#for this cursed soccer ball idea
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mygnolia · 2 months ago
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TURNING YOU INTO A REAL CATCH!
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꩜ .ᐟ in a hopeful attempt to show your ex of three years that you're moving on, you turn to sim jaeyun, aka hybe’s most popular jock, with expectations that he’ll boost your status in your school's social hierarchy. only problem is, jake's gone 18 years without dating, so how do you get him to up his game for his first real girlfriend? this certainly was not on your bucket list!
꩜ .ᐟ PAIR -› soccer player!sim jaeyun x fem!reader
꩜ .ᐟ GENRE -› fluff, banter ꩜ .ᐟ TROPES -› fake dating, strangers to lovers
꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS  -› cursing, kms/kys jokes, stereotypical hs culture bc i am writer
꩜ .ᐟ TAGLIST -› open! comment on this post or send an ask! LIBRARY
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꩜ PROFILES .ᐟ ball toucherz | 6ft eco-friendly feminists
00. teaser!
01. business? yeah i stand on that
02. ghosted like a side chick
03. one direction typa over
04. more to be added...
05. more to be added...
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꩜ .ᐟ REN SAYS... i'm rlly excited to start this tbh also first non hoon smau like WHO CHEERED???? HELP??? i hope u likey and i actually have a fleshed out idea for this don't play..
꩜ .ᐟ TAGLIST  (if you're tagged here you'll be tagged in future chapters!) -› @pinknjm @planetkiimchi @wonsdoll @dreamiestay @dismaldiary @duckling-niki @miszes @50-husbands @jakeyverse @heartheejake @t0asterexe @sirens-dreams @nshmurarki @i03jae @sol3chu @jiyeons-closet @thesassy-mia @tocupid @coqhee @riribelle @heartedmessages @haechsworld @breadlover01 @who-tf-soddhi @thing89 @r1kification @getoxo @augustloaf @pshwrldd @belovedsthings @pochakkeu @wonmyheart @heyniki @manuosorioh @xienoe
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folkwhoredoll · 6 months ago
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by the shore - rafe cameron x fem!reader
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pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader (friends with benefits)
synopsis: being friends with rafe has its benefits
word count: 1.7k
warnings/tags: smut! (f oral, unprotected sex), few curse words
request: rafe x Reader, they are best friend that’s are on a family trip that they take every year in summer, reader is good friends with both Sarah and rafe, rafe and reader are a bit tipsy messing around and find their way to the beach and that’s were the smut happens :) hope you can do it thank you.
a/n: hi everyone! it's been a while since my last post because things got busy in nursing school but since it's summer break, i can now post again! thank you to the one who requested this <3 i hope you'll like this one. happy reading!
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The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the beachfront estate where you and the Camerons vacationed every summer. The annual family trip was a cherished tradition, one you eagerly anticipated each year. It started long before you even entered school, a yearly event your parents initiated to celebrate their friendship with the Camerons. Naturally, you also formed a growing friendship with Sarah and Rafe.
Though, if you were honest, "friendship" didn't quite describe the bond between you and Rafe. Whether you and the Cameron heir were dating was unclear, but he acted like you were most of the time. Almost no boys dared to ask you out, not with Rafe always glaring at them from behind you. He accompanied you almost everywhere, even pretending you were his girlfriend to keep other girls away.
But your relationship with Rafe wasn't simply a friendship because of what you two did behind closed doors. It was no secret that Rafe had several experiences, his natural charisma drawing girls to him. Perhaps that's why you couldn't resist him when he told you he admired you months ago. He was your first.
Not one soul knows about it; you couldn't risk it.
The evening air was filled with laughter and clinking glasses as your families gathered on the deck, enjoying the night of their getaway. You felt a pleasant buzz from the beer you and Rafe had been sipping, the alcohol buzzing through your veins. Sarah had to excuse herself to answer a call from Topper, leaving you and Rafe alone under the twinkling fairy lights.
Rafe grinned at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Wanna take a walk down to the beach?" he suggested, his voice slightly blurred but full of excitement.
You smiled back and nodded eagerly, the idea of sneaking for a late-night adventure sounding perfect. "Absolutely. Let's go back before Sarah gets back and decides to drag us into some boring game."
Rafe laughed, a deep, infectious sound that made your heart flutter. The combination of alcohol and the intimate setting seemed to excite you.
The two of you stumbled down the wooden steps leading to the beach, giggling and shushing each other while your hands gripped tightly around your beer bottles. The fine sand was cool beneath your feet and the ocean waves lapping gently at the shore.
Rafe motioned for you to sit near a large rock, sitting down first to make sure that it was comfortable enough. You positioned yourself beside him, sighing contently as you took in the view before you.
"Remember when Sarah and I built a sandcastle when we were like, ten? Then you ruined it with your soccer ball." You said.
"In my defense, I didn't mean to kick it towards your castle." Rafe chuckled at the memory. "And I got the worst punishment from you because you refused to speak to me for a week."
You hummed, sipping more of your beer. "Still not over it."
He snorted, leaning his head back.
The next moments were spent in silence. You and Rafe took turns drinking what was left from the bottle, smiling whenever you would make eye contact, and leaning closer and closer to him until your shoulders touched.
You took a deep breath when you felt Rafe kiss your cheek suddenly. "What was that for?"
"What? Can't I kiss you?" He smiled innocently. "It's not like we haven't done anything more than a kiss."
You threw him a look, knowing that in a few moments, you would be doing something that friends don't normally do. How Rafe could always be turned on, you could never understand. But you don't complain, not when your hormones also betray you every time you see his muscles strain from his tight shirt.
"Come on, Y/n. No one can see us from here." He whispered, his breath tickling your skin as he lowered his face to your neck.
You didn't say anything, and Rafe took it as a sign to move further, abandoning his beer to the side. He placed one hand on your thigh and another hand on your waist. Your head was spinning from both the alcohol and Rafe's hands, suddenly not able to speak as you savor the moment of his lips on your neck.
"What would our parents say when they find out what we do?" He wondered teasingly, smirking when he saw you discreetly push your thighs together. He loved you like this: submissive as you let him do whatever he wanted.
"Probably celebrate. They've been teasing us for years." You finally replied, a laugh coming from your throat as you remembered the times when they would try to set the two of you up in every gathering.
Rafe suddenly lifted the skirt of your sundress, causing you to gasp. "Out here? Really?"
His other hand moved from your waist to your back, feeling for the zipper of your dress. "It's a perfect spot. No one can see us or hear us unless you scream, of course."
His cocky attitude made you roll your eyes, though your cunt already fluttered at the thought of being bare under his body as the sunset. "We have to be fast, got it?"
You didn't give him a chance to reply as you tilted your body, swiftly pushing him back so you could move on top and straddle him. Rafe, although shocked by your sudden movement, smiled cheekily as he witnessed you reach to your back to unzip your dress.
"Damn, baby." He breathed as he eyed the way the straps of the dress dropped, hastily helping you to get out of your clothing. He licked his lips as he stared at the sight of you. Your breasts perked up as the cool sea breeze touched your skin, leaving you in your underwear.
"Take it off, Rafe." You told him, helping him take off the shirt that accentuated his muscles.
Following your request, Rafe moved quickly and placed his shirt on the sand beside the two of you, lifting your hips and guiding you to lay on his shirt.
He finished removing the rest of his clothing, never cutting eye contact with you even as he pulled his cock out. You made a quick look back to the house, making sure that you were not within anyone's eyesight.
You gasped as Rafe pulled your panties down, your cunt fluttering at the excitement. He lowered his head down until it was leveled with your pussy, his manhood hardening at the sight of your wet folds.
Without warning, he gave your cunt a long lick, pushing his warm tongue as deep as he could reach. You moaned loudly and quickly gripped his hair, your back arching as he sucked on your clit.
Rafe reached a hand upwards to cover your mouth, not too tight to restrict you from breathing but just enough to muffle your moans. Your chest heaving as you gasped, the alcohol and his tongue working together to give you the best pleasure.
Rafe himself was groaning as he enjoyed the sight of your writhing body, his heart swelling with pride, knowing that it was only him who could make you feel that way.
Your moans were exchanged with whines when he suddenly moved away from your pussy, kneeling in front of you as he stroked his stiff dick.
"You said we have to be fast." He chuckled, teasing you. "Ready, baby?"
After seeing you nod, Rafe pushed himself inside you, a loud groan erupting from his lips as he felt your warm and wet folds around him.
"Best cunt in the world." He whispered to himself.
You let out a loud moan as he filled you completely, growing needy and desperate for a release. "Move, Rafe. Make me cum, please."
Your words sounded like music to Rafe's ears, further feeding his ego. "Since you asked nicely."
In one quick movement, Rafe thrust in and out of you, lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist so he could reach deeper.
The sounds of both of your breaths were mixed with the sound of the ocean waves as sweat grew on the surface of your skin. You were shamelessly whining and moaning in every thrust while Rafe was closing his eyes as he groaned in pleasure.
He pushed your other leg upwards, having you nearly folded in half as he pushed harder. He looked down to where you two were connected, his cock twitching at the sight. "Taking me so well, baby. Come on, I know you're close."
You were panting, breathless, and unable to speak. Your hands were clawing on Rafe's shoulder, wanting to push him away from the overwhelming feeling.
"R-Rafe…" You breathed out, feeling your pussy pulsate around him.
"Yes, Y/n. Go on, cum for me." He urged you, his pace never stopping nor slowing down.
You looked at him, admiring how he looked with his disheveled hair and warm cheeks. His muscles were tensing as he thrusted faster.
Without warning, he pulled your legs apart slightly, just enough so he could reach your clit with his hand. You almost screamed at the contact, another surge of gratification taking over your body as he pinched your bud.
"Fuck, Rafe!"
He smiled, hips going faster until he felt you cum around his cock. Your hips were jerking upward as you released, thighs shaking as you squirted on him.
Rafe moaned loudly, and after a few more thrusts, he released his load inside of you, not letting a drop go to waste.
You were quiet as you panted underneath Rafe, your legs still shaking occasionally while you enjoyed the feeling of both of your cum inside you.
Rafe was whispering compliments in your ear softly, stroking your skin as he slowly pulled himself out. He then helped you back into your underwear and dress, gently guiding you as you regained your balance. Rafe was quicker as he dressed himself up, grabbing your hand immediately and leading you back to the house.
"Let's clean up inside before Sarah finds us here."
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theresascove · 1 month ago
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can you please do like protective lynn loud? i don’t know anyone else that writes for her on here so thank you for your service🫡🫡
her protective nature ₊ ⊹
lynn loud x f!reader
you go up against Lynn when your schools play against each other—the known competition between the two schools enacts foul play, causing you to get injured.
tw: not proofread, established relationship (dating), protective!lynn, soccer player r & lynn, injury (r receiving, twisted ankle), Lynn pushes someone, lynn is able to carry r, fluff, hurt/comfort, can be high or middle school, bit of cursing
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wc ✎ 1.2k • thanks for the idea! I love writing for her, there needs to be more!
Whenever a game rolls around, there’s an increase in pressure from the coach—especially when it’s the known game between your school and Lynn’s. She’d bringing it up often, using it like rage bait at random times whenever you were playing a game so you’d get more competitive.
It was up until the night before the game. You were over at her house, laying beside her on her bed, head resting on her bicep. Her focus was on her phone, but her finger drew shapes on your shoulder.
The feeling light and fleeting, drawing softly on your skin chasing goosebumps to rise.
“Lynn,” you call, voice no louder than a whisper. She felt you shuffle in her hold, ears picking up on the call.
“Yeah?”
You brush hair out of her face, hoping she’d put her phone away and look towards you instead, “our game’s tomorrow,” you singsong.
She laughs, throwing her phone down and twisting to wrap herself around you, “nervous about it now?”
“No need to. I’ve seen you play.”
You laugh when she shoves you.
The day came so soon. You are just resting in her bed, cuddling to fight out the cold that raged outside. Now the last school bell rang, echoing through the halls. Bag in hand, you walked out towards your locker room. Some of your teammates were already there, throwing on their jerseys. Wasn’t long before the whole room was like a flood of blue—the bright color almost overstimulating you.
“Lynn’s outside,” your friend whispers passing by you, a playful smile as she smacks your shoulder, “go talk with her.”
She stood in her red jersey, a complete contrast from you. You crossed the concrete sidewalk, meeting her on the side standing on the grass.
“Just wanted to say good luck,” she pulls you into a quick kiss, “you’ll need it.”
Turns out you really did. You’ve watched Lynn’s games before, hell you’ve even met a few of her teammates—so why did it come as a surprise when the game had your lungs burning for air.
You were 4-1, Lynn’s school having an increased number due to her—quite literally. You stood near the end of the field, hands on your hips—chest heaving. Lynn had a smile having barely broken into a sweat. She tosses the ball back into the game, yelling out to one of her players. You sighed, picking the pace to walk down the field as it was passed around.
Your legs, already sore, screamed at you when you started to prep for the ball racing towards you. Vision blurry and snapping everywhere, you weren’t able to move around when red snapped in your vision—a cleat sneaked between your feet, pulling between your legs. Your right foot twisted and you dropped like a fly.
Your back snapped against the ground, a high pitched hiss escaping you painfully. The grass was wet and cold against your back, the feeling sliding around you when you fell onto your side—hands gripping tightly onto your leg to stop the pain around your ankle. The field lights had been turned on, shining bright and almost blinding you when you looked up.
Lynn had left the game, moving down the field to come close with the girl that had tripped you. She had her teammate stumbling in the same way you had a minute ago, palms of her hands stinging from where she roughed her onto the field. In the back, you faintly heard her dad yell out her name.
“The hell is your problem? Rolling out a foul fucking play like that?”
The ref held a hand out, holding her back. She hadn’t yet looked to you other than when she watched the whole scene unfold. She tried pushing down the ref’s arm, but he wasn’t allowing her to get anywhere near the girl. Your school’s medic had her hands under your arms, pulling you to balance on one foot.
“Can you try to walk on it?”
You shook your head, eyes closed when the world moved in waves, “no. I think it’s broken.”
“Hopefully not,” she shifts her hold, “try setting it on the ground for me.”
Your foot settles onto the grass fine, but any pressure added to it hurdles you to the edge.
“No,” you say, breathing out shakily, “no, it hurts.”
Lynn comes into view, pushing past the medic to hold where she was. She has her jaw clenched, but her eyes hold a warmth.
“I’m going to move you to this bench okay?”
Each step—limp—brings a pained expression onto the face and nails digging into her shoulder. She crouches in front of you, hand on your thigh as the medic talks you through a medical procedure. The medic’s fingers were cold, removing your shoe and angling your foot around.
Any time you flinched, jerking away from the medic—Lynn was steeling you, hands holding you still while she hushed you.
“I’m sorry,” she would say each time, vision staying on either your face or your foot.
“Okay,” the medic stands, “seems like you’ve only twisted it. Just stay off of it. Ice it, elevate it. Should take two weeks to heal if you follow through what I’ve told you now, okay?”
She hums when you agree, moving back elsewhere to probably talk to other school admiration or your parents who were somewhere in the stands still. Lynn rubbed your hand with her thumb, eyes locked on your face. It was scrunched in pain, bottom lip dropped open to breathe slowly.
“Talk me through how you’re feeling. Are you okay if I carry you back to the car?”
Your mind shut off at the offer, but you kept it under qualms. It was so bright when your eyes opened again.
“Yeah, that’s good. I don’t think I can walk right now, I feel dizzy.”
“Yeah bet. Your head hit the ground pretty hard when that bitch—“
“Lynn,” you huffed and she shrugged, standing and helping you up.
Both of your family’s met you, discussing how they wanted to go about the night. Best plan was driving you back home so they can wrap your leg and get you rested already. There wasn’t any reason to stay—especially with how Lynn kept looking back to the girl, it would be better to leave the premises.
She carried you with ease back to the car, you laid on her back—hands on your thighs. Wasn’t long before she had you laughing, turning the frustrating and embarrassing situation into something comedic.
You were settled into your parent’s car, in the back seat. She moved with such care and ease, ensuring your comfort. Before the car door shut, she leaned in to sneak a kiss.
“Message me when you get back home.”
The next day you overheard your parents talking about how Lynn got evicted from school for a day for taking a punch at her teammate. You would scold her later, but now it brought a proud smile to your face.
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tunatoge · 11 months ago
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brainrot by ur gojo and reader taking care of tsumiki and megumi fics 😭😭 i had an idea tho, what if gojo brought them to work since reader couldnt hire a babysitter and had work to do!! 😱😱 jus a lil thought, hope u had a good day today btw!! ❤❤
omg im so sorry for missing this but this is such a cute idea ily for this idea!! i hope u enjoy :)
my inbox is still open for reqs :D
pairing: teen!s. gojo x teen!reader
contents: gojo takes the kids to work, tsumiki gets attacked by a curse but megumi is there to save the day
you think your head might implode.  
tsumiki swings her legs in her car seat, singing along with the radio. her little shoes knock into the back of your seat repetitively. 
“tsum,” you say softly, rubbing at your temples with one hand, “can you stop kicking my chair, please?” the light ahead of you turns green and you follow the arc of cars turning left, silently cursing the afternoon traffic. 
“okay!” she chirps, stopping for a second before swinging her feet again. the soft thump thump thump on the back of your seat makes you grit your teeth. 
megumi shifts in his carseat, squeezing his juice pouch in between his little fingers. “do we have to go to the school?” he mumbles, sucking at the little plastic straw before throwing the garbage into the back of your car. you purse your lips as tsumiki scolds megumi. 
“sorry, megs,” you respond, tapping your finger against the steering wheel at another red light. “unfortunately, the babysitter called in sick and i’ve got plans with my parents. you’ll have to be with satoru today.” you glance at the rearview mirror, watching as megumi’s little brows pinch together and his lips begin to form a pout. tsumiki cheers. 
the light turns green and you drive the car forward, luckily missing the next couple of red lights and making it to jujutsu tech. 
“i don’t wanna go,” megumi says sharply as he crosses his arms over his chest. you hum apologetically as you swing open your car door. “i wanna be with you.” 
as you round the car and open his door, satoru appears at the top of the stairs. he smiles widely and bounds down the steps, easily reaching tsumiki’s door and helping her out of her carseat while you work on megumi’s. 
“i know, megs,” you tell him, lifting him up by his armpits and pulling him into a little hug. he clings to you, glaring at satoru behind your back. “i’ll make sure to bring back something yummy for you and tsum, okay? something salty for you and something sweet for tsum,” you promise, leaning down to set him on the sandy ground. he reluctantly lets you go. 
“okay…” he agrees, walking toward satoru who swings tsumiki around in the air while she laughs. he doesn’t turn back around and you sigh, your head throbbing with the remnants of your earlier headache. 
satoru finally turns toward you, a wide smile on his face, “don’t worry your pretty little head, everything’s gonna be totally okay!” he tucks tsumiki into his armpit like she’s a soccer ball. “we’ll see you for dinner! tell your mom i say hi, yeah?” he watches as you walk around the hood of your car. automatically, he leans forward and opens the car door for you. 
“thanks,” you murmur tentatively as you slide into your seat and diligently clip your seatbelt in place. 
satoru smiles even wider, tsumiki still tucked into his body and megumi tightly fisting his navy pants. he easily leans forward and presses a wet kiss to your cheek before leaning back and slamming your door shut. 
“bye!” he yells, his voice muffled. tsumiki waves and echoes his sentiment. you chuckle before driving away from the school. 
satoru’s grin doesn’t falter as he watches you drive away from him and the kids. a little feeling in his chest tells him that he probably should have told you about the mission he’d been assigned but he brushes it away; he knows he can handle it, he’s the strongest.
megumi tugs harder at his pants, “can you put her down?” he asks, pointing a chubby finger at tsumiki’s dangling body. 
satoru grins, “of course, gumi,” he says, placing tsumiki on the ground and crouching to help her straighten her shirt and bright pink skirt. “but you’re gonna have to take her spot!” he cheers, swiftly grabbing megumi and picking him up. “c’mon, tsumiki!” he calls as he bounds back up the stairs, megumi in his arms. 
yaga waits for satoru at the top, his arms crossed over his chest. satoru whistles happily as he stops in front of him. 
“don’t you think you should’ve told them you have a mission today?” yaga asks, staring at megumi and tsumiki. “you can’t take them with you.” 
gojo stops whistling, reaching upward to slide his glasses down an inch. “who says?” he challenges. “i’m not hearing too many objections. are you, tsumiki, megumi?” megumi glowers in his arms and tsumiki shakes her head. 
“nope!” she chirps. “we’ll be okay, mr. yaga! satoru’s the strongest!” 
yaga stares at the little girl, “fine,” he relents after a minute. “take them, but if they get hurt i’m not vouching for you, satoru.” 
satoru shift megumi into one arm and leans down and scoops tsumiki into his other arm. “no buts, yaga, my kids aren’t going to get hurt.” he smirks before teleporting away from the school, leaving a little cloud of dust in his wake. 
the three of them reappear in a closed off subway station. the lights overhead flicker sporadically and gojo huffs. he places megumi and tsumiki on the concrete floor near a little bench.
“wait here,” he says softly, slowly taking his glasses off his face. he vanishes from their sight.
megumi puffs his cheeks. “don’t you think it’s a bad idea that he left us?” he asks tsumiki who settles into the subway bench and begins to swing her feet. she hums to herself. 
“i trust him!” she says and megumi’s stomach drops at the sight of a dark shadow slinking toward her. 
“tsumiki,” he starts, looking around for satoru. “i think we should move.” 
she looks at him, “huh? but satoru said to stay here–” before she can finish, the low level curse launches itself at her. tsumiki yelps loudly as the slimy monster begins to drag her away. 
megumi clasps his hands together, the exact way satoru had taught him, and lets out a cry of frustration when his two dogs don’t appear. “please, please, please,” he whimpers, clasping his hands together over and over. 
finally, two dogs appear from the subway shadows and throw themselves at the curse dragging tsumiki away. they tear at its slimy body and tsumiki runs toward megumi. 
before she can reach him, megumi’s body is hauled into the air. he yelps loudly, turning around to glare at satoru as he smiles brightly. his blue eyes are nearly blinding. 
“you two okay?” satoru asks somewhat out of breath, he looks at tsumiki who picks sticks and rocks and other grime out of her hair and clothes. 
she nods, “megumi saved me!” 
“yeah? wait ‘till (y/n) hears about that!” satoru grins, picking tsumiki up and teleporting the three of them back to the school. your car is pulled in front of the school and you’re leaning against the hood, your cellphone gripped tightly in your hands. 
“satoru gojo,” you grumble as he approaches you. he settles the kids back onto the floor before wrapping his arms around you. 
“hi, my love,” he greets, pressing little kisses to the top of your head. “how are the in-laws doing?” 
you push at his chest and glare up at him, impatiently tapping your foot against the dirt. “they’re not your in-laws. why didn’t you tell me you had a mission?” 
satoru shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “ahh, it never came up! and don’t worry, pretty, they will be soon.” he leans back casually and grins at the way your face heats. 
megumi clings to your pantleg and you look down at him. your nose wrinkles. 
“satoru… why does megumi smell like a cursed spirit?” you look over at tsumiki and your eyes narrow at her messy clothes. “satoru gojo, you better not tell me what i think happened.” 
tsumiki jumps up, “don’t be mad at satoru!” she says. “we’re all safe and megumi saved me!” 
your glare turns back to satoru. “we’ll talk about this later,” you promise before turning to megumi who blushes deeply and turns away. 
“i summoned demon dogs,” he mumbles shyly. 
your mood immediately lightens, “really? that’s awesome, megs!” you praise, bringing him up into your arms and twirling him around in a circle. “that calls for ice cream, don’t you think?” 
megumi nods as you pull him into hug. “can i get two scoops?” 
“of course you can. let’s go right now!” you open the car door and situate megumi into his seat. tsumiki giggles and crawls into her seat and waits for you to buckle her in. 
“i call shotgun!” satoru sings. 
you turn to him, “not you, since you have another mission according to yaga.” 
satoru’s jaw drops as you clip tsumiki in and shut her car door with your hip. he watches as you sit in the driver’s seat. 
“i’ll save you a cup,” you tell him, winking before driving away.
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chenfleur · 3 months ago
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frayed edges
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summary. four weeks after the two of you broke up
pairing. sunghoon x y/n genre. exes to ???, college au, just mild yearning word count. 1.0k released. 08.03.2024 author's note. originally this was for ni-ki (hence why it's soccer) but apparently i'm physically incapable of writing yearning without the mc being Yours Truly so here's another hoon piece 😹😹😹 also the way it's written makes it seem like y/n's the one who broke up with him but honestly... it could've been either of them
masterlist
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Glistening beads of sweat travel down the sides of Sunghoon’s face as he haphazardly lets the soccer ball drop from his grasp. It thuds softly against the grass beneath him for the hundredth time tonight—each time landing in a slightly different spot, each time getting a few more blades of wet grass and dirt stains stuck onto its once spotless surface. He lets it roll for a few counts before he’s satisfied with where it is, stopping it with the sole of his foot. The night is deathly still, watching him with one eye open. She waits with bated breath and a thundering heart for him to kick the ball into the net again.
The side of Sunghoon’s foot went numb hours ago, but he doesn’t stop—with all the energy he can muster, he brutally kicks the ball. It rips through the air like a gunshot. As soon as he registers the ball hurling into the back of the net and falling limply to the ground, his knees buckle. He falls onto the grass, sprawling out on the prickly expanse. His heartbeat pulses in his fingertips.
He closes his eyes.
Were you asleep?
Sunghoon curses, throwing an arm over his eyes in exasperation.
It isn’t working anymore. 
Distraction—it isn’t working anymore.
For the past month, Sunghoon has been able to deal with the absence of the adrenaline you gave him by finding it in other sources. He’d find it in the burn of amber liquor going down his throat, the freezing cold temperature of Jay’s pool, the way his eyes would go dry when he raced down the highway in the back of Heeseung’s trunk. He’d find it every time he watched the ball shoot into the net and the sharp night air blew against his skin. All he’d need was the will to kick it once, and he’d be unable to stop until his knees gave out beneath him.
Sure, substitutes could never compensate for nuance—Sunghoon doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to get rid of the sinking pit in his stomach every time he sees something that reminds him of you—but they make do. For him, that was enough. He’s always been the ‘bigger picture’ type.
But the novelty has worn off, and the ghost of your presence floats around him whenever he has a millisecond of time to spend with his own thoughts. His own conscience is working against him. It can’t ignore the parts of him that are wilting because distraction can’t make up for them. The parts that were rallying against his wishes, his pride—that demanded he fixate on a singular, all-encompassing focal point: you.
A month has passed, and you show no sign of ever making an appearance in Sunghoon’s life again. But instead of obliging by his screaming limbs, he pushes himself onto his elbows, then his palms, ready to repeat the process of kicking the ball over and over again, until the thought of you flickered out like an oil candle in the rain. He’d forget you, just like he’s supposed to.
“I knew you’d never rest on your own.”
The sound of something other than the wind and his own laboured panting excites his ears. Before he can decide whether looking up is a good idea or not, he raises his head.
His breath hitches.
Sunghoon thinks he’s finally reached his tipping point. That the exhaustion has caught up to him and he’s finally gone insane—maybe even died, because seeing you must mean he’s in heaven, right?
You lightly kick him in the side, the point of your shoe barely digging into his rib. “Get up,” you murmur.
Sluggishly, Sunghoon pushes himself to stand. Even while slouching, he towers over you a fair bit. The shadows shrouding your face disappear as you tilt your head up, moonlight drenching your skin. 
“How are you even here?” He asks. It’s a stupid question that stumbles out too quickly—but, in his defense, he’s so exhausted he can barely tell if you’re even real right now, and he’s much too afraid to check.
“I figured you’d be here,” you reply vaguely. You shift from one foot to the other, looking around the area warily. “But I checked your apartment first, just to be sure. Jake said you were at the field.”
Sunghoon’s expression softens imperceptibly. “That doesn’t… really answer my question, Y/N.”
A sigh leaves your lips, before you say almost defeatedly, “I’m here because you’re here. Okay?” 
The next few seconds are a blur. Sunghoon barely processes how you move from a few feet in front of him to suddenly wrapping your arms around his midsection. He can’t even let out a small noise of pain at the way your loose grip is still too much of a strain on his aching body because his heart is lodged in his throat. You’re soft, impossibly so. Soft and warm and shaking. For a moment, Sunghoon wonders if you feel as tense as he feels.
His fists clench and unclench against his sides, the joints of his fingers locking as he fights muscle memory. “I’m sweaty as shit right now,” he barely manages to get out.
“I don’t care.”
Park Sunghoon is a weak, weak man. “You’re gonna care in a few minutes when you realize that I’m not exaggerating,” he mumbles, slowly wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders, his forearm nestling in the curve of your back.
“I don’t care,” you repeat firmly. Fingertips lingering on the underside of your jaw, Sunghoon feels your pulse beat six times before you speak again. Your voice is breathy. Sad. “Being alone feels worse right now.”
And maybe it’s because he’s spent the past four weeks doing superficial things to feel superficial feelings, convincing himself he’s fine while his real wounds are thrown aside and left to rot—but something in Sunghoon breaks. A thread that slowly unravels.
He buries his face in the tufts of your silky hair, holding you like not a single day has passed without you in his arms. You miss him, so he lets himself miss you, too.
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kagscore · 10 months ago
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𝜗𝜚 playing games with the boys
feat. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin note. this is self indulgent because i wanna play league with nagi i fear ૮꒰⸝⸝> <⸝⸝꒱ა i hope you enjoy ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶
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⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing rocket league with 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐘𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐈 looks like . . .
the two of you sitting in his bedroom, you curled up in his lap as you hold the controller. he holds your hands with his, moving the controller and pressing the buttons for you so you can get a grasp of the movements you need to know. slowly but surely, he lets you take full control and quietly cheers for you as you score goals and block them in his favorite game—car soccer. he's almost brimming with excitement at the idea of teaching you all sorts of tricks—flip resets, [insert other terminology]—anything so that eventually the two of you can play duos together and dominate the game. shows you how to decorate your car, the types of cars you can get and laughing when you ask if you could just drive a vw beetle instead. gets himself a second remote to play on his xbox when he thinks you’re finally starting to get the game and trying to cheer you up when you lose your first game duo’d together.
“you sure you wanna keep playing? i know it isn’t the easiest thing in the world…” “i think it’s so cute you wanna get good at this game baby, of course we can play when you come over again.”
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⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing league of legends with 𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐎 looks like . . .
nagi absolutely tossing you in headfirst into aram, knowing that you won’t get kills or assists and will die a lot but absolutely sweating his balls off so that he can still carry you to a win. you ask a lot of questions about who you’re playing, who you’re playing against, your abilities and ultimates and just generally what to do and him answering every single question you ask with patience and a soft explanation. sometimes you do questionable things in game, but he just laughs and says it’s okay. congratulates when you finally figure out who you want to main, celebrates when you get your first kill, and even buys you that skin you want as a gift for taking the time to play a game with him and spend time with him. always rerolls his character in aram, trying to find someone you like and getting a bit teary eyed when you recognize his favorite character to play once.
“it’s your favorite character, babe, swap me for them.” “i know you’re new, but please stop dying to tower. i’ll even take us out for dinner, i’m begging.”
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⊹˚. ᡣ𐭩.𖥔 ݁ ˖ playing valorant with 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐑𝐈𝐍 looks like . . .
rin trying his hardest every game you play together to be the top frag to impress you subtly, and him avenging you every time you die because how could he let his person die without killing the person that killed you? drops you his gun skins and even switches them when you guys wait in queue to skins you prefer—if he doesn’t have the skin you like, he always gives it to you when he finds and kills the person with it in a game. goes into deathmatches to one v. one you to try and help you learn the mechanics of the game and the shooting. if anyone is rude to you in a game, he’s immediately cursing and hexing their family and generational lineage in his head/in chat. he doesn’t like talking in game, but will if it means defending you against everyone else being mean because you’re bottom fragging. buys you your first skin after you get your first kill and periodically logging into your account to buy you more and surprise you sometimes.
“you should try a duelist if you want to get more kills, my love.” “now we just need to get you an ace, and we can do something special.”
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konigbabe · 1 year ago
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steal the thunder - I -
Pairing: Hajime Kashimo x fem!sorcerer!reader Word count: 5.8k Tags/warnings: no y/n; unhinged reader; manga spoilers (Culling Games + Perfect Preparation arcs); fight description; canon-typical violence; there will be eventual smut in the later parts fyi Summary: There's murder in the air – with the Culling Games underway, a simple task of finding an angel turns to a fight for life when you meet a certain, static and 400 years old sorcerer with cyan hair and wicked intentions.
Artwork by poro (poro06625649) on Twittter [source]; divider by @skylightlantern [source] For a better understanding of the reader's CE and CT, visit this Tumblr post.
masterlist • navigation • faq • AO3 • ko-fi
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There's murder in the air – an unsettling undertone that pollutes the atmosphere. Gentle breeze carrying the metallic fragrance of blood within its currents.
The dockside keeps quiet. Sky clear, devoid of seagull calls. Walking by colossal steel shipping containers, stacked high, the scent persists. Clings to the air like a persistent specter. Each step accompanied by the gentle lap of waves against the pilings, their rhythmic cadence a stark contrast to the horrors you've seen.A soothing lullaby in the midst of chaos.
The maze-like layout of the quayside comes to an end when your muscles strain, lifting off the ground and landing atop the steel structure.
A giant panda comes into view. Its relaxed posture, perched on hindlimbs, contrasts with its impassive countenance as it gazes your way.
"Panda," you address what some might believe to be an actual animal; innocent, cute and completely harmless. Except for this Cursed Corpse – your subordinate – is none of those things.
He fixes you with your very name; a disturbing familiarity in his eyes, then the words escape his lips.
"The smell of blood's so thick," he voices as you draw near, words cutting through the tension. "There must be about three people dismembered here–"
You hold up two fingers, the other hand nestled in your pocket.
"Two actually," you intervene, voice a measured interruption, "walked past a man with a hole the size of a soccer ball in his chest."
The memory resurfaces – the sight of the man, head drooping, neck bent at an unnatural angle. Eerie web-like burns sprawled across his bare flesh. The smell of singed skin and ozone hangs in the air, a pungent reminder. Yet, it's not just that which jolts your senses. It's the residual static of someone's cursed energy, an unsettling presence that lingers.
"But that's not what troubles me," continuing, you stand next to Panda, arms now crossed as both of you watch the lifeless skies, "something bad's here. I tried following the remnants of the cursed energy of the perpetrator but it was very faint."
"Could be an expert who can turn their cursed energy on and off at will…" Panda thinks out loud.
You let the idea sit for a second. Could it be the case? Could someone in this colony be capable of doing it? Known, registered sorcerers are absent here. The majority are newly awakened, scarcely equipped to comprehend a sophisticated notion like this. And why would they feel the need to hide their cursed energy?
No.
Dismissing your doubts, you shake your head and stride toward the edge of the shipping container.
"Don't think so. Nevertheless, we're here to find that angel girl and negotiate with her." Stepping onto the container's edge, unfazed by the high drop; balancing skillfully, you extend one leg over the edge, about to step into empty space. In a seamless motion, you touch down on the solid concrete ground below.
Panda follows suit, rolling off the shipping container with agility, landing right beside you. Then he stands, an odd combination of human-like stance and panda appearance, more akin to a person in a panda costume than an actual animal.
"Our safest bet is to leave the docks. Fast. Just play pretend, avoid any unnecessary conflicts and make it out of this colony in one piec–"
The sentence's left hanging as a sudden shift in the atmosphere catches your attention. Panda falls on all fours, frozen still.
"Ah," a deeper, resonant voice rumbles from your right, the words echoing as the familiar sensation washes over you. A sudden buzz inside your mind, an abrupt surge of awareness regarding another sorcerer's presence. Heart mirroring the rapid flutter of a startled bird's wings.
Their cursed energy, concealed and latent, manages to evoke an almost primal response within you. A sense of fight or flight.
You pivot to face the uninvited presence before you.
A cascade of hair, vivid as a robin's egg and kissed by the hues of a clear summer sky, is gathered into twin buns atop his head while tendrils of untamed locks dance freely in the breeze, resembling a stormy sea. Longer bangs frame the contours of his face, softening his visage.
He stops when his eyes – the same uncanny shade as his hair – bore into yours. Carrying what you'd guess is a Nyoi staff slung over his shoulder, he stands at a slight angle. Excludes casual confidence, a sense of poised readiness.
"Another one," he breaks the silence. You stand your ground in response to his observation.
"Not interested in a fight," you remark, hands risen in a defensive gesture. Yet you don't dare take your eyes off the sorcerer. Ready and composed.
Panda, ostensibly cautious, inches closer to you, fur bristling in sync with his unease towards the newcomer's presence. The air tightens, charged with the unspoken potential for violence.
"Kogane," he calls out to the shikigami, summoning it like a wisp from the aether; the small creature materializes, its hue the shade of a serene lake, light and amicable as it floats near his head, "is the panda a player too?"
The shikigami screeches its answer, its words setting everything in motion.
"Indeed!! A player! Yep!!"
"That's a function," your pondering voice meets a forced silence. The state of perturbed ambiance vanishing as your thoughts are cut off.
A flesh of white. Empty space occupies the spot where the sorcerer was standing less than a second ago.
You sense his presence before your eyes even settle on his countenance; his eyes, framed with short zig-zag lines reminiscent of lightning bolts underneath them, a furious cauldron of murderous excitement as they lock onto yours. They widen with a manic intensity. An undertone of madness lurking deep within their depths.
A predator's gaze fixated on its prey.
In a heart-stopping moment, time stands still. The world around you fades into a blur as a primal instinct takes over. Your body reacts; a precision born of pure reflex – muscles coiled like springs, you counter his attack with a swift and calculated movement.
His volatile energy crackles in the air. Your hands snap up. Fingers attempting to curl around his bandaged forearm. Channeling your cursed energy to your clavicles, the place where his palm lays flat against you –
But your reactions prove inadequate. You're too slow. A shocking speed and heavy push; a surge of force is sent through your body, catching you off-guard. The ground beneath you becomes a temporary adversary. Your balance disrupted as you're sent flying backward.
Back colliding with the hard, metal steel of a shipping container – you watch in horror as the sorcerer mercilessly attacks Panda. Using his staff as a weapon. With unnatural speed and agility, Panda struggles against him; his valiant resistance a testament to his determination, his form a blur of motion as he evades the sorcerer's attacks and manages a few good blows of his own.
Your body feels light. A tingling sensation surging through your veins. Electric current's rushing beneath your skin, setting your pulse racing and your focus to a razor's edge. The metallic taste of blood floods your mouth. Mingles with the adrenaline in your body. Every nerve firing in response to the raw energy pulsing through your body.
It hits you then–
"Heh, electricity," you mumble, the word slipping from your lips as you raise your palms, clenching your fists. Feeling the tingling in the tips of your fingers. The slight buzzing in your ears.
–his cursed energy has a special trait. One certainly hard to defend against.
Barely seconds have passed since your body was forced to rest against the ground. It still feels too long with Panda barely matching the man's speed and force.
Gritting your teeth, the urgency of the situation anchors you, overriding any pain or disorientation as you fight to regain your footing. A sense of pride fills you when you watch Panda use his technique, striking the sorcerer with enough force that'll easily knock him out cold. One of Panda's winning moves.
Except it doesn't.
"Nice one," the man's voice rings out. A taut smirk playing at the corner of his lips. Your teeth clench, disbelief intertwining with unease as you watch. With a predominated precision, the sorcerer maneuvers his staff, entwining it with Panda's arm in a smooth motion that catches you off guard.
Exerting a forceful pull, he forces a grimace from Panda. Right arm caught in the vice-like grip, a sickening crack underscores the moment. Followed by the nauseating sensation of Panda's arm being torn from his body. Violently. And mercilessly.
Panda stumbles. Pain and agony escaping in a cry. The sorcerer doesn't waste a second. Hurls the arm back at Panda, using the momentum to charge forward. Palm aiming flat against his chest, he sends Panda flying backward – the same way he did to you. Causing your junior to experience a similar sensation to yours.
The cyan-haired man straightens, seemingly relaxing, already content with winning the fight.
"But I'm not impressed," he taunts, words an ominous echo of the violence just unleashed, "It's too ordinary."
Feeling the concrete beneath your feet, you take deliberate steps forward. With an inkling of Panda's potential strategy, you expel the pooled blood from your mouth, spitting it onto the ground.
"...Sukuna, you know where he is?" The man's words flow, attention diverted, ignorant of your presence.
A fortunate circumstance.
"No clue," Panda responds. His reply burdened with weariness and defeat; yet his gaze remained fixed on you, a silent exchange of understanding passing between you as you position yourself, tension radiating from his weary form.
The sorcerer scoffs; a contemptuous tilt of his head, a gesture laden with superiority. "Sounds like you know something, then," he snarls, his grip on the staff constricting as his fist clenches, "Spit it out. I'll be merciful."
With the sorcerer's back turned you raise your arm. Your gaze remains fixed upon the convergence point of the two delicate lines, their path crossing at the very heart of the expanse that's the upper part of his broad back.
"I won't be," you declare; voice carrying a firm tone. A deft flick of your wrist – the current of cursed energy takes the desired shape before it's hurled toward your target. Slashing the air in front of you, aimed right at him.
His gaze veers to the side. And in a fraction of a heartbeat, he moves; executing a skillful sidestep. Body positioned to face you from the side, both hands now gripping his staff, aiming it at you; a glint of fervor ignites his eyes as they widen, locked onto the shipping container stationed behind Panda. The unforgiving force of your attack rends the shipping container apart, leaving two gaping slashes that could bisect a man.
You don't give him time to react properly.
The moment blood begins to stain his white robe crimson red from the nick on his shoulder, you lunge forward. Like a bull being waved a red flag. Feet imbued with your cursed energy, reinforced to ensure protection.
As you close the distance at a breakneck pace, you sense the distinct composition of his cursed energy. With your fingers curled around the staff, your eyes meet his, a faint grin playing at the corners of your mouth as you tug on his weapon with your full body weight. Lifting your legs off the ground, you use the staff as a fulcrum. His body feels resilient, akin to forged steel, against the soles of your shoes.
With the potency of your cursed technique coursing through your strike, the man is propelled backward, his body hurtling through the air. The Nyoi staff clings to the concrete. Left untouched upon the impact.
Flying through a shipping container, he quickly finds his footing. Stance shifting in response to your aerial maneuver. Legs splayed to establish a firm foundation, you focus your intent on targeting his jaw. Fists charged with cursed energy, you hit once; knowing how troublesome the push-and-pull effect of your technique feels once your flesh makes contact–
"Not bad," he manages to spit out, the corner of his lip stained red. A smile tugs at the corner of his lip as you sprint toward him.
The surroundings blur into a muddled backdrop, irrelevant in your unwavering concentration. The sorcerer becomes the sole axis, a focal point in a world that seems to slow to a crawl, even though only a fraction of a second has passed.
The tip of your foot touches his; a mere whisper of contact between two opposing forces.
"Not bad at all."
–he counterattacks. Hand darts forward. Grabs your wrist. With an economy of motion, he employs your own momentum against you. His grip becomes a pivot, briefly throwing you off-balance, diverting your forward surge into an unexpected spiral.
Fluidity. That's how you'd characterize his movements. A seamless transition from being a passive target to an active agent.
His chest brushes against your back as his right hand remains locked around your right wrist. Single-handedly swinging your body like a marionette, you exploit the vulnerability of your position. Using his grip as leverage to move backward, simultaneously grabbing hold of his bandaged left forearm and pulling. Crashing your body into his, redirecting the movement into a collision.
With a potent surge of intention, you force the prepared rejection and attraction effect within your clenched fist, propelling it like a bolt toward the rear of your skull. Teeth gritted, you throw your head back.
Crack.
He stifles a groan, a step taken back but footing resolute. A red trail paints his nose as you swivel to confront him. Pausing briefly to charge your energy again, you grant him a moment to speak. His expression freezes as he locks eyes with you
"You," he speaks up, his voice textured with the tang of iron as his tongue grazes his lips, "Have we met before?"
With your hand still tingling, the ripples of sensation spread up your arm, an electric current tracing a pattern beneath your skin. Your head sways subtly, dispelling the notion of a previous encounter. "Unlikely. You'd be history."
A chuckle dances from his lips, a response to your retort. "What's your name then?"
You share it deliberately, each syllable a measured beat in your dance around one another. He nods, his head tilting with self-assured grace. It's then that he takes his stance – feet planted firmly, palms outstretched, a grin playing on his lips.
"The name's Hajime Kashimo."
The words hang, a telltale echo–
Hajime Kashimo.
–recognition snaps into place when you repeat his name in your mind.
The Hajime Kashimo, the sorcerer whose score reaches a hundred points; a mark that sets him apart from any other Culling game player (except for the intricate Hiromi Higuruma). Hakari's elusive target.
And here, right before you, stands the man himself.
"Hey," you call out, a new determination blossoming, your stance embracing the challenge; retreat is no longer a consideration, "if I beat you, can I get your points?"
The corners of Kashimo's lips twitch, smile fading like a wisp of smoke carried away by the wind. Expression blank, with only his brows furrowed as he responds, "Sure, but you tell me everything y'know about Sukuna," his voice lowered to a dangerous undertone, a velvet threat veiled in words, "that is–if you're still alive."
He charges then. Doesn't spare a single consideration. The air crackles with tension as his presence engulfs you. His hands make contact – not with fists or strikes – but with the calculated pressure of his open palms. You feel the weight of his touch on your skin. Pressure on your left, then on your right ribcage.
"Don't disappoint me now," breath tickles your ear, voice a tantalizing, dangerous melody. His fingers anchor firmly onto your right shoulder, an assertive grip that both commands and unsettles, while his other hand exerts a calculated force on your left shoulder guard, propelling you into a spin.
Your training surges forth, a symphony of muscle memory and instinct harmonizing within you. With the resilience born of countless battles, you swiftly adapt your stance, shifting your weight to face him.
An annoyed huff leaves your now-bruised lips. You channel your own cursed energy, a torrent of power surging through your veins.
Detain an attack when it comes,–
Knees bending, body swaying to evade the incoming fist; your left hand grips his left wrist, fingers tightening with determination, followed by your right driving into its intended mark.
–and send it away when it retreats.
Your palm meets the solid plane of his chest with a resonant thud; pushes and then pulls him back to you before sending him away again; successfully pushing back against Kashimo's pressure. It's a momentary reprieve. One that sends the sorcerer tumbling back, makes him roll on the ground, lending on one knee.
"Here I thought we were just getting started," you quip with a hint of playfulness amidst the dance of combat. Moving swiftly towards the target. As Kashimo's force ebbs, you seize the opportunity, your muscles coiling like springs.
"You're getting me–" he barely makes it back to his feet before you're at him again. With enough cursed energy imbued into your foot, utilizing the momentum of your motion, leg rising up in a calculated kick – only for Kashimo to shift; a fraction of movement that proves decisive. His arm weaves beneath the arc of your thigh, a sinuous and serpentine maneuver that seeks to entwine and subdue. As his grasp tightens, his fingers snake around your throat, lifting you from the ground, suspending you momentarily.
"–quite excited," he concludes, his voice tinged with an eerie excitement.
Once the hand is freed from contact,–
A heartbeat's pause feels like an eternity. With your legs rendered weightless and no stable ground beneath you. Despite the vulnerable position, your mind remains steadfast, honing in on Kashimo's Achilles heel. His hands are preoccupied, his grasp unwavering but his neck and face exposed.
–carry out a strike with it.
Seizing the opportunity, you make the most of the opening. Your palms press against the sharp contours of his cheeks, each hand finding its place on one side of his face. In one swift and deliberate motion, you channel the wellspring of cursed energy that resides within you into your technique. The currents of your energy converge between your palms, weaving a tapestry of arcane force that manifests as a palpable vacuum, centered precisely where his head rests.
It's an intentional manipulation. One – if done right, that is – could even lead to a cataclysmic implosion. A violent severing of life from the body. But you don't want to kill him; not yet at least. You need the points. And so, you temper your approach, exerting only the necessary amount of energy to induce a sensation of compression.
As the feeling envelops him, Kashimo's expression shifts, a flicker of realization that dances within his eyes. He instinctively withdraws. Bandaged forearms push at your body, sending you hurtling backward; a testament to his strength and strategic finesse.
"You cheeky little thing," a bead of blood traces a path from the corner of his eye. At the same time, another droplet emerges from his nose.
This time it's him who doesn't let you regain enough control as he charges at you. His approach swift and unrelenting. The tables are constantly turning – now being his time to dictate the tempo.
Another dance of offense and defense plays out as the two of you clash once again. Each move a deliberate response to the other's actions.
Chase the movement of the opponent–
As the flurry of his strikes slices through the air, you find yourself navigating the ebb and flow with a synchronicity that borders on the sublime. With a hawk-like focus, you track the trajectory of his hand, your senses attuned to his every motion.
While his hits continue to swing through both empty space and meeting your body, a fleeting opportunity presents itself. With the precision of a seasoned sorcerer, you follow the path of his hand with your own, fingers closing around his forearm as it narrowly misses your cheekbone, the other digging into the open slash wound on his shoulder.
–to continue the attack.
It earns you a hiss. A "Tsk," coming from his damaged lips.
One fluid motion; one that belies your strength. You capitalize on the momentum of his own swing, utilizing your grip to exert control. Your foot surges forward with unbridled force, the sole of your shoe connecting with the vulnerable juncture of his knee.
Kashimo's reflexes kick in as he instinctively leaps back the moment your foot makes contact with his leg. His visage bears the marks of battle, a canvas adorned with streaks of red, the vestiges of blood from the prior exchange. A mirror to his appearance, your own face likely reflects a similar narrative. Marked by the intensity of the confrontation. By his pure, physical prowess. One that, even if you use all your cursed energy, you're certain you couldn't match.
The shadows of weariness begin to cast their subtle touch on you. A weight that tempers your movements and shadows the clarity of your thoughts. Each calculated step, each strategic strike, seems to bear an additional burden now.
Still, resolute, your unwavering determination fixated on Kashimo, persevering in the face of creeping exhaustion.
Then you take off.
With a surge of action, you propel yourself into motion. Pivoting on your heel, you sprint toward the towering container crane a mere few meters behind. Kashimo's quick thinking registers in the corner of your vision—a flash of white on your right, drawing nearer.
"Running so soon?"
His taunting words reach you.
"Just limbering up," you reply. Muscles tensing, you feel his energy almost brushing against your own. So, with a leap, you vault into the air. Fingers curling around your ankle.
Time seems to slow as Kashimo's grip tightens around your ankle, his fingers like a vice attempting to anchor you to the ground. The world spins around you, the crane's towering structure becoming a blur as your body is abruptly yanked back, denied the freedom of flight.
Instinct kicks in, your mind racing to find a solution. With a swift twist of your body, you channel the energy within, your cursed power surging to your fingertips. A burst of force courses through your arm, the concentrated energy propelling your free leg forward in a powerful kick. Your heel connects with Kashimo's face, the impact forcing his grip to release.
In the split second of regained freedom, your body soars toward the container crane.
Muscles strained, you manage to grab hold of a protruding metal edge, fingers gripping with an iron determination. The harsh clang of metal meeting metal reverberates through the air as your body comes to a halt, swinging slightly from the momentum before you propel yourself higher onto the structure.
A smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. The distance between you and Kashimo now a tangible reminder of your evasion. His frustrated gaze meets yours, the tension between you electric and palpable.
"Nice try," you retort, voice laced with a mixture of weariness and defiance. There's an undeniable satisfaction in defying his grasp, in proving your prowess even amid exhaustion. Without wasting a moment longer, you hoist yourself up more, using the crane's structure to propel your body upward. Your form melds with the steel as you ascend, a maneuver to gain the vantage point.
Gotta limit his movement to the minimum.
Kashimo's expression shifts, a glint of admiration piercing through his irritation. "Impressive," he concedes, the words carrying an unexpected note of respect, "but you can't run from me."
He follows your lead. The two of you ascending the crane in a synchronized rhythm
"I told you, Kashimo–," you declare, your voice echoing between the steel beams as you reach the crane's zenith, standing face to face on the narrowest edge.
Now standing face to face on the crane's uppermost beam, the narrow back reach providing only small support. Your breath heaves, each inhalation a reminder of the intense exertion. Across from you, Kashimo's gaze remains fixed upon you, his expression deceptively relaxed.
"–that I'm only stretching."
His eyes, however, tell a different story – a depth of focus that cuts through your form. Anchoring onto you with an unwavering intensity.
A mournful melody weaves through the metal lattice, the wind's haunting whistle creating an eerie harmony with the tension in the air. The gusts playfully tousle both your hair in the process. You steady yourself into a stance, your body a testament to both resilience and purpose.
"Plus I want those points," you remark, a hint of determination coloring your words.
It's then that you charge — cursed energy flowing through your body like currents of compressed emptiness. A void. Unyielding. Relentless. And pneumatic.
With a flick of your wrist, you send it slicing through the air. A blade of nothing. A thin line etches across his chest, traversing from ribcage to his already wounded shoulder — a mark of your earlier endeavor. Nowhere to dodge now that he's standing between two metal beams.
Or so you thought.
Kashimo charges. The white of his robe tainted with scarlet. The cut isn't deep.
He must've reinforced his cursed energy.
"Tsk," you utter. A flicker of irritation crosses your features. Agitated. With waning stamina, the dwindling reservoir of cursed energy depleted by your previous usage; this could've been your last-ditch effort.
The final move.
And it failed.
It makes him smile. A sinister twist of lips that morphs into a grin. Moving fast, his expression resembles one of a predator closing in on its prey. The ruby stain on his robe seems to accentuate his aura of danger, a stark contrast to the pristine white it once was.
As your body contorts and arches backward, you skillfully evade the incoming fist aimed at your face. Your unwavering gaze remains locked onto his intense stare. With your palm pressed flat against the ground of the crane, you swiftly raise your leg, delivering a targeted strike to the meat of his thigh.
But before your maneuver can fully unfold, his hand seizes your ankle, pulling you towards him and locking your leg in place as he maneuvers over your body. Kashimo's grin widens, a predatory glint in his eyes that triggers a ripple of unease down your spine.
As his fist whizzes past your face, you seize the opportune moment to mount a counterattack. His fingers, still harshly locked around your right ankle, you push and pull against his grasp. Leg successfully moving to close over his thigh, the other hooking around his hip.
Legs now firmly encircling his waist, you use every ounce of your strength to push. Destabilize the sorcerer. Break his foundation. Disrupt his equilibrium.
The outcome? Both of you soaring through the air and down the crane. Kashimo's form aligns perfectly with the approaching solidity of the dockside concrete.
A rapid free fall, gravity's pull unrelenting.
If you're not getting the points, he's not getting his answers either.
His eyes momentarily flit to the ground below. Unspoken recognition of the shared peril that binds you both. The realization dawns in his eyes, widening them momentarily, before his gaze settles onto your face once more – unimpressed. Jaded.
"Oops," you jest under your breath, fingers finding purchase on the fabric of his torn clothes. An unhinged smile on your lips, eyebrows lifting in a mix of audacity and exhilaration. The wind sweeps through, rustling your hair with a cool caress that contrasts starkly with the warm stickiness of blood on your skin.
"It's accumulated enough."
That's the only forewarning you get. In an instant, the atmosphere shifts; an electrifying tension that dances along your skin. You sense the already familiar tingling as the static charges from the man beneath you. Kashimo's cursed energy now gaining intensity.
His open hand thrusts towards your face, a surge of energy gathering at his fingertips. Only to get countered by your own palm. Flat against each other. Forcing a focal point of energy converges and resistance to form. As the push effect comes into play just in time with waves of electricity.
The crackling intensity escalates, its tendrils reaching out with an insatiable hunger. Only to be pushed back by your own manipulation acting as a steadfast wall. It's a symphony of sensations — the tingling of your skin, the hum of power in the air, the gradual crescendo of pressure between your palms. The vortex throbs and pulses, a living embodiment of the forces you both wield.
The thing is – The conductivity of the vacuum…depending on how you look at it, it behaves in two different ways:
Firstly, when you examine the motion of charged particles with a constant velocity within a vacuum, you encounter an interesting phenomenon. Unlike in other mediums, there is no opposing force acting against these particles. Consequently, maintaining a steady current across any surface within a vacuum demands no additional effort.
However, a contrasting phenomenon manifests when we consider the existence of free charges within conductors. When an electric field, denoted as E, is imposed upon a conductor, it triggers a flow of electric current. This internal charge movement gives rise to a current density described by the equation: J = σE, where σ symbolizes the conductivity of the material. Notably, within a vacuum, σ assumes a value of 0; hence, electric fields lack the capacity to spontaneously induce current flow.
In this context, the vacuum departs from the role of a conductor. Even materials known as insulators, which typically restrict the flow of current, possess conductivity values that are low but not completely absent.
As a result, the resistance exhibited by a vacuum effectively amounts to infinity—particularly when you define resistance through the lens of how charge carriers in a substance respond. Viewed from this perspective, you could liken the vacuum to an insulator, given the absence of charge carriers that are essential for the propagation of electric current.
So in the end, your innate ability functions like an antistatic force.
It should be enough to counter his attack. Neutralizing his endeavor and ricocheting it back to him. Only if his other hand, clenched into a fist, suddenly hasn't entered your line of sight, aiming for your jaw.
The controlled push-only effect falters. Then crumbles. The void's pull reclaims all that Kashimo had imparted, drawing it back with an insatiable greed.
"Damn you." It now comes down to the last aspect of your technique.
Implosion.
The energies within your vacuum field converge, collapsing inwards with a blinding intensity. A jarring impact against the back of your head – or it might be the ending of your fall. Everything's just confusing. Everything blurs into a disorienting haze of continuous events.
The unforgiving touch of concrete grates against your scraped back. Each breath, now shallow and ragged, causes pain.
Above, the sky stretches wide and boundless. Until the sight is blocked by a mop of cerulean blue hair. Two buns somehow still in place. Same-colored eyes staring at your form. Arms folded and a countenance marred by bloodstains and scrapes. Each leg positioned on either side of your hips before one presses against the flat of your clavicles.
"You're quite durable," Kashimo retorts, pushing his weight down on you, "that should've killed you right there."
"Heh," you manage a wry chuckle, your voice strained but defiant, "guess I'm full of surprises."
He raises an eyebrow, a flicker of almost-amusement dancing in his eyes. The world around you seems to blur at the edges, the strain of the plummet combined with the failed attempt of your innate technique taking a heavy toll on your senses.
"It's been a while since I've encountered someone who can keep me on my toes this long. Now tell me," your name rolls off his tongue in a taunting lilt, "where's Sukuna?"
The distant sounds of the dockside begin to fade, replaced by an eerie emptiness. Despite your unwavering determination, a tide of dizziness threatens to engulf you, and you struggle to maintain your focus on Kashimo's face.
"On vaca–"
The weight on your chest vanishes abruptly. Kashimo's foot makes fleeting contact with your cheek before returning to its original place.
"Don't play with me. Spit it out."
"Oi," a voice calls to your right. A voice you know; Hakari's, "It's not very chivalrous to strike a lady like that."
From here, everything dissolves into darkness.
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The world sways, a disorienting dance of shadows and sensations. Light pressure settles on your stomach with sounds echoing faintly in the distance. A gentle, steady rhythm envelops you as if you're being cradled in a cocoon of safety. Your limbs feel weightless, as though the ground beneath you has transformed into a soft cloud that carries your burdens away.
Your mind struggles to tether itself to the present, grappling with the fragments of consciousness that slip through your grasp. Colors blur, merging into a hazy kaleidoscope of fleeting images. The arms that encircle you exude warmth thought. One that lulls you back to sleep.
Yet you manage to summon the strength to part your heavy eyelids. Through the haze, you see a blur of black and white on top of you. Head resting upon something firm and solid – a breastplate, you realize. The rhythmic cadence that envelops you is accompanied by the subtle rise and fall of breath, a heartbeat that resonates beneath your cheek.
"Panda," you murmur, voice a tentative whisper as you attempt to comprehend whether or not you're dreaming, considering the creature on you is now a size of an actual teddy bear.
The toy-sized Panda remains seated on you but looks your way, emitting a surprised yelp at the sound of your voice, before swiftly turning his gaze forward again, "Hakari, she's awake!"
Your vision – still blurred – manages to trace a figure walking at the edge of your peripheral sight – left arm missing, shirt gone (he's shirtless, you discern), and crowned with purple hair. Hakari. But if Hakari's walking in front of you. Then…
Lifting your eyes, you suddenly lock onto a fleeting sight of vibrant cyan hair. The once-pristine white attire now soaked and marred with splotches of vivid red, creating an unsettling contrast. Your heart skips a beat as the realization dawns upon you.
It's Kashimo who bears the weight of your limp form.
"She's gonna pass out soon again," his voice carries vibrations that travel from his chest to your cheek with his gaze fixed upon you.
And he's right as your body, weary and battered, succumbs once more to the embrace of slumber.
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alottiegoingon · 6 months ago
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hc! enemies to friends
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natalie scatorccio x fem!reader
summary: going from enemies to friends with nat
warnings: golden retriever x black cat dynamic, very brief drinking mention, cursing, not proofread pls ignore any mistakes
the request was enemies to lovers but i didnt want to sound repetitive so this could be considered a prequel for this if you ignore a few changes :)
𖧊 nat thought you were an excruciating pain in her ass
𖧊 when you joined the yellowjackets, she couldn’t be any more frustrated by your constant overwhelming happiness or your endless chatter
𖧊 “do you ever think about how aliens may think that we are the real aliens?” you and misty were in a heated argument about the topic while warming before practice and natalie was really trying to ignore you until she couldn’t anymore
𖧊 “oh my goood!” nat growled, hands covering her face as she was one step away from murdering you with her bare hands. “do you ever stop talking?”
𖧊 “maybe,” you reply to her snarky comment, stopping stretching your legs to cross your arms. “if you say please.”
𖧊 “i’d rather throw myself in front of a bus, actually,” she retorts, jaw clenching
𖧊 “and how exactly do you plan to play soccer with a broken leg or arm?”
𖧊 “no, that’s not-”nat tries to explain that, first of all, she didn’t actually mean it in a literal way but, second, if she did then playing soccer would be the least of her worries. but then she realized how stupid it was
𖧊 “just forget it,” she muttered, storming away with heavy steps, seeking solace in a quiet corner to warm up
𖧊 you were everywhere. yes, you went to the same school and the same soccer team but still, nat was always hoping to get a break from you
𖧊 it wasn’t very difficult for the other girls to notice that nat wasn’t exactly the happiest around you and that’s exactly why jackie paired you two, trying to make you get along
𖧊 “it looks like we are partners,” you said with a grin, heading towards nat. her narrowed eyes and tense posture were a stark contrast to yours
𖧊 “let’s just get over with it,” she couldn’t care less about small talk and she surely didn't wanna hear shit about fucking aliens
𖧊 passing the ball to each other was a very stupid idea, nat was sure of it. it was for kids, for beginners. and she wasn’t either of those. you, on the other hand, seemed pretty content with the fun and light training
𖧊 “did you know that smoking isn’t good for you?” you simply let your bold words fall from your lips, still focused on the exercise
𖧊 “how do you know i smoke?” nat can’t believe how annoying you were. she didn’t need advices
𖧊 “i saw you smoking behind school this morning. i tried to say hi but you didn’t see me”
𖧊 “oh. was that you?” she squints at the memory of a louder version of yourself was screaming her name from the open window of a passing car
𖧊 “yes, didn’t you hear me?”
𖧊 “sorry, i thought you were screaming bats”, nat explains, trying to hide a hint of a possible smirk appearing in her face by compressing her lips
𖧊 “why would i scream bats? i was saying nat!”
𖧊 “hm, no,” she nods. “it was definitely bats”
𖧊 bickering over small things was something that the yellowjackets were very tired of, especially if it happened in the locker room after practice when everyone was exhausted
𖧊 “are you filling my water bottle?” nat approached when you were by the drinking fountain, struggling to hold at least five other bottles on your arms while filling nat's
𖧊 "no, nat. i'm holding it for fun," you snort, eyes pierced on the running water so it wouldn't overflow
𖧊 "i didn't ask you to do that!"
𖧊 "the girls asked me to do theirs and yours was empty. you're welcome" as soon as you're done with it, you close the lid and practically shoves her bottle on her chest, barely giving her any time to hold it
𖧊 "it was empty because i wanted to! the water tastes like shit here," she digs her fingers into the plastic so hard that they were turning white
𖧊 "are you allergic to saying thank you or just rude?" you exhale, now facing nat with, for the first time ever, impatience in your eyes
𖧊 "fuck off, princess," she forces a laugh out, "i'm allergic to annoying and bubbly girls stealing my stuff, yes!" nat steps forward and you thought you were allucinating when you caught her eyes on your mouth
𖧊 “just kiss already, i'm so tired of your shit,” tai groans before you could tease her about it and right by her side there's van smirking at the very gay situation
𖧊 “in her dreams, maybe," you mock nat just to have the pleasure of watch her whole face going red
𖧊 after being completely humilliated by you (you made her blush) in front of everyone, nat was furious. that until she found you hidden in the spot she would usually go to smoke with her friends before school
𖧊 she was about to leave as soon as she laid her eyes on you, not wanting to get envolved in any drama. besides, she didn't like you and she didn't care. but she couldn't just leave you there
𖧊 "what's up, princess? someone stole your gel pens?" nat wasn't good when it came to comfort someone, and definitely not you. so, maybe, being funny would help
𖧊 you didn't bother to look up at her. sitting on the floor hugging your knees against your chest and burying your head onto your legs, you weren't in the mood to listen to her taunts. "not now, nat."
𖧊 nat wasn't sure of what to do. sitting by your side and mirroring your position, she pondered for a while and decided that the best thing to do was to wait. it's not like she cared about being late for school anyway
𖧊 "coach martinez wants to replace me. he said i don't kick strong enough," you slowly lif your head from your knees in order to face natalie, who was attentively listening to your first words after some solid ten minutes
𖧊 "this is crazy. what does he know about soccer anyway?"
𖧊 "he's the coach, nat," you frown at her strange way of reassuring you, despite finding it kind of cute
𖧊 "well, there's that," she rubs her temples, "but we still have time until the nationals. maybe we could practice together"
𖧊 "like you and me?" your confusion only gets worse. natalie scatorccio wanted to help you?
𖧊 "it can't be that bad, right? and it would suck to have you replaced by some other loud and irritating girl when i'm already used to you"
𖧊 this could go terribly wrong and end up with nat having your head in a stick but you were willing to take the risk if it meant that you had a chance to stay in the team
𖧊 "alright, i'm in" shaking your head, you extend your hand for nat to shake it and seal the deal. "i always knew you didn't actually hate me."
𖧊 "don't make me regret it, princess."
215 notes · View notes
totheblood · 2 years ago
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superposition. (four)
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pairing: dealer!ellie x best friend!reader
summary: a flashback to when ellie and petal first met...they hang out in a bathroom for some reason?
warnings: 18+, no smut! (i'm sorry it's just necessary for the plot) cursing, drug/alcohol mention and use, cheating if u squint
a/n: i am so sorry but this chapter has no smut and yes that was a decision i made on purpose, it will be back and i am already working on it so don't be mad at me.. this chapter is important for the plot and is mainly from ellie's point of view. also there are ai audios but they are not ... nasty... cause no smut! also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses
wc: 2.9k
masterlist for previous chapters
"why don't we rely on chemistry?"
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It was decided, Ellie wanted to crawl inside your chest and live there forever. 
She can’t remember a time she’s felt this involved with someone, this desperate for another person’s touch. Any free space of her mind was taken up by you, by your smell, the way your skin felt under her fingertips. There was only you. 
Ellie had always fantasized about this being a reality. About you leaning into her, delicately murmuring her name onto her flesh, coming undone on top of her several nights in a row, but she never expected it would hurt as much as it did. Every time you rushed out the door, fixing your hair in the mirror before you went, or she checked your location and saw that you were at some new restaurant or bar, her heart sank to her chest. 
She was unsure of what she expected when she first kissed you. She knew it was a bad idea, that nothing could come from it that would stop the swirling in her stomach when it came to you. The pit in her stomach could only be filled by you, by being on, around, or inside you. 
Ellie had met you during her junior year in high school when she was just starting to discover herself. She always knew she liked girls but before she turned 16 she had never kissed one. Everything about her was more chaotic at 16, her freckles seeming more scattered and auburn hair always slightly messy. She had been falling behind in most of her classes, except physics, and found herself not sleeping. She was an overly anxious kid with a mind that never stopped turning until she met you. 
Jackson was a small town with an even smaller high school; everyone had some connection to someone. So when you sauntered into class, with shaking hands gripping the straps of your backpack unsure of where to sit, Ellie had offered you Dina’s seat. She told herself she was just being kind and it wasn’t because Ellie’s brain came to a halt when she saw you, which was wildly untrue. Dina cursed her out for giving you her seat, but when she grew to know you she understood.
Ellie was soccer captain, the one sport that the high school had for girls. When her body was moving she wasn’t thinking, all she could think was: ball, net, don’t trip, you? You slipped into her mind when she was on the field, looking up and seeing you perched on the bleachers, a book in your hand. Upon seeing you, she smiled to herself, but that smile was quickly wiped off her face as another girl on the team bumped into her, shaking her from her thoughts.
She approached you after practice, wiping the sweat from her forehead and briefly smelling her pits before getting too close. Your legs crossed over each other as you hummed, flipping the pages in the worn-down book and not noticing Ellie’s presence. 
“Hey,” she grinned, hands coming forward to lean on the rail of the bleachers as she looked up at you, “came to watch me practice?”
“You wish,” you giggled, tucking your book into your backpack, “needed to find a quiet place to read. Not much action on the field.”
Ellie faked a gasp and rolled her eyes, hoping her face wouldn’t betray her but it did. The sweet blush crept up on her face as her eyes blinked at you, what a tease, she thought. 
“Talking a lot of shit for someone who probably can’t make a goal,” she replied, making the playfulness in her voice evident. It was your turn to fake a gasp as your hand came over your chest. 
“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I was goal champion back in New York,” you added a bit of cockiness to your voice, fully knowing you were faking it.
“Goal champion?” 
“Yup.”
“Never heard of it.” Ellie laughed, shaking her head before turning back and seeing the field empty. The sun was going to set soon, nighttime just around the corner. She usually hated walking home in the dark, but decided she wanted more time with you. Any amount would do. “Wanna show me your moves, goal champion?” 
“I don’t think you could handle it,” you giggled, picking your bag up and walking down the steps to the field. 
“Try me,” Ellie looked back at you, a shit-eating grin on her face as she ran onto the field. The night was spent with you trying, and failing, to make one goal against Ellie. She giggled as you made one goal and threw your hands up in the air chanting ‘goal champion’. She decided to never tell you that she let you make that goal. Her smile never left her face and for a brief moment in time she wasn’t thinking about all the work she had to do, or how she was going to do it, or how Joel would react when he found out she failed her Algebra test, she was just happy. She slept like a baby that night thinking of the sound of your laugh. 
She kept her crush on you secret, letting it fizzle out slowly. Every sleepover the two of you had, the fear that if you found out about her crush on you that you would think she was a creep crept up the back of Ellie’s neck. It was a fear that wasn’t exclusive to you, but the rest of her feelings were. The way you sat posed for her, smiling with your teeth on display as she painted a portrait of you for art class created a new feeling she had for you, and only you. She couldn’t name it but she believed it was love. 
When you came around to look at the finished product, you gasped. Ellie had painted you with flowers coming out of your hair, tulips, lilies, and roses surrounding you. You never believed you could look that beautiful, but it was how Ellie saw you. Your mouth hung open as you gasped, eyes taking in the artwork and glossing over with tears. The pink, orange, and red hues adorning your pictured face. 
“Ellie, this is-” Your mouth fell open again, eyes too shy to meet her. 
“You like it?” Ellie asked nervously, eyes darting between you and the painting. 
“I, I love it, Ellie,” then a smile was on your face from ear to ear, “I didn’t know I could look so beautiful… and the flowers I mean?”
“The flowers are meant to represent you,” Ellie’s voice was small as she looked up at you, “beautiful and delicate.”
When you beamed at her and brought a finger to trace the lines of her art she was sure she melted. It was over for her. Every waking moment would be now spent trying to get that reaction out of you. That was the day she began calling you ‘Petal’, her own face blushing at the memory. 
Her plan had always been you, even when she wasn’t sure she was making a plan. So when you and Malia had become ‘Instagram official’ she couldn’t stop herself from keeling over and throwing up into the trash can she kept beside her bed. She didn’t feel like she was going to be sick, she was just sick. 
There was jealousy, and then there was whatever Ellie was feeling right now. It was almost a blind rage. She knew she didn’t have any claim to you, but didn’t she? It was her fingers, her lap, and her mouth that you came onto, not your ‘girlfriend’s’ and Ellie made sure of that. 
She didn’t feel the need to call you for two days after seeing the post. She texted you to let you know she was sick, which wasn’t technically untrue, and you texted her back a sad face paired with a message to get better before the formal on Saturday insisting that you couldn’t do it alone. She wanted to reply with some snarky comment about why your girlfriend couldn’t take you, but she refrained. 
The upcoming formal was something you attended for Dina and Jesse’s sake. It provided an excuse for you to wear a fancy dress while also providing a large and willing customer base for Ellie. These things were boring, and at most became fun when the music got slightly more uptempo. The point was to raise money for the fraternities, not shake your ass in front of your classmates. 
Despite how excruciating these things felt, you and Ellie had gone together for the past two years. She always wore a suit and tucked your pink flask into the pocket inside her jacket, spiking your drink whenever you flashed her the signal. What started out as a boring night always ended with you and Ellie in a fit of giggles on the bench outside the venue. It was one of those traditions that you continued to look forward to.
Ellie showed up that night, a tequila-filled flask pressed tightly against her shirt. She even felt bold enough to wear a bowtie. She waited in the lobby of the venue, occasionally staring at her feet as she waited for you to arrive. She expected to drive you but you told her that you would come on your own. That alone should have raised some flags. 
You showed up with Malia, her arm linked with yours. Ellie's green eyes widened but she had to maintain her composure as you approached her with a giant smile plastered on your face and arms open for a hug. She took you in, breathing in your scent which now felt unfamiliar to her. You smelt like pink pepper, Malia was rubbing off on you. Ellie shivered at the thought. 
“Malia,” your voice was sweet and sing-songy, “this is Ellie, my best friend.” You gestured to Ellie who reached out her hand to Malia, a smile on her face that said ‘I’ve fucked your girlfriend, in fact, I took her virginity and I felt good doing it’ but only she knew that. 
“Nice to meet you, Ellie,” Malia said as she shook Ellie’s hand, her own warm smile on her face, “this one’s told me so much about you.” Internally, Ellie scoffed. 
Ellie wanted to hate Malia, and for the most part, she did. She was objectively beautiful and had this aura around her that made things in the room glow. Everyone who knew her always raved about how kind and caring she was, you being one of them. Ellie wanted to hate her, but more than that she wanted you to be happy. Malia made you happy. She had to like her. 
“Same here,” Ellie shook her hand before pulling it back. Her eyes glanced to the door of the room the event was being hosted in, classical music seeping from the walls. “Should we go in?” 
“Oh, uh, yeah,” you smiled as you took Malia’s hand in your own and walked towards the room. Ellie followed after, feeling like a third wheel. This was the night that your tradition would die. 
Ellie had to make some quick exchanges and so she had to reluctantly leave you. She didn’t want you to get too comfortable without her, but she had a job to do. When she returned she found you and Malia on the dance floor and had to actively ignore how much she wanted to throw up again. 
Ellie leaned back against the cold metal backing of the chair as she watched you and Malia dance in the center of the room. You looked like you were having fun, laughing and throwing your head back as Malia whispered something in your ear. Malia’s hand was on the small of your back, mine, Ellie thought. Her lips grazed the shell of your ear, mine, Ellie’s mind rang again. Her hand moved down to rest at the top of your ass, min-
Fuck it, Ellie thought, as she got up and stormed out of the room. She found herself in the ladies' room, eating the mints that were in a bowl by the sink and taking swigs of the liquor she bought for you. The bathroom surprisingly smelt nice and some lady handed Ellie a five, thinking she was the bathroom attendant, and tipping her. She didn’t even try to correct her, she just thanked her by nodding her head and opening the door for the woman. Easy five bucks.
Then you were pushing through the door, looking underneath the stalls, and locking the bathroom door behind you. Ellie was so flustered she didn’t even know what to do. She just stood up straight as she watched your movements carefully. 
“Hi?” she questioned, eyeing you with a confused look on her face. 
“You brought the tequila?” You questioned, your eyes wide and frantic, glancing down to her chest where you knew the flask was. 
“Oh, um-” Ellie’s fingers pulled the flask out and handed it to you. She watched you intently as you took a giant swig, attempting to pretend she couldn’t read you like a book. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m a shitty fucking girlfriend.”
“No, you-”
“Yes, I am,” you sighed, leaning your head back against the wall, hitting it with a cold thud. You were about to groan in pain when someone tried opening the door. “It’s fucking occupied!”
“Jesus, Petal,” Ellie cursed under her breath as she watched you take another swig from the flask. 
“I just, I can’t do it,” your eyes looked glossed over, Ellie had to stop herself from pulling you into her arms, “She’s just so nice, and every time she tries to… you know, I just can’t.”
“Is she pressuring you?” Ellie’s voice had a bite to it as she crossed her arms across her face. Her eyebrows knit together and her mouth was in a permanent frown.
“No!” you quickly assured her, “not at all. She’s actually been really nice about it and I have no idea why I can’t just go all the way with her.”
“You’re not ready,” Ellie’s voice was softer now, “that’s okay. You don’t have to be.”
“Then why…” you took another deep breath, avoiding eye contact with her, “why am I ready to do it with you?”
Ellie’s breath caught in her throat, the words getting lost on her. She wanted to speak or to lean forward and kiss you, but she couldn’t. She was a lot of things, crass, rude, occasionally a bitch but the area that was once grey was now so clearly black. You had a girlfriend, and if she kissed you, she would be a homewrecker. She couldn’t speak, but she could whisper your name. It sounded like an apology. 
“Ellie, I know you were just being a good friend but I think you ruined me.”
“What?”
“You’ve ruined me for anyone else. Every time I kiss her, it’s just…” Your hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “It’s not you, and I can’t understand why that’s so disappointing.”
“I’m not,” Ellie breathed out the words, eyes staring at the floor, “I’m not a homewrecker, Petal. I can’t keep doing this.” 
“I know,” you took a step closer to her, causing her eyes to look back up at you. She looked so sad, or conflicted, you were having trouble reading her, “I know you’re not, I’m sorry.”
“Do you like me?”
“Of course, I like you.”
“You know what I mean.”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters to me.” Her voice was louder now as she attempted not to choke. She knew the liquor was giving her the confidence to do this, but also knew that it would give you the push you needed to be honest.
“Do you like me?” 
“Yes,” Ellie answered quickly, too quickly. You took a step back from her causing her to shrink almost immediately. This was the first time in her life she felt like she couldn’t read what was going on inside your head, “I like you, not as friends or any of that crap. I like you more than I like myself, more than I like anyone, and now that I know what it’s like to kiss you… I can’t go back to being your friend.”
“Ellie-”
“And you know this has been really shitty for me. This was supposed to be our night and you bought your girlfriend?” She took her own step back, leaning against the counter of the sink. “And I know this is my fault, I shouldn’t have kissed you or,” she made a weird gesture with her hand, “done any of that. I know but, it’s you, Petal. I would do anything for you. I will do anything for you, except for this.”
“Ellie, I-” your voice was cut off by the sound of your name being called from the other side of the door. It was like reality had hit the both of you and immediately you were both sober, “I have to go.”
“Of course you do.” Ellie rolled her eyes, moving back to sit on the bathroom counter. She watched as your nervous eyes scanned her and you turned around to open the door, hand stilling over the lock. Quickly, you turned around and hurried over to her and pressing a kiss at the side of her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed at the feel of your lips so close to her again. She was fucking losing it. 
“We’ll talk about it?” You whispered, mouth still close to hers, “I have to go but can we please talk about it later?”
Ellie nodded, eyes still closed. She heard you breathe a sigh of relief before opening the door and leaving. She only opened her eyes when she knew you were gone, letting the tear slip down her cheek.  
ai audios:
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octuscle · 7 months ago
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Cursed Ken, part 3: Elijah, the up-and-coming soccer hopeful
Elliott was a typical controller and accountant. He was the first to get involved when something was free. In fact, Elliott was the last person to take an interest in soccer. Elliott had been a typical jock. Football QB, Navy (but only as a supply officer). And now in his mid-30s, he was still a looker. He had a well-toned body and still wore the flattop from his Navy days without a single gray hair. His constant gum chewing had given him angular, always clean-shaven features. His suits always fit perfectly and emphasized his tight ass. Okay, now the Ken doll stuck in his breast pocket was making an unsightly bulge. But the doll looked cool, his niece was an avid soccer player and she would be happy about this gift. And to Elliott's delight, the gift was free.
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After the meeting had been derailed and then officially ended, Elliott actually wanted to go back to his office. The quarterly report still has to be completed. And the figures looked good. That made it a lot more fun to work on the report. But today? The weather was good. It was almost 5 p.m. already. For once, he was able to finish work early. It was a short walk through the park to the station. A pleasure in the sunshine.
A few youngsters were playing soccer on a meadow. Not bad. But with potential upside. One of the boys missed the ball, which flew in Elliott's direction. Elliott skillfully stopped it with his chest, dribbled a little and then shot the ball in a powerful cross directly into the goal provisionally marked with rucksacks. The pubescent boys were astonished. Elliott was about to move on when one of the boys called out to him, asking if he wanted to show them a few tricks. He didn't have to be persuaded for long. Elliott took off his jacket and shirt. His office sneakers weren't ideal for playing. And his suit trousers didn't really give him much freedom of movement. But he was certainly better than the junior players.
It was getting dark when the boys decided to stop playing. Elliott's hair was sticking to his forehead, soaked with sweat. His bare chest glistened with sweat. And his soccer shorts were green with grass stains. Just like his knees. Actually, he should take a shower before he went to bed. But showering sucked.
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The first lesson was math. Elijah wasn't so good with numbers. Let's be honest, he wasn't good at any school subject except sports. But he was one of the great soccer hopes at his school. And competition was fierce at the sports high school. Before he went to class, Elijah's teacher took a deep breath. He knew exactly what to expect. His pubescent young stars were not so good at personal hygiene. Elijah smelled the way a boys' changing room smells. Since puberty had hit, his face had grown a fluffy fuzz. He even had a few first hairs on his chest. But he had no idea about Pytagoras' theorem. Grinning stupidly, he ran his fingers through his long, greasy hair, which was still sweaty from his morning workout. "It's okay, Elijah," said his teacher. "Can someone else answer the question?"
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sailorsenshishitposter · 4 months ago
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Dagon x Reader
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Dagon:
Your favorite movie is the little mermaid, you tend to be quiet and are the baby of your group.
First Date:
Everyone was chilling out in Dagon's domain. "Man, I'm bored!" Great. Mahito was whining again. "Hey, Jogo! Jogoooooo!" The curse continued to ignore him. Mahito then dumped his drink into Jogo's head, causing the fire to turn into plumes of smoke. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT!?" He then smiled and waived his hand. "Hi."
"Geto, can you please do something!?" It looks like he would need to get more medicinal "herbs" from Hanami for dealing with his chronic headaches A.K.A. Mahito. "I already have something in mind." Jogo began to pray to Gege that it wasn't another round of soccer. "Who's up for a game of volleyball?"
"Me, me, I wanna try it!" Geto then materialized a spider curse to spin a web to create a net. "What about you Hanami?" Hanami then looked up from their National Geographic magazine. ".snioj ogoJ fi ylnO". They then turned their head to face Mr. Mt. Fuji. "I can never understand what you're saying but I have a feeling that it's about me... Fine, let's get this over with..."
"And what about you Dagon?" The curse shook it's head since it wasn't capable of speech yet. "That's too bad. If you need us, we'll be over there." Dagon wanted to laugh. 'It's not hard to find them with all the shouting!' The curse then went over to the water. 'What is this?' __________
You were exhausted, having travelled for so long that you had stopped counting the days. "Hey! I think I finally see the shore!" You swam as fast as you could, hoping you could find some help. __________
"Mahito, what are you doing exactly?" The curse had shifted the shape of it's soul to resemble a crab like creature. "You were going to pinch Jogo, weren't you?" Mahito then transformed back. "You're no fun!" Geto then grabbed the spider curse and swallowed it, causing a large bump to be seen in his throat. "Needs a bit more flavor. Why are you all staring at me?"
"You never told us you could do that!" Geto rubbed his throat. "Oh, this? If you thought that a humans neck shouldn't stretch that wide then I'll tell you about the effects of pregnancy." Hanami then spoke. ".won yalp tsuj esaelp we naC" __________
You would question why you saw an octopus on land but to be frank, you were delirious. "Excuse me, have you seen my son!?" The creature then looked your way. "You can see me?" You really must have been dreaming. "Why wouldn't I be able to see you? Do you have short term memory or something because I don't want to deal with that again..."
The creature then spoke. "Sorry, I guess we got off on the wrong fin. My name is Dagon. What's yours?"
"######." __________
"All right, Hanami, you partner with me and Jogo, you pair up with Mahito." The volcano curse then groaned. "Why do I have to be stuck with him!?" Mahito then flung an arm around Jogo. "Stop making it sound like that's a bad thing! I have an idea on how to help us win!" Mahito then changed his soul to resemble a busty girl in a skimpy bikini. "You know this isn't dead or alive extreme beach volleyball, right?"
"Hey! I'm just trying to seduce Geto to distract him. Besides, I think I look pretty cute!" Geto then walked up to the net. "Unfortunately, that's not going to work Mahito. The curse pouted. "Why not?" Geto then laughed and rubbed his stitches. "Tell me. Have you ever heard of the name Jin Itadori?"
"Who?" __________
You learned that Dagon was a cursed spirit while you told him of how you searched far and wide for your son. "I haven't found him yet but I did find another missing child." You then brought out a fish girl in a bucket. Dagon then picked it up. "And what is your name?"
"I WANT HAM!" __________
"So we just have to hit the ball and make it land? That's easy!" Mahito then grabbed Jogo and tore his head off. He then threw it so hard that it began hurtling towards the sun. "Curse you, Mahito!" could be heard. "You didn't hit the oppents side so that doesn't count." The curse then kicked over Jogo's corpse. "Oh well, it was worth it." __________
"Did you hear something?" Out of nowhere came a break in the domain. An old man threw a harpoon, hitting you straight in the chest. "T-tell my son I-" A heel then came came down and stomped on your body. "Damn it, I was aiming for a shark! It must be all these 4k frames messing my moves up! (All the alcohol the man drank prior totally had nothing to do with it).
He then examined his foot. "Seems pretty small for some cursed spirits." Dagon then hit puberty and transformed into a beefy octopus. "WE ALL BEAR NAMES!" The man then vomited all over himself. "And I'm too drunk to care! Now let's get this over with!" __________
The rest of the curses and Geto had finished packing up. "Do you think we're forgetting something?" __________
"Toji, what are you doing here!? Aren't you supposed to be dead?" There was his son,Toji Fushiguro in the flesh. "I heard you ruined another family today... Y'know... I'm supposed to kill this thing over here but I have a better idea..." He then looked at Dagon.
"WAIT TOJI, PLEASE!" But it was too late, as Naobito was already being pummeled to death with playful cloud. As this was happening, Dagon went to the shore to sit and cry. A clown fish then popped out of the water. "Sorry to bother you mister but have you seen my dad?" Dagon began to cry so hard that the water levels rose faster than scientists could have predicted, the only thing able to live there now being aquaman.
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tarjapearce · 1 year ago
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Ahem-Anon here my brain doesn’t wanna rest. Saw coach miguel post and this whole effin time i had MCU‘s Tom Holland Aunt may in my head. I don’t know why.
Anyways back to the errr hot aunt. Or another hot aunt? Yeah another hot aunt. Like single!dad miguel and gabi and reader is the sister of gabis decades mom and she was always there for miguel and lil gabi. Basically raised her with miguel. She comes to every soccer game (is probably the loudest cheerleader ever and curses in spanish lol), preps snacks, helps miguel in the house, watches gabi whenever his real work or spidy-work keeps him busy, has those little spa-girl-days with gabi and simply takes care of them and gabi just loves her Tia. (yes aunt is latina thank you very much) And ohhh boy here it comes: latina!aunt always had a crush on miguel but never voiced it out and miguel slooooowwwllllllyyyyyyy like snail slowly started to fall for her over the years and he kinda realizes it after he saw latina!aunt on a date with a dude, who was a douchebag towards latina!aunt and before he can jump in to save her she kicks the mans ball because she is bad ass as well and miguel has a shocked pikachu face as realization strikes him: damn i love this woman.
So he akwardly tries to confess and it takes a while and after he did, they kept it a secret trying not to get caught by gabi cause awkward and they are kinda scared gabi would be mad and they don’t want to hurt her, because obviously Gabi is nr. 1 in their heart. ( first gabi then the world, no wrong gabi is their world)
Also a bit guilt because of gabis mom? (She cheers from the heavens for them though) Also hot make out sessions and other 👀hmm hmm sessions, because Passion. They try to be so sneaky and quiet lol .
Though gabi is so smart ass and does catch them while they make out on the couch and now: they both sit side to side totaly embarrassed while gabi sits across them, arms crossed and tells them to spill the deal (yup she is a tiny cop, they are criminals hehehe). And it’s hilariously akward because big old Miguel being commanded by a tiny angry gremlin and her tia just wants to poof into thin air. In the end they do tell her that they love each other and gabi is like: OMG FINALLY! I have been waiting for years! Can you get married like right now? I want a sibling.
Again shocked pikachu faces lol and good night. Ahem-anon out.
Nonny, Gimme your brain for a bit, please 🤭 I'll return it. Promise. I'm seriously amazed at the creativity you guys have. Whipping stuff, amazing scenarios, plot skills in MINUTES, DAMN. So much to explore and sooo much to imagine. ❤️❤️❤️. Love you guys so much :'D. Love sharing ideas with talented people.
This was scrumptiously delicious ❤️❤️❤️❤️. And soo so fun to read !!!!
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phantoms-lair · 9 months ago
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New School New You.
For @era-the-witchy-birdkid's Super!Conan AU
Elementary School was demeaning, boring, and it was taking all he had not to snap at the next kid who asked him what kind of weird name 'Conan' was.
Maybe he should snap? That might be more believable for his apparent age. Ugh, this sucked.
And while he appreciated the easier gym class to the Kishida-sensei's drill sergeant approach, it was perhaps too far in the other direction as the gym teacher had just set them up on a soccer field with some balls and left them alone??? That couldn't be legal. Still it was nice to be outside. He hadn't had much time for playing since he'd quit the soccer team to focus on cases and the sun on his skin felt good.
Still it was nice just kicking a ball around. It had always helped him think. And the sounds of being impressed from his new classmates were much better than jabs about his name and well...he had always been a bit of a show off, so why not give his new classmates a show?
He bounced the ball up and then kicked it as hard as he could. The ball whizzed past the goalies head - and kept going. It stretched the net to capacity and broke through, slamming into the oak tree of the other side before knocking it clear over.
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No way.. Conan fell to the ground, staring at the damage he had inadvertently caused, the poor goalie sobbing on his knees. The gym teacher finally reappeared and ran to comfort him before shooing all the kids back in to get changed out of their gym clothes. His classmates gave him a wide berth and he honestly couldn't blame them.
Still, there had to be a logical reason. Old netting on the goal post, rot in the tree, something. He went back to the scene of the incident after school to gather evidence. Sure this wasn't a crime, but this was a case and he was going to solve it.
It looked like the net had already been removed, so he'd have to concentrate on the tree. Cursing his tiny legs he had to stand on tip-toe to see the broken area and-
"What are you doing?"
Conan almost fell over in surprise. He turned around to see three of his new classmates staring at him. "I'm trying to find out why the tree fell over."
"Cause you kicked the ball at it!" The larger one proclaimed.
Conan narrowed his eyes. "A kid can't knock over a tree with a soccer ball. Not even a grown up could do that. There must have been something wrong with the tree." Hmm, it looked healthy enough, but he couldn't say anything without looking at it under a microscope. He pulled a chuck of wood out and it gave way easily. "See!" He waved the wood around. "On a healthy tree I'd need a cutting tool or something to get that out." "Unless," The tall thin boy countered. "It broke because you have super strength. Obviously then you pulling it out wouldn't change anything because your hand are as strong as your legs."
Conan rolled his eyes. Kids. "Super strength isn't a real thing."
"The prove it!" The larger boy countered. "Prove you don't have super strength."
"How?" Conan asked dryly.
The three kids converged together and whispered, then turned to face Conan, ready to give their answer.
He crossed his arms. "Is it something that would get me hurt if, as I said, I don't have super strength."
The three kids looked at each other and returned to their huddle. When they broke this time the girl spoke. "You need to try and break something that we know isn't easily broken. Like a piece of metal!"
"And where are you going to get the metal? I'm not breaking the soccer goalposts."
"There's construction work going on around the Columbo restaurant. I bet there's something there!" the thin boy declared.
"Great idea, Mitsuhiko-kun!" the girl complained.
The boy now identified as Mitsuhiko-kun blushed. "Thank you, Ayumi-chan!"
Two names down, at least. "Let's go and get this farce over."
~
The site had already closed for the day, but it was easy enough to sneak inside.
The larger boy, who'd since been identified as Genta, tried to lift up and I-Beam and could barely budge it. "That should do."
"Anything to get this over with." Conan grabbed the beam with both hands and froze. He pantomimed trying to lift it, appearing to strain his muscles. "See?"
The three kids looked disappointed. "I guess there was something wrong with the tree after all," Mitsuhiko sighed. "Sorry for bothering you."
Once they'd left, Conan looked at the underside of the I-Beam. There were indents from his hand, indents he'd felt himself making. He looked over to where Genta had grabbed it. Nothing.
Almost mechanically he slotted his hands back to where the indents were and pulled in opposite directions. The I-Beam tore like tissue paper.
Conan stared at the twisted metal What did that poison do to me?
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blossom-hwa · 1 year ago
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materializes on your blog's metaphorical doorstep hi lina :DD
can i get a uhhhh hanji best friends idiots to lovers au (where he thinks they've been dating for a while and get confused when mc confesses) ??
alright thanks lina :DD
- person who lives in ur walls
to the person living in my walls: please get out of there. it's really cold. at least let me give you a blanket. or accept this idiots to lovers au as a way to get warm idk it's so stupid and fluffy and everyone is an idiot so maybe it'll warm you up idk I'm rambling hope you enjoy
summertime drabble fest: send me an idol from the list (Stray Kids, Ateez, TXT, Seventeen) + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!
REQUESTS OPEN!!
~
Title: Expectations, Complications
Pairing: Jisung x gender neutral!reader
Word count: 2.1k
Genre: fluff, a pinch of angst, best friends to lovers, university!au
Warnings: cursing
~
The minute Jisung hits play, you know you're fucked. 
Okay, no. Backtrack. Rewind. That's not where it starts—it's not even close. 
It starts in high school. Senior year, prom. No one asked you out, and no one asked Jisung, so you went with a crowd of your friends and their dates. You drank. You danced. You screamed and laughed and cried at the afterparty, and you ended up on the roof of the party house at four in the morning, drunk and giggly and Jisung's head on your shoulder. 
Still one of the best nights of your life, no contest. But it was in one of those moments, when you mumbled something incoherent and Jisung just giggled in response (before the two of you stumbled home together and spent the next morning nursing ridiculous hangovers in your respective houses), that you realized—that Jisung wasn't a friend. Not in the way you'd thought before, at least. That he was something else, something different, a friend and a thousand other things rolled into one—that you were fucked as hell for letting this happen. 
But no. Maybe not. Maybe it wasn't then. Not senior year, not prom, but when you finally got your driver's license in sophomore year and drove Jisung out to get boba at your favorite place for the first time. No need to ask a friend for a ride, no need to beg your parents to take you to get your stupid boba fix for the week. Just you, your parents' shittiest car, and Jisung in the passenger seat rolling down the familiar roads to the tiny little cafe, and then sweet drinks in hand with tapioca pearls chewy between your teeth as you watched Jisung laugh loud and hard, his eyes squinted against the afternoon sun. You didn't know, not then, but you did know. Somehow. You didn't but you did, and the image is burned into your mind and it's never once gone away. It never will. And that's how you know you're fucked. 
Except—it might not have been then. It could've been middle school, maybe. When someone kicked a soccer ball into your face and Jisung held your hand all the way to the tiny school clinic despite the fact that all middle schoolers thought holding hands was weird and gross. Or it could've been the summer before when you ran to the park together and jumped on the swings, rising higher, higher, higher into the air as the sun burned golden in the sky. Or maybe after the two week long fight you had (the longest one you've ever had, and you don't even remember what it was about) when you couldn't stand it anymore and decided to walk over to Jisung's house to apologize, only to swing open the door and find him on your doorstep first. 
It could have been anything. A thousand and one moments in time, spread out over the years that have passed. Elementary school, middle school, high school, your first years of college—boba stores, the mall in your hometown, the neighborhood park—it could have been anything. Any combination. But see, the point is—
It doesn't matter. 
It doesn't matter. None of it does. Not the exact day you knew, not the immediate second you realized, not the sheer length of time during which you've loved your best friend. Because you couldn't give an answer if someone asked, not to a single one of those questions, because with you, it's always been him. He's your beginning, your end. Your start, your finish. Everything you've ever known and wanted, everything you'll ever need. 
And so when Jisung hits play and the song he wrote for you begins playing through the headphones you bought him for his last birthday, you know. You've known all along, distantly, but now—
You know well and truly for certain that you are incredibly, irrevocably fucked. 
. . . . . There are tears in your eyes when the song finally ends and for a moment, Jisung's heart stops. Tears—what are they for? Happiness? Sadness? He didn't quite think that this song was—sad, per se, but maybe it was sadder than he thought, or too much too fast because after all you've only been dating for four weeks and five days—barely over a month—and god-fucking-damn-it now he's on the verge of hyperventilating because holy shit what if he just made the biggest mistake of his stupid twenty one years of life—
"I'm so sorry," he gasps out. 
You turn around in the chair to face him but he can't meet your eyes. "I'm sorry, it was probably such a shitty song, or like I shouldn't have let you hear it now—it's too early and you probably weren't ready I'm so so so so sorry—" 
"No!"
The sheer volume of that single word ends his rambling. Which is pretty impressive given that when Jisung is nervous, he tends to talk. And talk and talk and talk. Which is—bad. At least now. Because you're taking a deep breath, way too deep for you to be saying anything good in the next beat, but all Jisung can do now is hold his own breath and pray. 
Dear God, if you can hear me, I know I haven't been the best when it comes to believing in you and I'm still mad you didn't hear my prayers last semester right before my Calc II final, but if I've done even a single good thing in my life please don't make it so that I messed this up, not when it's barely been a month since I started dating Y/N.
"Jisung, I..." You take the headphones off, placing them carefully on the desk. Your fingers twist in your lap, a familiar nervous habit of yours that doesn't do much to quell the anxiety building in his throat. 
When you don't continue, Jisung opens his mouth. He can't help it. He needs to say something, anything, apologize again and pray that you'll help him forget this ever happened—
"I'm so sorry," you blurt out.
Jisung's heart drops. Shatters on the ground. I'm so sorry. He messed up, he messed up so bad—
"I'm sorry," you repeat, and your eyes are so shiny with tears it hurts. "I—I can't do this anymore."
He tries to speak. To move. Salvage something of this relationship. But nothing happens. Every muscle in him has frozen. 
"Jisung, I—" The tears start to spill. "I'm so sorry. I can't do this. I love you, I love you so much and I—it's not just as a friend—"
Wait. 
What?
"The song was beautiful." You're properly sobbing now, hands harshly wiping the tears from your eyes as you hunch over in the chair while Jisung still can't move. "Brilliant and lovely and I just—I can't. Because I know you just think we're friends—"
What the fuck. 
"—but I can't keep it in anymore, I can't keep just thinking of you as a friend because I love you, I've been in love with you for so long it hurts, and I—I won't be able to stand it if this song was just about our friendship because I—it would hurt too much—"
"Y/N."
Jisung's mouth moves without his brain telling it to. And to his surprise, you stop talking. He hadn't thought he'd quite spoken loud enough for you to hear. 
"I—Y/N." All the fear that's been building up since the start of your spiel melts away into pure confusion because—what the fuck? The two of you have been dating for a month now, four weeks and five days—he asked you to dinner and said "it's a date" and you didn't disagree, just smiled so widely and nodded—and he held your hand and you talked for hours and then he walked you to your dorm and—
"Haven't we been dating for a month already?"
You blink. Once. Twice. Three times. Silence stretches for a moment that seems way longer than just a moment, and then you finally open your mouth and utter a single word. 
"What?"
Oh, fuck. Now he's panicking. "I—I asked you out, right, like for dinner? A month ago? And then I said 'it's a date' and I—you said yes, I think if I haven't been hallucinating this whole time, and we got dinner and it was a date and then we kept going out—like to the amusement park last week? Just us? Were they—" And now for all his rambling a couple seconds ago, his voice dwindles to a whisper because his throat suddenly hurts and he's not going to be able to stand it if you say no—
"Were they not dates?"
Your mouth opens and closes. At least you've stopped crying, Jisung thinks helplessly. 
"I—I thought you meant that as a joke." Your voice is barely a whisper, hoarse and confused and god fucking damn it, Jisung really wants to hug you right now. "I thought—I mean, we get dinner together all the time, we do all these things together, I thought you were just being…normal?"
Oh dear. 
Oh fucking dear. 
"But it was just us two!" Jisung bursts out. You flinch. Oh, shit. Too loud. "Sorry," he apologizes, hunching into his shoulders. "But—I—it was just us two, all these times. Right?"
You blink about a million times again. "…Right."
"I meant them to be dates," Jisung says miserably. God, he's such a fuck up—how did he fail at asking you out this badly?
You swallow. Your throat bobs once, twice, a third time. "So we've been dating…this whole time?"
Jisung cringes. "I thought we were."
"Oh." You cringe too now, eyes riveted to your fingers twisting tightly in your lap. "Wow. I'm so stupid."
"No, I am." Jisung squeezes his eyes shut, then forces them open again. "Sorry. I should've been clearer—I mean, uh, assuming you still want to date, it's totally okay if you don't I guess—"
"No!"
Jisung freezes. No as in what? You don't want to date? You want to date? He shouldn't have been clearer? What—
"No," you repeat, voice softer now. "I—I really want to date you, Jisung. I really do." Your words are trembling but this time your gaze is steady. "I really, really want to. I'm just—I'm sorry I didn't realize it when you asked the first time."
Jisung laughs nervously. Scratches the back of his neck. "Well, uh, I probably could've asked better. More directly." He cringes. God, he's such a fucking embarrassment. "Sorry."
"It's not your fault I'm dense." You give him a little sheepish smile and Jisung nearly faints, it's so good to see a smile on your face after he just made you cry with a song. "Does that mean…this song…"
Ah. Yeah. "That was a song about you," Jisung says quietly. His ears are probably so, so red. "About how I…I really love you."
In your seat, you remain still for one moment, then two. Then, just as Jisung's about to start screaming out loud instead of just in his head because what if that was too much too soon too, you launch yourself off the chair and into his arms. 
"Oof."
"Sorry." Your lips move against his shoulder as his arms automatically slide around your waist, pulling you closer as he always has—since the day so many years ago when you decided to be best friends on the playground and sealed it with a hug. "I love you. A lot. And—" You take a deep breath, shaky in your throat but not with tears this time, just a little bit of a laugh. "I'm sorry I'm so stupid."
Slowly, slowly, Jisung's hand rises up your back. Comes to stop behind your head, holding you as close to him as he can. 
"It's okay," he murmurs, a smile finally beginning to curve his own lips. I love you so much. "And, uh. Don't worry." He cringes into you, but it doesn't feel so bad now. Not when he's pressed against your warmth this time and can feel your smile against his shoulder. "I'm a little stupid, too."
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aurora567 · 5 months ago
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Pandora's Gift Ch. 18
Warning: this story will contain mature content such as but not limited to sex, cursing, blood, violence, breeding kink, A/B/O themes ect.
Summary: The trio encounter a villain, and Sakaki does something that pisses Bakugou off.
Word count: 3606
Last Chapter Next Chapter
Now this was what Sakaki had missed and was looking forward to again. With the call made and Bakugou leading the way she was right on his heel even when he took off with his quirk into the air having no issues leaving her behind on the ground. Fucker could have at least told her where they were going but whatever she could still keep up well enough to not get ditched. Even though she had a feeling Bakugou had tried to leave her behind or he really just didn’t care if she could keep up or not.
Luckily the villain attack was only a few blocks away happening in the middle of a rather busy street. Kirishima was already there, she could only assume he had been the one to originally engage the villain. And it became obvious rather quickly why he had put in a call for backup.
In the middle of the street stood a man, though his body originally looked like it was encased in a clear slime, thought with a simple glance it was easy to see the slime was acidic and eating away at street signs and whatever else it touched. Bakugou, the impatient man he was, didn't pause for a second as he started to blast the man encased in slime. But it seemed the slime was more than capable of enduring the loud and solid explosions that Bakugou fired at it.
“Red Riot what’s going on?” She asked the tall mountain of a man who was breathing a little hard and seemed to be missing one of his signature red gear shoulder pads. She assumed it had been melted off. At least it seemed that hardened skin of his was able to withstand the acid but it didn’t exactly help with attacking the acid as well.
“I engaged the suspect in combat. But he injected himself with a quirk enhancing drug. He’s go out of control,” was the simple answer she got from the red head as they both took in the sight of Bakugou trying to spot a small concentrated shot through the slime. An acidic slime was not going to be easy for the three to handle. Should they keep him in place and wait for someone else? No, the acid was eating at the street and buildings. Left alone he was going to bring a building or two down if the structures become to ate away. Even her own quick wouldn’t be the best for this. She couldn’t just release a poisoned gas freely in the air and hope the slime would absorb it.
“Well Dynamite is keeping him busy. Can you protect people and try to keep the slime from doing more damage and I’ll start working on getting civilians out of the area?” She asked which Kirishima was happy to give a nod of his head before the two broke apart spring in different directions. Kirishima hardened his body using himself as a human shield as she made quick work of making sure people were clearing the area and getting out of buildings.
Okay barking orders at civilians and directing them away from the battle was not her idea of fun. She was really hoping to be apart of the fighting but neither her quirk or support item were ideal for this type of situation.
The dark haired woman was running down the street before a sudden movement to her right caught her eye. Dodging the best she could she still hissed softly as a small coin size bit of slime landed on her right arm burning the fabric of her suit and her skin in turn. But she was at least able to dodge the soccer ball sized glob that had been thrown at her. Turning she was quick to spot the villain eying her up.
“You must be the weakest if you're not fighting me,” he hissed before effortlessly blocking a blow from Bakugou who was trying to stay away and fire controlled blasts at the man. Kirishima was trying to not let the acid burn through his hardened skin even though she was sure it had to be burning a little. He wasn’t wrong but she wasn’t about to confirm that. All the while Bakugou was yelling at the villian to focus on him. Though why would he. Clearly Bakugou wasn’t a threat at the moment to him so of course he was going to target who he assumed was the weakest hero.
“You think I’m weak? That’s funny coming from someone who requires the use of a quirk enhancer to take on a single hero,” she called him out remembering what Kirishima had told her. Which only seemed to piss the man off as he started to shoot balls of slime at her. She could hear Kirishima’s yelling at her but she didn’t pay either man any attention. They had their own issues to deal with.
Her body was nimble and quick as a simple back clip allowed her to throw herself behind a car before running around the side of it trying to keep his back to Bakugou. Maybe if she kept his attention on her one of his explosions would finally be able to break through the slime like acid. Though she did have the issue of not having a clue on how to attack such a villain. His slime was clearly keeping attacks from being able to penetrate through. So she needed to find a way to get through the slime. Or maybe getting into the slime was what she needed to do? But that would be hard with how acidic the slime was. Even then was there any way to know for sure if her quirk would still work within the slime? She wasn’t sure so for the time being she simply dodged the stuff trying to figure out an opening.
But it wasn’t easy, trying to make sure that when she dodged nothing incredibly important was at risk of being destroyed by the slime. It was moments like this she kind of wished she had spared more often with Mina back when she was in school. This quirk was similar to the pink skinned woman’s but with the quirk enhancement it was making him a bit hard to deal with even with three pro hero’s taking him on. Something had to be done.
Sakaki had weighed a few ideas but the one she felt that had the best likelihood of success was also a rather risky and dangerous one. This was probably going to get her yelled at but whatever, if it brought the guy down that’s all that mattered. Now all she needed to do was close the gap between them and then strike.
That may have been the hardest part as she panted softly trying to get as much air into her lunges as she could. She felt the muscles in her body ache a little from the strain of the quick and pinpoint maneuvers she herself was performing. Extremely thankful for the beating Miruko had put her through during training that allowed her to prevent from getting hurt.
Finally she closed the gap between him and herself. The large glom of acidic slime the only thing standing between them. A wide cocky grin pulled at the man’s faces as he effortlessly was able to keep Kirishima and Bakugou from coming to her aid as other globs of acid flew at them.
“What you going to do girly? Your helpless just standing there,” the man sneered as he could hear her panting and could see the sweat rolling down her forehead.
“Really you think so? Because I’m about to end this,” she said as she pulled back her left arm and proceeded to punch into the goop even though she could hear Bakugou and Kirishima both yelling at her. Of course the acid quickly started to intently eat away the material of her suit along her forearm. It didn’t instantly sting her skin but it only took seconds before that too started to burn. But that was all she needed concentrating her quirk on that particular area of her body as she released an instant gush of poison watching the acidic slime change colour quickly.
Six seconds was all she got before jumping back, ripping her arm out of the slime before whipping the arm to her side trying to get as much acid off as she could before she tried to wipe the rest off even though it ate at the material it touched. The man now in the slime was screaming curses at her unhappy with what she had done. She had turned his acid into poison that would affect him as well unless he left the slime. Which is exactly what he did jumping out of the ball of acid he was now free game.
“Dynamite!” She barked as she noticed Bakugou trying to run to her before her yell pulled him to a stop remembering the villain as he turned as an AP shot took out the villain with ease before she found both men at her side frantically talking. Well one was talking the other was yelling.
“Can you both calm down for a moment and take a step back?” She asked softly which Kirishima did as he took a deep breath and stepped back. Bakugou did not, of course.
“What the hell were you thinking you idiot!” Of course Bakugou didn’t appreciate her idea.
“Well you guys couldn’t reach him in that ball of slime. Only made sense that he needed to be forced out of it. What better way than a dose of poison inside his slime,” she said simply with a shrug of her shoulders though the action sent a jolt of pain through her body as she looked down at her red arm. Yeah that hurt like hell, but oh well she would be fine.
“Your a fucking dumb ass. What part of that plan was a good idea?” Was the screaming the blonde continued with as he stood there scowling and yelling at her. Of course she didn’t do much more than blink her eyes at him.
“Well, did you have a better idea?” She asked back at him with an arched eyebrow. Which only made him yell louder since he didn’t but he wasn’t about to admit that.
“Of course I was going to blast his ass to pieces!” Yeah of course he was and look at how that had been working for him so far. She really had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the man as she then turned her attention to the police officers who had finally appeared on scene to cuff the unconscious man and start to take account of the bystanders and their reports of the attack.
“Well you did get to blast his ass now calm down,” she said before watching Kirishima place a hand on his friend's shoulder trying also to calm the blonde down.
“It’s fine Bakubro. We got the perp, Sakaki isn’t too injured. Everything worked out in the end,” of course that earned the red head a sharp glare before crossing his arms over his chest the best he could with his large gauntlets over his wrists. Still he growled, his top lip pulled back to show off his sharp teeth.
It was clear that Bakugou was still entirely unhappy as he still snapped at his friend before stepping away to go storm off. Though with him gone Kirishima could turn his own disappointing stare on her.
“He’s not completely wrong. That was a really stupid move,” he said before he sighed and a hand was placed on her lower back before he started to lead her towards the ambulance that had at some point arrived.
“Yeah yeah I know it was a stupid idea. But no one had the right quirk to take him on. And we couldn’t just wait and hope someone else arrived,” she answered back, which did have Kirishima frowning. She was right. There was only so much he and Bakugou could do against a villain like that. And that made it hard to argue with her over her decision.
Once she found herself sitting in the back of the ambulance getting her arm lathered in a salve and bandages up the two men dealt with the cops and press. Though she didn’t mind either one as she was happy to not deal with either one. Though at some point she realized the afternoon was coming to an end and in a mild panic she tried to jump out of the ambulance while her arm was only half way bandaged. Which apparently grabbed Bakugou’s as the paramedics proceeded to try and keep her seated. Yeah probably not the best idea to argue with a poor EMT but still Hatori would be getting out of class any minute. She needed to go get him.
“Oi! Dumb ass sit the fuck down and let them finish,” was the growl she received behind her as she was trying to tug her arm away from the poor paramedics. And of course hearing that growl had her pause to look back over her shoulder at the angry blonde.
“But Hatori’s done classes. Who’s gonna pick him up?” She was more worried about a scared kid being ditched at school than the fact she was injured and was not done with her medical attention.
“I’ll just get one of the damn extras from the agency to go get him. Now sit down!” The last two words were said with a low growl. A growl only an alpha could give off making it incredibly hard for her to disagree. Her omega shivered at the growl and yet wanted to hear it again. But she pushed that thought and the multitude of other filthy thoughts that followed it away.
“Fine,” she grumbled as she pouted and let the paramedics sit her back down to continue wrapping her arm and hand up.
Once she was all wrapped up the paramedics told her how best to care for the chemical like burns her skin ended up getting from the acidic slime like quirk. Her arm still had a dull ache but she would live it wasn’t as painful as it had been. Both men were standing around waiting for her as she jumped out of the ambulance and started to stroll towards them.
“Alright I’m all bandaged up and good to go. Did someone pick Hatori up?” She asked as she looked between the two men. To which Kirishima gave her a wide reassuring smile.
“Yep we had a sidekick go get him he should be at the agency now,” Kirishima reassured her which was a nice weight off her shoulders as she sighed softly with a light smile.
“Well then let's get going. I’m ready to head home,” she mumbled the last part though before either man could say anything she listened to her cell phone go off which drew both sets of red eyes over towards her as she blinked her eyes at them before scrambling to pull out her cell phone from one of the pockets of her utility belt.
“Hello?” She asked not even having looked at the caller ID before the soft voice that greeted her had her face light up. “Sasara!”
She had not even realized what day it was and so she was a little surprised to hear her friend's soft voice. Apparently she was standing in front of the agency she was currently working with unsure if it was the right agency. To which Sakaki was quick to encourage her that she was indeed at the right agency and told her to just go right in and feel free to wait for her as she was just finishing up and would be right over. With that the call ended and she turned her dark eyes back over to the two men who were standing there watching her.
“We’ll come on then. Don’t just stand there,” she said, turning on her heel and started to walk towards the agency. This earned a light chuckle from Kirishima as he glanced over at his blonde friend who was very much so watching the woman walk away from them.
“Well Bakubro you heard the woman. Let’s go,” he said with a light chuckle as his friend glared at him before the two started to trot after the woman trying to catch up with her as she had started to speed walk back to the agency not wanting to force her friend to wait too long for her.
Reaching the agency, Sakaki nearly ran in, happy to get the chance to see her friend. Being a hero made hanging out a little hard at times so whenever she got a chance she was happy to take it and visit the other omega. Of course standing in the lobby kneeling down to talk with her son was the slender woman with short white hair. As the doors opened her eyes looked up and those icy blue eyes greeted the dark haired woman.
“Sasara!”
“Shinzuko!” The two women greeted each other at the same time with wide smiles as Sakaki walked up towards her friend.
“I hope Hatori has been a good boy,” the pale haired woman said as she stood up tall before her eyes grew a little wide as she watched the two large men walk in behind her friend.
“He was a perfect angel. Oh these are the two hero’s I’m currently working with. You may know them as Dynamite and Red Riot,” she said pointing a thumb over her shoulder at the two men as she noticed her friend's reaction. Of course Kirishima was quick to flash a wide toothy big grin. Though he was a little intimidating, the wide sunshine smile he gave did put the omega woman at ease. Of course he was also more than happy to step beside Sakaki and offer an extremely large hand out to shake her hand.
“Sturdy hero Red Riot. But my name's Kirishima Eijiro,” he said, waiting till her small hand was completely engulfed by his large calloused hand.
“Naito Sasara,” she said softly, a light blush sprinkling her cheeks as she struggled to meet the large man’s gaze. Sakaki noticed her friend's minor discomfort with the large man’s attention.
“Kirishima here’s just a ball of sunshine. The one who’s grumpy over there is Bakugou Katsuki,” Sakaki said happy to pull her friends attention over and away from the man even though her hand remained in his for a few seconds longer than it should have before she pulled it away and turned her attention to the blonde man who was scowling with his arms crossed over his chest.
“So you're the brat’s mother?” Was the question that left Bakugou though it isn't so much of a question as it was a statement. But nonetheless the woman flinched. Was it the harsh tone or the harsh words? No one knew.
“Don’t pay him any mind. Hatori has been great,” Kirishima said quickly, trying to reassure the woman that his friend's rude words were not to be taken to heart. At the mention of the kids own name he was more than happy to start going off telling his mother about the great time he had with the three heroes.
Though it seemed that during her kids story the pale woman finally took in the sight of her dear friend whose arm was all bandaged up. Of course worry overcame the light haired woman.
“Shin your arm,” she said even though the kid started to pout at the loss of his mothers attention.
“Oh this it’s nothing. Just got a little chemical burn,” the dark haired woman said with a simple smile as she held up her arm for the woman to better see. Though her words didn’t exactly sooth the non hero friend as those bright blue eyes of hers continued to look at the arm with worry. The other woman wasn’t a hero and all she could do was worry about her dear friend.
“Are you sure?” Of course the smaller woman was concerned.
“You worry too much Sasara. And anyways if it was an issue those two idiots would have carted my ass off to the hospital,” Sakaki said, throwing a glance at the two men who still proceeded to stand around watching the two women during their little chat. Surprisingly both men had been keeping quiet. That wasn’t really surprising for Bakugou. But Kirishima being quiet had the dark haired woman arching an eyebrow at the red head as he was standing there just ogling the light haired woman before him. That had a smirk tugging at Sakaki's lips seeing the red head so smitten.
“Sasara, we should go for dinner. It’s been so long, and I’m sure you must be hungry. I just need to get changed and we can go eat. Maybe the guys will want to join us?” She asked, smirking as she arched an eyebrow as she looked over at the two idiots even though she knew that Kirishima was supposed to be working.
“Oh uhh sure,” Kirishima was a bumbling idiot as he suddenly nodded his head. Oh what a cute idiot the red head was.
“What about you Bakugou?” Sakaki asked with an arch of an eyebrow and a tilt of her head.
“Whatever, just don’t pick a crappy place,” the blonde grumbled unhappy with pretty much being stuck tagging along.
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maochira · 1 year ago
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How do you think Kaiser, Ness, Grim, and Genser's first day on the team was like?
This ask has been in my inbox for at least 3 weeks WHOOPS but okay UHHH I barely have any knowledge about soccer or the exact way they even got into the team so let's just say
Gesner tried his best to make a good impression and not talk like he always does BUT THEN one curse word slipped out of his mouth and he went "fuck it we ball" and everyone immediately got to know the real Gesner.
I can imagine Grim was maybe a little shy and nervous on his first day on the team? He didn't talk much but over time he got more comfortable and let his true personality show.
About Ness and Kaiser honestly, I have no idea. I can imagine Kaiser's ego wasn't that big at the time of joining the team and was then build up more and more as he played in BM.
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