearsay, and compared to where he came from? Hawkins, Indiana was small potatoes for keepin’ his nose clear out of it.

Which is all to say he don’t mean to collect any of the latest scuttlebutt on his way just to town after he gets off his shift with the sun barely a glimmer, just past 5 for Leah’s to be open for a better cup-o-joe than the sludge he gets on the floor. All he wants is a hot nightcap because he knows damn well his boy didn’t pick up more grounds before Melvald’s closed last night, and Wayne doesn’t want to see his bed until he’s had a full mug of fair-to-middling coffee.

And honest: he don’t think that’s more than he’s earned to ask.

But it is more than he bargained for signing’ up to, when he sees the only other people in the diner at this hour on a Saturday.

Because the only other people are a girl he don’t know, though he can’t see her real well from the back, which only really means he sees her coffee date full-on and much too well in exchange because they’re leaned in and they’re being all touchy across the table, voices low but not too low—he don’t think they even noticed him come in, let alone come to wait close enough to hear ‘em while he insists on saving the lovely Leah herself the trip to a table when he can damn well carry his own drink, thanks kindly.

“You’re gonna have a coronary if you keep hiding this.”

The girl sounds…she sounds the way Wayne remembers his Mamaw sounding when she was about to hit his Grampy up the head over some harebrained such-and-such. Exasperated, but all from a deep well of unshakable loving.

Which is what perks up Wayne’s attention, and then churns his insides quick right-next, because—

Well. The boy this young lady’s being all over-fond at for his antics is Steve Harrington.

Who, for all that Wayne understands, is meant to be his boy’s boy.

“No, no,” Steve’s shaking his head, tone bowstring-taut; “I’m gonna tell him.” Kid sounds resolved for all of half-a-second before he’s groaning, running hands over his face: “Or, I mean—”

The thunk of the boy’s head to the tabletop clatters the cutlery, and if Wayne weren’t already clued into their conversation, he’d be wholly absolved for dropping eaves given how the noise echoes through the mostly-empty establishment bar-to-door.

“Dingus,” the girl says, and it drips with concern, with affection, with a deep choler that, again, sings loud of married-couple.

Which twists Wayne’s guts all the more to hear.

Because she’s talking to Wayne’s boy’s boy.

“I’m gonna, I promise,” Steve sounds not unlike a man on his way to the gallows, even more when he sighs deep as anything and traces out his lips with his fingers, hands shaky even out the corner of Wayne’s eye for a distance as he hisses low:

“Fuck.”

And Wayne, see, he don’t like borrowing trouble. He meant it about keeping his nose clean of the gossip and the hearsay. So he makes sure he reminds himself good in his own head that he don’t know the facts here, and jumpin’ to conclusions don’t do no favors to nobody.

It don’t do nothing for the way that what he does know, what he sees and hears with his own god-given senses in the now, don’t add up too kindly for the Harrington boy.

Not least because it seems to be adding up poor indeed for Wayne’s boy.

“Do you think he’ll—”

“Steve,” the girl’s voice goes softer, but also frantic almost, as Wayne sees her reach across the way and gather Steve’s hands with a familiarity to the motion that wouldn’t make sense unless…

Unless they’re something special to each other.

Wayne’s watched Eddie reach out for Steve that way. He’s watch Steve do the same. So it…it just don’t make sense—

“You’re shaking,” the girl says, all kinda pitiful, and Wayne’d seen it before, but now he chances a look again and: oh.

Boy’s a leaf in a cyclone.

“It’s a big deal,” Steve rasps out near under Wayne’s ability to hear it.

But he does hear it.

“You need to just lay it out,” the girl tells him, earnest now and more of that than any irritation, any frustration put-upon or otherwise; “be up front with him.”

And it ain’t fair, yet, even if all the signs are pointing that direction; but Wayne likes Steve. He doesn’t want to think the worst of him. And he doesn’t, really, in his heart, think Steve could do or be the worst, from all he’s learned and seen—Wayne’d had uncharitable thoughts about it he kid, before he knew better, based on hearsay which one more time, he don’t countenance as a rule, and he’d been taught better and quick from the second he saw Steve at his nephew’s bedside, and heard the only thing he’s proud and happy to have dropped in upon uninvited:

You nearly fucking died yourself dragging him out, Steve, what the hell—

That Henderson squirt, scolding Steve something fierce.

So Wayne reminds himself this boy loved his boy enough to risk himself to bring Eddie home. Before they were anything to one another. And Wayne knows damn well they’re both something to each other, now. It don’t make sense that Steve wants to…be up front about a notion with Eddie that could hurt.

But then: care can look a lot of different ways, and can change over time. Ain’t nobody to fault for that. And much as Wayne can’t quite believe the Steve he’s gotten to know these past many-months could swallow hurting his Eddie…

Wayne’s been proven incorrect about people more than enough in his life to know better than to think it’s impossible to be wrong about a man’s heart.

“Oh, I’m sure that’ll go over fucking fantastic,” Steve’s huffing, rolling his eyes—apparently he don’t want to be up front with the person they’re talking about. Wayne tries to remind himself that they’ve not flat out said it’s Eddie yet. Wayne shouldn’t go making assumptions.

“Why not?” the girl’s pressing him. “Be honest, with him,” then her tone does go a little judgemental; “you can’t honestly think he doesn’t suspect—”

“I really don’t think he does,” and it’s a strange thing, because no matter the words themselves, it don’t sound like Steve’s meaning to be deceitful about a thing. Kinda sounds a little like he’s mourning, like he’s just in a kind of pain. “If he did, then at least maybe I’d have some kind of,” he waves his hand in the air, looks frantic, at loose ends all around; “heads-up for where his head’s at.”

And they’re both quiet for a spell, and Wayne looks for Leah in the back, knew she was getting food ready and was happy to wait—for better or worse with the conversation he’s been privy to without permission unspooling at his side—but he’s starting to feel antsy for all that he’s hearing, and the way he can’t quite tamp down associating it all with Eddie, with touchy things Steve might have to tell Eddie—

“Tell him by the end of the weekend.”

And now: think he might have to tell, encouraged so damn strong and single-minded by his lady friend with her hand on his arm.

“That’s fucking tomorrow!”

“End,” she’s narrowing her eyes sharp enough Wayne notices more in the shift of the room than to see it head-on; “of,” and then she’s smacking Steve’s arm to emphasize hard enough it rings out; “the weekend.”

Then Wayne notices how her posture shifts, and she leans closer again, so much affection, and easy with it, and welcome for it, no doubt about it:

“I don’t like seeing you like this,” she says low and earnest; “especially not when the thing you’re like this about is,” and then her tone shifts to something bright, near-on hopeful, even:

“It’s such a good thing, Steve.”

“I mean,” Steve mumbles, kind of miserable really; “of course you think so.”

And Wayne don’t like where his head goes for things the girl who’s watching Steve with such soft eyes might think to be good, might think while she’s touching him so close and —

“He’ll,” and she huffs a touch before going all heartfelt again: “Eddie is going to—”

And the moment his plausible deniability about the subject of the discussion is gone, Wayne gives up waiting for his coffee at the counter and…retreats to the corner by the door, far as he can get from whatever’s said next. He’d leave, honest, but the truth of the matter’s this:

He can’t be expected in good faith to figure out how to bring any of this up with Ed if he don’t have no caffeine in him.

☕ 👀 ☕

✨ part ii >>>

For @thefreakandthehair, who requested 'Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.' at my HOBBIT-STYLE BIRTHDAY MONTH PROMPT FEST—and since this is almost a YEAR LATE, could I possibly offer it as a normal-amounts-of-late birthday gift, more than as an egregiously-and-unforgivably-late prompt fill for you?

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @estrellami-1 @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here @pukner @ravenfrog @sadisticaltarts @samsoble @sanctumdemunson @shrimply-a-menace @slashify @stealthysteveharrington @swimmingbirdrunningrock @theheadlessphilosopher @theintrovertedintrovert @themoonagainstmers @theohohmoment @tillystealeaves @tinyloonyteacups @tinyplanet95 @warlordess @wheneverfeasible @wordynerdygurl @wxrmland @yourmom-isgay @1-tehe-1

NOTE: it's important to me that you know that Wayne's accept belongs to nowhere, and is just the voice of someone I knew as a kid, who also sounded like a little of everywhere and then again nowhere. so if you think some turn of phrase doesn't fit what you think you're reading in terms of dialect? it's just that this way of stringing words together is—with intention—its own amalgam of places and times

divider credit here and here

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part IV

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy".

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons.

genre: social media au, angst, exes to lovers, happy ending

[A/N: woops, turns out that it works better to split the final bit of the story over two parts, so this means you've still got one part coming after this one! Also, please note that we spend some time in Las Vegas in this part, so there's vague mention of alcohol and drunk shenanigans]

part i part ii part iii

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

November 15th, 2026

November 17th, 2026

November 18th, 2026

[Daily Mail excerpt]

Y/N L/N, Louis Tomlinson and more arrive for Las Vegas GP Opening Ceremony

Alle eyes are on Las Vegas this week, as the city plays host to one of the most exciting Grand Prix circuits this year. Vegas never fails to deliver an adrenalin rush, and this race promises to be one for the history books. Not just for what happens on track, but also outside of it. Tonight, many F1 fans and other entertainment lovers will head to the iconic the Sphere for the Opening Ceremony concert. With names like Kygo, Chappell Roan, and Y/N L/N headlining, it’ll surely be a treat.

Of course, many will be paying particular attention to Y/N L/N, who arrived this morning with fellow singer Louis Tomlinson in tow at the stadium. The two have been friends for a long time, and are frequently seen spending time together. However, L/N’s breakup with F1 driver Lando Norris has caused some fans to wonder if there’s perhaps more than meets the eye between the two. The rumours have only been fuelled by reports of the two leaving parties together earlier this month, as they were both said to have attended Travis Kelce’s birthday in October. Representatives for L/N refused to comment.

Her latest album The Prophecy is said to have been inspired largely by the downfall of her relationship with Norris – who has steered clear of commenting so far. Critics have described the decision to have L/N perform at a GP as “aggressive”, and “potentially damaging” for the sport’s credibility. “It casts a huge shadow over what could be a decisive race for points in both the Driver’s and Constructor’s championship,” one F1 fan remarked online. Another refuted such claims, stating that it’s “F1 who invited her there in the first place, and it’s literally just a concert before the actual racing begins – calm down”.

Whether or not the singers are expected to make an appearance in any of the paddocks later this week remains to be seen.

November 19th, 2026

November 20th, 2026

[Excerpt of Y/N's interview on Jimmy Kimmel Live!]

“So your new album has been out for about a week now, and it’s projected to be at #1 – there’s a bunch of people in the audience who have literally been about here for days, trying to get tickets to this taping," Jimmy motions to a couple of fans who immediately stand up and wave at Y/N. She gasps and blows a kiss to them, “days?! Oh my gosh, thank you!" Y/N turns to Jimmy, "is it okay if I ..." she trails off before just jumping out of her seat to hug the two fans.

When she returns, Jimmy motions for her to continue speaking. "I mean it’s absolutely amazing, especially knowing that it was such a personal project and to see that reach so many people is mindblowing. I wish I could spend more time with everyone, but it’s been super hectic as well, promoting this record.”

“How is that for your family – how are they handling all the fame and attention? They must not see you very much,” he asks.

“It can be difficult for sure. They’ve always been really supportive of me chasing my dreams, and whenever it’s possible I try to fly them out or go see them. But yeah, sometimes that’s just not an option, or I’m honestly too tired to be social. I was in the UK last week, flew in to LA yesterday evening from Vegas, New York before that, and then I’m on a red-eye tonight again out of here as well. I think now that I’ve been doing this for so long, I’ve realised that sometimes you just need to let life in and hit pause. You can’t just give and give and give to everything, all at once.”

Jimmy nods emphatically. “That’s very well said – I have a really hard time picturing you not working, to be honest. What does that even look like?”

“Ha, I really love to read. I usually am carrying at least two or three books with me, and then I’ll leave them behind somewhere in a second hand shop, or those little book nooks?”

“So someone somewhere could be holding a book that you’ve read in their hands, and they wouldn’t even know it?”

“Oh 100% that’s the case.”

“If you'd only doodled in them, they'd be worth thousands of dollars, probably." He turns back to the people in the crowd. "Would you buy a book that's been read by Y/N?" They nod, and he grins. "See?"

"Now do you also use those books for inspiration when you write, or is it all just your own experiences?”

“Yeah I’ve surely gotten inspired by other artforms in the past – I think probably subconsciously even for this record. That’s where the idea of a song around a prophecy came from, fantasy novels.”

He feigns contemplation, regarding Y/N carefully. “Have you been able to change it, that prophecy? I just want you to be happy, and you didn’t seem that happy on this record.”

Y/N lets out an awkward smile and shuffles in her seat. “I think that I’ll always have difficulty letting go of this need for control, but I’d say I’m definitely in a much better place than when I wrote it. I’m happy, I’ve got great people around me who love me, so can’t complain.”

November 21st, 2026

[The Independent excerpt]

BREAKING: LANDO NORRIS WINS LAS VEGAS GRAND PRIX!

The British driver was pictured celebrating with the McLaren team immediately after the race. Fellow papaya teammate Oscar Piastri had a disastrous start to the race, but managed phenomenal overtakes that eventually handed him P3. The double McLaren podium was completed by Lewis Hamilton, who edged out Max Verstappen with a crucial undercut earlier on in the race.

Speaking on the race, Norris said that he tried to treat it as any other and not think too much about defending his lead. “I’ve got my routines, that I’m trying to stick to as much as possible. Of course there’s some extra pressure, but we’ve got a strong car and I was feeling good about our lap times all week,” he shrugs. “Las Vegas is a great, but challenging track. I’m really pleased that we got the performance up enough to cash in on the pole position this time.”

Norris has now increased his lead in the WDC, which gives him a comfortable position moving into the final races of the season.

Many celebrities were stateside to attend the Grand Prix, but perhaps most contentious was the appearance of Y/N L/N, Norris’ ex-girlfriend. After opening the GP earlier this week on Wednesday, she had seemingly left Las Vegas to promote her album across the world. However, it seems watching her ex take the win was high enough a priority to fly straight back to Vegas on Saturday. The high profile singer used to be a frequent presence in F1, but stopped attending races as their relationship deteriorated.

Norris has been dodging questions about L/N all month, as her latest album is rumoured to have been inspired by their relationship. When asked whether or not it had affected his focus on the race after qualifying, Norris was quick to shut the reporter down. “It’s completely irrelevant to talk about that when I’m sitting in pole. If I decide to meet up with an old friend that happens to be in town, then that’s what I’ll do. Might even turn out to be a good luck charm, if anything.”

It seems to indicate the two have since reconciled, as they were spotted celebrating Norris’ win together with friends.

November 23, 2026

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

You can read the previous parts by going here, part V will be out sometime next week (depends on work!)

♥ likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated ♥

taglist (open) : @charlesgirl16, @linnygirl09, @hoeforsirius, @motorsportloverf1, @sarx164, @idkimbadwithusernamesandstuff, @formulaal, @tvdtw4ever @sadiemack9 @seonghwaexile

[pickledkiwiberry]

Okay there's a few bits I want to reply:

My background

I am a programmer ("Software Engineer" for the industry parlance, despite how totally unregulated my profession is by either the public or private sector). I've worked full time in startup technology for the better part of a decade and prior to that I spent over a decade in non-professional programming communities.

Risk and limitations

I have to talk pretty abstractly about this stuff because like, well...

"...ensure order remains in a manner nearly identical to the way a religious order maintains its vertical power structure..." - osaka

A weird thing happens as you move up the (sub)classes in the United States where as you make more money, you're pressured to take on more expenses by your workplace peers where now you have a mortgage and an auto loan and property taxes and you're supporting your family to the point they depend on you and you get pets and start planning out children and--

Basically there was a point in my life where I thought making money would mean I'd be free, and I was wrong. I have so many things I have to worry about now that if I got kicked out of my industry I have a LOT to lose, because I wouldn't be able to survive on lower wages anymore. And because I have people I care about how depend on me, I'd be hurting other people, not just myself.

And despite how massive the tech industry is, it's also based hugely on networking. The best way to get a job is to know somebody who has a job. If your network breaks down, it becomes exponentially harder to get a job.

I have to maintain my reputation to the extent that I have to be non-specific and not talk about any particular company and make sure my bridges remain unburned.

At the same time, I can still get away with talking in the abstract because it's okay to complain about the industry as long as you give your part of the industry plausible deniability. "Yeah, this industry sucks. And we're the exception!" Whether or not it's true.

So about worksonas

You get to your corporate job. You're excited: You got a good offer, and you're finally going to be able to get off your feet.

You meet your new coworkers. You are shy at first, but as you start opening up you start to show your genuine personality.

You immediately face consequences.

No matter how many times Human Resources (or its modern incarnation: People & Culture) or the Executives tell you that they want you to bring your genuine self to work, it's a lie. The social norms of the office are nothing like they are in the outside world. Your genuine personality will bring you threatening conversations with your managers, exclusion from decision making processes, and downward momentum.

So you make a mask. It hides parts of you and shows things that aren't there. At first it's little things: You're less dramatic in your speech. You start using more corporate lingo. You try not to rock the boat, but you try to make yourself heard... just enough to keep you on the promotion ladder.

The mask gets thicker. Meetings aren't a waste of your time, they bring value you to and your coworkers. You trust in the Executives decision-making. You aren't just here for the paycheck: You believe in what we're doing. You're part of the team.

That mask is heavy. And soon, you're faced with a fork in the road.

Some people split their personality. That's my camp. It's like ripping your brain in half: There's the you at work, and there's the real you. The way I talk when I'm around suits: It's unfamiliar. Alien. It feels like I'm watching somebody else talk. It'd be disconcerting if I weren't so used to it.

Others, they change themselves. Their worksona becomes their real personality. They become LinkedIn influencers.

Being honest with your coworkers

I find myself in one-on-ones. Meetings where it's just me and another person. They aren't recorded. We aren't being watched. But we're watching each other.

We know each others worksonas but we don't know our genuine selves. We have to speak in code, creating openings in our speech for the other to inch a little closer to how we really feel.

The longer we get to know each other, but more our code changes to communicate real feelings.

You and I both think most of our meetings are a waste of our time. But we can't say that. We both know that we both feel this way, but we still need plausible deniability. They're just difficult to focus on, and we need to work harder on being attentive. We discuss strategies.

You can't truly know which road your coworker took. If their worksona is their persona, or if they're faking, too. And if they're faking... you still can't show too much vulnerability. There's too much incentive to bury each other, and use the mound of dirt to climb a bit higher.

On the subject of stress

I'm writing this post with a smile on my face even though nobody's watching.

What happens off the books?

"I am utterly fascinated. Where can I find out more about this stuff that does not appear in documents?" - osaka

I'm not sure. What I can say is that a lot of the corporate world is about unwritten agreements. I've seen interactions where you have multiple companies who are technically violating each other's agreements, but in ways they off the record are okay with.

Why would you have an agreement if you're both okay violating it?

Plausible deniability

To anyone who's worked with me or works with me: Know that I'm talking about a different company than the one we worked at or work at together. This isn't a record. Things may be dramatized. Things may be made up. I'm not talking about you.

The most important reason to keep things off the record is to maintain plausible deniability.

Alpha Corp has their terms of service. Their clients are constantly ignoring this, and off the record Alpha Corp is okay with it. The point of the terms isn't to stop Beta Corp and Gamma Corp from violating it, it's so that when shit hits the fan and there's a public outcry, or a lawsuit, or what have you, Alpha Corp can point to what's on the record and say: "We had no idea this was happening. It shouldn't have happened. Beta Corp and Gamma Corp are to blame."

You go to Beta Corp and Gamma Corp. They tell you they didn't realize it was a violation, that they're sorry, and they're making organizational changes to prevent this from happening in the future. There's no record saying that what they said was wrong.

But off the record: Beta was in a meeting with their account execs over at Alpha and they asked how serious they were about those terms. The meeting wasn't recorded, and Alpha said "I mean, you shouldn't do it, but we don't keep track of it." There's a tone to those words. We don't keep track of it. Emphasis. It's a quiet go-ahead.

Gamma sees that Beta is doing this. They know they've been doing it for a while. They see the signal: Alpha doesn't care, so we can do it, too. They don't record that decision. As for as the records state, just like Beta, just like Alpha, they weren't aware.

Someone at an old job asked why I wanted to write up the meeting minutes for our team and I said 'i wanna control the narrative' and they were like 'what' and I pointed out that no one was gonna remember what we said in six months and so my interpretation of the meeting would dictate the assumed reality of what happened

"none of you ever send corrections when I offer the draft so y'all have consented to my version"

"we don't read that shit"

"you must trust me implicitly to create our shared reality that's so sweet"

That's how several coworkers decided I was a supervillain and how I learned several coworkers didn't understand record keeping as like a CONCEPT

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you know who Yuu is canonically close to? Like who actually considers themselves to be friends or at least close with Yuu and willingly interacts with them. I'm sorry if this sounds rude because I know people have their own yuusonas and headcannons but I'm just curious.

In order to respond to this question, I will primarily be referring to the main story. Voice lines are not going to be considered because a lot of them are primarily aimed at the player and serve as fanservice, which does not accurately reflect the character's relationship with them in the main story canon. Events and vignettes do indicate character relationships, but are not technically "canon" to the main story. However, I will bring up examples from these, as while these may not fit in a coherent main story timeline, the lore presented in them is still very sound. Yuu appears to be canonically close with the first years, although their closest allies among this group are Ace, Deuce, and Grim. The first years are seen partying at the end of Terror is Trending as a group, stake out Mickey Mouse + hang out at Lilia's farewell party in book 7 together, band together to help Ortho determine a club to join in his College Gear vignette, and help Ortho research the concept of "evolution" for Fairy Gala: What If. Yuu is obviously very close with Ace and Deuce, seeing as they share the same homeroom, eat lunch together, and have gone through many dangerous situations with one another (several OB battles being the main one). They think of each other when one of them isn't included, either! For example, in White Rabbit Fest, Deuce invited Ace to join them (but Ace couldn't due to basketball practice). So Deuce decides to buy him a souvenir instead! Ace extends an invitation to Deuce to join him for Playful Land. And do I even need to bring up the end of book 4 where those two bozos take a long and convoluted trip from the Queendom of Roses to Sage's Island DURING WINTER BREAK to check up on Yuu after receiving a SOS text from them??? Or their tearful reunion at the end of book 6??

Grim is also a very important friendship for Yuu. They are, of course, the first person Yuu meets upon their arrival in Twisted Wonderland, as well as one of their roommates. He's almost always with them, for better or for worse. Yuu is shown to be hurt when Grim attacks them at the end of book 5 and worries for his wellbeing. In fact, the very first time Yuu blatantly acts against Crowley's orders (to stay put) is to rescue Grim in book 6 after he was captured by Ferrymen.

Some honorable/"up for debate" mentions go out to:

"The nice guys" (Rook, Kalim, Silver, etc.) - They're nice to everyone, but not particularly close with Yuu specifically; it should be noted that Kalim, Lilia, and Silver all have called Yuu their "friend" in dialogue. Trey and Riddle - I think it could be said that Yuu is closer to Heartslabyul than the other dorms (partly because two of their closest friends are from this dorm), but I don't know if they're actually "friends"? Yes, Yuu does walk around with Riddle and Trey in book 5 to check out the culture fair. Yes, Trey did send sweets over with Adeuce at the start of their training camp. But I never actually see Riddle and Trey going out of their way to casually hang out with Yuu or anything like that. They seem very... "business professional" with Yuu to me. Malleus - I might catch some heat for saying this, but I don't believe Malleus and Yuu are as close as people think they are or want them to be. Do they talk consistently throughout the main story? Sure, but the exchanges are kind of short and usually don't amount to them sharing a lot. Does Malleus help Yuu out? Absolutely, especially in books 3 and 5. It doesn't mean they're necessarily close; every character gets moments where they pitch in. The nickname thing serves as a necessary filler because Malleus refuses to give his real name; it arguably is not a sign of intimacy (especially given that Grim came up with the name, not Yuu). I can see a point being made in Malleus sending a holiday card for Yuu in book 4 and Yuu returning the gesture with a VDC/SDC pass in book 5 (though this could also be viewed as transactional or tit for tat). Think about the main story timeline to put this all into perspective. It's been roughly 6 months since the start of the school year and Malleus and Yuu have only really had brief direct interactions like MAYBE 4 or 5 times total. Yuu doesn’t go over to speak with Malleus upon their return from S.T.Y.X. HQ in book 6; they’re focused solely on their reunion with Adeuce and Grim. They don't have other means of communication (like each others' phone numbers, which Adeuce do have, as seen in book 4) and they don't ever hang out outside of these mandated interactions. Yuu doesn't even learn their name properly until book 5, which is in FEBRUARY. And, unlike Yuu's friendships with Adeuce and Grim, Malleus's friendship relies a lot on self-projection. Whereas it's clear that the friendship between Yuu and the idiot trio is mutual, it feels very one-sided with Malleus. Like, Malleus seems more invested in it than Yuu is. He's the one thinking of them on holiday break; Yuu doesn’t think of him on holiday break. They think of Malleus only in like early book 7 when Ortho asks if they know any fae, and it’s for a personal reason too (helping them find a way home).

Yuu's closeness with Malleus is left vaguely defined so the player can insert whatever their own feelings about him are into the scenario. They speak with him in a casual tone, yet they never go out of their way to actually invite him to functions or ask questions to learn more about him. Yuu doesn’f even seem to be that torn up about going back home and never seeing Malleus again. This is not the case with Adeuce and Grim; Yuu has dialogue options which imply they would miss their company. Yuu feels so… detached from Malleus; he at best feels like an amicable (?) acquaintance, but not a friend.

[red-phantom-0]

Yandere Platonic Batfam x Neglected Reader pt. 3

-> continuation of these aus 🍁 , 🍁🍁

- fast forward and 3 weeks have passed, and readers blissfully living out their best life.

- currently they're chilling out in their hot tub , sipping on an oreo milkshake on a casual Tuesday . They're enjoying life when they can hear some very familiar voices comming from inside their penthouse.

- cue their so called adopted siblings walking out into their patio . " Holy fuck guys they got a whole back yard out here " exclaimed Duke as he looked around eye wide .

- " they're giving Bruce some competition " Jason mumbled as he opened up reader's outdoor fridge and took a swig of their orange juice .

- reader just looks at them with a ' are you serious ' expression because like why are these people in their house ????.

- " I've seen better " complained Damian as he made himself home on one of reader's expensive plush chairs in the patio. Reader let out an offended scoff. " first off you idiots break in my house and y'all are complaining ?"

- everyone stills in their movement - they hadn't seen reader in their hot tub and was fully expected them to be at work . Reader takes a dramatic sip out of their milkshake and gives them all a death glare .

- " Get out before I tell your grandpa " reader threatens . The bat siblings look at each other confusingly . " Wait grandpa ? Do You mean Bruce?" Dick questions and reader just nods .

- " Bro Bruce is our adopted dad and yours too-" Tim says with a horrified look . Reader's eyes bulge open in disbelief . " Tch he ain't my dad because he looks like he's old and can't pull any " reader says confidently.

- bat siblings all let out a shocked gasp . " Dude Bruce literally pulls " Dick says defensively. " Yeah my father has immaculate , amazing , perfect taste in women an example would be my mother " Damian says as he propped up his feet with a confident smirk. Everyone just stares at him.

- " WHAT ?!" He exclaims defensively . " Bro your mom is like - probably one of his worst relationships " Jason says matter of factly. Damian scowls , " y'all just jealous that as the blood son I was the product of one of his best decisions "

- bat siblings all scoff and started arguing and readers just there like 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ because they're just tryna have a good night and these idiots are ruining it .

- bored out of their mind reader slips away to put on decent clothes and goes to their kitchen to get a glass of much needed wine only to find the man of the hour sitting on one of their kitchen stools drinking their wine.

- reader has to hold themselves back from throwing him out their penthouse . " Monseiur Bruce " reader hums out as they opened their fridge .

- Bruce smiles at them " good evening my beloved daughter /son what a lovely family dinner we are having " he says with a smile . Reader shoots him a glare as they pop a cherry in their mouth . " I didn't know breaking and entering a stranger's house is considered a family dinner- well that's another charge to go along with your tax evasion " reader says nonchantly.

- Bruce's eye twitches because what do you mean reader thinks they're strangers - yeah maybe they haven't acted like family to you but that doesn't mean they couldn't start now -

- in walks in bat siblings - still debating and arguing over readers statement . Bruce raised his eyebrow at the sight , " what are you guys arguing about ?" . " Reader thought you were our grandpa and says you can't pull " tim says exhausted.

- Bruce froze - his son/daughter thought he was a grandpa - he's not - he's not that old right ?? He immediately whips over to reader . "You think I'm old ???" He asks them seriously.

- reader looks at him with a poker face , " Yeah bro, you look 67 " . Bruce then literally crumbles in his seat like a child . " Bro I think we broke him - " dick says with concern while Jason laughs hysterically. " Father why does it matter what age reader thinks you are " Damian says confused.

- Bruce just looks at them and then back at reader , " because I always thought everyone considered me fairly young " . Reader just shrugs. " You might think you're young but I'm sure your back pain screams otherwise " .

- Bat siblings just ' ooooo ' at Bruce . " They got a point Bruce " Jason pointed out, and Bruce sent him a glare . " Listen guys we came to get to know our amazing sister/brother not argue " Duke says .

- reader let out a sarcatic cough and is fustrated with everyone's bullshit . " first off like hell i wanna know you and secondly get out of my house before I throw yall out " reader threatens , throughly done because their night was ruined by some delusional family.

- everyone began arguing and begging to stay but reader threw a butter knife at dick which made the boy fall to the floor and scream . " OKAY WE WILL LEAVE " exclaimed Tim and he grabbed Dick once again and hauled everyone outside .

- reader follows them out their front door and watches them all haul into their limbo not before screaming , " AND STAY THE FUCK OUT " and slamming the door shut .

- reader leans against the door , relief washes over them and they return to the comfort of their bed and began to get ready to sleep . Reader scrolls through their socials for a while until they stumble upon a post by Bruce Wayne himself.

- ' spending quality time with the ones that matters ' and it's a post with the boys and him in their house with a picture of them scowling in the background . Reader can feel their jaw clenching in rage . The post had already one million likes in the span of only thirty minutes .

- reader then gets several notifications- it was the batfam following them on their official social accounts . Reader scowls as their inbox is practically filled with persons commenting about them and questioning them.

- reader just turns off their phone and goes to bed because that's a future them problem .

[woso-dreamzzz]

Copy III

Alessia Russo x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your first England match

"A long ball up the pitch by Williamson...And...Struck by...Russo!"

Alessia freezes.

"Oh, an England debut to remember for number twenty-three y/n Russo!"

Your sister watches as you go sprinting towards your best friend on the pitch, crashing together as the rest of the team hurry to catch up.

Your arms are spread out like an airplane as you finally get to Bean, holding her and, most likely, thanking her for that wonderful assist.

It's Bean's first England match too and a few rows down in the box, the Williamson family celebrate her assist too.

But all Alessia can focus on is you.

Your face is grinning on the big screen and, at only sixteen years old, this season has been a busy one for you.

You'd secured a place in Arsenal's senior team (along with Bean of course) and been called up for England's senior team a few times as well.

But this is your first game and that's special.

Made even more special by the fact that you've scored on debut.

You're red and sweaty when the match is over and Alessia can finally see you close up again.

You're smiling.

Beaming is probably the better word for it.

Your face is split open in a smile as you and Bean stand next to each other talking to the media rep.

"They work good together," Leah says, standing next to her old teammate as they both wait for you to be done.

"We know that. At Arsenal-"

"We both know it's different with the Lionesses," Leah interrupts gently, watching as you and your sister tease each other," The pressure...everything, it's different."

"But they've certainly risen to it."

Leah laughs. "Yeah, they did. God, Bean's going to be insufferable tonight."

Alessia laughs too. "I think today you'll have to let her. She's earnt it."

"But still," Leah grouses good naturedly," She's going to get a big head."

"Who is?"

"You!" Leah grabs her sister into a headlock, rubbing her knuckles against Bean's head and dragging her away.

You stand in front of your sister, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet for a moment.

"Hey," You say, uncharacteristically nervous all of a sudden.

"Hey, yourself," Alessia laughs," That was a good goal."

You brighten up at the praise. "Yeah? You think so. I wasn't really thinking. It could have gone anywhere. I mean-"

Alessia's hands rest on your arms, effectively silencing you.

"It was a very good goal. It went in. That's all that matters really."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Alessia laughs, pulling you closer.

You shot up when you hit puberty, nothing like the little kid you once were. You shot up and kept growing. You're probably still growing because you haven't quite reached Alessia's height yet but she knows from her parents that you're still outgrowing all of your clothes.

But you're not quite as tall as Alessia so she's can still comfortably kiss you on the forehead and tuck you under her chin, just about.

"You did so good. Very impressive. England's future."

You rest your head on Alessia's shoulder. "I did your goal celebration too."

"What celebration? I don't have a celebration."

It's your turn to laugh now, shaking your head fondly at your sister.

"The airplane arms? You used to do them a lot."

"No I didn't!"

You grin. "Yeah you did. All the time. I can't believe you never realised you were doing it."

"Because I didn't!"

She's not that much taller than you. Nothing that you won't catch up to in a year or so but you kind of like how you are now. It just reminds you of her when you were younger and much smaller, looking up at your big sister after matches where she's scored so many goals.

But now you're the one in her shirt and you're the one with the ball at your feet.

You're the one doing airplane arms when the ball slams into the net.

[wosoloml]

From Rivalry to becoming Family || Alessia Russo x German!reader (Frankfurt!Reader)

Summary: When you and Alessia get engaged, you decide to celebrate this milestone with both of your national teams. What starts as a union between two people becomes a beautiful transformation from the rivalry of the Euros 2022 into a bond that feels like family.

a/n: throwback to the most painful day ever as a german. ich hoffe ich habe deine request gut umgesetzt <3 danke für deine worte!! i hope its okay i wrote also about how they got together.

wc: 1,4k | from this request

warnings : nothing just fluff except for mentioning the euros final

"Y/N! Are you finally done?" Alessia shouts through the house for the third time, trying her best to stay patient while waiting downstairs for her fiancée.

"Babe, relax. We won’t be late; everything’s going to work out," I reassure her, descending the stairs to join her.

Four days ago marked one of the best days of our lives.

After two and a half years of dating, Alessia finally asked me to be her wife. And, of course, I said yes.

It all began during the Euros in 2022. Alessia and I couldn’t be more different when it comes to our nationalities. Keeping our relationship private was tough, especially when we faced each other in the final. But at least we knew one of us would be celebrating that night.

The day after the final was when we finally told our teammates about our relationship. Since that day, the rivalry between England and Germany hasn’t felt quite as intense (even though we all know Germany is the better team).

"We’re going to be late if you spend another hour deciding which shoes match your dress," Alessia says, her impatience bubbling over as she watches me.

"I'm done! What do you think of my outfit?" I ask, turning to face her. Alessia’s eyes widen as she takes in the sight of me.

"Wow," she breathes, her expression full of admiration.

I feel my cheeks warm at her reaction. Even after two and a half years of being showered with her compliments, I still haven’t learned how to process them without blushing.

---------

When we arrive at the little beach house, everything is perfectly decorated, but no one is waiting for us. It’s a stark contrast to Alessia’s prediction that we’d be late because I took “so long.”

I can’t help but feel grateful that we managed to arrange this small party to celebrate such a special milestone in our relationship. Playing in different countries makes it difficult to maintain anything resembling a normal relationship, so it means the world that we were able to bring both of us—and all our national teammates—together for this one celebration.

----

The clock struck exactly 3:00 PM when the first guests arrived. Unsurprisingly, it was Alessia’s best friends, Lotte and Ella. My heart swelled with love as I saw how many people cared about Alessia enough to travel all the way to Denmark to celebrate with us.

"Ella! Lotte! I’m so glad you’re here," I exclaimed, pulling them into a tight hug. In the beginning of our relationship, spending time with Alessia’s friends felt a bit awkward—especially since they played for England. But they turned out to be the sweetest people, and I’d never felt more welcomed.

"I can’t believe she finally asked you," Lotte teased, rolling her eyes. "She must have called me a thousand times, asking if it was too early, too late, or what your answer might be. Honestly, thank you for saying yes!"

I couldn’t help but laugh as Alessia came over, resting her hand gently on my back and joining in to greet her friends. Moments like this reminded me just how lucky I was to be surrounded by so much love.

Here’s a polished and restructured version of your text:

I could hear two loud voices singing and laughing with Alessia, and I immediately knew who had just arrived.

"Y/N, go get your girls before Laura starts drinking all the champagne before nightfall," Alessia teased, flashing me a grin.

"My girls! There you are!" I exclaimed as I rushed over to greet them. "I’m so happy you both are here."

We were used to speaking English with each other, but it still felt amusing, given our shared history.

"I can’t believe my little girl is getting married to the blonde English striker," Sara said, her voice full of mock disbelief. "It’s still unbelievable how you kept it a secret. We all knew you had a crush on her—like, who didn’t? And then secretly meeting her after games... and now here we are. My lovebirds!"

Sara couldn’t stop smiling as she looked at Alessia, her words filled with warmth.

"Okay, Sara, enough is enough!" I interrupted, my cheeks turning crimson.

Alessia caught Sara’s eye and gave me a playful wink, which only made me blush harder.

-----

As time passed, more and more guests arrived, until all of our national teammates were finally here. My heart swelled with love as I watched Leah chatting animatedly with Lena and Mary exchanging tactics with Merle. After years of playing against each other, it felt surreal to see everyone coming together like one big family.

I wrapped my arm around Alessia, unable to stop myself from smiling. It was hard to believe how perfect my life felt in that moment. I was the luckiest woman alive, with the best fiancée by my side. (And let’s not forget—she won Arsenal's Goal and Player of the Month! How could I not feel proud?)

----

My eyes caught Ella as she stood up and cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

"When Alessia first told me she had a crush on Y/N, I already knew," she began with a soft smile. "Her eyes never lied when she looked at her. It didn’t matter if it was during tactical meetings while we analyzed other teams or when Y/N crossed our path on the way to different games. That same look was always there—an expression full of admiration."

Ella paused for a moment, her gaze shifting warmly between us. "I’ll save the big words for their wedding speech, but what I can already say is this: no one has ever made Alessia’s eyes sparkle the way you do. Thank you, Y/N, for making our Lessi the happiest girl on earth."

Ella fought back her tears, just like the rest of us. I smiled warmly at her, holding Alessia’s hand tightly in mine.

"She’s not the only one determined to make us all cry tonight," I said, glancing over at Laura. My heart immediately swelled with emotion. Laura wasn’t typically one for big words or grand displays of sentiment, so her standing up to speak meant the world to me.

"We didn’t win the Euros," Laura began, her voice steady yet filled with emotion, "but we won something even more special—new friendships. And most importantly, my best friend found the love of her life."

She paused, her gaze flicking between Alessia and me, a gentle smile gracing her face. "Whether it’s singing ‘Sweet Caroline’ in a karaoke bar or cheering for you at the Emirates, know that it’s always from the bottom of our hearts. Alessia, you are the first person I trust completely with Y/N’s heart, and I know it’s safe with you. Here’s to many more memories together. Cheers!"

Her words left the room in a silence filled with love and admiration before glasses clinked together in celebration. I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up as I squeezed Alessia’s hand, grateful beyond words for this moment.

I stood up, taking a moment to gather my thoughts before speaking on behalf of both of us.

"First of all, I need to thank our best friends for making us all cry and for finding the perfect words. You truly know how to touch our hearts. Thank you." I paused, looking around the room, feeling an overwhelming sense of gratitude.

"And we also want to thank all of you for being here today. We know it’s no small feat to find a free spot in our busy schedules, so we really appreciate you making the effort."

I smiled and raised my glass. "Please, enjoy the day, and let’s not drink too much!"

The laughter that followed helped ease the nerves in my chest, and I couldn’t help but feel thankful for everyone here, sharing in this special moment with us.

----

Alessia had her arms wrapped tightly around my waist as we swayed slowly to one of our favorite songs. Despite Leah’s role in music, today’s playlist wasn’t half bad.

"Thank you for spending the rest of my life with me," Alessia whispered softly in my ear, her words sending a warmth feeling through me.

"It’s a pleasure to spend it with you," I replied, my voice shy as I glanced at her. "I hope you liked today."

She smiled at me, her expression full of comfort. "I loved it today."

I leaned in closer "I love you."

May our story continue, forever.

[kisakunt]

U UP? - SATORU GOJO

you’ve got a big problem. and that problem has the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen.

wc: 1.2k

satoru (derogatory): hey :p

you’re bored, truthfully. it’s a bad saturday night— all of your friends drowning with work, or babies, or friends who don’t like you, or anything you could imagine. that’s the only reason you respond, you tell yourself, but deep down you know you would’ve even if you were at the bar.

grown ass man btw

satoru (derogatory): well that’s just not nice at all now is it

it’s not an easy feat to know gojo. your relationship is, for lack of better word, complicated. he texts you after dates to tell you how miserable (or amazing) it was, you fall asleep in his bed with his hand tracing stars into your arm, he plays the ‘have you met ted?’ game with you whenever he sees a man who might tickle your fancy in public, you pick him up his favorite snacks days before you’re assured you’re going to see him, he writes notes and leaves them tucked into your purse every time you hang out.

he’s an enigma, you think. and a damn bastard too— especially every time you’re alone in the confines of his room and he shows you those big, bright, deadly eyes.

what do you want .

your fingers tap over the volume button on your phone, lip tugged between your teeth as you wait in the index of your messages, staring at his typing bubble from outside the chat.

satoru (derogatory): movie night? game night? yap night? come over we miss each other >:)

you should maybe just kill yourself at this point. yeah, you’re fucked. absolutely, positively fucked.

who says i have ever missed you a day in my life

satoru (derogatory): quit being so mean!! i want to see my queen 🙇‍♂️

you’re kidding yourself because the second he texted you you’d looked through your camera roll to find which outfit you’d change into before you came over. you’re kidding yourself because the second he asked you to come over, you were jumping for your eyeliner and mascara.

this is fucked up.

yeah ok On my way!

satoru (derogatory): ew just say omw you freak

it’s not hard to find your way to satoru. it’s like you have something inside you that guides you to him— so it makes sense that it took you all of two times to memorize the twenty six minute drive to his house. your body settles as you walk through his complex, you melt into yourself when you get the familiar smell of him through the crack of his door.

you’re met with blue. fuck. and plaid pajama pants and a loose gray shirt. double fuck. this is obscene and you are no better than all of the other girls in the satoru gojo fan club.

“hi, pretty lady.”

“hello, satoru.” short and sweet. plain and simple.

“that’s all i get? harsh,” he laughs, bumping his shoulder into your own, lightly putting his hand over the small of your back as he guides you to his room as if you don’t know where it is.

it smells like him. a little off, a little dior, a little manly, the smallest bit like laundry. it’s so raw and real you think you’d open your veins and fill them with it.

“did you want a desperate love confession?” he scrunches his face up, easy grin on his face.

“well that would be lovely.”

it’s ritualistic. no matter what you say you’re going to do, what plans either of you have for the night, within the first two minutes you end up with your back against his chest and one of his hands on your thigh and the other around your waist. you think he’s insane.

he goes on and on, telling you about his day and boring you with all the small little details, and you wonder if you might be in love. you figure, begrudgingly, that you are.

“hey, you good? zoning out there.” he waves a hand over your face, you can’t help but notice how little callouses he has.

“what are we doing?” the worst question a woman could ever ask comes out before you can think twice. oh, so you’re really just a fucking idiot then.

“hm?” he pauses, puts his hand back down to your hip, and looks up at the ceiling before back to your face.

“well,” it’s a drawl, his usual exuberant and over the top tone teasing at you. “me personally, i’m just hanging out with my favorite person ever.”

that’s not good enough for you though. that wouldn’t be good enough for anyone, you feel, if they happened to be in love with the so-called honored one. but beyond that, that wouldn’t be enough for anyone who got to genuinely spend ten minutes alone with satoru.

“okay.” it seems that’s all you can muster. and it seems, he picked up on that.

“and,” he sighs, head dipping down to press a kiss to your eyebrow. “i’m spending time with the only person who ever makes me feel content anymore.”

fuck.

“the only person i’d ever let in my room— you know how much i love my room.” you huff a smile, but you think if you made a quick jab at him your voice would fail you.

“the only person who knows exactly what to order me— because no matter how much i say i like zunda, you know fresh cream is actually my favorite kikufuku.”

you’re completely, utterly fucked.

“the only person who dares be as insanely and completely mean to me as you are.”

“satoru,”

“the only person i think actually makes me feel like i am a worthwhile person.” and that hits. that hits hard, like nothing has ever hit you before.

“satoru.” its got a softness to it— the way you say his name. none of that sharp edge or desperate pining like there normally is. just pure, unequivocal kindness.

“what are you doing?” your name sounds like a prayer from him. before you can even think, he continues. “what are you doing with me?”

it takes awhile for you to say something. you can tell by the way he taps your hipbone, satoru gojo is nervous. he hides it well, though, eyes looking down at you, smug grin strapped to his face as if he knows what you’re gonna say. and maybe he does. maybe everyone in the whole world knows what’s about to leave your mouth.

but still, he is nervous. you realize, right now, you have his itty bitty heart in your hands and you think you could just lift it to your mouth and take the biggest bite.

“i think i love you.”

“how rude,” he huffs, fingers gripping into your skin, and he is beaming. “i know i love you. show a little certainty why don’t you?”

“oh.” you don’t seem to be very good with words right now. you think you may even be making a fool of yourself. but you don’t care. satoru gojo— mister six eyes, the strongest, the honored one, the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, the light of your life— just told you he loves you. and what can you really say to that?

“me, too.” well that was stupid.

“i know, pretty girl.” it’s a reprise from earlier, but there’s a new weight to his words. you want to kiss him. you want to kiss him always, you want to kiss him bad, you want to kiss him now.

but before you can, he leans down and dusts the bridge of your nose with the softest touch of his lips you could’ve ever imagined.

“we’re doing whatever you want. just take your time, okay?”

thank fucking god your friends were busy.

[gallusrostromegalus]

I simply must know, would the teenage friend groups (dead guys included) of AEIWAM and TPOFATGIF get along? Any standout crossover friendships and/or rivalries?

Ichigo and Tristan recognize the dead-eyed stare of "It's always fucking something" in each other and have a great time standing in the alley and trading their most WTF stories at increasingly loud volume.

Bakura and Orihime are immediate "autistic little weirdo into unexpectedly creepy shit" besties. The rest of the friend groups find them in the local graveyard looking up names on unattended tombstones to see what happened (and pay respects).

Chad immediately gloms onto Joey to be his Emotional Support Human who has conversations with strangers for him. Joey is thrilled to be helpful, and likewise, Chad is his "Remembering the Homework" human.

Serenity smells the violence on Tatsuki and is immediately trying to sign her up for the local SCA. Tatsuki is trying to convince her to attend Karakura High next year so she can beef up the Karate team.

Keigo already knows Rex Raptor and Weevil Underwood from the unhinged web forums they get into arguments on.

Mizurio already knows Mokuba from when Mokuba commissioned one of Mizurio's mob uncles to get one of the BEWD cards through less-than-legal means. Mokuba has immense respect for Mizurio's total disregard for conventional authority and Mizurio the same respect for Mokuba's understated willingness to do violence.

Uryuu and Duke bond over "my dad is completely insane for reasons I can't really discuss with most people" and "it's called FASHION" reasons.

The people who get along best with Seto are Rukia and Renji, because they are used to "autistic bougie severe familial trauma that is fixated on one VERY niche character" nonsense from Byakuya, and know how to auto-translate Seto into Normal People, and also subtly train him to have normal conversations.

The person who gets along with Yami is Isshin- in AEIWAM, Isshin genuinely has amnesia from 1980 onward. He doesn't remember being a captain, and hearing stories about himself is like hearing about a stranger. It's a bizarre feeling of alienation Yami understands well.

Yoruichi sees Mai Valentine and immediately knows that should they go drinking together, it will almost certainly result in major property damage, felonies, and the worst hangover she's ever had, so naturally, she asks the girl to come on a spree with her.

Yugi has always had an easier time making friends with the adults around than his peers- having friends his own age is a very recent development. Due to Grandpa Solomon hanging around the senior center with his peer group of "Old Men With Nothing Better To Do", Yugi is very acclimated to playing board games with random adults. Kisuke Urahara hasn't had anyone kick his ass at Go that hard in a long time, and the kid is strangely canny to things Kisuke *thought* he'd concealed well. Yugi thinks Urahara 's Go game is a little rusty, but whatever the hell espionage game he's playing is REALLY intriguing.

[toomanytookas]

Moth, the way you write yearning and feelings of abandonment and loss and forgiveness here has me crying in the streets.

Literally. 😂 I already told you that this snuck up on me on my walk, but I'm not sure I can convey how deeply it's sat on my chest since I read it? Something about the tenderness of the reader's crush and the harsh feeling of not just being left behind but for that to be a very acute form of rejection is just so ugly and real in the most gorgeous way and it pairs so well with the horror and anguish and grief that the outbreak wrought... not to mention the healing that these two end up finding in each other.

I loved how you captured the pain of her yearning, these two lines in particular stole my breath:

✨You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts. ✨ It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture. 

And the fact that this is such a fascinating examination of Joel's relationship with Sarah, too, really hit deep. This was... devastating:

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better. 

Particularly in the context of thinking about what Joel becomes after he loses her, and what it means for him to see what could have been in the reader when they reunite. This was torture of the highest order: You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything. 

You have captured his guilt and self-flagellation so well, and it really makes for such a compelling portrait of him and what his relationship with the reader signals in terms of him being able to forgive a part of himself and find new drive/purpose/meaning for his life in the shape of the reader as he continues to not quite be able to find that within himself, for himself.

I do love the moments of reprieve that we see, these in particular:

✨ He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment.  ✨ He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates. 

I really enjoyed the mix of resolution and unresolution that we get at the end. On the one hand, there is a completeness, a feeling that we are seeing them in their final form together, finding comfort and understanding, and yet on the other, there is this: Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years. 

The way you've navigated that trickiness and leave us feeling satisfied with everything that it is and isn't is really excellent. I think it matches really well with the difficult nature of their relationship's beginnings as well as the hurt that, though lessened, still has left its mark (that "he's finally come back for you" is something else). That they are able to find that space that's just for the two of them outside of everything is perhaps the best ending we could ask for. Thank you! <3

HAHHAHA I LITERALLY ALMOST JUST SIGNED THIS LIKE AN EMAIL AND WROTE 'BEST WISHES, M' I've really been writing too many apartment inquiries. 😂

Unrequited (bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader)

Moth's Masterlist // follow @mothandpidgeon-updates and turn on notifications to stay updated with my fics!

pairing: bfd! pre-outbreak!/Jackson!Joel Miller x f!reader

rating: E 18+MDNI

summary: You arrive in Jackson 22 years after the outbreak only to be reunited with your best friend’s dad, the man that stole your heart and broke it when you were fourteen– Joel Miller.

contents: best friend's dad, age gap, outbreak night (nothing that isnt in ep 1), big angst, abandonment issues, brief suicidal ideation, daddy issues, grief, Joel guilt, unprotected p in v sex, reader doesn't know where Jakarta is, reader is not described physically but Joel picks (adult) reader up, moth never uses y/n.

wc: 9k

a/n: This has been a bitch to finish but I'm quite proud of where it ended up. It's the longest os I've written which makes me nervous nobody will want to read it but I hope you do.

Thank you a million times to @ezrasbirdie for making me finish this and betaing. Also thank you @lowlights for listening to me ramble on this! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Old man, take a look at your life. I’m a lot like you. Neil Young

You’re waiting for Sarah on the front steps when she gets home. School ended nearly two hours ago and you’ve been sitting here a ball of nerves. The whole world seems to be uneasy this afternoon. You notice sirens, a team of fighter jets scrambling above. It's like your anxiety has spilled out of your chest and it’s taken life all around you. 

You finger the corner of your notebook. On the inside are doodles— hearts and bubble letters. Juvenile daydreams put to paper. Your first name and after it his last, testing out the sound of who you would be if only you’d been born in a different decade. Mrs. Miller. 

Sarah doesn’t look very happy to see you. It’s been two weeks since you’ve talked to her and you’ve never felt more lonely. 

Her words still ring in your ears. 

“It’s like you’re in love with my dad.”

“No I'm not!” you said, your whole body tingling with the heat of embarrassment. You’d never felt so exposed in your life. 

“Sometimes I think that’s the only reason you’re even friends with me,” she said. 

You've been ruminating on that accusation ever since. You pine for Mr. Miller the way only a fourteen year old can. It’s the kind of infatuation that makes you understand how Romeo and Juliet ended in tragedy. All-consuming, unrequited, so in love it hurts.

So maybe Sarah’s right. Your heart flutters every time Mr Miller appears in the kitchen, wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his biceps. You try not to stare at his aquiline nose when he drives you home from Sarah’s soccer games. Sleep overs at the Miller’s house mean more opportunities to be around him, learn the little details that make him him. And there were plenty of sleep overs because your parents are always so busy fighting, they never bother to keep track of you. 

But you’ve been in agony without your friend. It’s a pain sharper and more present than the yearning you’ve felt for Mr. Miller. You’ve talked to her every day since you moved to Austin in fourth grade and since this fight, there’s been an empty space in your heart. 

“Hi.” You stand up, hoisting your backpack awkwardly over your shoulder. 

“I’m supposed to go next door,” Sarah says. 

“Can I just talk to you for a minute?” you ask. 

She sighs but opens the front door with her key and lets you follow her into the living room. 

“I’m sorry,” you say before you lose your nerve. “You’re right. I like your dad.”

It’s probably the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever owned up to. You wish you could explain to her that you know how silly it is to be in love with a full grown man, your best friend’s dad. It’s not like he’ll ever see you as anything other than a kid. 

You can’t put into words how he makes you feel. It’s not just his broad shoulders or chocolate eyes, though it’s undeniable that he’s gorgeous. He asks about school and comes to see you in the musical. Joel is an adult that actually gives a crap about you. 

You want to tell Sarah that one of the reasons you love her father so much is because of her. Because he’s such a good dad, because he raised such a cool, funny, smart daughter. That Sarah makes him better. 

It’ll take years for you to find words for all of that. So you just do your best right now. 

“I can’t help it. I wish I could,” you say. 

That’s true. And not just because your crush has made you lose your only friend. It’s exhausting to feel such a powerful longing, to want something you know you’ll never have. It’s torture. 

“But you’re my best friend. And that’s not why. I promise,” you say. 

Sarah sighs heavily, her pretty hazel eyes full of remorse. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just get jealous sometimes.”

“I promise I won’t make you feel that way ever again. I could never like him more than you,” you tell her, sitting beside her on the couch and looking her in the eye so she knows you mean it. “He’s…old.”

You both laugh. 

“He’s so lame. This morning he said that Jakarta is in the Middle East,” she giggles. 

You don’t know where the hell Jakarta is but of course Sarah does. You throw your arms around her. You’ve missed her so damn much. The past two weeks have felt like two decades. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell her. 

“Me too.” She returns your embrace. “Do you have to go home? You can sleep over if you want. It’s my dad’s birthday but I don’t think he’s going to be home until late.”

Your heart twinges at the offer and not because it means you might see Mr. Miller at breakfast. You won’t even look at him again. Tonight is about your friend.

You end up watching some corny action movies and gorging yourselves on microwave popcorn. Everything feels right again. You don’t think about Mr. Miller. In fact, you’re grateful that his double has gone over into a late night so you don’t have to be in the same room. You’ve sworn to yourself that you’ll act normal around him but you’re not sure that sheer willpower can stop you from getting butterflies when he’s right there. 

At some point, you pass out in front of the tv, happier than you’ve been in a long time. 

Sarah nudges you awake sometime after midnight, concern all over her face. 

“Was I snoring?” you ask, groggy. 

She’s looking out the window. Helicopters fly so low overhead, the whole house rattles. It’s a wonder you slept through all of this noise— the choppers are joined by the wail of a car alarm, pops like fireworks. The TV is playing a high-pitched tone and when you peer at it, you see a test pattern on the screen. 

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach. 

“Something’s going on,” Sarah says almost to herself. 

A sudden thud against the back door makes you both jump. You swear, shaken out of your sleepy haze. 

“Mercy?” Sarah asks. 

You’ve spent enough time with Sarah to become acquainted with their neighbors The Adlers and their border collie Mercy. Mr Adler used to pay you each a dollar to walk him. Mercy’s frantically pawing at the glass. 

Sarah goes to the door and steps into the yard. You follow, unsure you want to leave the familiar safety of the house but unwilling to be alone with such an eerie feeling in the air. 

“What’re you doing out here, boy?” Sarah says, crouching down to pet the whimpering animal.  

“Where’s your dad?” you ask her. 

You hope the question doesn’t make Sarah think you’ve already forgotten your promise. Everything’s just so wrong. You’d feel a lot better with an adult around. 

“Don’t think he came home yet,” she says. You can hear the concern in her voice. “Let’s take Mercy back. The Alder’s will be home.” 

Mercy puts up a fight as Sarah pulls him across the lawn. It’s late and dark save the street lamp and a few porch lights that have been left on. You shiver despite the fact that it’s a warm southern night. 

The front door to the Adler’s house stands open and inside is black. No. Bad. You want to run back to the Miller’s house and lock the door behind you but the promise of Mr. And Mrs. Adler inside keeps you moving towards the darkened entrance. Maybe Mrs. Adler will give you some cookies while you wait for Mr. Miller. 

Sarah steps in first. The dog bucks and strains against her grip on his collar. Sarah fights to keep hold of him but Mercy’s thrashing makes him hard to pin down. He pulls free from Sarah’s grasp and darts away. 

You have half a mind to do the same but Sarah keeps going forward. She’s scared, too, her breaths shallow as she tip toes down the hall.  

“Mrs. Adler?” Sarah asks, her voice barely above a whisper. 

You reach for each other without even realizing it and you enter the kitchen holding hands. 

What you see there is beyond your wildest imaginings. There��s blood, a lot of it. Sarah’s shoe slides in the stuff and you grab her before she loses her balance. The room is cast in shadows but a street light streams through the window in the side door. Its beam falls over the form of Mr. Adler, limp on the floor. His back is against the door and a gush of dark blood sparkles in the sodium vapor. 

You’ve never seen so much blood, never seen anyone injured so brutally. It looks like he’s been attacked by some wild animal. Mercy was acting strange but the dog couldn’t do that.

“Help me,” he rasps. 

He’s speaking to you. You’re actually here. This is happening and you need to do something. 

But before you can form a coherent thought, your eyes travel deeper into the kitchen. Beside the island is more blood…and more bodies. 

As if seeing Sarah’s neighbor with his neck ripped open wasn’t enough of a horror, you’re now watching Nana hunched over Mrs. Adler’s corpse, her face buried in the younger woman’s neck. The scene before you makes no sense. Most of the time the old woman is barely conscious, hasn’t left her wheelchair in years and yet she’s on all fours before you looking feral. 

Sarah squeezes your hand so tight you’re afraid your knuckles will break. 

Nana slowly raises her face to you. Her eyes are pitch black and her mouth teems with twitching tendrils. You are staring at a living, breathing monster. 

When she leaps at you, you and Sarah bolt for the door. Your heart hammers against your ribs. Sarah makes it out first and races towards the sidewalk. 

Once you’ve gotten onto the front step, you slam the storm door shut behind you to trap whatever that thing is inside. SLAM. Nana collides with the door and it rattles violently. You hold it closed with every ounce of strength in you, listening to the creature behind it scratch and wail and willing yourself not to look through the glass to see its horrible face. Terror holds your muscles taught. You’re not sure how long you can stay like this, your sneakers skidding across the ground. 

With a roar, Uncle Tommy’s truck pulls up at that very moment and Mr. Miller hops out of the passenger seat before its even come to a full stop. He’s a fearsome sight, broad and rippling with untamed energy, his muscular arms outlined by the headlights of the car. You’ve never been more grateful for his presence. 

This nightmare is almost over. Joel’s come to save you. 

“Girls get in the car!” he bellows. His voice is raw and ragged. 

Just as you’re ready to make a run for it, The door flings out towards you, and you’re thrown aside as if you weigh nothing. You hit the driveway hard, your head connecting with concrete. 

For a moment, you can’t hear anything but the gush of blood pumping in your ears. You’re dizzy. Suffocating. There’s a warm trickle at your temple. Sarah calls your name. Your vision is blurred but you can make out the ghoulish form of the creature barreling towards her. 

“What’re we doing, Joel?” you hear Tommy ask.

There’s a thud and then quiet. 

You gasp again and again but your lungs won’t fill. 

Are you dying? Help. You need help. The monster lays lifeless at Joel’s feet and you pray that he’ll scoop you up and take you away from this. Your eyes finally come into focus to see Mr. Miller comforting Sarah, holding her face in his big palms, so fixated on her that he doesn’t notice that Mr. Adler has appeared in the doorway. 

Mr. Adler is still covered in so much blood and his gait has become twitchy as if his legs are on backwards. He moves towards them and you want to call out a warning but you’re still choking for air. Luckily he hasn’t noticed you but he soon stands between you and the Millers. 

“We’ve got to move,” Tommy says. 

“Get in the car,” Mr. Miller says to Sarah, throwing a protective arm in front of her. 

“But she’s hurt!”

She steps towards you. You’d cry her name but you’ve still got the wind knocked out of you and you’re too terrified to make a noise. Mr. Adler makes an inhuman sound as he advances, a croaking, growling gurgle. 

Mr. Miller pushes Sarah towards the truck. 

“Leave her!” he barks. “Get in the car!”

You sputter and choke as you watch Sarah, Joel, and Tommy drive away. 

You wait for a long time. 

As the truck pulls off of the curb, Mr. Adler is joined by his wife in the street, making chase. You’re finally able to draw breath and rouse your body off of the ground. You scramble back across the lawn to the Miller’s house and lock yourself inside. There’s enough adrenaline coursing through you that you’re able to push the sofa to barricade the front door. You draw all of the curtains and grab the biggest knife you can find in the kitchen. It’s ridiculous, something you’ve seen in scary movies, but you’re living in one right now. 

You hide yourself away. Sarah’s bedroom seems like the obvious place to do it. Familiar and safe. You curl yourself into a ball in the corner, clutching your knife and staring at the closed door with wild eyes. 

Sirens go through the night. Gunshots. At one point even the roar of a jet engine. 

For hours your body quivers as you try to make sense of what you’ve just witnessed. Flesh-eating mutants. Gore. Death. You keep waiting to wake up from a bad dream but you don’t. They left you. They abandoned you in a nightmare. 

No. That’s impossible. You can accept that a comatose elderly woman made supper out of her son in law but you refuse to believe that Joel would desert you. 

He’ll come back for you. Sarah will convince him. There’s always been room for you in their family. 

But as the sun begins to peek through the blinds and the noises outside fade away, you begin to lose hope. 

The muscles in your body go slack, exhausted from hours of uncontrollable shaking. Your instinct for survival and your need for sleep war with each other. Exhaustion is winning. 

You cautiously open the door to Sarah’s room. The house is still, more quiet than you’ve ever experienced. You creep into the room at the end of the hall. The olive green sheets on Joel’s bed are still messy from when he woke up here the day before. A normal morning. His birthday. 

You rest the knife on the night stand amongst the things he emptied from his pockets— coins, receipts, a stray nail. You slip into the bed and wrap yourself up. It smells like him— spicy deodorant and sweat, fresh cut lumber like the hardware store. The scent reminds you of all those times he was close, when your heart leapt. 

They’ll come back. Mr. Miller wouldn’t leave you. 

He left you to die but you just go on living.  

It takes some time before you’re brave enough to leave the Miller’s house and see what’s left of the world. Your parents are nowhere to be found. It’s safe to assume they were infected that first night. 

You’re on your own. 

A QZ is set up outside of San Antonio. They assign you to housing for separated minors. An orphanage. You never make friends, not really. Trust is too fickle.

At night you lay in your bunk and wonder what life would be like if anybody gave a shit about you. Maybe you would have been with your parents when it all went down. You’d be a snarling monster but at least you wouldn’t be alone. 

On the worst nights, when you like yourself the least, Mr. Miller’s words echo around your skull. “Leave her.” She's not worth it. Forget her. 

You don’t imagine yourself in his arms anymore. Instead you picture him and Sarah and Uncle Tommy, all happy and safe hiding out somewhere idyllic. A sweet little cabin with a stream nearby, surrounded by peaceful woods. You’ve heard some people live like that.

Some days you wish you were with them. Others you wish they were all dead. 

When you turn 18, you age out of your living situation. It couldn’t come soon enough. Things are changing and it seems like all the kids that stay in FEDRA school are being groomed to go straight into uniform. You dodged that bullet but life’s not easy. Now you’re well and truly alone, scraping by to keep food in your mouth and a roof over your head. 

It only lasts a few years, though. By the time you’re 21, there’s an emergency evacuation. Outbreaks are happening within the walls and with so many people living on top of each other, it’s only a matter of time before shit hits the fan. They send swaths of people to Dallas but word is, there’s no room for such numbers and they consider everyone from San Antonio an infection risk. 

You’ve heard enough stories to know what that means. There won’t be a warm welcome when you reach the next QZ. So you ditch the convoy and head north. 

You bounce around for years, sometimes with others, a lot of time solo. Doing what you have to. It’s not a life, just survival. 

By the time you reach the wilds of Wyoming, you’ve had enough. You break off from the group you’re traveling with. You leave them this time, just decide to walk into the forest and let the earth swallow you up. You’re exhausted, sick of hanging on by a thread. Too much of a coward to kill yourself, you wander around waiting for the cold or your hunger or a bear to do it for you. 

They find you. Some scouts that look mean and tough take pity on you and offer you a place with them in a commune where things are half normal. 

It’s the first time being alone has worked to your advantage.  

Jackson is a strange place. It has walls like the QZ but it’s quaint. There’s laughter and evergreen wreaths, happy children that build snowmen in the center of town. Some of these kids have no idea how fucked up the world has become. All they know is this charming little haven. 

You spend the first few days in the infirmary, getting patched up, regaining your strength. You feel like an animal compared to the people in your new community. It’s hard to accept that they’re willing to help you, no strings attached. 

Eventually you’re well enough to have your own place. They set you up with a little apartment over one of the stores in town. You’re invited to take your meals in the dining hall. 

It takes you back to those first days at your new middle school after you came to Austin. Unfortunately, this time Sarah’s not there to offer you a seat at her lunch table. 

You keep to yourself, overwhelmed by all of the strange new faces. Head down, you eat your breakfast. It’s the best food you’ve had in years. As your belly fills, you start to relax and try to get used to the idea of this being home. 

Then you hear a familiar voice say your name. You wonder if you’re hallucinating when you see him standing in front of you. 

He’s gained a few decades but he looks good. His hair is nearly shoulder length and there’s a mustache on his upper lip but that’s him alright. 

“Uncle Tommy?” you manage. 

“That really you?” he asks. 

Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. His smile wrinkles the corners of his eyes. You nod and you’re smiling too.  

You expect to be upset. Tommy was there when you were abandoned after all. But you’re flooded with relief and a small flame of hope. 

“Shit. What’re the chances?” he asks, studying your face. “C’mere.”

He pulls you through the lines of tables. Your head spins with questions. How did he end up in Wyoming of all places? How long has he been here? Did you actually die out there only to be sent to this strange afterlife? 

“You remember this old son of a bitch?” Tommy asks with a chuckle when he stops at the table in a far corner. 

And suddenly you’re face to face with Mr. Miller. 

He’s old. Grey hairs run through his stubble and curl from his temple. There are deep lines in his face. He’s still good looking despite how weathered his features have become, still broad, still with that wonderful silhouette.

It’s funny. In your mind’s eye, you’ve never imagined Joel aging. He stayed the same while you grew up. 

He looks at you for a long moment and then his thick bottom lip falls agape. His eyes glitter and his dimple appears as he recognizes the woman that you’ve become. 

“Kiddo,” he whispers as he stands up. 

He pulls you into a hug and his wide palm smooths down your back. He still smells just how you remember and without warning you’re sobbing into the front of his flannel. 

You spent hours upon hours imagining what you might say if you ever saw him again. Sometimes it was a speech biting with venom, others a confession, a question. Now, though, your mind is blank, overwhelmed that fate has brought you back together. A testament to your survival. 

“It’s alright, babygirl. You’re okay,” he says into your hair. Words you needed to hear all those years ago. 

You stay like this for a long time, surrounded by him. He holds you the way you wished he had as you cried into his pillow in that empty house. Eventually you pull yourself together with a shaking breath. 

“Where’s Sarah?” you ask, casting your eyes around the crowd in the mess hall. 

There’s a girl sitting beside Joel, her curly hair pulled back into a ponytail, watching this scene unfold. Everyone else is polite enough to pretend you’re not bawling in the middle of lunch. Can’t be the first time it’s happened. 

At your question, Tommy goes stone faced. The muscle in Joel’s jaw ticks. 

You shake your head in disbelief. “Infected?” you squeak out. 

“It wasn’t like that,” Joel chokes. 

“She didn’t make it through that first night,” Tommy says. 

It’s a punch in the gut, the air’s knocked out of your chest all over again. While it had crushed you to be abandoned, part of you understood. Joel had to choose and he picked his daughter. Even if he’d been in love with you the way you used to dream about, he always would have chosen Sarah. You couldn’t hold that against him, no matter how much it hurt. There just wasn’t anyone in the world that would have saved you. 

But knowing that he failed her, that he failed you both, makes you sick. All those years of bitterness come flooding back to you and your tears turn hot and furious. 

“You let her die?” you demand. “You told her to leave me behind and you didn’t even save her?” You push Joel, your hands against the wet spots you left on his shirt. It’s ineffectual. He barely moves against your pathetic shove but his face crumples. You know he hates himself as much as you do in that moment but that’s not enough. You hit him as hard as you can and he does nothing to defend himself. 

“Hey, hey,” Tommy says, trying a hand on your shoulder. 

“You should’ve saved her,” you bark. 

Heads have turned now as Tommy holds you back. 

“I hoped you were dead every day since you left me,” you say. 

You can see on his face that Joel’s definitely wished the same thing. 

You go on berating him, your tears mixing with spit as you snarl and shout, until Tommy’s able to wrestle you out of the dining hall. 

The summer comes. After a long, cold winter, everyone in Jackson welcomes the change of seasons with open arms. Everyone but Joel. 

Ellie was a salve for the deep wounds on his heart. They’ll never fully heal but at least they stopped overwhelming him for some time. Since your dramatic reunion, though, those scars have been torn open once more. Especially today. 

It’s warm and there’s barely a cloud in the sky. The July weather is mild compared to summers in Texas. Fresh air blows in through the open windows of the house, beckoning Joel outside but he has no desire to be in the sunshine. 

“You okay?” Ellie asks. 

She’s just come down the stairs. It’s early and Joel’s already at the kitchen table. Didn’t sleep much. 

He and Ellie have been together long enough that she understands the wordless shifts in his moods. They’ve gotten worse since you arrived in Jackson. He does his work and patrols, sometimes he nurses a whiskey alone at the bar. The rest of the time he keeps to himself. He’s sliding back towards the man she met back in Boston. Joel’s rebuilt the walls that surrounded him, brick by brick since that afternoon in the dining hall. 

“I was going to meet Dina at the mess. Want to come? Or I could stick around?” she offers. 

It’s going to be one of those dark days, the kind that makes him question why he’s been hanging on for so long, and Ellie knows it. She’s giving him a lifeline, offering to be with him so he doesn’t have to ask. He should accept it, but he doesn’t want to waste his energy putting on a brave face for her when he feels so broken. 

“That’s alright, Ellie. Go on,” he says. 

She doesn’t push him. She never does. She just gives a sympathetic smile before she slips out. 

Once seems gone, his heart begins to ache. 

Sometime later, there’s a knock at the door. The last person he expects to see on the porch is you. You look a little nervous, like if he’d taken longer to come to the door you might’ve bolted. 

He hasn’t spoken to you since that day that you came back into his life but the words you said play relentlessly on loop in his mind. He should have made amends by now. You were his daughter’s best friend and of all the places at the end of the world, you’ve ended up in the same town. He passes by the old pharmacy you live above just about every day, thinks about seeing if you’re in so you can have a conversation. He even knows what he’d say, but he can’t work up the courage. There aren’t any words that can make right what he did to you. 

The guilt metastasized deep in his gut. His failure compounded. 

So he doesn’t blame you for keeping your distance, avoiding him when your paths cross. He lets you be angry with him, as he deserves. 

“Want some company?” you ask. 

He recognizes the look on your face and it dawns on him that he might not be the only person struggling today. He steps aside to let you in. 

Joel sets a cup of tea down in front of you. It’s not the real thing. Dried herbs from the garden Maria keeps. You’ve taken a seat across from him at the table, glancing around the kitchen so you don’t have to look at him. 

“Surprised you remember,” he says. 

“My best friend’s birthday?”

He shrugs as he pulls up a chair across from you. “Was a long time ago.”

“I think you underestimate the power of female friendships.” 

You wear a soft smile that makes Joel’s heart ache a little harder. He takes a good look at you, seeing you up close for the first time. There are hints of the girl he knew back in Austin but she’s buried under years of hard living. 

You’re the same age Sarah would have been today. The same age he was when he lost everything. 

You sigh and scratch awkwardly at your neck. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about…all that shit I said. It’s…” you trail off and he’s sure you’re still mad at him, deep down. 

“I reckon I’m the one that owes an apology. I shouldn’t’ve left you back there. Sarah begged me not to,” he admits. “I was trying to keep her safe. But I fucked that up, too.” 

“That’s not true. I was just angry,” you tell him. 

“I was always so pissed at your parents for not caring enough about you. Turns out I was just as bad,” he says. 

He hadn’t given any thought to the choice he made all those years ago. His priority was his family and he had no room for the rest of humanity. Joel didn’t realize until he saw your face again just how selfish that had made him. The past months he’s been haunted by the thought of it, a young thing all alone in the chaos. If Sarah’s watching over him, which sometimes he hopes she is, she’d be ashamed. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think since I got here and…I don’t blame you. I’m not your kid. It just—“ You laugh without humor. “God, it’s so stupid but I had a huge crush on you.”

Joel’s eyebrows shoot up. You fiddle with the chipped handle on your mug.

“I know. I was just a kid but I was head over heels for you,” you say.

Joel can feel himself blushing. It’s a sweet thought. He’s honored in a strange way. He remembers the gravity of Sarah’s crushes– Leonardo DiCaprio, Usher, some guy with a lip ring from one of those punk bands she listened to.

“So when you left me…I was a little heart broken.”

“Shit,” Joel says. 

“I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I just wanted you to know why I was so hurt,” you tell him, leaning forward in your seat. “You didn’t know any of that. And it’s not fair to hang that over your head. It wasn’t your job to rescue me.”

“Course it was,” Joel responds. “You were just a kid. I let you down.”

You look at him gratefully and a tear slips down your cheek. It takes a minute for you to fully take that in and it seems like something you’ve needed to hear. 

“Joel. I forgive you,” you tell him. 

A thick knot forms in his throat. 

There’s a litany of names in his mind, so many people he’s failed. Henry and Sam. Tess. Sarah. He’s never expected to be absolved of any of his sins, he doesn't deserve to be forgiven. But those three words make him feel lighter, like he can stop beating himself up. At least for a moment. 

He tucks his chin into his chest trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. Your hand slips over his, a gentle, reassuring touch. 

The two of you stay like that for a little while, crying together, then becoming reacquainted. You talk for a long time. There’s a lot of catching up to do but the conversation keeps coming back to Sarah. It’s a gift to share memories of her, to hear stories that he’s never heard. You knew Sarah better than anyone in the world— her favorite store in the mall, what she wanted for her birthday. Her hopes, her dreams, her fears. No fourteen year old goes to her daddy with her problems. You were there for her, though. Right up until the end. 

“I, um, you should have this,” you say. “Well, it’s yours.”

You and Joel have migrated to the couch in the living room as the afternoon has crept on. You reach into your back pocket, a little reluctant, and pull something out. 

It’s a photograph, dog eared and creased from years of being carried with you. Joel recognizes the picture— you and him and Sarah, all three of you donning life jackets, smiling as you float on a calm river. He and Tommy took Sarah kayaking and she asked if you could tag along. It was a wonderful day. Blue, cloudless sky. 

The last time he saw the photo it was hanging under a magnet on the refrigerator in the kitchen. 

“How’d…”

“I stayed in your house for a while. After. Just kind of hoping you might come back. I took that when I left. And I ate all your food,” you say with a little chuckle. You wipe some snot from your nose. “I guess…well, you probably don’t have a lot of pictures of her.”

You’re right. There was an outdated school photograph in his wallet when they left that night and it had been too painful to look at for years. It still stings a little but it feels easier to share with someone, someone that knew her so well. 

“You sure?” he asks. 

You nod. “I know where to find it.”

He props the picture up on the coffee table so you can both look at it and meditate on that day when everything felt so perfect. 

“Remember we made you play “Crazy in Love” on on repeat the whole way there?” you ask. 

“I still get that goddamn song stuck in my head,” he complains. 

You laugh and rest your head on his shoulder. The familiar gesture cracks something open inside of him. He’s taken back to his favorite nights when he’d watch a movie with Sarah and she’d cuddle against him. Somehow the memory doesn’t hurt as much as he anticipates. 

You sit like that, looking at the picture, both quiet, your smiles fading as you remember what’s happened since. 

“Sometimes I think I see her,” he chokes. 

He’s never told anyone that. But it seems like you might understand, He trusts you won’t meet his admission with a pitying smile. 

“How’s she look?” you ask. 

He can’t help but chuckle. He nods. 

You don’t say anything, you just burrow your head a little deeper into him. Joel puts a gentle kiss in your hair. 

You’re a fixture in the Miller house once again, part of the family. You babysit for Maria and tell her embarrassing stories about Tommy. You and Ellie tease Joel relentlessly. You sit with him in the evenings, sometimes singing along when he pulls out his guitar, other nights neither of you speak at all.

Slowly, you find yourself falling in love with him all over again. It’s not the same infatuation you harbored when you were young. You’re both different people. And you hardly knew him back then. Not really. What did a fourteen year old know about grown men?

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm. After being alone for such a long time, it’s magical to have a companion. Joel seems grateful for the company, too. He’s there whenever you turn around, like a promise. He’s not leaving you behind even if you’re just going from the stables to the library. 

Neither of you acknowledge it, this easy rapport. A light squeeze on your shoulder, holding your hand when you get misty eyed. He probably doesn’t mean anything by it but you’re pretty sure you can’t live without it. You bask in the sweetness of these exchanges, trying not to think too hard about the fact that you used to spend Saturday nights giggling on his daughter’s bedroom floor. 

He’s still Mr. Miller, after all. 

Autumn comes and you’re inseparable. You realize just how much when you convince him to attend the children’s choir performance in town. You expect him to demure. Watching kids being kids must be painful. But he’s by your side in the dining hall as the little ones sing “Clementine” and “Oh Susanna”. 

He puts his arm around your shoulder so you can lean into him. It might just be a paternal gesture, maybe you’re still a little girl in his eyes. That’s ok with you if he keeps absentmindedly massaging your upper arm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so safe, so loved. 

Afterwards, he walks you home and you’re in such a good mood, you start singing to yourself.

“Johnny Cash,” he says approvingly. 

You laugh to yourself. “You know, I started listening to him ‘cause of you. You had his CD in your truck,” you admit.  

You wanted to like all of the things Joel liked. He would think you were so interesting and grown up because you knew all the words to “Riders in the Sky.”

“Least I was a good influence,” Joel says, shaking his head, his cheeks turning pink. 

He’s so handsome when he blushes, you feel a little giddy when you come to stop in front of the old pharmacy. 

“G’night, darlin’,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze. 

He waits. He’ll stand here and watch you get inside like he always does. He doesn’t need to— it’s not like people even lock their doors in Jackson— but he’s insisted on it so fervently that you stopped arguing. 

You shouldn’t do it. It’s so silly. But there’s a softness in his eyes and his gentle touch still tingles on your arm. His salt and pepper hair is caught in the string lights that line the empty street. You can’t help yourself.  

You kiss him, smoothing your palms up the front of his flannel until you sink your fingers into the curls at the base of his neck. The tip of his nose is cold from the chill in the evening air but his lips are warm and sweet. 

You haven’t had a whole lot of experience kissing. You’d just started doing it when the outbreak happened and things haven’t been very romantic since. This is one of the better ones. Relatively chaste but unbearably tender. Certainly better than you could have imagined all those years ago. 

It lasts longer than you expect. Joel kisses you back. He rests his hand on your waist and the way it covers so much of your back makes you swoon. Soon, though, he’s pulling away, cradling your cheek. 

“We shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“I know,” you sigh. You’re reluctant to break away, savoring the brush of his nose against yours. 

It’s all wrong but you’re not ashamed for trying it. 

“Just once. I’ve always wanted to,” you say. 

He presses his lips into your forehead. It feels bittersweet. A kiss you longed for for twenty years came and went. 

You wave to him from the door before you go in for the night. 

That kiss confirms Joel’s fears.

He’s spent months convincing himself that this is completely platonic. He would never have feelings for his daughter’s best friend. Even if he always wants to be around you.   

He’s looking after you, comforting you, protecting you. He’s making up for those years that he made you suffer through. You forgave him but he’ll never stop atoning. 

And then you kissed him. 

Suddenly, he’s buried in an avalanche of thoughts he’s been disavowing. 

You’re pretty and soft. You're strong and you ease the pain of his memories. You make him feel a little less alone. 

The warmth of your lips, your body pressed to his. He was ready to lose himself in you. 

That’s when he heard it. 

It was Sarah’s voice chiding him with all the reasons why this is wrong. 

She’s been in his head, his inner critic since the day she died, pointing out every failure and weakness in him. He could picture her looking down on him with disgust. She’s the same age as your daughter. She was just a kid when you met her. She deserves better than you. 

He’s making the same mistake as before, letting his instinct get the better of him. The responsible part of him takes control. He can’t give you any more reasons to try and kiss him again. 

If Joel is good at one thing it’s denying himself. 

He backs off and you can sense it, he knows you do. Sometimes he catches you looking at him and there’s a longing in your eye. It fucking kills him but it’s just another reason why he’s no good for you. 

Despite whatever it does to you, you haven’t got anybody else in Jackson so you stick around. He can only imagine how much it hurts you. 

“Why did I go north?” you complain when Joel opens the front door. You’re holding a scarf tight around your neck, shivering against the cold. The sky is a dismal shade of gray, snowfall on the horizon. 

Joel gets you in the house with a chuckle. He starts a fire, a luxury you little apartment doesn’t afford. You shiver in front of the hearth. 

“Traded for this,” you say, pulling a thick book out of your coat and tossing it onto the coffee table. 

“Oh good. I was looking for some light reading material,” Ellie quips from her spot on the couch.  

“It’s a dictionary,” you explain, “so you’ll quit cheating at Boggle.”

“You're in trouble now,” Joel laughs. 

“I don’t cheat. I just know more words than you guys,” she says. 

“Dentment is not a word,” you reply. 

“Neither is thoard,” Joel says. 

“Sure it is. I’m about to thoard the two of you in this game,” she says.

This should be enough. A winter day by the fire. The simple joy of a board game. Laughter. This is practically a normal life. 

But each time Joel’s eyes fall on you, there’s a pang in his chest. You’re just close enough that he could reach out and touch you but he won’t. He can’t.  

When the sun sets, Ellie retreats to her room. Eventually, you fall asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a quilt as the fire dies down. You look even younger, curled up serenely. There’s no worry on your brow. Usually your face is in a perpetual frown even when you’re not in a mood.   

The snow is already knee deep with no signs of slowing. There’s no sense in sending you back out there. 

Joel scoops you up as gently as he can. He feels his age, back straining, but he doesn’t mind. He enjoys how you nestle your face into his chest as he mounts the stairs, warm and snug in his arms. A smile pulls at his lips. 

He sets you down carefully on his bed and you whimper groggily at the loss of his touch. Your eyes crack open. 

“Snowing pretty bad. Sleep here. I’ll be on the couch,” he whispers. 

“Stay,” you murmur. 

He hesitates. Carrying you to bed was already crossing a line. He’s not worried about keeping his hands to himself. He’s been able to control himself for this long. If he lays down next to you, feeling you warming his sheets, smelling the peppermint soap on your skin, he’ll be so far gone for you, there’ll be no coming back. 

But denying you this simple request feels cruel. He imagines you waking up here all alone. You’re half asleep but what if you remember asking him to remain only to be abandoned again?  

He gets into bed, still fully clothed and careful to stay on his side. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth hurt. You give a satisfied hum and sink back into sleep, your body melting into the mattress. 

Joel watches you for a moment, fights the urge to put a kiss on your forehead. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, beginning to tangle with the web of emotions that accompany you. Once it gets too confusing, he drifts off as well. 

When you reach out for him in your sleep, he can’t deny you. Joel tries his hardest to pretend it doesn’t feel good, that this isn’t something he’s wanted to do. So he imagines the nightmares that come to you. Reminds himself that you wouldn’t have seen any of that shit if he hadn’t left you for dead. Now that you're in his arms, he’ll make sure nothing touches you ever again. The least he can do is hold you and make sure it goes no further. 

You both find reasons that you should stay the night. Neither of you acknowledge it. Joel just hands you one of his t-shirts and busies himself as you slip out of your clothes and get under the covers. It’s all rather innocent, Joel does more than rub your back even though you sometimes feel his morning wood through his sweatpants. If he wants you, he doesn’t let himself have you. And he could. 

It’s fine with you if cuddling is all this is. You don’t try to do anything more than that, unwilling to upset the unspoken agreement between you. You can be satisfied with a broad, firm chest to rest your back against. Sleep is better beside him, his heart beats guiding your own. The weight of his arm draped across you makes your body feel deliciously heavy.  

After a while, though, it happens. 

Joel’s having a nightmare. His murmurs and restless movements wake you. His mouth twitches and his brow is creased. You smooth circles into his shoulder until his eyes open. Even in the darkness you can see the despair in them. 

He blinks, coming back to reality, remembering he’s not wherever his dreams took him. You brush your fingers through his hair, gazing at one another as his breaths even out. Normally, his age is obvious– the lines in his forehead, the sun spots on his cheek– yet right now he looks young. Like a boy that needs to sleep with a night light. 

You’re not sure who initiates but you find each other in the dark. At first he’s not kissing you at all, his lips are just brushing your cheek or your nose. It’s sweet and gentle. You try to hold in a moan, worried that any noise might shatter this moment. 

The kisses are timid as if you’re both waiting for someone to stop this. Joel lets out a shuddering breath against you. This is a bad idea, you’re both thinking it. After you kissed him the last time, he held you at arms length. When this blows up, you’ll lose him entirely. But you need to be closer to him. 

You open your mouth to him, tangle your legs between his. His hand slides under your shirt, roaming your bare skin. You thought that snuggling under the blanket was enough but now you realize just how hungry you’ve been to be touched. Really touched. He needs it too. Joel leans into your hand on his jaw with a whimper. 

You don’t open your eyes. You might be the one dreaming and you don’t want to wake up. 

It’s quiet, just the sound of hot breaths and desperate kisses, the swish of the sheets as you shift your hips to meet his. You keep yourself from rocking against him, try to enjoy the feeling of him without crossing yet another line, but you’re aching. His shirt has ridden up so you feel the softness of his middle, the light hairs on his chest. Your fingers intertwine with his as his mouth trails down the column of your neck and. Joel buries his face there. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathes. 

You’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. This? Then? The years in between? None of it matters because you want to live in this moment forever. 

You shush him, pull him back to your mouth. You’re ready to lose yourself, to forget, to ignore the storm of thoughts constantly plaguing your mind. This is all you want. 

You peel off your clothing, helping him slide out of his sweatpants until there’s nothing between you. Joel’s skin is warm and soft against you and you realize you’ve never been this close to another soul. 

When Joel settles over you and you feel him throbbing between his legs, you shiver with nervous anticipation. You expect him to say something, to warn you that this is a bad idea, to promise this won’t change anything. But his brown eyes look as confused with need as you feel. There’s no room for thinking or it will crush this fragile moment like glass. 

You tilt your hips to allow him in, already slick from being so close to him. 

Slowly, he enters you, kissing you all the while. He makes a choked sound, wincing as his body stills. The noise makes you clench around him. 

Together you take a moment to get your bearings and you adjust to the fullness of him. Joel’s eyes are pressed shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. 

Before he begins to move, his thumb finds your clit, grazing it lightly. After years of solitude and now months being just out of reach of him, the sensation makes you gasp sharply. 

You’ve had sex a handful of times. They had been more about fulfilling a self destructive urge than a desire for pleasure. It’s never been like this. 

You start to lose sense of everything but the feelings of your body. Your core tenses and your breaths go short and you start to forget that it’s Joel whose hips are stuttering into you. It’s as if this euphoria can erase some of those awful memories. 

Soon you’re shattering beneath him, a crescendo that has you tugging on his hair and gasping for air. Joel grunts into your ear. He follows after you, hissing as he pulls out of you. He pulses into his hand, his release dripping from his fist onto your sweat damp skin. Then he collapses onto you. You run your fingers through his long curls and he kisses your forehead. There might be tears in your eyes– maybe his too. It’s too dark to be sure– but when his breath evens out, it still sounds ragged against you.

Eventually he gets out of bed and leaves the room and, in that moment, you can feel everything hanging over your head again– what you’ve just done, the horrors of the world. Perhaps even more intense than before. 

But Joel returns quickly. He flicks on the light on his bed side table and cleans you with a damp rag. His touch is gentle, reverent, and his dark eyes travel over your naked skin to yours. There’s a question in them, guilt, but you have no regrets. You smooth your hand out on the sheets beside you and he lays back on his pillow. He surrounds you with his massive arms and you fall asleep grateful that you don’t feel abandoned anymore.

You worry that it was just a one time thing, try to accept that it might never happen again. But the next time you share Joel’s bed, he’s pulling you into him, pressing kisses into your shoulder, nuzzling at the spot behind your ear. His hard length prods at the small of your back. 

It starts like that every time. Intimate, sensual, quiet. It’s never tearing his clothes off or pushing you up against a wall. You just stay close, breath each other in, trail fingertips across skin. Neither of you ever speak above a whisper.  

Joel barely talks at all except to ask, “That too much?” and “Feel good?” 

You live for the moments when his hand skates over your hip, his dark eyes soft. 

“Pretty,” he says almost to himself. 

He’s such a beautiful man. Your fingers trace the smooth plane of his chest, dusted lightly with hair and a few stray freckles. Age has only improved him. The greys in his stubble catch the glow from the lamp on the nightstand. You study him with the same attention to detail you used in your youth. The cleft in his bottom lip, the dimples on his lower back, the scar on his temple. You’ve memorized it all. 

Joel breaks open for you. He lets you see him vulnerable. He’ll fuck you with thrusts that shake loose deep emotions. Just as quickly, he’ll hold you together when it feels like you’re falling apart. 

You lay with him after, sticky with the shared heat of your bodies but reluctant to roll away and break the connection. 

Whatever this is, you don’t speak its name. There are too many questions and conflicts that it might not withstand. It exists only for you and him. A safe haven in the chaos, a bit of respite at the end of long years. 

In his arms, you’re not his dead daughter’s best friend. He’s not the man that left you when you needed him most. You’re just two people that need to not be alone. Each time, it’s the same. The overwhelming bliss of Joel making love to you is second only to the understanding that he’s finally come back for you. 

Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear from you. Comments and reblogs always appreciated.

[berryliciouspie]

ᢉ𐭩 nerd! ellie williams sfw hc's

⠀ ୨୧ authors 📝 : hey guys ! first ever headcannons so im sorry if im not good at writing im getting the hang of this app ( PLS READ IT THO DON'T SCROLL AHHHH!!) i was gonna write smut hc's too but thats for another day !! ( maybe at 30 likes ? wink wink )

✦ likes are appreciated i'm new to tumblr!! ( also open to moots in the comments ! ) i also have a req box in my bio if you wanna send me some stuff !! <3

masc women hmu pls dms open .. ahaha who said that ! !

₊ modern au! , shy!nerd!ellie , flirting , bold(ish) ellie , men dni , high-key cringe , not proofread, a little short , probably loser!lovergirl! ellie is a better fit lol , fluff , all that good stuff ! <3

⟢ fluff hc's

ᯓ nerd!ellie is SO down bad for you . and when ur on ur period its no different . she practically kisses the ground you work on , spoiling you in every way .

︎︎⤷ "baabbyy... don't leaave mee.. m' so cold.." you'd say after she gets up from holding you in bed. she was keeping you so so warm , but she wanted to surprise you with something.

"i'll be back silly, stay right there okay? call me if you need me but i'd be home fast." she gives you a kiss on ur forehead while you pout in pain that ur girlfriend is breaking up with you (shes going to the store for 15 minutes max.) while ur in ur death bed (you are in ur shared bed with ellie with 3 blankets , hello kitty plushies , a hot water pouch , heated blanket , and her laptop playing ur favorite movie).

you'd take a small nap and she'd come home to you're sleepy self. she'd slowly open up her bag of ur favorite (insert sweet treat here). you jolted at the noise of a bag and see ur pretty girl with sweats, a tank top and her adorable glasses you loved so much looking at you while shes on her gaming chair around her set up with the bag.

"you can go back to bed, sleepy girl. it wont go away" she says with a soft laugh.

"ellie .. give it to mee .. " ur hands come out the blankets and ur hands start doing a grabbing motion for it.

she'd chuckle, "how can i say no to my precious baby."

ᯓ when nerd!ellie see's random things on tiktok / reels / pintrest / anything she always says "us!" or sends you videos like that.

︎︎⤷ "baby , look its us!" she'd come running to the kitchen while you are getting water for her.

"mhm els, we are those two french fries." you'd say and you give her a cheek kiss that leaves her cheeks in a deep hue of red. she kissed you back on the lips and then smirked.

"are you a french fry? because i want to eat you out from top to bottom !" she'd giggle and almost die of laughter from her own joke, and you follow as well.

"you fucking corn ball!" ellie would catch her breath before picking you up and putting ur legs around her.

" i love you sweetheart ."

"awww els! i love you dork."

a few days later , she showed you kittens cuddled up together forming a heart while you two were cuddling.

"aww! ellie this is so freaking us, how cute is this!!"

"i know how much you like cats and this is us cause we love each other and they are forming a heart which means they love each other and so thats us and they are super cute and ur super cute baby and-"

ellie would be shut up by you crashing ur lips into hers, and she'd let out a small whimper from how sudden it was. you pulled back and she looked like she was ready for more.

"what was that for princess?" she'd adjust her posture to look as calm and collective as she could (as if you guys haven't kissed many times before and are already dating..) and she covered her face slightly with her hands.

"you looked too cute pretty girl - why are you covering ur face?"

she only replied with a small pouting noise. cute.

"els, cmon look at me."

you held her hands gently and pulled them away from her face so you can see ur beautiful girl. she was so flustered, her face was beet red to her ears and her eyes looked like those of a pup.

"hehe.. ur so cute all flustered."

"shut up." she'd adjust her glasses before laying on ur chest. "s'not my fault ur super hot."

"i know . . its hard being this sexy els!" you'd say mockingly.

she'd rolled her eyes with a smirk on her face. "what if we tried making that heart shape?"

"you serious?"

"hey! i'm always serious!" you could only laugh and say " later. "

- nerd!ellie def puts on scary movies (that she is so nerdy abt) just for you to jump on her when shes scared (she also get scared but shhh)

- nerd!ellie geeks out when she yaps to you about dinosaurs, when you just look at her for too long saying "mhm" over and over she literally tweaks in the middle of her sentences and stutters (AUGGHSHHS I LOVE NERDS)

- nerd!ellie is just a girl . in public she'll have a cold face not because she wants to be nonchalant she's just awkward (MY SHAYLAAA💔💔) she just wants to go to her baby (you 😅)

- nerd!ellie sometimes asks to go on late night walks to see the starts and yaps about space and star facts and she'll bring a journal to draw the sky

- nerd!ellie loves to do acts of service , quality time , and physical touch !! she looooves taking care of you , she even leaves the game when you call for her (even when she cant pause💔). when ur doing anything she'll have to be all over you so she'll shut up. whether it be her laying on ur lap or her head is on your shoulder, her hands pulling ur waist so ur closer and random kisses every now and then.

- nerd!ellie loves giving you princess treatment.. need i say more. shes such a cutie aughfhshs

- this is random but my girl def got some corny ass dino boxers HELP

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨♡୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

heyoo guys !! thanks for reading my first real post lol , i got a very interesting (nerd ellie smut LMAO) fic idea for my next post hehehehe stay tunnneeddd!!!

- berry pie ! <3

[revelboo]

To our lord and messiah revelboo, may I make a simple human sacrifice for some more of “mass displacement mayhem” or “it had to be you” also, just a side note, I really hope you're doing well, take breaks, drink some water, do some stretches, and if you're feeling a little bit more gracious, I would like to know a little bit more of your lore in your fanfics.

I hope to update It Had To Be You, L.G.Fuad, and Everything Is Alright (again) tonight. But lore? Y’all made me have to actually think and BS some lore for my nonsense as I went, so here’s some of it

Transformers Lore bits for my G1/IDW stories

• In the fics, I’m going with very few new Transformers being created even well before the war began as the Senate tightened their grip on the population, especially the working class. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Bluestreak, and First Aid among the last generation of sparklings created.

Little doomed uprisings were already beginning to crop up across Cybertron. A young idealistic senator named Shockwave beginning to hear rumblings and voicing his concerns to his mentor. And this would have been about the same time that they started implementing Empurata and started using Shadowplay on dissenters who might actually be able to get some traction and cause problems for them.

Archival records on spark bonds would have been destroyed around this time as well, leading to the taboo against such bonds and propaganda being disbursed that such bonds were blasphemous. It would have been a way to control the population growth since the aristocracy was already vastly outnumbered. It also ensured that if one spark mate perished in an accident, they wouldn’t lose two workers with fully bonded mates tied to each other’s life force.

It’s also around this time that Kaon is at its worst and the senate’s spies have begun actively hunting potential dissidents among the population. In cities like Iacon, there’d be rumors of someone speaking out or questioning the senate only to go missing. In Kaon, the gladiatorial matches would be in full swing, participants fighting to the death, some of them against their will. It’s in the pits that a gladiator calling himself Megatron after the fallen Prime starts gaining a following. While the Senate is aware of the gladiator fights, they’re largely ignored since they give the populace a distraction from how unhappy they are.

But it’s not only the lower classes dissatisfied with the Senate. More and more of the Cybertronian military are beginning to complain as energon rations are enforced for all but the wealthiest as another means of control. At this point, Soundwave and the Seekers gravitate toward Megatron and his ideals, his whispers that they’re all being deceived. Wanting someone to rise up and change things for the better. Through force if necessary.