#there's buddie if u squint. really really hard | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-kaash-me-outside · 1 year

Text

𝕚 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕠𝕣𝕪

ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴛsᴜᴋɪsʜɪᴍᴀ ~ 10k ᴡᴏʀᴅs (exactly) ✧ nsfw ✧ minors dni!! ✧

slight voyuerism, overstim, threesome, super sweet aftercare uwu

truthfully was not a kuroo simp before this and then i wrote this piece and now i’m literally so in love with him absolutely so soft for him so take that as u will

"I have a question for you.”

Before you've even turned over to face him, before you can even see the expression on his face, the one that looks like he's trying so hard to hide the mischief and failing miserably, you know that this question will not be a simple feat. "Kinda ominous that you started out with that and not just asking me the question," you say, flipping over on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow, "but I'll bite. What's up?"

“We’re close enough for me to ask you this question, I think,” he says, matching your position, jaw resting in the palm of his hand as his elbow sinks into the pillow beneath him.

“Considering you were literally inside of me about 15 minutes ago, it worries me that you only think we’re close enough,” you retort.

"If you would be so willing," he starts, the facade already slipping and the real intent shining through as he ignores your comment.

You cut him off, squinting at him and trying to pinpoint what emotion exactly is floating to the surface. "Seems less so now, but go on..."

"I need your help with something," he states plainly, innocently, despite the fact that you know whatever else comes out of his mouth won't be.

"You sure are dancing around this question, Kuroo," you reply.

"I have this theory, right," he pauses, giving you just enough time for your brain to start to wander, but not enough time to flesh out the details, "centered around limits and, well, someone exactly like you." The smirk on his face is in full view now, no remorse and no concealing the way that the corner of his lip pulls upward towards his narrowed eyes or the way they scan you, slowly, but not critically.

“What kind of limits?” you ask, skeptical now and just as equally intrigued.

"Ones that involve you being completely naked and having a lot of trust in me and Tsukishima," he explains, as plainly stated as he possibly could for the words that he just spoke.

There are a million things that want to come out of your mouth, but the only thing that actually does is, "I'm sorry, what?" The shock doesn’t come from the thought of you being naked in front of him. You’ve done it plenty of times before and felt completely comfortable doing so. Honestly, you always have. It’s one of the perks of the fluidity of your relationship, the casualness of it all, more than friends, definitely not partners, some weird blend of best friends and fuck buddies.

It isn’t about the trust either; you trust both of them completely. It’s the combination of the two. The only time that you hang out with Tsukishima is around Kuroo or in big group settings. There are a handful of names that could’ve come out of Kuroo’s mouth that would have made more sense than Tsukishima, someone that you’ve barely had solo interactions with, let alone shown any sort of romantic or sexual interest, no matter how attractive you thought he was or how much sexual interest was actually there.

He doesn't respond, just gives you time to soak in what he's said, so you continue, "What do you mean by 'someone exactly like me', like it has to be me or…”

This time he answers straight away, looking directly into your eyes, giving you something to focus on as your head spins around the proposal. "It has to be you, but there's no pressure, is what I mean."

The vague praise makes a heat rise into your cheeks. Has to be you. You push past it, worrying that if you linger for too long, Kuroo will definitely start to notice. "But what kind of limits? You didn't really answer my que-."

“The more you know, the more prepared you'll feel and the less accurate and genuine your reactions will be," he explains, pausing to let you get the full effect of every single one of his words. "But you can trust me and Tsukki," he continues, "We'll take care of you."

You’re silent, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. And then it clicks. "Are you asking me if I'll have a threesome with you and Tsukishima? Is that what you're asking?" you blatantly pose, trying to figure out if this is some weird, convoluted way of approaching a difficult situation.

For the first time tonight, and maybe ever, you've shocked Kuroo, his demeanor faltering until he clears his throat. "Kinda? I guess," he starts, not really looking at you, but thinking, mulling over the question in his head before shaking it and back-pedaling, "I really want to test this theory that I have and Tsukishima agreed to be my assistant and," he turns the palm that’s not supporting his head upward and takes a deep breath, "will you help me?"

"Like, by take care of me, you mean...," you trail off, knowing that he’ll fill in the blanks without you having to reach for it.

He moves closer to you, smirking at your curiosity. "I mean exactly what you're thinking." He pauses, wondering if he should take it as far as the thoughts in his head, and then he does, “just like I did tonight.”

You rush to respond, to distract yourself from the feeling that’s rising into your core, the one that’s making your heart rate quicken and palms begin to sweat. “Yes, Kuroo, I will have a threesome with you and Tsukishima. All you had to do was ask,” you tease, your voice just as strong as you need it to be.

Kuroo lets out a laugh, short and light, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist gently, extending his fingers against your palm and stroking the soft skin. His entire aura changes in an instant, the cockiness and complex fading away, leaving behind a look of sincerity and concern. “Seriously, though, if you don’t feel comf-.”

Your response is instant, almost instinctual. "I trust you," you say because it's true.

His smile reappears, more confident now as he presses a quick kiss into the side of your hand, his eyes boring into yours as he does. “Good.”

The way that you were envisioning it, you were so absolutely sure that the science aspect of it would be pushed to the side. You knew that Kuroo was a science nerd at heart, sure, but there was no way that that would take priority over the fact that no matter how you sliced it, you were about to have a threesome with two very attractive men.

Walking into Kuroo's house feels exactly like every other time you've walked into Kuroo's house, nothing ominous or altered about it. You kick off your shoes in the exact same way, you call out Kuroo's name in the exact same way, you throw your things on the side table right next to the door in the exact same way, and yet, Kuroo doesn't greet you in the exact same way.

Kuroo doesn't greet you at all.

It's Tsukishima that you see first, and who sees you first, and it's only then that you realize how different tonight has the potential of being.

Still, you raise your hand in a nonchalant greeting, murmuring some sort of pleasantry that doesn't get returned to you. He only offers a small, "Hey." You can't get a good read on him, on whatever he's feeling, and it's so much different than Kuroo.

With Kuroo, you could read every emotion that he wore, even if it was only there for half a second. You're not sure if that's the result of who Kuroo is, how long you've known him, or how well you know him. Either way, it was a luxury that you didn't have with Tsukishima, his eyes looking you up and down, but not saying another word or giving way to whatever he was thinking.

You ignore his lack of reciprocation and ask him directly, "Do you know where Kuroo's at?"

"Sorry!" Kuroo calls from the other room, not letting Tsukishima answer, though you're not certain he would've. "I was finishing setting up. You're early."

"Yeah! Well, I made the first train so I didn't have to wait for the late one," you explain, the small talk feeling so foreign. "I hope that's okay," the courtesy also feeling very foreign. The air feels equally as foreign and you almost feel like you shouldn't be there.

And then Kuroo flashes a smile at you. He takes two quick, lengthy strides towards you, pushing your hair out of your face and leaning in close enough so that only you can hear him say, "Are you nervous?"

The unfamiliarity that was brought along by the possibility of rigidity fades away as soon as you feel Kuroo next to you, instantly feeling at ease again. You pull back from him, only a few inches to play into the question. “Why would I be nervous?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. “Should I be nervous?”

"You don't have any reason to be nervous, no," Kuroo denies. He takes you by the hand and pulls you along with him. "Thanks again for agreeing to help out. Do you want to get started?"

The formality almost makes you laugh, and you're grateful for it. There is plenty about this situation that could have made you spiral, but just being around Kuroo is making you feel so much more at ease. "Absolutely," you confirm.

You follow him down the hall, your hand still in his despite the fact that you're pretty sure that you know his house layout better than your own. In fact, you're sure that if you were blindfolded, you could find your way to Kuroo's bedroom. The bedroom that you just passed.

You're about to open your mouth, to poke fun at him for missing his own bedroom or to wonder aloud why you were walking so far, but then he stops abruptly in front of a door.

"Your office?" you ask.

He nods, looking down at you and explaining, "Repurposed for testing."

His response surprises you, given the fact that up until this point you were still convinced that this was just a strangely-veiled setup for a normal threesome. The surprise doesn't have the chance to settle before more sets in.

He pushes open the door to his office, but it's not the same as it was the few times you've been in here before. The furniture is all pushed against the walls, making way for a long, steel table in the center of a perfectly white sheet on the floor. Beside it stood a matching, but significantly smaller, table holding a variety of neatly placed, and equally distanced toys. Your gaze doesn't remain on the table long, far more intrigued by the hinged lamp that was positioned next to it, pointed directly at the table, but turned off.

The scene in front of you is like nothing you expected. You outstretch your arm, fingers spanning until they make contact with the table. It's so much colder than you think it's going to be, the chill sending shivers up your arms and throughout your body.

Kuroo can see the overwhelm in your movements and reactions, so he reaches out his hand and places it on top of yours, combatting the feeling of cold that's transferring to your body so easily. "Is this okay?" he asks.

He's not talking about the hand placement, you know that. He's talking about the place that you're in, the company that's downstairs, what he's going to ask of you, to do to you, what the future holds. He curls his fingers around your own and withdrawals them from the table, fast enough for you to forget what the metal feels like against your skin, but not too fast as to startle you.

You remember back to the conversation that you had with him, how much he cared about you feeling comfortable and not pressured. You remember back to how Kuroo's been the entire time you've known him. And then he solidifies it.

"I meant what I said," he mutters into your shoulder, "We'll take care of you. You can trust us. I promise."

He places his hands on your hips, kissing up your shoulder gently and pulling you into him, your entire body weight resting on him. "Okay," you reply, letting yourself relax. "Yeah. I trust you."

You can feel the kisses against your skin turn to smiles before he turns you around to face him, the small of your back resting against the edge of the table. "Can I let Tsukishima undress you?" he asks, your body turning rigid at the unfamiliarity of the concept. "Please."

You don't reply, not fast enough at least, because Kuroo runs his hand up your body and places it under your chin, pinching it gently between his fingers. "What happened to trusting us, to letting us take care of you?" he asks, "Give up control, okay?"

“Okay,” you respond, maybe too quickly as you exhale the breath out of your lungs.

“Okay, what?” Kuroo asks, lowering himself so that he can look into your eyes more easily.

“Okay, I’ll give up control,” you explain. You wait for Kuroo’s response, but it doesn’t come. He stands there, eyebrows raised ever so slightly as he waits for you to continue. “Okay, I’ll let Tsukishima undress me.” Your cheeks feel warm as the words come out of your mouth.

Kuroo doesn’t even acknowledge you, just turns his head towards the entrance, immediately calling out of the room for Tsukishima who appears in the doorway in an instant. “We’re ready.” Tsukishima replaces Kuroo in front of you so seamlessly as Kuroo moves to the smaller table, pushing things around ever so slightly.

“Turn around,” he says, quietly. The words aren’t nearly as loud and commanding as Kuroo’s, but you still want to follow every direction he says. His slender fingers grab the hem of your shirt, pulling upwards as his fingers scrape against your stomach, his hips pressed firmly against the back of you.

Despite how much of your skin that he’s touching and the goosebumps that it’s leaving behind, it all feels so precise, so scientific. You lift your arms, allowing Tsukishima to pull it over your head. You know that if it was Kuroo, your shirt would have been in a heap on the floor 15 seconds ago, but Tsukishima is taking his time, to tease you or not to make any mistakes, you’re not exactly sure. He straightens out your shirt, folding it in half, tucking the sleeves, and then folding it in half again, before setting it down gently onto the corner of the smaller table.

His fingers are moving with so much care, each tiny movement planned and meticulous, and it’s affecting you far more than it should be. He snakes his arms around your waist, unbuttoning your pants, pulling down the zipper, navigating through touch alone. The contact brings you a comfort you didn’t expect, relaxing into Tsukishima’s arms and resting yourself against his chest. You feel him tense, lose his poise, if only for a beat. He slides your pants off, hooking his thumbs into your underwear and dragging them down in the same motion.

His hands don’t linger longer than they need to, but God, do you want them to, wish they would hover over every inch of you just light enough so that you could feel their presence. He doesn’t even need to touch you. You just want him to be there. “On the table,” he directs, breaking you out of your escalating thoughts. He folds your pants with the same amount of care, in half, matching the hems, and then in half two more times, setting them on top of your shirt.

You listen without acknowledging, climbing onto the table. “On your back,” Tsukishima specifies. You nod this time, hands bracing the table as you lower yourself slowly until your back is flat against it.

You’re not sure what shocks you more, how cold the metal is or how hard it is. There’s no forgiveness in the solid sheet you’re lying on top of. You arch ever so slightly in reaction to the sudden change. Tsukishima’s hand lies gently on your stomach, pushing, not harshly, to counter your movement, until you’re flat on the table again, embracing the uncomfortability of the material.

It’s Kuroo, now, that towers over top of you, looking down at you with a look so void of lust and filled with authority and inquiry. You feel so exposed. You’ve been naked in front of Kuroo so many times before, but this feels like an entirely new experience. “I’ll explain,” Kuroo says, distracting you, if only for a moment, from how on display you feel.

“It all started with an observation,” he kneels down right next to your face. You turn your head to face him. His eyes are still, concentrating on yours as he speaks. “Sex with you is incredible.” And now you know why he keeps his eyes trained on yours, the effect showing so strong within them.

“So I was thinking, why is that? There are some obvious reasons,” he says, smiling as he pulls a reaction out of you once again, “but more than anything else, I think it’s because of how determined you are to hold off on your first orgasm.”

You blush at this, at the fact that he notices it in the first place and the fact that he’s saying it aloud with such pride. It doesn’t make complete sense, though, in your brain, why that would equate to the sex being incredible. He answers your unspoken question.

He stands up, no longer worrying about how affected you are by what he says. “You focus so hard, so intently, on not coming for as long as you can so that your first orgasm is unsurmountable. Am I wrong? That would be really awkward if I was wrong.”

You shake your head, because, of course, he’s not wrong. You’ve always loved holding it, thought it made the pay off so much sweeter, and it definitely did. He knew it too.

“So, then, I had a theory,” he says, walking to the foot of the table, placing both of his hands on each of your ankles, pulling them apart. “that you would stay so strong in the beginning, but then, as time goes on, you would crumble away so quickly until you had absolutely no resolve left.”

Your jaw falls open so subtly, but Kuroo notices, doesn’t try to hide his smirk as he does. “All you have to do,” he starts, “is wait to come for as long as you possibly can.” He runs his hands up your calves, massaging into them, and pushing up until he gets to the insides of your thighs. “Can you do that for me?”

You nod, slowly at first, because you’re not even sure that the movements are conscious, but then you feel his thumb digging into your thigh, rubbing pressured circles into the muscle, and a verbal confirmation following a breathy whimper leaves your mouth.

“Great. Tsukishima, tell her the spiel,” Kuroo says, lifting his grip from off of your thighs so suddenly that another whimper breaks from your lips. Kuroo doesn’t even acknowledge it as he starts picking things up from the table beside you.

“We’re working on a colored system. If at any time you’re feeling like something is moving into a place where it’s too much to handle, say yellow. We’ll stop, make sure you’re okay, slow down, adjust. If at any time, it’s too much and you need to stop for good, say red. We’ll stop, help you however you need to feel okay again,” Tsukishima explains, his hand resting on your arm the entire time, the touch helping you focus on every word.

“If you can’t speak, three firm taps, squeezes, contact of any kind, whatever you can manage. Just three, repetitive motions, okay?” he asks.

“Okay. Yellow, red, three touches. I got it,” you repeat, nodding along, and then tacking on a, “Thank you, Tsukishima.”

You’re so focused on Tsukishima’s words and the grasp that he has on your arm that you only notice Kuroo lowering himself next to you when he’s already there. He’s rubbing his thumb against the pads of his two fingers, pulling them apart meticulously as a string of liquid connects them together.

He reaches his hand down, careful not to get the liquid on anything other than where he’s aiming. His fingers hover between your legs, not making any contact yet, just lingering. He speaks at the exact moment that he dips his fingers between your lips, the coolness of the lube rivaling the metal on your back when you first came into contact with it, “I’m going to let Tsukishima fuck you first, okay?”

Air draws into your lungs quickly, a small, sharp inhale both from the words and the feeling. “Okay,” you reply.

Kuroo rubs the lube between your lips. He lets his fingertips graze over your hole, teasing it, gently prodding, but not inserting them, not yet. “More lube,” he says, pulling his fingers away from your hole, but still between your lips. He rubs your clit with the length of his digits, letting the bundle of nerves slide between the creases of his fingers as you watch them intently.

Tsukishima uncaps the bottle, letting a generous stream of lube pour onto your pussy, the excess dripping between your legs and onto the table. Kuroo adds another finger, rubbing the pads of them over top of your lips, repetitively moving them up and down until he slips the middle one inside of you.

“I’m going to stretch you out first,” he tells you, as he pushes as deep as he can go, his other fingers resting against your ass. Both Kuroo and Tsukishima are watching you so closely, your body language and your facial expressions and the way you move when Kuroo adds another finger and then another until his three fingers are slowly stretching you.

He slides his fingers in and out of you, reaching down with his other hand to rub your clit. You hum at the additional contact, feeling your own wetness add to the lubrication between your legs. Kuroo’s fingers feel so good, but they’re not deep enough. “Tsukishima’s going to fuck you now,” Kuroo says, no confirmation at the end of it this time. Still, you nod.

“Move to the end of the table,” Kuroo says as he removes his fingers from you. You listen immediately, scooching to the edge, legs dangling off of the side as Tsukishima positions himself between them.

Tsukishima has his fist around his cock, stroking the length steadily, rubbing lube over the top of his head as he moves closer to you. The unfamiliarity of it all is setting in, your breath quickening as Tsukishima places one hand on your knee, spreading your legs open even further. He rubs his head between your lips, letting your wetness spread over the tip before pushing inside of you.

He grabs the undersides of both of your knees, holding your legs up and pushing them into your chest as he gets deeper inside of you. He’s not as thick as Kuroo, but he’s so long. You let your head tilt back into the hard surface, gazing up at the ceiling as you concentrate on each inch being inserted inside of you.

He’s so deep and he just keeps getting deeper, pushing into you until his hips are directly against your thighs. You can barely catch a good breath, looking up at him, seeing the bliss in his eyes before he starts moving, pulling out slowly and pushing back in even slower.

You can feel it building up in your stomach as he continues the repetitive motions, but it’s nothing you can’t manage. You look directly up at Tsukishima, staring into his eyes as he thrusts in and out of you. You want to tell him to move faster, but you know that you should pace yourself, know that Tsukishima is probably giving you exactly what you need for how early it is in the night.

“Tell me, how long do you think you can hold it when you can’t breathe? When you’re concentrating on staying conscious instead of holding your orgasm?” Kuroo questions, positioned directly next to your face, pumping his fist around his cock. “Open.”

It’s like they’ve planned it. The second that Kuroo finishes the word open, Tsukishima starts fucking into you faster, holding you in place by your hips as he thrusts so deep inside of you. He lets you feel his entire length slide in and out of your hole, not sacrificing anything for how fast he’s getting.

You can barely part your lips before Kuroo’s head is between them. He pushes his hips forward, spreading your lips with his girth and your mouth feels so full so quickly. You weren’t a stranger to Kuroo fucking your throat. You both loved it. But there was something so different about it when you could feel another cock ramming in and out of you.

He pushes into your mouth slowly, your jaw opening as wide as it needs to compensate for how thick he was. You can feel the underside of his cock slide against your tongue, the head driving into the back of your throat, gently prodding at it before withdrawing.

It’s harsher this time, the thrust inside of your mouth. You can feel the spit coming from the back of your throat and coating him as he messily fucks your mouth, your lips stretching around him. His head rams against the back wall so rough that you gag violently. You can feel Kuroo stroking the sides of your face, his hands migrating down to your throat as he massages his thumb into your airway.

He pushes his cock as deep as it can go, your nose against his hip, but he doesn’t pull back this time. He just keeps it there, blocking any air that begs to come through. He reaches down, plugging your nose so that there’s absolutely no chance of you getting any oxygen. You don’t know what to concentrate on as your head feels lighter.

Tsukishima’s thrusts into you haven’t stopped, have only gotten more ruthless as he watches Kuroo abuse your throat. He’s so deep inside of you that you feel like you can feel him in your stomach, but the longer that Kuroo holds his cock in your mouth, the less you can feel it. Your eyes are shut tightly because you can’t see straight anyways, and your head hurts, and you’re opening and closing your fists because you’re starting to not be able to feel them.

“Switch with me, Tsukishima,” Kuroo says, pulling out of your mouth right before you would have pushed him off.

He moves so quickly, Kuroo, to get between your legs, and when he’s positioned there, he doesn’t hesitate for a second. He slides inside of you, grunting at how tight you are around him. He’s not as deep as Tsukishima was, but you can feel how much he’s stretching you already. “Fuck, Kuroo, I’m so fucking full, fuck,” you groan.

He fucks your tight hole faster than your throat, harsher than your throat. He’s being relentless, knowing that he’s the one that wants to make you come for the first time. He wants to be the one to feel you tighten, to ride your high with you.

But not yet. You focus on your Tsukishima’s cock in front of you, capturing his head between your lips and then sliding them down his length, taking him inside of your mouth and then as deep down your throat as you can manage, your fist stroking anything you can’t reach. You concentrate on how he tastes, the noises that escape him. You do everything in your power to ignore what’s going on between your legs, on the mess that Kuroo’s making of you, because if you thought about it, even for a second, you’d be coming all over him.

You concentrate on how your tongue swirls around the head and how the tip fits so perfectly in the slit. You concentrate on how your body twists so that you can massage his balls with your other hand while still stroking the rest of his cock steadily, building speed as you feel his balls tighten. You let his head glide against the back of your tongue, swallowing around him, letting your throat massage the length.

It doesn’t take much more of this meticulous care that you’re giving Tsukishima’s cock or the sight of your entire body bouncing from the force of Kuroo’s thrusts for Tsukishima to come down your throat. He grabs hold of your hair, moving your face at the exact speed that he needs as he uses your mouth just like Kuroo did.

You feel his cock pulse between your lips, your mouth a tight ring around him. It coats your tongue, bitter and warm, and you know that Kuroo is probably so jealous right now. Tsukishima doesn’t stop moving his hips, pushing the cum deeper into your mouth. “Will you swallow for me?” he asks, the first thing he’s asked of you all night. How could you deny that?

You don’t remove his cock from your mouth, you swallow around his length just like you did before. He groans at the feeling of your throat tightening around his sensitive cock, but he doesn’t move. You hollow your cheeks as you pull off of him, sucking any last drop.

It all catches up with you the second that Tsukishima’s cock leaves your mouth. You barely have time to swallow the cum that’s left in your mouth before you’re struggling to control your orgasm. You were working so hard to ignore it before, but you can’t now, the feeling of him fucking into you, still stretching you apart somehow.

Kuroo rests his fingertips on your stomach, his thumb flicking your clit exactly how he knows you like it. You can see how insistent he is on pushing you to your limits and as much as you want to curse at him for testing you, you just don’t have the mind to. It feels so good. He’s making you feel so good, a string of curses and his name flowing from your mouth as you try your hardest to channel the pleasure into something else.

“I’m going to come inside of you,” Kuroo says, slamming inside of you harder now. The sentence makes you swallow harshly. You’re so close, so fucking close from the repetitive motions and how thick Kuroo is and how full you feel. He can see it on your face, loves watching you lose control like he has so many times before. It’s his favorite part. He wants to watch you unravel from him, and only him. “Tsukishima, stop touching her,” he commands, so harshly that you feel the dominance of the demand. Tsukishima removes his hand from your shoulder that was lingering there from before.

“You’re so close,” Kuroo breathes, chest heaving as his grip tightens onto your waist, holding you in place as he pounds into you. “I know you’re so close and you’ve been so fucking good for me, waiting, holding off on coming, but I’m going to break you now.” A whimper falls from your lips. You feel so conflicted. You want to just let go, but you know that you have to try harder than you ever have.

“Try to hold it for me, baby, but I’m going to break you. I’m going to come so deep inside of you, and I’m going to fucking break you,” he spits, a look of determination now on his face.

His cock is ramming in and out of you, knocking the breath out of your lungs as soon as it enters, the sound echoing around the room and back at you, definitely not helping the vulgarity of the situation or your determination. Your eyelids close tightly, trying to find some sort of grounds, anything to concentrate on instead of how crude and how good Kuroo looks over top of you.

“Open your eyes, baby, look at me. Look at me,” he coaxes, his hands moving from your hips to your chest, dragging them down your body leisurely, letting you feel the pressure and contact on every part of you. You listen to him, opening your eyes just in time to see him licking his lips. His gaze isn’t on yours, but rather, on you, scanning and staring, and somehow that’s worse.

“I’m going to come inside you,” he repeats, “so fucking deep. I’m so close.”

“I-,” you start, interrupted by the abrupt slam of his hips against you, “I can’t hold it, Kuroo,” you admit, shaking your head, eyes watering, core tightening.

“No?” he asks, and you know that he’s patronizing you, and you just can’t bring yourself to care. You shake your head harder, the tears dripping down your cheeks.

“Can’t,” you mutter. “Feels too good.”

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. He comes first, draining inside of you so deep that you’re convinced it’ll never come out. You can feel his cock twitching with every stream, can feel him still as he takes in his own orgasm, but then he starts to move again. He’s no longer focused on his own pleasure, on taking the time to savor the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you, painting your insides.

He pulls out of you almost completely and fucks back into you even harsher than before. You were completely ready to come on his cock solely from the depth and the pulsing and how full you were feeling, but he’s regaining the momentum that he lost for only a moment. In fact, it’s faster now, more brutal, intent on doing exactly as he said, breaking you, not just making you orgasm, but absolutely destroying you.

His name is the only thing on your mind, the only word that you know at this point, and you can’t stop saying it, mushed together in a string of incoherence, getting louder and louder until you’re screaming.

The orgasm takes you harder than it ever has. Your core cramps, your chest rising off of the table, folding into your knees, your forehead colliding with Kuroo’s chest, resting there for only a moment before you violently fall back into the table. Tsukishima’s there to catch you, his hand placed gently under your head as you crash into it. In any other scenario, you’d feel bad, but you’re quite positive that you couldn’t feel any ounce of bad right now, no matter what happened.

Your body is overcome by pleasure, spreading out your entire being, electrifying everything inside of you and out. Your skin feels like it’s on fire and your hands are closed into fists so tight that you can feel the marks your nails are leaving. Your legs are shaking so violently that even Kuroo’s strong hold can’t stop them. And at some point, your screams for Kuroo turn into high-pitched nonsense and then into silent sobbing.

You know that you had to have been breathing, it lasted far too long for you to go without air, but when you regain control, when your body starts to calm down, and the feelings all subside, you can’t see straight, can’t breathe right. Your mouth is open, gasping for air and expelling it just as quickly and severely. You don’t know what you look like right now and you’re not sure you want to know.

You close your eyes, your entire body sensitive to even the tiniest breeze, and even more sensitive to the fingers in your hair, stroking and petting as you regain composure, and the dull nails scraping against the insides of your thighs, but not far enough to make you convulse again.

You move to sit up. Your core is on fire, but you need to feel some sort of control. You don’t get very far. Kuroo’s hand immediately braces your shoulder, “I’m not done.”

Your mind still feels foggy. You’re barely able to understand exactly what he means. He moves you back to the center of the table, gently, slowly, but the touch still makes your skin feel hot. “That was only the first part, remember?” he asks, spreading your legs apart so slightly, your thighs still touching. “The rest of the theory was about you crumbling away so quickly until you had absolutely no resolve left. That’s the more fun part.”

Even with the pleasure still taking over your brain, you understand. You hear each word and only now do you feel the implications of them for real. Your body already feels exhausted, spent, so tired, and he wants to put you through even more.

He walks over the table, using tissues to clean himself up before putting his pants back on, letting you recover for a little bit longer. He grasps one of the toys in his hand, the wand, and you’re already feeling your resolve slip away.

He spreads your lips apart. “Can I trust you not to move or should I strap it in place?” he asks before pushing the head directly into your clit, a gasp escaping you as your back rises off of the table. It’s not on, but the pressure of something against your sensitive clit makes you flinch.

“Understood,” he replies to your reaction. “Tsukishima, the belt,” he motions his head towards the table behind him. Tsukishima moves quickly, grabbing the leather strap from the table and snaking it under your thighs. Kuroo moves the wand carefully, lying it in between your closed thighs, your lips wrapped around the head which is pushed into your clit, covering the entirety of it. “Tighten it,” Kuroo commands.

You’ve never seen Tsukishima listen so well without a fight to anyone, especially Kuroo, but there was something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place, an emotion floating between eagerness and inquisition. Your stare is trained on his fingers as they position the belt over the top of the handle and tighten the strap so that neither your thighs nor the wand can move at all.

“Are you ready to test my theory?” Kuroo asks, standing next to your head, stroking your hair gently as he waits for your reply, a low, confident, hum. “Great. Turn it on, Tsukishima, slow.”

The wand presses into your clit harder as Tsukishima pushes the dial forward. You feel the click first, the signifier that it’s on, and then you feel the vibration. It’s low and weak, but enough to make you jolt at the feeling. If it wasn’t strapped to your thighs, the wand would already be out of place.

“How does that feel? Can you hold it?” Kuroo asks, his hands moving from your hair, grasping onto your shoulders. You hum again, but it’s not in affirmation or denial this time. It’s just a sound, a reply without intent, because honestly, you’re not sure. The vibration is weak against your clit and yet as the seconds tick by, despite the fact that Tsukishima hasn’t touched it at all, it feels like it’s getting stronger, like it’s affecting you more.

Kuroo’s hands move, sliding down your neck and over your collarbones as he rubs them over your chest. His thumbs brush over your nipples, purposefully. The pleasure from your chest spreads throughout you, overlapping the pleasure of the vibrations and you feel almost pathetic from how close you already are.

Kuroo rubs your nipples between his fingers, harshly, rolling them in between the pads repetitively. You arch your back as much as you can, pushing your chest into Kuroo’s grasp, showing him how desperate you’re feeling without saying anything. He listens to your physical beg, uses his whole hand to massage your chest, thumbs still skimming over your hard nipples as his fingers dig into your skin.

The vibrations don’t get stronger, but the pressure does. Tsukishima pushes the head of the wand into your clit harder and it’s getting almost impossible to stay still or to stay quiet. “Kuroo, I- I’m close,” you mumble through half-closed lips.

“Already? That’s great,” he says, stopping just short of a laugh. He continues, “I’m not going to turn it up. I’m just going to let you come from the lowest setting.”

The orgasm reaches you so much softer this time. The build-up is so slow, so gradual, and so are the effects that it has on you. You can feel yourself flood. You roll your hips into the vibrations as much as you can. It’s not breath-taking or life-changing like the one you had witnessed just minutes ago, but your body feels warm.

It only takes you a few beats to catch your breath again, but the wand is still on, moving against your sensitive clit, and Tsukishima reaches down and rolls the dial. The vibrations intensify and the embarrassment of how little it took you to come last time is nothing in comparison to now.

It takes so little for your chest to rise and fall dramatically, the airflow matching the quickening of your pulse and the closeness of another orgasm. “More,” Kuroo says, but it’s not to you. He’s looking directly at Tsukishima. He watches how far he pushes the dial, how much stronger the vibrations come. “Good.”

“I’m- I’m-,” you stutter, not able to say anything else as your eyes close quickly. The orgasm hitting you again, faster and more abrupt this time.

“Fuck,” you whine. You don’t have to tell him. He knows. He can see the way he’s wrecking you with each continuous orgasm. He strokes your jaw, pushes the hair out of your face, wipes the sweat off of your forehead.

“I know, baby, I know. It’s okay,” he coos.

It pushes you over the edge, the extra touch and his words. It’s more intense this time, the feeling that washes over you. It’s not as extreme as your first one, but it’s getting there. You lift your knees off of the table, the wand pressing harder between your legs as you rock against it.

“Look at you,” Kuroo gushes, watching in awe, “Even strapped together, you’re still squirming to make yourself come.” He shakes his head, standing up straight. “Well then, do it. Make yourself come again,” he orders.

You don’t move at first, not exactly sure if he’s serious or just taunting you, but then you see the look of expectancy in his eyes. You slowly bring your knees into your chest again, circling your hips so that the head moves against your clit in a repetitive path. It doesn’t take long for that, coupled with the continuous, almost abusive vibrations to bring you there.

“That’s it. Make yourself come. Move your hips just like that,” he mutters, staring down at your every move. He acts like it’s completely up to you, as if the wand between your legs wasn’t put there by his hands, as if the way you’re moving and grinding isn’t specifically for his eyes, because of his words. “Come for me, again.”

And you listen, not intentionally, just because your body wants to do whatever he wants it to do. You hug your legs, arch your back, driving the wand as harshly against your clit as it can be. You rest your forehead against your knees, moaning into the small space you’ve created, muffled by your own skin and limbs.

As soon as it’s finished, you slowly relax, letting your legs uncurl, the backs of them lying flat against the table once again. You brace yourself on your elbows first before lowering your back as well until you’ve returned to your original position. The vibrations aren’t stopping. You don’t even have time to catch your breath.

Kuroo moves to your side, standing directly across from Tsukishima, and places both of his hands on your legs, holding them down, thighs pushed roughly against the table so that you can’t move at all. You can’t spread your legs or lift them. Any amount of small control you had seconds ago is now completely gone. The only thing you can do is lie there and submit.

It’s Kuroo, this time, that pushes the dial, stretching his finger while keeping his hold on you in place. He lets his finger rest against the wand, feeling the muted vibrations that are coming from the handle. For some reason, knowing that Kuroo’s the one in control again, that he’s the one towering over you and watching you convulse under his touch, brings you closer than the vibrations do.

“Kuroo,” you whimper, his name falling off of your tongue so easily considering that it’s the only thing on your mind. You don’t know whether to beg for more or to concede, welcoming defeat. “Kuroo,” you repeat, begging, but still not sure for what.

“What, baby? Do you want it higher?” he asks, finger moving to the dial again, but not pushing it until he sees your reaction.

You’re nodding, on instinct, with pure need, or just to make him proud, you’re not sure. He smiles at you, “Good girl.” And now you’re sure.

He pushes the dial until the vibrations are so strong that it almost hurts, and yet, the dial doesn’t click again or hit a barrier. Your stomach is in knots just from the contact of the head against you. You regret asking him to turn it up. It barely feels good anymore, the constant, intense buzzing between your legs, but the stimulation is still pushing you towards an orgasm that you’re not sure you can handle anymore.

When you come, the good is good. It might have even felt better than the first time. Though, it doesn’t matter much, because it lasts for mere seconds. Settling in behind it is just the most intense feeling you’ve ever experienced. It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but it definitely didn’t feel good. It almost felt like your entire body was cramping. You wanted to convulse with the motions, feel each wave as it barrelled through you, but you couldn’t move, held down by strong hands. And when it finally fled, the only thing you could feel was how sensitive you were.

But the vibration didn’t stop. No one moved to turn it off, not even with your whining and whimpering, so you opened your mouth, letting your pleas fall out. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I’m so sensitive, Kuroo. I can’t,” you ramble, shaking your head against the table.

“You can, you can. You know the system, right? You know what you have to say for me to stop, right?” Kuroo asks.

You nod, eyes shut tightly. You didn’t need him to stop. You could handle it, but the words still pour from you. “I know. I know, but I can’t, I can’t.”

“Tell me. Tell me you know what you have to say, okay?” he tries again. You can’t see the look in his eyes or the concern on his face, barely pick up on the tone of his voice and how serious it sounds. He knows that this is the first time you’ve done something like this and wants to make sure you’re safe.

“Yes, fuck, I know what I have to say, yes. I know. I don’t need you to stop,” you say and then correct yourself, “I don’t want you to stop. I just, I’m so sensitive. I can feel everything so much and I’m so sensitive, Kuroo,” you babble.

“I know, I know. You’re doing so good,” Kuroo says to you, and then he talks over top of you, directed at Tsukishima, “Turn it up.” The confirmation gives him what he needs to push you even further.

You’re so focused on the imminent, unbearable sensation, that you don’t even see Kuroo turn on the light. You feel it before anything else, the warmth that the light creates and how quickly it becomes excruciating. Sweat drips down your forehead, glides past your temples, forms on your stomach, and under your thighs, letting you slide against the table. It just makes everything so much more intense.

And then you feel the click of the dial, the signifier that it’s up as high as it goes, and you’re cursing so many things that have played a hand in this. You’re cursing the company that made the wand and Kuroo for being so sadistic and Tsukishima for helping him and yourself for agreeing to this. You’re trying to move your mind anywhere other than how hard the wand is vibrating against you.

You know that you’re talking, you think that you’re talking. Your mouth is open and it feels like words are coming out, but you don’t know what you’re saying and you can’t hear them. Tears are streaming down your face, steadily, not overwhelmingly. Someone’s, you’re not sure whose, and it doesn’t really matter at this point, touches you, moves to stroke your arm. You can hear yourself now as you bark, “Don’t touch me,” regaining enough control of yourself and your voice to add a softer, “please” onto the end.

You lay there on the table, your body feeling excessively hot in every facet, with a buzzing between your legs that if it was any lower wouldn’t even be affecting you right now because you feel so numb. Everything is heightened. You can feel everything. The light, the air, the warmth, the breath on either side of you, the way that the breath is cool against your skin, the way that the breath is moving, slowly, blowing onto your shoulder and neck and stomach. The contrast of the stimuli makes you feel some sort of balance, some sort of ground.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise. You could feel everything at once, but you couldn’t feel the sensation approaching. You’re positive that you’re screaming because there’s no way you can’t be. Your throat feels sore and the tears haven’t stopped and you reach your arm out, grabbing onto whatever you find first, squeezing into it so hard, your fingernails digging, digging, digging until your hand is shaking so hard that you can’t manage to control it anymore.

It’s so much. It’s so much. It’s almost too much. The second that you’re off of this short high, you know that the sobbing will come. You can feel the tears and the tightness in your throat. You can see yellow flashing in your head. You’re not at your limit. You’re not hurt, but if they don’t slow down, you’re going to be very quickly. The word is traveling up your throat, graces your tongue, but doesn’t get the chance to leave your lips.

The vibration stops.

“You’re done” is the first thing that you hear when you regain awareness. Kuroo repeats it again, “You’re done, baby, you’re done. Can I touch you? Is that okay?”

You nod because, despite the fact that you’re trembling, that every inch of your skin feels like it’s on fire, that’s really all you want right now. The flinch still comes when he touches you, rests his hand on your cheek, so he hesitates. If you had more energy, you’d lift your own and put it on top of his.

“You did so well. You did so well,” he repeats, leaning in closer to you and rubbing his thumb against your cheekbone. “God, you did so good.” You can’t respond, but you hope that he knows how much that means to you.

He lets you lay there, not moving you or rushing you, but just letting you recuperate as long as you need to. The second that you’re able, you talk, “Tsukishima, can you unstrap my thighs?” It’s more of a mumble than a strong sentence, but he gets the point, working just as slow and methodical as before, perhaps more so now. You can barely feel him when he brushes against your skin, numb now from the consistent vibrations.

Without the constraint on your thighs and the object between your legs, you automatically feel like you can breathe easier now. “And the light,” you mumble. It’s not a question, but it doesn’t need to be. The light is turned off in a second, the heat fading quickly without the intensive brightness. You hum, now, content with the environment you’re in and the company you’re with.

“I know you probably want to fall asleep right here, but we should get you into bed,” Kuroo mentions, his hand still in the same place against your skin.

“Kuroo, I don’t think I could move right now if I tried. My legs are completely numb,” you say, “Literally if the house caught on fire, I would die here. There’s no way I could even stand right now.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. “You most certainly would not. I would save you.”

Your eyes are closed softly, but you still roll them, and you hope he notices. “My hero.”

“Come on, I’ll carry you. You can’t recover correctly from all of that if you’re in this room on this table, okay?” he asks.

There aren’t many things you would deny Kuroo of right now, with his voice as sweet as it is and his touch as soft as it is, and carrying you into his room to be more comfortable is definitely not one of them. Your eyelids flutter open and you’re finally able to see Kuroo looking down at you and Tsukishima watching the two of you.

“Okay,” you agree.

“Can you put your arms around my neck?” he asks, leaning down and snaking his arms under your knees and your back.

“Fire, Kuroo, remember, fire,” you reiterate, “No, I could not crawl myself out of this building.”

“You won’t have to bear any weight. It’s just for support.”

You oblige, using all of your energy to lift your arms and lock them around his neck. They hang lazily and you know that if he so much as moves you in the wrong way, they will fall heavily by your sides. His steps are careful, making sure that they’re not too fast or too harsh and you’re so grateful for it.

Tsukishima pushes open the door to his room and Kuroo carefully steps inside, careful not to bump you into the doorway. He lays you down in the center of his bed so softly that you can barely differentiate being in the air and surrounded by mattress. “There’s water on the bedside table that you definitely need to drink,” Kuroo mentions. “And do you want the TV on or the fan?”

“No, I’m okay. This is nice, I think. I do want a t-shirt, though,” you say, not wanting to be this exposed anymore.

“Yours or mine?” he asks, already halfway to his dresser.

“Yours,” you call out, “something really baggy.”

He grabs a shirt from his drawer, walking back over, and handing it to you. You accept it graciously, putting it on over your head slowly, the clean fabric against your skin one of the only sensations that feel acceptable at the moment. “Thank you.”

“Well, you should get some rest, okay?” he says, leaning over and kissing your forehead. “Hydrate first, though. I’ll be in the living room if you need anything at all.”

You nod, finally relaxing. The bed is so comfortable compared to the harshness of the metal that you were lying on before. It melds against your body so perfectly, conforms to every curve, but you can’t even think about falling asleep. Your mind is still racing, wandering, active, despite the exhaustion you’re feeling so heavily.

“Wait,” you say with the last ounce of strength you have. Both of them stop in place, Tsukishima already halfway out the door. They’re looking at you expectantly, waiting for whatever you have to say or request, but you can’t get it out. It feels weird, almost, that after everything that just happened you would feel uncomfortable saying anything at all to them.

“Do you need something?” Kuroo asks, already moving back towards you.

“I-,” you start, face feeling hot at such a silly request, “I don’t really want to be alone right now.” You’re not sure if you’re imagining it or if Kuroo really does ease when you say it.

“You want us to lay with you?” Kuroo asks, closing the gap, already by your side again.

“I don’t have to if you guys want to be alone,” Tsukishima says, his voice so small it almost goes unnoticed.

You shake your head, “I’d like if you’d stay.”

You’re positive that Tsukishima doesn’t mean to show the look of shock on his face, but he does. You feel the bed sink on one side as Tsukishima walks back into the room and by your side. You flip over towards Kuroo who holds the glass of water out in front of him. “Water first,” he says. You listen, taking it in your hands as well as you can for how spent your muscles still are. The bed behind you shifts, a hesitant hand rubbing the small of your back.

It takes a few moments for you all to get comfortable, to get into positions that fit, to meld together as perfectly as you do, but when you do, you never want to move again. Tsukishima’s pressed up against your back, his hand gently on your hip. Your head is pressed against Kuroo’s chest, listening to his heartbeat and timing your breathing with it.

The room is quiet and your mind is still racing, but with the company in the room, you feel so content. “Thanks for taking care of me,” you say to both of them.

“I said we would, didn’t I?” Kuroo responds, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

“I mean, that’s not exactly what I thought you meant,” you murmured.

Tsukishima doesn’t reply, just rubs the bit of skin he has contact with. That’s enough for you. The three of you lie there in silence, syncing your breathing, only ever disturbing the peace with rustling of the sheets and clothes until Kuroo speaks again.

“You know, the scientific theory is based on the fact that your hypothesis is retestable and comparing the results to make sure that they’re in accordance with each other,” Kuroo says into the darkness.

“Tsukki, please hit him for me,” you say, knowing full well that if you weren’t the most exhausted you’ve ever been, you would have done it much more justice.

Tsukishima reaches over you and hits Kuroo’s shoulder so hard that you can feel the effects of it in his chest. You can’t help but laugh, and Kuroo does too, so lightly, and yet, you can feel it against your ear. You feel the safest you’ve ever felt in this moment alone.

“Give me a week,” you mutter.

Kuroo responds far too quickly and eagerly, “Yeah, I mean, of course, whatever you need.”

Part of you thinks that come a week, you’ll regret the words that just came out of your mouth. Another part of you realizes the exact place you’re in, the way Tsukishima is still softly rubbing your hip, and the way Kuroo’s laughter is still taking over your mind. That part of you feels the fabric of their clothing and your own and the sheets beneath you. That part of you knows that even when you were as pushed as you were, you felt safe. That part of you knows that they know you better than you know yourself.

That part of you knows that you could never pass up an opportunity to give up control, to listen to these men and trust them completely. You could never regret that.

#hq smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima smut #kuroo smut #kuroo x reader #haikyuu smut #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x tsukishima x reader #toriwritesshit

2K notes · View notes

jeon-ify · 3 months

Text

that night- j. yunho : pt. 3

a/n: heyyyy girl did you miss me 😋 i know i know. after i reread the first 2 parts of this fic, im starting to feel like its already going NOWHERE. but!! i hope this part makes up for all the weirdness in the first couple of parts.

this chapter is a little short

warnings: mentions of self harm, mentions of sex (if you squint), drug use, swearing, use of the word ‘pookie’ only once, reader starts to second guess if she’s at fault

enjoy!

🤍🪩☁️

you watch your phone ding twice after you wipe your tears, processing the fact that yunho just walked into your apartment for the first time ever. you felt like none of it was real, that it was simply a blur that he came to your home, cried to you, kissed your forehead and promised he’d change.

yunho often kept his promise, thus leaving a feeling of confusion on your heart. you decide to ignore what your heart is telling you to do, and instead, listening to your brain:

you trusted him once before, and he fucked it up. don’t do that to yourself again, y/n

no matter how hard you try to ignore the messages on your phone from yunho’s support buddy, you can’t. what could mingi want at this hour?

y/n: hi, whats up?

*seen just now*

mingi.?: can i call you? i wanna talk to u ab smth rq

mingi.?: i stole ur number from yun

y/n: sure.?

as you respond to mingi, you wait a few seconds before mingi’s called ID pops up on your phone. the last thing you need right now is to talk about yunho— and if he calls for just that, you’d rather hang up and sit in silence as you literally haven’t even recovered from that entire show that just took place not even an hour ago.

“hello?” he speaks.

“hey, m-ming…mingi?” you try to pronounce his name, thinking you forgot his name, but he’s quick to confirm that you’d pronounced it right.

“yeah you said it right. how are you, y/n? how’s everything going?” you think he’s only starting small talk just to get to the topic of yunho.

“i could be better but for now i’m okay. how are you, mingi? what makes you call me at this hour?”

“if i’m being honest, i was going to ask you how you and yunho were putting up since i know he just got home from your place. he looked pretty fucked up, y/n.” you feel like he’s guilt tripping you, but you also feel like he’s part of the reason you got to see yunho tonight.

“we didn’t really talk much, he explained what happened that night and i know he regrets it— well, i like to believe he regrets it. plus, i really don’t know why it took him so long to reach out to me through san. because if he really wanted to reach out to me, he wouldn’t just send me pathetic ass texts and not have san call me.”

you and mingi both know that yunho’s texts were not pathetic. they— in fact— made your heart sink, and got you to seeing yunho, even though you didn’t want to be reminded of him, those texts are the reason you still saw him.

“i talked to him a couple years ago and we found each other at our lowest. we met at rehab— he was very much into popping pills and inflicting pain onto himself so i decided to help him out since we were going through the same thing. he had no place to stay, he sold his apartment because he owed that fucker san drug money. i took him into my apartment and i helped him build his credit score and save up to get his own place. he ended up buying a house bigger than mine. no matter what he does, he’s never really happy. i’ve known yunho long enough to know that he is not himself. listen, y/n. i’m not trying guilt trip you, but yunho really did love you. a lot of us do things we shouldn’t but that’s not an excuse. people fuck up, and you don’t have to forgive him, but give him the room to change in a way that shows how much he regrets doing that to you. i’m not saying you need to forgive him now or anything, but let your logic do it’s thing. goodnight, y/n. call me if anything changes.”

mingi hangs up the phone, leaving your head empty and full at the same time. so much happened today, and the last thing you needed was mingi unpacking everything to you.

yunho never mentioned that in his texts. since the both of you were together, yunho was too scared to touch a drug— that being part of the reason he never got along with san.

your pink nail polish is laid out on the floor in crumbles as you’ve picked it all off your nails. you think twice or three times over about how yunho was so broken over what he did to you. he’s the victim in his own story.

you are broken, but you didn’t feel like you were allowed to be hurt— though you have every right to be.

while you and yunho were together, you often refused sex when you got back from work, claiming that you were ‘too tired’ or ‘too busy’ to pay yunho any attention. you can’t remember the last date you had with yunho.

your thoughts cloud your brain as you slowly start to feel like you’re part of the reason he’d cheated on you.

“we hadn’t had sex in like 4 months so i started to believe it.”

“they said you don’t deserve someone like me.”

“they said you can’t handle me”

you walk over to your kitchen, grabbing your lighter and heading back to your balcony. as the night sky hugs your home, you start to mentally prepare yourself for the next few months. you’ve cancelled every lash booking you had for the next week and a half, not being in the right headspace for anything.

you pick up your phone, calling wooyoung.

“it’s 3 in the morning go back to sleep.” he groans. you caught him at the wrong time, hearing a female voice in the back moaning and breathing heavy.

“can you come over? i need you here.” you light your cigarette, the smoke clouding the air in front of you.

“i’m on my way.”

in almost 7 minutes, your best friend is sitting right by you, throwing the cigarette off the balcony. he notices how your nose and eyes are puffy from crying, how your gaze is absent. he puts his lazy hand around your shoulders, pulling you to lean on his own.

“i’m guessing it didn’t go well?” he asks, his baggy flannel smells like comfort, making your eyes well up in tears, in appreciation for your best friend.

“i’m sorry, wooyoung. i keep crying to you. i’m just so overwhelmed and so much shit is unfolding tonight, i just wanna run away from everything bro.” you sniffle into his chest, his hand rubbing on the small of your back.

“hey, it’s okay. it’s okay to cry. talk to me when you’re ready. i’m here to listen, babes.” he rubs and shushes you, as you relax against his hands.

“we talked about what happened that night and how it happened. he said he just didn’t feel like i wanted him anymore and because we didn’t have sex in like 4 months he started to believe what sara and maya were saying.”

“what were they saying?”

“they were saying shit like i didn’t deserve someone like him and that i was stupid to believe i could have someone like him. then when he left he kissed my forehead and walked out and that just was the cherry on top.”

“shit, y/n. i’m sorry.” he stops rubbing your back as you sit up facing him. he brings his hand up to wipe your tears and fix your hair.

“what else, babe?”

“then like an hour after he left, mingi texted me and when i saw it he asked to call. then i said yeah and called me and he told me how yunho was coping when we split. he said he got into drugs and started doing self harm and shit, he sold his apartment cus he owed san money for drugs and he had to get into rehab for it all. he told me how yunho regrets everything but i don’t know, woo. what do i do?” you breathe. you don’t wanna keep crying, but it’s all you can do.

“how’d you feel after the talk with yunho?” he questions.

“i don’t know. i just feel like i wanna give him room to change cus i feel like he would. but then again, he cheated once and he literally said he wanted to leave but i was holding him back from doing what he wanted. i feel like a burden on him even when we’re not together anymore. and i don’t wanna have to go through that again.”

“first of all, you’re the victim. i don’t know why mingi is making it seem like you’re to blame. second of all, i’m not gonna tell you what you should do. all i will say, is that you need hella time to figure it out. listen to your brain, y/n. not your heart. your heart will tell you to do things impulsively, it’s why your brain is up here, and your heart is right under it. your brain will lead you to do the most logical thing and what’s best for you. ’ll support you, no matter what choice you make. but please make the right one.” he kisses your temple, bringing you back to lean on him again.

“woo,”

“yes, y/n.”

“i don’t know what the fuck i’d do if i lost you.”

“you interrupted the best fuck of my life, but i forgive you. don’t let it happen again.”

you laugh, following wooyoung’s giggle.

“i love you pookie”

“i love you, y/n. do you want me to stay the night?” he watches the stars twinkle and dance, taking in the feeling of his best friend in need, and him being the only person who could make you feel at ease— something he would never take for granted.

“please.”

wooyoung giggles lightly as the both of you stand up to head to bed, falling asleep much easier than the night before.

—————————————————————————————

hello!! wooyoung is so cute ☹️

taglist: @bbae98 @haohaoshoe @k-hotchoisan @stolasisyourparent @atinytiny @isiloiale @kpophosblog @nakiiko @certifiedmoa @aaniag @yunnieo @chosoteta @xuchiya 🤍

93 notes · View notes

weirdmorefics · 1 year

Note

Could u do a request with a Aaron hotchner daughter reader(2-3) and jacks around 8 or 9, and reader meets beth for the first time, like maybe she was watching Jack because Jessica had to leave so she came over and when reader wakes up from a nap she’s just like 😳who is this lady

So Sleepy

x daugther!reader

A/N- I am so sorry for taking so long to update I have been working on my art business as well as editing some videos for youtube. I really need to not hyper-fixate on things so hard lol.

Warnings- None

Pronouns- She/Her

Word Count- 470

Summary- Hotch is waiting for Beth to come over this morning so she can watch them for the day.

Hotchner's POV

"Jack, what cereal would you like? You have to pick fast if you want to eat together." I say calmly but swiftly.

"I want to wait for Beth," Jack groans rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Okay, just eat fast with Beth because you have to get on the bus soon."

Jack smiles and crinkles his eyes "Okay Dad."

I look at the clock Beth should be here any minute. I can't help but feel antsy. This is the first time she has watched or met Y/N but I am sure she will be great. I wish she could have met Y/n first but Jessica got the Flu and there is no way she can watch them like that and we would have just all ended up sick.

My thoughts are quickly ceased by a knock at the door. Jack excitedly runs to the door while I go to open it.

"Hi, Beth! Do you want to eat breakfast with me we have Fruity Pebbles?" Jack asks with a smile on his face.

"Sure buddy," Beth smiles back.

"Jack your bag is all packed for school, right?" I ask and Jack nods quickly. "And you got your lunchbox out of the fridge right?"

"Oh right!" Jack runs off quickly causing Beth and me to laugh.

"Thank you so much Beth for watching Y/N last minute," I say with immense gratitude.

"Really Arron it is no problem at all," She assures me grabbing my hand.

"Well, I guess it is about time you met Y/N," I nod and lead her to Y/n"s room.

I turn on the lights and Y/N's light snores fill the room. I walk over to her bed and gently say "Hey Y/N it's time to wake up." She rolls over and covers her eyes with her arms "Do you want to say goodbye before I leave?"

She quickly jumps and reaches her arms out to hug me until she sees Beth and squints.

She tilts her head and stares "Do you see the lady? Is she a ghost? Where is Jess?"

I smile and stifle a laugh "This is Beth the Woman Daddy's friend who I have been seeing a lot."

"Oh... you better not steal Dad from me," She says trying to look tough which makes me smile. "Dad says you are very nice though and you have been running with each other but I bet you can't beat me."

"Is that a challenge, " Beth laughs.

Y/N looks serious "Yes! But I need breakfast first."

"Sounds like you have a busy dad" I kiss her head.

"Yes, I do! Have fun at work Dad," She smiles brightly and hug her then Jack on my way out. I have a good feeling about Beth watching the kids.

Support Me Here

#haaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #agent hotchner #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds hc #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #aaron hotch fluff #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x you #arron hotchner x reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader

196 notes · View notes

warmaidensrevenge · 1 year

Text

Eddie Munson x Fem!plus size reader

If you want to read my other work you can find it HERE

A/N: ok this is pure self indulgence. And I just returned to work from vacation and this story kinda took me. So I hope you like it. Thanks for reading and as always feedback is greatly appreciated. Kay love ya byyyyyeeee.

Warnings: language, drinking, inappropriate behavior towards a female, smoking, a touch of violence and not proof read and no word count

Summary: Eddie gets a job and finds a coworker extremely attractive.

November 1988

It was his first day working on his own. Eddie had finished his two week training on the Extruder at the plant. He was happy to find out at the start of his shift that a few of his uncle's buddies were going to be working with him too.

The first hour went by with nothing big happening. Some finished products had just come off the line and Eddie was banding it with green plastic straps. That's when he saw a blue light flash by him and he looked up and saw a forklift driver waiting for him to finish so that they could take the load.

When he looked at her, he really couldn't see her all that well. She was wearing ear muffs and a mask covering her mouth and nose. He really couldn't make out if she was actually a girl. It was winter time and she was bundled up pretty good. Though Eddie was hot as hell. She must have been freezing her ass off driving around like that. But how he was sure you were a female is when you got off your lift and went to talk to someone across the way. He saw your large hips swaying and your full chest being hugged by your winter vest.

You were a larger girl but he swore he had never seen a girl of your stature move as gracefully as you did. He figured he would stop starting so that you wouldn't think he was a creep. So he finished the task at hand and went back to the machine. He heard a honk and turned to your lift. You didn't look at him you just picked up the load and left.

You did that for the entire shift. And only once did you look at him. He couldn't be certain if you smiled at him because of the mask. But by how your eyes squinted and your eyebrows wriggled he definitely thought you smiled at him. He had asked the guys what your name was but they kept calling you the wicked witch/bitch. Which took him back.

He didn't get much information from the guys so he opted to ask his uncle. At lunch he went to sit with Wayne and asked about you. But before he could answer you walked in with your wallet and went to buy a cup of coffee. Once you got it you left.

" Okay so?"

Wayne took a bite out of his sandwich. " That's y/n. She's the one who sends us pies for Thanksgiving and cookies for Christmas."

" oh shit that's her. Man I love her apple pie."

" Yeah. I like her molasses cookies the most. She's a sweet girl."

" Then why do guys call her the wicked witch?"

Wayne shook his head. "You know how I look like I'm not happy all the time?"

"Yeah."

" Well that's how she looks. But people don't see her smile because she wears that mask."

" why does she wear that?"

" Because where her main job is, it gets really dirty and dusty and it makes it hard to breathe."

" That doesn't sound safe."

" That's why she wears the mask. Wait when she leaves, you'll see how dirty she gets."

Eddie nodded and finished his lunch. The last hour of the 8 hour shift he didn't see you. But for some reason he wanted to. He wanted to talk to you. But then all of a sudden he saw you walking to a machine and used the air hose to blow off all the dust that was covering your pants and shirt. You had taken off your ear muffs. That's when he noticed you had a bandana on and a helix piercing. You had a couple of tattoos on your forearm and were wearing a Van Halen tee.

You were already checking off boxes in Eddie's list of the perfect girl. He watched as you finished blowing yourself off and left. The next four hours dragged on for him. The person who was your relief really sucked at their job. They let shit pile up before slowly taking the product away.

When Eddie went on his final break he walked through the tender shop and saw you working on a machine. He had to do a double take to see if it was actually you. He had thought you left already. He saw you leaning into a machine fixing something.

His break was over quickly. The entire time he kept wondering about you. Seeing you with tools in your hand did something to him. Another check mark. A girl who isn't afraid to get dirty.

When he walked out of the break room he ran right into you. You guys exchanged sorrys and did that awkward dance trying to let the other pass. Your laugh filled his heart and sent butterflies flutter in his stomach. Then you put both hands on his biceps and moved him to the side. He felt a heat rise from his chest to his neck when you did that. He tried to give you a smile, but all he could manage a half one. You laughed again and walked into the break room.

...

Eddie thought about you all night. And was actually looking forward to seeing you the next day. His uncle told him your department doesn't have overtime so you pick up some poor guys OT when you could. Even if that meant a pay decrease. So you were a hard worker. And you could cook.

Check and check.

The rest of the next month he didn't see you much. He found out that your department was on a rotating shift. So you had to work all three shifts throughout the month. He actually looked forward to seeing you now. Whether it was just a few minutes or just a glance.

He wanted so badly to talk to you. Hear that pretty laugh of yours again. But he never got the chance too. That was until the company Christmas party. The only reason Eddie even went was because he heard you go every year. So while in the dance hall in a lodge he and his uncle headed to the open bar and got 2 beers and grabbed some food. Normally Eddie would sit at home and eat a microwave dinner and watch whatever Christmas movie was on. But tonight was really fun. All the games and conversations were something he wasn't quite used to. He kept an eye out on the door waiting to see you come in. He was finally gonna see you without all your gear and he knew you would be just as pretty as your laugh.

But you didn't come. He was very disappointed and decided to go out and have a cigarette. The moment he stepped outside he saw someone sitting on a bench just off to the side. All he could really make out was her long hair in a beanie and that she was smoking.

He slowly walked towards the bench and saw you. You were looking at the lights just across the little tree brush. Your full lip wrapped around your cigarette. Slowly blowing the smoke out and humming a Christmas carol.

Eddie stepped on some snow causing a crunching sound that made you turn to him. You gave his this beautiful smile and his heart skipped a beat.

" Hi."

"H-Hey." He said nervously.

"Eddie right?"

" Y-yeah."

You looked away and smiled softly.

" You're umm y/n right?"

" Uh huh." You said taking a last toke of your cigarette and tossing the butt.

Eddie had forgotten why he went outside in the first place.

" How are things in there?" You asked while getting up.

" Umm okay. They should be passing out presents soon."

" Oh. Okay." You said walking past him.

The smell of your perfume invaded his nostrils. You smelled so sweet. He stood there frozen. He was cursing himself for being so damn shy.

"You coming?"

Eddie turned and saw that beautiful smile again.

" Uhh yeah." He said following you back in.

You went to a table that he and his uncle were at. You took off your beanie and your peacoat. Revealing a long sleeve black velvet dress that fitted you perfectly. The sight of you could have brought Eddie to his knees. Just as he thought.

Fucking gorgeous!

You noticed him gawking at you and you just grinned sitting down. He quickly took the seat next to you and smirked. He offered to get you a drink needing one himself. He grabbed another beer and a coke for you. He thought it was strange that you didn't want to drink at a party but he shrugged it off.

You guys hit it off pretty well. The moment you said that you liked his Dio vest he knew he liked you. The fact that you knew who Dio was had him swooning.

You crossed your legs and your dress rode up a bit. He caught a glimpse of your knee tattoo before you pulled your dress down. His mind went berserk. He knew how much a knee tattoo hurt and he was in fucking aww. He had to adjust himself because his growing erection was starting to push against his zipper, making his pants tight.

Looks good dressed up too.

Check.

As the night went on some guys got a bit rody. You had gotten up to get some desserts when a guy from the maintenance department stumbled toward you. By your body language you didn't like what he was saying to you. You took a few steps back but he kept inching toward you. Eddie stood up to go to your rescue but Wayne grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

" Sit down son. Just watch. She can handle herself."

Eddie was confused as fuck. You needed help.

He looked back at you and saw you actually take a step closer to the guy and then put your hand on his shoulder. With one quick movement you kneed him right in the balls. You took a step back as he keeled over. You lifted his chin and Eddie heard him call you a cunt. Eddie's mouth dropped when you laid that guy the fuck out.

CHECK, CHECK. MOTHER FUCKIN' CHECK!

You came back to the table shaking your hand and sat down next to him.

" Cookie?" You offered up a plate.

He laughed taking one. " You're bad ass you know that?"

You shrugged and laughed too.

You shared your cookies with him and his uncle.

" so umm" you leaned in so that only he could hear you. " Want to get out of here?"

" Uhh y-yeah. Sure."

You smiled and stood up. He got up too and helped you with your coat. He turned to Wayne.

" Hey. You think you can get home alright?"

" Don't worry about me boy. Go have fun. Be safe."

Eddie nodded and turned back to you.

" Ready?"

He grinned. " Been ready babe."

You shook your head and he followed you out.

...

Eddie's groans filled the warm air of your living room.

" Fuck!" He groaned as you giggled.

" You're really bad at this." You teased.

" Well seems like you had more practice than me." He chuckled.

" Just a little." You said with a smile.

You move to get a bit more to get comfortable. Eddie watch you get really into it. But when it was his turn he cursed.

He threw the controller down and sunk into the couch when his character died once again.

You snickered going for the last cherry on the screen.

When the next level started you paused the game.

" You know when you said let's get out of here, this is not what I thought you had in mind."

You laughed again turning your body toward him.

" Oh? And what about Mrs pac man doesn't get you going?" You teased.

He chuckled" Yeah. I thought maybe....I don't know."

" you thought we'd have sex."

" Well umm yeah. But don't get me wrong. This was totally fun too."

" Huh. Well you kinda have to take me out a few times before we get to all that."

Eddie tugged at his bottom lip. You wanted to go out on a date? With him?

" Or not. It's totally up to you. But I gotta say. I'm not like that."

" No. No. I umm I just didn't know that you were into me. That's all."

" Well take me out and you'll find out how much." You gave him a sweet seductive smile.

He chuckled. " You're something else you know that?"

Your smile faded. " I hope that's not a bad thing."

" No. It's mostly definitely not. You're cute. And I would like to take you out."

He saw you blush then picked up the controller again. He grabbed the other one too.

He had to admit that this was the best Christmas he had ever had. And he looked forward to spending more nights like this with you.

...

@salenorona23

#fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x female original character #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie x reader #eddie my beloved #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x y/n #plus size reader #eddie x plus size reader #eddie x you

45 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

Note

3, 9, 17 :3

(for the writer ask game)

3 -- What’s a fic idea that you have but haven’t written yet?

omg no bc ive had this idea for a modern au (yes yes another one i know i just love them) where the team is all at university but the kicker is theyre all on the soccer team, with the exception of lance who is a cheerleader and coran who is the coach. one day while playing a rly nasty rival team keith gets injured and cant keep playing, so lance, who is present at all of their practices bc he loves his friends (and who also helps coran come up with play strategies) grabs an extra pair of cleats and fuckin TEARS IT UP on the field in his cheer skirt. just kicks absolutely ass. i just have to transer this from my brain to the google doc 😭😭

9 -- What’s your favorite line(s) or scene(s) that you have written?

im actually rly proud of this whole fic, but i thought i captured lance's character rly well in this one scene in particular:

Luckily for Lance, he’s not the only person on this ship who grew up with siblings. Everyone here knows the art of chore trading.

He catches Hunk in the morning, holding a laundry hamper far away from his body and scowling at it.

“Hunk! Buddy, pal, light of my life!” he calls, forcing himself to sound cheerful and possibly even mischievous. He cannot sound desperate, that’s Negotiation 101.

Hunk squints at him suspiciously. “You only call me ‘light of your life’ when you want something,” he accuses.

Lance clutches his hand to his chest. “You wound me!” he gasps dramatically. “I am heartbroken! The disdain, the accusations – baseless, if I may add – maim me so! My heart! My feelings! My delicate composition –”

“What do you need, Lance,” Hunk interrupts, but he’s grinning.

Ha! Lance’s dramatics do come in handy, thank you ever so much. He made a grumpy Hunk smile.

“I have actually come to offer you something, from the generosity of my own heart,” Lance says. “You see, my dearest friend, my love, the man after my own heart –” Hunk rolls his eyes, but doesn’t stop Lance’s theatrics – “I know you despise laundry with every part of your soul. So I, the gracious do-gooder that I am, am offering a trade. A switcheroo, if you will. I’ll take your horrible laundry duty today, and you get to do the slightly less horrible job of cleaning the pods.”

Hunk raises an eyebrow, but he thankfully looks like he’s considering the offer. “What’s in it for you?”

Not having a panic attack, Lance thinks, but he obviously doesn’t say this. “You not telling Shiro we switched so I can safely and subtly snoop through Keith’s shit and he thinks it’s you,” Lance says instead.

yeah! this is my fave fic ive written so far. im genuinely very proud of it, tho if u decide to read it warning for a graphic description of a severe panic attack.

17 -- Are there any writers and/of stories that you consider an influence?

yes omg so many. of course all the big ones, like icypanther and zenstrike and crystalprinces and deerstalkerdeathfrisbee and thenakednymph and shatterinseconds and speaks and a-zap and a-fools-errand, but i have also made several friends in the fandom who create lots of really awesome things! in no particular order:

@awhoreintheory , @sleepdeprivedflower , @dampkiiwi , @viv-is-a-clown , @littendeservesbetter , @why-are-we-here-again , @ashkirschtein , @quevadilla , @stressedsnake , @korean-toilet-ghost , @one-and-lonely16 and of course everyone who has continued to reblog or comment on my fics! this fandom is seriously full of so many creative people who put SO MUCH hard work into everything they do, and im honoured to have had the chance to be a part of what they create and even work with some of them! yall are blessings :))

questions from this ask game! shoot me a number!

#longpost #holy shit my bad this is so long 😭😭#vld #voltron #lance #langst #writing

27 notes · View notes

three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat · 10 months

Note

OK ok. many things 2 say. i just woke up and read ur answer so bare w me i have a lot

first of all. yeah people really fuck with malons character and the tropes they stick to her are boring at best and misogynistic at worst and it makes me Very Upset. shes one of my favs and shes actually rlly interesting if u squint (im abt to make 2 posts abt that lol) but noooo shes Time's Wife and The Boys Mother and nothing more . when it comes to Time L/U its weird bc it takes the heroes shade into account (which is fine! it is canon!) but imo the heroes shade completely fucked her character to shit and disregarded her entire story of oot and mm and. hhhh. i dont like that version of her becoming the Main Interpetation. please stop making her a brooding asshole please consider her as shes written pleaaaase 🙏🙏

i dont blame u for finding oot and mm dull. theyre long and old and not quite story-heavy as sksw and botw but im just insane about its themes and characters so if u ever have questions i can prolly answer them (and itd make me super happy lmao 🕺💃)

i didnt even know the shortened names were a completely fanon thing what !! hell world ig aaaagh

and OK THANK YOU!!!! there is a MASSIVE difference between tired and sleepy and he is TIRED if anything !!!!!!!! the entire game is about how devoted link is to saving zelda that it caused the reincarnation cycle OF COURSE HE WOULD BE TIRED. OF COURSE HE WOULD SACRIFICE SLEEP FOR THE SAKE OF HER. OF COURSE!!!!!!!!! i will say that there is this interesting thing w sksw in that, like... you start out being told link is someone who is very carefree and almost lackadaisical. he lives with his head in the clouds and takes things at his own pace and he likes to stop and smell the roses and whatnot (see: everything zelda says at the beginning of the game abt him not practicing and not rlly taking it seriously and etc etc etc). hes too late to see her at the forest temple and impa tells him he was too late to SAVE her and THEN we get that iconic "am i late?" "no. youre right on time." scene, and then it ends w ghirahim saying hes "far too quick" at the end of the game. what im getting at is that hes trying so, so hard throughout the game to be the hero zelda needs, and he gets better and better and better (albeit at his own expense). i DO think the impa scene was the major turning point and fucked up his view of himself ("why would i need to take care of myself when she still needs to be saved?") but point is. he is trying so hard. yes hed be tired and itd almost certainly be self imposed but sleepy? LAZY??? did you play the game past the opening .

you and me have the same brain abt sksw link i think. no more sleepy soft sweetheart link i want sksw link with a good heart who is still ultimately so sooo tired and weary bc he is putting everything he is into saving his friend but who also wont pass up the opportunity to fuck with people or wreck shit if he wants to.

ok sorry for the long messages. Why am i not following you what hang on

Dang :/ you really can't have anything in this place, huh? (Also I'd love to hear what you have to say on the hero's shade (even if its just in the context of lu), because I do quite like him (although the version that exists in my head is admittedly a bit-- different))

It's not that I don't want to watch it its just that I know after about three hours I'll be giving up (yeah I can replay a game I've already finished three times for six straight hours but GOD FORBID I try to watch a new show or listen to a podcast :/)

Yeah the names are shortened. yall could've been creative at least? It feels like it reduces them down even further, if that makes sense

YES he's getting faster and faster but at what cost!! Buddy you're going to make yourself sick!!! Take a break once in a while!!! (I say while actively writing several fics in which he Does Not Take A Fucking Break)

At this point sksw link simply has no shits left to give. Like yeah he'll help people but. Wouldn't it just be so much easier to give this love letter away as toilet paper? And also like I know it's just restrictions on how many words they can get in the boxes. But he seems like a pretty blunt guy. I think someone who's a quote unquote "soft sweetheart" would at least be willing to use more than three words at a time (and he wouldn't walk closer to better hear a private conversation, cough, pipit and his mom, cough, and then lie about it)

#the main thing that interests me in ss isnt like. the characters and such. but rather the lore and the fuckery of the timeline.#so im not as qualified to speak on it as i would like :/#also im just bad at grasping stuff thats not laid out directly in front of my face #mb and strawberryrosewood scream about hats

1 note · View note

jedothek · 2 years

Text

How It Should Have Happened

By Jedothek

Columbus Day and Indigenous Peoples’ Day, 2022

Dramatis Personae

· Cacique (or chief) of the Lucayans

· Christopher Columbus, Italian navigator in the pay of Spain

SCENE: Guanahani. A clearing in a rainforest near the shore.

Enter CACIQUE stage right; COLUMBUS stage left

CACIQUE

Hey, where’re you going there?

COLUMBUS

Well, we’re not going anywhere; we’re coming

CACIQUE

From where?

COLUMBUS

From Spain

CACIQUE

Spain. Where’s that?

COLUMBUS points stage left

COLUMBUS

Over there

CACIQUE

Squinting and shading his eyes with his hand

I don’t see anything

COLUMBUS

It’s too far away to see

CACIQUE

Shrugs

Checks out. What did you come for?

COLUMBUS

Gold and spices

CACIQUE

Frowns, removes a gold ear ornament, and looks at it

Well, I’ve got these ear doodads, but I can’t let you have them. A buddy of mine gave ’em to me. Sentimental value, you know

COLUMBUS

Sure, understood. Any other gold around?

CACIQUE

[gesturing stage right]

You could ask around. Maybe some of the folks would be willing to part with some.

COLUMBUS

Thanks. How are you fixed for spices?

CACIQUE

We get by. We’ve got allspice, vanilla…

COLUMBUS

Sounds great. How are you on cloves, nutmeg…

CACIQUE

What’s a nutmeg?

COLUMBUS

It’s the hard, aromatic seed of the fruit of a tree, Myristica fragrans, used in…. [In sudden doubt] Hey, this is the Indies, right?

CACIQUE

What’s an Indy?

COLUMBUS

I guess you don’t use that word. Asia?

CACIQUE

Asia who?

COLUMBUS

Asia who what?

CACIQUE

o. I thought you were telling a riddle or something.

COLUMBUS

So what do you call this place?

CACIQUE

Guanahani, [Smiles with local pride, he being chief] It’s a nice little island we have here.

COLUMBUS

Oh, it’s lovely. [deliberately picking something to compliment] Some of these fruits look delicious, I’ve never seen anything like them

CACIQUE

They’re yummy. I’ll fix you a basket to take home with you.

COLUMBUS

O, you shouldn’t bother…

CACIQUE

It’ll be my pleasure [hesitates, not wanting to be rude] Mm, how long were you planning on staying?

COLUMBUS

Well, actually, I was thinking of claiming the island

CACIQUE

Well, look, I’d never want to piss on anyone’s dreams, but there’s a snag. The island’s already inhabited, you see

COLUMBUS

That’s a point. Though [he looks around appreciatively at the lush vegetation] I could really see retiring here.

CACIQUE

[stiffens, seeing he has to deal with a difficult topic]

Now, I don’t want to be unfriendly, here, stranger, but we’re not too keen on immigration around here. We want to keep Lucayan culture Lucayan. Don’t take it personally, now…

COLUMBUS

[suavely]

No offense taken; I understand completely. So, if claiming the island for Spain is off the table…Maybe you could join us – like, voluntarily. How would you like to be ruled by Queen Isabella?

CACIQUE

Is she cute?

COLUMBUS

Hey, man…

CACIQUE

Sorry, that was out of line. Why would we want to be ruled by her?

COLUMBUS

She and her royal husband, Ferdinand, are the most glorious sovereigns in Christendom

[CACIQUE is getting about half of this, with an effort of concentration]

They have treasuries full of gold, a magnificent palace, and invincible armies

CACIQUE

Sounds like you folks are pretty well fixed. What do u need us for?

COLUMBUS

[suddenly unsure himself]

Well, like I said, we’re kinda interested in gold and spices

CACIQUE

Well, as I say, with the gold, you’re pretty much on your own. We can certainly get you some allspice

COLUMBUS

Wow, it sounds all-purpose, that’ll be useful

CACIQUE

Now, we can give you some gratis, of course, but if we’re talking bulk, there’s got to be some reciprocity…

COLUMBUS

O, absolutely

[brief silence as CACIQUE waits for COLUMBUS to go on]

CACIQUE

[nodding encouragingly, perhaps with a hand gesture]

…and in return, you might provide…

COLUMBUS

[catching on]

Yeah, well, to start with, we have the true religion

CACIQUE

[Not entirely grasping the concept]

The true religion?

COLUMBUS

Yeah, it’s called Christianity

CACIQUE

[sounding out this difficult word]

Chris tea an it ee. And what’s that about?

COLUMBUS

Well, it says you can go live forever after death with this really kind god if you trust in the fact that he came to earth as a man a long time ago and died for you

CACIQUE

[too polite to say that this is nonsense]

Whoa, that’s some deep shit

COLUMBUS

Well, we think it’s kinda the ultimate religion

CACIQUE

[With a touch of condescension]

I’m sure it is. But [attempting tactfully to change the subject], I was thinking of something a bit more...tangible, you know, in exchange for the allspice…

COLUMBUS

O yeh. Well, let’s see, we could sell you some gunpowder.

CACIQUE

Gunpowder. And what’s that?

COLUMBUS

It’s a powdered mixture of saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal

CACIQUE

[trying to sound enthusiastic]

Great.

COLUMBUS

U can blow shit up with it

CACIQUE

[with genuine enthusiasm]

Great!

COLUMBUS

And you can use it to fire muskets

CACIQUE

What’s that?

COLUMBUS

It’s like a bow and arrow, but it shoots farther and does lots of damage

CACIQUE

Ok, but we’ve already got some pretty good bows and arrows. Why would we need mascots?

COLUMBUS

Muskets. Well, I’m thinking they could be pretty useful in opposing European imperialist aggression.

CACIQUE

That would come in handy. Ok, allspice for gunpowder it is. We can work out the exchange rate later. Well, it’s been nice meeting you, Mr.…

COLUMBUS

Columbus, Christopher Columbus, from Genoa

[extends his open palm. CACIQUE takes a short, slightly alarmed step back; then recovers his poise]

CACIQUE

I take it you want me to touch your hand.

[COLUMBUS’ arm droops in a disappointed manner]

COLUMBUS

Well, it's customary

CACIQUE

Ok, sure. [extends his hand]

[aside, in a condescending tone]

It’s their culture.

[they shake hands]

So, I’ll have my people get in touch with your people.

COLUMBUS

Perfect. We’re easy to find. We’re moored off the beach, in that… [seeking a word to connect the Santa Maria to CACIQUE’s experience] … YOOJ canoe

CACIQUE

O, is that what it is. I was beginning to believe that sea serpents were real.

COLUMBUS

[taken aback]

Aren’t they?

[CACIQUE rolls his eyes]

[Blackout]

#columbus day #indigenous peoples' day

1 note · View note

ladybeug · 2 years

Note

hey buddy just wondering if u have any tips for Go Very Fast. drawing wise. i think u are the speediest draw-er I know with such a cute style and I very much enjoy your amazing stick figures and such and would like to learn how to Do That if possible. unfortunately I’m the slowest artist I know and I get v hung up on stuff and have a hard time loosening up and just doodling. i always end up fussing with construction lines and stressing about making things much more finished and proper than I intended to even if I originally set out to just make a 30-second uggo doodle for laffs and kicks. as resident Esteemed Doodler do you have wisdom for high-strung nerds such as myself who seek the sweet nectar of Literally Just Doodlin, Learning And Improving And Stuff Ofc But Mostly Just Having a Great Time About It (not that any of your doods are uggo, on the contrary I find them all high-quality art and I would pay money to visit a fancy art gallery with your very doodliest doodles on display in all their glory)

HI! I would LOVE to talk about Go Very Fast, drawing wise!! It's my all-time favorite kind of drawing, and it is very near and dear to my heart.

First of all, let's get this out of the way: it's practice. we all know it's practice, we've heard it, we are tired of it, we are taking a nap instead of practicing.

Here's my tips and thoughts:

(1) Let it look bad!!! It's going to look bad!!! I'm sorry its just true

Sometimes it will look like the people have broken 5 bones:

Sometimes it will look like whatever the fuck this is:

oh god how did this happen:

It will even look bad when the picture looks good! For example, take a look at Evita in the lefthand panel here:

Overall the panel is nice. But if you focus on Evita's actual shape it's awkward. The arm on the sill doesn't look like it's supporting any weight, and the arm pulling back the curtain doesn't make sense, and the pose looks like it would hurt my back, and it's just not very attractive.

But its FINE THAT IT LOOKS BAD, because the composition of the whole thing is okay and the scene is clearly communicated.

Connecting to my next point:

(2) Focus on the outlines and the silhouettes!

Composition is always important but its pretty much all you have if you're working really fast.

Here are some drawings I did really fast that I think are really hard to look at:

Can you tell what I was trying to draw? Can you tell that that's ladybug fighting godzilla there in the distance? I can't. I literally drew this and sometimes I have to squint to figure out what it is. It looks like nothing. the silhouettes are not communicating "ladybug and godzilla", because ladybug is in a big white explosion, and godzilla's tail is cut off and obscured by the foreground, and also the shape isn't very good. It's so busy that your eye doesn't find the shapes I want you to find.

(compare to the foreground, very clear, adrien's silhouette is so obvious, simple, unobscured)

Here's one that's too busy to read easily:

This panel is ALL OVER THE PLACE, the silhouettes are unclear and it's hard to know where to look or even what they're holding because the shapes are so busy and undefined.

To make this better, while still drawing it just as fast, I could have:

(a) The people are the subject of this panel, so I should have made both of their heads more defined and easy to see. I would keep all of chat in the panel so you could see both his party hats (clear silhouette) and maybe given queen bee's pigtail more shape.

(b) added less detail to chloe's armful of gifts and given her actual arms more definition so you would focus on "she is holding a lot" instead of wondering what the fuck was happening in that mass of lines. Chat noir's armful is closer to what I wanted to go for.

On the contrast, here's some examples of fast comics I've done that have really clearly communicated shapes n silhouettes.

They are so easy to look at:

Look at that. NONE of those drawings are good individually and I did them all very fast, but because the silhouettes are so clearly defined its very easy to look at and understand.

Here's another. SO fast. So clear and easy to view:

It's about the CLEAR SHAPES!!

chat noir and ladybug are very very good for clear silhouettes and fast drawing - they contrast each other so good! you can get away with a ton of GO VERY FAST:

Like the silhouette in this one is an absolute lump!! but because they contrast each other you still get both their shapes really clearly.

(3) Some exercises to try

If you want to be mindful about drawing quickly and not getting caught up in details, I can recommend a couple exercises.

<>Time yourself. Give yourself 30 seconds to draw something, and if you don't like how it came out too bad!!! Try again!! 30 more seconds, new image.

<>Do continuous line drawings, to focus on shape/form. put your pen down and draw your subject without lifting the pen up. don't even vary pressure, just one long bold line, creating the entire image.

<>Draw literally just the silhouette of the whole pictures you're thinking of. And then draw it again in one continuous line.

<>Go for quantity over quality! Do a lot of sketches of your subject and try to capture the essence of it, the feel, the gesture, the gestalt, before you go in and fill out the details. Or be like me and don't fill out the details at all haha

These will look bad!!!!!! That's good.

These will give you practice, but I hope will also help free you from the idea that your art has to be perfect and pristine to be worthwhile. This isn't to knock down detailed or precise art, which I adore! It's instead to remind you that art is good if it makes you feel something, or makes you think, or makes you laugh, or if you just like to look at it. It can be anything you feel good about!! or bad about!! art is wild!

I have always been inspired by artists like Kate Beaton and Quentin Blake. Their art reminds me that I can be a valuable communicator and excellent artist just with doodling and simple shapes. They've helped me have confidence in my lumpy art even though I really struggle with more detailed beautiful illustrations, and that can make me feel like i'm not a real artist! But I am. I'm just a very fast lumpy artist.

Anyways, thank you for the ask. I love to talk about it, I love to draw fast and bad, and I love to look through my old sketchbooks for examples of bad bad fast fast drawings.

I'll leave you with this one, which was so fast and bad I had to start over immediately:

#I hope this was encouraging and helpful #my advice is just be as bad at art as possible and it will loop around and be really good #my art #thank you #long post #sorry it is SO LONG i couldnt resist all the pictures #i have more i didnt use #because i do SO Many bad fast drawings

1K notes · View notes

sweetsbfreex · 3 years

Text

a father’s duty

Summary: brought to u by the wholesome picture of Cevans sewing up dodger’s stuffed lion 🤧

Warnings: Talk of trauma (nothing too in depth) and talk of sex

Pairings: Dad, Husband!Ransom x reader

You and Ransom were cuddled up together on the couch, some random movie he had chosen that you weren’t paying attention to. You wanted to cuddle, but he insisted on watching this movie so a compromise had to be made. And the feeling of his hand going up and down, inside your shirt, against your arm; Could only make you purr in contentment.

And you were meant to doze off if it wasn’t for the dramatic, high pitched scream of pure agony. You both shot up from your seats, looking at each other wide eyed before dashing up the stairs (Ransom ahead).

Until you were in the doorway of an overly purple room.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

Ransom let a small, stunned gasp at the feel of a teary eyed four year old, Celeste bolting to his legs. Her small arms had tried to wrap around his legs as she sobbed into his jeans, fists tight as she clutching the denim.

Confused you had leant down adjacent to her, Ransom peering down from his stance, lifting her arms to softly run circles over her back.

“What’s wrong baby?” a fake pout on your lips.

“She’s dead!” she had sobbed, her puffy cheek making contact with his expensive jeans to make eye contact with you.

“What? Who’s dead babe?” Ransom asked, tilting his head downward, eye brows stitched together.

She propped her chin up against his leg, “Daffy” she blubbered, extending her arm behind her to point at the limp stuffed bunny a few feet away.

“Fucking––” He couldn’t finish his sentence a hearty laugh emitted into the otherwise somber air, still laughing (some tears streaking his face) he had picked up the once blubbering girl so she saddled on his hip.

“Ransom! It’s not funny and language, god”

“C'mon” he dragged the n, “You gotta admit this is hilarious, she’s so dramatic...I wonder who she gets it from” he smirked, looking at you knowingly.

“You” you appointed, holding back your smile.

“As if” he scoffs rolling his eyes.

“Daffy!” Celeste exclaimed, snapping the two from their loving trance.

“Right!” you snapped yourself back into mom mode, making way to Daffy and your way back to the two, watching Ransom wipe the tears from Celeste’s face, calming her down in a hushed voice.

You sidle up next to Ransom lifting the stuffed animal, so the both of you could evaluate the state of her favorite buddy. You looked up to him, watching his face scrunch up, almost like disgust, but you knew he was just very confused.

“Jeez leste, what’d you do?”

The light yellow bunny up front was perfectly fine, but once you had turned it around a tear in the fabric of the it’s “spine” was parted, the thread poking out along the hem.

“I–– I was just spinning her around”

“Is that really what you did” you prompted.

“No..” she set forward shyly, resting her temple against her father’s shoulder. “There was a string and then I pulled it by accident”

“By accident?” Ransom asked, eyebrows raised.

“On purpose” she mumbled, eyes tearing up slowly.

Celeste is probably the biggest liar the two of you know. You both have been working on that habit, reassuring her that it was fine and being honest is better most times (minus surprises, safety, etc). You both had even resorted to acting out examples for her. She was getting better, but ever the fibber she still found a way to slip into the habit. And when you had asked her why exactly she loved lying, she only replied with a quib “It’s fun!” giggling to herself.

“Hey it’s okay, you were curious” he cooed, “Mommy will fix it don’t worry”

You looked up at him mesmerized, not so surprised at the father he was becoming. Remembering all those nights he had kept the two of you up, even the day you were in labor, he had been worried. How was he ever supposed to love a kid properly–– let alone his–– when he never had that benefit. All these what ifs running through his head in a cycle.

He had even taken it upon himself to sign you both up for those parenting classes. The ones with the fake dolls. Dolls that he held gently as if they were alive.

“I will. You’ve had a long day, love, you wanna go to bed now?” you asked her, smiling.

She nods silently, reaching her hands out to you. Ready for the familiar night routine to begin.

––––

After Celeste had been put to bed, it was not you and Ransom being the only two up. You were both in your shared bathroom, getting ready for bed.

You groaned, catching the attention of Ransom. “Sewing that thing is gonna be some work” watching yourself in the mirror as you rub in your lotion.

“You’re tying that thing together, how hard can that be?”

“I’m sewing it together”

“Tomato, Tomahto” he responded.

“Fine, since you think it’s so easy why don’t you fix it for her?”

“Deal. I’ll take another night of anal as my end” he says this confindently, not expecting another word for you, as he saunters past you briskly but not before placing a kiss to your check and a rough smack to the ass.

Ransom.

–––––

And god did he take this seriously. Making sure you were up this entire time as he achieved his new level of domesticity.

And you did, sitting up against the headboard as you watched him sit shirtless across the sized room.

He sits in the barrel chair. the stuffed animal in his lap, a spool of light pink thread to match the bunny in between his legs, and a packet of needles in his hand.

“Babe you have to––”

He holds up a hand, stopping you from saying whatever you were about to say.

“I got this babe” he tells you, looking at you wearily as he pulls up a video (‘how to sew stuffed bunny animal together’) on his phone.

You watch him watch the video,switching the show you were watching to make it seem as if you weren’t watching him too carefully.

He squints, focused as he listens to the lady in the video.

“You look so cute”

“Thanks” he grumbles, placing a thimble on his pointer finger.

He was like a cute grandmother. His eyebrows brought together and tongue poking through his cheek, which you teased him endlessly about. There was just something about watching a brawly, grumpy man like him knit. So you pulled your phone out wanting to take a quick picture.

“Put. it. down.” he tells you, not even looking away from his task.

“Wha–– You’re really creepy, you know that. Smile” you demand of him. “It’d be so cute for the album”

He of course doesn’t smile instead raising the stuffed animal to cover his face from the camera, but you were quick enough to get something before that. Smiling fondly at the adorable photo of his concentrated face. Once you had your fill of serotonin, you closed the device and reached over to set it on your nightstand.

“You gonna give me a kiss goodnight before you go?” he asks you stoically, head still looking down at his task.

“Yes Ransom. Just give me a minute’ you respond, shimmying yourself from the soft sheets. You make your way besides Ransom–– naturally he wraps one arm around your waist to bring you–– leaning down and placing a kiss to his cheek (which he smiles at) then his lips. He pulls back first only to return again for a deeper one. Sending you off, finally, with a pinch to your ass.

“Goodnight, Baby” you tell him over your shoulder on your way back to the bed.

“Night y/n/n.”

–––––

“y/n” is whispered in your ear and the shaking of your shoulder is what causes you to wake up. You turn your head over your shoulder to see Ransom standing over you gleefully.

“Ransom?” you rasp, turning your whole body over to face him, looking at the clock on your night stand. “It’s two in the morning!”

“Thanks captain obvious” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Yet, he lifts up the stuffed animal. Both hands on either paws, holding it up to show you. “I finished!”

You instantly noticed the band-aid wrapped around his thumb and the brightest smile on his face. Through it you could see how proud of himself he really was. He really was getting a hand of this dad thing he was still figuring it out.

Ransom, however, could only think about how tired he was and how strained his eyes felt––probably rimmed red. With the amount of times he had to rewatch the video because he missed or didn’t understand a step. But, for his little girl it was definitely worth it.

“Well, look at you. You did so good bub” you extend your arm up lazily to then loop it around his neck, bringing him down for a kiss.

If only his conceited friends could see him now. Thinking about how Danver, one of the many friends he had dropped, would berate him passively. Calling it a women’s role most likely.

“Thank you” he settles one more kiss, “Let’s go”

“Go where?” you chuckle

“Leste’s room...where else? She’ll need him to sleep the rest of the night comfortably” he explains, removing your arm from his neck. To gently tug your hand.

“You sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Hundred percent, let’s go”

––––

You open the door slowly, the creaking sound it emitted making you cringe. And when you’re hushed by Ransom, you twist around instantly sending him a stink eye.

And you both stand against the side of her bed, you crouch down. Raising your hand to her shoulder.

“Lesty” you whisper, your thumb running circles over her shoulder.

She wakes up slowly, as always. The clear indication that she is awake being when she raises her hand to rub at her eyes.

“Mommy? She stops and gasps, “Are we going to Disney?” asking the question with glee, she sits up, her hands placed over her book patterned pajama pants.

You and Ransom share a short laugh. Remembering how you surprised her just like this months ago. The frown that overtakes her face makes you both want to laugh.

“I’m going back to sleep” she tells you both, already reaching for her blanket.

“Wait” you laugh, holding her hand. “There's a surprise for you”

At your announcement, Ransom steps up holding out the sewed up stuffy. Her tiny hands covered the gasp she let out, muffling it.

“She’s fixed!” she’s astonished, running her fingers along the stitches.

Celeste felt like a jumping bean with all this happiness filling her body and she wasn’t sure how to express how happy she felt. So, she jumped onto her mother, arms latched onto her neck. Kissing her cheek incessantly.

“Thank you thank you thank you-”

“Actually––” you start.

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” ever the dramatic, “Momma didn’t do this. I did babe” he tells her, a gobsmacked, playful expression on his face.

Ransom’s replica quickly unlatched herself from y/n, rocketing herself into his arms. He held onto her tightly. Falling in love with the toothy smile–– albeit it was missing a front one–– she gave him. He was rolling around in her appreciation towards his gesture. This was all he wanted. To be a better man for you to marry and be a better father for his daughter.

He brought her into him a little bit, placing a kiss to her forehead.

“Anything for you Leste” he tells her in a hush.

You rise slowly from your crouch, knees a bit sore from how long you were down there. Just in awe of the love they both exerted towards each other. Ransom’s hand lightly flying over the back of her head and Her tiny palm coddling his cheek.

“Time for bed?” you ask the two of them, your hand naturally going to Ransom and Celeste’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m tired” she tells you, dragging out the h. Setting her cheek to her dad’s muscled shoulder. Nuzzling her cheek against it lazily.

“Yeah? Well let’s put you in bed first” Ransom responds.

You walk behind the two, as Ransom sets her down gently on her bed.

He sets a kiss to her cheek then he pulls back, watching the way her arms tighten around the stuffed animal.

“You love it?” he asks, a proud smile etched on his face.

“Yes” she whispers, “Thank you, daddy” her palm caressing the top of it’s head.

“Anything for you Leste” he reaffirmed. He needed her to know that he’d do anything. Anything. To keep a smile that bright on her precious face. He didn’t want her to doubt if he ever loved her or if she could ever come to him about anything. He especially didn’t want her to think that she’d be second to his work.

He loved her too much and decided, right when you told him the news, he’d learn from his parents’ mistakes and trauma he had to deal with.

“Goodnight, honey”

He gets up from his spot watching you lean over placing a kiss to her cheek, tugging the crocheted blanket to Celeste’s chin.

“Night baby” you tell her sweetly.

“Night” she replies to the both of you before snuggling into the duck more.

––––

RIght when you shut the door, you expect to face Ransom’s back walking towards your bedroom. But try not to scream, startled, when your head meets with his chest.

You look up, probably not the smartest thing to do. “You ready for bed?” you ask nervously, each hand landing on his broad shoulders.

With the way he was looking at you, you would assume you were the last stash of biscoff cookies he always keeps fully stored in the house. Especially, with the other Drysdale in the house, the cookies went by faster when they used to.

“Don’t think so..We made a bet. Remember?” he smiles

“RIght now?!” you hiss lowly. He must have lost his mind. “You woke me up at like three in the morning”

“It was actually two” you whack his arm at his smart mouth, of course he doesn’t react. “Anyway. A bets a bet. Let’s go baby” he crouches down, lifting you up swiftly into a bride-groom like position.

“Ransom!” you whisper, taken by surprise.

“A quickie and then we’ll drop her off at your parents tomorrow to get to the real stuff tomorrow” he asserts.

With that, he picks up his speed. Taking you both down the hallway. Once he’s arrived at his destination–– the bedroom–– he throws you on the bed. Laughing to himself with how stricken you look. You should be used to this by now, he tells himself.

“Ransom!” is the last of his name he hears with a tone of scolding mixed with shock, before he gets to work. When he climbs on top of you quickly––like a lion to prey––biting your neck.

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out fanfiction #dad!ransom #dad!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale drabble #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale fluff #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #husband!ransom #dad ransom drysdale

1K notes · View notes

kitchenscene · 2 years

Note

some mashup of 1 & 13 or just one or the other with buddie if it gives u inspiration

inhale, in hell there's heaven

An argument over bullet wounds and words left unsaid, a five alarm fire, and a handful of constellations. But today can be different. Today he can be fine, not good, great, okay, just fine.

or; Eddie's not okay. Buck reminds him that he doesn't need to be.

(things you said at 1am)

They’re called to a fire one day. They don’t manage to put it out until the next. Friday passes into Saturday as they pass the threshold of midnight, surrounded by ash and ember and charred metal. Burnt photographs of a family, now on their way to the hospital after a close call, too close, scattered the pavement outside of what used to be an apartment complex.

There’s a scrapbook with torn edges, shrunken from the flames, but somehow intact. The front pages are burnt and peering through the rest seems invasive. Eddie finds a polaroid just outside the truck that somehow drifted through the wind to his feet. Two girls squinting at the camera shudder, laughing in the most freeing way imaginable. One girl has her arm around the other’s shoulder, holding an open beer in the same hand. The other girl is covering part of her face with her hand and Eddie can’t help but notice the flower tattoos on their wrists. Two daisies. A matching set.

(No one died on the scene, but there’s no telling what will go wrong between the fire and the hospital. He reads the caption, “Summer, 2019, the day it all ended,” and he sets the photo on top of the scrapbook, hoping their story can still have a happy ending.)

The busted sprinkler pipes couldn’t stop the thin wall from burning, too hot, too fast. All those memories, a baby's first steps, a best friend’s first kiss, a young bachelor’s first home, a matching tattoo, now just a pile of dirt, dust, and ash.

It’s part of the job, he knows that, has become all too familiar with it. They save people, they lose them too. Sometimes they save people just to lose them later on, in the ambulance, in the hospital, in another wreckage somewhere down the line.

Death isn’t the only loss. Yesterday was a bad day but there was no death, funeral, or promise of a future death. There was a different kind of loss, if it can even be qualified as a loss. Yesterday, before the fire, hours before the new day began, Eddie was at a loss for words.

(It’s pathetic, really, it wasn’t even a bad call that set him off. No, it was the torn seam on his shirt, thread unraveling, slowly, slowly, slower still. Easily mendable with a new string of thread. But that’s the thing about a breakdown, the breaking is never convenient or planned or well timed. It occurs in small moments, trying to tell a lie that is obviously a lie, but lying is easy, easier than any number of truths, so the lies become easy, well intentioned, but still lies.

“I’m fine,” is the first lie he tells.

“Why is it so hard to admit you’re not fine? You got shot—”

“—I remember, thanks—”

“—and you’re pretending like it never happened.”

“Not now, Buck.”

“Then when?”

There’s never a good answer for that. Now, never, tomorrow, thirty-six hours, in a phone call some other day, some other easier day where it’s no longer his problem, but a problem for another Eddie to solve. When, he doesn’t know, but not now, that much he knows.

A torn shirt, that’s all it took. A torn shirt and an overwhelming gust of fear because it led him to the simple conclusion that he is not okay. Eddie knows he’s not okay, but the longer he thinks about it, the more not-okay he becomes and there’s no telling just how far back that hurt runs. How long will it truly take to heal? Soon, he tries to reason. Soon, it has to.

And it gets worse, because even that is a lie. Another lie. He wants, so desperately, to forget the scar on his right shoulder and all the weight it carries, but he wants, even more, to move forward. But the forward path seems to travel uphill and he’s tired, that much is true. Too tired to keep climbing, crawling, tumbling backwards to the bottom of the hill just to start again and again and again. Eddie wants to talk, really, truly, but he’s tired and somehow the words are stuck with him at the bottom of the hill.)

[read on ao3]

send me a 'things you said' prompt

#me: send prompts and i'll write a super quick drabble. also me:#prompt fills #911 fox #911 #911fic #buddie fic #buddie #texas.fic #tusera #userbecky #userceecee

82 notes · View notes

ladykissingfish · 3 years

Note

Akatsuki texting style hc?

Texting/Talking with the Akatsuki

Kakuzu

Doesn’t really understand modern technology; can barely make phone calls, let alone text. The others have each taken the time to try and teach the old dog this particular trick, but it doesn’t carry much weight with him. The other get annoyed with him because he always insists on calling rather than shooting off a text, which can be very inconvenient when one is trying to save time (and words). When calling isn’t a possibility, he’ll squint angrily at his phone (which is, undoubtedly, a flip phone) and type out a text in painstaking detail. Is the type to type out entire sentences, with proper grammar and punctuation and everything. Thinks things like emojis or gifs are stupid and childish, and refuses to use them.

Hidan

Unless you’re on his priority list, Hidan will take approximately ten thousand years to text somebody back. His most impressive non-text was him responding to “do you like spicy food?” with “not really” … five years later. When he does text, his messages are very short and sweet, using mostly abbreviations or emojis to get his point across … except when he’s angry. When that happens, he’ll type out complete sentences, in all caps, and fill up half a page with question and/or exclamation marks. These texts are rife with spelling errors, as his fingers move at the speed of light when he’s upset, and he’s not the most grammar-conscious to begin with. The most likely of the group to send a “u up?” text but instead of talking about sex, it’s him lecturing the person on why they should convert to his religion.

Deidara

Texting with him is like reading a short story every time you get a message. Or, make that messages. Anytime he has something to say, he’ll send his thoughts in multiple short paragraphs, in rapid succession, until the receiving party has a book’s worth of messages to read through. Also the type to text back ridiculously fast, like two seconds after someone texts him. Never capitalizes anything, not even names. Likes emojis but doesn’t use them often because he has trouble finding things that express exactly how he feels. If he’s close to the person he’s texting, will send them countless pictures all day of himself making goofy faces. Also the type to take pictures of things like the sky or trees, send to someone, then ask which picture looks “more artistic”, even though the pictures are pretty much the same.

Sasori

Is a bit like Kakuzu in that he doesn’t find texting to be in anyway enjoyable, but is significantly better at it than the old man. Most likely to Like or Dislike a message rather than respond with actual words. When he does use words, it’s mostly one or two word responses like “ok” or “yeah” or “sounds good”. Also the type to send links to medical studies or articles that he finds interesting … although the receiver rarely does. Also, if he takes the time out of his day to send someone a message, he expects a speedy response; he doesn’t like to be kept waiting, after all.

Tobi/Obito

As Tobi, this guy is all about emojis, gifs, pictures, links to YouTube videos .. anyone sending a message to him or getting one in response shouldn’t expect conversations to be of a serious nature at all. As Obito, this is the guy who will send deep philosophical questions or thoughts at 3 in the morning, then be genuinely hurt that whoever he sent it to didn’t respond right away … even though they were likely asleep. Obito is also the type to start group chats adding together people that don’t normally get along in person, and his pointed questions usually end up getting him blocked or muted by one or two people. Is also a huge gossip with those that are closest to him, and will very often “spill the tea” with Deidara or Konan about things he’s seen and heard throughout the week.

Konan

Konan is a very tough young woman, and often has difficulties expressing things like sadness or vulnerability around others. Texting is the perfect outlet for her to truly be herself, and she’s able to convey her thoughts and feelings through texts. The type to send lengthy paragraphs rather than short messages, and whatever she sends always hits deep with the person who receives it. Konan is also a great text-buddy for watching movies, as she and a friend can both be in separate places, watching the same thing, and fill up each other’s phones with funny observations about whatever they’re watching. Doesn’t really like selfies (she’s very self conscious about her looks, for some inane reason) but will send one if asked, which will always be breathtakingly gorgeous.

Pein

Prefers texting to any other type of communication. Texting is an easy way for this leader to get out fine-tuned messages to multiple people at once. Rarely sends one on one messages because he’d rather hit up everyone at once in a group chat. Types out full, grammatically correct sentences every single time. Has no clue what stuff like LOL or SMH means, and even though the others sometimes respond with things like this, is too stubborn to ask someone what they mean. Can’t take or send a decent picture to save his life; all of his images are blurry and out of focus. A surprising sentimental type though; the screensaver on his phone is a picture of all the Akatsuki together.

Zetsu

This guy never texts unless he’s sending pictures of some “wonderful” thing he saw in nature. But the problem is, Zetsu thinks literally everything is wonderful. His friends phones will be bombarded with pictures of squirrels and spiderwebs and tree leaves and birds and anything else he thought was worthy of a snap. Yet despite the boring (to some) subject matter, everyone has to admit that Zetsu takes professional-grade pictures of whatever he clicks at, and is always the one asked to take the pictures at formal events. Sends a lot of messages out, but is like Hidan in that it takes him forever to respond to things sent to him.

Itachi

It would be more likely for one to see the moon fall out of the sky and into the ocean than it would be to get a text from Itachi. He’s like Kakuzu in that he prefers calling, although not for a reason of convenience. Itachi often feels that technology has split people further apart than ever, and finds most forms of technological communication to be cold and impersonal. If he has something to say to you, he’d rather say it directly to your face, not through the screen of a phone. When speaking in-person isn’t an option, then he chooses to call — but he warned, no conversation with the brunette is a short one. Someone could ask him about the weather and end up having a three hour long conversation about different cooking styles of the world. But no matter the topic, whoever Itachi calls will have a hard time hanging up, as Itachi’s voice is almost hypnotic in its soothing quality.

Kisame

Kisame gets more texts than anybody because he’s the friendliest and most accessible of the group. 2am and can’t sleep? Text Kisame. Need help thinking of what to make/where to go for dinner? Text Kisame. A breakup? Trouble with classes? Health scares? That’s right, text Kisame. Kisame takes a long time to respond to messages; not because he doesn’t care or is being rude, but because he takes every question or comment he gets very seriously, and wants to give himself adequate time to give the best possible response. Doesn’t use many emojis; he feels offended that the people emojis don’t offer blue skin tones. As he’s the one that most others text to solve problems, it’s very unexpected when he texts someone with a problem of his own. When this happens, that person will break their neck trying to find a solution to appease the gentle giant, which Kisame is very grateful for.

#the akatsuki #texting #deidara #sasori #hidan #kisame #kakuzu #zetsu #konan #itachi uchiha #obito uchiha #pein

74 notes · View notes

watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Dreams, Chapter 11

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 11

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2616

Summary: Another dream makes things more clear for the reader and less clear for Sam.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w b u r n

The booths are those plastic-coated pressboard swoops that are so easy to clean, one row down either side of the long room once you walk past the counter to order. Like other pizza places, there are red pepper flakes and grated parmesan on the table, but they also keep ranch dressing in a minifridge behind the counter as a concession to Midwestern sensibilities. You know you’re just outside Dayton just like you know the pizza shop is run by a family, father and two older teenage daughters deftly throwing dough and scattering cheese evenly over it in a way that shows their years of practice. Dean sits across the table with his elbows on it, one forefinger and thumb picking through a plate of nachos between you. His black t-shirt, amulet, and lack of flannel make you notice the hum of the air conditioner in the background, straining over the 90’s alternative radio and reminding you that you’d been here in a heat stroke the summer after you and Dean had gotten together, his golden freckles and lightened tips of his slightly messy hair underlining the memory.

“They don’t serve nachos here.” It’s half statement and half question.

“Babe, it’s your dream. They’ll serve whatever you want. Does the pizza suck in Wisconsin or something?”

The two sisters are whispering to each other as they look over at your table, an almost-argument that ends with who you suspect is the older sister poofing a pinch of flour into the other’s face. They’re both cute girls but she’s adorable, soft cherubic cheeks and messy bun piling impossibly glossy hair on her head as she walks over to the table with a gigantic pizza. “Can I get you anything else?” she asks in a perfect welcoming cheerleader pitch.

“I think we’re good for now, sweetheart,” Dean purrs with a wink. That you remember; you’d playfully chastised Dean for dazzling the teens, laughing in his face when he’d said it wasn’t on purpose, that he couldn’t help it if chicks dug him. The wink had proved your point then and now it makes the girl’s cheeks flush red.

She catches herself remarkably well, the stammer almost slipping under the radar as she assures you that you can “holler if you need anything!”

Dean brushes his fingers free of nacho debris and loosens a piece of pizza from the melting cheese of the ones next to it. “Last time you had all kinds of sweet nothings and questions for me and now you’re Silent Cal?”

“I don’t think this is real, but I’m pretty sure if I push it you’ll either die in this dream or I’ll wake up, so my plan is to stay here as long as we can.”

He drops the pizza back into the box and wipes off his fingers on a napkin before slouching into the booth, arm stretched across its length. “So test me then. Gimme a question only I would know or something.”

“Well if I ask you something that I know the answer to, my brain will just project you knowing it. See the problem?”

Dean squints and pouts in consideration, touch of a smile dancing across his face and if it isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen may you be struck dead right now. “Then ask me something you don’t know the answer to.”

You think about explaining how that too could just be some part of your subconscious recreation of Dean but you don’t want to keep pulling at loose strings in the event that it wakes you up. It’s too hard to keep from smiling, seeing Dean charming and relaxed like this, and when you grin it makes Dean bite his lip. “What’s something I don’t know the answer to?”

“Ah, ah—I thought I’m just a hologram, how would I know?”

“Projection, but okay,” you stall. “Wait, here’s one. Sam said when I first started going on jobs with you guys that you had to have a conversation about staying focused. What was that all about?”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. “Man, why would he tell you that?” he says under his breath, smirking mostly to himself before leaning forward to meet your eyes. “Fine. I’m not even sure that you’re going to remember this. There was a vengeful spirit in Indiana, some like homesteader guy, ring a bell?”

You have only the vaguest sense of recollection and sort of waggle your head to show it.

“It was way at the beginning of when you started coming on jobs with us. You and Bobby got into it because he wanted you to bring your own car so you could ditch us if we were ‘acting like cretins’ or some shit like that?”

That fits the last puzzle piece in for you and makes you chuckle. “He ended up giving me like $250 of mad money in case I needed a new room or a bus ticket, yeah. I remember.”

“I didn’t know that part but that’s gotta be the same trip. The whole thing was really stupid. Basically we were supposed to have your six but both me and Sammy wanted to carry a shotgun instead of doing that protection spell because it looked cooler. We were arguing about it when the spirit whipped a chunk of the barn’s scaffolding at you and we didn’t catch it in time. You heard it coming and ducked so nothing ended up happening, but it fucking demolished the wall behind you. It was a huge fuckup—thing could’ve taken your head clean off, you know? Sam was so broken up about it he was wasted for like a week solid after we dropped you back off at Bobby’s.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“I know, usually he does some kind of pouty baby bullshit. But I mean both of us felt really guilty that bitching at each other could’ve taken you out.”

Dean’s eyes rake over your face, seeming to linger over every inch like he’s going to draw a topographical map of it later by memory. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something but you can’t think of anything other than tracing each of his freckles where they dust across his nose.

A hand reaches over the table to run his fingertips along the back of yours, and that certainly feels real enough to send an ache into your gut. “What if you ask Sam? If he says that’s not what happened then you can keep saying I’m not real and you don’t have to listen to me.”

“But he already basically told me that. The only thing I probably wouldn’t have guessed about that is Sam getting drunk about it—these could’ve been just well-informed guesses about when it probably was or the kinds of things it seemed like he was implying.”

His lips press into a firm line and the barest touch of pink rises in his cheeks. “We, um, we pinky swore on it.”

The adorableness of his embarrassment makes you grin teasingly as much as the divulgence does. “A pinky promise? You guys must’ve been pretty serious to take such a sacred oath.”

He rolls his eyes at your ribbing and throws his hands back in his lap with a defeated smirk. “Laugh it up. Would that be good enough proof for you?”

It seems like Dean has figured out a loophole in the system, but you’re sure the light of day and Sam’s scrutiny will figure out why it isn’t actual evidence of communication with Dean beyond death, and you tell him that.

A curtain of suspicious confusion falls over Dean’s face. “Sam being weird about it is what’s keeping you from trusting this? Kid, I’ve been talking to Sa—”

And you woke up.

The bed was empty next to you but you could smell something sweet in the air and hear the light clinking of pots or pans Sam was trying his best to keep quiet. You blinked back a few tears of frustration—who even cared if it was real or not? Reliving a great memory with Dean was more than enough and instead of enjoying it you’d wasted a chance at some small respite from your constant ache of grief. And even then, you hadn’t used any of your time to figure out how the whole thing worked, how you could see him again.

But the most pressing issue was what you thought Dean had been trying to say before disappearing; that he had gotten through to Sam. Sam, of course, deserved to have secrets, but if he had been sitting on the resolution to all the angst you’d been struggling through in the last weeks (months?), you couldn’t imagine a reason why that wouldn’t hurt. Nothing would be solved by laying in your bed to sulk about it, though, so you threw on some clothes and went to brush your teeth.

When you came out, Sam was hunched slightly, the standard stove highlighting his decidedly non-standard height as he shuffled a pan’s handle. He had a dishtowel over his t-shirt clad shoulder, a habit from the bar that sometimes held over when he was in the kitchen at home, and bare feet under old jeans. They were wearing through at the knees, and you knew they were absolutely pajama-soft from having periodically thrown them in with your own laundry. Through the kitchen window, enough snow-brightened sunlight came into the room to cast him in a halo glow that gleamed off of his hair. As long as it had gotten, chunks still swept into his face as he looked down at the stove, and he tucked one behind his ear as he looked up, half-singing a Buddy Guy song that was playing softly. It was stunning—he was stunning, statuesque and strong and right there in front of you. Cooking you breakfast while you slept in, of all things, chocolate chip pancakes he had to have remembered were your favorite from ages ago. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had them and right now, nothing in the world sounded better. He beamed and tilted the pan toward you. “Morning! I made pancakes, you want some?”

And you should’ve just let the moment rest, sat in the rare bright winter morning and eaten chocolate chip pancakes and relished how well the boiler was working, maybe later in the day read a predictable murder mystery or taped off the living room to be painted and listened to REM until your shoulders were sore from running rollers up the walls all afternoon. Instead, about as stupid and weird a flop as if a toad had come out of your mouth, you said, “Have you been talking to Dean too?”

Sam’s face fell but not in the right way. There was too much angle in his brow and that confirmed it. “What?” he asked, but it didn’t land.

“How long have you been talking to Dean?”

He kept that curious smile for a second, like maybe he could push through by playing dumb and you would forget, but finally his lips flattened and his jaw clenched as he stacked a finished pancake on top of its predecessors. “Just because I’m having dreams about him doesn’t mean it’s really him,” he finally answered, softly and as though he was telling the bubbling pancake batter in front of him, unable to meet your eyes.

You felt the lump forming in your throat and tried to get the words out ahead of its solidifying. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“For what?” He let go of the pan and turned toward you, supporting his weight on the countertop. “So we can both—”

“Both what? Be delusional? Is that what you were going to say?”

Sam didn’t answer, but the set of his jaw was firm and he kept his eyes locked on yours.

“He told me you were drunk for a week after the hunt you were talking about.” You watched as Sam’s pupils widened a touch. “And that you didn’t just promise each other to buckle down, you pinky swore.” Sam’s Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. “It’s true, isn’t it? I can see in your face that it is. Did you already know it’s really him?”

He looked down at the floor and clenched his jaw. “I was pretty sure. Or at least I really hoped I was pretty sure.”

You felt more than consciously allowed your mouth’s falling open. “How? How long?”

“It just—I don’t know, it just felt different. I—uh, the first time was after we made those cupcakes; he asked about the cupcakes.”

You slumped against the countertop opposite him, speechless. He shoved the pan off the hot burner a little too hard, put a palm on either side of the stove to brace himself. The two of you stood like that for a long minute, the smell of chocolate not matching the stiff heaviness in the air at all.

“I don’t—what if it’s not real?” His throat sounded bound even though you couldn’t see his face, hulking mass of him spread across the tiny kitchen.

He seemed so defeated, so young, and then you couldn’t believe how selfish you’d been, not putting two and two together that something challenging Sam’s grip on or understanding of reality must shove him back to the brain melting torture he’d endured in the cage and the months—years, maybe, he was always so tight-lipped about it—afterward. What the fuck were you thinking, not seeing it before, how this could seem like a perfectly laid trap for Sam, the most poetic way to whip his mind into stiff peaks of meringue. It made so much sense why he would need time to really suss it out, see the situation from all angles and investigate, check and re-check. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes but you blinked them away. This was not about you or your complicated need for him, it was about Sam, what he’d been through, what he was likely putting himself through even now.

“The, um, the pancakes smell really good.”

“Yeah?” There was half a laugh behind his words, humorless as it was. “I hope they’re okay, I know they’re your, uh, your favorite.”

“I’m surprised you remembered.”

Sam leaned on one arm to rub his face with his other hand. “Yeah, well.”

“Can I help?”

After a beat, he stood up and offered some space next to him on the stove. You worked hip to hip, sprinkling the chocolate chips while Sam flipped. He was scraping the last of the batter into a last little runt pancake with a spatula when you couldn’t help yourself and wrapped your arms around his waist. He seemed surprised, if sad, before setting down the bowl and covering as much of you as he could, folding over you like a protective shell. It reminded you of that dirty motel room, months and months ago, when Sam held you together as you cracked in his arms. All he could do then was be steadfast in reminding you he was still there, if nothing else was, and you hoped you were able to give him the same now.

You silently laid two place settings on the kitchen counter while Sam set the food out. He sat next to you and had picked up his fork when you touched his wrist to still him. “If it’s not real for you then I’m losing it too.”

Sam thought for a second, then raised his forearm and kissed the back of your hand where you held onto him before cutting into his pancakes.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 12

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass @vxnderlindes @deanwinchesterswitch @akshi8278 @itsjensenanddean @flannellover67 @weepingwillowphoenix @tj-drinks-tea @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchestergirl2 @winchest09 @samwisethegr8 @nobxdy @nurse-sarahrn @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @deanwanddamons @stressedoutkitten @winchestershiresauce @tatted-trina6 @percico-heronstairs @downanddirtydean @queenoftheunderdark @lyarr24 @waywardwifey @thinkinghardhardlythinking @wonder-cole @sergeantsea @peachyafshawn @tjfinnigan @that-one-gay-girl @calaofnoldor @mrspeacem1nusone @theveridianmoon @underc0vercryptid @daringvixon fairlyspnfanfic treat-winchesterswithkindness samfreakingwinchester

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

92 notes · View notes

sweetlavenderwritings · 3 years

Text

Little to No Space

summary: tendou has a little crush on a certain someone, their straight faced manager that never reacts to his weird shenanigans. his best friend advises that they should get closer.

-or, you get stuck in a locker with the guess monster.

a/n: this was based off an asmr i listened to a couple nights ago (you were hiding in a locker with a teacher of yours) it was kinda funny bc the one who voiced it was oikawa’s official va. anyways, take whatever this is lol.

pairing/s: tendou satori x reader

wc: 2 147 (whoops)

tags: crack, comedy(?), humor, ur literally just in a funny situation lol, nsfw implication if u squint

-ꦼ———▸ crossposted on ao3

⋅. ♪ .⋅ Loving Tendou Playlist

“You need to stop staring at our manager and actually talk to her Satori.” Ushijima’s deep voice broke him out of his trance, catching his attention.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Wakatoshi-kun.” He deflected. Okay, maybe he did tend to stare at you. But he swears he didn’t do it that much.

Ushijima rolled his eyes at that, “I may not be the brightest when it comes people-”

“You got that right.” He snickered while putting his gym clothes away.

“As I was saying, I at least know she isn’t the least bothered by you,” he shut his locker door with a firm bang, interrupting his musing for a moment, “we can all see how she isn’t fazed by whatever antics you flung at her.”

“But that’s just because she’s just like you!” His best friend raised his brows at him. “Not completely, but she’s uhh, I don’t know-stoic. Straight faced and doesn’t say anything much unless necessary.”

“I’m not stoic.”

“Sure you aren’t.” Has he really not noticed?

“So you’re implying that you can be close to her?” He knew his best friend can be quite obtuse sometimes, but where did that come from?

“That’s not what I’m saying at all, where did even get that idea?” He turned his attention to his duffel bag, already done with the conversation.

But it seems Ushijima wasn’t, “You said she was just like me, even if it was just a bit. And since we’re close, that means you could be with her as well.”

“You’re grasping at short straws here Ushiwaka,” he teased. “Why do you seem so persistent to get me to talk to her?”

“Because I think she might be one of the few people that would actually tolerate your weird personality, rather than shun you for it like most people would.” Oh, that was actually helpful. He knew Ushijima rarely spoke, but whenever he did, it was always something meaningful and helpful.

Ushijima scratched at his neck, looking around the locker room looking for something.

“Uhh, watcha looking for there buddy?”

“I’m missing my pair of socks.” Ushijima groaned. Suddenly, all his previous thoughts of him being meaningful was diminished within a second.

“That’s the fourth time this week ‘Toshi.”

“I know, but for some reason they don’t end up where they’re supposed to be.” He was pouting, the redhead could tell. You wouldn’t actually see it until you looked closely.

He had to reassure their captain before he drones about ads he read in today’s newspaper. He was not interested in discounts held for sock stores. “We’ll ask the janitors tomorrow, okay? Don’t fret about it.”

Satisfied with his answer, Ushijima nodded. They both grabbed their bags then turned to leave, until they heard a knock at the door.

“Uhm, excuse me. Is Tendou-kun here by any chance?” Speak of the devil...

He stilled, clearly not expecting for you to look for him. He wondered how long you’ve been there, hoping you haven’t heard a single word from their conversation that just happened to be about you.

Ushijima looked at him, a faint smirk curved at the corners of his lips. He gave him a look as if to say, this is your chance.

Without consulting him if he even wanted to answer, he strode towards the door and opened it without warning, causing you to jump back in surprise. The basket of jerseys nearly fell from your hands in shock.

He mentally slapped himself in the face. Way to go Wakatoshi, scare off our manager.

“Satori’s right here,” He waved to him, standing still like a deer in the headlights. “I must go.” He walked past you, leaving no space for you to even start a conversation with him.

“Oh, uhm alright. Thank you Ushijima-san.” You waved to Ushijima before to turning to him, looking at him with a blank expression.

“I’m sorry, it seems I interrupted you on your way home. But I promise this will be quick.” You said with a flat tone. You reached down on the freshly laundered basket of jerseys, fumbling with the different colored fabrics as you looked for something.

With a victorious ‘ah’, you held up a familiar pair of socks.

“I kept seeing these somewhere in your locker rooms whenever I clean after practice. I usually just place them on the benches but this time it was on basket with the rest of the jerseys so I took the liberty to wash them.” He took them from your hands, fingers lightly brushing when he grab ahold of the very socks his best friend was pouting about. He jolted, feeling a sensation from the minimal contact.

Either you ignored him or didn’t notice, which was probably the latter, you moved on to place the basket on a corner.

‘You need to stop staring at our manager and actually talk to her Satori.’

“So, how are you managing so far manager-chan?” He hoped his voice didn’t reveal how nervous he was to be alone with you.

In truth, he liked being with you at any chance he could get. It was fun flinging non-nonsensical shit at you, just to get a reaction. It was like a challenge for him really, wanting nothing more than to see you flustered or even better, laugh at his jokes just for once.

You never looked irked or disgusted by his whole demeanor, which was something he appreciated a lot. He hoped you never would, fearing that it might be the inevitable truth he wasn’t willing to accept.

That he was a monster no one could truly understand.

“I’m still afraid of getting hit by a ball every time Ushijima-san serves, but other than that I’m doing fine.” You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, exhaustion evident on your face. “You’re not going home, Tendou-san? It’s already late, I suggest you hurry now so you can rest easy for tomorrow’s practice.”

He smirks, suddenly feeling a mood for a good teasing. “Dawww, is our dear little manager concerned for the resident Guess Monster?” He quirked a brow as he leered at you with a teasing grin.

Unperturbed, you tilted your head, looking a bit puzzled. “Of course I am. I am your manager after all, isn’t it my job to look after the team?”

“Don’t be shy, you can just say you like me, manager-chaaan~” He thought really shouldn’t tease you like that but he really can’t help himself.

What happened next surprised him the most.

He figured you’d wave off his teasing like always, roll your eyes then move on with your day. But instead, he spots the blushing of your cheeks. Something he didn’t expect from you at all.

He opens his mouth to say something but stops at the sounds of footsteps nearing the locker room.

Shit. If the team saw you alone with him in the locker rooms at this hour it’ll be the death of him. You wouldn’t have cared, but he knows they’ll hold it over his head and tease him relentlessly, insinuating that there’s something going on between the two of you.

With a hushed ‘Quick!’ he grabs your arm then pulls you into a vacant locker. He shuts the door in haste, making a loud bang that makes him wince.

“Tendou what’re you-” he shuts you up with a hand covering your mouth. He looks at you pleadingly as he zips up his lips, urging you to stay quiet. You nod with his hand still covering your lips.

“Hurry up Semi! We’re gonna be late!” Reon’s voice booms loudly as they enter the room, causing the both of you to jump in surprise.

“Wait a damn minute will you? I just forgot my wallet.” The sound of a locker opening fills in the sudden silence. He waits with a bated breath hoping they’ll leave soon.

But it seems that wasn’t the case.

“Say... Isn’t that Tendou’s duffel bag?” You both hear Shirabu’s voice ask with uncertainty. Tendou freezes, unsure what to do.

There’s a muffled noise of shuffling. “Yeah, it’s his alright. It’s his jacket draped over it.”

“Then why is it still here? Shouldn’t he have left by now?”

“Didn’t we pass by Ushijima just earlier?” Shit. Shit. Shit.

The locker you were both hiding in was getting hotter by the minute. He feels a sweat trickle down his neck as he tries not to breathe loudly as to not grab attention.

When Ushijima told him to get closer to you, he surely didn’t mean this!

Your soft hands reach to take his off your mouth. He mouths a soft ‘sorry’ but you shake your head softly, not minding his mistake in the slightest. With the ongoing conversation about his whereabouts outside he distracts himself with little details he begins to notice.

Like how you smelled of baby powder and faint deodorant, or how there are strands of your hair sticking to your exposed neck from your ponytail. He tries hard not to think about how close you were. Your shoulders pressed against his chest, head just below his chin, and your hips just right where his-

“Tendou-kun,” he hears you whisper. He cranes his just a bit, trying to get a look at your face. “Your phone is bumping my hip, I know there’s not much space but can you please move it a bit?”

Phone? What phone? He was pretty sure he left it in his bag━

“Sorry.” He apologizes meekly, wiggling his hips away from you as he desperately wills his sudden hard on to calm down. This locker was gonna be the death of him soon if he stays here any longer.

He thanks whatever deity is at work above for your obliviousness. A blessing in disguise he’s really thankful at the moment.

“Eh, why’re we wasting time here? He probably just went to the bathroom.” Semi cuts off as he grabs his wallet. Tendou thanks the ashen blond silently, promising not to tease him just for a day.

He hears the door shut. He waits until the footsteps are completely gone, then sighs in relief when no one comes back.

“Phew, that was a close call. Who knows what might’ve happened if they found us here.” He lets out a laugh, “we can leave now, [y/n]-chan.”

Then he’s looking at you, head ducked so he couldn’t see much of your face. But he peers between the strands of your hair and finally notices how flustered you look.

He smirks. “[y/n]-chan?”

For once in your life, you try to avoid his eyes.“O-oh! Tendou-kun, are they gone yet?”

“If I knew better manager-chan~ Judging by your flustered face, I would assume you actually wanted to stay here with me.”

Your eyes widen like saucers. “No! It’s just that it’s cramped in here, it got hot so I am blushing for different reasons!” Your composure was breaking by the minute, hands flailing in exaggeration as you try to explain in defense.

He barks out a laugh. “Manager-chan, I was just kidding! Calm down for me, hm?” You don’t reply.

“Alright, I’m sorry for teasing you.” He says as he reaches for the knob, “let’s just get out of here-”

You shoot your hand on his wrist, surprising the both of you. “Uh... about what you just said.”

He waits for you to continue. With a deep breath you try to finish your sentence. “I don’t mind, being here with Tendou-kun.... that’s all.”

The message clicks in his brain. I like you Tendou-kun.

“Oh.” He replied numbly. He was sure he must’ve looked stupid with the face he was making, still awestruck at what you just admitted.

You giggle, a sound he finds himself emitting to his memory.

“You’re weird as ever Tendou-kun,” the look of adoration you gave him nearly made him choke. “But that’s fine, I like that about you.”

Two confessions all at once? Was this a dream? Boy, he surely was gonna panic about this to Ushijima later, not that he’d be any of help.

Waving away the butterflies in his stomach, he ruffles your hair. “You’re too full of surprises today [y/n]-chan. Someday you’re gonna give me a heart attack if you just suddenly give me these cute faces without warning.”

He feels himself smile wide at another bashful look you give him.

“Now let’s get out of here.” He twists the knob inside but it doesn’t budge. Confused, he tries to twist it another way but it still doesn’t move. He struggles with it for a minute until he gives up.

It wouldn’t open.

“Uhh... Tendou-kun, I think we might have to call the others.” He hears you say tentatively.

“Sure, do you have your phone with you?”

You pat your pockets for a second. “Oh, I must’ve left it in my bag. How about we use your phone instead?”

“...”

#LSAHDLKAS #no editing again #imma pass out now lol #tendou x reader #tendou satori #tendou satori x reader #tendou x you #tendou x y/n #tendou satori x you #haikyuu satori #satori fluff #tendou fluff #haikyuu tendou #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu

267 notes · View notes

halloweenhoneylover · 4 years

Text

the closing shift

summary: coffeeshop au babey!! spencer and reader are nerds in love who also work at the campus cafe together (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 2.7k

author’s note: this one’s for u, anon!!! sorry if this is lame, i normally don’t like coffeeshop au’s but here we are. also a warning: there is a lot of doctor who junk in here and also it’s incredibly self-indulgent but i don’t care :)

“So what you’re saying is you don’t like the power of love and human goodness?”

Spluttering frustratedly, Spencer frowned at you, “Of course, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think that the special effects were cheesy and the plot was sometimes a little silly!”

You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment before relenting with a sigh, focusing back on the counter you were wiping down. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit that the Slitheen really did not look good, and that maybe ‘Love and Monsters’ was one of the stupidest episodes of television I’ve ever watched, but you have to admit that Ten’s monologue in ‘The Satan Pit’ was one of the best pieces of writing in the whole show. ‘If I believe in one thing, I believe in her?’ How were you not screaming at your TV when you watched that!”

Spencer lips curled into a small smile as you continued rambling and absent-mindedly cleaning the counter. You were not doing a very good job, but he wasn’t about to stop your spiel. It wasn’t often he was on the receiving end of a ramble, and as someone who was frequently told to shut up, he would never interrupt, especially when it was about his favorite show. Especially when it was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. No, he’d sit quietly and listen, thank you very much.

“Okay,” she brought her full attention back to Spencer. “I’ll forgive you for your horrible offence. If you take back what you said.”

She looked so intently in his eyes, so sincerely his knees wobbled a little. The full force of her attention was like the sun. He felt warm inside and out, but he might be burned from the intensity of its direct glare.

“Fine, season two of Doctor Who is not a complete abomination.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied smirk. “Well, thank you, Dr. Reid. I appreciate the kind words.”

He nodded, turning to the back room. He’d almost made it through the doorway before he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “But season eight is better.”

A melodramatic gasp, and he felt a rag hit the back of his head, and he chuckled.

“You take that back, Spencer Reid!”

Making his way further in, his fingers found the knot behind his back, quickly untying and shrugging off the apron. “(Y/N), I only speak the truth. I’m a man of science, and science says that season eight is simply superior.”

You laughed along with him, murmuring grievances against this idiot genius. You reached behind yourself, fingers fumbling with the knot. After a couple unsuccessful attempts, you huffed and asked, “Hey, Spencer, do you think you could help me with my apron? I tied the stupid thing too tightly.”

He gulped, mumbling a sure thing in a way he hoped was nonchalant, but knowing himself, was anything but. Walking up behind you, he felt himself involuntarily shudder at your proximity, and he said a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in to try to keep his cool. You felt his fingers brush against your lower back, and you tried, gosh, you tried so hard to not audibly gasp (you’re not sure you succeeded). The brief contact unfortunately flooded your mind with thoughts about his long fingers that you had often admired (discreetly), and you thought about what it’d be like for him to touch you and for him to mean it, and you nearly passed out. The silence was deafening, which was funny because it seemed like you two could never shut up around each other, and the one time you needed to fill the tense air with something, there was nothing.

Finally finished with the knot, Spencer softly tapped your back twice with his index. “All done.” It came out as a whisper. He couldn’t have managed more.

“Thanks!” You spoke at normal volume and tried to put you back into regular conversation, but breaking the eerie quiet, it sounded like you were shouting.

He shot you a tight-lipped smile. “Are you all good to close up?”

“Yeah, I can hold down the fort,” you said rather breathlessly, returning his smile.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he pushed open the back door and waved. “See you Thursday!”

“See ya.”

As soon as the door shut, you heaved a sigh of relief and let the tension out of your shoulders, staring at the ground. You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes. Why did you freeze up like that? Why was it weird when he left? Why did you like him so much?

———

Thursday was Spencer’s favorite day of the week. The dining hall stocked chocolate donuts with rainbow sprinkles on Thursdays. He had his chemistry seminar with his favorite professor on Thursdays. Caltech’s chess club met on Thursdays. He worked his shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays.

(You worked the same shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays.)

Did Spencer really need a job? No, his education was entirely paid for by the school because when you have a child prodigy on your hands, you should try to keep them. And he lived in on-campus housing and ate on campus, and he didn’t have a lot of other expenses. But his advisor told him that he might get something out of doing a job that didn’t require 100% of his brain power, might get to rest his mind for a couple hours every week. He might also make a friend.

What he had not anticipated when he started at one of the various campus cafes was meeting you. He showed up to his first shift and nearly choked when he saw arguably the most beautiful girl he had ever met in the backroom putting on an apron. Your eyes lit up when you saw him. “Hey, you must be Spencer! I saw our names together on the schedule a couple times, looks like we’re gonna be work buddies!”

By the time you turned back to speak to your guys’ new manager, he noticed his jaw was completely slack, and he hoped his mouth had not been hanging too long. He also blacked out too long to ask for your name, which he was internally hitting himself over. And he hazily drifted through the training, his mind barely focusing on the coffee. To say he was distracted by the girl next to him and the way she smelled like coconuts and cotton was a major understatement. Times like these were humbling for a twenty-year-old with two and a half PhDs.

He could barely recall anything that happened until they were cleaning out the espresso machine together silently, and he was struck with a sudden need. “Hey, I never caught your name…”

“Right! My name is (Y/N),” she answered, offering him a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

Neither spoke after that, both working quietly next to each other. Spencer sighed internally, he wasn’t sure what he expected, but he hoped they wouldn’t spend the semester in silence. And like some higher power was listening to his wishes, you turned to him, “So, Spencer, what are you majoring in?”

Hesitant to scare you off, he tiptoed around the subject. “Right now, I’m studying chemistry.”

“Right now?”

He glanced over at you, and despite knowing you for the entirety of ten minutes, he couldn’t deny you or the inquisitive gleam in your eye even if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. “I’m working on my PhD in chemistry. I already have two in mathematics and engineering. Oh, and I have two BA’s in psychology and sociology.” He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the dumbfounded look on your face, and he swallowed harshly. “Um, uh—what uh, what are you studying?”

You let out a brief laugh, and for a moment, he cringed, wondering if you were laughing at him. But just a look at you and the tenderness of your features, he knew he had nothing to worry about. Blowing a puff of air out, you grinned gently, “Well, your PhD’s are putting my bachelor’s to shame, so I’m not sure I want to say.”

“No, I’m sure whatever you’re studying is cool,” he reassured you.

Pleasantly surprised by the humility of your new genius coworker, you continued, “I appreciate it. I tend to err on the side of the humanities, not much of a STEM gal myself, and right now,” you both chuckled at your little joke, “I’m studying history and political science.”

“So am I standing in the presence of a future lawyer, or maybe the next president of the United States?”

“Good question, but I’m not sure. Would you vote for me?”

Squinting at you for a moment, he nodded slowly, “Yeah, I think I would. You’ve got a kind face.”

You raised your eyebrows at that, trying to suppress a blush. “A kind face?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, eyes flicking over your face. You felt shy under his gaze; it’s not everyday a hot genius boy stares you down and tells you you have a ‘kind face.’

Ducking your head, you fought a smile. “Alright, I’ll take it.”

And from then on, something clicked. You and Spencer talked for hours and hours during your shifts, joking and teasing (and grinning and blushing). He looked forward to working because that meant a chance to see you. (Except for Mondays, that was the one shift you didn’t have together, and it made Spencer want to scream. The dude he worked with, Andy, was nice enough, but the hours seemed to drag on when he didn’t have you to discuss weird sci-fi movies with.)

He was particularly looking forward to this Thursday because he knew you had a big presentation in your class about African revolution, and he wanted to hear all about it. In the brief moments of spare time at the cafe, he had helped you prepare and had listened to bits and pieces of it. This morning he’d sent you a quick good luck! text, to which you’d responded with thanks!!! and a stream of various heart emojis. He had learned early on that you were very fond of emojis, but it never stopped his heart from skipping a beat when you’d send him little hearts and smileys.

Entering the back room, he set his backpack on a hook and started to get ready for his shift. He gave a quick wave to the people from the last shift as they left, and he felt a little worry boiling in his gut because if they had left, that meant you were late, and you were never late. He wondered if something had happened in your presentation, and he was filled with dread. Solitarily manning the counter, he was ensnared in his thoughts; he couldn’t stand the idea of something going wrong and you being upset, so upset that you couldn’t come to work. He shifted uncomfortably, hand itching to grab his phone and send you a text to see if you were okay when he heard a door slam and a shriek from the backroom. “Spencer!”

Immediately, he ran to the back, expecting the worst, and he nearly fell over when you ran at him full-speed to launch into a hug. “Oof—” He recovered though, catching you, and he wrapped his arms around you so tightly and cradled the back of your head in his hand. His heart stuttered. He could get used to this.

You buried your face into his neck. “Oh, Spencer, you won’t believe it. My presentation went so well! My professor held me after class and told me I was one of his brightest students, and oh, I just don’t believe it!” He felt your face warm against him as you gushed.

“I believe it, I don’t doubt it for a second. You are so smart, (Y/N). I’m so proud of you. You deserve it.”

Breathing him in for just a moment longer, you finally released him, and both of you thought how everything feels a little emptier now that you weren’t holding each other. He couldn’t help but beam at you, though.

“Really, (Y/N), I’m so proud of you.”

“Hey, I can’t take all the credit! It’s all thanks to you being patient enough to hear me blabber on and practice, so thank you, Dr. Reid.”

He got incredibly flustered at the title and hesitated over his next words before settling on a soft anytime. And he meant it.

———

The rest of your shift that day was less eventful. You recounted some of the highlights of your presentation, to which Spencer listened with rapture. There was some discussion of who was at chess club today and if anyone there was a true match for Spencer (no one was). You played your favorite game called “Who Can Make the Most Disgusting Drink Out of Four Ingredients?” (You won with a mixture of coffee, coffee grounds, an excessive amount of salt, and raspberry syrup. (Ew, (Y/N) why is it grainy?)) And now nearing midnight, you sat at one end of the bar reading your textbook while Spencer cleaned up various mugs and napkins. He snagged the broom from the backroom and began sweeping. With a quick glance up at you focused entirely on your book, he smiled softly. Pieces of your hair had drifted out from behind your ears and framed your face, and the apples of your cheeks were flushed. To put it simply, you looked ethereal, and Spencer didn’t think it should be possible for someone to look so beautiful at the end of a long day, but here you were, always defying expectations. He thought you looked like someone from those Renaissance paintings you loved so dearly, but he knew that even if someone tried to commit your grace to canvas, it’d be to no avail. He was sure no one would be able to do you justice.

Looking down at the floor he was supposed to be sweeping, he let his thoughts wander farther. He thought about what it would be like to hold you everyday like he did today. He’d be the luckiest man on Earth, that’s what. For so long he thought about asking you out, but then he knew that someone like you would never be interested in someone like him. But then again, you were the impossible girl. You never did quite what he expected. And he never expected you to be into him. So maybe for once in his life, he’d go out on a limb and ask you if you wanted to go get dinner with him sometime. He’d take you to the Indian place on 12th that he knew you loved, and you’d sit in the oddly formal, always empty restaurant and laugh and giggle together because that’s what you always did together, and then maybe, he’d invite you back to his place, so you could watch Doctor Who, or maybe do other things (like hold hands), who knows?

He found himself praying to that god he didn’t believe in once again to find the courage as he finished up sweeping, and after he put the broom away, he walked up to you with butterflies running rampant in his stomach, so he could barely muster a glance at you. But he was going to finally do it.

“(Y/N), I —”

And that’s when he noticed that you had fallen asleep on your book. It had been a long day for you. He felt his heart grow tender and soft and if someone poked it, it very well might explode. His thoughts strayed to your conversation the other day and the quote you loved so much. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi-gods and would-be gods, and out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing, just one thing, I believe in her. He takes a step or two closer, and brushing a lock of hair behind your ear with the gentlest hand, he thinks, yeah. I believe in her.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #do people read things at 2 in the morning?#lets hope so!#bc that's the only time i write :)#my sleep schedule is not :) good :)

347 notes · View notes