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sturnsiolos0 · 5 months

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Carried Away-Chris sturniolo

Listening to Chris talk about his interest was one of your favourite pass-times. The enthusiasm that would fill him whenever he got onto the topic, the passion that would fuel his voice and the excitement behind each gesture as he demonstrated his thoughts. Every time it somehow managed to make him even more endearing in your eyes. More often than not you would catch yourself staring at him, and would hurry to conceal your awe-struck expression lest anyone catch you out.

Listening to Chris also led you down a familiar path of emotions that you now knew the order of off by heart. First, you would be filled with admiration for his passion, which would then stray to a deliberation of how that passion would transfer to an activity that involved less talking - and less clothing - before abruptly colliding with the brick wall of reality and falling down into a well of disappointment at the knowledge of Chris not liking you the same way you liked him.

Chris didn't think of you in that way, didn't wonder about what lay beneath those layers of clothes, didn't dream about lips locked with lips and skin on skin. At least, that's what you told yourself. After all, everyone knows that it's a terrible idea to develop a crush on one of your friends.

The pair of you were sprawled out over the floor of his room, sat opposite from each other, and you try your very best to divert your eyes from staring at Chris's lips as he talks, and down to the disorganized books piled before you instead, computers also placed ahead of you both ready and waiting for you to start your essay. You would have been more than happy to have completed the essay by yourself - it would save you the distractions and heartache at the very least - but Chris insisted on helping with the studying if you helped with the wording, and of course, you couldn't say no to him, nor could you deny yourself the opportunity to listen to Chris's fervent lecturing and get lost in his voice.

You blink as your mind zones back in, just managing to catch the end of Chris's excited chatter. Glancing up, you find him looking over at you from over the top of his own stack of notes, and you flush guiltily when you realise he's caught you in the act of not paying attention. Chris’s cheeks tint pink and he glances away, back down at the open notebook in front of him.

"Sorry, got carried away again."

"No, it's fine." You reassure, smiling wider when his gaze flickers back up to you. "I'm the one who's sorry, my mind was a million miles away."

"Oh, you okay?" He asks, a concerned frown pinching at his brows as he considers your apologetic smile.

"Yeah, now should we make a start on that essay?"

Chris nods, turning his attention to the keyboard of his computer to type the title of the essay at the top of his screen. You continue to read, flitting between textbook pages as you absorb different details before finally finding a passage that you could reword and use as a solid introduction.

"Hey, Chris, how about we use this as a starter?" You ask, before starting to read aloud. Finishing the sentence, you look up expectantly to find Chris shifting uncomfortably on the spot, eyes focused on his lap.

"Chris?" He jumps, head jolting up and shoulders stiffening. "Are you alright?"

"Mhm” Chris hums, looking away. "Okay.." You mumble, not believing him for a second. "Well, what did you think of that for the introduction? We can switch the words around and everything so it doesn't look like we copied it."

"Good idea. I'll write it down." He offers, and you nod gratefully.

"Hmm, okay, so how about…" You re-read the paragraph again, trying to jostle the words about in your mind. When your musings are met with silence besides the whisper of rustling fabric, you look back up from the pages to find Chris once again shuffling where he was sat as he tugs at his sweatshirt. Narrowing your eyes, you straighten your spine and ask him once more, "Are you sure you're alright?"

He nods, swallowing thickly. "Y-yeah, just a bit hot, that's all."

You take note of his flushed cheeks and clammy forehead and nod. "You're right, it is pretty warm in here." You comment, before reaching down and tugging your own sweatshirt off to toss aside, leaving you in the top you had put on underneath. When you realise that Chris is still wearing his sweatshirt and staring blankly at you, your brow furrows. "I thought you said you were hot?"

"Did I? Oh, yeah, no. I'm, I'm fine." He rambles, completely flustered, and you consider him for a moment longer as he scrambles to snatch up his textbook and settle it in his lap before sighing and returning to the essay.

"Right…”

Chris’s breathing picks up, and you glance up with a mischievous grin to find him looking anywhere but at you. Giggling, you wait for him to reply with something, but he simply continues to avoid your eyes, and you stop, amusement falling away as your concern returns full force.

"Chris, seriously, what's wrong? You're like really worrying me now." Dropping your textbooks and shoving them to the side, you begin to crawl across the space between you, only for him to jerk away. The book in his lap tumbles to the floor with a thud in his haste.

All you can manage is a blink of surprise, mouth slightly agape as you realise that Chris is hard, his cock straining against his pants.

"Oh fuck, sorry" He stumbles over his words, and you force your wide eyes away from his crotch to focus on his face, burning red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, honestly, I didn't mean to-"

"Don't be sorry, I don't mind."

Biting your lip, you settle back, glancing down at your own lap as you fight to quell your own arousal. "You sure?" He murmurs. Raising your head, you meet his eye, holding your breath, you slowly shake your head.

"i’m sure." You breathe, the flicker of hope in your eyes mirroring that in his. Chris lets out a exhale, and you offer him a tentative smile, your hands twitching, desperate to reach out even though you force them to remain in your lap. Taking a deep, steadying breath, you steel yourself before whispering, "I could help you."

The room is silent, Chris staring at you with wide eyes that would be comical if not for the fact that you had basically just confessed your thoughts about him. Fidgeting in place, you find yourself holding your breath as the idea of the floor suddenly opening up to swallow you becomes really appealing.

"Really?" He finally asks. You give a small nod as a small grin begins to work its way onto his flushed face.

"Can I..?" You ask, reaching out and gesturing vaguely. Chris pushes up from where he'd been half-collapsed against the bed behind him with a frantic nod and leans forward, pausing a foot away from you. Hesitantly, you settle your hands on his shoulder as you tilt closer, your nose skimming his before your eyes flutter closed and you brush your lips against his. He gasps beneath you, movements unsure as his lips mimic the motions of your own, and you nod slightly in encouragement.

You shift your grasp on his shoulders, one hand slipping around for your fingers to thread into his hair at the nape of his neck whilst the other slides down to grasp at his clothed cock. You begin palming him lightly, a whimper then escaping his lips. Pulling away, an apology on the tip of your tongue, you open your eyes to find Chris frowning up at you.

"Sorry," He mutters, and your brows furrow.

"Don't be, did I take it too far?"

He shakes his head earnestly, the high points of his cheeks flaring crimson. "No, I liked it." He mutters lowly. Chris glances away at the admission, but you reach up to caress the sharp curve of his jaw.

He slowly leans in to close the distance, which you happily meet halfway. Shy explorations of each other's mouths are gradually met with timid brushes of Chris's hands at your sides, uncertain of where to place them. Without pulling away, your hands find his and you direct his hands to cup your breasts; he jumps slightly, breaking the kiss as he tries to catch his breath, and you lean back as you assess his face, although your hands remain on his.

Chris stares with wide eyes at his hands, gazing almost with wonder before his eyes flit up to your face. "Can I take this off?"

You almost giggle at his question, managing just in time to bite your tongue against the urge as you let go of his hands for him to pull off your top. You can feel his fingers tremble, and so you reach up and help him by tugging it over your head and dropping it beside you.

He seems to freeze as he stares, and so you reach out to cup his face before leaning in to kiss him again. It shakes him from his reverie, and he responds with shaky confidence, his hands finding a light purchase on your bare waist a few moments later. A breathy moan of approval escapes you, urging him on, and Chris's fingers begin to trace their way across your skin, gently as if he were handling something fragile, exploring the heated skin of your waist, your stomach, your back. Fingertips trace the band of your bra, ghosting from your spine to your front, where he pauses for a moment before reaching up to cup your breasts.

Whimpering quietly against his lips, you pull Chris closer, pushing yourself against his hands, and a smile tugs at your mouth when he continues on instead of pulling away. Your hands trail down his chest in reciprocation, fingers sliding beneath his sweatshirt, and you pause against his stomach before grazing your fingertips over his erection.

His hips jerk up at the sensation, and you're about to pull away and apologise for taking it too far again when Chris nods desperately, a quiet mumble of 'please' against your lips as he continues to caress and squeeze your tits. You fumble with the buckle of his belt, pulling away for a moment as you struggle, before tugging open his zip and pausing.

"You're sure?" You ask, and he nods. Reaching beyond his pants to caress his cock through his boxers, Chris's hips jerk up once again with a startled groan, and you smile softly before slipping your fingers beneath the elasticated waistband and pulling it down to free his stiff member, the head an angry red as droplets of pre-cum beaded at the tip in anticipation. You bite your lip for a moment before licking your palm and wrapping it around the base of his cock. Glancing up, you find Chris staring down at his lap, enraptured by your touch, and you give an experimental stroke before leaning forward and capturing his lips in another kiss.

Chris’s breathing is a jumble of ragged gasps and whimpers, strangled moans filling the air as you busy yourself with trailing kisses along his jaw. Your hand works its way up and down his length, a gentle twist at the base followed by the swipe of your thumb over the head on the upwards stroke, and he can't help himself but to thrust up desperately into your hand, desperate and needy.

"Do you want more?"

"P-please." He whines, and you give him one final kiss before shuffling backwards on your knees. Chris watches you with bleary eyes as you pull away, a question on his lips that dies immediately when you lean down and drag the tip of your tongue up the length of his cock. "Oh my g-, fuck"

You smile impishly, something about having this affect on Chris filling you with pride, and you give him another slow lick before wrapping your lips around the head and tracing his slit with the tip of your tongue. A loud moan escapes him, and you glance up through your lashes to find Chris struggling to keep his eyes open as his jaw hangs open, all but panting. He rakes one trembling hand through his hair, the other scrabbling with the floorboards, and you snake one hand up his leg, caressing his knee, grazing his thigh and settling in the center of his chest. You push firmly, and he drops backwards, flat against the floor, before you grab his free hand and guide it to the back of your head.

His hesitancy to hold your hair dissipates the moment you hollow your cheeks and bob your head, tongue flat as it laves at the underside of his cock, the throbbing of the vein like a pulse against your tongue. "F-fuck, oh, fuck! Please, please.."

You gradually pick up your pace as he begs, his hips twitching as he tries to restrain himself from thrusting up into your mouth. Part of you appreciates the consideration, although another, filthier part can't wait to drive Chris to the breaking point and have his way without a second thought to anything besides his own pleasure. A needy whine escapes you at the image your mind produces, of Chris writhing on his bed, hair damp with sweat and profanity falling from his sweet lips like a prayer, and his grip tightens in your hair as he chokes on a gasp.

"I-I’m gonna cum, s-shit," Is all he can utter before his hips jerk forwards, bumping into the back of your throat, and his cum spills into your mouth in thick bursts, coating your tongue. Pulling away in surprise, a ribbon of milky cum paints your cheek, and you swallow the contents of your mouth before sitting up.

Chris’s hand drops from your hair to flop onto the ground beside him, and you watch in amusement as he stares up at the ceiling with misty eyes, chest heaving and face flushed. He seems to snap out of it a few seconds later, his eyes flickering to find yours as he sits up, and his blush immediately darkens when he sees himself smeared across your cheek. "Shit sorry-"

Reaching out, you press your fingers to his lips, cutting off his hurried apologies. "No more saying sorry."

"Right, so-" He pauses mid-apology, a bashful smile tugging at his mouth, and you grin back. Chris clears his throat, glancing down and hastily tucking himself back into his boxers before meeting your eyes again, a nervous chuckle escaping him,

"Do you think we could do this again sometime?”

idk how to end these LMAO

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolos #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo

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xxwritemeastoryxx · 11 days

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What the Future Holds Ch. 1

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: No set pairings.

Word Count: 3198

Warnings: 18+ MDNI please! There really isn't anything to warn about in this one. We're just getting started. There canon typical threats and mentions of free will being taken away. A single mention of being sold. I think that's it.

Author’s Note: This should have been out ages ago, but it's finally done and ready for you guys! Also I would like to note that in this chapter, the twins are 20 years old. I usually try to keep age out of my fics but for some reason it was a detail that was needed. However, before we fully jump into the story the twins will be 25.

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

A sense of deja vu washed over the L/Ns as they stood within the Mikaelson study. Elijah had stood by the large bay windows as he went over the written contract in his hands. Each paragraph of it he had read thrice to ensure he hadn’t missed anything. Anything to help them out of their own stupidity.

“What persuaded you to go to the De Martels?” Elijah’s voice had almost sounded bored. Almost as if he wasn’t worried about the details that the pages contained. But after being around for as long as he had, it was as easy as breathing to make it seem like there was nothing to be worried about.

“We weren’t meeting deadlines as we should have been.” Dante L/N had said keeping his chin up. Unlike his visit with his rather distant grandmother, he wouldn’t look away from Elijah. He knew that all he had to do was blink the wrong way and there was a possibility of not opening his eyes again. “With the recent region transfer of powers, we were close to losing everything.”

The regions were constantly changing. Ever since the uprising, country and state lines no longer existed. Territories were claimed through slaughter while creating new lines. Regions belonged to those who had dared to take it over and maintain it. This family of L/N’s had lived on the border of where the De Martels had taken over and where The Mikaelsons had control of the region.

The Mikaelsons’ region contained what used to be a majority of the southern states. Most of the gain had been due to Klaus claiming it. Taking out the annoying young that refused to listen had been easy. Running the region had been a completely different story. One that Klaus left Elijah to deal with.

The stories that had been passed down through the generations had expressed that Elijah had changed since the vampires had taken over the world. The nobility of the Original vampire had died the moment his eldest sister had been murdered at the hands of humans that sought out to rid the world of the supernatural.

The L/Ns hadn’t personally known the Mikaelsons until recently. The young couple had barely made it back home after the birth of their twins when they were introduced to the Mikaelsons. A binding contract had been made that night. One that would ensure that the family would be protected until the children became of age.

“Why not come to me with these matters?” Elijah asked as he placed the contract down on the table. “The De Martels may have obtained new territory, but that does not instantly grant them ownership of business.”

It amused Elijah on how easily humans nowadays would jump into the agreement with vampires without looking over anything. While at times it had been amusing, he longed for the days that the humans would actually think before making a deal with a devil.

“Much like the night you came to us,” Dante began. “The De Martels had come knocking. Every piece of data had been combed through and used to present us with this offer. I believed it to be beneficial, until Clara had expressed how blindly I had gone into this.”

A small smirk pulled at the corner of Elijah’s lips. “How is the darling Clara doing these days?” He had known Clara for a handful of centuries. While he had never interfered in her life in ways he wished he had, he watched as the woman had grown into a power of her own. “Must have been one painstakingly long night if she looked over this.” He waved his hand towards the contract.

“Is there truly no loophole?” Dante’s wife asked, ignoring the questions that had been asked by the vampire. “I do not wish to be rude, but I know the safety of my children is at stake. And with that safety is also the agreement we have with your family. I’d hate for it to be violated by my husband's mistake.”

Elijah sighed as looked at her. “There is no loophole. The De Martels know how to work things in their favor. But with or without your husband’s ‘mistake’.” His eyes flashed over to him for a moment before looking back towards her. “I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to ensure your children stay safe.” He watched as she let out a shuddering breath. Even if the stories said he had become ruthless, everyone knew his word was binding. Elijah Mikelson never broke his word.

“Thank you.” She said with a slight nod.

He nodded in return. “How are their lessons?”

The three of them knew this was a way to change the subject. To change it in a way that would give the two humans some breathing room, even if it was just for a moment.

“Alexander is thriving.” She said with a smile pulling at her lips. “We believe that in a few years time he’ll be able to take over the business and when the time is right, he’ll do fine with the prophecy you’ve told us.”

“What of Y/N?” Elijah asked and he watched their faces fall. It caused him to raise a brow.

“Her head is in the clouds more.” She said with a sigh. “It is as if she knows that her life will be set and the importance of lessons isn’t at the top of her list.”

“Perhaps I should speak with her.” Elijah offered. He watched their eyes widen for a moment in fear. “Fear and ignorance is what has led us into our current situation. Striking fear into Y/N will do nothing but hinder her. It is my intention to help steer her in the right direction.”

“With Compulsion?” Dante asked, a bit of venom lacing his words. The need to protect his daughter rising within his veins.

Elijah scoffed. “Anyone else would. They’d actually do worse to her in order to get her to fall in line.” With each word that he said the two in front of him had their fear grow at the possibilities that could happen to their daughter. “It’d be easy to bend her mind to do as needed. To make her obedient. However, my method of speaking to someone who could potentially change the course of things isn’t to manipulate them in any way. I was merely suggesting a moment to encourage her to use those clouds she's found herself in to her advantage.”

If there was one thing that hadn’t changed with Elijah, his way with words was enough to give the right push without so much as using compulsion. There were other methods to ensure things were done as they needed to be. And while he would occasionally use compulsion to his advantage on numerous occasions, using it on Y/N was and never would be considered an advantage. Not when some twist in Fate deemed the L/N twins the very two that would give the world back the balance nature so desperately wanted.

Before the Vampires had taken over, Freya had strange premonitions that gave heavy meanings to peace and balance. Flashes of a future that seemed so chaotic and almost barbaric had plagued the witch for weeks with no understanding of what it could mean. What threat the Mikaelsons would face.

Elijah could easily remember the day Freya had told him and their siblings of some prophecy that was shown to her. The details were almost laughable. How could a world change so much to warrant nature to demand a balance when the details of it all had seemed so fictional. While the majority of the siblings had brushed it off, Elijah had asked for every details.

“The natural balance of things will be threatened. I do not know by who or what, let alone when this chaos is supposed to unfold.” Freya explained. “I just know that a particular set of twins from a particular bloodline are supposed to be the balance that we will need.”

“What kind of balance would they even be capable of providing?” Elijah asked. He had known about several covens and their fascination with twins.

“One will stay human. The other will become a vampire when the time is right.” She explained. “What I’ve seen of them, they aren’t of current times. It will be some time before they are even born, let alone old enough for what needs to be done.”

“Nature doesn’t wait for it’s balance to manifest generations later.” He noted.

“I know.” She sighed. “That is where it doesn’t make sense. Why will the balance favor vampires so easily? All I know are the images and names of the children. Something horrible is going to happen, Elijah and I don’t know if I’ll be around to help fix it.”

“Tell me how I can help.” He offered, wanting to ease the worry that was building up within his sister.

“Unless you know fraternal twins named Alexander and Y/N L/N, then I don’t even know where to start with the help.”

A month later the world descended into chaos and there wasn’t much the Mikaelsons could do to stop it from unfolding. They could only adapt as the world changed. Including murdering the hundreds of humans that had hunted down and murdered every witch within New Orleans, including Freya.

Elijah had kept every detail Freya had told him locked within his mind. A way to hold on to not only the memory of his sister, but to make sure he did everything he could to help fulfill the prophecy that she had seen.

It had been Clara that had told Elijah about the twins when they had been born. At first it had only been mentioned out of disbelief. The L/Ns never had twins in their family and the first set had been born within the freedom of her protection. From there, Elijah had questioned about their names. And when he had every detail, he knew they were who Freya had seen.

That had been twenty years ago. Elijah had created a contract that would work in the world’s favor. The twins would get the protection they needed while ensuring they received the proper education and training for what was destined for them. While Elijah had hoped that ‘right time’ wouldn’t come until they were well into their twenties, he couldn’t be a hundred percent about it. All he could do was prepare them.

“She does prefer you over her recent tutors.” Her voice broke Elijah from his thoughts of the past. “Maybe speaking with you would be best.”

She was trying to ease the tension that was growing between the three of them. It hadn’t been a lie though. The three of them had noticed the way Y/N had preferred the way Elijah tutored her over the hired tutors. She wasn’t so easily distracted with the humans that tried to keep up with the lessons that Elijah had instructed the twins take.

Elijah nodded his head. “Have they traveled with you?”

“Of course.” Dante nodded.

“Then send her in and I’ll discuss it with her.” That was the only kind of dismissal that Elijah was giving them. He wasn’t going to continue the conversation when he knew it would lead to Elijah probably losing his temper on Dante over his stupidity.

He watched as the pair collected their things, including the contract and stepped out of the study. Elijah had been alone for only a few moments before Y/N had stepped into the room. She hadn’t even bothered to knock on the door. And for a brief moment, an amused smile pulled at Elijah’s lips.

“My parents said you wished to speak with me?” She asked as she closed the study door behind her.

It was strange to see how much she had reminded him of how humans used to react before things changed. In comparison to her parents Y/N didn’t give off an ounce of fear. Where her mother had kept her eyes downward, Y/N’s eyes stayed focused on him. There wasn’t even fear that he’d use compulsion with how she held his gaze.

Her eyes had matched her mother’s but there were flecks of silver that seemed to find a new home within her irises any time she blinked. Alexander’s eyes had the same thing but with gold flecks. But unlike Y/N, the flecks never seemed to change position as hers did. But there was one thing for certain as Elijah took in her eyes. She did not fear the world around her one bit.

“I did.” He nodded his head. “I was told your preference of tutors is making it difficult to focus on your studies.”

The neutrality she had on her features the moment she walked in had now shifted. A slight frown had pulled at her lips. However her eyes never left his face. “It’s not a matter of preferring specific tutors. It feels one sided.” When she watched him raise his brow, she continued. “The tutors are human. Any history lessons that are being provided are from that of a human. A human that has learned the details with prejudices embedded. I find it difficult to understand it when venom is laced in the words so often.”

A small hum of acknowledgement had left Elijah. “That is the point of some of those lessons. Words spewed out of hatred when the world descended into chaos will give you an opened mind when learning of what can be prevented. Yes, a vampire could give you more in depth details and firsthand accounts. It would include, if not be filled with more of the same venom about humans.”

“I understand.” She nodded. She paused for a moment, sorting out her words. “I know my tutors have been switched out more often than Alex. I do try, Elijah. I pass my courses and attempt to stay on track. But-”She stopped herself. A string of thoughts playing through her mind that she should probably keep the matter to herself. “I will make sure I do not disappoint.”

Elijah hadn’t missed the way she stopped herself or how her eyes had shifted away as she decided against whatever it was she was about to say. He had known how many times the tutors had changed. He had been the one to replace them each time. He just never understood why, until he was speaking with her now.

“Alexander doesn’t receive the same venom in the lessons.” It wasn’t a question, but Y/N began shaking her head quickly.

“No. He does not.” Her eyes hadn’t come back up to Elijah. She had now been looking down at her hands. “I know this prophecy like the back of my hand. I know I am supposed to help restore the balance with Alex. I am human until necessary. I do not expect to be treated as some savior that has the world at their feet.” She finally brought her attention back up to Elijah. She could see something different within his eyes that she didn’t believe she had seen before. She just couldn’t place what it was. “But I’d prefer not to be treated as if I am filth for being the one to become a vampire in this deal.”

“You haven't mentioned this to your parents?” Elijah found himself walking around the desk, attempting to give some comfort. Though he made no move to actually do so.

“Not since the first time.” She shook her head. “They feel as though I am crying wolf when Alex doesn’t have the same thing happening to him.

Elijah nodded. “Tomorrow, you’ll have a new tutor. Alexander will continue on with the one he currently has.” When he saw her open her mouth to protest, he held up his hand. “A vampire one to ensure the cycle doesn’t continue.”

“My parents-”

“Will be made aware of who they will be inviting into their home.” He gave a single nod of his head. “We will try it this way. If there isn't improvement, we’ll change it back to the way it was.” Elijah watched as she nodded her head. “That will be all.”

Y/N nodded her head before she turned around to leave. She had barely taken a step before turning back around. “Elijah, there is something you should know about, that my parents do not know yet. Only because I wouldn't put it past them to tell you.”

“What would that be?” He asked.

“I’ve- we’ve been having visions of things.” She watched the way his eyes widened slightly. “Things from the past and possibly future things from the look of it. But it wakes us up like a nightmare. Alex denies that it’s happening, but I can hear him pacing at night just after I have mine.”

“What was the last thing you saw?” He asked curiously.

“Chaos.” She shrugged slightly. “Witches being murdered. A woman with blonde hair tried to reach out, but couldn’t. It was like she was trying to tell me something and I couldn’t figure it out.”

“How often do these happen?” He knew this was something to do with who the twins were, what they were meant for.

“It randomly happens. Once or twice a month. But the first one happened the night of our birthday. “

Elijah moved back towards the desk and opened one of the bottom drawers before coming back around. He came to a stop directly in front of her and handed her an empty journal. “Write them down, please. Any detail you recall once you wake. Even if it frightens you to think, write it down. The next time either I drop by or your parents come to see me, bring it. That way we can try to piece together what you are seeing.”

Taking the journal, she held it close to her and nodded her head. “It's getting close, isn't it?”

Elijah sighed softly. “That I don’t know. But it seems like it may be the beginning of it.”

Her eyes fell to the journal in her hands. “There's one vision that I think you should know about now.” She couldn't bring her eyes back up. Not with what she was about to tell him. And the thoughts of the vision actually caused her eyes to well up.

Elijah hadn't missed the way her voice almost dropped to a whisper. Nor did he miss the way she was purposely keeping her attention from him. And for the first time since he met Y/N, he saw the fear that was seeping into her.

He gently brought his fingers under chin and lifted it, bringing her attention towards him. He saw the tears instantly and if anything the silver flecks in her eyes were almost gone.

“What is it?” His voice had almost been the same level as hers, with a comforting touch.

“I was still human.” She began. A need to make it known that detail was clear in the vision. “I was sold to Purgatory.”

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The Originals Tag: (All Things The Originals) @dpaccione @thatweirdoleigh @charli123456789

#the originals #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #reader insert #Elijah Mikaelson fics #Elijah Mikaelson fanfics #Elijah Mikaelson fic #What the future holds #Tvdu #Eventual Elijah Mikaelson x fem reader #Fem!reader #18+ mdni #Dark fic #Elijah Mikaelson

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mightymizora · 4 months

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hey do you have any tips on writing smut? i fear that i write it like a celibate priest would, and it just never comes out as organically as it does in my head.

So I am really, really not confident writing smut either! I’m fine with writing sex — something which is a paragraph of non-explicit plot relevant sex doesn’t phase me — but actual smut really is a skill. I’m trying to improve!

I think it’s really common that we all end up asking “is this sexy?” A million times when writing. Because it’s likely to feel less sexy when you’re working out the mechanics of it.

I started a conversation about this a while ago when talking about my own insecurities and I guess the thing that I came down to are questions about the scene which help set up what you want to do.

Whose POV are you using and why? Are they the instigator? What about their POV makes it interesting?

Is this an established dynamic? Are they feeling their way through it?

Do you roughly know the shape of it? Can you note out what happens when?

Do you understand how all the participants feel about the sex? Even if you’re only in one POV? Are they open about how they’re feeling?

If they can talk, are they chatty during? Are they usually talkative, but not during sex?

Those kind of questions help you set up the scene, and then it’s really establishing the sensory details, which usually come from character. Once I know the mechanics of the sex, honestly I end up cutting a lot of the movement in favour of the sensory details - how do things feel, smell, taste. As long as nobody suddenly is in a completely different position, it’s easy enough to follow. But again this is personal taste. Some people prefer a lot of dialogue (I love it when it feels in character!) because it’s a really good way to show where a character is at.

I hope some of my excellent smut writer mutuals feel free to jump on this!

#writing tag #smut writing #it’s hard man I find it super hard

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so-long-soldier28 · 4 months

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if you could omit a storyline from the tvd show. which one would it be and why???

okay to complete this ask, i had to recall the main storylines from each season. this is what i produced. i will stick that below along with my decisions and thought processes.

also, i say it in the notes, but if this form of answering asks is too chaotic, i can switch back to the neat paragraph format i used in the avengers x kai post. i can cut out my gibberish and actually capitalize my sentences again 😅 just let me know which you prefer!

no tw except for spoilers all the way to season 8

the seasons & their storylines

1 - damon + kath / tomb

2 - stefan being a dick (+ wolves)

3 - mikaelsons

4 - shane + cure

5 - silas + travelers

6 - kai + geminis

7 - heretics + rayna cruz

8 - fucking sirens + stupid donovan family reunion

now... to judge them all and remove one...

alright… tbh, it took me way too long to remember the second villian of s7, because post-lily, my mind went blank

then it went, ah, yes, that stupid hunter storyline

and then i immediately selected that one bc i hated watching bonnie get abused again

this storyline was so stupid; the seven year time jump was so confusing

we were also given NO CONTEXT and MINOR HISTORY into bonnie and enzo's THREE YEAR RELATIONSHIP

like i love both these characters, but them together came out of nowhere

also… damon caring so little for enzo and vice versa in seasons 7 & 8 after all the history they had together PISSED ME OFF SO BAD, like they don't care for each other at all?? not even romantically, just platonic care / trauma bond, NOTHING?

anyway that's aside the point

i loved early season 7

nora, val, and mary louise were funny; matt being angry all the time was funny; bonnie and damon coming back from europe and immediately killing a heretic was funny

bonnie had so much sass in this season

but then plec had to drive her underground again with the magic pills & nearly killing her & all that shit

and i liked rayna, to some extent; she was pretty cool

but there was no reason to drag bonnie in the mix and make her kill her friends just because she took some stupid pills, just because some relative of enzo wanted her to open a vault

that st. john stuff was insanity; i still don't understand it

i don't think the characters did either; probably not the actors, either

i also don't like that the rayna storyline killed off nora and ML, like, let the lesbian heretics live, fuck off julie plec

and bonnie and nora should've had a fling but that's a different story

so yeah… the 7 years into the future storyline + hunters is the storyline i would erase

also… i don't know why caroline kept showing up with blood on her face and ranting about stefan, like, i was genuinely confused

it kept reminding me of season 2 when damon dated that newscaster but then stefan killed her.. or whatever happened...

anyway, let's take a look at a close contender… season 8 - donovans

why… the fuck… did the donovans have to have a family reunion?

i do not care about his dad, i do not care about his mom, i do not care about vicki, i don't care about matt, and i certainly don't care to see them all in one place

matt only survived bc zach and julie plec were hooking up i stg

this man and his whole family are weak links

the sirens didn't bother me all that much, compared to the donovans fucking existence

i actually liked seline, ish

[unless i just liked the actress bc she's in that containment series so i associate her with chris 💀]

but i liked that she was playing games with alaric

i think she and kai would get along well… fucking with alaric, nearly killing twins… plus his comment about wanting to fuck hot cannibals…

this post isn't about kai moving on

the sirens were hella annoying at first and i hated them, but as soon as they released damon & enzo, i started to like them

then they died

speaking of death, stefan's death was so stupid

i have a lot to say about that but that's for a different time

kelly ruining steroline wedding was so stupid

gtfo woman

another contender… the stupid travelers of season 5

what tf was happening bc i genuinely don't know

i have no idea what happened when tyler was possessed

i don't even know what to say bc i was so lost the entire time

but i wouldn't omit the storyline bc the spell that eradicated them is what kai sucked up later

and then he became all hot & dangerous

but where did they go after the spell kept them out??

where did they come from, where did they go??

i liked liv & luke, they were both grumpy & slightly dickish

the travelers shit introduced them so that's cool... bc they had to stop the dopplegangers or something, i have no idea

liv has a vendetta against life for no reason. she's just so angry

she doesn't even remember the Great Sibling Slaughter of 1994, she was 4. why are you so bitter, liv?

we'll never know ig

idk tho living with joshua parker post-1994 doesn't seem fun. doesn't seem fun pre-1994, but i feel he'd be even 10x angrier after, so maybe it's just the childhood trauma. sorry, liv

also i might've shipped her with bonnie just a little bit… just a smidge… thought bon would be real cute with another witch

aside the point

stefan's dopplegangers were great… i like both of them more than i like stefan

but the kill the dopplegangers thing was confusing and if not for early s5 with silas & quetsiyah + blonde twins in later parts, i would hate s5

other seasons' notes

season 4... i hated shane bc he was creepy, but i found it funny that bonnie was so into him. damon was so perturbed at this

oH! not a storyline, but omit them killing kol bc fuck elena. that's my other man

but i know why they did it

and i adored davina bringing him back

so ig not omit, but fuck them for killing him, especially for their own personal gain

kol died so that jeremy could dramatically yell while ripping off his shirt

season 2... so i just remembered that s2 was more than just a precursor to klaus / middle part elijah; it also had wolves

i forgot about them initially, bc i don't care about most the wolves

tyler, i have so many mixed emotions; hayley, hated in tvd, liked in s1-2 of the orginals, didn't care for her later on; mason, nice to look at, don't care about him; jewel, or jade, idk, blonde girl that was looking for mason and found tyler, hated her; the random apperance of stephen amell… gtfo off my screen

wouldn't omit the wolves bc they had a point (ish) and grew the show, but i just don't care

not to say i don't like werewolves bc i fucking love the werewolves (cough twilight cough) but i don't care for the tvd wolves - the originals included, fuck off jackson

that was mean… he was a good man, good husband… i just don't care, i'm sorry

oliver was way worse, let's focus on him instead. he can fuck off; jackson can stay

so yeah, the hunter curse thing in s7 needs to go

unless you're kai and there's sexual tension involved & you're mutually causing each other pain, don't hurt bonnie

the magic pills were confusing, don't hurt my lesbian heretics, either

st. john stuff made no sense; probably just an introduction to the armory so alaric could feel important again

one final note

i hate that the beautiful salvatore mansion was turned into a school for weasel-y children to destroy

children are messy, that thing's an antique

i hate alaric

oh, i know i also made a post about wishing kai didn't kill jo so that alaric wouldn't have feelings for caroline, but i don't know if i fully stand by that post

as much as i wanted kai to have a redemption arc, him being a heretic was fun (while it lasted)

if they were dedicated towards keeping kai alive (therefore omiting his death storyline), he'd be a great time

i can see him and damon becoming buddies & being absolute menaces together

damon fights it sooo hard at first, but can't help wanting to dive into kai's bad influence

he makes vampirism feel like vampirism again… raising hell and not being afraid to be the bad guy

while simultaneously getting bad looks from all his friends and promising he's trying to be kai's good influence, but we all know he's not trying that hard

jo would survive and raise her twins with her creepy husband

she'd live in fear of kai coming after her kids any given day, but would try to ignore the thought

maybe they move away & free us from ric for good

but while this sounds really fun, i don't know where the story would go from there

kai would definitely get stuck under lily's control with the rest of the heretics & he'd have a big fucking fit about it

if enzo got with bonnie with kai still alive, that would be ugly

he would totally fuck a siren… and then help them kill the twins

but…

him killing jo & raising absolute hell was very fun & i loved it

his sudden return in s8, effectively pissing off damon & ric was hilarious

loved that he got back & immediately killed a grill employee

just like old times

i really wished they didn't kill him off, but i did like his pop-up later on

so… the storyline I would omit:

hunters. as explained.

back-up omissions:

kai death

stupid legacies

#once again this post is so chaotic #be honest with me if you like this format or if you liked the neat paragraph format of the avengers x kai post #bc i can switch back if these are too wild #but yeah what were seasons 7 & 8 #asks #tvd #the vampire diaries

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thehappiestgolucky · 2 years

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"A promise that they’ll see if the foundations of the past can allow them to continue with a relationship in the present." AAAAWWWWWWW~~!!!! 🥺🥺🥺 My heart completely melted at that---

Honestly, I was actually cooing and feeling things while I was reading your ramble, it felt like I was actually reading a story instead!! How you can oddly convey the journey of emotions Tiso and Quirrel would go through is honestly amazing and the way you concluded it is phenomenal!! 🥺💞💞

"A bit of a slow burn!"

OH I DEFINITELY AGREE!!!! Nothing spells Slowburn more than Tisoquirrel (imho). I mean, we have a nerd that might be oblivious to more intimate feelings and a stubborn himbo. Literally what could go wrong?

But I can't help but also find it hilarious that after all this time they still won't confess their feelings!! (Let's be honest, that's why we love them lmao)

But it also makes a lot of sense why the both of them would wait things out until everything is more peaceful and stable before they start confessing. After all, the both of them has already lost important people in their life duel to unforeseeable event and not only that but one of them quite literally left the other as well during the Infection duel to the difficult times and... peculiar circumstances. (Even if they already talked it out and Tiso forgave Quirrel, feelings are still feelings. And they can still linger at times)

Having that kind of stability and peace can ground the both of them even further and slowly find more courage to do new things and take things it to the next level.

And honestly? At the end of the day Vigilante Tiso and Quirrel's relationship, be it platonic or romantic, is still a comforting and beautiful one regardless of all their differences. And that's what makes them amazing. (Like that small comic where Quirrel covered for Tiso from the guards, even if they were just friends at the time, it was so amazing and I loved seeing their friendship bloom. The dynamic of a usually well-behaved scholar and a rowdy but well-meaning vigilante is just *chef's kisses* PERFECTION!!!) (On another note, I can relate so hard on wanting to doodle something before your mind starts throwing even more thoughts. Just--- F e l t. I have so many Tisoquirrel thoughts I rarely post myself after all lol ffsdfsdsf. Regardless, it's really nice seeing your thoughts on them!! Your take on them is amazing!)

Sksksksksdksdjsjds thank you those were very early ramblings sksksksksks

I just?? dont really have much to add to this ask like- you- you get it- you’ve taken a lot of the words right out of my mouth-

Like yeah tisoquirrel just kinda screams a slowburn to me - like I interpret Quirrel as kinda accepting of his feelings and going ‘ok well anyway that won’t happen so-’ and Tiso as a ‘no, nuhuh nope, this ain’t happening’ - so that contributes to slowburn, but also because idk, they just feel like they’d build up from a strong bond first before jumping the gun into a romance. Tiso needs a stable ground to admit his more vulnerable side without deflecting after all.

Middle paragraphs just agree. Even when Xero, Markoth and Monomon were ok and back, feelings are feelings. They linger, they can creep up on you in a moment and they take time to fade into scars rather than wounds. And yknow, sometimes scars flare up - even for a short while. It’s just better to wait until you’re ready to deal with those feelings because otherwise you could potentially do something that would go the direction you don’t want it to. Best to let yourself know you’re safe before you figure out those more intimate emotions.

And lastly just yes!! Like thank you for the compliments djksdjskhkhghjgjgyugkghbjbyjjg

I hold platonic relationships to a very very high regard, sometimes even more than romantic depending on the relationship at play, so to me romantic pairings I have usually have a foundation of a great platonic relationship too because that’s just, it’s important to me. I really appreciate the two as both kind of dynamics!! I can’t help but love dynamics between opposites that have some things in common, it’s the mutual influence and spark of new things that gets me. You never have to 100% relate to someone to be close to them and even if you get them by like 20%, you still get them on that deeper level and it’s just-ugfhfhfgfhgf

I don’t, I genuinely don’t have much else to add uhhhh have doodles i managed :)

#happy screms #happy rambles #vigilante tiso #tisoquirrel #doodles #even outside of this au tisoquirrel is entirely slowburn to me because. they just. they have to be good friends first-#-part of that is my demi headcanon for tiso but also?? they gotta bond. they gotta know each other. it’s important to me they have that-#-foundation first #maybe not years of slowburn. but not instant either.#it’s why friends to lovers is really up there with favourite ship tropes. it’s about the mutual bond slowly turning into something else-#-that’s both yet so familiar yet so different. it’s how they already know and trust each other and-#-carry that forward in a different direction #haha whoops went off a little again

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aurantia-ignis · 1 year

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On the reprinting (and censoring) of children’s books

There's been a lot of talk about editing 'problematic' aspects of books in recent years, whether they are to do with unsuitable language or outdated ideas.

Sometimes, though... I've found 'changes' made to reprinted editions of children's books that felt... pointless.

For example, some of the new editions of Enid Blyton's books cut entire paragraphs (especially in the opening chapter) in favour of a few new sentences intended to create a whole new intro before jumping straight into 'the action'. I've seen the same done to some of Ben Baglio's Animal Ark books, and some of these cuts/rewrites work so shoddily that it reads extremely awkwardly.

What is the reason for such cuts? To save money on printing fewer pages? Or because they think that children these days don't have a long attention span, so they have to shorten books?

Another common instance I see (also in Enid Blyton books) include getting rid of any mention of money. Off the top of my head, this is an exchange in Blyton's mystery series:

Original:

"Lend me your bike?" Ern asked.

"Sixpence," said the thrifty owner. Ern parted regretfully with his sixpence and....

Reprint found in my country:

"Lend me your bike?" Ern asked.

"Cost you," said the thrifty owner. Ern parted regretfully with some money and...

Again, why the change? Because we live in a country that doesn't use pennies? Or is this done also in Britain, where that amount for borrowing a bike no longer makes sense due to inflation? Whatever the reason, this feels like pointless censoring. It's not like the child reading this would be completely confused if they had no idea what 'sixpence' is, or if they were used to things costing a lot more. I, as a young child living in a country where we only use dollars and cents, learnt English currency from Blyton's books. I learnt about pennies, tuppenies, ha'pennies, shillings, half-a-crown, pounds.... All things I wouldn't have learnt if my books had censored everything with 'it was money'.

Leave unknown, unlocalized things in books. Let children be confused! Let them ask questions! Let them learn!

I'm reminded of the release of the Great Ace Attorney game last year, in which the localization chose to use language that was accurate to Britain in the Victorian era. There were words and phrases I knew (thanks to my Blyton upbringing!), and there were words and phrases I didn't know, particularly Cockney rhyming slang. But that just made me note them down to look up later.

And yet, there were apparently a lot of Americans who hated the text because they 'couldn't understand the language' (which is still dumb, because all the most important plot points of the game is still easily understandable and you can still finish the game with no problem).

Hmmm, could it be because.... hese people didn't grow up reading texts that often had different things not seen in their own culture, so they didn't get used to learning about other countries and cultures?

TLDR: Stop censoring books, especially children's books. Even if there are 'problematic' ideas in them, let those stay, and leave footnotes if you must. Ask them (in the footnotes, or have parents/teachers do it) to consider these ideas. Ask them how they feel about it, and explain how things have changed. Instead of keeping children ignorant of the past, teach them about the past, and let them think. Let them learn.

#books #children's books #book censorship #the roald dahl fiasco spurred me to write this lololol

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ellesliterarycorner · 2 years

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Hi, sorry, I just had a quick question to ask you.

Do I need to have the story planned out when I start writing? I find it hard and stressful to plan it all out and write it down and do everything that way, but when I start writing I kind of just fizzle out because I don’t have a clear path. What do you do?

Hi, anon! Don't be sorry at all! I love answering questions.

This is definitely a complicated question, and you will find a hundred different answers to it. Some people swear that you have to have a 17 page outline before you start while others jump right in with nothing but a vague vibe of the story. People are usually either a plotter (someone who plots everything out), a pantser (someone who just wings it), or a plantser (a little bit of both).

I am a huge plotter. I'm the first to admit that I'm a little bit of a control freak, so I outline my whole story, not every single detail but pretty close to it. I decide about how many chapters I think the story will need and write down a little paragraph about what I think I want to happen in them. Sometimes the paragraphs are super detailed, and sometimes they're just vague scene ideas and a bunch of run-on sentences that I'm calling a paragraph. Half the time, all of that stuff gets changed or deleted once I really get into writing, but it makes me feel better having a strict plan going into it. Of course, that doesn't work for everyone!

From what you said about getting stressed out planning everything out but also fizzling out cause you don't have a clear, to me, you sound like a plantser. Planning every single detail is hard or stressful but completely winging it isn't working either. I am of the belief that everyone, plotter, pantser, or plantser needs to at least have a vague idea of the beginning and the end of your story. If having everything or having nothing isn't working, I would probably start there. It doesn't have to be an incredibly strict or concrete idea, but just jotting down a few notes of what you want to happen at the beginning and what you want to happen at the end can be so helpful! I always say that writing, imo, is so much easier when you already have the entrance to the tunnel and the light at the end! I hope that helps!

#writers on tumblr #writing tips #writing advice #writing tip #writers #writersofig #writing #writers of instagram #writers of ig #writersofinstagram #writing question #writing questions #anon

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thepjoarchivist · 2 years

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I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher

The chapter titles are both funny and functional. You might say they put the fun in functional. Chapter one is titled: I Accidentally Vaporize My Pre-Algebra Teacher. Immediately intriguing and no offense to anyone who likes math, but I would have been happy to vaporize my pre-algebra teacher if it meant getting out of doing pre-algebra even though he was a nice young man.

Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.

This is the first sentence of the book and then we the readers get a little warning afterward, telling us that being a half-blood is scary, dangerous, and even deadly. It’s curious that just reading this book is implied to be able to “stir things within you” and make someone come after you. I assume that the vaguely mentioned they are scary, dangerous, and even deadly.

Our protagonist is named Percy Jackson. He’s twelve years old. We’re told that “until a few months ago” Percy attended a private boarding school for troubled kids called Yancy Academy. I’m not sure if Yancy is a real boarding school in upstate New York or if it was made up for this series. However, I assume that Percy is the one writing this and that he’s writing it from several months into the future.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May.

Apparently I jumped the gun by assuming there would be any fun here. So far we’ve had a regret about the status of Percy’s genetics, a serious warning, a school for troubled children, and the mention of a short miserable life. I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that perhaps our protagonist is depressed. At twelve years old. Oh boy. I think we’re in for a ride.

Percy mentions being in sixth grade here, going on a field trip with 28 students and 2 teachers to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It sounds like a normal field trip to me but Percy is clearly not excited about it.

Our second character, Mr. Brunner is introduced. He’s a middle-aged Latin teacher who uses a motorized wheelchair. So it’s not Mr. Brunner who is getting vaporized today. It must be the other teacher. Describing Mr. Brunner’s hands-on method of teaching is the first time that Percy has said anything positive. Mr. Brunner is apparently into Roman armor and weapons and brings them into class. In 2005, I’m surprised that this was allowed.

It looks like Percy normally goes on one field trip a year and that he’s been to different schools for at least the past three years. I’m not sure if he was expelled from the schools or if he was voluntarily withdrawn, but it seems like there was some accidental trouble and that Percy completely blames himself for it.

This trip, I was determined to be good.

Nancy Bobofit is our third named character! She has freckles! And she’s a bully kleptomaniac. Does anyone actually eat peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwiches? Does RR know someone in real life who eats that kind of sandwich? Has anyone bit the bullet, made this abomination, and ate it? Please tell me what your experience was like.

Grover is our fourth named character. Mr. Brunner didn’t get a first name and Grover doesn’t get a last name, which is interesting because these are described as the two people that Percy likes the most (thus far). Grover is described as an easy target for bullying, scrawny, with a wispy beard and acne. Grover is also described as having curly brown hair. He ‘walks funny’ like every step hurts him but somehow manages to run into the cafeteria for enchiladas. I don’t exactly understand but Grover’s disability isn’t expanded upon in more detail so far.

One more thing of note in this paragraph is that Percy says that Grover ‘must’ve been held back’ but doesn’t seem to know for certain. It’s strange that Percy hasn’t asked his best friend something as basic as if he’s been held back.

The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

Both Percy and his headmaster are extremely dramatic.

“I’m going to kill her.”

Oh my goodness. This is the first speaking role that Percy has in the series thus far. What an introduction. To be honest, so far, we aren’t having a lot of fun. Percy is miserable, he’s angry, he doesn’t have very many good things to say about anyone or anything; especially himself.

Grover has to physically restrain Percy from going after Nancy Bobofit. Future Percy, who is writing this, regrets that he let himself be calmed down and would have rather decked Nancy Bobofit if it meant that his destiny would change.

Despite Percy’s initial complaining about the museum trip, he seems to be interested in the Greek and Roman exhibits and he actually wants to learn about this stuff. I wonder how much of the complaining is real and how much is hiding his insecurities.

Mrs. Dodds arrives on screen as the other chaperone teacher. She’s the math teacher! The one who gets vaporized! She’s described as a little math teacher from Georgia who always wears a black leather jacket and gives Percy the evil eye. Percy seems to think she’s some sort of biker. Mrs. Dodds came to Yancy halfway through the school year, which would be…December.

She would point her crooked finger at me and say, “Now, honey,” real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

I’m not sure if most kids know this, but teachers aren’t allowed to call students by pet names due to the risk of a teacher grooming the student or in case the student is triggered because of abuse at home. So this is a big red flag. So is the next paragraph where Mrs. Dodds keeps Percy in detention until midnight, erasing workbooks. Maybe that’s a normal thing for private boarding schools however, a teacher being alone with a student into the wee hours of the night makes my skin crawl.

Percy suspects Mrs. Dodds isn’t human and Grover agrees. Considering that this is supposed to be about Greek mythology, I’m going to assume that they’re being serious. Grover, why do you know that Mrs. Dodds is a monster?

Percy blushing because he’s embarrassed for being loud and then blushing again because he knows the answer to a question is cute.

The exchange between Percy and Mr. Brunner revolving around the downfall of the Titans and the rise of the gods is interesting but also clearly setting up exposition for the rest of the book. Mr. Brunner is clearly in on the Greek mythology thing because he otherwise wouldn’t ask why Percy needs to know the myths in real life. Does this mean that Nancy Bobofit is also part of the Greek mythology world since so far every other named character is part of it?

Percy, what are radar ears?

Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn’t let you go – intense brown eyes that could’ve been a thousand years old and seen everything.

This feels like foreshadowing.

So we’re back to the part where Percy’s studies into Greek mythology are important to real life somehow. It makes Percy angry that Mr. Brunner pushes him so hard because Percy doesn’t believe in himself. Now we find out that on top of being an unintentional troublemaker, Percy is also bad at school. He’s never made above a C-, which begs the question of how he’s never been held back a grade, as some schools won’t let you pass with anything lower than a B. Percy also has ADD and dyslexia, which make it difficult for him to memorize facts and spell correctly.

Another hint that Mr. Brunner is not who he appears to be. I don’t remember a Brunner in Greek mythology, but I’m not an expert so maybe I’m forgetting something.

Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I’d ever seen over the city. I figured maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We’d had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn’t have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Some of the language in this book (global warming rather than climate change) really dates the book. So much and yet so little has changed in the past seventeen years since the book was released. I’m interested to see how many other things I can catch.

I’m also noting the date of Christmas. Remember how Mrs. Dodds showed up in December? I wonder if the freaky weather is due to her.

Percy is super negative about himself and everyone around him. He considers them all to be loser freaks who can’t make it anywhere else. From what he’s said prior to this, Percy doesn’t think he’s ‘making it’ at Yancy either.

Grover didn’t say anything for a while. Then, when I thought he was going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he said, “Can I have your apple?”

Percy may be negative and pessimistic, but he does clearly want someone to make things better for him. He’s hoping for comfort and he finds none.

In the next paragraph, Percy thinks of his mom in their apartment. Clearly, he wants someone to comfort him. It’s noted that they’re on Fifth Avenue and the apartment is only a little ways uptown. I wonder how far the taxi would have to go if he did call one. One more thing about his mom…the last time he saw her was Christmas. I’m noticing a pattern.

Okay, so Percy says that he’s been to six schools in six years and he’s been kicked out of all the previous schools. I wonder why he was expelled, if it was the accidents or his grades.

There’s more bullying but I don’t like the way Percy dunks on freckles. Freckles are cute, Percy. Don’t be a hater.

Percy goes to see a school counselor for his anger but it doesn’t seem to be helping very much based on everything else that has happened thus far. He gets so mad that his mind goes blank and he hears a wave roar in his ears. Normally I’d chalk that up to his heartbeat or his blood rushing through his veins - something internal - but apparently it’s a literal wave.

I don’t remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, “Percy pushed me!”

Nancy didn’t see Percy’s wave, but everyone else did and they’re all whispering about it. I’m curious if this blank mind/wave thing has happened before and if it had anything to do with the previous mishaps on the field trips. It should be noted that Mrs. Dodds has not yet been vaporized but she’s trying to get Percy alone for some punishment so there’s still hope. Not that I’m sure how a wave is going to vaporize her?

Grover attempts to take Percy’s place and Percy’s only thought is that it’s very out of character for him.

I gave her my deluxe I’ll-kill-you-later stare.

Percy wants very badly to kill Nancy Bobofit.

Mrs. Dodds is clearly not human since she’s materializing and moving faster than she should be able to…

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I’ve missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it.

…but Percy chalks this up to his ADHD. Apparently, he loses time a lot. I’m assuming it’s a short/long term memory problem? Does this come up again? His counselor says it’s Percy’s brain misinterpreting things and Percy doesn’t believe it. So is this ADHD or something else?

If Grover wanted to get Mr. Brunner’s attention, why didn’t he get up and go get his attention? Why is he just looking at Mr. Brunner? Based on what we’ve seen so far, I’m not entirely sure that I like Grover very much.

Mrs. Dodds does successfully isolate Percy from his peers (and apparently there’s no one else visiting that part of the museum at the time) and apparently being alone with a teacher isn’t a normal thing in private boarding schools because Percy is also feeling nervous and finds the situation weird. And would find the situation weird even if Mrs. Dodds wasn’t growling? What on earth?

I cannot believe that Percy hasn’t run away yet because growling teachers crosses a line for me.

I did the safe thing. I said, “Yes, ma’am.”

Just makes my heart hurt. The safe thing? Oh no. This speaks to very bad things that have happened to Percy in the past.

She’s a teacher, I thought nervously. It’s not like she’s going to hurt me.

Has someone who isn’t a teacher hurt Percy?

Percy’s illegal stash of candy that he’s selling in his dorm room could mean that he’s not supposed to have candy, let alone be selling it…or that his candy is literally illegal because it’s laced with some sort of drug. At this point, I truly don’t know which one it could be.

MRS. DODDS IS A CREATURE! I really like the imagery of the leather jacket becoming leathery bat wings. Is she just a normal demon?

It would have been funnier if Mr. Brunner threw the pen-sword at Mrs. Dodds and slayed her on the spot instead of making Percy kill her.

With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear.

My knees were jelly. My hands were shaking so bad I almost dropped the sword.

Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword.

Percy has wanted to kill someone since the book started, but he really wanted to do it on his own terms and it’s very clear that this is not what he pictured. I’m not sure if it’s because Mrs. Dodds is a monster or if it’s because she’s not the right victim or if it’s because Percy feels outmatched.

Mr. Brunner really gave Percy the pen and then left him. Did he even wait to see if Percy was going to survive or did he throw the pen and do a 180 with that wheelchair to book it? Why didn’t he actually help? I am having negative feelings about Mr. Brunner.

My hands were still trembling. My lunch must’ve been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

That is such a specific drug to name. Percy is being unnaturally chill about this despite the trembling hands. Does he do drugs and hallucinate killing people…often? Has this happened before? I don’t think that you can put magic mushrooms in candy (like you can with cannabis and LSD) so I don’t think he’s selling the magic mushrooms but he must have a hook up somewhere. Maybe whoever hurt him gave him magic mushrooms.

Mrs. Kerr?

Percy, I am right here with you. Who is Mrs. Kerr?

Also, things are happening with the weather. The storm has symbolically broken open, leaving a downpour to drench our depressed, angry, troubled protagonist.

Oh, Grover is a liar.

Mr. Brunner is a liar too?!

Still don’t know if Nancy Bobofit is part of this Greek mythology thing but that was an interesting read! I’m excited for chapter two.

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #riordanverse #the lightning thief #pjo

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pixiemage · 1 year

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5, 17, and 43 for the fic ask game!

[For the Fanfiction Writing Ask Game]

Three questions??? You spoil me! <3 I think I'll need a Read More for this one my friend xD

Hahaha! Ha! Ha.

Many. So, so many.

I have a bad habit of starting projects and not finishing them, so I have a plethora scattered throughout my Google Docs files that are anywhere from multiple pages of unposted fic, all the way down to single-sentence unused prompts. Sometimes I left them behind because I lost motivation, sometimes my hyperfixation shifted and I (sadly) couldn't focus on that fandom anymore.

But let's see...uh....I glanced through my older stuff first just to see. But for now I think I'm just gonna count what I'm either actively working on, or what I wish to continue when my motivation returns...because if you counted all the abandoned WIP's I've gathered over the years, I think the number would be close to 30, and I don't want to list them all up here. (Maybe I'll drop it at the bottom of this post if you're curious***)

For one, I have two IronDad fics I plan on finishing: one that's a shorter Mafia AU that's 2/3 complete, and a much longer (and heftier) multi-chapter fic that has been awaiting a new chapter for over a year I think. A Little Late On The Blood Work my beloved...I'll come back when I get inspiration again 🥺💞 I also have an old Jacksepticeye Egos fic called #SamLives that I've been wanting to continue for ages but haven't, along with a Night at the Museum fic (Jedtavius) that I at least need to finish the current arc for because the comment section is sad.

And MOST recently I've got a bunch for Hermitcraft/Empires/Traffic Life that I'm in the process of actively writing...which I believe add up to a total of six?? I think? THREE are partially posted/being updated (Through a Crack in the Void, Domino Effect, There's Not a Word Yet), and the OTHER three (two Team Rancher, one that's literally Every Ship Under The Sun With Some Found Family On Top) aren't gonna be on my plate until I finish some of the other ones.

17. Do you have a writing routine?

Not really! Usually once I get an idea, I just - jump in. If I get stuck and want to skip something just to keep the writing ball rolling, I'll throw one of these in the middle of the page: ASDJNAKFBEKAJBA ...and just leave it for later. It's bold, red, and easy to spot when I'm scrolling through a long document, which is nice! It helps make sure no blank spots get missed in editing! (I also red-dye words, sentences, or paragraphs I'm feeling shaky on, so I can spot them easily and come back later when I get a better idea to fix it.) And if I decide to completely change a section I'm writing, I'll often copy the original version, paste it at the bottom of the doc in case I decide to change it back, and turn it a pastel color so I don't confuse old versions for the current text.

I also sometimes make calendars on Excel/Sheets if I really wanna keep track of time, and I often have a separate (and somewhat disorganized) doc for Notes on my longer fics. There's also a document where I write down potential lyrics options for There's Not a Word Yet chapter titles, but that's the only time I've done that for a fic.

43. Is there a trope or idea that you’d really like to write but haven’t yet?

I feel like someone asked me this a while back, so I've definitely thought about this! But honestly? A mystery or a time-travel fix-it...which I am well aware are two VASTLY different tropes lmao.

I've always been envious and in awe of well-written mystery/detective stories, because so many little details go into them to make them work. I'd love to build one of my own someday, but I have yet to find the right motivation to do so.

As far as time-travel fix-its go...they're just...they're so fun to read, because I love to see how one little change can affect an entire timeline (see also: Domino Effect) but they're also a LOT of work to write because it involved basically retelling a story that's already been written but in your own words and with a twist. Somehow writing something fully original comes easier to me than trying to build my writing around something else that already exists. But god I'd love to have the motivation to write one of 'em anyway! It'd be fun to decide how everything changes all because of one little difference in choice :3

5. How many WIPs do you have? What fandoms/pairings are they for?

Hahaha! Ha! Ha.

Many. So, so many.

I have a bad habit of starting projects and not finishing them, so I have a plethora scattered throughout my Google Docs files that are anywhere from multiple pages of unposted fic, all the way down to single-sentence unused prompts. Sometimes I left them behind because I lost motivation, though most times my hyperfixation shifted and I (sadly) couldn't focus on that fandom anymore.

But let's see...uh....I glanced through my older stuff first just to check for this hah. But for now I think I'm just gonna count what I'm either actively working on, or what I wish to continue when my motivation returns...because if you counted all the abandoned WIP's I've gathered over the years, I think the number would be close to 30, and I don't want to list them all up here. (But I'll drop it at the bottom of this post if you're curious***)

For one, I have two Marvel/IronDad fics I plan on finishing: one that's a shorter Mafia AU that's 2/3 complete, and a much longer (and heftier) multi-chapter fic that has been awaiting a new chapter for over a year I think. A Little Late On The Blood Work my beloved...I'll come back when I get inspiration again 🥺💞 I also have an old Jacksepticeye Egos fic called #SamLives that I've been wanting to continue for ages but haven't, along with a Night at the Museum fic (Jedtavius) that I at least need to finish the current arc for because the comment section is sad.

And MOST recently I've got a bunch for Hermitcraft/Empires/Traffic Life that I'm in the process of actively writing...which I believe add up to a total of six?? I think? THREE are partially posted/being updated (Through a Crack in the Void, Domino Effect, There's Not a Word Yet), and the OTHER three (two Team Rancher, and one that's literally Every Ship Under The Sun With Some Found Family On Top) aren't gonna be on my plate until I finish some of the other ones.

(One of them is a cute 5+1 one-shot about Tango calling Jimmy "buddy" and Jimmy learning that "buddy" has a lot of different meanings depending on how Tango says it and who he's saying it to. The second one is an extension of a one-shot I already posted called Coming, Coming Home, where S8 HASA!Tango crash-lands in the mesa outside Tumble Town, and like - yeah. Yeah. I'd love to continue that one. And the LAST one is a Double-Life-based Witches/Familiars AU that started as Renchanting Duo and has since extended to every member of the Life series and even some Hermits.)

***ALL THE OLDER FICS I HAVE YET TO COMPLETE: I've got one for Doctor Who, a handful for JSE Egos - #SamLives - one for Night at the Museum, one for Encanto. Six for Marvel/IronDad (including a Mafia fic, a SPN AU, a Peter-gets-shot and Tony-goes-dad-mode hurt/comfort, and A Little Late On the Blood Work which as I said I'm just longing to get inspiration to return to). A witch/familiar Supernatural AU fic and an SPN time travel fix-it that I barely started. There's a TangoTek one-shot I've abandoned featuring his rage moments from both LL and DL. I also have an old fic from high school for a game called Ib that I'd love to revamp someday...and my Original FanFic that started it all, which was for Harry Potter, and I was like 12, and it will never EVER see the light of day. My god. It's...it's rough.

#I'd apologize for the length but YOU ASKED ME THREE QUESTIONS #and the last one was a DOOZY #Ask the Mage #Fanfiction Writing Ask Game #Ask Game #unpredictably-ghostly asks

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tripleaxelrose · 2 years

Text

She is 25. He is 22. They have their Olympics. Complete with artificial snow, athlete housing as severe-lined and austere as a jail, and mostly-empty arenas, the music from their programs echoing across the space with no bodies to absorb it. Their families home on the other side of the world, huddled around TV sets, reduced to two-minute sound bites between events. A room of people shouting. A shot of the dog. All of them holding signs.

When she asks him how this is different from last time, he shrugs. He barely remembers. She wants to strangle him when he says things like this, because imagine. Imagine having a basis for comparison. Imagine being so caught up in... whatever. Winning. Obsessively eyeing the competition, head buried in his phone, that he would not even remember.

I'm going to remember every single second of this, she tells him, and a smile catches at one side of his mouth. Oh, I bet you will.

And he's teasing her. Because he always teases her about her stupid optimism, her readiness to jump in, for the scrapbook in her bag. ("Yes, I am making a scrapbook!" she shouts at him on the flight when he sees her tug it out of her carry-on, when the penguin on the cover reduces him to a wheezing fit of laughter that lasts so long that he needs to take a walk around the cabin to regain his composure.)

She knows she should be grateful. At least he's teasing her again. Because it stopped. After what happens happens. After he kisses her. (And kisses her, damn.) And then he says nothing. No texts. No calls. No FaceTime. No DMs.

Their training schedule does not crisscross again for six treacherous days. In that time, silence. In that time, she trains. She compartmentalizes. She cries to her therapist. She calls her sister. She runs miles and miles, blasting Britney Spears through her earbuds. She practices so well that even Coach can find few faults in her programs. He steps back, allows Adam to take the lead. He falls silent about his usual, grim set of talking points. That Adam is babying her. That she lacks discipline. That she is not tough enough, not thick-skinned enough, to be a real champion.

In those six days, she picks up her phone dozens and dozes of times. Starts writing messages, futile ones, the shortest sentences of her life, over and over again. Deletes them. Goes into her notes app and writes paragraphs. Deletes them. Eventually, she shuts her phone in a drawer for hours at a time. Just like he does when he's training, she thinks. Go figure.

When she sees him again at the rink, it is at a distance across the ice, the fluid line of his body in dark sweats as he does a run-through of his short program. He does not come over. He too, she notices, is in almost shockingly good form. This is when she knows, in her gut of guts, that he's going to win. She wants to tell him this. Shake him by the shoulders. Tell him not to stop worrying for once. Say something that will soften the hard horizontal line of his competition-ready gaze. She doesn't. She will not give him the satisfaction. She lands her triple-triple combination clean instead, right in front of him.

He claps, silent with his gloved hands. Makes a whooping sound of approval.

And then they're fine. (Except not at all, she wants to scream.) He chats with her after practice like nothing has changed, the two of them standing around in their skate guards, maintaining a six-foot distance in a neat performance of protection. He tells her that she's looking great out there. You too, she says.

He asks if she's started packing yet. (No, of course not. They have weeks.) They talk about the giant email outlining the protocols for the opening ceremony. (She skimmed it. He has the rules memorized.) They talk about the annoyance of packing their skates to travel. He smiles. Says he'll see her next week. She considers taking off her right boot and throwing it at his stupid head.

As the Olympics creep closer, their conversation slides back into its usual easy rhythm. They root each other on during practices. They talk skating.

And maybe it really was nothing, she thinks. Maybe he was just experimenting. They've been friends since they were kids. He must have wondered. Once. Maybe twice, tops. Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system.

And really, she tells her therapist in her last session before the games. She tells her sister, too. She doesn't even know how she feels about the whole thing. Didn't she spend most of the last decade viewing him as an annoying kid brother, and more recently, the distracted, somewhat stressed-out third wheel to whatever misguided thing her and Romain were doing? It doesn't have to be anything. Maybe it doesn't need to be talked about at all. Maybe they're fine. Maybe being friends is fine.

Except she knows it's all bullshit. (Her therapist knows it's bullshit too, and says so, which enrages her all over again.) She knows what happened when he kissed her, how the memory of it clings to her afterward for days. How she feels her face flush whenever she thinks about it, feels her lips prickle. How thinking about it a little too much during one of her run-throughs sends her crashing, fully distracted, out of a triple toe-loop and sends Adam sighing and rolling his eyes for twenty minutes.

And then there's the small matter of her own behavior. That second kiss, which was definitely her fault. And her leaving.

Her leaving. Her flying out of the rink, heart pounding. Stuffing her skates in her bag without wiping them down. Her hand shaking as she unlocks her car, blasts the radio.

How she talks out loud, to no one, over the din, revving the engine at lights. She says it over and over again: The Olympics are in five weeks. She will not be the person who fucks this up for him.

She will not be -- she cringes at the thought -- his distraction.

And there is another feeling, too, small at first, but it grows in those days when he stops speaking to her. It grows until it feels enormous in her chest.

He cannot be her distraction either.

Not now. As they are getting ready for these fragile, messed-up Olympics. Either of them could be topped by illness, by injury, by nerves, by bad luck, by the statistical inevitability of an off day, by competitors who are as hungry and as trained as they are. If one kiss (OK, technically two), sends her careening into the boards during a practice session. Imagine what might happen if...

She runs a stop sign just thinking about it.

The thing that kills her? He knows this. He knows this more than anyone, Mr. Extremely Practical and Sensible, Mr. Focus, Mr. Fucking Yale Statistics. Him. The same guy who has already once dissolved to bits in an Olympic short program due to mental distraction and pressure.

How dare he kiss her. How dare he kiss her right now. Because unlike him, she will not get a shot at a do-over.

She seethes. And she dreams about him. And she tucks the conversation away, saving it for later. Maybe after the games. Maybe. And at the rink, she has to stop herself from reaching out to touch his shoulder as she passes him in the corridor. She stops herself from asking him about it, afraid to throw his balance. Afraid what might happen if she throws her own.

So she watches him. And she counts the days. And she waits.

#nathan chen #mariah bell #my fic

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kogarashi-art · 23 days

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Posting Fic - How to prep your writing to display correctly on AO3 (via LibreOffice)

So I've seen guides online about how to convert your fanfic for AO3 after writing it in Google Docs, because a lot of people use GDocs to do their writing (which is a decent option, since it saves it in the cloud and all that). I'm not planning on repeating that here.

But I don't do my writing in GDocs, I do my writing in LibreOffice Writer, because it emulates an older version of Word (which is what I grew up on and am most used to), and because I can have more robust spellchecking than on GDocs. And when I was first considering finally posting my work to AO3, I'd heard lots of commentary about how often pasting into the rich text editor sometimes loses formatting, or what hoops people had to jump through to make sure everything looked good.

So I'm here with the actually-pretty-darn-simple method I use to post to AO3 for anyone who needs this, because I want to be helpful.

Please note: this is largely for the basic formatting one might use on AO3. I haven't tested it with fancier things (not even smallcaps yet, though I'm hoping that won't prove too difficult when I finally get around to a chapter that needs that functionality). Also, these instructions are for Windows, which is what I use.

The first step is, obviously, to write up your story in LibreOffice Writer. I have some formatting standards I prefer because it makes my works look like they're publication-ready, which helps me stay in the "I'm actually writing fiction here" groove.

Once you're done writing, you need to make sure the file is ready to save for AO3. With how I write, the only thing I change is that I remove that first-line indent across the whole document. This is easy enough. Select everything, and then go to Format > Paragraph.

Once in that dialog, change the first line indent to 0. If you don't see a number there at all, just enter the number in there.

Then press "OK." This will realign all the paragraphs, including their first lines, to the left margin.

Note that I haven't changed the spacing between paragraphs at all. It's still single-spaced, and that's fine, because the next step can handle that.

DON'T SAVE OVER THE ORIGINAL.

What you want to do at this point is select "Save As" and make sure to save it as an html file, not whatever file format you normally use. LibreOffice will probably ask if you want to do that or use its native format, and you can just tell it "use html format."

You should now have an html file wherever you saved it. If you double-click it, it will open in your default browser, and you can check that the formatting carried over properly if you want. It should look ready for posting, complete with the internet-standard single empty line between paragraphs. LibreOffice knows to wrap each paragraph in html paragraph tags, which is what AO3 likes, and AO3 (and generally the rest of the internet) reads that as the extra empty space between paragraphs, just like you should see here on Tumblr.

Now you need to navigate to where you have the file on your computer via your file manager of choice (I'm on Windows, so I use File Explorer, which I can reach just by right-clicking on the Start button, but I also have a shortcut to it on my taskbar). Right-click on the file, and "open with" Notepad. You can also just open Notepad and open the file from within the program.

You should see the html code for the file.

This is all set and ready to go. Copy everything between the "body" tags in the file (I also skip the lines that are for the chapter title, because I can enter that in a different spot on AO3).

Copy the selected code and paste it into the HTML editor on AO3. If you want AO3 to do a bit of cleanup for you, you can click over to the Rich Text editor, then back to HTML, and it will clean up extra carriage returns and such, but this isn't necessary. Double-check that everything looks good by clicking "Preview," and if you're happy, click "Post."

This even preserves smart quotes, which I don't bother to change to straight quotes, though I suppose you could do so if you wanted.

But honestly, that's how easy it is. Save the file as html, copy the html over to AO3, and done. No scripts, no file converters, no worrying if your formatting is going to survive being pasted into the Rich Text editor. Just LibreOffice and Notepad.

#fanfiction #fanfiction resources #tips and advice #how to copy from LibreOffice to AO3

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sukirichi · 3 years

Text

sweet lies [03.final]

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. toxic! megumi, SEXY TOXIC MEGUMI 🥵, toxic college settings, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, explicit smut, car sex, biting, scratching, sukuna is a sex god, MEGUMI WITH A LIP RING, slight angst

note. FINALLY FINISHED THIS SERIES AAAAHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS SERIES TYSM FOR EVERYTHING! lotsa lub lub for each and everyone of you! anyways let me just say...sweet lies sukuna can politely rail me.

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

It’s…a different story when you have to move back and forth between your newly made acquaintance slash fuck buddy, Sukuna, to your actual fuck buddy and crush, Megumi.

Sukuna’s polite enough to not meddle into your business as he’s promised, which you’re extremely thankful for, but you should’ve known the bubble of happiness would pop the moment you stepped out of your apartment. You’ve left your phone unattended and on silent, earbuds always placed inside to ignore Megumi’s calls.

It’s funny, actually, that he’s never replied much to you before other than occasional dick pic and ‘you awake baby?’ but ever since you’ve been…pre-occupied, suddenly you’re on top of his contacts.

You grumble at the vibration of your phone, Megumi’s name flashing on the screen. Back then, you would’ve soared and jumped to pick up the call, voice sultry and toes pointed at the ceiling as you try to keep in your giggles. Now, you’re dreading it, glaring at his annoyingly handsome contact icon that used to make your heart skip a beat. You’re studying in the library and have been doing a terrific job at avoiding him so far, and today won’t be any different.

With a sigh, you completely flip your phone upside down and turn back to your book. You’re on the second line of the paragraph when you feel large, warm hands caress the back of your neck, tilting you upwards to meet his curious – and certainly annoyed – blue eyes.

“Babe,” Megumi drawls out, minty breath fanning your cheeks.

He looks absolutely stunning today, plain and casual yet so handsome in just a black hoodie and sweatpants, his dark hair slicked back to reveal his forehead. For a guy who sure pounded into your skill he had no interest in you that went beyond sexual, he sure did know you well enough, the slight tugging of his lips a sign he could easily read through you. It makes you huff away from him, scooting – trying is the keyword – away from his touch. Megumi’s persistence leads him into you placing you right above his lap and cages you between his arms, chin on your shoulder and his breath floating over your ear.

You can’t help but squirm in embarrassment. Half of the students in the campus library have turned to look at you, and Megumi merely smiles at the attention, audacious enough to kiss the shell of your ear.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! In reality, you really do want to fuck him.

“Why have you been ghosting me?”

“I wasn’t ghosting you, Megumi, it’s called being busy. You ever tried doing homework?”

“You’re so mean to me today,” he pouts, but that pout soon brightens into a smile when you scowl at him. Megumi, albeit never really paying attention to you, your facial expressions have registered as second nature to him now. It doesn’t take much before you soften under his hold, still as mushy as ever, and the nasty fucker basks in it proudly. “There’s a party tonight at Okkotsu’s house, said his parents were away in Greece or some rich family shit. Wanna come and get wasted with me?”

“I don’t know, Megs, I have an essay to finish…”

“Come on, it’s just one night. It won’t hurt,” he shrugs and sways you to side to side, causing your heart to sway side to side in giddiness. It’s this – moments like this – that really fools you into believing Megumi likes you. And that sweet lie only turns sweeter from his words that drip like honey, “Plus, I’ve missed you. Can’t think straight when we’ve been apart for too long, baby.”

You pretend to think about it.

That slight falter in a split second brings about a waver in Megumi’s confident you didn’t think would be possible. Not that you can blame him; you never did have to think about it whenever he invites you to fuck around with him. In fact, you say yes a lot faster than he can ask you something, but something’s been changing you lately – or rather someone.

In the end though, you’ll circle up right where you belong.

Relishing in the rarity of having Megumi coddle you with kisses and affection, his perfume still as boyish and vanilla that deluded you into his faux aura of a sweet boy, you melt one more time. Hopefully, it would transition into a one last time before Megumi’s completely wrapped you around his finger.

“Fine. I’m leaving if it’s too noisy though.”

“Awesome,” Megumi chirps, pulling you in for a long, solid kiss. It takes you back by surprise that you end up wide-eyed above him, stiff hands on his shoulders as you feel him smile through the kiss. Then, just as you’re about to kiss him back with the same passion, Megumi separates himself from you and squeezes your ass. “Promise we’ll have fun, babe. I’ll even bring extra condoms.”

You’re not surprised he left afterwards.

But are you hurt? Most definitely so.

Fuck Fushiguro Megumi.

You were going to leave him, block him, ignore him, avoid him, and carve him out of your heart for good. It’s what you deserve – to be freed from such a toxic guy like him. His pretty face shouldn’t be an excuse for you stick around any longer. That party…well, it would be your last one, you’re never going back!

Still, it’s not that easy to let go. Years of following him around with puppy eyes and spreading your legs open for him like it’s the most natural thing to do isn’t just going to disappear in a day.

It’s for closure, you lie to yourself. That’s all it is – you just need closure. So for one last time, you’ll fuck around with Megumi, then you’d leave him. For good this time.

And yet – your mind still races back to him. His throaty, boyish laughter and the stupid way his eyes crinkle into half moons, his large hands slapping his knees when you tell him a really silly joke. Okay, he didn’t really laugh that much because he’s already passed out in the times you crack jokes after sex, but the few times he did, though? It’s magical, beautiful, phenomenal.

He’s so awful yet so irresistibly charming it’s a huge tug of war between your rational mind and foolish heart.

You couldn’t focus anymore in the library. If you wanted to pass your exams, you need to be somewhere that won’t remind you of him, in a place where a stronger aroma would conceal his lingering scent. The best option was to hang around in a local café closer to your apartment than on campus, and you’ve completely ditched your usual get up to just opting for lookinglike a complete shut in – bags under eyes, heart torn over a stupid boy, the usual Iced Vanilla Latte with the condensation sticking to the wooden table and soft lofi music playing in the background – it’s just the perfect atmosphere for you to wallow in self-pity.

And wallow in self-pity you did, your cheeks squished against the pale furniture while you sighed for what seems like the hundredth time that day. At the back of your head, Megumi is still giving you one of those slow, long kisses reserved for only when he’s half-sleepy, your heart doing insane back flips as you reminisced whatever moments you once had.

You’re so lost in your own train of thought you fail to hear the scraping of a chair, followed by a heavy body plopping across you. “Well, this is kind of gloomy…”

At the sound of that awfully familiar, deep voice, you sit up straight in a frenzy. Sukuna smirks at your reaction as he loudly sips from his matcha latte – which you would’ve never thought he likes – and sits back at his chair, legs crossed against one another. Unlike Megumi, he doesn’t seem to pose any other malicious intent, so you bury your head in your arms, wishing for the ground to just open up and eat you already.

“I’m sleep deprived and haven’t eaten anything except Red Bull and coffee,” you try to explain, “I look horrible.”

“Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous all the time.”

From under your arms, you scowl at nowhere in particular, ignoring the heat rushing from the back of your neck. Sukuna didn’t seem to be flirting with you, and one peek at him swirling his straw inside his cup proves your theories.

However, the offhanded compliment falls so naturally from his lips it takes you a back, and not in a good way. Defensively, you cross your arms against your chest. You knock your toes against Sukuna’s knees under the knees to get his attention, the taller man peering at you under his lashes, tongue innocently swirling around his straw.

I fucking hate men! – is what you want to say, but something different comes out. “Why are you even here? Aren’t you asleep in the morning because of work?”

“It’s my day off,” he sets his cup down, placing his chin on both of his palms. Sukuna’s gaze travels from your face down to the abandoned papers before you, a scowl immediately making its way to his face. “Got too bored to cook so I came here for a light snack. As for you…ew, are you doing essays? I hated that shit in college.”

“Yeah, I hate it too,” you numbly agree, “Can barely function right now.”

Sukuna’s eyes lit up the moment you nearly fall on the table again, his palm quick to caress your cheek. If he can feel the intense heat of your skin from the sudden gesture, he makes no comment about it. Instead, Sukuna hauls you from your seat, nodding to your bag and papers before he rushes you out the door.

When Sukuna said he could make you feel better, the last thing you thought of was going to the nearby park. Now, you find yourself sitting comfortably with him, aggressively licking on the vanilla ice cream he’d gotten you from an ice cream man that passed by. It’s a great way to kill the time – or just to enjoy the day despite the rough start – because the sunlight feels warm on your skin, the trees above you shading you from extra shade.

Next to you, Sukuna is surveying his ice cream with the least interest, his brows furrowed as he notes, “Your crush is toxic. I suggest you cut ties with him and get it all over with.”

In part of making you feel better, Sukuna’s subtly given you clues you could tell him whatever’s going on in your mind. It makes you wonder if maybe you’ve been that obvious that even Sukuna could read you, but you’re thankful that he understood, because you really did want to rant about it. Your friends are just a one call away, but they’re not any better. They’ll keep claiming ‘Megumi just needs time’ because they know it’s what you want to hear to make yourself feel better. Though, every once in a while, you needed to talk to someone who could actually slap the harsh reality at your face, and who else would be more suitable than a mature adult like Sukuna?

Looking at him now, the contrast between your roommate and your crush is immense. Where Megumi is all bark and no bite, all needy and never giving, Sukuna’s silent and compliant, an extremely good listener with the patience of a monk.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yeah it is. Just block his number and avoid him. He’ll get the answer soon enough.”

“You don’t understand,” you groan in defeat. Sukuna faces you with worry written all over his face, seemingly tender in comparison to the tattoos marking his skin. Sometimes, it’s so easy to forget he’s actually a lot more decent than Fushiguro fucking Megumi, but you end up slipping anyway, turning to the sky just as tears prick at your eyes. “I…I love him, okay? I’ve always been in love with him even though I know I’m just someone who warms his bed. I know that much and yet…I can’t seem to let him go.”

Sukuna is silent for a full minute. You thought he’ll offer you some adult wisdom only people like him would now, but Sukuna simply snorts, happily licking at his ice cream as if you didn’t just break down in front of him. “Shit’s tough then.”

“You’re great at comforting, you know that?”

“Oh, I wasn’t comforting you,” he smiles and pats your knee, “Come on, let’s go home. I know just how to take your mind off things.”

With the way he’s caressing your thigh and his voice turned an octave lower, you chastise yourself for feeling aroused when you wanted to cry just seconds ago. But his fingers are inching closer and closer to your inner thigh, and he’s warm and strong – so fucking nice too that perhaps fucking him wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

But like always, Sukuna never fails to surprise you.

You expected he’d take you right to his room the moment you’ve crossed the door, but Sukuna dashes for the TV before carrying a huge blanket and heaps of pillow. You watch there, stunned. He makes quick work of fluffing the pillows before grabbing your wrist and pulling you above him the same way Megumi did a while ago.

The only difference? Your heart doesn’t skip a beat. You’re not intoxicated by his scent. You’re not trying to squirm away from him nor do you feel like a silly little schoolgirl who’s fallen in love at first sight.

Where Megumi is deceivingly charming, Sukuna is more like a strong pillar to lean on, which you do exactly. Your head rests on his shoulder, both of your legs tangled under the blankets he’s covered you with. He’s blinking as Tangled plays on the TV, the faint sensation of his fingers playing with yours comforting and way too comfortable. It should feel weird to hang out with a guy like this without him wanting to shove his dick deep inside you minutes later (your movie marathons with Megumi never really finish as previously planned) but with Sukuna?

It feels natural. It feels great. It feels like home.

You’re gaping at him long before you realize it, one of your hands absentmindedly playing with the strings of his hoodie. Sukuna hums along to I Have A Dream with a small smile on his face, one that forms into a playful glare as he catches you staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Disney is a classic.”

You fight back a smile. “Wasn’t complaining,” burying yourself deeper into his warm embrace, you’re lulled into an early slumber with Sukuna’s humming combined with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

His plan worked efficiently – for a moment, you forget your heart was aching to begin with.

After screaming internally for a good hour and a half, you arrive at the party anyway. The stench of weed, alcohol, and sex hanging thickly in the air is more than familiar to you by now. You ignore the catcalls you receive as you make your way to Megumi and fuck, he just had to look even sexier tonight.

He’s ditched his e-boy getup with a plain white shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, a Converse, and that black leather jacket he always refused to wear. Megumi really woke up and chose violence today, the minimalistic silver chain around his neck only adding to his appeal. You should’ve run away then – he literally screams trouble – but you’ve never been one to shy from that. Truth be told, you’re only pulled in harder, swaying your hips side to side as you sashay to where he’s laughing along with his friends.

Clearing your throat to get his attention, Megumi finally lays his eyes on you.

You’re glad you took the extra time to dress in your best outfit today – a lace orange mini dress that accentuates your cleavage just enough for a tease, paired with black combat boots and a white purse slung from your shoulder. Pride pumps through your veins when Megumi steps away from his friends, his hands encircling around your waist almost possessively. He smirks through your hair, those addicting lips trailing lower and lower down to your neck until, “You smell like another man.”

Now that you weren’t expecting. He doesn’t seem to be mad, perhaps a little jealous judging by how he’s grinding his crotch to your abdomen and tugs you closer, but this is Megumi in the question. He never gets jealous, so you flatten your palms onto his chest, eyes daring and red lips upturned into a smirk as you ask, “Why do you care?”

Megumi raises a brow – which really shouldn’t have been such a sexy thing – at your spunk. Normally, you’re too sweet and submissive to him, never would’ve even dared to dress something as revealing like this, but maybe you’re tired of being sweet.

Maybe this time, you wanted to match Megumi’s spice, fight fire with fire.

Megumi chuckles above your lips and swipes a thumb over your lower lip, humming when the coating doesn’t stain his fingers. He’s mentioned before he hates washing the lipstick off his dick, and the fact you remember that has him groaning at your ear. Unsurprisingly, Megumi’s already hard. He nibbles at the shell of your ear, possessive hands brushing over your collarbone as a silent promise of what he’ll be doing to you tonight.

“Like I said, this pussy is mine.”

You should say no. It’s evident in the darkness of his eyes he’s daring you to say no, but it’s too much. The cramped space that diminishes space until it becomes a myth, his hands rubbing circles at your hip, the glint of his new lip ring under the disco lights and anything, everything about Fushiguro Megumi just makes you feel so weak you can’t say no.

Satisfied with your silence, Megumi sweeps you upstairs. There’s already a round of Truth or Dare going on with a bunch of drunk and half-high college students, the lights red and the aroma of weed thick in the air.

It bothers you so you stick close to Megumi, nose stuck at the collar of his leather jacket. He’s not satisfied with just you sitting next to him; Megumi is territorial. He makes sure you’re comfy and using his lap like a throne, clasping both your hands in your lap while he boredly stares at his friends. Okkotsu Yuta, the host who used to be super shy in his freshman year but became one of the most sought after guys in his junior year, sits across from you in the circle. He’s already giggling in his drunken state while Nobara Kugisaki makes the mistake of choosing dare, flinging her bra straight at a very enthusiastic Yuuji.

They spin the bottle and it lands straight at you. Megumi hums in anticipation at the crook of your neck, his little sounds mixed with his heated touches sending fire straight down your core. It’s inebriating to have him this close, but you need to keep a straight head if you want to survive.

Fighting the arousal pooling at your stomach, you offer a flat smile. “Truth.” As expected, the crowd isn’t pleased. They holler, “Booooo,” with their hands cupped around their mouths, the others snickering at you, though you’re quite satisfied with the safety of your choice. You could be crazy with Megumi, but being crazy around others isn’t something you’re comfortable with.

Thankfully, Yuta shushes the crowd dramatically with a threat he’ll kick them out with his infamous Katana that’s been passed down by an ancestor. Once everyone’s calmed down, Yuta smirks at you, eyes wiggling as he asks, “Who’s the best dick you ever had?”

You don’t think twice about it. Someone else’s face pops up for a split second, but it’s so natural, so obvious that you would say – “Megumi.”

“Speak louder, baby, they won’t hear.”

“It’s you,” you suddenly grow shy at the attention, whatnot with Megumi shamelessly trailing hot kisses down your neck now for everyone to see. He’s shameless as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh, all the while keeping eye contact with the other guys whose eyes are zeroed in on the swell of your breasts that are an inch away from popping out from your dress. It’s the best time to submit, the perfect time to give him what he wants, and his expert hands prompt his name out of you with a single suck at your neck.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Damn, Megumi, you’ve trained your bitch well.”

“’Course I did. My dick does all the disciplining,” Megumi cups your jaw to tilt your face at him, cooing at you as you flush embarrassed from everyone’s snickering. “Aw, don’t pout baby, it’s all just harmless jokes. You know I treat you like a goddess when we’re alone.”

“Yo, man, get a fucking room!”

Megumi ignores Yuuji’s comments and makes an offhanded comment the latter is just jealous because he hasn’t had his dick wet in days, ensuing a close dog fight between the guys. Maki has to step in and kick the strawberry haired boy back to his seat, scolding her cousin to back down. Meanwhile, you cling to Megumi like a scaredy-cat, head empty with nothing but the way he’s never hold you this close and proudly before.

Just one last time.

“Megs, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Yuuji slaps his palm over Yuta who usually gives the dares. The older guy rolls his eyes but lets it slide, knowing that Yuuji could also let loose with his dares. Megumi isn’t afraid though, he stays docile around you, leaving little nibbles at your ear and even squeezing your boobs at one point. You know he’ll never back down from Yuuji’s dares, even as his eyes darken with mischief. Now, Yuuji is a nice guy, but something doesn’t quite feel right with the way he’s staring Megumi down.

“I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room.”

Megumi freezes.

Time must’ve stopped because everyone is chanting, “KISS, KISS, KISS!” but he makes no move. You stay there, staring up at him wide eyed with your arms looped around his neck. Your heart is beating a mile a minute in your chest the moment Megumi’s eyes gaze down to your lips, smirking as he leans closer, leans down lower, and you close your eyes, waiting for the salacious kiss that would sear at the back of your mind. But it never comes and a gust of wind flies by through you, and before you know it, Megumi’s leaned over your shoulder, his hand cupping the cheek of this girl named Alicia who you’ve heard about from your friends before that she’s Megumi’s current pick.

Alicia was never supposed to kiss him back. Your friends told you, they promised you she wasn’t the type of person to fall for the likes of Megumi, and yet she’s smiling through the kiss. You’re still in Megumi’s lap but your vision is of the audience, their jaws dropped and Yuuji slapping Yuta’s thighs. “Oh, shit! That’s gotta hurt!”

You don’t think twice.

You push yourself off Megumi and run out the room, the sounds of their chaotic laughter mocking you to no end. You know – you fucking know – you’d never quite belong in Megumi’s circle. Everyone knows you’re just another one of his bed warmers, and they also know how much you’re hopelessly in love with him, begging, hoping that one day he might return your affections.

It makes perfect sense with each step you take further from the room. This has to be staged, intentional, because there’s no way Yuuji would’ve said that if he didn’t already have an idea maybe Alicia reciprocated Megumi’s feelings.

But what about your feelings?

Does no one really care? Were you really reduced to just another body count?

Your chest squeezed uncomfortably as you pushed past the crowd, ignoring everyone’s protests from how rough you were. You don’t stop until you’ve locked yourself inside a restroom, tears freely falling down your face. With trembling hands, you fall back to the floor, dialing the only person you could trust right now.

He picks up not three rings later, voice still gruff and laced with sleep. “Hello?”

“S-Sukuna,” you whimper, pathetically wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “I’m – can you please pick me up?”

From the other line, you can hear Sukuna shuffling for something in the background. Keys dangle and he locks the door, the sounds of his rushed footsteps so relieving to your senses. “Where are you? What’s wrong? Did someone force themselves on you?”

“No, I just…I want to go home.”

“Text me the address. I’ll be there soon.”

You text him the address and end the call. From the outside, the bass is thumping so hard it makes your head pound. You’re already feeling dizzy from crying so much, hands clutched around your chest because it hurts so much.

Stupid Megumi, fucking stupid Megumi – but aren’t you the stupider one? You’re the one who chose to keep being with him despite the warning signs. You’ve heard what everyone said about him, his reputation as a fuckboy isn’t exactly a secret, but you hoped, you sincerely hoped you could at least be good enough. But you’re not not good enough – Megumi just simply doesn’t deserve you. You deserve better and he needs to go to hell, so then why does it hurt so much the more you picture how he’s humiliated you like that?

Your dress is beyond soaked from how much you’ve cried. At this point, you just feel achingly numb. The pounding in your head is matched by the soft knocks rapping against the door, and thinking it’s Megumi or one of his lackeys, you wrap your arms around your knees.

“GO AWAY!”

“Sweetheart, it’s me. Open up, let’s get you home,” It’s Sukuna. Scrambling for the door, you push it open and jump into his arms without a second thought. Sukuna effortlestly catches you, and the dam you thought had dried up in you breaks again. He stiffens as you cry on his shoulder, fists balled around his shirt in a vice-like grip. “Who the fuck made you cry? Is it him again?” he growls, “I seriously want to knock the living daylights out of him.”

“Don’t start a ruckus, Sukuna.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he visibly softens at your state. Sukuna rubs your back soothingly and lets you cry like that, shielding your vulnerable state with his arm. He moves you to hide your face in his chest and kisses the crown of your head, so gentle and unbelievably tender. “I don’t pick on someone weaker than me. That’s bullying.”

You don’t utter another word as he leads you out of the house. He mutters under his breath on how kids are so wild these days and he really can’t imagine he was once like that. Sukuna’s car is parked on the curb, and you rush for it, eager to go home until he stops you. He wraps his jacket around your shoulders to offer you some modesty and you offer him a weak smile, allowing him to embrace you from the sides to guide you.

“Hey!” Megumi calls out, “Hey, what are you doing with her? Let her go,” his footsteps echo behind you just as you clench your eyes shit, “I said let her go!”

“Don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid,” Sukuna mutters to himself like a mantra.

“Yo, steroid guy, you deaf or what? I said let my girl go—” Megumi falls on his ass. He stares up at whoever punched him, eyes wide at Sukuna’s arm raised, but his eyes are on you. “Ow! You fucking bitch, you broke my nose!”

“Shit,” Sukuna laughs beside you as you wince at the soreness of your knuckle. “That was hot.” Somehow, you find the ability to smile. You’ve always wanted to top Megumi, but seeing him below you like this, weak and clutching his broken nose while whining about it like a little bitch, it feels a lot more satisfying.

You want to scream at him, to release all the profanities that have manifested your anger throughout the years. But Megumi crawls back with something unreadable in his eyes, the edges of his lips tinted red with a smack of lipstick, probably from Alicia.

The sight has you scoffing. Maybe you don’t have anything to worry about after all – Megumi hates lipstick stains with a passion. If he ever gets with her, they won’t last long enough.

That fact is enough for you to flip your hair over your shoulder, glaring at Megumi one last time before dragging Sukuna down by the collar. His laughter ceases the moment your lips collide, your hands teasing around his neck to brush at his undercut. Sukuna moans through the kiss, the way he’s explicitly grabbing the flesh of your ass a sign he’s aware what kind of game you’re playing. You make a mental note to apologize for this later, but for now, you’ll shamelessly savor his tongue and the minty aftertaste, grabbing at his large frame that picks you up with no ease.

You leave Megumi gaping at the lawn after that, your finger middle raised right before Sukuna speeds off.

Fuck, that has never felt so good. This feeling…it bursts through you. There’s this certain satisfaction in finally having the power at your fingertips this time around, and you you’re your wicked smile through your hair, too absorbed in your own feelings that you don’t register Sukuna’s worried tone at first.

“So…do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He doesn’t pry afterwards, just shoots you a curious look. Just moments ago, you were crying and feeling like you’re on the verge of breaking down, but this adrenaline rushing through absolutely cannot fuck around anymore. The image of Megumi realizing he’s lost you is so exhilarating, and you twist your torso to face your roommate, grinning at his handsome features. He looks so delicious like this, black button up shirt left open at the top, his veiny, muscular arms driving one hand on the steering wheel and the other gently caressing your thigh. You suck in a deep breath, licking your lips as you purr, “Hey, Sukuna.”

“Yes?”

“Pull over.”

“Wait, why? We’re so close at home.”

“Pull over, I’m done,” you insist with a glare, although the animosity isn’t directed at him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on the road before he spares you a glance, smirking at how you’re already unclasping your bra from your seat.

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re going to use me as a stress reliever.”

At his words, your arms still behind you. You glance up at him with wide, worried eyes that immediately reach out for his hands in assurance. “N-No, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Usually, sex is a lot crazier when the other is angry. Use me as you will – I don’t really care,” he licks his lips and suddenly slams on the brakes under an empty parking lot, already flipping something in the engine. You’re taken aback as Sukuna discards his shirt in a second, his large arms carrying your frame to the backseat with him. Sukuna spreads your legs as he helps you get rid of your dress but it’s too tight that you just give up, leaving the material bunched under your boobs instead. Sukuna’s eyes darken at the lack of material under your dress, his fierce gaze shooting up to yours as he massages your inner thighs, his breath labored.

“What position do you want?”

“Fu-fuck, I don’t know, just fuck me,” you whine, spreading your legs farther to make space for him. He’s a tall guy with long limbs that he shrinks even with his fancy car, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Sukuna seems a lot more focused in fucking you in that moment because he’s unhooking his belt, diving down for one more kiss that is a lot heated and rushed than the previous one for show.

“I want to get rid of his face from my mind, I fucking hate him so much,” you can’t help but bite down on Sukuna’s lip, hard enough that it draws blood. Sukuna groans into your mouth, the sound so utterly deep and sexy you drip down on his seats even more.

“You’ll still go back to him after this?”

“No…it would be stupid if I did,” you roll your eyes.

“Good girl,” Sukuna praises as his lips leave a wet trail from your jaw down to the valley of your breasts. His smile is quickly replaced with a sinister grin, one of his hands cupping your breasts at the same time his teeth dart out to playfully nip at your breasts. He really shouldn’t look so enticing under you like this, and you’re so caught by his devilishness you fail to realize he’s already rummaging through your purse. “But I think lover boy still doesn’t get the message. We’re gonna have to punch it through his dumb skull.”

He hands you your phone, Megumi’s contact right before you.

“Sukuna, what’re you doing?”

“Call him,” Sukuna moves up to fish a condom out of his wallet and slides it to his already throbbing cock, chuckling at the way your eyes widen at his girth as if you hadn’t taken him before. “Call him and let him hear how I fuck you better, sweetheart. Boys like him won’t get the message unless you tell them directly.”

His hands clutch the backseat until his knuckles turn white, aligning himself with your entrance. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily and you moan loudly at the intrusion, pretty little gasps a sign of your pleasure. Helplessly, you grip at his bicep while your legs shake from how tense you are, the tantalizing movement of his hips pulling breathless moans from you. “And what better way than to take what’s his, right? What did he call this? His pretty pussy?” Sukuna scoffs, “Fuck that, stupid little boys can’t even fuck you right, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

“Ngh, Sukuna, that f-feels good, right there!”

“Right here?” he teases with a stroke of his cock that brushes against your tight walls. Sukuna’s face contort into pleasure when your tight pussy sucks him in, falling forward just to rasp in your ear. “Call him. Then, I’ll fuck you however you want me to.”

You don’t know how you’re able to swipe on Megumi, but he picks up in the speed of light like never before. Sukuna mouths loudspeaker and you follow his commands, Megumi’s voice booming through the sex-filled air of the car. “Where the fuck did you go? The party wasn’t over yet and you’re hanging out with some beefy, tattoed guy? It’s your roommate, isn’t it?” Megumi curses at someone before continuing, the aggravation evident in his tone. “He’s such a fucking creep, I swear if he lays his hands on you again I’ll—”

“You’ll do what, kid?” Sukuna challenges, “Oh and mind you, she’s the one who asked me to fuck her. As her concerned roommate and the more mature adult, I believe it’s my duty to listen to her complaints and make her feel better, especially when she keeps whining she’s not being fucked good.”

“Sukuna!” You whine and slap his arm, but you’re smiling, the pleasure and satisfaction of slapping Megumi this harshly making you feel greater than ever.

“Are you sleeping with her?” Megumi sounds like he’s losing his shit, and you sincerely hope he does. “Gosh, Y/N, how low can you be? I thought you were my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Since when?” you attempt to scream, but Sukuna’s gripped your thighs and pulls your lower body closer to his cock in time to meet his thrusts. Your body slides off the seat and you’re left screaming Sukuna’s name, the latter wearing a shit-eating grin at the way you’re creaming around him. Somehow, your attention reverts back to Megumi’s whining. “You’re a fucking dick, Megumi, I honestly hope you choke on your small dick!” you shout and end the call, slapping your hand on your face as you throw your phone away. “I hated saying that.”

“Because you still like him or…?”

“No, because he was actually a good fuck and his dick is huge,” you say through pants. Sukuna must’ve hated how you’re talking about Megumi’s dick when he’s literally rearranging your insides, and Sukuna grabs your leg, manhandling you into the position he likes. You’re immediately on your knees with your back flat to his chest, your arms locked between your bodies as Sukuna takes you from behind. Your head falls back to his shoulders where Sukuna leaves messy open-mouthed kisses to your sweaty skin. “I fucking hate him. He’s such an asshole.”

“Hmm, well don’t spend too much energy thinking about him anymore,” Sukuna snarls at your skin, releasing your hands just to rub at your swollen clit. “Just let loose and let me take care of you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t even remember meeting him.”

The honest side of you wants to moan, the familiar tightening of your abdomen appearing already. He’s hitting all your sensitive spots that you can barely think, only feel, but you also feel so powerful and enraged that you cup Sukuna’s cheek, narrowing your eyes at him. You hit his thrusts by pushing back against his cock that causes him to slide in deeper, the large man groaning deep within his chest.

“You sure about that?”

“Oh, hundred percent confident, baby.”

“Let’s see what you got then,” you teased him. Pretending you’re not seconds away from coming is an even bigger challenge than leaving Megumi, but for the sake of riling up Sukuna, you would do it.

“You’re challenging me?”

“If I don’t cum at least twice, then that’s going to be a damn shame.”

“Twice? That’s not even the minimum,” he shakes his head tauntingly at you, increasing his pace until the sounds of his balls smacking your ass and both your groans are filling the dead silent night. It’s so lewd and dirty that your tongue lols out from the pleasure, eyes shut tight because you’re close, so fucking close! “You’re going to lose your fucking mind,” Sukuna said as a final warning.

You didn’t think too much of it until he pulls out of you seconds before you came. The crestfallen look written all over your face makes him laugh, but Sukuna only turns your body and goes down on his knees, hitching your legs over his shoulders. Your chest falls up and down as he dives down to your sopping, abused cunt, hands threading through his hair before he rudely flicks it away. “No. Hands to yourself. You’re not allowed to touch me,” he hissed, but his roughness is softened only by a little bit when you whimper so sweetly for him. “Don’t pout, sweetheart, you’ll get your chance when we get home. For now, since you’d so rudely woke me up and left me without inviting me for dinner, I’m starving.”

Sukuna dips between your thighs, tongue poking out to take the first taste of your juices. Your reaction is instantaneous and gratifying; head thrown back, nails dug into the seats, legs quivering and falling open wider to welcome the warm, wet muscle that licks flat from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuuckk, Sukuna, slow down, ngh—”

“He ever ate you out this way?”

“No, I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“Can you take it, sweetheart? Should I stop?” You know he’s teasing you, the sniggers muffled from your pussy lips are still heard but you can’t fight back, not when your legs turn to jelly at his ministrations.

“Keep going, fuck, please, I will slap you if you don’t make me cum tonight,” you threaten, and Sukuna smartly responds by sucking your clit into his mouth. He rolls it between his teeth, careful enough not to hurt you while plunging two fingers deep inside you, curling it into a come-hither motion that stretches you pleasurably. “Too, oh, shit!”

“You can’t even talk properly,” he chuckles, and the vibrations that come afterwards shatter your entire world. “And this is just my tongue. Feels too good?”

“Yes, yes, too good!” you cry out, “Sukuna, em coming!”

Your orgasm has no build-up whatsoever. You lay there panting with a silent scream as your nails scratch against his seats, toes curled as it comes down into you in one, hard slap. Sukuna hums as he licks up the arousal trailing down your pussy to not make even more of a mess. “Already? I haven’t even started yet,” he sighs sarcastically, “Don’t think I’m done with you. I did say you’d lose your mind, right?”

Sukuna has now joined you on the seats, flipping you to the side where he hooks one leg under his arm, your other leg extended to your side that remains flushed at the seats, his thighs squishing yours. It’s utterly challenging to move in this position and you’re completely at his mercy, the sight of his tall, dominating figure above you forcing you back into a submissive space. He doesn’t give you much time to recover before his cock is pushing past your pussy once more, bottoming out in one, swift thrust.

“’Kuna, too sensitive, mhhm—”

“You’ll take it,” he breathes out while peppering kisses at your ankle, “Come on, you’re a good girl, yeah? Give me one more.”

“Su-kuna, it’s too much!”

“Just one more.” Sukuna elicits moans from you the harder he thrusts, leaning forward until you’re crying out from the stretch of all the muscles in your body. He’s being nice today by letting you cum more than twice in the exchange of holding back his, because he’s absolutely throbbing inside you. He picks up a rougher pace from where he left off, saying your name through gritted teeth as you tighten around him. You’re squealing and whimpering from behind your fists, overly sensitive still from your previous orgasm.

His hips roll in such a mind-numbing manner before Sukuna rams into you utterly deep, your bodies flushed so close you can feel the heat pulsing from his skin. Sukuna tenses above you before he brings you to your orgasm, with him following not long afterwards.

Sukuna pulls out with a groan and ties his condom in a knot, discarding it above his clothes. Upon hearing your soft sighs, he immediately rushes your side and pats your cheek to wake you up. “Hey, look at me,” he commands, though his voice is gentle and soft. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out through fluttering lashes, “Yeah, I’m just tired,” extending your arms to him, you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him close. “Come here. Want cuddles.”

Sukuna gives in to your request for a few minutes and stays wrapped up with you. It’s perfect to be in this state, to be held so close and not just touched, the intimacy of it all bringing about unfamiliar warmth that only ever makes itself present when he’s here. “As much as I want to stay like this, we’re sweaty and sticky,” Sukuna murmurs through your hair, his hands roaming all over your skin. There’s no other sexual meaning behind it even as his rough palms graze past your mound. His touches are more like him exploring your body out of curiosity, out of the desire to just have you this close. You’re unsure what to feel about it and your mind is uncannily clear after an orgasm, but Sukuna’s already sitting up with you above him before you could ponder about it any longer. “Let me take you home first, then we’ll cuddle. What do you think?”

“Oh fuck,” you cut him off upon seeing the flashing of your screen. “It’s Megumi. Fifteen missed calls.”

“Lover boy is crazy,” Sukuna snickered behind you.

“Good thing I’m crazier,” you shut your phone off and throw it to the passenger’s seat, beaming up at Sukuna and giving him the puppy eyes from behind your shoulder. “Can we get milkshakes on the way?”

“I think you got enough milk.”

“Sukuna!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he raises his hands in surrender. You pout until you feel something hard and wet poking your bottoms, and Sukuna smirks, gesturing to his erection that you haven’t noticed. “You do know that I’m still hard, right? I’ll fuck you again when we get home.”

“You could’ve just let me suck you off.”

“Nah,” he refuses, “I want to feel you come around me,” Sukuna cockily winks at you, and your mouth falls open, gasping in disbelief at how vulgar he could be. He steals a quick kiss then as he tugs his pants up, the sight of him rolling his sleeves back up to his elbows thoroughly…compelling that you’re left salivating at the ripples of his muscles. “I’ll just wait ‘til we get home. Right now, I need to treat someone like a princess and get her some food.”

“You should stop saying that,” you blurt out defensively, “Sweet lies won’t get you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t lying about anything. I meant every word I said.”

The tension thickens in an instant. Sukuna looks at you warily – or perhaps worriedly? – before he situates himself back in the driver’s seat, starting the car right after you’ve fixed your appearance. Considering it’s already late, he’s struggling to find any restaurant or diners open to appease your cravings, though he doesn’t complain about it.

You fiddle with your hands on your lap, unable to find a proper explanation to his behavior. “Sukuna…” you start off nervously, refusing to look him in the eye. “Do you uhm…do you like me?”

“What kind of question is that, sweetheart?”

“I meant…maybe you just like me for my body, you know?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head towards you, “I’m too old for drama and playing with people’s feelings. Like I said, the cards are all in your hands now. If you want us to just have casual sex, I don’t mind, but if you also want to be, uhm…” Sukuna awkwardly rubs at the back of his head with a clear of his throat, the tables turned because now he’s the one who can’t meet your gaze. “…something more, then I won’t refuse that either. I’m up to whatever you want to do.”

“And if I said that…maybe I’m considering getting to know you better?”

“Then maybe I would happily say yes.”

You smile at how easily he lightens up the mood, feeling a smile already playing on your lips as you giggle. “Just a maybe?”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he groans, averting his eyes from the road (it’s empty anyway) to get a quick peck. You whack his arm and his laugh only grows louder; he knows you’re not really angry, because he kisses really good and you like it a lot more than you’ll admit.

“I’ll be a hundred times of a better boyfriend than what you’d expect.”

“You’re really confident, huh?”

“Oh, I’m confident I can treat you well,” he nods proudly, head tipping back to the backseat. “I did just let you ruin my leather exterior and let you walk away while I have a raging boner. Do you have any idea how much self restraint a man has to have to let that happen?”

“Probably an immaculate one. Megumi would never let me go unless he’s came.”

“Yeah, well, fuck that guy,” Sukuna doesn’t even bother to try and hide his hatred for your former crush, and you’re smiling like a lovesick fool on the seat. “You’re with me now. So, since I want to spoil you, how many milkshakes do you want?”

Back then, you were always too addicted to lies that seemed so sweet that you couldn’t be able to stop. But now that you’ve met Sukuna, perhaps the blissful truth is a lot sweeter, and it’s a much healthier addiction you’ll take any day.

taglist: @thesimpsclub @uwubby-1 @expectoscamander @your-consulting-fangirl @dora-the-grownup @cosmotoic @charlie-xo @kittaliapenn @sukunas-cult-leader @flowersgirl02 @cloudsinthecosmos @90s-belladonna @averysheart-raleighsdick @generousstudentpsychic-bat @kat-su-ki @issamomma @sklycan @ggsmashgg @dora-the-grownup @ninefuckingoneone @ambiguous-something

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purplespaceace · 3 years

Text

very few characters actually have adhd in media, and when they do, what people mean by that is just that they fidget a lot, not that they have adhd. the only character with adhd I can think of where I’ve watched/read it and I’ve gone, “oh, this character actually has adhd” is Jake peralta from Brooklyn 99. so, here’s my take on how to write adhd, with examples from Brooklyn 99.

I’ll do the best I can to separate them into three categories; the three things people look for in adults with ADHD, which are rejection sensitivity dysphoria, an interest-based nervous system, and emotional hyperarousal.

I’ll also randomly bold and italicize bits so people with ADHD can actually read it.

Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria, or RSD

Rejection sensitivity dysphoria makes people with ADHD overly sensitive to criticism, even if they perceive a rejection and there actually isn’t one. Their emotions are also very strong generally. Because of RSD, people with ADHD become people-pleasers and can develop anxiety because they’re so eager to please.

For me, RSD makes me cry an embarrassing amount for any little reason. in your writing, make your characters overdramatic, criers, and/or people-pleasers. They’ll have trouble saying no. They may also be over competitive, as their perceived rejection may include losing.

how does Jake show this in b99? When Jake comes up with a catchphrase and Rosa says it’s terrible, jake is far more hurt than he should be. He hates losing, and he gets overly upset whenever someone says they don’t like him or don’t trust him, etc. he’s also a people pleaser who has trouble saying no.

An interest-based nervous system

An interest-based nervous system includes hyperfocuses and an inability to pay attention. It stems from the fact that we can’t make as much dopamine as neurotypicals. This means that while neurotypicals get dopamine after completing a task, people with ADHD don’t. That means that people with ADHD don’t have any reason to do tasks, especially those they don’t like. This leads to executive dysfunction—people with ADHD will know they have to or want to do something, but they can’t seem to do it. people with ADHD hyperfocus on things that bring them dopamine. I was obsessed with warrior cats for three years. But hyperfocuses can also last a short amount of time—I’ll have a drawing idea in the middle of class and won’t be able to concentrate on anything else before I finish it. this is where our impulsiveness comes from. we can leap into things we think will give us dopamine without thinking, which can lead to injury. We also tend to tell people personal things they don’t want to hear because of this, and don’t have very good boundaries. We sometimes say whatever comes into our head, which can also result in us being rude on accident. Our voices can also get very loud or we can interrupt people frequently because we’re so impulsive. When people with ADHD hyperfocus, they can forget about anything else. I’ll forget to eat if I’m busy reading a Wikipedia article about feminism in the 1850s, and won’t go to the bathroom or drink water either. It’s also important to note that taking away distractions doesn’t help, because we can do things like pick at our skin and daydream—something that people with ADHD do a lot of. Because of executive dysfunction, people can call people with ADHD lazy or irresponsible.

people with ADHD can also be extremely indecisive because ADHD affects our executive functioning, and making decisions requires planning and prioritizing, and task initiation, which are both executive functions!

people with ADHD also have poor memory for important things, but tend to remember random bits of trivia. Poor memory leads to object permanence problems, which means people with ADHD can forget to call a friend back for weeks, forget that they need to read library books in a closed cabinet, or forget that the vegetables they got will go bad. People can sometimes say that people with ADHD don’t care about anything because of this.

people with ADHD can also be prone to depression because of under or overstimulation. Boredom feels painful for people with ADHD. If we’re overstimulated, we can experience sensory overload—if things are too bright or too loud, if too many things are touching us at once—often it’s not because the thing is too intense, but because too many things are happening at once.

We also have something some people call dolphin brain, where we jump from one thing to another. From the outside, it looks really random, but I find that when I’m talking to another neurodivergent communication is generally easier. For instance, someone with ADHD might see a bee at a baseball field and tell their team about the time they saw whales at seaworld because their little brother was also stung by a wasp there. people will see no connection on the outside, but it makes perfect sense to the person with ADHD.

people with ADHD can also be overachievers, either because they hyperfocus on schoolwork or their RSD makes it so that failing at something isn’t an option. people with ADHD can also be very controlling and stubborn, probably because we hyperfocus on something and cant handle it being any different, and any change to our plans can be seen as rejection.

we can also have a hard time ordering our thoughts or doing stuff like math in our head. a lot of the time I number my thoughts like, 1. this reason, 2. this reason, etc. even if theres only two or sometimes I just need the 1. as a transition for my brain. when I don’t write it down or organize it like that it feels like I’m trying to grasp ropes that have been covered in oil (it’s not going to happen) and then my brain gets all jumbled and I have to restart at the beginning. this is probably just me, but it feels the same way when I’m reading long paragraphs of something uninteresting, or even short bits of historical documents because the way they phrase things is really pompous and hard to process.

also, stuff like caffeine calms us down and helps us focus. people who don’t take medication (me) often drink coffee or caffeinated sodas to focus.

another random tip, but if your character with ADHD also is genderfluid or genderflux, they might have a hard time figuring out their gender sometimes, because we can be known to have a hard time putting our feelings into words or our brains will just go, “nope, not thinking about that right now” and move on, which can be pretty frustrating.

people with adhd also have a trait called time blindness, where we have no idea how long something takes and therefore can’t manage our time very well. this often results in us being late or just sitting around the house because we got ready way too early.

we also have something called consequence blindness—we do things and are completely unaware of the consequences. if I don’t brush my teeth, I get cavities. but I don’t think about that when I’m deciding I’m too tired to brush my teeth.

in b99, jake regularly stays up all night solving cases and watches documentaries on random topics. He’s also very distractible—when they’re trying to find the person who sent Captain Holt death threats in the train yard, Jake says he and captain holt should take a train trip together sometime. Jake says that he’ll forget Amy if they don't work together because he’s like a goldfish.

Emotional hyperarousal

This is the only thing people tend to include when writing characters: the fidgeting. People with ADHD tend to need more stimulation than others, so we’ll do things like draw during class and chew on pens.

people with ADHD can also have apd, or auditory processing disorder. we tend to watch shows with subtitles on and may take a second to process what you’re saying, or hear it wrong. The subtitles thing may be partially do to creating just the right amount of stimulation, but if I don’t have subtitles, me and my other friends with ADHD will watch tv with the volume turned up very high. People with ADHD also can have a hard time interpreting other people‘s tone and have a hard time controlling their own. They can be bad at social cues and have poor manners because we don’t pick up on that stuff.

people with ADHD also tend to observe everything or nothing at any given time, mostly based on the amount of stimulation they have—if they dont have a lot in their main task, they’ll need to take in something else at the same time. Likewise, if I’m hyperfocusing on something I often don’t notice anything else, like if someone asks me a question.

in b99, Jake fidgets with things a lot. In the intro, he’s picking up and examining a figurine on his desk, likely because he was bored with paperwork or some other task.

#adhd #writing #writing adhd #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #brooklyn99 #Jake peralta #Adhd Jake #neurodivergent #writing tips #adhd problems #adhd misconceptions #nd #neurodivergence

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ahtsumu · 3 years

Text

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: [email protected]

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: [email protected]

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: [email protected]

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving.

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”

#miya osamu #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu scenarios #miya osamu imagines

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