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spinoff-antithesis · 2 years ago

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[@distinguished-turtle-enjoyer ]

i actually have not stopped thinkin bout your bb!edit like,,,, its so good and scratches my brain right

how long have you been doin edits for? do have any tips for someone, who hypothetically, wants to start doin edits too? what programs do you use? how did you do the cool animated bits?

im so sorry for all the qustions 😭😭 i just think youre very talented and inspirational and i hope you have a good day ^_^

hi firstly oh my gosh you're literally so sweet i am gently shaking you i love you so much /p. secondly, i apologize for the long answer! (it's all under the cut. this got away from me. i'm so sorry apparently i have a lot to say.) (also you're so good about the questions i would constantly be asking one of my professors questions during class to the point where she said i didn't have to go "i have a question" every time i approached her)

i've been editing since 2016! around march/april, i think? loved it so much i went into film & video production in college as a major so i could do editing for a living. (i have done more motion graphics for my classmates than i have done edits outside of class assignments, BUT!)

the program i use is after effects - i started learning it when covid first hit the united states because i had nothing better to do with my time (other than music theory but i failed that bc my professor focused more on the history aspects than the actual theory soooo) and my ipad kept giving me the "no more storage" whenever i tried to use videostar lmao. (vs has, apparently, gotten a LOT of good updates, so if you're looking to start editing and have an ios system, i'd look into it! only downside is you have to pay for some of the cool stuff).

also the program i use for masking (i think i explain this later dwdw) is superimpose. i've been using it since 2014 and it's SO nice bc i can use my fingers to erase backgrounds & stuff instead of hoping i can get it to work correctly in ae or photoshop (photoshop my DETESTED i'll use it but i'll complain the entire time).

for people who want to start editing: tutorials on how your program works and how to do specific transitions are gonna be your best friend when you're first figuring things out! i forced a friend to literally walk me through how after effects worked when i was first figuring it out, and when i had swapped to videostar back in 2017/2018(?) i had watched a Lot of tutorials. that and played around a lot and figured things out on my own - which is also always a good way to start!! it's also totally valid to look at other people's edits for inspiration - most editors don't really care, as long as you don't flat-out remake their edit (some people don't like that!). i have a style insp folder on instagram where i save edits that i like so if i need transition ideas or i'm doing a different style, i can look there for inspiration. at the end of the day, as long as you're having fun with it that's all that matters!

also, starting simple is always okay!! my edits for a year were just me slapping gifs & video segments together on a timeline in cute cut pro bc imovie didn't load them lol & it'd crash every time i breathed. ++ it never hurts to ask people for feedback/constructive(!!!) criticism/etc! (also not to sound like everyone else but practice? good. it's so good. if i showed my 14/15y/o self some of the edits i can make now they would've passed out on the spot bc i was still trying to figure out transitions back then. programs can also sometimes make a difference in edits, but usually it's not super noticeable until you start getting to the Complicated Shit.)

a lot of popular programs i've seen are ones like video star (ios only), alight motion (android only), after effects (i recommend 🏴‍☠️ing it tbh, i only use it legally bc i had to use adobe programs for school), capcut, and i think some people still use sony vegas pro & maybe cute cut pro (i've heard it may have actually gotten better since i last used it in 2018)? i have no idea. programs also depend on whatever device you're using to edit on! since i've been using my laptop, i'm able to use after effects (it's computer-only), but when i used my phone/ipad to edit i used ccp & vs.

for the animation - it's a lot of cutting up the image and masking! more complex animations, like the one i had of leo walking down that red 'hallway' have several different layers that have been masked. (i removed the background & filled in the spot where leo originally was in two different apps - superimpose (taking leo out) & photoshop (filling in the bg)) in after effects, the way i've done this was mask out the specific thing i wanted to move (like an eye) and then put that mask on what i've called a "base" (not animated), and then stick a solid behind the base to match the color of the object. (some of my layers are not named appropriately; base 2 is the left arm & the four "SIX_[...]" layers are the mask/bandana tails)

an example of this would be for any of the eye blink animations i did! this (above) is the same shot, with and without the eye - since it's masked out and i have the background solid behind it, it doesn't look too unnatural/have a black outline/mass where his eye should be.

what it looks like without the solid layer behind it ^ (the red lines are from the null layers - ignore that)

this is what my timeline looks like if it's a more simplistic animation - the only five things being animated here are leo & raph's eyes. (there's only this many layers bc it's two characters in one shot & i was also animating their pupils - typically, an eye-blink animation is about 4-6 layers for me (solid, base, mask, & null to animate with, 6 if i'm animating both eyes & 4 if just one))

in after effects, there's this really cool tool called the puppet pin that one of my friends (lovingly) yelled at me for not knowing about - which. yeah fair she wasn't wrong it's SUPER useful in animating, provided you chop up your image first. if you don't it's a mess.

(separated by layer vs i should've really put the mask tails & leo's head on separate layers and didn't bc that was the 2nd to last animation i had to do and i was losing my mind bc i wanted to be done with the edit lmao)

the way people animate depends all on their style (there's two common ways to do blinking animation - having the anchor point at the bottom of the eye, or the middle of it) and the program they use. it's been a while, but i could probably tell you how to do some basic animations on videostar still even though i've been doing them in after effects for about 2-3years now. ALSO the best way to have an animation be noticeable is to over-exaggerate it/make them Big - which, yes, can mean 'breaking bones' and having the limbs be a little wonky at the start. (if you want it to be realistic though go Just to the point where it looks uncomfortable lmao)

uhm. again i am so sorry that this is so long i THINK this is everything? if not: my inbox/dms are always open if you ever want to ask more questions, wanna follow up on something, etc etc!! (also if you ever start editing please send me your edits!!! i'd love to see them <3)

#this got away from me im SO sorry (just put this in google docs out of curiosity. 1255 words. i am so sorry for the essay.)#uhm. ANYWAY YES like i said if you have any other questions feel free to reach out!!! i am always alway willing to help people out #with stuff like this!!! i can talk your ear off though if this wasn't enough proof of that /j #if nothing makes sense it's bc i'm responding to this at like. 5am my time. so. my bad if there's typos i'm so sorry #like i think i saw this ask at 4:40ish am and i'm still making sure i've got everything covered and its like 5:32am LMAO #me when i dont sleep bc i have no routine now #ask box pals #art creds in the screenshots to trubblegumm !! <- tagging to be safe #still in shock at the amount of positive feedback im getting from my bb!leo edit like oh my god you guys are incredible ilysm /p #sorry i discovered in the middle of typing out my tags that you can edit them now after you've hit enter where am i.#also this is offtopic so its down here but i am Not complaining about doing more motion graphics than actual editing.#a bitch has won two awards for their motion graphics at festivals and i've been doing them for a YEAR #(laughs in the first time i ever did a real one i won a student award. idk how. but i DID and i won the pro category this year <3)#it would be nice tho to do more editing for short films tho :( had a professor tell me i was good at it.#i should rly start using my camera and shoot my own stuff and edit it huh. maybe i will eventually i have a few ideas.#anyway. i need to stop rambling abt my experience as a film student and go to bed i apparently need to be up in the morning but idk WHEN

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it-happened-one-fic · 6 months ago

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Might've Walked Slower - Floyd

Author Notes: So, I was actually planning on posting a different fic today, but then the Stitch even came out today so I decided Floyd would get a fic posted today instead. I've actually had this written for a little bit, but it's been undergoing polishing and gathering dust in my google docs. I had fun writing and working on this one, though I have to admit it really doesn't have any specific source of inspiration beyond NRC having an old building and me wondering if there were secret passageways. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ sfw/ fluff/ flirtation

Word count: 1685

It started the same way a great many things at NRC seemed to start. With a task from Crowley.

To be fair, this task wasn’t particularly difficult or even that annoying. It was just returning some books to the school library for him.

The only trouble came in the form of a bored Floyd Leech, who was currently lurking in the library for unknown reasons. Luckily, Floyd had thus far opted to sit and boredly watch as you shelved books once he’d discovered your presence didn’t mean anything exciting.

But nothing could stay simple in NRC, and today served as still more evidence for that fact.

You’d simply put one hand down on a strangely empty shelf to support yourself while you stretched upwards to place a book on a still higher shelf. And that was when everything went horribly wrong.

You leaned forward ever so slightly more, frowning as you stretched just a little bit more, and all at once the shelf let out a horrible groaning sound and gave way. Your eyes widened, and you realized exactly what was going to happen.

You plummeted forward with a shriek that had Floyd jerking upright from his previously relaxed position of stretching his upper body across the top of a table, “Shrimpy?!”

His voice sounded equal parts startled and concerned, but you paid him little mind as you scrambled, catching yourself against a web-coated wall as you tumbled through where the bookshelf had just been. Your shoulder slamming hard against the cold stone in a way that promised you would have some impressive bruises tomorrow morning.

You groaned slightly as you pushed yourself back, your uninjured arm wrapping around your body so that you could press a hand to your now-throbbing shoulder. But all thoughts of how much that was going to hurt tomorrow fled as you stared at the gaping hole in the wall that was now in front of you.

You stared in quiet horror at the hole before your brain kicked into gear, noting that the edges of the opening were smooth and that this area had obviously been built this way to let the bookshelf swing open like a demented door to reveal the tunnel lined with sconces that hung on the filthy walls.

Though you’d initially thought you’d somehow caused the entire bookcase to topple, that was obviously not the case. Instead, it looked like you’d managed to somehow trigger a mechanism that had opened some sort of hidden door to a passageway that you were now standing in the entrance of.

“Shrimpy, are you…” Floyd trailed off from where he’d appeared behind you as he beheld the darkened path you’d uncovered.

Both of you stood in silence, staring down the stone tunnel whose walls bore unlit sconces before giving way into a deep darkness. You slowly stood as you continued to stare into the darkness from next to Floyd. Wondering what, exactly, this passage was and where it led.

“What have you found this time, Shrimpy?” Floyd’s amused voice snapped you out of your silent gaping, and you shot him a look only to find him staring into the darkness with sparkling eyes that spoke of an emotion that one should always be wary of if it were coming from Floyd.

Excitement.

With a simple gesture that was not unlike snapping his fingers, magic shot out from where the young man stood, and flames began to flicker in the sconces as he stepped past you into the passageway. Before you could say anything, he’d already reached back and wrapped one hand around your wrist with a smooth rolling motion of his long fingers.

“Floyd, wai-” You were cut off by him giving you a slight tug and pulling you into the tunnel-like space with him. He was already grinning in a way that told you that you were probably going to be stuck going with him no matter what you said.

“Come on~ it’ll be fun,” His eyes were alight, and the yellow one had a slight glow to it that reminded you of the deep-sea fish that used lights to tempt prey in closer.

And, in some ways, it was tempting to check out the tunnel-like passage you’d discovered. After all, just finding it brought to light numerous questions.

Were there more? What was it for? And how old was NRC anyway if it had hidden passageways like this?

You hesitated though, glancing back towards the library as your freehand fell away from your shoulder before Floyd’s sing-songy voice came from far closer than it had been before, telling you he’d stepped closer to you, “Don’t you wanna know where it leads~?”

You looked back towards him, finding that he had indeed stepped closer and was now looking at you, still holding onto your wrist and smiling in a way that told you he knew he was going to win. Because, unfortunately, you were curious about this hidden passage that you’d discovered.

“Just for a little while. I’m not spending all day and night exploring some creepy path with you,” Your tone was firm, but still drew a giggle from the tall young man who now turned to lead you down the path. His hand sliding down until your hands were interlocked.

“It's not creepy, just a little dark. Kind of like home,” You all but snorted at his utterly relaxed demeanor. Of course he wouldn’t find previously secret, web-encrusted tunnels lit only by widely spaced sconces creepy.

But then there was no telling what he was used to seeing from his time living under the sea. Creepy might be an everyday commodity for him. And he had said it was sort of like his home….

When you didn’t actually respond as you glanced around at your surroundings, he twisted, looking back at you with an amused, almost mocking grin, “Aw, don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark, Shrimpy~”

“Hardly, I just tend to be wary of places that strike me as fishy,” If anything, your words seemed to delight him further as he tugged you up closer to him so that you were walking side by side as he leaned towards you.

“Don’t worry. I’m way more fishy than anything that’ll be in here,” He winked in a way that had you rolling your eyes, but not pulling away from him even as he giggled. Because, for better or worse, having Floyd with you while exploring some dark hole in a magical school was far better than being alone.

After all, he could probably take on anything you found.

Floyd stopped, tugging you to a stop by simply not letting you pull him with you as you came to the edge of the set of stairs.

Glancing back, you noticed him tilting his head with a thoughtful expression before he met your gaze and smiled teasingly once more, “Reckon it goes to the dungeon?”

You couldn’t stop the snort that came from your throat as you shook your head, “Why would a school have a dungeon?”

He shrugged, staring down the stone steps and soon guiding you down with him as he kept lighting sconces as you approached them, and amusingly, it made you wonder if he really was worried that you were afraid of the dark, “Don’t know, maybe for bad kiddies?”

“Shouldn’t most of the school, including you, be down here then?” Your wry words had him snickering even as you pondered where the staircase led.

You tilted your head as you carefully followed Floyd down the stone staircase, “Has this place always been a school?”

Floyd gave you a sideways glance before shrugging in a perfectly nonchalant manner, “Don’t know. You’d have to ask one of the history buffs about that.”

Your mind briefly flickered to Malleus’s analysis of the gargoyles on every building on the campus before you dismissed the thought with a shrug, “Either way, I hope this staircase ends with a door out of here.”

“Aw, you aren’t enjoying our date?” You grinned despite yourself at Floyd’s potentially faux pout.

“I didn’t realize this was a date?” You glanced up, still smiling, at Floyd in time to watch as he briefly went wide-eyed before recovering with record timing.

“You think I just casually take all cuties down some potentially forbidden tunnel?” Floyd’s grin was perfectly shameless, but it had laughter bubbling out of you as you shook your head at his antics.

And a large part of you couldn’t believe that you were slowly slipping into the all-too-obvious trap of flirting with Floyd. But here you were, and in no way were you uncomfortable.

In fact, despite yourself and the environment, you were perfectly enjoying your little jaunt through this web-encrusted passage. And you had a sneaking suspicion that the sole reason you were having fun was the young man next to you.

Looking ahead, you could indeed see a door at the foot of the stairs, no doubt the exit to the lengthy tunnel, “How about next time you tell me we’re on a date before whisking me off down some dark tunnel? I might’ve walked slower.”

You could’ve sworn his eyes were sparkling as he grinned at both you and your words before he turned to look at the door, “Well, let’s see where our secret path leads.”

With that, he pushed open the door, scaring the ghosts on the other sides and letting the scent of cooking food spill into the passageway. Your new location could be in only one place. The kitchen.

Floyd was laughing as the two of you entered the hot room filled with now flustered spirits, but before he let go of your hand, he tugged you closer to him and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Next time you go exploring, make sure to tell me.”

You looked up to see him grinning at you, utterly delighted by the happenings of the day and a long way off from the bored Floyd of earlier as he winked at you, “I’ve got to hold you to walking slower on our next date.”

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mersei47 · 15 days ago

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I've been thinking about this self indulgent hank x player story for a while now and I really wanna share it because I love player and like the thought of them and hank met each others. This is gonna be long (and possibly broken grammars) but I will do my best at explaining it. the story is below

in one loop player started their own personal investigation to find out who this hank is out of curiousity. When both of them finally met, hank found player to be interesting and curious as to why player is so good at fighting (player didn't tell hank about the loop yet because they think nobody would believe them). Hank then decided to join player's team as a temporary hireling but he told them he didn't want any payment, he only joined them because he bored and wanted some entertainment.

as time go on hank and player started to get close. Hank realized that player is unlike the others and was fun to be around with. When it was time for player to enmesh the mandatus hank just went "you going to kill god? like an actual god? that's my shit count me in too". Player tried to tell hank that he can't go there because they have no idea what will happen to him if he did and this scenario had never happen before but hank was stubborn as fuck so player just let him.

when player and hank met gambler, gambler was confused at hank's presense and said how this event was not supposed to happen (hank found gambler annoying and commented on how he liked to use ambigious and fancy words to make himself looks mystery). Gambler tried to prevent hank from going any further but player told him that it was fine just let him do whatever he wanted because honestly they secretly wondering too what will happen.

After both of them finished taking down the machine, they got warped back to nevada and standing at the edge of the nowhere. player told hank that this is gonna be the last time hank see them but they are happy that in this loop they didn't face the machine alone and glad to see other side of hank that's not only violent part. Hank didn't think too hard about what player said but he really let himself get attached to them and suddenly feel....disappointed? regret? he didn't say it out loud and didn't know what to say so he just watched player walked into the nowhere until he couldn't see them anymore.

After player went vanished everyone at annex building went into chaos for a few days but soon managed back to normal by 2bdamned. Hank already knew that doc must knew about the whole mandatus thing with player so he went up to doc and asked him if player will ever coming back and doc said no. Hank didn't bother asking more from doc because he knew that doc already made up his mind about this but he couldn't help being frustrated himself. He also regret not really say anything to player back then. (he realized his feeling too late)

but after all those events, the machine will view hank as a bug/defective to the system because player is supposed to be the only one witness it but now hank witness it too.

this graph I draw is how I view arena mode event combined with my story. player stuck between points in time. And hank you can view him as like a virus or something like that because since he meant to be contained just like player but he's not and now continue to exist until present time. making him a dangerous being to the system (nevada)

think of it like, hank knows too much behind the curtains and he could use that to his advantage to destroy the machine anytime he wants

that's all I have for now. you can tell I really struggle with the last part of how should I explain it but im glad I get it all out. I hope you guys get the overall context of my rambling

#text #idk what tag I should use yet for this

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ilovebuckers5 · 7 months ago

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*•♡never be like you pt 3 ♡¸.•*'

nika muhl x cheerleader!reader

"I'm falling on my knees. forgive me, I'm a fucking fool "

word count - 2.3k

themes :

-angst if you squint

-smut

warnings :

-public sex

-fingering

a/n - sorry for how long it took me to post this. writers block was biting me in the ass. enjoy the smut!!! ( I did not spell check sooooo sorry)

the days between when I asked Nika to the concert and the actual concert were hell. all I could think about was her. and the occasional thought about what Farah was planning for fucking over Asher but that's for another day.

finally, it was the day of the concert. I had already ordered an outfit from about a million different websites but it came together perfectly. I was going to be basic and just where a purple skirt and a white top but the more I looked in online stores, the crazier (and shinier) my outfit got. I decided on a sparkly purple blazer and a black mini skirt with a matching black tube top. the only shoes I could find were purple doc martins so that's what I went with.

the moment I stepped out of my closet to show Farah my outfit, I was convinced that she dropped dead. her hands slammed on the desk she was sitting beside. she stood up and ran her hands over the shoulders of my blazer. "its so fucking good oh my God. I'm kind of mad at you actually. I wish I came up with this." her eyes and hands traced over my entire outfit in awe. before I could even look at myself in the mirror, Farah began taking way too many photos. "I'm sending these all the Nika." that's when I slapped the phone out of her hand.

i almost broke my nose diving for her phone to delete all the pictures. the last thing I wanted was for Nika to see me in a ridiculously glittery outfit with anything else done. if I was doing a big reveal for her then it would have to be when I'm fully ready.

while Farah changed into her outfit, which was a mystery to me, I started doing my makeup. the concert was in 3 hours from now and the venue was 1 hour and 30 minutes away. so as long as Farah didn't take forever getting ready, we would be fine. of course that's as long as Nika was ready.

------------------------------------------------------------

nika's pov

to be honest, I've only heard one Olivia Rodrigo song in my entire life. and its not like I hated it but it wasn't my type of music. but because I love concerts and y/n, I turned on a playlist with her music and started getting ready. me, Farah, and y/n had made a group chat just for this occasion. we barely talked in it, more of just updating each other on where the concert was at and what time it was. the only appropriate outfit I could find was a pair of black jean shorts and a purple tank top. when I tried showing a couple of the girls on my team, I've never gotten more disapproval. they forced me to get letters and designs ironed on the top so once the outfit was put together I had a purple tank top with the words 'sorry my guts spilled' on it with my shorts and a purple pair of Nike dunks that I had to borrow from Paige. oh yeah, the group chat was also used for outfit checks. so I got sent pictures of outfits on racks, hangers, beds, floors, and people. I couldn't care enough to do all that so I just sent a picture of my outfit once it was on me.

farah and y/n had to have been the most hyped up girls I've ever met. they couldn't stop spamming the group chat when they saw my outfit. it honestly felt nice. I didn't do much makeup because I knew how hot those stadiums got. I just put on some mascara and lip liner and I was ready to go. I didn't want to end up looking a mess afterwards, I guess the girls did though.

when I was getting ready, one song sort of stuck out compared to all the others. love is embarrassing. I kind of related to it. loves was never really my thing. at least in college it wasn't. love seemed like something that would get me distracted. as much as I adored seeing other couples out on dates and couples going to each other's event like sports games, it seemed well, embarrassing to me.

i tried to keep it like that.

the time that the girls spent getting ready on seemed to go by slower than ever. i found myself sitting on my bed and my couch and every other surface ever. when finally i got a text.

'we're here!'

i launched myself off of the ledge of my counter and grabbed my bag. i made sure to bring a couple extra water bottles and other necessities so that if anyone ran out, that actually wouldn't.

the moment i sat in the car, the energy shifted.

when i looked from afar, the girls were going back and forth with no music playing. as if one or the other was panicking about something. but when i got there, they acted normal as ever. weird.

"heyyyy! you ready?"

fatah squealed, shaking my shoulder. i smiled in return while nodding my head up and down.

"yess! let's go!"

i wanted to talk to y/n but she barely looked at me. i couldn't tell if it was out of fear or if she just forgot to say something but i knew it didn't feel that good.

the entire car ride was filled with the two girls informing me about olivia rodrigo's songs and who they are about and who she's dated. and to be honest i was pretty invested. more than any other artist. the girls knew every lyrics to every song and it made me feel out of place but i knew i'd settle in once i heard her live.

"oh my god and just a little while ago she released guts spilled!"

i couldn't help but tilt my head in confusion.

"what's that?"

the girls gave eachother a look as if they were about to stop the car and put on a performance of what 'guts spilled' is.

"it's like a bonus to guts! it has five new tracks that basically everyone was waiting for!"

i could tell that this was something y/n had been waiting to be asked about. the pure joy in her face and voice brought a light smile to my face. her eyebrows were raised and her eyes were open wide.

"i think you'll like obsessed and girl i've always been..." farah leaned back to look at me and whisper.

the rest of the car ride was pretty fun actually. we spent time memorizing lyrics. well. they spent time helping me memorize lyrics and eventually i got lost in the music, making the time on the road go by extremely quick. by the time we were at the stadium, i had basically learned all the lyrics to both of olivia's albums. farah and y/n were so proud.

this parking lot was more packed than any concert lot i've ever been to. i mean every single spot was taken. we had to park on the street and speed walk to the stadium. we got in after what felt like hours of checking bags and tickets and whatever. and once we were in? it was cold.

cold and mildy empty. we had gotten there around 40 minutes early so we found the pit and hung around until the entire stadium was full.

when the light went off, i felt the entire aura switch very quickly. there was a different artist opening. and while i had heard of olivia once or twice around social media, i had never heard of chappell roan. of course farah and y/n had because they began screaming every single lyrics. the music actually was bad so i started to dance along and hum to as much lyrics as i could understand.

finally there were purple lights flashing and olivia came out. i couldn't help but scream along with everyone because as much as i tried to hide it, i was pretty fucking excited.

------------------------------------------------------------

y/n's pov

i don't think i could express how badly i want to wrap my arms around nika just for her coming. we were basically strangers and she came to a whole concert with us. a normal person wouldn't just do that. nika would.

i won't lie, the way our shoulders bumped up against eachother while we were dancing and singing felt even better than hearing olivia rodrigo live.

there were even moments where the air was steamy but bearable. i'd take a second to look to the side and there nika would be, already looking at me as if she was waiting for our eyes to meet. she would nod her head, asking if she could take my hand without speaking. and of course i never denied. she held both of our hands in the air and jumped around to all-american bitch. i know she meant it in a "this is a girls moment" way but my head told me that she was holding my hand the way i had been wanting to for the past week.

none of this could leave my mouth of course. because one ; it was too loud for anyone to even hear my words and two ; it wouldn't be the best choice to confess my love to nika in the middle of a concert. so i shoved my thoughts and fluttery words right back down my throat and replaced them with song lyrics.

all of the thoughts in my head were bringing me to tears. the fact that i was actually in the same stadium as olivia rodrigo and the fact that i was in the same arm distance as nika muhl. and i couldn't even hold her how ive wanted.

then the scream happened. right before the scream in all-american bitch was about to happen, olivia stopped and told everyone to scream for themselves. and i knew exactly what to think about when i screamed.

i screamed about having to wait for nika even though it might not work out. i thought about the fact that our bodies were pressed together in the most platonic way possible. i screamed about the fact that i still had to sort shit out with asher when i got back to campus. and i screamed about the fact that nika had no idea.

in my head i was the loudest person there but i know i wasn't when all of the screams melted together into one.

then she played obsessed. my favorite. there were a good amount of Olivia Rodrigo songs that I did relate to and this was not one of them. I've never been obsessed with anyone's ex. I've never really...cared.

i remember when the song was first leaked on a podcast on Spotify it was the only thing I listened to for a while. I knew every lyric like the back of my hand even if I didn't associate them with my own life.

olivia had changed into a red body suit and she looked amazing. it shocked me how she sounded so perfect while dancing but that's just Olivia Rodrigo for you.

i noticed Nika getting even more loud during this song. she actually was singing the lyrics as if she had known them for months. I felt proud as fuck. are hands met again. we were jumping up and down to the beat of the drums, screaming together like we had been friends for years.

everything went by so quickly.

next thing I knew she had her hand around my waist while she tried to catch her breath. her head was closer to my hands then my face and she had a death grip on her own knee. her back lifted and fell as her heavy breaths slowly went away. i had my hand on her back, trying to make sure she was ok while the song continued.

when her head was back up at eye level the first thing she did was lean into my ear and whisper. "can I try something?"

i had never been more confused in my life until I nodded and felt her hand still lingering around my hips. her fingers grazed the skin that was open in the air. she had been pretending to be focused on the music while her hands slipped down my waist and under my skirt. my breath hitched when she used just her pinky to slide my underwear to the side.

"w-what are you doing?" I questioned, trying to pretend like I didn't want this to happen.

"oh shut up I know you've wanted me too."

i couldn't form words before she dipped two fingers in my pussy. I knew that I could be more vocal since the music was loud enough to drown everyone out but I still felt the need to stay quiet. from anyone elses view, you'd think we were just holding each other or holding hands while singing. Nika quickened her pace, already making me close. it felt like a dream. and it felt like three songs had already passed but by the time it was the bridge of obsessed, I was dripping all over Nika's fingers.

"f-fuck!" I whined out, making Nika cover my mouth with her lips. she didn't stop pumping her fingers in and out of my cunt but it felt like we were only kissing. like the only thing I could feel was her lips on mine and her tongue tangled with mine.

just as I was about to finish for the second time within 1 minute and 30 seconds, Nika pulled her fingers out of me and laid them on her own tongue, sucking them clean.

part of me was in disbelief of what just happened and the other part was fully aware.

"can we continue at home?"

i nodded eagerly, still not knowing what to say to her. I could tell by the smirk on her lips and how her hands were placed on her hips that she was real fucking proud of what she just did.

the rest of the concert was a blur to me.

#girlblogger #nika muhl #basketball #uconn wbb #uconhuskies #lesbian #nika muhl x reader #nika x reader #nika mühl #nika my wife fr #never be like you #Nika muhl smut #Nika smut

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kaliforniahigh · 29 days ago

Note

Can you write about Noah and super short reader? I'm 4'11 🥺. Maybe he walks in on reader either climbing on the counter to reach something or standing on the counter looking for a snack. He starts keeping step stools in every room.

She wears his shirts like a dress with fishnets and doc martens on the regular.

Maybe they do the tiktok trend of 'showing my dog places they've never seen' but it's you being lifted by him to see above the fridge and other high places 😂

Ok, so a good while back I wrote about this exact same thought and someone made a drawing of Noah picking reader up so she can look over the fridge, but I can't find it for the life of me :((((( Anyways, I love this concept soo much!!!

Warnings: this is just fluff!

WC: 1.4k (a shortie, like the reader)

My requests are closed for now!

Noah has walked in on you climbing on things to reach somewhere or something way too many times. He's always made a mental note to keep a little step stool for you, to avoid the risks of you falling, but he actually never got around to it.

Deep down, he knows it's because he loves helping you. Loves thinking that you can rely on him to always do this one thing for you.

But, one day, he had to draw the line. You were cleaning his room, dusting the shelves and the frames he kept on the wall. The thing is, he hung them too high for you to reach, So, without thinking twice, you rolled his computer chair to where you needed it, and stepped on top of it.

You were humming some random tune under your breath, when you heard an alarmed voice behind you.

"Are you out of your mind?"

You got startled and felt the chair start to swivel and roll to the side, making you lose balance. Before you could fall to the floor, Noah was beside you, grabbing you by the hips and landing you on the ground safely.

"Oh my God! Why did you have to scare me?", you scolded him, giving him a little slap on the shoulder, trying to regain your composure after almost faceplanting on the floor.

"Why on earth would you stand on top of a rolling computer chair?", he questioned you, voice exasperated and eyes still wide from your almost accident.

"I was trying to clean the frames", you pointed to the various frames on the wall to get your point across.

"I saw that! But you need to be more careful. God knows what would've happened of I didn't catch you", he was still agitated, and that was agitating you.

"I would've been fine! I almost fell because YOU scared me!", you gestured with your hands, voice becoming a little louder.

Noah sighed out loud, rubbing his forehead with his fingers.

"Ok, maybe I shouldn't have startled you, but your idea was not the brightest", he tried to reason.

"I'm used to doing this. I've had to climb stuff my whole life to reach certain things", you turned around to resume your cleaning when Noah grabbed you by the hips.

"I'm sorry, ok? I don't mean to be a dick", he put both hands on your shoulder and started to massage them. "It's just that I worry about your well-being"

You relaxed into his touch, the tenseness leaving your body instantly.

"I know that. But the word is a very different place for someone who's 4'11''. You're 6'4'', things are way easier for you", you didn't mean to complain, but you did huff a little when you said this out of frustration.

"I know, I know", he pecked you on the lips. "I'm sorry, ok?", he looked you in the eyes, wanting you to know that he was being sincere.

"It's ok, I forgive you", you circled your arms around his middle and rested your cheek on his clothed chest. "I'm never standing on top of a rolling chair ever again".

"Not, you're not. Because I'm getting you a step stool instead", said and you whined.

"Noah, no. That's embarassing", you frowned at the ideia. You weren't a 12 year old anymore.

"What's more embarassing, a step stool, or going to the hospital, looking like a fool, because you fell from a chair?", he raised both of his eyebrows at you, as if to challenge you. You thought for a minute, but you knew he was right.

"Ok, you can get me a step stool. But it has to be foldable so I can hide it, and I won't step on it if people are watching", he smiled at your remarks, but actually impressed that you gave in so easily.

"I'll still grab things for you when I'm around", he put both hands on your back, rubbing them up and down.

"You better", you rested your head against him once again. "I'm tired of cleaning, you stressed me out. Let's go lay on the couch".

He laughed at your jab at him, but grabbed you by the hand, leading you out of the room, switching the light off and closing the door behind you.

"Let's go. I can grab you some snacks from the top shelf", you slapped him lightly on the back, as he expected, and his laugh only intensified. He couldn't see you you, but you were also sporting a big smile on your face.

"I want the Doritos"

Everything has been going well since you made your deal with Noah. The day after the almost accident, he went out and bought you the step stoll, and you've been biting your tongue to admit that it was actually a great decision.

One day, when you were laying on the couch, casually strolling on your phone, you heard Noah coming down the stairs. He was working on some songs on his computer - or that's you thought he was doing - and you usually left him alone for that.

He stood in front of you, and you looked at him over the top of your phone. He didn't say anything, but he had a smile on his face that you weren't sure if you liked. Locking you phone and dropping it on your lap, you asked:

"What?"

"I saw this trend on TikTok and I wanted to do it with you", he had an expression on his face that told you you might not like this.

"Noah, you don't even have TikTok"

"I have a TikTok", he said this a little lower, hoping you wouldn't hear it.

"You have a TikTok?"

"I do", he averted his gaze from you.

"Since when do you have a TikTok?", you asked. He was unbelivable.

"That's not important right now. Have you seen this trend where owners pick their dogs up to show them places they haven't seen before?"

"Yes, I have. It's adorable", you anwered and side-eyed him at the same time.

"I wanted to do it for you", he said and waited for your answer. You just looked at him with an unreadable expression.

"Are you comparing me to a dog?", you deadpanned, and saw his expression change immediately.

"No, baby, of course not. I just thought it would be cute"

"Yeah", you hummed, as if in thought". "It would actually be cute", you agreed.

"So you'll let me do it?", he asked, but was already opening his camera app on his phone.

"Yeah, I will, But we won't post it", you said, getting uo from the couch.

"What do you want to see first?", he asked.

"The top of the fridge", you walked to the kitchen and he followed after you. You positioned yourself and Noah propped the phone on the wall behind the fridge, the phone sitting on top of it.

"Ok, so I'll grab you by the hips and lift you up", he instructed and you nodded.

He tried picking you up the first time, but you started giggling, remembering the dog videos you watched. The movent threw him off and you landed back on your feet.

"What's so funny?", he asked, looking at you.

"I'm just remembering the dog videos. They look so confused, it's so funny", you giggled once more.

"Ok, I'll try it again", he picked you up once more and you were finally able to see on top of the fridge. When you saw it though, you let out a big gasp.

"What is it?", Noah asked you.

"Oh my God, Noah. It's so dusty up in here. I need to clean this right now", you exclaimed, running your finger over the top and seeing the trail it left behind.

"You gotta show me other places right now, because our house is dirty and I didn't even know it", you said and made your way to the bathroom. "C'mon, you gotta show me the top of the bathroom's upper cabinet"

Noah didn't even know what to say, he just followed after you, with a smile on his face at how absolutely adorable you were.

So the day went by like this, him showing you the top part of places and you insisting you clean them. But he didn't let you use the step stool this time, adamant on holding you, using the excuse that he didn't go to the gym, so this was him working on his biceps.

You were more than happy to feel the tight grip of his big hands around your waist.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens imagine #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian imagine #bad omens smut #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian headcanons #noah sebastian one shot #bad omens fic #bad omens fluff #bad omens headcanons #bad omens one shot #requested

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fabbyf1 · 3 months ago

Text

*taps microphone* is this thing on?

oh, hello.

it's me, yah girl.

you'll never guess what grandma's been up to.

after avoiding my google docs for weeks months, i have finally dusted them off and started writing again. i'll be honest with you guys: i've gone through a lot of ups and downs with writing recently, where i loved it one day and hated it the next, which is why i took such a massive break. i don't like to post things i'm not proud of, and don't fully believe in, so i'm glad i took some time away to do other things and not let writing fanfiction ruin my mental health.

but now? WE'RE BACK BABY. i followed troy bolton's advice and got my head in the game and thought to myself, what would bring you joy to write? and there was really only one answer to that question.

lestappen.

so that's what i've done.

i set out to make this a one-shot pwp, and if that's what i decide it's going to be, then it's pretty much complete right now and just needs an edit. but i think i'm gonna try to add more onto it over the next couple days and make it a short story instead.

it won't be anything massive like long live or vapor, but maybe a little more than a one-shot.

happy charles on pole day, besties. thank you for sticking by me while i got my life together.

snippet under the cut.

context: friend-charles has a bad hook-up and asks friend-max to give him an honest blow job review

Charles stretched his neck to the left and right as if he was about to hop into his car.

“Do you always stretch before giving someone a blow job?” Max asked, ignoring the sweat that was forming around his hairline.

“Fuck off,” Charles said lightheartedly. He brought his hands up and hesitated for just a moment before resting them gently on Max’s knees. Don’t be weird, don’t be weird, don’t be weird. Max was proud when the muscles of his thighs didn’t twitch or anything at the contact. “Now move your hand out of the way,” Charles instructed, looking down at where Max was covering himself.

“You’re bossier than I thought you’d be,” Max said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Is that right?” Charles asked, hands still gripping Max’s knees. “Do you think about me often, Max Verstappen?”

“I—” Max squeaked, which was somehow more embarrassing than sitting with his cock out. He glared at him as he said, “Fuck you.” Charles looked delighted by his words, which only made Max narrow his eyes further. “Don’t make me regret this,” Max warned, finally letting his hand fall to his side.

Charles looked at where Max was lying soft against his thigh. “Do you need me to flirt with you or something?”

Max scoffed. “No, asshole, I don’t need—”

“Ohhh, Max, you’re so handsome,” Charles cooed in a high-pitched tone anyway. Max’s jaw dropped open in shock. “You’re so big and strong and fast,” Charles continued, batting his eyes at him in an exaggerated way that would be comical if he wasn’t on his knees. “Mister three-time world champion with a big dick and a—”

Max’s cock twitched, and they both saw it happen.

“Oh my god,” Charles said, gasping loudly before cackling. “Oh my god, that actually did it for you?”

“No!” Max snapped, covering himself again with his hands. “Fuck you! It was a coincidence!” But he wasn’t even sure if Charles could hear him over his roaring laughter.

This might be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him.

He always knew that Charles Leclerc would be his downfall, but he never expected it to be over a blow job.

#IM SO BACK BESTIES #fic snippet #mastermind fic

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lovebillyhargrove · 5 days ago

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Billy opens his eyes in September 1985, in Hawkins hospital, and he's not happy to be alive. If you asked him, he would've preferred to stay dead or — unfortunately he never was dead — in a coma. Lying in bed like a withering away vegetable, blissfully unaware of his own existence or non-existence.

Gods have not been that merciful. Hargrove wakes up and doesn't even know his own body anymore. He needs to learn everything anew, starting with walking, or eating usual food — like an 18-year-old baby, for fuck's sake.

He's also bitter at everyone — yeah, for not fucking telling him !!

Except for Neil. Neil gets another kind of bitterness — quieter, darker, drowned in neverending pain.

Max gets a

"Fuck off, Maxine and shut the damn door." Said to the wall.

The gang of monster-hunters aren't even allowed to take a peek at her angry (and "that dude is so badass") brother.

Owens gets a

"Just leave me alone, Doc. I'm clean, and don't give a fuck about conquering the world anymore. Wasn't able to take a piss without a catheter until recently. I've got problems of a different level to deal with now."

When Steve opens the door to Billy's room, he actually gets talked to.

"Billy? .. Can I come in? .. Hey .. Hi."

Hargrove doesn't look like himself. He's too skinny, un-tanned, has some kind of a scanty beard, even longer hair, and looks like Jesus Christ.

Steve still can't believe it's happening. To come back to life after what Billy's been through? Impossible.

Maybe they put a dummy in the hospital bed.

The dummy opens its eyes, reluctantly turns its head towards Harrington, who is still hovering over the threshold, and doesn't say a word.

"How ..?" Steve's clearing his throat, cause sounds suddenly get stuck in it. "How are you .. feeling?"

The mannequin, who is probably Billy after all, blinks sadly and curls his lips

"Awesome, amigo."

Whew, damn, he's talking.

"Does .. does anything hurt?"

The guy looks at him like he's the dumbest idiot

"My ass hurts. I've been lying here for so long, I don't even know anymore if I have one or not."

Harrington wants to giggle, but that would sound extremely impolite.

He bites his lower lip.

"You look good."

Billy grins maliciously, and Steve is still shifting from foot to foot

"You're.." What's wrong with him?

"Listen, you're.."

"Get out."

"Uhm .. what?"

"You think you're so .. nice? Paying a visit to a poor sick guy? Why? To be a good fucking person? Get the fuck out of here."

"A good .. what?!" Steve tries to move closer to the bed but .. that's definitely stupid. He just feels like a ridiculous scarecrow in the field, with his ears burning

"That's not .. Hargrove. I actually .."

"Fuck you. I don't need you to come here."

"Okay, just .."

"Get lost!" Billy raises his voice

"Can I .."

"NURSE !!"

God.

"Alright! Get better!"

Asshole. Steve slams the door.

***

Three days later, he again tries to visit the boy who is definitely a nobody to him, and Billy again refuses to see him.

You know what, this is just too much ..! Silly games in the sandbox.

As if they weren't two reasonable adults. As if Steve hadn't watched Hargrove die horrifically, and as if he hadn't accompanied him to the hospital in the ambulance that night. Well, he himself was pretty beaten up, and needed a ride to the hospital, so it was kinda .. on the way, but still.

He sort of cared.

Was worried sick, to be honest.

And, listen, Steve generally doesn't take rejection well when he cares about something. Someone.

He's also sure of one thing — water wears the stone away.

So Steve shows up at the hospital again. Just to remind Billy of his existence, hang around the hallway, and when the door opens, give him a deliberately friendly smile and a wave of his hand.

Maybe he's here not to see Hargrove at all, he's got other stuff to do. Maybe he was just passing room number eight by accident.

Harrington is amused at Billy's face every time the guy catches a glimpse of Steve in his vicinity.

The patient either switches on complete indifference and sits there with a pompous ass face, as if they don't even know each other, or hisses like a pissed off cat.

Or he conspiratorially whispers something to the nurse when Harrington peers through the half-closed door — most likely asking her not to let Steve into the room under any circumstances.

But the former king didn't fall off the banana truck either. He has his own ways of influencing others — and begs nurse Miller, who seems to him more compassionate than nurse Fieldstone, to pass Hargrove a note

Dude, talk to me.

Steve turns to Max with a request — to collect some tapes from her brother's room, Metallica, Scorpions, Ratt, Mötley Crüe and his other favorite bands,

And asks Mrs. Miller to give them to the moody patient along with an expensive new Sony cassette player, which Harrington bought yesterday on Main Street.

The next day the player is waiting for Steve at the reception — Billy refused to accept the gift, but Harrington does not give in.

"Could you please put it in the drawer of the bedside table, preferably when he is asleep?"

The plan seems to have worked, at least the player is no longer returned. The guy must be climbing walls from hospital boredom.

One day Harrington gets lucky — he's going up to the second floor and bumps into Hargrove, who is being wheeled somewhere in a chair

"Oh, hi! Hello, Mrs. Miller!"

The nurse nods to him. Billy will not make a scene in front of all people, so he reluctantly grits out through his teeth

"Hi."

"How are you?"

"Great."

Steve notices Billy's cheeks turning pink, and the boy is hiding his eyes — he's obviously not very happy that they met like that, when he is in such a helpless state, for Hargrove has always been the machiest macho, hated any manifestation of weakness. And here he is — in a wheelchair.

"Where are you going?"

The guy's patience snaps loose

"Fuck off, will you?"

Well, let's not tempt the fate too hard.

"Have a nice day, Billy!" Steve is impeccably polite, unlike the frowning patient. However, was that not a whole conversation?

Harrington definitely calls it progress.

One wonderful autumn day, Steve decides to take an ultimate risk. He is in great mood, and he wants to share it.

Harrington swerves through the streets, listening to the radio while driving, a soft smile playing on his lips. On the way to the hospital, he stops at the "Hawkins Bloom" flower shop and buys a bouquet. Whether it's chrysanthemums or dahlias, he doesn't know.

"What kind of flowers does your girlfriend prefer? Here's a beautiful autumn combination .."

"That's not for a girlfriend. It's uh .. for a friend .. he's in hospital? Something more modest, perhaps? But tasteful. Not cheap."

He feels like he's making excuses

Why the hell ..?

Jesus.

Billy definitely won't like this idea, but Steve's gonna do it anyways.

Cause he feels like it. That's valid enough.

So Steve buys the flowers and brings them to the room. He enters brazenly, without asking permission, puts them on the nightstand and moves it away from the bed — so that Billy cannot reach the bouquet and throw it at the visitor.

Oh, and let Hargrove puff, huff and even chuckle stupidly a couple of times as much as he wants — nothing escapes Steve's attentive eyes — blushing and demanding

"Take away these ugly fucking twigs! Are you out of your fucking mind, Harrington?"

Also, threatening him with physical violence

"I would so whip your ass with it, honestly."

Now that's an interesting offer, now we're talking

Harrington only winks at him, smiles

"Get well, okay?"

And rushes out of the room.

Like hardest ice under the persistent heat of the bright spring sun, Hargrove has no choice but to start thawing off, little by little.

One day, Steve arrives at the hospital during reception hours, pokes his head into room number eight

"So how are you? Maybe we should talk?"

Hargrove defiantly rolls his eyes and sighs as though he's so hopelessly tired

"You're such a fucking pain in the ass."

Steve shrugs.

"We are broken up anyway, even though we weren't even together for real, Harrington. Never. For the record. So don't get too carried away."

Billy keeps on grumbling

"You think you brought flowers, gifts, notes, so what? I'm not your chick, for fuck's sake!"

"Well, can we be friends?"

"Nah."

That's fine. He'll come around.

Oh, and did Steve forget to mention they did hook up before all the Mindflayer business went down? Must've slipped his mind in all the commotion.

#harringrove #billy x steve

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wttcsms · 7 months ago

Text

excerpts;

i have over 100k+ words in unfinished drafts/wips in my google docs. yikes.

in an attempt to gauge general interest + also to motivate myself in attempting to at least finish half of the projects i've started, i'm going to share some of the fics i think y'all will be most interested in 🤍 (and also because these are my usual first rough draft attempts, so these are just the best of the worst LOL)

as always, lmk what you think, what you're most excited for, and i'm always open to chatting about any of my concepts in depth 🤭

featuring keiji akaashi, atsumu miya, sae itoshi, tobio kageyama, naoya zenin, satoru gojo, + a plot that's still open for any character so tell me why ur fave deserves it (all with fem reader)

— brace for impact, keiji akaashi elevator pitch: rich college girl with daddy issues is roommates/put under the care of old-time family friend, 20-something y/o keiji akaashi

“I just don’t want you to waste your life away.” He answers, which is the truth. He really hates picking you up when you’re drunk off your ass, unable to defend yourself against the swarms of sleazy college guys that are attending the same party as you. He hates the fact that you’ve been raised — if the dozen father-daughter interactions you had with your dad counts as him “raising” you — to believe that money can solve all your problems. Because, sure, having money has gotten you out of many tight spots, but it wasn’t money that drove to a college on the other side of the city to pick you up, it was him. He has to stand here and watch you push the universe’s boundaries, trying to test your luck, to see if there’s a problem or a bad situation that you can’t get out of this time. You’re reckless and privileged and insecure and rich — the deadliest combination for any college age girl to be. You’re going to ruin your life before it even fully begins. It’s like your default mode is self destruction.

“Not this speech again.” You sigh, shifting your body so that your knees are turned towards the door instead of him. “Y’know, Akaashi, you’re not my dad.”

“Yeah, because unlike him, I actually care about you.”

You’re silent now, still staring out the window. He’s usually better at keeping his mouth shut, but it’s hard to do whenever you’re constantly pushing and pushing and testing his patience and he’s just so—

“—sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel. It’s a wonder how the words leave his mouth; you think the way he’s clenching his teeth acts as a formidable enough boundary.

Actually, you think, it’s entirely justifiable. You’re coy, not dumb. You know when you’ve pushed Akaashi too far, and this is one of those times. And, really, you kind of — scratch that — you do deserve it. All of it. And then some. You’re irresponsible, and you drag him out to the other side of the city so he can act as your guardian, your protector, even though that is most certainly not the role he planned on playing. Honestly, you’re just surprised that he hasn’t left you out to rot like everyone else, and you’re thankful, you really are. But what are you supposed to say? That? The truth? Probably.

You don’t, though. You just mutter some weak ass retort that sounds an awful lot like “you need to get laid” before staring out the window for the rest of the ride.

— devil on my shoulder tellin' me i'll die soon (i don't really want that to impact you), atsumu miya elevator pitch: yakuza au but a healthy amount of porn and plot. sequel to this.

The first time Osamu Miya meets you, you’re unconscious, and he has a feeling you’d be grateful about this fact considering the state you’re in.

Atsumu’s carrying you bridal style, and even in your sleep, you still cling to him. The sight would be almost sweet, but Osamu’s not an idiot. There can never be anything sweet in his dear older brother’s life. Even in the pale moonlight, Osamu can see the bruises and hickeys lining your neck, a trail of them that seem to disappear underneath your clothes (he wouldn’t be shocked if there’s a map of hickeys littering your skin). Your hair is sticking up at odd angles, your lips are swollen, and you are knocked out in every sense of the word.

If the situation wasn’t serious (even without verbal confirmation, he’s well aware of how dire this situation is right now; Atsumu wouldn’t have visited him if it weren’t), Osamu thinks he would have made a comment about his brother’s rough handling.

(He doesn’t, though, because Osamu knows all about just how rough his brother can get — after all, they both had the same upbringing.)

“‘Samu,” Atsumu says, and his voice makes him sound like he’s worse for wear. He sounds like when he was fourteen and had his first taste of initiation, when a group of the strongest men would beat him relentlessly for thirty seconds and he wasn’t allowed to fight back. The crack in his voice is subtle, and even though Osamu rarely speaks to his brother anymore, he’s still a master at reading him.

“Who’s the girl?” Osamu nods to your sleeping form, trying not to focus on the purple and red marks. God, he can’t tell if he, Atsumu, you, or all three of you are lucky it’s so dark. Osamu can’t really believe it’s possible to go out in public after a night with his brother; not without being on the receiving end of a few concerned looks.

“I need a favor.” Atsumu ignores his question, which is typical behavior for him, so Osamu’s not entirely too surprised or annoyed. “She’s in danger, and it’s—”

Atsumu grimaces like the next words he’s about to say are going to leave a bitter taste in his mouth. And maybe it’s because that’s his brother and they grew up together, or maybe it’s because ‘Tsumu’s always been a little predictable (or has Osamu just always been good at predicting?), but Osamu can almost mouth what his brother’s about to say.

“—my fault.”

So, you must be someone awfully important to his brother then. Important enough that Atsumu would finally visit him in person after all these years (with barely any warning beforehand, too). Important enough that Atsumu would treat you so roughly (if the marks on your body are any indication of what you’ve been through) and still care about you so deeply. Important enough that he’s finally taking accountability, finally taking the blame for his actions.

He didn’t think it was possible, but Atsumu’s left him genuinely speechless for a moment.

“Please, ‘Samu.” Atsumu Miya is not the type of person who breaks down easily. He does not beg, he commands. But right now, Atsumu sounds like he’s this close to getting down on his knees and clasping his hands together if that’s what it’ll take to get Osamu to help him. “You told me you would owe me after what I did for you. Consider this your repayment.”

Apparently, you’re someone so important to Atsumu, he’s cashing in a favor that’s worth his life just to ensure your safety. Osamu can’t tell if that’s true idiocy or true love — then again, there’s hardly a difference between the two, is there?

“Idiot. I would have helped ya regardless, y’know.” He means it. Every word.

“I know.” And Atsumu means it, too. Because even if they’ve went years with little to no contact, even though they both belong to two completely different worlds, they’re still brothers. Which means that they also know each other as well as they know themselves, and Atsumu knows that Osamu can never truly be at peace until he feels like the completely imaginary debt he owes is paid back in full.

The universe must have a taste for irony, though, because Atsumu thought that ensuring your safety and bringing his brother peace would make him feel good. Instead, transferring you to his brother’s arms allows the weight of the world to rest more comfortably on his shoulders.

Osamu takes one last look at his older brother, and he’s not entirely surprised to see that his attention is on you, dark eyes staring so intensely at your sleeping figure, he wonders if he’s trying to commit your face to his memory. He’s worried about Atsumu. Sure, he’s got a whole entire gang on his side, a rather powerful one too, but ‘Tsumu’s never been the greatest at being left alone to his devices, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

But then Atsumu looks up at him, and Osamu feels like they’re both fourteen again. Trapped, vulnerable, in immense pain… But not alone, never alone.

“Thanks, ‘Samu.”

“Any time, ‘Tsumu.”

(It’s the same words exchanged by their teenage selves years ago, whenever Osamu would help him clean his cuts and sloppily stitch him up.

To them, it was another way of saying “I love you”.)

— it always leads to you [chapter one], sae itoshi elevator pitch: literally the long ass, long awaited start to this series. if you listened to taylor's new album (ttpd)... yeah, that's basically the new soundtrack for this fic. do what u will with that info <3

A hard pill to swallow is that people never get over their first loves.

It’s like, scientifically proven, or something. There’s been studies, you think. Not to mention that you belong to the group of people who have never gotten over their first loves.

You’re aware that it’s probably embarrassing and should be something that brings you shame, but when Sae comes knocking on your door, infrequent, surprise visits that always catch you off-guard, you find yourself opening the door for him.

(He has a key. He can let himself in any time he wants. You think he must forget.)

This time, he’s not knocking on your door, but he is waiting in the stairwell near the entrance to the floor of your apartment. He’s got a baseball cap on and a dark sweatshirt, and you want to tell him that everyone who lives here is most definitely getting shitfaced at the college bar you just left (the one whose only redeeming qualities are that it’s by campus and the drinks are cheap). He doesn’t have to worry about hiding his identity.

You frown when he approaches you.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” you pout and complain about this halfheartedly, but it’s all for nothing. Sae never tells you when he’s coming; it’s almost like you’re just a spur-of-the-moment decision to him, which doesn’t feel right since the Sae you grew up with was always meticulous and purposeful with his actions. Granted, the Sae you grew up with left on a plane to an entirely different continent four years ago, and the one you have standing next to you now sometimes feels more like a doppelganger than your ex-boyfriend.

He doesn’t answer, because of course he fucking wouldn’t. He waits for you to fumble with your keys; if you knew he was coming, you wouldn’t have let Akane convince you to take as many shots as you did. Now everything is kind of blurry and hazy, and your hands shake despite the lack of coldness you’re feeling.

You delude yourself into thinking that there’s something of the old Sae left inside of him as he gently pries the keys from your fumbling fingers and unlocks the door to your apartment himself.

Entering your apartment feels like traveling in a time machine, only instead of traveling back in time or to the future, Sae is entering a present-day parallel universe. This apartment, with its best (and only) amenity being a short distance from campus, could have been his. Could have been shared by the two of you, even.

If he had stayed, that is.

Sometimes Sae ponders what his life would be like if he stuck around. If he had never had the ego or the audacity to want to see more of the world. You know better than to ask him why he never visits you when you’re on a holiday break from school, and he thinks it’s because you still know him the best out of anybody, even Rin. The truth is, Sae is too uncomfortable to come crawling back to his childhood home that he grew up in, the one he’s spent years determined to grow out of. He only comes back home when absolutely necessary — out of eldest son/family obligation.

This college apartment, seeing remnants of a life you’re living that he doesn’t know much about (even though all he has to do is ask, and you would gladly tell), feels wrongly nostalgic. Like, the sweatshirt lying haphazardly on the couch displaying a big, fat Tokyo U logo on its front could have been his instead of your roommate’s. He could have played college ball instead of trying to get recruited directly to the big leagues. Sae’s good enough to get a scholarship. Even received a letter informing him that Tokyo U would be more than glad to have him, full-ride.

(The letter resides in the back of his closet, crumpled up but never forgotten.)

And, most importantly, you wouldn’t be looking at him like this.

Even drunk off of cheap alcohol, you sober up startlingly fast when you see him. You shouldn’t give him so much power over your life, but he’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t relish in the overwhelming relief that you still love him just the same. Nothing ever changes back home, and he says this with disdain, but when it comes to your unshifting affection for him, he figures staying the same can’t be all bad.

“Y’know, it always feels like you’re judging me when you just stand there and look at everything.” An intoxicated you is an honest you. If he wasn’t so determined to mask everything about himself, he would have smiled at your admittance.

He doesn’t smile, though. He just continues to let his cold eyes roam across the entirety of your cramped, college apartment.

— an indentation in the shape of you, tobio kageyama elevator pitch: idol!reader who goes into hiding after a major scandal despite being the victim x pro!tobio who's been hopelessly pining after you since forever. now you're in hiding, but also living in the apartment right across from his.

SEARCH NEWS: [NAME] [SURNAME] > TOP RESULTS (SORTED FROM MOST TO LEAST RECENT)

WHERE DID [NAME] [SURNAME] GO? *INCLUDES EXCLUSIVE PHOTO OF HER MOST RECENT SIGHTING!*Posted on March 10, 2019

[NAME]’S SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS HAVE BEEN TAKEN DOWN, IDOL HAS NOT BEEN SPOTTED IN A WEEK Posted on January 4, 2019 BREAKING: [NAME] [SURNAME] GOES SOLO! LEAVES IDOL GROUP TO START HER OWN CAREER! Posted November 6, 2018

KENTARO TANAKA NOW DATING J-POP IDOL AYAME MATSUMOTO, [NAME]’S FELLOW GIRL GROUP MEMBER!Posted on November 1, 2018

AFTER RECEIVING BACKLASH FROM ANNOUNCEMENT OF HER RELATIONSHIP, [NAME] [SURNAME] ISSUES AN APOLOGY ON ALL SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS Posted on September 3, 2018

NEW COUPLE ALERT! IDOL [NAME] AND HER RECORD LABEL’S EXECUTIVE, KENTARO TANAKA, SPARK DATING RUMORS Posted on August 16, 2018

When you spend most of your adolescent and young adult years standing in front of a camera, constantly served on a platter for the masses to scrutinize during your most formative years, you get used to being seen. People’s eyes locked in on you isn’t a comfortable feeling, but it’s one you’re very well acquainted with. Watchful, judging gazes cling to you like a second skin.

It comes with the job is what your personal manager, Fumiko Gima, tells you, right before she tells you to toughen up. You had been fifteen at the time and saw a blogger discussing how you were the least attractive cast member on the children’s ensemble show you starred in.

All eyes are on you from this point forward. You really going to let them see you cry? Fumiko is not a nice person, but she is incredibly kind, in her own way. She’s the type of person who believes in tough love, all while claiming that she doesn’t even think love exists.

You think about the disapproving frown on her face when you revealed your relationship with Kentaro Tanaka.

“You think you’re in love with him?” Sometimes it’s hard to believe that Fumiko is barely seven years older than you. Her youth is evident in her flawless skin and shiny hair (both of which are maintained by very meticulous routines), but the flat expression she wears on her face makes her seem like a woman who found out the hard way that her thirties are not going the way she planned. You’re eighteen when she asks you this question, and you don’t know how a twenty-five year old woman can have such an intimidating aura, but you think that only adds to her beauty.

“He told me he loves me.”

“People like him and I don’t believe in love.” Fumiko makes a face; sometimes, she lets her poker face drop in favor of making a face of disgust, annoyance, irritation, or extreme smugness. Right now, she looks disgusted. “Well, I wouldn’t normally place myself in the same group as him, but our industries are pretty much the same. You don’t get to where we’re at because of love, that’s for damn certain.”

At this point in time, you’re adamant that it’s love because that’s what he says it is, and you’ve never been in love before, but you know that it’s something great. You’re eighteen, and insecure, and he’s in such a powerful position — he could have anyone he wants, and he loves you, so he picks you. Maybe Fumiko is just bitter because no one’s ever chosen her.

— angel of the morning, atsumu miya elevator pitch: historical, ambiguous war au ft. soldier!atsumu x the civilian sweetheart reader who nurses him back to health

It’s the thunder that wakes you first.

Lately, you’ve been a light sleeper. Paranoia is a good companion whenever you’re a young, pitifully unmarried lady who lives alone. You keep a chair propped under the knob of the front door, and you no longer open any windows, scared that you’ll forget to lock them at night.

Normally, it’s the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer, or the creaks that come and interrupt the silence of the night (your parents used to swear that old houses just make those noises) that keeps you up. Sometimes it’s the neighbors next door; they like to get into screaming matches that seem to be so loud, they shake the walls of your home.

It’s not your neighbors’ arguing that rattles the walls tonight. It’s the thunderstorm that the sweet old man at the farmer’s market warned you about. You be safe out, miss. Take some extra apples. It might be too flooded for you to go out like you normally do.

You pull your blanket over your head, enveloping yourself in darkness but doing very little to block out the noise outside. The thunder seems to only grow louder, each boom punctuating the lightning that you’re certain is striking through the sky. It’s too loud.

And rhythmic.

You listen closer… Three booms in succession. A pause. Three more booms. After a minute of this pattern, the sound only comes more rapidly — louder than before, too.

The loud booms — it’s not from the storm, then.

There’s someone knocking at your door.

You debate hiding under the blanket forever. Maybe this stranger will go away and leave once they realize that no one is going to answer the door. Besides, no one trustworthy is roaming the area at this time of night, right? What possible explanation could there be for someone to be stranded outside at midnight during a major thunderstorm?

But the knocking persists. Whoever this stranger is, they don’t know when to quit. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t so paralyzed with fear.

“Open up!” A muffled voice still manages to cut through the front door, traveling all the way to your bedroom. It only serves to make you more afraid; what sort of monster is waiting for you outside? The storm rages on, and the knocking won’t stop.

What happens if this person is in genuine trouble? Would a murderer truly be going through such lengths to kill someone? A thief?

Well, you rationalize, it’s not as if you have many items worth stealing. Besides, you have no family, no marriage prospects, and a dwindling stash of money with no means to make more. You’re just existing at this point, and you’re surviving on limited time.

So you make your way to the front door, cringing as one section of the floor creaks as you tiptoe through the darkness of your home. You highly doubt the stranger outside can hear you, but you still hold your breath as you peek through the curtains. It’s too dark inside and out for anyone to notice the movement, and all you can make out is a large figure. There’s a knapsack by their feet and hanging off their shoulder is a gun.

The knocks shouldn’t catch you off guard by now, but one particular hard bang against the door has you jumping in surprise, away from the window.

This stranger must be a soldier.

There’s not a lot of fighting to be done down here. The southern towns have mostly been unaffected. Most of the war is being fought up north. All the southern soldiers write back home, telling stories about the cities they visited, careful not to mention the red that runs through the streets and the way the citizens will have to update the population count on the sign outside their City Hall.

But still, you know what everyone knows — when a soldier, especially one from your side, shows up on your front step, you better let him know that this home is now his.

You slide the deadbolt with shaky hands, turn the lock on the doorknob, and only hesitate for a few seconds before removing the chair that serves as your last barrier. He’s a soldier, you remind yourself, hoping that you’re not wrong. The least you can do for him is offer him a hot bath for leaving him outside for so long.

You open the door, revealing a blond-haired soldier weighed down from the weight of his sopping wet uniform, his hair sticking to his forehead because his face is also covered in rainwater, and it’s now that you notice that he’s got one arm wrapped around his abdomen. His hand is pressing down on his side, and you don’t think the dark liquid coating his fingers is water.

“Finally.” He says. “I’m First Lieutenant Miya, and I fight for the south. I am seeking temporary refuge in your home, and I require only what you can afford to give me. I–“ Before he can finish rattling off what he’s been forced to memorize for times like these, First Lieutenant Miya falls forward, his body crashing into yours.

It’s been a rough day.

A rough week.

A rough month.

A rough life, really, but Atsumu Miya’s long past the days of whining and complaining about things he can’t control. For example, he no longer dwells on his father abandoning his mother right before she gave birth to him and Osamu. There’s still a bitter taste that gets left on his tongue when he mentions dear old pa, which is why, for the most part, he chooses not to discuss him at all. He can’t control the way the north and the south view each other; sure, the mandatory draft isn’t his definition of a fun time, but he honestly didn’t have many plans after school, anyway. He probably would’ve joined the cause, regardless of the law or not. It’s just… A choice is nice to have, y’know?

Like, if he had it his way, he wouldn’t have gotten caught up in some ambush tonight. If only he weren’t just a lieutenant. If only his captain weren’t such a dumbass.

If he had a group to command, Atsumu’s certain that he wouldn’t lead his men into obvious traps, unlike some captains. But newly promoted Brigadier General Kita isn’t here to force people to listen to what Atsumu has to say. Kita has bigger problems to worry about, bigger troops to organize.

Atsumu’s morning starts off bright and early with a five mile trek in the woods. The sky is overcast, and anyone with eyes is capable of predicting the storm that’s coming. Atsumu suggests building temporary shelter before the rain makes it too hard to walk; it’s already hard enough to navigate now, but Atsumu’s visited this town before, when he was a little boy. It floods easily, too easily.

His captain doesn’t listen. Typical.

Around noon, they take a short break to eat. Rations are getting lower. Atsumu suggests that two or three soldiers turn around and head towards town to get supplies. His captain argues that their group is already small enough and sneers that Atsumu must be a northie lover since he’s trying so hard to sabotage this plan.

The plan is shit, by the way. The captain swears his intel is good, that he’s just oh so certain that a troop of northern soldiers are planning to invade a series of small southern towns. They’re supposedly cutting through the woods to be discreet, and they plan on striking at night.

Atsumu thinks that the captain is just falling into their trap (spoiler: he’s right). There’s no way anyone would bother capturing small towns, just like there’s no way people ever want to listen to someone who’s just a lieutenant. Nobody thinks they have anything to offer, so it’s not worth the time to even pretend to care. These towns aren’t loaded with resources. They aren’t located in any coveted areas. There are only a couple of farms, but even then, they’re not big enough to justify wasting troops to terrorize the townspeople.

But First Lieutenant Miya follows his orders anyway because what else is he supposed to do? Unfortunately, talking back comes to bite him in the ass because as nighttime starts to settle and the first drops of rain start to fall, his captain gives him a slimy smile before telling him, “Since you have such great ideas, Lieutenant, why don’t you go ahead and turn back into town to get us some of those supplies we needed?”

Well, Atsumu has a few choice words in reply, none of which will get him back into his captain’s good graces (not like he cares to be anyway). Atsumu can argue that it’s dark out, and no one in their right mind is going to be up at night. Atsumu can throw back his captain’s words and remind him that their measly team is already lacking in numbers. He can make the captain look dumb and ask him where the supposed enemy troops are at, since apparently they’re supposed to be capturing the town right about now. He can abandon the men, go back home, and enjoy a homecooked meal from ma. She wouldn’t care enough to scold him for being a dirty deserter; the lecture will come, surely, but she wouldn’t be too harsh with him. Atsumu misses home. He misses his brother, who belongs to a different troop. He misses Shinsuke, his former captain. He misses his mom.

What he does end up doing, though, is biting back his tongue. He barely nods, clenches his teeth as he reluctantly says yes, sir, and treks off on his own.

He’s about three miles in when the bullets start flying.

Isn’t this just a lovely way to finish off the night, he thinks, before sprinting through the trees, weaving between them, trying to ignore how loud and how close the shots sound. He thinks he’ll probably go deaf by the time this damn war is over. A bullet narrowly misses his face, and then he starts to think he’ll probably be dead before then.

He can’t see. If he can’t see, he doubts the enemies can, either. That’s when he gets an idea. His legs are sore, he’s thirsty, and every step he takes is punctuated by a sloshing sound because the area is flooding, just like he predicted it would.

(Sometimes it’s a pain being right all the time.)

The shots are still coming at him in rapid succession, and he believes maybe it’s because they still think they have to shoot at him. If they think they got him, maybe they’ll leave him alone. It didn’t sound like anyone was bothering to chase after him, meaning they’re all probably perched in trees or hiding in bushes, shooting blindly into the night, hoping to land a lucky shot on a target.

Before he can pretend to be hit, though, some bastard does get a lucky shot on him.

“Fuck!” He can’t help but yell out, the bullet piercing the side of his abdomen. A burning sensation begins to form on the spot where the bullet decided to make its happy home, and Atsumu can’t help but fall to the ground, clutching at the bottom half of his body.

A minute goes by with no more shooting, and he’s glad he’s in enough pain not to realize that had he thought of his little plan of pretending to be shot sooner, he probably wouldn’t be in this predicament right now.

It’d be so easy just to lie down and die. It’d be a slow death, sure. Painful, very much so. But no more fighting. No more captains belittling him.

But if you die, a tiny voice in his head reminds him, it wouldn’t just be you that dies. It’d kill ma. It would ruin Osamu. Don’t be a selfish bastard.

He allows himself only one more minute to stay absolutely still. He thinks the adrenaline pumping in his system helps to numb the pain, which is saying a lot, considering the fact that death would be preferable over this excruciating sensation. When he’s certain the coast is clear, he struggles to stand and keep himself steady.

He cannot die like this.

Atsumu Miya knows better than to get upset at things he can’t control. He can’t control flying bullets aimed at him. He can’t control enemy soldiers; hell, he doesn’t even have soldiers he can control, enemy or ally. He can’t control a lot of shitty things that seem to happen to him, but as long as his heart is still beating, Atsumu Miya controls his own fate. He decides what happens next.

It’s only a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, he rationalizes. He walks all the time. It’s not such a hard task. The storm continues to rage on, and Atsumu pretends he doesn’t even mind the water. He pretends that he’s not freezing. He pretends that he doesn’t care that his uniform is sticking to his body, making the dirty fabric cling onto him as if to act as a second skin.

There’s a white flag in his knapsack. During training, they said to use it as a last resort. Die before you wave it, or something like that.

He knows the intended use for it, but right now, he needs it as a tourniquet. He tightens the flag around his waist, using all his diminishing strength to get it as tight as possible. He can trick himself into thinking it’ll stop the flow of blood leaving his body, but at least it’ll slow it down. It’ll grant him enough time to make it into town and get help.

He doesn’t choose the first house he sees; he chooses the one he likes the best. It’s nothing all too impressive — certainly not the biggest, but from what he can make out in the dark, it looks quaint. It reminds him of home, almost. There’s a porch with a bench outside and flowers on a window sill. It seems to glow in the darkness of the town, its paint a much brighter shade than the surrounding houses. A nice family must live here then.

He knocks on the door, and there is no answer. Atsumu Miya did not walk this far with his life literally draining out of him to only make it this far. He knocks and knocks, and because he is too stubborn, even to the very end, he doesn’t quit. Someone must answer the door. It doesn’t cross his mind that perhaps this lovely family he’s envisioning might not even be home. It feels like ages since he first started banging on this door, and he thinks this might be it.

And then the door swings open, revealing a young lady with a certain glow about her. Maybe it’s the blood loss talking, but right now, you look like an absolute angel. His bright beacon of hope.

“Finally.” He swallows hard, trying to remember what he’s supposed to tell you. The proper words are evading him right now. Honestly, even standing is a struggle now. He thinks he does a good enough job, but then he blinks, and his eyes don’t open back up after that.

— to the victor belong the spoils, naoya zenin elevator pitch: the dark longfic i mentioned abt borderline yandere naoya + how he basically slaughtered your whole entire clan and is going to force you to marry him because you have a cursed technique that will basically grant him invincibility

“Who did this?” You’ve seen Naoya so angry that his words seemed to shake the very interior of the room he was shouting in. You’ve seen Naoya so furious that he had everyone in his vicinity cowering in fear, scared to face his merciless wrath. Never have you seen him so enraged that he can hardly speak, the sentence coming out from between bared teeth; they’re discernible growls more than they are words, but his message doesn’t need to be understood in order to know his intent.

Naoya Zenin is out for blood.

“Tell me who did this.” He demands, hand gripping your chin, forcing you to tilt your head up and stare him directly in the eyes. You know why he does this; he can read you like a fucking book. He’ll know if you’re lying before you can even finish whatever fabricated story you’ve spent forever formulating. There’s no point in trying to trick him because it’ll cause him to get angrier, and then what? Then, you’ll have the whole entire room’s blood on your hands. A massacre dedicated just for you.

You hadn’t cried when he had taken you from your home. You hadn’t cried when you were about to be killed by that curse. You hadn’t shed a single tear despite the unfamiliarity of the Zenin Estate, despite the fact that you were forced into a marriage with a man you did not know, despite the fact that you’ve never been this far from home, suffering silently in feelings of isolation and despair. You hadn’t cried after all of that, yet now you’re sobbing? Now you’re here, struggling to stand on your own, clutching onto the material of his shirt as if he’s your only lifeline, dangerously close to burying your face in his chest and crying your little eyes out. He’s been angry more times than he’s ever felt any other emotion. He’s numb to the feeling of his blood rising, of his vision being tainted with red, of having nothing but sick thoughts and vivid memories of torn flesh and severed limbs surrounding him. This emotion isn’t foreign to him; it’s a part ofhim. And he’s angry, yes, but there’s something else that he feels when he looks down and sees you making yourself smaller, as if trying to use him as your own personal shield.

— balancing act [chapter one], satoru gojo elevator pitch: the first month of your bet will you and gojo inevitably get together <3 the start of this series.

You have what you order down to a T. You first started your tried and true method of restaurant ordering when you were but a wee little intern, too shy to go to town on a rack of ribs in front of your peers and bosses. Once you entered the city’s dating scene (which is actually Dante’s tenth circle of hell — it’s just never discussed because that’s truly how vile trying to find a good man in a big city is), you realized that there’s not much difference between lunch dates and client lunches.

You have the obligatory greeting exchanges (“hi,” “hello,” “how are you,” etc.), the awkward smiles, the mental countdown going off in your head as you wait for the perfect moment to get right into business (“what do you expect to gain from this partnership?” — a line surprisingly used more often in your meetings with potential investors and clients). There’s the pained professionalism, the tight-lipped smiles, the napkin resting in your lap, the battle to maintain constant eye-contact. When you sit across from someone at a table, date or client, you don’t see the person; you see a goal.

And you’re good at working towards a goal. It’s why you’ve always been the analyst your managers rely on, why you’ve morphed into the senior associate that all your juniors look up to at G&G Capital, and why you automatically figure that if you set your sights on a man only to have him end things, it’s not you who was at fault. It has to be him. You’ve charmed the toughest clients and built fantastic working relationships with the most well-connected M&A lawyers; if you’re this good at professional relationships, why wouldn’t you also be fan-fucking-tastic at a romantic one?

All the men who have taken you out on dates before wanted to sweep you off your feet. An ex-boyfriend once admitted to you that you appeared so unimpressed at everything, it had become this fun, twisted competition with himself to see what he had to do to get a look of amazement on your face.

“I can tell by the look on your face that you’re impressed.” Gojo says gleefully, holding open the dirty glass door so you and Utahime can walk in.

Utahime looks like Gojo just slid open the backdoor to a white van and told her to get in. There’s shock with a hint of disgust evident on her pretty, doll-like features, and you know you’ve got a similar expression, too.

The floors inside this restaurant — if the dingy, dimly lit shack crammed with small tables and rickety chairs can even be considered a restaurant — are sticky with decades’ worth of mystery liquids that have congealed into the half-inch thick residue that coats the floorboards. You have to purposely think about moving one foot in front of the other in order to walk because actual pressure needs to be applied if you don’t want your heels to become glued to the floor. You’re walking in front of Utahime and Gojo, and you end up choosing a table in the far back; it looks the cleanest. Briefly, you wonder if you’re allowed to be here, then think better of it as Utahime takes the seat next to you, and Gojo takes the one across. You highly doubt there’s a hostess here that’s dictating where the customers sit.

Especially since, upon one glance of the whole place, you realize that it’s empty save for you three.

“Gojo, if we get killed, I hope they murder you in front of us first,” Utahime hisses. Her family’s so rich (and traditional), she’s never willingly been to a restaurant that doesn’t have a Michelin star. Before college, she’s never even eaten out at a chain restaurant. Being caught in a place like this has Utahime mentally spiraling towards rock bottom.

“I hope they would, too. I don’t think I have the stomach to watch you meet your grisly end.” Gojo says serenely. Usually, he says things loudly, teasingly, gets all up in your face. When it comes to Utahime, he likes to play at being nonchalant. He’s been doing this to her for over a decade now, and it still grates her.

Before Utahime can reply, the shaky voice of an older woman is exclaiming, “Oh! Welcome in! Have you gotten a chance to look over the menu?” The voice belongs to a short, plump woman with gray hair, a wrinkly face, but a kind smile that reveals yellowing teeth. She’s got a slight hunch to her back and nails with overgrown cuticles. You try to do a mental calculation of what you could buy this building for, to ensure that this sweet old lady never has to work a day in her life ever again.

“You know what I want, Mrs. Kimura.” Gojo is giving her one of his signature dazzling smiles. “You can just double the portions today since my friend Utahime here eats enough for a family of five.”

Mrs. Kimura lets out a throaty laugh. Utahime kicks Gojo in the shin from underneath the table. You’re wondering what Gojo orders from this place, and why does he order here so often to the point of them memorizing his meals?

“I’m glad you brought friends with you today, Satoru. Meals always taste better when shared with loved ones!” She directs a warm smile in your direction, and you feel bad for returning it with your normal polite one. Tiny and brief. It’s more muscle memory than born from any real emotion. She’s shuffling away to the kitchen before you can try to summon a genuine smile for her, and Utahime’s phone is ringing, filling this near empty space with the tinny, anxiety-inducing sound of an iPhone ringer.

She doesn’t excuse herself; just looks down at the glowing screen, grabs her phone, and heads outside to take the call.

Which leaves you sitting across from Gojo. Just the two of you. Just the two of you in a dingy restaurant seemingly run by only one old woman. The table looks older than you. The chair you’re sitting on makes a weird squeaky noise with any slight movement of your body. There’s no decor on the walls, no windows either. Nothing to distract you, nothing for you to feign interest in as you wait for Utahime to come back.

You straighten your posture, try to discreetly look out the front door to gauge how close Utahime is to wrapping up her conversation, and find yourself with no choice but to look in front of you. All you see is Gojo.

He’s tall, you know that. Broad shoulders. Definitely not hideous, you can give him that much. You just feel shocked at how much space he takes up, how it feels like your eyes have to stretch to try to accommodate all of him.

You don’t know why you feel so awkward, almost like a teenager going on her very first date with a boy she barely knows but still, for some inexplicable reason, wants so badly to impress. You can’t remember the last time you’ve ever felt this way, and you definitely don’t like this feeling at all.

“How’d you find this place?” You ask him.

“I like to support small businesses.” He’s not teasing you, but Gojo has this bad habit of always adding a playful inflection to his words.

“I hope you tip well. You look like their only supporter.” It’s not meant to be an insult to the painfully empty restaurant. You know how much Gojo is worth; when Itadori Googled “Satoru Gojo net worth” and showed the results to everyone, Gojo caught him in the act, looked at the top result, and threw his head back in laughter as he told Itadori to “add an extra zero and triple the number.” You think back to your calculation and assessment of the place. “Might as well buy the business.”

“You make capitalism so cute.” He has to be teasing you now. You scowl.

(He means it.)

— i wish to know the fatal flaw that makes you long to be magnificently cursed, satoru gojo elevator pitch: yandere gojo, royal au, nanny!reader... yeah idk what happened to this fic either, just that it was depraved and i wish i wrote more to share LOL

You’re acutely aware of the noise you’re making, every huff and small, desperate gasp for breath only further betraying your location, but you can’t find it in you to care.

You know, deep inside your pounding, frightened heart, that it doesn’t really matter how fast or how far you run.

I will always find you.

Just the mere thought of him is enough for you to ignore the ache in your legs and push forward. If you can find the exit, if you can just see the daylight, surely you’d be able to—

You stop in your tracks.

There are two paths: one right, one wrong. Left or right? Freedom or imprisonment?

There’s no time to waste, but you can’t make a choice. Which decision would be the right one? Surely either route would still be able to lead you to the exit, right? The sharp snap! of a branch being trampled on leaves you even more frightened. Without thinking, you take a left.

— i think you're too divine for my human mind, undecided elevator pitch: rough around the edges but w a heart of gold underground fighter!character x ring girl!reader. i think this was gonna be for bakugo LMAO but i do not have bnha brain rot so maybe a bllk or jjk or hq boy... NO ONE SAY ATSUMU I DON'T WANNA GIVE IT TO ATSUMU

The couch seems to shift with his weight, and you swallow hard, staring straight ahead at the same cement wall you’ve been staring at for the last ten minutes because you’re still too much of a fucking wimp to navigate this area by yourself.

Despite the two of you sitting at opposite ends of the couch, there’s only about one foot of space separating his knee from yours. You suppose that he gets away with the manspreading since he probably has no qualms with punching anyone who voices their offense. After witnessing just how brutal the infamous [ring name nickname] can get, you know that you’re definitely not going to be the one to say shit to him. You can’t even look at him.

Where the fuck is your sister? You have your arms crossed, covering your torso, and you think you must have subconsciously pressed yourself as far back into the couch as you possibly could. Everything about you must scream out “she wants to disappear!!!”, and the worst part of it all would be the fact that it’s the truth. You knew coming down here would be a bad idea, and the sinking feeling of regret is practically solidifying itself into your stomach. You think you could throw up.

“Hey,” a voice — a deep voice, scratchy and low and so scarily close to you — breaks the silence. “You must be…”

Of course, you’re used to it by now. Always being referred to as “Akemi’s little sister” no matter the situation, the person, the setting. It makes sense, you rationalize. Everyone knows Akemi. And so, by extension, they must know you — her shadow, her little sister.

“...helped out Sakura.”

“What?” You don’t know anyone named Sakura, but you finally turn your head to properly look at him as you answer. He’s got on a white shirt now, incredibly form-fitting, and he’s staring right back at you. You're quick to meet his eyes before getting too nervous and focusing on the space just below his eyes. Then, that becomes too close to eye contact for comfort, so you settle for staring at his jaw. It’s a nice jaw. Sharp. He could probably cut you with it if you contradict any of his statements, so maybe you should pretend to know this Sakura girl.

“You must be the girl that helped out Sakura.” He repeats. He says it slow and almost carefully, like he thinks you must be some sort of idiot who can’t comprehend the most basic of statements. “Gave her your jacket.” He clarifies, and it makes sense. The girl with the hot pink colored hair must have been Sakura.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“So why are you here?”

“Huh?”

“Y’know… Pretty girls like you don’t normally end up here without a reason. So what’s your reason?”

He says it so casually, throwing it out there as easily as a punch. He probably means nothing deep by it, probably doesn’t even realize the fact that it is a compliment.

He called you pretty.

“My sister.” You answer, finally looking away at him to look down at your hands that have settled nicely into your lap. Your cheeks feel a lot warmer than they did a second ago. You decide to blame this as a result of too many sweaty people in one basement.

“She a ring girl?”

“She’s dating a fighter here.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you dating a fighter here, too?”

You look him properly in his face after that comment, almost resisting the urge to laugh. Fear that he’ll get offended and smack you into the floor stops that reaction. Instead, you stare at him, slightly surprised, lips almost curled up into an amused smile at just how unbelievable it would be for you to date anyone like him.

“You finally did it.”

“Did what?”

“Look at me.” He holds eye contact, almost as if he’s trying to challenge you into looking away. “I don’t bite, y’know.” He smiles, showing off a surprisingly straight row of white teeth, not a single tooth missing despite the nature of his… job. “It’s against the rules.”

Yeah. Because [character], the fucking [ring name nickname], looks like the type of man who follows the rules.

#atsumu miya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #satoru gojo x reader #keiji akaashi x reader #sae itoshi x reader #tobio kageyama x reader #UGH i hate going thru my drafts #bc im like damn why didn't i finish writing these #anyway lmk ur thoughts. i have to work on comms so no plans to release these this month but perhaps june

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