LOOK WHAT THE WIND BLEW IN. i’m flo to you and bbygirl<3 to miya atsumu. eighteen hundred years old, a freshman in college, and Trying My Best™ ! this blog is 70% writing, 20% dumb stuff, 10% really dumb stuff. i write for both jjk and hq! everything else is below the cut, g. 

howdy! after some reflection, i’ve realized that tumblr isn’t where i want to be as a writer anymore. this isn’t a decision made on the whim – you’ll know it’s been a long time coming if you’ve been with me a while. i appreciate all the love and support you guys have ever given me, but three hiatuses over the past 8 months have shown me that i’m mentally better off of tumblr.

i'm leaving @ahtsumu up as an archive of every drabble, headcanon, and fic i’ve ever written. everything else has already been deleted (all of your sweet asks are safe on a private blog 🥰).

some quick i love you’s to people who made my time here so enjoyable: remy, moosh, ang, adri, lin, chloe, winter, erin, lola, gracie, yue, issy, hayley, sem, cj, faye, jan, and you who’s reading this! i’ll still be around to pester your inboxes and scream in the tags of your works. 👀

it’s been a wild ride! thank you for being part of my lil universe. 💖

love,

flo

only two pictures of sakusa kiyoomi smiling exist on the internet.

the other three hundred live on your phone.

“twenty-five.”

“is one-fourth of a hundred,” he immediately replies, looking up from the video of his last match against the adlers. the slightest smirk on his face challenges you to go on. you play this game every year: he pretends not to know or care that he has a birthday at all, and you have to remind him that despite what the tabloids say, he is, in fact, an aging human (like everyone else).

grinning, you plop down beside him on the sofa and are immediately pulled closer to his side. “it’s your birthday, doofus.”

“really?” sakusa’s brows raise in mock surprise. “i had no idea.”

“shut up,” you laugh, giving him a light shove. naturally, he doesn’t budge – but a short and quiet laugh leaves his lips. “anyway, it’s time to pick your yearly instagram tribute.” the album, appropriately titled “omi :)” opens on your phone, revealing photo after photo of sakusa’s pearly whites (on a hiking trail on mount fuji, in a hotel room in paris, in the kitchen baking brownies…).

he sighs but the skin by his eyes crease ever-so-slightly. “can’t you pick for me?” though he’s never been a fan of having his face shown back to him, sakusa’s gotten used to the fact that you usually get what you want. (and that, maybe, he is kind of good-looking.)

“what if you don’t like that photo?”

“i don’t care.”

you study him skeptically. “i don’t believe you. sakusa kiyoomi? mister ‘can-you-make-that-black-and-white’? mister ‘no-face-pics-on-instagram’? mister –”

he laughs and covers your mouth with his hand. “that’s just my... what’s that word you always use? aesthetic.” the grin on his face doesn’t disappear even when you pry his long fingers off your face.

“i have nothing to say except that you need to choose a picture for your birthday post… or else i’ll have the team decide for you at dinner later.”

it’s not that the rest of the msby black jackals are out to embarrass him every chance they get (though that may be the case for a certain blond setter) – it’s just that they all, with the exception of his captain, have a terrible eye for style. hinata still uses instagram filters, for god’s sake. grimacing, sakusa shifts to let you show him your album.

none of the photos pique his interest – not even the one where he’s two thousand feet above the ground in a hot air balloon (which you were almost certain he’d pick). sure, he looks good enough in most of them, but they’re nothing post-worthy. he’s gotten four tributes with the same kinds of photos from you and he can’t just let you post anything time time around.

noticing the tension on his face, you give your boyfriend a soft nudge. “what’s up?”

“i don’t like any of these,” he admits, running a hand through his curly hair.

“hmm? why? do you not want to post this year?”

“no, of course not,” sakusa interrupts. “i really don’t mind. never did. i’m… thinking.” the living room is silent as he thinks and you watch his expression for any clues to his thoughts. one of sakuksa’s best and worst traits is his poker face and even you still struggle to fully read through it. suddenly, he sits up and unlocks his phone, opening up his camera roll.

and in his ‘favorites’ album, he finds what he’s looking for.

“this one," sakusa says firmly. he looks over at you and chuckles. it’s still a picture of him smiling. it’s not the best quality and he’s certain it’s a screenshot from a video that one of his teammates took months ago, but this one’s special. this photo has you in it. you’re on a yacht in the mediterranean, kissing his unmasked cheek as the sun sets behind you and he’s grinning so widely that he’s almost unrecognizable. god, look what you did to him. he’s a mess – a smiling mess. “post this one.”

there’s no better mess to be.

LOVE PERSEVERING, EP 1. “The Plot Twist”

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

synopsis: the nanami’s have an evening full of surprises – the most surprising of all, however, is the one that comes without explanation.

tag(s): loose (very loose) wandavision!au, humor, domestic fluff, suggestive content, profanity, can be read as a standalone! ; wc: 2.6k

“SORRY I’M LATE.”

Nanami Kento closes the front door behind him and changes out of his oxfords for house slippers. The traffic was crazy, there’d been an accident on the 101, a Maserati collided with a Ferrari and the two drivers were hashing it out in the middle of – no, that’s a horrible story and even worse lie. He doesn’t even drive to work. He takes the Caltrain to his job in San Francisco every morning and takes it home to Sunnyvale every evening.

[4:44 PM] the thing about you and him is that you’re two fortresses waiting for the other to crumble first.

after being closed in the sun, your eyes take a while to adjust to being open.

“tooru, what’re we doing?”

the brunet laying beside you turns his head and grins. instinctively, your brows quirk.

“what d’you think?”

you open your mouth, ready to reply with something witty. you don’t have anything particular in mind, but you know you want it to be witty.

“no, wait,” oikawa tooru says, moving so that he’s now facing you entirely, resting on his side with his head propped on his hand. “really think about it.”

heat spreads over your cheeks as you take in his new position, how he’s just slightly hovering over your lying figure now, his chestnut eyes fixed steadily on yours. his shadow overlaps yours by the thinnest sliver and that has to mean something, right? the air between your bodies grows scarce and your chest tightens ever-so-slightly in response.

this is vulnerability.

more questions spring to mind – what happens next? where are we going with this? are your pupils dilating or is that pseudoscience? can he even see them?

you turn your gaze away and look up, sinking into the blue sky like an anchor. knowing that oikawa still has his eyes on your face, you slide an easy smile over your lips. “i think we’re lying in a grassy meadow in the middle of nowhere–”

oikawa flicks your forehead. “no, you idiot.” he falls flat back on the grass again, folding his arms behind his head. the tension in your chest subsides. “that’s not what i meant.”

“what’d you mean, then?” you wait for him to answer as you run your palms over the soft grass, feeling each blade tickle and poke your flesh as if to say hello. cicadas in the distant oak trees fill in oikawa’s silence with their little songs about summer. the out-of-view gurgling stream, which you had tuned out earlier, lets out a small splash. “hey, did’ya hear th–”

“shhhh.” oikawa laughs and it’s light and boyish as always, except it feels far away, like the rest of him isn’t here in the meadow. something’s changed and you can’t put your finger on it. so you get up and sit with your legs crossed beneath you, determined to get some answers.

“say, you’ve been acting pretty weird today, tooru. everything okay?” under your eyes, the brunet furrows his brows, crinkling his pretty features with amused confusion. still, he says nothing, only continues to hold your gaze. you can’t tell if he’s thinking or waiting. 

waiting for what?

“define ‘weird,’” he finally says, sitting up and breaking the trance he’d put over the two of you. he mirrors you and crosses his legs, positioning them so that his knees rest against yours.

“well, you asked if i wanted to hang out and, when i said yes, you drove us to this meadow.”

“i did.”

“and then you lied down on the grass and told me to do the same.”

“yep.”

“and we just laid in silence for, like, ten minutes.”

oikawa chuckles. “that is pretty weird.” and then, he lies back down on the grass and closes his eyes. “but you said you were stressed earlier this morning. isn’t this relaxing?”

things fall into place. suddenly, you feel warm all over. “in a way, i guess.” without waiting for him to pat the grass beside him, you, too, lay back down. “is that what we’re doing? relaxing?”

the brunet turns his head and grins.

“you’re relaxing. i’m just waiting.”

moosh (@mooshys) i’ve been thinking about your post 24/7 since i saw it LMAO i felt inspired, compelled, unfathomably motivated to make this

canon things about nanami kento:

gladiator!miya atsumu. the prince of a faraway land, the defender of his people, captured during battle and forced to fight in the games. he falls in love from the floor of the arena with you, the princess who dreams of adventure instead of power. he offers you a deal you can’t refuse: help him buy his freedom and he’ll take you with him, wherever he goes. 

you vs. the guy she told you not to worry about

LOVE PERSEVERING ; nanami kento

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader

synopsis: reports of nanami kento’s death have been greatly exaggerated. well, not exactly. they’re true – he did die. you saw him disintegrate into ashes with your own eyes. but now he’s alive... and kicking it in the suburbs of sunnyvale, california. with neither of you able to recall the events leading up to this bizarre scenario, you’ll have to navigate through suburbia, the ups and downs of married life, and even more surprises in total darkness. 

or will you?

tag(s): loose wandavision!au, married life aww, domestic bliss, humor, angst, fluff, chicken soup for the soul, i’m sure i’ll think of more later, possible multi-chap

warning(s): suggestive themes, profanity

table of contents

EPISODE 1. “The Plot Twist”

demon!miya osamu making you breakfast while humming along to a tune he’d heard on the radio the other day.

in this house we believe ushijima wakatoshi uses contractions when speaking

how to really hurt miya atsumu’s feelings

head empty no thoughts just meian shugo (29) msby team captain