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plutotheplum · 10 months ago

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Felt Good About You

akaashi keiji x fem!reader

summary: delivering a revised manuscript to your editor turns into something more.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, post-time skip, oral sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, handjob, p in v

wc: 4.8k

a/n: i'm afraid i have the fattest crush on akaashi

also on ao3!

“The romance isn’t working.”

You groan when your editor pushes your manuscript for this week’s chapter towards you. You didn’t need any more bumps in the road, not when you were already running behind on deadlines, with the publishing company breathing down your neck to get the next volume out.

“The romance is fine, Akaashi” you mumble, flicking through the pages of the manuscript to skim through his notes.

“If it was fine, I wouldn’t be here,” he replies dryly.

Akaashi was as blunt as ever. Most of the time you appreciated his honesty, he was the reason for such success with your manga after all, but sometimes he managed to get on your nerves.

“It’s an unnecessary subplot,” he continues, flipping through a couple of pages to show you a few of the panels you had drawn, “there’s just no plausible progression between the two, no chemistry.”

You glare at him. He was really starting to get on your nerves. Akaashi rolls his eyes when he sees your glare, reaching out to flick your forehead.

“You’re already behind on the scheduled publishing date,” he reminds you, crossing his arms over his chest, “and I get the short end of the stick because I’m your editor.”

“The higher-ups love you,” you retort.

You stare pointedly at the small stash of awards that were tucked onto a shelf in his office, the small trophies and plaques a clear display of the company’s commendation for his work.

“Not enough to let me work in the literature department,” he mutters bitterly.

“I’m right here!” you protest, an exasperated expression spreading across your face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Akaashi murmurs.

He taps your manuscript a few more times before giving you a stern look.

“Get me the revised version by tonight, otherwise you’ll miss out on this week’s issue.”

You curse him under your breath, giving him one final glare as you gather the pages of your manuscript into your hands. You had come into his office thinking he’d been fine with the story, but now you had somehow ended up with more work than before, and an even tighter deadline.

A few hours later, you end up finding yourself outside Akaashi’s apartment. Guilt had won out in the end, and you figured that it wasn’t fair to let him take the blame for your tardiness. Revised manuscript clutched against your chest, you ring his doorbell.

You can feel your throat dry when he opens up the door. His hair is damp, towel slung around the back of his neck. He’s wearing an old volleyball shirt with sweatpants, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to him looking so domestic.

Akaashi stares at you blankly, clearly not expecting you. Usually you would’ve just emailed the revised manuscript over to him, not show up outside his door.

“I felt guilty,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing at the awkwardness in the air, “and- and I ordered gyoza so it should be here in a few minutes.”

“Right,” he says after a moment, “you didn’t have to.”

You stare at each other for a moment longer until he sighs, opening the door wider to let you in.

“You’re just as bad as Bokuto,” he informs you.

The mention of the pro-volleyball player makes a smile spread across your face. You had met Akaashi’s volleyball friends a few times when they had enlisted your help in throwing Akaashi a surprise birthday party - which had maybe ended up in a disaster - as well as when you had wound up to a few of their games.

“He’s a sweet guy,” you reply, handing him your manuscript.

Akaashi only hums in response, walking over to his desk. He hangs his towel on the back of his chair before sitting down. You watch as he slips his glasses on, examining the pages of your now edited work.

“I thought you’d try and fight me about the romance,” he murmurs, his pen making a few adjustments here and there.

“Figured it wasn’t worth it,” you sigh, slumping on the couch in his living room, “you were right, as always.”

He peers over at you, his eyes narrowing as he watches the sulky look on your face. Despite your random bouts of laziness, even Akaashi had to agree that you were a good mangaka whose popularity had built up a loyal reader base.

“Look,” Akaashi says, setting his pen down, “if you’re that hung up about cutting those scenes, start drafting it now.”

Your gaze shoots up to meet his eyes.

“Seriously?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

Akaashi was dedicated, sure, but he wasn’t exactly one to take on extra work. Sometimes you felt as though he would’ve been right at home in the literature department, editing novels instead of volumes of manga. It was like he worked with you out of obligation, not enjoyment, despite the friendship you had built up over the years.

“Yeah,” he says, pushing his glasses up a bit further to sit better on the slope of his nose, “I’m serious.”

You don’t get to dwell any longer on your editor’s change in mind, the sound of the doorbell piercing through your conversation. Akaashi waves you away when you move towards the door, grabbing the delivered containers of gyoza himself.

He sits down beside you on the couch, handing you one container whilst he takes the other. For some reason, you’re feeling more on edge than usual. The brush of his arm against yours has heat rising to your cheeks, body growing taut with the way your stomach is swirling with nervousness.

It was no secret that Akaashi was one of the most handsome men in the office, and you had maybe developed a tiny crush on the man, which was now inflating into something that was not so tiny, and much, much harder to control the more time you spent with him.

“You okay?” Akaashi asks, peering over you.

You don’t trust yourself enough to reply which is why you stuff a gyoza into your mouth and nod rapidly.

Silence lapses over you both as you eat, but you can feel his eyes boring into the side of your head. You pretend not to notice, trying to engross yourself in the taste of the gyoza and the tang of soy sauce.

Akaashi slouches slightly, his body relaxing as time passes. You can see it in the way his shoulders drop, his thighs spreading as he gets more comfortable.

“Instead of adding romance as a subplot, why don’t you make it into another story altogether?”

You blink over at him, surprised.

“I don’t have time to write another manga,” you say, shaking your head, “I’d have to find another publisher if I wanted to write something that was purely romance.”

“Shonen manga in the romance genre exist,” he replies, running his hand through his hair, “or you could just self-publish.”

You’d been hoping to avoid the topic of self-publishing. Sure, you knew of it, participated in it even. It’d been used as a creative outlet, to get out some ideas that you couldn’t work on when your success as a mangaka had grown. Besides, it wasn’t like you could tell Akaashi that you had drawn up stories that were, well, inappropriate.

“But that would be too much work,” you sigh, trying to stop his train of thought.

Akaashi stares at you thoughtfully. The more you spend time with him, the more you begin to regret your choice to come here. Emailing the manuscript to him would’ve been the smarter choice, but you just had to feel sorry for the guy.

“I did read one the other day that had a similar art style to yours.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You can feel your composure slipping. There was no way he could know that you self-published stories that were practically panel after panel of porn. Maybe he enjoyed it? One thought leads to another and you find yourself imagining Akaashi with his hand wrapped around his cock, his head tipped back as he strokes himself.

“What was it about?” you manage to grit out, trying to see through the haze of your indecent thoughts.

“About a couple,” he says simply, “they ended up fucking.”

You can feel the hope swirling in your mind fade. Akaashi definitely knew.

“Didn’t know you read that sort of thing.”

“I’m a man, aren’t I? Sometimes porn just doesn’t cut it. The story was pretty great too.”

He thought the story was great? You can’t help yourself from perking up, the compliment making you feel warm.

“I just find it so strange,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you.

You swallow harshly, mustering up a smile with your trembling lips, “why’s that?”

“The author’s note,” Akaashi says, “the little bunny avatar was the same as yours.”

So, you had messed up. You spy the front door from the corner of your eyes. If you walked, you’d get there in about ten steps, but if you ran, you’d get there in about three - maybe two - strides. Sure, you wouldn’t ever be able to face Akaashi again, but you think you’d be fine with it. Report filed to the higher ups stating creative differences and you’d be able to find a new editor, no problem.

“It’s all probably just a coincidence,” you say nonchalantly, “plenty of people like bunnies.”

“Some of the dialogue was similar to yours, distinct writing and all that.”

You grit your teeth. The man didn’t know when to let go.

“Like I said, coincidence.”

“Right,” he says, nodding along, “a coincidence. Was it also a coincidence that the couple that had sex was a mangaka and her editor?”

You scramble to your feet when he says that. Letting out an awkward laugh, your cheeks heated with embarrassment, you decide that this is the best time to take your leave.

“Have- have a good night!” you say, voice pitching.

Determination has Akaashi’s eyes gleaming and now you’re bolting, feet nearly tripping over each other as you dart towards his apartment door. It seems as though fate isn’t in your favor tonight, Akaashi’s hand curling around your wrist as he catches onto you before you can open the door. You squeak when he slams his hand against the wall, right next to your head as he pushes you up against the door.

“Classic scene,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your meek expression, “you always use it.”

“Fuck off, Akaashi!” you snap, pushing at his chest.

It’s a struggle, but you reach back behind you, hand grabbing blindly for the door handle. He doesn’t let you reach it, catching your wrist and pinning it against the door.

“You sure?” Akaashi asks, his eyes darkened, “or maybe you want me to fuck you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, mouth opening before closing again. There’s nothing left in you, no retorts, no words to get yourself out of this situation. He lets out a sigh when he feels your body relax, his hand on your wrist loosening as he lets go. You stare up at him, biting your lip nervously.

“You should’ve said something,” he says quietly, adjusting his glasses.

“And embarrass myself?” you mutter, picking at the wool of your sweater.

Akaashi doesn’t say anything, his hand smoothing up your hip and settling on your waist. Your eyes widen, arousal shooting through your body as he presses himself closer, his other hand finding your waist. Akaashi squeezes gently and you bite back a whine, eyes drooping slightly as he just squeezes and pets at your sides.

“It was good,” he says hoarsely, “the story, the details, the sex… came to it a couple of times.”

“You- you liked it?” you whisper, voice airy.

“Yeah,” he whispers back, his eyes meeting yours, “liked it… like you.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your cheek, your heart thudding in your chest. You never dreamt it’d come down to this, but you find yourself grateful for Akaashi’s observational nature.

He takes his glasses off, placing them into his pocket. Akaashi’s lips drag across your cheek, pressing soft kisses against your skin. He kisses the corner of your mouth, lips brushing against yours gently.

“Kiss me, Akaashi” you whisper, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Yeah,” Akaashi says softly, “yeah, I’ll kiss you, baby.”

A contented sigh escapes you as he slots his lips over yours, kissing you gently. The heat between you begins to grow, his hands slipping under your sweater to feel your bare skin. You gasp into his mouth, his hands surprisingly warm.

Akaashi smiles against your lips, his hand running up your back as his kisses turn hungrier, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You let him lick into your mouth, tugging at his hair desperately. Rocking up onto the tips of your toes, you deepen the kiss, pulling him impossibly closer.

He wraps his arms around your waist, groaning when your nails scratch his scalp fleetingly. You bite your kiss-swollen lip as he drags his lips down your neck, landing heated kisses to your skin.

Akaashi kisses the pulse of your throat, his lips finding their way back to yours. Soft pants fill the air, his smile hazy as he peers down at you. You smile back, head tilting to the side to let him kiss your cheek again.

“You’re such a dork,” he whispers, his eyes twinkling.

“Shut up,” you whine, pushing at his chest.

He grins, his hands grasping yours. Akaashi pulls you away from the door, his arms wrapping around the backs of your thighs as he picks you up. You laugh, legs wrapping around his waist, lips pressing against his as he carries you to his bed.

Akaashi lays you down on his bed and you watch with half-lidded eyes as he pulls his shirt off. He might not have played as competitively like he did in highschool, but you had been there when he had played with his friends. It’d been entrancing to watch the way he had set the ball for his friends, the ball curving through the air cleanly for the spiker to hit.

“‘s not fair how good you look,” you grumble, pouting.

He rolls his eyes, crawling onto the bed, his body hovering over yours.

“You look pretty good yourself,” Akaashi says, his fingers playing with the hem of your sweater.

You lift your arms for him, letting him pull it off of you. His gaze fixes on the swell of your breasts and you flush, looking away.

“You’re shy now?” He murmurs, a soft laugh escaping him as he kisses your jaw.

“You’re such a jerk,” you huff out.

Akaashi smiles and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to be truly angry with him. He’s patient more than anything, caring and always honest. You’ve never met a man like him, never met someone who could quell your worries the way he could. It makes you want to never let go.

His body settles between your thighs, his nimble fingers pulling your bra free. Your nipples pebble in the cold air and Akaashi leans forward, his hot, wet mouth enveloping a hard bud into his mouth.

You whine brokenly, back arching slightly as he sucks your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud. He groans as you run your fingers through his hair, his mouth suctioning around your breast for a few moments before he pulls off with a pop.

His mouth finds your other breast, kissing the side of it, mouthing at your skin. You can feel his tongue caress the underside of it, laving across your breast before he bites gently at your flesh, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours.

“You’re a fuckin’ tease,” he whispers against your breast.

You shake your head, mewling when his hand slides up, his fingers pitching at your spit-coated nipples. He rests his head between your breasts, watching you contentedly as you writhe under the onslaught of his touches.

“A- Akaashi,” you whimper, hips bucking, “want- want more, please.”

“So polite, baby” he coos, his hands groping at your breasts.

He pulls away from you and you whine, lifting your hips for him when he peels your pants off. There’s a moment of silence and you’re anticipating the feel of his mouth on your body, only for him to let out a low laugh.

“Bunnies til the end, huh?” Akaashi asks, his fingers playing with the waistband of your panties.

Your brows furrow, not quite sure what he’s talking about until you prop yourself on your elbows and see that you’re wearing a pair of bunny-patterned panties.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan, slumping back down onto the bed and slinging your arm over your eyes.

“They’re cute,” he smiles, prying your arm away from your face, “just like you, baby.”

Akaashi grasps one of your legs, bringing it to his mouth as he runs his hand along the length of it, kissing the sole of your foot and then your ankle. A soft hum leaves you, watching as he kisses up your leg, his kisses feather-light.

You run your fingers through his hair as he kisses the little bow on your panties, his nose pressing between your clothed folds to breathe you in.

“Pussy’s soaked through,” Akaashi murmurs, pulling back to look at your dampened panties.

“‘s your fault,” you slur, trying to push his face back to where you want it.

“All my fault,” he agrees, his tongue licking up over your panties, “guess I’ll have to take care of you then.”

You nod, trying to stop the little twitches that shoot through your body. Akaashi lets his mouth latch onto you, trying to suck the slick that’s soaked through the fabric of your panties.

“A- ah!” you pant, fingers fisting his hair as he squeezes your hips, his face nuzzling deeper between your thighs.

Akaashi’s lithe fingers pull at your panties, dragging them down your thighs. You don’t miss the way he tucks them into his pocket.

“Always so pretty, baby” he whispers, his thumbs pulling apart your folds to expose your pussy.

He moans when he sees the translucent strings of arousal that cling to your folds, his tongue darting out to lick up the little strings. You whimper when he kisses your clit gently, watching as he rubs the pad of his thumb against your swollen clit. Thighs twitching, you shift, trying to tilt your hips a little higher so you can feel his mouth on you.

“Ask for it,” Akaashi says, his cheek pressing against your thigh as he stares up at you.

“‘m not- ‘m not asking for it,” you retort, glaring at him.

“Bet it’d feel good,” he whispers, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

You whine when he just keeps his tongue there, saliva dripping from the tip of it and onto your pussy. He makes an obscene noise, gathering some more saliva, spitting on your cunt.

“All you gotta do is ask,” he coaxes, his arms wrapping around your thighs, “clit looks so achy… makes me wanna kiss it better.”

“P- please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“Didn’t quite catch that,” Akaashi smiles up at you, his eyes twinkling.

You’ll have to get him back for his teasing later, but right now you can’t wait.

“Please lick my pussy!”

You squeal when he latches his mouth onto you again, his tongue lapping over your wet pussy. He groans and you tug at his hair, thighs squeezing around his head as he laves his tongue over you greedily, letting his tongue dip into your hole before he sucks your clit into his mouth.

Legs kicking out, you let out a strangled noise as he flicks his tongue over your clit. Akaashi lands the filthiest kisses to your clit, alternating between sucking and little pecks, while he’s sunk two fingers inside of you. They curl up inside of you, grazing your sensitive spot perfectly. He fucks his fingers in and out of you, your wanton noises filling his bedroom.

Akaashi presses his face deeper, his fingers crooking. The feeling of his mouth in tandem with his fingers has you whimpering and whining, airy noises spilling from your lips at his ministrations. You might not ever be able to go without him ever again.

He holds you in place as you thrash, the overwhelming feeling inside of you building and building. Akaashi slips his fingers out of you in favor of devouring your cunt again, licking through your velvety folds, his tongue swirling before he presses it inside of you.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he growls.

You blink down at him dazedly. There’s a light flush covering his cheeks, his mouth glistening with your wetness. He opens his mouth to say something else but you ignore him, pushing his head so that his lips are flush against your cunt. Akaashi lets out a muffled laugh against your pussy, his tongue licking over you again.

Hand squeezing at your breast, you bite your lip, losing yourself in the caress of his tongue. He laps over you, again and again, pressing sloppy kisses to your clit.

“Gonna come,” you whisper, feeling the softness of his hair under your palm, “gonna come, ‘kaashi.”

He tilts your hips a little more, rising up onto his knees with your legs slung over his shoulders. You squeal again when he shakes his head, tongue dragging from side to side before he plunges it inside of you, his thumb pressing against your clit at the same time.

Your thighs squeeze tightly around his head as you come, loosening after a while when twitches rack through your body. Akaashi squeezes your thighs, lets your legs slip from his shoulders as he kisses your trembling thighs.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

Akaashi kisses your cheek and wipes the stray curls of your hair away from your face. A soft sheen of sweat covers your body and he hums, smoothing his thumbs over the underside of your breasts.

He lays down beside you and you curl up beside him, eyes catching on the bulge in his sweatpants.

“Need some help?” you murmur, fingers dragging down his chest.

“If you don’t mind,” he sighs, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close to him.

You smile, kissing his jaw gently as your hand slides past his navel, disappearing into his sweatpants. The weight of his cock is heavy and hot and Akaashi moans softly when your hand curls around his length.

“Ask for it, ‘kaashi,” you whisper, voice lilting.

“You’re such a brat,” he mutters.

“Use your manners, Keiji.”

His eyes widen when you use his name and you grin, landing a soft kiss to his cheek as your breasts squish up against his bicep. You squeeze around his cock and he lets out a soft whine, his hips bucking.

“Fuck- fuck hah-,” Akaashi grits out, “stroke my cock, baby, hm? Please?”

You hum softly, beginning to move your hand. His thick cock twitches as you stroke him, your wrist rotating.

He pants softly, his head turning to meet yours. You smile, running your fingers through his hair, brushing the soft strands out of his eyes. Affection bursts inside of you, heart fluttering as the flush on his cheeks deepens.

His brows have drawn together and you smooth your thumb over them, peppering soft kisses over his face, leg slinging over his as you pull down his sweatpants to free his cock completely. Akaashi’s cock has filled out, pre-cum smearing across his abdomen. You caress the head of it, giggling when he lets out a broken moan as you rub your thumb against the tip.

“You look so handsome,” you say, stroking his cock a little faster.

Akaashi smiles and you dip your head, kissing him. He groans, his hips chasing after the feeling of your hand around him as you kiss. Your hand tightens a little, squeezing at the tip of his cock. Pre-cum wets your hand, soft gasps escaping Akaashi as you let your tongue slip into his mouth.

“Keiji,” you whisper, lips brushing over his, “Keiji, will you fuck me?”

You squeak in surprise when he manages to grab onto your waist, lifting you up and placing you on his lap. His cock is snug between your folds and you whine, dragging your hips along the length of it, biting your lip as more pre-cum leaks from him.

“Sit on my cock, baby” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your thighs.

You nod, shifting a little so that you’re up on your knees. Akaashi watches as you grip the base of his cock, moaning when you rub his cock against your pussy, letting it catch on your clit. Akaashi’s head tips back as you sink down, whimpery, little noises leaving you as your pussy swallows up his cock.

It’s so thick inside of you, fitting so snugly that you clench around him. Akaashi wraps an arm around your waist, bringing your front flush against him. He lets you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, his arms tightening around your waist. You can feel him move, his feet flat against the bed as he bends his knees.

“K- Keiji!” you wail when he begins to fuck up into you.

Akaashi grunts, holding you against him as he moves his hips, rutting up into you. His hands grope at your ass, gripping your ass tightly as he moves a little more forcefully. You bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck, pressing sloppy kisses against his skin as you smooth your hand over his hair.

“Is this- fuck,” Akaashi grits out, “is this what you imagined when you drew up those panels?”

You nod, too far gone to cling onto the remnants of your stubbornness.

“Yeah?” he whispers, “imagined me fucking up into you, huh?”

“Y- yes!” you cry out, body squirming when he lands a heavy spank to your ass.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls.

A soft mewl leaves you at the praise, your hips swaying back lazily to meet his thrusts. The sound of his hips slapping into your ass echoes through his room, your wetness leaking around his cock and coating his balls.

Your body rocks against his, your hand gripping at the sheets beside his head when he adjusts his grip on you, planting his feet a bit firmer against his mattress to thrust into you harder. You gasp at the sensation, sinking your teeth into his shoulder when his cock hits deep inside of you.

Akaashi hisses at the feeling of your teeth, spanking your ass again before you clench around him with a scream, body shuddering on top of his as you come.

“Baby, baby, you gotta let go,” he rasps.

You shake your head stubbornly, pushing your hips down so that it swallows his cock all the way to the base.

“Inside, Keiji.”

He groans, his hands kneading at your hips roughly. You can feel the twitch of his cock, a satisfied coo leaving your lips when he comes, spurts of his hot cum filling you up. Akaashi’s hips stutter, thrusting into you unevenly as his cock jerks, more cum flooding your pussy.

You both pant, chests heaving. Akaashi rubs his hand along your back and you emerge from the crook of his neck, a drunken smile on your face.

He laughs hoarsely at your expression, cupping your cheek to guide you into another kiss while his cock softens inside of you. It’s a little uncomfortable, but you don’t mind, losing yourself in the heat of his body as cum leaks from your pussy.

“How long have you known?” you ask, tracing the slope of his nose.

“About a month,” he murmurs.

“A month?” you scoff, hitting his chest, “and you didn’t say anything?”

Akaashi grins, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss across your knuckles.

“That would ruin the fun.”

You roll your eyes, prodding your fingers into his chest, “it was hardly fun, Keiji.”

“But you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he whispers.

You laugh when he flips you onto your back, moaning softly when you feel his cock beginning to harden again inside of you.

“Put- put your glasses on,” you whisper, head tipping back as he rolls his hips into you.

Akaashi reaches over to dig his glasses out from the pocket of his discarded sweatpants, pushing them up to sit comfortably on his nose.

You clench around him at the sight, biting your lip as you give him a pleased smile.

“Knew you had a thing for ‘em.”

He grabs at your legs, moving them so that they’re pressed against his chest, your ankles resting on his shoulders.

“Use this as inspiration, baby,” Akaashi smirks, “I’ll even edit it for you.”

#akaashi smut #akaashi keiji smut #akaashi x reader #akaashi x you #haikyuu smut #keiji smut #keiji x reader #haikyuu x reader

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callmebyyourcallsign · 23 days ago

Text

Touch and Go

Pairing: Lt. Robert “Bob” Floyd x Pilot!Reader

Tags: Slow burn, mutual pining, emotional repression, soft yearning

Setting: Post–Top Gun: Maverick, new elite flight program

Summary: You're a rising star pilot hand-picked for an advanced tactical training assignment. Bob Floyd, calm, brilliant, and frustratingly unreadable, is your WSO. You trust him in the air more than anyone. On the ground, though, your hands brush a little too often. Your silences last a little too long. And Bob? He's already gone, in the quiet, devastating way he always does. Love is mutual, but unspoken. After all, you’re both professionals… right?

Word Count: 4,983

Bob Floyd has always been good at silence.

Not the awkward kind, he hates that, actually, but the kind that sits warm in your chest, wraps around your ribs like a seatbelt. The kind that lives in cockpits and libraries and back porches after midnight. The kind that feels like knowing.

That’s the kind you bring with you.

You talk a lot less than people expect from a pilot with your record. But when you do, it’s always something that sticks. A sharp little joke. A perfectly timed one-liner. Sometimes, if he's lucky, one of those honey-dripping nicknames you toss at him when the others aren't around. Flyboy, mostly. Soft and smug, like you know exactly what it does to him.

Bob pretends he doesn’t.

He's good at that too.

The first time you flew together, you turned around in your seat, grinned through your visor, and said,

“Don’t let me crash and die, Floyd.” He’d blinked, heart skipping a full beat. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Now it’s been months.

You know the rhythms of each other’s breath in-flight. You finish his checklists before he finishes speaking. You know when he tenses by the way his boot shifts under the floor panel, and he knows when you're fighting Gs by the subtle dip in your voice, still strong, still cocky, but just soft enough to make his heart ache.

And still. Neither of you has said it.

Neither of you has said anything.

This morning, on the tarmac, the sky’s the color of the Pacific, soft gray-blue, streaked with sunlight, like someone dragged their fingers through it. You walk toward the jet with your helmet under your arm and a lazy kind of swagger that drives him insane.

Bob is already waiting, running preflight. He hears your steps before he sees you.

“Morning, Flyboy.”

He turns, and God help him, you’re smiling. Not a big one, not like the ones you throw Rooster when you’re teasing, or the bright ones Phoenix gets when she’s kicking Hangman’s ass in a sim. No, this one’s just for him. Subtle. Real.

His hands pause on the panel.

“You’re late.”

You raise a brow. “You’re early.”

He shrugs, looks back down at the jet like it matters. “Wanted to make sure everything was perfect.”

Your voice dips, warm like whiskey. “You calling me high-maintenance, Floyd?”

He flushes. Stutters. “No—no, I—”

You laugh, soft and surprised, like you didn’t expect to get that out of him so easily. “Relax. I like it when you're nervous.”

He says nothing.

What could he say?

I think about you every night before I sleep? I replay every flight, every brush of your hand, like it’s scripture? I’ve been in love with you since day three?

So instead, he climbs into the jet and double-checks your oxygen levels.

In the air, you’re like poetry.

You take corners like you’re dancing. Pull into dives with the kind of grace he’s only ever seen in nature, like birds or storms or the ocean at dawn. Bob watches you from behind, one gloved hand hovering by the throttle, the other pressing the radio.

“Looking good, Spook,” he murmurs.

You smile without turning. “Aww, Flyboy. That almost sounded like flirting.”

He swears he hears Hangman laugh over the channel.

Bob clears his throat and looks back at his screen. His heart is loud in his helmet.

After landing, when the others are walking ahead to the locker rooms, you fall into step beside him.

It’s quiet again. But that kind of quiet Bob loves.

“You did good today,” you say after a minute.

“You always say that.”

“Because it’s always true.” You bump your shoulder lightly into his. His stomach flips. He wonders if you can feel the way he leans into it just a little too long. “You still nervous around me, Floyd?”

His voice is soft. “Always.”

You don’t respond, but your hand swings close to his, knuckles brushing. He doesn’t pull away.

Neither do you.

That night, Bob sits in his bunk with a journal he never shows anyone.

He writes down flight stats. Maneuvers. Fuel data. And then, in smaller handwriting, like he’s afraid the ink will betray him

She looked back at me before takeoff. I think she always does. I wish she’d stay.

Across the base, you lie still in the dark, listening to the faint hum of the A/C and the buzz of the vending machine down the hall.

Sleep doesn’t come easy tonight.

Not with the shape of his voice still tucked behind your ear, and the way he always leaves a little extra space on the ladder, like he’s waiting for you to catch up.

You close your eyes and see his hands. Careful, steady. Always holding something invisible.

You wonder what it would feel like if it were you.

The storm rolls in out of nowhere.

That coastal kind of wild, thick sky, wind like a punch, lightning cracking in silhouette. Half the squadron’s grounded before they even make it off the tarmac. And your jet’s tucked away in the hangar, warm and dry, but completely useless.

Bob pulls his helmet off with both hands, curls of damp blond hair sticking to his forehead.

“We’re not getting out of here for a while.”

You sigh, pulling off your gloves with your teeth. “Damn. And I was looking forward to fighting for my life at 30,000 feet.”

There’s a beat. Rain slams into the hangar roof like it’s got something to prove.

Outside, someone’s truck backfires. Probably Rooster’s. Hangman’s already making jokes. Phoenix is haggling over vending machine snacks.

You sit on a crate, tugging your flight suit down to your waist, tank top sticking to your skin.

Bob looks like he’s trying very hard not to look at you.

“You cold?” you ask, half-sincere, half-testing.

He shakes his head. “No. I’m good.”

You smile, barely. "You always say that."

There’s only one truck back to base tonight. Everyone else finds a ride, Hangman with Coyote, Phoenix and Rooster squished into Payback’s ridiculous little Subaru.

You and Bob?

You get stuck behind.

It’s quiet now.

Stormy dusk bleeding into navy blue, rain still hammering the roof in a steady rhythm. Bob’s sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor, flipping through the manual like he doesn’t have it memorized. You’re pacing. Slowly. Like something inside you’s moving too fast.

“You hungry?” he asks, not looking up.

You pause. “Not really.”

“Me neither.” He hesitates. “But I brought one of those granola bars you like.”

You blink. “The cherry almond kind?”

He nods without meeting your eyes. Holds it out like an offering.

You take it.

You sit beside him, knees not quite touching.

Twenty minutes pass like a sigh.

Bob reads. You pick at the wrapper. He clears his throat.

“You ever think about what it’d be like... to not do this?”

You glance over. “Fly?”

“Yeah. The Navy. The pressure. All of it.”

You tilt your head back against the crate behind you. “Sometimes. Usually when we’re pulling 7 Gs and I think I’m gonna puke.”

He huffs a laugh. “Same.” Then, quieter: “But then I think about days like today.”

You turn to look at him. “Rainy and grounded?”

“No.” He finally meets your eyes. “Flying with you.”

Your chest goes still. Like the storm stopped inside you, just for a second.

You want to say something, anything, but the words get caught somewhere in your throat.

So you offer the granola bar back to him instead.

He breaks off a piece. Your fingers brush. He flinches, like the contact startled him.

You pretend you didn’t notice. Even though it’s all you can notice.

Later, the lights flicker.

You both look up.

“Power must’ve gone out,” you say, unnecessarily.

Bob nods. “Shouldn’t be long.”

You shift closer to him instinctively. Just a little. Just enough to count.

It’s quiet. Not tense, just full.

Full of things you haven’t said. Of all the times his hand hovered near your back when you climbed the ladder. All the glances across the ready room. All the almosts.

He speaks first.

“You ever think maybe—” He cuts off. “Never mind.”

You nudge him with your knee. “Maybe what?”

Bob shakes his head. “It’s dumb.”

“Bob.”

He closes the manual. Sets it aside like it’s too heavy now.

“Maybe it’s not just flying I don’t want to lose.”

You look at him.

Really look.

The hangar light flickers again. Thunder cracks like a warning.

You say, so quietly it barely counts:

“Me too.”

And that’s it. No kiss. No confession. Just two people sitting on a hangar floor, sharing a granola bar, rain tapping the roof like Morse code.

But it feels like something.

It feels like a shift.

A holding pattern, sure, but maybe next time, you’ll land.

You wake up stiff, aching, and warm.

Bob’s jacket is around your shoulders, too big, sleeves bunched up to your wrists, the collar soft with wear. It smells like jet fuel and cedar soap and the weird, sweet nothingness that is him.

At some point last night, you must’ve drifted off on the hangar floor. He did too, slouched against the wall, one leg stretched long, the other bent, chin tucked to his chest.

The storm is gone.

The world is pale and quiet in the way it only gets just before sunrise. The kind of light that makes everything look like it’s waiting for something.

You don’t move.

You just sit there, wrapped in Bob’s hoodie, listening to the hum of the fluorescent lights and the distant squawk of gulls outside.

Eventually, Bob stirs. His eyes blink open, slow and owlish. He stretches, winces, notices you watching him.

“Morning,” he says, voice low and gravel-soft.

“Hey,” you whisper back.

He looks down at the jacket around your shoulders, then back up, slightly pink.

“Sorry. You were shivering.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s… Thanks.”

There’s a pause.

And then you say, gently:

“You always take care of me.”

Bob’s mouth opens like he’s going to deflect, say something dumb or self-deprecating, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just nods.

“You take care of me too.”

It’s quiet after that.

The kind of quiet that says everything’s shifted, but no one wants to startle it.

The truck finally arrives mid-morning. Phoenix hops out of the passenger seat and gives you a look like you good? You give her a look like later. Bob loads the gear like it’s muscle memory, avoiding your gaze but staying close.

When he helps you into the truck bed, his hand lingers at your back.

You think about that all the way back to base.

You don’t see him the rest of the day.

You both get assigned separate pre-flights, different trainers. You wonder if he’s avoiding you or just busy. You wonder why that stings.

Later, you find his jacket still folded on your bunk. He must’ve dropped it off during your briefing.

On top of it, a granola bar. Cherry almond.

Folded underneath, a note. Scrawled in Bob’s neat, awkward handwriting.

Thought you might be cold again.

I’ll be in the sim room tonight. Just in case.

You read it three times.

You don’t go.

Not because you don’t want to.

But because your heart is thudding too loud in your chest and you’re afraid if you see him, really see him, you’ll say something stupid.

Like don’t leave again. Like stay the night. Like I think I want you to kiss me.

Instead, you write back.

See you tomorrow. Save me a seat.

You leave it tucked inside the pocket of his flight suit.

Bob finds it the next morning, just before warm-up.

He reads it, folds it up, presses it into the inside cover of his journal.

Then he smiles, just a little. Just enough to count.

The sim room smells like coffee and jet oil and a hint of someone’s off-brand cologne. You’re early. So is Bob.

He’s standing at the control panel, fiddling with his headset, glasses pushed up into his curls. The simulator’s screens are still dark. Outside, the sky’s starting to smudge purple.

“Hey,” he says when he hears you.

“Hey,” you say, voice lighter than you feel.

You take the copilot’s seat beside him. Close, like always. Closer, maybe.

Bob’s legs are longer than yours. One of them brushes yours under the desk. Neither of you moves.

The sim loads.

You start the mission. Standard approach, familiar territory. You and Bob in sync, calling coordinates, updating status, ticking boxes. It’s smooth. Too smooth.

And then, turbulence.

Not real, but simulated. Unexpected.

Your console flickers. You lurch slightly forward.

“Whoa—”

His hand flies out and catches you.

Fingers splay over your ribcage.

Just for a second.

Just long enough.

You freeze.

Bob does too.

His hand stays there, warm through your flight suit, palm over your side like a tether. You turn your head. His eyes are wide behind his glasses, breath caught.

“Sorry,” he says, barely a whisper.

You shake your head, equally quiet. “It’s okay.”

But he doesn’t let go. Not yet.

There’s something unsaid sitting heavy in the space between your mouths. Not even a breath away.

And then.

“Pilot One, altitude dropping—”

The console voice crackles, breaking the spell.

Bob pulls back like he’s been burned. His hand drops to his lap. He stares forward, ears red, jaw clenched.

“You good?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Fine,” he mutters.

But he’s not. You can see it. Feel it.

Neither are you.

You finish the sim. Land the jet clean. Call the end of the exercise with the same forced calm you use when your hands won’t stop shaking.

He logs the results. You shut down the system. Neither of you speak.

You walk out together, side by side, the hallway lit with that same bluish hum. When you reach the locker room doors, you hesitate.

“Bob,” you say.

He stops.

Turns.

Eyes soft. Scared. Hopeful. Tired.

You don’t say what you want to.

You don’t say you can touch me again. You don’t say I wanted you to keep holding on. You don’t say I think about you all the time.

You just say

“Thanks. For catching me.”

He nods, slow.

“Anytime.”

You part ways. Locker rooms. Showers. Briefings. Dinner.

But when you’re lying in your bunk later that night, wrapped up in the same silence you’ve carried all day, you touch your side where he held you.

Like maybe the shape of his hand is still there.

Like maybe it always has been.

It’s weird, not flying with Bob.

Not wrong, exactly. You’re a professional. He’s still on base, still training, still just a few hangars away. But it feels like the air shifts without him in the backseat, like the jet flies fine but not quite right. Like muscle memory tripping over a heartbeat.

The switch wasn’t personal. Scheduling conflict, maybe. A re-routed assignment. You didn’t ask. He didn’t explain. All you know is when you checked the flight log that morning, someone else’s name was listed as your WSO.

And his name was missing.

Your new WSO is capable. Sharp. Quick on comms. He does everything right.

But he doesn’t know how you like your patterns called out. Doesn’t echo your thoughts mid-maneuver like Bob does. Doesn’t glance up at you through the canopy after a perfect landing like he’s proud of you in secret.

You miss that.

You miss him.

Bob’s been quieter, too. Around the locker room. The mess. Even in briefings. He’s not avoiding you, exactly, but he’s not seeking you out either. The silence between you has stretched, uncertain and loaded. Like you’re both waiting for the other to say something first.

And neither of you does.

You catch a glimpse of him two days later on the tarmac, post-run. He’s halfway through a bottle of water, sleeves rolled up, curls damp with sweat. There’s a red mark on his jaw, helmet, maybe, and his eyes are on the horizon like he’s somewhere else entirely.

You open your mouth.

You almost call out.

But then your new WSO claps you on the back, says something loud and dumb, and Bob flinches like the sound hit a bruise. He walks away before you can stop him.

That night, you find yourself in the hangar.

It’s mostly empty, just a few shadows and the hum of after-hours maintenance. One of the jets, the one you flew today, is parked under a dim light.

You rest your hand on its nose cone and stare at the stars through the open bay.

“Miss me already?” a voice says behind you.

Your heart lurches.

You turn.

Bob’s standing there, hands in his jacket pockets, expression unreadable.

You try to joke. “You wish.”

He half-smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

That quiet hits you hard.

You swallow. “Why’d they pull you from the rotation?”

He shrugs. “Said they needed me to run backup sims. Training the newer guys.”

You nod. “Makes sense.”

Neither of you says what you’re thinking.

Makes sense. But it sucked. Makes sense. But I wanted to look over my shoulder and see you. Makes sense. But nothing else felt right.

You sit on the edge of the wing. He stands next to you.

The hangar is all hush and echoes.

Then he says it, softly

“I don’t like not flying with you.”

It’s not dramatic. Not even particularly romantic. But it hits you harder than anything has in days.

You nod, slowly.

“Me neither.”

There’s a long pause. Then

“I’m sorry,” Bob says.

You look up. “For what?”

“For leaving you in the air without me.”

Something cracks open in your chest.

“I don’t feel steady without you,” you whisper.

His breath catches.

Then, gently, he leans his arm against yours. Barely a touch. But it’s enough.

“I’ll be back in your backseat soon,” he says, voice low and certain.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You close your eyes.

And for the first time in days, you feel your heart start to level out again.

The base wakes before dawn, but you’re already tangled in thought, and maybe a little frustration.

Bob didn’t show up to breakfast.

No text, no word. Just silence that hums louder than the engines on the flight line.

You sip cold coffee, eyes on the muted chatter of the mess hall, but all you can hear is the thrum of your own heartbeat, tight, impatient, restless.

He’s been distant since the hangar night, like there’s a wall he’s building brick by brick, and every time you try to reach him, the mortar’s fresh and unyielding.

Later, you’re suiting up for another sim run. Your new WSO is ready, calm, competent , but he isn’t Bob.

You glance over at the empty seat beside you, where the cockpit light never flickers without him.

You fight down the ache curling in your chest, because this mission is important. Because professionalism means showing up even when your heart is jamming on stall warning.

You taxi down the runway, engines roaring to life, but it’s the silence in your headset that’s deafening.

Mid-flight, something goes wrong in the sim, a sudden mechanical failure on the enemy’s side. Your fingers tighten on the stick, muscles tense, and instinct takes over.

“Bandit at your six!” you bark into the comm.

“Copy that,” comes a voice you don’t recognize. It lacks the familiar edge you crave.

You’re scrambling, trying to shake the imaginary tail, but inside you’re scrambling for Bob, his voice, his steady calm, his fierce presence.

A bead of sweat runs down your temple. You miss him.

Hours later, back on the ground, you find him in the briefing room, eyes dark and jaw tight.

He’s barely spoken all day, swallowed behind a mask of professionalism.

You clear your throat.

“Hey,” you say softly. “We need to talk.”

He looks up, startled, like you broke some unspoken truce.

“What about?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “This… us. The distance. The silence.”

Bob’s gaze flickers, like a storm barely contained.

“It’s not that simple,” he mutters.

You cross the room and stand in front of him, heart on your sleeve, voice shaking but determined.

“It is that simple. We don’t have to pretend it’s not.”

He looks at you, eyes searching, and for the first time in days, you see the truth shining beneath the surface:

He wants this too. But fear is tying his hands.

The air between you thickens, heavy with everything unsaid.

You reach out, brushing your fingers against his.

He doesn’t pull away.

Instead, he sighs, low and rough.

“Why is it so damn hard?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

You smile, bittersweet.

“Because it’s worth it.”

And just like that, the dogfight shifts from the skies to your hearts, a battle for courage, for honesty, for the quiet, messy beauty of letting someone in.

The squadron’s quiet buzz hums through the ready room, but all you feel is the weight of the moment pressing against your ribs.

Bob sits beside you, closer than before, but the space between you still tastes like a question unanswered.

You both know that whatever was there last night, no, whatever’s been there for months is waiting to be named. Waiting to take shape beyond stolen glances and tentative touches.

You glance at him. His jaw clenched, eyes locked on the briefing screen, but you see it, the hesitation. The part of him that’s still afraid to cross the line.

You clear your throat.

“Hey,” you say softly, voice barely above the hum of the room.

He turns, eyes meeting yours, surprised but steady.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you say. “The almost, the maybe, the silence.”

Bob exhales slowly, like he’s been holding his breath for too long.

“I know,” he admits. “But it’s not easy.”

You nod, heart pounding.

“Nothing worth it ever is.”

The briefing ends, and you walk side by side to the hangar, the sun filtering through the windows casting long shadows that seem to reach for you both.

Your fingers brush, light, accidental, but this time neither pulls away.

“Why did you stop coming around?” you ask quietly.

Bob’s eyes flicker, vulnerability softening his usual edge.

“I was scared,” he confesses. “Scared of what this could mean. Scared of what I might lose.”

You stop walking, turning to face him fully.

“You won’t lose me.”

His gaze drops to your hands entwined, then back to your face.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he says. “Not with you.”

You smile, something gentle and fierce blooming in your chest.

“Then let’s stop pretending. Let’s take the risk.”

That night, the base hums a quieter tune.

You find yourselves on the roof, under a sky strewn with stars, vast and endless, like the possibility before you.

Bob reaches for your hand, fingers trembling slightly, and you squeeze back, steady and sure.

You don’t need words.

The silence between you says everything

This is the beginning.

You lean in slowly, breath mingling, hearts racing, and for the first time, the line you’ve both been afraid to cross becomes the bridge you’re ready to walk.

The morning light seeps softly through the blinds, painting the room in muted gold. You wake before Bob, your fingers still laced with his, the warmth lingering like a secret promise.

His breathing is slow, steady, a rhythm that somehow feels like home.

You watch his face, the way his brow smooths, how his lashes flutter, delicate and vulnerable. It’s a side of him few get to see, and it makes your heart swell with something deeper than you expected.

When Bob stirs, his eyes open to meet yours, wide and raw and honest.

“Morning,” he murmurs, voice husky with sleep and something more.

“Morning,” you reply, voice barely a whisper, afraid to shatter the fragile bubble you both inhabit.

There’s a long pause, the kind of silence that isn’t empty but full of everything you don’t say yet.

Bob’s hand tightens around yours, thumb brushing your knuckles like a question.

“I’m not good at this,” he admits, eyes searching yours for forgiveness or understanding.

“You don’t have to be,” you say. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

He smiles then, slow and shy, like he’s afraid to believe it’s real. And maybe it isn’t perfect, maybe it’s messy and uncertain, but it’s yours.

Later, the base feels different.

Every glance between you carries a new weight, every touch lingers longer.

You walk down the hallways with a secret shared just between the two of you, like you’re part of something no one else understands.

During briefings, you catch Bob’s eye and see the spark that’s always been there, only now, it’s not just longing; it’s something steadier, more fierce.

After drills, when the adrenaline fades and the world quiets, you find your way to each other again.

One afternoon, you’re sitting on the wing of the jet, the sky a brilliant blue canvas.

Bob sits beside you, helmet set aside, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“Ever wonder what it’d be like,” he says softly, “if we didn’t have to keep it all so guarded?”

You turn to him, heart quickening.

“I do,” you confess. “More than anything.”

He laughs quietly, a sound full of warmth and relief.

“Me too.”

For a moment, the world shrinks down to just the two of you, breath mingling, laughter light and free.

And then, almost without thinking, Bob’s hand finds yours again, fingers weaving together like they belong.

That night, in the quiet dark of the bunk, you lie awake, the afterglow of the day wrapping around you.

It’s not fireworks or grand declarations, just a steady, simmering warmth, the kind that roots deep and promises more.

You don’t need to say the words aloud.

You already know.

The day starts normal, but the air feels heavier, thick with the kind of silence that’s waiting to snap.

You and Bob are prepping for a joint training mission, the kind that demands every ounce of trust and synchronicity you’ve been building. But underneath the routine checklists and briefings, something feels off.

Maybe it’s the way Bob’s eyes flicker away when you glance at him. Or how his jaw tightens just a little too much when the instructor calls out formations.

You want to reach for him, steady him like he’s steadying you. But there’s that wall again, the one you thought you’d chipped away with every quiet moment.

The mission begins with familiar drills, engines roaring to life, the world narrowing to speed and precision.

You’re locked in your cockpit, the steady hum of the jet syncing with the pounding in your chest.

Bob’s voice comes through the comms, clear, but clipped.

“Ready when you are.”

You respond, heart thudding.

The sky blurs around you, adrenaline sharp and bright. You move together, two halves of the same pulse, perfect in motion.

But when you land, the air is still thick with unspoken words.

Later, in the dim glow of the briefing room, you catch Bob alone, staring at a map like it holds the answers.

“I messed up,” he says without looking up.

You step closer. “What happened?”

He swallows, voice tight. “I lost focus during the run. Missed a call. Could’ve put us both at risk.”

You shake your head. “We all mess up.”

“But this—this felt different,” he admits. “Like I’m carrying more than just the mission.”

Your heart clenches. “Bob…”

He finally looks at you, eyes raw and vulnerable. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of losing you. Of not being enough. Of what this means—us.”

You reach out, fingers brushing his cheek.

“You’re enough,” you whisper. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch like it’s a lifeline.

That night, the tension hasn’t lifted, but something’s shifted.

You find yourselves sitting side by side, neither speaking, just sharing space.

Bob’s hand finds yours again, tentative but desperate.

And in that quiet grasp, all the fear and hope and longing swirl together.

It’s messy.

It’s real.

It’s yours.

The base is quiet in the early hours, a fragile calm that feels almost sacred.

You’re leaning against your jet, the dawn light soft against the glass. Bob slides in beside you, the world outside still waking, but beside him, time slows.

His eyes catch yours, no words needed. The space between you is charged, filled with every unsaid confession and yearning.

“Talk to me,” you finally whisper, voice trembling just a little.

Bob’s gaze drops, then lifts again, steady, sure.

“I’ve been scared,” he admits. “Scared of losing control. Scared of what this means. But mostly... scared of losing you.”

Your heart twists, but you reach for him, fingers threading through his.

“You’re not losing me,” you say softly. “We’re in this together.”

He smiles, small, genuine, and it breaks through every wall he’s built.

The jet rocks gently as he moves closer, breath mingling with yours.

“I want you,” he breathes, voice low and raw. “Not just when the world falls apart, but when it’s quiet. When it’s real.”

You lean in, the distance dissolving, lips brushing in a hesitant, trembling kiss that blooms into something fierce and tender.

In that kiss is everything, the fear, the hope, the long nights and silent battles.

When you finally pull apart, the world feels different.

Brighter.

Clearer.

You rest your forehead against his, breath mingling, heart pounding the same rhythm.

“We don’t have to have it all figured out,” you say.

Bob nods. “No. Just... this.”

Outside, the sky is vast and endless, a promise of more flights, more moments, more love.

And inside this small cockpit, you both know you’ve finally found your safe place.

Ao3

#tgm #bob floyd #top gun maverick #bob floyd x reader #my baby #he is so dear to me #touch and go #finally finished this #its kind of shitty im sorry #but cutesie bob fluff #a bit of angst too my baby has so many walls

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saeist · 5 months ago

Text

"... why here?"

"because we're here to find where the database is"

you give shin, who was sitting on the toilet lid, a incredulous look

"this is the men's bathroom, shin..."

"so?" he mutters, flipping onto the next page of the manga he was reading. "besides, i came prepared" he motions to the manga

"prepared for what? getting your ass kicked if they find us in here?" you raise a brow, scoffing at how ridiculous he sounded. earlier on the way to the men's bathroom (you still don't know why he chose this as the first location to snoop in), he was talking about how he didn't get to experience the typical high school tropes. shit like getting bullied, skipping classes, those type of things

and so he thought why not tick off his "if i were in highschool" bucket list here in JCC? it's hitting two birds with one stone. at least that's what shin said

"for the high school experience? duh" he says like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "look at this part, this guy is caught by his senpai hiding in the bathroom like us!"

shin points towards a small panel on the manga. he was a little too excited for this if you were being honest. rolling your eyes, you lean back on the icky bathroom walls that were filled with gravure japanese idols

you think it's stupid that shin's doing all this but he begs to differ

"it's not stupid. it's ticking things off my bucket list!" he scoffs, reading your mind. he then pulls a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and offers you one, "want one?"

you shake your head no. not wanting to corrode your lungs further. it's already bad that you're inhaling his smoke. second hand smoking as the doctors say

"i'm not ruining your lungs" he grumbles, reading your mind again

"you are though" you retort. shin ignores you and takes a drag from his cigarette. the smoke curls around the cramped space forcing you to fan your face. you then start coughing loudly to make him feel bad

"don't be dramatic, y/n" shin rolls his eyes

"second hand smoking. just what i needed"

"not my fault you're literally by my side all the time!" he shoots back

your eye twitches. sometimes you and shin can just go out it for no reason. maybe it's because you two are so alike but so different at the same time. or maybe because shin's a little hard headed at times that you just naturally butt heads over the tiniest thing

before you two could start arguing, the door to the men's bathroom swings open with a loud bang

"WHERE ARE YOU NATSUKI?!" the person who just entered yells out loud

you freeze, exchanging a worried look with shin. the man's footsteps are loud against the floor as he slams every cubicle in his way. his voice getting louder the closer he gets to your cubicle

"HERE? OR HERE?!" the man continues to yell out

shin puts a finger to his lips, signaling you to keep quiet. without any warning or whatsoever, he suddenly pins you against the bathroom wall. his arms on each side of your head

"shin, what the fu–"

your words are caught up in your throat when the realization of how close he was hits. you can literally feel his breath fan your face. you even catch a whiff of the mixture of his cologne and the faint smell of mint coming off from his cigarette

a surprising intoxicating mix that honestly made your head spin

your cubicle slams open. you flinch a little but shin's reflex was faster. he leans even closer, foreheads basically touching. your eyes meet his. they flicker towards the intruder then back to yours. you kinda get the hint. it was to play along

"what the–" the man is stunned at the sight

there was no time for hesitation so you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. 'this is so fucking weird', you think to yourself. you avoid shin's eyes for the most part but how can you avoid the weird tingling sensation in your stomach?

were those butterflies?

"what the fuck?! who are you two?! sneaking off to make out in the men's bathroom!" the man scolds, quickly turning away

when you muster your courage to look at shin, he winks at you before he glances back at the man who "caught" you two in the cubicle "making out"

"this must be the part where we get caught then get scolded by a senpai!" shin exclaims, grabbing his manga off the floor to show off to the man

"what?" the man snaps, getting confused by what shin meant

shin suddenly whips out a little checklist and shows it to the man

"we're currently doing the 'skipping class together to make out' trope! we always wanted to do this" shin hums in delight, ticking off a random box from the checklist that it honestly makes you laugh at how stupid he sounded

the man is angered the more shin talks so he grabs shin by his collar and pulls him up. you react quickly but shin holds his hand out, silently telling you that he can handle this

"KEEP MESSING WITH ME AND I'LL KILL YOU AND YOUR LADY, YOU LITTLE–"

the man is cut off with shin hitting him square on the jaw with an uppercut. the man is rendered unconscious and falls back on the toilet, completely unconscious

you let out a little yelp at the thud, startled at how abrupt that escalated and how shin managed to just.. do his thing

shin turns to you and holds his hand out for you to take. you grab it and he easily pulls you away from the unconscious man

"this is the part where i say 'leave us alone, senpai'" shin recites, reading off the manga again, "man, i feel like a teenager" he muses to himself

"you just sound like an idiot" you comment, brushing your clothes, ignoring the way your heart is pounding against your chest. you try to block off the memory of shin's face that was up close and personal earlier

"oh come on. i just want to experience what it's like to go to school– wait, why are you turning red?" shin gives you a concerned look

you shake your head as you look away, "nothing"

shin watches you for a brief moment before shrugging

"let's just find that damn database and get out of here" you grumbled, refusing to meet his eyes because if you would, you could only think about how close he was to you earlier and how good he actually looks up close. most of all, how he made your heart skip a beat with just a wink

#shin in that sweater/outfit did something to me like.. my bf?#sakamoto days imagines #sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto days scenarios #shin imagines #shin x reader #shin scenarios #shin asakura imagines #shin asakura x reader #shin asakura scenarios #sakadays imagines #sakadays x reader #sakadays scenarios #asakura shin imagines #asakura shin x reader #asakura shin scenarios #by ads ⭑.ᐟ

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sabertoothwalrus · 3 months ago

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hi!! do you have any advice on how to finish projects faster? or at least more efficiently? i take a few days to finish a piece (1 or 2 days at minimum) and i want to learn how to refine my process

that can depend a lot on what kind of look you’re trying to achieve, and what exactly is slowing you down!

things you can do if you take too long doing lineart:

Practice sketching in pen & marker! Do exercises that train your hand to be more efficient. If you can draw the same thing with 5 lines that previously took you 20, you’ll cut down on time.

Try a different brush! Maybe the one you’re using is too soft, and you have to keep going back over the lines to make them dark enough. There might be another brush that gets the same result with less effort.

Zoom out! On paper, a drawing that’s 2 inches tall will take wayyyy less time than a drawing that’s as big as your torso. When you zoom in, you’re essentially making the whole drawing bigger. When I draw, I like to be able to see the whole pose. If you’re worried about it not being perfectly clean, I promise you, no one is paying that close attention.

Skip the lineart entirely! Odds are, your sketches might already be pretty clean. If it takes you 20 minutes to do a sketch and 2 hours to do the lineart, but the lines look almost the same, then why bother doing the lineart?

similar advice for coloring/rendering!

Maybe it’s your art software! I can color 10x faster in CSP than anything else, because CSP makes it really easy to color in flats.

Limit how many types of brushes you use. There ARE certain effects (like convincing digital watercolor) that really do need 5-10 different brushes to get the look Just Right, but going through your tool menus to swap brushes will add time. When I render (which is rare, honestly) I stick to one, maybe two painterly brushes.

other general advice:

Don’t be so hard on yourself! Honestly, 1-2 days is still objectively pretty fast!

If you’re a perfectionist who will arbitrarily spend too much time fiddling and fiddling until it’s justttttt right, try setting timers! Give yourself a predetermined amount of time for the lineart, for the coloring, for the rendering, etc and MOVE ON once that timer goes off. Not everything you do has to be your magnum opus.

Use keyboard shortcuts!!!!!!!! I don’t like using screen tablets, especially if I can’t use shortcuts. If you have a tablet with programmable buttons or some kind of remote, that can work too. I see people use bluetooth xbox controllers sometimes, which is a good option if you already have that. Personally, I use so many shortcuts that there are never enough buttons to program, so I just stick with a keyboard.

JUST KEEP AT IT! The more you draw, the faster you get. I avoided doing paneled comics for nearly 10 years cause they took so much effort, and would only do comics where each panel was its own layer/image. After enough time doing that, I eventually got good enough at everything else to do with comics that the paneling aspect wasn’t that difficult anymore.

#art help

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silverwhittlingknife · 1 year ago

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So you're a go to source for all things Dick&Tim bros and you tend to write primarily from Dick's POV. So, odd question, but if you were to summarize their relationship from his POV in FIVE panels which panels would you pick? Keeping in mind that one specific aspect of their relationship that you love needs to be clearly represented by each panel (loyalty, trust etc). I hope this is a fun challenge and not an annoying question so if you don't want to answer that's cool! Have a wonderful day!

No more talk. The same thoughts run through two minds... (SotB 29) / You're my equal. My closest ally. (RR 1) / I can't stop thinking how much I rely on him. (GoG 3)

25 Feelings Dick Has About Tim

This was such a kind ask & a cool challenge which I totally failed; here are TWENTY-five panels of Dick's POV on Tim sdfdsfds Look, I got carried away! Marcia and Cindy! The boys!!

OKAY SO BEFORE I GET TO THE PANELS A FEW NOTES:

WARNING THAT THERE ARE SOME NEGATIVE EMOTIONS IN HERE because I love conflict but but but you gotta remember those are not the final word!! They are complicated people and sometimes they get mad at each other BUT ultimately their relationship is so hugely important in both their lives & they love each other and rely on each other so much -!!! <3

Also I have CONCLUDING THOUGHTS at the end about what Dick's POV leaves out (mostly: a lot of Dick defending & protecting & supporting Tim, which Dick does instinctively but isn't very self-aware about most of the time)

I have loosely organized my list into 5^5 format (5 categories with 5 examples each!), so if you want to skip to a relevant one, here are the categories!!

Below the cut:

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1-5)

On second thought, he's endearing & fun (#6-10)

Grief is complicated & he's all tangled up in mine (#11-15)

I love him & think highly of him (#16-20)

I rely on him & though it's hard for me, I trust him (#21-25)

I hate him and find him infuriating (#1 - 5)

1) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze me and Bruce, but he doesn’t know me at all, he should get lost (New Titans 61)

2) He thinks he’s so smart and can psychoanalyze Bruce but he doesn’t know Bruce at all, he should get lost (Gotham Knights 26)

3) He is so nosy about stuff that is MY business (Robin 0)

4) He sounds like an insincere suck-up half the time... but okay, fine, if you push him he's got a sense of humor about it (New Titans 65)

5) I'm sure he's a better vigilante than me. It's my fault for being a failure, but I resent him anyway. (Nightwing 9 - Dick's having a nightmare)

On second thought, he's kinda endearing (#6-10)

6) He worries too much and gets anxious so easily, but it makes him fun to tease (Robin 67)

7) I'm not that competitive - okay, so maybe I'm a little competitive, I gotta make sure he doesn't get a swelled head (Prodigal)

8) I'm supposed to be his favorite! It is not cool for him to be fanboying over my not-girlfriend's not-boyfriend!! (Birds of Prey 19)

9) We have fun together. I can kick back and relax when it's just the two of us. Plus I get to boss him around a bit. (Prodigal)

10) He’s always trying to reassure me, and I guess it's a little comforting, but also he doesn’t really get it. Or me. He makes excuses that he shouldn't, because he doesn't understand that I suck. (Nightwing 64)

Grief is complicated and he's all tangled up in mine (#11 - 15)

11) He reminds me of everything I try not to think about. Sometimes the memories are so strong it hurts to look at him. (Batman 441)

12) WHY IS HE BEING IMPOSSIBLE ALL OF A SUDDEN??? THIS IS SO FRUSTRATING (Nightwing 139)

13) We're the same. He says all the things I don't let myself think about. It's like arguing with myself. (Nightwing 139)

14) He thinks he gets to tell me what to do but he doesn’t, fuck him (Battle for the Cowl)

15) Life sucks, so what. I sucked it up so he should too (RR 1)

I love him and think highly of him (#16 - 20)

16) He’s the closest thing to a brother I’ll ever have. If someone hurts him I will hurt them harder. (Nightwing 6)

17) I can't handle the idea of losing him. (Nightwing 97)

17) He’s so good and I’m not. I'm afraid I’m bad for him. (Nightwing 110)

18) He’s better than me, and it’s kind of a relief because I know no matter what he’ll be okay. (Gates of Gotham 3)

19) In my head he’s the responsible one. (Gotham Knights 10)

I rely on him, and though it's hard for me, I trust him (#20-25)

20) I know I have to trust him but I'm afraid he'll make the wrong choices and get hurt (Nightwing 139)

21) I'm sure I know what he should do because I see myself in him - not that I can take my own advice, but he should (Blackest Night 3)

22) I trust him. When I’m losing my grip on things, he pulls me back. (Gotham Knights 10)

23) I want him to trust me (Red Robin 12)

24) He can tell when I'm lying. Sometimes he sees my weaknesses better than I wish he did. (Detective Comics 874)

25) He’s always there when I need him. (Teen Titans / Outsiders Secret Files)

Final rambling thoughts:

TIM: Uhh, okay, so I'm just skimming this list - do you really trust me? you're not just saying that? - but anyway, I'm confused because you left some stuff out? Like some stuff that's kinda important? DICK: No? I think I got everything? TIM (starts counting on his fingers): The time I was having a bad day but then I called you. The time I got captured by Two-Face but then you saved me. The time I fell off a train but then you saved me. The time I fell off a building but then you saved me. The time I fell off a different building - DICK: I feel like you're trying to make some kind of point but I'm not sure what it could be.

SO THE THING IS, I put 25 panels in here and not a single one has Dick catching Tim when he’s falling!!! But I think that's a central motif of their relationship from Tim’s POV, not Dick’s. I love Dick, but in some ways I think he is spectacularly un-self-aware.

And I think he especially has a lot of blind spots about Tim. He kinda intermittently gets that Tim admires him, and he enjoys it in a playful I-get-to-boss-you-around way. But Dick tends to consistently underestimate all of his own good qualities & skills, and he meets Tim at a point in his life when he's especially down on himself & his abilities. And so he's unable to see his own influence on Tim, & therefore unable to fully understand a lot of Tim's priorities and loyalties and motivations, because you can't actually understand Tim without understanding Dick's impact on him. There's a fascinating moment in Bruce Wayne: Murderer when Dick's completely blindsided & upset to discover that Tim doesn't entirely trust Bruce, even though this has been a definitive fact of Tim's whole thing ever since he showed up with his Batman needs Robin theory, and Barbara has to actively remind Dick of the obvious-to-everyone-except-Dick fact that a lot of Tim's loyalty is to Dick, and Tim loves Bruce but feels free to be more wary of him. (And to give Bruce credit: this is not something he ever begrudges.) But anyway Babs points this out, and Dick manages to sorta process it for about five seconds, but he cannot actually accept it into his worldview so instead he discards it at the speed of light and goes off and has an argument with Tim instead sdfsfdsf

All of Dick's virtues - Dick's kindness at the circus and Dick's determination to fight through grief and Dick's rigid sense of morals and Dick's vigilante skills and every time Dick has ever backed Tim up or listened to him or protected him or saved him from something or just been casually kind to a stranger in Tim's presence etc etc etc - all these things loom really large in Tim's mental story of Who Dick Is, and What Dick And Tim's Relationship Is. Tim meets Dick before he meets Bruce, trusts Dick more than Bruce, aspires to be Robin instead of Batman. And so in Tim's default version of the story, Dick is the super-special and admirable hero and Tim is... nobody in particular, a tagalong outsider who's barely managing to be a hero, not part of Dick and Bruce's family and not part of their story, who, if he's VERY LUCKY and tries REALLY HARD, might be able to fight his way to proving himself and offering something to Dick that Dick will value, if Dick doesn't get fed up with him first.

But that's not Dick's version of the story!!!

Dick's version of the story is almost the exact opposite, a story where Dick's an outcast failure black sheep who's screwing up everything he tries, and meanwhile Tim is The Sudden New Perfect Robin Who's Better Than Me And Probably Bruce Loves Him More And Probably They Gossip About What A Loser I Am, mixed with a complicated edge of Tim Thinks He's So Smart But He Doesn't Know Me/Us At All. Dick gets much more attached to Tim over time, and Tim gets unnervingly better at the know-it-all psychoanalysis so then Dick gets to have complicated feelings about him being right instead of just annoyance at him for being wrong, plus Dick's relationship with Bruce improves a lot, so Tim stops feeling so threatening. But Dick never fundamentally changes his basic theory of their relationship in which Tim is highly impressive and capable, and Dick is not so much.

And so asking Dick about Tim is kinda like if you asked George Bailey to tell you about Harry Bailey in It's A Wonderful Life; like, you'll be there for five hours while he tells you how great Harry is, and how accomplished Harry is, and how he doesn't really get how or why Harry does the things he does, and maybe George does feel a little resentful or jealous sometimes, but that pales in comparison to all his admiration and trust for Harry who he loves so much, who's better than him in so many ways, and he's not gonna openly gripe but secretly he can't help but feel sometimes like he's such a failure in comparison to Harry, a perfect person who emerged fully formed from Zeus's head with all the virtues and also all the accomplishments, etc. etc. etc. --

-- and he will not actually remember the part where he changed and saved Harry's whole entire life unless you literally send him to an alternate timeline in order to force him to remember it. <3

#i enjoyed thinking about this so much i wrote a novel with All My Thoughts sorry sdfsdfs #tim drake #dick grayson #somewhat tangential but as i was writing this i was thinking about zahri's post #about how different types of stories offer different kinds of emotional payoffs #and i think for me for dick and tim the main two payoffs are:#1) someone who sees & understands your grief for deaths that will never get fixed or get better #and who will face your ghosts with you EVEN WHEN you're also mad at each other #2) someone who you look at and you see all the ways that you suck & he's better & you're a loser who's failed him etc etc #but it turns out that you're wrong. that you're good enough. not that none of the failures were real or that they were all in your head #but it turns out that it's okay that you didn't always immediately do or feel the right thing #and it's okay that you weren't perfect. you can fuck up six thousand ways & everything you did right will still matter #not because of making excuses or allowances or somebody pityingly trying to make you feel better #but because in the end the things you did right are just Genuinely More Valuable than anything you did wrong #all the times you tried & everything that you tried to give - everything you think wasn't good enough - it was.#IN OTHER WORDS they are both convinced they're not good enough & they are both wrong <3 #anyway dick and tim are both INCREDIBLY SIMILAR and also CONSTANTLY misreading each other and i love that for them #and like. they will sometimes totally misread each other & then never figure out the part that they misunderstood #but then they manage to keep going anyway. we love each other on purpose <333 #ask tag #dick&tim

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transformers-spike · 4 months ago

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What do bots think of lingerie? If their human were to surprise them with one how would they react?

Now, for them to appreciate it sexually they need to already be pretty familiar with human "customs". Those in this category include Bulkhead (bro is dyinggggg), Bumblebee (don't ask) and Arcee. Maybe Ratchet as well because he's definitely been on the internet. KO and Breakdown too. KO bc he's watched horror movies and those are chock full of girls in lingerie getting chased down by serial killers. And BD because KO brings him along when they're both free. Or well, KO sometimes skips his job and goes straight for it when BD is off shift

I can say KO is very appreciative of lingerie on both an aesthetic and sexual level - Breakdown just stutters and acts sheepish about the whole thing.

Bulkhead flatlines when he sees it, Bumblebee lets out a series of beeps that makes you think he's dying. Arcee is pleasantly surprised and will make it known, you're such a sweet thing. Ratchet hates you for it but he's also blushing

Meanwhile, Dreadwing is discovering a new kink he didn't know he had. It's just... your interface panel is so easily accessible, only covered by a single fragile garment. He cannot cope

#transformers x human #transformers x reader #transformers prime #maccadam #valveplug #headcanon hour #tfp knock out #tfp breakdown #tfp bumblebee #tfp ratchet #tfp arcee #tfp dreadwing #tfp bulkhead

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userpeggycarter · 1 year ago

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COLORING + SHARPENING TUTORIAL

someone asked for a coloring tutorial and my sharpening settings, so here it is! there are also a few tips to achieve more HQ gifs. :)

tutorial under the cut!

FOR HIGH-QUALITY GIFS

FILE SIZES

it doesn’t matter what your sharpening settings are if the file you’re using to gif is too low quality, so i tend to look for the best that i can get when downloading stuff.

usually, movies (+2h) look better if they’re 5GB or more, while an episode (40 min/1h) can look good with even 1GB. the minimum definition i try to find is 1080p, but i gif with 2160p (4k) when available. unfortunately, not every computer can handle 4k, but don’t worry, you can gif with 1080p files just fine if they are big enough. contrary to popular belief, size does matter! which means sometimes a bigger 1080p file is better than a smaller 2160p one, for example.

SCREENCAPPING METHOD

this can too influence the quality of your gifs. as a gifmaker, i’ve tried it all: video frames to layers, directly opening video clips, loading files into stack, and i’ve finally settled down with opening screencaps as an image sequence. with bigger files, it doesn’t matter much what technique you use, but i’ve noticed with smaller files you can do wonders if you screencap (either by loading files into stack or opening as an image sequence) instead of using video clips. for example, this gif’s original video file was only 4GB (so smaller than i’ve usually go for), if you can believe it!

here’s a tutorial for setting up and screencapping with MPV, the media player i use to screencap. again, you can keep using video clips for bigger files, but you’ll find this useful when dealing with dire causes. i don't file loads into stack, though, like the video does. i open as an image sequence (open > screencap folder > select any image > click the image sequence button). just select OK for the speed. this will open your screencaps as a video clip (blue bar) in timeline mode (i'm a timeline gifmaker, i don't know about you). you will need this action pack to convert the clip into frames if you're a frames gifmaker. i suggest you convert them into frames even if you're a timeline gifmaker, just convert them into a timeline again at the end. that way you can delete the screencaps right away, otherwise you will delete the screencaps and get a static image as a "gif".

ATTENTION if you’re a Mac Sonoma user, MPV won’t be an option for you unless you downgrade your system. that is, if you have an Intel chip. if you have M1 Max chip (or even a better one), here’s a fix for MPV you can try while keeping that MacOS, because nowadays MPV is skipping frames in its latest build. or you can use MPlayer instead for less hassle. here are two tutorials for setting and using MPlayer. Windows users are fine, you can use MPV without trouble.

FOR EVEN MORE QUALITY

ADD NOISE

here’s a tutorial for adding noise as a way to achieve more HQ gifs if your original material is too low quality.

REDUCE NOISE WITH CAMERA RAW

instead of adding noise, you can reduce it, especially if your gif is very noisy as it is.

the path is filter > camera raw > detail > nose reduction. i do this before sharpening, but only my video file isn't great to begin with. because it’s a smart filter, you can reduce or increase its opacity by clicking the bars next to its name in the layers panel.

TOPAZ AI

i use Topaz Photo AI to increase the quality of my screencaps when i need to. it’s paid software, but there are… ways to find it for free, usually on t0rrent websites. if someone’s interested, i can make a tutorial solely about it in the future.

SHARPENING SETTINGS

here are my sharpening settings (filter > sharpen > smart sharpen). i sharpen things twice: 500% 0.4px + 10% 10px. here's an action for it, for more convenience. here's a tutorial on how to use Photoshop actions. for animated stuff, i use this action pack.

COLORING

here’s the gif i'm gonna use as a base. it’s already sharpened like the way i always do it.

LIGHTNING THE SHOTS

half of the secret of a good coloring is good lightning. i always useCurves (layers > new adjustment layer > curves) and Brightness & Contrast (layers > new adjustment layer > brightness & contrast). the settings depend on the scene you’re giffing, but i always try make my gifs bright and with high contrast to make the colors pop.

CURVES

besides lighting your scene, the Curves adjustment layer has four automatic options that will color-correct it for you. it’s not always perfect and it doesn’t mean you won’t need to do further coloring, but it’s a great start. it’s a lifesaver for most ridiculously yellow scenes. look at the difference! this gif uses the 3rd automatic option (the screenshot below isn't mine btw so that's why the fourth option is the chosen one), from top to bottom. what automatic option you need to choose depends on the gif.

sometimes i like to tweak my Curves layer. not everybody does that, it’s not that necessary and if you’re not careful, it can screw your gif up. to modify your layer by hand, you will need to click and drag points of that straight line in the position you desire. this is the concept behind it:

basically, the lower part of the line handles the shadows, while the upper part handles the highlights of the image. if you pull a highlight point up, the image’s highlights will be brighter. if you pull it down, it will make them darker. same thing for the shadow points. you should play with it to get a grasp of it, that’s what i did when i first started giffing.

BRIGHTNESS & CONTRAST

then i added a bit of brightness and contrast.

CHANNEL MIXER

the scene looked a bit too yellow, so i used the Channel Mixer (layer > new adjustment layer > channel mixer) adjustment layer. here’s a tutorial of how it works. not every scene needs the Channel Mixer layer though, i mostly use it to remove heavy overall tints. in this particular case, the Curves layer got rid of most of the yellow, but i wanted the gif to be just a bit more blue so the Channel Mixer tweaks are very minimal.

SELECTIVE COLOR

now, this adjustment layer i always use: Selective Color (layer > new adjustment layer > selective color). this is THE adjustment layer to me, alongside the Curves one. this is how it works:

ie, you can separately edit a color this way, giving it tints. for this gif, i wanted to make the colors more vibrant. to achieve that, i edited the selected colors this way:

for the reds, i added even more red in them by moving the first slider to the right, making the color more vibrant. for his hat to have a more warm tint, i added yellow to the reds (third slider, moving it to the right). finally, to make the reds stronger, i moved the last slider to the right (more black).

for the yellows, i made them brighter by adding white to them, thus making the tile wall and Paddington more bright as well.

for the cyans and the blues, i just added the maximum (+100) of black that i could.

i wanted for Paddington's nose to be brighter, so i added more white to the whites.

lastly, i added depth to the blacks by increasing their own blackness.

you should always play with the Selective Colors sliders for a bit, before deciding what you want or need. with time, you will automatically know what to change to correct the color grading. it all takes practice!

HUE/SATURATION

i don’t know if you noticed, but there are some green spots on the blue wall behind Paddington. to correct that, i added a Hue/Saturation adjustment layer (layer > new adjustment layer > hue/saturation) and made the saturation of the greens 0%, making that unwanted green disappear from the background.

while the green spots on the wall are specific for this gif, i use hue/saturation a lot to tweak, well, hue and saturation. sometimes someone’s skin is too yellow, i made it redder by tweaking the reds and the yellows, or vice-versa. the hue bar follows the rainbow bar, so the maximum settings (+100 and -100) give the selected color to change its hue to something more red or pink (the rainbow extremities). changing hue can give pretty whacky results, like turning someone’s skin tone to green, so you will need to play with it to get the hang of it. you can also tweak the opacity of your hue/saturation layer to further improve your gif’s coloring. i didn’t do it in this case, the opacity is still 100%. the reds and the blues had their saturation increased to make them pop just a bit more, without affecting the other colors.

COLOR BALANCE

the highlights of the gif still had a green tint to it due to the automatic correction of the Curves layer, so i used Color Balance. this is how it works: instead of giving specific colors some tints, you can give them to the shadows, highlights, and mid-tones. if your shadows are too blue, you counterbalance them with the opposite color, yellow. same thing with the cyan-red and magenta-green pairings. in my case, i added a bit of magenta.

B&W GRADIENT MAP

now, if this gif was a dish, it’s time for the salt and pepper. i always add a Gradient Map (layer > new adjustment layer > gradient map) (black to white gradient) with the Soft Light blending mode, thus giving my shadows more depth without messing with the mid-tones and highlights. it also doesn’t “deep fry” (you know those memes?) the gif too much by adding even more contrast. usually, the opacity of the layer is between 30% to 70%, it all depends on the gif. it always does wonders, though!

COLOR FILTER

finally, i like to add Color Filters (layer > new adjustment layer > color filter) to my gifs. it’s very handy when giving different scenes for the same minimalistic set because it makes them kind of match despite having completely different colors. in this gif’s case, i added a “deep blue” filter, opacity 50% density 25. you can change the density and the opacity of the layer for further editing, again, it all depends on the gif.

VIBRANCE

if i feel like it, i add a vibrance layer (layer > new adjustment layer > vibrance) to make the colors pop. this can ruin your coloring sometimes, especially when regarding skin color, so be careful. i didn't do it in this gif because i felt i didn't need it.

TA-DA! 🥳

AN OTHER EXAMPLE

the color grading of the original scene it’s pretty good as it is, to be honest. let’s see a worse scenario, a VERY yellow one:

no channel mixer this time because the automatic curves option dealt with the yellowness, but you can see it made the gif too green. i needed to correct that with the following adjustment layers:

curves (automatic option) (gif 2) >> same curves layer (tweaks) (gif 3) >> brightness & contrast (gif 4) >> hue/saturation (tweaked cyan+blue+green) >> selective color >> color balance (gif 5) >> b&w gradient map >> (sepia) filter >> vibrance (gif 6)

i added a hue/saturation layer to remove the blues & greens before my selective color layer because i thought that was more urgent than tweaking the tint of all colors. color balance (gif 4) was the real hero here, though, by removing the green tint. the selective color layer was meant to make the red pop more than anything else, because the rest looked pretty good, especially her skin tone (despite the green tint). you can notice that tweaking the curves layer (small gif 3) also helped A LOT with the green problem.

tl;dr 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

here's a list of my go-to's while coloring and lightning gifs. it's not a rule, just a guide. there are gifs in which i don't use all these adjustment layers, or use them in a different order. it all depends!

1. curves (automatic option + tweaks) 2. brightness & contrast 3. channel mixer 4. selective color 5. hue/saturation 6. color balance 7. b&w gradient map 8. color filter 9. vibrance

i'll suggest that you study each adjustment layer listed for more info, either with other Tumblr tutorials or YouTube ones. the YouTube ones focus on images, but you can translate what they teach to gif making very easily. you can ask me to further explain any adjustment layer, too! i was brief to keep this short (which i kinda failed lol).

feel free to ask me for clarification or something else about gifmaking wise, i always like to help. ❤️

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sweetimpurity · 9 months ago

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ day seven!! yay!! kinda want to draw this one wc: 1.3k masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“I’d love to talk more about your plans, you can let my assistant know and we’ll set up a meeting… thank you so much…” Your husband smiles charmingly, shaking the hand of another higher up. Someone with money and status. This entire room is full of money and diamonds. Shaking the hand of the man, his other arm draped around your waist and keeping you close. You’re the only reason he can even stand events like this. He keeps up the forced smile. But only you know it’s mostly fake. It’s not the same smile he wore when you said “I do” or the smile you wake up to in the morning.

“Let’s get out of here, babe…” He whispers in your ear once the group of guests finally disperse. Everyone who’s here, mingling around the vast space, drinking, laughing and talking. The rich and influential here to network. It’s an Alchemax charity event after all. “You’re the CEO, Mig, you can’t just leave…” You smile, adjusting his black tie over his chest, the knot at the top and the material smoothed down his broad chest under his jacket.

“I’ve already shaken enough hands, I wanna shake you…” He jokes, a bad joke at that, nuzzling his face into your neck for a moment, rolling your eyes at his unapologetic displays of affection in this crowded room. Unable to stop the smile on your lips. “You wanna shake me?” Your brow raises teasingly, pretending you don’t already know. “I’m not sure I know what you mean…” You sigh, sipping your drink through the little straw. Making him roll his eyes now.

“What I mean is I want to have sex with you, mi amor…”

He says it so clearly and a little too loud. Making your eyes widen. But nobody seems to notice. “I wanna take you home… rip that dress off… bend you over and have you all to myself…” He says low and sultry, right in your ear. “You understand what I mean now?” He murmurs, his big hand moving from your lower back to your ass. Unashamed; just grabbing a handful, running his fingers over the silky fabric of your dress. Pressing himself to your hip so you can feel him, standing you between his legs.

“Control yourself…” You sigh, looking away, looking around to see if anyone’s giving you looks. He is the man of the hour as usual. “We’re not leaving… not when you have to give a speech in 30 minutes…”

“C’mon baby… you look too good. I don’t care about all this…” He whispers, wrapping both arms around you, pulling you closer, finding your eyes, always wanting eye contact. He does look so good. In that suit you love. The pressed collar and stark black and white. Reminds you of marrying him all over again every time you see him in a suit like that.

“What are you proposing? I’m not letting you skip out on this speech. All these people are here to hear you speak.” You say, wanting to know what he wants to do about it. He’s stubborn and for the genius he is, he sometimes doesn’t even consider the facts. That you’re surrounded by people and low on time. Not a lot of options.

“I have an idea…”

…

His hands are hungry, his lips even hungrier, latching onto your neck and practically pushing you down the hall. The sounds of the live quartet and conversation fading in the background, backing down the hall towards his office door. And when your back presses against the cold glass door, he’s on you, not leaving you without his touch for long. Hands running down your waist to your bum, kissing your lips, dipping his tongue into your mouth and swirling it around yours. One of his hands reaches towards the panel on the wall while his face dips into your neck. Absentmindedly pressing his fingers on the reader to scan his fingerprint and open the damn door already. Pressing his erection into your tummy through his pants, through your dress. His need for you. When the door finally slides open, he doesn’t waste any time, scooping you up with his arms under your thighs, picking you up like it’s nothing and walking to his desk.

“We should do quickies more often…” He grins, setting you down on the metal desk, feeling like a couple of teenagers doing something naughty. Hands immediately moving around to the zipper on your back as he kisses your reddened neck, pulling it down gently and watching the fabric relax over your chest and shoulders. You stand up for a moment to step out of it, letting it pool at your heels. Looking up at him and he presses one kiss to your lips, tender and soft. Then one more to the column of your throat. He leans back up, pulling at the knot in his tie to get it off.

“Wait wait-” You urge him, looking up at the confused look on his face as he freezes. “Can you leave it on?”

“Leave it on, baby?” He laughs softly, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“Yeah just…” You look down, pulling at his metal belt buckle, the clinks of the cold material around your fingers, pulling it open. Undoing his fly, releasing some of the tension in his pants which have grown quite tight. Once his pants are undone, your hands run up his shirt, under the material, feeling his hot skin and his abdomen moving with every breath. “Leave it on…”

…

“Feel that baby? Feels good?” He huffs, a hand in your hair, the other on your lower back keeping you pressed to the desk as he bottoms out. Buried deep in your dripping pussy and staying there, stretching you out. Bent over the edge of the metal structure, panties lazily pulled to the side to allow him access. “Mmm Miguel please… feels so good…”

It does feel good. To be filled to the brim, taking him all the way to your cervix. His tip kissing all your deepest spots, brushing past the places that have you on your tippy toes. And when he pulls out to thrust back inside, your mind melts. Moaning loud against the cold surface, feeling him piston back in. Coating his length in your slick and the pumps becoming easier and easier as he keeps going. Working up a rhythm, his chest heaving and out of breath already. Groaning at the way you’re squeezing him. Like your pussy was made to take his dick like this.

His skin slaps against yours, slick and precum making a mess between your thighs, your panties sticky and soiled.

“Baby look…” His words just pass your ears without you even hearing them. Your mind mush and occupied focusing on how fucking good he’s fucking you right now.

“Baby look at that… look at you…” He huffs, forcing your head up gently with his hand in your hair, careful not to pull too hard but enough so that you can witness the sight. Glancing at the large office windows. The dark outside allows you to see all that’s going on in the room. Through the reflection in the glass. The sight of him over you, pounding into you from behind. His tie hanging loosely around his neck and his shirt all tussled, his big heavy watch as he grips your hair. Watching yourself get fucked. Watching him watching himself fucking you. It’s all too much.

As if the sight caused some pocket inside you to burst, your eyes clamp shut, crying his name and coming immediately. No warning. Just instantly gushing. His dick pounding into you even as your juices drip and dribble to the floor, flooding around his cock, making him moan and shudder. “Oh that’s a good girl…” He grins, feeling you squirt and gush on him. Hearing the fluttering sounds leaving your sweet lips. “Fuck…” He huffs, pumping into you once harder, then even harder again. Slapping against you, making you drip even more as he fucks it all out again. Filling you soon enough with his seed, coming to a sudden stop and letting himself deposit in you with a huff.

…

About 15 minutes later. He’s standing at the podium, addressing the hundreds in attendance for his speech about the company. Smiling and glowing and only you know why. Your panties stuffed in his jacket pocket. An oddly pleasant ache between your thighs.

Taglist!!

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